Twenty families stood in the courtyard in front of Vesta's temple, with citizens gathered around to watch. On the dias stood the Governor, Uncle Octavius, with the white and red robed Vestales nearby.
Her twin brother Felis clung tightly to her hand. Not Vita, not Vita, not Vita, she could hear him thinking.
We'll still hear each other, she reminded him.
What if we don't? What if Vesta stops it?
She won't. She's the goddess of hearth and home and family.
But what if she does anyway?
Vita didn't answer. Felis wouldn't stop worrying, no matter what she said. If she was chosen, she would serve thirty years. One decade as student, one decade as servant, one decade as teacher. Vestal Flavia had just finished her third decade, and was standing next to Uncle Octavius, ready to relinquish her duties to the girl who was about to be chosen.
Please not Vita.
Vita wasn't afraid. Her parents and her uncle had spoken to her about it, and Vestal Flavia had as well. She understood what was expected if she was chosen. Vestal Flavia had answered all of her questions.
Please please not Vita.
The Vestal lifted the glass bowl, containing twenty tiles, and Vita's uncle put his hand into the bowl. He drew a tile and Vita suddenly knew by the way his shoulders moved sightly that it was her name on the tile and that...
... you think he didn't want you to be chosen? Why would he let your name go in the lots?
"Vita Aemilia," he read as he pointed directly at Vita.
I don't know! He said it was an honour! Vita kept her face calm, despite her panic. She wouldn't bring shame to her Uncle at such an important event.
Are you sure he didn't want you?
Her Uncle was stepping down off the dais, moving towards her. She kept her eyes on him even as her mother was leaning down to hug and kiss her, and her father was accepting the congratulations of others.
His shoulders slumped a little. The way they do when he gets bad news.
I don't want you to go!
"I take you, Vita, to be a Vestal priestess, who will carry out sacred rites which it is the law for a Vestal priestess to perform on behalf of the Thessalonikian people, on the same terms as her who was a Vestal 'on the best terms'" Her Uncle said. He took her by the hand.
Vita turned to her twin, who still gripped her other hand, and kissed him.
I'll always be with you. Let go, Felis.
Finally, reluctantly, he did, and then he clung to his mother and cried.
Vita had invited Rugal to reach into her mind to share the memory of her captio, her "capture" as a Vestalis, but she ended it here. The memory of Felis's pain was too strong - and too similar to what had just occurred - to relive it again. Rugal recognized this and pulled her closer physically while withdrawing from her mentally.
"They had to carry him home, because he wouldn't stop crying or looking through my eyes," Vita said. "He didn't stop until I was led into the temple and felt Vesta's protection descend on me. He didn't believe until that moment that she would allow us to stay bound."
"I can understand why your Uncle wouldn't have wanted you chosen. I wouldn't want such a thing done to a child I cared for. But why did he allow you to be a candidate at all?"
"It must have been for political reasons. It would have looked bad if he had not been willing to commit his niece to the service of the city. Even so, I was given the opportunity to refuse. They would not have entered my name without my consent."
"You understood what the vows entailed? At that age?" Rugal asked.
Vita laughed ruefully. "No. Of course not. How can a child of eight understand celibacy, or have a grasp of how long three decades really is? All I really understood was obedience and duty."
It was too much to ask of you.
Felis, go back to sleep.
You took the vows to protect the city, but now you are an exile. All your vows are doing is keeping you from happiness.
"You're frowning," Rugal said.
"Felis wants me to repudiate my vows to be with you." Vita said.
Rugal ran the back of his fingers along her cheek. "You know I won't ask that of you."
Meeting of Champions It's certainly an odd way to begin a war, but I've read enough European history to know how plausible it is. I liked the Atticus cameo too. Hope to see more of him and the others.
Final Rites This is definitely the most interesting interpretation of the Green Knight story that I've ever read. Did you come up with it yourself, or find it somewhere else and adapt it for your own use? Either way, it worked well.
The First Night I'm biased of course, since Vita is my character, but I loved it, and I am glad to get a bit of backstory on Rugal.
Showtime I confess, I really had doubts you could make that work when Pat first started her plan to engineer a child for he and Tinman, but Cassius really is a true son of Magtok.
DoomITP
The First Not enough here to go on
Beans / C'Nor
Talina/Nycca: Thank you for removing Remnant from the story. Also, the blind room was horrifying. A truly nightmarish image.
McBish
The Dawn - Calvin's story, as well as his appearances in the Nexus, are intriguing. I should really toss someone at him (besides Jeanne, who wouldn't care) to learn more IC. Would this be okay?
Magtok
Patient 413 You are brilliant. Please write more.
@ People who like Jefferies: Thank you. She's so much fun to write for, and I'm glad that other people enjoy her stories.
There isn't much of a context that's there to miss unless you've never read Sir Gwain and the Green Knight. As far as The Green Knight = Death concept, it's something that's always been taught within my family at least, much to the disdain of my numerous English/Literature/Reading teachers.
As for a cult based around the figure of such, I didn't find it too unbelievable as there have always been cults and religions based around Death. This one was just one given a different form that honestly isn't too far-fetched in my opinion.
__________________
Wolfy Tango by the talented Kid Kris
Starting August 4th, I will be without internet for possibly a very long time. Please PM me if there are any questions for me, but do not expect an answer for weeks at a time. Thank you for your patience.
Time for some comments I didn't do last time, for Talina and Nycca. I'm sort of commenting on them together because they're intertwined.
Talina's part isn't bad but I can't say I found it very good either. Overall it's decent, but I feel like it's a bit too... impersonal, I guess, for something written in first person.
Nycca's part feels a little too detached, although that might be on purpose, I'm not sure. Still, the stylized writings before and during the enslavement looked very authentic.
Please tell me if there's anything else you'd like me to comment on. Since I'm not going to write anything anytime soon, I can at least contribute this way.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Not a part 3 for Alfred/Agneau per se, but it does give insight on what happened if I ever do write it. (Though probably not.) It takes place after Alfred and his mother's conversation with Shadowcaller's Sir Correl.
Fair is Fair
or
The Extent of OrchestraHc's Command of the French Language
Spoiler
As they reached the greenery of the grove, the woman began to hold tighter to her son's hand. It was heartbreaking to have to be lead through the dangerous forest by her son. Though none could bring harm upon her, faeries and elves were at their full power in this forest, and at their full wickedness. She was his mother, so it should have been her leading them through this frightening place, but this was Alfred’s playground. He walked without a fear in the world, as comfortable as walking down a sidewalk, saying hello to passing satyrs and talking flowers. All she could do was cringe away from them. Don’t offend them, don’t provoke them, and don’t be noticed by them.
With his hand to his heart, Alfred led his very human mother to his very inhuman mother’s home. It was a simple looking hut that seemed to have been grown from the grown rather than built. As they approached the door, they were greeted before they could even knock. It was the dryad who answered the door with a very polite, “Please come in.”
“Auntie!” Alfred shouted, leaping into the arms of tree-dweller. “You’ll never be able to guess what we’ve come to tell you!”
“I’m sure I won’t, Honeysuckle, but let’s save it for later,” the nymph replied, “You’ll want to tell your Mére first.”
“Uh-huh!” He says running to the only other figure within the hut.
An abnormally tall woman with long arms and legs and, damn if the mother would ever admit it, a beautiful face, sat in a chair at the end of the room. The mother’s heart ached a little as Alfred ran to that woman’s arms. “Mon petit Agneau, how are you today?” she asked with that damn perfect voice. And that name. Alfred had learned that name before he ever learned his own name. His real name.
“Amazing, Mére! Do you remember Sir Correl?” Alfred asks, taking a seat in her slender lap.
“Le chevalier? Oui. Did you see him again?”
“Oui! He once said I could be his squire, so when I asked him when we met today he said yes!”
The faerie cheered along with Alfred, and gave him a congratulatory kiss on the fore head. “Tres Merveilleux, mon Agneau!”
“Mother even agreed to let me do it. I cannot wait! This is going to be wonderful!”
“She did?” the fair woman asked, turning her attention to Alfred’s mother, who shrank at her gaze. “I would not have expected that of you, Mouton, you’re normally such a fuddy-duddy.”
The mother said nothing at the insult. Any human would seem like a bore compared to a magical faerie.
“Mére, please,” Alfred said, not completely unaware of the hostility between the two women.
“Alright, mon petit,” the fair-mother conceded to the child. “Auntie, please take Alfred outside. Mouton and I have some things to discuss.”
“Right away, Mére. Come little Honeysuckle, we’ll discuss your future as a knight,” the dryad says, taking him by the hand.
“Alright,” he said reluctantly. He was lead out of the hut and around the back, where he was unable to hear inside the hut.
So it was just the two of them alone. “Have a seat, Mouton,” the fair-mother offered. She motioned to a stool in front of her. The only other pieces of furniture in the hut were her chair and a bed off to the side.
“I’ll stand,” the human said, simply.
“Fine then,” the faerie said, her smile unchanged. “What is on your mind, Mouton?”
“We need to decide how this will affect our agreement,” she answered.
“How shall what affect it, Mouton?”
“Don’t play coy. Alfred’s squirehood. How will this affect our arrangement?”
“Oh? You care about what I have to say now? You are acting strangely, Mouton,” she laughed as though it was the funniest thing in the world. “You didn’t care when you tried to send mon Agneau to school. When you tried to hide him away from me. When you tried to run from me, Mouton. I had to put a stop to it all those times. Since when do you ask for permission rather than forgiveness, Mouton?”
“I’m his mother,” the woman asserted, trying to stand tall. “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”
“Which still doesn’t answer why you’re here, Mouton,” the faerie said, finally standing from her chair. The faerie dwarfed the woman, and though it should have been impossible for her to stand in the small hut, she stood at full height looking down on the woman. Her hands reached down and cupped the mother’s face. Though they felt as soft as silk they had the grip of an iron vice on the woman. She stared her in the eyes, her smile unwavering as he spoke. “I bet it was to gloat, wasn’t it, you petty little woman. You’ve finally found a way to send my Agneau away from me and still have my support? Congratulations Mouton. This decision takes him away from you as well.”
“I want what’s best for him, and what’s best for him is being far away from you.”
“That’s what I think I hate most about you, Mouton. You’re so ungrateful. You stumble into the forest one day and happen upon Agneau. I let him spend time with you out of kindness and you think you can keep him. From his pure heart, he offers you pity, and you have the gall to make him love you like my equal. I give you an inch and you try to take a mile.” She began to raise her thumbs over the human’s eyes.
“I’m his mother!” she yelled, still bravely staring at the faerie beyond her thumbs.
“I raised him for three years.”
“That doesn’t diminish that you stole him from his crib!”
“Still ungrateful. I gave you a fair trade that night. That doll was more than enough for you. Why couldn’t you just be happy with it?” Pointing her thumbs inward, the nails begin to grow towards her eyes, barely an eyelash away from blinding the human mother.
Without fear or hesitation, and in as even a tone as possible, the woman answered the Faerie. “If a doll is all Alfred is worth to you, I’d be happy to make you one of your own.” The faerie released her and she dropped a few inches onto her feet. At some point in the exchange had she been lifted off the ground, or did she simply feel light from how forcefully she managed to argue with the faerie?
The tall faerie returned to her chair and began to dictate the new rules of the arrangement, apparently trying to pretend that conversation hadn't happened. “The rules are the same but with a third ground. No going after Agneau, or restricting his movement from one ground to the other is still the golden rule. The knight can harvest his hair if mon Agneau lets him, though that’s unlikely. Do also let le chevalier know I will hold him responsible should any ill befall Agneau.”
The woman nodded consent. This was acceptable.
“They will enter now, not a word of the rules or our conversation to Agneau.” She didn’t have to tell the woman twice. They both would hate to have Alfred see them in such a light. It was the one thing they agreed on, even if silently.
The dryad and Alfred both entered the hut, hand in hand, a moment after. “Come on Alfred, we can go home now.” His mother said, extending her hand to take his.
“I don’t see why he should have to leave so soon. You can stay for the night, mon petit Agneau.”
The woman’s heart sank as she watched her son run past her to the seated faerie and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you, Mére, but Mother will need my help leaving the Grove,” he said as he ran to his mother and took her hand. “Au revoir,” he added, leading them out of the hut. Happy to have his hand to hold onto, the mother was lead by her son out of the greenery of the grove and back to civilization.
proper reviews to come later.
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
Just when I thought I was done with writing anything here, an idea crossed my head, so I decided to try it.
A Bad Dream
Spoiler
Deep under the Nexus, in the vast network of caves making up the Underside Colony of goblins, one tiny goblin named Brinika was having a very bad dream.
