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ibrithir-was-here · 4 months

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Council of War

@animate-mush (and everyone else following/contributing to this AU!)

Arthur Holmwood stood with his hands pressed down hard upon the round table where he was holding cabinet; trying to look like the collected, confident, and assured leader he knew his organization needed him to be--and not the tired, battered, worn to unraveling wreck he felt like inside.

“I'm sure by now that you've all heard what happened last night”, he began, his voice low and solemn, but with an edge in it that made everyone in the room sit up straighter.

“Count Dracula himself came into the grounds and attempted to abduct young Mr. Harker. He was stopped only by--by the quick intervention of Lucille”

If the agents around the table noted the slight tremor in Arthur's voice as he recalled that particular event of the night, they wisely kept their silence.

“The Count was also followed by two more vampires who were also able to enter the grounds…Mr Harker's parents.”

This revelation did produce a faint flutter of disturbed whispering, which was instantly cut off by a firm look from Jack, seated as ever at Arthur's right hand.

“Both they and the Count managed to escape, miraculously without any casualties. And what I want to know now…” Athur said slowly, forcing himself with every inch of aristocratic decorum that had been drummed into him to keep calm --

“Is just how they all got here, where they are now, and how soon can we be ready to finally end this?”

Arthur stood straight, looking each person at the table in the eye, one by one. Each person in his organization had their reasons for being here, their own strange and often terrifying experience that brought them into his circle, that had led them to believe him and Jack in their warnings of the threats that lurked within the shadows.

Henry Harrington, who's brother had run afoul of a truly nasty hedge magician, who'd sent something to stalk his brother's steps day and night, and which finally overtook him on a lonesome road with no help in sight.

Harrington had gotten justice on the fiend, and had gladly joined their ranks when they'd crossed paths while doing research on one of their missions, determined that no one else's loved one would suffer a similar fate.

There was young Ben Edwards, who'd somehow caught the eye of a vampire-witch at the age of 16, and been stalked by her in dreams until only a few years ago, when she'd finally tried to sink her teeth into him upon the unfortunate occurrence of him being put up for the night in her old tower room.

He'd escaped with his life and soul, been desperate for answers, stumbled onto Arthur's organization, and eagerly joined up.

And Alwyne Hargreaves…she'd also found them, trying to make sense of the strange memories she had of being carried off by ‘A Bloofer Lady’.

Arthur had been sick all day after their first interview, and Jack was not much better.

Her experience had apparently rendered her sensitive to all manner of strange phenomena, and she and her employer (and later husband) had made a good business out of clearing out houses reputed--and often proved-- to be haunted, so that they could finally be put on market.

Though her abilities often drained her, she was more than willing to put them to use to help keep her country safe. In truth, with her cheerful cleverness, she reminded him of what Mina might have been, had they all been luckier.

And, of course, dear, unstoppable Kate Reed, Lucy's old friend. Mina and Jonathan's old friend.

Their first recruit.

She’d tracked him and Jack down after it had all gone wrong, demanding to know what had become of her friends, what he and Jack had done to them.

Kate had dogged their steps until finally, she'd found them facing down the last of the Count's victims, had seen what the no-longer-a-woman had done to her staff--to Lu's mother--and she'd had learned just what had happened to Lucy and Mina and Jonathan. And she'd vowed to fight them ever since.

The people seated here at this table were his top agents, the ones he knew he could always count on in crisis, who had proved themselves time and time again, each time the threat of a vampire had reared its fangs, weather in town or country or seaside, they had risen to thrust it back down into the earth where it belonged.

And none of them, it seems, had managed to see the devil coming until he--they, were at the door.

There was a moment of weighted silence, each person at the table going over Arthur's questions.

“As to how the Count got passed us, I'm sorry Art, I just don't know”, Kate said with quite calm, a calmness that Arthur knew well enough was hiding her own unease and frustration that after all their preparation and prior successes they'd still all been taken so unprepared.

Kate Reed wasn't a woman who brooked failure well, especially her own.

