#She Who Ravaged Through Dreams ✧ The Radiance

[dooberific]

❝𝘖𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦❞

pre release wriothesley x afab!reader

genre: nsfw (dacryphilia, creampie, idk how to finish tagging this hehe)

wc: 2.7k

summary: Despite his imposing stature, your lover is the softest and most genuine man you know. His regular praises make it seem like you hung the very stars in the sky, so why his sudden withdrawl?

There was just something different about the flowers of Fontaine. Maybe it had something to do with the land, moist plains sweeping up into sharp mountain peaks that passed a gentle breeze over the winding waterways below. The easy smell of rain, the babbling streams that fed into raging waterfalls that drenched all below in a fine mist. 

They seemed to grow a little differently, proud and tall like the Rainbow roses dotting the hillsides, their very own fine bonnets adorning their heads as their brilliant appearances dazzled passing strangers.

Perhaps that was why the simplicity of the Marcotte slipped under so many eyes, winding through life with a silent elegance and glowing smile so heartfelt and utterly kind that even the most icy of hearts would tremble under the warmth of her gaze. She would never be a rose, nor would she ever entertain the thought of it, laughing away the idea with great mirth dancing in her eyes and a grin lingering on her lips well after the encounter. 

You may never be a rose, but your simplistic and nostalgic charms had catalyzed such a violent reaction that he was sure you had hung the very sun in the sky, elevating its position as a kindness for your own radiance far out shone the largest star in the Teyvat sky. 

But if you were the Marcotte, so delicate and pure, then what was he? Surely he was nothing but a weed in the garden of the gods, a wicked thing who rose from the dirt to strangle the life out of the pretty and soft things around. There was a trail of battered roses in his wake, resentful that the weed had never blossomed into something worthwhile as they had dreamed, that it had spent their precious time, basked in their light, and then left them to wither away in anger. 

But the Marcotte was wild and resilient, your unbreakable and hearty spirit more than strong enough to carry your own burdens with grace and dignity even before you had unfurled your brilliant petals. 

Pure and wild chased by the impure and plotting.

You should resent him for his wickedness, his impudence to dare stand under the same sun as you. He couldn’t help himself, he was little more than a moth drawn to a flame, a weed that kept creeping back into the garden. How long had he waited, chasing fleeting images and the feeling a hand could never hope to emulate, before your own interests had become so entranced that you allowed him closer? 

He would swear it was all unintentional from the beginning, that it had all started as a draw to your magnetic personality. Fleeting kisses of parting after he walked you home at night giving way to deeper intentions as he cornered you against the door and indulged you a little more intimately. The wet slide of his tongue into your mouth, the firmness of his hands trailing down your sides and toying with the hem of your shirt. The little whines from your lips as your fingers carded through his hair, a sting in your calves from standing on your toes as his chapped lips ravaged your neck, your body pressed flush to his own. 

It was such a natural progression until it suddenly wasn’t. Kisses left broken as he hastily departed, a harsh flush creeping to his ears as he apologized and took his leave. The onset of his behavior had left your head spinning with questions. Had you done something wrong? He never acted strangely about you until those last and most private moments together, maybe his interest was waning? If you had grown boring you would understand, it wasn’t like your job or life were particularly riveting—

Too many unasked questions, and too much sleep lost. You were not so shy or proud to confront an issue head on, and while Wriothesley loved that trait of your personality he loved it a little less when it was weaponized against him as you stood at his door, a finger pressed to his lips and a stern yet wary look in your eyes as you shushed his questions and gave him a piece of your own mind.

He really was nothing short of a weed, too cowardly to have confronted the issue before it had become a problem. He was a liar, unable to hold your burning gaze as he forced some half-assed excuse past his lips. He certainly could not tell you that his hasty departures had been the product of your evening rendezvouses which simply stoked the fire that the all consuming thoughts of you kept burning in his veins, of the perverse feeling stirred by the lovesick look in your eyes that was increasingly hard to resist. There would be no kindness in those pretty eyes should you know that he could barely touch you now without getting hard, that a moment too long basking in your presence would surely have him cumming in his pants with the same choked gasp that he so poorly suppressed as he jerked himself off later fantasizing your pretty cunt wrapped around him. 

There was no question of want, he needed you. He needed to defile you with every dirty thought that ever dizzied his head, to have you fucked dumb on his cock and begging for more because you knew he couldn’t resist. What a shitty lover he felt like, having let you think you had ever done a thing wrong when it was just his own self disgust that he couldn’t keep it together that was wedging you apart. 

Maybe just once he could show you, and if you hated him for it he could beg for your forgiveness. Just this once he would kiss you like always, whispers of reassurance passing between you that there was nothing wrong with you, you were perfect. Just this once would he not fight the onslaught of debauched feelings that flooded him the moment you sighed against his lips, parting your own at the gentle tease of his tongue. He would kiss you deeply and with no regrets or holds, making your head spin from the lack of oxygen as the feeling of his warm hands settling on your body as he pressed you against the wall. He wouldn’t make some shitty excuse to leave when he felt his pants tighten, nor would he apologize for the moment he grinded his hips deeply against your own in search of that heavenly bit of friction only you could provide. 

He swallowed your surprised gasp, hell bent on smothering you with every ounce of his affection with sloppy kisses and a tangle of tongue. One hand settled at the nape of your neck anchoring you to him as the other hooked under your thigh, drawing it up to rest at his hip as he pressed deeper between your legs and you whimpered at the roll of his hips against the apex of your thighs. 

He broke away from your lips, his forehead pressed flush to your own. Your cheeks were tinged pink, eyes dazed as your lip quivered from the greedy breaths you sucked in. His voice was deeper, huskier and tainted with lust.

“I want you.” 

Your own voice was shaky as you replied.

“Then you may have me.”

Your sheer stockings and well pressed skirts were hardly more than heaps of fabric on his floor, pearl buttons of your blouse scattered if not clinging to mere threads. A blind stumble through the house had left a trail of what was easiest to remove. Had it not been for his insistence to do right by you and take you in his bed he was assured he would have bent you over the nearest surface and had his way with you. 

He swore deeply to any archon that would listen that he would be the most devout follower should they let him remember your disheveled look in the clearest of details, from the smear of your lipstick and the swollen lips he had indulged himself in to the sweeping curves of your body that he had marred with his teeth which now burned the angry red of ruptured capillaries. His kisses were smothering as his hands explored every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of chills from his cold fingers. He was a gentleman even in the most dirty of moments, all ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ as he waited for you confirmation as if he was still hesitant to think it anymore than a vivid dream to unclip your bra and lathe his tongue over the delicate flesh beneath, to drag his fingers over the soaked fabric of your panties and press his thumb harshly against that little bud of flesh that made your hips jerk in his grasp.

He was sure the sinful noise that parted your lips the moment he pressed your panties aside and flattened his tongue against your weeping cunt had been permanently seared into his brain right alongside the taste of you. The clamp of your pretty thighs against the side of his head only encouraged his efforts, calloused hands easily prying you open as he tongue teased past your lips and his nose pressed against your clit. Your shaky cries that it was too much fell on deaf ears, your fingers fisting into his hair to pull him off a stark contrast to the way your pretty hips grinded against his face begging for more. 

He wasn’t so heartless to stop when he knew what was best for you. It wasn’t like you knew, and the flush on your cheeks as you had so softly admitted to him your intact virginity had him questioning if you had ever pleasured yourself at all. It was his duty now to show you what needed, to strip you of every ounce of purity, to fuck you so good you would never consider another man to be capable. 

You could taste yourself on his lips, a bitter combination lost quickly on your mind as he dragged your panties down and pressed his calloused fingers into your cunt. His fingers felt thick and rough as he gave a few experimental pumps into your wet heat before burying them to the knuckle and curling them into your walls, relishing the heady cry that escaped your body as your hips canted into his palm.

“Fuck, baby, so fucking tight.” He groaned into your lips, his fingers scissoring you open as he set a brutal pace to loosen you up, the rough pad of his thumb circling and teasing your clit as the wet sound of your cunt met his ears. 

“Wrio, please I-,” You choked out, arms wrapping around his neck as the wave of molten lust that clogged your veins and made your stomach twist so delightfully became unbearable. 

“I’ve got you baby.” 

His words, low and reassuring in your ear, were the last straw as he fingerfucked you into an orgasm. Your whole body buzzed as you cried out sharply, your face buried into his neck as you came on his fingers, thighs clamped desperately around his hand as your entire body quivered. 

Your dearest lover Wriothesley felt safe and warm as he settled over your boneless body, gentle kisses pressing away the tears that had streaked down your cheeks from a pleasure never before indulged in. Any notion of vulnerability or embarrassment had been stripped away, replaced by the simple thought that his fingers seemed to intertwine so perfectly with your own just as his body seemed to slot so perfectly between your legs, as if he were some piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were missing.

It was that sense of utter completion that overwhelmed you as his cockhead teased your entrance, the sense of the intrusion so much you forgot to breathe as your body trembled. You could feel every engorged vein, every ridge that bullied deeper into your cunt with the slow roll of his hips, how heavily he was pressed inside you. 

He hissed at the feeling, how tightly you still wrapped around him. His grip on your hips was bruising, a vain attempt to ground himself in the moment of the realization of his most hedonistic desires and the simple truth that you were so much fucking better than he could have ever dreamed. 

He fucked you deep and slow, reveling in the little sounds you made only for his ears, the gentle begging of his name in a tone reserved just for him. An exchange of sloppy kisses left your head spinning, his cock nestled deep in your womb, every slow thrust teasing that spongy spot inside that made your walls tighten and your legs quiver.

He was so kind, even as he felt that last of his composure slipping with the breathy whisper pressed to his ear that he could have his way with you. It had to be that look of glowing adoration in your eyes as you stared up at him, body rocking gently with each thrust as he made love to you, but he could be good for you just this once.

Just this once to press a kiss to the inside of your knee as he practically folded you in half. Just this once, to intertwine your fingers as he bottomed out in you with one smooth motion. Just this once to fuck you like he really meant it, to watch your eyes gloss over and tears pool at your lashline. Just this once, yet a thousand times over, another lie he would tell himself as if he wouldn’t pound you into his mattress until you couldn’t walk if you asked for it. 

Your fingernails scraped harshly against his skin, your own little desperate cling to reality. You didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any deeper, finding it hard to breathe at the new angle as you were certain he was well into your guts by now. Your mind was utterly blank, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he fucked you with a new fervor as if to shape your insides to only remember the feeling of him. That heated, gut twisting sensation had rebuilt and teetered dangerously on the brink of collapse just as quickly.

He could tell you were close, your words slurring into an incoherent babble of his name. He could practically feel you tighten around him, willing him to finish you off as he leaned forward. 

“That’s my girl, cum for me.”

He kissed you, muffling the sharp whine you released as that familiar heat snapped violently in your gut. The harsh pull of your pussy was too much for him to resist, his hips stuttering as his teeth sank into your lower lip. It was a hot, sticky and overwhelming feeling that rested deep in your womb as he slowly fucked his seed into you, the taste of iron seeping into your mouth. 

He looked apologetic as his thumb swiped away the bead of blood forming on the vermillion of your freshly busted lip, but you had no heart to be angry when you met his glowing and tired eyes. There was a tremble to his arms as he effectively collapsed on top of you, trapping you under his weight. Your heartbeat was steady in his ear, your fingers tangling in his mussed hair. You could practically feel his entire body relax under your touch, hear his breathing slow.

“You don’t intend to sleep like this, do you?” You cringed at how hoarse you sounded. 

“I’m never opposed to this if it’s with you.” He countered, catching your wrist and pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “But I should clean you up.” 

It was a hollowing feeling, the loss of his dick that had been seated so firmly within your walls that you subconsciously clenched around nothing. You watched in silent surprise as a trail of fluids weeped from your used cunt and spilled onto the bed, a sense of abject horror striking as you caught the burning gaze of your lover locked onto the sight as well. You clamped your legs shut, shrieking as he easily pried you apart once more, his fingers scooping the viscous liquid back up and pressing it back into your pussy as you hissed at the sensation.

All at once he grabbed your ankles, dragging your hips to the edge of the bed. You propped onto your elbows, staring down his re-hardened cock that lay hot, heavy, and twitching against your hips before flickering up to his flushed cheeks.

 “I'm sorry, baby, let me indulge in you just a bit longer.” 

Rey, 2023

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin x you

[twin-branded]

The fall of the light, the start of the endless night

// Large piece of backstory writing under the read more! Warning: It is graphic, and I dare say not for the faint of heart. Big TWs for violence, heavy gore, and slow death, take caution friends! To those of you who press on, hope you enjoy~

- Mod Nova

This was it. The final battle of an eternal war waged since the beginning of time- the blinding light, against the all consuming darkness. Eons of this ravaging dance echoing, revived in the essence of both parties, and wearing thin in their physical forms… One blow, is all it would take, for any of the three combatants. The twin vessels ascending to chase the light, and the Radiance perched at the very peak of her prison in dreams.

In the sea of darkness that tailed the young gods in their ascent, hundreds, thousands- no, millions of their fallen kin, their silvery white eyes all in a piercing glare towards the sun herself. A crowd of the most bold, or perhaps the most raging of all the dead slithered from the safety of the shadows, chasing the light aside their living siblings, so small, and yet- so horrifying. The very darkness she had always fought with, honed into such tiny, powerful creatures… Mere children, capable of rending apart their older kin that kept her prisoner, and assaulting her.

But even as the darkness closed in; the light refused to die. As injured as she was from their cold steel fury and scorching, wrathful magic- she could tell, they wouldn’t last long themselves. Cracked, shaking, void oozing from their shells despite their persistence- the goddess screamed in outrage and defiance.

“NO! Mere shadows will not overtake me! The void may hunger, but the pathetic Wyrm's spawn cannot compare to the burning light!!”

In their path, another barrage of scorching beams. They almost stumbled in their scramble to reach the Radiance, almost fell- but there was power to working in pairs. One would always catch the other, until so threateningly close, they split up- one lunging for the Radiance, yet barely coming short of reaching her.

“ANCIENT ENEMY, I DO NOT FEAR YOU! I WILL NOT BREAK, THE LIGHT WILL NOT BE CONSUMED!”

Shot after shot, taken at the tiny shadow. The child of darkness stumbled, exhausted no doubt; a chance to end one of them, once and for all in their weakness-! … But that was only one, struggling, trembling before the light’s might, trying and failing to pull themself up with their nail. The other- damn it all, the Wyrm’s wretched spawn took up their father’s scheming mind! There was only the time for a hastily fired blast of light, and her aim failed to strike true- unlike the twin vessel’s nail. Barely leaping past the attack, the child drove the weapon directly between the goddess’ eyes, earning a horrendous roar of rage and pain- the death knell. The mark of her sealed fate.

In an instant, the situation so dire shifted- no longer was this an agonizing game of chase. The Radiance had nowhere to run… The sea of darkness closed in, as both vessels suspended in the air on either side of the doomed light. Disgusting, cold tendrils of void lashed out from below, trapping the goddess’ wings- beginning to tug on her, trying to wrench her down into the Abyss. As the Hollow Knight rose from the swarm of shades to join the much smaller assailants, the Radiance writhed in her restraints; shrieking at her seal, her living prison with seething hate.

“YOU!! IMPURE, DESOLATE BEING, YOU DARE CONTINUE IN YOUR DEFIANCE?! EVEN IN DEATH, INTOLERABLE DARKNESS, YOU BLIGHT MY EXISTENCE!”

Though to blight, was now an understatement. Perhaps an act of opportunity, or one of sheer spiteful vengeance, the Hollow Knight reached for her- sinking his claws into her face, digging lithe fingers underneath immortal carapace. A roar of pain ripped from the Radiance’s throat as the shade proceeded to rend her face open, blinding light pouring from her inner godly core. An assault from above and below, already bad enough- but it escalated, as if her practical assassins had not already ravaged her enough. Another tendril suddenly whipped across her bleeding face, stinging and leaving a golden mark. Then another, from the opposite side- a pattern immediately repeated as the twins lashed at the prone goddess over, and over, and over.

Any other being, a beat-down would have been enough. But no- this wasn’t even CLOSE. Every strike from the twin shades, exhausted, agonized, and utterly furious, bearing down harder and harder. More and more frustration, and pain, infused into every blow- years of undeserved suffering, created in cruel and unusual manners, abandoned to the Abyss, slaughtered senselessly and repeatedly! Every part of the world against them for no reason, just innocent children, forced into a horrifying, desperate struggle for their lives, constantly being torn apart and yet, never allowed the sweet release of death. All of it was her, this massive, insane monstrosity of a goddess, cursing their kingdom, their family, forcing them all to exist and die for no good reason! To suffer and cry out with nothing to ever listen! ENOUGH! ENOUGH!! Finally, the Radiance’s voice was no longer alone, the seething shades screaming in wordless, raw emotion as they continued to bloody and ruin the goddess’s form in their wrath.

As the Radiance was mercilessly beaten down, beginning to be dragged down by the tendrils wrapped over her wings… One of the two even found it in themself to speak;

"You, you are the answer I have sought after all this time! You both sparked reason for and yet condemned our existence, and it is time you face retribution for it all!! You will not be forgotten, you will SUFFER, YOUR LIGHT WILL BE DEVOURED!"

And that was no empty threat, though how the Radiance would’ve wished it so, if she had known how all too literal that was about to be. For they were not done with her yet, even as the savage whipping stopped, since having made her face and mane a bloody mess, even ripping out clumps of her silky fur.

No, this was far, far from over.

-------------

Hazy… Dark.. So dark. Not even the trickles of light from her exposed core could illuminate the world around her, as weary, pale gold eyes fluttered open. There was… Nothing, it seemed. And yet, in this cold black expanse, the Radiance felt anything but alone. She could not see the countless in the wings, staring her down, but she could sense their unholy, unnatural presence. She could not find the two that put her here… But there was an unsettling chill creeping down her back- a feeling never experienced before, yet somehow, internally she could still find the words for. As if it were instinct, to know this situation, this sensation… To know that she felt like prey, that could not lay eyes on her looming predators.

Though exhausted, aching, beaten down- something told her to get up. To push herself off the floor, to run, to fly, somehow try to escape. A rising need, going, and going, the want to scream building in her throat- of terror, of want for help, ANYTHING. Yet no matter how these urges overwhelmed every thought and want…

Nothing happened.

Just a mere moment ago, she was hardly able to open her eyes- but now, they were wide, glimmering with dying light as a surge of panic sunk in. Every part of her was SCREAMING to move, to get away, to scream and shout and cry- mentally thrashing, like a wild beast in a cage-!

… And yet still, nothing happened. She didn’t move… She couldn’t move. Not held down, not pinned… But paralyzed. There was no toxin rushing through her veins, but there was fear. Primal fear, of the unrelenting darkness that surrounded her on all sides.

Chilling shocks ran through her body, causing her to shiver. A sudden wet, cold, goopy sort of sensation on her wingtips- as if being dipped in some sort of icy slime. But then it turned sharp, stinging, burning in the center of it, like a cut had been made. Followed soon, by a sickening, echoing crunch in the darkness- the first sound she’d heard in an immeasurable amount of time down here. It was so small, and brief, yet it felt like thunder roaring in her ears.

Then there was a pause. Silence, the cold retreating, whatever it was… Notably sticky, as it pried away, almost feeling as if it did not want to let go.

Because it didn’t. Even though there was not much to note at first, the texture wasn’t the best, not much to speak of in terms of energy yet… One bite would not sate them even under normal circumstances. If anything, only getting a brief taste to little satisfaction made them hungrier. The cold, wet sensation of little void tendrils creeping back up, before two much larger, eager bites were taken of the goddess’ wings. Another sickening crunch echoing out to pair with each one, followed by another brief pause- the shades didn’t move back again, but they needed a moment. Something changed… They’d each bitten deep enough to draw out orange, sickly blood. And for the first time, something new hit them- flavor.

The overwhelming sweetness would’ve easily sickened normal bugs- but to rather hollow creatures, being potent enough to make them actually detect a strong taste? That was enticing. Enticing, exciting- they wanted more. As if their exhaustion hadn’t already made them ravenous, the introduction to something new had them focused on nothing else but food. And food… There was plenty of.

The pauses stopped, as bite after voracious bite was ripped from the Radiance’s wings- and it didn’t take much longer for the situation to click. The pain, the cold, the sticky grasps, the gut wrenching noise, the worst possible fate known to bug kind was suddenly befalling her. Being eaten alive. Slowly, steadily, being able to feel the starving shades chewing through her wings, working their ways deeper, and deeper on either side.

The horrific paralysis only felt worse as time seemed to be slugging along. Adrenaline surged through her body, screaming more and more to do something, anything- shake the ravenous little monsters off, fight back, to scream and wail through sheer terror and pain. It almost felt like she was screaming, as her throat strained, and heavy, rough breaths were forced out of her lungs- but there was no sound. No sound but that of the gut wrenching chewing, her body being slowly torn apart.

Mouthful after mouthful, while nothing but sheer and utter disgusting horror to any onlookers, was delightful mess to the Radiance’s attackers. The massive moth’s blood was delicious and energizing- soon, also nicely joined by a distinctly salty taste as they got to the more meaty parts of her wings. Their seemingly endless hunger made them want to rush- consume more and more, as fast as possible. Yet… In this dark realm, with their greatest foe in a trembling, tasty heap before them, this was different than anything else they’d ever known. There was no danger. No urgency. No… Greater quest to rush to work on, this was it.

For once in their lives, they had all the time in the world. All the security they could ever want… And the best meal they’d ever had laying in front of them. There was no need to rush, and have such a moment end too quickly. They could slow down, savor it, enjoy this new concept of flavor that their typical diet of soul never provided.

Though, taking time to savor didn’t mean not consistently taking bites- there was an awful lot to chew through, and they still felt painfully hungry. Perfect really, all the more room for the dense bases, right where wings met fluff-covered chitin… And nerves. Lots, and lots of nerves.

In curiosity, other shades had begun to creep closer, but all of the vessels reeled back as the Radiance let out a shrill, agonized scream. Finally, she managed to move, heaving and wheezing as blood gushed from the sloppy, shredded remnants of her wings. She had no way to push herself up- but she couldn’t just lay there! She had to think fast, the reaching tendrils of those little monsters were already grasping for purchase in the open wounds. Losing any of what little protection she had was likely to only make it all worse… But she couldn’t competently move her legs with that armor on, not while she was in this shape. After a rough and hardly effective attempt to shake off the twins, the Radiance frantically kicked off the metal armor covering her legs- whether the resonating sound of it clattering to the floor would attract any further possible attention, or scare it off, she couldn’t tell.

But moving, sitting up, struggling to get to her feet- that would not save the dying light. The young, rapacious gods shrieked in anger at this meager defiance, lashing tendrils acting like whips geared at her legs. Or… One leg, rather. Young, but not inexperienced in dealing with things much, much larger than themselves- and if they could break just one, she’d be down for good, paralyzed or not. However, it seemed there was a hope- a hope that one good sharp kick might put an end to this, they had been just as weak as her!

Though unlike the Radiance, the vessels had been feeding. Renewed by the flesh and blood they had stolen already, while she was further weakened by it. Kicking out only let them catch hold of the struggling moth, yanking and twisting until the goddess lost her balance. Sinking their vile teeth into the delicate joints, rapidly rendering the limb useless. The searing pain ravaged her mind as the pair devoured her body, her vision swimming, though with the overwhelming darkness sight was already a lost cause. Her stomach twisted and turned, the pain and disgust at feeling and hearing them eating away at her beyond nauseating- a tad ironic, how the only thing keeping her from purging her system was her own lack of eating for the last century or so, while something else ate her alive.

How long had passed, now? Minutes? Hours? Maybe even days, it felt like the most miserable, disturbing eternity. Broken, defeated, once again all that broke the silence of the Abyss was the squelches, squishes, and crunches of godly flesh and carapace being consumed. Though for a moment, their meal had been interrupted- overall, the twins were still having the time of their lives, digging in deeper and deeper. They were bloody messes, only really pausing their feast to occasionally reach up with their claws and brush off a clump or two of matted, stained moth fluff.

Said fluff was… Quite a problem, actually. Almost her entire body was covered in it, and while wings, carapace, and flesh were all game- mouthfuls of fur didn’t sound nearly as appealing. In fact, the accidental bite into it here or there was getting quite agitating. The pair stopped a moment to go to each other, and perhaps plan a way around the obstacle keeping them from the sweet insides of their prey.

As disgusting, morbid and torturous as their feast was, there was still a hint of something softer, behind those egregious maws and soulless white eyes. Their voices now merely soft, gentle chimes as they communicated, trills and chips back and forth- had any part of her numbing mind been able to focus on something other than the agony, it would’ve driven home a shameful point. At these years of struggling and brawling with the Pale King… And she was defeated, mauled, being actively devoured- not by the Wyrm. But by his spawn, mere children. Did he know what horrors he had created? Was the Wyrm aware of the power and hunger even such small vessels had?

… Maybe that’s why she had begun to sense the pale light in her domain of dreams. Maybe he was hiding, so he didn’t suffer this very same, twisted fate. Dull, hazy, drifting thoughts, the quiet and soft noises were a respite from the sounds of her flesh ripping and being consumed…

Though, the time to ponder anything was over. Another wave of searing pain left the Radiance’s mind spinning, ripping an incoherent scream of pain from her lungs. The gaping wounds where her wings had once been left openings for the pair, who were busy sinking their claws and tendrils in. Messily rasping away flesh with any grip they could get, and stuffing it into their mouths to feed their outrageous appetites. For a few moments, the scraping and ripping of flesh stopped, almost numbing cold taking over the wounds- yet despite the slight relief from the pain… Something still felt very, very wrong.

An icy, squirming sensation starting piercing into her body, not doing anything to remedy the nausea, the feeling like her gets were already twisting and writhing into knots. Everything was getting so hazy, and hard to process though… What that sensation meant didn’t even really click, until the pain spiked in an all new area- her abdomen. If her organs hadn’t been literally twisting around, now they were being twisted, ripped, rended away from each other to be consumed.

There were a few tremors that could be felt from within the goddess’ massive, increasingly hollow form… Muffled, weak sobs. Before absolute silence, and stillness. The blinding light inside her heart waned and weakened, to a barely illuminating glow- a spark, then extinguished as the ravenous maws of her killers snapped down around it. Brutalized in combat and absolutely savaged in the darkness, the ancient goddess would at long last dream no more.

Even with the Radiance’s overdue passing, the pair of shades would be taking their sweet time. A goddess did not need to be alive to give them energy, her very flesh and blood imbued with powerful essence. Still ripping, tearing, rasping away every morsel of divine flesh they could, from head to toe. They had no concept of time here- it could’ve taken hours for all they knew to strip her entirely, and there was no care. There was even the care to stop and drink the blood that had pooled in her empty carapace, so, so sweet and energizing… Not a drop wasted, save for what had miserably stained and matted her fur.

However long it took, after they were finally done- the twins finally felt content, and for good reason. The most amazing feast of their lives just thoroughly savored, their life-long purposes of destroying the light completed, their wounds and exhaustion long since mended and overcome with their massive meal of pure god essence. A success and reward long and painfully earned, their pleasure and pride expressed through chirps, trills and chimes, back and forth to each other. With all said and done, the sated shades drifted over to their elder brother, snuggling up to the Hollow Knight. They were met with gratitude for slaying the Radiance, for the soon to come freedom once they made their way back to the temple to retrieve their shells… But as the pair passed out in the larger shade’s arms, undoubtedly ready to sleep off some of their meal- the appreciative look faded, to previously hidden horror.

While the sleeping twins were blissfully unaware, it did occur to the knight… It was taboo to eat other gods, and for good reason. Aside from the sheer brutality of what was just witnessed, there was worry for the inevitable consequences. Worry for what was to come, if their appetites had reached to the divine.

#// I'm not dead!! Just been at work and working hard to crank this out #// Key bit of backstory for you all! #// Ever watch small children go absolutely feral on a moth? #// This is like. 3000+ words and about 7.5 pages worth of content be ready for a long read #No Page Unturned ✧ The Seeker #Adventure Awaits ✧ The Wanderer #She Who Ravaged Through Dreams ✧ The Radiance #Our Beloved Brother ✧ The Hollow Knight #`Higher Beings- These words are for You alone` ✧ Writings

[ahawkinhallownest]

“If you were to look that way,” Hornet raised her hand and pointed past Lumen, past Iselda’s shop and out of town. “There’s a well that leads underground. You could take the Stag tunnels down, but the Old Stag that works in them is a very busy man these days, so the best way to get into Hallownest proper is by going through the tunnels that lead into it.” She then angled her finger upwards. “And further beyond is the Crystal Peak, the mountain that sits on top of Hallownest. The Moths used to live there, and before the kingdom was founded they were the ones who ruled over the land.”

“Really now?” Lumen turned to look to the gem encrusted mountain looming over the village, giant exposed crystals glowing like starlight through the dense fog. “I was told that my people lived here, but I never realized they ‘ruled’ over anything.”

“It’s true, they were the original dominant species of the caldera, and they in turn were lead by a being that is known today as the Radiance. She was a powerful Goddess of light who commanded power over dreams and was the one who created the Moths. However, we don’t know much about Her as much of the history of the old Moth civilization was lost a long time ago after the Pale King arrived and took her place.”

“The Pale King?”

Hornet nodded. “I don’t know the specifics, but he did something that caused the Moths to turn away from their creator, and with their help he was able to convert much of the rest of the kingdom to follow him. You can imagine that the Radiance was not happy about that though, as she was the one who created the Infection that ravaged the kingdom.”

“Ah, right, the Infection.” Lumen looked around at the villagers retreating to their homes for the night. “Well, I don’t see anyone sick, and I didn’t come upon any signs sickness in the animals on the way here. I take it that it had dissipated by now?”

