#Mok Heeds The Call

[awellboiledicicle]

My joke answer for your au is ‘it’s always sunny in faendal’ however

My brain is fried so I can’t give you a real answer, sorry

no, no you just made me laugh very hard so that's a v real answer and i thank you for it

#Mok Heeds The Call #potatolordofficial #im so happy

[mokartbox]

Your Pride heart are super cute! I noticed there's an Aromantic heart, but no Asexual heart, I'd love to see one :3

i’m planning on doing more--ace included--i just got very tired last night doing them. 

Should have it and a few more done tonight, and if not then tomorrow. 

#alexiealducsdrawings #Mok Heeds the Call

[inquisitorpup]

So how did Pup and Dorian's relationship start, if you don't mind my asking? I'm really interested in this au!

oh man i just remembered this ask was here i’m so sorry.

Well, part of me wants to kinda shrug and go “when the flirting started” but that wouldn’t be strictly accurate, because, due to Pup keeping up their continual gender-enigma shroud and the sort of inherited from Isabella and Varric to toss out friendly flirts/commentary, it was a sort of a guessing game. Especially on Dorian’s part.Because flirting did happen between them, and Dorian had the habit of calling Pup a man, which Pup corrected and said was inaccurate but if it made him feel better they would allow him to think it but would like him to use their pronouns. It wasn’t really till they were closer that they had a more in depth conversation about it. As far as i remember talking with @bubonickitten we’d decided that really, so long as Pup wasn’t a woman Dorian was happy, but would have to explain things, but Pup was used to having to explain a range of things to people at Anders’s clinic and as a healer, so it worked out. 

I’m clearing this up mostly because I imagine it would have made Pup anxious after Dorian’s personal quest, dealing with his father. They’d been flirtatious and Dorian had probably been receptive, but because they also have a very intense insecurity about their body and how people respond to them, they’d feel weird not having a talk with their partner. They have rather bad dysphoria about their chest development, so they kinda fidgeted about moving the relationship forward due to that as well.

As to the start start though, their relationship was primarily made out of going back and forth about books. A lot. You could not physically get them in one area and not have them going back and forth about magic, history [admittedly Hamin/Pup’s knowledge was limited to what Hawke could buy for them and Merrill/Clan Lavellan could teach them] and trying to one up one another in sparring matches. 

Or you could always start when they first met-- Dorian was travelling with Alexius through Kirkwall for some artifact or another before tragedy hit Alexius’s family, and Dorian being Dorian, had wandered to Lowtown to look at the Bazaar. Pup, who was used to sitting with Fenris and thus viewing anything Tevinter as Evil Incarnate, decided Dorian was their mark for the day. So, commence Dorian having his purse cut and Pup running for their short elven lives. Dorian noticed and gave chase into Darktown, which you really don’t want to do to the Healer’s kid. Problem, necromancer. There’s a lot of dead people in Darktown, bones buried in the muck.So, it turned into a brawl in the sewer and ended with Pup ripping off a silverite bracer, 2 sovereign, and fucking up his hair before flying out the slat windows cut in the cliff and diving into the harbor. Because they did that sort of stupid shit when they got good at the barrier spell.Dorian spent a good 5 minutes processing that a mage robbed him and jumped off a cliff into a harbor, and went on with life.Several years later, Pup was wearing that bracer in the tavern one night and Dorian was just drunk enough to recognize it enough to recount the story of a similar bracer. Pup choked on the alcohol they were drinking for the benefit of the other people there.“THAT WAS YOU?”“What?”“You were the necromancer in--” Hamin choked again and banged a fist on the table again, Sera landed a good few thwaps between their shoulder blades while pulling a face at magic talk. “You sodding shit, i was scrubbing sludge off my hair and pulling lamprey off my ass for a week!”“Maker’s ass, Hamin that was-- You couldn’t have been that short--”

Basically Pup didn’t steal Dorian’s heart, they stole his bracer and went from there

#Pup #Dorian Pavus #Inquisitor Pup #Inquisitor Pup au #Pup au #Anonymous Nonnie #Mok Heeds the Call

[onwesterlywinds]

You each recognize one of the skeletons, intimately. You see their final moments playing out as though they were your own: a priest, a spy, a marquis, and a king.

