#eragon rewrite

[modern-inheritance]

Readers online, do I keep the 'THE DRAGONS!!!' bit in or nah?

oo, or change it to my own one liner?

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #the world of eragon #the inheritance cycle #modern inheritance #eragon rewrite #blegh i hate that tag #it's not a BAD rewrite i swear #i mean i hope it isn't

[rewrite-canon]

INHERITANCE SPOILERS ‼️

this mf fernin was hardly in the book at all and when he was he was just saphira’s piece of dragon booty 💀💀 and he gets to be on the front cover

#like DAMN #saphira really hit it before she quit it #couldn’t say the same for eragon rest in peace #put shruikin on there or something #eragon #eragon bromsson #eragon shadeslayer #arya drottningu #fernin #saphira #saphira brightscales #saphira bjartskular #inheritance #the inheritance cycle #the inheritance trilogy #rewriting

[blizzardstarx]

had to rewrite this shit TWICE cause tumblr is an idiot

more dragon wolf war rp and pontalo stuff!! @castiels-destiny

soo my old discord account had the first part of the DWW rp, and it got hacked, but heres an old screenshot my friend took a long time ago

apparently tiger shark dolphin shapeshifter and bat were actually in the rp!! i had forgotten

hammerhead was a hydrowing royal

basically part one was that my friends oc Quint was working with three others, including Halfmask, to get the dragon crystal from one of the Light Tribe’s big bases, a castle, and the crystal provided protection and power to them

Quint wanted the crystal to kill all the evil dragons and he didn’t know that the Light Tribe was basically the opposite

they kept attacking them and even the BloodWings attacked too

then, they get defeated, Quint dies by Halfmask (who betrays him) and Knight stabbing him in the heart with his sword

Then, second part happens, Quint is partially revived by my friend’s oc Angel (who was in the Angel and Taqqiq (my one fox oc) rp that takes place in the same land) and Wildcat, who finds him.

The original Shadow Tribe cult in Creature school was led by Shruikan (also stolen from Eragon) who was defeated by Halfmask, Knight, and a couple of others, and when it fell apart, Wildcat came back after they left and made a new cult, leading it. The cult wasnt introduced until the second part

Wildcat and Quint part, and Quint attacks the dragons again and again (the cult attacks sometimes also), almost stealing the gem but them snatching it back, then severly injuring Dauntless (Knight’s sister). Halfmask finally knocks some sense into him about how the Light Tribe isnt his enemy and that they werent evil, and the Shadow Tribe was

Quint and Halfmask team up to destroy the cult, Halfmask lending him a bit of his power, and Halfmask gets corrupted by Raven and Wildcat at one point. Quint kills Raven and controls Wildcat into freeing Halfmask. Then, Halfmask frees Wildcat from the Shadow Tribe’s control.

It ends when Quint becomes a hero (his redemption arc is kinda bad and rushed) and gets pyrokinesis powers from a small part of the dragon crystal.

sooo yeahhhh this took ten years after the Shadow Tribe cult thing in Creature School (i stated it somewhere in our discord dms)

Timeline goes: ShapeWing Genocide, Paradox crashes on rp land, gets amnesia, gets adopted by some nightmare fire wolves and turns into a pup named Flame, her adoptive parents get killed by an assassin named Lightning (a SkyWing i think, but actually Abaddon who’s a shapeshifter), turns into a phoenix, and attends the creature school

then things threaten the school, like the wolf that hired the assassin, this one guy named Scar, etc, they then go to a new school, something else happens to the school, (theyre adults at this point. Well Paradox was technically already one but… idk) they travel to Pyrrhia because they find out about this SkyWing group called the Hybrid Assassins, some get captured like Flame and Eclipse and they escape with the help of Torrent, who they met there.

They travel to Pontalo and find out about the BloodWings and King Diabolos, etc. They help the FireWing queen’s dragonet who was sick with a disease caused by the BloodWings, and then ‘defeat’ the real Abaddon.

They leave Pontalo, Flame gets her memories back and becomes partners with Torrent, they rebuild the school, Misty and Fang and Paradox and Torrent have pups and dragonets. Portal plot happens, Abaddon (he was originally a protector of the portals but got casted out and sought revenge) opens up portals that other creatures from other universes come in from and they have to send them back to prevent the universe from collapsing, killing everyone. Then school plot, something else plot, and Shadow Tribe cult plot. There were lots of miniplots and stuff scattered throughout, but thats were the Creature School rp got abandoned.

Ten years later, Angel and Taqqiq rp + DWW rp part ones happen around the same time, then part twos.

I probably forgot a few things because i had to rewrite this twice soooo yeah

There was a prequel to the DWW of Quint and Halfmask’s backstory basically, where Halfmask took up a new mission in something, (idk how to describe it but this prequel is confusing because apparently it was part of the Shadow Tribe, and Quint didnt know about it in DWW even tho he was in it) and this was before their crew in DWW part one. It was actually focused on their mutual friend named Raptor whose my oc and my friend’s oc Jack, but it did feature Quint and Halfmask quite a lot. It was also a prequel to the Angel and Taqqiq rp.

#blizz’s nonsense #Pontalo!!! #Halfmask!!! #Wildcat!!! #ocs #im actually pissed from having to rewrite this twice 😭😭😭

[everythingloveandanimated]

Probably low chance of happening…

but I really want Murtagh and Thorn to meet Rhunon.

(Not in order)

Rhunon is happy that Zar’roc has been renamed and that Murtagh has taken it upon himself to rewrite the sword’s history. Also proud of him in her own way.

Thorn: If it’s not an imposition, Rhunon-elda, may I watch you work?

Rhunon questions Thorn’s interest in smithing. Thorn: I suppose you could say I’m interested in the creation of art. Turning ordinary things into works of beauty.

Rhunon makes a comments about Murtagh resemblance to Morzan and Thorn’s scale colors being similar to the scales on Morzan’s dragon.

Thorn asks what Morzan’s dragon was like.

Murtagh asks why Morzan named his sword “Misery”.

They got onto the topic of Eragon and Rhunon making Brisingr. Rhunon says that Eragon “pestered” her into making one. Murtagh chuckles at Eragon’s persistence. Rhunon asks what Murtagh thinks of Eragon and their relationship as kin.

In the forge Murtagh creates a poem stanza but finds it hard to write outside the forge as if the inspiration leaves him and what he’s trying to capture in words can only be captured in the proper atmosphere.

Rhunon becomes interested in his scribbling, Murtagh reads it hoping the Attenwrack, the meter from Galbatorix’s court, doesn’t offend the elf. She comments that it’s not as melodious as the elven meter. She mentions that Eragon wrote a poem, more like an epic, for his first Agenti Blodren.

Murtagh gets a bit miffed at once again being compared to his brother. Thorn gives him a nudge and his own soothing thoughts.

She gives him some tips about writing poems. Murtagh creates stanzas based on what he sees, sort of recording the world as he sees it. Or it’s something born of something he feels. He doesn’t have any grand plans of a compilation of his poems. Merely just the observations of a traveler (or a man dealing with his past.)

At some point this comes up…

Murtagh: I grew up around gilded tongues Rhunon-elda. I may not always like what it said, but I prefer a blunt truth over veiled statements.

Rhunon applauds this.

Thorn comments that Murtagh is an accomplished dancer, this briefly piques Rhunon’s interest.

Murtagh: The steps from the court of the mad king won’t offend you?

Rhunon: if you can still enjoy the steps after all, he’s put you through. I will be fine. Cheeky hatchling.

Thorn rumbling with laughter: I’ve never heard someone call you a hatchling like that!

Murtagh: in the case of years, you’re more of a hatchling than I am.

Thorn: perhaps. Though given her age I assume you’re practically fresh out of your egg.

Murtagh scoffs with humor.

Thorn: Queen Arya is probably also a hatchling to her.

Murtagh briefly remembers the day Thorn hatched. Thorn touched his arm with his snout, positioning himself behind Murtagh as a human would to give a hug from behind.

Thorn: I do not regret hatching for you, dearest friend.

Murtagh curves his arm to caress Thorn’s lower jaw and leans his head against Thorn’s head. Eyes closed, a smile as he soaks in Thorn’s comfort and affirmation.

Rhunon sees this and notes the softness in their relationship that wasn’t as prevalent with Morzan and his dragon. It warms her to see Morzan’s son so gentle. She watches as Murtagh stands to wrap both arms around Thorn’s snout; they lean into each other.

Rhunon: You were a foreboding scourge to us, Morzan. But for his all sins your son does not have the same twisted nature you do. She softens. The boy must get that from his mother.