The Spider snapped her fingers, eyes twinkling with mirth. “You got it! Yes, the Infection had indeed been vanquished, and the story of how that happened is a long and complex one, and,” She looked over her shoulder at Hollow. They were shying away from them, as if what the two were talking about was discomforting them. “Ah, actually, maybe we should save that one for another time. I’m sure you must be tired, and like I said, there’s houses still up for the taking at the edge of town.”

Well, she wouldn’t be wrong. Lumen had traveled a long time to get to Dirtmouth, and after the harrowing chase he had to endure, he was looking forward to just laying down on a bed indoors.

#hollow knight #hornet #lumen #the hollow knight #dirtmouth #Story Post #a hawk in hallownest

[nonbinary-ghost]

Another Drabble

Yet another angsty hollow knight drabble involving Hollow and the Radiance. This one is inspired by a song called A Rose for Epona by Eluveitie - the lyrics fit the game so so well but i can’t animate to save my life so I wrote a small thing based on it instead.

Content warning: this drabble is about the Hollow Knight succumbing to the Radiance’s Infection so warnings for descriptions of pain/violence/death/abandonment

---

It burned.

The vessel had known in some cold, calculated way that containing an unwilling god would hurt. But nothing could have prepared it for this. For the way the god’s rage sank into its very soul and smoldered. At first the pain had been subtle, merely uncomfortable, like hot coals in the pit of its being. But now… now that smoldering rage had kindled into a fire that scorched through its veins. It would have trembled with the pain, would have wept or gasped. But the seals kept it still, motionless and silent as stone. Instead, it focused inwardly on itself, forcing its mind to empty of all fear or misery until it was only dimly aware of the sensations, as if watching itself through a thick fog. It ignored the discomfort of its physical form and floated in a sea of dark and light, its whole being focused solely on keeping that light buried deep inside.

It was not long before a voice began to join the burning rage, and the almost melodious scream turned into words the vessel could understand.

How can you just hang there! The Radiance shrieked. They abandoned you! They forgot about you! They just left you here to rot! That filthy writhing Wyrm and Root forsake you and their followers and left you all here to die! How can you just hang there and let this happen to you? Why didn’t you fight back? Why don’t you attempt to free yourself?”

The vessel heard the enraged god’s words. Knew there were meanings behind the words. It may have even been able to comprehend those meanings if it cared to.

It did not.

It simply tuned her out and did its best to smother her in the thick void it drifted in.

But the god was relentless. She never tired, and she pushed at its thoughts and mental barriers with the irresistible force of a steady acid stream, wearing away at the vessel’s resistance. Before long, she was able to take hold of its memories and bring those to bare against it. She gave it dreams. Dreams of warmth and love and bittersweet longing. She gave it dreams of its mother and father the White Lady and Pale King freeing it and tearfully telling it that everything was a mistake, a misunderstanding, that they loved it and could never condemn it to such a terrible fate. She gave the vessel dreams of receiving its parent’s love. She gave it dreams of hope.

Do not hope.

The vessel did not know when the mantras started. It merely became aware of them after some undefined time as they repeated again and again in its mind in defiance to the Radiance’s dreams and promises.

Do not think. Do not feel. Do not hope.

But it did. It knew the mantras themselves were thoughts. But focusing on them kept the vessel from lingering on the storm of emotions raging through it, swirling with the Radiance’s own anger and fear until the two were nearly indistinguishable. It could feel the crushing weight of helplessness and fear and pain baring down on it, and somewhere deep inside an anger all its own kindled to life: why have they forsaken me…? But it ignored those feelings and traitorous thoughts with a dogged tenacity, focusing on its mantras and on keeping the Radiance contained and unaware of its flagging determination.

It managed to do so for far longer than it had expected.

But when the Radiance finally found that weakness, that chink in its mental armor, she dug her claws in deep and ripped. Even the bindings could not hold the vessel completely still as she tore its mind apart, the bright burning pain turning its vision white, and it threw its head back as a silent scream ripped through it. Every gasping breath kindled flames of agony in its chest. Every phantom thought cut its mind with a white-hot misery. And the Radiance was there, pressed so close against it that the vessel could feel the heat of her own thoughts twining with its.

“I will be free of you,” she hissed viciously, the thoughts as much the vessel’s  as they were hers. “You never had a hope of containing me. You are a futile sacrifice for a kingdom already gone sere, with gods who have long since abandoned you. There is no one coming to save you, no mistake made. You were intended to rot here. You will fall, forgotten and alone, and I will be free at last.”

The vessel could hear its panting breath echoing in the darkness around it and it clenched in pain as the burning feeling began to creep up its throat, twisting and warping it to the goddess’ desire.

It could feel itself growing even weaker, its life slipping away, burned to ash and consumed by the flames of the Infection from the inside out. It had resisted her for so long, but now it was tired and weak, worn by centuries of relentless battering. It could feel its will to live flagging. It briefly considered giving in to the light, considered allowing it to cast it back into oblivion. But if it gave in, if it died, the Radiance would be freed. She would burn through the rest of the seals as if they were nothing more than sider silk before her fury, and she would ravage what was left of its home.

No.

The thought chilled through it. A sliver of ice in the storm of light and rage. An anchor to give it focus. The Hollow Knight bore down on its mental barriers, pushing back against the burning light with every scrap of will it could muster. It collided with the god and grappled her for control once more.

“What are you doing,” she roared, forced back the barest inch as the Hollow Knight dug into itself, determined to never let her free. “There is nothing left for you to save! They have already forgotten about you, about us.”

Together, the Knight thought, the first clear words aside from its mantras to ever cross its mind. It forced the Radiance to hear it, tainting her light with icy tendrils of darkness. Together we go unsung.

“You will die here! Hallownest is already gone. Your people are already dying. You cannot save them.”

Then we will go down with them, the Hollow Knight thought grimly, coiling itself around her despite the way her light burned. It was already lost – it could feel itself weakening further despite its resistance. If Hallownest was truly gone, then all of this would have been for nothing. But the Knight refused to let its weakness be the death of those who remained. It refused to roll over and die. It would fight her with everything it had left. It would do everything it possibly could to take her into that bottomless darkness with it.

We will go down with our people, the Knight swore. Together.

#hollow knight drabbles #wren writes #Hollowknight #hollow #radiance #cw self sacrifice

[indecisivebreadpeas]

Danganronpa & Hollow Knight Bug Tank AU cuz I love that AU

Disclaimer: I’ve only seen letplays of of the following games: Trigger Happy Havoc, Goodbye Despair, & Ultra Despair Girls. As for animes, I’ve just seen the Despair, Future & Hope Arc. I’ll be using info I recall, have seen, & read on the .fandom.com wikis, apologies for any misinfo. I’ll also be giving spoilers I gave myself by looking through the wiki, like Danganronpa Zero. Of all the listed media I’m not mentioning UDG any further.

There are 4 routes I want to go right off the bat:

Hopes Peak students discover Hallownest & co., dig them up & are allowed to study them.

The Ultimate Despair discovers them & studying them to see if the bugs supernatural abilities can be utilized

The Remnants of Despair discovers them & studying them to see if the bugs supernatural abilities can be utilized

Junko discovers them before the downhill Despair Arc events occur

Let’s go from bottom to top w/ a simple thought for each route since I wanna get this out quickly.

Junko Route: [FYI, this is the The Radiance has infected THK time]She’s discovered intelligent societies of bugs being ravaged by an infection. Using her analytic skills & Matsuda’s research, she’s managed to figure out what’s been going on with the whole “Radiance’s” infection (yep we’re stilling doing the Infected Radiance Theory), just all written knowledge in general & she’s learning more every day. She concludes that the Radiance herself is infected when she gets her hands on the dream nail (assuming it’s physical all the time & not distributed through dreams). Now she can get info by poking bugs with it. As for dreams, I think the safer route would either be she destroys the dream or she’s the same sized as bugs would be in their dreams. From here on out though, the important thing is what Junko will this info.

Remnants of Despair Route: Why couldn’t Nagito be the one to accidentally tank Hallownest? This really depends on how quickly & who decides to study them if they figure out to decide they’re worthwhile at all. I think Izuru would temporarily be excited but if he discovered the supernatural & paranormal stuff plus the realms that could extend him wanting to research the small world further. (Potential for the R.O.D. to turn the tables in their favor)

Ultimate Despair Route: In the simplest terms, assuming the internet still functions there’s potential for a combo of the previous two routes but w/ the Ultimate Despair fighting a winning battle instead of a losing one

Hopes Peak Route (I’m gonna for the Non-Despair AU): I know nothing about V3, but let’s make a sub-branch where the V3 cast is the class to come after the DR1 cast tho unless I’m forgetting something there’s the whole two Ultimate Detectives issue. Clearly, Gonta’s gonna be taking care of them for the most part, but w/ the infection he’ll certainly go to Seiko & Mikan for help. Due to the nature of the infection starting off in the head via the Radiance’s access to the dream realm, they won’t be able to help but can tell him the symptoms, not even isolation is helping. Eventually, he gets desperate & asks every student he knows for help. The people that do decide to help him band together to try & figure out this sickness. (Based on what I know, & the wiki, he cared deeply for bugs). I feel like the discovery of especially the bad things the people of Hallownest & co. did that wasn’t out of survival could put Gonta in a dilemma, but I’m not entirely sure since I’d say I know little about his character.

I think I’ll do w/ that but I’d like to see what you think of this crossover AU or the branch AUs, & what you’d add to it

#crossover #Danganronpa #Hollow knight #HK #Hollow knight au #Danganronpa au #spoilers #The Ultimate Despair #The Remnants of despair #AU #Alternate Universe #dr1 #dr2 #trigger happy havoc #Super danganronpa 2 #goodbye despair #Danganronpa v3 #Killing Harmony #Bug Tank AU

[gaslightgallows]

500 Prompts

I’m resurrecting an old chestnut from LJ/DW. Some of the best things I’ve ever written started as prompts from this list. Send me a character or a pairing and let’s see what I can do. (Or several! Multiple prompts are A-OK!)

The vacuum of time.

Terror in the night.

Flashes of euphoria.

Dancing with the devil.

Fatal accident.

Haunting melody.

Black ice.

Breathtaking reality.

Sensation of loss.

Shooting star.

Broken spirit.

