#Wolfen's Rage

[triscribe]

Tri's first attempt at a personality quiz

So I made a Thing

Very much an on the fly sort of Thing, so we'll see if it turned out well or ends up going on the scrap pile for take two.

(Brief reminder that you can order an autographed copy of my book off Ko-fi, or read the first chapter for free on Patreon)

#wolfen's rage #turning point trilogy #uquiz link #personality quiz #original fiction

[cliffandthekid]

What Wolfen's Rage character are you?

Cliffjumper - Teresa

Big, boisterous, and larger than life, in personality if not actual size, you haven't yet met a challenge daunting enough to keep you from tackling it head-on. And whether your friends think it's a good idea or not, they're coming along for the ride, because you're a team effort type person who isn't interested in letting others sit around while life passes them by.

Sierra - Andren

A person of hidden values and deeper morals than you like to let on, otherwise someone might get it in their head that you can be a Responsible Individual. Sure, when rough times roll in you're capable of setting aside the jokes and humor to focus on what's important, but only while emphasizing it's very much a temporary state of affairs.

#so this is a shameless bit of self promotion #wolfen's rage #being my first self-published novel #steal the dashboard / dash games

[triscribeaucollection]

I don't think it'll ever become second nature or even a habit to hype myself, but here's your infrequent reminder than this fan fic writer is also a self-published author with one book out and another on the way:

Autographed copies with included bookmarks are available over on my Ko-Fi account; I've also got the first chapter of Wolfen's Rage available free to read on Patreon.

“Ash and ice, hang it all,” Crant growled. “Mentras, I need you to hold onto this for me.” She bent over to yank the folded map from her boot, and shoved it into his hands before he had time to protest.

“Whoa, wait, hold on! What are you going to do?” His voice went up in pitch as he watched her take several steps back.

“Something incredibly stupid.”

#originals #scribe's art #wolfen's rage #turning point trilogy

[zeydaan-isabella]

Wolfencreek Berserk

Commission for Wolfencreeksalot - Wolfen wielding the great dragonslayer sword and dark force of viciousness taking them over, dragging the enormous blade to their quarry.

#zeydaan #vicious #wolfencreeksalot #wolfen #wolf #berserk #dragonslayer #sword #angry #rage #guts #dark

[pristmaticrosevein]

Prismatic Rose AU (RWBY)

The poll chain is getting a little long and convoluted, so I created a new blog to hold everything.

The polls won't be a single answer. Instead I'll try to work all of the answers together, based off the number of votes each answer gets. If I can, of course.

Aura is present, but is more like DBZ power levels than how it functions in RWBY. A shot to the heart will be as fatal to a Human Huntsman as it would be to anyone else.

Firearms are regular firearms. Dust is instead used to craft weapons, like is alluded to by Ironwood, but never actually seen in the story.

Conclusions:

Jaune Arc

Humble Everydude

Jaune picks up a Broken Sword, his power repairs his sword, can generate a shield, and armour.

When depressed or in a deep fury his sword stays broken, and his armour is rusted. He is nearly invincible, but lacks any real control.

When happy, he literally glows from the light he emits.

Later learns to use and even combine both.

Ruby Rose

Werewolf: She learns to control her Human / Wolf forms.

Eventually unlocks a middle Wolfen form.

Silver Eyes: Her silver eyes are part of her Werewolf curse, from her connection to the moon. Eventually allows her to dispel darkness and inflict Lunacy.

Strongly dislikes bright sunlight, finding it oppressive. Will hide under her red hood in bright daylight.

Dislikes sitting around and doing nothing. As she learns to open up to her friends, hanging with them counts as doing something.

Dame Sister of the Order of the Sanguine Rose. Still a Novice, (no oath), but she was a Squire, and got her Accolade because of being a natural when fighting the forces of darkness.

Werewolves are normally turned over to the Church. Faith in God is the best way to gain control of their powers. Others can do so by living with wolf packs in the wilds, though they are rarely trusted.

