#they gave me a temporary filling. fell off within 4 weeks. gave me another one (no charge for that one) it again fell off in four weeks

[ephemerlskies]

emerald dreams: REDACTED | kth

⇢ pairing: taehyung x reader

⇢ genre: series, blackmirror!au, angst, fluff, artist!taehyung, strangers to lovers, set sometime in a dystopian era of technology, taehyung is s o f t

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, memory loss, mentions of death, themes of grief/depression

⇢ summary: in a technologically advanced utopia where a memory can be stored as a data file in a chip inserted in your head, it was entirely impossible to forget anything. when you met taehyung, a young at heart yet talented artist, he garnished an odd familiarity, raising suspicion that some of your memories had been lost in the digital cloud, or worse, erased from your memory chip.

♪ playlist: IDK you yet - alexander 23 • 4 o' clock - v & rm • jamais vu - bts • the story - brandi carlile •  moonlight - ariana grande ♪

╰ episode index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: if you don't watch black mirror then just imagine that everything is technology based, even the inner mechanisms of your thoughts/mind/memories and social culture has centered around the automation of the human body. also the government is sleazy and controls literally everyone in this au >:) also, i'm going to try and update this weekly!!

Scenario No. 2: Re-test

You didn’t expect to be spending your weekly visit at your favorite coffee shop gasping for air in the single occupancy commode. An unsettling familiarity had reached into your chest and compromised the body of your lungs, now savagely hyperventilating for air, and seized control on the reins of every sensory neuron in your body.

First, it was the sensation of sound. That voice, that unusually specific coffee order, the soft lilt of politeness riding through his etiquettes of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ struck right in your chest with a shockwave of deja vu, like you’ve heard that order before, a million times before perhaps. No part of you would let go of the fact that for some reason, this stranger was someone you knew very well.

And yet you had no idea who he was.

“Hi, how are you?” He smiled to ease the nerves of the overworked barista on this Sunday afternoon. Your ears picked up his husky, sweet tone through the scuttle of customers walking in and out of the shop and a commotion of side conversations that filled the room. It was quite noisy, enough so that it muffled any specific utterances, but the bass of his voice had met your ears with a strong posture of familiarity.

You looked over to the sweater draped over his frame that fit snugly against his broad shoulders. That was when your visual senses were overrun with the muted forest green of the knitted jumper. You’ve seen this color green. To be fair, green was always secured in your life abundantly through your own will. You had always loved this color and demonstrated this through small displays such as picking the green straw from a bundle of multicolored ones, or scanning over a set of shirts to find which one had the most green in it.

You surrounded yourself with a life full of green, but when this green sweater was paired with the voice there was a strange jolt of reminiscence.

It was not just a sweater, it was a sweater that you have touched, even worn before. And when he wore it, it wasn’t just any green. It was his green.

His figure drew closer to you as he waited at the side bar for his drink to be called, sending a waft of his scent to nullify those of fresh brewed coffee and pastries. Along with your eyes and ears, your nose now fell to the magnetism of this stranger.

He smelled of fresh evergreen with a bit of pinewood, mixing into an overwhelming oaky aroma. As the smells that resembled a tranquil forest ruminated through your lungs and your bloodstream, it weakened your body to a state of paralysis. Your motor skills were numbed to endow a series of mental backflips to figure out where this estranged attraction was coming from, and why it was him who provoked it.

Standing comatose in the middle of a populated coffee shop meant the clash of your body into another's was bound to occur. And of course, it was his body that bumped you out of the trance of obscured memories. It was his arms that held your shoulders steady so you wouldn’t topple over and spill your latte over yourself.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there. Are-” His eyes studied your aghast expression, “Hey, are you okay?”

This marked the compromise of your visual sensory. You looked right into his eyes, kind and concerned, and your surroundings had melted away into a whirl of unidentifiable colors. Your body was transported to a purgatory that rested between reality and a dream-like setting, which eventually molded itself into actuality before your eyes.

Redacted File No. 6

Suddenly you turned your head side to side and the territory that was once a café was no more, and had alchemized into a zone of unparalleled comfort. To your left, you were warmed by a wood-burning fireplace with stones crested along the frame of the pit. Your body was covered in a blurred canvas of forest green, and there were two hands holding your body gently and lovingly. It was a vision so incredibly clear and intricate it couldn’t be conjured through imagination or illusion, but a very real and vivid memory.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry… You’re okay right?” His jostling hands fainted the memory that swept you from the cafe. You blinked a few times before your eyes could refocus and land you to your present circumstances.

The man’s firm grip hadn’t abandoned your shoulders even though you regrounded your balance, which quickened the pace of your heart. They you earnestly, that even though you were certainly not going to fall over, he wouldn’t have let go. Without more than an array of unintelligible stutters to confirm you were okay, because you weren’t okay, you hobbled backward quite ungracefully to the privacy of the bathroom. After your rushed retreat, you tried to analyze the string of memories that pervaded your mind.

How do you know this man? Were these your memories? Or perhaps your memory chip glitched and downloaded files that didn’t belong to you?

The blunder of confusion racked your head with a slight tension headache. What was once a temporary occupancy of the restroom turned into a marathoned hideout until you could safely assume the stranger’s drink was made and he would leave the vicinity.

You checked your phone to count the duration of time spent. It had been about ten minutes since you pathetically holed yourself up, and it would be about five more minutes until you felt you could confidently emerge and escape.

You knew him, and for some reason it sent you into a fearful sequester.

Luckily, just last week you downloaded an upgraded storage plan which gave you access to all your past memories.

You activated the chip residing in your temple to trace every single unit in the archives, even the ones from as early as your birth, to see if anyone, including the likes of a passing stranger, a waiter that took your order three weeks ago, even a student from your high school class, resembled the man in the café. There were no records in your memory files of someone who echoed the same unsettling familiarity that this man had.

If the advanced technology that contained each capsule of every moment in time that you have ever experienced couldn’t give you the data on this man, then perhaps it was just an unusual coincidence.

One of those Twilight Zone-esque occurrences that isn’t deployed through factual evidence. Though you weren't entirely met with closure for this reasoning, it was enough to cope through the rest of your lengthened stay in the restroom.

What battered your precisely timed and nearly successful plan to avoid further interactions with this man was the light knock against the door. And it was the feeling of guilt that there must be other customers who planned on using the bathroom for its intended purpose that hoisted you up and had you reluctantly vacating the protected area.

Though, it was punishingly ironic that the one who had torn you from your sanctuary was the same person who put you there in the first place.

“Sorry,” He apologized about three times within the small window of time he’d been confronted by you and you already caught on to his habit of perpetual remorse, “Um, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I bumped into you and you kinda… freaked then ran and hid in the bathroom.”

If he weren’t so considerate to a stranger that was acting oddly evasive, this would have been easy. But he was considerate, and this was unbelievably difficult.

“Yeah um,” Your eyes sank down to rest on the comforting hue of his sweater, “I’m, uh, I'm okay. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, dislodging the nervous laugh blocking his words.

“Okay well, I was just wondering if you were all good. You seemed a little shaken up back there.” Frankly, he still sensed something about him was off-putting to you, but he tried to deny it for the moment.

Your assurances fell gravely short of convincing since you couldn’t even bring your eyes to level with his. The soft-spoken gesture of kindness made you feel like a helpless animal that would surrender at the slightest sign of danger. It was a fair assessment for you acted as though his accidental collision into you through a crowded space was the end of the world.

“Yeah, sorry. Thank you!” You chirped to imitate a normal reaction despite this tremendously abnormal situation. “I was just um… It's just one of those days, ya know?”

Then, it was his smile that cluttered your sensation of touch. He was standing a respectable distance from you, however, his smile touched you. It cornered you into blurting out something even more peculiar than the overwhelming deja vu that had been commencing the moment you noticed him.

“Do I-” You paused to lower your voice that could have outsourced to the collection of ruckus in the café. Now in a whisper, you continued, “Do I know you?”

He didn’t offer a voiced response, but an equally bewildered expression. You couldn't quite read what this implied so you assumed he thought you were crazy, maybe even a bit creepy.

“Sorry! Fuck, that’s so creepy. I’m just gonna go.” Before you had the chance to push past him and the billowing clouds of regret, he obstructed your path to the doorway with his body.

“No! I think I know you too. Like, I’ve never seen you but I remember you. Like… Like a dream.” He scaled the length of your body with his eyes, which only manufactured his intuition into an undoubtable certainty. “I know you. How do I know you?”

“Hell if I know. I’m just as confused as you.” You felt your body slumping into itself under his gaze. He was attentive to every detail of you, from the length of your hair to the twitch of your fingertips, making you feel over exposed to this stranger that wasn’t a stranger.

“Well, do you wanna maybe sit? Have a coffee with me?” He propagated his interest like there was no reason to be afraid which only intimidated you further. There wasn’t a real threat in his invitation, however accepting it felt like you were walking on thin ice.

The government agent standing guard with a perfect earshot of every conversation wiring through the small café didn’t help ease your nerves either.

“I really should be heading home soon.” Guilt worked quickly to try and compensate for the discouraged expression on his face, “But… if you give me your number I’ll call you and maybe we can go out for lunch or something?”

He traded his grim with excitement while pulling a pen from his pocket and walking over to the condiments bar to write his number on a napkin. You had no clue as to why, but the fact that he had a pen on hand was strikingly nostalgic, much so as every other detail you had acquired from him.

Although entirely unheard of, you felt like this new knowledge of him was not adding to the collection, but rather dusting old artifacts that had simply been forgotten. You weren’t learning things about him, but instead remembering them; the more you stood watching him scribble his name and number on the napkin, the deeper you entrenched yourself in this theory.

