frostahesmegabite

[frostahesmegabite]

it's a lot of stuff...

[frostahesmegabite]

A Rude Awakening

A Rude Awakening Darkness. Exhausted Sleep. A sudden eruption sends people flying and screaming in shock, surprise, and pain. It’s here that Megahes wakes up, tumbling through the air just to come crashing down into a cot that had been next to his own. Stunned, the Goblin pushes himself up onto his hands just to catch the magnesium-like green glow of Fel Fire as a massive Infernal pulls itself up from the crater its landing created. The felslate head turns and rolls up into place only to become illuminated like a Jack’o’Lantern before it begins to bound forward towards another tent. The fuzziness comes to Mega’s mind as he stands, teetering for a moment as he acquires his bearings. A moment of vertigo mixed with Deja’vu as he grabbed his head before shaking it. Why did this feel so familiar? He looks about, eyes falling on Guards and Mages of all sorts and walks of life fighting in pockets to fight off Mana Eaters and Infernals both. Felslate bodies erupted like grenades and bombs showering the ground with their debris before others took their place. Other less successful groups begin to collapse as others try to band together before massive stone hands, fel fire, or wild hounds begin tearing through them. The smell of blood iron and hard sulfur fills the air, causing Mega to realize where he is. The Legion Invasion.

Confusion hit him and then panic. Did something happen? How did he end up here again? What was this? And here, just like last time, a Fel Hunter turned towards him after feasting on the fresh corpse of a once non-crushed mage. Bernard Pelzer, he had been the human who was bunking beside Mega originally. Kirin Tor mage… well, formerly, now. The Hunter hunches down, growling as it begins to crawl towards its intended gob-sized meal. Mana Stalks begin to twist and turn from the cords of ‘hair’ that hung from the back of its head as it prepared for whatever spell might have come from Mega in an effort to defend himself. Panic. He forgot how this felt, how all of this felt. Like reflex, he begins to channel up magic but in a quick effort, twists his intended target from the Hound to the ground below it. An accidental trick he learned from a tournament years back, ice and stone mixed erupt from the ground, slamming into its underside, giving Megahes time to take off running like a bat out of hell in an effort to escape. But… where to go? He could hear it behind him, chomping at his heels and growling as he’d dip or dive through bunks or various debris and that’s when he saw it, a group of Mages who weren’t only fighting back but were creating an effective barrier to keep the enemy at bay as they kept up portals for evacuation. Mega could hear his heart pounding in his ears at this point. How long had he been running? How far had he ran? His legs pumped so hard to the point that he couldn’t even feel his feet hitting the ground. He had to make it. He knew he’d make it. He’d done this before, he knew how this dream panned out.

Closer and closer, he jumps, reaching for the hand of another mage who held out his own in an effort to catch Mega and drag him into their Mage Circle. -WHAM- A force strikes Mega from the side, sending him flying away from the hand and group only to roll and tumble across hard-packed earth and debris. His vision spiraled and he struggled to understand what was going on before he could get himself straight, he was pounced on by the Fel-Hunter. His hands came up, fighting and grabbing hold of the creature's lower jaw and pushing up and away in an effort to keep it from coming down on him, ending everything. This wasn’t right! This isn’t how it happened! Mega’s skin went cold and time seemed to slow for both him and the abomination on top of him. Thick globs of spit fly about, coating Mega as thick bone-plated jaws snap inches away from his face just before Mana Stalks curl about and begin to eat away at his reserve and life force. He could feel himself weakening in slow time and the more he fought, the worse it got. Why was this happening? Thick claws curl and Mega feels his ribs snap and break, causing him to scream out in pain. With one last push, he shoves the Fel Hound as hard as he can into the air. Its body twists and before Mega can react the beast’s teeth and claws begin to tear into his torso once more. Megahes screams out, hands going to his chest and stomach as he sits up. Priests, exhausted from their effort. Medical equipment around the room. Sweat covered his body and that’s when he saw it. His hands clawed at the black, charred flesh around the edges. Where was the Lightforged Metal that was supposed to be over his heart and glowing with intent? Then it hit him. The ambush. Sanelastus attacked him, speaking about how sorry he was. How it had to be done and… No. Surely he was misremembering things. A thick black sentient-like ooze screeched and tried to come crawling out of his body as Sanelastus broke through the metal prison that was keeping The Defiler’s curse suppressed. In a blink, he watched as the Fel Beam bore into his chest and vaporized that -thing-. The shock finally drained from the revelation and nightmare. Adrenaline began to wear off and the pain came rushing back in full force. His vision began to darken and he fell back in bed. The priests came back to try to calm him with soothing healing magics too. Worse and worse, his vision continues to darken as he either begins to pass out or magical sleep starts to take him. Naturasu, Kuphu and Svella too? How bad were things really? No answers came, only sleep and the sound of an Infernal crashing into the ground beside of his bunk…

#megahes frostbite #ic story #goblin #Nightmare

[frostahesmegabite]

Fel’ling on Hard Times

Mina’jari and Megahes were spending the evening in the Engineering Bay and had been for several days past now. Their work being one of personal desire for Mina and it being on Mega wanted to make sure worked appropriately as opposed to the ‘Junk-tech’ that her original design was based off of. The design in question was a Hover Disc, one created out of Anti-Grav units that had been salvaged from gold-knows-where. Mega was impressed to say the least, but the materials used were, well, certainly not up to his standards and that precisely was why the two of them were in the Bay working on it together. How could he call himself a proper step parent if he didn’t help show her how to construct a proper Hover Disc?! It was with that parental concern and craftsman-like desire to make a better, safer, product for his kid that drove him to bringing her into the shop for days until it was completed proper and when the time came. Mina and Mega took the Disc out to the Deck that looked out over the eastern shore of Bilgewater Harbor, the various Seals and Makura Crabs that were all over the sand, as well as some of the Sea Mines that bobbed this way and that on the surface of the water as well. The moment of truth came and Mina climbs up onto the Disc and flipped the ignition switch with her toes, causing the Anti-Grab units to thrum to life with a bright blue light which bolted her about a foot and a half off the ground, nearly costing her balance before she recovers and grins wide. With some twists and turns of her feet and ankles, checking to make sure the units responded to her twists and turns she looked up and was gone! Inches turned to feet and feet into meters and so forth. Up and up she went until she turned and raced off to swing around the massive Harbor Cannon that was always pointed at Stormwind but never once used. The winds lashed at her face, forcing her to pull down her goggles to protect her eyes so she could actually see at the velocity’s she was travelling. Homes, shops, piers and docks, boats, yards and sand whirred below and behind her as she went, closing in down just over a few roofs before blasting past. How much time had passed by the time she realized she should have come back? An hour perhaps? More or Less? The sun had started to fall, she knew that, but where was it at before she jumped on? No idea to know now, excitement dictated her forgetting that notion entirely. She turned her way back, heading for the FBC Machine Shop where she had left Mega behind to take her joy ride. It was her return that made time slow as she got closer to the deck she’d launched from earlier. Fel-fire burned on the launch pad and several other Goblins could be seen fighting the flames. “Baba…”                                                           ***** Megahes smiled, hand raised to watch Mina take off on her Hover Disc. He’d have warned her to take it easy, but what can you say to a kid that’s been raised by people like Naturasu and Megahes that managed to make her own Hover Disc as a teenager? Not a whole hell of a lot really. There was no need to waste the words, he knew her excitement. The excitement for the moment though was cut short as a slow clap suddenly begins behind him, causing him to exhale out before turning around to see who was there. Was it the sight of the Illidari that fell upon him first or was it the scent of Fel on the wind that greeted his nostrils that told him what this person was first? A combination maybe? But this Elf standing before him wasn’t one he’d seen in years. “Sanelastus. Didn’t expect to see you around again after your Brother and Us squashed the less stable of you three. What brings you back around these parts? The Illidari in need of some help with some kind of Demonic Tech or something?” The massive Illidari towered even above his Paladin Brother, Ammaelin, in stature thanks in part to the fel energies that surely coursed through his body… surely the demonic manifestations and mutations did their bits to help that in kind. The golden howling mask blocking his facial features as mana-eater like tendrils hung from his head in place of what had once been hair gave off a wonderfully ‘eerie’ vibe, as Mega figured was probably intended. “No, no.” His voice rang deep and rough, almost like sand paper up the back of his neck. “I’ve come in regards to a prisoner that escaped the Violet Hold some time ago. I know the Kirin Tor dispatched warnings across the world in an effort to keep an eye out and unfortunately, nothing has come of it, so I’ve been reduced to playing detective due to the prisoners innate magical prowess.” His tendrils quivered like a rattle snake in agitation to this announcement. “Okay, so, then ya here wonderin if my folks’ve seen him then or if we’ve had any run ins or…?” In the blink of an eye, Mega was charged and hoisted into the air. Arms jerked straight out to his sides with his hands being squeezed to the point of being crushed. “Hey you fucker, get off’a me!” The goblin screamed out but before he could usher much more, a tendril of Sanelastus’ hair snapped forward, exposing a small mouth like opening that clamped onto his throat before another snapped to his head and into his ear. The two of them immediately began to syphon off the Goblins magic, starting to drain him as he struggled for air. “No, nothing like that I’m afraid… I am sorry about this. Believe me, but this is your fault in the end. If you had taken me up on my offer years ago to cleanse what my brother had done to you, you wouldn’t need to concern yourself with who’s coming for you.” Mega’s eyes perhaps said everything he needed to say. “Krownos…” Mega’s leg comes up and his foot catches the Illidari firmly in the jaw, making his head jerk as the mask flew free and to the ground. Bone and empty eye sockets burning with fel-flame, no lips, teeth meant to tear flesh from bone adorned the one time elf. “Krownos Bloodcrest, Patriarch of the Bloodcrest Family Blood line. Power hungry father to us all.” Mega’s eyes go wide as the mana being drained continued to wear him thin. Exhaustion was beginning to hit and his ability to stay conscious was dwindling. Was this man, the one who came to his home and had been visiting him in his dreams, going to come after him as some sort of act of revenge? He wasn’t going to get his answers, at least not now. “The only thing that’s going to save you at this point, is hoping this does the trick.” The elf’s empty sockets flicker and dim as if sympathy somehow comes to bare. “I am sorry it’s come to this.” Before Mega could do a thing, the Illidari’s eyes erupt with a beam of pure fel energy and bore straight into the Light-Forged metal engraved into his chest. The metal flared with the power of the Light, fighting back as the skin around it began to blister and boil. Despite his earlier exhaustion, Megahes screamed out in pain to the point his voice gave. The metal gave and began to melt, dribbling down his body to create even worse burns. Its breaking caused an inner black ichor to try to wrench itself free only to get met with Fel flame as well. Its ooze-like form quivering and writhing as it tried to get away. It sizzled and popped and one might swear that it even screamed and squealed in pain as it too was burned out of Megahes. By the time Sanelastus was done, Megahes had passed out from the strain and pain, going limp in the Illidari’s hands. Sanelastus turned his head causing the Rays of fel to burn into the steel flooring before he dropped the goblin to the ground and used his hand to cover his sockets, ending the onslaught. His body had swollen and pulsed, fed and full from the Goblins mana. An Illidari portal opens, fel-fire erupting across the deck as Sanelastus makes for it while a crew of Goblins begin shooting and cursing as an alarm klaxon blares. He had spent to much time here and someone had seen. But he’d accomplished what he needed to have done. “I am sorry Frostbite, but at least now when Krownos comes for you, this makes sure that he stays dead.”

#megahes frostbite #IC Story #Random Story #Wounded #demon hunter #FBC

[frostahesmegabite]

[ I love writing horror but I don't think I'm what OP's looking for since I don't do FF14 really. But, best of luck to ya and hope you can find someone! ]

looking for collaborators!

Hello!

Here’s the short of it:

I’m looking for fellow OCCULT AND HORROR writers to join me in cultivating an FFXIV RP Community Discord.

A while back, I attempted to start my own FFXIV RP community, Magpies. The idea was simple: get a host of people together who enjoy writing occult & horror themes, band together as writers to collaborate and help facilitate content for the community. 

Unfortunately, I couldn’t find people who were willing to take on the role of writers, so it was difficult to get started. BUT I’M BACK, AND TRYING AGAIN. 

If you, or someone you know, would enjoy helping to facilitate content (not necessarily trying to administrate, administration will grow as needed to those who are willing and able to pick up the role) in the forms of little RP hooks that can be fleshed out as quests for groups of players, or you enjoy thinking of longer-plotlines for players to attend– PLEASE SHOOT ME A DM! 

REBLOGS APPRECIATED! 

#FF14 #Horror Writing #OP Needs Help! #occult

[frostahesmegabite]

I’m rusty as heck but I’ve had some time to sketch here and there. The other day I was watching Only Murders in the Building. I loved this scene and thought it fit Zak really well, since he and his dad are supposed to be a bit a like; slutty trouble makers. Anyway, I don’t feel like the drawing is too character but I still chuckle XD

[frostahesmegabite]

[ I really need to find the time to sit down and write what's been going on for you all w/ Mega, I really do! ]

[frostahesmegabite]

DWC Day 1:Darkness

@daily-writing-challenge

A bit late but here we go!

Kappi dealing with his inner demons

Warnings: Blood

Run, you can get away, you have to. Coming around a bend he turned to look over his shoulder at his pursuers and knocked himself off balance. Stumbling backwards into the snow, he twisted and fell on his face with a grunt. Scrambling forward, he had to get away, but it was too late. As he raised his head he saw him, vulpera standing there with daggers raised. Before the goblin could react they swung and the fresh snow was painted crimson. Kappi stood, another contract complete, leading him farther down into the darkness that had begun to consume him.

[frostahesmegabite]

DWC Day 2:Forever/Displaced

@daily-writing-challenge

A snippet from a mission during his resistance days

The night was cold, which was not uncommon in the dunes of Vol’dun. The moon was almost full which was perfect for the scouting party that dashed across the sands.They had gotten reports of a group of sethrak moving in on several small vulperan settlements. The issue being these settlements were made up entirely of non-combatants. That is what had the group in such a rush. Though as they came up over the next rock face their worst fears were realized. 

Towers of smoke rising up into the sky. No, they couldn’t have gotten there yet. The group scrambled down the cliff, dashing across the dunes to finally arrive at the camp and yes, they were too late. The only thing left of the settlements were the burnt out remains of the few buildings they had built. “A” frames from tents, the canvases completely burned away, supplies strewn around and left behind by the snakes. Kappi hit his knees and punched the sand over and over. Others in the group cursed, some praying to the gods, others simply stood in silence. They slowly made their way into the valley, kicking over barely standing frames, shifting debris, moving anything they thought could possibly hide anyone who might have survived. Though they knew that was not likely. He had just tossed aside a larger piece of debris when he heard it, a bird call. All of them there heard it, their ears perked and turned as they tried to place where it had come from. There it was again, it was not a normal call. It repeated. To anyone who was not with the resistance it would have not sounded out of the norm, but to the scouts present…survivors. They all sprinted in the direction of the call, listening intently. There it was again, closer. Now to the right, yes! They came around one pile of charred rubble and in the sand was a slight recess. They all hit their knees and started digging until their claws hit something solid. They all called out, telling them they were there, they were coming and that they were going to be safe. Finally, they found it, the hatch that a lot of vulperan settlements had started putting in for just such an occasion. If they were hidden well enough, as this one was, the snakes would not notice them as they tore through. Kappi and another male grabbed the handle and pulled hard, their muscles straining as the hatch pushed through the sands. From behind it there came gasps, then massive sighs of relief as they all saw they were safe. It was a far cry from the total vulpera that lived here before, but any people saved was better than none. 

Kappi had made his way back up to the top of a nearby dune, watching the evacuation effort with grit teeth. He could not believe they had been late again, AGAIN. Because of that all these people they did save would be forever displaced from the lands they grew up in and on. They could not stay here, they would not be safe. He kicks at the top of the dune in frustration, they would not be late again, they COULD not be late again. Too many were already lost, far too many….

[frostahesmegabite]

Day 4: Impress/Exhaustion (Attzi)

Word Count: 500 Summary: Attzi discovers some… side-effects that come with using the watch.

@daily-writing-challenge

It’s starting to become normal for Attzi to remember things that didn’t actually happen by the end of a fight. The first time they were called to Ammaelin’s estate to stop the invasion there, she remembered tripping into a circle of cultists. Heavy blows from clubs and other weaponry had pelted her entire body–

Click. 

She was standing in front of them, unharmed, hand outstretched to fire ice into their midst. That’s what really happened. The Attzi on the ground, curling to protect herself from being bludgeoned as she reached for her watch, didn’t exist.

That was only the first example of that night. By the time she’d gotten home, she wasn’t sure if she should write down what she remembered, or what she knew was the reality. She went with the former out of habit, but quickly realized that might not be the best idea. The memories were bloody, and painful, and if they hadn’t come to pass, why should she have to keep them in her head?

Then tonight: Zokkine, recovering from Lattimer attempting to suck him dry like a mosquito, miscasts a fire spell and has it blast back into his face–

Click.

The fireball hits Lattimer instead, and Zokk’s face remains unharmed. Attzi still remembers the aftermath of the failed spell, but he doesn’t seem to.

And what about the moments that repeated? The corpses bursting behind Attzi, a wave of flesh-eating worms and congealed blood coming out and slamming into her back, sending her into a paroxysm of pain as they bit into her flesh and pumped her full of rage–

Click.

Attzi knows what is coming, but can’t get out of range in time. She rewound too late. So instead of evading, she feels the pain of the hit for a second time.

Controlling time so that her allies can attack faster than her enemies is more difficult on her physically, but much simpler on her mentally. They all have memories of when she does it, after all, instead of only being left with a vague sense of deja vu. 

After this latest round of time management during their return to Ammaelin’s estate, she sits down at her notebook, pen in hand, and just stares at the page. If she writes about reality only, how will she improve her skills with the watch? She won’t remember using it if she only records what it caused, instead of also adding what it prevented.

But if she writes down everything she’s changed… how much hurt is she going to have to remember even though it didn’t actually come to pass?

Attzi sets the pen down and runs her fingers through her hair, sighing heavily. She already felt hollow after using the watch so much in a day. What was this all going to do to her if she kept making it more powerful, as she intended?

...It didn’t matter. She had her goals. Attzi set her jaw, put pen to paper, and began to write. In her pocket, she could feel the watch steadily winding, slowly drawing her mana into itself to prepare for the next click.

[frostahesmegabite]

An Estate Cleared

Another Session cleared for the personnel of the Frostbite Contingent and Bloodcrest Family; catching up on two events separated by large server events and time. The Bloodcrest Family, lead by Ammaelin Bloodcrest seeking to redeem their name politically and ethically due to the evil doings of his now disowned brother, Dinthoqaf the Defiler, has been attacked by the Sanctum of the Forbidden due to its associations with the Frostbite Contingent. In an effort to destabilize the House further and to make sure support was pulled, a plethora of SotF Cultists lead by Lattimer the Devourer assaulted the compound and nearly wiped the House off the slate if it had not been for the timely arrival of the Contingent.  Initially leading the charge, Attzi ( @attzi-gearburst ), Kappi, ( @advancedscoutkappi ), Zokkine ( @piximae​ ), and Naturasu, came to the rescue of the estate and inhabitants as Ammaelin found himself going Head to Head against Lattimer. With quick work and precision, most of the estate was cleared but during the FBC’s confrontation and reinforcement of Ammaelin the cultists managed to secure one of the support structures that houses a particular treasure for the family, a font of power believed capable of healing miracles. Lattimer was defeated and forced to retreat, going to the captured structure where Elementium was magically summoned to taint the building and reinforce it, causing the FBC and Bloodcrests to call it here as they sought out solutions to the problem at hand. Time given way, the FBC and Ammaelin settled on the use of explosives to open the tower. With the decision made, a second gathering occurs with Ammaelin, Attzi, Zokkine, Kappi, Naturasu, Makosubi, and Dave ( @x-amanita-virosa-x ) where the building was blown open just to discover that the cultists within had already been killed and the Font within was being tainted by a Totem placed by them before their death. The team, in an effort to cleanse the place, enters only to discover Lattimer lying in wait amongst the dead, ambushing them! After a lengthy and dangerous melee with the The Devourer, he was defeated and the totem destroyed. Ammaelin now sets to discover the purpose of the act and everything the totem was doing while trying to make sure the Font is cleansed and can provide its healing waters for any pilgrims who come seeking it. The FBC now awaits anxiously to see if this news brings them any closer in rescuing their boss. [ Image taken of the team hiding behind Ammaelin Bloodcrest just before the explosives go off to get them into the Font’s Sanctuary! ]

[frostahesmegabite]

What part of his job does he hate the most and the part of his job that he loves the most? 🤔

[Megahes is currently Gobnapped, so I'll have to answer this for him until he's returned from the hands of the Defiler! That being said, he hates whenever people tell him how much more he should charge someone for something him or the FBC sells. I quote for him: "It annoys the piss out of me. We're making profit, we're doing well. I don't need to be stupid greedy to survive." He loves networking and getting to meet new people, groups, and organizations! He lives for it! Nothing makes him happier than making new business partners. Well, some things do, but that wasn't what this question was about! Thank you for the amazing asks as always @jacobdcheshyre! ]

[frostahesmegabite]

Everyone pick up your government-assigned fursona, grab your two colors then combine it with this random animal picker. Tell us what you get and no rerolls, I don't make the rules.

#Pastel Blue and Pearl Violet #Octopus

[frostahesmegabite]

Reblog if it's okay for people to come into your askbox and ask about your OCs

Even if I’ve never spoken to them, even if I don’t know them from a hole in the wall, even if they’re on anon, people asking questions about my OCs make my day.

[frostahesmegabite]

Not Schematics: Time Management

Attzi, due to chronic memory issues, writes in her notebook in an indecipherable shorthand. This is a translation of today’s page.

Weird day. For a lotta reasons. Not all bad. Honestly not sure where to start, because I didn’t get a chance to write this morning, or before work happened. Right now, we're on my roof, because  got called in to deal with more Mr. Defiler problems. He decided to attack his brother's estate. This time, nobody got taken, so it felt better to invite people over. Nat, Kappi, and Zokk are here. And Big Elf came, too. (Note to self: elf names are harder to remember, yes, but DO IT ALREADY. p.30) Been running around making drinks and doing other hostess stuff, but everyone’s involved in conversation now so can sip my drink and write for a bit. Good, because absolutely exhausted. And bleeding.

All of us had to deal with a mass of cultists and death knights today thanks to Mr. Defiler's minions. Tony helped make the watch stronger, so was testing it out a lot while fighting. Was working really well. Kept others from getting hit more than once. Even saved me from falling flat on my face in front of a cultist cluster. But was also using my pickaxe, and must be getting the hang of fighting, because I’m covered in blood right now and not all of it’s mine. There was this group of cultists after Zokk, and… Think I swung a little too hard.

Now to reason for drinking. Not exactly used to killing people. Making their lives hard, sure, but haven't had to kill someone before taking this job. First one I ever did was that goblin who made unwanted comments, shot me, then called me a bitch when I tossed ice at him (prev notebook– falls open directly to page. Also has Big Elf’s name. LEARN IT.) Then I saw Mr. Defiler melt the goblin in the tavern, and all the ones he killed the day Mega was taken… but at least I didn't kill them.

Then today. Most of what I hit bled. Got no idea how many I ended up killing, but by the time I got to the point with the ones menacing Zokk, I started giggling. Really hard.

[There is a stain of some sort of sticky pink drink, which smells like strawberries.]

Wasn’t because it was funny. Was full of adrenaline, trying to keep track of where everyone was around me with one working ear, and just kept sinking my pickaxe into flesh and bone because if I stopped, I’d die. Kappi and Zokk and Nat wouldn’t have backup to help out Big E– AMMAELIN. And then whatever horrible thing was happening with Mega would be harder to fix, and whatever Mr. Defiler was planning overall would…

Brain took all that and spat laughter back out. Must not have sounded too unhinged, at least, because Zokk and Kappi came to get drinks after with everyone else, and they'd seen it happen.

At some point gotta fix up my arm, but am waiting until friends get tired. Most of it was healed already, anyway, thanks to Ammaelin. Shirt's a loss, tho. 

Never wearing white on a job again. 

…Kappi keeps wincing when he breathes. Looks like it's time for him to have another date with my first aid kit.

[frostahesmegabite]

Overture of a Broken Soul

Zokkine was able to keep up his showman’s smile when he finally said his goodbyes of the night. Mega was taken. Kappi was shaking from anger, and not even the bubbly Attzi could calm him down. Zimble gave an order to which the entire Contingency ignored. To leave Mega behind. A showman’s smile. A smile well practiced. A smile, that was as fake as the well practiced lies he told to so many. A smile he flashed to Attzi  to ease any concerns, any worries she might have had. He had gotten rather well practiced at certain lies as the years went on, few as they might be. He muttered under his breath an incantation, but not the incantation for home. No. The one place he felt safe. The one place he was secure. His sanctuary, his heaven. His home away from home. His Study. In a flash of bedazzling glitter that caught the light of a balcony, the mage reformed to the entrance of his Study. A grandiose circle that had a circular bulb of clear light to keep the Twisting Nethers chaotic magic free from the mage’s person. Crystallin gems that appeared to be decoration, laced up and along the outer edge, glowed with an unnatural light that danced on the man’s tired and exhausted features. Rows of sparkling gems trailed up to the archway that lead into the ballroom like entranceway that the mage now walked along with small, laborious steps. A line of gems from which this protective wall of transparent light rose up and around to give the illusion of a magical window. The surface of which shimmered not entirely unlike an oily surface, catching the lights from distant stars and planets. In times past, one could catch the mage peering out from behind this strange wall, watching the natural life flitter past, uncaring of the alien onlooker. Unnerved by the goings ons of mortal lives. Unbothered by their frustrations.

An outcrop the mage in green barely noticed, as slow steps pulled him underneath the fantastical arch that lead into the entrance of his beloved study. What usually feels so warm and welcoming with their gaudy colors and bright lights to the mage, now only seemed to illuminate his incompetence from the curves and twists in the buildings’ foundation. What wonders the outside in the Twisting Nether that brought hours upon hours of study and fascination, was now little more than a simple window decoration in this moment of weighted sorrow.

Not two steps onto a long straight of dark carpet did it ripple illuminated magic out from the pressure his footprints made, waves of beautiful red light rippling out like it was a lake. Each step brought more ripples of soft light, until the runway glowed in its entirety. The light illuminated the mage’s creases and crevices, giving him the appearance of his true age. Or perhaps of how much the stress in his own life had unnaturally aged him, unable to be hidden with make up or blush. On either side, the light continued to gradually brighten the room up, streatching up into strings of red and white lights that trailed and laced over the ceiling. Picture perfect sculpture of dragon like beings each holding up the strings of lights on claws and teeth. Decorating along the top most ceiling, keeping watch as gargoyles over the mage’s abode. Forever silent. Forever waiting. Forever judging… Multifaceted eyes danced with the red light, keeping the mage locked in their static gaze as he walked up to the grand double stairway, now illuminating the two blue larger  dragons at the top who’s bodies and tails made up the staircase’s stairs and railings. He didn’t dare glance at the centerpiece that the staircase encircled around. He couldn’t. There, upon what would appear to be an elevated platform like stage was none other than the mage himself. But not as he is now, no. It was him but as a teenager, his dark blue eyes full of hope and wonder as he sang to the invisible crowd before him. His mouth agape to show not the mage’s slightly crooked toothed smile, but of perfectly straight teeth with lips thinner than they truly are. His arms untouched by the fire that took his past, and future, his right arm tattoo proudly revealing his family’s brand. A single bolt with wings proud and bold, encircled by the flames of fortune as his father called it. Smiling wide as the proud son of a Flipbolt

A prideful grin that now scowls at the failure of a mage that now slowly scaled up the stairs. Gently touching the railing, caused the blue spines of the dragons’ tails to illuminate like a wave of light. Each one glowing with a spine of blue gems, each one hand crafted by the mage. Gems he had been incredibly proud of having created after learning to harness the magical energy that made up the flora of the Crystalize forest. He always enjoyed feeling the excess magic that eminated from them, with it feeling like a comfortable warmth. Even today, after such tragedy, he caught himself almost basking in the magical warmth of his Study. Almost. As he reached the top of the stairs, he still couldn’t bare to look at the best version of himself that stood in protection in the middle of the grand entrance. A voice that he swore came from it’s lips spoke in judgmental words… “You failed again.” In an effort to drown out this invasive voice, he turned down a darkened hallway that started to illuminate much like the Grand Entrance did. Red and white rows of lights held up by much smaller drake’s, attached in a way like murals, running and flying  playing together, while others appeared to try to escape from the wall that bound them. The lights soon turned from both red and white to now just white as a crossroads appeared before him. And with it, another center piece.