Regeneration: Turned off with Silver, Fire, and direct sunlight. Indirect sunlight dims it. She's mostly fine in her cloak and hood, but better a night.

Extremely high metabolism. She can get blood thirsty if she doesn't eat, but sugar works extremely well. I.e. cookies are MANDATORY.

Pain causes her rage to ignite.

Shield of Faith and Miracle Die: 40K SoB reference. I'll explain if anyone asks.

Pyrrha Nikos

A literal angel.

Angels are forbidden from most direct interventions. The exception is for the Creatures of Grimm, or other nefarious beings.

Angels can only whisper into your ear. Devils have the same restriction, but are not known for being good at following rules.

Often the intervention of angels will be perceived, (by the imperceptive), as luck. Others might see them in dreams.

Angels can only directly interact with people who have enough spiritual strength to fully perceive them.

Creatures of Grimm

Creatures of shadow and enmity.

As enmity builds in an area, a Grimm Fragment is created. This is not visible to those without Shadowsight.

If enough enmity is unleashed at the same time, a Grimm Fragment can be boosted into a full-fledged Grimm.

More commonly, nefarious beings use the Fragments to create Creatures of Grimm to do their bidding, (hopefully).

Some less than ethnical magic users can try to use this as a power source. It can work, or it can create a Creature of Grimm.

When a Creature of Grimm is spotted, it triggers an investigation.

Huntsmen and Huntresses

Those licensed to hunt Creatures of Grimm.

Some are lone vagabonds, others join fraternities or orders-militant.

While fraternities and orders normally have their own rules of conduct, without them Huntsmen are defacto, and often dejure, immune to all by the most heinous of laws.

This is both out of privilege, and out of practicality. On one hand, you want the Huntsman hunting. On the other, trying to bring a Huntsman to trial, unwillingly, is a harrowing ordeal for everyone involved. The Church's Inquisition typically handles rogue Huntsmen.

Because of this, disreputable Huntsmen will often be shunned by most of society.

#rwby #prismatic rose au #jaune arc #ruby rose #pyrrha nikos

[weatherman667]

Dark Angel:  No one can no our secret.  Some of the legion were lead astray but a corrupted brother.

Blood Angel:  I am literally filled with a rage so profound that it can never be avoided.  I literally thirst for blood.

Space Wolf:  We lost some of our brothers to the curse of the Wolfen, but these things happen.  Who wants to go hunting and then drink until we pass out?

Ultramarine:  I am perfectly without flaws *flips through the Codex, stops, and nodding his head at a passage*

Imperial Fist:  *meditating in the pain glove*

Raven Guard:  *back stabs someone*

Iron Hands:  *Cant Mechanicus Screeching*

Salamanders:  *playing a board game with his family*

White Scars:  *reading poetry on an especially breathtaking vista*

#40k #adeptus astartes

[goodomensandtea]

yo I'm looking for an adult (pls 21+ bc I am an Adult) who's still for some reason obsessed with klance to talk to about my fics

I have an idea that's been running around in my head forever and I have two half first chapters worked out and most of the plot but idk what to put down next so if anyone wants to hit me up I'd greatly appreciate it

I'm working on two stories rn one with the story mostly plotted out and one with a skeletal outline of the first half and keith's pov and lance's pov of the first chapter but not much else

if ur curious here is keith's pov of the first chapter of one my fics about werewolf!keith and mage!lance

As a wolf, all Keith had was instinct and a foggy memory of smoke and anguish.  

It was the stench of trespassers that brought him close to the edge of his forest looking to defend his territory. The distinct musk of mud and rust with a hint of flowery perfume made it clear that his intruders were vampires, and instinct screamed in his blood to slay them. Curiously though, there was another scent that he couldn’t quite place. It was certainly a fey, but it wasn’t one that he had ever encountered before. He hardly dwelled on the mystery. To the wolf, they were all enemies.  

A group of five vampires, possibly a new coven trying to claim territory, stalked the outlier through the trees, too engrossed in their own hunt to realize they were the targets of another. The coven moved closer and closer until they cornered their prey. It was then, cornered and injured, that the outlier pulled some strange energy out of the air and lit a spark in the leaves, the small flickering flame reflecting in the hunters’ eyes before going out. While the coven gave the action no mind, the wolf was shaken. In an instant the anxiety, the fear, the burning anger that always hung below the surface sprung its head and the wolf lunged forward to attack the fire-eyed vampires. 

He could barely remember the fight. Animal instincts and muscle memory took over the fight and he attacked without thought. There were vampires, then there weren’t. And then, there was the boy. 

Keith. 

The sound of his name was more shocking than the blue light that exploded around them.  

Keith Kogane. 

When was the last time he’d heard that name? His head started to spin as he was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that there was so much more inside him than the wolf, that he was Keith, that he wanted to be Keith. 

The blue light surrounding them grew brighter and brighter until it was a blinding white that overtook the wolf entirely. 

And then the light faded, the wolf was gone and all that was left was Keith. 

When Keith came to, he struggled to get his mind together. It felt as though someone has taken a sledgehammer to his brain and then jammed the bits back together. The first thing he could remember was his name. Keith Akira Kogane, like a lighthouse in a storm the name brought him home. Next, he remembered why he could remember that. The boy who had called his name lay unconscious on the ground next to him, looking worse for wear. Around the two of them were the remains of the slain vampires from the encounter last night.  

The sight of his own carnage was enough to make Keith want to vomit, which prompted the fear of what would come out. Would he choke up a bunny? A hand? Keith’s mind was reeling and the consequences of his wolfen rage weren’t helping him to think clearly. He stared intently at his hands, his arms and legs, realizing two things at once. He was pretty sure he was the same age – his body looked the same as best he could remember. And second, he was completely naked.  

Keith took a breath and tried focusing on the basics – did he have a home he could go to? What he needed more than anything was someplace safe. He looked back at the boy, unsure what to make of him or what to do about him. Keith crawled over to examine him further, a curiously strong compulsion pulling him in, telling him to stay despite his every animal instinct screaming at him to <i>flee run get away</i>. He looked over the boy’s face, marred by a bloody nose and the early signs of a black eye. Dirt stuck to the sweat and blood drenching the boy’s face strange boy’s face. True to their nature, the vampires were playing with their food when he interrupted. Beneath the dirt he had striking features – ones Keith had never seen before. Even with his mind still reeling as old memories floated to the surface, he was certain that he didn’t know this boy. So how did he know Keith’s name? 

#klance #fanfiction #bruh help

[icantlose]

(@starwolfslippy) [Algy] "Wolf, I need to tell you something important. I'm sorry, but your Wolfen... She was spray painted by an unknown individual."

Red. Crimson. Fire. Such a brilliant shade is all that single eye sees in the wake of such unfortunate news. Boiling blood flowing into an ocean of pure hot rage, Wolf's immediate temptation is to grab the lemur by the collar and slam his body against the nearest hard surface.

And yet -- he doesn't.

Shaking in fury, lips curl around yellow teeth, thus completing the lupine's intense expression. "An unknown individual." He parrots, choking on his anger.

"Ya got ten fuckin' seconds to explain to me how ya let this happen before I bust every single fuckin' finger on each of your hands."

#INCOMING TRANSMISSION || ASK #starwolfslippy

[rustyvolumedial3]

What Wolfen's Rage character do you vibe with?

Volume: Mentras

If someone gives you half a chance, you go from quiet wallflower to a font of information, complete with background details and bonus predictions. But you need to be offered that opportunity, because absolutely no way are you willing to put yourself forward without it, no matter the circumstances. Once-bitten-twice-shy is not nearly a strong enough term for the protective shell you've learned to stay tucked inside.

Dial: Teresa

Big, boisterous, and larger than life, in personality if not actual size, you haven't yet met a challenge daunting enough to keep you from tackling it head-on. And whether your friends think it's a good idea or not, they're coming along for the ride, because you're a team effort type person who isn't interested in letting others sit around while life passes them by.

Rustpaw: Crant

There's a difference between being alone and being lonely, though that doesn't seem to be something people truly understand unless they've been there. You're content to ignore most other people, but when someone catches your attention, somebody dealing with the sort of trouble you know all too well, you'd rather step in to give them a helping hand than keep on walking.

#dash games #scraps are sometimes all we have left

[human-antithesis]

Boiling Vomit Through My Veins

Inhuman emanations rancidly erupts Bloated veins inflame

In reeking voyage of cysts and gore Suppurating merciless spasmos Boiling infernal necrolatry

Veins craving infernal savagery Mauled nerves encysts and torns apart

In blistering death rage

Incessant storming heartbeating Bone sawing puncturing pleasure As my vomit drowns criminally insane Putrid dosage of abominating slaughter My desire and diabolic lust As on turfs crepitating disgust

Flying insanities blur my senses As vomit flows burning my own

Killing, hacking, destroying Swallowing all kind of diseased crap

Wolfen instincts prevail When boiling vomit is running through my veins Explore my rancid faecal depths Dreadful tighten foetid fry Ripping and sharped nailed sty

Boiling vomit through my veins x2

Obscene absurd intense pleasure When my nerves fulfill in purulence

Stiff and cold punzing tenderness

Invades my cremated veins Blasphemic sensations of the dead Are my only way to exist Soggy blobs of edemic maggoty excresence Emaciated intraspinal carnivorous encyst

Wolfen instinct prevail When boiling vomit is running through my veins Explore my rancid faecal depths

Dreadful Enlighting the swarming incubation In skin Nerves and bones

#Disgorge #Brutal Death Metal #Death Metal #Mexico #Bandcamp

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Freyr, Conqueror of Fear, or Instrument of Fear?

He/Him Planeswalker Innistrad Werewolf

(Pronounced in such a way it rhymes with "prayer.")

Freyr was born in the Kessig province of Innistrad and trained to enchant weapons against the evils that lurk within its nightfall. Despite the cathars he found himself surrounded with, during his first, true excursion beyond Lambholt's borders to drive off a vicious howlpack that was threatening to wipe out their livestock, the group was ambushed, scattered, and killed or turned.

Freyr survived, but was bitten in the onslaught, and fled blindly upon realizing this fact, hating the idea of returning home a monster and knowing what would become of him if he did regardless. He wound up lost deep in the lowlands of Stensia, relying on the wild, uncontrollable side of his wolf to survive, and it was there that the Maurers discovered him.

Strefan Maurer, sire of a lesser vampire family that has lost their home to a fierce, cruel entity, found the heartbroken, strange werewolf, and noted that he was odd. Freyr was odd in that there seemed to be no overlap at all between his wolfen and human personality, and unlike other wolves, his wolfen half - while instinctual - did not prioritize survival instincts above killing adversaries. Having already been amassing a small army of thralls and other creatures to storm the lost family home, Strefan took Freyr hostage as well.

Freyr was held hostage by the Maurers for some time until, one day, while bound during the daylight hours, he became so furious with his captors - who, as far as he knew, merely enjoyed pain and delighted in fear and suffering - that he ignited. He broke free of his chains, both physical and magical, transformed to his wolfen state, and 'walked away in a plume of overwhelmingly bright, red fire.

The next morning, he awoke once again within the lowlands of Stensia, wondering if it had been one elaborate nightmare spurred by his decaying mind. For years, he would scrounge the remote regions of Stensia, occasionally venturing into its swamps, surviving on his own and avoiding howlpacks - nearly dying of ill health - before finally deciding to seek out someone for aid.

Someone who he believed could tell him what had transpired the day he broke free of his vampire captors, someone that could tell him why he still hadn't made peace with his wolfen half - someone who he hoped could... help.

~-~-~-~

Freyr is a planeswalker OC of mine that I love! He's tons of fun, in that, deep down, he truly believes that Innistrad is a cruel plane and that people who enjoy or require to hurt others deserve to be vanquished from the world, but as a planeswalker, he has started to see that life can get more complicated than that. He is centered in black and red mana, as emotion, paranoia, and the desire to see others never have to experience what he has strongly inspire his actions.

In his human state, Freyr understands the nuances of life, and that such black-and-white thinking is unacceptable. One of his first planeswalking friends is Sorin, after all, a vampire, whom he'd typically despise. His magic in his human state centers around enchantments, typically auras, usually the kind that benefit equipment rather than creatures directly. His signature weapon is a rapier gifted to him by Sorin, which he frequently enchants with the Dawnfire spell - an enchantment that embodies his fury for those that are cruel, and burns like sunlight.

In his wolfen state, Freyr pays no heed to the nuances of the multiverse, sticking to his stark morals fiercely. He sees his wolfen half as weak, hates to even imagine it's the same person - refers to it as "the/that coward." Fear empowers his actions, whether it's his own or others. If he is afraid, he turns that into sheer, overwhelming rage, typically manifesting as fiery spells that envelope his fangs and claws. If others are afraid and he feels they deserve such a fate, it excites his predatory instincts, inspiring him to hunt them down as if they were prey. Wolfen Freyr cares not for friendships, as his stint with the Maurers left him feeling as if nobody else can be trusted. Wolfen Freyr frequently uses the Duskfire spell - an enchantment that embodies his fear, cloaking his fangs with swirling shadowy color, which can rapidly decay the flesh of living targets he bites for long enough. Freyr has found ways with a planeswalking friend to reign in his control of his wolfen half, granting him his human half's intelligence during his transformations, but if he fails to utilize these methods, the fearsome "other half" of Freyr still can come surging to light.

It's also worth noting that Freyr does not require nighttime to transform, though he is forced to transform during the night, unlike Arlinn. In order to transform during the day, he requires a surge of powerful emotion to make him see it necessary.

#mtg #magic the gathering #magic: the gathering #mtg oc #mtg ocs #mtg original character #mtg original characters #oc #ocs #original character #original characters #planeswalker #planeswalker oc #freyr conqueror of fear #freyr instrument of fear #freyr #my art... it's him as a wolf... it's not very detailed tho

[triscribe]

Making bookmarks to sell with my novel Wolfen's Rage at a Local Authors event at my library in a couple of weeks!

Each chapter is headed by a relevant quote and the symbol attached to whichever character holds the main point of view, and I use those again here, but with extra quotes that will pop up throughout the trilogy. A few favorite examples:

"Monsters are made, not born. Each of us has the potential to become one, no matter race or upbringing." -Wol, the Wolfen Primari

"You're a fool following a bigger fool, but that sadly is no true crime." -Lillia Crant

"I do consider spite to be a key portion of any healthy diet - how else do you think I've lived this long?" -The One Who Dwells in Past and Present

"Power is power. Whether you control it or it controls you is the difference between strength and weakness." -Dragon Queen Talasta

"There are certain levels of decency I expect from the people I travel with: not stabbing me for fun. Not killing me for fun. And most importantly, NOT FILLING ALL MY POCKETS WITH DEAD FISH, FOR FUN!" -Mentras den Tastaine

#wolfen's rage #trials of youth #turning point trilogy #chapter quotes #bookmarks #rip Mentras x'D

[pumpking64]

I have just found out how I can practice embroidery in a fun and challenging way! (Practice as if I have ever actually actively done it...)

Because I have wanted to create something worthy for both batmanisagatewaydrug’s space dragons and for triscribe’s Wolfen’s Rage for a loooong time, but it just... didn’t work out how I wanted to. But now I can make a sketch and embroid it instead of drawing it! Huge projects! I know! But if I finish any of it I am gonna be so proud!! So I will give it a shot this year!!!!