Aurora Borealis.

Left behind.

Unguarded touch.

Last time.

Dying sun.

Devastating explosion.

Alone in a crowd.

Fragmented truths.

Gaping chasm.

Arise from the ashes.

The end of the beginning.

Remember me.

Flash of lightning.

Emergency evacuation.

Immortal laughter.

A whisper on the wind.

Electrifying sacrifice.

The calm before the storm.

A life of lies.

The winds of change.

The hand of fate.

Desperate plea.

Nightmare.

Whitewashed walls.

Caught in the act.

Wake up, the day is dying.

Close your eyes.

Beyond the horizon.

Finality.

Releasing the sparrow.

Something's out there.

Golden miracle.

I covet you.

The eye of the storm.

Screaming silence.

Her body was found...

I used to remember you.

Gasping confession.

Betrayal.

Uncontrollable wrath.

Dragon of shadow.

Natural disaster.

Leap of faith.

Faceless and nameless.

Harsh revelation.

A path to follow.

The power of goodbye.

Through a child's eyes.

One final look back.

Crumbling heart.

Ignored instinct.

Seductive danger.

Jumbled truths.

Shallow grave.

Why they call it falling.

Volcano.

Dying land.

A child's truth.

Antiseptic air.

Chained to mortality.

Dim as an ember.

Acid tears.

Unexpected emptiness.

Miraculous relief.

Letting go.

What Earth once was.

Frantic search.

Tragic moment.

Beneath the smiles.

Across the worlds.

In the still of the night.

Counting years.

Kidnapped innocence.

Tears of desire.

Ring of sunlight.

Trembling cold.

Missing planet.

Suffering rain.

Parched ego.

Toxic tease.

Horrific distortion.

Miracle ruin.

Wailing shadows.

Barren abyss.

Ravenous time.

Approaching doom.

Eternal danger.

Vacant arch.

Recoil.

Vehement grace.

Urban legend.

Gentle warmth.

Rippling tide.

Fallen haze.

That's all I ask of you.

Think of me.

Promise me.

A white rose.

Never let go.

Ghost of a rose.

Fire.

Enchanting surrender.

Cowering sunrise.

Deliverance.

Resisting temptation.

Leaves of amber.

I remember when she loved me.

Heart of a child.

Don't scream.

Bereft confusion.

Mysterious stranger.

Subconscious reality.

The truth about forever.

She's burning up.

You were supposed to be watching her!

Lost soul.

Wandering spirit.

Touched by an angel.

Shattered reflections.

Central power.

Lightning fast refusal.

Don't you dare.

Emerald eternity.

There will always be a monster.

Infinite embrace.

It's too late.

Cabin by the sea.

Guardian.

Amusingly inconsequential.

Ignited illusion.

Forsaken stealth.

Corrupted intrigue.

Kindle my soul.

Majestic memories.

Breathe, baby, breathe!

Resonating hunger.

Relinquished radiance.

Transcendent joy.

Silent watcher.

Her eyes believed in mysteries.

Last breath.

Sweet nothings.

Unfinished tale.

Endless darkness.

Suffocating darkness.

Passing warrior.

Shield maiden.

Old oak.

Ancient willow.

Off the map.

Deserted riverbank.

I never thought...

A walk along the shore.

The valley of echoes.

The family nobody wanted.

Dancing in the fountain.

Laughter from the flames.

A time for tenderness.

Sleeping storm.

Islands in the sky.

Unheeded warning.

Voices in his/her/my mind...

Spellbound.

It wasn't his/her/my/your fault...

Tempting enigma.

His/her/my/your compassion is like a shadow...

Even he/she/I have forgotten his/her/my name...

I hate love.

Irresistible coercion.

I offer no excuses...

Tumbling clouds.

Blue mists.

You think you have it bad?

His/her/my pain was like a desert...

Nothing could bleed that much.

Nothing lost, nothing gained.

Delicious tragedy.

The in between.

Into the river.

You're/He's/She's/I'm/They're only sleeping.

What can you see?

They're calling me/you/he/she/them home.

The end.

Somewhere out there.

Lamentation.

The moment…

Suddenly…

Childhood's end.

Broken weapon.

Gazing upon the sky with dampened eyes...

Vast horizons.

Entrapment.

Quaking need.

Memory of a dream.

Dangerous illusion.

Firestarter.

Enraged superstition.

Guilty morals.

Fragile as a dream.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Portals of discovery.

Fall from grace.

Balance of power.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Diamond in the rough.

The essence of life.

Nostalgic numbness.

Desire, ask, believe, receive.

A fate worse than death.

The razor's edge.

Reach for the stars.

Touch me.

Unrequited accusation.

Tragic shadow.

Forbidden laughter.

Starved for affection.

Between a rock and a hard place.

No man is an island.

Critical vengeance.

Rough hands.

Mystery.

After tonight.

Farewell.

And the edges blur.

One thousand promises.

A broken sensitivity.

A curling shadow.

A darker pride.

A deluge of dancers.

A fallacy in your head.

A four leaf clover.

A golden shield.

A love remembered.

A lustful lie.

A magical time.

A perfect rainbow in Hell.

A queer sort of clockwork.

A secondhand heart.

A story never to tell.

All sorts of complicated.

All the tears of God.

Alone I break.

And that's when I stopped believing in gravity.

No one mourns the wicked.

Die alone.

Asleep at dawn.

Assassin for hire.

Based on a dream.

Once upon a December.

Before the next tear falls.

The beginning of goodbye.

A lonely tomorrow.

Beneath the blue.

Better left unsaid.

Between a rock and your mother.

Beyond the galaxy's walls.

Birthing black and white.

Blood and moon.

Blood wars.

Bribing the Devil.

Broken promises and broken hearts.

False gold.

By midnight's favor.

By the light of a million stars.

Castles in the sky.

Catastrophe in the making.

Crawling nightmare.

Crimson orchid.

Crown of ivy.

Call of the wild.

Darkness becomes me.

Dawn of night.

Dawning upon a crimson ruin.

Death becomes you.

Demon tongue.

Desolation row.

Destined jealousy.

Burning star.

Do you remember the end?

Don't look into its eyes.

Dragons in your eyes.

Make a wish and toss a penny to the moon.

Ecstatic pain.

Edge of sanity.

Elemental rain.

Equinox rising.

Ethereal blood.

Evening shadows.

Exquisite and unforgivable.

Face down I cry.

Fallen fae.

Light step.

Faery-eyed child.

Fail with honour.

A childhood dream.

Fields of dust.

Final breath.

Finding infinity.

Flame in the twilight.

For the child I will sing.

Foreign serenade.

Lost beginning.

Forgotten, not forgiven.

Fractured reality.

Fragile hearts and candy-coated dreams.

Angels among us.

Haunting lonely pools.

Portrait in black.

Approaching Flood.

Technological reality.

I am the night you die.

I believe in God. I can hear him laughing at me.

I appeared here to vanish there.

I close my eyes and you disappear.

I loved you mommy, the day I killed you.

I miss who you were...

I thought you were alive.

I was here two days from now.

I wish upon tonight.

I write sins, not tragedies.

If looks could kill...

Illuminated darkness.

Death by imagination.

Pierce the sky.

Unfathomable truth.

Shackles of the mind.

Growing fonder.

A time to grieve.

Fire in your eyes.

Tales of long ago.

Live on your toes, love on your knees, die on your feet.

Prisoner in her mind.

Hold still, I'm trying to kill you.

Breath of the devil.

The innocent can never last.

Too wide to cross.

Arrogance and beauty, painted in ugliness...

Falseness in acquaintance.

Beneath the shade of the Sycamore...

One summer's/autumn's/winter's/spring's eve.

In the shadow of Mount Gloom.

Intoxicating the mind.

Island of light.

It ends tonight.

Jilted dreams.

Night of fire.

Knowledge in death, wisdom in immortality.

Liberating release.

Life on white wings.

A beacon of hope.

Like shattered glass.

Listless winter.

Little girl's downfall.

Lonely by candlelight.

Silent angels.

Gazing out a broken window.

You cannot lose what you never had.

Blood and tears.

Love's pretty follies.

The gift of lucidity.

Mint and lilac.

Missing Heaven and roses.

Mother Earth's last stand.

How do I/we/you say goodbye?

Where does the sky end?

Breathtaking innocence.

Dangerous stranger.

Lost in dreams.

Found in reality.

Forgotten sanctuary.

Treacherous deceit.

Warped.

Disenchanted crystal.

Laughing at the moon.

Yesterday's tomorrow.

Future of the past.

Supernova.

Whispers in the dark.

Letters from nowhere.

The one no one sees.

Beautiful disaster.

Passionate desires.

Remnants of darkness.

The bitterness of mortality.

An exquisite extreme unknown.

More Heaven than a heart could hold.

Flames of disaster.

Miraculous discovery.

Trusting in a soul.

Twilight surrender.

When love turns to hate.

Lost and alone.

When the river runs dry.

Lapping at the shores of sleep.

Landing among the stars.

Reaching for the moon.

When stillness descends.

On the brink of forever.

Clinging to the edge of control.

Abandoned resistance.

Eyes within the Heart.

Heart within the eyes.

When forever fades away.

Grave acceptance.

Flying amidst a rainbow.

Falling from a cloud.

Alone with forever.

Sunrise upon a soul.

Prisms of a fragmented whole.

A glittering cavern.

Disembodied voices.

Dancing beneath the moon.

Dancing on the water.

Gliding over glass.

A tale rewritten.

Exiled child.

Letters and vowels, spinning and tiles.

I'll try violence.

Who named the stars?

Mysterious beyond.

Ocean tears.

Sleepy death.

Sea bed.

Whispering nightmare.

Bound by silence.

A twinkle in the night.

A waking slumber.

See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

My lips are sealed.

Sometimes it is better not to follow your own destiny.

An invitation to Heaven.

Attacked by a dream.

Caressed by a nightmare.

The ravages of time.

Ancient tale.

Faces in the clouds.

Ripped apart.

The end of something better - The beginning of something worse.

The space between.

Look beyond.

Edge of the knife.

A human voice.

Dream the impossible.

Forgotten roads.

Flowers in the ashes.

