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marchdancer · 2 years

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"that's just the way he is and that's why I love him."

Kubard hated it, he hated it when someone criticized him for something that wasn't wrong. He hated it when people thought he was stupid or that he never thought about his actions. He hated it and especially hated it when the person was Shapur. Ever since they knew each other, Kubard couldn't shake off the feeling that Shapur looked down on him. Maybe because he thought he was better than him or because he was the illegitimate son of a bandit, Kubard didn't know. He would claim that he didn't care, but Kubard was no liar. However, if he was honest, he and Shapur would probably never get along. But sometimes these views can change over a jug of wine or two, and with a little help Kubard might understand Shapur a little better.

Peshawar Citadel, Pars Era 321

"This was stupid, impulsive and risky" Shapur's sharp words cut across the courtyard of Peshawar. Torches lit up the area in front of the great main gate, where until moments ago the Turanian army had laid siege to the citadel. The night sky was covered with dark clouds, which barely let a ray of moonlight through. In this pitch-black night, the Turanian army had tried to enter the Peshawar fortress. Fortunately, the Parsi army, under the leadership of Crown Prince Arslan and thanks to the foresight of Narsus, had been prepared.

Nevertheless, it was not easy for the soldiers to keep the enemy army at bay. The Turanian horsemen, had hidden in the darkness of the night and ambushed the soldiers. The young Lord Zaravant had also been caught, and only through the quick intervention of Daryun and Kishward, the lord of the fortress, could he be brought into the protective castle.

It had been grueling and the men, who fought under the command of Daryun, Kishward and Shapur, at the gates of the citadel had been defenseless against the enemy. Only through a trick and the intervention of Kubard had the Parsians been able to achieve victory.

But this was not seen by all present. On the contrary, Shapur was furious, not to say pissed off.

In the glow of his reddish torches he now stood in front of Kubard, who only stared at him tiredly and annoyed from above. Shapur, at six feet tall, was certainly not small in stature. But Kubard towered over him by almost a full foot. Any other human would have avoided any confrontation with the one-eyed giant due to the size difference alone, but not Shapur.

"What are you all so upset about?" Kubard asked, bored, scratching his three-day beard. "You know exactly what I'm upset about" hissed Shapur, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Kubard eyed his counterpart more closely, Shapur seemed genuinely upset, Kubard could tell by his malingering jaw and deep frown lines. Also by his right index finger, which seemed to twitch nervously. Kubard sighed resignedly and then shrugged his shoulders "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're getting at" he replied calmly, because if he was honest he really didn't know. But Kubard should have known better. He should have just agreed with Shapur and left it at that. But that's not who he was, and if he was going to be accused of something, Kubard at least wanted to know why.

"Are you really serious?" Shapur gritted his teeth in frustration and looked sharply at Kubard. In this dark night with only the flickering shadows of the burning fires, Shapur looked like a wild animal already making for the attack.

"Brother please let it be" whispered Isfan, grabbing his older brother by the arm to calm him down.

"Don't you tell me what to do" Shapur's voice thundered across the courtyard, making everyone present cringe. The soldiers, who until recently had been watching the scene between the two Marzban, hastily retreated. Even the moans and groans of the wounded seemed to fall silent. Shapur turned to his younger brother and glared angrily at him. Even though Isfan was a little taller than his older brother, under his angry gaze he suddenly felt like a ten-year-old who had been caught trying to steal cookies.

"As for your behavior, we'll talk about it later," Shapur hissed between clenched teeth, and Isfan looked guiltily to the side.

"Don't you think you're going a little too far?" Kubard asked, looking thoughtfully at Isfan, who looked aside, concerned, to avoid his brother's gaze. "I'm going too far?" Shapur wheeled around angrily "your behavior almost cost hundreds of lives, this advance was rash and arrogant, if you're already out for glory then" "Wait a minute" Kubard interrupted Shapur's moral lecture and took a step closer to his counterpart. "From my point of view, the offense stalled and that's why I decided to intervene. We would have lost the hundred men sooner if you had continued this stalling, tactic." "You disregarded the existing strategy with your intervention and brought unrest to the troops. We had everything under control out there until you showed up and acted like a wild ox." "You dare insult me?" Growled Kubard and his sword hand twitched menacingly "no I'm not insulting you" replied Shapur "I'm just telling the truth." Kubard gritted his teeth and ground his jaw, he clenched his right hand into a fist and raised his arm. Shapur also shifted his weight and prepared to ward off the coming blow.

"That's enough!" A voice thundered across the court, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a sword stroke. Kubard lowered his fist in astonishment and Shapur also loosened his stance.

The men's eyes wandered to the other side of the courtyard, in the direction where the makeshift hospital was being set up. A young woman approached the three men. She had tied her red hair into a loose knot, from which occasional strands came loose and framed her face with its many freckles. The glow of the torches was reflected in her green eyes. She wore linen pants with a short sword attached to her right hip. As she approached, she wiped her hands on a cloth that was already red with the blood of the wounded.

Kubard had already noticed the young woman at the Battle of St. Emmanuel, when she had tended to the injured soldiers. She was from Prince Arslan's retinue and Kubard had heard a few stories about her, but he had not yet the opportunity to speak with her personally. However, he had already heard her name from the other men.

Kayra stopped in front of them and looked sharply at Kubard and Shapur before turning to Isfan. "Lord Zaravant has regained consciousness. Apparently the healing herbs are kicking in. I think you should go check on him." Isfan seemed relieved at her words, and with a quick nod of his head, the young man turned and disappeared across the courtyard into the fortress.

Shapur and Kubard watched him go, each avoiding eye contact with the other.

Kayra sighed "I've treated enough wounded in the last few weeks" she began, looking back and forth between the two men, each still avoiding eye contact with the other. "I think the Turanian army has already given us enough injured soldiers tonight, then we don't need another fight between friends inside the walls." Kubard scratched the back of his head "mmh there is some truth to that" he grumbled and looked at Shapur. The black haired Marzban was still standing in front of him with his arms crossed, but his look seemed less gloomy and upset "as you say" was his curt reply addressed to Kayra and Kubard was almost willing to retort with a biting comment that he should be a bit friendlier with a beautiful woman when he noticed the smile on Kayra's face.

To Kubard it seemed like an understanding, almost affectionate smile, was there any truth to the rumors that circulated among the soldiers?

"Lord Daryun and her majesty the crown prince would like to speak to you" Kayra began to address Shapur again "they are waiting for you at the wall by the big main gate" Shapur mumbled something unintelligible, which sounded like a thank you, then he turned around and disappeared across the courtyard in the direction of the main gate.

Kubard stood a little puzzled and watched Shapur disappear into the darkness of the fortress, he noisily let the air out of his lungs and then shook his head in disbelief "you think he's ungrateful, don't you?" Kayra asked in a soft voice and the Marzban looked at the young woman who was also looking in the direction Lord Shapur had disappeared. "Mmh" Kubard just grumbled and ran the flat of his hand over his face "ungrateful, mmh maybe more like stubborn, intransigent, straightforward but in a bad way" "you mean rule-loving?" she asked. "Yes maybe" he paused "he's a good fighter and besides Daryun probably the only one I consider his equal but" "but you don't understand how he can always live by the rules and never take a risk?" Kayra asked him amused and Kubard looked at her in amazement.

"You know Lord Kubard I think you and I should have a talk, I think we will get along wonderfully. How about I buy you a mug of wine?" This statement now completely blew Kubard's mind, this woman was really interesting, but in a different way than the women he had known so far. He watched as she untied the knot from her hair, the red curls falling over her shoulders, dancing around her face like little flames. "A jug of wine in the company of a beautiful woman? That's an offer I can hardly refuse." He said, and his laughter thundered across the court of Peshawar.

The tavern in the cellar vault of the citadel was of low ceiling height, so Kubard had to duck his head at his height. The wine barrels were lined up against a long stone wall, in front of which stood a long wooden counter with wooden stools. A few tables were scattered around the room, with only the occasional soldier still sitting at them, drinking their wine and talking in hushed voices.

Kayra nodded briefly to the innkeeper as they entered, a short man of slender build and shaggy white hair. He returned the nod before turning, pulling an earthenware jug from under the counter, and filling it with wine from one of the barrels. Kayra sat down on a stool, at the other end of the counter, Kubard taking a seat next to hers.

The innkeeper joined them with two mugs and the filled jug of wine in his hand. The redhead placed a few coins on the wooden counter and accepted the jug. The innkeeper thanked her with a nod of his head, took the coins and went back to the other end of the counter, where he continued cleaning mugs with a cloth.

Kayra handed Kubard one of the two mugs and raised her "Here's to putting the Turans to flight!" she said and took a sip. Kubard raised his cup as well and took as well a sip, the wine burning pleasantly in his throat and feeling very invigorating after the long and rather cold night.

"So Lord Kubard, what do you want to know?" Asked the young woman suddenly, snapping Marzban out of his thoughts. Somewhat irritated, he looked at her, her green eyes twinkling with amusement and small dimples had formed on her cheeks as another smile played around her mouth. Kubard was caught completely off guard for a brief moment. Kayra laughed out loud at the sight of the baffled man, which only made Kubard more so at that moment. More confused. For one thing, a woman had never, and by that he meant never, laughed at him, and for another, Kayra, quite unlike in his imagination, did not have an angelic laugh.

No her laugh was rather deep and raspy and was accompanied by small grunting noises in between. If Kubard had not witnessed this laughter himself at that moment, he would not believe that this laughter belonged to the young woman next to him and yet, this laughter was contagious and before he knew it, his own thunderous laughter echoed through the cellar vault. The other soldiers and even the innkeeper looked irritated as their collective laughter echoed through the tavern and filled the entire room.

Slowly Kayar and Kubard calmed down again and each took another big gulp from their cups. Kayra was the first to speak again "so what do you want to know?" She asked again, looking expectantly at the Marzban. The latter scratched his chin a little sheepishly before he began to speak "well," he began "say, are the rumors I herar about you true?"

He looked at her expectantly and eyed her more closely. She was young, not too young, her features were too mature for that. Kubard guessed that Kayra and he must be about the same age. She was clearly not twenty years more, but certainly not at the end of her thirties, she lacked the wrinkles for that.

So she must be in her early thirties, like him.

"I'll be thirty-one this winter," she said, as if she could tell by Kubard's look that he was trying to classify her age, "so we're not far apart," she added, winking mischievously. She took another sip of the wine before setting the cup down and refilling it for herself and Kubard.

"Your question is very" she began to address again "very imprecise. From what I gather there are many rumors about me, some were others are a bit," she tilted her head and seemed to be thinking "very fanciful I would think." She set the cup again and took another sip. "If you mean the rumor that I am a mage, then that rumor is true. However, I do not eat children, nor do I bring any offerings there. That falls more into the realm of black magic. If you mean the rumor that I am a former slave, then this is also true and yes I served in the household of Lord Shapur at that time. I can also assure you that I am well versed in the art of healing and medicine, I also speak seven different languages. By the way, the rumor that I turn men to stone is also not true."

"And the rumor about you and Shapur?" Asked Kubard "which one? That I was his lover or that we were engaged?" Kayra asked back, but before Kubard could say anything back she was already talking.

"Both rumors are true. We were once lovers, we tried to keep it a secret as best we could but among the other slaves it was an open secret. Many thought I was simply his concubine, but that was not the case. When I turned twenty-one he asked me if I would become his wife. I was naive enough to say yes, but it turned out to be a big mistake. You think Shapur doesn't like you because of your lineage, don't you? Because you are the son of a bandit, but I can assure you that is not the case. Shapur used to believe that everyone could achieve something through hard work and that this should not be the privilege of the nobles only." "But" Kubard continued but fell silent when he noticed Kayra's head shake.

"Shapur seems to be a supporter of the existing system on the outside, but deep down he detests it. It is a system that almost cost his brother his life. A system that condemned Isfan's mother to death for no reason, just because she was a slave." Sadness settled over her face and she clutched her cup a little tighter. "I heard about the story. Shapur saved his brother then, didn't he?" "Yes he did. He set off alone into the mountains to look for him. His mother Lady Ziba arranged for Ashina to be thrown out then. She abandoned her and Isfan in the mountains. I think Shapur has not forgiven her to this day." Kubard looked silently into his cup, when he became Marzban then he had heard the story about Shapur's brother but had not known that he was the son of a slave.

"Lord Kubard" Kayra returned her attention to the one-eyed soldier "you said that Shapur was stubborn, undiscerning and straightforward in a bad way and rules in love. I agree with you, but you must know that this is only a facade behind which he hides. Behind this facade he is less uptight, he does a lot with himself alone, which is why he often seems stubborn and perhaps aloof."

She smiled dreamily "he used to retreat to his study and spend time there working until late at night, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. He always tried to find a solution to everything on his own because he didn't want to burden others with his problems. He can sometimes be strict and exaggerates in some things but only because he wants you to be prepared for the world that is waiting for you out there. Yes, it is true that he likes to follow rules because he believes that this involves less risk. But he also knows that sometimes it is necessary to break or circumvent the rules, but when he does so, he does so in secret without making a fuss." Kubard listened in silence, when the redhead had finished he looked thoughtfully into his cup, which was empty by now. Kayra noticed this and poured them both another drink before ordering another mug from the innkeeper.

The tavern had emptied in the meantime and only the two of them sat at the wooden bar. It had become quiet and only the crackling of torches on the wall and the clattering of mugs, which the innkeeper collected from the tables, filled the room. Normally Kubard hated silence, especially in a bar. It was too easy to be tempted to indulge in his own dark thoughts. But at that moment, the silence was comfortable, and he wondered if it had something to do with the young woman's presence.

“Shapur has taken risked in his life, he has spoken out loud, he trusts his instincts and followed his gut feeling. Sadly, he has lost already three important people as a result.” The young woman smiled slightly "you think he always criticizes you because you are the son of a bandit, don't you?"

The Marzban nodded in agreement "but maybe it's because you are the disciple of Lord Mert?"

"You knew Lord Mert?" Kubard was surprised to hear the name of his old teacher. Lord Mert was a Marzban of Pars in his time, and it was he who had taken the young Kubard under his wing and trained him. However, he died almost twenty years ago. "How did you know Lord Mert?" He asked in surprise "I knew him because I worked in his household, which became Shapur's household after his death." "Wait a minute Lord Mert was" "he was Lord Shapur's uncle" she answered his question. Kubard was surprised, even caught off guard, but thinking about it he suddenly realized the similarities Shapur had with his former teacher. The facial features, the laugh, the serious look, even his fighting techniques. Kubard suddenly felt foolish that he had not noticed these similarities earlier. "Lord Mert died almost twenty-one years ago I was just ten years old. Shapur had already been in the army for two years, under the command of his uncle. Back in the battle of Gilan, when the troops from Misr marched in there," she paused and it seemed that she was searching for the right words.

