#alaric evrren

[ask-them-bois]

So don’t talk about the mistake! I want to hear about who Cyber was. What they liked, how you met, the good stuff. It’s important to relive happy moments.

Cyber

TLDR: Alaric's past reveal

TW: character death, blood, gore

.

"So this is where you ran off to, huh?"

Alaric looked up in time to see its new cavern matron take a seat beside it on the hillside.

"Apologies. I did not mean to abandon work, I just... I got overwhelmed."

The matron chuckled, leaning back on his palms. "You're still new to the Ursidian Cavern, it's alright. Happens to the best of us."

Alaric sighed, pulling its knees up to its chest and wrapping its arms around them. "I do not wish to work in the cavern, matron."

"No one does, Al, but that is the duty of our caste." He sighed.

Alaric looked down the hill, towards the city. In a few weeks, drones would rise like a flock of ravens and turn the night sky black as they carried fillio-pails to the cavern to be fed to the grub mother. Then came the spawning nights, the vat watching, the hatching, the raising and trials- it never ended.

"If you could do anything else, what would you do?" The matron's voice brought it back to the present.

"Write." The word was instantly on Alaric's lips.

"Write?"

"I wish to tell stories, more than just the propaganda-loaded nursery rhymes we read the wrigglers. I wish to live those stories, matron, of fighting and romance and adventure." Alaric dropped its head onto its knees. "Tis a stupid wish. I am doomed to rot in the ground, as generations of grubs go on to do as I never will."

The matron chuckled, and tried to cover it with a cough. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, I'll give you that." He said. He tipped his head back, looking up at the stars. "... Well, I can't exactly just let you leave, but... I know a way to alleviate the monotony. Meet me out here tomorrow night, and I'll show you." He offered.

Alaric looked up, surprised, and searched his leader's eyes. "... Alright. Thank you, matron."

The cavern matron grinned. "Call me Cyber."

.

The next night, after Alaric finished scrubbing the vats and replenishing the sopor slime, it returned to the hill behind the cavern, where Cyber was already waiting, with what looked like a dozen of training dummies set up behind him. The matron was holding what looked like a pair of chains, one coiled in each hand, and he grinned when he spotted Alaric.

"Hey, you made it."

"What is this?" Alaric asked, confused.

"Stress relief. These things," Cyber held up the chains, "are called morning stars. I'm going to teach you how to use them." That said, he flicked his wrists out, and the chains uncoiled in a clatter. They were whips, Alaric saw, taking a step back in alarm, with heavy, spiked spades on the ends.

Cyber laughed. "Don't worry, they're only dangerous if they touch you."

He turned around to face the dummies, rolling his shoulders. Alaric watched him take a breath, before he leapt forward, arms rolling and slashing towards the targets. The whips cracked and clanked, their heavy tips scoring across the burlap skin of one dummy. Huge gashes were left behind, spilling cotton and sand, before the wounds began to glow red.

Cyber whooped as the dummy exploded. Alaric's jaw dropped open in shock as flaming chunks of burlap and wood went flying.

"By the gods!" It exclaimed.

"Right? These babies are both loaded with nitroglycerin and a detonator." Cyber turned to grin at it, "I made 'em myself. They're strong enough to take down a drone, and then some. Here, you try." He held the weapons out.

Not one to defy orders, Alaric hesitantly stepped forward and took them. There were runes- ancient magic- carved into the handles, it saw, as Cyber took it by the wrist and helped it grip them properly.

"There. Now you don't want to get fancy with these. Too much motion and you'll end up catching yourself on the foot or something. You want quick, snappy movements, at least until you're more experienced." Cyber advised.

They spent the next few hours on the hill, with Cyber correcting Alaric's footing and guiding its movements. The grass became torn up and scorched with all the times Alaric missed the marks, but soon it stood, panting, among the debris of twelve obliterated targets.

"Well done, Alaric! That was great! How're you feeling?"

"Powerful." Alaric panted, holding the whips out.

Cyber laughed as he took them, winding them back up. "Told you. I come out here maybe three times a week to let off steam. You're welcome to join me and have a go with these again."

.

Weeks went by. The lusii came to collect the latest generation, and then the jadebloods had three days to clean the cavern and prepare the grub mother for the next spawning. It was exhausting, aggravating work that had them snapping at each other's throats.

The only thing that kept Alaric sane was its training with Cyber. The two jades would sneak out near dawn, and while everyone else went to bed, Cyber would teach Alaric how to handle the morning star whips.

Soon, Alaric could perform impressive twists and flips and take out a line of dummies with one crack of the whips. When practice was over, the two would sit and catch their breath, swapping stories and laughter.

"You're incredible, Alaric." Cyber sighed at one point, still grinning.

"I am?"

"Hell yeah, you are. You're talented and clever, and great with the grubs. You're handsome, and..." Cyber's grin softened, and he scoot a little closer to Alaric, "I've never had this much fun with anyone before." He confessed quietly.

Alaric's breath hitched in its lungs, its thinkpan racing a mile a minute. What did that mean? Did Cyber-? No, surely not, they weren't supposed to-

"Nor have I." Alaric whispered back, its blood-pumper leaping into its throat as Cyber's fingers ghosted along its jaw to cup its face.

"I want to have more fun with you, Alaric. I know you want to leave the caverns but... Can't you stay? For me?" Cyber whispered, his hand achingly warm against Alaric's skin as his thumb rubbed back and forth across its cheek.

Alaric's head was swimming, an emerald blush dusting its cheeks. "I... y- yes. For you." It breathed.

Cyber began to purr as he leaned forward. Alaric sat up to meet him, throwing its arms around his neck as they kissed.

.

"Alaric, do it." Cyber rasped, choking on the blood that filled his throat as he shoved his whips towards it.

"No, no, Cyber, please-!" Alaric continued to claw at the rubble that was crushing him, but its feet slipped on the literal inch-deep pool of rainbow blood and drone goo that covered the floor.

"'Laric," Cyber seized its wrist, "listen to me." He sucked in a gurgling breath through tattered and crushed lungs, "The cavern's done for. The Enforcer ordered our extermination since the Compound blew. I didn't get the warning in time, it came last night while we were-" He broke off with heavy coughing, and Alaric choked on a sob.

While they were neglecting their duties, it thought, while they were on the hill. Now it stood among the rubble, smoke, and fire of what had once been its home, surrounded by bodies and blood.

"I'm done for with it." Cyber managed to speak again, "Take the morning stars, and just make it quick for me, okay? Please? I can't- can't breathe as it is. Please." He pleaded.

Barely able to see with the smoke and tears in its eyes, Alaric took the whips with shaking hands.

Cyber smiled at it, despite the blood dripping from his forehead and mouth. "I love you, Alaric. At least you got your romance and fighting, right? Finish me, and go find your adventures." He croaked.

Choking on sobs and the shattered pieces of its heart, Alaric took a step back and unwound the whips. The last thing it saw was Cyber's bright, viridescent eyes, before it shut its eyes and cracked the whips, the sound an explosion that blasted a metaphorical hole through its chest.

Then it ran, ran far, far away. The lone survivor, it got a singular heart tattoo on its shoulder to remember the fallen cavern. It donned its lover's name to try and forget its own, and armed with the morning star whips, went to find that adventure the former matron had promised.

Twenty more heart tattoos followed, but none of them could replace the hollow within Alaric's chest. It had killed its lover. Truly, it was a monster.

#toojazzed #ask #alaric answers #long post #backstory stuff #drabbles #drabble #alaric evrren

[naughty-bois]

5 nasty facts for Alaric?

Alaric has some freaky kinks. Despite it's "I would never hurt my lover" vibe, it... certainly wants to. It wants to bite, and feed, during pailing. It wants to claw, and draw blood. Only if its lover is down for that, though. If they're not, its the sweetest, softest lover you could ask for.

But, it wants to be punished, too. It likes to be tied up, rendered helpless, and denied pleasure. It feels that that is what it deserves, for being a monster. It likes whips, knives- short of disembowelment and death, it's down.

Alaric is a confident top, but an incredibly shy bottom. A "blushing madly, hiding its face, trying not to make a sound" bottom. It's adorable.