Not to mention, you couldn’t recall the last time someone favored using a pen over a keyboard and a paper napkin over a digital contact entered on your phone.

What kind of person carries around a pen in the age of modern technology?

“Thank you. I’m ___, by the way.” Your hand wavered a bit before holding out to greet him, and when his hand made contact, you could have sworn on your own life that this wasn’t the first time it happened.

This was no introduction. It was a reunion.

The fix of his gaze had suggested he too felt reminiscent with the feeling of your hand.

A shared inability to let go held your hands together, trying to harness a bit of recognition or recall a social function where you two might have met in passing. Neither one of you had shown any intention to pull away, which dragged the formality of shaking hands into a gesture of mutual wonder; now you were not so much exchanging a handshake but rather holding each other. Holding tightly, as if you were rediscovering a mass of feelings that would give you an answer.

However, the answer was not generous enough to make itself available to either of you.

It could have been hours until you were able to unriddle this strange sensation, so you made the preventative move of pulling away before the warmth concocting between your hands would produce a light sweat on your palm.

He too seemed to retract upon regaining his sensibilities, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he would have held on for longer, maybe even forever if necessary. If it would regroup the unattainable and partially inexistent memories into cognizance.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Redacted File No. 12

You clung with desperate persistence onto the flaccid hand. Trailing up the arm was an indiscernible figure that had no features, no notable detailing, not even a vague outline of facial structure; just an ethereal glow that projected throughout the entire room. The nebulous haze terminated any identifiable aspect of the room except the hand you were holding, so you focused on the scant detail your eyes offered.

There was no specified context, no real evidence that you had to hold on, but something deep within you was urging for it. Some omnipotent instinct which prophesied that if you let go of the hand, you would in turn be letting go of the world.

You had to hold on.

However your hands wouldn’t obey you. Each time you tried to tighten your fingers, it felt as if the hand would continue slipping from your grasp. Or maybe, your hands weren't gripping at all.

They were numb, or paralyzed, and unable to execute your urgencies. The more force you exerted into your dire intentions, the easier it was for the hand to grow limp and melt through your fingers like liquid. It was frustrating, your willful attempts to hold on seemed to elicit the opposite effect as the hand, unowned by a certain being, resigned from yours.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.” You chanted through the tears, feeling as though that would somehow ignite a stronghold on the lifeless hand falling away.

But even so, it did fall away.

Perhaps the pain of it was that it wasn’t you who was letting go, but the hand that was being taken away from you. That you had been fighting a losing battle far beyond the prospects of your own decisions or control.

You begged for mercy, but were bestowed with your hands clean of what it was trying so desperately to hold onto. The hand slipped and when you peaked through the glaze of tears, your knuckles and fingers were gripping airy, cold emptiness.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.”

Soon you were captured in a perpetual aria of pleas to the ears of a God that would not listen. Unsettling despair had mutilated the illuminating glow of the room to bleak darkness. The world of colors had fallen absent akin to the cold hand vaporizing alongside the dispersal of light.

Then, everything was black.

Your eyes shot open with deep distraught.

The full moon flashed against your dampened face; half of the moisture sourced from a cold sweat and half from the heavy tears pouring from your eyes.

You knew the only explanation for this dream, which resonated more closely to a memory than a figment of sleepful imagination, was curated by the peculiar events that took place earlier today.

Soon, the dream drifted from your mind as consciousness took its place. Your tardy response to write the sparse remnants of it had left you with nothing but a distorted plot of what transpired during your slumber.

Widening your awakening through long sips of water had forced you into an obsessive rewinding of your memory files. It was a shame there wasn’t technology yet to store memories of your dream, or you’d have been replaying the one you just dreamt about a hundred times.

You scanned through a collection of moments in the afternoon when you first met Taehyung. The clear, digital picture of him glassed over your eyes, taking the place once inhabited by the moon, as you pressed the play button on the handlebar of functions.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

You rewound no later than a second after he introduced himself back to the beginning.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Rewind. 0.5 x speed.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.” Said in a distorted voice from the ‘reduce speed’ function you equipped.

“Kim Taehyung.” You muttered to the empty room and the bright moon.

Sleeping was abstracted to an impossibility, and for the sake of your sanity, you walked over fish out the napkin in your coat pocket. It took you a while to move on from meticulously inspecting Taehyung’s handwriting.

The aimless effort to recall if it was the penmanship of some classmate had slackened to yet another unmet hope. Taehyung didn’t reside in your memories, but claimed quite an existence in your intuition. However, that wasn’t satisfying enough. You settled with the unsolved familiarity, though not before a lengthy wrestle between your eyes and the seven numbers scribbled into the napkin.

After dancing with the idea of it, you resolved some courage to finally dial. Each ping of the phone had you dreading for the automated message to inform you the recipient was not available at the moment, that you would have to hang up or wait for the tone to leave a message. Little by little your spirited nerve had depleted as you were now practicing what message you would leave Taehyung in his voicemail box, praying that it wasn’t full.

“Hello?” The sound of his voice interrupted the seventh or eighth ring, along with your rehearsal of the voicemail you assumed you’d have to leave being that the moon had been aging the sky into midnight.

“Oh! Oh, sorry I didn’t expect you to pick up.” After the chaotic pounding in your chest settled, you realized how nonsensical you sounded. Everything you methodically planned to say had been scattered by his unprecedented answer.

Instead of asking why you would call if you expected him not to pick up, he asked with a kind curiosity:

“Who is this?” He didn’t sound tired, in fact it sounded as if he had been hard at work preceding this call.

“Oh yeah! It’s ___, from the coffee shop. You remember me right?” Though you powered through, the worry was quite deafening. Taehyung seemed to pick up on it and diffused it with a gentle chuckle.

“Of course I remember.” On the other end of the line, he had been penciling a sketch on a blank page in his notebook.

The serenity of the stars and moon pinned on the navy blue sky never failed to spark inspiration. Taehyung was the type to refuse passing up a surge of an artistic muse, even if that meant he would shed a few hours of sleep from his routine. No matter the time or place, he always had a pen on hand to honor his heart’s unremitting passion.

He loved the moon and stars. He loved it so much as one would love a dear friend. He wished to be a part of the scenes of lights that hovered just out of reach, but could only settle on capturing a piece of the starry heavens on paper with his trusty pencil, sketchbook, and emerald-tinted muse.

“It’s late to be calling, but you’re lucky I was awake.” He said to hide how ecstatic he was you had actually called.

For someone you had just met, or at least you thought you just met, he threaded a flirtatious coyness in his response. It difficult to hush the winged eruption in your stomach because of that.

“Lucky, huh.” You repeated through a mumbled laugh, “I was just… I was thinking.”

“About what?” He had placed his phone on speaker mode and laid it next to his sketchbook.

There was a new inspiration that bore a louder siren than that of the moon and the stars. He sifted through the memory files throughout his day to the minute he first bumped into you, and though your face had been ingrained quite clearly behind his eyelids with each blink, he relied on the accuracy of a reference to perfect his drawing of you; not to mention he projected the image of your face to delight his undeniable attraction and to moderate the wildly romanticized version of you in his head.

Perhaps if he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to discern your face from the arena of glimmering stars scattered along the shaded skies.

“Just about how I think I was too quick to pass your offer.”

“Really?” That endearing lilt hope in his voice, the excitement expressed, acted as some puppeteer that manipulated the corner of your lips to lift into a smile.

No muscle in your body could ever be moved with the same conviction as it did when he was the reason for it. It bewildered you, almost to the point of frustration, as to why he had this power over you.

I just met him. I'm already getting this worked up? You thought how absurd it was you'd fallen this quickly, hoping it would ground you to the reality that he was still a stranger you hadn’t exchanged more than two conversations with.

Though, reality and memories and data files had all been obscured ever since you met Taehyung which was fascinating more than it was disorienting.

“Would you want to, maybe, grab coffee? Say next Thursday?” Your hand was subconsciously gripping the bed sheets, just like the way you gripped the disembodied hand in your dream, and awaited his response with full-blown suspense.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, ___.” Taehyung's confirmation put all your anxiety to rest, as well as your tightly clamped hand around the cotton fabric.

“I’ll see you.” You mimicked as if that would make the idea of seeing Taehyung again any less surreal. He laughed at this and brushed up a few finishing touches on his drawing.

“So just to clarify.” His pause gave entry for curiosity to wire through your head.

“Yes?”

“When you said you were thinking… you were thinking of me?” You wanted the upper hand to be reinstated with you, but your shy chuckle was no match to the smirk adopted on his lips that you couldn’t see, but you knew was there. You knew he was prideful when he swept the rug right out from under your feet, and you were right.

“Perhaps. And what if I was?” You framed your question to render your intimidation as flattery. Though, you had no idea how convincing this facade actually was and that it came off more suggestive than you had expected. There was a part of you that had fraternized with the romantic idea of Taehyung which might have registered your motive to reciprocate an undertone beyond platonic.

“Then that would be one thing we have in common.” He sounded responsive to your flirting and raised the bar significantly.

Your eyes and smile were directed towards the scenery displayed by your window, but they were not dedicated to the moonlit beauty of the diamond encrested sky. Though the midnight glades of stars were the ones to witness your smile, it was, without a shadow of a doubt, dedicated to Taehyung.

He was staring at the same moon, the same plot of stars, so perhaps you were looking into each other. When the moon twinkled, it looked awfully similar to a smile. Your smile.