"I don't know all the details, but back then Lord Mert lost his life in that battle. Shapur never really talked about it, but he once told me that he and his youthful recklessness were responsible for his uncle's death. I didn´t think that this is true but Shapur has always been critical of himself. You must know he was always closer to his uncle than to his father or even his mother. By the time Lord Mert died, his younger brother, Shapur's father, was already dead. Since there were no descendants, Shapur inherited all of his uncle's possessions. However, he did not want them. His plan had been to manage everything until Isfan was old enough to take over. He never wanted to live the life of a noble, he always said that this life was like a golden cage. So, he didn´t feel worthy enough to inherit the title of his uncle. He was rebellious against his mother and against the system. Much to his mother's displeasure. So she wanted to get rid of Isfan and his mother and had them taken to the mountains. You already know the end. After that, he swore never to break rules again and to act as he was expected to. Straightforward, loyal and locked to others, so that he lets as few people as possible into his life that he can then lose."

Kayra drank the last sip of wine from her cup and smiled slightly at Kubard.

Kubard didn't know exactly how to react, he realized how little he knew about the Marzban. All these years, he thought Shapur was just buttoned up or would avoid him because of his origins, but that was not the case.

He also took one last sip before setting the cup down in front of him. He propped his forearms on the counter. Silence reigned between them for a while, and each pursued his own thoughts. After some time Kubard turned to Kayra "you just said that Shapur had lost three people" "mhm" "but you only mentioned two" "yes the third person" Kayra said, playing with her empty cup in front of her. She looked thoughtful "you know even though Shapur swore never to break rules again there was one person he was ready to break all the rules he knows and leave everything behind. His title as Marzban, his lands, his property as this he wanted to give up but also the person died. She died nine years ago." "Who was this person?" Kubard wanted to know, Kayra just smiled sadly before answering him "Me".

It was getting late when Kubard and Kayra walked through the deserted corridors of Peshawar. Kubard had offered to escort Kayra to her chambers, to his own surprise without ulterior motives. Perhaps because he knew that Kayra already belonged to another man, or perhaps because he knew that Kayra was one of the few women, he had met so far who seemed to show no interest in him.

Both had been silent the whole way, the moon was still hidden behind the clouds and so only sporadic torches lit the way to the different quarters. Kubard was the first to speak again, "I'm not sure if Shapur and I will ever get along, but I think I understand him a little better now." "I think you two are more friends than either of you want to admit." Kubard snorted loudly before scratching his head "we'll see" he muttered.

As they both turned the next corner, they stopped in surprise. In front of them stood Shapur. He looked slightly irritated when he saw Kubard together with Kayra. "there you are" he spoke and came towards them. Despite the dim light, Kayra could see the deep wrinkles in his face "I was looking for you" Shapur stopped in front of Kayra and looked at her. She smiled slightly and grabbed him by the upper arm "you look tired" she noted, Shapur expelled his breath noisily and grabbed the root of his nose "yes" he whispered softly "a little" and looked back at the woman in front of him. A clearing throat made them both move around, Kubard stood a little apart of them and looked a little embarrassed "I think you're in safe hands now" he said and winked at Kayra "I'm going to hit the hay now too." With an exaggerated yawn Kubard turned around to leave. "Thanks Kubard" Kubard stopped and turned slightly, Shapur stood a little in front of Kayra. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, the one-eyed Marzban smiled briefly "you're welcome" he spoke and made his way to his sleeping chamber.

Shapur was most certainly not as simple minded as he always thought. A smile played around the corners of his mouth as he thought of Kayra's words "that's just the way he is and that's why I love him."

#the heroic legend of arslan #shapur #Kubard #oc x shapur #Oc Kayra #Shapur past #I try to write a bit of Shapur past #not canon #isfan #Kubard and Kayra get along #Au where Shapur is not dead #romance #Lovestory #a bit of Kayra´s past #arslan senki #Manga #Rivalship and friendship

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august-reads · 2 years

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It's not required to read this, you can finish this series with Nightfall. However, if you want to read some mystery about Thunder Bay, try this out. *wink*

Ps. My review contains spoilers. 🤷‍♀️

𝓕𝓲𝓻𝓮 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

Author: Penelope Douglas

⭐⭐⭐⭐

🌶

Synopsis :-)

The clock at St. Killian’s chimes as whispers float in the dark staircase above.

Snow falls from the black sky beyond the windows, and candles glow, the flames lighting up the longest night of the year.⁣

⁣

Devil’s Night isn’t the only holiday we celebrate. Tonight, we’re pulling on a different mask.⁣

⁣

Some call it Midwinter.⁣

⁣

Others call it Yule.⁣

⁣

We call it Fire Night.⁣

Review ^_^

This short novella was good. I thought there will be some smut or something, but there wasn't but that's okay because seeing the four horsemen again with their family is all I wanted and care about. I'm a bit confused with Mads and Octavia. Maybe Mads like or have a soft spot for her. But, the last scene made my heart skip a bit. Is it the key to what Emmy had? The one she got from Damon? Idk I'm curious.

I'll miss them so much. That's why sending them fictional *hugs* and *forehead kisses*. I don't think Penelope will write about their kids.

#devils night series #booklr #bookstan #bookstagram #bookworld #romancebookaddict #booktok #book tumblr #book review #penelope douglas

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remyamikazuki · 1 month

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In the dark depths close to the mortal realm, shrouded in mystic darkness, lies the ancient domain of the demons. Here, shadows dance and whispers of malevolent power echo through eerie corridors.

The Demon Realm's landscape is a mesmerizing blend of haunting beauty. Its dark and ominous allure captivates the senses, drawing in observers with a mysterious charm. The twisted and jagged terrains defy the laws of nature, creating a surreal and mesmerizing sight. Fiery pits punctuate the land, casting an eerie glow that illuminates the shadowy recesses of the realm, adding a touch of otherworldly elegance to the demonic domain.

Towering citadels rise like majestic sentinels, their spires reaching towards the darkened skies in a display of haunting beauty. An ethereal atmosphere envelops the air, resonating with whispers of mystery and echoes of sinister laughter. The very ground pulsates with an otherworldly energy, infusing the realm with a sense of eerie elegance and foreboding grace.

This is the Demon Realm—a place where fear and trepidation reign supreme, where the boundaries between nightmares and reality meld into a chilling tapestry of darkness.

"That ignorant Bing Mo!" Ming Wang's thunderous voice reverberated through the chamber as his fist met the arm of the throne chair. The force shattering the cold, black stone into fragments under the force of his fury. The Emperor of the demon realm remained embittered from the war lost fifteen thousand years ago, his recent attempt to provoke the heavens leading to a backlash of magic from his use of magic mortal realm. He now bore the brunt of the magic's rebound, suffering greatly from its effects.

His four horsemen stood in silence, their eyes fixed on their master's wrathful display. None dared to interject or utter a word, cowed by the looming specter of his rebounded anger and the consequences it might unleash upon them.

Dong Hua, Mo Yuan, Bai Qian, and Ye Hua each played a part in the downfall of his trusted Lieutenant Qing Cang and the loss of his cherished Golden Lion beast pet. The celestial rulers and warriors foiled his plans, with the presumed deceased Mo Yuan who had faked his death emerging triumphant, vanquishing a legion of his demon soldiers. Bai Qian, sister to the repugnant Bai Yi, wielded the powerful Five Star Fan. The Demon Emperor underestimated the Bai family. A mistake he would not repeat.

Read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55132009/chapters/140024710

#donghua fengjiu #smut #fanfic #eternal love of dream #donghuafengjiu #threelivesthreeworldspillowbook #donghuadijun #donghua #fengjiu #baifengjiu

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belle-keys · 3 years

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No but Thunder Bay and the Horsemen and the entire Devil’s Night saga was just… unbelievably joyful for me. Like the plot and the characters and the flashbacks and the webs between all the character arcs and the unapologetic rawness of it all? It’s one of those series that reminded me of why I love reading. I got so lost in Thunder Bay and the lore and their family, like Thunder Bay feels like one of those real-but-immortal settings (you know what I mean)? Plus the way l’appel du vide lies at the heart of the story and the characters but also (clearly) within people who really really enjoy content like this? This shit was amazing from start to finish and it wrapped up so beautifully. This is the same feeling I get when I read TSC and Harry Potter and The Goldfinch I tell you.

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writing-on-the-wahl · 3 years

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Writing Snippet #5

Queen of the Harvest

*Vibe check: I listened to Warriors by Imagine Dragons while creating this one*

—————————————

Her city was surrounded.

The new queen sat on her throne, fingers brushing the oval sapphire hanging against her forehead as her advisors argued about what was to be done. Her golden hair stood in stark contrast to the dark wood of the throne, gleaming just as deeply as the the gilded heads of wheat carved into the back and sides of the chair.

She dropped her hand back into her lap.

“Could they not have waited for the mourning period to be over?”

Her quiet words brought a crashing halt to the debate.

“Your Majesty—” the Master of the Markets cautiously broke the silence, hands clutching the skirts of her dress.

But the young queen held up a hand. “There is no point going down that path, I know.” She turned to the old grizzled soldier standing near the throne.

“Master of the Watch?”

“Yes, my queen?”

“How many men do we have within the city walls?”

“Less than six hundred, Your Majesty.”

“Against how many?”

“At least five thousand, Your Majesty.”

She closed her eyes briefly.

“I thought Prince Raiiyn was busy attacking the Southwest border. Is that not why we sent nearly our entire army to repel him? And yet, somehow he is here, in the heart of our land?” She looked around the room, her slender brows raised in question.

“Your Majesty, the Crimson Prince is indeed at the border with part of his army. It is one of his generals that now beats at our door.”

“How much food and water do with have within the city walls?”

The Master of the Silos stepped forward. “Enough to feed our people for over a year.”

“If we use the seed intended for planting,” muttered the Master of the Planting.

The Master of the Silos ignored this remark. “But with last year’s drought... the harvest did not yield much. Now that you are queen and the rains have returned, the wells should be...” he trailed off at the raw sorrow upon the queen’s face.

He bowed low, fingers to his brow. “Forgive me.”

The queen offered a small nod and pushed her grief away. “How long would it take our army to return?”

The Master of the Watch shrugged hopelessly. “If they could disengage without being pursued by the Crimson Prince?” His tone suggested just how likely that was. “Ten days? Twelve? The cavalry could be here in three days, but that would leave our army weak, and 400 horsemen would do little against the army camped outside our gates.”

“They have little by way of supplies. Our people took every scrap of food they could when they retreated to the city. We can try to wait them out. The odds of them breaching the gate—”

“Maing Soundolung!” The doors of the hall burst open and a soldier rushed forward.

“Maing Soundolung!” He gasped out as he bowed, fingers to his brow.

Her eyes narrowed in concern. He was addressing her not as the nation’s queen, but as ruler of the harvest. It was the first time the honorific had been used since the sapphire had been placed upon her. Something was very wrong.

“The southern gate is on fire.”

The queen pushed off the arms of her chair and rose to her feet. The entire council bowed, fingers to brows, as she strode through their midst and out the doors. The hall opened up directly onto the hill overlooking the colorful city, which was bathed in the light of the setting sun. In front of her, smoke billowed from the distant wall, flickers of red and orange gleaming through the haze.

She walked across the stone landing until her bare feet rested on the grassy slope that led down to the city proper. Silence reigned as she closed her eyes and felt the earth.

Finally, she spoke.

“The roots are half an inch long. Master of the Fields?”

“They can handle some rain, but not much.”

“Master of the Planting?”

“We have enough seed to replant nearly three quarters of the fields, but that leaves us nothing for next year.”

Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a breath. “Then we will pray it is enough.” The council bowed their heads as one.

Then she slowly lifted her hands from her sides, raising them towards the heavens. Black clouds formed on the horizon and drew closer as her hands continued to rise. Soon the sun was blocked by the dark boiling clouds.

Her palms touched above her head, and the skies opened. Rain poured down.

Water dropped from her lashes as she lowered her palms until her fingertips rested against the sapphire that adorned her brow.

She kept her eyes fixed on the angry flames that fought against the downpour.

They must have used oil.

“Signal for the guards to abandon the southern wall and have the townspeople retreat to the northern quarter.”

The advisors eyed one another but hastened to obey. A horn rang out in four quick bursts.

When the answering horn replied that all was clear, she split her hands. The rains slowed as she raised her right fist to the clouds and stretched her left down to the earth.

“Can you aim that carefully, Maing Soundolung?” The Master of the Market asked hopefully.

“I can try.” she replied, her quiet voice grim but determined.

In one swift motion, she spread her fingers wide. Thunder shook the air as bursts of lighting split the sky, striking the ground beyond the southern wall in angry streaks of light and power. The thunder rolled unceasingly as lighting struck again and again.

Rain streamed down her arms and dropped off her chin, but the Queen of the Harvest did not cease until a horn blast signaled that the enemy was retreating.

As her arms fell weakly to her sides, the air stilled and the clouds began to retreat.

The council stood, frozen in awe, as the queen looked out at the scorched strip of earth between her city and the vast enemy encampment.

To the right, a brilliant sunset had turned the sky blood-red. A sign of what was to come if she followed this path.

“How fast can you get a message to our army?” She said, voice steady but eyes wide as she took in the destruction.

“Our fastest messenger bird could be there by tomorrow. Are you going to call for the cavalry?”

“No. That would only result in a slaughter.”

“Then what will you do?”

“I’m going to surrender.”

—————————————

She raised her hands to ward off the building protests. “I cannot fend off their attacks indefinitely without destroying the crops, and neither can our army keep the prince’s force at bay forever. If they take the city by force, they will show no mercy. If I surrender, I can negotiate the terms.” She swallowed, then continued. “He does not want this war to drag on either. They want to rule over Zea because they have no good soil of their own. They rely on our harvest as much as we do. He will accept—”

“You cannot negotiate with that monster!”

The queen turned her head to look at the Master of the Fields. “He is a prince, a not a monster.”

“The Crimson Prince is a demon!”

“Prince Raiiyn is a Tyger. If heightened senses and reflexes make someone a demon, then what does that make me?”