Not Rhunon related, but Murtagh and Thorn do briefly meet Dusan and Alanna, the two Elven children of Du Waldenvarden. They briefly interact with Thorn who rumbles contentedly from their touch. Murtagh is taken by their youthful beauty. As they depart Murtagh realizes that the children would be potential targets for Du Eld Draumars if they had any cult supporters in Du Waldenvarden, He thinks darkly that if anyone threatened or set hands on the children, he would personally see to it that their captors would not live to see another sunrise.

When Murtagh and Thorn leave Du Weldenvarden, they say goodbye to Rhunon. It’s understood that there is a respect between them. Rhunon appreciates Murtagh’s mission, she appreciates Thorn’s compliments and appreciation of her work. Murtagh and Thorn respect her as a smith and thank her for her time, allowing them to be in her forge, and for her wisdom. She wishes them well.

#murtagh book #murtagh morzansson #thorn inheritance cycle #rhunon inheritance cycle #world of eragon

[grumbledumble]

INTRODUCTION-⭐️ • IMFO-🖋 • BOUNDRIES-💥

⭐️ — Hello, call me Grumble. I'm a content creator here.

🖋 — I post SCP, Eragon (sometimes), and my OC's.

Speaking of OC'S

I mainly post OC x Cannon.

Such as

• Anthony (oc) x Alto Clef

• Dr. Shawn White (oc) x Dr. Elias Shaw (B*ight rewrite)

I do my best to tag all my posts with the tags necessary.

🖌 - Artist on Tumbler, artwork, digital art, my artwork, oc, ocs, oc artwork

⚠️ - SCP, SCP community, SCP Fandom, SCP foundation

🐉- Eragon, The Inheritance Cycle

And of course, feel free to ask any questions you may have. My inbox is always open :)

💥 — No Proship, Incest, Pedo, Fakeclaming, racism, ETC.

Do NOT tag ANY of my art with Dr. B*ight.

I will not engage nor interact with internet discourse. I do not have the patients to do so, and there are better things I can do with my time on this earth then argue with internet strangers.

[ao3feed-inheritancecycle]

the world for one triumph

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/W9NvbaS

by ReAvRaAr

After killing Vrael, Galbatorix is alone on Utgard. After years of war he's finally defeated the dragonriders... but does it bring back what he has lost?

Words: 872, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini, Eragon (2006)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: Galbatorix (Inheritance Cycle), Vrael (Inheritance Cycle), Shruikan (Inheritance Cycle)

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, who would want to comfort galby tho, Blood and Gore, like a lot of blood and a little gore, Past Character Death, im something of a jarnunvösk mourner myself, she didnt deserve to die, Character Study, ? I guess, Madness, i listened to way down we go during writing AND rewriting, it just belongs with this story in my head

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/W9NvbaS

#ao3feed #fanfic #inheritance cycle #the inheritance cycle #eragon

[daughter-of-inklings]

Author Ask Tag Game ✧･ﾟ: *

Thank you, @digital-chance for the tag on this game!

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it? The main lesson of the book is the consequences of choice. The world begins because a spirit is lonely and chooses to look for and create a partner. And from their relationship, comes the gods and the worlds. The Earth Mother chooses create a guardian out of Yggdrasil's wood, and to give them the mission to protect the tree and life within in. The moon chooses to engage with a mortal king, despite knowing the consequences, and chooses to keep their daughter, choosing to send her to the mortal realm to be kept safe. There's a routinely ingrained idea of choice, of choosing to be kind and to help others despite knowing it'll end in tragedy and heartbreak, choosing to be good, choosing to continue a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth to perform the duties you were assigned even when the person who gave them is long since dead.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)? Mix of cool things I've found on Pinterest, mix of Princess Mononoke/Maleficent, mix of Nordic ad Greek mythologies, mix of cool movie scenes I've watched, and also some sprinkled LOTR and Eragon in there.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person? My MC simply wants to go home, and live a quiet and peaceful life with her adoptive parents. But she's been cursed to die and be reborn, over and over and over, to fight the antagonist in every life, to meet a tragic end by their hands or her own hands. I'm not particularly trying to teach anything, I saw this story played out in a dream and I think I owe it to my MC to tell her story.

How many chapters is your story going to have? It's an epic high fantasy, so somewhere between 30-40, maybe more. Only Gods know. I don't.

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it? It's original content! It's posted over here on Wattpad , because I have a soft spot for that abomination website since I started using it when I was a teenager.

When and why did you start writing? When I was a little girl, my mom used to sit with me at night and read faerytales for me to fall asleep. Eventually we ran out of faerytales in the library, so we had to start making up our own and writing them down. I was maybe 2, so I learned to write by tracing the letters she wrote into paper with my finger. Once I got hold of a notebook and pencil, I started writing stories on my own. We've been here since.

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow? Legitimately, no idea. I kind of just got here. If I could give anyone writing any advice, it'd be to just get it all down on paper as best you can- form a habit of writing, little by little, and it'll add up to a lot. Don't worry about cliches, don't worry about plot holes or rewriting, or you'll get caught up in an endless cycle of self-doubt and rewriting, and never progress. Let your writing be self-indulgent, let it be over the top, and let it be ridiculous. You'll have a lot more fun that way. || I follow uh, pretty much anyone I see in my notes often, tbh. I would like to make friends on here, everyone's WIPs sound so cool! I wanna hear more.

Tagging, non-committedly ofc: @thesoftestofpetals , @foureyedentity , @elean0rarose , @jay-avian , @crowandmoonwriting , @camillenrose , @fayeiswriting , @mxxnwishes, and anyone else who wants to, this is a free and open invitation to answer these!

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

#ink’s scribbles #writeblr #fantasy writeblr #writing #fantasy writing #writers on tumblr #fantasy novel #author ask tag #tag games #these are fun! #also ofc template under the cut

[ashirisu]

18 and 19 for the writer asks ☺️

Thank you so much for the questions! 🥰 Ask is for this post.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.

I was really hoping someone would ask this! Here’s a clip from a piece I wrote titled The Aftertaste of Forgiveness:

Absolutions weren’t meant to be so bitter. They weren’t meant to bite at the sides of his tongue like a burn that wouldn’t heal. He’d spoken them before, relished their flavors in his mouth—sweet and satisfying, like liberation and joy and freedom and second chances. They tasted like relief, like a burden lifted by the strong and loving arms of someone who listened and cared. It was growing harder and harder to feel as though anyone was listening or caring as of late.

I loved writing this story, and this passage in particular. I wrote it for one of my previous D&D campaigns, shortly after this character had a devastating argument with mine. Their dynamic was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed exploring his side of the fight and the ways in which his religious trauma and relationship with my character played into his feelings about the whole ordeal.

I recently touched up this piece for my writing group and decided to lean hard into the purple prose. Apparently not hard enough—my group recommended I incorporate more sensory words, so I'm excited to do a third pass soon!

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I'm one of those writers who technically started before I can remember, but I do know I started taking it really seriously when I was around eleven. Eragon had just gotten a movie deal, and I was shocked to realize that teenagers could write bestselling novels. I decided I was going to be one of them, and immediately started on a fantasy series that was really just a bad Twilight Princess fanfic.

I loved writing, but I was a Gifted Kid™ in a small town and I let the adults in my life convince me there wasn't a future to be had in it as a career. I spent four miserable years pursuing a STEM degree I didn't want until I wised up and started prioritizing my writing again with a more applicable degree path.

These days, I mostly work behind the scenes as a developmental fiction editor! When I do write, it's largely flash fiction and short stories that are just for fun. I'm putting more time and effort toward submitting and (hopefully!) getting published this year, so fingers crossed.

I haven't forgotten my roots, though. That first fantasy story is still in my drafts, currently in the midst of what feels like its millionth rewrite!

#ask game response #writers on tumblr #writeblr ask game #writing ask game #ask game #writing community #give an ask get an ask

[ninjakitten1699]

Tag some peeps you wanna get to know better!

Tagged by @dinogaby

Favorite color: Blue-gray or Sea-foam Green. It bounces back and forth every now and then.

Currently reading: Haven't picked up a physical book in a long time. I did however complete this amazing fic a while ago called The Ultimate Evil. I 100% recommend reading that and its sequel, especially if you've seen Jackie Chan Adventures and/or have a thing for villain romances. (DONOVAN94 has written more than a few villain romance fanfics including one for Lord Shen and another being a crossover with The Hobbit and Eragon.)

Last song: Vending Machine of Love by The Stupendium.

Last series: I tried watching Mighty Morphin Power Rangers but I just couldn't stick to it. Maybe I'll give it another chance some other day.

Last movie: Ratchet & Clank. It was a tie in to the 2016 reboot.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: I have to actually think about what I want to taste. Usually its either sweet or savory, nothing too spicy though, mostly because I have no idea how I'll feel afterwards.

Relationship status: Forever single at this point.

Favorite food: Don't really know. Pizza, pasta, chips, just about anything I can feel comfortable with.

Song stuck in my head: anything phonk related. Murder In My Mind by Kordhell. (Love the original but I also love the edited sped up version around 43 seconds)

Last thing I googled: "godzilla body pillow" (It was a TikTok video and I didn't mind my business)

Time: 10:49 PM

Dream vacation: Anywhere I can consider cozy. Maybe someday, if and when I ever consider traveling I do want to be in a mountain lodge. Not like a resort or anything but literally just a little hut in the forest far enough to tell society to go screw itself without consequences.

Currently working on: putting old writing prompts down on paper for future reference/inspiration, and getting to work on rewriting my fanfic.

I’m tagging @alena-1987, @sweatshirt-ninja, @autumn2art, @brightlotusmoon, and @moonprincess101.

#tag game #get to know me better #ninjakitten’s things #spinpost #spinposting

[rigil-kentauris]

so for the writer currently they have a guy who, and not to judge a persons past but who has accompanying his four total credits one uncredited rewrite for the screenplay for eragon so thats peachy

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Escape, Part 2.3: Fight/Flight

(A/N: FINALLY. The last part for what is technically part one! You're gonna have to give me some time for rest and planning and edits again before we get any more of this series out. But despite the painful process to get this done, I actually find myself enjoying the end product. Sounds weird to say it that way, but I actually hit all the things I wanted to hit in this! and even added more!

Without further ado, here is the actual escape from Gil'ead.) ~~~

Eragon met the man-shaped monster’s maroon eyes with his own. Brom’s words rattled in his skull, facts, warnings, tactics. Everything Brom had told him said to run if faced with a Shade. 

“What a smart little boy you are, my young Rider.” His sharpened teeth clicked, a displeased note among the mocking words. He reached up a hand and unclasped the sable cape at his shoulders and let it drop to the floor, revealing a sword strapped to his slim waist. Despite the flutter of fabric, Eragon kept his eyes squarely on the monster’s face, not daring to look away for even a moment. “I’m afraid, though, that your little jaunt is at its end.” The smile took on a snarl at the edges. “I do hope you will not go quietly.”

Eragon drew Zar’roc and danced back two strides in a single fluid motion. He wasn’t going to engage the Shade with words, not this time. 

The tense standoff was shattered by a single, clipped shout.

“‘EY!” A red auto injector pinged off the Shade's temple, knocking his head to the side by a full inch. Both he and the young Rider whirled to find the elf woman standing tall, her sword drawn and pointed at the man-shaped monster. Her voice was rough, months of nothing but silence, screaming and swearing having taken their toll. But the vehement growl was audible enough. 

“You're fighting me.”

That look. There was a wild, raging fire in her eyes, sharp and directed at the Shade and the Shade alone. Eragon had never seen such unbridled determination in any creature’s eyes but Saphira’s, the strength and tenacity to back it up. 

There was no way Eragon could convince her to stand down. He stepped back, perpendicular to the line drawn between these two beings steeped in magic. 

Or at least, he tried to. 

He felt rather than saw the Shade moving, the change in the air pressing against his cheek only noticeable due to his attunement with Saphira’s natural instincts in the sky. Another surge ripped in front of him, sent him flying back ten feet to slide across the top of a table, scrabbling to grab the sheeting across it and stop his momentum. 

The crash of metal on metal was near instantaneous with the burst of motion, and the Shade and the elf were suddenly locked together where the boy had stood. 

Eragon stared, dumbfounded, from where he had landed in a pile of tablecloth and protective sheeting on the floor. It couldn’t have even been more than a second.

The Shade’s cold chuckle filled the room. “Do you really think you can best me, little elf?” His smile held a wild undercurrent of its own, eyes wide with unexpected glee as he leaned in over their crossed blades. “I know all your weaknesses, I can take you apart in every way that makes you scream, and you think you can–”

The elf snapped her head back and slammed it into the bridge of the Shade’s nose. 

Black blood sprayed across the monster’s face with a satisfying, squelching crunch. He howled and disengaged, shoved his sword against the elf’s to propel himself back as she did the same. 

“Shut the fuck up and fight, you rat-faced bastard!” 

With that the woman drove forward again, and Eragon lost track of who was who and what was what in the blur of blade and limb. 

“A little help!” 

Murtagh’s shout cut through his stupor. Eragon scrambled to his feet and leapt over the fallen benches. A guard was gaping at the servant’s entrance to Murtagh’s right, the rogue’s hands full with the crossbeam. Eragon cut the intruder down just as he began to turn back and shout down into the hall, rushed footsteps echoing against the stone.

“Doors!” Murtagh grunted. The tendons in his neck stood out as he heaved one end of the beam into the bracket. “And tell Saphira to get on with it!”

As if on cue the entire dining hall boomed. Masonry dust rained down. Eragon looked up, alarmed, only to throw himself against the servants entrance door and scrabble for the deadbolt when two guards clattered into the entry. “Working on it!”

“Left!” Loud Urû’baenite swearing replaced coherent language as the large main doors jolted, dislodging the beam. “Other door!”

Screaming echoed down from the rooftop. It was soon drowned out by the screech of what had to be metal on stone, ear piercing and enough to make both Durza and Arya flinch. Neither one gave, their blades a blur in the dust laden air as chunks of mortar and wood began to rain down about their heads.

Arya wouldn’t lie to herself. Hell, she could never lie during battle. This was not a fight she could win definitively, but she would try her damndest. And she had at least one advantage over the Shade. 

‘He can’t kill me. He’s been ordered not to.’ A surge of battle-joy despite the pain creeping in between her shoulder blades made her gnash her teeth in a determined smile. ‘And I’ve got a score to settle.’

His blade suddenly came up dangerously close to her face. She leapt back, threw out her right wrist when the space wasn’t enough and deflected it on the shackle still clamped around her arm. It skated off with a shower of sparks. 

Her hand went numb from the force of the blow. That was closer than expected. ‘Alright, maybe he is trying to kill me.’ She was back in his space again, slipped a foot behind his and dipped under his slash to slam her elbow into his chest. In retaliation he brought his other leg up and shoved her back, flipped over her trip and landed with the ease and elegance of a dancer.

Then it was back to the whirlwind. 

Eragon slammed the latch on the last servant's entrance closed and turned only to shove his body against the main doors as they juddered inward again. 

“Jes’ hold ‘et!” Murtagh’s face was beet red with strain. “Hold ‘et closed!” Eragon swore in response, sweat rolling down his own forehead and into the corner of his eye as he crouched and threw all of his weight into the doors. With a mighty roar his companion managed to scoop the beam up in his arms and staggered forward. 

He had to raise on his tiptoes to clear the tips of the brackets, but he did it. The beam fell into place with a solid clatter, and Murtagh slumped down, chest heaving. He gulped in two mouthfuls of air before he wiped his mouth on his ragged sleeve and choked out, “Get under something.” 

Despite his leaden limbs Eragon shook his head. Feeling was coming back the more air he took in, the lightheadedness fading. “What about–”

“Shut up and do it!” The man ran and grabbed one of the benches and began sliding it over to the doors. “If you get your head caved in then we’re all dead.”

The combat stims were wearing off. Arya grit her teeth and tried to push through the lead collecting in her veins. Wyrda had never felt heavy before. She was dimly aware that something on her back had opened, probably more than one something, and she was rapidly losing more blood than she could spare. 

Durza threw an arm out, and with a panicked jolt the elf realized he wasn’t pointing towards her. Her gaze snapped to the side, where the Rider boy had been, foot already planted and pivoting. Weight shifting, twisting through the heavy air to put herself in front of the Shade again, block his view.

It was only when his blade, unyielding and just suddenly there, bit deep into her hip did she see the Rider over his shoulder, dashing for a table as rubble rained from the sky. Entirely opposite where Durza was pointing. 

‘Oh fuck me.’ 

Her leg gave out and her knee slammed to the floor hard. She could see Durza smiling, lips moving, the familiar cold of his hand around her throat. She let out a clipped cough when her ribs slammed into the side of a table, tossed like no more than a damn ragdoll. 

Despite what had to be the absolute cacophony of the chaos above, the soldiers crashing against the doors as the young man in rags barred them, the screaming of slate and metal, all Arya could hear were the softly hissed words from Durza’s mouth as she struggled to get back on her knees. 

That spell. 

Desperation was a hell of a painkiller. She needed only one leg to launch herself at him, forced herself up, dug her nails into the flagstones for purchase and gripped Wyrda’s hilt tight as the world spun and dipped and shoved off–

And her nerves, her blood, her bones, brain, whatever the fuck was left of her soul, her entire broken body was shattered in an instant. 

Hitting the ground felt like…there was no word for it. 

All she could do now was wait for it to stop. 

Eragon whipped around at a crash of one of the tables slamming into another. The elf woman was already up again, nearly up, on her knees, looked about ready to throw herself at the Shade– 

And not even a second later her eyes flared wide and she collapsed with a sound he would never forget. A scream beyond agonized, ragged, torn, like her mind was being ripped away. 

Eragon didn’t know what possessed him. A surge of something new, something primal, screaming at him to protect. 

The Rider leapt from his cover and barked out a command to Murtagh. “Help her!” 

Without hesitation Eragon was scrambling, dashing, swooped down to pick up one of the fist sized chunks of rock from the shaking ceiling and, with perfect aim, slammed to a stop and whipped his arm through the air.

For the second time that day, that fucking hour, a projectile collided with the Shade’s temple. 

The creature staggered. The scream stopped, and the elf curled into a shaking ball with a strangled groan. Murtagh was already halfway to her, rifle slung under his arm, a trauma dressing package from the pilfered supplies clamped in his teeth.

The Shade started towards them, hand again beginning to reach out from where he had clutched the gash on his head.

“I’m not done with you!” Eragon roared. Stunned at his sudden appearance, the Shade lifted his arm and was rewarded by Zar’roc slashing through the meat of his forearm. He snarled and spun to face the young Rider. 

The first strike nearly spun Zar’roc out of his hands. Eragon shifted his stance as the next blow came, tilted the wine red blade so that the Shade’s sword slid across it rather than slammed into the edge. 

He spun away and approached from another angle. This wasn’t going to be a battle of strength. It was wits that would save him.

He didn’t dare flick his gaze up. ‘Hurry, Saphira.’ 

Murtagh hit his knees next to the elf and shoved the mahogany bench away. The sheet on the table had been ripped off at some point, and with the stone coming down around them Murtagh grabbed the woman by the shoulder of her prison tunic and dragged her under with him.

“Hey, ya’ alright.” Her eyes were glassy when they snapped to him, a hand clamping around his wrist as he tried to pry her from her side onto her back. “Easy! I’m helping!” 

He could feel blood cooling on his skin when her fingers slipped off. She tried to sit up, trembling and holding her side while trying to keep hold of the sword still in her nearly limp left hand. 

“Not a good idea!” A rock the size of an Urgal’s head bounced off the bench opposite their hiding place. He pushed her back down, alarmed at how easy it was. She had ripped apart a locker with what amounted to her bare hands earlier, and now she was shaking like a leaf and couldn’t push him away.

“You gotta stay with me, lass.” Murtagh pleaded. “You’re hurt, you’ll just make it worse.” Elves, Shades, dragons, Dragon Riders. The entire roof coming down over his head because a dragon was ripping it apart. He was rapidly starting to find he had a wits end and was maybe, just maybe, in a little bit over his head. 

“He’ll kill him.”

Murtagh nearly missed the rasped words, busy tearing the dressing packet open with his teeth while his free hand held pressure on the elf’s bleeding hip. He tossed aside the packaging with a practiced flick of his wrist, and with a gruff word of warning, none-too-gently shoved the thick gauze material into the gash. 

When he looked at her face she was craning her neck, trying to watch Eragon and the Shade with unfocused eyes. Murtagh followed her gaze, drawn to the flickers of red and white steel that flashed in the melee. 

Eragon was a skilled swordsman. Murtagh knew that fact well, still wearing the fading welts from their last sparring session. But there was no way he could best a Shade. The monster was just playing with him, dragging out the inevitable end where the boy would be overpowered and recaptured. 

But Eragon didn’t have to beat him. He just had to stall him, and the Shade was playing right into their hand.

“Don’t worry about him, yeah?” Murtagh smiled. Zar’roc bobbed and dipped, a familiar flourish that the Rider had picked up from his sparring bouts with the young man. Executed perfectly after so many nights practicing. “Eragon’s got it handled. Saphira’s almost here, we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“Saphira?” The rogue snapped his full attention back to the woman. The mumble was more slur than words, and Murtagh grabbed the side of her neck when he realized her eyes were closed. Her skin was disturbingly pale, pulse erratic under his thumb. “‘Fira’s dead.” 

“Hey!” She didn’t answer, head lolling to the side. “I just fucking said– Damn it!” 

The Shade had lost his mocking smile, a snarl full of filed teeth and fury filling his pale face. A harsh growl ripped from his throat when the young Rider managed to skate his blade across the flat of Zar’roc again, a deft mix of footwork and unpredictable half strikes putting the boy just out of his reach. 

The next blow was no longer at a fraction of his strength. Eragon’s trembling hands went numb, wrists zinging with pain when their swords connected one final time. The impact drove him to his knees, and with a clipped shout Zar’roc was ripped from his grasp and smashed to the shaking floor.

“Your resistance is laughable, boy.” Eragon raised his eyes to meet the Shade’s, lungs burning with exhaustion. “You are the last gasp of a dying creed, and a pitiful one at that.” The snarl was turning up again, triumph and mockery dripping from his thin lips. “If you are all the Riders have to offer in their time of need, then the fact that Galbatorix required the thirteen to destroy your order is yet another sign of just how weak and unfit the Riders were.”

A flicker of sapphire blue flashed over the last remaining skylight. 

Ah. That made sense then. 

A calm settled over Eragon’s racing mind. He reached out and twined his mental threads with his partner’s, felt her strength flow to him. 

‘Saphira. Now would be a good time.’

“I think you’re forgetting something.” The unnervingly serene tone to the boy’s voice made the Shade’s step falter. 

No matter. He continued to stride toward his prize. “Oh really? And what, pray tell, could that be?”

A skull shaking roar rippled into the room, and suddenly the night sky filled a corner of the hall. 

Eragon threw himself back, reclaimed Zar’roc in hand, and let the falling rubble separate him from his foe. “THE DRAGONS!”

The Shade’s face transformed from that of a mocking victor to a shocked and confused witness. Eragon was already out of reach by the time he recovered and with a wordless howl the man-shaped monster launched himself forward to reclaim his captive.

Eragon hit the floor and rolled to his knees just in time to see a puff of black blood spray from the Shade’s outstretched arm. The Rider snapped his head to the side and silently cheered. Murtagh had his rifle up, kneeling in the dust and debris. The elf was slung over his shoulders, her pack on the young man’s back, none of it affecting his aim. 

The Shade stopped. The split second of surprise was overridden when he slowly turned his gaze to the rogue. “You’ll have to do much. Better. Than that. To stop m–”

The rifle coughed again. Murtagh didn’t blink. The Shade’s head snapped back.

Even among the crashing stone and splintering wood, the shriek was earsplitting. Despite the hole in his head, the shattered bullet lodged in the massive doors behind him, the monster lifted his rapidly changing hands to his blood splattered face. His skin was fading, stretching tighter and tighter, translucent and taut. 

Something pulsed beneath the membrane. In a final, horrific scream the Shade exploded, blood coalescing into a black mist. When it settled to the ground, all that was left was a pile of clothing and the beast’s white steel sword.

Eragon scrambled to his feet and dashed to Murtagh’s side. “You killed him!” 

“I’m not so sure.” The young man’s face was grim. He lowered the rifle. “Saphira! Get in here!”

At Murtagh’s call a pair of taloned claws gripped the sagging chunk of roof beside the gaping hole and ripped it back. Saphira stuck her head in the new space and growled, warning any who dared harm her Rider that they would soon be joining the masonry at the bottom of the keep’s walls should they enter. 

The clatter outside the doors suddenly fell silent.

Eragon threw open his arms, unable to contain himself any longer. “Saphira!”

Her glittering eyes caught on him. A bugle of elation and relief rippled from her throat, and without a moment’s hesitation Saphira dropped down into the dining hall. Tables crunched under her weight, her tail sweeping away piles of rock and broken wood as she barreled into her Rider’s embrace. Eragon fell to the floor, the wind knocked from his ribs, but was up just as fast, trying to envelop all of his Partner of Heart and Mind with his too-small arms.

‘Little One.’ Her hum rumbled through his chest. His aching muscles eased, the burning tightness and anxiety that had riddled him since their separation finally abating. They were whole again. ‘I’ve missed you.’ The dragon lowered her head, gently nosed him closer to her even though he was hanging on as tightly as he could. ‘Have they hurt you? Shall I tear them from this world?’

The offer made him laugh. He knew she was entirely serious. ‘I’ve missed you more than anything.’ Despite the sharpness of her scales he nuzzled his face against her chest. 

“Very sweet, very touching.” Murtagh grunted. He was already by Saphira’s side, shoving the stuffed laundry sack into her saddlebags. “Can we get a move on? She’s heavier than she looks.”

‘Excuse me?’ Saphira balked at the comment. She pulled away from her Rider and swung her head to fix Murtagh with a sharp glare. ‘Are you calling mWhat is that?’ A sudden hiss shot through her teeth. ‘An elf? How–’

Eragon bolted to Murtagh’s side and hurriedly released the elf’s pack from his back, lashing it to Saphira’s saddle. ‘She’s the woman I’ve been seeing. The Shade had her captive here this whole time.’ Alarm at the mention of a Shade crashed through their link. ‘Can you carry us all? We can’t just leave her here.’

‘Of course I can.’ He could hear the almost offended sniff in her mental tone. He smiled and placed a hand on her warm shoulder. ‘But we should hurry. You’ve really kicked the hornet’s nest this time.’

‘To be fair, I did have help.’ 

With Eragon’s help, Murtagh hoisted the elf up into the saddle. The Rider followed her up, then helped his friend clamber on. The banging on the doors had started again, this time with the deep rhythm of a battering ram. 

Sure her passengers were secure, Saphira bunched her powerful hind limbs and leapt onto the remnants of the dining hall’s roof. Shouts from across the keep rang out, a clatter and host of clicks rising into the night as weapons began hauling around to aim inside rather than out. 

“Get a move on!” Murtagh’s voice held an edge of panic. 

Saphira snorted. ‘Featherless chicken. Now you shall learn to fly!’ And with that, she took three great bounds and launched herself from the roof and into the night beyond.

Eragon ducked out of instinct. The whiz of bullets cutting through the air buzzed in his ears. ‘Climb!’ He gripped the saddle tightly as Saphira tilted in an attempt to evade. ‘Saphira, higher!’

‘Stop getting seconds, then!’ She snapped back. A savage growl ripped from her throat as she drove her wings down, struggling to gain altitude. Pain lanced through Eragon’s arms as several projectiles tore through the thin membrane of her wings. 

It was a few more panic laden seconds before Saphira breached the thin layer of clouds, bursting through with a hiss deep in her chest. Eragon pressed his palm against her scales, feeling her trembling beneath them. ‘You’re hurt.’ It wasn’t a question.

Saphira strained and flapped hard twice more, getting further into the sky before finally gliding a stretch. ‘There’s…there’s something in the muscle.’ Burning, grating, so dangerously close to bone. ‘I…I will be fine, Little One. Brom is not far.’

‘I’ll heal you when we land. I’m sorry.’ He tilted his head back to let the wind catch and carry his words to Murtagh. “Saphira’s hurt! I have to heal her when we land.” The young man grunted in affirmation. He didn’t seem all that thrilled to be so high up. “Is the elf okay?”

“She’s out cold.” Murtagh had to yell to make himself heard. “I got her patched up as best I could, but she’s not in good shape. Brom should take a look at her before we go further.”

“Will do.” 

With that decided, Eragon returned his hands to either side of Saphira’s neck. Her shaking was regular, breath labored. ‘You are amazing, Saphira.’ Careful of her spikes, he lowered his forehead to rest on her scales. ‘Absolutely amazing.’

The dry grin of ivory teeth reached his mind’s eye, her words half panted and half chuckled. ‘You could stand to mention that more often.’ 

Eragon smiled. ‘Every day.’

They sailed off into the night, bedraggled, limping, but finally, together again.

~~~

(Post-A/N: Thank you again to everyone who has read and reviewed or commented or whatever it's called nowadays. I'll keep the blog updated on progress for the next sections and hopefully can have something out in a month? I gotta stop giving timelines. Don't you ever start actually expecting stuff to be out when I say it will. This was a fluke since I had to break this monster up into sections. As promised to another reader I will be listening to Murtagh over this next week at work, so might have to slow down on this, but I'll keep it in mind.

Cheers everyone! Thanks again for reading!)

#eragon #inheritance cycle #the cyclists #the world of eragon #the inheritance cycle #modern inheritance #modern inheritance stories #murtagh (eragon) #murtagh (inheritance) #murtagh morzansson #Saphira #arya #arya drottningu #arya (inheritance) #eragon rewrite #the great escape #the great escape wip #arya (eragon) #durza #gil'ead #fighting shadows #escape from gil'ead #non verbal communication #sign language #homesign #riders signs

[rewrite-canon]

literally was having a murtagh brainrot only to find out that we’re getting a murtagh novel come the end of this year??? a sign from god truly.

#GOD EXISTS AND ITS PAOLINI #my husband #i want roran in it too #AND NASUADAAAAA #im rioting if my starvrossed nasagh dont get a happy ending plssss #fuck it i want katrina and arya and literally everyone in it #the inheritance cycle #eragon #murtagh morzansson #rewriting #nastgh #mursuada

[justarandomsloth]

3d Asks Part 2

*sighs* I did bring this upon myself didn’t I..

(Questions/Answers under the cut)

Either book 8 (Winter Turning), book 14 or DarkStalker (which was the first one I read)

hmm…. I’d say probably Irza or Vara… I can’t decide

(however I would like to see Rick the Dick get the karma he deserves)

WoF around 4-5 years I think?!?! It’s been a while! Eragon only 3-4 years ago.

I never redraw the FULL picture but when I’m working on it I’ll redraw a LOT. I’ve never redrawn a finished drawing tho

(I might to see how I’ve improved)

NOT AS MUCH AS I SHOULD!!

What I do is I work in chunks and will rewrite different parts over and over. Once something is finished (even if I hate it) I just can’t be bothered to rewrite it. Also I rarely proofread…

(Poisoned Arrows is an example because I’ve had that written for a while but never rewrote any of it before posting)

—

Thanks so much for the questions I actually enjoyed them! (Even tho I’d never admit it)

#Sloth Q’s #3d ask #I’m finally done #I’m free #Ive learned my lesson 3d I swear #that won’t stop me from doing it again in the future tho #Because I am stubborn

[weirdponytail]

Modern Inheritance: Sleeping Arrangements/Hotel Pit Stop

(A/N: Some more traveling Eragon and Co. on their way to the Varden post Gil’ead. If it’s not apparent, the mad rush to the Varden mainly starts after ‘Judge You Not.’

There’s a lot of character interaction in this one, and I used it to build a little of the world, the relationships between characters, and dialogue rhythms. Again, this is an older MIC story {most of the stories posted en masse today are my earlier stories that I’ve built upon}, so I have changed a bit of the lore and tech levels, but I still enjoy the story.)

~~~

"Good evening, ma'am. Are there any rooms available?" Brom smiled at the desk attendant, ignoring her ill concealed disgust at the grime covering himself and the young men behind him. It wasn't the finest hotel in the world, but it was still cleaner than a roadside motel and had a nice touch of class to it for their higher rates.

It was the only place that still had the vacancy sign on, so Brom had grudgingly agreed to see if they had a room that could accommodate them. Everyone needed a boost in morale, and a night in a bed and a hot shower would do the trick to lift their spirits. It was isolated enough that it would take a long time for any soldiers to reach them if anyone recognized them, and Saphira was well hidden in the small forest nearby. She could respond to any danger and was far enough away to be virtually undetectable.

The clerk sighed and clicked a few keys on the bulky computer in front of her. "It's one-thirty-two Crowns for a two queen bedroom. Non-smoking." She glared at the pipe poking out of Brom's upper pocket. "Two hundred for cleaning fees if you smoke inside."

"I understand. Do you have a room with a window, by any chance?"

"It's ten extra Crowns." The woman all but sneered at him.

Behind him Brom heard Eragon shift, obviously upset about the clerk's clear plan of pocketing the extra money. Murtagh didn't react, his eyes constantly scanning the room and marking exits. He surreptitiously tugged the strap holding his holstered rifle a little lower, uneasy in the open lobby.

Brom nodded calmly despite the extra charge. "We'll take it. Do you have any roller beds so my boys don't have to split sheet? The kid kicks like a horse." Grumbling, the woman stood and pulled a folded up rolling cot, complete with a mattress and blankets, from the small room behind the desk. "Thank you."

Brom traded payment for the keys, extra bedding and toiletries and bid the sour attendant a good night. Murtagh grabbed the cot and the trio moved into the elevator, squeezing to one side to fit the roller bed in along with their packs. As the doors slid shut and they began ascending, Eragon leaned over to Brom. "How's Arya going to–"

"Shut up. Not here." Murtagh hissed, keeping his eyes forward. When Eragon shot him an annoyed glare, the older boy subtly gestured to the small camera in the corner. It's little red light was flashing.

The three exited the elevator in silence, quickly making their way to their room while checking as many exits as possible without arousing suspicion. Whenever he found a camera, Murtagh would point it out to Eragon and Brom as inconspicuously as he could. It would be best to keep out of the security tapes in case the soldiers came across the hotel after they left.