For the moment, there was a radio silence that splintered through the two speakers of your and Taehyung’s phones. Even if the use of his hands weren’t engaged by his needful recreation of your face through his art, if his hands were left unused, he wouldn’t have mustered the discipline to end the call. Your unoccupied hands were trying to find any employment so you could have some excuse for not hanging up as well, not that there was anything else to be discussed.

Again, it felt familiar. The feeling of hesitance to be the first one to hang up despite the conversation’s recoil.

The cohesive idleness of you and Taehyung was unprovoked and ran out for about a minute. Neither of you had the intention to sever the virtual communion quite yet. The awkwardness of sitting in silence on the phone with a newly acquainted stranger was a delicacy compared to preemptively ending the call.

At one point, you were about to question if he had hung up; but the rhythmic and light breathing told you otherwise. And because of that mutual need to stay on the line, it seemed to be unreasonable to hang up, save for the yawn that eventually trimmed the call to an end.

“You’re tired.” He stated, now prompted with a yawn of his own upon hearing yours. “Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” Saying his name out loud sent you into that same blend of reminiscence and nostalgia.

His name was not unexplored by your tongue, that much was certain, and the thought of putting your entire life on hold to discover why it felt that way was a tempting venture. Why when he said your name, it felt like sitting in front of a wood-burning fireplace under the security of a green sweater and wrapped in safe arms.

More than that, you wanted to know if he felt all these things too.

“I’ll see you?” You asked instead of saying that dreadful word 'goodbye'.

“I’ll see you.” He repeated before reluctantly hanging up.

“___.” He whispered your name, hoping the inky sky would design it in the stars for the world to remember forever.

Hoping that the next hours, which would surely be spent on multiple sketched renditions of your face, would amount in some revelation of the mystifying familiarity. He believed shedding a few graphite imitations onto the surface of his sketchbook, soaked by the glow of moonlight, would somehow make him remember everything hidden in the dark compartments of his heart.

However, if it didn’t, he would be okay with it. Because at least he knew he would see you again.

“Meeting place: Silver Lining Café.”

“Thank you, Agent Park. Heighten surveillance on the two subjects.”

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscorner #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts writing #taehyung series #bts series #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #artist!taehyung #rubycoast #emerald dreams: REDACTED

[anghraine]

pro patria, chapters 85-91

I knew the danger of the Risen. I’d killed hordes of them. But until that moment, I hadn’t truly grasped the power of Zhaitan, the totality of the threat posed by the dragons. I just—I hadn’t understood. Looking at him now, I did. I would never forget this, as long as I lived.

title: pro patria (85-91/?) stuff that happens: Althea, Logan, Ihan, and Anise confront Kellach and deal with the aftermath, and Althea goes home.

verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: Althea Fairchild, Logan Thackeray, Agent Ihan; Corporal Kellach, Countess Anise, Ailoda Langmar; Althea & Logan, Althea & Ihan chapters: 1-7, 8-14, 15-21, 22-28, 29-35, 36-42, 43-49, 50-56, 57-63, 64-70, 71-77, 78-84

