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whumpcollector · 1 year

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Lucas Part 11: The Mage, The Crownsman

Im back! If any of ya’ll are still around I hope you enjoy! Content warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, it as a pronoun (used derogatorily), allusions to non-con (vague and blink if you miss it) “Absolutely not!”

Jonathon sighed. “Jawad ple-”

“No!” Jawad crossed his arms, a scowl on his face.“ I will not allow it. Lucas has just begun his recovery, I will not let you hamper it.”

Lucas sat awkwardly in front of Jonathon's desk, sinking into his chair. Jawad and the captain had been arguing for a few minutes and Lucas was doing his best to stay out of the line of fire. Jonathon rolled his eyes. “Hamper his recovery, Jawad you saw him last night. Kid unbroke his nose and regrew a set of teeth!” The captain shook his head. “Besides, he’s been ‘recovering’ for a month now. It’s not like we just pulled him out of the grave this morning.” “Physically recovering, yes, but Lucas’ magic just returned to him. We need to let him regain his strength.” “Regain hi- he nearly burned down half the camp! Killed 6 men too! How much stronger could he get at this point?” Lucas sank lower, wanting very much to disappear. He had seen everyone look at him while he was walking to Jonathon’s tent. Odds were the captain was the only thing keeping him safe from a lynch mob. A fact that made the current argument all the more nerve wracking. Maybe he should say something? No, no that was a stupid idea. No one cared what he had to say. Best that he kept quiet instead of making things worse. Jawad leant forward, placing his hands on the captain’s desk. “Jonathon, I know I’ve been asking much lately bu-“ Jonathon held up a hand, cutting the doctor off. “‘Much’ is putting it lightly Jawad. Try this…” The captain reached beneath his desk and pulled out a few sheets of paper, slapping them down into the desk and pushing them forward. Jawad leaned in, reading through the papers before blanching slightly. The doctor sucked in a breath, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away from Jonathon. The captain gestured towards the papers. “Jawad, do you know how much that is? Relatively I mean.” Jawad shook his head and the captain continued. “That is more than it takes to keep this entire company running for six months. Six. Months. And that doesn’t even include the cost of the tents and equipment that were burned to ash last night.” Jonathon shook his head. “All of that, on one person.” Lucas bit his lip and wrapped his arms around his knees. This…didn’t sound good. The captain stood up, grabbing a pipe from his desk and filling it with a few crushed leaves from a pouch on his belt. Jonathon Looked down at the desk, hand hovering as he searched for something to light the pipe. Lucas, desperate to try and get back into the captain’s good graces, leant forward. With a quick flick of his wrist he summoned a small flame at one of his fingertips. Careful as to not burn the caption, he dipped the flame towards the bowl of the pipe, lighting it. Lucas shrank back into his chair as Jonathon raised an eyebrow. For a moment Lucas worried he had overstepped. Then the captain gave a small nod. “Much obliged Lucas.” Jonathon put the pipe to his lips and puffed before. He held the tobacco in for a few moments before blowing smoke out of his mouth. No one said anything, and the captain stared at a large map of the continent that hung on one of his tent’s walls. “I owe you my life Jawad,” the captain said, breaking the silence. “Hell, without you the Crownsmen don’t exist. If it was just about the money…I’d be willing to just let it slide. But it’s about more than that.” He turned, holding out his pendant bearing the sigil of the Crownsmen. “Ive dedicated everything to this company. This symbol, it’s my life’s work, my legacy. I am responsible for everyone in this camp. And I need to set an example.” The captain took another puff from the pipe before continuing. “The first rule everyone who steps foot in this camp learns is that everyone pulls their weight. There are no favorites, no special treatment. I can’t make an exception for Lucas. Trust me, the fact I’ve spent so much on him is no secret. I let him freeload any longer…people are going to start talking.” Jawad frowned, thinking. “He doesn’t need to fight. He could help around camp, like me or Aanya. ”Jonathon shook his head. “You guys are specialists. Mage or not there's nothing Lucas can do around camp that any meathead I have on hire can’t.” He turned to Lucas. “Unless you’ve got some other incredible hidden talent you’ve chosen to keep secret until now.” Lucas just shook his head and looked at the floor. “So…the only real option we have is putting him on contracts. He’s a mage Jawad, imagine what we could do with magic on our side. You’ve seen what he’s capable of.” Jawad looked pleadingly at his friend. “He’s a child, Jonathon.” The captain shrugged. “I was no older when I got drafted into my local militia.” He sat back down at his desk, looking to put an end to the conversation. “I’m sorry Jawad. As your friend I want to respect your wishes, but I am also captain of this company. And as captain, the only way I can justify these expenses,” he taps the papers, “is if they’re an investment.” Jawad scowled. “And what if your ‘investment’ fails to pay dividends? What if Lucas just isn’t cut out for mercenary work?” Jonathon shrugged again. “Then I’ll…have to look into other options.” Jawad frowns deeper at Jonathon's words, before his eyes go wide in shock. He leans forward, putting his face barely an inch from the captain’s and hisses out, “you’re not suggesting-“ “Of course I’m not!” Snapped Jonathon, eyes locked on the doctor’s. They held the stalemate for a few moments before the captain sighed, his eyes softening. “I’d never suggest that. I just…I’ll get creative.” Jawad relented as well, clearly exhausted from the argument. “So…what’s your plan then?” “There are a few thugs that have been giving a local farm some grief. Small group, can’t be more than five of them. Lucas will go with William and Konrad t-“ Both Jawad and Lucas jump at the mention of Konrad. A spike of panic nearly makes Lucas fall out of his chair. Jawad, on the other hand, slams his hands on the desk, the fire inside him seemingly reignited. “Konrad! Jonathon you can’t be serious! He hates Lucas! You can’t possibly think sending them out, together, into combat is anything short of insanity!” The captain held his hands up in a disarming gesture. “I’ve talked to him Jawad, he’ll behave. You know he listens to me. Besides, his own feelings aside, Konrad doesn’t lie. If Lucas performs out there, he’ll say so.” Jawad press\ed, not satisfied yet. “And why can’t you trust anyone else to be honest on the matter.” Jonathon smiled wryly. “Well, after last night I’m not exactly keen on the idea of sending any temps. And let’s be honest Jawad, you’re not the only one here who’s taken a liking to the boy.” Jawad huffed, not able to deny the statement. “William will keep an eye on Lucas, and keep Konrad in check just in case.” “But…Konrad is wounded.” Jawad retorted, though by now he was resigned. Jonathon let out a breath of laughter. “You and I both know Konrad with one working arm is just as dangerous as Konrad with two.” Jawad let out his own small laugh, nodding in assent. He looked down, and then back at the captain. “I have your word that even if Lucas is not cut out for fighting you won’t throw him to the wolves.” Jonathon nodded solemnly, placing a hand over his chest. “Cathrai as my witness, you have my word.” Jawad took a deep breath and turned to Lucas, lowering himself so they were eye level. He put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You’ll be in good hands Lucas. Konrad, despite being a brute, is a fierce warrior. William as well. And if the captain told Konrad to leave you be, Konrad will listen to him.” Lucas didn’t say anything, and Jawad offered a small smile. “Just come back safe, and may the Sun and Stars guide you.” The doctor left, leaving Lucas and Jonathon alone in the tent. The captain took one last toke from his pipe, smothering the embers with a thumb and letting out a breath. “Alright Lucas, lets get you on your first proper job here.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “I still can’t believe I have to do this,” muttered Konrad. “And I can’t believe you won’t shut the fuck up about it already,” William snapped. “Its been damn near an hour, even you have to get tired of your own incessant bitching at some point.” The two had been bickering with each other since they and Lucas had set off on their mission. The thugs they had been sent after were camped out in a nearby forest, and they had been making their way towards them for the past hour or so. Konrad and William didn’t seem to care in the slightest that they were on their way to engage in mortal combat, in fact they seemed almost bored. The two walked casually, weapons slung over their shoulders and with a posture more appropriate to strolling through a market square. Lucas, on the other hand, was wound as a bowstring. Every snapped branch or rustled leaf caused him to jump. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Konrad's spear. The weapon was immaculate, no even the slightest spec to indicate the same weapon was used to brutalize him a day earlier. He shook his head, banishing the memories. He had more important things to worry about now. Konrad huffed. “You might be alright with getting all buddy buddy with some magical freak but I have some fucking standards.” William rolled his eyes. “Standards, sure. Well your ‘standards’ aside we’ve been put on this contract and that's that. Feel free to pound salt up your ass on your own time but for now, pack it in.” Konrad huffed again but didn’t say anything else. The rest of the trek passed in silence. Lucas’ nerves were eating at him, each step making his stomach churn. He wanted to…say something. Talk with William, ask what he should do or…something to help him keep his mind off of things. No words formed, he didn’t want to annoy Konrad. The trio stopped just outside of a clearing, ducking behind some dense shrubbery at William’s behest. Their targets sat around a campfire, six in total, unaware of anything around them. Shouts and laughs rang out from the bandits, likely reveling in their ill-gotten gains. Konrad shook his head. “Captain might as well have sent us after a bunch of toddlers, why waste our time?” “Gotta make sure the boy’s first time isn’t too rough,” William replied. | Konrad snorted. “Of course, of course.” He nudged Lucas causing the boy to flinch away. “Let's see if you’re good for anything shall we?” A wicked grin split his face and he stepped out into the clearing. Konrad leveled his spear, pointing his weapon at the group of thugs before letting out a load roar. “OI!” The thugs all turned, scrambling clumsily for weapons upon seeing Konrad. They rushed towards him in a rabble, threats and curses spilling from their lips. Konrad’s smile widened. “Give me a good time lads!” The first to reach at him swung with a crushing overhead blow. Konrad caught the weapon on the haft of his spear, swatting it away like a fly. With a single fluid motion he forced the weapon into the ground and impaled its wielder through the throat. Without missing a beat Konrad turned, pivoting on his heel. He pulled the spear free from the first bandit’s corpse as he turned, using the momentum to smash the haft into another bandit’s face. Stunned, the thug was helpless as Konrad drove his spear into his head, forcing the tip out the back of his skull. Lucas watched the carnage, terrified by the display. William placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Just let Konrad have his fun, I’m sure Jon will find something for you to do.” Lucas wanted to, he wanted nothing more than to just sit in the bushes and stay away from the fighting. Captain Jonathon had said it would be ok if he didn’t fight but…something nagged at him. A voice, scratching in the back of his mind, telling him that whatever alternative there was would be far worse. The captain did say he didn’t have any need for people who didn’t fight…that he would have to look into alternatives. A flood of memories hit Lucas. Memories of stories Devran had told him, of the things soldiers and mercenaries did to “blow off steam” between fights. Of what the richer nobility liked to do with their “exotic pets”. Why he should be thankful that all he had to do was perform on a stage. Why there were so many worse places to be put on display. A wave of revulsion hit Lucas. No. No no no no no no. No that. He would do anything, anything but that. He…he needed to fight. Needed to prove that he could be useful, that he wouldn’t need to do…that…to pay off what he owed. In a panic he sprung from the bushes, William calling out to him as he rushed towards the fray.