In that dream, she was someone - something - else, but she didn't know who or what. But she was surrounded with other... people. Or things. Thousands and thousands of them. They looked almost like goblins, but they were bigger, wore scraps of leather and cloth, were hunched and had long, crooked claws. Their eyes were gleaming red and their teeth were bigger than any goblin's she'd ever met. They panted, scraped at the earth and snarled. To tell the truth, they looked a bit like orcs, a bit like hobgoblins and a bit like goblins, but not entirely like any of them. She looked down and saw the same claws on her own hands.
When she looked around, she saw that she and the horde of monsters were on a vast empty plain, surrounded with mountains. The ground was dry and dusty. The sky was the color of rust, with bright orange clouds speeding across it and no sun in sight. Winged monsters circled above. Around her and her... kinsmen were various other beasts, both great and small, but all terrifying. Massive lions with the heads of owls. Three-headed serpents. Six-legged, clawed behemoths made seemingly of wood. Why were they all there?
The answer appeared across the horizon. Ranks and ranks of giants, standing twenty feet tall each and clad from head to toe in armor of gleaming metal. They hefted massive axes and maces. A scream resonated above the monstrous horde, a scream that had no words but carried an irresistible command. Suddenly, everyone charged forward. The goblin-like monsters went first, flanked and followed by the more twisted beasts. The dragons that had been circling around the fae army swooped down on the giants, breating fire and wind and attacking with claws while also being knocked out of the sky by massive clubs and javelins. Brinika herself felt herself running forwards. There was no other option. No other consideration.
Once the walking monsters reached the giants, a carnage started. The giants were massively outnumbered but much stronger than any Fae. The goblin-like footsoldiers died in droves... but kept going. Even if fifty of them died to bring down one giant, it was a fair trade. Brinika felt that she was terrified of the giants and their weapons. But she kept going because something behind her was even more terrifying. Behind her was something that had to be obeyed and she was too horrified to even look back. So she ran forward.
The scene ended abruptly there, but before Brinika woke up she saw one more thing - a horribly grinning, motionless face with empty black eyes and curled ram-like horns... looking like a piece of rag draped over a piece of wood and with features clumsily drawn on it. Even though the eyes were just unmoving blotches of black, they seemed to stare at her accusingly. "You're all mine," they seemed to say.
That was when Brinika woke up shivering and sweating. She quickly ran to her parents' bedroom, but couldn't tell them anything except that she'd had a nightmare. They hugged her and comforted her, and eventually she went back to sleep. In the morning, she couldn't remember anything about the dream... only that it was really, really bad.
It's pretty short, because I felt that a spontaneous idea merited brevity.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
"And so here we are again..." At the far end of Northside, where the river meets the walls, Dionysus stands on the banks. He stares into the water with his staff in hand, contemplating his next actions.
Would imposing his will on the city be a proper response to this crime against a single follower? Probably not. Would this interfere with his other plans? Probably so. Could he twist it around into even greater gains for himself?
Of course.
He lifts a finger, the tip stained red with blood from a wound he already inflicted, smearing it over the tip of his thyrsus and mixing the deep red blood with the honey that coats the pinecone so liberally. When he removes the finger and holds it over the water below, three drops fall in succession.
One for himself.
One for his followers.
One for his enemies.
The magic takes hold quickly as he swears a silent oath over the waters, and vines begin to take hold along the river's bottom. They will spread, and within a matter of weeks anyone drinking of the city's waters will feel his influence, from the pipes or the river itself. That on its own will not be enough to turn them to a god they never knew, but he's merely touched a foot to the dancefloor now. There's still time for him to remember how the steps go.
Billie stumbles out of the garret of a man she'd met a few hours ago whose name she now couldn't remember. "No, YOU shut up!" she yells into the door, then begins flouncing down the rickety steps. Selfish bastard. Five minutes. Five lousy minutes, and he was done and ready to roll over and go to sleep, without having lifted a finger to make sure she was enjoying herself. In fact, he made it rather clear that he expected her to leave now. So she'd punched him, had a screaming match with him while pulling on her clothes, and had swiped his wallet while he was busy staunching his nosebleed.
She makes it down most of the way with her pride intact, muttering about men being selfish jackasses, when she trips and sprawls down the last few steps, landing hard on the ground and busting open her chin. She's up again in seconds, her only seeming notice being a hand against the bleeding wound and her kicking off her heels and leaving them behind on the street, continuing on in torn fishnet stockings.
She's still drunk, and walking at random. Is it fate that leads her steps towards the river? Or simply chance?
She spots a man in a toga, sitting on the river bank with his feet in the water. A man she recognizes.
"Hey! You were at that party!"
"I was! And you must have been too, if you recognized me so quickly. Still, you might have to be more specific. I've been to a lot of parties, and we might have even met at more than one of them." The man calls back. "Dionysus, at the service of those that want me."
"I'm Billie," she says, tipping her hat. Or rather, failing to do so. She's forgotten she was wearing a fascinator held on with an elastic band, jostles it down over one eye, and looks a bit silly as she works to straighten it. "It was the party with all the animal scrolls. Sorry I didn't make it to the orgy, but my buddy Vinny wanted someplace more private for nookie. I gotta tell you, Vinny's a swell ****. Not like that flat tire up there. Serve's him right I lifted all his jack." She's too drunk to notice the pronoun ambiguity, but Dionysus has no difficulty following the series of events. Sometime in the past, there had been someone named Vinny, who was a good lover. Tonight, her luck had not been as good in choosing someone to play with.
"Ah, you mean my party. The hosts made it happen as a little favor to me between friends. You missed the orgy then? A damned pity that is." A damned pity indeed. Right under his nose and he never got the chance at a second glance or some words with this woman - someone who radiated such a desperate call to be guided down the path that ended in self-gratification. "Knicked his dosh did you? Right fine example of justice that is."
"If I'm gonna get treated like a doxy, I 'spect to get paid," Billie says. She takes out the wallet and flips through it, chortling. "Ha! He'd have saved himself a lot of dough if he'd just told me he wanted a 5 minute lay and asked for a price. Dumb sap."
"I'll tell you something Billie, that party back then was half dead and buried even before you left, and only got worse when some gatecrashers showed up later. I've been fed up with the sorry state of the events that the Nexus can provide, so I'm enlisting some outside help of my own to throw the biggest party this place has seen since its heyday. How's that sound to you?"
Billie grins and sits down next to him. "When it comes to parties, I'm your dame. Heck, I'm rolling in mazuma. Need some help buying the giggle water?" She grabs a wad of money out of the wallet and offers it to him.
That gets a laugh out of Dionysus, "Billie darling, I own all the giggle water. I'm the god of wine and high spirits, and they're about to get as high as they possibly can be. Ever witness a miracle firsthand?" As he speaks, the god dips a wooden cup from this side of nowhere into the river and offers it to Billie casually; clear water flows over its lip and spills on the ground as his hand dips slightly at the wrist.
"No way! You're feeding me a line!" Billie laughs. "Cheers to your cheek!" she says, and drinks. Of course he's an obvious con man. But he was pleasant company, and if it was just a prank to get her to drink mucky river water, then she has no problem laughing at herself. If he's slipping her a mickey, she's confident it won't incapacitate her, and she'll realize it in time to get in a few good punches and leave him bleeding.
"No, I'm feeding you my wine. How does your first miracle taste?" He inquires, tongue firmly in his cheek.
Actual dark currant wine - the best wine she's ever had, though she's really too drunk to appreciate it properly - she was not expecting. Her eyes go big, and she might have spit in surprise if it weren't an absolute sin to waste wine this good.
She doesn't say a word, just looks at him in awe, until she finishes it all. Dammit! What did he say his name was?
"That is one fine tasting Miracle you got there, Sir."
"Dionysus, or Dio if it's easier for you to remember and pass around. So, still don't believe me when I say I can provide enough liquid memory eraser to get this whole town right and rowdy?" The god smirks twirling his fingers in a slow circle as he limbers up his wrist.
At the end of the superfluous gesture, a rose dangles from his fingers, yellow petals glistening with dew. He runs the index finger and thumb of his other hand down the stem, causing all the thorns to fall off and clatter to the ground before offering it to Billie as if she were a proper lady.
"Because that's just what I plan to do. Before the week is out, if this whole town hasn't abandoned the comforts of home and family for my desirous delights, I will eat your tiny little hat."
Billie lets her fingers brush against his, brings the rose close to inhale deeply, and then tucks it behind her ear. "I believe you, Dionysus," she says, and leans close to him, looking up into his eyes. The cup slips from her fingers to roll along the grass, and it'd be clear to a stammering virgin that she's making an offer.
"You do? It's been a very long time since someone believed me, rather than just believing in me. Even longer since someone has approached me like you are now." Dionysus is certainly no stammering virgin, and interest shines in his eyes. "What if I proposed to finish you off where John Dunce barely started?"
Billie had been considering him for this purpose since she first saw him on the riverbank. What better balm for disappointing whoopee than another try with someone new? Of course she's never been propositioned by a god before, and that leaves her uncharacteristically unsure of herself - enough that she actually colours a bit. Normally her next move would be a kiss or a grope, but is she allowed to do that? So instead, she just puts her hand on his arm and answers him in words. "That'd be swell."
Dionysus snaps his fingers and denudes them both, in a burst of magic that leaves the clothes folded on the grass, "No time to waste on the eve of celebration then." And without any more flowery speech, Dionysus pulls the curtain there, in full view of the street.
For a mortal, without the least bit of succubus blood or any other form of magical sex appeal, Billie is pretty damn good. Lots of practice gets the credit, as well as never having been burdened with the slightest bit of body shame. But for now, all Dionysus seems to be interested in is bringing her pleasure through the act, neglecting himself until he's sure she's taken care of. Once that's done with he allows himself some enjoyment before drawing the curtain back.
"You know, I think you're too good to just be caught up in the tumult to come with no clear direction. I think you should help me give the directions. If you're interested of course."
"I'm interested in anything you want from me," Billie says with the fervency of a True Believer. She has found religion for the first time in her life, and has decided she rather likes it.
The moment is interrupted by an angry voice. "Hey! Hey, you **** ****! Give me back my wallet!" The man from the garret had finally noticed his wallet was missing. He'd hardly expected to find the thief still this close to his garret, and he certainly hadn't expect to find her lying on the riverbank wearing nothing but her glasses, blissed out on god sex. This seems a stroke of good luck in his mind.
He couldn't be more wrong.
"Then give me some direction. Ferret, weasel, or some other small mustelid?" Dionysus gestures placidly at the obviously irate scumbag Billie stole from earlier. Other than that, he seems to be ignoring the cad entirely.
"No. Vinny was a ferret the night of the party, so I have a fond spot for weasel-kind." Billie says, then tries to think of an alternative. "How about a pigeon?"
"Of course, how foolish of me." Dionysus gestures with the hand not currently occupied with Billie and the grass around them grows a bit taller, each strand turning a darker yet more visbile shade of green.
As the man walks into the half-circle of grass, each step changes him a little. The first step causes his hair to turn into feathers. All of his hair. The second step causes his face to start changing shape. The third step changes his hips and legs, and he stumbles over trousers that no longer fit, and involuntarily run a couple steps forward to keep from falling, scoring him wings and a tail.
But he stops here. Just past the halfway line. Trying to say "What did you do to me, you ****?!" but as he opens his mouth... beak... it only comes out as a squawk.
"All problems can eventually be solved through the right abuse of nigh unlimited godly power. Since you're sorely lacking in your own, I'm afraid you're going to have to find another way out of this one young sir. Pray to any god you like, but I doubt many of them will answer you if that's the kind of language you use." While Billie is laughing uproariously, Dio picks up his thyrsus and gestures with it at the more-than-half pigeoned man. A vine rises up from under his talons, snares him around the legs and flings him out of the circle he ran into. He probably wouldn't take a hint if it was glued to his eyelids, so maybe this will prevent him from suffering any more for his actions.
And lo, the Pigeon Man, whose only crime was being a selfish lover, is defeated. He runs away, squawking in terror!
Billie decides to reward this act of morally questionable gallantry by straddling Dionysus again for more carnal pleasure. Dio lets out some merry laughter of his own. Billie has turned out to be the silver lining in this grey cloud of a day.
The debauchery doesn't end until sunrise. Billie eventually remembers her other half. "Say, Dionysus, when is this big event happening? I have to make arrangements to make sure I'm me at the right time." Not that she gives two hoots what Elaine thinks, but she knows that if she doesn't keep up her end of the deal, then Gus will be angry at her, and she might end up locked up in Remnant for good.
"A week or so. There will be some small stirrings before then, but after a week passes the real event will have begun one way or another. There's no way of tell how long it might last though. Are you not always yourself then?" Dio seems interested, but that may just be the afterglow.
"There's another person inside me. A real Mrs Grundy type. I used to fight her for control, but now we take turns all polite-like because my son and her son are making us. They're the same way as us, two people in one body, only they are actually friends." Billie pulls a face at the idea of being friends with Elaine, but then she has a happier thought. "Nah, it'll be okay. If I tell her what's going to be happening, she'll thank me for staying in charge until it's over. I'll just make up the time later."
"Hmm... I'll leave those arrangements to you then. So long as you don't miss out on all the fun." He takes a moment to smooth the hair back from her forehead and leave a kiss there instead. "I wouldn't want to have to eat that hat of yours just because your other half turned out to be a stick in the mud."
"Hat-eating will not be necessary," Billie says. She takes off her hat and flings it off into the river. A show of faith. "I don't want to miss a minute of it."
"Glad to hear it. For you." Dionysus pulls a bottle from the folds of his discarded toga and places it on the grass. "Once the contents are gone, I'll leave you a message so you'll know what to do. I'm going to have to think up similar ones for all the rest of the disorganizers I'll need here just to show the Nexus how to have a proper good time." He explains, grabbing his toga and beginning to fasten it on properly. This has been a magnificent distraction, but it's past time he starts preparing for things to get interesting.
"Wait! Should I pray or anything? I don't know how to be religious!" Billie asks. She grabs the bottle and gets to her feet to help him on with his toga and cop a last feel or two.
Dionysus laughs merrily, "Drink! And when you need me, raise a glass to my name and call it out loud. That usually gets my attention better than some half-hearted prayers. Other than that, just wait for my instructions and follow them when you can, and have fun when you can't." Dionysus almost invites the gropes with how slowly he's dressing, and runs a hand through Billie's hair to straighten it out a bit when he's done. "Anything else you need to know? This isn't how my crash courses in godly worship usually go."
"Is there anything I shouldn't do? Um... should I give up other guys?" Billie asks, which is something she really doesn't want to do, and probably can't do even for Dio. But she's very much smitten, and at the moment is drunk enough on lust and god-wine to make the offer.
"I wouldn't dream of asking such a thing. Besides, if all my followers went to me and me alone for those kinds of things, I'd have no time to devote to my wine!" It's true after all. Wine is very important to a god of, well, wine.
Billie impulsively hugs Dio. "You're the best."
He plants a surprisingly chaste kiss on her forehead in return, "That's why I exist. To bring my followers happiness and freedom when I can. It must be the greatest treasure in the world for me to covet it like this." The hand still holding his staff thumps it on the ground with a quick motion, and a few vines rise up from between them to pull Dio back, and then down into the earth without another word. This goodbye was getting long, and he wasn't lying to himself about having work to do.
Billie lets him go, blowing a kiss at the ground, and then slowly gets dressed herself. Mostly. She tossed her shoes and her hat already, and now she decides her ripped stockings deserve the same treatment.
She puts the bottle and the remains of the yellow rose in her bag, and then lies back on the grass, holding the wooden wineglass in her hands, and replaying the encounter in her mind to fix every moment of it in her memory.
If this turned out to be a dream, she wanted to make sure she never forgot it. Not one word. Not one touch.
((Revised from IC interaction, with Slii's permission.))
What accent is Billie supposed to have? She's using a lot of slang I think is british, but I don't actually know. It feels kind of old too, like dated foreign slang. I think that would be fitting actually.
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
It's 20s and 30s slang mostly. Elaine grew up in a Victorian sector of the city, and spent most of her life there, trying to avoid the inevitable cultural contamination.
Billie has never had any ties until finding Gus, and so she just roams the streets, sticking to areas that aren't bit on moral policing. The Jazz Age is one that suits her well, and since her first hookup with Vinny, she's spent more time in that sector and picked up its slang. (Though it'd be fun to go back and edit in some to her former stories, because it's so fun. )
Right, so I'm a little late to the party. In fact, I've been avoiding this thread because I tend to get carried away with proof-reading and such and I like having free time.
Anyway, here's what's happening.
Some of you may be familiar with my newest character, Mercutio. For those of you who aren't, let me attempt to sum him up in a way that doesn't make him sound like the biggest Gary Stu ever.
Mercutio is a devil from RivalHappyturtle and Kid Kris' faction, the Hell of the Iron Queen. Specifically, he's from the sub-circle Pride over Life, which deals with sins committed in wilful ignorance or the quest for knowledge. For example, a witch hunter from medieval England and a Nazi scientist are quite likely to rub elbows there. Mercutio is also a Planeswalker, ala the card game Magic: The Gathering.
Now, one of the challenges I set for myself at Mercutio's creation is that he's only allowed to summon creatures that he's acquired on-screen. This added a certain amount of randomness to the character, but also kept him from getting too powerful. I can't just say "oh he learned how to summon this 8/8 flying creature with First Strike and Trample in his backstory. =3" Nope. I've gotta earn his power.
Except then I realized that this slows him down way too much and prevents him from having any sort of theme in his creatures. Also, it means that any time I want a specific creature I need to run a plot or beg someone else to run a plot for me.
And that's just not fun.
So in order to get around it, I decided on a loop-hole. I still have to show Mercutio learning or gaining access to a creature, but in addition to doing this in RP, I can write it out as a short story. The stronger/rarer the card, the more effort I need to put into it. The story I wrote up features a vanilla 1/1 Human Wizard, and it took me about an hour to write. But if I wanted him to get, say, Sphinx of Magosi, I'd have to spend quite some time on it.
So without further ado:
Fugitive Wizard
Spoiler
The City Guard had been hounding Maya Doss for three days. She'd taken shelter in an abandoned hovel in the Deepslum district It was cold, dark and rank. The young hedgemage sat in the corner of the one-room house. There were two doors: One behind her that lead to more crowded alleyways, and one in from that opened onto the street proper. If the Guards came around, it'd be through that door. She could run out the back and lose them in the alleys.
Even so, she didn't dare light the tiny coal fire in the centre of the room.
It had all started a year ago. Maya had been an apprentice to a wizard living in the City Popper. She'd studied alchemy under him, in hopes of one day making a decent living selling health potions. But then a man with sideways, orange eyes like a goat's started visiting. He and her master would retreat to her master's private quarters. Sometimes for a matter of minutes, sometimes for whole hours at a time. Around the same time, things had started changing. Her master's studies began to shift focus, and thus so did Maya's. Instead of learning how to cure illnesses, Maya started learning how to inflict them.
Then one day, instead of the goat-eyed man, a squad of City Guard broke down the door. While Maya watched in terror, they stormed into her master's private quarters and were driven back by a massive stitched-together homunculous. Driven by her master's magic, the roaring husk threw the armour-clad guards about like toys.
Maya didn't know what happened to her master. She just ran. They'd followed her, losing and gaining her trail almost by the hour. That's how she ended up here. Hopefully they'd leave her alone now. She was so very tired.
"Miss Dross, was it? Maya Dross?"
With a cry of terrified surprise, Maya twisted and drew back from the source of the voice. There, leaning ever so relaxed in the frame of the black door was the man with the goat eyes. How did he get there without her noticing!?
"I'm sorry to break this to you this way, but you've been found guilty of Accessory to Necromancy. Do you know what the punishment for necromancy is?"
Slowly, Maya nodded. It was death.
A smile crept over his thin lips. "I can give you an escape."
Ziemowit, the brother of the late Emperor of Mankind and technically the heir to the throne, stood in the courtyard of his palace in Czartoria, the capital of the Northern Province of the Empire of Mankind - a wide cobbled area surrounded with short, stout Northern trees, with imperial banners hanging from the outer walls - and looked upon the grand statue of the First Emperor, the founder of the Empire. A towering man in antique, bronze armor, a long spear and a wide shield. Of course, it was purely an artist's impression. Noone knew who that man had been, what his name had been or what he had looked like. All anyone knew were stories of his conquest of the continent, the subjugation of the lesser races and the roar of defiance in face of the ancient tyranny of the night.
Ziemowit, for one, had trouble believing that. Of course, the Empire had had to be founded at some point, and by someone. That someone must have been a charismatic war leader. But a champion of Humanity, sent by the gods? That sounded far-fetched. Of course, such an attitude towards the ideas that the Empire considered truths set in stone were the exact reason he had been sent here, to this frozen hell-hole.
The joke was on them. Some creative thinking might have saved the Empire. Instead, his brother was dead, the colossus' clay legs were shattering to pieces and the North was doomed. If he had been down there in Martendor... maybe something could have been done. Now everything was lost. The Empire of Mankind would fall and the world would plunge into a dark age again, beset by monsters and horrors.
It all seemed so stupid to him. For hundreds of years, humanity had stood like a shining beacon, illuminating the world with civilization, enlightment and prosperity. Now it would all be drowned in blood because the humans were too stupid to hold on to it. The way things had been going, the uprisings were inevitable. The Imperial Palace had turned into a rotten hive of backstabbing, scheming and pointless little wars. The subjugated peoples had been exploited and oppressed beyond reasoning. Ziemowit sighed. It had happened before and it would happen again. History would take its inevitable, bleak course.
Messengers circulated between the barbarian, goblin and dwarven armies. The leaders agreed - Czartoria needed to be taken in a quick, decapitating strike. Prolonging the conflict served noone. It would not be easy, of course - it was a powerful fortress and even with the exhausted forces stationed there, it could still repel attacks with ease. The leaders hoped that their massive advantage of numbers and the defenders' shaky morale would swing the tide in their fervor. They did not fear defeat - it wasn't in the cards at that point. What they feared was a prolonged siege. In the war-ravaged country, it could lead to their armies disintegrating and unrest brewing.
The city of Czartoria was located on a large island created by a river flowing into another, bigger one. The outskirts of the city were spread on the outer sides of the rivers. It was largely empty at that point - most people had realized that to stay there would be to let themselves be trapped. However, some had nowhere to run to, the Imperial territories having been steadily conquered. Some - members of the administration and nobility - were too proud to run, and either believe the city to be invincible even now or pretended to believe it. Now everyone who could flocked to the towers and walls to watch the three approaching armies.
From the west approached a united force of the native clans of humans. They presented a mixed group. The tribes of the North had always been diverse, and it was very visible now that they had gathered together. Most of them were dressed in skins and carried a multitude of weapons including spears, axes, clubs and simple swords. They formed the bulk of the army. However, in the front marched more serious-looking warriors clad in mail and armed in well-made, sharp swords. They came from the tribes futher to the south, who had had more contact with Imperial technology and warfare. Which now they would use to destroy it. Behind the warriors marcher archers. The tribes of the North were still in a good part hunters, so they prided themselves on their skill with bows. It would be put to a good use now - the faces of the short tribesmen with stout bows bore a grim expression. Flanking the massed ranks of foot warriors was cavalry. It was, by far, the least organized formation. It was recruited from the more nomadic tribes, adopting the lifestyle of the halflings and hobgoblins who roamed the tundra beyond the Imperial sphere of influence. While cavalry would be of limited use in the battle, their biggest contribution were four tundra mammoths, driven by silent riders wrapped in linens. Those beasts were rare and not used lightly. Bringing four of them into the fight signified how grave this battle was. Tribal shamans accompanied the army, inspiring the warriors by reassuring them that their ancestral spirits and terrible gods of the North - depending on the tribe - were with them.
From under the northern mountains marched a tightly packed mass of dwarves. Their army was even more divided and diverse than the human one. Each of the dwarven families travelling between their towers was supposed to field an appropriate number of warriors. Current inhabitants of the towers had also sent their own forces. Finally, many dwarven mercenaries had joined up. Even though there had been a long period of training to combine those disparate groups into an army, they still gave a highly individualist impression. Each group of warriors bore different colors and markings and used different weaponry. As with the human army, the dwarven one too was divided into infantry corps, archer corps and cavalry corps - the cavalry riding on small, stout mountain horses. Mixed among the troops were dwarven wizards and battlemages - the dwarven race had always been strong in magic, and they intended to bring it to bear now, despite knowing how dangerous it is. Wizards would bring down spells of destruction on the enemy heads while battlemages were unmatched hand-to-hand combatants, capable of breaking iron weapons with their bare fists.
And finally, a look at the east showed the last force to join the struggle - the massive goblin horde. The flat area east of the city was covered in an endless throng of small figures wrapped in black and grey robes, cloaks and cowls. They uttered a loud, monotonous chant in their native language. A vast forest of spears and pikes rose above the army. The massive formations of infantry were flanked by squadrons of wolf riders. The beasts smelled battle in the air and were more ferocious than ever. However, the goblins appeared to have brought many beasts from the underground into battle with them. Away from the conventional forces skittered huge beetles, barely controlled by their drivers. Crude war machines were mounted on the backs of armored lizards. Swarms of rats and spiders waited to be unleashed on the hapless enemy soldiers. The uniformity of the dark-robed fighters and the bizzare beasts made this army perhaps the most terrifying. In the back was a massive armored lizard carrying a platform on which sat the Prophet, surrounded with black-robed priests of his new god. A banner of the crimson eye flew over them.
If anyone in the city had had any doubts about the outcome of the battle, they were dispersed by the sight of the massive forces arrayed against them. The battle was about to begin. The leaders had arranged between themselves that each army was going to try and breach the walls from their side. The first force to get inside would focus on letting the other two in. Ideally, they would charge the Stewardship Palace together and symbolically anihillate the Imperial presence in the North.
The inhabitants of the city watched as the attackers set up their war machines. Of course, they set up their own ballistae and catapults. They did not have nearly as many of them, but they were of much better quality. In the back of the goblin army, Hultznim the Prophet watched his children march towards the city. In the distance he could see his temporary allies do the same. Good. The Imperials stood no chance. He could smell their fear from where he sat, surrounded with priests of the new god of goblinkind. "Some of the catapults are finished," He said to his followers. "Let us give those humans a new reason to hate us."
Everyone understood what he meant. The crude yet effective goblin catapults were loaded with small, seemingly harmless projectiles that were then launched at the city. The humans stared in bewilderment as the objects rained down on them. Their confusion turned into grief and fury when they saw what they were - severed heads of soldiers the goblin army had killed in their march towards the city. Each of them had the symbol of an eye carved into its forehead. Their faces twisted in anger, they shook their fists towards the goblins.
However, they were not allowed to indulge in their ire long. The bombardment proper had begun. Catapults began to rain boulders down at the city from each direction, crushing walls, buildings and people alike. The defenders responded in kind, but their machines were spread too thin and they could not return fire effectively. Each catapult destroyed by the attackers cost them dearly. Needless to say, the rain of missiles did little to improve the morale of the inhabitants of the city. The exchange of fire continued for a while, with neither side gaining the advantage.
It changed when the dwarves used a trick their wizards had prepared for a long time. Their three biggest catapults launcheds boulders at the outer wall. As they flew through the air, the wizards finished a spell they had been weaving for a week. The reality itself rippled, forcibly rewritten by the dwarves' will. The projectiles turned into massive missiles of ice, flying much faster than the laws of nature should allow them. When they smashed into the wall, they exploded into showers of shards, tearing through the soldiers manning it and making a huge gash in the wall itself.
The result of their wizards' magic caused a roar of triumph from the dwarven soldiers. Immediately, they began to push forwards. A great force of infantry charged towards the breach in the wall as ladders and siege towers were pushed against the walls in other spots. The dwarves fell under the hail of arrows from the city, but kept charging. Eventually, they reached the breach and smashed into the Imperial soldiers guarding it.
The clash was brutal. Both sides fought with incredible tenacity, neither asking nor giving quarter. The humans had the higher ground and cover, but the dwarves outnumbered them. Little by little, they pushed the Imperial soldiers deeper into the breach.
Eventually, a dwarf dressed in a thick fur adorned with yellow thread, grasping a bloodied short sword jumped off the last piece of the wall onto the street running along it. With a shout of triumph, he skewered an Imperial Soldier who was raising his own sword at him. This was the last thing he would ever do, as an arrow pierced his chest immediately after. However, his kinsmen were pouring through the breach in the wall quickly now, and the Imperials knew they could not push them back again. Even though they knew they had nowhere to run, they broke ranks and fled. Laughing and shouting, the dwarves gave chase. The first line of defense was broken, if only at this point.
The rest of the length of the walls attacked by dwarves had been holding on well until that point, but breakthrough down in the hole in the wall changed that. The morale of the defenders suffered quite a blow when they saw the enemy enter the city. What was more, forces that were supposed to be their reinforcements were now engaged in fighting the dwarves that kept pouring through the breach. Soon enough, the fighters manning the walls were overwhelmed.
The fighting was equally fierce on the other two segments of the walls. The goblins and the humans had not managed to damage the walls significantly enough to launch massive attacks, so they resorted to ladders and siege towers. It resulted in tightly-packed, intense combat on top of the walls, with Imperial soldiers trying to fend off great numbers of goblins and barbarians. The mammoths, beetles and other aces in the attackers' sleeves had not yet been used, as they were of limited utility when scaling walls. Eventually the defenders were forced to fall back due to the attackers' sheer numbers and tenacity as well as their own growing desperation upon hearing the news of the dwarves' victory. The walls had been breached on all fronts and the second phase of the battle for the city had begun.
After getting into the city proper and capturing a few streets, all three attacking armies stopped for a while, to catch their breath, regroup and plan their attack. The Imperial defense would only get stronger and more desperate as they went deeper inside the city. As much as the troops wanted to charge and slaughter the enemy, the situation called for a slow and methodical approach and capturing street after street. The leaders of all three armies could see it.
Ziemowit stood in his palace and gazed on the city that used to be his. The balcony he stood on looked to the north, where he could see the dwarves massing under the walls. So they had broken in. It had taken them shorter than he had expected. He did not feel any fear or despair, however. He only felt tired and wished it would be over with quickly. Sitting there and waiting for the three armies to march up to his gates howling for his blood was slowly becoming torturous. Then he saw that the dwarves had begun to move again, squads of warriors running through the streets. Cavalry had entered through the open gates as well. He ran up to other windows and balconies and saw that goblins and barbarians had started to push through the city as well, breaking the Imperial resistance easily.
Decurion Granciszek saw the last of the civilians flee towards the keep. It was a futile gesture, of course, but it would give them some time. And of course, it was human nature to run as long as there was somewhere to run to.
He turned around and saw the tight formation of the dwarves advance down the main street of the city, towards his own meagre force, cobbled together from the remnants of the regiments assigned to his part of the city. It was composed of tired, wounded and despairing soldiers. They had no hope of victory... but no option other than to fight. Granciszek spat on the ground. What could he tell them?
"Men, we're going to die soon. But by the gods, we will show them how humans die."
That seemed to have worked. The soldiers nodded grimly and formed a shield wall to face the advancing dwarves. Behind them, archers nocked their remaining arrows to meet the enemy.
Granciszek stood in the second row of the formation, barking orders. He quickly had to raise his sword in his defense, as the first row of his haphazard regiment broke under the fierce attack by the battle-hungry dwarves. He saw one of his soldiers fall to the ground, struck dead by a bare fist of a dwarf. A battlemage, then. Battlemages were veteran warriors who mixed martial skill with magic ability. He narrowed his eyes and attacked. It would be a good death, to fall against an elite enemy soldier.
He stepped forward and made a jab with his short sword. The dwarf deflected it with his wrist - his battle magic made his bare arms capable of blocking iron and even steel. Granciszek backed away and blocked a punch with his shield, then pushed the dwarf's arm away and made a short slash. It too was deflected and the battlemage responded with a more dangerous attack - his fist became wrapped in electricity and only a timely dodge saved Granciszek from death. This elemental attack tired the dwarf out, which the decurion decisively used - pressing his advantage, he attacked and ran the battlemage through. Immediately after, the dwarven attack broke his soldiers' defense and he was killed by advancing enemy. But he died with a proud smile on his face.
In the eastern part of the city, which in times of piece was a crowded district where the poor lived, confusion spread among the Imperial soldiers of one of the regiments. They had been fighting a brutal, close-quarters battle with the goblin warriors, but suddenly they started to back away and flee, rather quickly, despite the fact that they had been winning. They used the time to regroup and form ranks again, but their confusion didn't last long.
A massive giant underground beetle smashed through a wooden building in front of them. It had no rider on it - the smell of blood, dead bodies and wounds got the beast into a murderous frenzy, causing the goblin beast drivers to lose the tenuous control they'd had over it. So the goblin infantry ran away to let the Imperials deal with it, in a very goblin fashion. The beetle clacked its mandibles and charged at the nearest targets... which meant the soldiers, who could only raise their spears and hope for the best.
The impact was gruesome for both sides. The beetle was strong and its mandibles were razor-sharp, but it was quite vulnerable in places unprotected by its carapace. It made no attempt to defend itself and took no notice of its wounds, focused entirely on attacking everything that moved. It cut a soldier in two by its first bite and skewered another one in a heartbeat, but in that time the soldiers managed to stick several spears into it and pepper it with arrows. This slowed it down considerably, but it still killed or wounded a soldier almost each time it swung its head. That was until a daring soldier rushed, praying loudly to the thunder-god Perun and war-god Jarowit and drove a spear between its mandibles, piercing the monster's vulnerable brain. It thrashed violently, tearing the spear out of the soldier's hand - miraculously enough, he survived - before falling over on its back and dying.
The soldiers had no strength left in them to gloat or rejoice. The streets in front of them disgorged a throng of little figures in dark robes. The goblins had resumed their attack, eager to finish off a weakened enemy. They swarmed the Imperials and killed them to the last man in grim silence. Without stopping they rushed forward, scurrying between buildings, ever closer to the keep and the Sterwarship Palace.
"Forward, men! Let's show these imperial milk-drinkers what the fury of the men of the North feels like!" roared a chieftain of a powerful tribe of Northeners, clad in mail and brandishing a broad sword.
Indeed, the tribal warriors of the North tore into the ranks of their Southern former oppressors mercilessly. The mammoths had died, pierced with arrows and ballista bolts, but the endless ranks of tribal infantry kept charging, drunk with bloodlust. The shamans chanted behind them, praising the gods and ancestral spirits for their victories and driving the barbarians deeper into fighting frenzy.
Their fierce attack was met by an ambush. Just as it seemed that their fury had opened them a wide path to the keep, Imperial soldiers made a last, desperate effort to slow them down. From each side, they leaped from out of the buildings and windows suddenly started firing arrows. Northeners began to fall, quickly. The Imperials actually gained an advantage.
Their triumphant grins were soon wiped from their faces. The advance of the tribal warriors had been stopped, but fresh ones were charging from the direction of the outer walls. Their faces were alight with fury. The brief fictory of their opponents seemed to enrage them even futher. Soon, the ambushers were stomped into the blood-soaked cobbles.
Eventually, the Imperial ranks had been broken on all fronts. The invaders had an open way to the inner walls, the keep and the palace.
Ziemowit kissed the cold foreheads of his wife and daughter. They had swallowed poison minutes before. It tore his heart apart to see them pass away quietly, but it spared him the fate that awaited him.
He sighed. He'd really considered poisoning himself as well. But in the end, he could not bring himself to do it. He was the Steward of the Northern Provinces. The brother to the Emperor of Mankind. The last of the unbroken Imperial line. To die a coward's death... even for him, pragmatic as he was, it seemed like a dishonor to entire humanity. A final humiliation. He would have to face his death at the hands of a howling mob.
Looking through his balcony again, he saw fires and enemy soldiers swarming into the inner city. The civilians who had hidden there were being massacred. He could hear their screams even from where he stood. But... he squinted. It looked like his Praetorian guard were actually forming on the steps of the palace. An attempt to go down in a blaze of glory? He envied them...
A priest of Perun stood in front of the mail-clad soldiers of Ziemowit's guard. He himself was armored and armed in an axe, the sacred weapon of Perun. His eyes were ablaze. He knew what he had to do. He saw a new era arising, like a phoenix from the ashes.
"Listen to me, men! The gods had abandoned us! All but one god! Perun! He who is the Thunderlord and the light in the darkness! The guiding light of humanity! We die today, so let us die in Perun's name! Our death will show others the way!
He motioned with is axe to the approaching enemy force. It was mixed, now. At this point, the divisions between the armies had melted away. It was a mob now, intent on destroying everything in their path. The hour they had long awaited had come. But there was one more line of defense waiting for them. Humanity would not go down so easily. The Praetorians, knowing they would die, shared the priest's zeal. Unknowingly, they had become the first Paladins, holy knights of the god that would become the sole god of what would be left of the Empire.
"After me, men! To Glory! Our deaths WILL BE MAGNIFICENT!"
They were. The Praetorians smashed into the advancing enemies, pushing them back, fighting like men possessed. Each of them felled several attackers before being brought down. Those of them that survived the initial charge were surrounded with an empty circle, filled with bodies. The enemy actually retreated, stopped short by their fury. When they closed in again, it still took a long while for the last Praetorian to fall.
Ziemowit watched the last stand of his Praetorians with bated breath. Gods, it was magnificent. At the darkest hour, those men showed the barbarians what it truly meant to be human. In them, the heroism that had led the human race to rise up had been reborn. It actually made it easier for him to accept the inevitability of his death. He took a deep breath as he heard a crack of wood from downstairs. The attackers were breaking down the gates of the palace with a battering ram. It would not take them long.
"This is it, then. It ends."
He would not hide like a rat in his chambers. Slowly, he walked downstairs. Something in his sure, calm stride made the few soldiers and courtiers left in the palace, going mad with terror, join him. To face the end with dignity. They all stood on the stairs which over looked the main door to the palace, which was bending inside as the battering ram smashed at it. They remained silent as the door broke and the darkness from the outside poured in.