-

EIGHTY-FIVE 1 The doors to the throne room swung open, and a man with deep red hair and pale, sickly skin staggered through. He still wore the armour of a Seraph, though his surcoat was stained with grime and only the Six knew what else. Logan’s face went blank, which I thought might be his idea of acting, while Ihan, Anise, the illusion behind us on the throne, and I all stared. “Your Majesty!” Kellach cried, and to my very real astonishment, he fell to his knees. But it brought him a little closer. I held myself ready. In clear anguish, he croaked out, “My beloved queen.” 2 He’d brought anguish to a lot more people than himself, but nevertheless, his tormented face chilled me. If not for my knowledge otherwise, I would have thought him like Logan. For one terrible moment, my imagination superimposed the mottling of his flesh on Logan’s, the absolute horror in his expression. I drew a sharp breath, though Kellach didn’t so much as glance in my direction. “Jennah,” he gasped out. “You—you have to listen. I won’t hurt you!” 3 I’d believe that when I saw it. But I paid close attention nonetheless. “I … I just need your blood,” he said, and added desperately, “It will save Kryta!” Blessed Dwayna. He wasn’t thinking only of his own corruption; he’d followed the logic to its proper conclusion—if Jennah’s blood could heal him, it could heal the others who’d fallen under Zhaitan’s corruption. Perhaps all of them, if it were true. But it wasn’t. 4 This poor man, though. “Corporal Kellach!” I snapped out. “Drop your weapons and surrender. You’re not thinking clearly.” “No,” said Kellach, shuddering, his eyes still fixed on the false Jennah; she looked so much like the real one, down to her thoughtful gaze, that even I would never have guessed the difference. “I need her blood! Royal blood.” 5 Damn Alastia Crow. “Don’t you understand?” whispered Kellach, frantic hope in his face. “It can cure the corruption. Make us all free!” Were she not already dead, I would have begged Grenth to strike her down. Kellach, at any rate, had gotten a better vengeance than he knew. Better, perhaps, than he’d ever be capable of knowing. 6 “It’s not true,” I said, forcing my voice into smooth, steady tones, as soothing as I could manage, even while my stomach clenched. “Alastia Crow lied to you, Kellach. She did this just to endanger the queen.” His head shook wildly. “No! No, you’re wrong! There has to be a way!” 7 “Tell me!” he screamed. I knew the danger of the Risen. I’d killed hordes of them. But until that moment, I hadn’t truly grasped the power of Zhaitan, the totality of the threat posed by the dragons. I just—I hadn’t understood. Looking at him now, I did. I would never forget this, as long as I lived. EIGHTY-SIX 1 Logan shook himself out of our collective horror to say, “Kellach. Put away your weapons.” “No,” Kellach whispered, his face going still more bloodless. His gaze flickered around the throne room, his eyes frantically searching each of our faces. In a rougher voice, he insisted, “This can’t be true!” “Kellach—” “I’ll kill you all!” 2 He lunged forward, sword drawn, and through some magic I didn’t care to understand, four large Risen materialized behind him. “For the queen!” shouted Logan, rushing forward to slash at the undead brutes. Ihan and Anise didn’t waste their breath on battle cries; the former darted about, stabbing anyone within reach, while the latter fired aether from three different personas, faster and more powerfully than I could dream of. I had no idea which was the real Anise, while I felt very certain that she knew where I really stood among my own clones. “Grenth take you!” howled Kellach, beating wildly on Logan’s shield. Logan knocked him away with a jerk of his shield hand and neatly decapitated the undead nearest him. Ihan sliced open the spine of another, and chaos magic flashed all around. 3 “I won’t … I won’t give in,” Kellach panted, and I honestly didn’t know whether he spoke to Logan or Zhaitan. Either way, he was doomed. But his breathing grew more ragged, even though he hadn’t taken much damage, and when I held up my sword to block any attacks and drew closer, I could see that his eyes were no longer wild, but pale and staring, except when he blinked rapidly now and then. “Must kill,” he mumbled, steps growing still more uncoordinated. “Need … blood.” My companions had the undead under control; I focused all my will on the magic coursing through my sceptre, intensified the flow of it to all I could bear, and pointed it straight at Kellach. This is for you. 4 My magic lashed out at him. Anise seemed to follow my line of thought, or hers took the same route. Her magic spilled into mine, the deep purple of our joined power throwing his face into unearthly shadow. Perhaps her strength, so much greater than mine, did the rest of the work. Perhaps Ihan’s dagger found its target, or the blue fire flickering about Logan burned some vulnerable flesh in all that armour, or perhaps all our attacks combined into one deadly whole. However it happened, Kellach collapsed to his knees once more. Then, his vacant expression growing desperate one last time, he crumpled the rest of the way to the ground. 5 Kellach’s body sprawled at Logan’s feet. Dismembered undead lay all around him—around us. It made for a revolting scene, and a terrible one. Nobody spoke. Nobody relaxed our guard; for all we knew, the apparent death might be a trick, or some new and poorly understood development of the corruption. Logan methodically cut the straps of Kellach’s armour, kicked off the plates of it, and drove his sword through Kellach’s chest. He bled, sluggishly, but gave no other response. 6 As if released from a curse, we all drew breaths together, the sound so natural and ordinary that it brought some semblance of order to the grotesque scene. “Burn the corpse and scatter the remains,” Anise said, earning a respectful nod from Ihan. Logan flinched. “We don’t want him to suffer any more,” I told him. “I know.” He exhaled, then squared his shoulders, knelt down, and reached out a hand, not quite touching Kellach’s body. The flames of his magic burst out. 7 Logan’s fire ignited Kellach’s clothes first, then flashed over his skin, then engulfed his lifelessly writhing body, the smell of burning flesh filling my nostrils. I couldn’t do Logan’s grisly work for him, and I knew that nothing I might say would help, but I stayed near, near enough to feel the heat of the flames on my own skin. Even Ihan and Anise kept nearly as close; we were all in this together. I only left him once, after Kellach’s corpse and the assorted remnants of the undead had been burned to ash. We needed a broom. Ihan and I swept the ashes into four separate pouches, and each of us took one to dispose of as we saw fit. And that was my initiation into the Order of Whispers. EIGHTY-SEVEN 1 Once we were done, Logan held out his hands, still encased in bright gauntlets, and stared down at them. “Poor Kellach,” I said, wholeheartedly meaning it. “His mistakes were rooted in his love for queen and country.” “So many mistakes,” he said, dropping his hands, “made for all the right reasons.” “Exactly.” I glanced around, checking for signs of what had occurred, but the throne room seemed pristine once more. Its very cleanliness unsettled me; Kellach might have never existed. 2 Logan still looked stricken. “The queen could have been killed by someone who loved her. Even—I mean, it really makes you think.” I bet it did. Not unsympathetic, I touched his vambrace. “It’s all right, Logan. The queen is safe,” I assured him. 3 “Focus on the future, and Kryta will stay safe, too.” Logan nodded, but seemed scarcely aware of it. Meanwhile, Ihan fastened his portion of the remains on his belt, to all appearances unperturbed. Then he grinned at me. “Well done, Initiate! You showed tremendous cunning and nerve. I’m proud you’re a member of the Order of Whispers.” 4 Mixed in with the remnants of horror, I felt a trace of gratification at that. Though not often lacking in pride, I hadn’t ever imagined feeling so over this. I’d fought competently enough, and kept my nerve throughout, but I hadn’t expected Ihan to care. Surely he would expect no less? “Thank you,” I said. This seemed to satisfy him. “Now, for the rest of your initiation.” 5 I swallowed. “Go to Lion’s Arch a week from today,” continued Ihan. “There, you’ll be contacted by an apple merchant.” A what? “Meet with him to get your first formal assignment.” My first assignment! Anticipation sparked in my chest. 6 “I look forward to it,” I said honestly, and thought of Kellach’s face, the creeping power of Zhaitan. “It’s time to be part of a bigger world.” Ihan smiled again, and said nothing more, instead striding over to watch Anise unweave her spell, perhaps hoping to learn something from the process. I returned my attention to Logan, who was looking at his hands again. “Logan, are you all right?” I asked. “You seem rattled.” Not that he didn’t have reason to be. 7 “I’m glad Jennah’s safe,” he said slowly, “but I realize now that her safety is temporary. Everything is temporary, unless the dragons can be stopped.” True, but I didn’t blame him. I’d only just grasped it myself. “The dragons can’t be defeated by one people,” said Logan, lifting his eyes, “or even one nation. There has to be another way.” That’s what the Orders were for—weren’t they? EIGHTY-EIGHT 1 Logan’s brows drew together even as he hung his head a little. “Do you think we can overcome our mistakes, my friend?” he asked. “Make up for the things we’ve done?” I didn’t know what mistake he meant, but I knew it wouldn’t shake my friendship. I gave a firm nod. “I know we can, Logan.” Offering a smile, I added, “Mistakes make us human.” 2 “It’s rising up again that makes us heroes.” I believed that with all my heart. Wasn’t that the story of our people? We’d been weakened by our pointless war with Kryta, vulnerable to the Charr, but we’d risen up again in Lion’s Arch and Divinity’s Reach. Then, while Adelbern wiped out what little remained of human Ascalon after the Searing, Ebonhawke rose in the south under Logan’s own foremother. Logan straightened up. “You’re right.” 3 He didn’t quite return my smile, but the lines of his face smoothed out. “I’ve been too focused on keeping the queen safe.” He drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I love being at her side! But maybe that’s not where I can best defend her—or Kryta.” I honestly would never have imagined him saying that. Perhaps he wasn’t wrong. 4 No, he definitely wasn’t wrong. But from Logan, he might as well have said the sky was purple and the Charr our friends. “An old friend named Caithe asked me to meet her in Lion’s Arch next week,” said Logan, leaping by some inexplicable train of thought. “I think I’ll take her up on that.” I really had no idea what that had to do with anything, but I was all for friendship. I smiled up at him again. “I think that’s an excellent idea—I’ll see you in Lion’s Arch!” 5 He told me a little more about Caithe before we parted; she was a sylvari who had been a scout in his old guild, Destiny’s Edge. She’d never accepted the dissolution of the guild. When I asked Logan if he trusted her, he vacillated, before saying that she didn’t understand that the guild was gone forever. “Why does she want to meet you in Lion’s Arch and not in Divinity’s Reach?” I asked, though I could imagine that sylvari might not care for their reception in our home city. “Lion’s Arch is where it all began,” said Logan. “She likely wants to use a familiar place to dredge up sentimental feelings.” Well, that took some nerve, at any rate. 6 I respected nerve. “She’s stubborn,” added Logan. I respected stubbornness, too. “What does Caithe want?” I asked. “It’s likely she’s discovered something new about the dragons,” Logan said, and sighed, but he did look intrigued. “If I can convince her to tell me, it might benefit Kryta—and the queen.” Well, I could imagine why the guild had broken up. 7 “Caithe wanted to meet you in Lion’s Arch,” I said, thinking of my own forthcoming journey. “Anywhere in particular?” Only afterwards did it occur to me that he might not want me present during the actual meeting—likely a fraught one. “The Trader’s Forum,” Logan said easily. “It’s where we first formed Destiny’s Edge.” “I’ll meet you there,” I promised, to his evident relief. “Travel safely.” EIGHTY-NINE 1 We lingered even after that, talking a little of the queen and Logan’s feelings for her. He praised Lyssa for Jennah’s survival, and though we ourselves had carried out the plan, I could believe that Lyssa had aided my magic—both Anise’s and mine. She might not speak to us any more, but she was there, nonetheless. I assured Logan that the gods would watch over us all, and on that note, we parted. Once Logan left, undoubtedly to find Jennah, Ihan walked back over to me. “Your wits are sharp as knives, Initiate,” he said. “The Preceptors were right about you.” 2 The what? “Who are the Preceptors?” I asked. Ihan, with a nod at Anise, placed his hand at my back and gently led me towards the doors out of the throne room. “The Master of Whispers leads the order, but his identity is a secret. Three Preceptors carry out his directives.” When I asked who they were, he told me that their names were Halvora, Valenze, and Doern, and that I’d meet them soon. I certainly didn’t recognize the names. 3 “They were right about me,” I said slowly. “Do you mean that they knew about me before I was appointed Advocate of the Crown?” “Of course.” “And they liked me?” I said, a little incredulous that the flailing hero of Shaemoor would appeal to an organization of spies and manipulators. Ihan inclined his head. “What did you all even know?” At his expression, I paused. “Oh, you can’t tell me.” 4 “Not all, certainly,” said Ihan. “What would you like to hear?” “Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “You were born in Ebonhawke in the year 1304, the second daughter of Lord Edmund Fairchild and the former and future minister Ailoda Langmar. Your ancestry is approximately three-quarters Ascalonian and one-quarter Krytan. In 1310, your family removed to the Rurikton district of Divinity’s Reach, where you were brought up and educated as both an Ascalonian and a subject of Kryta.” 5 It was all true , but— “You performed well academically,” he continued, “but did little with your talents until the apparent death of your sister in 1323, when you took over the bulk of your family’s affairs for a year. As a natural mesmer, you afterwards began training in chaos magic under Countess Anise, and proved gifted, which aided you when you unexpectedly rushed to the aid of the village of Shaemoor early this year.” “Well, yes,” I said, “though I’m not sure—” “You further developed your skills as you investigated a political plot that culminated in a trial by combat and established your close alliance with Logan Thackeray. When not involved in politics, you began performing selfless acts of service around Queensdale and later, Kessex Hills.” “It’s not quite what it sounds like,” I said. 6 “Many of them quite minor,” added Ihan, “but some requiring a great deal of effort on your part, such as a large-scale attack on a massive creature of the Underworld. You proceeded to investigate the questionable ambush that led to your sister’s supposed death in battle, helped Thackeray apprehend the captain who betrayed Lieutenant Fairchild’s company, and discovered the survivors. At that point, you returned to your hobby of refining maps for the Tyrian Explorers Society, until you were recalled to serve as Advocate.” “Well, if that’s not everything, I’m not sure what else there is to know,” I said. “You tend to befriend people unlike yourself,” he answered; I suspected he meant Faren. “You also tend to rely—in both society and battle—on a strong talent for mimicry and for concealing your own thoughts and actions until opportunity arises, when you act quickly and decisively. Both of these qualities interested the Order.” 7 “I suppose I’m an odd creature by way of a hero,” I admitted. “We have long had our eyes on you,” said Ihan, which I took as yes. “And there’s more?” “You possess qualities which I imagine you are not yourself aware of,” he told me. “Qualities and predilections, I should say, which are not all beneficial. Those, you must discover and conquer. Be warned, though: based on our knowledge of you, this first task will test you and your loyalties in ways you do not imagine—and is intended to do so.” NINETY 1 Well, that sounded menacing. It was probably meant to, too. Hadn’t I already passed my initiation? Just not a custom-tailored initiation, I guessed. “I’m very loyal,” I protested. “Yes,” said Ihan, his face giving away nothing. “We know.” 2 I set that aside, since I couldn’t do anything about it. “What’s the next step, now that I’m a member of the Order of Whispers?” I asked. As we stepped out of the hall of the palace into the daylight, Ihan squinted at the sky and said, “The Preceptors arranged a contact for you in Lion’s Arch. His job will be to mentor you in our modus operandi.” Already suspicious, I said, “Who will be my mentor?” “That’s need-to-know information, Initiate,” said Ihan, steering us towards the Salma District. I had no doubts but that he knew exactly where I lived, and probably where I slept, too. 3 “Don’t worry,” he added. “He’ll contact you when you reach Lion’s Arch.” All right. An apple merchant would contact me in Lion’s Arch, when I would receive a task that would test my loyalties in ways I couldn’t imagine. That sounded fine. Perfectly fine. “I’m eager to hear from him,” I said. 4 Before he left me at the gates to the Salma District, Ihan told me to take notes on Logan’s meeting with Caithe; the Order kept detailed information on the members of Logan’s old guild. Destiny’s Edge must have been something. I wondered if this was my test—choosing to betray Logan’s trust for the Order, or the other way around. But I didn’t see Logan’s trust and the Order’s demand for information as quite contradictory, at least not yet. For all I knew, Logan didn’t care one way or another if the Order knew about Caithe, which they clearly did already, and he was all for helping the orders of Tyria fight the dragons, anyway. I’d see what happened, and make my choice then. “I look forward to a long career in the Order,” I said. 5 “That’s a week from now, of course,” said Ihan, glancing down at me. It wasn’t all that far down; if I could get used to anything, it would be not straining to look up at Logan. Maybe my contact would be on the smaller side, too, or a sylvari. Then again, they might be a Norn. “What do you plan to do in the meanwhile?” he asked. I thought about it, though I already knew the answer. 6 “I’m going to Ebonhawke,” I said, setting my jaw. “I want to see it again before—” Before the Order swallows me up, I almost said. Well, not almost, but I thought it. “—I get too busy.” “Ah,” said Ihan. “Yes, it’s natural to be curious about what you come from.” 7 “We have a base of operations there,” he added, “so we’ll stay in touch.” “Good,” I said, though I’d go anyway, unless expressly forbidden. “I’m thinking about going to the Ascalon Settlement afterwards; I always meant to see it, but I wasn’t capable of the journey.” “It’s a challenging one,” said Ihan. “Even for you.” I had no intention of getting myself killed out of curiosity, even curiosity that sprang from my connection to my people and my birthplace. “I’ll take care.” NINETY-ONE 1 Thankfully, Ihan assented to the second plan as well as the first. In fact, he said, “Then you’d better take this.” He dug around in his apparently bottomless bag; it gleamed with pale yellowish light every time he opened it up, and after a few moments, he pulled out a beautiful bronze sceptre, red-jeweled at its base, gradually widening to a little mechanism of some sort, and topped by a group of different-sized circles. The circles all glowed with the same light as that filling the bag, little bolts of lightning crackling across them. I caught my breath as Ihan held it out to me. My fingers did not quite tremble when I took it in my hand. Even without casting a spell, I could feel its strength. 2 The sheer quantity of aether I could pour through this sceptre—I’d never touched a weapon so fine. I lifted astonished eyes to Ihan’s. “Thank you,” I said unsteadily. “I … thank you. I didn’t expect it.” “I’m aware,” said Ihan, his mouth quirking. “But I’d rather not see a promising initiate immediately killed by pirates.” 3 “Then why are you letting me go?” The sceptre hummed pleasantly under my fingers, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to sheathe it with my other weapons. “If you can’t survive Gendarran Fields,” said Ihan, “then you won’t survive the Order. But properly armed, you have the wit and the strength to survive everything on the way to the settlement. And it’s good to test your skills and sharpen them before entering into a new phase of your career.” I looked down at the sceptre, then up at him, then back at the sceptre. “I see.” 4 “Good luck, Althea Fairchild,” Ihan told me, extending his hand. I reached out with my free hand, and took his in a firm grip, shaking it. I couldn’t help wondering if I’d ever do it again, see him again, or if this first mentor—of sorts—would simply vanish into the shadows. I might never know if he lived or died. If the gods willed it, though, I would. Maybe our paths would cross someday. I said, “Good luck, Ihan.” 5 With that, he walked over to a nearby crowd and joined it. When the crowd dispersed, he was gone. I took a deep breath, then turned back to the gate and walked into Salma, where everything was comfortable and familiar. Kormir knew when I’d be back for any significant length of time, and I could hardly tell my mother that I’d joined a continent-spanning organization of spies and assassins. As I made my way to the manor, it felt half-unreal, but for the pouch of ashes at my waist. I shivered. Poor Kellach—and poor Logan. 6 My mother, of course, didn’t like the idea of me going back to Ebonhawke. But then, she didn’t like the idea of me going anywhere outside of Divinity’s Reach, so I reminded her of the cease-fire with the Charr and the treaty in progress, said I’d keep her updated, and promised to take no unnecessary risks. We had different ideas of necessary, Mother and I. After reassuring her, I packed my bags with what went for practical in my wardrobe, tied my hair back, and headed out to Rurikton. I didn’t go immediately to the Ebonhawke gate. Instead, I walked slowly to Langmar Manor—and more importantly, the Langmar cemetery. Kellach was no Langmar, of course, but it was the best I could do for him. 7 I sprinkled Kellach’s ashes in the fresh plot where Deborah’s headstone had rested: my portion of Kellach’s ashes, that was—just thinking of that had me shuddering again. But perhaps he could rest in the Mists peacefully now, free of Zhaitan’s grip; perhaps even the Risen he’d brought with him could, too. We’d done what we could, however grisly the doing of it had been. From there, I made my way to the rear of the district, gazing up at the crackling gate. It had been so long. Handing over a few coins to the Asura by the gate, I straightened up, checked the fit of my weapons and my bag, and then— Then I walked home.