She gestured to the burnt earth behind her.

Her advisors did not speak, but the soldier who’d first brought word of the attack stepped forward. “It makes you Cerelia: Soundolung, Queen of the Harvest, Singer of Storms, Protector of Zea.”

He bowed, one hand to his brow, the other raised as if to touch hers. As he straightened, his burning eyes met hers. “It makes you our queen.”

She inclined her head, touching her sapphire, symbol of her role and conduit for her power. “Then as your queen, I must do what I can to protect our people. From starvation and enemy soldiers alike.”

“Your Majesty,” the old Master of the Watch was regarding her with sorrowful respect. “Surrender... you know the cost?”

She turned back towards the hall, where the doors still sat open, the last light of the day casting streams of light on the throne of gilded wheat.

“I know the cost.”

#queen #fantasy #short story #surrounded #surrender #queen of the harvest #snippet #my writing #writeblr #writing #crimson prince #prince #hero x villain

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whumpeeblog · 3 years

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TW SLAVERY, DEATH, MENTION OF TORTURE, PRISONER, VIOLENCE

N Prompts

“He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her- for the pain she was going to live through.”

S woke up to the shrieks of women and the clanging of metal swords against each other. She sat up swiftly in bed. She had only just gotten here, but everything had already begun crashing to the ground. Only a twelve year old American, she had barely convinced her parents to allow her to stay in Ireland with her old friends and relatives. Fear coursed through her veins, and she panicked, her eyes darting wildly around the room. She had no idea what the safest option was, considering this part of Ireland was still underdeveloped, and almost medieval in form. Most had electricity, but horses were still used as primary transport and many dressed in old fashion, not to mention the castles littering the area, their lords and kings constantly waging war. Even worse than any of this was the fact that slavery and torture was still common. Prisoners and slaves were allowed to be made of almost anyone, very few actively safe. S was innocent, not realizing half of this quite yet.

S’s fight or flight kicked in, and she subconsciously chose flight. She scurried into the hall and made her way outside, avoiding any fighting. The scenery made her sick as she trampled onto the grass. Death expanded rapidly around her, body after body. Soldiers battled harshly, as horsemen mercilessly ended lives below them. Wounded people moaned in agony and pools of blood filled dips in the ground. S’s only thought was to run. She took off towards the dark forest behind the castle. At least there she would be safe.

From atop the hill, two warriors on horseback watched the battle. Anyone who dared to come towards them was ended quickly and effortlessly. The man on the left and riding a large black steed was gruff and intimidating, long blonde hair side swept over his face. Cruel blue eyes gazed across the gory scene, amusing him slightly. The other man was a bit shorter and sat on the back of a bay. Crinkles surrounded his brown eyes which matched his short hair. The sight before him didn’t disturb him, as he was accustomed to blood and gore. He had experience with torture and had often performed executions in the place of the man beside him. The sadist on the left was K, an executioner and cousin of a young king named D. N was the partner, more merciful, but still willing to do what was required of him. He was also a cousin of D, and he and K were fairly close, constantly working together in service of their royal cousin.

K noticed the tiny figure stumbling across the figure coming out of the field. She was one of many who had tried to escape, and N and K had stamped them all out.

“Come on,” K nudged his horse and cocked his head, signaling for N to follow. The men cantered down the field, unconcerned about the wretch escaping them.

S didn’t look behind her until the dreadful pounding of hooves in her ears. She continued to run as fast as her legs could take her, but a sharp breath of asthma slowed her down. When her head turned to look over her shoulder, she noticed the two horsemen cantering swiftly behind her, quickly gaining. She reached the entrance of the woods and her legs tried to move faster, but any hope of escaping crumbled as she tripped over a hole in the ground, collapsing to the dirty ground.

Before S had the time to scamper back to her feet, one of the two Celts leapt from his horse and drew his sword. S’s desperate eyes stared at the frightening blue eyes above her.

“No! Please no! Mercy!” She begged as he raised his sword. The sharp blade towered dauntingly, ready to slice wherever directed, taking the victim’s life with it. “Please have mercy, sir. Please don’t kill me.” S whimpered soft cries, tears dripping from her chin. K chuckled, and began to bring the weapon to her neck, ready to take her head.

“K, wait.” The terrified, trembling eyes darted to the other man, still on his horse. “Just let her go.”

The men weighed the options, not sure whether to kill or set free their prey. After N’s pleading, K chose an option that would satisfy them both. He slid his sword back in its sheath and reached for a strand of rope from his saddle. He slowly sauntered around the girl crying on the floor of the forest. Each step thundered in her ears, causing shudders to chill her body. A harsh boot landed on her back and pushed her face first into the ground. S then felt the presence of the monster on top of her. He tore her arms behind her back, making sure to pull them in a painful way. S took a sharp breath as K wrapped the rope around her wrists, perhaps a bit too tightly.

“Get up.” The tiny body flinched at his gruff voice. “Now!” he added when she was not up in a time to his liking. He dragged her to her feet and threw her over his horse.

N’s merciful eyes met those of his prisoner’s. A guilt flooded his eyes as he watched the victim struggle in K’s arms, trying desperately to escape. He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her- for the pain she was going to live through.

Perhaps it would have been more merciful to let K take her life.

#whump community #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump trope #whumper #slave #prisoner #torture #whump blog #whump writing

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ismahanescorner · 4 years

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Nightfall| Book Review

“William Grayson III is a SIMP!”

Author: Penelope Douglas

Series: Devil’s Night Series; Book 4

Genre: New Adult, Romance, Dark Romance, Suspense.

Rating: 5/5 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Release Date: 24/07/2020

Synopsis:

What happens when it's five against one and nowhere to run? EMORY They call it Blackchurch. A secluded mansion in a remote, undisclosed location where the wealthy and powerful send their misbehaving sons to cool off away from prying eyes. Will Grayson has always been an animal, though. Reckless, wild, and someone who was never bound by a single rule other than to do exactly what he wanted. There was no way his grandfather was going risk him humiliating the family again. Not that the last time was entirely his fault. He might’ve enjoyed backing me into corners in high school when no one was looking, so they wouldn’t catch on that Mr. Popular actually wanted a piece of that quiet, little nerd he loved to torture so much, but… He could also be warm. And fierce in keeping me safe. The truth is… He has a right to hate me. It’s all my fault. Everything. Devils Night. The videos. The arrests. I’m to blame for all of it. And I regret nothing. WILL I never minded being locked up. I learned a long time ago that being treated like an animal gives you permission to act like one. No one has ever looked at me any other way. Their only mistake is believing anything I do is an accident. I can sit in this house with no Internet, television, liquor, or girls, but I’ll come out of here with something far more frightening to my enemies. A plan. And a new pack of wolves. I just didn’t expect one of my enemies to come to me. I don’t know who smuggled her in or if they meant to leave her here, but I can smell her hiding in the house. She’s here. And as the security detail leaves the supplies, the gates close, and the door to my gilded cage opens, giving me free reign of the house and grounds for another unsupervised month, I remember with a smile… Blackchurch houses five prisoners. I’m only one of her problems.

Review:

TW/: domestic abuse/violence, substance abuse, violence, graphic language and scenes.

WHAT AN ENDING!

This is the final book in the Devil’s Night series and what an ending it was! Let me start this review off by letting you all know that I am a Pen Douglas Stan, I’ve read pretty much everything she wrote except for Credence because I’m not about the menage life. I haven’t given any of her books less than a three-star rating (mean looking at you Corrupt). So, obviously Nightfall was one of my most anticipated books of the year, I mean I’ve been reading this series for the past five years, and Kill Switch (Devil’s Night #3) was A BANGER!!!

Anywho, Nightfall is our last horseman’s book, William Aaron Paine Grayson III, aka everyone’s cheerful lovable goof, aka the least problematic of the horsemen; except for that one time when he burnt that gazebo downtown because it was built by that one girl that didn’t like him back, Emory Scott; who happens to be this book’s leading lady. Nightfall thus takes us back a few years ago to show us what actually went down between Will and Emmy and what led Will to burn down her memorable footprint in Thunder Bay. It also takes us through a journey to discover how both Will and Emmy ended up at Blackchurch today!

I’ve titled this review “William Grayson is a SIMP” because he just is, the flashbacks show us that even though he is part of the “wrong crowd”, he is a horseman, after all, he is just the sweetest most precious bean ever, and he wants nothing more than to worship at the alter of one Emory Sophia Scott. Fast-forward to today and he is a bit harsher and meaner due to all that he’d been through and is on a journey to prove his worth to the other horsemen, however, he is still a simp for Emmy. Now, onto our heroine, Emmy; I actually lose my words whenever I try to describe her. She is kind of a force to be reckoned with. I’ve mentioned above that Pen is a fave author of mine, her book Punk 57 is one of my all-time faves because I feel so much for Ryen, in that same way I feel for Emory. She is this complex character that you can not just either love or hate. She’s been through hell most of her teen years, and as such she’s made some not so good choices and some really bad decisions to stay afloat. She is remorseful but still unapologetic, she will do anything and everything for her and her loved ones to survive. She is frankly one of those rare characters to find in books, and that’s why I love her with my whole heart. In this instalment, we are introduced to a slew of new characters that are the residents of Blackchurch, some of whom are kind of permanent additions of the Horsemen’s family.

The plot: aaaah this book’s plot! I took my sweet sweet time reading Nightfall, I’d read throughout its release week, and it felt so much like binge-watching a miniseries at times. Each part felt like an episode with an individual arc that flowed into the next and each of these mini-arcs built the overall arc of Will and Emory finally having their shot at these whole love and relationship thing. Oh, and this overall arc fell under the overarching storyline of the Devil’s Night series, wherein Pen showed us how each character played a vital role into where our horsemen ended up today. And Pen did a wonderful job intertwining all of those arcs and giving us a fabulous ending full of action, suspense, and plot twist galore! I’ve read some reviews saying that this was a long book, however, I gotta disagree, it was just the right length for me because it took time to stitch each and every plot hole and connect all the dots.

I gotta say that I already miss the horsemen and their family, they were part of my life for the past five years, and its a bit weird knowing that their story has reached its final destination. I hope inspiration can hit Pen again and she revisits this beautifully dark dark tale.

If you are looking for an action packed, suspenseful dark romance series that breaks most boundries then I highly recommend the Devil’s Night series.

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thepilgrimofwar · 4 years

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Finale 1 - Edited Roll20 Log

Outside the walls of Arenias’ fortress was a celebration. Banners of all colours fluttered in the wind as Beathyn’s cannons continued their relentless shelling. All of the Emberglades were represented. Wintergale volunteers and Men of the Blackbanner led by Zarannis. Militia from the Heartlands and Shalemarch under Judereth. Even Westheath prisoners-turned-soldiers, promised amnesty, aiming to fight twice as hard to prove their loyalty to Relriah who had stepped forward to lead them. They knew of her, most of them growing up in Westheath together.

It wasn’t difficult to convince them to follow The Daughter of Illithia who was Arenias’ last remaining heir. After being explained the state of things by Relriah, they were more than happy to fight for someone who was just as ruthless- but not at their expense. They promised to deliver her father’s head as a coronation present for the true ruler of Westheath.

But despite the celebratory mood, there was still a dread that hung low in the air. Victory was close at hand, but it made the idea of dying -now- so much worse. A pointless last stand by Arenias. The last gesture by a Lordling that was already dead. The same outcome would be reached if he just surrendered- only with less bloodshed on both sides. But Stenden had been clear.

A prolonged siege to starve them out and forcing a surrender was not an acceptable option. They needed to snuff Lord Illithia and his loyalists out once and for all. The war had gone on long enough, and with the help of the heroes who had come to aid him, they were going to end this- Here. Now.

[Event Start]

Thanidiel Highdawn:"How much does the Lordling wish for us to keep intact?"

Esheyn:"An important thing to consider.”

Ethalarian:"I would imagine as much as possible, Highdawn."

Thanidiel:"I'm just saying. There's a lot of tinder here and nothing runs the untrained out of a fortress faster..."

Ethalarian:"I don't think they've much interest in ruling a load of torched tinder, either."

Lirelle:"I believe all of their militia have deserted them. Only those fanatically loyal are left."

Thanidiel:"I'll show them fanatical loyalty underneath my mare's hooves."

Lirelle looks up to the defenders on the walls. "I'm sure some of them are already regretting it."

Ethalarian frowns. Destroying his fellow countrymen to the man doesn't appear to sit well with him.

Thanidiel:"Highdawn will run down the riflemen ahead. Will your horsemen be handling the infantry?"

Ethalarian:"You can leave it to me."

Isilos pointed at the guards infront of Thanideil's troops. "Soften them up so the others can pass through."

Thanidiel:"Mm, fuck that. Redirecting - this city is so piss-narrow. I may split the heavy cavalry for now."

[Combat Starts.]

After the strategy concludes, the siege begins in earnest under the blasts of Beathyn’s cannon fire. The fighting is intense as the Coalition engages Arenias’ loyalists street by street, and block by block. Smashing through barricades and navigating roadblocks, the battle soon becomes a slaughter for the hopeless defenders. Nevertheless the fanatical opposing force put up a fierce defence.

The casualness with which the Crows move is at odds with the militia scattered around them. A flick of Lirelle's hand is enough to propel them forwards, horses trotting forward as their riders let loose. Their mage followed cautiously behind, her magic sending chunks of masonry flying from beneath the feet of the defenders. Lirelle herself hung back for now, save for a single bolt of black that washed over the crossbowmen, leaving nothing but corpses in its wake.

Ethalarian secures his helmet in place and spurs his charger forward without a word. As he races through the streets, he gives his orders with hand signals, dirt and loose stone flying through the air at the thunderous passing of his cavalry.

Esheyn and her troops take to the walls, climbing up the ladders quickly to dispatch their foes.

Vaelrin was here. And was here the entire time for whatever happened over the last few weeks at this particular location at this particular time when things were surely at a particularly violent era. Nevertheless, Vaelrin's best interest was to pursue and protect those who were with him in battle and with a bellowing call, he and bowmen took aim to the Arbalesters on the top of the wall.

[Meanwhile at the inner walls of the north]

Vissehn 's troops had been on the move long before the main army and they had carved their corner-- one man at a time, one night at a time. It took time to break a perimeter; more time to dig in. Lots of cardgames played silently-- lots of sleepless nights. Now, however, it paid off; their commander's eccentric strategy bringing them to the back of the field, where defenses pointed quite the other way. Springing up, they levelled their rifles at the bombardment canon, trying to make quick work of things on their side of the battle. All the while, their young and reckless commander sang a jaunty tune.