Alaric will not remove its muzzle during sex, unless its partner removes it for it. Even then, it doesn't want it removed, unless the partner wants to be bitten or harmed. If the muzzle is in the way, it has other masks that it will put on instead.

Alaric is very into spontaneous sex. Sleepy wake up sex, random fucking in the kitchen while you're cooking, even slipping away at a party to do it in the backroom.

#luxxrays #ask #ooc answers #alaric evrren

[ask-them-bois]

Happy Wriggling Day, Alaric!! 🎉🎉🎉

#ooc #ooc post #fantroll birthday #alaric evrren

[ask-them-bois]

Someone close and important to Alaric: *dies*

Alaric:

#if yall arent going to read that drabble I'm going to meme about it #ooc #ooc post #alaric evrren

[ask-them-bois]

Ask-Them-Bois' Fantroll Sale

Alright so, it looks like much of this blog's cast is looking for a new home! Basic character info and prices below the cut.

You will receive any and all art/sprites of the character, (excluding ship art) as well as their info sheet in a google doc. After purchasing, you have my permission to change any small details to their info or design, but I ask that you keep most of their original design intact. Please no reselling after purchasing!

If you just want the design and not the lore, that's okay, too!

DM ME IF INTERESTED!

*Some of these characters are ancestor/descendant groups! I'm offering them for a package deal! (Not required to be purchased together)

The Innocent (Open)- $20 -Amadri Gorsin -Limeblood -Has sprites

The Incoding (Open)- $20 -Gold011001 or "Cody" -Goldblood -Has sprites

Ruthless Deepbite (SOLD) -Erimus Faslet -Violetblood seadweller -Has sprites

Gehero Urfath (Open)*- $10 -Purpleblood -No sprites

The Hounding (Open)*- $20 -Arrach Urfath -Purpleblood -Has sprites

The Decaying (Open)- $10 -Brigan Almawt -Rustblood -No sprites

Rufuss Wacoba (Open)- $20 -Indigo seadweller -Has sprites

Ashhur Jaybez (Open)**- $10 -Mutantblood (red) seadweller -No sprites

The Survivor (Open)**- $10 -Krakyn Jaybez -Mutantblood (red) seadweller -No sprites

The Deadscar Wanderer (ON HOLD) -Ishran Maddel -Oliveblood -No sprites

Bohwie Akshai - SOLD -Indigoblood -Has sprites

Zeruki Ursida (Open)***- $10 -Tealblood mutant -No sprites

The Bladepen (Open)***- $10 -Dolion Ursida Tealblood Mutant -No sprites

Fayroe Fallen (Open)****- $10 -Fuchsiablood -No sprites

The Imperial Enforcer (Open)****- $10 -Godric Fallen -Fuchsiablood -No sprites

Alaric Evrren (Open)*****- $10 -Jadeblood seadweller -No sprites

The Warhound (Open)*****- $10 -Lucina Evrren -Jadeblood -No sprites

#ooc #ooc post #fantroll community #fantroll adopts

[ask-them-bois]

Not added: Drayco (dead), Fayroe (annoying), and Ashhur (terrible)

#ooc #ooc post #all descendants #poll

[ask-them-bois]

Unchained

Sequel to this

TLDR: Alaric has thoughts about drinking blood for the first time. Bit of hidden Alaric lore is revealed OwO

TW: past regrets, talk of blood

.

Alaric stumbled into the wreckage of the track-scuttler it called a hive, tripping over stacks of books and candle making equipment. It collapsed on its bed, the muzzle biting into the bridge of its nose and cheeks.

It shuddered, tongue refusing to still as it searched its own mouth for any last remaining drop or flavor of the tealblood's ichor. It had done it. It had drank blood, after sweeps of denial.

It felt sick. Truly, now, there was no going back. It was a monster with no restraint, now. Its gastricsack rolled over at the memory of its teeth sinking through flesh, the taut skin pierced so cleanly, and the coppery taste of blood filling its mouth.

By the gods, the taste... Alaric shuddered with disgust as it remembered the pleasure it had felt; mind numbing and all consuming as it finally, finally drank its fill. For once its stomach was full, satiated and satisfied.

It hated the feeling, the bone-deep satisfaction that thrummed through its body. It didn't deserve such pleasures, it was a monster. Being a rainbowdrinker was comparatively low on the list of reasons why. It was a murderer, for reasons other than previously being an assassin. It was a traitor.

Tears pricked its eyes as memories bubbled to the forefront of it's thinkpan. Cyber... A name it had taken when it had become a monster, borrowed from the original owner. It squeezed its eyes shut, trying to drown out the memories of laughter and fun, and yearned for its ancestor's comfort.

The bed dipped, and Alaric raised its head as Otcheedad jumped up beside it. The otter-cheetah beast chirped, beady eyes glittering with concern. Not its ancestor, Alaric thought, but close enough. With a weak laugh, it sat up and pulled the small lusus close, burying its face in his flank.

"Ah, I feareth I has't madeth yet another mistaketh, father, just as I hadst done with Cyber. I has't wounded one who is't did trust me yet again... And yet again, by their permission."

It swallowed, wincing at the coppery burn at the back of its throat.

"I has't transgress'd against mine own code of ethics. I am unfit to calleth myself a guardian or leader for grubs. Nay mothergrub wouldst wanteth a beast to protecteth her charges, coequal mutanous ones.

Certes the lady shalt forgive me, though? Monster I may beest, I cannot leaveth her or her charges high-lone. Those grubs needeth me."

It reached up to undo the muzzle around its face, before the rattle of its chains made it think twice. A bitter laugh rose in its throat as it dropped its hand.

"Oh, how cruel our planet is, father. Those defenseless babes relyeth upon a monster for protection, at which hour it can barely protecteth them from itself, just as it couldst not protecteth its brother."

Alaric looked down at the pair of whips on its belt. With a shake of its head, it seized them and threw the weapons across the block. Raising its head, it gazed out the broken window, out to the flat, harsh, cold desert it called home.

"I has't did drink of another, father. And it wast as delicious as ambrosia, the blood of gods itself. Coequal for a monster, I has't sinned. How might I wend backeth to a mortal troll anon? Wouldst death not beest kinder to a beast such as i?

Were it not for mine own sworn duty to guardeth the cavern and keepeth posteth over mine own mistress's secrets, I wouldst has't hath walked into the sunrise and never did look backeth."

Otcheedad whined and snorted, burying his face against Alaric's chest. It ran a hand down its lusus' dorsal spine, still gazing at what stars it could see through the window, trying to ignore the hollowing feeling beginning to grow within it.

It was hungry again.

#drabble #drabbles #alaric evrren #long post

[ask-them-bois]

Muzzles and Chains

TLDR: Zeruki and Alaric have a chat

TW: Mentions of past deaths/wounds/regrets, blood

.

Zeruki laid with his head off the side of the hivestem roof, watching the city lights. His helmet was off for once, laid at his side, his dandelion puff of hair plastered to his skull by sweat after free running for hours.

Beside him, leaning back on its palms to watch the lights too, was Alaric, summoned from the desert by Zeruki's request.

"Wherefore didst thee wanteth to meet me?" Alaric asked at last.

"Figured I aughta meet the master-bastard of the ladychick that sssssslaughtered my ancestor, ya know? She yeeted eir ass to the flip-fucking shadow realm, I wanted to check if her grubby-bubby was just as badass." Zeruki shrugged, his tail curling around his leg. "'M too scared of the actual lady to meet her."

"And? Didst mine own compliment carapace satisfyeth thee?" Alaric chuckled.

"Eh. I don't really care whatcha looooook like, my dreadlocked-duder-bro. You're definitely badass, though." Zeruki raised his head and looked at the morning star whips situated on Alaric's hips.

"Thanketh thee. Thou art not what I did expect, to beest truthful."

"I get that a lot." Zeruki snorted, dropping his head again, "I'm not a mad-hatter-man with a syringe and a god complex."

Alaric hummed, jaw flexing behind its muzzle. "Nay. But thou art a far caterwauling from a n'rmal troll, too." It conceded.