#ascalonian grudgeblog #anghraine's gaming #anghraine's fic #ascalonian grudgefic #althea fairchild #agent ihan #logan thackeray #countess anise #corporal kellach #ailoda langmar #guild wars 2 #pro patria #probably my favourite clump of the entire fic #i didn't plan the fic in groups of seven chapters so there's no pacing logic to where i divide them up #but i was really glad where this one started and ended :)

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Us Against the World

Fandom: Star Wars (Childhood Best Friends AU)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: You and Poe have been best friends since preschool. At that young age, Poe made a declaration, a promise. One that he intended on keeping. Based off of this post.

Age 4

You were nervous entering the preschool. When your mom said she’d be leaving you there for a couple of hours, you were scared. You didn’t want to be alone.

“Don’t wanna go,” you said with a whimper as you clung to your mom’s hand.

She knelt down, “Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna have so much fun! You’ll make friends and you’ll forget you’ve been gone for a while.” You still had a scared look on your face. Your mom sighed, “If you’re good, I’ll take you out for ice cream, okay?”

You smiled softly and nodded. She walked you into the classroom and was instantly greeted to a woman about the same age as your mom, “Hi there. I’m Mrs. Organa. And who might you be?”

“Y/N,” you said shyly.

The woman smiled, “Hi, Y/N. Nice to meet you. Do you wanna go play with some toys?” You nodded and hugged your mom good-bye before heading towards the toy chest. 

You spotted a big fire truck and grabbed for it, but so did another kid. You looked up to see a boy with tan skin, black curly hair, and brown eyes. He picked up the truck and look at you, “Do you wanna play with me?” As if feeling your apprehension, he smiled, “I’m Poe!”

“I’m Y/N,” you said shyly.

“Wanna play, Y/N?”

“Okay.”

After that, you and Poe could not be separated. You both always got upset when you weren’t in the same groups for play time. You always wanted to lay next to each other for nap time, and you two always shared your snacks. 

One day in class, Mrs. Organa asked what everyone wanted to do when they grow up. Poe immediately stood up from his chair, “When I grow up, I’m gonna marry Y/N!” he said proudly. You blushed as all the kids laughed and made noises of disgust. Poe immediately got upset, “It’s not funny! Y/N is my best friend and I wanna be with her forever!”

Age 10

You and Poe sat in the principal’s office waiting for your parents to arrive. You and Poe held each other’s hands as Ms. Tanno looked at both of you disappointedly. 

Your dad and Poe’d dad, Kes, walked in frantically, “Is everything okay?”

“What happened?”

“Is anyone hurt?”

Ms. Tanno held up her hand and they all silenced, “The only person who got hurt was Mrs. Organa’s son, Ben Solo.”

“What exactly happened?” Kes asked.

Ms. Tanno gestured to you, “Go ahead, you two.”

You sighed, “Ben was making fun of me. Saying I was ugly and that no one would like me.”

“Then I was defending her and told Ben to buzz off!”

“Then Ben called Poe stupid and knocked him down. Poe looked like he was about to cry and then...”

You looked at Poe’s who’s eyes fell down to his lap and were filled with hurt, “He said ‘What are you gonna do? Cry to your mommy? Oh wait, you don’t have one anymore.” Poe started sniffling and you tightened your hold on his hand.

“So I punched Ben in the face.”

Kes knelt down in front of both of you, “Y/N, I appreciate what you did for Poe, but violence isn’t the answer.”

You looked down in shame, “I know, but after Ben mentioned Aunt Shara, I just..I just couldn’t help it.”

Your dad looked to Ms. Tanno, “So what’s going to happen?”

“Well, since Y/N punched someone, I’ll have to suspend her.”

Poe’s head shot up, “No! Suspend me!”

Ms. Tanno shook her head, “But you didn’t punch Ben, Poe.”

“So? I-It’s my fault that Ben got punched! I interfered! I should get suspended, not Y/N!”

“I’m sorry, Poe. It’s not how that works.”

Poe frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, “Well if Y/N is suspended, then I’m not going to school until she’s back.”

“Poe, stop,” you tried reasoning with him.

He looked at you, “No. Best friends forever, remember? They can’t separate us no matter what.”

Age 16

Poe was anxious. He stood by your locker, waiting for you to get out of math class. He kept muttering to himself, “You can do this. She’s your best friend. You got this, Poe. You got this.” as soon as the bell rang, he tensed. It was now or never. 

He stared at his shoes, his old beaten up Converse, waiting for your arrival. He tried not to let his nerves get the best of him. He’s known you for his whole life. He shouldn’t be afraid, he shouldn’t-”Whatcha starin’ at?” 

His head slowly raised and his brown eyes met your Y/E/C eyes. He smiled, “Nothin’. So, uh, I have something to tell you.”

“What’s up?” you asked as you switched your math book for your English book. You closed your locker and looked at Poe expectantly.