The air around the tower becomes more turbulent, but it's nothing Akhutai Urit can't pilot them through. As the Prima Vista's shuttle approaches the isle by air, you see plenty of Garlean airships already docked there - as well as a sea vessel. Alaq'it Moks climbs up the back of a chair to see. Nivelth Ajuyn has elected to silently keep the cape that Zalera picked out, but she has an old battered flat cap on as well, her ears once more well hidden. Akhutai Urit slows the ship down considerably and steers around to attempt to keep them out of line of site of any Garleans. Akhutai Urit: Welcoming party. At least there's only a few of us. Sneaking in should be... easier. A'zaela Linh leans against the wall of the ship, eyes closed, a headache pounding against her skull. Sweat dots her brow, but she doesn't make any noise of discomfort. Alaq'it Moks: I kind of... forgot part of our problem was Garleans. Alaq'it Moks laughs awkwardly. Nivelth Ajuyn: Garleans are always a problem, Alaq'it. A'zaela Linh: ...We take them down if they're in the way. Akhutai Urit: Methinks you don't see the amount of forces that seem to be there. I don't care how powerful you or the stone thinks you are. Akhutai Urit starts looking for a place to land. Alaq'it Moks: You WERE saying much about how we are stronger than we believe. Akhutai Urit: I did. And I stand by that statement. Doesn't mean she can take on an army. A'zaela Linh grits her teeth, but says nothing more. Nivelth Ajuyn rubs her temples slightly, and settles back into what seems to be her default pose, of her right hand on her left shoulder. Nivelth Ajuyn: None of us can. That's why we work together. Alaq'it Moks pats A'zaela Linh's shoulder, careful to only touch the armor. There's a spot along a deserted cape that doesn't seem to be especially crowded - and you can see from the air that it is not patrolled. Akhutai Urit: Be ready to land. Akhutai Urit makes for the handy dandy deserted cape and begins landing operations. He keeps his attention out, however, in the case of needing to pull back out quickly. In all, the path ahead seems completely clear of Garleans, strangely enough. Nivelth Ajuyn: We're headed for the inside, correct? A'zaela Linh: Yes. I hear... A'zaela Linh trails off. A'zaela Linh: Inside. We need something inside. Akhutai Urit steps back from the controls and turns towards the others. Akhutai Urit: Unless we wish to go sightseeing, I'd suspect whatever we're looking for is inside, yes. If one looks to the entrance to the tower, the courtyard in front is completely devoid of soldiers at the moment. Nivelth Ajuyn frowns at A'zaela Linh and merely sighs slightly: she wants answers, but seeing as they're about to go find them, she can't say much more. A'zaela Linh: Are we ready? Are we landed? Alaq'it Moks looks around. Even if her head is still slightly scrambled, her eyes and limbs remember Edge Marbrand's training. Alaq'it Moks: Where... are they... Akhutai Urit: We're landed. We should be ready for anything. The lack of... anyone is disconcerting. Nivelth Ajuyn nods as well, and summons an Egi. The winged yellow creature lets out a soft cry, and lands on her right shoulder. A'zaela Linh: Perhaps it's a trap. We will find out soon enough. Akhutai Urit: I'm more or less assuming everything is a trap at this point. Alaq'it Moks shrug at Akhutai Urit. Alaq'it Moks: And, up to this point. But no soldiers arrive for the time being. The path ahead remains clear, and the massive golden door lies open, with an inscription beside it: Lo, seeker in days unborn, god-blade bearer. Know you: this tower challenges the sky. Ware the watcher; the ward of the Three waits, soul-hungry, unsated. He without power, want it not. He with power, trust it not. He with sight, heed it not. Rend illusion, cut the true path. A'zaela Linh can barely read that, let alone fully understand what it means. Alaq'it Moks mutters the choice words she CAN make out. Nivelth Ajuyn crouches down to get a better look at it, and scribbles the whole thing into her grimoire, while reading it aloud for A'zaela Linh's benefit. Alaq'it Moks: God... tower... sky? Alaq'it Moks sighs. Alaq'it Moks: There will be stairs. A'zaela Linh: Trust it not... Akhutai, you truly didn't need go through all the trouble to tell me twice. Nivelth Ajuyn: Ward of the Three, soul hungry. Great. Akhutai Urit: You don't appreciate it? A'zaela Linh: Perhaps less than I should. Alaq'it Moks nonchalantly places herself between them. Alaq'it Moks: Well then. We are to cut the path? Alaq'it Moks draws out a knife and moves to stab the door. A'zaela Linh: What are you- Nivelth Ajuyn: It probably doesn't mean literal cutting. Alaq'it Moks staggers back, as the stone door doesn't absorb the shock. A good ear MIGHT hear her swear. A'zaela Linh cringes with pain. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... Did we try... opening it? Nivelth Ajuyn's voice is just shy of sounding sarcastic. Akhutai Urit 's gaze falls back upon the entrance and the wide open door, not paying much heed to the door stabbing. Akhutai Urit: ...I'll take point. If there's no objection. A'zaela Linh: ...Please do. The Garleans have taken up the space inside the hall - including upon a wide elevator directly within the center of the tower. But so too do you see stairs nearby, in a secluded corner, leading not up but down. Alaq'it Moks is now very concerned that she helped A'zaela make the wrong choice - several wrong choices. She muses, however, that it is now far too late to do anything but continue. Nivelth Ajuyn frowns slightly, and edges to the darker corners of the room, keeping an eye on any Garleans. Akhutai Urit sees the many Garleans and his eyes narrow. Doing his best to not be seen, he inches his way to the stairs. He's not quite sure if down is the right way to go but it's away from the Imperials. Maybe they'll get lucky for once. A'zaela Linh's instincts are telling her up, up. Shemhazai wants to raise Ultima to the heavens, does she not? But her allies are going down... It isn't an easy choice, but the others are going down, and doesn't think she can be alone right now. Alaq'it Moks takes rear, carefully watching to make sure that the Garleans do not spy their descent. A'zaela Linh doesn't put up a fight, either - she simply follows where the majority of the auracite is headed. Nivelth Ajuyn makes sure that her Garuda isn't glowing nearly as much, and it trills softly on her shoulder. The darkness is so heavy as to be oppressive. And yet a power lurks here regardless - one that puts each of the Lucavi on alert. Alaq'it Moks blinks against the darkness, just dimly aware of Nivelth Ajuyn's bird. Nivelth Ajuyn unclasps her right arm from her shoulder, lifting Garuda up. The Egi's glow increases with a soft little shriek. Akhutai Urit's movements become stiffer and each step further becomes more and more difficult as his heartbeat quickens. Still, he leads, trying not to make his growing fear too obvious. Nivelth Ajuyn has the strong impression of having walked these steps before... long ago. Alaq'it Moks moves her hands and summons a star that should be blinding... but anyone who saw it in the Barheim Passage will notice the light is slightly greener. She frowns and tries to steel herself. The light isn't constant, and