#own post #why am i feeling so inspired in the literal middle of the night #if it was possible to actually bottle up creativity and motivation id do it right now and save it for later hahahah #project: embroidery! #wolfen's rage #space dragons

[triscribeaucollection]

Drumroll Please

I have recently come to the decision to share more of my fan fiction on Tumblr, hence this shiny new sideblog to collect all assorted snippets, first chapters, new ideas, so on and so forth. First order of business will be laying out all the fandoms I post for over on my AO3, and putting together a Masterlist with links to each “what if” series. My other blogs here include @triscribe for Shenanigans, @birdsandbatsofgotham for all the DC art/writings I stumble across, and @storiesfromthescribe where I only talk about my original projects.

Featured tags here will henceforth include:

-pjo (new as of 2024, I finally watched the new series and guys. GUYS. I love it so much. And I love even more that it’s inspired me to write more in a week than the past two months) The Trade AU

-star wars (originals, prequels, sometimes sequels, plus a wide swath of cartoon show characters and occasionally a reference to the live action ones too) Main Series: What-If AUs and Vod’e An and Visions

-marvel (I am first and foremost a Spidey fan, so he’s usually the one getting tossed into shenanigans with a healthy dose of GotG on the side) Avengers Nonsense Starring Spider-Man and Guardians Shenanigans

-dc (listen. LISTEN. I haven’t touched any comic to have come out in the last decade, but I would never have become a fandom person if not for the Bats, so I will make new AUs based off of their familial nonsense until the day I die) Canon? What Canon? Batfam Stories  and YJ AU Assortment

-hogwarts (for all things Harry Potter, because She Who Shall Not Be Named created a great sandbox that I still love to grab and run with, usually down a road called Total Disregard of the Author) Main Series: Alternate Living Arrangements

-transformers (I’ve got knowledge from half a dozen different continuities and I am not afraid to assemble my favorite pieces into a whole new amalgamation of adventure) (catch-all series to be determined) Cliff and the Kid

-alta (I can remember blowing off a friend’s slumber party to watch The Boy in The Iceberg when it premiered, okay? My fan fic ideas for this show are not a recent development, but actually writing the dang things down and posting them is new and comes in fits and spurts) Avatar AUs

-bnha (My Hero Academia was a bit of an accidental fandom, honestly, but for a year or so it was just about the only thing I wrote for, and there’s a heap of fic on my AO3 account to reflect that) Wild Cards and Something Strange Hit Me and my Doubles AU

-misc (the catch-all, the extraneous, the fandoms I really only dabble with, hence adding an extra tag to keep them all bunched together for quicker identification) Featuring: Back Again (Merlin) and Smallest, Smartest, Youngest (Voltron) and Got to Be Joking (Ranger’s Apprentice)

-originals (which won’t appear here all that often, but since I *do* have a few pieces of my own worldbuilding creations available to read...) Scribe Sampler and The Understudy Project

Alrighty, last couple of links to other websites: Tri on Instagram, where I occasionally post my art of various fandom and canon characters Ko-fi, where one could commission a speedier update to one of my fan fiction stories they particularly love or purchase a signed copy of my self-published novel And as of March 2023, I’ve also got a brand new Patreon account, where the first pieces of big WIPs go up, and you can read the first chapter of my book Wolfen’s Rage for free.

Now then. Who’s ready to read?

#writblr #fan fiction #ao3 #triscribe #intro post #hogwarts #star wars #marvel #dc #transformers #atla #bnha #misc #tag dump #originals #ko-fi #patreon

[storiesfromthescribe]

With a One, and a Two

Heeeere we go! New blog *solely* for my Stories from Sarant posts and the fanart my beautiful friends make for Wolfen’s Rage. x)

A little about my books: the Turning Point Trilogy is a high fantasy adventure, focused on a cast of lovable dorks that start off working together to solve a mystery and wind up on a journey to save the world. As the stakes get higher, more secrets come to light, and everyone struggles to stay true to themselves. 

Unfortunately, I’m still working on getting published, but when I do this will be the second place I let the news be known (first will be calling my mom and screeching at her for a while)! And after the Turning Point will come the sequel Elemental Invasion Trilogy, and the prequel trilogy Magicborn, and some standalone novels with such titles as Land of Jungles and Realm of Ice.