Upon finally reaching the room, Brom locked all the available bolts, chains and electronic locks he could as Murtagh unfolded the cot. Eragon checked the bathroom to make sure everything was in order, tested out the small A/C unit, then sat on the bed with a sigh.

"Now will you explain how Arya is going to get in here?" The boy asked, stretching tiredly. "Don't tell me she's going to stay out there with Saphira all night. She deserves a shower more than any of us."

Murtagh snorted, muttering something along the lines of the elf desperately needing one instead of deserving it, and pushed the cot into the corner so he would have a clear line of sight of both the door and the window from the side. Brom gestured to the aforementioned window, which was parallel to the bed Eragon was sitting on, and grunted, "Open that."

Perturbed, Eragon did as he was asked and opened the window fully, the metal frame bumping the outer wall. A humid breeze swept in, lending the room the scent of damp leaves and warm night air. The young Rider braced his hands on the sill and leaned out to breathe it in.

A soft series of scuffing noises were all the warning he had before Arya was suddenly staring him in the eyes, comfortably resting her chin on the sill as she crouched with her feet against the outer wall and sure fingers gripping the windowsill. "Well hello."

Eragon jerked back, startled. They were on the fourth floor. "How the hell did you just–"

"Fun fact, Eragon. On average my species can jump at least ten feet in the air when we put some effort into it." Eragon backed away from the window as the woman 'hopped' into a sitting position on the windowsill and then tumbled backwards into the room. "Don't gape. I parkoured most of it. It's forty bloody feet up, even we can't do that."

Brom tossed his bag on the bed closest to the door and started pulling off his coat. "Did anyone see you?"

Arya shook her head. "No. If they did, it was at a distance."

"Good thing we had you switch clothes." The old man grunted.

Before they had gotten within five leagues of the tiny roadside town, Brom had suggested the elf change out of her fatigues and into something a little less conspicuous.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, great. I'll just change back into blood covered prison clothes. I'll be totally inconspicuous. Hell, I'll look like a human, because changing pants definitely changes the shape of my fucking ears. I’m not going to risk appearance magic, not with that damn drug in me still."

Murtagh scratched his stubbled chin, wanting to get back into civilization only long enough to start hating it again. "I might have an idea." He stepped up and put his back to hers, careful not to lean his weight against her covered injuries. With a flat hand the young man compared their heights and nodded in confirmation when he found only a miniscule difference between them. "We're pretty much the same height. I have some old jeans in my bag."

Meanwhile, Eragon was furiously digging in his backpack, searching for the winter clothes he had first set out on their journey wearing. He didn't want Murtagh being the only one to come up with something, not in front of Arya. Saphira snorted, teasing him quietly about it, but he ignored her and triumphantly pulled out what he had been looking for. "Here! This could at least cover your ears. It's not perfect, but it'll be good in a pinch."

Arya took the offered article and examined it before chuckling, "Actually, this is an old trick we used to do with Varden when we went drinking. Ah, the benefits of beanies." And she put it on, pulling the sides of the knit hat down to cover the most obvious marker of her race.

Dressed as she was, Arya looked almost no different from a human woman, if a bit on the angsty side. Dark loose jeans, grey hoodie, black shirt and a dark navy blue beanie tugged low over the tips of her pointed ears certainly gave her a brooding look, especially when leaning against the wall of a hotel and shooting glowering stares at anyone that even glanced at her. As long as no one got close enough to examine her facial structure, she would pass for human.

"Who wants to shower first?" Brom asked, already laying out a fresh shirt and a toothbrush on the bed. "Whoever does will be taking the laundry to the coin washer and gets to guard it once everyone is done."

When Arya shook her head and Eragon just shrugged, Murtagh stepped up. "Ah, I don't care. I'll go first if you don't want it, Brom."

"All yours." The old man gave him one of the extra mini toiletry kits he had bought. "Feel free to shave. There's a razor in there, fuzz face." Murtagh grunted, subconsciously passing a hand over his newly grown ragged stubble of a beard, and locked the door to the bathroom behind him. A few moments later the sound of the shower running drifted through the door.

Brom turned to Arya and tossed her the extra bedding he had picked up. "Here. Bandages. Better than nothing. You can use the comforter for padding the floor. If someone comes in to check it would be best if you're at least out of easy sight."

"Was planning on sleeping there anyway." She grabbed the comforter and gestured to the gap between one of the beds and the wall. "Do you mind if take the space next to your bed, Eragon?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead." He smiled, happy that the elf had chosen to be closer to him than to Brom. "You can take some of the pillows too, I only need one." She nodded her thanks and threw her makeshift bedding down, padding over it in oblong, looping circles to settle the lumps before adding one of the pillows. "So, um...you said you used beanies when you were with the Varden to go out drinking. Don't they know you're an elf? I mean, they have to, right? Why can't you just go as is?"

Arya shrugged and sat next to him on the bed. Before answering, she unsheathed a mid-sized combat knife from the side of her boot and set about tearing the sheet Brom had given her into palm wide strips. "They know. And plenty of them are unsettled by us. It took a while to get used to the stares and the occasional...remark, I should say. When something is misunderstood, it is often feared, and going out for a drink in one of Farthen Dur's crowded bars with our ears clearly on display could turn the atmosphere from fun to awkward in a hot second." Finished with the sheet, the elf began rolling the makeshift bandages. "So, we started wearing beanies or hoodies to cover our ears. Everyone treated us as just another human unless we did something to tip them off, at which point we would leave."

Eragon frowned. It bothered him that even the Varden had people who were not fond of other races. 'If they don't trust elves, then what are they going to think of me and Saphira?' He subconsciously reached his mind out to Saphira, brushing against her sleeping thoughts to reassure himself. When his mind was calm again and he had confirmed that she was safe, he asked, "Doesn't it bother you, though? You're helping them, and you've fought for them. Don't they respect that? Haven't you at least tried change their minds?"

Arya leveled her gaze with his. "Oh, I tried at first. It led to more trouble than good. Some people already have their minds made up, Eragon. Out of the entire Varden, only a small percentage openly expressed any issue with me and my guards, and I'm sure there are more who keep their thoughts to themselves." She paused to tear the end of a partially rolled strip lengthwise a few inches with her teeth. "Besides, there are still people in the Varden who treated me as just another Vardenite. People have opinions. I can't let it affect how I act. I fight for the Varden as a whole, and if it costs me a night of drowning myself in dwarvish vodka, I'm okay with that."

"Don't give the boy any ideas." Brom chastised from his bed. He had found a current newspaper in one of the nightstand drawers and was scanning it for any information regarding the Varden, Urgals, Gil'ead, or Eragon and Saphira. "And no getting him drunk. Unless I'm there. Then, well...we'll see."

Arya waved him off. "I know, I know."

The shower cut off. Moments later Murtagh emerged from the bathroom, tendrils of steam clinging to his body and trailing him as the door opened. "Alright, who's next?" He was clean-shaven and wore a simple tshirt and a pair of basketball shorts, still rubbing his head of wild, damp hair with a small towel.

"You're up, kid." Arya clapped Eragon on the shoulder. He hopped up and grabbed a set of clothes that were decently clean and his portable music player before slipping inside the steam filled room and locking the door behind him. Seconds later the muffled chords of country music could be heard as the shower turned on.

Brom folded the paper in half and used it to swat Arya's arm. "When are you going to take your turn? You definitely need it. And I'm putting that lightly."

The elf chuckled. "Last. Trust me, I am going to destroy that shower. The closest I've gotten to being clean was splashing water on my face the last few days. It's been well over six months since I actually showered.

"Fair point."

Murtagh fell onto his roller bed with a contented sigh. "Now this is nice. Hot water, a place to clean our clothes, a locked door. And a bed!" He lifted his head slightly. "Do they have a radio? For such a price they should have at least put a telly in the room."

"I doubt it plays anything but official news and propaganda." Brom grunted, but still leaned over and hit the power button on the small radio clock that graced the bedside table. After a few garbled channels of static and scrolling through the entire range of signals, he finally found one that came in crystal clear.

"–nds the economic report. Here's Karl Yorgisson with the day's news."

Brom snorted. "Told you."

Arya waved him away from hitting the off switch. "Shush, I want to hear this."

"Thanks, Jason." Karl Yorgisson accepted the hand off. "Still no concrete news on the attack at the Gil'ead military base. Although it is confirmed by the base commander that the attack was carried out by Varden forces, it is unclear if any were captured after their defeat or if any escaped.

"We again advise that you keep your eyes peeled for any faces you have seen on watch boards. Remember, not only is there a sizable reward for information, there is also the pride that comes with defending your King and country from the insidious terrorists that lurk in our midst.