she needs time to gather herself each time she calls it down. A'zaela Linh's eyes adjust to the darkness fairly well - she isn't nocturnal like Nivelth Ajuyn, but her eyes still adjust quicker than the average Hyur. That doesn't mean she can see anything except her hand in front of her, yet... Alaq'it Moks: I cannot keep a constant light. We should move slowly... except, where are we going? Nivelth Ajuyn touches Akhutai Urit's gloved arm gently, patting him, before starting to head forward. Nivelth Ajuyn: I think I have an idea where to go. Alaq'it Moks puts her arm out to find A'zaela Linh's, to try to pull them both to the sound of Nive patting Akhutai Urit's arm. Akhutai Urit finds comfort in the small amounts of light. He doesn't say anything as Nive passes him. A small bit of orange flickers in his eyes and he swallows hard. A'zaela Linh is easily dragged away in any which direction needed to go. Nivelth Ajuyn pauses, then takes her stone out of her pocket. It glimmers slightly, and she frowns at it. Nivelth Ajuyn: You've been here before. Show me the way. It does so. The Gemini stone leads Nive - and, by extension, the party - thirteen floors down, past howling creatures and flickering ghosts. Alaq'it Moks intermittently lights the way with the star; as the party goes unchallenged, the light is cleaner. She keeps Scorpio resolutely in her pocket. Cuchulainn is, perhaps, lying inactive out of fear. Nivelth Ajuyn keeps walking forward, avoiding monsters and casting spells that instantly kill smaller ones. Garuda is glowing still, brightening up the room somewhat, but it's not that much. The party hears a keening wail. Nivelth Ajuyn: What was that? Alaq'it Moks: A keening wail... A'zaela Linh recognizes the sound: someone Shemhazai loved made it - several thousand years ago. Akhutai Urit: Does it matter. Akhutai Urit's voice is nearly absent, though. Something else was taking his attention. Alaq'it Moks pretends not to feel Nive's stare, alternating between patting Akhutai's arm and A'zaela's. A'zaela Linh: ...Yes. A'zaela Linh steps forward and instantly staggers, falling to her knees. Nivelth Ajuyn: A'zaela...! Alaq'it Moks: A'z- Alaq'it Moks kneels by her. A'zaela Linh: I don't know. A'zaela Linh presses a hand firmly against the side of her face. A'zaela Linh: I don't know, but she does. Shemhazai's stone burns an angry purple against A'zaela Linh's chest. Akhutai Urit: I don't particularly feel that is a good thing. Nivelth Ajuyn goes to check on her, but hesitates before actually touching A'zaela's shoulder. Alaq'it Moks: Do you sense... that she is angry? Alaq'it Moks is experiencing no small amount of regret over getting A'zaela into this; as Cuchulainn's voice is quieted in fear, she understands the depth of his manipulation. A'zaela Linh: ...Terrified. Akhutai Urit takes in the meager amounts of light around them and his eyes, for a moment, shine a brilliant gold. Akhutai Urit: ...I can carry someone if needed. We must continue as best we can. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... I suppose I'm the only one that feels right at home here. Althyk this is bad.... Alaq'it Moks looks to the others, clenching her fists at her knees and collecting herself. Alaq'it Moks: If they are afraid, then it may be that we are going the right way. Alaq'it Moks nods to Akhutai and tries to help A'zaela stand. A'zaela Linh picks herself up, ignoring the searing pain in her chest, and the fear swelling in her heart. She takes Alaq'it's hand in hers and continues on. Nivelth Ajuyn: Tai? Are you good to continue on? Akhutai Urit speaks quietly. Akhutai Urit: He is not afraid. Or, perhaps, he is. Fear and anger are frequently similar. ...Just need to hold on to what separates us. Don't worry about me. Alaq'it Moks: Too late. Nivelth Ajuyn inhales deeply and gives a big sigh, but nods. She's rather uncomfortable with how okay she is with all of this. Akhutai Urit: Let us continue. Far below, on the thirteenth subterranean level, there is a long, dark hall. Along each wall lies what might once have been some form of machinery, but it lies broken and still and rusted. At the end of the hall, however, lie four broken skeletons - and sticking out from the empty ribs of one is an intricate greatsword, wrought in a metal the likes of which none of you have ever seen. You each recognize one of the skeletons, intimately. You see their final moments playing out as though they were your own: a priest, a spy, a marquis, and a king. The king's grandfather told him of this sword, and so did he go into the earth with his trusted friends to take up the ancient relic - to rid the world of the cursed zodiac stones, and halt the legend of the Zodiac Braves from ever taking root again. His lineage had granted him the birthright of Belias, and he raged to be free of it. The priest sought only remedy to the world and its ills, but had grown bitter and disillusioned until he could feel that bitterness begin to threaten the very fabric of his soul. He sought Cuchulainn for counsel, much as he himself sought to counsel the king, to guide him until the end. The marquis, ever loyal, had seen the stone's true power: a fatal blow upon a battle for the king's lands had meant nothing to him, except now he was doomed to live in flesh as cold as the grave until Zalera took him and his twin daughters for true. The spy detested every one of them; she sought only to serve her queen. She told the king of the marquis' apparent treachery, planted a suggestion from Shemhazai that the marquis would kill them all... and thus did the king divert from his plan of doing away with the stones and instead plunged the Sword of Kings into his oldest friend's heart. Nivelth Ajuyn stares down at the skeleton of the Marquis, and crouches down next to it. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... We're just all the same in a long, long chain of hosts and tools to be used by these things, aren't we? Akhutai Urit walks over to the king and nudges the skeleton with his foot. His eyes fall upon the sword. Akhutai Urit: Don't speak as if it's not something we can break. A'zaela Linh forces down the bile in her throat. Her hands -- her entire body is shaking, as though a chill had run her through. Nivelth Ajuyn: Chains can always be broken and rusted, Tai. I think you know that. Alaq'it Moks feels A'zaela's shaking through the hand she holds. Akhutai Urit: Considering the many bindings I've had to break free of, I am intimately aware of their fragility. A'zaela Linh reaches up to grab her auracite, to rip it from her throat and leave it here, never to be seen again - but pain rushes through her body, and she cannot commit. She squeezes Alaq'it's hands tighter, so, incredibly grateful that she still has someone by her side. Alaq'it Moks winces in pain as A'zaela's grip tightens, but holds the hand tightly. She knows now it is not only her own regret she is feeling; she feels the heart of the priest, and knows he had sought to do only as Alaq'it did. To find the wisdom to save what was dear. Nivelth Ajuyn goes to touch the sword that's stabbed through one of the skeletons, and flinches as she can feel a phantom pain in her own chest. A'zaela Linh: What... what do we do now? We cannot... let this happen to us. And if I was the one who did this, I... Nivelth Ajuyn: You were not a spy for some Dynast-Descendant several centuries ago, A'zaela. This was not you. A'zaela Linh thinks of how her hand had almost grabbed for her knife - how Shemhazai had tempted her to plunge it through Alaq'it's heart. In the darkness, it all feels too much, like it might swallow her up. Alaq'it Moks: Nive is right. THIS is you. Alaq'it Moks wiggles the hand she's grasping in the air. Akhutai Urit walks up to Nive's side, eyes never leaving the sword. Akhutai Urit: They were so easily manipulated. They were weak. We are not. A'zaela Linh: You're right. A'zaela Linh stares at her hand in Alaq'it's. A'zaela Linh: Disarm me. Shemhazai protests, loudly, painfully, but A'zaela Linh has never felt more clarity. Alaq'it Moks deftly moves to comply. Her body almost seems to miss close combat. She motions to Akhutai to get the lance; it looks heavy. Akhutai Urit nods and moves to relieve A'zaela Linh of her lance. Nivelth Ajuyn hasn't pulled up from the greatsword, and watches the changing of weapons with overshadowed eyes. A'zaela Linh: ...Perhaps the rest of you should leave. A'zaela Linh's gaze focuses on Nivelth Ajuyn. Alaq'it Moks is thinking furiously, but she is so, so out of her depth with such magic. She moves to see what sense she gets from the sword in the priest. Akhutai Urit sets A'zaela's lance on his back next to his own. Akhutai Urit: Leave? I don't know how well any of you know me to make such a suggestion. The priest had been the second to be cut down, after he had tried to reason with the spy. But the moment his lifeblood had spilled across the stone floor, he had been unable to stop the king from sending the sword through her gut. Alaq'it Moks gingerly lays her hand on the hilt of the sword, muttering the closest thing she can think of to a prayer. Alaq'it Moks: I made your mistakes, too. Please give me the strength to help correct them. The sword gives no response that you can perceive; however, again the demons within the stones seem to shrink back, preparing to possibly rise up. Alaq'it Moks feels the retreat of the stone, but instead of feeling relief, she remembers the sight of the ocean pulling away from the shore before a tidal wave. She shuts her eyes tight and pulls, fast. Nivelth Ajuyn looks at the sword, then to Alaq'it, and A'zaela. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... We all wish to end this, don't we? To break this cycle, to destroy these stones? Akhutai Urit watches Alaq'it grab the sword. Akhutai Urit: And so we shall. A'zaela Linh: ...It's the only thing I've thought about for the past month. A'zaela Linh slowly removes the necklace with the auracite from her body. Her entire being burns from the effort - she already has blisters on her chest from even the thought of removing it. Her hands are gloved, but they, too, take damage - she's almost surprised they don't set aflame from Sagittarius' anger. Nivelth Ajuyn watches A'zaela carefully, wishing she had access to her own healing spells for her friend's sake. A'zaela Linh moves away from the stone, from Nivelth. She isn't steady, and she stumbles slightly, grabbing on to Akhutai's arm briefly, then apologizing. Akhutai Urit holds out his arm for A'zaela to grab onto anyway and holds it out to help keep her steady. A'zaela Linh takes it, realizing for the first time that it wasn't Nivelth asking her to put the stone down was what made her do it. It was the image of Alaq'it's hand in hers, and the way she trusted Akhutai enough to grip onto his arm. It was that she trusted Nivelth enough to even place the dangerous stone down in front of her. Alaq'it Moks looks over to Akhutai. She's struggling to lift the sword. Alaq'it Moks: Akhutai... while I would love to strike this down and save something for once, I cannot lift this thing. If I take A'zaela, would you try this? Alaq'it Moks holds the hilt toward him. Nivelth Ajuyn gives a smile to A'zaela, and then looks at Akhutai. Nivelth Ajuyn: Can you do the honors? I doubt this will actually work, but... Akhutai Urit gives a hum of acknowledgement before reaching for the sword with his free hand. And as soon as his left hand closes around the hilt, he feels Belias within the stone seemingly recoil horribly. This causes him to grin despite himself. Akhutai Urit: Their reaction is promising regardless. I will try. Alaq'it Moks moves to take over A'zaela's support and claps him on the back. Alaq'it Moks: You, as they say, got this. A'zaela Linh shifts to hold on to Alaq'it once more, trying her hardest to not burden anyone, but unable to completely commit to that due to the pain she was in. Nivelth Ajuyn has Garuda hold the stone steady, and scoots back so Akhutai Urit can attempt to hack it to bits. Alaq'it Moks lays the strongest healing spell she can confidently manage on A’zaela as Akhutai readies himself. Akhutai Urit steps forward and holds out the blade over the stone, measuring. With a sharp intake of breath, he pulls the blade overhead before swinging it down upon it. The stone shatters into needle-fine shards, and Shemhazai screams. With her final wail, you can hear her speak the name of Ultima - a warning to her lady alone. For a moment, the world is deafened, and then the sound of the darkness all around you rushes back. Alaq'it Moks staggers. A'zaela Linh breathes, long and deep, as the stone shatters. Her skin is yet burned, and her body still tires, but she is free, and she feels that weight lifted from her chest as Shemhazai's hold over her mind dissipates. The scream is familiar, the same one she's heard both times she's let Shemhazai go, but this time... it is a requiem, a blessing. Alaq'it Moks: Ultima... Alaq'it Moks squeezes A'zaela's hand once more, before stepping in front of Akhutai, Scorpio in hand. She holds it up to him. Alaq'it Moks: I asked you to cut something down today, if needed. It will not be me. It will never be me. I will be stronger from here, so please, cut this one. Alaq'it Moks whispers one more prayer to the priest as she sets the stone on the ground where A'zaela's had been. A'zaela Linh whispers Alaq'it's name, too relieved to cry. Akhutai Urit exhales slowly. Akhutai Urit: ...I wonder if the holder of Ultima will give us trouble. Akhutai Urit knows they all know who the holder is but... Akhutai Urit nods at Alaq'it Moks. Akhutai Urit: I know. I made my promise. But I knew. Akhutai Urit again prepares the sword. Again, he swings the blade, face blank of emotion, eyes flickering. The stone oozes, then melts; Cuchulainn gives one last odious laugh before all traces of him are gone. When next you breathe in, the air feels pure and clean in ways you did not know it could before. Alaq'it Moks grabs A'zaela's arm in a manner that is almost giddy; she collects herself and looks toward Nive and Akhutai. She's almost too exhilerated to speak. Akhutai Urit drags the tip of the blade along the ground before picking it up. He looks at Nive. Nivelth Ajuyn stares up at Tai, reaching for the stone in her pocket. And she pauses. Alaq'it Moks: ...Ah. Alaq'it Moks wonders if she has jinxed something. Nivelth Ajuyn she goes to stand, the stone held losely in her left hand, staring at him, before shaking her head. Nivelth Ajuyn: ... I think not. Akhutai Urit: I was afraid of