Vissehn Sings

"Lay them out, oh bullet born Reap all they have sown Arenias of the blatant scorn will find his castle blown!"

And so they let loose, all of their shots, in a blaze of gunsmoke and shells.

Vissehn takes a moment to fire into the air, letting enemy and ally alike know that a Hawk has entered the fray.

[Back to the Main Assault]

Isilos channeled healing light towards Esheyn while commanding his Magisters to puch back the entrentched. "Clear the path, we need to make it to the other side. I will focus on keeping our ranks alive."

Thanidiel yells to her compatriots. "Highdawn will be blocking the advance of the lancers."

Ethalarian:"Good luck."

Mara Blazingdawn:"Soldiers! Fan out! We will not be left out of this fight!"

A runner comes in from their eastern flank, calling for reinforcements. The siege had gone well on the Eastern Wall. -Too Well- so much so that the militia-men had over extended and were now cut off.

Ethalarian immediately wheels his cavalry around, waving for him to follow. "My cavalry will ride to relieve the militia! We'll get there fastest."

The battle continues as Ethalarian rides down the streets leading eastwards and comes to the militia’s aide on the right flank.

Oosaarn and the arbalesters charged through the broken wall. Sprinting past broken buildings and rubble until they were well within the city. He orders his troops to attack the infantry on his left while both arbalesters attacks those straight ahead.

Esheyn continues their assault atop the wall, but she instructs her troops to descend and move to join the others.

Vaelrin bellows forth a command ordering his troop to follow him as he charges off on his steed towards the middle of the wall where the hole allowed entryway. With most of the ranged disposed of, his focus now turned towards something else. Without so much as a flinch, Vaelrin's presence was now alongside Lirelle as a command ushered forth a wave of arrows towards the nearest enemy.

Mara Blazingdawn raises her sword to order her forces forward. "Advance through the breech! We need to get into position to engage their infantry! Double time!"

Rallying her troops to her Mara Blazingdawn bellows at the top of her lungs as they enter the fray. "Drive these cavalry back! We need to clear the way!"

[Meanwhile, on the right flank]

Ethalarian 's cavalry arrives at the flank and he immediately begins to take stock of the situation. "Forward!" he bellows to his militiamen. "Buy the levies some breathing room!"

Ethalarian spurs his lancers forward, aiming to relieve the beleaguered levies. Light radiates from the lancers behind him and begins to knit closed their wounds. "You!" he shouts, directing his lance at some poor unfortunate soul. "What the hell happened here?"

The sargeant responds. They had broken through and made full use of it. Only to discover later that it was because they were let in -intentionally-. This whole eastern flank was a trap.

[Meanwhile, in the North, at the Inner Walls]

Vissehn shouts as the hit lands, but it doesn't seem to do enough. He looks to his militia men. "C'mon, bring 'em down!" They reload, and fire once more-- into the arablesters this time.

Vissehn:"Ilithia went to war

Far beyond their reach

Here we bay at their door

To hammer down a breach!"

Vissehn:"If we die we die glorious, lads! Let 'em remember we sang to our demise!"

[Back to the Main Assault]

Lirelle continues walking forward, the Crows behind her picking off targets as they went. As she passes Vaelrin again, she turns to look at him briefly. saying not a word as was promised. She stops behind Thanidiel's horsemen and the shadows curl around her, dissipating to reform in an instant to engulf the guards and rifles.

Thanidiel is unphased as the dark magicks swirl around them - those of the Emberheart militia reacting on the contrary until settled under the standard of Tyr's Hand again.

Isilos wiped the blood from his scythe and looked to the other streets. He didn't like being delayed when there was an objective.

Oosaarn and those arbalest mercenaries turned the nearest corner and ran headlong into the group of house guards down the ruined street. [All basic attack on House Guards]

Esheyn grits her teeth. She has a LOT of ground to cover if she has any hope of catching up with her comrades. But her troops are in a better position to assist, and so she calls to them, "TO ISILOS!" before jumping down to rush toward the fray.

Mara Blazingdawn finishes cleaning her blade from the recent skirmish. "Press forward! We have the advantage!" Ordering her knights to move into the ruins, the lesser guardsmen engage the House Guards while Mara's personal guard attack the Infantry further into the city.

[Meanwhile, on the right flank]

The trap continued to circle in on the remaining militia, also trapping Ethalarian.

Ethalarian squares his jaw as the severity of the situation begins to dawn on him. Cut off. Surrounded. "Hartwood! Duskarrow!" He shouts as loud as he can, hoping they can hear him over the din of the battle. "Fall back! Get the militia out of here, warn Highdawn and the others!" The broad-shouldered knight at the head of one of the militia formation falters. "But-" Ethalarian waves, cutting him off. "No argument, Sergeant! I'll delay them as long as I can!"

Takes one look at the situation, then back at the knight who had come to their rescue. "What about you?" He asks.

Ethalarian shakes his head. "You heard me. The last thing I need is a bunch of fucking farmers getting in my way."

Krissen Dawnhollow who had believed she had their lines of retreat cut off frowns. "Noble of you. But futile. Just like my Lord's stupid last stand. Are you here to make one of your own?"

Ethalarian wheels his cavalry about, facing now the one that had begun to approach him. "Nothing quite so elegant as that." He shrugs his shoulders. "Just no other options."

Krissen Dawnhollow shrugs. "Such is life, is it not?" She makes a wry laugh, for she knew that her fate would be similar. Shortly.

Ethalarian cracks a wry grin, leaning forward across the horn of his saddle. "Not that it's going to matter here in a few minutes," he says with a wry laugh, "but I don't suppose you have a name?"

Krissen Dawnhollow:"Krissen Dawnhollow," she says.

Krissen Dawnhollow raises her hand for her troops to attack. Whatever futile victory she had won on this side of the fortress was going to be pointless soon enough. As was the Knight's last stand. "Let's finish this."

Ethalarian discards his lance and draws Faithbreaker from its scabbard. The crimson blade flickers to life as it had so many times before and one of the knights behind him sounds a blast of his horn. "Let us indeed." Hooves drive into cobblestone with a thunderous sound as he spurs his charger into action, followed by what remains of his retinue.

[And on the Inner Walls North of the Main Assault]

Vissehn and his lads slipped off the battlements, and with a rush ran to the remaining bombardment canon. Vissehn waved them around, and his soldiers attempted to commandeer.

Vissehn cheers and his men, and the remains of his militia, aim for the final bombardment canon on the battlements.

“If we die now, we die with a canon!"

The boy holds tight to his canon, watching the arbalesters fell his men. Until there was none but himself.

Vissehn, alone as his luck seemed to fade, breaks out into song. "When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wondered."

Thanidiel hears his song. "Are you singing to -comfort- yourself!" bellows through the streets.

The Main Assault was now closing in on the Inner Walls but none were in range to support the Hawk

Esheyn and her troops break into a run toward those battling up ahead. [All Sprint]

“Center formation! Fall back and reform! Rear formation! Attack!” Mara Blazingdawn the Dawnspire Knights engage the Houseguard bringing steel and courage to purpose.

Just as the arbalesters fire at Vissehn, the forces from the Eastern Flank arrive to assist

Ethalarian 's cavalry appear from the right flank, tattered and flagging but unbroken. A tree of a man leads the front most unit of cavalry, recognizable to most as Knight-Sergeant Hartwood. "Run them down!" he cries. "We need to end this quickly for the Captain's sake!"

[The Battle Quickly concludes and all forces meet up]

"Commander Highdawn!"

Thanidiel looks at the rider from Ethalarian’s unit. "Dawnstalker does not ride with you. Report."

Hartwood shakes his head. "The right flank was a trap, sir. Last I saw of him he was completely enveloped by the enemy." The big man looks grim. "I saw his banner charge into their leader's formation but- We need to hurry."

Thanidiel does not shout nor rile at the news - accepting it quietly with the phoenix greathelm obscuring her thoughts and features. What there is - almost automatic on the heels of Hartwood's words, is the swishing motion of the Tyr's Hand standard and the beat of the armoured cavalry's hooves as they move shortly from a rippling trot to a full gallop through streets and along walls to the eastern flank.

What she finds when she arrives is a scene of calamity- not a single one of the Lancers that had left under Ethalarian's banner remained standing. She finds him at the center of the formation, badly bloodied but somehow still breathing. At least for the moment. His wounds are many and they are deep. His head turns, eyes unseeing, toward the sound of hoofbeats as Highdawn's formation approaches and he manages to barely lift a hand.

Thanidiel slows enough to swing off of the back of her pale mare, allowing the beast to come to its own stop as her armoured frame lands onto the cobblestone. The motleyed band of horsemen that had followed her all the way from the South, just as Ethalarian had, already bringing themselves to a pause aways from the scene. Sweetness does not soften this moment, for Highdawn is not sweet and has always been all of the weapon that Ethalarian had wished to dehumanise into. Her gauntletted hand lowers to his, enough to curl around, as she delivers the plainfaced observation. "You are dying. My Light would do nothing but spur you to the end before it could uplift you."

Thanidiel then seethes out, angry but restrained, "We should have gone together. Traded places."

Ethalarian sputters a half-choked laugh and gives a shake of his head, bloodied lips twisting into a crooked grin. "S'w-what I always liked about you, Th-Thanidiel. Always a...a laugh." He lifts his chin and tugs sharply, with what little strength he has left, and the buckles clasping his curiass in place give out. "Shut up," he hisses through clenched teeth as his numb fingers fumble for something. "I picked this."

Thanidiel:"The dying or whatever you're fumbling for in there? If you think I like you enough to go into my Great Uncle's lands and hand Nuellen your dogtags..." The ex-Knight picks up on his manner, letting everything else said pass by with flickers of her ears as she drops to her knees. Facilitating the ease of whatever was being given.

Ethalarian finally finds what he's looking for- something kept close to his heart- and weakly takes it into his grip. "Everything." The color begins to fade even more rapidly from his ruddy skin. Unable to lift his arm anymore, he rocks his shoulders in her direction and slaps whatever is in his hand- smeared with his blood- into her chest. "Keep...this...close." Ethalarian winces from the pain. "Foot...footlocker."

Thanidiel examines the bloodsmeared object, using the leather underside of her glove to wipe away and discover its details. The greathelm, as always, obscuring anything animate to her. But whatever it was, the stalks of her ears freeze and pull back - threatened, or alarmed, taken aback? Either way, it all braces and chills through the rest of her frame as she looms over the dying Knight. Hostility replacing affection even still as she grits out a simplistic, "Fuck you," as the ramifications process through her mind. "You're going to make me live for this?" She had wanted this all to be the end; a merit of good work to at least a few peoples before bringing over a century of nightmare to an end.

Thanidiel growls after - the sound reverberating through her chest, and throat, and the layers of padded cloth and metal encasing her. Even still, the deliberate motion is present in the other's dying vision; the press of Elleynah's World to her breastplate.

Ethalarian squeezes Thanidiel's hand weakly and seems to laugh- his body shakes, at least- and that wry smile returns to his face. He wants to say more- to give her a few final words- but he can't summon the energy. All he can do is nod weakly. She knows his meaning. She'll understand. Regardless of whatever difference they may have had, she would do what needed to be done. That was her way. And then, at long last, his grip goes slack in her hands and he stills completely.

[Event End]

#epilogue #roll20

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yeehawfolk · 5 years

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The Hunt goes on.

When the night rises high into the sky, you may hear the baying of the Dogs first. Long, low wails of agony, crawling across the woods. Piercing yips and groaning, gravelly yelps that long sent all the wildlife skittering for cover. Though the scent they sought was not one of any beast, but of the beating, thick blood of man. But the dogs were only the beginning. The beginning of the end.

Hoofbeats thudding against the ground in angry puffs of dirt, horses carried on rotted and limping legs, something that shouldn't be able to move let alone run. Death dampened the air around them, a dank mildew, rotting the closer it came. Not many had lived to tell much more. But those that did, spoke in hurried and hushed whispers. In underpasses, ratty apartment buildings, railroad tracks. After all, not all Wilds were trees.

They spoke of the Dogs first. Always at the head of the procession, always chasing on Master's whim. On four legs they gave chase, slobbering jaws unhinged in wicked smiles, gurgling laughter at the back of their rotting throats. Glazed eyes stared onward, always forward, bloating tongues waggling at the end of rusted chains held by the Horsemen. A sight that sickens the very ground beneath their fingers, jigsaw spinal columns poking through mere paper of flesh as the grass withers away. Men so warped by everlasting time in a rotted body they can't form a coherent thought. Men turned into mindless, frenzied animals.

Skeletal horses thundered behind, hides long rotted and fallen apart, teeth clacking on their jaw hinges. Gleaming white bones whistled in the wind, singing a hair-raising shriek. The distorted horse's neigh cackling between puffs of hot, baking breath. Embers flickered in sunken sockets, trailing ashes behind them in glowing after-images as they ran, disappearing timidly into the night after they passed.

Atop their backs rode the Huntsmen, Hellfire lanterns blazing, deep purple rot running deep into their bones. Oozing pus and decay filled their eye sockets, tears of miasma leaking from grinning faces, roaring with jagged screeches of laughter. Some held splintering spears between knotted, mummified fingers, others beheld disintegrating swords high above their heads. Hounds baying, horses stomping, they let loose deafening caterwauling that cracked through the air like lightning.

"RUN, RUN, PREY! THERE! GIVE CHASE! FORWARD, DOGS!"

Spectral howling echoes ever closer, until the river of demons parts like a rock broke between them, swirling all around the poor soul. The stench is enough to drive anyone mad. Scent of rot, sweet cherrywood waves that intermingled with burnt oil and exhaust. Vomit. Shit. Piss. Everything sour and discarded by the masses pressed into one stomach-rolling cloud. Enough to burn your eyes to tears.

None survive an encounter with the Master of The Hunt. A branching crown of horns sits atop the gleaming skull of a deer lacking a jaw, thinning brown fur running down it's back like a moth-eaten cape. Rotted hide flutters against skin stretched over bones, adorned with the white remains of prey past. Teeth hanging in low, layered necklaces, skulls stretching from its shoulders in long sashes that clattered when his horse jostled. Nothing was spared. Deep in the darkness beneath the deer skull, nothing could be seen but puffs of dusty, aged breath.

