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cecilspeaks · 6 years

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123 - A Story of Love and Horror, part 3: “Frances”

Who was that whistling, whistling in the dark? Was that you, my love, whistling, whistling in the dark? Welcome to Night Vale.

Frances Donaldson and Nazr al-Mujaheed were faced with a terrible choice. There are times, as humans, it feels like we are given more responsibility than we can handle. It feels as though the world is resting on our backs. And any decision we make could have implications for everyone else in the entire world. But of course, that’s not really the case. The truth is, while we might be able to ruin our own lives, or even a whole bunch of people’s lives, there are few who are ever put in the position where they can make even a ripple in the life of everyone on Earth.

But this was exactly the situation Frances and Nazr found themselves in. She had accidentally entered this Night Vale from a Night Vale in a different universe. If Nazr and Frances stayed together, the two of them could both phase out of reality and cease to exist. A powerful entity, the Brown Stone Spire, could make it so they could stay together safely, but only by destroying the universe she came from, and every person in it. There was no path forward for their love that did not end in horror. There was no path forward without horror that did not end their love.

“It’s clear what we have to do,” said Nazr sadly. “No two people are worth so many lives. We must go our separate ways.” Already he could see the long evenings alone in his office, watching tapes of football plays and trying to recapture the innocent happiness he used to feel doing his job. “It’s clear to you because you have other options,” said Frances. “You’re from this world, and you could find another to love. “I wouldn’t,” tried Nazr, but predictions like this can never carry the weight of truth, because who can predict the heart?” “You will find someone else,” she said. “And me, I will have to live alone forever or risk my own existence and the existence of everyone I entangled myself with. Can I even have close friendships or would those too result in an unraveling? Certainly I would be afraid to risk it, and in that fear I would settle into a bleak loneliness.” He shook his head. “So what are you saying? That we should murder a universe of living beings?” “I’m saying,” she said, “that I love you, and I’d like to proceed from there.” After this argument, they didn’t talk or see each other for a few days. Both of them felt completely overwhelmed by the weight of the decision. Both of them pretended it was a settled question for themselves.

And now corrections. Despite previous reports, the ineffable isn’t real. It’s a joke, a trace. A sandwich left on a park bench. A misunderstood smile from an unfriendly crowd. The accidental arrangement of the sky. The distance from the Earth to the moon. The way grass feels when it gets a little dry. A hand reaching blindly into a drawer. A word spoken once and never again said aloud. A dream which seemed prophetic, but evaporated upon waking. A stain in a shirt that’s source is a mystery. A bird with three missing feathers. A math problem with no possible solution. A signpost to a place which never existed. It’s a trace, a joke. The ineffable isn’t real. We apologize for our previous mistaken report.

During the days apart, Frances and Nazr were not alone. They were not alone first in ways that were mundane and expected. For instance, Nazr had his team, and while he was distracted and morose, he was also determined not to let this affect the chances of his good kids. And so he forced himself to double his efforts when it came to practices. And if any of the team members of faculty thought anything about his behavior during this time, it was that he seemed especially dedicated and focused. And so therefor his relationship must be benefiting him.

Frances had her customers. And while an antique store doesn’t usually bustle, it does have a steady stream. And the goal is to sell a few high-end items a day, along with a good amount of cheap trinkets, so that it all evens out, and she would have enough money to eat for another month. She had friends, too, except now she felt they weren’t her friends. Her friends were back in another universe and the people here looked like her friends, but did not share exactly the same experiences this Frances remembered. She didn’t know if this should matter but felt that it did, and so avoided her friends. Her friends when they talked, thought she must be so focused on her happy relationship that she no longer had time for them, and they felt resentment. They did not resent her personally, but rather resented the situation.

But Frances and Nazr were not alone in a more malevolent way as well. Every evening, Barks Ennui visited each of them. Frances no matter where she went would find him sitting next to her. He would sigh. “Frances!” he would say softly. “Frances!” The voice was almost kind, but his eyes were pivoted toward her unnaturally, giant 2-D sources on a 3-dimensional yellow snout. “Frances, oh Frances,” he would murmur until she slept or thought she slept. He was less gentle with Nazr. With Nazr, he screamed. No words, merely a high keening in the living room as Nazr tried to watch game tapes, or in the bathroom as he washed his teeth. First a mundane quiet and then suddenly a huge dog screaming, cartoon eyes and cartoon mouth both gaping in terror. Why was Barks afraid? He was the specter who was haunting Nazr, but Barks was afraid. This made Nazr even more afraid. “Stop screaming!” he would scream back, but Barks didn’t seem to hear.

And now sports news. Now I’m a big fan of Night Vale football, because I love our town, and our kids who are out there playing, and our fabulous coaching staff. But to be honest, I’m often a little shaky on how the sport works, so I thought I’d try a little experiment. I will now attempt, without looking up anything or consulting anyone lese, to explain the rules of football form memory. Let’s see, the kids enter the field. Uh, there’s a lot of them, they’re all padded up and ready. Uh, “hoorah” they say, and others shout: “let’s get the football!” They are there to get the football. They line up facing each other, uh someone shouts some numbers that they like, in order to get them in a happy headspace before starting the game, and then the football is thrown weird. It could be thrown much easier, but they throw it in a weird way. The quarterback catches the ball, mostly, uh sometimes they miss and that’s a foul. But if they catch it, then they try to sneak it down the field. The ball needs to get going, but no one can know the team is doing it, and so they try to act nonchalant. Oh, and also the slam dance with the other team in order to show that they’re only there to party. And no football is going down the field, mm mm, no way. [whispers] But it is!

The other team figures this out and jumps at the football. Eventually, the football is carried to what is called the “end zone”, because it’s a zone at the end of the field. There it transforms from a leather bag into a victory. There is more dancing, uh you know football is mostly about dancing. There’s some other stuff like sometimes it turns into soccer for a little bit and they bring on a soccer player to do that, but mostly it’s about dancing and sneaking, which are two of my favorite activities. Wow! No wonder I love football. This has been sports news.

Nazr and Frances made the night as romantic as they could. They lit candles, because the risk of house fires is of course very romantic. They had flowers on the table, because the reminder of how plants grow is considered a great aphrodisiac among people who get really revved up about plants. Neither Nazr or Frances were one of those people, but still, it couldn’t hurt. “It’s not too late,” she said. “We could still be together.” This didn’t help the romantic mood. “We couldn’t,” he said. “What would we become if we caused so much loss, just for our own petty happiness?” “Is that what this is?” she said. “Petty?” “No,” he said, “it’s just… what isn’t petty against the span of all of it?” “To me,” she said, “You aren’t. You aren’t.” But he could not be persuaded. She gave up and instead, she kissed him. He had never felt such a kiss, because he had never before kissed anyone out of a quiet and desperate grief. I don’t recommend that context to any of my listeners, but it does make for one hell of a kiss.

Then she left his house. Nazr sat all night with the decision they had made. It was the correct decision. But if that was true, then why did he feel so completely like a person buried under rocks or locked into a cell with no light for months? He felt as though he would never take another free breath of air. There was no longer an other version of himself in his home, but it also felt to him that perhaps there was no one in his home. That the version of himself that was a human being existed only in the past tense, and from here on out, there was only this quotation of Nazr. And out of context excerpt stripped of meaning.

He stood for a while before walking down to his car and pulling it out of the garage. It was almost morning. The Radio Shack wasn’t open and packed with technology-craving customers yet, so he parked there and walked the rest of the way up to the humming Spire. He fell to his knees. This wasn’t his decision to make, but he had already made the decision. “Brown Stone Spire,” he said. “I’ve made my choice. Destroy the other universe. I have to be with her, no matter what.” The Spire did not reply. “Please,” he shouted. He slapped his palms against the hard packed earth again and again until they stung. “Please, I’ve decided! Destroy the other universe!” The Spire hummed to life. “It is done,” said a voice from deep in its core. Nazr, murderer of billions, walked away slowly toward his car.

The ending of our story coming up. But hey, let’s check in on today’s weather.

[“Pieces and Pieces” by The Rough and Tumble]

At first, Nazr walked with shame. But what use, after all, was shame? He had done what he had done so he and the woman he loved could live together in happiness. It would be a waste of everything, the worst of all possible outcomes, if he had agreed to such a monstrous price, only to have any possible renumerative happiness ruined by the guilt of what he had done. He made the decision then and there to leave it behind him. By the time he had reached his car, still waiting in the Radio Shack parking lot as if nothing of import had happened in the intervening minutes. He had set aside the choice as a matter of the past, and started to feel the first spark of joy in his heart.

For the last few weeks, he had felt a strangeness, which he now knew was the feeling of falling out of step with reality. And now, the feeling was gone. He felt human again. He started the car, drove directly to Frances’ house. He couldn’t wait to see her. He had never felt such a complete hunger for another person, but it’s possible no one in all of history had ever paid such a price to be with another person.

And there was that person before him, tending to her garden in the cool morning sun. he did not think about a universe and everyone in it, including another version of Frances who no longer existed. He thought about this Frances. He watched her for a long moment from his car, feeling a blissful lack of urgency. They had a life together. What would a few more minutes be? So he let those minutes pass, watching her work, and then he stepped out of the car and approached her. She looked up with a smile. “Hiya,” she said. “I did it,” he said. “I went to the Spire and I did it.” He realized he was crying, but he was also smiling. She frowned, stood, took a step back. “Did what?” she said. “What do you mean I-,” he said. “I made the choice, you were right.” She held the clippers in front of her, not quite towards him, but not quite not. “Sorry,” she said. “Maybe this is something that the other Frances would understand? I suppose a certain confusion was going to be unavoidable, but I do wish you’d calm down.” “The other Frances? In the other universe?” He did not know what was going on. “Sure,” she said. “Sweet lady, or is that immodest? Anyway, she told me that she asked the Brown Stone Spire to take her back to her own universe where I had been stuck. She said we had gotten mixed up, and things weren’t working out for her here. So she showed me how to come back to my world and she went back to hers. She said at least we’d have a chance at happiness this way. She also said he hoped you were as nice in her world as you are in ours.” She eyed Nazr’s sweaty face, the desperate lean of his posture. “Are you nice, Nazr?” “She went back,” he said. Not a question but a surrender. “To her world. To her… universe.” “Yes,” said a Frances who barely knew him at all. “Now I’m sorry, but I do want to get back to my gardening.” Nazr returned to his car, but had nowhere he wanted to go. He watched the Frances who was not his Frances, but she glared at him, so he drove aimlessly and stopped again. His Frances was gone, along wither entire universe. Before hew as aware of it, he was already shouting . “Please, let me reverse it!” he shouted. “Please take it back!” Barks Ennui, in his awkward 3-dimensional body, was sitting on the passenger seat. “There is no taking it back,” said Barks. “But I will make you a one-time offer. If you like, I will let you join her in oblivion. It is not mere death, it is an absolute ceasing of existence, forever. Blip, and you’ll be gone. Do you want this?” Nazr looked into the dog’s distended eyes. He looked and looked. Two weeks later, he returned to school. He went back to football, re-doubled his dedication to his team. A complete focus on football may not be much of a life to many folks, but it is a life. There are many different kinds of life, and most of them are nothing special at all. Frances, a different woman quite literally from the one we started this story with, continued to run the Antiques Mall. What delighted her most was how objects existed here, in the moment, that everything existed all at once, right now. She loved the present. She thought little about tie. Outside her window, a plane passed overhead. No one watched ist passing.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: We regret to inform you that this entire podcast series has been viral marketing for Dippin’ Dots. We don’t think we made that obvious enough and we’re panicking a little. Please tell someone to try Dippin’ Dots today. We are going to be in so much trouble.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 123 #a story of love and horror #part 3: frances

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queensgreekaveyond · 7 years

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Night Flower- Prologue

Before the existence of Aia many believed there to be nothing, but it was not so. There was light, and there was darkness, and lending balance between was the great goddess. The light and the dark were living entities, masses with consciousness and thought, but even they could not match the goddess in intelligence nor could they fulfill her need for conversation and companionship.

The great goddess decided that she wished to create life and beauty, something vibrant to make her happy through the long days. So she gathered the dust of a thousand dying stars and with magic formed a world of her own. It was a world of brown earth and sea, a blank canvas for the goddess to paint her magic across. With every spoken word and swipe of magic greenery formed, trees and plants of all kinds forming acorss rolling hills and towering mountains.

Although her world now was alight with beauty the goddess was without anyone to share it with, and after looking upon her world she decided that she wished to bless others with the ability to live amongst beauty. So she began to create creatures. First were four legged beings she called animals, then scaled reptiles and feathered birds that worked along sea dwelling beings. Once that was done the goddess decided that her world was yet still too empty, and thus began to creation of the beings that could communicate and behave with the same kind of function and intelligence as the goddess herself. Humans, fairies, elves, vampires, dragons, darklings and orcs.

In that time, the goddess was content. She watched over her creation as they lived amongst one another and built themselves societies. It was her world, and she had called it Aia.

Then came the first death of her higher functioning beings, a human felled by a fall. As she watched one of her own a great pain pierced her heart, and for the first time in her existence the goddess cried. One great tear infused with her sadness and knowledge of death fell, dropping through the sky of Aia to land in an empty mountain area where it bled into the earth to create a destination for the drifting spirit. That was the first tear of the goddess, and it had created the underworld.

The next time the great goddess cried what fell was a tear of anger as she watched the first example of vicious and senseless cruelty among her creation. She had created two batches of elves at separate times, believing that despite their differences there would be a love between them anyway. Yet her latest group had proven her wrong, they lived for centuries yet they burned with jealousy against the first elves who had been blessed with near immortality. Seeing the cruelty and suffering of her creation angered and pained the goddess, making her wish for a place where they could live free. As the tear fell it landed on the camp for the outcast elves, sweeping them up and pulling away as it formed the next realm of innocence and happiness for the elves. This was the second tear of the goddess and it became known as The Vale.

When the goddess cried again, for once this tear came from happiness. The goddess who remained alone watching over Aia and the two other realms was gazing down upon her creation, when her attention was pulled by a gathering of women in white. She leaned down to hear their words letting out a gasp as she listened to them speak of their thankfulness to her creating them and how they wished to pay back the blessing. They knelt together, pledging themselves into the service of the goddess as priestesses to do her will of kindness over all of Aia. So overcome by the words of the priestesses the great goddess was moved, a tear of joy and gentle love falling to splash over the priestesses. They were gathered together as the tear formed a new realm, a place of serenity and peace. This was the third tear of the goddess and it became a place known as Aveyond.

The final time the goddess cried overtop of Aia was as she woke from a long sleep. Drifting in a dream of companionship with like kind, immortal and all powered beings so much like herself she was happy and satisfied, yet as she woke she found herself once again alone. The emotions of the Dream combined with her loneliness formed two tears of dreams, the first falling and splashing against a peaceful and secluded mountain clearing. A realm of dreams, both good and the reality of fears. This time however a second tear was quick to follow the first and as it hit the ground next to the portal to this new realm something rose out of the tear rather then a new part of the great goddesses universe. A woman, with hair like fire and skin as soft as silk. The personification of dreams, immortal and all knowing to be tied forever to the new realm. These were the fourth and fifth tears of the goddess, and they respectively became known as Talia the dreamer who served as guardian of the place that became known simply as dreamland.

Yet even with this, the goddess was alone and tired as she was pulled on by her creation. Her eyes fell back to the first entities to exist alongside her, darkness and light. They were tired, simply existing for nothing and so they came to the great goddess to offer themselves up to anything she might need. At first the goddess knew not of what to do with her oldest friends and companions, until one day the dreamer spoke to her. She prophesied of deities formed of the two original forces and the goddesses own hands. Balancing forces of light and dark to embody the forces on Aia and govern the world eternally to be her company as well as take the responsibilities of Aia so that the goddess could be happy once again.

So that is exactly what the great goddess did.

Thirteen deities: six formed of the light, six formed of the darkness, and one formed of both to be the perfect balance between.

Thus, the creation of Aia was finally complete.

#nightflower #aveyond #greekaveyond #greek mythology

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pessimisticpeanutbuttercup · 5 years

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I am seeking both to give podcast recommendations and to receive recommendations because...yeah. So, if you’re in the market for some good ear reads, here’s a list:

For the True Crime junkie:

Sword & Scale: Some people have had issues with the way Mike does this podcast, but it’s personally one of my favorites. Be warned it tends to favor the detailed approach - no evidence sparing in the sense that there are often (meaning that if they can get a hold of them they are there) the actual 911 calls, interrogation audio, and other materials that can be unnerving/hard to hear. In my opinion, Mike and his team do a great job of putting you in the investigation without it feeling like another CSI TV show or true crime podcast. Good story-telling, good topics, and he will also bring experts on as well to talk about behaviors/etc. If you are interested in true crime, definitely give this one a try. Just...be careful where you listen. People have caught me with really weird expressions on my face while listening to this podcast.

Haunted/Myth/Story telling (ie, not just scary stories):

Pleasing Terrors: This one I’m not sure completely fits into this category, but I’m gonna stick it in here anyways because there are only a few aspects that make me consider it true crime. Mike (different Mike) is a haunted tour guide in Charleston (and I’m attempting to take his tour in a few weeks - exciting) and has taken his experience in story telling to a podcast that combines true crime with fictional/urban legend/haunted stories. Not everything he talks about can be 100% fact checked (and he doesn’t present it otherwise), but has enough evidence surrounding an event or legend. I enjoy his type of story telling, though it is not the detailed style of Sword and Scale. It listens much more as a campfire ghost story.

Lore: Recently this podcast has gotten huge. There’s a TV show now on Amazon Prime, and a book series based on the podcast (as well as a few other podcasts that Aaron has branched off into). Like Pleasing Terrors, Aaron combines fact, or history, with legend. While this podcast also listens like a campfire story telling, I wouldn’t compare it to Pleasing Terrors. There is some overlap, but I think they have different methods. Aaron puts a lot more history in his podcast, for instance (don’t let that deter you though). He’s also a very motivating person on twitter.

Fairy Tales For Unwanted Children: Like it sounds, these are short stories, or tales, typically written and read by Scott Thrower. I really enjoy them; they’re all very creative and original (and not spooky or scary like the previous two podcasts). Even though the episodes are not very long (10-30 minutes), I get wrapped up into the story super fast - which has proven to be a problem when I listen at the gym.

The Twenty Percent True Podcast: Similar to FTFUC, these are short stories, written and read by Carolyn. Unlike the previous podcast though - which sticks to its fairy tale style writing - Carolyn has more modern short stories that are equally as original and creative.

Fictional Docudramas (I don’t really know how else to categorize these):

The Black Tapes Podcast: This podcast is fictional, but is set up to feel and sound like a documented story. It’s all (or mostly all) recorded on the go like a journalist would do, and it pieced together like you would as a journalist documenting an on going investigation or story. Which means you hear other people, other noises - you hear the main character running or struggling - and you hear other people being uncomfortable that there’s suddenly a person with a recorder at their door. It’s all very realistic and well made. The story itself tends to lean more towards spooky or scary - though I wouldn’t say it’s a scary podcast. It does have a paranormal plot though as it is a paranormal investigation story.

Tanis: This podcast is done by the same people as the previous podcast (Pacific Northwest Stories is who does them I believe) and it’s done in the same way, with even an overlap of characters and timelines from the Black Tapes. Instead of paranormal, this podcast is a mystery. Though I would say there are paranormal events - jut nothing like ghosts or spirits or anything. I would give a disclaimer that it took me a few episodes to really get into this one (I only tried it because I had loved Black Tapes), but once things start happening, it’s like a deep dive into a whole new world. So maybe give it 3 episodes or so before you judge it. As a side note, the two main characters in this podcast also star in The Last Movie, but as it only has a few episodes out, I haven’t developed an opinion on it - nor would I have much to write about in terms of plot yet.

Rabbits: Again, a Pacific Northwest Stories podcast. Same method and an overlap of characters as well (though not as strong). This podcast is about a video game - an underground video game that has ties to everything anywhere and is making people go missing. The story follows a girl trying to find her friend who went missing as she uncovers this game and who deep it really goes. This one also took a few episodes to get going (I actually can’t fault them for that in either case though because it makes the whole thing feel more realistic), but again, is a deep dive once you’re in.

Welcome to Night Vale: I’m not going to be super detailed here because I feel like the majority of Tumblr is aware of this podcast in particular. Simply put, it’s a daily radio program in the town of Night Vale - which exists in its own plane of science, existence, norms, what’s possible, etc. Basically it’s hilarious because nothing is as you would expect it to be - and even once you expect the unexpected, you’re still wrong. While it’s light-hearted and entertaining, there’s also a story progressing as well which I think gives it life in kind of an undertone way as you experience it through the radio host’s (Cecil - who you will love almost immediately) telling of the news.

Misc (aka they all belong in different categories but I don’t wanna do that):

Sawbones: This is a podcast I found for my husband actually (because he didn’t think that the world of podcasts had anything to offer him. The world of podcasts has something to offer everyone) because of his interest in the medical field. However, I have come to love it too. So even if you have no interest in medical history, don’t stop reading just yet (because I also have zero interest in medical history yet here I am). This podcast is done but a husband and wife (wife - doctor, husband - hilarity). They talk about misguided medical treatments and beliefs throughout history and it is hilarious. It’s light-hearted and typically family friendly - and you learn and laugh a lot.

The Adventure Zone: The husband of Sawbones does this podcast with his brothers and father. It is a hysterical D&D podcast - meaning that they play through a D&D adventure that one of the brothers wrote (don’t give up on this podcast yet). Most of them have never played before so there’s lots of hilarity just with them figuring it all out. The plot is also amazing - and it’s not just a 10 episode, one arc kinda thing. This is a long series. However, even if you’re unfamiliar or have no interest in D&D, this will be simple to follow as well as hilarious. As a side note though, it’s not the family friendly podcast that Sawbones is.

Astonishing Legends: Okay so this podcast does a deep (deep) dive into....everything. They’ve covered aliens, ghosts, conspiracies, Big Foot, shadow people, Amelia Earhart, and so much more. So much more. They do a ton of research an everything as well, and present as much of it to you (which means each episode topic - ie, Amelia Earhart - will cover 2-5 one to three hours episodes. Read that again. It’s a lot of research.). They tend to try to come to their own conclusions about each topic (thus the research) and rule out explanations that are improbable because of such and such reasoning. To be honest, I pick and choose episodes because not every topic interests me. But they have such a wide range of topics that there’s bound to be at least one 4-episode long topic that interests you. My personal favorites have been the Dyatlov Pass, the Laughing Indian, the Shadow People, the Sludge Entity, Skinwalker Ranch, and the Sally House - with others I’m sure that I’m not remembering. Even though each episode is long, typically I have enjoyed the ones I’ve listened to. The two hosts are funny enough to be entertaining during a two hour episode - and the show is light-hearted enough to not be unsettling if you’re going through one of their paranormal episodes.

#podcast #podcast recommendations #true crime podcast #funny podcast

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lullaby-mun-blog · 7 years

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The Fall of a Legend(RWBY X DESTINY Fic In Progress)

Cold.... so very cold. As the torrential down pour drenched his cloak the huntsman made his way to the faint candle lit glow of a the local watering hole. The closer he got the more voices he heard, having conversations about mere nothings, and small everyday inconveniences.... how easy most people had it.... not having to accept the reality around them. No one really took notice of him as he entered the bar and made his way directly to the scruffy old man who ran the small establishment. The hooded man discretely slid a coin worth 1,000 lien followed with the statement, "I am looking for a man.... goes by the name.... Dredgen Yor." The bar tender picked up the coin inspecting it before putting it in his pocket. "Whose askin'? You another wolf under the guise of a huntsman?" the old man asked warily. The huntsman scoffed slightly "All you need to know.... is I am the man with The Last Word."-- CHAPTER 1: DARK AGE GENESIS "The Golden Age Burned bright - and the night that overtook us after the Collapse was swift and total."

There was a time before the kingdoms. Not much of this time is remembered, or cared to be. It became known as a time of humility, a primitive and ignorant time. This era prior to the discovery of dust would simply be known as- The Before. However in the basking light of Dust a golden age was born, man kind flourished and The Before was viewed as a naïve misstep, a folly in the youth of a maturing human entity, but history with all its vast volumes has but a single page and time... would once again find a way of repeating itself. For in the tidal wave that was the prosperity of the golden age that washed over mankind, it its wake followed the great Collapse, shattering mankind's strides towards enlightenment, and birthing a dark age once again. The Dark Age was much like the worst parts of The Before in the lawless time corruption ruled the ravished world of Remnant, now standing as a cultural and technological wasteland of the glory that once reigned. But in the darkness, as they so often do, beacons of hope pierced the veil of suffering rending the evils of darkness and standing monument to the power of light. The first beacon was a city, it's walls stood in defiance of the outlaying world's lawlessness and regression to primal moralities. Looming over the great walled city was a tower, a symbol of protection of what remains of the light and civility. Those willing to sacrifice all in the protection of life once again sought Dust and became the second beacon of hope, the Huntsmen. Among these heroes of light one stood taller than the rest, the huntsmen Dredgen Vale. The people looked to Vale because he was, as stated, a beacon... hope given form yet still only a man. Within this truth there was great promise, for if one man could stand up to the night, so could anyone.... everyone. Dredgen Vale, a gunslinger of no equal, in his strong hand the man held a 'Rose' and his aura burned bright. In his wake hope spread, but the man held a secret fear. His thoughts were dark, a sadness crept from within his being. He had been a hero for so long yet pride had led him down sorrows road. He had seen the lair of the creatures Grimm and found a weapon there, or maybe it found him. 'Rose' the weapon that extended Dredgen's being, struck fear into many, and brought hope to the fearful human race, but at a great cost to the warrior of light. To wield 'Rose' was a trail unto itself, only those of the purest light could withstand such a powerful weapon of death. The grip of 'Rose' was stained in blood, a reflection of the burden Dredgen Vale carried. CHAPTER 2: Wilting of Beauty "Slowly the shadow's whisper became a voice, a dark call offering glories enough to make even the brightest light wander. He knew he was fading, yet he still yearned." It's not known if 'Rose' changed Dredgen, or if Dredgen's lust for power turned 'Rose'. In the end... it is irrelevant one way or the other a darkness came to the surface claiming it's victim. Slowly the shadow's whisper became a voice, a dark call offering glories enough to make even the brightest light wander. Dredgen knew he was fading, yet he still yearned. He could see true strength in the dark, a clarity of power and purpose, a true separation of absolute supremacy from petty moral ambiguities. This philosophy overtaking Dredgen was a contradiction of the ways of light and the huntsmen who upheld rightous beliefs in faith of humanities illumination. For Dredgen, though, it mattered not, his eyes were open. Maybe for the first time, he could see clearly. And so, the warrior embraced this change. As if taking part in a ritual unknown to Dredgen, a rite predating the birth of man and technology possibly even the universe, a ceremony as ancient as light and dark itself, Dredgen would forfeit his former entity. So on his last day he watched the sun fall, his final thoughts pure of mind if not body held a fleeting hope. He knew the man he was to become would bring suffering, but despite everything he wished the people to remember him as he had been. Regardless of what he wished or hoped, the point of return was a distant blur now and the shadows were consuming him. So the nobleman hid himself beneath a darkness no flesh should touch and gave up his mortal self to claim a new birthright. Whether this was a choice or destiny is a truth known only to fate, and in that cool evening air, as dusk was devoured by night, the nobleman ceased to exist. In his place another stood, same meat, same bone, but so very different. In his first moments as a new being he looked down at 'Rose' and realized for the first time that it had no petals, only the jagged purpose of angry Thorns. Dredgen, like 'Rose', appeared to be one thing, but in reality was a stark difference. The greatest forgery of hope or good, a facade of truth and justice shrouded over a true nature of darkness. For when the petals of 'Rose' so does hope... and only 'Thorn' remains. Now in this moment Dredgen Yor and 'Rose' have both withered away their beauty, and become one and the same.... a weapon of darkness. CHAPTER 3: Open Your Eyes "To rend one's enemies is to see them not as equals, but objects - hollow of spirit and meaning." Two men stood at the edge of a cliff looking out over a wasteland that was once a prosperous town... now it was nothing but a grave sight. The two had been there from the moment the sun rose in silence looking upon it each with a different expression, now dusk was falling and one man with hair like snow clad in green would speak. "You were not always this man." he said curtly to which the man in the cloak would reply with "True." The two would now turn to face one another. "Then logic says you do not need to remain this man... you can be another." "I am another." "You can be better." "This is better." the two began speaking back and forth. "That matter, at best is subjective." the man in green replied after a moment. "Then what? Lesser?" "Some would say." "But what would you say?" at that there was long silence from the man in green which was broken by the other. "All we've seen and now, here with me, you have no words?" the hooded figure asked bluntly. "I have words..." the white haired man began. "But...?" the figure inquired the sun now barely shined over the horizon. "But you will not like them." the man finished. "Ozpin there is much I do not like." the hooded figure retorted. Ozpin couldn't help but look down "Now more than ever it would seeming." this comment earned a dark chuckle from the man in the cloak. "I find no laughing matter in your path." Ozpin said harshly. "Only in the journey." the man replied swiftly. "What brought you here was nobility..." "And my prize" the hooded figure said interrupting Ozpin. "THAT is no prize." Ozpin said in an upset tone. "A curse then?" the man asked sarcastically. "I would say so.." Ozpin respond to which he was met with "And I would disagree." Ozpin shook his head adjusting his stance a bit "You are no longer yourself." he said firmly. "I am myself. It's who I was that's gone." the man said coldly. "Who you were held all the value." "To you." "To the Light." "The Light..." "It is all." the two began going back and forth. To that statement the hooded man scoffed. "It is nothing but a crutch." he said scornfully. "One that has held you up." Ozpin said as if proving his point. "Only just, and nothing more." the man replied. "Nothing more? You were a hero!" Ozpin protested clearly more than a bit upset by that comment. The man scoffed shaking his head "And yet people still die. Corruption still exists. Light still fades, and Darkness still spreads." Ozpin sighed shaking his head "As it will ever be, that doesn't mean you give in to-" he started then the hooded man spoke up "To what, Hope?" he said looking to Ozpin. "This is not hope." Ozpin said pointing to the smoldering city. "This is peace..." the man said calmly looking out at the city. "You have blood on your hands!" "How's that any different than before?" "Innocent blood." "That is a matter of perspective Ozpin." Ozpin shook his head with a grim expression "That is the shadow talking." "And am I not?" the man inquired to which Ozpin asked "The shadow?" Another hush fell over the too as the man looked away from Ozpin and to the sky "Ya know Oz... These past cycles, you've made an honorable effort... Tried your best to correct my course, but I don't know it needs correcting." his tone was darker... even more so than before. "And if it does?" the white haired man asked. "Could be too late." the hooded man said with a tone of uncertainty for only a brief moment. "'Could be' is a winding path." Ozpin pointed out. "Long way from where I was to where I am going..." "That is my hope. That there is still time." Ozpin said stepping towards the man. "For?" the man asked glancing towards the other. "Corrective measures." Ozpin said firmly "The righting of this path, cleansing of your shadows and a return to the Light." Yet again there was a silence in the air... this one much longer the moon almost over the horizon. "Oz.... why'd you pick me?" the man asked "It doesn't work that way." Ozpin said in a worried tone. "Was I special?" the man asked to which Ozpin replied with out hesitation "You were." What came next made Ozpin recoil "But only as special as any other huntsman." Ozpin shook his head "You are all special." at this the man let out a dark laugh "Seems to contradict the word don't it?" Ozpin shook his head "Not in my estimation." the hooded man clenched his fist "If we're all special Oz, are any of us really special?" Ozpin glared at him "Is that what you want? To be special? Is that all you are after? Is all of the death worth that badge?" he asked seriously. "Am I not already more than the rest?" the hooded man asked confidently. "Looking at you here, now... the smoke, ash, and bone at your feet... it marks you as so much less." "Maybe... and yet here you are." the man said his own hooded gaze meeting Ozpin's "Meaning?" Ozpin asked re-positioning himself on his cane. "You have been at my side ever step of the way even though you so thoroughly disagree with my change in perspective." Ozpin shook his head "This change is not simply one of perspective. Your 'evolution' was no choice. This is not you having come to an understanding after careful consideration and thought. This is corruption." he said forcefully. "The shadows?" the man asked mockingly. "The Darkness." Ozpin replied seriously. "Maybe so." "There is no maybe here." "And you think you can 'save' me?" The man asked his tone still mocking Ozpin. "I rekindled your Light, and trained you. It falls first to me to aid in the Lights survival and yours." After another long silence the man leaned against the burnt remains of a tree. "I tire of it." he said with a sigh. "You must try-" Ozpin began only to be cut off "I tire of YOU." the man said aggressively. Ozpin gave a saddened look to the man "Vale..." To that the man stood up angrily "That is no longer my name!" he protested. "I will not speak the other." Ozpin said in defiance. "You will always be Dredgen Vale... a Huntsman... a Hero... you just have to try. " he said in a plea. "It doesn't matter. This is where we part ways." the man said turning from Ozpin. "I will not leave you." Ozpin said "You don't have to... I am leaving you." "Dredgen the journey set before you will be more than any one Huntsman can handle... you will need me." Ozpin continued to protest. "That's the point. It's been sometime since you have really seen me as worthy of walking among those I used to call brother and sister. Yet... now, I feel as though I am worthy of so much more." the man said a dark grin spreading across his face. "Without me.... You will die." Ozpin warned. "Someday." the man responded "Won't be the first time." "Ozpin... Consider this my last good deed. I am releasing you of the burdens of my deeds, both done and yet to come." the man said looking back at the other. "I will not abandon you." Ozpin protested. "You will. Or I shall carve the Light from you and leave your empty shell here... the carcass of my first and last friend in this blackened dirt to rot." the man said his words full of malice. "Then I've failed you, completely." Ozpin said sadly. "Not me." the man said shaking his head. "Maybe the man I was." Ozpin's yellow gaze stayed on the man. "He is truly dead?" he asked to which the man replied. "I believe so.... Ozpin, when you speak of me, use my proper name. Tell them of the man that stands before you, not the ghost of the hero I once was." this was one last request. "You will always be Dredgen Vale to me." Ozpin said to which the man turned and pulled down his hood. "If you cannot let that man go, you will forever taint his legacy. All the good I have ever done will be washed away in the fire of who I have become." he warned to which Ozpin pleaded "If you care, there is still some promise within you... hope of a return." The man shook his head giving a dark laugh. "If I am being honest? I care only to give hope to the frightened, huddled masses so that when I come upon them they will have more to lose. Their pain will be greater. Their screams more pure." this statement left Ozpin mortified. "You..." he breathed out. "After all nothing dies like hope, I cherish it." the man said grinning a malicious grin "You are a monster." Ozpin said his eyes wide. "Finally, you see the truth." the man said contently. "Dredgen Vale is truly dead..." Ozpin said, broken. "So I've said. Long live Dredgen Yor." the man said pulling his hood up and walking away. "This is farewell, but you can only run from your sins so far. In the end, you will die alone." Ozpin said having recomposed himself. "Maybe so. But I gotta tell ya... I tend to like my odds." Yor said as he was walking with a chuckle. "Your tainted 'Rose' will not always save you!" Ozpin warned. "Old friend." Dredgen began looking over his shoulder at Ozpin "It already has." and with that in a wisp of darkness the hooded man, the former hero known as Dredgen Vale was gone, the monster of darkness Dregen Yor had set out on his path.

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