A howling mob made up of humans, dwarves and goblins barged in through the broken door. It headed straight for the Emperor's brother and his small group. They were ripped to shreds in a manner of seconds, which was accompanied by triumphant shouts.
As the three armies camped in and around the ruins of the city - it had been sacked clean and burnt to the ground - the goblins gathered around a massive stage built out of the ruins. The other two armies watched it with some apprehension.
Despite the serious losses they had taken, the goblins were jubilant. They knew that on that day, the fate of their race had taken an unprecedented turn. They were free. Finally, they were strong, free and united. And their Prophet was about to tell them what they would do next.
Hultznim stood on the stage and gazed upon his followers... his children. They had followed the word of his god through fire and blood, and it led them there. To victory. But he knew that for the goblin people, it was just the beginning. He could feel the will of the Lord Below behind him.
"Children!" he said, raising his voice. "Today we made history. The North is free of the Imperial shackles. And we, the goblins had our part in it. The one people that had always been held in contempt. Vermin, they called us. They took our land, our children and our lives. Today, we returned to them a hundredfold everything they had inflicted on us."
This caused the throng of goblins to roar in triumph. Hultznim waited for them to silence themselves.
"This day will be forever remembered as the beginning of a new era for the goblin race. We will now return to our mountains to rebuild our homes. Yes, our mountains. By the decree of the Lord Below and by the strength of our unity, the deep places will forever belong to the goblinkind."
When he said that, he looked towards the humans and the dwarves, as if daring them to object.
"I have seen, when my soul was taken to the unfathomable depths of the realm of the Lord Below, a proud and free goblin people ruling over their own realms in the ancient roots of the mountains, the bones of the earth. It will be so."
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Patient 413: Very good, but I'm unlikely to read more. Gaslighting and Dr. Strofflenburg bug me.
Luke and Archer: I don't know why I skipped this, this was nice.
Sue: Im glad you gave your character a happy end. There was a bit too much backstory for me too fully understand.
Vita and Rugal: They were interesting stories. I like them, but I don't know near enough about the characters and their culture to fully get it.
Green Knight: I'm curious as to how the green knight = Death. That's an interesting faction as well. I'd like to see a militant church try to sweep nexus in earnest.
Bad dream: I hope this isn't foreshadowing something bad happening to Brinka.
Rise: This is a well written war and I assume an excellent conclusion.
Fugitive wizard: I don't know much about MtG, but where is she when she isn't being summoned?
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
Something of a precedent has been set for multiple posts in this thread, mostly so the story isn't accidentally skipped by placing it in an edited post.
Here is a story about my wizard and apprentice characters. For the OP index use the apprentices name: Romeo Firé
Blue Robes
Or
Wherin I Try To Narratively Exposit My Character’s System of Magic: Part the First
Spoiler
“Look at the book, Romeo,” my instructor told me, sitting across from me at the low table of his study. He was an old man with the face of a doting old grandpa. His long beard was only a few shades lighter than his aged gray robes. With his wide brimmed conical hat, a traditional sign of his advanced training in mystic arts, set casually on the table, I could see his hairline had receded far past the crown of his head.
“I am sir,” I tell him, staring at the book in question, floating a few feet above the table. I furrowed my brow and forced my eyelids as wide as I could get them.
“Then do you see it?” he asked me with a knowing tone. The question may as well have been rhetorical. He knew what I was going to say. He just wanted to hear it out of my mouth.
“No, sir,” I answered, dejected. I tried harder and harder but I still couldn’t see the spell.
“Of course you can’t. How could you see the spell if you’re too busy trying to burn a hole through it?” he said as he reached out with his hand, and rubbed by forehead hard with his palm, pushing me back into my chair. “You can’t pierce through it. You have to let it in, which you can’t do if you get nervous and tense up.”
“Yes sir. I’m sorry sir,” he says as I stare down at my hands. Elio Fabrizio was a master mage, of a station so very far above me, and deigning to teach me magic for a pittance to what he could earn teaching royalty, and I disrespected him by having to be told instructions more than once.
“It’s fine, Romeo,” he assures me, “Just stop tensing up when you think you get it wrong. It’s okay to be wrong. That’s how we learn.”
“Yes sir,” I answer. I bite back my true feelings, that I haven’t learned anything until I get it right.
“Alright, we’ll try to relax you again. Close your eyes.” I follow his instructions. “Now breathe deeply. In… then out… In… then out. Now open your eyes.” Having been tentatively relaxed by the breathing, I opened my eyes as instructed.
He had moved the book closer to me. Something about it seemed fundamentally different about it. This had happened before, many times, but I had always told myself I was looking for excuses and that I should look for something more obvious. My initial reaction was to stare harder at it, but trying to follow my teacher’s advice, I try to just wait for it to show itself to me. That’s when I noticed it. It seemed impossible that after a week of trying to see the allegedly simple spell that levitated the book, it would come to me so easily. I raised my hands to try and rub my eyes, to make sure I wasn’t seeing some defect of my eyes. The book smacked my hand before I could reach my eyes.
“Don’t rub your eyes. Don’t doubt you see it or it will close your mind again. Tell me what you see,” Elio said, trying to keep my focus on the spell. I looked at the book again, but it was already gone.
“Saw,” I mumbled, ashamed to have let it slip out of sight.
“What was that?” my instructor asked.
“Saw, sir. I had it but I let it slip away. I’m so sorry, sir.” I didn’t deserve these lessons. The court mage had wasted a precious month on my ridiculous notions of learning magic from him. I stared down at my lap, trying to prevent myself from running out the door.
“You went tense again,” he surmised quite easily. “Me smacking you didn’t help any, I suppose. Here, let me try something different.” He put his old hand over my eyes. “Tell me exactly what you saw. I know you caught a glimpse of the spell.”
“It was a hand, sir,” I began, “down to the wrist. It was clenched around the book.”
“That’s good, Romeo. Describe the hand for me.”
“It was large and blue and clenched over the book,” I said, trying to recall as much about the fist as I could. “It was spectral as well, sir. I could see the book through it.”
“Was it blue like the ocean?” he asked.
“No sir it was blue like the sky? Almost exactly.”
“Alright Romeo,” he said in a calming voice, “Now breath like before. In and out. Slowly.” Without another word I began breathing again. I tried to open up, prevent myself from tensing, this was another chance. He slowly removed his hand from my eyes, and I opened my eyes. “What do you see, Romeo?”
“Blue? Blue! Sir, your robes are blue!” His clothes had changed color. Or did they? It was the same color as the spell I saw on the book. Elio would often pull strange and random objects from his sleeves. His robes may have been enchanted all this time.
“Are they now? What about the book?” He waved his hand and the book floated into my field of vision. Not only was the hand there, grasping the book, clear as day, but the same blue spectral light had surrounded the hand of my teacher.
“I see it! I see it, sir, I see it!” I shouted with joy as I rose from my seat in excitement. “On the book and around your hand and on your robes!”
“Congratulations!” the master mage said. Raising and opening his aura bathed hand, a stream of colorful strips of ribbon and paper flew out of his hand with the sound of festival noisemakers. “It took longer than expected, but congratulations, Romeo Firé. As your reward, the book is now yours. It shall be your first spell. Care to guess what it is?”
“Levitation, sir?” I guessed. It fit with my mentor’s strange sense of humor, floating the secret of the flying object directly in front of me. Right on cue, he laughed softly, like he does when he’s the only one in the room who gets the joke.
“Very astute. You’ll make a fine wizard yet,” he complimented me.
“Thank you, sir,” I said gratefully, taking the book from the air as the spell faded away. This raised an interesting question. “Sir? Is it possible to turn the sight off?”
He thought about that seriously for a moment. “It eventually becomes another form of sense, but I suppose with mental exercise one could open and close it at will. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that your robe looks blue now instead of gray like before, and I can’t make it change back.”
“One spell at a time, my boy. Changing the color of clothing is fairly simple. I can teach it to you later.”
“Sir?” I ask, unsure what he meant. He started laughing softly.
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
Just so this thread doesn't stay on second page too long, I'll post some comments. First of though, I'd like to say that no, Bad Dreams wasn't foreshadowing or anything like that. It's just that I wanted to present the mythic origin of the goblin race this way and Brinika was the most appropriate goblin to have such a dream.
Now, comments time (not much of them this time):
@ Fair is Fair: I like the way the Fae think. It seems like human thinking, but really isn't. Not sure about the use of French. I do know some French, if on a very basic level. I suppose it spices up the story and makes for a clearer division between mortals and Fae.
@ Blue Robes: So, if I understand it right, the magic in that system requires mages to see the world in ways others can't. Sort of reminds me of Warhammer Fantasy wizards, who can see the eight Winds of Magic.
@ Religion: I'd already know this before reading the story of course, having followed Riverside. It's good, because both Dio and Billie are pretty fun characters.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
I like the concept behind this story, and the fae 'mother' stands out to me as a character I love to hate.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Morty
A Bad Dream
Spoiler
*snip*
This was a dark story, and I liked it very much.
Quote:
Originally Posted by happyturtle
Religion
Spoiler
*snip*
I've been religiously (geddit?) following Billie for some time now, so I already know that this is great.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Moon_Called
Fugitive Wizard
Spoiler
*snip*
I like fluff, so I enjoyed reading this.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Morty
Rise of the Prophet, Part 5
Spoiler
*snip*
This was a great ending to this series.
----- Boris Krestyanov Six Weeks in Novosibirsk: Day 1
Spoiler
"Sniper Team Four? Krestyanov? Zhirov? Are you still on radio? Respond."
Though he hadn’t been with the 43rd Frontline for long, Pvt. Boris Krestyanov could easily recognize the voice of his CO, Major Gavrilov. He took his eye from the scope of his SVU and reached for his radio. "Krestyanov here, sir. Chinese forces still pulling back."
"Good. Do either of you need medical assistance?"
"I am not wounded, sir. Zhirov…" Boris turned toward the body of his spotter. Three bullets were in his chest. Probably armor-piercing rounds. His eyes were half-closed and he had been bleeding from the mouth when he died. "Zhirov’s dead, sir." He’d been given a lecture or two about how best to deal with deaths in the squad, but those words had been proven useless here. When Zhirov was shot, Boris had frozen for a full minute. He almost froze to the spot again just thinking about the shot hissing past him, but the cracking of the radio kept that from happening.
"Damn it. We’re not doing any better on the ground. Down to about forty men."
Forty? The 43rd was numbered at 350 just four hours ago. Boris felt nauseous. Forty soldiers. How did that even happen? Did the Chinese outnumber them that badly? They wouldn’t last the rest of the day, and they certainly wouldn’t last the estimated four weeks until any sort of worthwhile ground support could arrive. "Do you need me on the ground, sir?" Maybe his position in this hotel’s 16th floor was less than ideal.
"No, Krestyanov. In fact, head up to the roof, get set up. Until unmanned drones can come for support, you’re our eyes. The rest of us will stay on the ground. You alert us when the Chinese come back for another round."
"Understood, sir. Krestyanov out." Boris clicked off his radio and stood up. He was shaking, for far too many reasons to count. But he couldn’t just sit here and dwell on things, now was the time to get moving. Boris checked the magazines he had left for his weapons. Not that it mattered, of course. The ammo he had, no matter how much it was, wouldn’t be enough. He took some extra clips for his sidearm off of Zhirov’s body, muttering an apology for no real reason.
The elevator for the hotel was broken, so Boris had to ascend the remaining four floors via the stairs before reaching the roof. The trek itself wasn’t all too difficult. But the more time spent not staring through a scope, the more time thinking about the events of the last four hours. When he’d volunteered to join the Red Army, he hadn’t quite expected to be shipped right to a fight after training. And he definitely didn’t expect to be given an order that consisted almost entirely of 'hold the line, wait for support.' Hell of a first assignment.
Boris eventually got to the roof. Door was a bit stuck, but that didn't mean much. A few voices managed to make their way up there from the ground, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he just headed to the southeast corner of the building and set his rifle up. At some point, the voice of Major Gavrilov came back on his radio. Boris didn't pay much attention to what was said, though. It vaguely sounded like an attempt at motivating the squad.
Through his scope, Boris could barely see some of the Chinese soldiers heading back to their makeshift camp. There weren't any helicopters or other air support, just tanks and jeeps and a sea of troops. That meant one of two things. One was that China didn't consider Novosibirsk to be a threat, combat-wise. The more likely option was that they wanted the food and supplies of the city, so they weren't going to bomb it. Which meant this was going to be a siege.
It seemed that the remains of the 43rd would be dug in for the long haul.
The two story house on the outskirts of Silver Flow village looked modest from the outside, painted in dull browns and off whites, it had nothing particularly bright or dark about it. On the inside it was warm, filled with comfortable furniture and soft light. The young man whom Juna had brought home and ordered left had just begun to wake up. His vision took a moment to come into focus.