The speartip in his right hand is made of polished bone, the handle a deep obsidian black. Clasped in his left are five personally trained Hounds, whining just at the ends of clanking chains. Many do not see it coming. A spear in the back, perhaps. Others he allows his personal Dogs to tear to shreds, fighting over the best pieces of meat or marrow. So the Master claims another victory for his Hunt's ravenous table.

And their souls?

Well, there's a reason some of the horses remain without riders.

#writing #horror #the wild hunt #my writing #writeblr #words #scary #body horror #creepy #writers on tumblr #mine #my words #wild hunt #supernatural creatures #creatures #monsters #ghosts #death #supernatural

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wewerepromisedsomuch · 5 years

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Live Review: Foals @ o2 Academy Oxford

Artist: Foals

Venue: o2 Academy, Oxford, UK

Date: 23rd October 2019

Rating: 9.0/10

Cor, who doesn’t love a hometown show? When you throw in the words – last minute and intimate – that shit goes supernova! Foals returned to the motherland of Oxford for a special album release show for ‘Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Pt.2’, the second part of their duo of records released in 2019. With hordes of baying fans crammed into the 1000 capacity venue – a cupboard in comparison to the arenas the quartet frequent these days, the four horsemen of math-rock charged through some choice cuts from their twinned LP release and a little smattering of their back catalogue with all the gusto and verve you’d expect from a group that live and breathe their live show.

Being able to get up close and personal with a band like Foals doesn’t happen everyday and the o2 Academy crowd knew this all too well; as the four piece (expanded to a six with Jeremy Pritchard on bass and Kit Monteith on percussion, keys and samplers) sauntered onto the stage to the sound of ‘Red Desert’, ‘Everything Not Saved Will Be Lost Pt.2’ opener, it was akin to the second coming greeting Foals. With the minimum of fuss, the sound of ‘The Runner’ blasted out across the swaying throng and by the time the track reached its frenzied finish the Oxford venue’s dancefloor was a mess of sweaty limbs and clambering bodies. For just over an hour and 12 songs, these scenes were a mainstay, albeit with the odd piece of respite during the more melancholic moments of ‘Sunday’ and ‘Syrups’, although once these tasty nuggets received their hefty dose of adrenaline, the volume levels hit the roof and the tangle of bodies duly obliged in frantic motion. With the main set consisting of 9 tracks, 5 of which from ‘ENSWBL Pt.1’ and ‘ENSWBL Pt.2’, it’s evident the outfit’s adoring masses have taken the songs to their hearts; ‘On The Luna’s danceable, jerky indie-rock was met with a thunderous cheer and more unified chaos, while songs like ‘Wash Off’ – played for only the second time tonight – and ‘Like Lightning’, to those not in the know, were met with the reaction of songs that could have been around for years, not released 6 days before the gig. ‘Exits’ elongated lithe wares sounded supple and infectious in the live environment, while main set closer, ‘Black Bull’, was a crowd-slaying animal, not so much bull in a China shop, more black bull in a sweatbox. It’s notable how at ease and confident Foals appeared rattling through these new tracks, equally frontman Yannis Philippakis has morphed into a magnetic focal point, commanding the heaving crowds with the slightest flick of the arm or stalking the lip of the stage, with outstretched hands attempting to grab a handful of the lead singer’s flamboyant shirt.

If things went crackers for the new material, once the group reappeared for a short encore of 3 “greatest hits”, it’s a wonder how the o2 Academy is still standing. ‘My Number’ dropped down the bombast for a delightful poppy bop but chaos was restored by ‘Inhaler’s volcanic eruption. Just to ramp things up even further Philippakis urged the Oxford crowd to “get low” during the song’s meandering breakdown, leading for, what can only be described as a rock ‘n’ roll jack in a box. When the song detonated, the group’s devotees leapt to their feet like rockets taking off. With time at a premium, Yannis gave out an option of ‘What Went Down’ or ‘Two Steps, Twice’ as a choice of a set closer; with the scream-o-metre selecting the latter, the ‘Antidotes’ classic took us all back to 2008, as Foals crashed through the tight, wiry traditional set closer. With rhythms scaling up and down like a shook-up bottle of fizzy pop, it’s no surprise by the song’s finale the majority of audience was an intertwined sea of beautiful chaos. Prior to the final, hectic moments, Yannis parted the gathered throng like an indie-rock Moses, to clamber onto the venue’s bar to churn out the song’s staccato, high wire riffs. Cue a crowd surge and a collective attempt at trying to grab a cheeky photo op as Philippakis stood amongst the beer taps and optics.

Make no bones about it, to bear witness to a show like this should earn you serious bragging rights, a true “I was there moment”. Foals: hands down best band in the UK right now. Go forth a conquer our hooved friends.

Photography by Naomi Abbs-Williams

#Foals #Live Review #Music Review #Music #Indie #Rock #Dance Music #yannis philippakis #Oxford #Everything Not Saved Will Lost

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away-ward · 1 month

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okay, i just saw your hc of “what if emmy got pregnant in high school” and now its making me think the same about damon and winter since damon also has a breeding kink (which we see much more of in the bonus au scene) how do you think damon would react? i just started following your account and im really liking a lot of your hot takes

Hey thank you! It's always good to know that at least some out there are enjoying them.

I figured I'd just do the other three to keep them on the same post. We'll start with Damon since that's who you asked about.

Damon, we know from the alternative scene, wants to get Winter pregnant as away to keep her and control her, which is his particular brand of "love" in high school. If he found out that she was pregnant...well, the image that comes to mind is like a cat that ate the canary.

Winter would be furious, I think in either of the timelines but especially in canon. She's too young, she doesn't like Damon extending his control over her like that; she wanted a choice, not to be forever tied to him by accident. Still, if she did keep it, she'd love that baby with everything she had. She'd keep it and protect it from Damon.

The baby would definitely be a source of fighting for them.

If it was a boy (which, looking at Damon's track record...) Gabriel would be interested. Good chance he'll pull a Christiane 2.0 and take him away. If it's a girl, it's the Ashby's problem.

The Ashby's would seriously consider sending Winter away again. I just know her mom would ask if there were still those boarding schools for "girls like her," that took pregnant girls so they didn't disgrace the family. Her father would promptly walI her over to the town doc that performs all the abortions unwanted/accidentally pregnancies for Thunder Bay (but shhhh, that's a secret). If Winter wouldn't go through with an abortion (she'd have to really fight and scream to get her father to relent), she would consider closed adoption. Considering how angry she was, there's a chance she would have gone through with it. But I'm also thinking her love for Damon despite everything would keep her from being a 100% committed, and that small room for doubt would be enough.

Michael

This wouldn't happen to Michael. He wouldn't even touch Rika until she was 18 or close to it. If she did somehow, despite all this plans, become pregnant with his child, that's it. They're getting married and raising that thing together side by side, as faraway from his family as he could get. Her mom too, if she doesn't get sober real quick. Noway is that going to be let around his kid.

For Rika, this is not how she planned it, but she always wanted Michael so maybe this was how it was meant to be. It's just like them to skip past all the nonsense of dating and getting to know each other. They already know they're made for each other, anyway. But she hates the idea that Michael thinks she tricked or "planned" this. She wasn't poking holes in condoms and she resents him for implying it (which he definitely has more than once).

They'd fight, they'd bicker, they'd annoy each other, but overall they'd be content and happy, approaching this new stage of their life with purpose and assurance that the other is going to try and be the best parent they could.

Kai

This also wouldn't happen to Kai, but it's way more likely to happen to him than to Michael. Especially with Banks involved. His brain shut down whenever she appeared in front of him. Honor bound, he would do whatever he could to make it right. He wouldn't love the idea of abortion (hard to tell if he's the type of Catholic that's completely against the idea, or if he's more along the lines of it's not my body though it's my baby, or if he's more like it's not okay for anyone else but this is my emergency so I'll ask for forgiveness (that he doesn't thinks he'll get... kai's weird)). Overall, if the baby is born and he has to tell his parents, he's going to have one giant shadow over his head. Of course he loves the baby. But this is just another way he's disappointed his father. But then Kai will go to college, and get his degree, get the job, get the salary that will provide the very best for his family. No more screwing up for him.

Basically, this would be something he beats himself up over but would not take him down.

There's a really good chance Banks never tells anyone and takes her self to the abortion clinic. Her fear that Gabriel would kick her out because she can't bring another mouth into his house - that was not the deal. Or ended up anything like her mom, chasing after to rich man to take care of a baby neither of them wanted. Not that she would chase after him. It's just the whole situation she'd want to avoid; it hits too close to home. And don't even bring up Damon finding out. I think she'd also be scared to mess the kid up. At seventeen, she doesn't think she's anywhere close to being mother material. Best to save this kid some pain before it understands. The only thing that might stop her is if Kai somehow found out and talked her out of it. But that would have to be one hell of a speech.

Hope you don't mind me highjacking your question! I'll probably come back and edit to include Will's so that all four are on the same page.

I'll be interested in hearing anyone else's hot takes or opinions. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments or post.

#asked and answered 275 #asked and answered #devil's night series stuff #the horsemen of thunder bay #the women of thunder bay #ko's headcanons

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douglas-heirs-of-chaos-blog · 7 years

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HIDEAWAY Chapter 1!!

Here’s Chapter 1, UN-EDITED. I almost always heavily edit or completely change Chapter 1 after a book is done, because the book I start writing is different than the book I end up writing. However, feel free to enjoy this glimpse at Kai and what’s to come. Just be warned, there is a possibility it “might” change a little.

This will be the only lengthy scene I’ll release, but you will get smaller teasers as the release approaches. And of course, remember, this is a small part of a large book, so enjoy the tease, but don’t assume anything quite yet

There’s so much I can’t wait for you to read! Have a great week, everyone!

Chapter 1

Kai

Rain was like night. You could be different in the dark and under the clouds.

I’m not sure what it was. Maybe the lack of sunlight and how our other senses heightened with no longer being able to see as well, the subtle shroud hiding things from your sight… But only certain times were acceptable to do certain things. Shrug off your jacket and roll up your sleeves. Pour a drink and lean back. Laugh with your friends and scream at the basketball game on TV.

Follow a girl you’ve been eye-fucking for an hour into the pub bathroom and have your friends nod in approval when you come back out.

Try doing that during the day with the intern at the office.

Not that I’d want the freedom to indulge in anything at any time anyway. Things were more special when they were rare.

But every morning, when the sun rose, the coils in my stomach wound tighter in anticipation.

Nightfall was coming again.

Letting my mask dangle from my hand at my side, I stood at the top of the second floor landing and watched Rika sitting in her car. She kept her head down, and her face was visible by the glow of her cell phone, despite the downpour of rain hitting her windshield as she typed.

I shook my head, my jaw flexing. She doesn’t listen.

I watched as my best friend’s fiancé finished up, the light from her phone disappearing, and then she opened the car door, stepped out, and broke into a jog, dashing through the pounding rain. I darted my eyes, taking inventory of her. Head and eyes cast downward. Keys wrapped in her closed fist. Arms shielding her head from the rain hindering her line-of-sight.

Completely unaware of her surroundings. The perfect victim.

Grabbing the harness at the back of my mask, I stretched it out and slid the silver skull down over my head, the inside hugging every curve of my face for a tight fit. The world around me shrunk to that of a tunnel, and all I could see was what was right in front of me.

Heat spread down my neck, seeping deep into my chest, and I drew in a long, cool breath, feeling my heart pound and getting hungry.

All of a sudden, the rain, like a waterfall in the alley outside, filled the dojo, and the heavy metal door downstairs slammed shut.

“Hello?” she called out.

My heart dipped into my stomach, and I closed my eyes, savoring the feel. The sound of her voice echoed through the empty building, but I stayed planted on the dark landing, waiting for her to find me.

“Kai?” I heard her shout through the large space.

I reached back and pulled the hood of my black sweatshirt up, covering my head, and turned to look down over the railing.

“Hello?” she asked again, more urgent. “Kai, are you here?”

I saw her blonde hair first. It’s what you always noticed about Rika first. In her black penthouse, in this black dojo, in the black alley outside, in dark rooms and in black streets… She always stood out.

I rested my hands on the rusted steel railing, keeping my feet planted on the grates, and watched her step slowly into the main room below, flipping up the switches on the wall. But nothing happened. The lights didn’t go on.

She jerked her head left and right, looking suddenly alert, and then darted out her hand, flipping them off and then on again.

Nothing.

Her chest moved up and down quicker, and she looked around, her awareness peaking as she clutched the strap of her bag tighter.

I fought not to smile and cocked my head, watching her. I should show myself. I should play fair, let her know I’m here, and that she’s safe. She was always safe with me.

But the longer I waited, and the longer I stayed quiet and hidden, the more nervous she got. And as she walked further into the room below, I couldn’t help but want to feel this moment. She was confused. Scared. Timid. She didn’t know I was here. Right above her. She didn’t know that eyes were on her right now. She didn’t know that I could run at her, get her in a hold, and have her on the floor before she even knew what had happened.

I didn’t want to scare her, but I did. Power and control were addictive. And I didn’t want to like it, because it made me sick.

I started breathing harder and tightened my fists around the railing, growing scared myself. This wasn’t normal.

“I know you’re here,” she said, looking around, her eyebrows pinched together.

But the stubborn set to her eyes was forced, and I lifted the corner of my mouth in a smile behind my mask.

Her long gray t-shirt fell off her shoulder, and rain glistened across her chest and neck. The downpour pummeled Meridian City outside, and at this time of night—and in this neighborhood—the streets were empty. No one would hear her. No one probably even saw her enter the building.

And by the way she began backing slowly out of the dark room, it looked like she was just beginning to realize that.

I took a step.

The grate flooring creaked, and she snapped her head left, following the sound.

Her eyes locked on me, finally seeing me in the dim light coming through the window from the one streetlight outside. Keeping my gaze on her, I walked toward the stairs.

“Kai?” she asked.

Why isn’t he answering me? She probably wondered. Why is he wearing his mask? Why are the lights out? Because of the storm? What’s going on?

But I said nothing as I walked slowly toward her, her pretty, small form getting more defined the closer I got. Wet strands of hair I didn’t notice before stuck to her chest, and the diamond studs Michael gave her last Christmas sparkled on her ears.

Her blue eyes looked at me warily. “I know that’s you.”

I smirked behind my mask, her rigid body betraying her confident words. Do you?

I circled her slowly, caging her in, while she remained stubbornly still. Are you so sure it’s me? I might not be Kai, right? I could’ve just taken his mask. Or bought one just like it.

Stopping behind her, I tried to keep my breathing calm despite the way my heart was pounding. I could feel her. The energy between my chest and her back.