"In other news, we have a new addition to our team! Rebecca Jayasdaughter is to be joining us for her first broadcast on–"

Brom hit the switch when no other news concerning their activities was forthcoming. "Well, that's good. They're not willing to admit that we slipped past them. That means they can't inform the general public about us or why they're searching for us."

"Attacked Gil'ead my arse." Murtagh grumbled, eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. "I climbed in through the bloody garbage chute. Could have at least called it a hostile intrusion or sabotage. We don't need the attention of being labeled dangerous attackers, period."

"Saphira told me she ripped the entire roof off their state dining hall. They can't cover up that amount of damage quick enough to pass it off as a single man stealth intrusion." Arya pointed out. "Besides, they'll blame it on an elvish raiding party sooner or later. They always do if the town is near Du Weldenvarden."

Murtagh frowned, confused, yet still refused to open his tired eyes. "Wait…. You're telling me that the reports of elvish raiding parties…?"

"Never happened?" The elf looked at him with genuine surprise and what appeared to be a touch of insult, aghast that he thought the stories were true. "Of course they never happened! We don't send out random raiding parties! Glen, Fäolin and I were the only elves to leave the forest since my race retreated there." She shook her head, shocked that he had actually believed the propaganda. "Honestly! It's too risky to send little groups out like that to attack directly, what if one of our fighters were captured!"

The young man cracked open one eye and lifted his head to raise an eyebrow at Arya. "Oh? So, you were just visiting Gil'ead and managed to lock yourself in a cell? The men you were with just fell on their guns, is that it?"

"That is different." Arya snarled. Brom glanced at her, mildly startled by her tone, then turned back to leafing through the phone book and wishing he had brought at least one of his prized lore tomes with him on this harebrained journey. "We weren't attacking, we were in the fringes of Du Weldenvarden. Someone in the Varden betrayed us. That betrayal led to the death of my fyrn breoal. I'd prefer it if you didn't make quips about it."

"I apologize." Murtagh dipped his head in her direction as best he could, his words truly sincere. Losing friends to the King was something he was very familiar with. "It was in bad taste."

Arya rubbed her temples and braced her elbows on her knees, shoulders tense. "Apology accepted. I shouldn't have snapped."

Murtagh shrugged. "Eh. Natural response." The room was quiet for a time, the only sound being the rustle of Brom now flipping through the holy book from the desk, the light patter of the shower, Eragon's off key humming, and country music. Then, "What's a frin br… fyrn bri…."

"Fyrn breoal. Means war family in the Ancient Language." Brom answered gruffly. Despite the no smoking designation, he pulled his pipe from his discarded jacket and clamped it firmly in his teeth. "Elves who fight often use it to describe their battle buddies. Only the closest knit groups use the term." He jerked his chin in Arya's direction. "If I'm not mistaken, that is."

The elf nodded, fiddling with one of the remaining bandages. She was weaving it over and between her fingers, trying to keep her hands busy. "Glen and Faölin were my fyrn darmthrelli, my war brothers. We fought for the Varden together for decades."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Arya's jaw tightened slightly. "Shit happens in war. We all lose people. We fight even harder in their memory." She unwound the bandage and then looped the tail around her thumb again, beginning anew.

Murtagh mulled over the new words he had learned, again letting the atmosphere lapse into silence. It wasn't exactly a comfortable one, a little too heavy to be called that, but it was easy enough to be called content. The three currently inhabiting the room were all comfortable with reflecting on their own thoughts without feeling the urge to shatter the silence. Murtagh respected that of Brom and Arya, and was glad that they, too, seemed to respect his quiet.

'Fyrn breoal. Tornac was my fyrn breoal, then. I guess he would be my war father. Too old to be a war brother.' Murtagh's heavy lidded eyes wandered the room. 'I wonder what he would have thought of all this. Eragon, Saphira, Brom and Arya. Agh, Bloody hell, he'd probably lash me silly for agreeing to go to the Varden and trusting strangers like this.' The thought brought a sleepy grin to his face, and his eyes drifted closed.

"Oi. Don't sleep yet. You have to do laundry." Brom snapped when he saw the young man drifting off.

It didn't even phase Murtagh, who just rolled onto his side and mumbled, "Then wake me up when it's ready to be done." and nuzzled his face deeper into his pillow.

It didn't take long for his breathing to even out and his body to relax. Arya nudged the end of the bed with her foot and shook her head when Murtagh only mumbled and groggily waved her off.

"I can do the laundry. Should probably let the guy sleep." She offered when Brom made an annoyed noise at the young man's reaction.

"Can't have you wandering around out there." Brom shifted his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. "If you run into someone who have any education from the army, it could get ugly fast."

"So I'm pretty much useless at this point in time?" Arya asked dryly. "Dear me, I'm in a room where I can't leave. Out of one jail and into another."

"Don't get all brooding on me, girl. Once your clothes are washed you can change out of Murtagh's and maybe the angst will wear off." The elf chuckled at that, and Brom flipped the holy book closed with a definitive snap. "Bloody hell, why is Eragon taking so long?"

The old man stood and went over to the bathroom door. He paused, glanced at Arya, and a bit of a mischievous glint came to his eyes. The elf raised an eyebrow. "Oh stars, I know that look. What are you planning?"

Brom only grinned and shoved his pipe into his pocket before raising his fist and banging on the door, yelling, "Eragon! What the HELL is taking so long?! You had better not be doing what I think you're doing in there!"

There was the distinct sound of someone nearly falling on their ass in a wet shower and sputtered curses. "I'll be done in a minute!"

"Cold water works wonders, boy! Hurry up!"

As Brom returned to his bed Arya swatted him on the arm. "He's a teenage boy. He needs his alone time." She, too, was trying to hold back laughter. "Better he do that in there than when he thinks we're all asleep."

"He should have thought of 'alone time' before he left Carvahall." Brom shot back, but was still grinning from ear to ear. "And trust me, you don't get alone time with a bonded dragon in your mind."

"Poor Saphira!"

The shower squeaked off and Eragon came out, his face and the tips of his tapering ears bright red. He was wearing a pair of long pajama pants and a loose t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

"You could have just told me to hurry up." The boy grumbled, shooting Brom a moody glare.

Brom nodded with a chuckle. "Aye, but then you wouldn't have actually gotten out right when I asked."

"Well, I wasn't–" His face went an even deeper shade of red when he realized Arya was still awake and watching him, bemused. "I wouldn't do that with people in the next…. I just like hot showers, okay?" Pink blotches started appearing on his neck, collarbones and shoulders as he blushed furiously.

"Hey, I'm not saying anything." Arya put her hands up. "What you do in the shower is none of my business."

Brom grabbed his fresh clothes and brushed by the younger Rider. "You can sleep now, boy. No watches tonight. Put your dirty clothes next to Murtagh's."

Still red, Eragon placed his travel clothes next to the small pile Murtagh had made and sat on his bed. Arya was stretched out on the other side, leaning against the headboard, and was flipping through the holy book Brom had abandoned. She didn't seem to be reading it, just turning the pages to give herself something to do.

"You alright with me here until Brom gets out? I can move to his bed if you want me to." She asked as the Eragon wiggled underneath the tightly tucked sheets and blanket.

"No, it's okay. I don't mind." He attempted to adjust the pile of pillows behind his head and, giving up, pulled one out and tossed it at Murtagh. The sleeping man grumbled, kicking the pillow off his legs, and raised a middle finger in Eragon's general direction. "If you...um...if you don't want to sleep on the floor we could...you know, split sheet."

Eragon's ears flared a deep maroon as Arya let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I need to be out of general sight if anyone comes in. People would wonder why three people checked in and suddenly a fourth person appeared. Bed blocks the view of my little hideout." The Rider mumbled a 'good point' and tried to ignore the glimmer of amusement in the elf's dark eyes. "Is Saphira doing alright out there?"

"Yeah. She's asleep." Glad for the change in topic, Eragon busied himself with plugging his music player into the complimentary charger on the bedside table and wrapped his headphones around it carefully. "I think she's a little glad for the time alone. She grew up in the woods near my farm after she hatched, and since we started traveling with Murtagh I think she's been missing the solitude, not to mention a chance to sleep for a full night."

A slight smile tilted the corners of Arya's lips as she turned another page. "I think we've all earned a little rest."

Eragon nodded in agreement, punctuated by a wide yawn. The hot shower had made him drowsy on top of being bone tired. Coupled with the soft pillows, warm blankets, Saphira's sleeping thoughts and the safety of the walls around him, the boy found himself already drifting off. "Yeah." He murmured, eyelids drooping closed. "G'night, Arya."

"Good night, kid."