Poe gave a deep breath, “I like you. A-A lot. L-Like more than a best friend kind of like.”

A smile formed on your face, “Really?”

“Well, uh, yeah. I mean, you’re smart, funny, beautiful, fun. What’s not to like?”

You blushed, “I like you too.”

“R-Really? Like how I like you like me?”

You laughed, “Yeah, Poe.” You leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, “Now let’s get to class, yeah?” you slipped your hand into his. 

Poe looked down at your intertwined hands with a big smile on his face, “Yeah. Okay.”

Age 18

You had Poe had graduated high school. Despite it being a joyous occasion, both of you were saddened. Poe had be recruited to the Air Force. Within a week, he’ll be shipped off to training. So you two spent as much time as you could together.

He took you out on dates, he slept over your house, you two went on a day trip out of town, and Poe had gotten you a puppy.

“He’ll keep you company while I’m away. Right, Beebs?” the little corgi-shiba inu mix wagged its tail as Poe pet him, “Oh!” Poe pulled out the necklace he always wore: his mother’s ring hanging from a metal chain, “Keep this safe for me, yeah?”

You gave him a sad smile, “Okay,” you said sheepishly.

“I’ll think of you every single day. I’ll try to write as much as I can. But you have to promise me something, sweetheart.”

“What?”

“Don’t push everyone away. Don’t isolate yourself. This is your summer before you go to college. Don’t waste it crying over me.”

You began to sniffle, trying not to let the tears fall, “I’m gonna miss you so much,” you whimpered.

“I know, baby.” Poe kissed your cheek, “I know.” then he hugged you. He held onto you as long as you needed him to.

Age 21

You were typing away on your computer when you received a Skype call from Poe. You immediately answered it, “Poe?”

The grainy image of him appeared. He waved, “Hello, my love. Whatcha doin’?”

“Working on my novel.”

He nodded, “Ah yes. Our love story.”

“It’s not our love story! It’s Oscar and Angela’s love story!”

“Uh huh, which is based off of our love story, which technically means you’re writing about us. You even used our own descriptions for the characters!”

You looked at him surprised, “You actually read some of it?”

Poe scoffed, “Of course I did, baby! And you’re not subtle at all about the parallels between our story and theirs.”

You chuckled, “There are some differences...”

“Oh yeah, like how Oscar is taller and has more abs? You tryna tell me something, baby?”

You laughed, “No! You’re fine just the way you are.”

“Uh huh. Suuuure.” You both giggled, “Anyway, I got permission to visit next month.”

Your eyes lightened up, “Really?!”

Poe nodded, “Hell yeah! Can’t wait to see you, kiss you, hug you, fu-”

“POE!”

He giggled, “I’m kidding! Maybe...not really. Anyway, let’s see our lil fur baby!”

You called Beebs over to you and lifted him to your camera, “He’s doing well!”

Poe leaned closer to the screen, “He’s gotten fatter!”

“But he always whines when I don’t give him enough food! I feel bad!”

“You’re making our baby fat, Y/N!”

“Okay! I’m sorry! I’ll take him out more to work it off.”

“Yes. Sounds good.”

You sighed, “Well, I better get this chapter finished up. Talk to you later?”

“Of course. Bye, sweetheart. I love you bunches!”

“Bye, babe! I love you bunches more!”

Age 26

You and Poe socialized with your family. It was your dad’s birthday and your mom threw a barbeque for him. You stood next to Poe as you spoke with your neighbor and long-time friend, Rose. Meanwhile, Poe talked to long-time friend and Air Force pal, Finn, while his arm was around your waist. 

It felt so good to have Poe back, even for a little bit. As time passed, you’d gotten used to his temporary stays. Despite that, you two had gotten an apartment together. Something that was your own. It was a big step for the both of you, but it was a long time coming. As was this.

“Everyone! May I have your attention please?” Poe called out. 

You looked at Poe confusedly, “What’s going on?” Everyone circled around you as Poe pulled you closer to him. 

“Y/N, when I was four years old, Mrs. Organa, our preschool teacher, asked us what we wanted to do when he grow up.”

“Oh my God.” you held your hands to your mouth, already knowing what was about to happen.

Poe chuckled, “Don’t get ahead of me here, sweetheart!” He cleared his throat, “My answer to that question was that I wanted to marry you. And this is me keeping my word.” He pulled out a ring and knelt down on one knee, “Y/N L/N, you’re my best friend, my soulmate. In front of our closest friends and family, I’m here declaring my never ending love for you. Will you do me the honors of becoming my wife?”

With teary eyes you nodded, “Yes!” 

Poe took your left hand and slid the ring onto your finger. He then gave you a kissed and picked you up, spinning you around as everyone cheered.

Age 30

You were wringing your hands together as you paced back and forth in the hall. Rose, Phasma, Kaydel, Jess, and Rey watched you.

“Why are you nervous? You’re marrying the love of your life?” Rey asked.

“Oh, I’m not nervous about marrying Poe. Fuck yeah I wanna marry him! I just don’t wanna trip down the aisle or stutter my vows. You know how I am with speaking in public.”

Rose shrugged, “Don’t think of it as talking in front of a couple hundred people. Just think of it as talking to Poe. Making your promise to him and declaring your undying love and all that lovey dovey stuff,” Rose said. The other women agreeing with her. 

Your dad approached you, “You ready?”

You sighed, “Yup. Let’s do this!” 

Meanwhile...

“Oh God. What if I stutter? I don’t wanna sound stupid!” Poe whispered anxiously to Finn, his best man.

Finn shook his head, “Man, calm down. Whether you stutter or not, Y/N will still love you.” 

The doors to the venue opened and in walked the flower girl, ring bearer, and bridesmaids. They all joined Poe and Finn at the end of the aisle. Then the wedding march began to play and everyone stood. Poe gave a deep breath and then turned towards you. He was floored. 

You looked absolutely stunning in your wedding dress. You looked angelic even! You joined Poe at the end of the aisle. You chuckled as he wiped his eyes.

“Sorry, you’re just so beautiful.”

“Thank you and you look even more handsome.” you nodded to his formal Air Force uniform. You loved when he was in uniform.

Poe chuckled, “Thanks, babe. So, together forever?” he asked, intertwining your fingers with his.

You smiled at him, “Together forever.”

“Us against the world, baby.” he whispered as he faced the officiant.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #star wars #au #childhood best friends au #modern au

[arc852]

The Cave

 Yeah, this isn’t part of any of my verses like I promised, but I’ve barely been able to start that one and this one only needed a little bit more and yeah. Sorry guys, it has been a crazy week. But I still wanted to get something out, so here we are! I hope you enjoy!

 Thomas wasn’t quite sure how this happened.

 They had all been camping. Him and his sides decided to take a little get away, just the five of them to relax and unwind (It had been Patton’s idea). They decided on a secluded part of the forest and set up camp there. It really was the perfect spot. With a river close by, a big enough clearing and even a hill to go hiking.

 There was also a cave.

 Thomas had found it while out gathering firewood. It was a large and dark cave. So dark that Thomas couldn’t see a few feet past where the cave started. He called the others, showing them what he had found.

 Roman had wanted to go and explore, maybe find some beasts to slay. Patton had been all for it as well, until Virgil had mentioned spiders. Virgil himself did not want to go anywhere near the thing and Logan was adamant on it being a bad idea.

 “We do not posses the proper equipment to go searching around in a cave.” The logical trait had said. Roman had been bummed, but reluctantly accepted the fact. Already talking about the things they could bring for their next trip.

 Thomas, however, couldn’t simply ignore the cave. For some reason, it felt like it was pulling at him to come inside, explore, discover. He ignored it though and followed the others back to camp. Setting up a fire and telling stories, eating marshmallows and just overall having a good time.

 When night fell, Thomas was the last one awake.

 He had gotten out of his tent and started heading toward the cave, flashlight in hand. When he reached it’s mouth, he hesitated. In the back of his mind he could hear Logan explaining why it was a bad idea and he almost turned around. But then he felt another hard tug and he was stepping inside the cave.

 After that, he couldn’t really remember anything. The next thing he remembered was waking up. He was outside the cave, lying on his back. He blinked at the harsh morning sun, confused. His brain was fuzzy and something didn’t seem quite right.

 And then he heard a scream.

 He shot up and immediately froze when he noticed his surroundings. Those were...trees. Right? They looked like trees, but they were almost the size of him. And...was that the cave? It couldn’t be, it looked too much like a small burrow then a cave.

 “Thomas?” A small voice practically squeaked out below him and Thomas looked down. His eyes widened in both shock and disbelief. His sides stood before him, smaller than the size of his hand. They all looked up at him with shock, concern, and even fear. Thomas felt his heart ache at that.

 And that was where they were now.

 They were trapped in a staring contest. Wide brown eyes, meeting 4 smaller identical ones. For the life of him, Thomas couldn’t figure out who had spoken. They all had their own tone of voice, but when spoken so softly as it had been, it was hard to distinguish. Besides, whoever had spoken certainly didn’t feel like doing it again.

 “Guys?” Thomas finally spoke, breaking the silence. He was still hoping this was some sort of weird dream. “What...what’s going on?” He asked. The others blinked and finally took their eyes off him, well everyone except Virgil, who was still staring up at him with wide fear filled eyes behind Roman. Thomas felt another pang go through his heart.

 “We...don’t know.” Logan said, cautiously and slow. As if he was still trying to wrap his head around it. Thomas could relate.

 “We just found you like this kiddo!” Patton shouted, concern evident in his tone. “Did you do anything?” The emotional trait was looking him up and down, hands fidgeting with worry.