But she refused to turn around, not wanting to acknowledge what she believed was a game. She should’ve turned around, though. She should’ve been preparing herself for danger. Like I taught her.

“Knock it off,” she barked, turning her head just enough so I could see her lips move. “This isn’t funny.”

I brought up my hand and grazed her hair, running my fingers down the silky strands. No, it wasn’t funny. Michael was gone—out of town for the night—and Will was no doubt out getting drunk somewhere. It was just us.

And with the way my goddamn stomach was flipping right now, it wasn’t funny or good or right how much I needed to constantly push myself over the edge in order to feel anything.

I grabbed her, wrapping my arms around her and burying my nose under her ear. Her perfume made my eyelids heavy, and I heard her gasp as I tightened my hold, keeping her body against mine. “It’s just us, Little Monster,” I growled. “Just how I want it to be, and we have all night.”

“Kai!” she shouted, tugging against my arms.

“Who’s Kai?”

She twisted, fighting my hold and struggling. “I know you by now. Your height, your form, your smell…”

“Do you?” I asked. “You know how I feel, huh?”

I buried my masked face in her neck and tightened my arms around her. Possessive. Threatening. I breathed out in a whisper, “I miss you as a little high school girl,” I moaned, acting like I loved the feel of her squirming against me. “You didn’t give any lip.”

She stopped, every part of her body freezing except her breathing. Her chest caved and then began to shake under my arms.

I got to her.

Someone close to us said those exact words once, someone that scared her, and now she was doubting whether or not I just might not be him. Damon had disappeared last year, and he could be anywhere, right, Rika?

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” I said, hearing the thunder crack outside. “Get this shit off.” I yanked down her shirt, exposing her in her tank top, and she let out a scream. “I wanna fuckin’ see you.”

She gasped, pulling away and throwing her arms at me. She immediately stepped back—the first counter-move I showed her when someone grabs her from behind—but I pushed off my back foot, knowing what she was going to do.

Come on, Rika.

And then, all of a sudden, she dropped, the full weight of her body slipping through my arms straight to the floor.

I nearly laughed. She was thinking quickly. Good.

But I kept up my assault. She scrambled to her hands and knees, getting ready to scurry away, and I lunged out, grabbing her by the ankle.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I growled, rearing back when she flipped over and kicked my mask.

I laughed, keeping up the taunting. “Oh, God, you’re going to be fun. I can’t fucking wait.”

A whimper escaped as she scurried backward and pushed herself to her feet again. She twisted around, fear etched on her face, and broke into a run toward the locker rooms. No doubt to the exit at the rear of the building.

I raced after her, grabbing hold of her shirt, my whole body on fire.

Fuck. I felt a trickle of sweat glide down the back of my neck.

It’s just a game. I won’t hurt her. It was like tag or hide-and-seek as a kid. We knew nothing bad would happen when we got caught and we’d bring no harm when we chased, but the irrational fear excited us anyway. That was what I liked. That’s all it was. This wasn’t real.

Twisting her around, I wrapped one arm around her and lifted her knee up with my other hand, picking her up off the ground. She threw up the other knee, but I twisted my hips before her jab landed between my legs. Flipping her back, I threw both of us to the ground, coming down on top of her.

“No,” she cried. Her body thrashed under me, and I forced myself between her legs, bringing her wrists up over her head and pinning them there.

She fought against my hold, but the steel in her arms began to shake, and her strength started to weaken.

I stilled and stared down. Damon and I both had dark hair and eyes, although his eyes were almost black. She wouldn’t be able to tell the difference under the shroud of darkness around us. But she could feel me. Handling her, forcing her, threatening her…just like him.

I slowly dropped my head to her breast, hovering an inch above her skin, and she’d stopped fighting. Her chest heaved so hard it sounded like she was having an asthma attack.

Looking up at her, her body molding easily to mine and her hands bound helplessly above her, her frightened eyes filled with tears and she knew this was it. No one to stop me, no one to hear her scream, a madman in a mask who could hurt her, kill her, and take all night doing it…

Her face suddenly cracked, and she broke, crying out as her fight was swallowed in the horror of what was happening to her.

Goddammit. I yanked back my hood and threw off my mask, furious. “You’re a fucking kitten!” I bellowed, slamming my hand down on the floor at the side of her head. “Be a lion. Get me off you!” I got in her face. “Now!”

She growled, her face turning red, and she launched up and wrapped her arm over the back of my neck. Squeezing me into a headlock, she reached her other hand under her arm and dug her finger and thumb into my eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it got me to loosen my hold long enough for her slam me in the side of the face, and when I reared back, she scrambled upright and grabbed her bag, swinging it at my head.

“Ugh!” I grunted, yanking it out of her hands.

But quickly, she scurried to her feet and ran to the wall, grabbing one of the Kendo swords and assuming her stance, bamboo shanai raised and ready.

I sat back on my heels and pulled my hand away from my face, checking for blood. Nothing. I let out a sigh and raised my eyes to her, my body growing cold as the fear left her eyes and was replaced with anger.

The adrenaline still coursed through my limbs, and I took a deep breath, all of a sudden my body ten times heavier as I pulled myself to my feet.

“I don’t like being ambushed like that!” she gritted out. “This is supposed to be a safe space.”

I blinked, fixing her with a scolding look. “Nowhere is safe.”

I walked toward the stairs, pulling off my sweatshirt as I climbed. “You’re not alert.” I picked up the water bottle I’d left by the window earlier. “I watch you. Your face was in your phone out on the street. And you could barely budge me. You waste too much time panicking.”

I gulped down the water, so thirsty from more than just the exertion. Too much thinking and worrying and plotting… I’d needed this.

I missed all those nights, years ago, when I had a release. When I had friends to get lost with.

Her footsteps fell on the stairs, and I stared out the window, the bright lights of Meridian City on the other side of the river glowing bright, a sharp contrast to the darkness of this side.

“I’ve absorbed everything you’ve taught me,” she said. “I trusted you, and I wasn’t taking it seriously. In the moment, if it ever happens again, I’ll handle it.”

“You should’ve handled it this time. What if it wasn’t me? What would’ve happened to you?”

I glanced down at her, seeing her pained eyes staring off out the window, and regret curled its way through my stomach. I hated seeing that look. Rika had been through enough, and I’d just shaken her again.

“I think you liked that,” she said quietly, still staring out the window. “I think you enjoyed it.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I turned away from her, following her gaze out the window.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

She looked up at me, and I heard a car passing by below, its tires sloshing through the rain.

“You know, I watch you, too,” she said. “You’re quiet, and no one gets to see where you eat or sleep. Do you even eat and sleep?”

I twisted the cap to the water bottle, the plastic container crackling in my fist. I knew what she was talking about. I knew I was distant. But I…

I had to keep everything inside or risk the wrong things slipping out. It was better like this.

And it was worse lately. Everything felt fucked. She and Michael were so consumed with each other, and Will was only sober a few hours a day anymore. I’d been on my own more than ever.

“You’re like a machine.” She drew in a long breath. “Not like Damon. You’re unreadable.” She paused. “Except just now. Except when you’re wearing your mask. You liked it, didn’t you? It’s the only time I see a crack in the stone.”

I turned my head, softening my eyes. “Not the only time.”

I held her eyes for a moment, both us knowing exactly what I was talking about.

I cleared my throat, moving on. “You need to work on your counter-attacks,” I told her. “And your speed. If you stop, you give the attacker a chance to get a good hold on you.”

“I knew I was safe with you.”

“You aren’t,” I replied sternly. “Always assume danger. If anyone other than Michael grabs you, they get what they deserve anyway.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and I could feel her aggravation. I understood it. She didn’t want to live her life always on guard. But she was barely taking basic safety precautions, and there was no limit to how sorry she was going to be taking the wrong chances. Michael wasn’t always around.

But when he was, at least he was with her. It had been weeks since I’d really talked to him.

“How is he?” I asked her.

She rolled her eyes, and I could tell the mood was shifting to something lighter. “He wants to fly off to Rio or somewhere and get married.”

“I thought you both decided to wait until after you were done with college.”

She nodded, sighing. “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

I narrowed my eyes on her. So what was going on then?

Michael and Rika’s parents expected a wedding in Thunder Bay, and as far as I knew, the couple was fine with that. In fact, Michael had been very adamant about making a big deal out it. He wanted to see her in a dress, walking down the aisle toward him. He grew up thinking she would marry his brother, after all. He intended to give her a dream wedding.

And then it hit me.

Damon.

“He’s afraid a fanfare wedding will entice Damon to return,” I guessed.

Rika nodded again solemnly, still staring out the window. “He thinks if he marries me nothing bad will happen to me. The sooner, the better.”

“He’s right,” I told her. “A wedding—hundreds of people and Will and me at his side—Damon’s ego couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t stay away.”

“No one’s seen or heard from him in a year.”

I flexed my jaw, anticipation curling its way through my gut. “Yeah, that’s what scares me.”

A year ago, Damon wanted Rika to suffer unimaginably. We all did, actually, but Damon went a little further. He attacked her, hurt her, and helped Michael’s brother, Trevor, try to kill her. Michael was smart to assume that Damon’s anger probably hadn’t dissipated. If we knew where he was, that would be one thing, but the detectives we hired to find him and keep tabs on his whereabouts hadn’t been able to locate him.

Which explained why Michael wanted to take measures to keep Rika out of the limelight, as such a grand wedding in our rich, seaside hometown would put her.

“You don’t care about a large wedding,” I reminded her. “You just want Michael. Why not go off and just do it like he wants?”

She was silent for a few moments and then spoke quietly, her eyes in a far off place. “No.” She shook her head. “Just behind St. Killian’s, where the forest ends and the cliffs give way to the sea. Under the midnight sky…” She nodded, a beautiful, wistful smile touching her lips. “That’s where I’ll marry Michael.”

I studied her, wondering about this dream she had. As if she’d always known she would marry Michael Crist and had been seeing it in her head all her life.

“What is that building?” Rika asked, jerking her chin, gesturing out the window.

I followed her gaze, but I didn’t have to look to know which building she spoke of. I’d chosen this location for our dojo for a reason.

Gazing out of the glass, I stared at the building on the other side of the street, about thirty stories higher than ours, the gray stone darkened by the rain and the broken street lights.

“The Pope,” I answered. “It was quite a hotel back in its day.”

The Pope had been abandoned for over fifteen years and had been built when there was talk of a football stadium being constructed over here as a way to bring more tourism to Meridian City. And a way to revitalize Blackchurch, the rundown, urban district in which we now stood.

Unfortunately, the stadium never happened, and the Pope went under after only a few years in business.

I scanned the darkened windows, the shadows of drapes just barely visible inside a hundred rooms that now sat quiet and empty. It was hard to think of such a large place not having an ounce of life in it. Impossible, in fact. My leery eyes watched each dark void, my sight only taking me a few inches into the room before darkness consumed the rest.

“It feels like someone’s watching us.”

“I know,” I agreed, surveying each window, one after another.

I saw her shiver out of the corner of my eye and picked up my sweatshirt, handing it to her.

She took it, giving me a smile as she turned to go back down the stairs. “It’s getting cold. I can’t believe October is here already. Devil’s Night will be here soon,” she sing-songed, sounding excited.

I nodded, following her.

But as I cast one more glance behind me, chills spread down my body thinking about the hundred haunting, vacant rooms at the abandoned hotel across the street.

And a Devil’s Night, so long ago, when a boy who used be me hunted a girl who might be like Rika in a place that just may be that very same dark hotel out the window right now.

But unlike tonight, he didn’t stop.

I walked down the stairs, inches behind Rika and matching her steps in perfect time as I gazed at the back of her hair.

She didn’t realize just how close danger was to her.

I will announce a release date by the end of the month. Check back. Thank you for reading! ...

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orthodoxydaily · 5 years

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Saints&Reading: Frid., June 14, 2019

Leavetaking Ascension

Prophet Elisha

The Holy Prophet Elisha lived in the ninth century before the Birth of Christ, and was a native of the village of Abelmaum, near Jordan. By the command of the Lord he was called to prophetic service by the holy Prophet Elias (July 20). When it became time for the Prophet Elias to be taken up to Heaven, he said to Elisha, “Ask what shall I do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha boldly asked for a double portion of the grace of God: “Let there be a double portion of your spirit upon me.” The Prophet Elias said, “You have asked a hard thing; if you see me when I am taken from you, then so shall it be for you; but if you don’t see me, it wilt not be” (4 [2] Kings 2: 12). As they went along the way talking, there appeared a fiery chariot and horses and separated them both. Elisha cried out, “My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and its horsemen!...continue reading OCA

Saint Methodius patriarch of Constantinople

Saint Methodius, Patriarch of Constantinople, was born in Sicily into a rich family. Having a vocation to serve God, he went while still in his youth off to a monastery on the island of Chios and renovated it with his means. During the reign of the iconoclast Leo the Armenian (813-820), Methodius held the high position of “apokrisiaros” (“advocate for Church matters”) under the holy Patriarch Nicephoros (June 2). He was dispatched by the patriarch to Rome on a mission to the papacy and he remained there. During this period Leo the Armenian removed Nicephoros from the patriarchal throne and put on it the iconoclast Theodotus of Melissinea, given the nickname “Kassiter” (“Tinman”) (815-822). After the death of Leo the Armenian, Saint Methodius returned, and in the dignity of presbyter he struggled incessantly against the Iconoclast heresy...continue readingOCA

Acts 27:1-44

The Voyage to Rome Begins

27 And when it was decided that we should sail to Italy, they delivered Paul and some other prisoners to one named Julius, a centurion of the Augustan Regiment. 2 So, entering a ship of Adramyttium, we put to sea, meaning to sail along the coasts of Asia. Aristarchus, a Macedonian of Thessalonica, was with us. 3 And the next day we landed at Sidon. And Julius treated Paul kindly and gave him liberty to go to his friends and receive care. 4 When we had put to sea from there, we sailed under the shelter of Cyprus, because the winds were contrary. 5 And when we had sailed over the sea which is off Cilicia and Pamphylia, we came to Myra, a city of Lycia. 6 There the centurion found an Alexandrian ship sailing to Italy, and he put us on board.

7 When we had sailed slowly many days, and arrived with difficulty off Cnidus, the wind not permitting us to proceed, we sailed under the shelter of Crete off Salmone. 8 Passing it with difficulty, we came to a place called Fair Havens, near the city ofLasea.

