#forsaken - the fallen soldier

[buckyssoldat]

i was bored so here are more drawings of alice/onyx!

#forsaken the fallen soldier #mcu oc #marvel oc

[mrsshabana]

Mkay, so hear me out. I wanted to ask if you could write about gyutaro and the reader being in a fantasy universe that's similar to final fantasy or the legend of zelda, but Gyutaro is part dragon and maybe even the guardian of like a temple or something along those lines. Be creative with it, I know whatever you come up with will be great :> You can make it NSFW or more fluffy, all up to you!

Either way, I hope you have a great day ^^

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary You are a Princess of a crumbling kingdom. Desperate for help, you set out to free an ancient dragon in hopes that he will be able to restore order to the land. But you were naive to think he would be so gracious. Things take a turn for the worse and you have no choice but to rely on each other.

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Dragon!Gyutaro x Female!Reader, violence, gore, death

꒦꒷‧₊ Note 3k words. A lot of the lore for this story is based off of Elden Ring. I know you asked for other games but I'm not familiar with them so I hope this is ok. I absolutely adore Elden Ring so this was very fun to write. I'm sorry that I ended up making this way more complex than it needed to be but I couldn't help it! I was having too much fun coming up with lore for this universe. I have so many ideas for this so if you'd like me to continue this story then please let me know!

Finally after days of searching through the Swamp of Aeonia, narrowly avoiding the toxic scarlet rot that infects these lands, you found the ruins only spoken of in ancient legends.

It is said that deep within the heart of Caelid there is a place where Gyutaro, the son of the Lichdragon Fortissax, has been imprisoned for the last 100 years.

Legend says that he was forsaken for being the most hideous creature in all the land. While his twin sister was worshiped for her beauty. He was born corrupted by the scarlet rot, consuming him from the inside out. And Gyutaro was known for his jealousy. He would destroy and devour things that were beautiful or more fortunate than himself. He brought great suffering to The Lands Between, so a knight was sent to imprison him.

You don't know for certain if the legends are true, but you sure hope they are. Growing up you've always been incredibly fascinated by dragons and the tales your mother would tell you. But since you are a princess you were never allowed around such ferocious beasts. But now you have no choice.

Your kingdom is crumbling and your mother has fallen ill. As the war across The Lands Between rages on, your soldiers dwindle. You feel helpless as more and more of your soldiers die. More innocent lives.

But you remembered the tales your mother would tell you and it gave you a glimmer of hope. It is told that the Lichdragon Fortissax was defeated in battle by Godwyn the Golden. But instead of death, Godwyn offered his friendship to the Lichdragon. Fortissax was loyal to Godwyn ever since, protecting him even after they both succumbed to corruption.

You thought that perhaps the rumored son of Fortissax would be just as loyal as his father. If you were to free him from his imprisonment then perhaps he would return the favor by protecting your kingdom.

It's a long shot but it may be the only shot you have.

You cautiously descend into the ruins of what appears to be a dungeon, slowly decayed by the scarlet rot. You're careful not to touch anything as you make your way down a long staircase.

At the bottom of the staircase lies a corridor. A deep rumble can be heard as you walk through, your footsteps echoing through the passageway. As you get closer to the end of the hall the rumbling gets louder and louder.

Finally, you make it to the end, welcomed by a giant chamber. And there he is.

Gyutaro, the son of the Lichdragon.

As soon as you lay your eyes upon him you are stricken with a combination of fear and amazement. His beauty takes your breath away.

His large form lays sleeping in the middle of the room. But as soon as you step foot into the chamber he begins to stir. His eyes shoot open, slit pupils surrounded by glowing yellow stare wildly at you. With a deep growl, he rises to his feet, towering at least 20 feet over you.

His body is covered with black scales, accented with green. Though his beautiful scales are interrupted by dark splotches scattered across his face and body, these scales don't shimmer like the others do. They appear dull and corrupt in some way. Razor sharp claws adorn his paws and two large horns sit atop his head.

Though his body looks different than you had imagined. He is very muscular but his stomach is hollowed out and you can clearly see his ribs and spine. You imagine he doesn't get much to eat here, so perhaps that would explain his emaciated stature.

He spreads his massive wings, blocking the light from the torches behind him. And his long tail sways behind him as he glares down at you. And that's when you hear it. A deep rumble coming from within his chest as he begins to open his jaws, revealing a bright red light glowing from within him. He's about to envelop you in flames.

"G-Gyutaro!" You immediately get on your knees and bow before him, "Son of Fortissax! I have come to free you!"

The rumbling stops, and you feel the ground shake as he begins to circle you. Too afraid to look up, you stay staring at the cobblestone. Hoping that he spares you and gives you a chance to explain yourself.

He leans closer to you, inhaling your scent. "Human... you are of royal blood," he rasps. The sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Y-yes," you stammer, "I am Princess Y/N."

"Princess?" he smirks, "What is a princess doing in the Swamp of Aeonia?"

"I came searching for you," you finally muster the courage to look up. Staring into his golden eyes. "The Lands Between suffer greatly these days. W-we need the ancient dragon to return balance to the land," your voice shakes as you muster a half-truth. It is true that the world hasn't been graced by an ancient dragon in many years and their presence could help restore the world to order. But you also seek his aid in restoring your kingdom.

"You are quite bold for a human," he scoffs, "Attempt if you must. But these are no ordinary binds."

He lifts his legs, jingling the chain that wraps tightly around his ankle. You were too enamored by his magnificence to notice them before.

You shakily get up onto your feet to examine the chains. A glowing blue tint shines off of the thick metal. These chains must be enchanted somehow. For if they were ordinary he would easily be able to break free. But you came prepared.

Gyutaro doesn't know how to break the spell that binds him to this place, but you do. As a princess, you have access to all of the records and literature you could ever want. You know what will free him.

A kiss from a beautiful maiden of royalty.

The knight that imprisoned him, an ancestor of Lord Tengen, was smart when he enchanted these chains. He thought of something that could never possibly happen, something that Gyutaro would surely never allow even if someone had tried. Especially since when Gyutaro was free he set out to destroy all beauty.

You clear your throat, "I know what will set you free. But you need to trust me."

Gyutaro narrows his eyes at you. What could possibly be your angle here? Are things really that bad that you came to free him? You do know his history, do you not? He is no peaceful creature, always leaving violence and death in his wake.

He doesn't understand what your motives are, but he isn't afraid of a mere human. He figures that if you try anything funny then he can just devour you. But, he's been imprisoned here for so long that he's willing to hear you out.

You slowly reach up towards his face. He doesn't know why he feels so drawn to you, but he lowers his head and you gently place your hands on his cheeks.

"You will be free," you whisper as you look into his eyes.

You lean forward and kiss him. Pressing your soft lips to his scaly ones. He feels something warm blossom within him as he closes his eyes.

The chains slowly disintegrate into dust, effectively ending his 100-year imprisonment.

His eyes widen in surprise, "I-I'm free..."

Your heart beat quickens as you slowly step away from him. Fear overtakes you as you stand before this mighty dragon, now completely free. Will he return the favor to you? Or will he devour you now that he's gotten what he needed from you?

His lips curl into a smirk as he puffs out his chest and lets out a mighty roar. So loud that it shakes the entire dungeon, echoing throughout the infected lands of Caelid and possibly beyond.

The walls of the dungeon begin to crumble as debris falls from the ceiling. This place is on the verge of collapsing.

Quickly, Gyutaro scoops you up in his arms. Holding you against his chest as he lunges upwards, bursting through the ceiling of the ruins.

He flies into the sky, marveling at the rot-ridden swamp below him. The sun hitting his scales for the first time in 100 years, he's filled with vigor.

You hold on for dear life, though he has a firm grip on you. Gyutaro flies above Caelid, triumphantly roaring to alert everyone that he is back. You aren't sure if his return will cause hope or fear amongst the people of The Lands Between.

He flies east, a safe distance away from the scarlet rot, and into a nearby forest. Carefully landing, he gently sets you down on the ground.

"Princess..." he lowers his head, "You freed me from that accursed prison. Thank you..."

You feel a surge of relief and power course through you as this all-powerful creature bows before you. Reaching out to him, you gently lay your hand on his snout. "You're welcome. I'm glad to have helped."

He quickly recoils from your touch, feeling an unfamiliar emotion stir within him. His brows furrow in discomfort. This feeling doesn't sit right in his stomach, and he doesn't enjoy it.

With a sour taste in his mouth, he launches back into the sky. Leaving you behind.

"W-wait!" you shout, trying to run after him but there's no point. He's already long gone.

Gyutaro couldn't take it any longer. The attraction towards you that blossomed within him was too foreign to him. Though after being imprisoned for the last 100 years it was nice to have some company. Especially that of a beautiful princess. But he pushes those thoughts aside and focuses on more important things. Like reuniting with his sister.

You have no choice but to go back to your kingdom alone and empty-handed.