I plan to fill this blog with art, quotes, snippets, updates, and anything else Sarant related that I get a kick out of sharing - hope you all enjoy!

-Triscribe

#new blog #Stories from Sarant #Wolfen's Rage #Turning Point Trilogy #books #introduction post #plans in the works

[writingsbysam]

Penance

  This time, one of the thousands and thousands and thousands of times, he’s bleeding out in my arms. It’s not like the first time, not a broken bronze chest plate and ravens picking out the maggots. There’s no funeral games here, no truce in the war, and no golden urn. Just a sweatshirt and the distinct smell of gunpowder. It’s my fault again, my rage provoked, taken out on everyone and anything within reach. I’ve always been worse than a hurricane, burned worse than the hottest days of summer. He dies protecting me, and my penance is no longer death, but having to live eternally without him. (How can one kill a god?)

  Iron bites into the flesh more, the new technology running through the world faster than Zeus’ lightning, a band of wanderers from a land further than Hyperborea. He’s struck by an arrow this time, and I hardly have to scream before the people from the sea stab him through the heart. I dragged him into this and three ravens croak out a mocking song that sounds strangely more like laughter than a lament. It’s the beginning of the curse that will haunt me for eternity. There’s always some war or another, even if the format changes. 

  One would think that three war deities would be far too many, but that never seemed to stop the Moirai for declaring me the third puzzle piece to the particular tripartite hell that is war. The first time I see Athena roaming the halls of Olympus her face is pinched with pity, and sympathy. I only see Ares see once, eye bags the size of a small nation, and crazed mutterings escaping through his lips. I’m scared that one day I’ll end up like him. 

  I meet the war deities of other pantheons, eventually. I see Inanna –or Ishtar as she’s sometimes known depending on the century and the people– quite often and there’s something ancient and all-encompassing about her presence that makes the skin crawl. She’s like if Aphrodite and Athena had a baby and it’s frightening.

   It’s a battle between Babylon and the Elamites. I shouldn’t be here in theory, but the curse holds strong, wherever he is, I’m with him always. I’m never a leader anymore, there’s a little less guilt in that, just a foot soldier. Inanna likes to run around as one of her sacred prostitutes, shell necklaces and gold armbands draped over Tyrian purple robes. She’s beautiful and mischievous but deadly as a viper, a combination of nightshade and honey. She holds my hand when I flinch, always watching the spear pierce my love just above the navel. I don’t love her, can’t love her, but her presence calms the roar in my skull. She’s a friend for a nearly a thousand years, until one day she fades away in a mirage and a watery smile. I may never have that luxury. (How can one kill a god?) 

  The next one I meet is the Morrigan, who lands on my shoulder in the form a crow as I gaze out over the peat. I flinch noticeably and she grows into a raven haired woman before my eyes. She says nothing the first meeting, just stares on out across the ocean over my shoulder. It’s years before I see her again.

 This time the Romans gather off the coast, but no fighting will take place today, just trade. He’s sitting there, wearing a woad dyed cloak and a Roman helmet but he is not one of them.

  “He will not die today,” Morrigan says in her distinctive croaky voice. I stare holes into his eyes, thankful for the invisibility of the divine for once. 

  “I know. He will tomorrow. It’s why you’re here, goddess, is it not?” I resign myself to my fate. A wolfen grin, the one I’ve seen when Athena creates a new weapon, splits across her face. 

  “Among other reasons. Am I not allowed to see my favourite Greek?” she laughs.

  “How am I your favourite?” I ask, not sure why, surely she talks to Athena more. 

  “You’re the only one who visits, even if it’s just for him. You’re even the Dadga’s favourite,” she laughs and it reminds me of the day the Moirai cursed me just a little too strongly. Morrigan is probably my best friend, someone who might understand even more than Inanna.

  It happens again the next morning, a version of me screaming at the general of the legion about a price, and an arrow through his temple. It hurts just as bad as the first time, and in fear of Morrigan I can’t let my tears fall. The warrior god and the goddess of might must be strong, right? 