 “Yes, what happened last night?” Roman added on and Thomas scratched his head, trying to think back on it. The movement caught the others off guard and he noticed them stiffen before backing a few steps away. Thomas did his best to ignore that.

 “I remember getting up last night and going to the cave. I went inside, but after that I can’t remember anything.” Thomas replayed unhelpfully. Logan bit his lip.

 “This sounds crazy, but perhaps it was something in the cave that did this to you.” Logan suggested and Virgil grit his teeth.

 “I knew that cave was a bad idea! Why don’t you ever listen to me!” Virgil shouted up at his host. Thomas blinked and looked away guiltily.

 “I’m sorry, but it was like I couldn’t help it! The cave was like...drawing me in.” Thomas tried to explain, not knowing how to describe the tugging he had felt. Speaking of, he didn’t feel it anymore. Strange...did that have something to do with him being big now?”

 “Like...a pull in your chest?” Patton asked and Thomas looked at him in surprise.

 “Yeah! How did you know?” He pointed to his chest.

 “I felt it to, but it seems like it was less than what you felt.” Roman raised an eyebrow.

 “Well, I certainly didn’t feel anything. Did you?” He asked, turning to Logan and Virgil. They both shook their heads.

 “The feeling was primarily in your chest, correct?” Logan asked and Thomas nodded. “That might be why Patton felt it. He is your heart after all.”

 “Why didn’t the rest of us feel the pull?” Virgil asked and Logan mulled it over.

 “It...could be because we aren’t human.” The others blinked and looked at each other. It wasn’t often that they brought up the fact they weren’t human. It didn’t affect them much, but it was still sort of a weird topic to talk about.

 “That could be it. Even though I felt the tug, I didn’t feel the need to go anywhere.” Patton spoke up. Logan hummed.

 “So, whatever this is.” He looked at Thomas. “It seems to only affect humans.” Thomas frowned and furrowed his eyebrows.

 “That’s...okay, but how is this even possible?” He said, motioning down to himself. He was a giant in comparison to the rest of them. He could easily reach over and scoop them all up into his hand. His heart beat faster at the thought and he paused.

 The thought of grabbing them, holding them in his hand sent a feeling of power flowing through him. But then, another wave of feeling. This one negative, when he thought about how dangerous he was to them now. He could crush them without even knowing, without any effort at all.

 He looked down to see the others looking at him with concern, except for Virgil. His eyes were wide and his breathing was fast and Thomas knew why. He was starting to panic, which meant Virgil was starting to panic with the added panic of his own. Thomas tried to control his breathing, to help ease Virgil.

 “Maybe we should look in the cave, to see if we can find what did this.” Roman suggested and started walking up to the cave. A sinking feeling settled in Thomas’ gut and without thinking he reached his hand over and practically slammed it in front of the creative side.

 “No!” Roman flailed away, eyes wide with fear and hand going to the hilt of his sword. The others flinched back as well, and Thomas winced at what he had just done.

 “I’m sorry, but something is telling me you really don’t want to go in that cave.” Thomas explained, he hesitated slightly before lifting his hand away, settling it on his lap so it was away from the others. Roman blinked and tried to regain his posture, but he still looked frazzled.

 “R-right.” He stuttered and walked back over to the others.

 “So what do we do?” Patton asked after a few minutes of tense silence.

 “Thomas can’t go home like this, and we can’t leave without having Thomas with us, so essentially we are stuck here.” Logan said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Virgil stepped more out in the open.

 “But we only brought enough food for 3 days. And that was when he was normal sized!” He pointed up at Thomas. “We can’t afford to be stuck here!”

 Suddenly a loud rumbling noise echoed around them, sounding almost like a deep growl. The others gave each other wide looks before looking at Thomas. They seemed to realize what the noise was when Thomas placed a hand on his stomach. At the mention of food, his stomach had answered in turn.

 “Yeah, we might want to do something about that, cause I am really hungry right now.” Thomas admitted. The look the others gave him made him regret the noise, even if he had no control over it. They were looking at him like...like he was gonna…

 “Guys?” That seemed to pull them back, away from those types of thoughts, at least for now. Good thing too cause Thomas did not want to think about it either. The fact that they would even think that was...anyway.

 “Right, well.” Logan said after clearing his throat, gaining everyone's attention. “I suppose the only thing we can do for now is hope this is only temporary. I say we wait a solid 24 hours before furthering discussion on what to do.” Logan looked around for agreement, getting nods from all the others, except Virgil.

 “Virgil? Did you have an objection?” Logan asked and Virgil grit his teeth and he tried hard to avoid looking at Thomas.

 “Yeah, what if it’s one of those things that becomes permanent in 24 hours. As much as I hate to admit it, that cave holds the answers. We can’t just put this off and hope.” Virgil was using his ‘big bad anxiety’ voice in order to get through to them all. Though most especially Thomas. He hadn't forgotten how his host had stopped Roman earlier.

 “Emo Nightmare has a point. We don’t know the basis of, well, whatever this is. A curse, by the looks of it.” Roman added, looking Thomas up and down. He was the most familiar with magic and curses, seeing a few himself whenever he was in his ‘room’ in Thomas’ mind. Even though he could admit those were fake and this was very, very real.

 “Well then, maybe we should take a look in the cave.” Patton suggested. He was a little scared to go inside, still thinking about all the spiders that could be crawling within. But he would do anything for Thomas. They all would.

 Thomas tensed when talk of going into the cave started. He didn’t know why, but the thought made him sick. And in some twisted way, almost protective. Not of his sides, he realized, but of the cave itself. He tried to fight back against the feeling, telling himself that maybe them going into the cave was their best solution. But the feeling only seemed to grow.

 “I...suppose we shouldn't take any risks of this being permanent.” Logan said, hand on his chin in deep thought. “If no one else objects then exploring the cave might be our best option for helping Thomas.” He looked around at his fellow sides, this time none of them speaking out against the idea.

 “Then, it is settled.” Logan turned to look up at Thomas and the now giant willed himself to relax. Still battling with the strange feelings.

 “Thomas, will you allow us entrance into the cave?” Thomas swallowed as he forced himself to nod.

 “Yeah, of course.” He shifted so he was out of the way, even though everything in him was screaming not to let them in. He did his best to hold himself back as he watched his sides turn to each other.

 “Alright everyone! Let us do this!” Roman shouted, hiding his fear behind a mask of cool confidence. The others were more reluctant, but willing to do anything to help their host get back to normal. For both Thomas’ sake and their own.

 As they started off and walked closer to the cave’s entrance, the feeling was replaced with fire. The pull in his chest had returned at full force, but this time it wasn’t telling him to go into the cave. Thomas tried to hold back, let his sides enter the cave, but the pull was clouding his judgement. Just like the night before. He sucked in a sharp breath and before he realized what he was doing, he saw his hands reach out in front of him.

 His sides didn’t notice in time and Thomas had his hands around them before they could react. He scooped them all up, his fingers twitching to curl around them, but he kept them open. Instead, allowing them to sit in his cupped hands as he brought them close to his chest and away from the cave.

 “What the hell!?” Came Virgil’s panicked cry. They were all squirming for a way out until they actually looked at Thomas and froze.

 “K-Kiddo? What--?” Patton stuttered, not knowing how to form his thoughts in that moment. Thomas felt a mixture of guilt and...was that, what, pride? Maybe? Accomplishment? Something along those lines. Whatever it was it definitely shouldn't have been there. But it was and it just confused Thomas even more.

 “I’m-I’m sorry, I just, the pull came back. I can’t, couldn’t let you go into the cave, I--”

 “Your eyes…” Logan interrupted him and Thomas stopped apologizing to send him a confused yet concerned look.

 “What?” An audible gulp came from someone on the right, either Roman or Virgil, he couldn’t tell. But Roman was the one to speak up.

 “They’re glowing.” Thomas’ eyes widened.

 “Oh.”

#gt #Giant/tiny #thomas sanders #sanders sides #infinitesimal!sides #au #cave #magic #curse #camping #cliffhanger?

[ciathyzareposts]

Realms of Arkania: Ei im Gesicht

That about sums up this entire session.

         Today’s subtitle comes from a conversation I had this week with Irene. My wife occasionally takes an interest in my hobby and asks about what I’m playing. She usually begins by asking, “What year are you up to?,” to which whatever my reply she responds with “still?” That’s always a bit depressing. But a few weeks ago, her first question was about the country.

“Germany,” I replied enthusiastically. “This one is based on a German tabletop game called Das Schwarze Auge.”        

“The . . . black . . . owooga?” she asked, attempting to translate.

“The Black Eye,” I corrected, not also mentioning that most people translate schwarze as “dark” in this context. 

Two weeks later, she came into my office while I was playing. I tend to interlace hours of work with hours of play, and without fail, if she opens the door and sees what’s on my monitor, it’s during one of the hours of play. Sometimes I don’t think she thinks I work at all.

“Are you still playing that German game?” she asked. “Egg on Your Face?”

After some confusion, I realized she had confused one metaphor for an embarrassing facial blemish for another. I suspect for the rest of my life, I’m going to mentally translate Das Schwarze Auge as Egg on Your Face. Das Schwarze Auge probably has an actual rule about egg on a character’s face, with an associated temporary loss of 3 charisma points.            

I definitely don’t want these eggs on my face.

         This session, I mostly continued my town-to-town explorations, trying to find the pieces of the map that will lead me to Hyggelik’s tomb. These travels were interspersed with more side explorations that I sure hope aren’t tied to the main quest, because I’ve been doing awful at them.