A bitter pill.

Another fine mess.

The life inside.

Still crossroads.

Frozen bridges.

Fear of the fall.

Illusions of the darkness.

Sacrificial tension.

Path of a child.

Imitation of life.

Behind the mirror.

Through the fire.

Echoes of bondage.

Freedom in chains.

Parting regrets.

Something unheard of.

Hidden tales.

Laughter of the ages.

Frozen fire.

White shores.

Lights out.

Liquid sunset.

Silver glass.

When words fail.

A death of a thousand screams.

Those who do not remember the past.

When laughter's lost in peaceful silence.

The sands of time.

When death's lips left mine.

Cataclysm.

When Earth dies.

When worlds collide.

A mortal's forever.

Flight of disaster.

When tomorrows run out.

Kisses of a night terror.

Dashed against a rock.

Invisible defender.

The tattered, the torn.

A little happiness.

London by gaslight.

He sees the map back to her in the scars of his hands.

She never really leaves him...

And the thunder rolls.

#i have a prompt problem #prompt meeeeee #fan fiction #i love this prompt list so much y'all #make me happy #y'all know my fandoms #space vikings #valki #frostshield #crimson peak #star trek discovery #mfmm #prompt list

[readbookywooks]

“Oh bugger,” he said, under his breath. “Hey! You!” Granny Weatherwax was in trouble. First of all, she decided, she should never have allowed Hilta to talk her into borrowing her broomstick. It was elderly, erratic, would fly only at night and even then couldn't manage a speed much above a trot. Its lifting spells had worn so thin that it wouldn't even begin to operate until it was already moving at a fair lick. It was, in fact, the only broomstick ever to need bump-starting. And it was while Granny Weatherwax, sweating and cursing, was running along a forest path holding the damn thing at shoulder height for the tenth time that she had found the bear trap. The second problem was that a bear had found it first. In fact this hadn't been too much of a problem because Granny, already in a bad temper, hit it right between the eyes with the broomstick and it was now sitting as far away from her as it was possible to get in a pit, and trying to think happy thoughts. It was not a very comfortable night and the morning wasn't much better for the party of hunters who, around dawn, peered over the edge of the pit. “About time, too,” said Granny. “Get me out.” The startled heads withdrew and Granny could hear a hasty whispered conversation. They had seen the hat and broomstick. Finally a bearded head reappeared, rather reluctantly, as if the body it was attached to was being pushed forward. “Um,” it began, “look, mother -” “Im not a mother,” snapped Granny. “I'm certainly not your mother, if you ever had mothers, which I doubt. If I was your mother I'd have run away before you were born.” “It's only a figure of speech,” said the head reproachfully. “It's a damned insult is what it is!” There was another whispered conversation. “If I don't get out,” said Granny in ringing tones, “there will be Trouble. Do you see my hat, eh? Do you see it?” The head reappeared. “That's the whole point, isn't it?” it said. “I mean, what will there be if we let you out? It seems less risky all round if we just sort of fill the pit in. Nothing personal, you understand.” Granny realized what it was that was bothering her about the head. “Are you kneeling down?” she said accusingly. “You're not, are you! You're dwarves!” Whisper, whisper. “Well, what about it?” asked the head defiantly. “Nothing wrong with that, is there? What have you got against dwarves?” “Do you know how to repair broomsticks?” “Magic broomsticks?” “Yes!” Whisper, whisper. “What if we do?” “Well, we could come to some arrangement . . . .” The dwarf halls rang to the sound of hammers, although mainly for effect. Dwarves found it hard to think without the sound of hammers, which they found soothing, so well-off dwarves in the clerical professions paid goblins to hit small ceremonial anvils, just to maintain the correct dwarvish image. The broomstick lay between two trestles. Granny Weatherwax sat on a rock outcrop while a dwarf half her height, wearing an apron that was a mass of pockets, walked around the broom and occasionally poked it. Eventually he kicked the bristles and gave a long intake of breath, a sort of reverse whistle, which is the secret sign of craftsmen across the universe and means that something expensive is about to happen. “Weellll,” he said. “I could get the apprentices in to look at this, I could. It's an education in itself. And you say it actually managed to get airborne?” “It flew like a bird,” said Granny. The dwarf lit a pipe. “I should very much like to see that bird,” he said reflectively. “I should imagine it's quite something to watch, a bird like that.” “Yes, but can you repair it?” said Granny. “I'm in a hurry.” The dwarf sat down, slowly and deliberately. “As for repair,” he said, “well, I don't know about repair. Rebuild, maybe. Of course, it's hard to get the bristles these days even if you can find people to do the proper binding, and the spells need -” “I don't want it rebuilt, I just want it to work properly,” said Granny. “It's an early model, you see,” the dwarf plugged on. “Very tricky, those early models. You can't get the wood -” He was picked up bodily until his eyes were level with Granny's. Dwarves, being magical in themselves as it were, are quite resistant to magic but her expression looked as though she was trying to weld his eyeballs to the back of his skull. “Just repair it,” she hissed. “Please?” “What, make a bodge job?” said the dwarf, his pipe clattering to the floor. “Yes.” “Patch it up, you mean? Betray my training by doing half a job?” “Yes,” said Granny. Her pupils were two little black holes. “Oh,” said the dwarf. “Right, then.” Gander the trail boss was a worried man. They were three mornings out from Zemphis, making good time, and were climbing now towards the rocky pass through the mountains known as the Paps of Scilla (there were eight of them; Gander often wondered who Scilla had been, and whether he would have liked her/. A party of gnolls had crept up on them during the night. The nasty creatures, a variety of stone goblin, had slit the throat of a guard and must have been poised to slaughter the entire party. Only.... Only no one knew quite what had happened next. The screams had woken them up, and by the time people had puffed up the fires and Treatle the wizard had cast a blue radiance over the campsite the surviving gnolls were distant, spidery shadows, running as if all the legions of Hell were after them. Judging by what had happened to their colleagues, they were probably right. Bits of gnolls hung from the nearby rocks, giving them a sort of jolly, festive air. Gander wasn't particularly sorry about that - gnolls liked to capture travellers and practise hospitality of the red-hot-knife-and-bludgeon kind - but he was nervous of being in the same area as Something that went through a dozen wiry and wickedly armed gnolls like a spoon through a lightly-boiled egg but left no tracks. In fact the ground was swept clean. It had been a very long night, and the morning didn't seem to be an improvement. The only person more than half-awake was Esk, who had slept through the whole thing under one of the wagons and had complained only of odd dreams. Still, it was a relief to get away from that macabre sight. Gander considered that gnolls didn't look any better inside than out. He hated their guts. Esk sat on Treatle's wagon, talking to Simon who was steering inexpertly while the wizard caught up with some sleep behind them. Simon did everything inexpertly. He was really good at it. He was one of those tall lads apparently made out of knees, thumbs and elbows. Watching him walk was a strain, you kept waiting for the strings to snap, and when he talked the spasm of agony on his face if he spotted an S or W looming ahead in the sentence made people instinctively say them for him. It was worth it for the grateful look which spread across his acned face like sunrise on the moon. At the moment his eyes were streaming with hayfever. “Did you want to be a wizard when you were a little boy?” Simon shook his head. “I just www-” “- wanted -” “- tto find out how things www -” “- worked? -” “Yes. Then someone in my village told the University and Mmaster T-Treatle was sent to bring me. I shall be a www-” “- wizard -” “- one day. Master Treatle says I have an exceptional grasp of ththeory.” Simon's damp eyes misted over and an expression almost of bliss drifted across his ravaged face. “He t-tells me they've got thousands of b-books in the library at Unseen University,” he said, in the voice of a man in love. “More bbooks than anyone could read in a lifetime.” “I'm not sure I like books,” said Esk conversationally. “How can paper know things? My granny says books are only good if the paper is thin.” “No, that's not right,” said Simon urgently. “Books are full of www” he gulped air and gave her a pleading look. “- words? -”said Esk, after a moment's thought. “- yes, and they can change th-things. Th-that's wuwuw, that wuwuwwhha-whha-” “-what-” “-I must f-find. I know it's th-there, somewhere in all the old books. They ssss-” "-say “there's no new spells but I know that it's there somewhere, hiding, the wwwwwuwu-” “- words -” “yes, that no wiwiwi-” “- Wizard? -”said Esk, her face a frown of concentration. “Yes, has ever found.” His eyes closed and he smiled a beatific smile and added, “The Words that Will change the World.” “What?” “Eh?” said Simon, opening his eyes in time to stop the oxen wandering off the track. “You said all those wubbleyous!” “Idid?” “I heard you! Try again.” Simon took a deep breath. “The worworwor - the wuwuw -” he said. “The wowowoo-” he continued. “It's no good, it's gone,” he said. “It happens sometimes, if I don't think about it. Master Treatle says I'm allergic to something.” “Allergic to double-yous?” “No, sisssisi-” //-silly-" said Esk, generously. “- there's sososo-” “- something -” “- in the air, p-pollen maybe, or g-grass dust. Master Treatle has tried to find the cause of it but no magic seems to h-help it.” They were passing through a narrow pass of orange rock. Simon looked at it disconsolately. “My granny taught me some hayfever cures,” Esk said. “We could try those.” Simon shook his head. It looked touch and go whether it would fall off. “Tried everything,” he said. “Fine wwiwwi-magician I'd make, eh, can't even sss-utter the wowo-name.” “I could see where that would be a problem,” said Esk. She watched the scenery for a while, marshalling a train of thought. “Is it, er, possible for a woman to be, you know, a wizard? ” she said eventually. Simon stared at her. She gave him a defiant look. His throat strained. He was trying to find a sentence that didn't start with a W. In the end he was forced to make concessions. “A curious idea,” he said. He thought some more, and started to laugh until Esk's expression warned him. “Rather funny, really,” he added, but the laughter in his face faded and was replaced by a puzzled look. “Never really tthought about it, before.” “Well? Can they?” You could have shaved with Esk's voice. “Of course they can't. It is self-evident, child. Simon, return to your studies.” Treatle pushed aside the curtain that led into the back of the wagon and climbed out on to the seat board. The look of mild panic took up its familiar place on Simon's face. He gave Esk a pleading glance as Treatle took the reins from his hands, but she ignored him.