He looked down and went into his pockets looking for his orders or something else to tell him what he was doing here. All that was in them was his identification card which said Grant Brandt and showed him with his dark hair, eyes with a mild blue glow and slightly curious expression as it always did.
Grant stretched and decided to venture out of his room and look around the house. The door turned out to be unlocked when he tested it, though he saw that the only person awake in the house was Juna. She was down answering the front door, talking to a man who spoke something rather quietly and then promptly turned around to lead. Once he was gone Juna shut the door tightly and shuddered. Whatever was bothering her was driven from her mind when she looked up to see Grant standing up in the doorway.
Glad to see you've woken up. Now maybe we can answer some questions.
Grant nodded.
Maybe you can answer a couple of mine.
With that Juna led him down to a seat in the living room where she instructed him to wait there while she found something for the both of them to eat. Grant did make an effort to relax, though he couldn't help but continue wondering about the man who had came earlier. While Juna was busy in the other room, Grant could have sworn that he felt like something was looking in at him through the windows. He turned to look but nothing was there. It was just the weird energy given off by the man, he reasoned.
Yeah, sure it was.
Grant thought to himself with more than a little sarcasm as he sat back in his chair.
I know it's only been a week since my last post, but this thread has fallen to the second page and generally been quiet.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Rotting Baron
Boris Krestyanov Six Weeks in Novosibirsk: Day 1
Spoiler
"Sniper Team Four? Krestyanov? Zhirov? Are you still on radio? Respond."
Though he hadn’t been with the 43rd Frontline for long, Pvt. Boris Krestyanov could easily recognize the voice of his CO, Major Gavrilov. He took his eye from the scope of his SVU and reached for his radio. "Krestyanov here, sir. Chinese forces still pulling back."
"Good. Do either of you need medical assistance?"
"I am not wounded, sir. Zhirov…" Boris turned toward the body of his spotter. Three bullets were in his chest. Probably armor-piercing rounds. His eyes were half-closed and he had been bleeding from the mouth when he died. "Zhirov’s dead, sir." He’d been given a lecture or two about how best to deal with deaths in the squad, but those words had been proven useless here. When Zhirov was shot, Boris had frozen for a full minute. He almost froze to the spot again just thinking about the shot hissing past him, but the cracking of the radio kept that from happening.
"Damn it. We’re not doing any better on the ground. Down to about forty men."
Forty? The 43rd was numbered at 350 just four hours ago. Boris felt nauseous. Forty soldiers. How did that even happen? Did the Chinese outnumber them that badly? They wouldn’t last the rest of the day, and they certainly wouldn’t last the estimated four weeks until any sort of worthwhile ground support could arrive. "Do you need me on the ground, sir?" Maybe his position in this hotel’s 16th floor was less than ideal.
"No, Krestyanov. In fact, head up to the roof, get set up. Until unmanned drones can come for support, you’re our eyes. The rest of us will stay on the ground. You alert us when the Chinese come back for another round."
"Understood, sir. Krestyanov out." Boris clicked off his radio and stood up. He was shaking, for far too many reasons to count. But he couldn’t just sit here and dwell on things, now was the time to get moving. Boris checked the magazines he had left for his weapons. Not that it mattered, of course. The ammo he had, no matter how much it was, wouldn’t be enough. He took some extra clips for his sidearm off of Zhirov’s body, muttering an apology for no real reason.
The elevator for the hotel was broken, so Boris had to ascend the remaining four floors via the stairs before reaching the roof. The trek itself wasn’t all too difficult. But the more time spent not staring through a scope, the more time thinking about the events of the last four hours. When he’d volunteered to join the Red Army, he hadn’t quite expected to be shipped right to a fight after training. And he definitely didn’t expect to be given an order that consisted almost entirely of 'hold the line, wait for support.' Hell of a first assignment.
Boris eventually got to the roof. Door was a bit stuck, but that didn't mean much. A few voices managed to make their way up there from the ground, but he paid them no mind. Instead, he just headed to the southeast corner of the building and set his rifle up. At some point, the voice of Major Gavrilov came back on his radio. Boris didn't pay much attention to what was said, though. It vaguely sounded like an attempt at motivating the squad.
Through his scope, Boris could barely see some of the Chinese soldiers heading back to their makeshift camp. There weren't any helicopters or other air support, just tanks and jeeps and a sea of troops. That meant one of two things. One was that China didn't consider Novosibirsk to be a threat, combat-wise. The more likely option was that they wanted the food and supplies of the city, so they weren't going to bomb it. Which meant this was going to be a siege.
It seemed that the remains of the 43rd would be dug in for the long haul.
I like a good war story as much as the next person, so I liked this one too. More context would be good, though.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
A Bad Dream:
This notion is rather terrifying, and at the same time something that could happen in a fantasy world. And it made me want to hug poor Brinka.
Fugitive Wizard:
Nice. A bit of characterization for a little side-character; a nice touch.
Six Weeks in Novosibirsk: Day 1:
Well written. A nice look at war as a horror.
I might go back and read more, but for now I would like to leave this here:
Psychology
A Starting Look
Spoiler
Dr. Endarlet sat down for a minute. That was a close one… for a little bit there, she thought that Hale was going to do something horrid, but Emil managed to front in time to stop him. She takes a deep breath and calms herself down…
After a bit of ruffling through the papers on her desk, she gives in and looks at the new transfer. Signs of psychosis, amnesia, false memories… the list of things that could be horribly wrong is… very long. She has stated that she doesn’t want any medication… in fact she is highly opposed to it. She has had some- oh, that is not the right reaction. That is… yeah. No more medication.
She gets to what has been said. Subject was brought in after… an increasingly odd story. Edarlet almost wonders if this girl is messing with psychologists… well, if that’s the case, we’ll get straight to the bottom of it.
The name… Copi? That’s funny. Copi Kate. Obviously a misnomer, perhaps something she gave herself. Bet her original name was Kate someone. Well… we will get to the core of the matter. See what there is to see…
The patient is 5 foot 6, light brown hair, clear blue eyes. She seems idly curious, almost like she takes in everything that’s going on, noticing all the minute details of the room. Her eyes fall upon Dr. Endarlet, and she sees a kind of madness in them.
Endarlet rises from her seat to welcome the patient. “Miss… Kate, is it?”
Copi smiles at the doctor, a sincere but not disarming smile. “Copi, please.”
“Why not Kate?” the doctor asks. This isn’t usually what she does, but she finds deiations from the norm to be helpful on a regular basis.
“I suppose it’s a simple enough name, but it has importance to me. Copi, please.”
“Okay. I am Elizabeth Endarlet, but you can call me Liz.” The doctor and patient shake hands. No noticed qualms about physical contact, this is good.
“Okay. However, I find “Endarlet” to be an interesting name. I may use it on occasion.”
“Very well. Please, sit down.” Copi sits down in the chair in front of the desk, and Liz sits down in her chair. “Now, Copi, do you know why you’re here?”
“Because I’m insane,” Copi replies matter-of-factly. Not “Because you think I’m insane,” the doctor notes.
“We prefer the term ‘ill’,” Replies the doctor, “You think you are ill?”
“No, not at all,” Copi shakes her head slightly. “Illness is a deviation from an internal norm, an implication that a status is abnormal for me. I am insane: a deviation from an external norm, mental instability as defined by the masses. Of course, by that definition everyone is insane, but what matters here is that I am a large enough deviation from the illusory ‘norm’ that I have been noted and given special treatment.”
The doctor makes a quick note of this. How odd. “Do you know why you’re here, exactly? What happened so that people decided you were insane.”
Copi shifts to look out the window. “I said a few things to the wrong, or perhaps right, person. This person took me to another person, who I was perfectly truthful to. Of course, when the truth is more fantastic than any lie could be, you get pegged as insane quite fast.”
“Is the truth that fantastic?” The doctor asks.
Copi turns back to the doctor and smiles. “It is,” She states simply. “The truth is that there is an infinite amount of alternate universes, and that I come from one of the craziest ones. Would you like to hear about it, Doctor? I suspect you might want to start with something a bit less unbelievable, something so that when I tell you about the Nexus, you can wrap your head around it.”
“The Nexus? Is that what this fantastic place is called?”
“It is. Not the most fitting name, but I suspect that no word within human understanding could really be accurate.” Copi leans forward a bit, and steeples her fingers. “It’s not really a nexus, you see. I think of it more… like an artist. Universes collide there, but they don’t really run into each other or blur. Rather, the way they come together forms a unique universe with a distinctive feel, I think. Many individual parts adding together to a whole, which is different from the sources but the influence is obvious if you know where to look. Like a writer forging his own world for his stories.”
“You were in a story?” the doctor asks. This delusion wasn’t particularly uncommon…
“Oh, dear,” Copi leans back and shakes her head. “No, doctor, wrong detail to grab. This is why I recommended we start small. You may need to do some reading before we can get anywhere…”
Psychology: First a nitpick, ignore at your leisure. [nitpickmode]
Spoiler
Since this is a slightly more realistic psychologist than Reinholdt's Copi wouldn't technically be in an asylum. You can't lock someone up for their beliefs, so she'd probably be released sooner rather than later since she's no real danger and not actually mentally ill.
[/nitpickmode]
For an actual review, I rather liked it. I especially like how Copi takes the reigns so damn easily. Would you say it's confidence in her state of mind?
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
Wish You Were Hurt: A Series of Letters, From One Magtok To Another
Spoiler
Hi Magtok. It's you, from another dimension, and also the past. If you get this message, ****ing pay attention, me. This is the end of the world talking, and you'd do well to learn whatever you can from it, alright? I didn't spend my dying breaths sending this stuff to a parallel Nexus to you just so you could throw it all in a furnace. Two months from now, my brain is probably going to be torn out by a Mi-Go or something because I stopped to write these instead of doing something more constructive, like building new eldritch laser cannons. I'd really appreciate if my letters weren't all written in vain.
Okay, so let's take a step back and start from the beginning. My name is Thomas Godlark, formerly Lord Magtok of AMEN and owner of MagCorp. After what happened to the world, I really don't feel like calling myself a Lord anymore, or even a Magtok. I did, at first, but around a day or two after the star were right, I realized just how stupid pride and ego were. Inside became New R'lyeh, Riverside is now under the jurisdiction of Father Dagon and his frog-faced hybrid children, and I'm still calling myself a supervillain? Mortal, please.
That's beside the point, though. What I'm writing to you about, what I traded a few extra minutes of liberty from the monsters for, is a warning, a cautionary tale. My Nexus split off from yours at the height of Zee's desperate gambit to save the Nexus from the Far things. In your reality, everything went back to normal. In mine, we lost that battle. My Nexus is being terraformed as we speak by unknowable, unimaginable things, and even at the height of our power, we are still less than a speck to these things. Cthulhu is as infantile and irrelevant to them as his own Nexusian doomsday cults were to him. In the face of such cosmic insignificance, we're less than bacteria to these things. A harmless protozoa, whose great cities and satellites and people aren't enough to cause even the slightest hindrance to the most sickly, feeble, and miniscule of these foul things.
It's not all doom and gloom, though. As you'll recall, that MagCave party was going on around the same time as these events hit, meaning that I already had a wide assortment of interesting people to lock up in my home with me, to trap in the MagCave for their own good. I mean, we've had our differences with some of those party guests, Moon and Saurous especially, but since we're all going to wither away and die in a miserable little hole in the ground now, you'd be surprised by how much better we're getting along. They all owe me their lives and they know it, so I'm basically dictator-for-life until fungoid creatures eat my brain.
Anyways, that's all I have to say after the end of Week One. My plan is to have a system in place to mail all of these across our dimensions by next Thursday. Hopefully I get at least three over to you before the shoggoths and flying polyps and gods know what else get to us. Don't do what I did and ignore apocalypses just because they've never worked out before, okay? All it takes is one crucial person's apathy, and then you wind up with a splinter Nexus like mine. Good luck with your Zeus business (yep, I watched most of your life post-party on fast-forward. Not much else to do out here, honestly), and tell your Kirk that his iceberg experience went over so much better than our Kirk did. Gibbering, scabrous octo-crabs will do that to a guy.
Author Note Thingy: As some of you might remember, this was a thing at one point. I was bored and feeling nostalgic, so I decided to write from that Maggy's perspective.
__________________
"I can see inside you, the sickness is rising,
It seems that all that was good has died
Oh, no. The world is a scary place
Now that you've woken up the demon in me."
-Richard Cheese/Disturbed
Deviltok avatar by Miss_Nobody
Last edited by Lord Magtok : 09-17-2012 at 01:31 PM.
I’m not sure I can say how much I miss you Martha. Just know that I dream of you every night. I wish you could have been here before the battle that rages on before me. This place used to be a beautiful honey-plum orchard that spanned for miles. When our forces had arrived, many of use couldn’t help but pluck baskets of the fruit to eat and I even saved many of the seeds for us to start our own when I’m finally capable of leaving the Service. Sadly, the Orchard was destroyed in the preparations we had to do when we began to dig in our defenses against the Verdant Order that was on the way. While I do not know how they broke through the Coggies who had assaulted their Home Plane, the General and our Champion seemed quite displeased about it. Personally, if I hadn’t seen the proof that they were still alive, I’d have thought it impossible for such a primitive people to be able to destroy the Coggie’s steam cannon and Cog-Men. As it is, I and the rest of my cannon battery are perched up on a ridgeline in the aforementioned orchard overlooking the ten thousand green and black soldiers. Even though we outnumber them by half again and have an obvious tech advantage, I can’t help but have a sense of dread about the battle that is to take place.
I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve passed out your last few correspondences to my comrades who have no women like you waiting for them at home. Many others are doing similar since it lets everyone feel loved. Morale is the most important thing any army needs after all. I admit, several of them have begun to fancy you, I must admit. Thankfully they’ve agreed to let our engagement turn into marriage, but they’ve also mentioned that if you should ever find your heart unfilled by my amorous ways, they’ll be more than willing to take up the slack.
In regards to the issues with your sister, I am apologetic that I do not have any personal advice for a woman of such scandalous natures as I am quite out of my depth about such subjects. Even so, several of the aforementioned comrades say that they would gladly put in time to try and redeem her of her ways. As silly and inappropriate as that sounds, I do know a couple of them (primarily Jack, who I’ve mentioned in previous letters) would be a good influence upon her, and even if they prove unable to change Candice’s ways, would be quite a good match for her to give her some stability in her life. I believe that if you broach the subject of such a liaison with her, she might be a bit more agreeable to the idea than if your parents did.
Several hours later, the writing is continued in a different ink.
Our Champion just dropped by to reassure us about the coming fight, as well as warn us. He said Hate is here herself and that she isn’t alone. He says that Hate has a companion just as fierce as she is, a spirit of shadow that is capable of drifting through the night to take out entire companies herself. I’m not sure how much of it might be exaggerated, but I feel that War is just trying to instill some precaution into us. We might be artillery, but sometimes the enemy gets in a lucky breach.
My Battery has to get ready now, my Love, but there'll be a second letter following this one. Hopefully the Courier will reach you in a timely manner.
War folded the letter with a sigh and looked at the artillery officer's body. Closing his eyes in reverence, he stands and removes his hat before looking at the scene of carnage. Hate and her lover "Shadow" had come through before the battle had even really started and tore the battery to shreds. The three-pounders were sliced in half and most of the men had crossbow bolts in their throats or hearts.
He had warned them to be careful, but for all his experience he hadn't expected them to move so rapidly.
Tucking the letter into his breast pocket, he turns to the Courier next to him. "Go and tell the other batteries to load with cannister but to fall back if they get pressed." The man nods and runs off as War turns back to the rest of the bodies to look for more letters.
He'd deliver them personally when the time came.
__________________
Wolfy Tango by the talented Kid Kris
Starting August 4th, I will be without internet for possibly a very long time. Please PM me if there are any questions for me, but do not expect an answer for weeks at a time. Thank you for your patience.
Teller waited for the last of the new hatchlings to settle in around the campfire before opening his graying eyes. Their chirps of restlessness made his neck-feathers ruffle in amusement, but he knew he couldn’t keep them waiting too long. Reaching out from under his shawl, he held up a feathered hand to silence them. The crinkles around his nearly sightless eyes were the best smile he could accomplish with a beak, but it was enough of one to tell the hatchlings that he was finally ready. He took a moment to clear his throat before speaking in an ancient voice, one full of experience and wisdom.
“Other Tellers might say that the Fallen-King came to our world in a ball of fire, and yet others say about how he climbed down a mighty pillar of heavenly light to join our fight against the treacherous SkyLord Clan, but I can say that both are untrue. I know, because I was there." Teller said with another smile around his eyes. “When our clan met the Skylords on the field of battle, a shimmering pool of light appeared in the air between us, looking for the entire world like the ocean to the west of us. The sudden appearance stalled the battle and as we watched, a bronze figure came through, a golden spear of light in his hand as he fought the most horrifying creature we’d ever seen…”
Fourty Years Ago, A World Away
Hero-At-Wall scowled in his armor as he crept through the sewers, phase-spear in his hand. He had been sent to stalk a mutant “Skitter” that had taken out a Peacekeeper squad hours before and he was finally learning to regret his unwillingness to use a gun. As unhonorable as it might have been, a shotgun would have made this hunt much easier. Skitters were ghoulish creatures with long rubbery limbs and a maw that could swallow a person whole, so a mutant of one could be quite the monster. Even in his Praetorian armor Hero couldn’t help but hope it would prove to be enough to protect him.
With a reflexive twitch of his neck muscles, the Kzinti slid his helmet back, allowing his large ears to listen for any sound that may betray the location of his prey. He’d use his nose, but the sewage masked any trace of scent he might have found. It took only a moment for his keen ears to trace the source of the echoes made by claws on stone. To keep from revealing his position, Hero took a moment to activate the hoverboots integrated into his armor before continuing his stalking. It took a few minutes, but he came to the mutant soon enough. The monster stood half again Hero’s seven foot height, and that was while it was hunched over. Unlike the mostly human looking Skitters, this one had four heads, a massive belly, and nine taloned limbs. Mutant sighted. Hero sub-vocalized into his communicator only to be met with a wash of static instead of a reply from HQ. He cursed mentally, cringing at the sound and instead grabbed a location transmitter from his belt to slap onto the wall. The mutant’s heads rose at the sound of the beacon being set, making Hero curse again at his amateur mistake.
The creature turned its eyeless faces to him just in time for a bright light to shine from behind the Kzinti, startling them both. Before Hero could react though, the Skitter regained its senses first and tackled him, shoving them both through the portal. Minutes later, it shuts behind them, leaving the beacon blinking alone in the dark.
The Other Side
Even though he knew his back was on the ground, Hero’s head spun from a sense of vertigo. He didn’t know where he was, just that the monster was on top of him and trying to stab through his armor with its mighty talons. It took just a moment for his helmet to redeploy, but it couldn’t have happened at a better time. The first of the four heads tried biting down on it, but the teeth couldn’t get through the heavy alloys. With a roar of anger, the Kzinti slipped his boot under the monster’s belly and turned on the flight system. A whump of concussive force blasted the creature back to land thirty feet away, screeching in fury as it scrambled to right itself. The creature’s limbs cracked and snapped as it finally got three of its legs under it only to have a shaft of golden energy pierce its body, pinning it to the ground as Hero leapt at it with his clawed gauntlets. The mutant’s rubbery flesh might have protected it against some weapons, but not against Hero’s enhanced strength and the razored blades that adorn his fists. Within moments great chunks of flesh were being torn away as the thing screamed in pain and agony. Hero-At-Wall grabbed one of the four heads and twisted, rending it from the body before holding it up into the air with a cry of triumph.
Only then, with the creature struggling underneath him, did he catch a good glimpse of his surroundings. The light was muted by a canopy nearly a half-mile above him. Surrounding him seemed to be hundreds of bird-people wielding weapons and a similar number of them lying dead on the ground, obviously killed in battle. The sight distracted him long enough for the Mutant to finally collect itself enough to wrap three of its sharp limps around his right knee. Before he could react, the limbs sliced right through the weaker armor of the joint, cutting clean through his leg in a spray of blood. Hero collapsed roaring even as the powered armor he wore began pumping his system full of painkillers and stimulants. The creature’s struggle threw him to the ground and as his pain faded, Hero watched as it began to pull itself off of his spear. He didn’t know if it’d work, but he could only reach down to his belt and grab a pair of micro-grenades to hurl at the creature.
“When the Fallen-King hurled the twin orbs of what we had believed to be divine power, the Demon he had been facing blew apart, having been smote from this world or any other.” Teller tells the hatchlings before smiling with his eyes once more and taking a drink from the wineskin in his lap. “Even though the Fallen-King had been grievously wounded by the Demon, he was still more than merely mortal. It had been obvious to me, a mere Spear-Slinging at the time, but for the Skylords were arrogant and sought to take his power for themselves. Two of them let out a warcry before descending on the wounded warrior, but with a flick of his claws they were both on the ground, throats torn out even before Fallen-King had even regained his footing. Before our eyes, his bronze armor sealed his leg and his bleeding stemmed, proving once more that he was not from our world.” Teller stopped for another moment to put new wood onto the bonfire. At his pause, one of the hatchlings spoke up.
“How did we get him on our side then?” The blue feathered female asked with her eyes wide with curiosity like all the others who haven’t heard this story. Teller smiled but didn’t reply until he was seated once more. “With the deaths of two of their highest warriors, the Skylords went berserk and wanted retribution. Fallen-King was weakened and it had been shown that he could be hurt.” He tells them before shaking his head and neck a bit as his feathers ruffled in amusement. “Our clan simply stepped in front of him.”
Even though the drugs kept him up and moving, Hero could feel the weakness in his body. Whoever the two bird-men at his feet might have been in life, it seemed that they had been important to the others wearing red. With another slow glance, he felt a little thankful that both sides were primitive and without firearms, but that didn’t mean he would be impervious to their spears, slings, bows, and knives. It just meant it’d take a little longer to crack open his armor. When the Reds began to form up in combat lines, Hero sighed and hopped a step over to grab his phase-spear, using it to balance himself. He no longer felt the absence of his leg, but he knew that if he forgot it, he’d end up sprawled on the ground and that would spell his death. Let these people fight it out. I need to get back. he told himself before turning around to look where the portal should have been. When he turned, all he saw was more forest and a group of feathered people wearing blue.
The portal was gone, and with it, any hope of returning home.
Before he could even growl, a swarm of the Blues swept past Hero, forming a defensive line of spears even as dozens of arrows shot over them and into the Reds. A small group of Blues still stood in front of him and the one that looked the oldest because of graying in his dark feathers tilted its head to try to tell him to follow them. Seeing that there wasn’t anything else he could do here, Hero took his remaining beacon from his belt and activated it. After dropping it to the ground and stepping on it to dig it into the earth, the lone Kzinti followed.
I've mentioned the Kzinti in a couple posts for Remnant as one of the few Praetorians but have never really involved him in much. I dreamt this up about three in the morning when I was half-asleep and this might be four or five segments long with this the shortest piece. I hope you all enjoy it.
__________________
Wolfy Tango by the talented Kid Kris
Starting August 4th, I will be without internet for possibly a very long time. Please PM me if there are any questions for me, but do not expect an answer for weeks at a time. Thank you for your patience.
Bad Dreams - That was a good little piece. Definitely had a foreshadowing feel to it, even though it was. Thumbs up.
Psychology - Yeah...finding myself looking forward to how these little sessions will go. Explaining the Nexus to somebody who hasn't been there...that's gonna be interesting.
__________________
Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
The night after the first meeting with Delisle, when he'd first learned that he might lose Jefferies, Missy stayed without him having to ask. Jefferies picked up on their worries and was irritable and clingy. Finally they got her to sleep in Jyarl's bed, and Jyarl pulled Missy close - her on one side of him, and Jefferies on the other.
"Hey Halifax?" He kept his voice soft. Jefferies was snoring softly, and he didn't want her to overhear this.
"Hmm?"
"How do you feel about Jefferies?"
"I love her, Jyarl. You should know that."
"I know, but..." he tried to think how to put it into words. "...I mean, you have your own kid."
He can feel her shaking her head. "It's not the same."
"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't be," he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
"My son... I love him, but I don't know him. I've never held him in my arms - not once. He's more of a dream than anything. Jefferies is real to me."
Jyarl squeezed her as he let this sink in. "I want to ask them, if they don't approve me, because of my character, to consider you instead. But then if it goes bad... it would probably be the species thing. That they'd want an orc."
Missy was silent for a few moments. Finally she said, "If that's how it happens, I want to go with you."
It had only been a few hours, so he'd been able to do nothing more than sketch out plans in his head. But it didn't surprise him that Missy had guessed he'd run rather than let strangers take Jefferies.
"You'd lose everything you have here," Jyarl warned. "Your job, the city. We'd be outlaws."
"Please, Jyarl. Don't make me go through it again. I know she's not really mine, but if she were torn from my life, I'm not sure how I'd survive it."
Jyarl pulled Missy close and kissed her roughly. "I won't let that happen."
*****
Jyarl remembered that night as he packed bags the night before the decision. He'd let Halifax get closer than he'd ever thought possible. Since his time in the Penal Legions in his home universe, he'd had nothing to offer but fury and death. That hadn't changed when he'd found himself in the Nexus and joined up with Mortal Coil.