"... Yeppers-peppers. You're talkin' about the not dying thing, right?"

"Aye."

"Yeeeaaahhh... Dunno what's up with that, but hey," he pointed to himself with his thumbs, "This stitch-bitch is a goddamn anime protagonist, I've got pllllllot armor, I ain't gonna look a gift hoof-beast in the mouth. Believe it!"

Alaric laughed. "I perished once, thee knoweth." It pulled its leg up to show Zeruki the robotic prosthetic, made from old track-scuttler parts. It twisted to face Zeruki, leaving the other leg dangling over the side of the building.

"Yeet." Zeruki rolled over and sat up, teal eyes shining as he examined the mechanical limb. "This shit flip-fucking rules- can I check it?" At Alaric's nod, he touched it, feeling over the grooves and hydraulics with the upmost, fascinated care. His tail began to wag, thumping against the roof and sending the bells ringing.

Alaric glanced over at the noise. "... Might i inquire about the bells on thy tail?" It asked at last.

Zeruki's spine stiffened, but he didn't stop his exploration of Alaric's leg. "... Yee. They're punny-nish-ishment for my existence." He said at last.

Alaric's tiny fins twitched. "Ah." It said. It reached up to touch its muzzle, claws hooking through the thick wires. "I weareth a such same contraption." It murmured mournfully.

"Aye, but you consented-relented to that. It's ssssself imposed, right? Mine ain't. I'm not as good as or anything like my ancestry-cestor, so I gotta be stuck with my jingly cuffs for flip-fucking ever." Zeruki finally sat up, "Your shits bonky-wonky. I can fix it real lickity-splitty-quick, if you want." He added.

Alaric just nodded, and Zeruki reached into his boot, pulling out a small tool kit. He flipped it open and set it beside him, before he picked up a screwdriver and went to work.

"So why do you wear the puzzle-muzzle?" He asked after a moment.

Alaric sighed. "I am fearful of mine own thirst. The carnal desire f'r blood is one I cannot controleth, and I feareth hurting someone i careth about if it be true I doth not containeth mine own fangs." It confessed.

"Ah. "The beast is mighty unless contained," or however the ssssstupid movie put it." Zeruki snorted, catching a tiny screw and setting it aside as he opened the leg up.

"Aye, precisely. Mine own thirst gnaws liketh to hunger, but it is better than to beest in pain than to inflict such same on others." Alaric explained.

Zeruki glanced up through his bangs, before he snorted. "Wish everyone thought the same, my blood-suckin'-bro." He sat up and grabbed pliers, then went back to work.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Alaric watched the lights below as Zeruki worked on its legs.

"You said you're in pain?" Zeruki asked at last, as he screwed the panel he'd opened back into place.

"Aye. There is a pit within mine own stomach yond cannot beest filled by food nor water nor wine. It burns, liketh to the Alternian travelling lamp." Alaric waxed.

Zeruki sighed heavily, patting the leg when he was done with it and cleaning up his tools. "All run-done, dude-bro." He said. He slid the toolbox back into his boot and folded his legs in.

"Many thanks." Alaric hummed.

Zeruki jerked and bobbed his head in a nod, before he hesitated. "Yo, um... You can... ya know. If you want." He said after a moment.

"Eh?" Alaric frowned, confused.

"Um. Nosh on my shiz, ya know? Slurp my go-go juice." So saying, he tipped his head back and tapped his throat.

Alaric hissed, sharply turning its head away. "Doth not tempteth me, I beg thee. I couldst not stomach the bethought of devouring thee, mine own companion."

"Bruh." Zeruki pouted, "I'm offering. I can't die, remember-timber? Better to drink a juice pouch that conssssents to it, isn't it? You said you're in pain, and believe me, there's only so much of that a hitch-bitch can take before they snnnnnap."

Alaric was shaking its head, so Zeruki pressed. "Dude, you killed trolly-pollys."

"Yond was different, yond wast a me named Cyber. I am a monster anon, who is't sees what a monster it once wast, and hast muzzl'd itself thusly."

"'Laric, man, look around you." Zeruki said, his voice suddenly gentle, "You and I are mutant-tutant-flip-fuckin-freaks, and then some. We're always going to be monsters, no matter what we do. So just... Why not embrace-grace it? You're only hurting yourself otherwise." He put a hand on Alaric's shoulder. "One monster to another, my guy. I'll let you gnaw on my goop if you need it."

Alaric stared at him for a long moment, jade eyes searching teal. "Thou insists?" It asked at last, its breath hitching.

"Yeppers-peppers."

Alaric swallowed thickly and nodded, tears swimming in its eyes. It didn't move, though, so Zeruki did.

Swiveling onto his knees, Zeruki reached up and slowly slid his fingers along the rainbowdrinker's jaws, under its hair, until he found the clasps at the back of the muzzle.

The air was taut with tension as he fumbled with them, the sounds of the city going silent until the only sound was the clicks of the clasps opening.

Alaric gasped softly as the muzzle slipped, the padded leather no longer digging into its face. Zeruki caught the muzzle before it could fall, setting it next to his helmet; the thing he used to hide himself.

He sat back on his heels and Alaric opened its eyes, blinking back jade tears. "I feeleth bare, and fearful." It whispered.

"There's nothing to be affffraid of, my dude. You're not gonna hurt me." Zeruki assured it, just as quiet. His tail curling around his legs, he tipped his head to the side, baring his throat.

He heard Alaric swallow again, before the jadeblood leaned forward. Its claws gently grasped Zeruki's upper arm, and it buried its face in the crook of the tealbloods' neck. Their horns knocked together in a quiet clack, and they simply sat there for a minute.

Zeruki chewed on his own lips, trying not to squirm with impatience or boredom. This was a big deal, after all. Finally, he felt Alaric shudder and breath deeply, its breath puffing across his bare skin.

"Thou art covered in wounds already." It whispered, "Yet thee trusteth me to imprint anoth'r with mine own teeth."

"They're just burns. No biggie." Zeruki shrugged with his unburdened shoulder.

"Zeruki, truly, thou art the most gentle, noble, and true of all trolls." So saying, Alaric's jaws stretched wide, and its fangs unfolded from the roof of its mouth.

Shutting its eyes, it plunged its accursed fangs into the tealblood's throat, and, for the first time since becoming a monster, drank.

#drabble #muzzles and chains #alaric evrren #zeruki ursida #long post #drabbles #blood

[ask-them-bois]

Judgement Meme!!

Let the cybergoth vampire judge your characters! 1-2 characters per rb, multiple rbs allowed, judge backs welcome, please state if your character is -18 or not. Alaric can be a bit of a flirt. (It/its pronouns)

#alaric evrren #judgement meme #alaric judges

[ask-them-bois]

Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 2/3

pt.1

TW: PTSD flashback, attempted mugging

TLDR: Deadscar heads for the desert. A new troll arrives.

.

Ishran cinched the strap on his bag and stood, swinging the pack onto his shoulder. He picked up his war hammer, sliding it into its holster between the bag and his back. Finally, he tied up his hair, made sure his campfire was out completely, and set out.

He’d been camped on the outskirts of the city for several nights, but now, mere hours after the meeting with Musrio and the other ancestors, it was time to leave. He made for the trackscuttler station, remembering the Decaying’s directions.

He stepped up onto the platform and looked around; the station was empty, as far as he could tell. No one was even in the ticket booth, the lights all dark. He found an old board that listed the trackscuttlers’ arrival times, but all of them were marked the same way: “Canceled.”

It was abandoned, he realized. Trackscuttlers were still a popular mode of transportation all over Alternia, and he idly wondered what would cause the station to shut down. Perhaps a better one had been built elsewhere.

Regardless, he put his curiosity aside; the inquiry of why a station was powered down was not his mission. Finally, he located a map of the tracks, in a case that stood in the middle of the station. It depicted most of the continent he was currently on, and it was easy to locate the desert; the landmass he resided on only had one, albeit a rather large one.

If Lucina wasn’t there, then he’d have to head overseas. First things first, though- he located the tracks that wound through the desert. There was only one track, and someone had scribbled over part of it in red marker.