#EqualRites

[scars-of-the-hart]

Mass Effect 3: Screams In The Dark

The first chapter in "From The Ashes," an original story unfolding from the alternate ending to ME3 created by ChimeraArts. Shakarian struggle to cope in the wake of the devastating changes caused by Shepard and EDI's new Synthesis choice. They must deal with the personal and political ramifications of the final battle, haunted by the Crucible's threats that their actions would be in vain.

Alternate ending available at: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1M9ZZ-3OY6LSGYcRxCUjxH2C40I7h4410/view?usp=sharing

Chapter One: Screams In The Dark

The Crucible shook, shadows danced, cast by the flickering inferno that raged among the stars. Explosions and fire crept across the Citadel and all manner of Reapers were swarming from every side. She couldn’t breathe, blood and smoke were choking her lungs, her vision swimming from the rising heat - or lack of oxygen, she couldn’t be sure which. A Husk ran screeching for her and she threw herself behind some rubble. A weapon. She needed a weapon. In the flash of yet another explosion a wink of reflected light caught her eye. She squinted. A tube of metal, the barrel of a-

She threw herself forward, tearing at the mound of rubble, wincing as their jagged edges and burning metal cut into her hands. She finally freed the sniper rifle and set about checking it was functional. There were some scratches on the blue metal, she’d better make sure…

She knew this gun. Knew its weight, the way the light bounced off it. Knew the scars etched into the metal and the Turian that bore their twin. His rifle... Why was it here? It was rarely far from his side. If it was here, then he was here. But if he was here - he would be using it - and if he wasn’t….

She gazed around squinting through the choking smog and debris. Searching...

“GARRUS!” she cried out, answered only by the roar of the inferno.

“Shepard.” She could barely make out EDI’s voice through her com, “Have… get to… beam… establish… link...”

The link. She had never felt heavier. With a grieving heart she tore herself away from gazing at the rubble around her for any sign of a blue armored form and began to make her way towards the ribbon of light in the distance.

Madly, she moved from the few shadows of cover made available by the debris, thinning the Husks in the distance with the too-heavy sniper rifle in her hands, and eliminating the ones that slipped closer with biotic blasts and her omni-blade. She was fading fast, and badly. A Marauder made it within striking distance and landed a blow with one of its 3 fingered hands to her chest. She felt a sickening crack within her and flew backwards, landing hard upon the crumbling ground. Before she could regain her footing it was on her - its twisted maw roaring as it brought down the killing blow. She pulled her arm in front of her just before the blow landed, activating the omn-tool. Her omni blade sprung into existence, stabbing straight through the Marauder's torso. It let out a garbled shriek and grew still.

Panting, drenched in its fluids and her own blood, Shepard hauled the carcass off herself and struggled to her feet. Her side burned. She looked down. Something white and slender, covered in thin streams of blood, protruded from her armor. From beneath her armor. She drew a gargled breath and in agony continued towards the beam.

That dancing light - she could make out EDI’s silhouette rippling before its brilliance. She was almost there. She picked up her pace, begging her ravaged mortal coil to carry her a little further, just a little further and she would ask no more of it. Nearly there - she could make out the light from EDI’s eyes now, see the AI’s outstretched hand. Shepard extended her own, and then a bloodcurdling, too familiar roar rent the air. A Brute lumbered towards her. Directly in the path between her and EDI and the beam. Between her and an end to this hell.

She threw herself behind a protruding slab of concrete - if she could just get around - she’d never have the strength to take it down, but if she could just get past-

The concrete behind her exploded, throwing her to the ground. She cried out in pain as she landed upon her exposed rib, gasping for breath, choking on the smoke that instead rushed to fill her lungs. Shadows fell upon her as the hulking bulk of the Brute eclipsed the radiance of the beam. In the distance EDI shrieked her name.

In desperation Shepard raised the sniper rifle in her arms, squinting through the blood and smoke that choked her vision, training the crosshairs on the Brute mere feet from her now. The shot would have to be perfect. Her breath was ragged; she readied to fire. Snaking forward on that grotesquely elongated neck, the Brute's horned head emerged from the veil of twisting smoke. She fired just as the last tendrils of smoke cleared from its howling, blue-tattooed face - and screamed.

* * *

“MORIA!” Her name cut through the echoing of explosions in her ears. Somewhere someone was screaming. Something heavy lay across her, she needed to move, to find cover. It’s heat smothering her, she couldn’t breathe. She pushed the heavy material away, twisting falling- something caught her arm, another Husk? She fought against it, but it caught her face, drawing it towards- she beat against its chest, trying to get leverage. “MORIA!”

Her eyes flew open. The Brute was here, its face before her, horned head against the dark sky - holding - but the fires were gone. She was in a dark space lit by dancing starlight out the window, the air cool against her sweat-drenched, burning skin. The face before her - the blue tattoos - Garrus. Her heart leapt - wonderfully whole, Turian Garrus. She could see his mouth moving, saying something - but she couldn’t make it out over the screaming- her screaming.

The room quieted as her scream faded into broken sobs.

* * *

“It’s ok Moria. I’m here. It’s ok. You're safe,” he crooned, gently brushing matted hair back from her sweat-and-tear-drenched face. She was back. He could see it in her eyes; had seen the moment when the terrors of her dream had finally faded enough that she could take in the cabin around her. “It’s ok,” he murmured, “you’re safe. You did it. We’re all safe.” Her chest was still heaving. He could smell the fear, its sharp scent cutting through the lilac and citrus. His heart broke. “It’s ok,” he whispered, his eyes boring into hers, “it’s over, Moria. It’s all over Moria, I swear” and folded her into his ams.

It was the fourth night she’d awoken from nightmares on their trip from the Salarian hospital back to Palaven. This time at least, she hadn’t caught him in the face as she struggled against the unknown horrors in her mind. He’d assured her that the bruise would fade, and that he could barely see it behind the blue of his clan tattoos. But he knew she’d seen the shock on the others' faces in the mess the next morning. He only hoped by some miracle his curseldy sharp Commander had missed the silencing looks he’d given each person they encountered and his and Liara’s panicked, whispered conversations.

He held her at the edge of her, well their, bed, emitting a soft, rumbling vibration from his chest and rocking her gently back and forth. He stroked her matted hair as the sobs gently subsided.

He’d tried to wake her as her sleep became restless. When he smelled that bite of fear on her sleeping form- tried to wake her before the screaming started. Tried to spare that, now, constantly hoarse voice, and the pride he knew was beginning to strain. But he couldn’t. She wouldn’t wake of any but her own accord. Liara and Tali’s only guess was that her new synthesized brain was perhaps treating dreams as programs… where without the necessary command, there was no option but to let it play out. He had turned down Liara’s offer to alter Shepard’s sleep with her biotics. He knew Moria wouldn’t be ready for that yet, and that the dependence would scare her as much as the dreams had.

He had no idea what she saw in the dark, in the shadows, and to his horror, sometimes his own face. She wouldn’t talk about it. And he couldn’t bring himself to push her to open up. His dreams were bad enough, full of walls of light he couldn’t follow her through, ice cold five-finger hands, a still chest, and that sickening crack he couldn’t escape. If he, who had seen so many fewer horrors, could barely sleep... he couldn’t fathom how she could when she had endured so much more.

She was still shaking, her breathing falling into the staccato panic that sometimes followed. He felt her racing heart begin to sprint against his chest. He stood swiftly, carrying her gently in his arms. He felt her cling to his bare chest, holding tight as if she could somehow escape the world and bury herself forever in his arms. He crossed to the door, it swishing open before him and set off down the dark hall, thanking the spirits he’d fallen asleep still wearing pants.

He moved as quickly and quietly as he could along the corridor, praying for distracted crew as he passed the entryways to the mess and engineering. That was the damn problem with space flight. Some part of the crew was awake at all times. You couldn’t really get a damn moment’s privacy. And a crew that was so heavily staffed with curious humans with no sense to shut the hell up and mind their own-

“Garrus!” Exclaimed a gunnery sergeant who had just rounded the corner, nearly running into him and the barely clothed Commander of the whole damn ship. “I- what - is,” the sergeant stuttered.

Garrus leaned forward and with his most threatening “I ate your people before they had evolved to use tools” voice (something he had picked up from too much time around Javik), growed “Out of my way now. And this never happened, you never saw this or we will throw you off the ship before reaching Palaven.”

He could hear the sergeant’s heart skip a beat and barreled past to the engine room at the end of the hall. With an elbow, he nudged the panel to open the doors and stepped inside.

“Out. Now.” he hissed at the few techs on duty, who after a long, intimidating talk the other day, knew the drill. He walked to the end of the platform as they scuttled away. He heard the door sigh closed behind him and released an echoing exhalation of his own.

He stopped at the end of the walkway, leaning slightly against the command panel. “It’s ok,” he breathed into her hair, “It’s ok. You’re on the Normandy. You’re safe.” He could still feel her trembling. But he told himself not to panic, and wait. He heard her take a slightly deeper breath; her heart beat slow by a fraction. Good. For some reason… he didn’t understand why yet, this, the engine room, the one place in the whole ship that was never quiet, was the only place she could sleep. He’d found her curled against the wall by the door two days ago. Fast asleep where she must have been sitting for a time. He’d sat there for three hours… just watching her… entranced by the calmest sleep he’d seen since she woke from her coma in the hospital two weeks ago. He had no idea what had driven her here. A routine task in running the warship? A haunting memory or moment of fatigue? He felt her sigh and loosen a little in his arms. It didn’t matter. He just thanked the stars it worked. “It’s ok Moria,” he whispered over the steady thrumming of the engines. “Listen… it’s ok… you're home.”

[curseofsebs]

The Story of a Jaunt Through Innistrad #1

The ‘Jaunters’ came together at the Kessig border at the beginning of New Moon, Inquisitors Ernt Förstemann (Haunted One/ Inquisitor Fighter) and Hjördís (Archaeologist/ Inquisitor Rogue) arriving together from working in Gavony, while Absjorn Agnarr (Hermit Druid) and Eckhat Reinhardt (Sea Merchant Alchemist) arrived together, as the latter met the former in Kessig, having travelled from the Nephalian coast.