“But as to the Harkers…you told me that before you and Jack went off with the rest to try and stop Dracula that you performed a-a burial service for Mina, correct? And since she was not in fact laid in any one resting place…it's possible that anywhere in England could count as hallowed ground for her to rest in. It's all her native soil.”

Kate paused, looking at Arthur and then away before going on.

“And Jonathan…Jonathan's home was always wherever she was…That could explain how she and Jonathan have been able to seemingly move about unimpeded, without us getting any wind of a vampire's nest being set up anywhere near.”

“Yes…that's a plausible explanation.” was his terse reply.

Arthur knew he needed to be calmer, less brittle. He'd already broken down last night with Lu, when she'd offered her blood up to the boy. It had brought back far too many memories of similar, ultimately useless gestures done by himself and Art and Quincey's namesake.

It seems he was destined to keep being reminded of the futility of all his grand gestures.

He wished he could just crawl into bed with Jack, Lu still small enough to tuck between the two of them and wake to find the last few months nothing but a terrible lingering dream.

While he was at it, he might as well wish to wake from the last 21 years.

But he didn't have the luxury of wallowing, none of them did.

“Is it possible that the Count, by dint of having fed on Mr. Harker so long and so singularly, could have had something of that connection transferred to him?”

Harrington asked, brows furrowed in concentration, no doubt thinking over his eclectic knowledge of the arcane, built up from the many old tomes they'd confiscated and stored away for safekeeping.

“After all, we've seen from Edwards' case and what we read about that business in Styria that a vampire can establish a psychic link with a victim if they share blood that can persist through time and space without the victim necessarily being turned by the exposure. But the link can draw the victim to the vampire, and the vampire to them”

“Couldn't we extrapolate out from that? The blood shared needn't necessarily be familial, it could, well, actually be shared.”

“Oh!” Alwyn jumped in, the light of discovery coming into her eyes at the prospect of a new puzzle to solve.

“And the longer it's shared the stronger the psychic and physical link! Through the physical blood! So that the Harkers, being bound already, and Dracula, bound to them by sharing blood, and both concentrating on the same goal of reaching our young guest, have been, so to speak, drawing each other along?

He wants to reach Quincey, he knows they'll follow if he does, and so uses their own determination to head him off to follow in their wake, as it were?

Because they can walk here, The Count can walk here, and because Quincey is already here--”

Jack interrupted this spiraling metaphysical explanation by tapping at the table to gain everyone's attention--and drawing it away from thoughts of Quincey, Arthur noted, unsure of his own feelings on that point.

Arthur hadn’t wanted to throw the boy to the Count, and he’d agreed, reluctantly, to let Lu…provide for him. Quincey had been nothing but polite and courteous since the day he’d walked into Arthur’s study— and in doing so dug up the most painful parts of his past to literally haunt him once more.

He didn't see how trying to shield the boy from his role as lynchpin in this whole mess helped anything.

Except, perhaps, to spare the boy what little innocence they had not already shattered by revealing the truth of his existence to him. Jack had told him of the…conversation he and Quincey had after Arthur had given him the saved documents to read over.

He’d never wanted to drive the boy to those extremes.

He just wanted his own family to be safe.

And now Jack had gone and declared Quincey part of it.

And Arthur didn’t know what to do.

* There's certainly something there I think,* Jack was saying, each person seated having learned his signs by now *But it's something we'll need to look into more at a later date, I think the more pressing matter now is finding where they're all sleeping during the day*

“Well if they've all of England left open to them, that could be anywhere!”

Edwards said with a shudder, lacing his fingers together tightly as if it would help keep his thoughts steady under the weight of free roaming vampires.

“It's a miracle they seem to have at least been kept out of the house proper, that protection doesn't seem to have been overcome by whatever psychical link or blood bond might be going on.”

“True, we'll need to be extra vigilant to ensure nothing could be possibly said to invite any unknown factors in.” Arthur said, going over the conversations he'd had and overheard between everyone last night, trying to assure himself nothing had been said then, in the heat of everything.

None of the vampires had been able to enter the house physically. Even if they had apparently manifested themselves to both Quincey and Lu through dreams.