｡o°✥✤✣ 　　 ✣✤✥°o｡

Weeks pass and things only get worse. The war wages on and your mother's health worsens. You don't see or hear from Gyutaro. You only hear about the occasional sighting of a massive dragon or about a beast wreaking havoc on small villages.

That is until one day you hear a commotion outside your castle.

Gyutaro lands on the bridge before your castle, digging his massive talons into the cobblestone. Then a loud rumble stirs within him, he opens his jaws to spew crimson red flames across the other side of the bridge. Blocking the path of anyone that intends to visit the castle. Engulfing it in flames that spread the scarlet rot that harbors within him.

The castle guards rush out towards him, readying their crossbows and shooting arrows at his back. They bounce off of his tough scales, but one of them pierces his wing.

"Pathetic humans," he growls. Turning around and letting out a powerful roar that shakes the bridge beneath him. Gyutaro bares his fangs and lunges forward, catching one of the soldiers in his mouth. He closes his jaws, impaling the soldier with his many teeth before swallowing him whole.

Gyutaro lets out another roar, a clear warning to anyone who dares to attack him again.

"Cease fire!" You shout, running out of the castle and towards Gyutaro. The guards try to warn you that it's dangerous and you should stay inside, but you don't listen.

"Princess!" his eyes widen when he sees you, wasting no time and coming towards you.

Your guards point their crossbows at him as he approaches but you hold your hand out to signal that it's ok.

"Gyutaro, what are you doing here?" you say in shock.

"Your castle will come under attack shortly," he looks behind him briefly before turning back to face you, "My flames should hold them off for a while but it's not safe here."

"Wait what? What do you mean?" you begin to panic.

"There's no time to explain!" he growls, "I'm getting you out of here."

"No! I can't leave my mother behind! And what about everyone else?" your eyes begin to well up with tears.

"Fine," he huffs, "I'll carry you and your mother to safety. I couldn't care less about everyone else..."

"I refuse," you say sternly, "We will not leave our kingdom behind."

"Insolent human!" he roars, "I'm not giving you a choice!!"

Gyutaro opens his maw and swoops forward, catching your coat in his mouth before you can run away.

"Let me go! Let me go!" you kick and scream.

He doesn't know why he even bothered coming to help you. The old Gyutaro would never do something like that. But ever since you saved him he's been longing for your touch again. Longing to be in the presence of someone who didn't see him as a hideous beast. And perhaps he craved more of your affection.

Whatever the case, he needs to get you and your mother out of here as soon as possible. Even though he honestly doesn't care about your mother's well-being, he charges through the entrance of the castle anyway. Guards shoot at him as he passes, but the arrows aren't strong enough to penetrate his scales.

The large castle doors are just big enough to fit him if he collapses his wings to his back. While still holding you in his mouth, he bursts through the castle doors and into the foyer.

It's ginormous and filled with elaborate decorations and luxury furnishings. Your mother sits frail and weak on the throne.

"What is the meaning of this?" she calls out in a strong voice despite her sickly appearance.

Gyutaro's eyes go wide and he stops dead in his tracks, gently setting you down on the lavish rug beneath his feet.

You huff and straighten your coat as he releases you from his grasp. Giving him a stern look before moving your attention to the queen.

"Mother, the kingdom is-"

"I know," she cuts you off and stands from her seat, walking towards you and Gyutaro.

"I've known they would come for our kingdom," she passes you and walks straight towards Gyutaro.

He feels his blood run cold, and a strange sense of tranquility wash over him as she approaches. He lowers his head to show respect and that he isn't a threat.

Your mother stands in front of him, looking into his eyes.

"Gyutaro, son of the Lichdragon Fortissax," her voice is soft yet commanding as she places a hand on Gyutaro's head, "You will be my daughter's guardian. Protect her at all costs."

His eyes widen as he feels something change within him. He doesn't understand what's going on, but he suddenly feels as light as air. A strange golden mist forms around him, enveloping him.

You stare wide eyed and in complete shock. Your mother wouldn't hurt him would she? What in the hells did she do to him?

His body seems to shrink and become completely concealed within the mist.

It seems like forever but it's only after a few seconds that the mist begins to disappear. Revealing... a man?

He's hunched over on his hands and knees, breathing deeply as he feels his human lungs inflate for the first time. A familiar tail sways behind him, and a set of horns sits atop his head.

"G-Gyutaro...?" you whisper, slowly coming closer to him.

His body trembles as he tries to stand. You reach out to him hesitantly but are interrupted by a loud rumbling sound as the ground beneath you quakes.

"You must leave at once!" Your mother yells to you.

"I'm not leaving! I won't leave you behind!" you cry, tears flowing down your cheeks.

The front walls of the castle begin to crumble.

"I'm sorry my dear," your mother says in a somber tone, "I love you."

She raises her hand, then slowly lowers it. You can feel your eyes closing with the motion of her hand as she casts a spell on you.

All you can do is whimper, "I love you too," as you drift off to sleep.

｡o°✥✤✣ 　　 ✣✤✥°o｡

You wake up to the sound of heavy footsteps and someone cursing.

"Fuck this! Aaaaaahhhgg!!"

Slowly opening your eyes you see Gyutaro in what appears to be a humanoid form, thrashing about in a fit of rage.

"How dare I be reduced to the form of a mere human!!" he roars up into the sky. Birds flying out of the trees that surround you. "I am an ancient dragon!! I will not attune to this form!!"

He stomps around angrily before your soft whimpers catch his attention. His scowling visage faces you. And all of the anger of this ancient beast fades away when he sees your huddled form. Crying in agony.

"Princess?" his features soften as he approaches you. He kneels beside you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"She's gone," you sob, "I'll never see her again."

Gyutaro feels yet another foreign emotion swell up within him. Could it be sympathy? He remembers when his father died and how hard it was for him. His heart aches as he recalls similar emotions to what you're feeling now.

He's not good with words, let alone emotions. So he just leans forward and wraps his arms around you. Wrapping you in his warm embrace.

You cling to him and sob into his chest.

"I know Princess... I know," he consoles, "Your mother entrusted me to protect you. And I'm going to do just that."

Knowing that you'll have him by your side gives you a glimmer of hope for the future. Though you both don't know what to do or where to go.

Gyutaro is determined to find his sister who he hasn't seen in 100 years. But first, he needs to find a way to transform back into a mighty dragon. He can't stand this pathetic form he's currently in. And you need to find a way to stop the war that rages across The Lands Between. And possibly recover whatever is left of your kingdom.

Neither of you knows what's to come. But at least you have each other.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #dragon x reader #dragon au #elden ring

[dancingrain9625]

Run no longer

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The taste of iron filled your mouth and pain seared through your body as you starred down the approaching army of the Raiden Shogun. The bodies of their fallen comrades laid strewn around you, after having been killed by your hands. You don't like having to kill. But this isn't some story where you get away by the whims of some magical power or graces of a single attractive character who happens to think your hot. No...

3 years on the run... you've survived this long because you were willing to do what needed to be done in order to survive. You've counted on no one but yourself in this... game. You remember really liking this game at one point... But right now all you could think of was how you should've deleted the damn thing years ago. Took up to much storage anyway...

As you starred down the army you looked for any familiar faces. Only spotting two. The shogun herself and her general Kujou Sara. Seems you lucked out with only a single archon and a four star character.

Nice.

Using the sword of one of the soldiers you had killed you forced yourself onto your feet. One... two... three... Four arrows stuck in your body and one went straight into you knee... I was an ordinary person like you once until I took an arrow to the knee... You chuckle to yourself despite the bleakness of the moment before letting out a scream as you pulled out each arrow.

Now much closer than before the Raiden raised her arm and her army came to a halt. You could see the confused looks on the soldiers faces, as well as the one on Kujou Sara's. Raiden and Sara spoke to one another for a moment, they were too far away to hear but the Shogun kept her eyes on you the entire exchange.

You could see her vibrant purple eyes from here. God... you called those same eyes beautiful at one point in your life but right now they look upon you with nothing but hatred and a burning desire for your demise. After a moment the shogun began to approach you with her pole arm drawn and at her side was Sara with an arrow at the ready.

"Good evening Shogun. What brings you here this time of day?" You ask as the two step in front of you. Your tone is relaxed despite the seriousness of the situation and it only seems to make them angrier. "You will pay for your crimes Imposter." The Shogun replies coldly.

"And what crimes are those?" You ask, as if you haven't heard these supposed "crimes" a million times during your time in this world. None the less the Raiden answers your question in the same cold tone. "For the impersonation of our creator and the slaughter of men and women alike across the nations."

You stare at the Shogun dead in the eyes before responding in the same relaxed tone as before. "Those men and women, tried to kill me. Pretty sure that's called self defense. and as for the impersonation thing... How do you know that your creator isn't the one who's impersonating me huh?!" You question in a sarcastic tone.