that. Alaq'it Moks moves in front of A'zaela, putting her hands on her hips to face Nive. Or... Nive? Nivelth Ajuyn frowns, and moves to rip off the hat. It flutters to the ground. Nivelth Ajuyn: Annoying thing. Alaq'it Moks picks up the hat. Akhutai Urit tilts his head. Akhutai Urit: Do you think you have power here? Alaq'it Moks: This is hers. She is hers. Alaq'it Moks' voice isn't angry; it's even. She takes a step closer to Nive, holding the hat. A'zaela Linh, moaning and sweating bullets besides, falls to her knees. A'zaela Linh: I'm sorry. A'zaela Linh passes out for the first time since she lost her memory, hitting the ground loudly. Nivelth Ajuyn: Do you think you could step into my domain and challenge me? This is mine, all of it. This death and darkness. Nivelth Ajuyn points at Akhutai Urit. Nivelth Ajuyn: And you fear it. Alaq'it Moks: A'ZAELA! Alaq'it Moks runs back and checks her friend; besides some bruises, A'zaela seems to be stricken by exhaustion, and Alaq'it pats her carefully before turning back to Nive and Akhutai. Nivelth Ajuyn's eyes flicker to A'zaela with something approaching fear in them, for a split second, then her gaze turns back to Akhutai. Akhutai Urit ponders that for a moment. Akhutai Urit: Ah. Yes. I do suppose I fear the dark. Death, not so much. Akhutai Urit's eyes land on A'zaela and he takes a step closer to her and Alaq'it. Akhutai Urit: And even if I still feared death, I would get nowhere if I let it stop me. Who would I protect? How would I live? You're going to need something stronger than fear. Nivelth Ajuyn frowns, her lips pulling down into a snarl that bares slight fang. Nivelth Ajuyn: Such a mortal ideal. Nivelth Ajuyn looks to Alaq'it, to the hat. Nivelth Ajuyn: Everything here is mine. Including this host. Why do you petty creatures persist in living, when there is nothing of value in struggling against the tide! Alaq'it Moks: Nive. Alaq'it Moks lets Akhutai continue to speak to the demon, and calls out to the host, almost cheerfully. Alaq'it Moks: Nive. How many tides have we crested to get this far? Nivelth Ajuyn seems to... stumble, just slightly, at Alaq'it's words. Akhutai Urit: If everything here was yours, we would be dead and I wouldn't be holding the sword that can destroy you. ...Value is what we make of it. Perhaps it is because we are mortal that we can find value in life. Love, friendship, beauty. It is death that makes us appreciate these things because how else could we know how precious life is? Alaq'it Moks is next to Nivelth Ajuyn now. Alaq'it Moks: But truly, we would like to appreciate these things a bit longer in life. We ought to see how much more we can make of all those things, no? Alaq'it Moks says this almost as a conversational aside to Akhutai, while gently putting the hat back on Nive's head. Nivelth Ajuyn's gaze flickers between the two of them, and the sneer lessens somewhat. She's faltering - Zalera is faltering. She shakes her head, some of the light coming back into her eyes, some of the warmth. Her fingers loosen around the stone, and it clatters to the ground, and she buries her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with near-silent sobs. The darkness around them almost swallows them up, but not quite. Nivelth Ajuyn: I’m- I’m sorry, I-I picked up the damn stone and every waking moment has been knowing that you all will die and I’ll be alone again-- Alaq'it Moks: Not today. Because you let him go. Because you were strong. Alaq'it Moks takes Nivelth Ajuyn's arms and makes way for Akhutai and the sword. Nivelth Ajuyn: I'm not- Alaq'it Moks: Do you think none of us here know how hard it is to set a stone down? Alaq'it Moks' tone isn't angry. Akhutai Urit: It is as she says. We will all die. But it certainly is not this day. Besides, the one thing I believe in is rebirth. We can all find each other again, if we so desire it. We won't leave you alone. Akhutai Urit uses the tip of the sword to drag the stone closer and into position. Nivelth Ajuyn swallows thickly, and points at him. Nivelth Ajuyn: I'm holding you to that. I don't know how, but I will. Nivelth Ajuyn kicks the stone towards him, before almost falling into Alaq'it's arms. Akhutai Urit gives a warm smile. Akhutai Urit: Trust me, you aren't the only one. Akhutai Urit swings the sword down on this next stone. Nivelth Ajuyn falls to her knees, crying out in pain as she holds onto her head. The hat is knocked slightly askew, but doesn't come off. Zalera isn't leaving her mind without a fight, and she has to force him out, flinging him with all her metaphysical might into the stone that is just under Akhutai's blade. The stone crumbles into dust. There's a shout of defiance, a wailing sob - and then the world around you feels much brighter, despite the ever-encroaching darkness. Living no longer seems so great a trial. When the stone shatters into fine crystal, something on Nivelth Ajuyn's forehead glimmers faintly, before going dark. Alaq'it Moks looks to Akhutai Urit now. Alaq'it Moks: Unless YOU are hiding any more fights, it is now your turn, yes? You must still destroy your own stone, however. Alaq'it Moks is grinning; she meant the first part as a joke. Akhutai Urit pauses just check over Nivelth Ajuyn, satisfied that she's still with them. Akhutai Urit: And now- Akhutai Urit is immediately cut off. The sword falls from his grasp. While he makes no noise, his eyes show nothing but pain. Alaq'it Moks: ...His... his is Belias, yes? We may... have a problem... Nivelth Ajuyn nods, frowning as well. Nivelth Ajuyn: Tai...? Tai, what's wrong? Alaq'it Moks: Akhutai, do not make me cross-- There is the smell of burning flesh, leather, and cloth coming from Akhutai Urit. Alaq'it Moks pinches her nose. Akhutai Urit manages one word: "Pouch." Alaq'it Moks lunges for the pouch, pulling it off of his belt and casting it down to the floor. Alaq'it Moks: Are you- is that alright? Alaq'it Moks looks at the arm in alarm. Nivelth Ajuyn flicks her fingers and a bit of ice comes to her fingers. Nivelth Ajuyn: Tai- No, we should destroy the stone... Akhutai Urit falls to his knees as soon as the pouch is free of his person, left hand hitting the ground beside him as his left arm hangs rather uselessly. Nivelth Ajuyn rushes for the sword, and starts to lift it up, looking at Alaq'it. Nivelth Ajuyn: H-help me, it's just heavy enough -- Alaq'it Moks rushes to the other side of the sword and uses her foot to kick up the blade, giving them momentum for an upswing. Nivelth Ajuyn helps the blade along, and the two women bring the sword crashing down onto the stone. The sword slices through the leather, and then the stone. Belias gives a roar of agony, of hatred, and then - after a breathless moment in which it seems time has stopped - he is gone. The last of this flock to be sacrificed. Nivelth Ajuyn sags, and lets the sword fall out of her grasp, before falling down onto her rump. Nivelth Ajuyn: ...Did... Did we do it? Alaq'it Moks holds the hilt, looking around to the others. Akhutai Urit hisses as he attempts to move his arm. Akhutai Urit: ...We still have eight to go. But for us, this has been a victory. Now we know how to deal with them. Nivelth Ajuyn nods, rubbing her forehead a little bit. Nivelth Ajuyn: Y-yeah. We do. Words cannot express how relieved I am.