This time, however, it wasn’t the mage that stood stoically at the middle of the four way intersection. No. While it had looked like him, same deep, ocean blue eyes with curled ears and a strong nose, he was older by a good ten or twenty years than the mage. On this statue his chin was thicker, his brow more prominent, with thicker ears and a stern expression. Dressed in a suit and tie reminiscent of an upper class Kezanian rather than a showman, the statue held a very simple plaque at the bottom. -In loving memory, Kejek Flipbolt. Beloved big brother. I’ll always remember everything you taught me Jay- Even now, he could hear his brothers words, the lips parting on the statue as his brother’s long lost voice filled the still air. “…you failed again, Zokk…” With a thin lip, the mage turned a quick right, a flickering of orange flame dancing briefly in his iris’s. Tears blinking away as  his brothers voice called out from behind him still “…ya had one fawkin’ job an’ ya failed!” He could feel his older brothers judgmental eyes on him, burning in the back of his skull. Glaring at him. Gloating in once again, another failure… “You trained your whole life for this and still. Just like the fire, eh Sparkles?” His brother’s voice echoed off the walls, making the mage hurried stride turn into a run. His feet making this new hallway illuminate faster than the Grand Hallway, only this time purple lighting mingled with cream. The hallway opened up more and more as the dragons that held up the lights here bigger as well. Only this time, one appeared to boast a hat, them another what could appear to be a vest. Until he saw it, the end of the hallway, the entryway into the Piano Room. Blocked. Blocked by a thick figure who loomed in the distance. Like Zokkine and the statue of his brother, this figure too had curled ears, and piercing ocean blue eyes. His ears pointed like knives with a gaze that never let Zokkine free

“Disgraceful.” It spat out in a booming voice that echoed against the emptied halls. The figure grew larger as in Zokkine’s horror, it moved steadily closer. “First, you fail your brother. Raised you almost, taught you everything ya know. Then? Oh ho, then ya fail the one man ya said you cared about. Remember him…? Because ya looking right at'im. And now…?” His heavy steps drew closer, and closer. Am intimidating presence to behold, but his laughter was sickening. “…ya fail the guy who pays ya paycheck not once, twice. Counter spelling… What son of a Flipbolt allows a fawkin'counter spell to stop him huh?” Flames licked in the mage’s eyes once more before he blinked them away with his tears. The visage of his father, however, remained “You were trained to destroy other mages.” He gripped his hands like he was strangling, before looking back “Remember that? Yeah, remmeber? You fawkin’ better because that’s how I fawkin’ raised you! The one thing you practiced since you were yay high-” As the visage raised his hand to show Zokk’s childhood height, he started repeating words to himself as the fire flickered once again “I’m not a killer. I’m a performer…entertainer…I’m not a- a murderer…!” He’d charge forwards aiming to body slam his father. Only for the visage to prove no more than a mirage as the annoyed keys from his piano screamed in pain from his frontal assault. Flames now danced freely in his vision, his tightly gripped fists gradually growing in the heat from his rage.

A low, pained groan eminated from the chest of the mage as a hand released only to rest gently on the ornate piano. Golden glitter and sparkling silver decorated the mahogany of it’s body, glistening now by the light of the hallway that lead in. Above and below stretched an audience of now not just draconic beings, but those of whom the mage knew in his life as well. Busts of different people encircled his stage, his brother and father chatting amongst themselves in the front, highest balcony of the room. A priestly blond holding out a mug for a pig tailed, shark toothed grinning woman to pour into sat in another loftly outcrop. A Mecha goblin holding close a beloved Bot, with an excitable buck toothed, wide eyed mage besides him leaning forward to cheer the man on.   All awaiting a show of a life time. All awaiting for the pianist to peel himself off of his piano, and to start his symphony Multiple eyes peering down at him. Waiting. Waiting… In deafening silence… Piercing silence broke through a voice that sounded softer than the judgment filled voice that had sounded from each of statues before. A voice that wasn’t the commanding voice of his father, no. One that was all to familiar, yet at the same time alien to the mage. It was his own.

“…Jay, she… Begged. Begged for for me not to…” The piano started to glisten, the gold and silver glowing with their own shimmering light. The mage struggled to pull his head upright to see the visage of his teenage self with his hands in his head, seated at the piano. A memory perhaps, a visage, a vision of pure flame. Fire still licked along his irises as he stared with deadened and tired eyes at his teenaged self, head buried in his untouched hands. This version of himself was in his old showman’s garb, a much more tasteful ensemble than the green and cream outfit he’s well known for today. But the vibrant purples and sparkling silver was tainted by the flame’s light, bright red as the visage was made purely of flame. “…Jay, she…” Another voice, more mature and deeper sounding than the mage emanated from his left. Gentle, yet firm. The voice of his brother. “..failed to pay.” Just like his statue, he wore a well fitted suit, sitting stoically at the piano, eyes turned down on the keys. He too was made of the same flame as his younger brotherly visage. The image of the younger mage only shook his head, a waver in his voice. “…no. No, no Jay she did…” The mage pushed himself off of the piano, glancing with forlorn eyes at the memory that played out before him. His hand slid along the top of the piano as he rounded to it’s front, the glow of the glitter brightening with a soft illumination as the fiery figures grew steadily more solid. The flames of this memory starting to lap away to show a more steady and realistic frame of man and mage.