You see the Shogun grit her teeth as she stares you down. "I will not tolerate you insulting our creator!!" Her spear began to vibrate as strings of electricity flowed around the Shogun. "You have escaped our grasp for far to long but now you will perish at my hands!" As the Shogun yelled she could plainly be seen to be breathing heavily as anger clouded her mind. Quite uncharacteristic for a doll but...

Very according to the plan.

You had spent 3 god forsaken years in this world. The only reason an army is so close to you is because you want it to be. The only reason these playable characters are so close to you is because you want them to be. The only reason the Raiden Shogun is right in front of you is because you planned this out from the beginning.

The Raiden Shogun thrust her spear forward at you only to find it's blade piercing the earth and your foot on it's handle, forcing her out of a fighting stance. So caught up in her anger she left herself completely open to attack. And now it would cost her a life. Her life. As your blade pierced the shoguns neck there was no crimson shower of blood. They were an automaton after all. A machine.

But a fatal blow is a fatal blow all the same.

________________

Feels nice to be back.

Did you miss me?

#genshin impact #gn reader #sagau #genshin #genshin impact sagau #raiden shogun #raiden #shogun #angst

[sculptorofcrimson]

You speak of the joy of combat, the blood of the scars and the crimson of gore. How foolish. You carrying your master’s banner high in the air, of dying for retribution, for vengeance, for justice, for treachery, for power, for immortality. How naive.

How sweet of you to think your story will matter. How endearing of you to reach for the stars. How foolish, how tempting, how painful for you to dream of oblivion, of avengeance.

How foolish of you to try.

You will die, little lamb, you will die torn apart by our artillery, scorched to the earth beneath our thunder.

Hear me now, you bloodstained filth of the earth, little more than savage hounds thrown upon blades to die. We have come to kill you, and you have come to die. We will herd you into slaughterhouses and butcher you like cattle, and there shall be nothing glorious about your death. There will be only the humiliation of oblivion, of thunder and shells as His glory brings the very sky crashing down upon you. 

We will drown you in lead, and trap you in steel. We will build walls a thousand times higher until you break yourselves upon our bulwark, we will rain death from above as you shall learn of despair.

Children of the dancing pale, abandon your hopes. Shatter your mirrors, and tear your last paintings of age-old glory to dust. You cannot dance forever, and your song has winded down to an end. We will sing you a dirge, a mournful dirge, of springtime lost and wintertime eternal as His machines grind your bones to dust and scatter you beneath their treads. Your artworks will be razed as your empire was razed, your precious stones lost as you have been lost.

Children of the dreaded night, abandon your dreams. Your empire has fallen, your siblings all alone. When you hunger, when you starve, when you waste away into a death you’ve staved off through the blood of our brethren, we will be there. When you crawl back to us to feed, with hungry eyes and hollow skin, we will be there. We will avenge our mothers you ravaged, our fathers you ravished, our sisters you snatched from their beds and our brothers you carved and butchered. We will avenge our soldiers, and the blaze of our storm will be the last thing your monstrous eyes will ever see upon this fetid earth. We are the tide, and we are unending. No matter how gracefully you dance, how horrific your song, we will drown you beneath our screams and the blaze of our guns. The song of our bullets will be the last you ever see, and we can die, happy, knowing we have been avenged. 

Children of the metallic blue, abandon your guns. Shed your mockery of compassion. Blast your boastful taunts to ash. There will be no range you can hide from, no greater good for your lesser evil. We will find you, and we will paint the earth blue with your blood. We will hunt you down, and drag you to death a thousand times over beneath the fingers of ten thousand gloved hands. 

Children of the blackened oblivion, abandon your slumber. You will scream as we have screamed when we crush your bones to oblivion, when we bury you once more in the tombs you have forsaken. Your dynasty will crumble like sands before our unending charge, your dead kings will die thrice more by our infinite hands. And when you gasp your last, the Emperor will gaze upon your broken bones, and smile. 

Children of the bleeding crimson, abandon your axes. Lay down your armor, cast down your stakes and dream of death, eternal and unforgiving. The endless Emperor is with us and we are immortal. Your charges will break upon the bulwark that is humanity. Your blades will shatter upon the armor of our endless regiments, upon the wrath that is His divine fist. You can not win. Our soldiers will cull you from above. Our shells will rend your armor to paper. You will die not like a god, nor like a man, you will die like a rabid beast, screaming in the fires of His wrath. You will die beneath the storm of our guns and the hail of our soldiers. Tonight, there will be no honor in your death, no glory for your false lord. There will only be oblivion. Pray for us, crimson ones, pray for oblivion, pray that your end is swift, and merciful. For we are unbreakable, and our march is unending.

Children of the liar’s blue, abandon your spells. Your tongues are tied, your plots have faltered. We will march resolute, and we will bring you down. Even a treacherous worm like you must kneel before reality itself. Our soldiers’ blood will clog your feathers, their dying grasps will clutch at your wings and talons until bones shatter and you are one of us now, crawling upon the earth, mortal, weak, so incredibly weak, but without our armor of faith, without the eye of the Emperor. Our soldiers’ death grip will tear out your feathers one by one. Our guns will speak the final truth you will ever know as you die like the traitor you are, squirming, helpless, and mortal.

Children of the rotting green, abandon your anguish. Your pain is nothing compared to what we have endured. We have marched through hell, we have died in hell, and we have soldiered on. We are the Astra Militarum, and there is no limit to our wrath. Our barracks will run rampant with the corpses of your infestation, and your poxes will be crushed beneath the bulk of our endless tide, for we are humanity, and we are unending. The Emperor’s light will sear you crimson and pale, His vengeful glare will scald you from that which was and that which shall be. Death will reclaim you, as death has claimed us all, yet we will endure where you will not. 

Children of the fervent purple, abandon your revels. It is we who shall revel in your death throes. You will find no satisfaction here, in the hollowed servants of His light. You will find only death, and the artisans of His wrath. You will be annihilated, your joy tampered by His rage, your dances cut short by incendiaries and blades. There will be nothing tantalizing in your death. There will only be humiliation, as the artillery annihilates your kind and our guns transform your bones to paste. You will be eradicated, completely and utterly obliterated from the face of His light, for that is the death from which no soul can recover. You will die, your song strangled, your dance interrupted, in a symphony of smoke and screaming shrapnel. 

Children of the golden light, embrace your honor. Even in death, we still yet endure. We are humanity, we are the Astra Militarium, we have held the line for eons and we will hold the line for eternity more. We were those who stayed behind, cut to the last, shredded, flayed, burned, we are those who glared down the eyes of gods with men. We are mortals, so weak, so small, yet Chaos has yet to bring us down. The Eldar have yet to break our ranks, the Necrons yet to drain the life from our corpses. We were mortals, weak in flesh and bone, so fragile, so expendable, yet we held the line.

We are mortal, and tonight, we endure. 

#astra militarum #guardsmen #drabble #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k writing prompts #sculptor of crimson #wh40k #eldar #dark eldar #chaos #khorne #slaanesh #tzeentch #nurgle #necrons #dialogue #imperial guard

[chromiumagellanic06]

The Silver Knight: Warrior, Princess, Wife

Daemon Targaryen/Original Fem [Targaryen] Character

Chapter 13: Brilliant

MASTERLIST

Summary: Naera has a vision. Unrealistic erotica. An uncomfortable family breakfast.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: NSFW, smut, incest, dom/sub dynamics (very minor?), cunnilingus, creampie,

Long, flowing golden hair, tossing in the wind, in the darkness, in the light. Twin braids, that crept from a brow and behind. A face most carefully made, with the right shades, and the correct lights, with a long nose and a beauty all in all, with the most splendid expressions ever seen. Curls and spins and winds rolled down her shoulders, below a crested necklace of pure gold.

Her chin was held high, her eyes narrowed gracefully, her lips curved in a smirk only described as superior, stained with wine.

Pride.

Then, lower, and lower, and she wore satins and silks of the finest merchants. There was red, and gold, and a southern-styled gown, with sinking sleeves and bared shoulders, and flurries of curves and height to it all. There was gold, jewels, and intricacy in her.

Wealth.

A crown, of iron and gold, crested with blood, adorned with ash and rubies, winding through the hair of dark suns. The woman was dressed in red, with a crown of gold. Banners hung behind her—banners of velvet, with an adorned lion roaring through.

Regal.

���Do you know why all the world hates a Lannister?” A Dornish accent, aged and experienced, mocking and untethered. A Martell's voice.

Lannister.

House Lannister.

Golden lions.

The Queen?

No.

House Lannister. Golden Lions. The Usurper Queen.

Usurper. A Usurper King?

A running stag, running through fires and despairs, and blood and grime and fallen worlds. Ours is the fury.

Baratheon. Lord of Storm’s End. Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. The Usurper King. The Sack of King’s Landing. A Targaryen Bastard.

A child’s cries, screeches, a woman’s wails, a towering mountain, and the ringing of steel blades being drawn, and silence.