#Phantom Pains RISK #Alaq'it Moks #A'zaela Linh #Nivelth Ajuyn #Akhutai Urit #1. My friends are so fucking talented and if you read nothing else of the Riskbreakers please let it be this. #2. This was easily one of the most meaningful sessions I've ever DMed.

[house-gardinier]

Theodore’s Journals: Red Year 

I spent five or more years wishing that it would never happen. Apart of me hoped that the vision was merely a misdirection weaved by the deadric prince, another trick disguised as truth. Each day was leaden with grim anticipation, and I had no proof in warning the people of Vvardenfell. How would anyone be convinced that I saw a vision of Red Mountain's eruption? What if I was solely responsible for the mass panic of thousands of people as they fled from a catastrophe that was never fated to happen? The wisdom in me knew that this was all a facet, that the vile being in the black book could change the reflection of fate in whichever way I turned it. Perhaps I could warn the masses, and destruction would never happen. Perhaps I could never tell anyone outside of those I trust and the vision would play out nonetheless.

Hermaeus Mora holds the truth that is too lofty to know. The kind of epiphanies that one does not ask for. If I would of had the choice to return this offering, I would gladly do so, but a responsibility has placed itself upon my shoulders, growing heavily with each syllable spoken out loud.

Gar…din…ier. I took my earnings with House Telvanni and bought myself a room in the village of Riften. A small hold in the province of Skyrim that lay just across the Velothi mountains, a place and culture that strangely unfamiliar despite how physically similar I was to the nords. The group I traveled with was treated with an immediate hostility, having entered the hold in a guar drawn caravan, but once I had separated to find the inn there was a much warmer accommodation. I didn’t need to enunciate my fluent dunmeris to gain the favor of strangers, but despite it all, I felt as if my traveling companions shouldn’t have been treated so differently. A few days passed, and then a month. I spent the time taking walks through the birch forests that reminded me of Solstheim, with the towering peak of what I learned to be called The Throat of the World. On one side of the Velothi pass was this land of ash and creatures I had grown accustomed to, with the fiery peak at it’s center. Here, was an endless expanse of woods with deer, elk, wild horses, and the odd black birds that gathered in a curious flock around me. It was pleasant to be rid of the responsibilities of House Telvanni, to be alone and practice magic under the influence of herbal medicine while the solemn snowcapped peak stood tall like an ominous giant. The contrast felt like I had traversed into a liminal space of serene solitude. Perhaps I never belonged to Morrowind after all. I may return, if the vision of Hermaeus Mora was false. I know my father would love to see this land and hunt it’s game. My mother must have passed through here on her journey as well, seen what I see now long before I was born. I should write them, perhaps convince them to move here to ease my anxiety.   --------- Summer was pleasant in The Rift, unlike the humid heat of Sadrith Mora. The air was clean and dry with fields of verdant grass growing beneath the soil. After a day at the market I brought home my supplies for the trek west, this time on horseback. The skies stretched endlessly without a cloud in sight, but along the cliffside I could see the familiar plume from the eastern peak of Morrowind. A terrible feeling brewed, with such visibility rare and nostalgic. I couldn't pinpoint where it derived but the tremors beneath the earth were much deeper than before. ...and then the ground violently jolted. The horse whinnied, nervous and confused, as my eyes directed towards the east. Without break or blinking I gazed at the pale smoke that billowed up from a fiery maw, red streaks pouring out in mile-long stretches that were visible from so far away. For a moment I felt like I had traipsed upon a vivid nightmare fueled by my paranoia, but the waking moment never came as the tiny spec on the horizon collapsed upon itself and threw ash into the otherwise cloudless expanse of sky. A desperation struck my heart as I ordered the horse forward as fast as it’s legs could carry. Dropping supplies and trampling the loose dirt road that served as a shortcut to Riften. I passed the fort and carried on towards the Velothi mountains alongside the bewildered travelers whose eyes remained affixed to to the ever growing plume. Within the valley clearing we all watched in disbelief, a mariner’s telescope was passed between us all. When it was my turn to look, to take in the reality of what had happened as the only visible parts of Vvardefell appeared black and streaked with lava. Ald’ruhn, Caldera, the Zanab camps, the Urshilaku tribes, perhaps even Balmora and Gnaar Mok...so many civilizations now under a black sheet of molten stone. My heart sank until I could feel nothing. I couldn’t even feel the fall as my knees collapsed to the ground and the rest of my body followed. The Yanimimbal camps, they had to have been… my mother, father, Yan-Ilu...everyone. Everyone. Gone. My vision faded to black.