Take the spider’s cave, where I started. There were two levels to the place, and it was swarming with spiders and some kind of spider cultists. The combats were of average difficulty, made easier because the occultists tended to drop vials of spider venom, which I could then apply to my own weapons and thus do about three times the damage–oddly, even against spiders.

But aside from the combats, I screwed up everything in the caves. First, I chose to burn some spider eggs, and I guess that caused the caverns to fill up with smoke, which caused my characters to choke to death if they kept exploring. I had to reload from before that decision. Then I ran into an alcove where I was asked a riddle: “What is as impenetrable as an iron wall and yet as transparent as glass?” Now, the answer to this is literally nothing, or perhaps “REALLY THICK GLASS,” but I suspected the developers were going for WEB or SPIDER WEB or something. No matter what I entered, I couldn’t get it right, or at least nothing happened.           

Ran out of letters!

          I did solve another puzzle, probably the one that commenter Alrik von Prem was talking about last time. The riddle was in the basement, behind a one way door, and getting it right was the only way out of the area. It was, “Who is the lord of all spiders?” I figured the answer had something to do with a statue I’d seen on the first level, where “the letters S, N, A, T, C, A and M form a heptagram.” I probably could have figured it out anyway just from trying different combinations, but I’ve known for years–god knows why–that the scientific name for the black widow spider is Latrodectus mactans, and thus figured correctly that’s what they were going for.              

Or else the authors were fans of SCATMAN Crothers.

           That was probably my only success. I fell into several traps and damaged my party horribly. I set off several chest traps, and there were at least two chests that I never got open because of the traps. I found a bunch of crystals and two Amulets of Someone that I never found any use for. I finally left the caves dispirited and annoyed. One condition I didn’t experience, to my surprise, was poison.

I returned to the road and made it to the harbor city of Ottarje, where a visit to Hjore Ahrensson produced another piece of the map as well as a new name in Clanegh (where I’ve already been).                

This was prescient of him, as I was never able to find any Thinmarsdotters living in Clanegh.

                From Ottarje, I took a ship to Prem–a huge town without much interesting except an abandoned mine. I wasted a bunch of time exploring the mine, which had no enemies but lots of locked doors and traps. The mine kept caving in, which took half a day or more for my characters to clear, and they started starving and complaining of thirst. Some things that I thought would be promising treasures turned out to be nothing. I broke my only set of lockpicks in a locked door. I left a second dungeon dispirited.

I kept circling the game’s western “horn” with the goal of hitting Hjalsingor and then reaching the island of Manrek, both of which were clue locations. From Prem, we sailed to Treban, Kord, Guddasunden, and finally Hjalsingor. Algrid Trondesdotter said she used to have a map, but she sold it to merchant named “Kollborn or something.” She also gave me a new name in Breida.             

This NPC wasn’t very useful.

           From Hjalsingor, we sailed to Royik and then across the strait to the city of Manrin in Manrek. I had been told that my quarry was on Manrek, but not which of the two cities. Manrin was a bust, so I set out overland for Brendhil. On the way, I stumbled upon a third cave and had my third failure, largely because I hadn’t been able to find a new set of lockpicks at any shop since my original set broke. I frankly don’t even remember where I bought the originals. I opened some doors with spells but soon ran out of points. I fought some pirates, failed to figure out how to work a lever puzzle, and to cap it all off, decided to sail out of the caves in a boat we found at the back. In a scripted event (I’m not sure if high skill in anything would have prevented it), the boat foundered and sank and I had to reload from back in Manrin. I didn’t even bother to stop at the cave on my second trip to Brendhil.           

Why did we sail out into the open ocean anyway?

           In Brendhil, Thomas Swarfnildsson gave me my fifth map piece but nothing much else happened. We hopped a boat for Liskor back on the mainland and then walked to Clanegh for the second time. I was utterly unable to find Yasma Thinmarsdotter, who was supposed to have another map clue. I checked every building and got drunk in every tavern hoping for a clue.           

This is where I am at this point.

          My pub crawl in Clanegh paid off in another way, however, when my first NPC companion joined the party in a tavern. Nariell, a huntress, comes with a bow and 40 arrows. I haven’t done much with missile weapons since my early unsuccessful attempts, so I thought I’d keep her and see how it goes. She is highly skilled in nature-related skills and at Level 6 is much higher than my own characters. The downside is that NPCs exist in their own box off to the side, which means you can’t put them at the front of the party, which means you can’t take advantage of a lot of their skills.          

Whether accepting or rejecting the NPC’s offer to join, the party leader is a jerk.

         My next clue was way over in Phexcaer, a long journey overland back to Felsteyn, then down the river branch to Vilnhome, then east along the river through a long wilderness stretch. On we went through Orkanger, Felsteyn, Upper Orcam, and Vilnhome, fighting some random bandit battles on the way, stopping in each town for a proper meal and bed rest. In Vilhome, we loaded up on rations and water for the long trip upriver.

After a couple of uneventful days, the game warned that we were entering orcish lands, an event punctuated with a skull stuck on a stick. In a scripted encounter, we got stuck in a marsh for a while, and Dormauera got some kind of disease that miraculously Halberman was able to treat.          

My first battle with orcs.

          The fourth day out, we fought our first party of orcs–a pack of four, which wasn’t so bad. The next day, we were ambushed by eight, which was much harder. On Day 6, we met a traveler who warned us that Phexcaer is swarming with thieves–unwelcome news, as Halberman’s pocket had been picked back in Brendhil for about 80 ducats.         

It turned out that I didn’t get anything for anything.

       We finally reached Phexcaer after a week on the road. Halberman immediately levereld up to 4 from the fights in transit. Another large city, Phexcaer had a few features I hadn’t found in other cities, including a “gentleman’s club.” It was interesting for several reasons. First, a detailed screen that showed several scantily-clad workers or patrons, plus an animated woman dancing, was almost immediately and continually covered up by text boxes. Second, upon entering, the party was approached by a young man who asked if we wanted to purchase sex. Two of the three resulting options are to express outrage at even being asked (in which case you get thrown out) and to get down to business and ask about Hyggelik (although, oddly, the game has us say that we’re looking for Hyggelik rather than his tomb or descendants). But if you do want to take the brothel up on its services, the only option to do so is within the context of the party unanimously declaring themselves to be pansexual.          

Three weird choices.

            Meanwhile, if you ask about Hyggelik, the young man asks you to meet him in half an hour, “two houses to the north.” The problem is that the building two squares to the north is an armory, not a house, and none of the nearby houses had any resulting encounters. Moreover, the game doesn’t even track time in increments smaller than a whole hour. I tried nearby houses in all cardinal directions to no avail.

There’s a “gambling hall,” but you can’t actually play any gambling games. I just lost 15 ducats in a scripted encounter. A town hall had a promising option to “use its archives,” but after we paid a 10 ducat fee, we were told that a decision would be made at the next city council meeting in 3 weeks.

There were several options to talk with NPCs about Hyggelik, but they all acted like he was still alive. A guy in a bar told us he had “moved to Hermit’s Lake,” and a healer said that he had gone to Riva, which isn’t even on my map.            

I’m pretty sure he died centuries ago. Are we talking about the same person?

          Unfortunately, I seem to have come all the way upriver for nothing. The person I was looking for, “Gerbald,” turned out to be a smith running a shop in the southeast part of town. But no dialogue options would get anything out of him, and the most aggressive options turned into a brawl. I left the city frustrated and confused.

I figured while I was already so far west, I’d check out nearby Groenvelden–the furthest-east town on the map. But it was a tiny place with no special encounters. So now I have to make my way all the way back down the river to Thorwal and turn my explorations to the cities south of it. Maybe while I’m back in the big city, I’ll see if I have any luck in the lower levels of the old fortress.

Miscellaneous notes:          

I’m having major inventory annoyances. Between all the equipment that I feel like I should keep for when it’s necessary, backup weapons, rations and water, potions and poisons, and herbs, I’m constantly running out of room.

Potions would be a great money sink if they stacked.

Sometimes, the game doesn’t seem to apply its Scandinavian naming conventions accurately.

             Or else that’s one ugly daughter.

         Treasure chests never seen to have anything I actually want, such as weapon and armor upgrades.

            A bonanza for a party of mountaineers.

          I continue to be amused by the absurd dialogue options when dealing with shopkeepers.

            No comment.

             I give 50 silver pieces to every temple I come across and yet my prayers are never answered. I don’t even know what they’re supposed to do in theory.

I’ve had some weapons break, but it’s so annoying to wait the 6 hours it takes to repair them that I’ve been throwing them away and replacing them.

           One thing that really struck me during this session was the overwhelming purposelessness of most of the cities and towns. Even the smallest is maybe 20 x 20 squares with a dozen buildings. In any given town, about half its buildings will have random citizens or will be empty, and the others will consist of interchangeable shops, inns, taverns, and temples. Maybe 1 in 3 cities has an NPC’s house. Prem was like 20 x 60 but hardly had anything more interesting than the smallest town. And there are over 50 cities! The developers spent an awful lot of time building numerous large spaces in which not much of anything happens.

This was also true of Spirit of Adventure, but that game had only like 3 towns. This one has several dozen. It takes forever to fully explore each one, but you must lest you miss that one important house.

I’ve just crossed the game’s 20th hour. By the same time in most Gold Box games, I was over halfway through the plot, had leveled up 5 times, and had six or seven magic items among the party members. For this game, I still feel like I’ve just started, I’ve leveled up twice, I still mostly have my starting inventory, and I keep spending hours exploring places that offer no sense of reward or resolution. I’m beginning to think that this isn’t a very good game.

Time so far: 23 hours

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/realms-of-arkania-ei-im-gesicht/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost