However, once puberty sets in they'll start getting all angsty.Quote:
Originally Posted by Monzach
Tsukiko.Quote:
Originally Posted by Discord
She enjoyed watching.
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However, once puberty sets in they'll start getting all angsty.Quote:
Originally Posted by Monzach
Tsukiko.Quote:
Originally Posted by Discord
She enjoyed watching.
Well, evidence suggests that everyone in the OotS-verse (at least the females) go through an angsty emo phase during puberty... :smallwink:Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
Ooooh, how I wish we could have witnessed Miko's puberty now... :smallwink:
I won't say Tsukiko because as far as I'm concerned, she's still a teenager. :smalltongue:
And Xykon recorded it on Teevo before selling millions of tapes to lonely zombies.Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
The whole thing with the necromancy? It's all just a desperate cry for attention.Quote:
Originally Posted by Discord
Well, I can easily see a crush developing. That's normal. (Who here can say that they've never had a crush on a teacher?) From my interpretation of what little we've gotten from Aarindarius is that he sees her as a daughter and loves her. I don't see him feeling as though he should throw her out as soon as she gets a crush--maybe if the feelings were somewhat returned and he was worried that he wouldn't be able to control himself? That'd be good motivation for him to want some distance between them.Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
Poor Reddy is going to be in for hell when everyone finds out about the pregnancy. :smalltongue: Apparently, no one knows that 'goblin' does not equal 'savage,' and 'Evil' does not equal 'rapist.'Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
The interesting part is that Aarindarius would act more like a father about it than V's Other Parent would. I think that her parents would only give her a big 'congratulations' about the pregnancy, regardless of the circumstances, the father, and the fact that she's basically set herself up to be a single parent while she was still technically married.
I wonder if Inky would be angry or resigned about Redcloak. Maybe both? The distance that Suvie put between them couldn't have escaped hir notice, and the lack of that distance between Reddy and V couldn't either. I, at least, have noted that V needs to push a lot harder to distance herself from Redcloak (and you'd think it'd be easier--they're enemies, after all), and even then it doesn't work so well. It's got to be painful to see your ex-spouse closer with someone she's only known for a few months than she has ever been with you.
And what about the kids? Do they accept their new potential half-sibling easily or what?
But anyway, lovely picture and banners. ^.^ I'm so flattered that there's art inspired by my story.
Anyway, next chapter.
SpoilerHaley kept her ears covered and her eyes forward.
“Sweetie, why are you ignoring me?”
“Help!”
“I’m trapped!”
The walls were made of cages. In each one, her emaciated father leaned on the bars, pounding his fists against the steel, his red hair hanging in greasy strings around his white face. “Haley, sweetie, blood’s thicker than water. How can you betray me?”
Haley hummed desperately, keeping her hands over her ears, running a constant stream of lyrics through her head to block out the illusions.
“As I was a-walking for my recreation,
A down by the gardens I silently stray’d,
I heard a fair maid making great lamentation,
Crying, Jimmy will be slain in the wars I’m afraid.”
Haley kept singing the song softly, aware that her voice wasn’t as beautiful as her mother’s or Elan’s, but not caring in the least. She concentrated solely on the lyrics and the story they told. It was a sad story. It made her cry when she was a little girl when she first realized what it meant. Right now, it was her lifeline.
“Haley.”
Her father started pulling at the bars, his body so thin that his bones were visible under his skin, his pitted eyes staring at her, resentment growing like a fire. “I suppose I couldn’t even trust the people in the family.”
“The blackbirds and thrushes sang in the green bushes;
The wood doves and larks seem’d to mourn for the maid;
And this song that she sang was concerning her lover;
O Jimmy will be slain in the wars I’m afraid.”
“Haley.”
“Haley.”
Too many of them. They were blurring together, or maybe that was just the tears welling up. The area behind her right eye started to throb. Her hands were shaking. The lyrics. Concentrate on the lyrics.
“Her cheeks blushed like roses, her arms full of posies,
She stray’d in the meadows and, weeping, she said:
My heart it is aching, my poor heart is breaking,
For Jimmy will be slain in the wars I’m afraid.”
“Pay attention!”
A familiar goblin and Vaarsuvius were lying intertwined on the ground. Vaarsuvius was sleeping or trancing or whatever elves did. Haley looked down blankly, her father glaring down at the two lovers. The goblin looked up from tenderly stroking the trancing elf’s face with a claw, one eye wide in surprise and mouth open slightly to speak.
“It’s… it’s not what it—”
Haley covered her ears, blurted something about ‘damn illusions,’ and kept walking, turning her eyes back forward and sternly ignoring everything but what was ahead of her. This dungeon could do a lot, but she refused to let it take her sanity.
“When Jimmy returned with his heart full of burning,
He found his dear Nancy all dead in her grave
He cried: I’m forsaken, my poor heart is breaking,
O would that I never had left this fair maid!”
Redcloak stared after the thief in confusion, subconsciously holding Vaarsuvius closer and curling around his partner protectively.
“Redcloak?” Vaarsuvius blearily started blinking, shifting to look and see who was singing. “What…?”
“Just go back to sleep. Nothing’s happening.”
Vaarsuvius murmured softly, cuddling closer and lightly brushing warm lips against the goblin’s collarbone. Redcloak stiffened, gasping softly in surprise, but the elf was trancing again.
The elf was still shaking gently in the goblin’s arms. Residuals from that weird vision of blood or trails of nightmares? Redcloak didn’t know. He only knew that his partner was distressed, and for some reason, this idea made him ache and want to make whatever was causing it to go away. He wanted Vaarsuvius to smile again. He wanted to smooth the marks of exhaustion and strain that he saw written all over the trancing face. He wanted to make sure that the elf had no reason to scream or shake ever again.
He knew better than to even dream that he could do any of that, though. When they last parted, Redcloak had let go of any power he had over the elf’s happiness, if he had any power in the first place. Most likely, the next time he would see Vaarsuvius smile would be during the inevitable battle they’d have to have, if then.
Redcloak knew what a fool he was. He knew how lovesick he had become. He was actually musing over how much he would like to see a particular elf smile when he should be ripping that same elf’s throat open. It was pathetic. It was absolutely and completely pathetic.
And yet he didn’t care as long as he was still with Vaarsuvius.
He gently kissed Vaarsuvius’s forehead and pulled the slender body close, drifting back to sleep.
---
Vaarsuvius shifted, body colder than it should have been, and blinked awake to see why. A fire crackled cheerfully, starting to restore heat, but the weird stone cavern that the elf was in was so dark and cold that it seemed to literally suck away resources such as light and warmth.
Redcloak glanced up from the fire. “I think that this dungeon is going to be harder to deal with than we thought. It changed while we were unconscious.” He hid his shivering, but it was obvious to the elf. “Would you like something to eat?”
“I am not particularly hungry, thank you.” Vaarsuvius sat up, wordlessly sidling up to the goblin’s side. Both could easily use the excuse of ‘it’s warmer to be together by the fire’. Neither would think too hard about it. “I did not expect to spend another night together, I must admit.”
“It was safest.” Redcloak glanced at the elf, shivers starting to recede with the heat from the mammal. “Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? You look a little thinner than the last time I saw you.”
“It has only been a week. Two at most.” Vaarsuvius stared deep in the fire, ignoring twinges of pain from a small abdomen and breasts.
“Which is why you shouldn’t have a discernable difference and the fact that you do is troublesome.”
Vaarsuvius allowed a vaguely amused smirk out. “Are you going to continue giving me lectures about my health if I do not eat?”
“Probably. It looks like we’ll have to stick together until we have some sense of where we are again at any rate.”
“Very well then.” Vaarsuvius unhooked a travel pack from slender hips, opening it up and taking a small apple out. “Satisfied?” The elf elegantly took a bite, arching one purple eyebrow.
“Not really, but we can work on it.”
“You are acting like my nursemaid again.”
“Call it a cleric’s instinct. When you start taking care of yourself, I’ll stop trying to.”
Vaarsuvius smirked, starting to lean against Redcloak’s side and affectionately stroking his hand. It wasn’t prudent. They should be as far apart as possible. The elf knew it but didn’t really care. The weight in the mage’s abdomen was too heavy to carry alone. “I am a fully grown elf. You should acknowledge that.”
“Believe me, I know.” Redcloak smiled down at Vaarsuvius, inexplicable warmth growing within at the elf’s touch. “You just don’t take care of yourself.”
Vaarsuvius took another bite of the apple, stifling a wince at a flicker of pain in the small abdomen. Redcloak frowned, reaching up to touch the elf’s face. “Vaarsuvius, are you okay?”
The elf’s lips pursed. In a flash, Vaarsuvius was back to emotional distance and the pale hand left Redcloak’s, leaving both of them conspicuously farther apart. “I am fine, Redcloak.”
Vaarsuvius stood, finishing off the apple and tightening the red robe around the slim body. “We should part. It is dangerous for us to be together for any prolonged amount of time.”
“Wait a second, what’s with the sudden change of heart?” Redcloak stood up, frowning suspiciously and tensing up. The elf was hiding something. “Vaarsuvius, I’m a cleric. If you’re hurt, I can help you.”
“You are an enemy cleric who should be Inflicting Wounds on me. Our relationship was convoluted from the start and encouraging it is, quite simply, one of the most foolhardy things we can do.”
Redcloak frowned, gently looping his arms around the elf’s waist and bringing their bodies up against each other. “Vaarsuvius, don’t be like that. Is there something wrong?”
“Redcloak, if you continue touching me, I will unleash my not-inconsiderable power and destroy you where you stand.” Pain started ripping through the elf’s abdomen, clenching up and forcing Vaarsuvius to tense with pursed lips. “Get away from me now.”
The goblin frowned, the scientist and the person both telling him to do very different things. One told him to let the source of his confusion go and continue down its spiral of self destruction. The other told him to forget the complications and help her through whatever has been plaguing her since before they knew each other. No one should suffer through so much pain, both psychological and physical. A third voice, somehow vastly more powerful than the unsuspecting previous two, reared up and demanded that he remove any sort of harmful influence from his mate’s body and the vicinity. No discussion was allowed.
“Cure Moderate Wounds.”
The pain disappeared. It happened suddenly, making the elf go completely limp and make no sound.
“Vaarsuvius…”
The elf squirmed out of the goblin’s grip. “Thank you.” Vaarsuvius spun around, frowning, and backed away. “You are still a fool for it.”
Redcloak shook his head, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Alright. I’m an idiot. We’ve gone over that.” He let his hands drop and he stared at the elf, frowning, something pulling at his cleric instinct. He had never specialized in healing, but he was a decent doctor and there was something about Vaarsuvius that looked odd.
She seemed much brighter despite her lack of sleep and food, the person pointed out in confusion. She looked different. Something that he couldn’t quite place.
The scientist shrugged his shoulders, mentioning the fact that that could just be his imagination. Either way, something was wrong with the elf. Either way, he shouldn’t care.
The third voice receded back into the darkness, provoking nervous glances from the other two parts of his personality. It only growled softly, telling him to make sure that his mate was not in danger.
Vaarsuvius noticed the close examination and instinctively drew back, covering the thin figure with equally thin arms, glaring. Redcloak’s suspicions of the elf hiding something were cemented.
“Vaarsuvius, I’m not safe for you, but I’m going to tell you when you shouldn’t trust me and when you can. I’m not your group’s healer, but I’m still a cleric and, no matter how stupid it is, I care enough to want you to be healthy.” It was an understatement, but Redcloak knew that it was all Vaarsuvius would allow without turning heel and running away. Even then, the elf looked unnerved by the declaration of ‘caring.’ Redcloak held out his hands, palms-up, and slowly started walking towards the elf. “You’re a private person. I am too. If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong, just stay with me until we figure out where we are and tell me if you need healing. That’s all you need to do.”
“Stop treating me with tenderness, Redcloak. Stop caring about me.” Guilt twisted in Vaarsuvius’s abdomen. The goblin was offering so much to an elf that was hiding his own child from him. Vaarsuvius truly believed that this was a matter only of the elf’s body, but the mage was well-aware that Redcloak had a right to know. This whole thing was a grievous injury done to the goblin. And he was still giving kindness.
Not that Vaarsuvius would, under any circumstances, tell him.
“I think I remember this.”
“Redcloak, just stay aw—”
Redcloak touched Vaarsuvius’s cheek, giving the elf room to pull away if the contact was unwanted, and pressed their lips together gently. “Vaarsuvius…”
“Redcloak, please, stop…” Vaarsuvius looped delicate arms around the goblin’s neck, kissing back desperately. The weight in the elf’s abdomen eased. The fear and stress was gone. Redcloak had taken it away.
The elf pulled back, pushing the goblin gently. “We will not be able to stop ourselves. Do not do this.”
Redcloak didn’t allow his feelings to cross his expression. He lightly stroked the elf’s face, his eye glowing dimly in the darkness. “Fine.”
He let the mage go and picked up a stick from the ground (Vaarsuvius distractedly examined their surroundings to see piles of wood and sticks mysteriously lined against the stone walls) and rolled the burning logs in their fire away from each other to slowly lose the flames. He picked up their bags from the ground, slinging his own over his shoulder and giving the other to the elf. “I don’t know how long we were sleeping. It looks like the dungeon changed itself to disorient us.”
Vaarsuvius numbly touched a slightly swollen abdomen, tentatively allowing Blackwing to pop into existence on a tiny shoulder. The raven gave the elf a sharp nip on a pointy ear, a silent reprimand for the rampant foolishness, and quickly followed up with fluffed feathers.
The elf winced but didn’t make comment. Redcloak glanced back, an amused smirk playing over his face, but a powerful instinct embedded in all goblin men forced him to snake an arm around Vaarsuvius’s waist protectively. “Stay close. I have no desire to deal with a vision from either of us again.”
Vaarsuvius’s mouth opened to protest the unnecessary contact, but the pointed ears twitched when they heard a gentle rumble originating deep in the goblin’s chest. It was an odd combination of a growl and a purr.
The elf shifted uncomfortably, frowning in confusion and trying to bring up any memories of goblin biology or culture. Of course, of that topic humanoids were woefully ignorant. Vaarsuvius knew so little, unless…
“Wait, so babies grow inside the females?” Vaarsuvius looked at Aarindarius in horror, squirming and touching her own tiny abdomen in dread. “Does that mean that I am going to need to carry a baby inside?”
“If you wish for biological children, that is the most likely scenario, little Suvie.” Aarindarius smiled sympathetically, closing the biology textbook they were reading.
“And we need to bleed every month to dispose of material we don’t need if we do not start growing children?!” Vaarsuvius kept staring as Aarindarius slowly bobbed his head. “What do the males have to deal with to make this fair?!”
“Well, besides the initial fertilization, biology asks little of us.” Aarindarius smiled sympathetically and gently picked up the child, placing her in his lap so she could see the next biology book better as he opened it up. “Culturally, of course, the male parent of an elven child is expected to support the female and provide her with love, affection, and anything else she asks for during the pregnancy. And then he is expected to be there and hold her hand during childbirth.”
Vaarsuvius blinked in indignation. “That hardly seems to equal to the hardship the female suffers!”
“Well, of course not. That is why our culture gives a certain amount of responsibility to the male.” Aarindarius stifled a chuckle at his apprentice’s thoroughly cross expression, kissing her head lightly. “Ah, little Suvie. You are still not satisfied? Well, there are certain species and cultures that give even more responsibility to the male. Among seahorses, the male is the one to carry the children to term.”
“Seahorses are not sapient, Aarindarius.” Vaarsuvius still looked bitter.
This time, Aarindarius actually let himself chuckle, earning a small glare from his apprentice. “Vaarsuvius, humanoids on the whole tend towards patriarchy. Not all cultures or species, but most. I fear that females drew the short straw when it came to biology, but in exchange, they often have a very deep connection with their children. Males are not incapable of gaining the same connection, but it seems to be instinctive among females.” He leaned back, keeping the child in his lap and his arms around a slender waist. “Goblinoids seem to tend more towards equality between genders, and in cases of pregnancy, become somewhat matriarchal.”
Vaarsuvius perked in interest.
“Ah, I have gotten your attention.” Recognizing a chance to appease his apprentice, Aarindarius tightened his grip gently and stroked the child’s hair. “I know little about bugbears and orcs. Hobgoblin society, as far as I know, makes special accommodations for pregnant hobgoblin women that not even small children enjoy.”
He lovingly tucked a tendril of purple hair behind the child’s ear. “Goblins seem to have a more… innate response to pregnancy. When the female is impregnated, she becomes more aggressive and is provided a knife from her male to protect herself. Male goblins are interesting. Even if they are not informed that their mate is pregnant, they develop an extreme sense of protectiveness and a need for closeness. It’s a very base instinct that most goblin children aren’t informed of, as far as I know. I only know as much as I do by virtue of a close friend of mine who happens to be an anthropologist specializing in reptilian societies.”
“So the males get protective? That does not seem so different from the elven response.” Vaarsuvius stubbornly crossed thin arms. “How does biology bring them in equality to the females’ hardships?”
“It is difficult to say as I have never witnessed it myself, but it seems the goblin males have a chemical need to become viciously protective of their female as soon as they catch scent of the pheromones pregnant women give off, starting around their second week. It is primal, but goblin society in general tends toward the primal.” Aarindarius stroked the apprentice’s hair gently. “Little Suvie, I hope dearly that you will never experience this feeling, yet at the same time I dearly hope that you will. There are certain instincts that no living being can shake that override all common sense and survival urges. Among those instincts are the instinct for a parent to protect their child, and apparently, the instinct for a goblin male to protect his pregnant partner. These are dangerous feelings. These are also testimony to true love.”
Aarindarius affectionately squeezed the child’s hand. “But enough about goblin instinct. While we are talking about reproduction, I should tell you about the methods to avoid conception. I am loath to send any child into the world without at least basic knowledge in the area.”
Vaarsuvius blinked at the realization, then heaved a soft sigh, glancing over at Redcloak as they began to walk. Redcloak was the heart of Lawfulness, civilization, and calculation, yet the soft growling purr in his chest and the arm wrapped securely around the elf’s waist as they moved reminded Vaarsuvius that he was not exempt from the primal urges of his species.
This wasn’t good.
First sign of a sociopath: savoring it when you make your characters suffer in every possible way.
Yay, an update! :D
Love it. Hehee, Redcloak's protective. Can't wait to see how this keeps playing out. I love how you're keeping them in character and keeping everything so difficult. :D Conflict is fun. :)
And ditto about the sociopathy thing. ^^
Woo, new chapter! Can't wait to see what happens when Redcloak finds out!Quote:
Originally Posted by Water-Smurf
So, how long will it be before Reddy starts examining his protective insticts and puts two and two together? Taking all bets!
I like how Haley just discounted tham as another illusion. I wonder if she'll ever find out... :smalltongue:
"You're green! :smallconfused:"Quote:
Originally Posted by Water-Smurf
"...And you're not! :smalltongue:"
"Hey, you're right! :smallbiggrin: Lets play hide and seek!"
Nah, that's just normal.Quote:
First sign of a sociopath: savoring it when you make your characters suffer in every possible way.
Second sign of a sociopath: Thinking that was the most adorable thing I've read in a long time.Quote:
Originally Posted by Water-Smurf
Personally, I don't think the kids are going to care that their half-sibling is part goblin. I think they'll either all get along fine, or resent the kid for "stealing" their parent.
And as for Kyrie's reaction... I've been looking for an excuse to link someone to this
song for a long time! Hooray for segways! (And if you don't feel like sitting through a YouTube clip: It's a song about a man who knows his wife is being unfaithful, but loves her too much to confront her).
She probably will, since it involves suffering (from Redcloak, that is :smallwink:).Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
I actually see their child as very mean to its siblings, as in "My mother loved my father more than your parent! And she loves me more than you two too!"... :smallfrown:Quote:
"You're green! :smallconfused:"
"...And you're not! :smalltongue:"
"Hey, you're right! :smallbiggrin: Lets play hide and seek!"
First sign of a fanfiction writer actually. :smalltongue:Quote:
Originally Posted by Water-Smurf
Good update. I found myself caring more about Haley's part than about the rest. I guess I really don't like V x Redcloak. :smallwink:
Once again, really nice chapter. I wanna see what everyone else is dealing with with nightmarish illusions, tailored personally for them!
Don't forget that after seeing what they fear, they'll see what they want!
I can easily picture Roy seeing much Celia x Haley goodness. :smallwink:
I can't believe I actually wrote this. It's actually darker than anything Water-Smurf has posted so far. I know she's had ideas on the level of this, but she's kept herself from writing them out, so far. It establishes me as a definite delights-in-hurting-characters sociopath. Zanaril is to blame, completely, for giving me a direct excuse to go and write out the scene I've had in my head for some time. When I should have been studying for tomorrow's chemistry test and memorising the halogenic carbohydrogens. Damn you all. XD
Spoiler
I return.
The cave is nearly silent as I touch down. I scan the surroundings, every sense honed to detect danger, centuries of use. The wards are undisturbed. Nothing of notice, except that the silence is nearly absolute now. A hearbeat, the soft swish of air reluctantly being drawn into lungs, the walls of the cavern amplifying it ever so slightly. No more subtle splashing of liquid on stone as the blood trickles into crevices. No more whimpering, ragged, sobbing breaths, either.
A shame.
I move further. The purple cast from the sky through the entrance fades to an absence of light. As I expected, the torches have burned out by now. I can see their withered husks wedged in between the stones where I had left them. I spread my haul out on the cavern floor. Luminescent crystals.
Impenetrable darkness is a foreign concept to me, something the tactician in me recognises and understands intellectually, without imagining the sensation. My vision focuses freely on the stones, the stalactites, the ceiling, every detail sharp and visible. The blood has dried by now, the sickly glow of the crystals casts it black. Further away from the light source, it is disappointingly colourless, but there. I do not need light to see.
But I need light to be seen. The crystals should prove sufficient.
I slip further into the cavern and deposit the crystals along the walls. I look on in distaste at the bare floor, but in the last months I have learned to tolerate sleeping on naked stone.
The thought of why I have to tolerate this used to bring cold anger with it. I had welcomed it, absorbed it, allowed it to seep into my bones and my limbs and muscles and into my breath, every time it arose. Anger is powerful, fury is invigorating. After centuries of acting out the same practiced, comfortable routine, it made me feel more alive than ever. It reminded me of my youth, so long ago, when it was all about the sky and the water and every new life snuffed out made me feel like no power in the world could stop me.
For far more justified reasons, I still feel that way. Especially now.
The anger was riveting, but I no longer feel its flicker. It has been replaced by acceptance and the warm glow of satisfaction. I can almost imagine that I still feel that puny weight in my stomach, taste the blood and tears in my mouth, after so many hours. Nonsense, of course.
I briefly reach down and run my tongue against the floor, where the stones gleam black in the dim light. Salty and tangy, familiar but special. I happily allow myself to relive those moments.
I do not feel much anger now. Amusement, certainly. Satisfaction. The elation of victory, like so long ago in my youth, that primal joy of the first hunt. But most of all, anticipation, like moving on to new ground and not knowing what I'll find, only that there's undoubtedly much to be found.
Ironically, I feel free now. No bonds of responsibility. An ageless body, all the power in the world, and as much time as I wish to take. What shall I do? I can do anything. Make it last months, years, decades, even. Come up with different things every day. The possibilities are endless.
In the dim glow of the crystals, I cross to the center of the chamber, not bothering to muffle my heavy footsteps. I receive no reaction.
“I have returned,” I state, my voice resounding through the cavern. “I hope you didn't take my absence too hard.”
More silence, but I did not expect it otherwise.
“I brought you a gift.”
It is soft and yielding in my grasp as I push it forward, soft leather dried and tanned and sewn together into the skillful semblance of a head garment, its design not unlike what I have seen human pirates and frilly nobles wear. Instead of the customary feather, a stream of hair adorns it, like a horse's tail set in a general's helmet. The glow of the crystals gives the silky green locks a surreal tinge, stained with black, dried blood I deliberately decided not to wash out.
I push it forward so that the hair brushes skin, prickling softly under eyelids squeezed shut tightly and glued together with dried tears. There's the instinctive, shuddering inhalation of the odour, the odour of freshly tanned leather and dried blood and the lingering residue of the scent held when still dearly loved and alive - flour and warm milk and wet soil in the garden - and even though I know few creatures share my sense of smell, it is obviously enough, and I delight in the shudder that wrecks through its body as the elf twitches and curls even tighter into itself, the heavy manacles scraping the ground at the brief movement.
I bow down over the figure sprawled on the cavern floor, taking in and savouring the helpless, fetal position, the disheveled mop of hair, dried sweat caking it to ashen skin, the torn robes, baggy and seeming to swallow up the thin arms and legs. Powerless. Defeated. Too broken even for defiance, all the anger and hatred for me having been screamed out along with the pleas and threats and desperate appeals to every virtue and vice it could think of until it had all ceased to matter.
A violent end, so saturated with intense pain and such powerful emotions. One does not depart to rest after such a thing as that. I expect the ghost to start appearing in a matter of days, searching, hating, suffering in sorrow.
I look down into its face. Haggard, drained, dead, belying the warm blood still pulsing steadily underneath. This is that to which I reduce those who dare pose themselves as my enemies. Pathetic, and more beautiful to my eyes than the treasure hoard of the Fivefold Mother herself.
“You are defeated, elf,” I speak, my voice rumbling through the hollow cavern. “You thought yourself powerful, but I have shown you that you have no power. You thought yourself good, but I have made you feel my plight and think of yourself as a monster. You thought yourself a wizard, but your magic has no meaning. You thought yourself a mate and a parent, a member of your party of adventurers, a friend and a companion, intelligent, pragmatic, strong, unyielding, useful, reliable, functional, not alone. You thought yourself many things, but I have made you into nothing. I have destroyed every aspect of you, every shred of identity that mattered. And I will continue to destroy.”
With a mouthed 'telekinesis' I force the straps of metal onto the elf's limp fingers, tightening the coils until blood seeps from underneath, and the elf's voice is hoarse as it groans in pain, no barriers of pride or defiance remaining, and then the body shudders as each of the four broken limbs begins to mend, slowly and torturously.
“We are in a cavern not far from the place you have been trying to reach all these months, Azure City. You will now be as inaccessible to scrying and divination as the person you were searching for has been. The people you thought of as friends before you left them will think you dead. If they attempt to find you, they will fail. No oracle will help them. No one will come to save you – and thus your hope is destroyed as well. Or do you not feel hope, as submerged in your despair and self-loathing as you seem to be? Perhaps it is merely the shock. I am sure you will relive it every time you trance for the rest of your life, elf, and do not make the mistake of hoping it to be brief. The Ring of Regeneration and the Ring of Sustenance I have just given you to wear will keep you alive. You will live for as long as I want you to live. Weeks, months, years, decades, centuries – and if you come to the end of your natural life span, and I still wish you to live, then you will live, elf, because you are mine now, and you have no purpose or identity beyond that which I give you.”
I reach down and my tongue shoots out, running down the elf's face almost tenderly and the elf squirms in pain as the trails of acid burn into a pale cheek. The skin is salty with tears.
I breathe down into the elf's face and growl so quietly my voice only carries for a few feet.
“We have all the time in the world, elf, and there is nothing I would not do to you simply because I can. Resign yourself to it – or not, it gives you no power either way.”
My fangs tear at the robes, scraping gashes into the skin that heal almost immediately. From the gems lodged securely between my scales, the children must be watching.
I cannot believe I'd ever considered leaving the elf alone.
...I think I've given enough gruesome clues to figure out what happened. :smalleek:
Or, to clear things up... The ABD did to V's family just what she threatened to do, in front of him. Then she kept him.
At first I thought it was spliced V with Inkyrius after an eternity of hunting down people for fun, then Haerta with V, but I guess it's actually ABD x V? :smallconfused:
I feel a great romance coming with the other monster of Azure City. :smalltongue:
Very well written. I envy your vocabulary. I know I'll never be able to write as well. :smallfrown:
Belkar in Warhammer. V in warhammer...Quote:
Originally Posted by Monzach
*Cackles maniacally, then fishes out his old army books.*
Contenders so far: Gotrek Gurnnison, Malus Darkblade x Haley (say what you like about him, he's an incestus murderous psychopathic patricide monster who gives the gods themselves a run for their money, but you have to admit he has style), Grimgor Ironhide (and Belkar) and... Grey seer Thanquol. Or maybe Nagash...
And Raistlin Majere would be fun...
Save that though.
PLOT BUNNY! Crack-pairings, cross over-madness!
So what am I then? I torture characters I like.Quote:
Originally Posted by Water-Smurf
This thread is starting to head into disturbing territory....
.....
....well, more disturbing than usual then. :smalleek:
****************
On a different note, I found myself thinking that given we now have over 100 quality pages of extremely depraved crack pairings, perhaps an awards ceremony should be in order.
I call it - The Squickies!
Divided into two groups, one set of awards would be for the authors of the stories, with categories like best series, best one off episode, most disturbing, most romantic, best banner/drawing, etc. The other half of the awards would be for the characters themselves, with categories like "Most gratuitous sex scene award", "The Playa award", "The Village Bike award".
Not entirely sure who'd make up the judging panel but I think there could be a lot of fun in it.
MORE MORE! I WANT MORE!Quote:
Originally Posted by MasamuneSSX
I'm so jealous at the oracle now... *Drools*
Kaytara: Me like, i want more of that.
All hail the ABD! *Uses 'Powerword: AGONY!' on Vaarsuvius*
Dear god this thread is disturbing.
Hey! At least V gets a new hat!
...Made out of elf. Eww.
I'm participating! :smallbiggrin:Quote:
Originally Posted by Kaytara
...Why didn't I get that?Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
I'm so slow. :smallfrown:
Paired with whom?Quote:
Originally Posted by Cracklord
... *Shudders slightly*
Kaytara, I have the name of a psychiatrist that I've been going to for years. Need it? (Tongue-in-cheek here)
Ooh, I like the idea of the Squickies!
Hmm...I'm in a better mood today than I have been lately, let's see if there are any plot bunnies left...To the roller!
Redcloak/Hilgya, Love Potion
Xykon's Zombie Dragon Head/YokYok, On a desert island
Daigo/Lord Kubota, Genderswitched and French Maid costume...:smallbiggrin:
Spoiler
Kubota paced the cabin. Daigo was groaning, barely conscious; Kazumi straining with wild-eyed fury against the ninjas who held her. "Of course, I'll just say that I couldn't arrive in time to save you...Or your wife...Or unborn child..."
"YOU FRICKING BASTARD!!!" Daigo thrashed against the ninjas who help him firm. One of them punched him in the gut. Daigo went limp, staring at Kubota with raw hatred.
Kubota smirked as he knelt down to Daigo's level and whispered in his ear, "And just between you and me, you suck in bed."
Kazumi's eyes grew wide. She had overheard.
"Okay. What was that about?!"
"Kazumi, darling, I can--"
"No. NO. Daigo, you are explaining this to me RIGHT NOW."
"Uhm...Ah...Well..." Daigo started to sweat a bit. He tapped his index fingers together, a nervous habit that he had started when he was very young. "Well, ah, Kazumi...Do you remember Initiation Day? When we all were officially made part of the Azurite Army?"
"Of course."
"Well, ah...See, afterwards, Kubota invited me over to his mansion for a drink...And well, I was going through this "try out kinky stuff" phase--"
"Which you still haven't grown out of, Daigo."
"Uh, yeah, and well, we kinda got drunk. And well, one thing led to another, and Kubota had a Belt of Gender Changing and a french maid outfit in his closet, and well..."
"..."
Daigo ended up sleeping on the deck outside for the rest of the month.
What's with Kubota and his unending supply of Girdles of Feminity/Masculinity? :smalltongue:
Very funny. :smallbiggrin:
The fandom bicycle, of course! They can talk about color schemes and copyrights. :smalltongue:Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
Please.Quote:
Originally Posted by CoffeeIncluded
Only hope they're good.
Well, considering that I've been going to her since I was 8...
That's what I feared. I honestly have no idea how that pairing would work out, but someone really, really needs to write it...Quote:
Originally Posted by Discord
OH MY GOSH, WHEN DID THIS THREAD HAPPEN!? :smalleek:
I completely FORGOT that Thread 2 was ending, and I've been wondering why I hadn't seen any Crack Thread updates in my subscribed threads list. Lo and behold, this thread is already EIGHT FRICKIN PAGES!! :eek:
-sigh- I'm not even going to try to catch up. Its too much for me to handle right now... :smallsigh:
Besides, I've noticed that a lot of stories have gotten too... dark, for my tastes. I mean, a little bit of angst is okay, but I don't like to be depressed when I read stuff. My life has enough stuff in it to make me feel "meh" easily, and I usually avoid getting depressed by reading. Needless to say, if the thing I'm reading makes me feel even worse, that kinda defeats the whole purpose. :smalltongue:
This is especially true due to some recent developements in my life, which have made me prone to random bouts of depression and stress through-out the day and do not bear repeating lest I depress every poor soul who reads this post. :smallfrown:
So... Has anybody written some relatively NOT-DEPRESSING crack fics lately? :smallbiggrin:
Btw, a few minutes ago, I skimmed through this page, and I randomly noticed Cracklord mentioning crossing OotS with Warhammer. Well, I don't know much about Warhammer, but I basically live Warhammer 40K. (Oddly enough, whenever I'm in a foul mood, reading or playing Warhammer 40K stuff cheers me up. :smallconfused:) At any rate, reading Cracklord's comment randomly forced the violent formation of a seriously bizarre pairing idea:
Vaarsuvius x Ciaphas Cain :smalleek::smallconfused::smallamused:
End yes, this post DID need all those smileys...
Well, the award for "village bike" is a foregone conclusion.
:vaarsuvius: I fail to see what is so humorous in pairing me with every sentient character in this webcomic. And non-sentient objects as well.
(Oh, and I haven't written any depressing ones!)
Oh, V, if only we paired you up only with unmarried characters... :smallwink:Quote:
Originally Posted by CoffeeIncluded
:vaarsuvius: Raistlin, you are a dear, but when it comes to people cosplaying as me, I prefer to kiss Kyrie.Quote:
Originally Posted by Zanaril
Check CoffeeIncluded's last fic. Five posts above yours.Quote:
Originally Posted by Lycan 01
I don't like to advertize my own work, but since it was the only one besides CoffeeIncluded's coming to mind... mine seems to have attracted quite the audience too. :smalltongue:
Oh, and Miko? Best Sister of Battle ever. Until she kills the Emperor. :smallwink:
This tale was a little hard for me to put into words, although I promise you that if you do manage to follow it, you will very swiftly regret doing so.
SpoilerThe siege of Azure City had gone on for several months now and a stalemate had formed. The valiant defenders were too deeply entrenched and many had managed to develop specific counters to the goblin horde. It was time, Xykon felt, for a change of tactics....
“TSUKIKO!” he yelled, striding across Camp Evil. “Where the hell are you?!”
A muffled giggling arose from a nearby tent and the lich lifted the flap, only to be confronted by the sight of a naked mystic thurge and a zombie gently running a decrepit hand across her chest.
“Wow, I'll say this about you, gorgeous; that's one of my favourite uses for rigor mortis!” she gasped.
“Tsukiko, what in blazes are you....actually, never mind. Get dressed, I need to discuss something with you.”
“Meanie, can't you see I'm entertaining my guest?”
“I'd be hard pushed to say who's entertaining who there but I need your help and it's not something Redcloak will do.”
With a sigh of reluctance, Tuskiko slowly pulled her black dress on and turned to look at the zombie. “Later, my undead stud!”
“Brains.”
***********
“Right, here's the gist of it. No matter how many of these worthless peons we send at the wretched paladins, they keep getting stomped. What we need is a new army,” said Xykon.
“Certainly sir,” replied Tsukiko, a scornful tone to her voice. “Would your prefer ancient dragons or pit fiends?”
“Neither,” snapped the lich. “My idea for an army can be created with the simple resources we have around us and a few extremely unusual epic spells I've been working on.”
“Ummm...okay, and I take it you need something vaguely cleric-y to cast them.”
“Bingo.”
“Alright, so what are the spells?”
Xykon leaned in and began to whisper quietly. She found herself nodding along as he read off the list until he reached the final one, at which point her eyes slammed open.
“ACCELERATED WHAT?!”
“Keep it down, keep it down!”
Tsukiko's face was now a mask of pure terror. “And I'm supposed to use it on myself?!”
Xykon skullpalmed. “No, you nitwit! You use the first one on the goblin women in the army, then you use Mass Illusion on what we shall call “Target R”, and then swiftly follow it with Mass Suggestion. Allow a couple of hours for 'nature to take its course'”, he continued, a particularly evil grin forming, “and finally finish with the final spell!”
She relaxed very slightly, although was beginning to feel nauseous instead. “The final spell, I assume it continues its time accelerating effect on the new army shortly after the goblin women have...”
“Yup, so by this time tomorrow morning, we'll have our new warriors and hopefully put several hundred thousand Azurites in psychiatric therapy or six feet under.”
***************
Later that night, a sea of red carpeted the ground near the mess tent. Good, thought Tsukiko, it would make things easier. The goblin women were feeling the effects of an extremely potent Lust spell; too bad for them the men had been ordered to launch a night-time assault on the rear of the city. In a lifetime of evil deeds, this one was really going to tip the scales....
“Mass Illusion.”
The sea of red disappeared, to be replaced by a duplicate goblin army.
“Mass Suggestion.”
Several thousand pairs of swirly eyes stared back at her.
“Now this is what I want you to do....” she began. When she finished explaining, the disguised army turned and marched towards the women's tents.
******************
A few hours later, the sound of contented snoring filled the air. Muttering to herself, she cast the final spell and felt a mixture of high-grade guilt and sympathy for the poor women in the tents. Before she had even made her way safely back to the command camp, the first hellish scream erupted...
******************
“Commander! COMMANDER!”
“What is it, lieutenant? And what in the Twelve God's name is that horrible scuttling sound?”
“Perhaps you should look for yourself, sir,” he said, and handed the commander a spyglass.
Peering through, the commander saw a large wave of nightmarish creatures approaching the city. They looked, for all the world, like the offspring of a goblin and a cockroach...