Paul’s Warning Ignored

9 Now when much time had been spent, and sailing was now dangerous because [a]the Fast was already over, Paul advised them, 10 saying, “Men, I perceive that this voyage will end with disaster and much loss, not only of the cargo and ship, but also our lives.” 11 Nevertheless the centurion was more persuaded by the helmsman and the owner of the ship than by the things spoken by Paul. 12 And because the harbor was not suitable to winter in, the majority advised to set sail from there also, if by any means they could reach Phoenix, a harbor of Crete opening toward the southwest and northwest, and winter there.

In the Tempest

13 When the south wind blew softly, supposing that they had obtained their desire, putting out to sea, they sailed close by Crete. 14 But not long after, a tempestuous head wind arose, called [b]Euroclydon. 15 So when the ship was caught, and could not head into the wind, we let her [c]drive. 16 And running under the shelter of an island called [d]Clauda, we secured the skiff with difficulty. 17 When they had taken it on board, they used cables to undergird the ship; and fearing lest they should run aground on the [e]Syrtis Sands, they struck sail and so were driven. 18 And because we were exceedingly tempest-tossed, the next day they lightened the ship. 19 On the third day we threw the ship’s tackle overboard with our own hands. 20 Now when neither sun nor stars appeared for many days, and no small tempest beat on us,all hope that we would be saved was finally given up.

21 But after long abstinence from food, then Paul stood in the midst of them and said, “Men, you should have listened to me, and not have sailed from Crete and incurred this disaster and loss. 22 And now I urge you to take [f]heart, for there will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship. 23 For there stood by me this night an angel of the God to whom I belong and whom I serve, 24 saying, ‘Do not be afraid, Paul; you must be brought before Caesar; and indeed God has granted you all those who sail with you.’ 25 Therefore take heart, men, for I believe God that it will be just as it was told me. 26 However, we must run aground on a certain island.”

27 Now when the fourteenth night had come, as we were driven up and down in the Adriatic Sea, about midnight the sailors sensed that they were drawing near some land. 28 And they took soundings and found it to be twenty fathoms; and when they had gone a little farther, they took soundings again and found it to be fifteen fathoms. 29 Then, fearing lest we should run aground on the rocks, they dropped four anchors from the stern, and [g]prayed for day to come. 30 And as the sailors were seeking to escape from the ship, when they had let down the skiff into the sea, under pretense of putting out anchors from the prow, 31 Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay in the ship, you cannot be saved.” 32 Then the soldiers cut away the ropes of the skiff and let it fall off.

33 And as day was about to dawn, Paul implored them all to take food, saying, “Today is the fourteenth day you have waited and continued without food, and eaten nothing. 34 Therefore I urge you to take nourishment, for this is for your survival, since not a hair will fall from the head of any of you.” 35 And when he had said these things, he took bread and gave thanks to God in the presence of them all; and when he had broken it he began to eat. 36 Then they were all encouraged, and also took food themselves. 37 And in all we were two hundred and seventy-six persons on the ship. 38 So when they had eaten enough, they lightened the ship and threw out the wheat into the sea.

Shipwrecked on Malta

39 When it was day, they did not recognize the land; but they observed a bay with a beach, onto which they planned to run the ship if possible. 40 And they [h]let go the anchors and left them in the sea, meanwhile loosing the rudder ropes; and they hoisted the mainsail to the wind and made for shore. 41 But striking [i]a place where two seas met, they ran the ship aground; and the prow stuck fast and remained immovable, but the stern was being broken up by the violence of the waves.

42 And the soldiers’ plan was to kill the prisoners, lest any of them should swim away and escape. 43 But the centurion, wanting to save Paul, kept them from their purpose, and commanded that those who could swim should jump overboardfirst and get to land, 44 and the rest, some on boards and some on parts of the ship. And so it was that they all escaped safely to land.

Footnotes:

Acts 27:9 The Day of Atonement, late September or early October

Acts 27:14 A southeast wind that stirs up broad waves; NU Euraquilon, a northeaster

Acts 27:15 be driven

Acts 27:16 NU Cauda

Acts 27:17 M Syrtes

Acts 27:22 courage

Acts 27:29 Or wished

Acts 27:40 cast off

Acts 27:41 A reef

John 17:18-26 NKJV

19 The Pharisees therefore said among themselves, “You see that you are accomplishing nothing. Look, the world has gone after Him!”

The Fruitful Grain of Wheat

20 Now there were certain Greeks among those who came up to worship at the feast. 21 Then they came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida of Galilee, and asked him, saying, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

22 Philip came and told Andrew, and in turn Andrew and Philip told Jesus.

23 But Jesus answered them, saying, “The hour has come that the Son of Man should be glorified. 24 Most assuredly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much [a]grain. 25 He who loves his life will lose it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26 If anyone serves Me, let him follow Me; and where I am, there My servant will be also. If anyone serves Me, him My Father will honor.

Jesus Predicts His Death on the Cross

27 “Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this purpose I came to this hour.28 Father, glorify Your name.”

Then a voice came from heaven, saying, “I have both glorified itand will glorify it again.”

29 Therefore the people who stood by and heard it said that it had thundered. Others said, “An angel has spoken to Him.”

30 Jesus answered and said, “This voice did not come because of Me, but for your sake. 31 Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be cast out. 32 And I, if I am[b]lifted up from the earth, will draw all peoples to Myself.” 33 This He said, signifying by what death He would die.

34 The people answered Him, “We have heard from the law that the Christ remains forever; and how can You say, ‘The Son of Man must be lifted up’? Who is this Son of Man?”

35 Then Jesus said to them, “A little while longer the light is with you. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you; he who walks in darkness does not know where he is going. 36 While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of light.” These things Jesus spoke, and departed, and was hidden from them.

Footnotes:

John 12:24 Lit. fruit

John 12:32 Crucified

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thesffcorner · 5 years

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Corrupt by Penelope Douglass

Corrupt is an erothic thriller that’s part of the Devil’s Night series by Penelope Douglas. It mostly follows Erika, daughter to a rich family living in the affluent community in Thunder Bay, who three years ago was involved in an event that sent 3 of Thunder Bay’s most popular and prized boys to jail. Now, they are back, and along with Michael, their best friend and the man Erika has been in love with her entire life, they plan to destroy her and exact their revenge.

This book, is probably the most disappointing thing I have ever read. And I have a lot to say about it, so buckle up; it’s going to be a long review.

First off, this has probably one of the most intriguing premises I have come across in a while; 4 boys who are the richest, most powerful, popular and well protected in an already incredibly rich and affluent community pick one night a year where they do ‘pranks’ that go from stealing trucks to arson and assault, and get away with it, because even though everyone knows who they are, they are so protected by their own community, that they never have to face consequences. Except, because of Erika they do, and now they want revenge, and to complicated things, the one who didn’t go to jail is in love with her. And yet, this book fails to deliver on every possible promise of this premise, which is almost incredible.

PoV Issues:

First off, for whatever reason we have POV’s from both Erika and Michael, which completely takes the mystery out of the book. If the whole premise is Erika not knowing whether Michael likes/hates/wants to sexually assault her, it kind of defeats the purpose of the mystery if we can read exactly what he’s thinking. Having his POV grinds a lot of the book to a halt, and it’s not delivered particularly well either; there’s long stretches of the book where we don’t have his POV, while the ending is almost entirely him, making the book feel uneven; it’s like it can’t decide if he or Erika are the protagonists and as such, character development that should come at the beginning is saved for the very end, at which point I no longer cared.

Pacing and Length:

Second, this book is just way too long. It’s almost 500 pages, and it doesn’t utilize them well. We skip between 3 years ago and the present, and the 3 years ago sections were painful. Everything that happens in the school prior to the actual Devil’s Night is straight out of a poorly written YA book, complete with the ‘popular boy I like doesn’t notice me’ trope, the ‘I think I’m plain, but I’m secretly stunning’, and most infuriatingly dialogue so bad, not only do no teenagers actually speak like that, no humans speak like that.

This was doubly confusing to me, because the one thing Douglas does do well is the banter between the Horsemen (barf); their dialogue and jokes did sound convincingly high school and like boys pretending to be tough and unbothered, but unfortunately we get very little exploring their dynamic.

You’d think that a 500 page book would have time to develop the characters and really flesh out this plan and its intricacies, but no. Instead, we have one scene of MIchael and his dad arguing about trust funds and inheritance, another scene of the guys planning to do something to Erika’s mom (and us not knowing what they did for like 20+ chapters, even though WE CAN READ FROM MICHAEL’S POV), and the rest is just inane bits of I guess character development for Erika, which is delivered in the most blunt, uninteresting straightforward manner. It doesn’t help that in the past sections, it takes about 200 pages for things to actually start getting interesting, because the start is just Erika being tormented relentlessly by all the men around her, and her not standing up, and the present is her series of increasingly dumb decisions, and back and forth between her and Michael. The plot also peaks too early, and the following 100 pages just feel like they are a waste of time rather than building tension.

The Sex Scenes:

The pacing affects even the sex scenes. Some of them are ill placed, and others are so long and drawn out that even if you are reading this book for them, you will be bored out of your mind. Again, this book can’t decide if it’s a genuine erotic thriller with stakes and a plot, and the sex is supposed to play into that, or an erotica with some mild thriller elements. If it’s the former, then the fact that we have no sex for the first 200 pages, and then like 5 or 6 really long scenes near the climax of the thriller plot is not helpful, and neither is the fact that only 2 really contribute to the plot. If it’s the latter, then there are too few of them and they come too late in the book for anyone to care at that point. 500 pages is just too long for an erotic novel, and I was tapped out on caring about the sex by the second proper sex scene.

Writing and Dialogue:

This book is not written… well. Firstly, there are tons of overlong, flat and plain unnecessary descriptions; I don’t need to know the layout of Michael’s family house unless it will contribute to the plot, or every detail of Erika’s childhood if you won’t at least describe it with flare. The point of long descriptions in FP narratives is to give us insight into how the characters see and remember the world; they’ll describe things in their individual way and note what they find important. Here it’s just flat straightforward descriptions of actions or places that tell me nothing about Erika or Michael.

This same style of flat writing permeates the book even in the sex scenes; we get them both from Michael and Erika and they sound exactly the same, there is no difference. In general there is no difference between Michael and Erika’s voices; Michael mentions cocks and boobs more and wants you to know ‘Erika is mine’ and Erika is constantly thinking only about Michael and wants you to know ‘she belongs to no one, except no one is Michael’

She also has these long monologues about wealth, privilege, social pressures and differences between men and women, and it’s almost infuriating, because Douglas is so close to actually saying something meaningful about these things, but it never goes anywhere and it only serves to tell us that yes, Erika is rich, and yes, it sometimes bothers her, but no, she’d never give up the money, even though I guess she wants to feel like she’d survive without it. If it was written better and actually informed Erika’s character, it would be an interesting study of someone who grew up rich and learning how to make it on their own outside of their privileged environment, but like a lot of things, it goes nowhere.

Then there’s the dialogue. It’s bad. I won’t belabor the point, but I will just give you two examples: on page 28:

“Rika,” he lowered his voice, his brown eyes gentle “Baby you’re beautiful. Long blonde hair, legs that no guy in this school can ignore and he prettiest blue eyes in town. You’re gorgeous”

And on page 70:

“What about you?” I finally asked, making him stop. “Did prison change you?”

He turned, looking at me with eerie calmness “I guess we’ll see”

Lack of Genuine Darkness and Consequences:

Like that second example implies, this book is ‘dark’. Unfortunately, that’s probably the biggest missed opportunity. This is hard to talk about without SPOILERS, so skip this part if you still want to read this book.

We are told that Erika did something to put the guys in jail, possibly as revenge for something they did to her; moreover, their plan is to destroy her, which could mean anything. So I was excited to get some genuinely dark stuff, but unfortunately this book has a tendency to whitewash it’s characters, and nothing they do is actually that reprehensible.

First let’s talk about Devil’s Night. I didn’t mind that the pranks the guys pulled were mostly tied to property damage and theft, because, well they are high schoolers. The orgy/sex circle in the catacombs was just… dumb. I can’t imagine why high school students would be down to have sex in an actual CATACOMB in front of a live audience that just so happens not to have phones recording everything but whatever. The only prank the boys pull which is genuinely fucked up was burning the gazebo, but while I didn’t approve, it wasn't anything that was genuinely dark.

What the guys actually do to Erika was also weird. On the one hand, taking her for a ride in a forest and pretending to want to rape her, so they scare her to stay away from Michael is pretty fucked up. But on the other hand, they don’t actually do it, and since it was Trevor pulling the shots, they never even INTENDED to do it. Even Damon, the one guy from the Horsemen who actually participated in the act, had no intention of actually assaulting Erika, which she obviously didn’t know at the time, but it makes his actions much less sinister.

Then there’s Erika. She didn’t actually do it. That’s the big twist; what gets the boys in jail, isn’t actually anything she does. Instead it was Trevor, all along because there is only one true villain and he is Trevor. What lands Damon in jail is a video of him sleeping with the mayor’s daughter, which Trevor sends to the police. Since the girl is underage, it’s legally not consensual and well… yeah. Again, we can argue all day about consent of minors, but in this book’s universe, Michael is fine for wanting to sleep with a 16 year old Erika, and the book makes sure to tell us that Damon did seduce and consentually sleep with the girl. Even more, the mayor actually hated Damon’s family and used this to destroy him and… can we whitewash Damon a little more please? I don’t think he’s quite saintly enough. He’s the only person who does something in the ballpark of reprehensible, and surprise he’s the other designated villain.

Will and Kai get caught on tape beating up a police officer. Bad, right? Well no, it turns out the police officer they beat up, abused his sister. How noble of them. They are such good people, they went to jail for Will trying to protect his crush (whose gazebo he burned down but… Will makes no sense as a character, don’t dwell on it).

Then the actual plan. First, Michael legally forces Erika’s mother into rehab, which is illegal, but not morally wrong since she is an alcoholic and in essence he’s forcing her to get help. Then Kai, Will and Damon burn down Erika’s house, which was the only part of this plan that I genuinely felt was horrible, but that’s only because we get the one good scene of Michael and Erika bonding over her collection of matches she keeps to remember her father.

Then, Michael takes over as the proprietor of Erika’s estate and freezes all her funds which is again, is a pretty dick move, but didn’t Erika want not to be shackled by her father;s money? Also this is just the last ploy to get Erika to go to the house where the boys are hiding so they can exact their true revenge which is…. To rape her. Maybe.