The Fall of the Dragon. The End of their reign, destroyed by their own blood. 

No.

The Dragon does not answer the Lion. The Dragon does not answer the Stag.

The Dragon burns them all alike.

Fire. The screech of a Dragon, the flapping of wings, great, dark, horrendous wings. One, two, three—obsidian and red, green and bronze, gold and cream. There shall be flames. There shall be blood. There shall be the age of dragons, returned, with a great, wakening light.

Dracarys.

Red stone, red foundations, and flags of red and gold and lions, all burned, and all fell.

There.

The Conqueror—silver hair, braids, and braids, and braids, and the neighing of a thousand horses, and the singular stepping of ten thousand marching soldiers, and on, and on.

There.

The Age of the Dragon.

Flags the colour of ash, with luminescent crests of blood-red dragons, being drawn over the ruins of the palace that once was. A throne made of swords, melted and moulded to never grant any sort of comfort, any sort of support. A King must never sit easy. A Queen must never sit easy, and yet, the Dragon Queen sat atop it with a grace unseen, and a state of completion unknown. A Queen must never sit easy, and yet, the Targaryen Conqueror sat atop the Iron Throne as though she was borne to do it. Indeed, she was. She was the blood of the dragon, and all knelt before her—wolves, eagles, stags, and lions, and even the very sun, the rose, and all that mattered. Even darkness, even death, ever devastation knelt before the conqueror.

Darkness knelt before the Conqueror.

No.

Darkness knelt before Azor Ahai, the forsaken warrior who tempered his own will in the blood and death of his lover. The warrior who ended the long night, the darkest winter, the coldest eternity.

The Conqueror was Azor Ahai.

Naera opened her eyes with a start.

She saw light, white and yellow and green, and a sky the colour of the sea. It was boundless, rolling on, and on, and on, forever, and then some more, behind the edges of the grassy hills. Grass, green and fresh and fragrant, rolled for miles, and acres in every direction, beneath the boundless skies.

Naera sat in a dress the colour of clouds, one that was loose and light. She was staring up at the skies, blue, blue, and blue, and her eyes made funny images of small translucent circles running through and past the skies. A hand reached forth, curled a strand of her silver hair and brushed it away.

Daemon sat behind her, holding her, kissing her, breathing her. His hands were wrapped solidly around her waist, his head carefully placed on her shoulder, and every breath of his taking send shivers down her spine.

“Are you awake yet?” He seemed to ask, hands drawling up, and down her front, her stomach, her breasts. Naera felt lethargic, as though someone had sedated her, tired her, and lazed her away.

"Hmm?” And she let him venture lower with his hands, crawling down to the hem of her dress and slowly, tantalizingly slow, dragging it up to her knees. His hands settled on her thighs, running small circles on her skin that made her throw back her head and sigh. One of his heavy palms crept back up, catching hold of her breast.

“You haven’t answered my question, Naera,” and through his dulcet voice, she felt heat, burning and boiling and toiling, build up from her core. Daemon pressed a kiss to her neck, and his hands found her cunt. Naera moaned, whimpered, really, and he drank it away as though it was his elixir. He set a single finger within her, revelling at how wet she was already, and breathed against her neck, again, in a way that made her wish to jump out of her skin and devour him all the same.

“What question?” And the sun burned warm along her face, her skin, her bones, but Daemon’s touch felt warmer, hotter and more refined than the sun. She heard him chuckle, a low, rumbling sound that travelled down her chest in waves.

“Are you awake?” She felt warm, warmer, and warmest, and Daemon kept on his actions. He curled one, or two fingers within her, circling her clit with his thumb, arduously slow, but it had all the same impact. Naera still thundered out a wheeze and a moan, but her eyes felt heavier and heavier. He repeated his words, the tune only adding to her ecstasy. He really did have a brilliant voice.

Wait.

“What d’you mean awake?” Naera felt cold, cold sheets, cold blankets, cold air, all over her, all around her. She sat up, fighting through the pain and heaviness in her limbs, to witness the light and airiness of chambers which were very certainly not hers. The sheets weren’t hers, there weren’t enough papers for these to be her quarters at all, and it was—oh, Daemon sat next to her, gazing at her with impertinence. Oh, and Naera cursed her first thought as having been carnal. His hair glowed in the morning light, and his eyes, and his—He had a brilliant voice, among many other brilliant things.

“There you go,” and his voice made her core warm up all over again, “You’re awake.” Daemon leaned forward, past the mess of silver hair, to press a kiss on her cheek, and her lips. Mistake, for the simple action made her clutch onto his neck, hot, heavy and reflexive, with a soul-crushing kiss. He did not refuse, of course—how could he refuse his dear niece? –and held her shoulders, driving her back onto the mattress. “Awake and eager,” he taunted against her lips, hands running across her bare body with blistering passion.

Naera wanted to taunt back, something along the lines of can’t say I’m the only one eager, or can you blame me? Yet, the words did not come that easily when her mind felt dazed with lust. Lust, for Daemon Targaryen. How in the world had it gotten here?

Daemon held her hands away from her, pinning them above her head, and his eyes spoke to hers his desires, his urges, all boiled down to promises. One day, I will bind your wrists and take you, and Naera cursed the shudder in her breath at his silent oath.

“Stay still for me.” His words had warning, and a deep, gruesome undertone to his words that made her want to obey, just this once. She let her arms go slack, hands grasped tight somewhere above her head, and she blared silent for his actions. She watched him, the mischief leaking out of his eyes, a haunted sort of eagerness in the lines on his forehead, the smile on his lips, the darkness of his eyes. Brilliant, he was, in more ways than she could count.

Daemon leaned close down, kissing her once again, this time soft, slow and temperate, and his hands dragged lower, and lower, and lower, nose dragging past the curve of her neck, and down, and down to the rise and fall of her breasts. He spared a kiss there but did not linger, and the thrill, the waves, the boil of anticipation in her heart did nothing to assuage her of the heat she felt.

Finally, his hands reached her thighs, pulling them apart, and he settled between them as he had the night before, though this time there was more comfort in his stature—the ability to leer, linger and lie in wait. God, she would both hate and love this—she would both hate and love him.

“Ah,” his grin made her cower, for no reasons defined, “Looks as though my Visenya has a lot of urges in her sleep,” and she felt the need to clarify, to defend herself, to tell him that it was the first time—the only time, and it had been after their night. Yet, what was the point? Somewhere in her mind, lingering, crawling and festering was the knowledge that it would not be the last time she dreamt that way of him.

Daemon ran a finger down her folds, through the slick wetness of hers, and she moaned breathily. He brought his finger up, and her legs twitched and shook, something of a spasm overtaking them.

“Careful, now,” and his warning resonated in her mind. Ah.

He repeated his actions, up, down, and up again, and she held her breath to keep herself from moving. Stay still, and he won’t deny you your pleasure. Daemon let his tongue run up her soaked cunt, muttering another comment about its taste which she could hardly register over the urge to drag his head in. Every careful breath of his collided with her clit in a way not at all unpleasurable, and she strained at the control.

“Good girl,” he praised her, cloyingly sweet, sickening, sugaring and brilliant. Daemon crept his tongue into her cunt, and a finger, and another, and Naera couldn’t help the shake of her hips to meet him in his way. He did not stop, however, as she had dreaded for so long, and only held her thighs with a stronger grace, and it went, his tongue, curling, winding and drinking her in. Naera broke away a hand, brushing it through his hair, revelling in its feel, and she tugged him closer, and closer to where she needed him.

Then, as a match stick does go out, as do a thousand candles in the wind, blowing, cooling, while darkness settled over it all, Daemon retreated, his eyes finding her pleading gaze, and Naera knew that she was at fault. Oh, but is it fault, if it felt as grand?

Daemon left her thighs, her aches and her needs, and he crept higher, taking her hands and holding them with a crushing grasp above her head. He stopped at her face, littering kisses everywhere but her lips, and she knew him—she knew his urges, his wants, his needs, to humiliate, to dominate, to make her give in—and she did not hate it at all.

“I am sorry,” Naera whispered, laying slack for his measure, for his leisure, for his pleasure, and he did not miss the glint of acceptance in her eyes.

“Are you, now?” He held her up, dragging, lingering and smirking, “Good girls don’t make such mistakes, dearest Naera,” and she shivered at his words. Daemon flipped her onto her stomach, running her hands down the smooth expanses of her back, acres and acres of ivory, scarred and healed and faded, and his. He heard her gasping breaths beneath, saw the pooling of slick by her cunt, and oh, she was perfection.

Daemon pulled up her knees, kneeling behind her leaking cunt, and watched, and watched, as she combated the urge to touch herself. He’d made her do it, one day, but not today. Or, not now, at least. He freed his cock, fully aching from the sight, and spread a hand around her ass. One day, but not today. There would be time—there would be endless time for their endeavours. Not today.

“Well,” he ran his hands up her back, through the smooth, saturnine texture of her skin, above the scars and wounds long healed and done, to her locks of dry, wispy silver hair that lay scattered around her neck. He caught hold of a bunch, wound his fingers around the locks slowly, carefully, lovingly, and tugged at it, harsh, painful and stiff.

Naera cursed the sensations, the hastening fairy-like tingles which ran through her back, down her body, through her cunt, at the endowment of pain and ache. She felt him lean close to her neck, whispering words she couldn’t decipher, though she trusted them to be nothing short of salacious.

He leaned back up, playing with her folds, slow, quiet and torturous, but oh, it was brilliant. He was brilliant. With no warnings, no indication and certainly no mercy, Daemon thrust in his cock, in, in, until he had fit himself into her heat by no means other than brute force.

Naera buried her face in the sheets, eyes closed, grunting at the stretch, at the pain, at the delight. She must’ve heard him sing a praise or two or three, about how tight she was, or how well she took him in, but they went unheard, his words went unconceived, but the rumble and thrum of his voice along her body send her reeling for more.

Daemon held her hips with bruising force, as though she did not already have bruises all over, and pulled out nearly all the way, before slamming into her with a grasping panic. Naera clustered as much of the sheets as she could, body writhing in pain, in pleasure, and some cursed approximation of their sum and Daemon went on, again, and again, and again, and Naera cried out a moan.

“Now, was that so hard?” Daemon mocked with hurried breaths, “Was is hard to just stay still for your lord husband?” But oh, she liked this more, he knew. He knew her, and her needs, and her attitude—she wanted roughness out of him, power, brutality, even, though not always—he’d figure her out eventually.

Naera whined out a cry, a moan, a whimper, at the feeling of his cock stretching her walls farther than before, grazing her womb, leaving her weak, wanting and wary for the next thrust. Daemon tugged at her hair again, harsher this time, and his movements lost rhythm as he groaned, leaning on her back. Naera whined when he tugged at her again, and there was a thrust particularly powerful, one that made her see stars.

He felt her tighten around him, close to her end, and he told her, “There you go, come for me, my—” and she took his words to heed, clenching around him in ways unfelt, gasping, wheezing, whining and moaning, mind blurred, but his name made it through. Daemon.

Hearing her chant his name in ecstasy, he followed suit, "My lovely princess," and he resisted the urge to call her his whore, "take my seed, yes? Take your kepa's seed, and we can begin our brood," and Naera did not know why she hissed out a heavy moan at the thought of being round, and full of child—full of him. Giving her a few powerful thrusts, Daemon held her hips tight against him, burying himself as far within her as he could. He filled her with himself, thick, hot, heavy seed filling her womb, holding her warmth, and Naera breathed in the sensation with a shadowing glee. 

Naera’s knees collapsed, and she was thankful that he retained enough sense to collapse beside her, and not over her. Her lungs felt deflated, and she flipped onto her back, heart hammering in her chest, searching for a clean breath. She felt his seed ooze out of her in drips and streams, and her cunt clenched around the remnants without her will. She stuttered out a moan, and a gasp, at the tip-tip-trickling of it out of her.

Oh.

Daemon pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, warm and sweaty. He looked over her rising and falling chest, her full and rounded breasts, and her neck, red and purple with marks of his giving, but he’d do it all over again. He'd fill her with himself a thousand times if need be, until she was rounded with his kin, oh, until she was indisputably his.

“Morning, your grace,” Naera greeted her father, as she took a seat beside him. He looked weaker than the previous night, heavier, and less humane. His maesters had certainly failed again. She wondered if she should offer help.

“Ah, daughter,” but he smiled all the same when he saw her, and nothing mattered past that. He also did not mention anything past that, possibly to avert her from calling her by the name good-brother, or perhaps to avert himself from thinking about whatever surely happened following the feast the previous night. Oh, he did not want to think, but the remnants of red along her neck, behind her silver hair, told him enough.

He also learned far too much about their relations, as Daemon took a seat beside her—Laenor’s seat, by all means, but the Velaryon was too occupied by his children to care much. He leaned close to her, lips moving in near-silent whispers, tongue lashing in ways resembling their mother tongue, and no one could miss the way Naera blushed.

“Morning, good-father,” Daemon greeted also, much to his brother’s dismay. Laenor, on the other hand, gutted out half a laugh before catching himself. Viserys did not spare his good son a glare. Naera pressed her lips into a very thin line, chanting something along the lines of don’t, don’t, don’t, in her mind.

Thankfully, the towers do know very well how all joy can be destroyed. “When shall you be departing for Dragonstone, princess?” Alicent Hightower asked, but the glimmer in her eyes could easily be taken for hope, expectation and aspiration. She wanted them out of her way.

Naera smiled, “I believe we shall remain in King’s Landing for a while longer, yes?” We need to…you know. Daemon knew. The downfall of the Hightowers, but with a better plan. He’d take it more seriously this time. He had what he needed now.

“Yes,” he agreed absently, “We have much to do in the Capital.” Though, his words raised more questions than answers. Aemond looked the most perturbed, but the way his single eye followed Daemon’s words and actions could settle for some semblance of aspiration. The boy wanted to be the mirror image of his uncle—strong, unbothered, unpredictable and dangerous.

Naera sensed his predicament—questions were dangerous things, so she added, “I’ve gathered up far too many papers and correspondence. It shall take quite some time to go through it all.” Her manuscripts, her journals, her letters and Wisestone. It would be a tempestuous time, indeed.

“Shall I allot you a squire, to help you through?” There was no malice in the Green Queen’s words, but Naera couldn’t settle with a squire.

“Not unless you can find me one adept with Valyrian,” and she knew that that’d stump her also. Not many in Westeros were familiar with the language at all.

“And her horrid penmanship,” Daemon added, and though his words were playful, they weren’t wrong. Naera glanced at him, ready to mock something of his, but how could she? Her writing wasn’t the finest in the seven kingdoms, after all.

“Perhaps Grand Maester Mellos, then,” and the thought of the old, wrinkly mediator of the Small Council reading through her writings made Naera frown. She refused.

“I shall see to it myself, your grace,” and that needed to be the end of it. She must have had two score letters piled up, and she needed to send her scripts to the Citadel for storage also. It would be arduous and long, but it was nothing new.

“Nonsense,” her father croaked, drinking a cup full of cold water to revise his voice, “Aemond can do it.” Aemond can do it, and Alicent’s face darkened. Aemond himself looked apprehensive, ready to go prattling on about how he’s a prince, not a common knight’s squire, but the panic in his eyes as all at the table considered the proposal prevented him from speaking. “He’s a smart boy, he’ll learn something from you,” and that was not how anyone saw it at all. He was a boy, a young prince, not a pondering young man about to serve a princess.

“I do not think that would be appropriate,” Naera dismissed it already, not missing the way Aemond’s single eye calmed at her words. She’d be fine on her own—there was much to be done. Though, the memories of how Dornish princes are so often sent by their parents to serve the lower houses as a manner of ageing and learning did flicker past. The world was not Dorne, however, much to her regret.

“I’ll help you,” Daemon decided in the spirit of compromise.

“You will do not such thing, my Prince.” Naera stated with a smile. She’d never get anything done with Daemon breathing down her neck, making her burn with desire. There, another round of far too many questions due to her words, and she clarified, “It’ll drive you insane, kepus, it’s dreary work,” not fit for a soldier such as you.

He seemed to laugh, all in those pale lilac eyes that never seemed to leave her movements, “Is that a challenge?” He wanted to play a duel, not one of the swords, but one of the wills, but he had an advantage—he always had an advantage when it came to her, it seemed.

“Do you want it to be?” Naera did not attempt to stop the smile that overtook her—teasing, fighting, winning, and losing all the same.

“It’s settled, then,” he had grasped an early victory, “I shall be your squire, princess.”

MASTERLIST

#daemon targeryan #original female character #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon x oc #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #team black #house martell #dance of dragons #melisandre of asshai #melisandre #daemon x y/n #daenerys targeryan #azor ahai #dreams #fanfiction #archive of our own

[dailyadventureprompts]

If you'd be so kind, may I request a sword and sorcery styled romp? Ancient forbidden magics, treasure, evil cults, etc~ I plan on trying this out for a potential upcoming session

Mini Campaign: The Bastard's Wish

Whether it ends in triumph or ruin, it’s of no doubt the bards will sing of this tale till the end of their days.

Our story begins in a wholesome and peaceful kingdom, entertaining an embassy from a neighboring land to discuss terms of trade and potential alliance. The party play as significant figures (champions, courtiers head knights, children of ruling monarchs) who have been enlisted in recent years by a knindly wizard known as Edarth the Enduring to use their influence to mend the rift between these two quarreling nations.  These are fine days full of promise for a brighter future, at least until a shadow comes creeping in: an army of marauders led by Malzaat Felhand, a warlord of the forsaken lands who has decided today of all days to lay siege to the party’s home.

The warlord has taken the kingdom’s defenders unaware by opening a hellmouth on the outskirts of a nearby village, marching his soldiers through this living portal of fire and fangs to march on the fortress where the embassy was taking place. Malzaat’s goal? the Wizard Edarth and the staff of ancient power he has guarded since the fall of the previous age, which he hopes to turn to some foul and disastrous purpose.  The party rallies, but with innocents and nobles to protect and only a small garrison to support them they are stretched too thin to prevent the warlord from cutting down the wizard and retrieving his prize.

A horn sounds and the marauders retreat carrying off what valuables and hostages they can, tired and blooded the party creep through the wreckage to find a number of their friends and loved ones slain, and their mentor soon to join them. In his dying moments, Edarth entrusts the party to seek out Malzaat and retrieve his staff, break it if need be, for the power it commands could lay waste to kingdoms or let the warlord set himself up as a tyrant. With this last request and a few whispered words of goodbye, the wizard sets the party to their quest, and leaves the fate of their homeland in their hands.

Adventure Hooks:

To travel to the forsaken lands, the party must venture out past the outskirts of their kingdom, over a haunted mountainside, and through a swamp of ancient magics, all the while overcoming the hazards of the wilderness and the supernatural dangers lurking in their path.

The closer they get to Malzaat’s home the more they must contend with his spies and agents: desperate souls who would seek a reward from the warlord, or beasts bewitched by him to serve as his eyes. Being discovered in their task means having Malzaat throw more obstacles at them through more hellmouths, just marauders at first but later various monsters dredged up from the depths of the swamp or raised from the pits of hell. 

Throughout their travels the heroes begin to receive visions of a youth beset by phantasmal demons, thrashing as one would in a nightmare and calling out for aid. Through dreams and vision pools, the youth calls out to the heroes, giving them advice on where they must go, and cryptic hints to overcome the challenges they must face.  This youth must be one of the captives taken by the marauders, using some psychic gift to reach out to the heroes for aid. 

Setup: Malzaat’s mother was once the general of a great kingdom, exiled to the forsaken lands along with her loyalists after committing unspeakable cruelties in an attempt to win the war she’d been tasked with fighting. Filled with wrath and regret over her apparent “betrayal”, her darkening soul attracted the attention of a demon of the wastes, who offered the fallen general power enough to carve out her own little kingdom, if only she would do so in his name. 

Neither expected this compact to eventually become a dalliance, or the birth of a half-fiendish child to follow, but between them the two had a cruel, villainous sort of love that seemed suited for the forsaken lands they made their home in.

Their child however did not have such a happy existence, brought up by his mother to glorify strength and hate weakness, the young Malzaat grew to detest his mortal half, wishing he could be a full fiend like his immortal and oft-absent father. It took decades for him to gather power, first serving as his mother’s right hand as the captain of the marauders her loyalists had become, then leading them himself after her death. With a small army at his beck and call, Malzaat roved far and wide, gathering more and more power but always searching for a means to overcome his mortality.

His attempts were less than successful, culminating in a ritual bastardized from blood-stained scrolls he’d stolen while looting a temple. Malzaat did manage to cleave his mortal essence from himself but the end result left him as a half-there thing, wraithlike form and malicious intent. Diminished but unwilling to return to mortality, Malzaat set about looking for a means of true transcendence, which eventually led him to a marvelous palace where dreams becomes take physical form, at least within its illusion choked grounds. Using  Edarth’s staff, the warlord hopes to turn these phantasms tangeable, to make his idealized, all powerful fiendish body a reality even if he has to break a part of the world to do it.

Should Malzaat’s plan succeed, it’s not only an incarnated greater demon the realms will need to worry about. With staff in hand and possessing the ability to bring his imaginings to life, the warlord would create ever more dangerous weapons and warriors until he ruled all the realms or shattered reality under his feet. This is a scenario the heroes must avert at all cost.

Challenges & Complications

If they anger him enough, Malzaat will ride out to challenge the party himself, potentially opening a hellmouth and stranding them in some desolate realm buying himself time as he forces them to fight their way back to the mortal world. The tide may turn however and as heroes manage to cut the villain down, only to see his wraithlike form begin to recorperate over a matter of minutes, angrier than before, seemingly unkillable. This turns any confrontation with the half-fiend into a game of keepaway, putting as many barriers and as much distance as possible between them and the murderous shade as possible before they manage to tire.

Malzaat’s mortal essence didn’t just disappear, as the ritual he used was originally intended as a means of excorissm fiendish influence from a person’s body. And so there is a boy, perhaps thirteen years old, the embodiment of all Malzaat’s weakness, frailty, innocence, and anything else the warlord hated about himself. The half-fiend would have long disposed of him, save for the fact that any harm done to the youth is felt by his wraithlike form, leading him to fear that should the boy die, his blackened soul would depart right along with him.  The boy, Taz, sleeps, not having strength to wake save for small periods, but as he does so his mind blends with the dreaming essence of the palace that is his prison, allowing him to reach out into the unconscious minds of others, growing clearer as they near the palace itself. He tries to warn the heroes of Malzaat’s seeming immortality, and tells them of a secret weapon hidden within the warlord’s fortress that they can use do permanently defeat him. ...... It turns out selflessness is one of those qualities Malzaat left with his better half, as Taz is aware that his death might be the only means of stopping his other-self’s wicked plans. He’ll keep the party in the dark for as long as possible until they manage to fight or sneak their way to his chamber, at which point he’ll explain the grim necessity that will allow them to save all the realms without having to fight Malzaat directly.

Far older than he seemed, the wizard Edarth was once a student of a titan named Tourmal, from whom he inherited his staff after the giant was slain by another. Tourmal’s other students took a far darker path, becoming a coven of blood-mad oracles that the party will doubtlessly stumble over the course of their quest.  Should the coven learn of their mission ( and why wouldn’t they, they’re oracles after all), they’ll offer to provide insight to the party provided they swear a binding oath to give the staff over to them once they’ve retrieved it. They’ll also warn them about a bit of subterfuge on the old wizard’s part: Breaking the staff will unleash its power, annihilating the one who did it as well as anyone standing nearby.  Wouldn’t such a dangerous object be better out of the hands of the ignorant, and in the hands of those who’s only goal is to look further and further into the future?

Art

#campaign #Campaign start #mid level #villain #Sword and Sandal #sword and sorcery #dnd #dungeons and dragons #adventure #5e homebrew #homebrew adventure #adventure compendium #rescue mission #bandits #fiend #wizard

[iron-sparrow]

女士憤怒

Four months. Nearly four months in this gods-forsaken wasteland, this frozen tribute to Man’s greed and endless thirst for power. To Lia, imagining these ruins, this Regio Urbanissima, as a once bustling metropolis seemed an impossible ask. She remembers, suddenly, the scorched settlements and strongholds that fell to Nidhogg’s loyal brood, the crumbling outer walls that protected Ishgard for generations. Could this have been their fate, had the Scions and their enigmatic Warrior of Light not intervened? 

One has to wonder. 

Lia shakes her head, evicting these thoughts from her mind. They serve no one now, and she had felt her mood begin to sink even lower under their weight. She sighs out a breath, waits for the cloud in front of her nose to dissipate, and reaches for the curved snout of her visor. It yields easily when she applies the exact amount of pressure, clicking firmly into place to shield most of her fair features. Other mechanisms in her helmet grind softly as the visor is lowered, bringing the toothy jaw up so that it hugs her own jawline firmly. 

Ishgardian ingenuity. 

In her mind, she sees the map of the area directly beneath her high perch, one she had spent well over an hour studying ever ilm of on parchment before departing on her solo assignment of scouting the region. Though not gifted with wings to fly, her high jumps fueled by training and her soul stone allowed her to find alternate route and vantage spots, making her more difficult for the hostile wildlife and machines to detect much less chase. Now, as she’s knelt atop this fallen structure – once a skyscraper – her keen eyes search through the falling snow for signs of life. Only fifteen of the thirty soldiers had been found, most very much dead already. So where had the others vanished off to? Could they have been spirited away by wandering voidsent? While the Lady Dragoon had not personally witnessed any such monstrosities roaming the region since her arrival, she knew better than to cast aside the possibility. And what of those “blasphemies” that had supposedly been dealt with by the Scions?

Fury, this star seemed to find new ways of testing her children at every turn.

Whatever happened to Ser Alvinne’s convoy, Lia knew in the pit of her stomach they must have succumbed to something unnatural. She had read the coroners’ combined reports, and the survivors summoned forth vivid memories of enthralled heretics serving the will of dragons. An otherworldly shriek. Fear that dug into their bones. But this wasn’t the work of dragons. Her blood did not sense any. 

If voidsent were responsible for this, could that mean the Strange Knight might be near? Halone’s mercy, he better not be dead. Her betters at House Dzemael would not like that. Neither would she.