---------

I awakened the next day, in a yurt much like the few I was familiar with since childhood. A row of people laid adjacently next to me, mostly dunmer coughing up soot and tending to their wounds both physically and mentally. At first I assumed this was a dream, picking myself up to shuffle through the healers and mourners exiting the shear cloth flap that was caked in dust. The air was thick and hazy, neither peaks were visible through the white fog and snow. How odd, it normally did not snow this far south in mid summer and the air felt too dry and hot. Someone had even brought my horse to the stables and wrapped cloth around it's muzzle.

…and then, in my own postponed shock, I realized that the soft feathery flakes falling from the sky was ash.

I can not even begin to describe the sudden emotional pain I felt. I would have rather lost a limb, and eye, even my own voice, than endure this sense of loss. I battled with the idea that nothing happened, trudging my way through drifts of grey powder as my lungs heaved with every hastened step forward. I could make it to the shores on foot in a couple nights if I kept up this pace. The Velothi Valley was crowded with survivors from the inland region who built tents and silently gazed ahead. My body strained against the ash, both at my feet and in my lungs, screaming in physical pain like a demand to stop, but yet I pushed forward as if my grief was a shadowy predator behind me.

Rows, and rows, and rows of yurts. All weighed down by debris. The corpses of exausted guar settled under evergreen trees, life expended by loyally leading their masters and families to saftey. I should have heeded that warning of blind dedication as I began to cough violently, leaning against the lantern post for balance. I had not noticed a stranger approach me in sympathy as a grey hand laid itself upon my shoulder.

“There's nothing there but death.” The hoarse grain of his voice caught my attention. I looked up to see a dunmer, scar across one eye and clean shaven. He appeared to acknowledge the tattoos across my face long before I replied in dunmeris.

“Are you certian?” I rasped, a semblance of my rationality seemed to have returned as this mer spoke.

“Yes, but we will survive. We are different from outlanders. I still have a task to do and I have a feeling that you do too.”

The words remained true in my memory for years after. I replied with nothing more than a nod of respect, slowly and carefully making my way back to Riften. Although my mind was quarrelsome I had to remember why I left Vvardenfell. I had ties in High Rock that were still left open in the wind.

---------

#Journals #theodore gardinier

[awellboiledicicle]

"[Astarion] doesn't know how to befriend people. He knows how to manipulate, to an extent, but that doesn't work on Hawke, nor Anders."

Since Anders, Astarion and Gale canonically like cats, I'm imagining conversation sliding that way one night over the campfire. Anders explains almost casually that he wasn't allowed to keep cats for most of his life, during which Astarion is lowkey drawing parallels in his brain, and although still snarky about it he comments that at least Anders gets to pet all the fuzzballs he wishes to now, before telling them a little about Malta, the cat that usually hangs out near Cazador's mansion.

Anders and Gale immediately pounce on that because anything that'll have Astarion be less standoffish is probably a positive and draw him into their conversation, and it takes Astarion several days to realize that wait, this probably counts as A Friendly Conversation, right? Does this make them friends now? Or at least on friendly terms? And he didn't even have to flirt for it or anything???

Yess this would happen.

It would also lead to them including him more naturally in conversation to find more interests they share-- because they have a foothold now.

The downside is this is somehow going to turn to magic and Astarion getting a front row seat to some peak nerding while getting tips on how to use his magic better.

#Mok Heeds The Call #angeloftheeasterngate #handers gate au #delightful mental image 10/10

[awellboiledicicle]

🥪

finally,,, nourishment

#Mok Heeds The Call #sailorsleepymoon

[awellboiledicicle]

Any interest in watch the One Piece live action on Netflix?

I watched it all last night, actually!

I'm very attached to the series on a "watched it a lot as a teen" and i'm just. very delighted by the effects and how they handled some things. It's great.

I would recommend it!

#Mok Heeds The Call #saiyanblood2

[awellboiledicicle]

I saw one of your Tensura headcanons from your post, so for a headcanon monster: how about slimes? Or maybe you could do a (personal) headcanon of Rimuru Tempest?

Can you be more specific? Or do you just want hc about slimes in general?

Because in general, i feel like they're kinda like what would happen if a slime mold decided to be a glob instead of spreading out. As such, sentience in the same way we view it is rare--though it canonically happens enough that no one is.. well they ARE surprised, but mostly that one did something with it other than going "i will now eat everything". Because when your whole body is technically your brain while also being your stomach, you have some limited options on what you think about at lower power levels. Which is partially why Rimuru is kind of scoffed at. At best, absolute best, a sentient slime would probably consume, divide, repeat, until eaten by something else. They're considered a food in some cases by other monsters-- so a slime being in charge is wild. It'd be like if you had a marimo ball as mayor, as far as most people are concerned.

That said, slimes are probably just as unknowable odd as molds and fungi irl. So, given enough time and magicules, you could probably get one able to communicate with other monsters or humans [if panic doesn't happen], and eventually it wouldn't surprise me if one kinda like rimuru happened. Not the power level, naturally, but one that's had nothing to do but soak up magicules and grow? Just building a super dense body that sparks a Thought? Totally possible. And assuming it doesn't go mad with realization of the fact it's now sentient and alone, i could see it having similar issues being taken seriously. Which is interesting because i imagine Tempest would be the only place, initially, where they'd be able to live. Because its possible Rimuru could have just been a naturally sentient slime that spawned from Valdora's magicules and slowly developed a personality. But because his reincarnation thing plopped his personality into a body that is 100% brain cells technically, he's rolling at hyper speed. And i highly doubt Rimuru would be unaware of this-- he's him, looking into what's known about slimes is a thing he'd do. Partially to know about himself and partially just in case theres some that'd like to be part of the party. Also because he's had bits chopped off and he'd want to know if those could accidentally become people if he didn't absorb them. He took biology in school, for all he knows his clone trick could = mitosis.