He clenched his fists at the thought of the vampire that had replaced Mina Harker rummaging around in his daughter's head, extracting promises that fed off Lu's far too big heart and could only ever lead her into greater danger.

But no, whatever else might be going on, the rule of Invitation still held, and at least did not seem to extend to relations in Quincey's case. His unwitting invitation did not grant his parents nor the Count access to Arthur's physical threshold, if not his grounds.

This mercy, at least, seemed to be granted to them.

Not that they didn't need to still worry about whatever “blood bonds” might be in play.

Dracula had entered Quincey's dreams, played mind games with him, and had eventually been able to draw him out to where he'd been vulnerable to the Count's physical attack via his mental ones.

And Arthur knew it was only a matter of time before he tried again.

The devil was determined to drag the boy back to hell with him, whether it was due to some darker plans, where he wished to use the boy's unique existence to further spread the Count's misery, or to further torment his parents, or simply out of spite for having his ‘property’ dare to disobey him--none of that mattered.

Whatever Arthur felt personally about any of the Harkers, he wasn't about to let Count Dracula have anything he wanted ever again.

“Our main objective should be finding the Count.” Alwyn said, echoing Arthur's own thoughts. He wondered if her sensitivity wasn't picking up his roiling feelings and tried once more to sink into aristocratic composure.

“If Mr. Harrington's theory is true, it's likely he and the Harkers are all in close proximity anyway, whether he likes it or not.”

* What do you mean?* Jack asked.

“Well, If his ability to walk England freely is siphoned off them, well that blood bond will have been getting weaker by the day since Mr Harker senior…isn't available anymore.”

“He may still be able to siphon from Mrs Harker, being bound by turning her, but either way he's caught in a leash that's winding tighter and tighter around a pole.”

“And besides, their wills and blood are all bound together, his reason being here is the whole reason they're here as well as. He's the reason that any of this--” She waved her hand about the table and out towards the estate in general, “--Even exists. If we can find him, finally end him once and for all…”

“We can finally have some peace. All of us.” Kate said softly.

“But how do we track him?” Edwards asked, “We don't have any hard evidence for this link to the Harkers, just conjecture. You said before that Mrs. Harker used her link to track the Count, but even if we could find her first, I doubt anyone here wants to be making alliances with a vampire, even if they are temporarily aligned against a greater threat.”

“ No. ” Arthur said bluntly. “That most certainly won't be happening.”

The group sat in silence, each lost in their own doubts and conjectures as to what they should do.

“...The boy could do it”, Harrington said finally, looking grim, but certain of his proposal.

“He's linked to his parents, by blood and bond. And last night he bit the Count, tasted some of his blood, or what passes for it. Everything you’ve told us and we’ve learned points to him being by far our best bet for tracking any of them down.”

Arthur saw Jack's face blanch, causing the bit of scar that peaked above his high collar and through his beard to stand out like it was still fresh, and he rapidly began to sign:

* No . That's putting him directly in Dracula's sights. Besides, all else aside we can't possibly ask him to turn over his parents--*

“Dracula must be stopped .” Arthur said, and his tone instantly made each person sit up straighter.

“I don't wish to put anyone in any undue danger but--”

“I'll do it.”

Each head whirled around at the declaration, to see Quincey Harker standing framed in the doorway.

The door they had locked before coming in, which none of them had even heard open.

“Just how did you get in here??” Arthur asked, wondering what new vampiric power he was going to have to produce a counter for given this intrusion.

Quincey for his part ducked his head sheepish and fished something out of his pocket, holding it up towards the group.

“Lu slipped me the key this morning before she fell asleep and told me to go listen.”

Of course.

“Mr. Harker,” Edwards said slowly, speaking as if to a skittish hound, "Do you understand just what it is we're asking you to do? The danger it will bring on your head?”

Quincey's gaze dropped to the floor, and one of his hands moved to the wrist of the other, rubbing softly at clear skin that had only a few hours ago been mottled black and blue.

“I believe danger has already come to me sir, and to all of you because of me.”