Undeterred, Ishran followed the trail to the station he was currently at; it stood to the west of the desert, which meant he had to head east. Satisfied, he turned to survey the tracks by the station. They pointed north and south, but following the northern one would eventually take him the correct way.

A squeak of a shoe behind him was his only warning as a knifepoint was suddenly pressed to his shoulder.

“Give me everything in the bag, geezer, or I’ll gut you like an oink-beast.”

Ishran didn’t move for a moment, before he finally turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder.

Behind him, their only knife left pressed against the oliveblood’s skin, looking rather gaunt and messy, was none other than Fayroe Fallen.

The young fuchsia’s eyes were bloodshot, their undersides dark from lack of sleep. His fins were wilted, horns bare of jewelry; he’d either hidden them or sold them. He was covered in bruises and scrapes, his clothes worse for wear than ever before.

Outwardly, Ishran didn’t react at first, but his thinkpan was flashing warning lights as wailing sirens went off, unbidden memories whirling through his mind as he stared at those horns.

Pain, pain, pain- shackles, bolts embedded in his wrists, chains beating his back, dragging him like a dog, the coliseum, his hammer, smashing through skin and muscle and bone. Breaking, breaking, scars and bleeding and no rest. Beast and troll crying out, the deafening cheers as his knuckled crumpled bone like faygo cans-

The whirring, chittering, subsonic roar of the drones. His hammer screaming off of carapace, chitinous armor flying across sand, sparks from the contact and then- pain. Naught but pain, struggling to breathe, burning lungs and broken ribs and PAIN-

When he snapped back to himself, Ishran found himself knelt on the prince’s chest, the knife spinning across the floor and his hands on the kid’s throat, teeth bared. Fayroe had his arms up to shield himself, as if expecting a beating.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry, please-! I didn’t mean it, please don’t kill me!” The seadweller’s wails suddenly cut through the ringing in his ears. They sounded terrified and desperate, sobs hitching in their chest.

Ishran stared down at the sniveling fuchsia, his hands lax around their neck as he tried to mentally catch up with what just happened.

“Please, I didn’t mean it- I’m j- j- just so h- hungry- I w- wasn’t going to hurt you!” Fayroe continued to babble, covering his face with his arms.

The oliveblood managed to lurch to his feet and stumble away. He leaned on the map case with one hand, his blood-pumper hammering in his chest. Adrenaline was screaming through him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time. He couldn’t breathe properly, he almost felt sick, but he managed to suck in a shaky breath.

“Who… are… you.” He spoke through clenched teeth. Behind him, the sniveling stopped abruptly.

“Wh- what?”

“You’re Enforcer’s spawn.”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?” He demanded, his voice shaky but even.

“I’m- I was just- I am-”

“Out with it, boy.” Ishran snapped.

“I was sleeping!” Fayroe shouted, his voice echoing around the empty station.

“… Here?”

“Yeah?”

“… Why?” Ishran wasn’t sure why he was asking. He didn’t even want to know, but the talking was making the buzzing in his skin fade. He turned to face Fayroe again, and saw the young troll had sat up, eyes huge in the gloom.

“Why do you care? Who are you?” They sniffed.

“I do not care. I am Ishran.” Deadscar stated bluntly, “Now answer my question.”

“I don’t take orders from lowbloods.”

Ishran’s brows settled low, and he turned away. “Fine.” He headed for the tracks.

“Wh- you’re leaving?”

“I have places to be.”

He heard Fayroe scramble to their feet. “Wait!”

He stopped.

“… Where… where are you going?” The fuchsia asked, trying to sound casual.

“Why should I tell you?”

“W- well- because you’re the Deadscar, aren’t you? Fath- Godric, talked about you a lot.” Oh, Ishran didn’t like that. There was a beat of silence, in which Fayroe was probably expecting a response. When that didn’t happen, he continued. “Take me with you.”

“I do not take orders from highbloods.”

“Wh- yes you do! You have to!”

“No.”

“But- but- but that’s-”

Ishran turned around to look at the descendant again. “I take orders from no one, boy, especially not the successor of the Enforcer.”

At that, Fayroe laughed bitterly, catching him off guard. “Successor? Not anymore, I’m not. Descendant, sure, but no successor.” He scuffed one foot against the platform. “… I got chased out. That’s why I was sleeping in here.”

They were interrupted as their stomach let out a feeble, yet loud gurgle, and they put their hand on their stomach. Their fins, somehow, drooped further.

“You are hungry.”

“I don’t have any money. I’ve got nothing but my hop-beast.” Fayroe huffed, shuffling his feet some more. “Godric saw to that.” Ishran looked around for said hop-beast, but Fayroe shook his head. “I left her with… erm… a friend. Or I guess, a former acquaintance, an engineer, who I made take her for a while. But she’s all I got.”

“Then we understand each other.” Ishran said, unmoved. Fayroe looked up, puzzled. “All that you see on my back is all I have anymore.”

“Oh…” An awkward pause fell. Tired of lingering, Ishran turned away again. “Wait- where are you going?” Fayroe called.

“To the desert.”

“Take me with you!”

Sighing, Ishran turned back once more. “Why?”

“I… I can be useful! I’m good at this survival stuff- I’ve lasted this long! It’s been…” They quickly ticked on their fingers, “Five weeks? Six?” They frowned, before looking back up. “Regardless, I can rough it, same as you, but I’m not… as good. Teach me, please! I’ll listen to everything you say, I’ll be helpful, I’ll-”

Ishran wasn’t really listening past that, memories once more overwhelming him. For a moment, he didn’t see a fuchsiablood, but a lime, standing before him and demanding to be taught how to use a bow. He’d been alone on the road for so long- his blood-pumper twinged with the thought of being on the move again with Amadri.

“- and, okay, I don’t know how to start a fire, or cook, or clean, but I’m willing to learn! I just don’t want to be alone anymore...” Fayroe’s words cut through the fog again, and the vision of Amadri was gone. “And I swear I won’t-”

“Fine.” Ishran said, making the younger troll stop.

“Huh?”

“You may join me. But you are to listen to my every order. You may be fuchsia, but I am your elder. You will not speak down to me, and I will not punish you for the sins of your father.”

Fayroe blinked at him, before they grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Okay! Yes! You’ve got it, Deadscar!”

Ishran nodded once, and turned away for the final time. “Come, then.”

“Wh- now?”

“Yes, now.”

He kept walking, hopping down from the platform and following the tracks. Behind him, he heard Fayroe scoop up their knife and run after him. “Thank you, thank you, oh you won’t regret this, I swear!”

Ishran only grunted.

“So where are we going?”

“The desert.”

“Yeah, I know. Why, though?”

“To find someone.”

“Oh. Who?”

“A woman.”

Fayroe sighed, giving up on making conversation. He trailed after Ishran, pouting in silence, as they followed the tracks. . . . Regret, regret, regret- Irritation buzzed under Ishran’s skin like stinging wasps. It’d been just over a week- nine nights, to be exact- since he’d set out with Fayroe in tow. It’d taken a bit of rearranging on Ishran’s part, and a stop in a town to pick up extra supplies, but they were managing well enough. The oliveblood had even been nice enough to get Fayroe his own sleeping cocoon. His tent was really only meant for one, but Fayroe was small enough that they could squeeze in it together to sleep.

They woke before the sun had fully set each night, ate, and set out, stopping for only fifteen minutes every four hours for water and a small snack. When dawn approached, Ishran found a place to set up camp. They had dinner, then went to bed.

All of that would have been fine, had he had Amadri with him. But-

Ishran was not a religious man, yet he was just about ready to pray for mercy. Fayroe did not. Stop. Talking. Perhaps it was because he’d been alone for so long, but what was usually blissful silence was filled with chatter about anything. By the end of the third night, Ishran knew Fayroe’s life story, albeit unwillingly and without any prompting.

The complaining, too, grated on his nerves like sandpaper on stone.

“My feet hurt.” Fayroe had whined, three hours into their journey on the first night.

“They will toughen.”