As Eragon dropped off, the elf gently settled the holy book on the bed and slipped down onto her makeshift mattress to begin preparing for her own turn in the shower. She released her braid and combed out the snarls in her hair, wiped off what bits of blood and grime that she could with a scrap of shredded sheet, and put her dirty fatigues on the pile near Murtagh's bed. When Brom stepped out, beard and mustache neatly clipped, he found Arya waiting quietly next to the door with the last package of toiletries and a fresh towel in her lap.

"Take as long as you want." Brom grunted, jerking his head towards the shower and flinging out a few water droplets from his still damp hair. "I'm sending Murtagh to do laundry and then heading to sleep."

"I'll try not to destroy the entire hotel's hot water supply." Arya grinned wryly as she stood. "I'll wake you if anything concerning happens."

~~~

Arya shut off the water and watched the last dregs slide down the drain. It had taken ten minutes of soap, scrubbing and hot water to get the water flowing off her body to run lighter than dark grey. Another ten minutes saw it finally run clear, and five minutes under shockingly cold spray soothed the vicious burning in her healing wounds and scars. She shook herself and wrung out her hair as much as she could before stepping out and grabbing a towel.

A few brief minutes later she was again clothed in her borrowed jeans and her sports bra, and she stepped out of the bathroom. A quick check confirmed that Murtagh had not yet returned. He slipped inside just as the elf was tying off the last strip of bandage around her leg, the rest of the shredded sheet already wrapped around her torso.

"Heads up." Murtagh grunted, tossing Arya her fatigues. She muttered her thanks, feeling the effects of the hot shower sinking in. "Good night, Arya."

"'Night, Murtagh." The young man hit the last light before tumbling onto his roller bed with the 'whumph' of a relieved sigh. After a quick last look around the room to ensure everyone was accounted for, Arya followed suit.

No one dreamed. They just slept.

~~~

Eragon tore the covers off as a shrill alarm stabbed into his ears. For a confusing moment lights and sound blinded him. He threw his mind out to Saphira to see through her eyes, only to remember that she was a league away, hiding in the woods. He felt her wake and surge to her feet, his panic alarming her.

A swarm of curses in various languages assaulted him as he finally began to register his surroundings.

They were still in the hotel room, but the standard fire alarm on the wall was alive with flashing lights and mind shattering sound. To his right Brom was shoving the small pile of his clean clothes in his travel bag, swearing in a mildly familiar, old tribal dialect of the Spine. To Eragon's left, Arya was already zipping Murtagh's borrowed jacket up to cover the makeshift bandages on her torso, not even bothering with a shirt as she threw her fatigues onto her unzipped combat jacket. She zipped it, wrapped it up and clamped a spare blade harness strap around it before slinging the bundle across her back by the tied together sleeves and tore the window open. Eragon swore he heard her hissing choice words in the Ancient Language, but the intonation and inflections were markedly different.

Of all of them, Murtagh appeared to be the least disturbed by the noise. He sat lacing up his boots, already clothed in his travel gear, and his previously covered rifle was laid out on the bed within arms reach. As he picked the weapon up and chambered the first round Eragon realized the man was swearing in a steady monotone, never once reusing a word. When he seemed to run out of words in the common human language, he switched to what Eragon gathered was a dialect from his local hometown. His vocabulary was impressive to say the least.

"What the bloody hell is happening?" Eragon asked, snatching up his gear. He felt the distinct tickle of Saphira using his ears to hear the answer, her body tensing as she prepared to race to his aid.

Brom shoved the clip on the top of his bag together with a hurried snap. "From what I can gather, the desk clerk told her replacement about us and they checked the front tapes. They recognized at least one of us and they're setting up the local garrison outside the doors as we speak."

Murtagh's muttered swearing filled the brief gap in conversation. "Faigh muin, deoghail am fallus bhàrr duine mharbh siadha tiadhan, cao–"

Eragon ignored him and haphazardly threw his clothing into his backpack, yanking on the zipper when it refused to close all the way. "What's the alarm about then?" He checked that Zar'roc's hilt and pommel were still wrapped, concealing the gem and shining grip, then strapped the blade on his hip.

"They're trying to lure us to the emergency exit." Brom growled. "Tell Saphira to keep out of sight unless absolutely necessary. We still have a chance get out of here without letting them see her."

'There won't be anything to see if I eat them all.' The dragon hissed in response. Eragon's jaw twinged as she snapped her teeth in frustration. 'I'll decide when to be seen. Just hurry up. I can smell a reinforcement company approaching.'

Eragon relayed her message. The speed of Murtagh's swearing increased while even Brom let out a particularly foul word. "How are we getting out?" The younger Rider asked. "We can't go out and we can't go up without having Saphira try to fly us out, and she can't carry four people."

"Theta Rescue." Arya grabbed Eragon's backpack before he could pick it up. "Or as I like to call it unofficially, 'The Reversed Cliché.'" She threw his bag out the window, ignoring his cry of confusion.

"Only if you're up for it." Brom threw his bag to her, and she repeated the process. Murtagh calmly handed his over with a polite nod and a swear that Arya must have recognized, for she snapped back at him with a word of her own. "It's quite a drop, even for you. The added weight won't help."

"No alternative I can see. Unless you want to tie together bed sheets." Her head cocked to the side. "They're sweeping the floor below us."

"Theta it is." Brom set himself up behind the wall near the door. "Lightest first, heaviest last. Eragon, Murtagh, you both are going to do exactly as Arya says, when she says you do it. Order is Eragon, me, then you Murtagh."

"Wait, what's happening?" Eragon asked as Arya grabbed his arm and pulled him to the window. "What are you doing?"

Arya flashed him a grin that didn't reach her now flinty eyes. "Don't worry. All you have to do is trust me. And don't wiggle."

"Wigg–" Eragon was cut off as the elf ducked and suddenly swept him off his feet in a fireman's carry. He only had time to spit out a quick "Oh Sweet Sara–" before Arya jumped out the window.

~~~

Half an hour later found the group galloping past the stand of trees where Saphira had hidden. The dragon leapt over their heads and snapped her wings out, startling the horses. 'On the road again, Little One?' She asked, gaining altitude to circle above them.

'On the road again.' Eragon affirmed, letting their thoughts mingle and intertwine in a way that the distance had previously made difficult. He felt her joy of flight and relief at being reunited, but also her displeasure. The close call had further confirmed her theory that he was a magnet for trouble. 'I'm going to hear about this later, aren't I?'

The dragon chuffed, the odd sound resonating through their mental link. 'You're just lucky Brom has a good head on his shoulders.' With that she drove her wings down, shooting up another hundred feet. 'You will fly with me today.'

'Yes ma'am.' Eragon smiled and Saphira crowed her jubilation to the sky.

Dust billowed from the horse's hooves as they continued on their journey. It was good to be on the road again.

#modern inheritance #modern inheritance cycle #inheritance cycle #eragon #modern inheritance story #arya #brom #murtagh #saphira #hotel pit stop #sleeping arrangements #old mic story #tbh this was and still is one of my favorites #i'd love to find a way to rewrite it while keeping the original spirit intact

[ao3feed-inheritancecycle]

Twist of Wyrdfell

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/KnJ0aI8

by runaanandharrow

After the Siege of Feinster, a new player emerges on the chessboard of Alagaësia; the son of Galbatorix, and a Rider who has been around since the Fall. Eragon, the Varden, and even Galbatorix himself will be tested as new secrets are revealed, the dynamic of power in the Empire shifts, and the future of the Riders is forever changed as our understanding of their past is reshaped.

Words: 4524, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Eragon Shadeslayer, Murtagh Morzansson, Nasuada (Inheritance Cycle), Roran Garrowson, Saphira (Inheritance Cycle), Thorn (Inheritance Cycle), Arya Dröttningu, Blödhgarm (Inheritance Cycle), Oromis Thrándurin, Glaedr (Inheritance Cycle), Orik (Inheritance Cycle), Katrina (Inheritance Cycle), Galbatorix (Inheritance Cycle), Shruikan (Inheritance Cycle), Morzan (Inheritance Cycle), The Forsworn (Inheritance Cycle), Garzhvog (Inheritance Cycle), Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Original Dragon Character(s)

Additional Tags: post-brisingr, Inheritance rewrite, Transmascline character, Transgender man, Polyamory, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Past Sexual Assault, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Physical Disability, Torture, discussions of Genocide, Transphobia, Homophobia, A lot of discussion of magical metaphysics and philosophy, like a lot, So much magical metaphysics its kind of stupid, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/KnJ0aI8

#ao3feed #fanfic #inheritance cycle #the inheritance cycle #eragon

[longsightmyth]

Do I want to reread Eragon to see if it is as terrible as I remember these are the real questions

#myth rags on eragon #myth reads #do I want to continue that rewrite these are the REALER questions