“She didn’t.” The visage of his brother reached down to pull up a shadow of a piano casing “Now, shut up an’ play.” It was at this the visage of the teenage mage removed his head from his hands, trails of liquid flame pooling down from his eyes, “…play…” He seethed before turning and snapping at his brother. Each word dripped out slow and thick with venom, “… How the fawk do ya expect me ta play…?! After watching her suffer…?!” The visage of the mage stood up, glaring at the brothers visage. “How can I, Jay?! How the fawk can I play after hearing her-” “SIDDOWN, SHUDDUP AN’ PLAY DAMNIT?!” Kejek snapped, eyes glaring at the younger mage. No… It wasn’t at the younger mage. It was at the man who leaned over the piano as if drunk. Using it for physical support. With eyes still licked with flame, he circled around to the memory, just as his younger self sat back down, glaring at the keys. As he rounded to the piano’s front, the image of his younger self slowly sizzled away, like the memory that it was. His brother, however, remained frozen in time. “..how…?” Zokkine asked the memory of his brother, staring at the keys of his beloved piano. His voice strained with exhaustion, “…I keep failing Jay… I’m supposed ta fawkin’ protect, what I was hired ta fawkin'do…” He lifted the case of the piano, showing the glistening black and white keys that lay hidden beneath “…yet I can’t even do that fawkin’ right…” As his hand graced over the keys, the image of his brother started again as the mage recalled the memory once more, his brothers words piercing through the air, tense and harsh, “…shuddup, an’ play. Don’t fuckin’ think, don’t fuckin’ talk…” The sounds the the piano started as the image played on the piano, off sounding keys melted with sharps and flats, as the image started to play a piano from years past “… Just play the fawkin’ thing.”

Zokkine sat down at the piano as his brother started on an angered tune, reaching a hand out to rest on the piano keys “… Just fuckin’ play…” He echoed his brother’s wisdom, as the memory’s hand reached towards Zokkine’s side of the piano. Watching his brother play like he had in years past. Nothing but the sounds of the phantom’s song resonated against the empty halls of the mage’s study, angered and saddened in their solo sonata. “Always was your advice for everything…” He lamented, wiping away the tears that stained his cheeks. With his right, he reached to start his own song, while his left he started working the magic that hung thick in the air. The visage of his brother grew to be less of a fiery visage, and more like how he looked in life, as Zokkine had remembered him. Flames sizzled away as Kejek’s image played, while color retuned to his suit and face.

Zokkine glanced once more the memory of his brother, still playing the piano. As the song started to grow sadder, so too did the visage start to gradually fade. Back into the nothingness that was always there, until the only thing that ever showed it existed was the lingering notes that danced off the farthest walls The mage turned back to his piano, his hand tracing along the sparkling keys. There was a subtle movement, or perhaps a trick or the light as he glanced up to where his father and brothers’ overhanging statues sat. Only unlike the judgmental eyes of the statue that stood in memory at the cross way, this one had eyes of patience. Eyes that he truely remembered, and a deep gentle voice that resonated the halls. “Give'em a show ta remember, ‘aight Sparkles?” His brother’s encouraging words echoed against the walls, without source. The mage’s eyes closed and he saw another memory in perfect clarity. The bar and club that his family prided themselves on that Zokk had begged to be a part of. Final act of the evening, one that his brother had to connive and bribe the organizers just to get the mage to even be considered. They knew their jobs were on the line. His brother had risked their father’s rage in even supporting Zokkine’s ambition. Even the reputation of the entire joint was on his head now. Yet, the stage that seemed to call to him more than the backstage dealings. More than the Gang wars, the Trade wars, and even the Peace war that had won them a piece of Undermine. The showman’s call who’s roaring chorus overtook the quiet whispers of being a bruiser, a CEO, or even that of a soldier With the memory fresh in his mind, he opened his eyes once again, now with a raging flame that flickered fiercely in the irises of his eyes. Ocean blue tides struggled to put out the now raging flames of magic that clouded over his vision. He was there. Back at the club. Back when so much expectation was set upon the young mage’s head

Back before the fire that ravaged it all. A quick wave of Zokk’s hand turned the mage’s dirtied armour into his showman’s garb. A glitter and sequin decorated purple and silver ensemble that he had tailored so many years ago, only now a much tighter fit with the mage’s matured figure. Kejek’s image that was frozen in time, now dissipated into smoke as if the sudden use of magic had forced it back to the memory from which it came. Zokkine’s hands reached out to the keys to perform the symphony that only he could hear. A cacophony of sounds that emitted from the mages heart, turning and weaving into a saddened tune that was the man’s inner chorus. As burned hands stretched along the keys, the piano glistened with latent magic sparkling gently for a show of one. A single note, a gentle key played. That was all that was needed for the piano’s latent magic to burst into a gentle glow. An instrument enhanced the mage’s personal favorite. One that he created and perfected for the stage, for the lingering melody that plays in his heart. The Showman’s Call. Another key, another shimmer. The mage’s own outfit glistened with the music, as if each note held a power of untapped power. A magical power the goblin man was only now letting release More notes, weaved and melted into a song, his eyes flickering with the flames of emotions as he felt his pains of the past meld with the pain of the present. Gradually the piano’s magic started glowing, flame bursting forth from the arcane powder that he had decorated along the sides and top of the piano. Brighter and brighter, the light starting to burst even brighter, flame that licked over the surface of the instrument started to travel. He too grew with a gentle heat, light bursting with each sound on his beloved outfit, before bursting with flame as well.