“Can we take a break?” Was asked the second night, after they’d just set out.

“No.”

“I’m thirsty!” was announced mere minutes later.

“Now is not a time for drinking.”

And “How much farther do we have to go?” was a constantly repeated question.

“Far.” was the constantly repeated response.

Over and over, on and on. Ishran was ready to stuff wax into his ears to make it stop; he longed to have his matesprit with him instead- at least her voice was soothing, and not the snotty, whining drivel. When they made camp, he gave Fayroe tasks that either sent him away or forced him to stop talking, just for a reprieve.

On the sixth night, still following the tracks, they made it to the desert. Ishran filled their canteens and refreshed their rations at an outpost before they’d proceeded.

The desert was made up of rust red sand dunes, towering higher than ocean waves in storms.

It took them half an hour to make it over the first dune, before Ishran had an idea and turned around.

Returning to the outpost, he rented a pair of scaly-hoofs; draconic hoof-beasts used for crossing the desert. On the creatures’ backs, they made it over the dunes with ease. The dunes eventually faded behind them, until they were crossing miles of sandy plains.

For the next few nights, they saw little around them, even as they continued to follow the tracks. There was sparse vegetation, and an occasional covered well where they could refill their drinks. An abandoned shack or two where they could camp. Wild lusii avoided them, and Ishran only ever saw them at a distance.

On the ninth night, though, Ishran urged his beast to a stop before a sign.

“Turn back! Forbidden land!” was scrawled on a sheet of metal in curly writing.

Fayroe came to a stop beside him, examining the sign, too.

“What now?” He asked, pulling down his scarf; he’d wrapped it around his face to keep the sand out of his gills and mouth.

“We keep going.”

“But it says-”

“I can read. But we keep going.”

Ishran snapped the reins, and his beast carried on.

The further they went, the more signs they saw, all in the same writing.

“Danger!”

“Turn back!”

“Cursed land ahead!”

“Monsters roam beyond!”

“Unholy beasts dwell yonder!”

Ishran ignored them all, until, at last, they crested a hill and came to stop at the sight before them.

Bleached white by the sun, the teeth gleaming in the moonlight, was a massive, monstrous skeleton. Beyond it, just visible on the horizon, was the twisted and warped remains of a crashed and abandoned trackscuttler, laid across the tracks.

“What the fuck is that?” Fayroe exclaimed as he rode up beside Ishran.

“A beast’s bones.” He replied, before he suddenly remembered the Decaying’s words:

“No water but the sapphire eye, guarding to the metal serpent. Beast of thirst, watching beast of slake, guarded by beast of bone. … Follow the screaming serpent’s trail, into the red, and find the corpse of lifeless gods.”

Ishran looked towards the trackscuttler again; from the distance, it was faint, but he could make out the gleam of water. A lake, if he were to guess. An oasis.

“A beast of bone.” He corrected himself, “We are close.”

“We are?” Fayroe repeated, surprised. “Oh, good.”

Ishran urged his beast into motion again, and they descended the hill, approaching the skeleton.

It truly was massive; one of the beast’s claws was four times the size of Ishran himself. He couldn’t be sure what it used to be, but it had a gnarled muzzle full of monstrous teeth, and he counted four eye sockets. Twisted and curled horns protruded from the skull, piercing the sky. To walk from the skull to tail would take a half an hour, at least.

As they were by the skull, though, Ishran stopped again. He looked around at their surroundings; nothing moved, not even the wind. He could see what looked like an outcrop of cliffs and rocks to the south. Looking up, he saw the moons were nearing their peak.

“We’ll stop here.” He decided.

“Already?” Fayroe asked.

“Yes.” Ishran turned and dismounted.

Fayroe had learned by then that he wouldn’t get a lot of explanations for much, so he dismounted, too. They put the tent up in silence, up against the jaw of the skull. After a moment’s deliberation, despite being out in the open, Ishran decided to start a fire.

“What if something sees it?” Fayroe asked uncertainly.

“That’s the idea.” Ishran grunted as he got a meal together and passed the seadweller a canteen. Fayroe had been rather selfish with the water, insisting he needed more due to his aquatic nature. Ishran wasn’t totally sure if that was true, but he was willing to give up a portion of his share if it stopped the whining.

Once camp was set up, they’d eaten, and the beasts were given their due of food and water, Ishran sat down, using the beast’s saddle as a chair on the ground. He pulled his dagger out of his boot, and dug in his bag, pulling out a half-carved figurine of a moth.

He set to work carving, flicking the scraps into the fire.

Fayroe sat on his own saddle, chin in hand, as his knee bounced impatiently.

“Whatcha making?” He asked, just to say something.

“A gift.”

“For who?”

“My partner.”

“You have a partner?”

“Yes.”

“What- what’re they like?”

Ishran paused and looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you care?”

“I dunno. Are they the woman we’re here for?”

“No. She is visiting her morail.”

“Oh.”

Ishran had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He resumed his work in silence.

“I’m bored.” Fayroe announced after two minutes.

“Then find something to do.”

“Like what? We’re in a desert! It’s not like there’s a filmhive out here.”

“Count the teeth in the skull. Go hunting. Brush the sand off the beasts. Take a nap.” Ishran listed without looking up.

Fayroe didn’t want to do any of that. After another minute of silence, they spoke again. “Why are we even stopped? We could keep going, you know.”

“We are where we need to be.”

“But there’s nothing out here!” Fayroe pouted.

“That’s enough!” Ishran finally snapped, setting his knife down and looking up. “I am aware there is nothing, but this is the spot I have been seeking.” He explained, ill-tempered, “Now is as good a time as any to rest, for I do not know what comes next. The beasts are tired, I am tired, and I am working out what to do. But there is no point running ourselves to exhaustion without direction, nor is there a point to whining! If you are bored, make yourself productive!” He snarled the last part, “You do not know what is out here, and our voices will attract unwanted attention. Do you wish to fight wild animals? You can’t even skin a dirt-spud!”

“But the fire would-” Fayroe began meekly.

“Would deter animals unused to the light, but be a beacon, perhaps, to the woman I am looking for! You have no thoughts other than those for yourself, boy, and I am sick of it! I did not force you to come, and if you are going to continue to stay, then you will hold your tongue and wait, same as I am!”

Fayroe had shrunk back so far he’d nearly fallen off his seat. Slowly, he scowled, and sat back up. He dropped his gaze, glowering at his shoes. “You sound like him.” He muttered lowly, ““Sit down and shut up, Fayroe. You don’t understand anything, Fayroe. I’m having you fucking tortured for your own good, Fayroe.””

“Perhaps that is because you never stop talking.” Ishran grouched without meaning to.

“Maybe that’s because I’ve never had someone to talk to!” Fayroe snapped back, just barely managing to keep their voice down.

Ishran opened his mouth, before Fayroe suddenly sat up and twisted to stare into the darkness towards the distant cliff outcrop.

Slowly, they got to their feet, eyes trained towards the south. Ishran paused, too, caught off guard by their sudden change in behavior. Neither of them moved for several seconds.

“Boy, what-”

“Sshh!” Fayroe flapped a hand at him, fin-fronds flaring wide as they leaned forward. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but- do you hear that?”

Ishran paused again and listened, but no sounds other than the fire and the huffing of the beasts came to him. “What do you hear?” He asked.

Fayroe frowned, squinting towards the outcrop. “It’s like… a growl? But constant. A roar? It- look!” He suddenly pointed towards the cliffs.

Ishran fished a pair of farsight-goggles out of his bag and stepped up beside Fayroe, raising them to his eyes. At first, he saw nothing, until he saw the dust plume.

Following it with his eyes, he saw… something, racing towards them. It was dark, and hard to make out, even with the goggles, due to the distance. Whatever it was, it was making a beeline for their camp.

Ishran lowered the goggles.

“Sit down, boy.”

“Wh- shouldn’t we run?”

“No. We will wait for it to come to us.” Ishran returned to his seat, slipping the goggles into his bag.

Fayroe hesitated, but slowly took a seat again.

“What if it’s an enemy?”

“Then it will be dealt with.”