This part I was really confused by. It seems that’s what they want, but later we are told that they only really wanted to frighten her and make her feel as alone and afraid as they all did when they went to jail. Which again, whitewashes their actions, but even if they did genuinely want to rape her, the plan still makes no sense.

You are telling me that these men, spent 3 years in jail and the only thing that helped them survive it, is a plan to send Erika’s mom to rehab, freeze or destroy her material properties and then rape her? And then what? None of them seem interested in killing her, so do they just… hope she doesn’t go to the police? They all have criminal records, and one of them is probably in the database for sexual offenders! And then, when we find out what had actually happened, everyone just forgives everyone, except Travis the supervillain, who gets MURDERED IN COLD BLOOD.

Now, I want to be very clear. Nothing I say here is something I condone. I do not condone sexual violence, or really any type of violence that isn’t in self defense. But either commit to the characters or don’t damnit!

Commit to the boys assaulting Erika. Maybe don’t go all the way; have Trevor intervene and save her, and maybe he convinces her to use the videos on Will’s phone if you want her to not be solely responsible for sending them to jail. Then the threat of them being in town is genuine because they are actually dangerous people. I would 100% believe that the culmination of their plan is to rape her, if we know they’d done it before, and even more so because of what they had to go through while in prison. It also helps add conflict to Erika and Michael’s characters; he could slowly find out that there was a reason Erika sent them to jail and then he actually has to choose between his friends and her. Erika actually was willing to take justice in her own hands, since she would know first hand how the previous attempt she made to get a rapist to be punished went.

Which leads me to the lack of consequences. As soon as the truth comes out Erika immediately forgives the guys for literary destroying her life, and she especially immediately forgive Michael for not even stopping for a moment to make sure what they guys told him was true, and being willing to let them assault her! Then we have Damon, who gets stabbed, but then completely gets away with helping Travis orchestrate the joyride, assaulting Erika again, kidnapping her, and helping Travis try and kill her. He just fucks off to St Petersburg! (Side note, what kind of person thinks that Damon Torrence is someone who has Russian heritage?)

Travis, a whole mess of a character, kidnaps his ex so he can lure his brother and TRY TO KILL HIM, because his ex is in love with him. He orchestrates a possible rape so he can destroy the relationship between the boys and Erika, sends the boys to jail and why? No reason! And then, he gets shot and killed by Michael, and Michael GETS AWAY WITH IT. There is no trial, no jail time, not scandal in the papers about the son of the wealthiest man in Thunder Bay and a professional NBA BASKETBALL PLAYER killing his own brother! IN WHAT UNIVERSE? That part annoyed me even more than all the other things I mentioned before; there are no consequences and no motivation and this book FAILS as a thriller.

Characters:

Let’s start with actual supervillain Trevor. He is possessive, jealous, arrogant and willing to KILL HIS OWN BROTHER just because the girls he wants is in love with him. Why?

He seems to be their abusive dad’s favorite son, he’s arranged to marry Erika anyway, he gets all of her properties and money and managed to get rid of Michael’s friends. He has everything! All he had to do was just tell his father or Erika that the gang is back and planning something, and none of this would’ve happened. He even gets an evil monologue at the end and tells Erika Damon’s backstory, both of which were straight out of a Bond movie. I hated this stupid waste of a character when he could’ve actually been fleshed out and interesting.

Alex is a character that just exists so Erika isn’t the only girl in this book. There is a very weird and inexplicable implication that she’s attracted to Erika and is maybe bisexual and maybe Erika is bisexual that goes absolutely nowhere and I absolutely hated it. It doesn’t help that this book is weirdly homophobic in some other aspects, and the way all the characters, especially the men treat Alex was just awful.

Out of the three guys, Will was the one I understood the least. He’s an alcoholic and that’s where his character starts and ends. We never learn anything interesting about him, and he barely has 10 lines in total. He might as well not have been there.

Damon we’ve been over; he’s the one that I ended up liking the most, because he was the only actually morally corrupt and interesting character. He outright hates women, has a pretty intense backstory and severe mommy issues, and even gets some interesting dialogue with Erika. He’s the only one I might be tempted to read a book about, but only if it’s much shorter than this.

At first Kai was the most interesting of the group and was the biggest wasted potential. He is closed off, secretive and seems to be the most reasonable one, and I genuinely thought that his big secret was either going to be that he has been in love with Michael this whole time, or that he was also sexually assaulted in jail. We never find out what happened to him in jail, which is a shame, but again, since this is a series it probably something Douglas is saving for the second book. As for his relationship with Michael, without me spoiling anything, it’s exactly the twist with Wentworth Miller’s character from Loft, except if the pool scene actually had actually gone with Miller joining the rest. I never like this type of queerbaity twist, especially, because as I mentioned the representation of anyone who isn’t straight or white in this book is horrendous.

Michael was both the worst character and the best developed one. I understood where his anger issues stemmed from, why he was so rude and abrasive to everyone, especially Erika and even the hatred he had for Trevor. I wish we actually had time to develop his relationship with Trevor and his father, and actually delved into why they hated each other so much, but we don’t have time for that in this hell. I thought since he was a basketball player, it would actually play a part, but it doesn’t; other than one line about him being distracted because of the plan, the fact that he plays for the NBA is completely irrelevant. His relationship with Erika was infuriating. He supposedly loves her and thinks she’s his match, but he treats her like shit; possessive, hypocritical, controlling and condescending. There is no reason he should have commitment issues but he has those too, and the fact that it takes Erika being in mortal danger before he tells her he loves her was INFURIATING.

Erika was no better. I again, foolishly believed that her being a fencer would have something to do with the plot but other than an excuse for two truly bewildering scenes it doesn’t. She was an incredibly feeble character and the more the book attempted to paint her as becoming this powerful player and ‘corrupt’ girl the more I got Ana Steele and Bella Swan vibes. She is not empowered nor strong; she is constantly pushed around, insulted, yelled at and even physically manhandled by everyone around her. The fact that none of the characters talk to or treat her like an adult, or know how to communicate at all was bewildering, and she herself was just dense. Not only does she make the stupidest decisions, she also multiple times fails to grasp really simple, obvious things and her wanting to be a sociologist because she liked reading people made me scream.

What’s most frustrating, is just like with Michael there are nuggets of a good character here and there; she is sometimes observant and clever, but mostly she just allows everyone to manipulate her and I couldn’t stand it.

Conclusion?

I do NOT recommend this book. It kept me reading only because I was curious to see what had actually sent the gang to jail and when I found out I was too far into the book to justify DNFing it. But it was not good and I have no desire to read any of the subsequent books by her, unless I hear that her writing has drastically improved (which judging by the blurb for Kill Switch, the book about Damon, it doesn’t seem like it).

goodreads

#corrupt review #corrupt #moni talks #book review

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asmund-scion-of-ice · 6 years

Text

To Battle

The pre-dawn chill gripped the assorted soldiers. They smartly marched west, the mountains to their back. Dwarves, humans, and kobolds marched in the light of the failing moon. Their footsteps thundered over the grassy plains, untouched by snow. Ten thousand Rovriddare berserkers and swordsmen marched toward battle, unfazed and undaunted. Five thousand Rovriddare cavalry, the dwarves and humans riding war horses, the kobolds riding cold-hardy deinonychus, rode to each side of the column. Underhall dwarves, fifteen thousand strong marched at the head of the column, pikemen out front with archers in the center.

Asmund flew overhead, weaving spells and uttering incantations on the wing. He channeled white mana to protect his forces and keep them cohesive on the field. Blue to hide them from the enemy. Red to fill them with rage and battle prowess. This would be a day long remembered.

A kobold scout rode in from the west, his riding leather covered in dust, shouting to the head of the column, “Cavalry spotted! To the northwest! They seek to envelope us! They are two or three thousand strong, pushing eastward!” Asmund flew lower, landing beside the kobold. Its tired mount pant in the cool morning air. Lord Underhall stood, a massive warhammer gripped in his gauntleted hands, looking to the white dragon.

“Lord Underhall, I shall send five hundred of my fastest cavalry to meet them,” Asmund turned to the kobold. Noting its rank, the dragon commanded, “Captain, take five hundred of your best riders. I want them drawn away from the village, and to the west.” The kobold, listening, nodded while reloading his musket.

“Yes, Lord Baron!” The green skinned kobold, dressed in a mismatch of clashing colors and fabrics beneath his leather armor, kicked his mount and raced off to the north, pulling roughly five hundred dinosaurs and their kobold riders to face the enemy. Other horsemen filled the gap the now forward group left behind while Asmund took to the skies, flexing his wings. Spying the oncoming foe, the dragon let out a war cry; clearly, his illusions were not as great as he had hoped.

He felt the savages’ shamans unleash a massive magical blast. Hastily, the dragon let forth a blast of blue mana, suspending the enemy’s spell in time. “Get ready to counter,” cried Asmund; below, a group of three hundred mages and shamans began chanting and preparing spells. The Ajikan spell was massive, the collective effort of their people culminating in a great blast of arcane energy, its heat searing the edges of Asmund’s mind.

After a few moments, the sound of musket blasts heralded the cavalry engagement to the north; diverting his attention from the enemy spell, the combat was slowly moving eastward as lead and arrows were exchanged. Luckily the deinonychi were faster than the plainsmens’ horses and could pull the enemy back toward their disgusting hovels. As Asmund relished the heat of battle, his spell wore off and the full weight of the Ajikans’ spell slammed into his force. Wizards cried out as their minds seared away, the collective counter spell not quite great enough to stop casualties. Asmund snarled in disgust as he counted twenty of his men dead.

With just under three miles to go now, the two armies marched onward. His mages began casting an offensive spell; Asmund felt the earth being drained of its mana as massive clouds began to form above and in front of his force. Good, a blizzard was necessary here. In the slowly lightening sky, Asmund added his own magic to that of the mages below. Soon, a massive storm developed, hail stones the size of heads slamming down over the enemy village.

One mile to go now, and the enemy foot soldiers began exiting the village and pushing east toward the oncoming force. A second cavalry force, the size of the first enemy force, began to swing around to the south, bound up against the river, just as planned. With a laugh, Asmund watched as Lord Underhall’s dwarves broke off from the Rovriddaren unit.

As planned, the enemy cavalry force began to charge. As planned, long, straight lines of horses swept over the open fields, trampling the grasses. As planned, Lord Underhall’s force planted itself squarely in the way of the oncoming doom.

Asmund roared triumphantly as, as planned, the ground burst upward in front of the Ajikan cavalry. Men and horses flew into the air as magma erupted from the earth, coating thousands in liquid fire. Horrified screams rose from the village and from the enemy. The dwarves marched forward again, magic encasing them as they pierced through the wall of fire. Screams were silenced one by one as the Ajikan southern cavalry was destroyed. Underhall mages began guiding the lava toward the river. Massive blasts of steam rose to obscure the rising sun, just cracking over the mountaintops to the east.

Turning his attention back to the north, he sent a quick spell to his human cavalry commander, Take to the north, and join the other force. I want that cavalry destroyed. Watching, half of the dragon’s remaining cavalry wheeled away from the column, pushing northward and westward. As the cavalry column broke, so did the main column. Asmund’s forces began to envelop the village in the early morning light. Their shamans were no longer putting up a fight, but their villagers seemed to be hastily digging in.

Asmund lazily wheeled above, watching as the dwarves also began to encircle the village from the south, meeting his cavalry and keeping the enemy at bay. After a few moments, the village was encircled. A few brave souls died upon the axes and swords of the dragon’s forces. Most knelt, awaiting their execution.

Asmund landed in the center of the village, crushing three Ajikans. With a roar, he tore through five others. Many people began to run. Other played dead. It would not matter. They would perish anyway.

“This,” roared Asmund, his thundering voice shaking the earth, “is what you reap when you hide the foes of Rovriddare! None of you shall live!” Shards of ice flew from the dragon, spearing dozens. His breath froze footmen and civilians alike.

“Not if there’s anything we can say about it!” Asmund angrily turned, gnashing his teeth. A group of five stood before him. Three humans, a tengu, and a half-elf. The traitors. The murderers.

The first barely wore any clothing, was extremely muscular, and carried a great broad sword, his brown hair flowing in the wind. The second was a paladin, wearing the silver of the dragon god, tall but not overly muscular, his chiseled face partially masked by his helm. The third was a wizard, clad only in light blue robes, his black beard clashing with his red hair. The tengu was fourth, a small violin clutched between feathered fingers. Finally, the half-elf stood with his bow drawn.

“Face me, scum! You will pay for what you have done!”Asmund roared, leaping toward them. The tengu began to play a melody, his friends shouting a battle cry. “Die, you filth, you wretched beings! Forces of Rovriddare, slaughter your foes!” With a thundering roar, Asmund’s forces pushed into the village, destroying all.

The first to die was the barbarian, wildly swinging his word. Bitten in half, his entrails steaming in the cold morning air. Second was the bard, speared by a great shard of ice. Arrows pelt harmlessly off of Asmund’s hide and plate armor. Spells all but ricocheted back at the wizard. The paladin fought briefly as he felt his godly powers taken from him; his patron god, observing the battle, saw him fighting Asmund. The white dragon laughed, biting off the head of the defeated foe. The wizard died next, his head melting as Asmund’s magics tore open his mind. Finally, only the ranger stood.

The half-elf’s arrows broke upon Asmund’s scales. His measly magics harmlessly dissipate into the chill air. Snow fell around the two combatants. With a roar, the dragon pinned his foe. The half-elf cried out in terror, drawing a knife, somehow managing to stab Asmund’s foot and drawing blood. With a disgusted grunt, Asmund pinned the man to the ground, a claw piercing his stomach.

“For you,” the dragon hissed, “you will die slowly. You killed my daughter, scum, and you will face the slow, inevitable face of death.” The dragon bit down, tearing away the man’s left arm. The half-elf weakly sobbed, blood pouring to the ground. Asmund tore away his right arm. Then his left leg. Then his right. The dragon froze the stumps.

The half-elf was pale. Shivering. Asmund’s army fought around him, but he paid no heed. This man would feel incredible pain. He opened the man’s mind. Asmund sifted through all of his memories, watching in horror as the ranger poisoned his beloved Fyri in her sleep. In a blind rage, the dragon wiped the man’s mind and filled it with fear. Panicking, the ranger shouted and floundered under Asmund’s claws. Gasping for breath, in horrible pain, the half-elf pleaded for mercy.

The last thing the ranger saw was Asmund’s teeth.

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