Well, nowhere left to go but down. Tightening her grip around her Fangs, she propels herself from her perch and begins her rapid descent into the depths below. As her armored form passed through the opening in the asphalt and snow, she felt the world swallowing her whole. Her landing was both heavy and graceful, placing her in a low crouch at the center of this beam of light that shone through the wound above. She lifts her eyes skyward to look at the entrance. Only sixty, maybe seventy yalms above her. She can escape with ease, if a hasty retreat was needed. Then, the Lady Dragoon takes stock of her surroundings, waiting for her eyes to acclimate to the dark.

She hears stone scraping behind her and turns, rising to her feet in that same motion. Something is here with her. She senses it.

A horrifying scream suddenly rings from the unseen. Lia hears herself crying out, answering against her will. The sound threatens to split her brain in half, spiraling down into every nerve in her body and wrapping around her bones so tightly she thinks they might snap.

The shrieking doesn’t stop, and the pain it inflicts is too excruciating for her to silence herself. Gods, she thinks her blood is starting to boil. Her fingers feel hot inside the metal talons protecting them, and all at once, the darkness around her goes quiet. She knows that unholy sound hasn’t relented, but now, her ears are consumed by the beating of her heart and the low growl that seems to rise from inside her chest.

I know you.

She’s fallen to one knee now, pushed against the concrete by the threat she cannot see. A trembling hand reaches for her throat, where a deep blue crystal begins to glow, burning hot despite the cool light it emits. The growling grows louder in her thoughts; and then, a dragon lets out its roar, and the Lady Dragoon feels her mind blank with its rage. 

You know us.

I know you.

You will not join us this day.

I cannot fight it.

Fight it. Burn away the heresy.

The leathers in her gauntlets groan with the tightening of her grip. Gasping the stale air of the underground, she heaves herself to her feet once more, pushing against the crushing weight of enthrallment fighting to steal her consciousness. Her dark eyes lift heavensward, gazing into the light through the narrow slits in her helmet. 

Leap.

Even without wings, she flies. And the cold light welcomes her return. 

#elezen #ffxiv rp #ffxiv writing #rp writing #just dragoon things #what if your job stone actually spoke to you though #duskwight but Ishgardian #lady of rage #this is Lia

[lettersandinkstains]

lettersandinkstains - a writeblr (re-)introduction

(formerly known as: - aslanwrites - elliotlpowell)

Hello all! I am a 31 year old non binary human (ish) person! My name is Eli, I have been writing for an upward of 20 years - since I was around ten years old! University student, personality is Tired.

My focus of genres are:

Fantasy

Contemporary

Religious Horror

Young Adult

New Adult

With a primary focus on LGBT+ casts!

Some of my WIPs are as follows:

So Said the King - A dark fantasy novel series, featuring the daughter of a tyrannical queen and king - on the night of her fathers murder at the hands of her mother, Sage makes the hard decision to run away and seek help from former ally nations in order to oust the bloodlust and war hungry queen. (featuring bisexual main characters, wlw, violence, enemies to friends to lovers, New Adult)

The Price of Eden - Deals with devils are straight forward, but promises to angels have their own cloud of secrecies. When Bailee is eleven years old, she makes a promise to an angel in exchange for her brother to survive. Silver dagger given, a soldier was made out of a child with the promise of Eden so long as she did as they said - but when she meets cheerful witch, Lucija, Bailee questions what had been fated to her. The angel may have written death on her heart, but that doesn't mean it is true. (strangers to lovers, religious horror, contemporary fantasy, wlw, mlm, dark fantasy, YA)

Hemlocks - She sits at the table, tips of her fingers bloody from chewing them too low and her mother is out in her beloved garden. Secrets are buried beneath the rich soil and beautiful, blooming flowers. Beauty, her mother once told her. Comes in the form of poison. She opens her mouth to say something, anger bubbling and her mother is not in her garden and she is not at the kitchen table. Lyric is lost at twenty years old, addiction poisoning her veins but blocking her mind, and she goes home to chase ghosts and secrets she does not want to uncover. (recovery, mental illness, slight horror, non-romance, new adult)

ad infinitum - An angel should never fall in love with a demon, it is written clearly and reinforced on a daily basis. Angels have had their wings burned off, fallen and forsaken, for the sin of love. But she met her by chance in the human world, Clover had been the name the demon was using. Having chosen love over Eternity, their punishment is swift and cruel. Forever repeating cycles of different worlds, to meet and never be. Cycles, Avery had realized, are hard to break but not impossible. (fated lovers, new adult, wlw, religious horror, dark fantasy)

So hello! I do also write fanfiction, but thats another blog and another website! This also acts as a personal blog as well!

#writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr

[xputting-my-pieces-togetherx]

OCEPTEMBER day 7-9

DAY 7~ World Lore~

Set up: future present Earth 5

Once the sky opened on a certain day.

Angels fell.

people cried and prayed as they thought the day of long forsaken had come to meet and take them away.

the earth roared and the ground split swallowing the Angels as they fell. Monsters crawled out instead.

A majestic hand came out of the heavens and pushed the fallen and the demons back into hell...

the Earth felt silent as the clock started ticking once again and mother earth sowed the ground as if nothing had ever happened...

DAY 8~PRE-ARC~

Finding a piece of herself (AIDA)

Set up: somewhere in between Earth and the Underworld.

Aida is a soldier of the 6th, Affiliated with Azreal Angel of D*ath. THE 6TH is a group of 6 angels bestowed with the powers to purify or end negative energy (as in sending back to hell), their sole reason for existing is to end the negative energies(demons) that try to escape hell.

On a eternal time. there was no day or night nor time.

Aida was sitting by one of the little streams connected to River of Cocytus. It wasnt as bad as the main river which was full of cries so loud you lost your sense of direction, she did not dare to get close to it, but this one was nice as sometimes you could see images of peoples memories. Aida felt transfixed in the images. She was not allowed to have emotions as it would hinder her work, but she did often wondered what life on the inbetween plain would be like. The combination of their own heaven and hell on Earth was something Aida mulled about, all the Why would they do this? Why would that happen? Why did their emotions make them do that mistake? What are emotions, the reason why the human beings are being tested everyday... led by emotions and from the time they sleep to being fully awake. Was she experiencing curiosity? is this an emotion and was she going to get in trouble for having an experience... her only purpose was to close portals everytime they opened and send back negative energies that tried to escape.

She wasnt allowed to question or feel.

In her teal eyes a red speck appeared but she was unaware of it...

DAY 9~OC POST-ARC~

UNKNOWN

(HINT.HINT. Aida and Ren end up together <3)

this was hard but since they all just fit together i decided to just post it all in the same post! and sorry for grammar typos and stuff English is not my first language also i didnt proof read so yolo?

(also please dont steal my idea it took me like YEARS to come up with it cuz im slow asf)

#oceptember2023 #about my ocs #my ocs #my world lore #enjoying itso far #about my characters #aida #xputtingmypiecestogetherx #randompurr

[buckyssoldat]

Chapter 50: Revenge

Warnings: strong language, death

A/N: This is part of my series, Forsaken - The Fallen Soldier. If you wanna be tagged in this, just send me an ask or a message. Feedback is always appreciated, don’t be shy to share your thoughts on this :)

We'll sit

And talk the stars down from the sky

And I'll not forget the chaos in your eyes love

Alice was not sure about how to feel about the events that were coming – fighting a giant purple alien and his army. It was going to be a bloody battle and she was afraid that some of her friends would not make it. She tried to shake these thoughts off her mind as she geared up to go to battle – a tight black suit made of some very strong material (not vibranium, but close enough) with a tiny blue line across her chest and two down each leg. On the belt on her hips there were guns and her signature black knives. She put on the holster Shuri had made for her on her back, attaching a machine gun previously. Lastly, the boots – black combat boots that were just a few inches below her knees with blue shoelaces.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. “Hey, you ready?”, she heard Bucky’s voice from the other side.

“Yeah, just a minute!” Alice yelled as she looked at herself in the mirror, admiring the beautiful work Shuri and her team had made with her new suit. Taking one last look, she sighed and put two more knives inside her boots.

Bucky was patiently waiting outside for her. Once she opened the door, he took a good look at her, admiring her beauty and falling in love with her even harder.

“You look…” he stuttered, “pretty. You look very pretty.”

“Thanks, Buck.” She gave him a warm smile, followed by a slight pat on his left shoulder. “Are they already here?” Alice asked, referring to Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, Vision, Bruce, and Rhodey. She couldn’t wait to hug her best friends again.

“Yeah, they’re right at the entrance. T’Challa and the Dora Milaje are welcoming them.” Bucky answered her, “We should go.”

The couple made their way down. Alice didn’t know what came over her, but when they were right at the main entrance, she grabbed Bucky’s hand and intertwined their fingers together. He looked at her with a surprised look on his face at first, but then smiled to himself. It felt nice holding her hand, it gave him strength.