It wasn’t until he had already gotten the attention of one of the bandits that Lucas realized he didn’t have anything close to a plan. The only time he had fought ever was during his duel with Finch, and the older mage had been holding back. A lot.

Lucas didn’t have much time to think. A bandit was rushing him, sword poised to come down on the mage’s head. Lucas shoved out his right arm and summoned forth a gout of flame. The limb burned, and fire spewed from his fingertips.

The bandit's eyes went wide, and he scrambled out of the way of the blast. The fire scorched the earth, leaving a black scar on the ground. It took a moment for the bandit to recover, but he got to his feet and rushed towards the boy, snarling in anger.

Lucas froze, panic consuming every part of his being. He stood there, stock still as the man closed the distance and brought the sword down. It was only at the last moment that Lucas was able to force his body to move, throwing his left arm up to block the strike.

The blade cut through Lucas’ flesh, bisecting his hand between his middle and index finger. The blade cut all the way down into the middle of his forearm, leaving a bloody gash in its wake. With a grunt the bandit pulled the weapon from Lucas’ arm, sending a spray of blood into the air.

Lucas fell the ground, paralyzed by shock and terror. He stared at his brutalized arm, the sight of the split limb churning his stomach. His assailant stood over him, sword pointed towards Lucas’ stomach. The mage tried to scramble away, a choked plea for mercy catching in his throat.

An arrow slammed into the bandit’s skull with a meaty thunk. He staggered, one hand clumsily grasping at the missile lodged in his forehead before falling limp to the ground. Lucas turned to see William holding his bow, already nocking another arrow.

“Lucas!” He yelled out. “Get out of there!”

The words washed over Lucas. He heard them, understood the meaning, knew he should listen. Still, he could not will his body to move. He just sat on the ground, bleeding from his arm.

The thud of footsteps and clanking of metal caught Lucas’ attention. He turned to see another one of the bandits, this one far more armed and armored, charging towards him. She wore a near full set of plate mail, only missing a helmet. In her left hand was a large mace and in her right a thick heater shield.

“Lucas! Run!”

William let loose another arrow. The bandit caught with her shield, not even pausing in her charge. In what felt like a moment she was on top of Lucas, weapon poised to cave in his skull.

A sickening sense of familiarity hit Lucas. Twice in as many days he had been in this same situation, staring down his own death helpless to do anything. A part of him wondered if this was for the best. He was tired, tired of being afraid, tired of hurting. There were many nights when he simply wished he would fall asleep and never wake up. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Another familiar sensation but him. That same primal roar that saved his life the day prior. A screaming, thrashing beast that demanded Lucas live. It howled and raged, wiping away any thought Lucas had of accepting his end.

A stream of fire came from his right hand. He hadn’t even realized he moved it. The arcane flames engulfed his would be murderer, sending her screaming to the ground.

The world seemed to go still as Lucas watched the bandit die. His eyes wide and face screwed into a look of horror as he saw someone burn to death. She thrashed on the ground, arms flailing in a futile attempt to put of the flames. The stench of burning flesh and hair filled the air, and Lucas watched as the heat fused the woman to her metal armor.

The ghastly display was put to an end when Konrad drove his spear into the bandit’s head, puttering her agony to an end. He looked down at Lucas with a mix of disgust and contempt.

“If you’re gonna kill someone, at least have the decency to do it clean.”

Lucas said nothing and Konrad walked away with a shake of his head. William emerged from the bushes, walking over to Lucas and pulling the mage to his feet.

“Lucas?” He asked, voice laced with concern. “Are you alright?”

Lucas still didn’t speak, his mind replaying the final moments of the charred corpse in front of him. Everything was numb, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be sick. He simply stared into the distance.

Was this what his life was like now? A constant cycle of being brutalized and maimed, brought to the precipice of death over and over again only for base instinct to save him? Was this all he had to look forward to? Pain, violence and killing? Would he spend every night stewing in the guilt he felt? Would he ever be able to feel clean again?

He was being moved now, legs following Williams guiding hands obediently. He was exhausted, he wanted to crawl into a hole and lie there forever. But William wanted him to walk, so he walked.

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Lucas once again found himself in front of Jonathon’s desk. Sitting in the same small chair, listening to another argument about himself.

“It’s a liability!”

“He did what was asked!”

William and Konrad were staring each other down, neither bothering to look at the captain or Lucas.

“Captain,” Konrad began. “This farce has gone on long enough. This mage is clearly more trouble than it’s worth. We should just get rid of it and be done!”

“His name is Lucas,” hissed William as he jabbed a finger at Konrad. “And that’s not your call to make. We were sent out to see if Lucas could handle himself in a fight and he can!”

Konrad let out a bark of incredulous laughter. “Handle himself? He froze up at the first sight of a weapon!

”“Everyone’s first time in a real fight is hard! He can learn to get used to it.”

Lucas wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

Konrad just shook his head. “It’s just not worth it. Captain I know you’re concerned over the money that fucking thing has cost, but I’m sure the witch hunters would offer us more than a decent sum if we hand it over to them.”

The mention of witch hunters snapped Lucas out of his torpor. Every nerve stood on edge. He couldn’t go back there! He couldn’t go back to them!“

Witch hunters?! Konrad yo-“

“ENOUGH!”

Jonathon's voice boomed through the air as the captain slammed a fist onto his desk. Lucas jumped in his seat and both of the mercenaries fell silent.

The captain took a deep breath and pointed a finger at Konrad. “You, did Lucas contribute to the fight. Yes or no.”

Konrad nodded.

“Ok. Now, both of you get the hell out of my tent. I need to speak to Lucas, alone,” the captain said. His tone left no room for argument

Konrad and William nodded and exited the tent, glaring daggers at each other as they left.

Lucas sat on his chair, watching Jonathon with apprehension. The captain let out a long sigh, dragging a hand down his face. He reached beneath his desk, pulling out a large bottle and two cups. He poured one full of a dark liquor and then looked at Lucas.

“You want any?”

Lucas shook his head, not wanting a repeat of his last encounter with alcohol. Jonathon nodded, placing the bottle down and picking up his cup. He knocked back the drink in a single gulp.

“I can’t imagine your opinion of me is too high right now son.” The captain said. “Can’t blame you for that. I…” He trailed off, pulling a hand down his face. Jonathon moved to pour another glass before pausing. He shrugged his shoulders, and took a swig straight from the bottle.

“I won’t lie, you showing up has caused no small amount of headache,” he said. “Magic is dangerous, useful but dangerous. And with how many magical plants Jawad needed to get you back up and about you’ve cost me no small amount of money either. But…I just can’t find it in me to throw you to the wolves.”

He took another swig. “Fuck me I’m getting soft.” Lucas didn’t say anything, simply hoping that whatever the captain was getting to wasn’t going to be bad.“So, I guess it comes down to the one thing none of us bothered to ask in all of this. Do you want to stick around?” The question hung in the air. Lucas stared at the floor. Did he want to…stay? Did what he wanted really matter? It wasn’t like he could do anything to stop the captain from keeping him or kicking him out. Still, Lucas thought the question over. He certainly didn’t like fighting, he hated it in fact. But…a lot of the people here were nice. He was fed and given clean clothes and talked to like he was a person. That was nice. He liked it here. If fighting was what he had to do to stay…he could be ok with that.

“Yes sir. I would like to say here,” he said softly.

The captain raised an eyebrow, as if he were surprised by Lucas’ response. “Well, I guess that settles it.” He reached into his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and an inkwell. He pushed both towards Lucas, tapping the paper with a finger. “This right here is your contract,” he said. “This means you work for me. You get paid per contract you take part in, get room and board, have access to what services we have available, so on and so forth. Sign there and it will be official.”

Lucas stared at the paper, his contract. He would get paid? He’d never been paid before. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever even seen coin before. All of this was so much. He just needed to…sign.

“Um…Captain Jonathon. I uh…can’t write.” Lucas curled in on himself, embarrassed at the confession.

The captain nodded, pulling the paper to himself. “Aye fair, most of the people here can’t. No reason to be ashamed. I’ll just sign for you.” He picked up the quill sitting in the inkwell, before looking at Lucas. “Last chance, you sure you’re in?”

Lucas nodded.

“Well, welcome to the Crownsmen son. You’re one of us now.”

He scribbled onto the contract, a symbol that Lucas assumed was his name appearing at the bottom. Jonathon put the contract away, digging through his desk as he did. He pulled out a small object, a metal medallion in the crude shape of a crown. He leaned forward, placing the medallion in Lucas’ hands.

“That right there is our sigil. It marks you as one of us. And will help us identify you if you die in a manner gory enough to make the rest of you unrecognizable.”

Jonathon let out a low chuckle that turned into an awkward cough as he noticed Lucas’s fear-stricken face.

“Don’t worry. That doesn’t happen, uh, too often.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, you should rest. I’ll let you know when you’re up for a contract.”

He gestured for Lucas to leave, and the mage obliged. He clutched the medallion tightly in his fist, ignoring the sting of the rough points digging into his palm. He looked around the camp, bustling with activity and still so alien to him. He looked down at the small crown in his hands, and took a deep breath.

Whatever came next, it couldn’t be as bad as what he’d been through. Taglist: @haro-whumps @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @ladygwennn @inpainandsuffering @thegreatwhodini

#whump #fantasy whump #magical whump #lucas

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whumpcollector · 1 year

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It has been many long hours since it’s been updated but my series with Lucas has painful healing magic.

Hear me out: Healing magic But it hurts like hell.

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whumpcollector · 1 year

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That’s just like…what I eat.

My dinner was a slab of brie cheese and a sleeve of club crackers.

Recovering pet whumpee: “I don’t feel good.”

Caretaker: “oh? Like sad or sick? What have you had to eat today?”

Recovering pet whumpee: “cheezits, gatoraid, and a half pound Reese’s cup. Oh and an orange.”

Caretaker: “….. what”

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whumpcollector · 1 year

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Congrats dude!!!!!

Thanks! I’ve got a few months of down time to take it easy before I start education certification. It’s going to be glorious.

#academia is so tiring #don’t do it

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whumpcollector · 1 year

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I have a bachelors now

Yay

#i feel empty #just wanna sleep for a few years #hopefully I’ll be around more #(that is a lie)

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whumpcollector · 2 years

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The return of the queen!

Whumptober 1: Unusual Restraints

Steward Amari was a woman of enough loaned power that she did not often find her work interrupted. When she did, it was typically a safe bet to assume that her empress had beckoned for her.

And on that day, she was half right. The maid who knocked curtsied with a briskness that reminded Amari why she liked her, and with clasped hands and a straight spine informed Amari that Empress Simone had worked herself into a frenzy, and when she found time could he please attend to the empress’s needs so as to calm her down?

The maid had been the staff of the queen they'd conquered before Misaki, and Empress Simone had taken an instant liking to her for her lack of sniveling or caterwauling. A good practical girl. If she kept on course, the empress would likely promote her through all the ranks a girl of her station could rise. And Amari, while not one to ever attempt to dictate her empress’s actions, would certainly not mind the replacement of their current headgirl. Too hesitant a touch, on that one, still scared of Empress Simone like a little fawn. But she was clever and had experience, and was loyal if nothing else. This maid lacked the necessary years.

Amari supposed there was no time like the present to satisfy her request. She stood with a snap of the papers she’d been pouring over and settled everything into their places, then locked her chest and her study with two separate keys, one that she kept ‘round her throat like a necklace tucked hidden beneath the collar of her dress, one fastened to a ribbon sewn into the inside of her pocket. The maid curtsied again and trotted off, with none of the urgency of a girl who’d been sent. Making her own choices, taking initiative. Amari approved.

As both the steward of the empress, and lover of Simone, Amari did not need to knock when entering the meeting room. It was more of a balcony, really, with its fourth wall entirely removed, replaced only by a railing that hosted a number of flowering vines and some hanging potted plants near the corners. Empress Simone did indeed seem out of sorts, an agitated twitch to the way she walked, a too-tense sharpness to her movements.

Amari stood near the doorway and waited to be acknowledged, observing Empress Simone’s distraction. A number of chains hung displayed on the wall, seemingly the source of her displeasure, and some scattered plans were strewn about the table, held down from the wind with a precious stone and a gilded chalice of half emptied wine. Across the door from her, also standing at attention, was another maid, looking far more nervous, and two guards, who were unbothered by their empress’s agitation.

“Amari!” Empress Simone shouted, surprised, when finally she turned and caught sight of her. With extended arms she beckoned her steward forward, and Amari knelt and kissed each ring of her empress’s right hand, the fingers of her left twining into Amari’s hair.

“Oh my clever steward,” she greeted, sounding relieved (though no less tense). “You’re exactly who I needed. Look at these!”

She gestured with no small amount of disdain at the chains. Some were thick, heavy things, shining metal that gleamed in the warm sun. Others were thin and gold, decorative. Some were dulled and serviceable, having seen many a use, and some others had never quite gotten all the bloodstains off. Amari had seen Empress Simone gleefully use each chain, and had been present at the commissioning of the creation of more than just a few of them.

“Your chains, my empress,” Amari said flatly, not sure what she was supposed to interpret as the source for Empress Simone’s displeasure.

“Yes, but look at them! They’re all boring now!” Ah, Amari suddenly understood. “I’m making the remnants of Misaki’s court and all her whimpering politicians attend a meeting with me in two weeks time and I want her hanging behind me as the centerpiece of it all, and these chains are just all so done! I want something fresh! Something that’ll really pop!” She began to pace as she spoke, her fingers flaring out on the word ‘pop’ and her leg kicking up high, then falling with a slowness that would almost be comedic, if she were speaking with the intention of a joke.

“Vines don’t have the same umph as what I’m going for, you know? Not nearly scary enough. Coarse rope is funny but might make me look poor, and I want it to be very clear that I am affluent, that I am better than they are. And I’ve been looking at these chains trying to think of maybe interesting positions, maybe tie her wrists to her ankles and hang her like an inside out basket, or hang her upside down, or suspend her by her wrists, or force her to spread eagle on the table itself, but none of it is new! I keep circling back to the spread on the table idea just cause it was so fun when we did that to Queen Annaka, remember that my darling?”

“I do, my empress.”

“That was hilarious. The way she squirmed! But I’ve done it before! I want something special for my pretty Misaki. Something unique!”

Empress Simone was likely now at the point in her ranting where she required a drink, so Amari rose from her kneel and poured the chalice back to full, and extended the gold and glass to her empress, who took it distractedly. Then, with a heavy sigh, Empress Simone leaned back against Amari, the steward’s height making her a perfect size for Empress Simone to lean her head against her shoulder as Amari’s arms encircled her from behind. She nuzzled against the braids of her empress, her idol, her god, and thought over the issue.

“My empress,” Amari intoned, happening upon an idea, “from Queen Misaki’s own queendom, we have collected many thousands of spools of silk.” Ransacked and taxed, more like, but the end result was that they were now property of the empire, and thus their numbers had passed across Amari’s desk. “If you are looking for something extravagantly wealthy, that you’ve not done before, that will impress upon her underlings that you now truly own her queendom in every meaningful way—”

“My Amari!” she interrupted, spinning with a whirl and crowding Amari’s space, the chalice coming down with a clank on the table behind her. “My Amari, my Amari! Oh that’s brilliant! We could arrange the threads like she’s caught in a spider web oh that’s so clever! Clever Amari, my clever girl!” Amari found herself pushed back enough steps that her knees hit the edge of a chair and she sat, her lap immediately filled by an excited empress.

“And that silk wrapped so tightly around her body, so many times, I imagine that’d start to feel hot and bothersome quite soon,” Empress Simone continued, a heat of her own now lacing her words. “Her muffled shouting through a silken gag, unable to flail or struggle aside from worm-like squirming.”

“Shall I place the order for the silk to be delivered here, my empress?” Amari asked before Empress Simone could derail herself too hard, Amari feeling a flush of her own, as she always did, to be the recipient of such intense attention. Not that she was one to show it in her expressions or her tone.

“Yes, my darling, do that.” Empress Simone kissed her gleefully, the tension now eradicated, and then stood so that Amari had the chance to leave. “But my steward, you must have come here for a reason, mm?”

“The maid you like sent for me, my empress. It was her hope that I might calm your troubles.”

Empress Simone barked a laugh, hands planted on her hips. “Really?” At Amari’s nod, Empress Simone slid her hands around her heavy waist, coaxing them close once again. “We’ve been too loud with our lovemaking, steward~ People might start to gossip if they hear you making noise.” Ah. So Empress Simone was going to play Amari until she was screaming that night. Very well. “But really? She was that brazen? For real?”

“Yes, my empress, the implications were difficult to miss.”

Empress Simone laughed again, kissed Amari again, then sent her off with a friendly whack to her hindquarters. “My lovely steward, give that girl a raise! And then come to my rooms this evening, darling.”

Both orders that Amari was happy to fulfill.

@newbornwhumperfly

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whumpcollector · 2 years

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REBLOG IF ITS OKAY TO TALK TO YOU.

Please.

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whumpcollector · 2 years

Text

so as some of you may know, i am in. a very awful household. my situation has only gotten more dire since my last post.

i am being abused and neglected by my mother, who recently informed me that i inherited a spinal deformity from her and she kept this information from doctors my entire life, leading to years and years of medical trauma and invasive, humiliating tests when i was as young as 4 and 5 years old, going on until i was 9 or 10.

my brother has also flown across the country to live with us in our 2 bedroom apartment, because my father was abusing him and my mom wants to play the hero. my brother is constantly taking my moms side, calling me names (including slurs like faggot and dyke! what joy!) yelling at me, treating me like im lazy for being disabled, and more. i can not leave my bedroom safely. it is not an option. my mother also caught covid and refused to isolate in her bedroom, and as a result myself and my brother got sick.

last night i had to call a suicide hotline. my life is actively at risk, i can not stay here. i know i asked for help not too long ago but i lost all of my savings trying to help someone in crisis under the assurance i would be paid back. i'm holding out hope still, but they're struggling themself with their health and have not been able to. i currently have $8 to my name and i need out. it is urgent. this is a fucking emergency.

im looking for help putting myself and possibly my cat up in a motel for a while. i dont know where im going to go to, but we cant stay here. it isn't safe. im expected to do all the chores without even being told that theyre my chores to do, my mother talks shit about me behind my back to my siblings and she does the same thing about them so i cant even imagine the horrific shit she says about me. she even cooks for herself and my brother and not for me. last night the "meal" i was given was exactly one piece of corn on the cob, but she made STEAK for both herself and my brother. as i type this she's cooking a meal i literally can't eat.

my life is at risk here. i cant stay any longer. im going to try to pack my room up within the next few days so it can be easily transported out of there when the time comes and then make a run for it.

my paypal is here if you can help

if you cant, please, PLEASE share. im literally begging. i am so fucking scared here. i'm suicidal every moment of every day, i literally havent been this severely in crisis since i was 13 and tried to kill myself over 3 times in 5 weeks.

thank you for reading. seriously thank you and please please please share. i cant stay here. please.

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whumpcollector · 2 years

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Anyone open to oc interactions? Like a lil meet and greet?

#I’d always be down #figuring out character relations and interactions are my favorite part of writing #if you couldn’t tell

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whumpcollector · 2 years

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@pumpkin-spice-whump I’ll mark you down! Thanks for reading :).

Lucas Part 10: The Matron and The Merciless

Hey all. Its been a hot second but I’m back with more words for your wonderful eyeballs. Hope you all enjoy

CW: Mouth/teeth whump, “It” as a pronoun, dehumanization, vomiting, graphic depictions of blood, attempted murder. (If I have missed any lmk)

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Lucas watched Jawad crush the pearlescent scales in the mortar, the shining material reduced into a twinkling powder. The doctor’s work table was littered with esoteric ingredients in various states of preparation. Lucas lucked at the array with a growing sense of dread. He didn’t know what any of the ingredients were, but he knew they were expensive. Captain Jonathon’s recent foul mood could attest to that.

Keep reading

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whumpcollector · 2 years

Text

Lucas Part 10: The Matron and The Merciless

Hey all. Its been a hot second but I’m back with more words for your wonderful eyeballs. Hope you all enjoy

CW: Mouth/teeth whump, “It” as a pronoun, dehumanization, vomiting, graphic depictions of blood, attempted murder. (If I have missed any lmk)

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“I really hope this works…” Jawad muttered, mostly to himself. “I don’t think Jonathon has much patience left.”

The doctor began to heat a thick, black liquid. The tent filled with a smell akin to burnt tar, acrid and overpowering. Lucas wrinkled his nose, wondering what this new concoction would taste like. Unpleasant was his guess, but hopefully this one wouldn’t be as bad as the last one.

The doctor worked in silence, his focus squarely on the myriad ingredients in front of him. Lucas had offered his help, but had been denied. It was probably for the best. The last thing Jawad needed was some stupid mage ruining his expesnive ingredients. Lucas also didn’t want to think about what would happen if he did ruin any of them.

After an hour or so Jawad was finished. He walked over to Lucas and handed him a cup filled with a dark, viscous concoction. Lucas grimaced, hesitating for a minute before forcing the liquid down his throat.

He braced, waiting for what was coming next. A moment passed, then another, and then another. Nothing. Lucas relaxed slightly. The only thing he noticed was the bitter aftertaste in his mouth. No waves of nausea, no aching muscles, no splitting headache. Otherwise he felt…fine.

Jawad was watching Lucas closely, eyes scanning over the mage’s body. “You feel anything, anything at all, Lucas?”

Lucas shook his head. “No sir…nothing.”

Jawad hmmed. “What about your magic?” he asked.

Lucas flexed his fingers, trying to summon a small flame or spark of electricity. Nothing. Just like the last three times. He shook his head. “Nothing sir.”