Together they arrived at the border town of Trostad and were soon tasked with defending the townsfolk from three large spiders that had left their homes in the Kessig woodlands to feed. A combination of crack shots, deft cuts, green-mana infused magic and a steady rain of alchemical bombs left the arachnids a smoking ruin of limbs and ichor.

The owners of The Silent Graf Inn, Štefan and Yana Kohout, overjoyed that the spiders never made it to them and their mischievous adolescent sons, Pavlo and Olek, gave the party free drinks, lodgings and a skin of quality Wayward Wolf ale to take with them.

During the revelry, amid backslappings and pipe smoke, the Kahout boys, who had previously been pestering Eckhat to see his other wares, cornered the Alchemist, furtively asking for a love potion. Bing a man of somewhat questionable morality, having a history of dealings in the Erdwal with the criminal classes of Nephalia, he agreed and quickly knocked up a pale pink looking liquid with a faint aroma of rosewater. Adding a dirty cork to a glass tube, he handed the concoction to the older boy, pocketing the few moons for his troubles. Ignorant of the target of their affections he told them to get the potion as close to their paramour’s face for the greatest effect, chuckling maliciously to himself that, while the contents of the vial might be somewhat effective, it could also create an irritation or even a nasty burn. Oh well that’s the joys of experimentation after all.

The boys rushed inside eagerly, Pavlo pulling a roughly-made catapult from his britches. It was only when Eckhart entered to see the young lad aiming the sling, loaded with the glass vial, one eye shut and tongue bitten in concentration, squarely at Hjördís’ head that he knew he was in trouble. He snatched wildly at the test tube that tumbled and smashed on the hardwood floor, a reek of sour rose petals pervading the bar.

Coming back from the bar with another foaming round, Hjördís spotted this bizarre scene through the mist of Absjorn’s pipe smoke and gave chase to the two boys, sending them running in fear from the spry Inquisitor. Reactions honed over the years, alerted Ernst to his fellow Inquisitor’s run, and in moments the old pistol he had been cleaning so diligently was locked and in his hand. He had no idea what she was after, but he was ready to have her back, wincing slightly as his aging frame made slight protest, but still sprang into action.

Outside, Hjördís drew her twin rapiers bellowing menacingly at the two boys as the disappeared into the distance, which soon fell to laughing as she saw Ernst scanning the horizon for danger down his gunsights.

Inside Asbjorn continued to bask in a job well done, drinking and smoking contently, while Eckhart was chagrin and still doing his best to clean up the mess, as the Inquisitor’s reinterred, Hjördís flashing a warning look at the Alchemist.

Leaving the excitement of Trosdat behind them, the Jaunters set off deeper into Gavony towards Estwald.

The sun is high in the sky as you make good time across the rocky scrubland of the moorlands. A great flapping of wings above draws your attention, with a mixed rush of fear of large bird of prey or even the wondrous sight of a griffin...but the sight is as breath-taking in its beauty and surprise: three angels fly in formation, the sunlight seeming to absorb and radiate from them, their hair and garments trail in the breeze like spun gold and silver.

This miraculous and wondrous sight fills you with a celestial radiance. Your eyes widen in awe and you feel a broad smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You feel refreshed in spite of the hours of brisk travel you have put in and you feel a spryness to your step.

Feeling inspired and blessed by the wondrous sight above that was surely the reason they managed to cross the Moorlands without incident, a miracle in and of itself, they arrived in Wittal Parish. The redolent smell of pine wafting on the later afternoon breeze, as the immense trees grew thicker and taller before them, and the floor became a carpet of immense needles.

As they admired the great canopy of trees, Asbjorn feeling in his element with the raw green mana radiating from the forest, a great squealing rang out from the path ahead. The party quickly fell into formation with the Inquisitors taking point on either side of the path. Three large shapes appeared ahead of them, preceded by a fetid stink that only grew worse as they approached. These shapes resolved into huge boars, screeching and fighting each other over the corpse of a large wolf.

The battle, if such a one-sided encounter could ever be call so, was over in less than a minute, as the Jaunters worked as one to put down the beasts. The three boars fell in a filthy heap, as the Inquisitors moved in unison, as they had for many years on the road. Responding to the echoing retort of Ernst’s pistol, two more boars tore from the woods at Asbjorn and Eckhart, who quickly dispatched them, another shot ringing out, while blades, vials and spells flew. The pack lay dead, without even given the chance to bring their wicked, filthy tusks to bare.

Hjördís, having some ecumenical differences to the standard Avacynian doctrine, performed the rites to give their spirits the Blessed Sleep, after she, Asbjorn and Ernst heaved the heavy, rotten carcasses off the path, while Eckhart did his best to look busy. She also claimed a few of the disgusting, splintered tusks, before the smell became too much for her.

The road ahead was clear, giving Asbjorn and Eckhart time to peruse the hedgerows for ingredients, while Hjördís watched on with interest and discussed the finer points of pipeweed with the Druid.

After a time, they came across a scene of destruction, a shredded tent, upturned cart still just about attached to a dead horse with deep gashes torn into its hide and neck, and bloody, scuffed trails. Before they could investigate, Hjördís blundered into a hunting trap that bit wickedly into her leg, and even deeper when Ernst failed to lock it in place and it sprang back savagely.

Absjorn tended to her wounds, while Ernst and Eckhart investigated the scene. The Nephalian discovering a ruined bedroll, half-full battered flask of strong smelling pine needle alcohol, and shreds of a bloodstained letter: ...careful my love, stay close to the towns and do not wander...angels watch over... Love, Helga, in the ravaged tent, while the older of the Kessigers found spilled logs of sweet smelling pine, a torn backpack with its contents spilled among the weeds and wood and an old hand axe in need of sharpening.

For the map of this encounter I used Road Encounter by the incredible Elven Tower

After collecting all three of the hunting traps dotted about the camp, the party followed bloody drag marks into the trees to discover a small silver Avacynian charm among shredded leather straps and a severed arm still clutching a honed and bloody axe. The bloody trail lead further into the woods, before the foliage swallowed it, so tracking was useless. Again, Hjördís performed the funeral rites for an unconventional departed.

Together they finally made it to the wooden palisades of the village of Estwald as the setting sun turned the sky the colour of fresh blood.

(So this is where I messed up and had a very cringey sexist moment at the gates that I addressed here. We replayed the scene below on our I character discussion channel on the campaign Discord)

Estwald Gate late even, New Moon

The party approach the wooden palisades that surround the village of Estwald, a silver spire can be seen reaching into the darkening sky, seeming to glitter in the moonlight, towering above the surrounding pine forest and those treetops seen, entwining roofs and chimneys.

Carl Evening. You looking for lodgings? Try the Hirsute Hare...

Wolfhard: Sorry Inquisitors, he's green as grass and wouldn't know a toad from the Gitrog -- This is Inquisitors Förstemann an Hjördís (Tips hat), they've been through this way many times in the past. They’re from the wilds of Kessig, but it never claimed them, eh? If it did, the finest Thraben Cathar training would have seen to that, ha ha. (Wistful) Something we could only dream of...

Always good to see representatives of the church in these difficult times (looks very awkward and catches himself, Younger Guard looks quizzically at him), blessing of Avacyn. I just mean with the sad passing of Ser Thomas. Not many Cathars get to retire... (more composed) so he's lucky to have spent his twilight years as our marshal and head of our watch. Now I pray he rests in Avacyn's embrace in the Blessed Sleep.

Anyways, you and your companions are always welcome in Estwald, sunlit days and pleasant nights. (makes to usher you in)

Hjördís: (place my hand on his shoulder as I walk up to him) Thank you for the warm welcome Wolfhard, as always. I had not heard of Ser Thomas's passing. My condolences to the family and town. Was it a peaceful end? Did he find the blessed sleep?

Ernst: I initially tip my hat back at the old guard but upon hearing of Ser Thomas passing i remove it. "I'm sorry to hear of Ser Thomas passing, he was a good man"

Wolfhard: That he was. Your kind words are greatly appreciated. He will be missed by all. Go easy on Elder Beckett, old Tomstel is putting on a brave face, but Thomas' passing has been hard on the man. Moonsage Daragor has performed the rites, so I am sure he has been seen to the blessed sleep, Avacyn rest his soul. Well, as my old mother used to say, let moss grow over gargoyles. (makes the sign of Avacyn)

Ernst: As you wish, we will go easy.

Wolfhard: Appreciated (Tips hat) Good eve.

Ernst: (tips hat) evening.

Hjördís: (also tips hat) Farewell. (To the group but more so Ernst) we go should pay our respects whilst we are here.

Ernst: I nod in response, "we should also offer any help we can to Elder Beckett"

Hjördís: Agreed.

(For the map of Estwald  I used Walled Town by the incredible Elven Tower)

The Jaunters head straight for the tavern, The Hirsute Hare, passing a small market consisting of a jeweler, cooper, butcher, vegetable and dairy stalls that is winding down for the day.

Inside the Hirsute Hare, they meet the owner, Sagh, a burly Kessiger, and around their lodgings, before heading back out to peruse the wares being packed away, while Eckhart decides to start drinking in earnest. Thinking he is a master of all substances, the Alchemist fails to heed the warnings about how strong the distilled pine alcohol is, feeling remarkably well after the first round of shots, although with the second his body betrays him, wrenching his rations from him forcibly, before all goes dark.

The others return to find a not too impressed Sagh wielding mop and bucket, indicating she carried their companion to his room and that he might not feel so great upon the morrow. Making their apologies, the rest take to bed.

***

In the morning the Jaunters hear a great racket downstairs. A young woman has run into the tavern wailing, ‘my daughter!’, amid great wracking sobs, ‘They’ve taken my daughter!’.

 (So that’s where session #1 finished)

Art: Spider Token by Daniel Llunggren, Plains by Eytan Zana, Angels in the Sky, Forst by James Paick, Festerhide Boar by Nils Hamm, game Trail by Adam Paquette)

Check out Elven Tower on Patreon for an incredible array of maps for every situation.

Good hunting and happy gaming! :)

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