He was lost. His mind traveled back to a time of the past. A time that was filled with both joys and pains, sadness and excitement. A belch of fire emitted out to his left as his melody picked up in speed. Two figures, two younger goblin men that could be made out in the flames started to emerge. One appearing to be waiting. The other quickly arriving The one that bolted to the other, even with the flame’s wild flickering could be seen the younger mage Zokkine. The man who had been waiting turning quickly to the oncoming mage. Only to dissipate into smoke the moment the younger magi leapt towards the still image who would soon follow after. Another burst of frantic music as tears started in the mage’s eyes, and another flame shot out from the piano. This time, turning into a single looming figure that started to take a bit more solid form. The imposing figure of the young man’s father, back turned to a more timid teenager, fidgeting as if a man caught. Words echoed throughout the growing stage, echoing in the voice of Zokkine’s father “You know what happens when a man fails me. And yet ya went ahead an’ done worse. Ya disappointed me.” As the smaller flame image started to step forwards, both of the figures dissipated into a burst of smoke. Yet the voice continued. “An’ ya know what happens ta men who disappoint me.” The piano’s fire burst brightly as the mage slammed his hands down on the keyboard, creating an ugly sound of thirty or forty keys melting together. The resonating sound echoed around the large, emptied room until the only music played was the quiet crackling of the fire that had taken over the piano, that now too was starting to die down. Tears streaked down the man’s face as he started to lower his head, hands still arched over his beloved instrument.

“Fawkin'el I failed again…” He choked out at last, hands gripping into fists. “…one teleport. Jus’ one fawkin’ teleport was all he needed. Just one..fawkin’ teleport!” He’d reach his enclosed fists up, and slammed them down onto the piano again, a ripple of flame exploding out from the low dying fire along with the pained sounds of a dying piano. “…just one…” He hoarsely whispered as he steadily collapsed over the keys. “…just one, Jay…” “…it’s all he needed…” Exhaustion started to take hold of the mage as he collapsed into the crook of his arm, tears now staining heavily down his cheeks. He raised his other hand up as a flicker of flame started on the cusp of his wrist, before slamming it down against the piano, it’s angered pained cry rivaling only his own. Another vibration of magic emanated from the force, darkening down the lights that strode across the entirety of his Study. Sobs echoed against the emptied halls as darkness started to overtake the study once more. Multifaceted draconic eyes sparkled with the lowlight, until they too went dim. In time the sobs grew into mere whimpers, before silence overtook the halls once more. The once vibrant palace that the mage created for himself, darkened as sleep grew over him like vines. But if one was to listen closely, there was a hushed whisper that had almost clung in the air. As if it was the remnants of an old rune left so long ago. Hushly whispered before all was quiet once again. “…just like you, Jay. Just like you…”

[frostahesmegabite]

[frostahesmegabite]

The sound of water dripping onto hard stone tile echoes in the silence. Moisture clings to life and limb in a desperate effort for warmth. It’s here in this cold, desolate, place that a sudden influx of energy surges and air in the place suddenly rushes through the halls as it’s sucked in towards the source. This rush is strong enough to make even the smallest bits of dust and debris sting like blowing sand against the face as it races by while howling. This intensity of sound dies out, overcome by the screaming of pain and resistance at the center of it all.

Megahes collapses in his chair as the surge ends, breathing heavy and covered in just rags and sweat to keep himself at least not nude. A ‘saving grace’ that had been given to him by The Defiler, if one could even call it that. It didn’t matter anyway, not in comparison to what he was going through right now. Hell, he could have been naked and it wouldn’t have changed a thing as the spherical room begins to hum and charge up loudly. Soon, the drone would be so loud for him it’d be deafening and Mega’s teeth would clinch in preparation for what was to come. Come it did, as arcs of power short across the unsmooth surface, leaping from spike and pillar as they raced up towards the device stationed above Mega’s seat. Krakow! A bolt of magic slams down from it and into our Gob below, causing him to jerk violently and for his back to bend up, causing him to lift from his chair as he convulses and writhes in pain. His head thrashes, spittle flying, and, in a few seconds, the assault stops and he slams into the chair, body smoking. He could swear he’d broken several teeth by this point just due to how hard he was clamping his mouth shut. He didn’t want to give The Defiler the satisfaction of knowing what this is doing to him but he was beginning to wear. Was this to be the end of it all? Megahes pants, body drenched in sweat and for a moment, the sound of the room charging up again come before it’s stopped and powers down. A door opened, past his peripheral and he knows who came. “You know. A lesser man would have died to this several times over by now.” Dinthoqaf comes up and runs his bare fingers through his sweat-soaked locks and over his forehead, pushing through the sweat just to springboard his fingers off of him. Grime-covered fingers come up to his face and a brief sniff comes with a look on his face. “I hate this place, the stink permeating off of you. It’s repulsive. Can’t you smell it?” He comes up and pushes those same fingers up against Mega’s nose, trying to force him just for the Gob to twist his head away before coming back to try to clamp his teeth down on him to flay his skin out and crush bone. He may have well as missed by a mile for the good it did him. “Keep that fire Mister Frostbite. I'm going to need that…” He looks down in the chair, noting the mess of filth that Megahes had made over his duration here. He had not been allowed to leave this chair once, not for anything. It was to be expected and it was intentional. He wanted the man to feel humiliated for his circumstances. Dinthoqaf slams into the chair, placing himself near the ear to lip with Megahes as his hand wrenches his hair back, making sure he couldn’t be a bit. “Oh the things Fate has in store for you Mister Frostbite, the things you must do and the things you must achieve…” His voice quivers with anticipation as these words are said before it ends with a small laugh. Small at first, then growing over time to a deep, heavy, laughter that rolls up from his guts as he heads out towards the door. “Resilience! You mustn't give up, not yet!” The door slams and silence begins to whine in Mega’s ears. His exhaustion beginning to catch up with him again at this moment as a tired spit comes out and lands on his legs. He wasn’t even in a position to wipe it off himself. He didn’t care. “Go fuck… yourself.” Mega’s head falls forward and sleep quickly claims him. A shallow sleep soon to be stripped away as the room begins to energize once more around a man too tired to hear it.

#Megahes #FBC #Guild Plot #goblin #Dinthoqaf the Defiler #Mental Torture #IC Story