Jawad sighed in disappointment, shaking his head. He patted Lucas on the shoulder. “I’m sorry Lucas,” he said. “I wish I could do more to help but…I don’t think Jonathon will be funding these experiments anymore. And frankly, I’m out of ideas.” He tried to offer a reassuring smile. “I’m sure your magic will come back in time.”

Lucas simply nodded. He didn’t share the doctor’s optimism.

Jawad patted him on the shoulder again. “I should check on a few of my other patients. I will see you later Lucas. Feel free to stay here as long as you like.”

The doctor exited the tent, leaving Lucas alone. He curled into himself, warping his arms around his legends and placing his chin on his knees. He looked at the dull leylines on his arms, their outlines almost blending into his skin. That fact bothered him, it bothered him far more than he ever imagined it would. He had always hated them, a shining beacon of what he was. More than once he had wished he could just get rid of them. Make them disappear so that he could hide that he was a mage, if only briefly.

Now, looking at their fading color, it scared him. He didn’t know why but the idea that he might lose his magic forever, it terrified him. Without magic, without the one thing that made him useful…

Lucas shook his head, standing up and making his way out of the tent. He couldn’t…he needed a distraction. He needed to work. That would help. Work was good, work kept him safe.

He wandered around the camp, looking for…something to do. Some way he could make himself useful. The camp was virtually empty, with only a skeleton crew of guards occupying the tents and surrounding fields. Captain Jonathan had taken a large contract, large enough that almost every available crownsman was needed, himself included. The only ones who were left behind were the wounded and the few guards and auxiliary personnel.

The captain being away from camp had Lucas on edge. He knew he wasn’t allowed to take orders from anyone except the captain, but he couldn’t just do nothing. He could still volunteer, right? That wasn’t taking orders so he wouldn’t get in trouble, right?

Right.

Now the question was…what should he…volunteer…to do. There weren’t any boxes that needed moving, something that Lucas was mildly grateful for. He considered trying to help the guards, but that thought died quickly. He wasn’t exactly imposing or any good at fighting, and from the bouts of laughter he heard he doubted the guards were really “guarding” much anyways.

Lucas’ palms began to itch, he needed to do something. Something. There had to be something he could help with, someone who could give him some direction. He tapped his knuckles together, looking around for something that looked like it needed doing.

“Well, well. It’s about time we had a chance to meet.”

Lucas turned around and saw a short, stout woman standing in front of him, a large sack slung over her shoulder. She offered him a smile, shifting the sack she was carrying.

“I’m Aanya, you must be Lucas.”

Lucas bowed low, making sure that he kept his eyeline below hers. “I am, mistress Aanya.”

Aanya scoffed, “Oh none of that darling. Just call me Aanya, formality and I don’t mix.”

Lucas was starting to notice a trend. He nodded before looking at the sack over Aanya’s shoulder. “W-would you like me to carry that for you?”

“Oh don’t worry about me deary,” Aanya said as she waved his offer aside. “I can carry this all just fine, have been for years.” She looked behind her before turning back to Lucas. “But if you’re willing to lend a hand I could always use some help with the cooking.”

Lucas gave a polite nod and followed Aanya as she made her way towards the camp kitchen. Lucas fought the urge to repeat his offer, the woman was clearly having more trouble than she let on. Still, he couldn’t disobey an order. Especially not when he was headed towards a place with boiling water and knives.

The camp kitchen was open air. A large cooking pot over an open fire next to a few prep tables. Sacks of vegetables sat on the floor next to racks holding fresh game and cured meats alike. Aanya dumped the sack on the ground and dusted her hands, pulling an apron off of the table and turning to Lucas.

“Alright Lucas I need you to help me prep some ingredients for tonight's stew.” She picked up a small knife. “Take this and go peel those potatoes over there.”

She tossed the knife to Lucas, who flinched back. The knife fell to the floor, landing in the grass with a soft thud. Lucas looked at the knife and sheepishly knelt down to pick it up. He waited to be berated, but Aanya just let out a small laugh.

“Might want to wash that before you start peeling.”

Lucas nodded and moved towards a nearby bucket of water, rinsing the knife before moving to the sack of potatoes. He got to work peeling the tubers, the simple and repetitive task putting him somewhat at ease. This was something he could do, something he was used to.

Aanya began to work on the rest of the food, butchering a fresh deer carcass and humming a tune Lucas didn’t recognize. Lucas let himself get lost in the melody, his mind wandering as he did his menial task.

This place was…different from what he was expecting. He had seen mercenaries before. The caravan often traveled with roaming bands of mercenaries in the past. They always scared Lucas. Loud, violent, and by his account very quick to anger. He tried to stay clear of them best he could, and now he was in the middle of a mercenary camp.

And they were…nice? Far more patient than he would have assumed at least. They fed him, clothed him, gave him medicine. Aside from that, everyone seemed to ignore him. Lucas didn’t mind that at all. He would be more than happy just doing what he was told and keeping his head down.

After a short while Lucas ran out of potatoes to peel. Aanya placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump and drop the knife he was holding.

“Hey, hey. Its just old Aanya no need to be afraid.” She holds up both her hands. “You did a good job there Lucas, why don’t you watch the stock pot for me?” Lucas nods wordlessly, standing up and moving towards the large pot. A thick broth was simmering inside already. The smell was havenly, and Lucas’ stomach growled loudly. The mage hugged his abdomen sheepishly, and Aanya let out a short chuckle.

“Guess you’re hungry then eh? Here,” Aanya tore off a chunk from a fresh loaf of bread and handed it to Lucas. “Munch on this, supper will be ready in a couple of hours.”

Lucas took the bread with a nod of thanks, taking a small bite and turning back to the pot. Aanya began to hum again, and Lucas let himself relax. Just a little. He always felt better with food in his stomach. The minutes ticked by, the broth taking a long time to boil. Aanya decided to break the silence.

“I know we might seem like a bunch of violent degenerates, but we’re really not all that bad.”

Lucas choked on the bite of bread in his mouth. No no no no no what had he done? What did he say? An apology was forming on his tongue before Aanya continued to talk.

“I don’t blame you for being so jumpy around everyone. Heavens know you mages aren’t exactly treated well by most. But…we’ve got good people here. Mostly at least.” She turned to Lucas, a warm smile on her face. “Steer clear of the bastards in camp and you won’t need to worry.” Lucas didn’t know what to say. It…he almost believed her. Everything here had been…it had been nice...he wanted it to last. Maybe it could be that easy. Maybe…maybe if he was good things wouldn’t be so bad here. That sounded nice.

A voice pulled Lucas from his thoughts. “There you are Lucas, I was looking for ya.”

Lucas turned to see Captain Jonathon walking towards him, a bloodied warhammer slung over his shoulder. The mercenaries had returned, the near empty camp quickly filling back up. The captain moved with a limp, but otherwise seemed in high spirits.

“Hell of a fight out there, but good money.” He laughed to himself before looking at Lucas. “Hey Lucas, I want you to go meet up with Konrad and do a quick patrol of the area. Caithrai knows none of the idiots I had stay behind bothered. He’ll be wearing the yellow gambeson, sort of a thick coat. You’ll know it when you see it. He’s also got an arm in a sling.” The captain nods his head towards the west side of the camp. “He’ll be somewhere in that direction.” Lucas nodded and turned to leave before being stopped by Aanya putting a hand on his shoulder. “Now Jonny, you know I usually trust your judgment but…Konrad? Are you sure this is a good idea?” Aanya looked at Lucas for a second. “You know how Konrad is.”

Jonathan nodded. “I do, but I need you to trust me on this. If Lucas is going to stick around he may as well get acquainted with everyone.”

Aanya said nothing for a moment, and then let go of Lucas’ shoulder. She turned to him, offering some advice before he left. “I know I said you didn’t need to worry about most of us but Konrad…just watch yourself around him.”

“I-I will miss Aanya. Thank you.”

Nervousness bubbled in Lucas’ stomach as he trekked across the camp. Aanya’s warning rang in his ears. He didn’t know what to expect. Would master Konrad be harsher? Stricter? Should he expect to be hurt?

Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Everyone here had been unbelievably merciful and forgiving, maybe Konrad wouldn’t be so different. As long as he watched his behavior and did what he was told, maybe things would be ok.

After a few minutes of walking Lucas saw a man wearing dirty yellow armor, his left arm in a sling. It was Konrad. He was sitting with his back to Lucas, a long spear laid across his lap. His good arm was busy polishing the tip with a dirty rag.

Lucas approached slowly, calling out to the man. “E-excuse me, master Konrad?”

Konrad stopped polishing for a second, his head looking up from his spear. He didn’t turn to face Lucas, only letting out a slight humph before returning his attention to his weapon. Lucas walked closer, stopping just short of where the man was sitting.

“Master Konrad?”

No response. Lucas stood there awkwardly, gathering up his courage. He took one more step forward, prompting the man one last time.

“M-Mater Konrad? Can you hear me?” Nothing. Lucas waited another minute, the silence winding him tense as a spring. With a deep breath he stepped just behind Konrad, and very lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

Lucas’ nose crunched under the force of Konrad’s elbow, blood spraying from his nostrils and stars dotting his eyes. The blow knocked him to the ground, stunned and disoriented. Lucas opened his mouth to apologize before stopping dead.

Konrad pushed the tip of the spear into Lucas’ mouth, lodging the steel point between the gaps of Lucas’ front teeth. The man looked down at Lucas with utter contempt. Storm gray eyes squinted in disgust, and his mouth curled into a wicked sneer. Lucas stared up at Konrad, teary eyes wide in surprise and panic. The man leaned forward, pushing the spear harder into Lucas’s mouth and causing the mage’s teeth to ache under the strain.

“You listen to me mage. The only reason you’re still alive right now is out of respect for Jawad and Jonathon. They clearly don’t want you dead, so I will oblige them.” His voice was low and level, each word dripping with malice. “Here’s how things are going to work. You’re not going to touch me, you’re not going to talk to me, you’re not going to look at me, and I won’t break every bone in your body. Am I clear?”

Lucas nodded rapidly, whimpering as the motion caused the spear tip to push his teeth around, slightly mangling his mouth. Konrad said nothing, before suddenly ripping the weapon from Lucas’s mouth. The sudden force shattered and tore a few teeth from Lucas’ jaw, sending shards flying onto the grass. Blood poured from the wounds in his mouth, mingling with the blood running from his nose. Konrad turned away from Lucas, bending onto the ground to retrieve his fallen rag.

Lucas wanted nothing more than to run away and hide, but Captain Joanthon had ordered him to patrol the camp with master Konrad. He couldn’t disobey an order like that. With shaky legs Lucas stood up.

“M-Master Konrad.”

The man turned slowly, his face a mask of neutrality. He took two slow steps towards Lucas, bringing himself face to face with the cowering mage. He stood there, watching the anxiety in Lucas’ eyes build before ramming knee into the boy’s abdomen.

Lucas felt one of his ribs crack as he doubled over, choking out a sob and spitting out another mouthful of blood. He felt the tip of Konrad’s spear press into his chin, and he craned his neck upwards to alleviate the pressure. Konrad was looking down at him like a surgeon would look at a plague rat.

“You are either incredibly stupid, or suicidal.” His voice was still level, not one syllable betraying any emotion beyond pure disdain. ”So, which one is it?”

Lucas stuttered out a response between wet sniffles. “C-c-captain Jonathon ordered me t-to patrol the camp with you master. I’m s-s-sorry.”

Konrad grimaced at the words, lowering his spear and rolling his eyes. “Of-fucking course he did.”

Konrad walked out of sight and behind Lucas. Lucas didn’t try to watch him, too terrified of any consequences. He stayed there, hunched and bleeding, waiting for whatever happened next. A sharp pain in the small of his back forced him upright. He instinctively turned his head before an increase in pressure made him snap his head forward.

Konrad let out a huff. “Well, we’re supposed to patrol right? So get walking then.”

Lucas obliged, taking a shaky step forward. Konrad followed suit, making sure the tip of his spear stayed pressed against Lucas’ back. They stayed that way the entire ‘patrol’. Their circuit of the camp took them close to an hour at the pace they moved. By the end Lucas’ body ached all over, every muscle feeling like it was ready to burst from the tension.

It was close to sundown when they made it back to their starting point. Konrad lowered his spear and Lucas let out a short sigh of relief. The man didn’t say anything, simply walking away and leaving Lucas in the middle of the field.

Lucas didn’t move for a while, terrified of doing anything that might draw Konrad’s ire. When it was clear Konrad wasn’t returning, Lucas let himself limp back towards camp. He was starving and the smell of Aanya’s stew carried all the way from the cauldron.

Maybe Jawad could also help him with his mouth.

The camp was rowdier than normal. Mercenaires sang and laughed and drank and brawled, reveling in the rewards gained from such a large contract. Even the wounded seemed in high spirits, celebrating through newly bandaged wounds and set bones. Lucas didn’t pay them any mind, moving quickly with his eyes cast to the ground. He didn’t want any trouble.

Unfortunately, trouble didn't seem to want to let him off the hook yet. As Lucas made his way towards the center of camp, he bumped into someone. He looked up to see one of the mercenaries looking down at him. The man looked familiar, Lucas had seen him before.

“S-sorry sir. I didn’t mean t-” The man interrupted Lucas. “You think you’re something special eh? Think you can just go off and snitch without it coming back to bite you?” Lucas took a step back, only to bump into yet another mercenary. This one he also recognized, it was the man Bernadetta had attacked a week or so prior. A few other unfamiliar faces surrounded him, boxing him in. Lucas gulped, shrinking into himself.

The mercenary, Lucas now realized was the one who was supposed to help him with stocking the storehouse a few weeks ago, continued. “You running your mouth cost me a month’s pay you little shit. You couldn’t just keep quiet like a good boy could ya? Had to go and snitch, like some filthy fucking rat didn’t ya?” The man behind Lucas grabbed the boy’s arms, pinning them behind him. Lucas’ attempt to call for help was interrupted by one of the other mercenaries roughly shoving a rag into his mouth. The man in front of him kept talking.

“You see,” he gestured towards the crowd around him. “We don’t exactly like the idea of some magic rat skulking about in our camp. Getting into the food and dirtying up the place. We think the only good vermin, is a dead vermin.”

Lucas’ eyes went wide, and he shook his head. Desperate pleas for mercy were muffled by the gag in his mouth and he strained with all his strength to break free from the grip and run. Unfortunately, he had little strength to spare.

The mercenary unclipped a short club from his belt, tapping it against an open hand before breaking into a wicked grin. “Don’t worry lad, I’ll put you down nice and clean. One solid hit ought to smash your brains in, even if ya aint got much to speak of. It's more than rats like you deserve.” The man swung at Lucas’ head, and time slowed to a crawl. Lucas watched as the club slowly moved through the air, the weapon aimed right at his temple. A primal panic bubbled in him, a roaring snarling urge to run, fight, do something. To live another day.

The snarl became a spark, a spark that burned bright into an inferno. His veins burned, his heart raced, and in a guttural frenzy fire erupted from him in a white hot conflagration.

The mercenaries around him flew back, screaming as the fire burned them and their clothes. Luca fell to the ground, his vision white from the pain and shock of the magical outburst. As the world returned to him, he saw the tents around him burning. The ground beneath him was scorched black, and burning bodies writhed on the ashes. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burning hair. Lucas looked down at his hands to see the leylines on his skin glowing white, the shock from the ordeal mitigating the burning he felt in his limbs.

“I KNEW I SHOULD'VE KILLED YOU!” Lucas turned to see Konrad rushing at him, spear held tight in his good hand and ready to plunge into Lucas’ body. He barely had time to react before Konrad was tackled by someone else, the force pushing both of them to the ground. It was Jawad, who stood up and placed himself between Lucas and his would be assailant.

“Not one step forward Konrad!” Jawad brandished a curved dagger from his belt, pointing it at Konrad.

Konrad snarled. “Step aside Jawad! I know you want to research this thing but can’t you see that it's dangerous! It damn near burned down the camp, and killed good men to boot.”

The two men stared each other down, neither moving or looking away. In the midst of the standoff Joanthon arrived, warhammer clutched in his hands and eyes moving to take in the entire scene. His eyes lingered on Lucas for a moment, before opening his mouth to ask what happened.

Konrad spoke up first. “Captain! This mage is a danger to all of us! Tell the doctor to get out of the way so I can kill it before it does any more harm!” “Captain Jonathon, please look at him,” Jawad pleaded. “He has clearly been assaulted. Whatever he did was instigated by someone, likely these ruffians before us.”

Jonathan said nothing at first, before slowly walking towards Lucas. Lucas shrank back as the captain knelt next to him. He looked at the mage for a few seconds before speaking.

“These guys do this to ya?” Lucas wasn’t sure what he meant before looking down at his bloodstained shirt. Right, he was injured. He looked back up, and saw Konrad staring at him. Lucas gulped, and nodded his head. “Y-yes captain. Th-” “Bullshit!” Konrad interrupted. “He’s lying captain. They didn’t do that, I did.” Jonathan and Jawad turned to Konrad, looking at him in surprise and disdain respectfully. Jonathan blinked his eyes a few times, before asking Konrad. “Why the fuck did you do that?” Konrad shrugged. “You know how I feel about mages captain. Why did you think it was a good idea to send one my way?”

“I…” Jonathan trailed off. Then paused for a few moments before shaking his head. “You know what, that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is what happened. So,” he turned back to Lucas. “Lucas, what happened here.”

The mage took a few seconds to gather himself. “I…I was coming back from my patrol with m-master Konrad and they…they cornered me. One of them was mad that I uh…told you that he skipped his work. A-all of them were mad actually. They…they said they didn’t like having me around. Th-they said they were going to kill me.”

Jonathon said nothing for a time, mulling Lucas’ words over. He looked around, at the burned corpses and tents. He sighed, dragged a hand down his face, and stood up.

“Jawad, take care of Lucas, get him patched up.” He pointed at Konrad. “You, meet me in my tent. We need to have a talk.”

Konrad simply nodded and walked off, pushing his way past the small crowd that had gathered in silence around them. Jonathan waved them all away, muttering curses under his breath as he looked at the burned down section of his camp.

Jawad knelt beside Lucas, placing his arms around the boy before helping him to his feet. “Come Lucas, let's get you...by the Sun and Stars.” Jawad stared at Lucas as the mage began to feel a sensation he didn’t know he could miss. The sharp pains of his body healing itself. His nose straightened itself with a few dull crunches, and new teeth pushed themselves through his bloodied gums. Within a few minutes the only evidence of any harm Lucas had endured were the bloodstains on his face and clothes.

Jonathan and Jawad stared in shock, and Lucas squirmed under their gazes. The captain shook himself from his stupor, and let out a low whistle.

“Well damn, that's one hell of a trick there boy.” He nodded his head towards the center of camp. “Get some rest, and come by my tent tomorrow morning. I also need to talk to you.”

Jonathan turned and left without waiting for a response, leaving Lucas alone with Jawad. The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. Instead, he placed a hand on Lucas’ shoulder and began to move him towards the medical tent.

Lucas let himself be guided, too exhausted to do anything but move his legs. While he was walking his foot caught on something, causing him to trip forward. Jawad wasn’t able to catch Lucas and the mage fell to his hands and knees. He looked back to see what tripped him. It was one of the burnt bodies, flesh charred black from the fire.

With the adrenaline gone and the shock faded, the weight of what had happened hit him. These people were dead because of him. He had killed them. They were dead, it was his fault.

Lucas gagged and his stomach churned. Then, it emptied itself of its nonexistent contents, watery bile pooling beneath Lucas as he wretched. His stomach now truly empty and his energy far past spent, Lucas collapsed to the ground and passed out.

Tags: @haro-whumps @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @ladygwennn @inpainandsuffering @thegreatwhodini

#lucas #whump #fantasy whump #magical whump

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