“ I know you said you wouldn’t send me out as a scapegoat. But I-I wish to help. I couldn’t…I couldn’t call myself a good man if I didn’t do my own part to stop Fa…The Count. You’re right, Lord Godalming, he must be stopped, he deserves to be stopped.”

The boy stopped, swallowed hard, before continuing, hands clenching and unclenching.

“He threatened Lu, he tried to hurt her and… he-he hurt Mama and Papa…he’s been hurting them for a very long time…”

He raised his head and looked Arthur steadily in the eye, his own dark red ones alight with hardened determination.

“I’ll help you to find him, so that you can stop him from hurting anyone else. But…”

“But?” Arthur echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“But…I would ask, that—that you don’t harm my parents.”

“…And if your parents try to harm any of us?”

Quincey looked as if he was about to object, to say that they never would do such a thing, but stopped, swallowed again, and said quietly, “You of course should be able to defend yourselves…but please, don’t hurt them if you possibly can.”

Arthur’s nails dug into the palms of his hands, memories of white snow awash with red blood threatening to rise up and undo the little calm he’d held onto this whole meeting. The faces of Jack and Dr Van Helsing and his own Quincey flashed across his mind, one by one. All the men this boy was named for, all the men his father had cut down like nothing.

Didn’t he owe the dead and damaged vengeance for what they’d lost?

….Would vengeance bring any of it back?

At last, he managed to grit out;

“I promise, that no harm will come to your parents, so long as they pose no harm to anyone else. That’s the best I can do. Does everyone agree?”

There was a faint murmur of assent from the group, with a nod from Jack. Arthur nodded back, before turning once more to Quincey, and there was steel in his voice as he said;

“And you must promise me something in return, Harker.”

“Yes sir?”

“You say you love my daughter, you want to undertake this mission so that you can protect her?”

The boy blushed deeply, and Arthur had the bizarre realization he was blushing with Lu’s own blood, her gift to him coursing through his veins.

“Oh yes sir! I’d do anything for her.”

Arthur nodded, his blue eyes narrowing as he locked them on Quincey’s red ones.

“Then you promise me, that when it comes down to it, no matter what happens going forward, that you will do anything for her. You choose her , you understand? You do whatever it takes to keep her safe and whole and alive.”

He wanted to say: “If she’s so damn willing to walk into hell for you, it only seems right you live up to your family legacy and follow after her. If your father was willing to slaughter all the other people who he cared for to save the woman they’d failed to, the least you can do is the same. She must be the priority, no one else, no matter whom, no matter the bond. ‘ Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife and they shall be one flesh’ and all that.”

Of course, given the boy’s reaction to seeing a crucifix for the first time, Arthur doubted he’d ever so much as seen a Bible, let alone read one to recognize the verse. Remembering the crucifix, Arthur made a point to tell the young vampire to start wearing it. Heaven knows the boy could stand to have some extra protection going forward. They all could.

But back to the matter at hand.

“Do you understand what I mean when I say ‘you choose her’?”

Quincey’s face paled slightly, Lu’s blood rushing back to hide within his barely beating heart. But at last he whispered.

“Yes sir…I do…And I promise”

Arthur nodded, satisfied. The boy had never lied, Arthur wasn’t sure he even knew how.

“Good. Well you may as well go back and see if Lu’s awake and have her come in on all this properly. I’m sure she already told you to report back everything you heard anyway.”

A small smile crossed Quincey’s face, and from his other pocket, he pulled a small notebook and a bit of pencil.

“I took notes”

Of course he did. If there was anything else one could mark as an hereditary trait of the Harkers, they were wonderful for taking notes, no matter the circumstances. If they all managed to live through this, maybe Arthur would finally see about getting the boy his inheritance in the solicitors firm. It was probably time it moved on from being a front for the organization to getting used for actual real estate opportunities, with property taxes going up and all.

“Alright then, go and get her. And then, we’ll get to work”

I have to give credit to @see-arcane on tumblr for the line “he’s been hurting them for a long time” as it came from their own divergent Blood of My Blood fic which ripped my heart out and can be found here

Also the people at Arthur's round table are all from actual ghost/spooky stories of the time!

Alwyne Hargreaves nee Sargent is from Allen Upward's "The Ghost Hunters" series

Ben Edwards is the hithertoo unnamed narrator or E. F. Benson's "The Room in the Tower"

Henry Harrington is a character from M.R. James' excellent "Casting the Runes"

(All of which I would highly recommed listening to for free at the links provided)

And Kate Reed was a cut character from the original Dracula novel, a friend of Mina and Lucy and Jonathan's from school.

#blood of my blood #dracula #arthur holmwood #quincey morris #jack seward #lu holmwood #casting the runes #mr james #ef benson #the room in the tower #allen upward #the ghost hunters #victorian horror #edwardian horror #ghost stories #vampires #dracula fanfiction #re dracula #dracula daily

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justavulcan · 6 months

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Backgrounds With Class: Boros Legionnaire

I'll be honest: Ravnica has always fascinated me. I was a high schooler when the first set came out, and I was immediately consumed creating characters for the setting. Now that we've actually received my long-awaited crossover, I thought it would be nice to write a love letter to the setting in the form of another Backgrounds with Class series. After all: some guilds have natural class choices tied in, from a conceptual standpoint. Boros and Fighter, Izzet and Wizard, Selesnya and Druid. But guilds aren’t class-restricted, and so I wonder what it would look like if you paired every class with every guild background, even the ones that seem at odds, like Izzet and Barbarian, or Gruul and Artificer. So I thought about it, and this is what I came up with. Some character concepts for each class, and each Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica background for each class.

Boros Legionnaire

The Boros Legionnaire Artificer is a walking proof that workers in magic are just as important as workers of brass and steel to the Legion. Although her magical talents are shorter-lived than her material ones, they are certainly more flexible in the heat of battle. Armed with a sword she made and backed up by a brass construct in the shape of a large war-hound, she joined the legion to follow in her family’s footsteps- supplying the Legion has always been the family business, and she’s just taken the next logical step testing her creations in the field personally.

The Boros Legionnaire Barbarian has always been a competitive soul. The Ordruun line of minotaurs has been the standard bearers for their people in the Legion for centuries if not millennia. This minotaur is not one of those line, and if the truth is told, his motives for joining the Legion have more to do with this family he is not part of than the good he can do serving under the Warleader Aurelia. Competitive spirit and the raw zeal that the Boros embodied before current leadership ascended are far more familiar to this soldier, and his target is the entire Ordruun line- who he would very much love to show up.

The Boros Legionnaire Bard has always been a perfomer at heart, no matter the purpose of their performance. A child to Rakdos parents who somehow acquired an overwhelming respect for authority would be absolutely fascinated by the talents of a Boros bugler- equal parts inspiration and mayhem-bringer. Still, in their way their parents are proud of the literally street-shattering performances their child can put on. That they happen in the midst of quashing the more violent Rakdos parties at the head of a Boros strike force is bittersweet, but still bombastic.

The Boros Legionnaire Cleric knows that violence is not always the way of the legion. Certainly, as the military police to all of Ravnica, it is their primary function, but in a guild that deals so matter-of-factly with violence there must be those who protect life and heal both their comrades and those they go to defend. Dedicated spiritually to aiding those around them, this loxodon healer wears the heaviest armor she can tolerate and carries no weapon but that which she must from her station. For her, the Legion is and has always been meant to be a shield for those who cannot or dare not raise arms in their own defense, and a poultice laid on any wounds savagery or scheming brings.

The Boros Legionnaire Druid walks a delicate line. Armed with the Legion’s typical fiery magic, he maintains a delicate balance between his duties and the cycles of Ravnica’s limited wilderness. He’s a fan of cycles- patrolling territory, keeping routines, bringing both healers’ and embermages’ talents to bear in battle in turn, and even (secretly) inciting unrest to justify cleaning out neighborhoods with unsavory elements. Familiar with the cycle of burn-cleanse-grow of ancient forest destruction and regrowth, this centaur is as tied to the green space of Ravnica as tightly as any gruul anarch or selesnya initiate; he just views the city as subject to the same natural cycle.

The Boros Legionnaire Fighter was always a runt among his kin- noble cyclops blood adulterated by too many ogres and humans through the centuries, he barely breaks eight feet tall and will never see the immense stature of his two-story ancestors. Still, he’s a natural hand at the forge and an avid student of his runes, so he has unique talents to bring to bear against the Legion’s enemies. He hopes, secretly, that studying the ancient language-magic of his people will lend some of their more storied traits.

The Boros Legionnaire Monk is a bearer of the light so often spoke of among the Legion. Raised in the strictest traditions of a multigenerational family of wojeks, it was always assumed that she would take her inner light and cast it about to find the darker sides of her peers and serve as one of the Legion’s investigators. Instead she’s proven her talents again and again as a natural complement to her allies’ heavy armor and broad shields, darting across and through the battlefield with a sword in hand and a growing trail of radiance behind her. Perhaps one day the light will be able to do more than show her trail, but she’s content to serve until it shows in its fullness.

The Boros Legionnaire Paladin has sworn an oath, as paladins are wont to do, to Aurelia herself. An oath of service, of fealty, of devotion, naturally. However, it paints him in an uncommon light- as one of Ravnica’s unquiet dead, a zombie still shambling around tied to a deteriorating body and encrusted with mold that peels and bleaches in the sun, he should be among the Golgari. A memory is all that stands between him and that path- one of battle, sprinting with great urgency, with an angel at their backs and surrounded by warriors in gleaming armor.

The Boros Legionnaire Ranger wasn’t taught to stalk, to hunt, and to use the bow. They come naturally, a strange talent for a human from the grittiest part of Precinct Six, raised near an iron foundry. Still, his talents are unrefined, and formal training at Sunhome has taught him to bring them to bear on the legion’s behalf, stalking and occasionally killing Ravnica’s malcontents and anarchists into the Rubblebelts and beyond. When not tasked with a mission such as this, there is always work as a support for a squad on the street, but he hungers for larger quarries than Tin street gangs and the occasional belligerent ogre.

The Boros Legionnaire Rogue lives by the motto “who dares, wins.” Daring bordering on foolhardy, even for a goblin, she is known for pelting ahead of her comrades to bring her dual swords to bear against the enemy before all others have their chance. Boastful and proud to match her admittedly sterling reputation as a promising candidate among duellists, she’s broadly disliked among the other cadets for how she seems to dodge the due punishments for defying orders.

The Boros Legionnaire Sorcerer was exposed to heavenly fire as a child- the consecrated flames of a firemane angel’s blade set alight the wagon in which her family dwelt, and her burns were grievous. As the rest of her family was a small Gruul clan that had just rampaged through a city block, that same angel had just finished leading the counterattack that cost her parents her life. Years later, fully aware of the source of her burgeoning powers and how she acquired them, she joined the legion, facing that same angel as she proved her ability with the fire that scorched her.

The Boros Legionnaire Warlock met Aurelia of the Legion for the first time as a child. At this first meeting, when she told the warleader of the Rakdos ‘surprise party’ waiting around the corner, the angel gave her a feather from her wing for her vigilance and aid to the legion. From that first meeting, she knew that the Legion was her way out of the chaos-wracked Precinct Four and joined the legion as soon as she was able. There, swearing her oaths of service, she reaffirmed her commitment to Aurelia herself, and the angel honored the oath with a pact. Now she serves proudly as embermage and medic both- whichever is needed for the engagement, she brings to bear.

The Boros Legionnaire Wizard serves as a critical component of the Boros war machine- the one that keeps their troops from being torn apart by Golgari necromancers or Gruul druids. Armed with countermagic and explosive battlemagic like few others, this dispassionate vedalken warmage is known for his poker face- in battle, his face is a mask beyond which no insight penetrates. Despite his apparently frozen demeanor in battle, his heart burns no less brightly than his comrades’, and he shows it in the rare moments between battles when he remembers who he’s protected.

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