He tried to think what had happened to soften him, and it all came back to one day in the Rec Centre when a pug puppy had crawled onto him. Who was it who had brought the dogs in? Carl maybe? Geoff? He couldn't remember. Gorgutz was just as tough and ready for a fight as his owner, so he shouldn't have been able to change Jyarl.
Except he did. When Jyarl was deeply hung over from combat drugs, he dragged himself out of bed for the dog when he wouldn't for himself. When Jyarl was mired in self-hatred, Gorgutz had shown him unlimited adoration. When Jyarl tried to despise everyone around him, Gorgutz had run up to them cheerfully and begged for attention.
If the pug hadn't made a crack in his armour, he wouldn't have given Jefferies a second glance. He'd have just left her in the medical tent for others to deal with. Hells, she wouldn't have even been Jefferies. She would have been sent out to an orphanage or foster family, and they would have given her a different name. They would have treated her differently, raised her differently. Perhaps better?
He deliberately calmed himself. Perhaps better then, but not now. Jefferies called him Daddy. It would hurt her to be taken away to strangers. She shouldn't lose a second set of parents so soon after losing her first. If he truly, honestly believed she would be better off without him, he thought he could try to let her go. But as long as she needed him, he'd be there for her.
With his heart wide open for Jefferies, he supposed it was inevitable that Missy had slipped in too. It was her treatment of Jefferies that had done it. Her patience and her kindness with Jefferies. Her generosity with her time. Not just her time. She'd spent quite a bit of money buying clothes and toys for her. Then there was the day she had made Jefferies a beneficiary of her death benefits - equal benefits to her own son. All without asking anything in return. The only request she'd made of him was to take her if he had to flee with Jefferies.
What did he have to offer a woman like that - Especially if they did have to go on the run?
He heard Missy letting herself back in. "My things are in the car. How are you?"
Jyarl gestures at one small duffle bag. "My things." Then at four more, much larger. "Jefferies' things. And I'm not sure the toys I packed are the right ones. I'd hate to leave behind her favourites."
"I think as long as we have Master Chief and her boxing gloves, we'll be fine," Missy says. "Remember, we'll have money." She'd liquidated half of her savings into gold, and divided it into several stashes throughout their packed gear. "Did she ask any questions?"
"Yes. I told her we might be going to stay at a new place, and I had to pack up some of her things. She said she hoped that you'd live with us in the new place instead of at a different house."
He watched her closely as she turned away, watched her try not to show how much it affected her.
"I put her to sleep in my bed so we could all be together tonight," Jyarl said, as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple.
Maybe it was enough that he could offer her a family.
****
The next morning, it felt like he was putting his heart in the car when he packed up Missy and Jefferies and Gorgutz to send them to spend the day at GLoG. Jefferies nearly tantrumed because Daddy wasn't coming too, and she wanted to show him how fast she could swim now that she had a red swim suit. Gorgutz vomited in the travel kennel before the car had even started. It wasn't the best of goodbyes.
I will see them again. I will see them again. he told himself as he rode along on the Riftline back to Social Welfare to meet with the Warp-damned ****s who wanted to take his daughter from him.
****
When he reached Social Welfare, he found the place subdued, the people quiet. There were flowers in the lobby - several different arrangements, and a table nearby with cards on display. The receptionist asked him to wait, and then had to field a succession of phone calls. Jyarl tried not to growl as the clock ticked - 10 minutes, 20 minutes past the appointment time. Finally, he was shown in to Aliswyn's office. The goblin Kardo was there, his ears down.
"We're sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Hellstomper. Things have been somewhat strained here. I dont know if you've heard about our tragedy?" The elf woman asked. When the expression on Jyarl's face showed that he hadn't, she went on. "Tauno Nurmi was murdered in his own home a few days ago."
"Beheaded." Kardo added. "We're all still in shock."
Jyarl remembered Magtok's son turning himself in for killing human supremacists. He'd taken their heads... It had only been two days ago that Jyarl had processed the young man into the Penal Company, going easy on him because Missy had asked it of him. Could it have been Cassius who had killed Tauno Nurmi? If he'd seen the name Nurmi on the victims list he would have recognized it. But no, the victims had not yet been identified. When Jyarl had signed the forms, the victims had just been so many John and Jane Does.
"His report was strongly against your adoption, but when we went through his records... some documents that we found have led us to question his ability to be impartial as a child advocate, particularly where non-human children are concerned. We decided that our decision had to be made without reference to any of his recommendations. Kardo?"
"Aliswyn and I both have concerns about your stability as a parent figure. Your efforts to rehabilitate yourself for Jefferies' sake are certainly to be commended, and we can only hope they continue. Aliswyn believes that Jefferies will miss out on a great part of her heritage by a cross-species adoption. I have no such concerns, as your case has shown that the Remnant base is multi-cultural and that she has regular contact with people of many species. Both of us agree that a strong parental bond is in place between you and Jefferies, and that despite our reservations, it is in the best interest of the child to confirm the adoption."
When Kardo finished speaking and Jyarl had to turn over the words in his mind a few times before he could speak.
"That's it? She's mine?"
"She's yours," Kardo says, his ears showing amusement. "Congratulations! It's a girl."
"Henry?" Elaine mumbled. There was an arm over her as she woke.
"Woah, that was wild, watching you change shape," a male voice said. A male voice that was not her husband. "Can you do a blonde next?"
Elaine grabbed for a blanket and pulled it up to cover herself. "Don't touch me! You stay away!" Her eyes darted wildly around the room, and she saw Billie's clothes scattered around the bed.
"Hey hey, what's the matter? We were having fun, weren't we?"
"I'm not her! The woman you were having fun with is not me!" Elaine said. She got to her feet, pulling the blanket with her, even though it left the man exposed. She just had to avoid looking at him, that's all. "I'm going to get my clothes and leave."
That time it was easy. The man only protested a bit, more in confusion than anything. Other times, she had to work harder to get away.
****
"I paid for all night, you ****ing bitch!"
Elaine grabbed a handful of money out of Billy's handbag, threw it, and ran while the man was trying to pick it up.
****
"You're even prettier than your friend," he said, while stroking her face. "A pretty girl like you might get hurt out there on the streets. Just stay here tonight. I'll take care of you." He kissed her then, despite her protests, so she bit his tongue, hard, then spit the blood in his face. He went from soft words to rage, and gave her a few bruises before throwing her out on the street. She was still wearing Billie's dress, though it was hiked up around her waist and pushed off one shoulder.
****
It wasn't always like that. Usually it was easier. Usually the change happened in better circumstances, where she at least had clothes on. And if she did find herself alone with a man, usually the man was willing to accept her apologies and let her go, even if he was clearly unhappy about it.
****
But sometimes. Sometimes it was worse.
****
He was swearing at her, saying filthy words she'd never heard directed at her before. He had her pinned down, sitting on her, and slapping her face over and over. Finally, through her tears, she promised she'd do anything he wanted, anything at all. But once she had her hands free, she grabbed him where he was most sensitive and pulled.
She fled naked, leaving him curled up and howling in pain.
****
...This is why I hate you. I hate you for every bruise, for every fear, for every man who has seen the body that I promised only to my beloved husband. I hate you for exposing me to the immorality of your lifestyle. I hate you for my lost innocence. I hate you for the tears that Henry shed on my behalf.
If we're going to swap more often, you have to stop this. I don't want to wake up with any more strange men. I can't bear it. It's dangerous and distressing.
Find a way to make it stop, Billie. I beg you.
She read over the letter again, folded it, and handed it to Vinny. It was good to have a go-between other than her son, for the stories she'd told in the letter were ones she'd never want Jacob to hear. "Please make sure she reads it. And tell her what happened when you walked me home. She needs to understand what this is doing."
"Sure, ma'am." Vinny placed the letter in the inner pocket of his suit jacket.
"Thank you."
Elaine went back inside, back into her safe place, where she could break down and cry in safety.
I continue to enjoy all of the nice work people put into their stories!
Sober \/\/orld
Spoiler
The room is dim, and have several chairs are arranged in a circle, 6 of which have people in them. The seventh being filled as a young girl, only looking about 15, with short black hair, grey skin, and short, slicked back horns. Her body was covered in what looked like different colored dyes.
"Hello..." she said a bit shyly. HELLO! Let's all welcome our new group member today! Tell us a bit about yourself, miss..?
"My name's Ayakan Etanep." AYAKAN-FREAKING-ETANEP!
"And I've been sober for...4 hours now." NOT LONG ENOUGH!
She sighed, looking down at her feet.
"It's not as...freaking easy as I thought it would be. I keep having these..." Ayakan...
"Uh..." Please...
A droplet of blue hit the ground, leaving a dye like substance.
"But I think I've been figuring out exactly what freaking I'm supposed to be in the first place. WHAT I WAS MEANT FOR, ALL ALONG!
"It's not so freaking bad, really." Ayakan, please
"In fact..." Please don't hurt me, please!
"It almost feels...LIKE IT WAS FREAKING MEANT TO BE!"
"Now...no one will mess with me like they did with my freaking high self." KILL 'EM!
More dye dripped onto the floor, this time much more than just blue. KILL 'EM!
The girl got a nasty smile on her face as she stood. The lights flashed, showing that the people in the chairs weren't alive.
They were dead.
Deep gash wounds on all of them, their blood dripped slowly from the bodies. The multicolored blood mingled, becoming a dark black color.
The girl stood up, walking towards the door. She opened it and looked back with a grin, eyes wild with an unfathomable emotion.
"See all of you later!"
[i]KILL 'EM!"[i]
((Borrowed things from some places. Considering what Ayakan is...it made sense to do so))
I continue to enjoy all of the nice work people put into their stories!
Sober \/\/orld
Spoiler
*HONK*
((Borrowed things from some places. Considering what Ayakan is...it made sense to do so))
TC: Yo, SiS, yOu NeEd To KiCk BaCk, sLaM a BoTtLe Of FaYgO, aNd ChIlL sOmEtHiNg WiCkEd.
TC: :o)
TC: LeT's RaP aBoUt SoMe wIcKeD mIrAcLeS oVeR sOmE pIe. My TrEaT.
TC: HoNk ;o)
I get the reference, is what I'm trying to say. I've also seen that exact Octopimp video.
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
Meow
Step
Step
Step
Just keep running! I'll try to hold her off!
Meow
Ayakan...please...don't do this!
Shink
A splatter of blue-blood hit the wall, dripping down to the ground slowly... Please...don't...
Shink
Blue-blood began to collect in a pool on the floor. Meow
Step
Step
Step Oh cod, she has Ayleria pinned agains the wall, dude!
Ayakan please..."
Meow
Please don't hurt me, please!
Shink
Sluuuuuuuurt
Dark red blood began dripping down from the wall. I thought...we were friends...
Shink
HUSH, LOW-BLOOD!
The dark red blood became yet another pool on the floor.
A toothy grin flashed in the dark along with piercing eyes. Step
Step
Step
RUN.
Well, it's been quite here, hasn't it? Let's dust this thread off a little.
@Psychology: I don't know all that much about Copi, but it looks interesting. I also have this feeling that a lot of the stories here are written from the perspective of psychiatrists interviewing the protagonists...
@Jefferies: D'awwww. It's so good to see a happy ending to this story. It makes me warm and fuzzy inside. And on a personal note, I love the goblin social worker's expressive ears.
@Elaine/Billie: Well. That was rather brutal. I wonder if Billie and Elaine can ever reach some sort of compromise.
@Sober World: I can't comment on it, as I have no idea what's going on in it, I'm afraid.
@Letters from the Front: That's a format we haven't seen here before.
And I take it the complete lack of response to What is the Riddle of Steel means I shouldn't have written it in the first place. So it's removed now.
__________________
My FFRP characters. Avatar by Kid Kris. Sigatars by Gulaghar, Kid Kris, Zefir and billtodamax, respectively.
Not exactly here for a Nexus story, but it's one I'd like to share. Hosted off site just because it's not Nexus, but the possiblity of these characters coming to the Nexus is entirely possible. It's much longer than my usual stories but it's organized like many stacked on top of each other.
So this isn't entirely wasted, here's some reviews I missed.
Billie and Elaine: Still like them. Seeing Billie's reaction to this letter in the Nexus proper was also a good read.
Boris: I liked it and unlike Morty I don'y normally dig war stories.
Sober \/\/orld: I'm with Morty, I enjoy the reference, but you aren't really giving us the story. (that and it's a bit weird since I think I know what your referencing and green isn't that high on the hemospectrum)
__________________
Pirate Justin avatar by myself. Emmi avatar by Gulaghar, Much Thanks!
RSS Feeds: 
Re: [Nexus] Stories etc
Interested in Nexus FFRP? Read 
face at the idea of being friends with Elaine, but then she has a happier thought. "Nah, it'll be okay. If I tell her what's going to be happening, she'll thank me for staying in charge until it's over. I'll just make up the time later."
)
So it's removed now.