I'm rambling. My point was that Rimuru would be down to vaguely adopt any sentient slimes that wandered/spawned in Tempest due to magicule levels, provided that they were chill. Just because i like the idea of him doubling down on the teaching thing, while also getting a better read on just how strong a basic slime can actually be. Helps him bullshit that he's a normal slime when he knows how much power he can actually use. Also bc i like the mental image of him having this family of slimes that attached to him emotionally because him naming them/mentally communicating with them let them become more than their desire to Consume. Just so he's got some slime family.

Main Rimuru headcanon re: being a slime is largely that he keeps having... weird urges. Like, he was born with his human personality from the jump, so he never really got to just go "as a slime, this means i'm hungry, this means i need moisture" in context of his new body. Another reason he looks into slimes, really. Because sure he'll have a drink or food--he doesn't technically need it in the same way--but its not... "i'm thirsty/hungry" it's "i need to consume". Because his mass increases, decreases, and alters based on what he's doing with it-- the density of his ball form is higher than his Shizu-like form, for example, and he's more likely to want to consume in that form. Because in ball form he can just vibe until something takes some material off. So he gets weird urges to engulf things he already analyzed, for example. Or he'll look at a deer thing and wanna go blob on it, but the human part of him says no. I also imagine a lot of things get stuck to him that he has to wash off, when in ball form. Because while he's not intrinsically sticky, things are and its not like he'd care if its like. dust or a leaf, until it got gross to feel. Ranga has shed on this poor man so much. Most the time he can just absorb it, but when he's feeling particularly gross he just lives in a nice warm tub for a while. I also think he's probably had the urge to divide at some point, like after a huge festival meal and biologically his body went "oh, we're large enough to become smaller" and he sat there not knowing what that feeling was because he'd never ran through the slime paces properly. I think he'd ask Great Sage wtf the feeling was and then have a Crisis about it before going "no thank you body, i have a country to run i do NOT have time to be a dad" and just. treats the urge with the sort of beleaguered annoyance as someone having their period. "This again? I said no-" I feel like he'd only divide if he knew 1000% for certain it'd not just be a 1:1 clone of himself and its own person. Because he can handle other things, but he's read and watched enough things to know one of them would be an evil twin and he doesn't want it to be him. Or fight himself because he knows himself. He also doesn't know if fully dividing--not just making a dummy clone--would copy his skills. It's one thing to be a weapon of mass destruction, its another to purposely make one whenever you've eaten too much bbq. That said i think this means he's just. Gathering mass. So if you weighed him it'd be.. surprising. He's just sitting here becoming denser than a poorly made poundcake and Shion yeeting him in ball form could be a valid way to breech a castle wall.

#Mok Heeds The Call #dark-crowsong #let me know if i missed the mark #tensura headcanon #tensura

[awellboiledicicle]

🌹 (WIP sentence ask)

more than a sentence bc can

---

“The usual ingredients.”

“Which are?”

She paused, looking into the middle distance for a moment, before pulling a bottle of ink with a feather tied to it out of the bag. Slowly, she turned and gave him a look that read as a reluctantly patient teacher explaining to children why you shouldn’t eat paste.

“Blaze powder, netherwart, glistening melon, and water.” At his look of confusion, she shrugged and flipped open her book. “If you don’t know what those are, just trust that I’m telling the truth. It’ll help, with the wounds at the very least.”

#Mok Heeds The Call #alexiealducsdrawings

[awellboiledicicle]

🎢 for the ask game

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Honestly? Making Headway.

Here's why: i hate writing anything that happens very fast. Because i'm so used to me being fast about things being A Bad ADHD Thing and my brain has a hard time with fast action in fics from that.

Cut to me writing the race portions of the fic and while its not a narratively wild thing, writing shit just happening so fast it's hard to process and Headway just hanging on for dear life feels like im on a ride the whole time i reread it for editing.

Narrative rollarcoaster i think would be the old Aeonar au i did with @bubonickitten that i really need to transfer over. But mostly because Arles didn't open the door the right way and then Asha just fucking wilds with blood magic 90% of the time while talking shit in Rivaini with Isabella.

#Mok Heeds The Call #potatolordofficial

[awellboiledicicle]

Hey! I just noticed something, the picture at the front of the journal changes depending on who your playing as! Maya is fishing with her grandpa, Elaine is eating sandwiches with her daughters/sisters? I don't know who they are but the caption reads something like, "Remember who you're fighting for."

I think it’s sweet that they added such a small detail like that.

I saw!

Its nice that they added new things for the characters. Iirc, Johnny's is a pic of him in the old days captioned "me and the boys" and two other guys. Tala's is her as a kid, tinkering with something while her parents [i assume] look on fondly.

Its so nice

#Mok Heeds The Call #multiple-characters1-acct #raft

[awellboiledicicle]

Hey, I saw your post about your hoodie search. Go to temu[dot]com; the women's plus size sweatshirts go up to "plus 5xl" and the men's to "plus 6xl." If I were buying, I'd look under the men's; they have some bright colors and patterns that the women's sweatshirts don't. Put "plus size casual sweatshirt" in Temu's search box and when the results pop up, click the filter "men's plus size hoodies and sweatshirts."

Good luck! I hope you find what you're looking for.

ooooh thank you!! i'll look through there asap!!

#Mok Heeds The Call #gehayi

[awellboiledicicle]

i know the WIP guessing game post was from several hours ago, BUUUUT, if you’re still taking asks for it… might I guess a sentence containing “light” perhaps?

[dives headlong into wips]

Idk why Golden Consort has all the words but here we are.

“Physicians?” That was certainly a word for what his family was known for, before Godwyn had slept with one of his great great somethings. He nodded, turning his hand in the light. “A noble profession.”

#Mok Heeds The Call #emathevampire #thank u!!

[awellboiledicicle]

wip guessing game: wonder

I have it included in the Golden Consort au!

Fiona raised a hidden eyebrow and wondered if he knew she was playing with him. The look in his eyes told her that if he did, he didn’t particularly care.

#Mok Heeds The Call #duckswithwings #it has the word inside it it fits #thank you!!

[awellboiledicicle]

"Songs To Draw To": Paper Boats, Transistor soundtrack

thank u!!

#Mok Heeds The Call #angeloftheeasterngate #song recs