   It happens again and again and again, all at the same time endlessly. Until one day, the future has no more need for fate and this time he gets to bleed out in my arms. Both of us, mortal and immortal, one 17 years old and desperate and the other 3,206 years old and still desperate. This might be the last time I see him, the curse is broken, and he might finally get some rest. Maybe I will too. 

  I strap rockets to my feet the week afterwards, shooting across the planet like a comet, taking down bad guys and finally living up to my title “God of Just War” (no war is just, whatever the Moirai thought. I lost everything to war and no one should have to do the same.) Morrigan joins the team after the biggest threat yet, claiming that she had nothing better to do. Her hair’s cherry red now, and she goes by a different name, but she can still kill a man with a paperclip so I don’t judge. We gain others who don’t know what we’ve done and make some sort of makeshift family, but I still weep for him, still long for Inanna’s overbearing smile. Morrigan is closer to mortal every day, as am I. I dream of him dying every night, of the threats to come (Morrigan and I compare notes in the morning, prophecy never quite left the both of us), and of the Mediterranean coast.

  I wake up in a cold sweat one night after a particularly rough mission, watching a teenaged boy get shot in the chest reminds me too strongly of my former curse, and I walk into the kitchen to find a certain redhead brewing hot cocoa. I sit down across from her and stare off for a time, could’ve been a minute, could’ve been an hour, could’ve been a year. I talk of inconsequential things for a bit before she looks me in the eyes. She’s muttering to herself before she says, 

  “What’s the point of being a hero, with all the things we’ve seen, all the things we’ve done?” she says. Her voice is thick and hoarse with an unnameable emotion, the croak that marks her voice out from all others, the one that commands the words of power finally re-emerges. 

  “Penance, I think,” a mirthless laugh escapes my lips, “we’ve done a lot of bad shit in our 3,000 years. Gotta wipe the ledger clean somehow, huh, Red?” Her eyes go somewhere far away as she slips into the old language, the one older than even the standing stones that dot the Emerald Isle,

  “Why, Achilles? Why us? Everyone else is gone or insane. Ares disappeared in 1945, Athena in ‘46, and Inanna… oh god Inanna… I don’t remember her face.”  I do, I’ve seen it every night since she disappeared into the Iraqi desert. I answer my birth tongue, a Greek older than Greece. The syllables sit clunkily in my mouth, the sounds rusty from disuse,

   “I do. I see it every night, bright as the day she left us. Morrigan… I think it’s because we already know how to be mortal. We cannot die because we have regrets.” 

   “What of Apollo, or Poseidon? They were mortal for a time and they’re still dying or dead,” she asks. 

   “They’re Olympians, they’re arrogant. We’re different. I… I can’t be forgotten because I started out mortal, to these days of science I was real therefore I can’t be forgotten. It’s the one thing the damned Moirai promised me when I left for Ilium, that I would have everlasting glory,” I ramble. Morrigan raises a perfect eyebrow, 

  “You think too much, Philos,” the Greek a halting stop in the lilting tongue. 

   “You’re probably right,” I admit, “it’s just I know why I do this. It’s for Patroclus. It’s penance. I save people because for three thousand years,” my voice hitches harshly, “I couldn’t save him, and I can’t make someone go through what I did.” Her brows knit into a mask of worry.

   “Let’s put on a mind numbing movie and just laugh our asses off for an hour, alright?” she says in English. I reply in Greek, savoring my time speaking my native tongue, 

   “Raise a toast with me first,” we both raise our mugs, “to Inanna, wherever she is, and to our penance, however long that may be.” She clinks her mug with mine and puts on a movie. 

  The two of us, the last of the gods, huddle together on a couch passing stories until the dawn, sharing our penance together. And if the next time we save the world, while the rest of our teammates are okay and eating a metric ton of pizza, I look at her across the room and mouth “This. This is why we do this” well that’s none of your business. 

 Sharing our penance is a little easier together. 

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