Ishran calmly picked up his dagger and block of wood again, and resumed his work, while Fayroe watched the thing approach.

“Do you have a gun?” He asked after a moment.

“No.”

“Crossbow?”

“I do not use long range weapons.”

“Oh…”

Finally, after fifteen minutes, Ishran could hear the rumbling, too. He decided to break camp and pack up, before he picked up his hammer, bags resting at his feet. Five minutes more, and he got to his feet as the thing roared up to the camp, only to come to a sudden stop.

Now that it was close, Ishran could see the noise had come from an all-terrain buggy, its driver bent low over the handlebars.

The driver in question slowly sat up, pulling goggles up off its eyes.

“Who are ye?” It demanded, dismounting its vehicle, “Thou be on accursed lands and must make leave, posthaste!”

“We could ask you the same thing, weirdo.” Fayroe said haughtily, his hand going for the knife on his belt.

“Stand down, boy.” Ishran ordered. He lowered his hammer himself, squinting at the jadeblood. “What’s your name?” He asked, voice carefully neutral.

The jade looked at him, tiny fins twitching. “Mine compatriots called me Cyber, but mine name be Alaric Evrren.” With a flourish of its hand, it bowed low to the oliveblood.

Outwardly, Ishran’s expression did not change. “Do you know a woman named Lucina?”

Alaric stood back up, brushing its hair back with a flick of its wrist. “Aye, be ye seekers of my ancestor?”

“Yes.”

“What for?”

“We were sent by her husband.”

“We were?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

Both midbloods ignored him.

“Oh, thou speaketh of the great captain? Mine forefather, Faslet?” Alaric nodded slowly, eyes scanning over the two of them. It drew its tongue over its fangs thoughtfully, before it nodded and turned away. “Upon thine word, I trust thou. Follow, and I shall shepherd ye to Lucina.” It mounted its buggy again, slipping its goggles down over its eyes.

Ishran nodded and turned, heading for the scaly-hoofs.

“It’s a funny little weirdo, isn’t it? What does it mean?” Fayroe asked quietly as they sidled up to Ishran.

“They will take us to Lucina.”

“Yeah… who is that?”

“The woman I am seeking.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Once the beasts were saddled, the fire kicked out, and Ishran and Fayroe on their mounts, Alaric revved their buggy to life. It waved and shouted something, before it was off, tearing across the sand.

Ishran and Fayroe snapped the reins and gave chase.

The beasts managed to keep up with the buggy as they made for the cliff outcrop in the distance, the roar of the buggy’s engine drowning the night in noise.

Finally, Alaric swerved to a stop before the cliffs, and the other two slowed their mounts.

Cutting the engine, Alaric leaned on the handlebars and pointed. They’d come to a stop before a yawning cavern opening, one that looked troll-made. It was into the dark cave that the jadeblood pointed.

“Mine foremother lies within.”

Ishran nodded. “Boy,” He addressed Fayroe, “set up camp.”

“Aren’t we going in?” Fayroe asked, surprised.

“No.” Ishran dismounted and grabbed something from his bag, before he walked away.

“So… what’s with the muzzle?” Ishran heard Fayroe ask as he moved some distance away from the cave.

Putting his back to the other two, he turned his attention to palmhusk he’d procured. It was definitely nothing fancy- an older version he’d gotten for cheap at a pawn shop- but it still worked, and was durable for travel. Thumbing through the menus, he raised it to his ear as it rang.

“Aye?” The trembling voice of Ruthless picked up after a few rings.

“We found her.”

[Everyone please welcome Alaric Evrren! (Link to bio)]

#of monsters and matriarchs #story time #alaric evrren #the deadscar wanderer #fayroe fallen #long post #very long post

[ask-them-bois]

Muzzle the Monster, Cage Its Teeth

(A drabble about the first time Alaric donned its muzzle.)

TW: cannibalism mention, cannibalism attempt, kinda gross description of eating raw meat.

.

Alaric sighed, dropping its forehead onto its knee. Its eyes ached to close, its hair falling in a curtain around its head. It was so tired, so scared....

So hungry.

A new hunger, that no amount of grilled cactus or fish could quench. It had been in the desert for... how long now? Half a sweep? More? It all felt the same to Alaric. Day and night meant nothing to a creature that could withstand both.

Its new thirst for blood is what had kept it from finding its way out of its endless, sandy prison. Its heart ached, just as much as its gastric sac, for a different sort of fulfillment- that of the company of its fellow trolls.

But Alaric would not return to the cities and towns. Not now, not ever. It was not safe. Its hunger too great. It could hold back the tide, but only just. Everything ached.

Everything was empty.

Its prosthetic hummed against its forehead, a puff of exhaust steam warming the jadeblood’s face and stirring its hair.

Taking a breath, Alaric raised its head and looked around. It had stepped out of its cavern for a breath of fresh air, the cold desert night searing its lungs. On a clear night, like this one, it could see all the way to the beast’s skeleton, the ivory remains gleaming under the twin moons’ silvery light. Alaric didn’t know what the beast was, or where it came from, or how long it had been there, but the giant figure was a comfort, as the sightless sockets kept watch over Alaric’s cavern.

The jadeblood got to its feet, closing its eyes and swaying on the spot as dizziness overwhelmed it. Hunger gnawed at its stomach, clawed at its throat, despite Alaric having eaten only an hour or so prior.

It turned and went back inside.

Down, down, to the lowest chamber of the cavern, it sought out the mothergrub that resided there. She wasn’t like the others of her kind. She was ancient, her carapace turned an array of dull colors that encapsulated the entire hemospectrum. She was defected, no longer able to produce “normal” grubs, but Alaric fed her and tended to her all the same. She chirred when Alaric approached, leaning down to nuzzle its head in greeting.

Her current brood, of fourteen, were clambering about her body, enjoying their time outside of the vats before the sun rose. Each and every one them, deformed in some way.

Alaric scooped the nearest one up; a goldblood with four eyes, all of different colors. His body was still soft from recent hatching; it’d harden in the coming weeks, and Alaric would send for lusii to come take the grubs away.

The little goldblood trilled as Alaric held it up, the grub’s six horns still fuzzy with velvet. The fuzz would fall off eventually, as the horns hardened and the grub prepared for pupation.

It always saddened the jadeblood to see the little ones go, but it was happy that it at least gave them a chance. Alternia needed mutants, whether it realized it or not. They were good, and fun, and Alaric found more kinship with the abnormal than with those that conformed to their colors.

Alaric set the gold on its shoulder, where the little grub dutifully clung to its vest, pressing his face into Alaric’s neck for warmth. Alaric had little warmth to offer, but the grub didn’t seem to mind, his whole, little body vibrating as he buzzed.

With its companion on its shoulder, Alaric went about cleaning up and preparing to feed the grubs. While the grubmother watched the other thirteen, Alaric swept up, and fetched the protein sludge that the grubs fed on.

It finished setting up the feeding station, before it whistled, calling for the grubs to come eat. Alaric set the little gold down, and it scampered off for its bowl. Alaric watched the other grubs tumble off the grubmother to join their brother, their excited squeals and chirps echoing around the chamber.

Alaric turned to watch them approach, grinning at the sight of the little swarm, when it froze like an antler-beast in headlights.

Time seemed to slow down as it saw the little blueblood with too many legs trip and fall off the grubmother’s tall back, instead of sliding down her tail like the rest.

Before it could register that it had moved, Alaric was across the room, catching the grub in its arms, and the little blue let out a sharp squeal of pain.

Alaric snapped back to itself as a smell hit its nose.

Blood.

Its eyes widened in horror at the sight of a small cut on the blueblood’s squishy body, one of the spikes on Alaric’s glove shimmering with the indigo ichor. Droplets beaded up on the wound, which was barely the length of Alaric’s fingernail and as thin as paper. To the reeling Alaric, to the whimpering grub, it was the size of a bullet wound.

Back then, before the crash, before it went rogue, Alaric would have known what to do. Even now, its thinkpan and instincts were screaming in tandem, urging it to go put the grub in the medicalizer, but Alaric couldn’t move, knelt next to the grubmother’s belly, with a bleeding grub in its hands.

Bleeding.

It was so... so...

Hungry.

Its stomach seized and snarled, like Alaric had never eaten a thing in its life, as the scent of blood filled its lungs. Its vision went white, its teeth aching, mouth suddenly flooded with saliva.

Bite, its brain urged, bite him. Feed. He is helpless, weak. Easy prey. Easy food.

Alaric wasn’t certain what happened next. It could recall feeling the grub’s body against its teeth. It had been so soft- softer than the blood-drained meat of the other trackscuttler crash victims. It couldn’t think, its body moving on its own.

And then it was struck, hard, on the temple, and Alaric reeled backwards, its head slamming to the stone floor. Pain exploded through its skull and sparking down its spine as its horn collided with the ground. Overwhelmed, it may have passed out for a moment.

When it came to, it managed to sit up, and it saw Otcheedad, its own lusus, with the grub held safely in his mouth. The otter-beast carefully set the little grub down, and licked the wound clean, urging the grub to go eat, before he returned to his charge.

Alaric slumped against the mothergrub, its stomach roiling with disgust and horror in equal measures, as it realized what it had nearly done.

Otcheedad glared at Alaric ruefully, before he walked away, only to return and drop a raw fish in its lap.

Eat that, not your grubs, the lusus seemed to say, before he went to watch over the little brood.

With shaking hands, Alaric picked up the fish and bit into it, blood and juices exploding into its mouth. It tore at the flesh and lapped up the blood, its clever tongue easily sliding between the bones so that it could suck up the fish’s innards.

When there was little left but bones, Alaric opened its eyes. Tossing the skeletal remains aside, it stumbled to its feet. Otcheedad would see to the grubs returning to their recuperacoons in its absence.

It wasn’t enough, though. It would never be enough. Alaric was drinking gilded gold, when it needed the real thing. The creature’s blood was a shameful echo of what it really needed.

It had to get away, the gnawing hunger demanding more than fucking fish blood.

It made its way outside, and mounted its all-terrain buggy. Sliding its goggles down, the machine roared to life and Alaric sped off, back towards the trackscuttler it had made into its hive.

It hurried inside, towards its respiteblock. It made its way to its writing desk, and ripped one of the drawers open, digging inside.

Where was it? Alaric tossed out journals, pens, quills and bottles in its frantic search. It could have sworn its teeth had grown, pressing against its lips.

It had bought the device some nights ago, as a precaution, if it really couldn’t control its urges. It didn’t think it would need the thing so soon, though, it’d wanted to try to control them before then, but-

The grub’s pained squeak came back to it, and it had to resist the urge to throw up. 

There! Throwing aside a diary of poems, it saw the contraption.

It pulled the thing out. Exiting the trackscuttler, it made its way down to the oasis- the only place it could see its reflection, for it had destroyed all the mirrors.

Kneeling at the water’s edge, it stared at its warped reflection as it slid the device on. The metal bits of the straps stung, freezing cold, against its jaw and cheeks.

The muzzle fit, though. It secured the device behind its head, and tugged on the front to make sure it would stay in place. It bit into the bridge of Alaric’s nose, and pinched its jaw. It hurt, but the pain was less than what Alaric felt, constantly, in its stomach.

Alaric could only just open its mouth, just enough to speak.

“It’s for your own good.” It told its reflection, its voice shaking, “So you don’t hurt anyone else.”

Alaric could have sworn its reflection looked mournful, and it agreed. It hated the thing it now wore, but it saw no other way.

It was a monster. It deserved to be caged. It deserved to suffer, and starve.

It was so, so hungry.

#story time #drabbles #alaric evrren #long post #uhhh ask to tag ig

[ask-them-bois]

Of Monsters and Matriarchs, pt 3/3

pt.1 pt.2

TW: None

TLDR: The final troll arrives.

.

“Hark!” Alaric leaped to its feet, staring out into the distance. “Yonder, strangers approach!”

Ishran wiped the crumbs out of his beard and swallowed the last bite of his meal, getting to his feet. “Boy, get up.”

Fayroe cracked open an eye from where he laid on Alaric’s buggy. “Eh?”

“They are here.”

Fayroe sat up in time to see two distant figures rapidly approaching.

Within minutes, Incoding, Ruthless, and Innocent arrived at the camp.

Ruthless was sat behind Innocent, on the back of Vornik’s lusus, Alphadad. The three-headed howl-beast dropped down, letting them slide off his back.

Incoding pulled Glitch Rider, his motorbike, to a stop, cutting the engine.

“Hello again, Deadscar.” The goldblood grinned, hopping off his vehicle.

“Greetings. Where is the fourth one?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean Bri? He didn’t want to come.” Incoding shrugged, “Something something, “this isn’t where he belongs.””

“Ishran, who- who is this?” Innocent was staring nervously at Fayroe.

The fuchsia slid off the buggy, pulling himself up proudly. “Fayroe Fallen. I’m Ishran’s apprentice.”

“No, you are not.” Ishran rebuked.

Fayroe opened their mouth to argue, but seeing all three of the morails bristling at their mere presence, they changed their mind and shut it again.

“Why is he here?” Innocent frowned.

“I do not know. He followed me from the city and I cannot make him leave.”

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” Innocent mused.

Incoding growled, and Fayroe’s fin-fronds flickered nervously at the sound. “I- hey, look- I’m not doing anything, see?” They raised their hands in surrender, an uncertain smile on their face. “I’m just hanging out with Deadscar.”

“You can ignore him, Incoding. He will do nothing.” Ishran sent a pointed look towards the young troll, who nodded, hopping back up onto Alaric’s buggy and taking a seat.

“Yup! Doing nothing, see?”

“He’s the Enforcer’s brat.” Incoding rumbled.

“Sure am, but you don’t see him risking life and limb for some strange lady in a hole.” Fayroe huffed.

Incoding narrowed his eye, but Innocent stepped forward before they could continue.

“Where is the other one?” He asked, looking around, “I saw three trolls here a moment ago.”

Ishran looked around, too, only to realize Alaric had disappeared. “I do not know.”

“I hath been to see the foremother. Thou doth wish to see her slumber? I think not. I assumed thou would prefer to meet her in her wake.” Alaric’s voice echoed up from the cavern as it emerged from the tunnel. It came to a stop, looking between the morails, before its gaze settled on Ruthless. “Hark, forefather of mine. I am thine descendant, Alaric Evrren.”

Ruthless’ face was completely unreadable as he stared at the young jadeblood. He’d been silent since they’d arrived, his hands trembling at his sides. “Yer…” He said faintly, “Yer my brat?”

“Aye, thine bastard by blood.” Alaric grinned, its tiny fins twitching.

“You’ve got three of them now.” Incoding pat Ruthless’ shoulder sympathetically. “Makeno, Krakyn, and now this one.”

Ruthless could only nod, unable to take his eyes off the jadeblood’s horns. “S… So, she’s in there?” He croaked.

“Aye.” Alaric stood aside and waved into the darkness. “She awaits you, forefather.”

Ruthless swallowed dryly, but didn’t move.

“Ru?” Innocent gently touched the seadweller’s arm. He looked down at the limeblood, then at the goldblood.

“I…”

Innocent smiled softly. “It is okay. We will wait here with the others.”

Ruthless could only nod.

On stiff legs, he moved towards the cavern entrance. He didn’t look back as he was swallowed by the dark, and the others sat down to wait.

Ruthless didn’t know where he was going. It was incredibly dark, even for his sharp eyes. The wind brushing past his fins was cold, and brought him the impression of branching stone halls by the way it moved.

The smell of bleach and incense, of sopor, and the tang of copper were perforated through the air. He was in a brooding cavern, he realized; long abandoned but still operational. He could hear the hum and beeping of vats and recuperacoons in the distance, down the side corridors.

His mind was clamoring and silent at the same time. He didn’t know where he was going; he just moved, without his thinkpan’s command. Trembling fingers reached up and grasped the wedding rings that hung around his throat.

Finally, there was change to the dark around him; the tunnel curved to his left, before it opened into a large chamber, which he stepped into and paused.

A desk, a recuperacoon, dozens of lit candles, scattered papers, weapons- that was all he was able to register, before the shadows moved.

In the quarter of a time it took to blink, there was something sharp pressing against the side of his neck, the cold metal burning against his gills; a spear, he recognized distantly, as he felt a presence practically materialize behind him.

“Who the hell are you?” A low voice snarled in his ear.

Ruthless’ heart wrenched.

He’d know that voice anywhere, even after four hundred sweeps of silence. He closed his eyes, a shuddering breath making its way out of his lungs.

“Lucina.”

The name fell from his lips like the rasp of dying man’s last words.

The silence that hung in the air was momentary, but it spoke of a lifetime. Only to explode like a supernova as the spear hit the floor.

“Erimus?”

A sob punched its way into the seadweller’s throat, and he held his breath as he turned his head to look.

It was her.

She was here. She was real, and alive, and- and she said his name.

“Aye.” He croaked, his eyes brimming with tears. “Aye, Lucy, it’s- it’s me, I-” He went to reach for her, but she stepped back.

Erimus froze, his hand still extended, as he finally seemed to take in the jadeblood’s appearance.

Even in the dim light, he'd know here anywhere. She was his Lucina, but she was… hardened. Older, and greyed. She wore his old cape.

The cape he had buried her in.

“L… Lucina?” He repeated, confused now, as the jadeblood stared at him. “It’s me, it’s- it’s yer Erim.”

“Is it?” She asked; her voice was steady, void of emotion, but it cracked in the air like a whip.

Erimus swallowed the lump in his throat, and could only nod.

Lucina crossed her arms, looking the voiletblood up and down with her eyes. “You look like him.” Her eyes settled on the wedding rings hung around his neck. Her glare bore into them like she was attempting to melt them, scrutinizing the golden bands. Her gaze lifted back to his eyes.

“Where were you?” She demanded, her voice shaking now. “Where have you been, Erimus Faslet?” She stepped forward and seized his shirt, hauling the eight foot seadweller down to her height. “It’s been four hundred sweeps, you rat bastard. Explain yourself, now.”

Erimus reached up and grasped her hand in his own; her fingers were so cold. “I’m sorry.” He rasped, his throat strained and raw from holding in four hundred sweeps of grief. “I’m so sorry.” His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees before her, unable to tear his eyes away from her face. “Ye… Ye died, Lucina. And I- I couldn’t- I couldn’t do it on my own. I didn’t know ye were… like this. If I had known, Lucina, I would have clawed my way out o' hell ta come back- I’m so sorry.”

He bowed his head, his hand clinging to her fist like it was all that tethered him to the world. He was shaking, overwhelmed and painfully sober.

His breath hitched as he heard her fall to her knees, and felt arms wrap around his shoulders. Without hesitation, he embraced her, crushing her to him like he’d die if he ever let her go again.

Her face pressed to his neck, and he buried his in her shoulder. Violet tears slid down his face and sunk into the fabric of her cape. She was crying, too- he could feel her trembling against him.

“I’m so sorry, Lucina.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry I took so long. If I had known, I would’ve-”

“Silence, you fucking fool.” She muttered, hiccupped, before she laughed breathlessly. “You’re here now.”

Erimus could have cried anew. He nodded, his grip tightening around her. “Aye… I’m here now. I’m- I’m here, and I swear I will never leave ye again, Lucina Evrren.”

The rainbow drinker slowly pulled away, gazing up at her husband with tear-filmed eyes, yet not one had slid down her face. She reached up and cupped his stubbly, scarred cheek, and he melted into her touch, turning his head to brush his lips against her palm.

“What good is kissing my hand, Erim, when my lips are right here?” She whispered.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Do ye want me ta kiss you?” He breathed.

She said nothing.

And even after four hundred sweeps, after a thousand years, after they had both died and returned…

He kissed her.

He kissed her like he’d kissed her before, like he’d kissed her when they woke up in the morning together. He kissed her like how he'd done before, after they sparred. He kissed her like he’d he'd returned from a swim at sea and found her waiting. He kissed her like he was the one dying in her arms.

He kissed her like it would hurt to stop.

He felt her new fangs against his lips, and he only kissed her harder.

And she kissed him back, like four hundred sweeps had done nothing to erode their crimson quadrant. She kissed him like the ring around his neck was still on her finger. She kissed him like they’d just seen one another again at the end of a battle. She kissed him like they were in the crow’s nest, watching the stars. She kissed him like she had when she had to say goodbye.

She kissed him like it hurt, and she couldn’t stop.

She tasted booze on his tongue, tasted smoke and grief, and only kissed him all the more fiercely.

When they finally parted, if they ever did, they clung to one another, to the only other warm body in that cold cavern.

Outside, Erimus’ morails and companions waited for them. Outside, their middle child waited, too, adjusting the muzzle on its face. Far from them, deep in the sea, their eldest son waited to see them again. And their youngest waited to meet his foremother.

Outside, the world was waiting. But it hadn’t waited, it hadn’t grieved, for four hundred sweeps. So it could damn well wait, as the Deepbite and the Warhound parted only long enough to whisper to one another. Parted only long enough to remove the seadweller’s necklace. Parted only long enough to slide the rings back onto the fingers of their rightful owners.

Then they held one another, kissed one another, a little longer.

(Everyone please welcome Lucina Evrren! Link leads to her bio!)

#of monsters and matriarchs #story time #long post #the warhound #ruthless deepbite #the innocent #the incoding #the deadscar wanderer #alaric evrren #fayroe fallen

[ask-them-bois]

This Transgender Day Of Remembrance, shout out to all my trans OCs. Y'all kept me going when nothing else did.

#ooc #ooc post #corden blalit #gehero urfath #rufuss wacoba #drayco afasia #oliver maddel #the deadscar wanderer #bohwie akshai #fayroe fallen #the bladepen #the imperial enforcer #alaric evrren #the warhound

[ask-them-bois]

Anyway, who wants to hear some fun facts about Alaric?

Alaric wrote the signs that attempted to warn Ishran and Fayroe away. It has a ring of similar danger signs around its entire territory.

Alaric likes Caverns and Scale-beasts (alternian DnD), but has no one to play with. It gets very shitty wifi out in the desert, so instead it has created dozens of its own OCs to write about. It has a whole file dedicated to CnS oc erotica.

Its main mode of transport is a four-wheeler, or “all-terrain buggy.” It loves to slap some headphones on and go riding as fast as possible over the dunes so it gets airtime.

It has a decommissioned imperial drone at its disposal. It uses the drone to fetch groceries and supplies from the nearest cities instead of going itself.

Despite being a rainbowdrinker, it has never actually drank anyone’s blood. It makes do on the blood from fish that it catches at the oasis near its hive. It fears that if it ever actually drank someone’s blood, there’d be no going back. (Even though it resorted to cannibalism when it first crashed in the desert.)

Despite being a self proclaimed “gentle-soul”, and an actual bleeding heart, hopeless romantic, Alaric isn’t afraid to curbstomp a motherfucker. It was once a mercenary and still remembers all its lessons.

Alaric’s weapon of choice are a pair of morning stars; chain whips that explode on contact with skin.

Alaric is the oldest of the descendants, at 25 yrs old.

One of the patches on Alaric’s pants leg is the signature of Cobalt Condition, Bohwie’s heavy metal band. Alaric is a big fan, despite the two having never met.

#ooc #ooc post #alaric evrren #alaric headcanons

[ask-them-bois]

Survivor: I will never be able to do anything great with my life. I spent the last thousand years of it just in the ocean.

Makeno: Don't say that, yes you will. You're part of a family that has slow starts, same as Alaric and I.

Survivor: What does it matter, I'm adopted.

Alaric: WHAT?! WHO TOLD YOU?!

#listen theyre siblings #they need to have conversations like this #makeno faslet #alaric evrren #the survivor #quotes

[ask-them-bois]

Love the juxtaposition between Alaric “I’m a monster despite my condition being normal on Alternia” Evrren and Ashhur “Oh I’m definitely the freak here but it’s cool” Jaybez.

#ooc #ooc post