“… the Border Tribe,” they started hearing T’Challa’s voice, “the Dora Milaje, and…” The king then pointed to Alice and Bucky, who were walking towards them.

“Are they holding hands?” Natasha whispered to Steve, who couldn’t help but smile. He missed his best friends.

“A semi-stable 100-year-old man” Bucky completed T’Challa’s sentence, as he gently let go of Alice’s hand and opened his arms to hug Steve.

“And an ex-psychopath murderer” Alice added and then ran towards Natasha, giving her a tight hug. “I missed you so much, Nat.”

“I missed you too, Alice” Natasha replied as she buried her head in the crook of her friend’s neck.

“How you been Buck?” Steve questioned, “Alice?”

Bucky was still smiling at Steve, “Uh, not bad, for the end of the world.” He then turned to Alice, with the same smile still plastered on his face.

“Yeah, we’ve noticed!” Rhodey spoke up from behind and the crew laughed.

After all the hugs and kisses, the Avengers went inside the palace. After Shuri explained what she had to do in order to save Vision, Alice heard Natasha and Bruce in the back of the group, whispering about something she could not understand.

“We have to tell her!” Natasha scream-whispered at the scientist, “She needs to know this, Bruce. If not, she will never forgive us for not telling her.”

“She will have a meltdown right before we go into battle with a super army of aliens!” Bruce protested.

Alice snook behind them, “What is going on? I can hear you two from the other side of the room.”

“We have something to tell you, Alice” Natasha announced. Everyone got quiet, which made Alice uncomfortable. What the hell was Nat talking about? “Maybe we should go somewhere private.”

“No, here is okay” Alice spoke softly, afraid of what was coming. “What’s wrong, Nat? Are you okay?”

“Just tell her, Natasha.” Steve said in a firm tone, which made Alice even more worried. “We don’t have much time.”

The Russian spy took a step closer to her friend and put her hand on her shoulder, gently rubbing it. “When Thanos attacked the Asgardians, Loki was there too…”

“Yeah, I know” Alice chuckled, “He was not really dead, that idiot. He faked his death when we were fighting Malekith. I already knew that, Nat.”

“It’s not just that…” Bruce whispered, and Alice turned her attention to him. He looked down, trying to hide his sad expression.

“Okay, then what is it?” Alice asked impatiently as she tapped her left foot on the floor. She felt Bucky coming behind her. He already knew what Natasha was trying to tell Alice. Steve had told him fifteen minutes before, so he needed to get ready in case Alice did something once she heard about it. “Natasha, just spit it out. I can handle it.”

“Loki tried to kill Thanos, but he wasn’t successful…” Natasha took her hand off Alice’s shoulder and took something out of her holster but kept hit hidden behind her back. “And… Thanos killed Loki. Loki is dead.” She then showed her what she was hiding behind her back – it was one of Loki’s favourite knives.

“And it’s for real this time, Alice…” Bruce added in a small voice.

Alice just stood there, staring at Natasha and Bruce, not knowing what to or what to say. Loki couldn’t be dead, he couldn’t. They were supposed to be together.

“Alice?” Bucky called her, but no response.

“She’s not alright…” Wanda whispered in Steve’s ear.

“Alice?” Bucky called again. He went in front of her, trying to get a hold of her. “Alice?” No success. She was just staring, no reaction or whatsoever. Bucky cupped her face with his hands and brought her closer to him, “Alice? Please, answer me. Please.”

Inside of Alice’s mind, she was still trying to piece everything together. Loki couldn’t be dead, he was a trickster and he had faked his death before. He could have done it again, right? But then, she remembered the throbbing pain on her heart she had felt the previous day. She felt Loki dying, she felt him as Thanos squeezed the life out of him. That was when it all hit her. She fell down on her knees with a piercing scream.

“NO!” She yelled as her knees hit the cold floor and tears started running down her face. “NO!”

Bucky immediately went to her aid, trying to pick her up but it was all in vain. Alice was much stronger than him and she didn’t want to get up. As he went to embrace her, she extended both of her arms, making him stop in his tracks. After that, she closed her fists and punched the floors, making a huge noise. A crack went from the windows to the walls. Everyone looked at her, not knowing what to do or say, not even Steve or Natasha knew what to do. Last time they saw Alice crying similarly, she almost broke Sokovia in half, but this time it was worse. Everyone could see that Alice’s heart was broken as she kept sobbing with her hands covering her face.

Steve tried to approach her, but Bucky raised his hand to stop him. The soldiers nodded at each other. Captain America told everyone to leave the room so Alice and Bucky could have some space.

“Alice?” Bucky called her once everyone was out. Thanos was coming and they needed to hurry. “Alice, please, look at me.” She was still in the same position as she was before. Not knowing what to do, Bucky gently took her hands off her face. Her cheeks were wet, and her eyes were bloodshot from all the crying. Slowly, he raised his arms up and put them around her, pulling her in to his chest. At first, she resisted the embrace and kept crying on Bucky’s shoulder with her hands on top of her knees. But after only a couple of minutes, she put her arms around Bucky and hugged him. They stayed like that until Steve came through the door, signalling to Bucky that they had to leave.

“Alice, are you up for this?” He questioned as he ran his hand through her hair. “You can stay here with Shuri, Vision and Wanda if you want to. You don’t need to fight.”

Pulling herself together, Alice took her head off Bucky’s shoulder and then wiped the tears on her face. “No, I need to do this. For him. For Loki.”

Bucky slowly nodded and then helped her get up from the floor. Alice gave him one last hug before they went down to the battlefield.

There was only one thing in Alice’s mind: revenge.

tags: @selfsun​​​​​​​​​​​​ @asimovethroughthisworld​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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masterlist

#forsaken the fallen soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x oc #winter soldier #winter soldier fic #winter soldier series #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier fanfic #winter soldier x oc #avengers series #avengers fic #avengers x oc #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #marvel oc #marvel series #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #mcu oc #mcu series #mcu fic #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction

[cheshire-silent-cat]

Levi x y/n

“What is love without a little danger”

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Prompting: “what’s love without a little danger”

Warning: blood, weaponry, violence, triggering to verbal learners, another fixed up draft

***************{story begins here}***************

How did it get this bad, cradling her wounded husband in her arms as he desperately clung unto his life, in the midst of rivalling soldiers from different lands ready to take out their frustrations at any time and a traitor that greatly helped the escalation of this God forsaken war. It was funny, how things changed so quickly, it seemed like only yesterday when her wedding was taking place, and the titan attacks weren’t so bad then

(Flash back to Levi & y/n’s wedding)

Y/n was such a perfectionist, but not as much as Levi was being, they had 2 years prior to this day and at the time y/n was working as a waitress in the day and a bar tender at night, Levi frequently visited this bar to see her, he enjoyed their conversation and more importantly enjoyed her company, he found it fascinating that she did not drink but worked around free drinks, when she finally did drink it was on their first date and Levi had lightly pressured her into doing so, her getting drunk and him taking care of her opened the doors for their relationship. Levi wasn’t perfect but he loved her and his biggest fear was leaving y/n. Y/n wasn’t a basket of angel lilies either she was formally a scout but was laid off based on the accusations of her being too impulsive and suicidal, basically they were calling her too crazy to control. During their vows they both vowed to love in safety and in danger, and at the time y/n thought it was just a stupid lover’s joke they made when all their friends were alive.

(Flash back to when the titan war began)

Being married to Humanities strongest soldier had its perks, Levi had given her a cosy lifestyle, a definite upgrade from a waitress he made a point to fulfill all his promises to her. However, when the armoured titan broke into the wall, levi immediately moved y/n within wall sina, placing her in a house that neighbours nobles men which meant safety for you, he had instructed y/n not to speak of their marriage, and just like that she barely saw her husband she received letters most of them were repetitive news that someone close to the couple had died but y/n found joy in the safety of her husband. And when it seemed like the war was over and the couple were finally ready to build a family, shortly after y/n realised that she was pregnant Levi was gone again but this time his letter’s stopped abruptly.

(Flashback to the outbreak of war caused by yelena, zeke and Eren)

Weeks had passed and y/n had received no letter, she had fallen into a deep depression and after the rumours spread of the death of her husband she lost the baby. While lying on the floor in the dark study room her husband once roamed, a maid ran in with a gun, Levi had let y/n have one trusted maid to support her in his absence and quite frankly she was more of a friend than a maid. The maid had come with news that the yeagerists had tracked down the letters and were coming for y/n with the intentions of publicly executing her, the maid threw to y/n, but before she could catch it a total of 3 bullet went through the head, heart and stomach of the maid instantly landing her on the floor, y/n randomly shot anything that moved, until she was out of bullets, most of the men were on the ground but about 3 remained standing and began closing in on her, and just her luck that a titan with no interest in eating humans had fallen on the house causing a large chunk of it to fall off and leave an open space, the yeagerists slowly began closing in on y/n and one of the men spoke up “pity really.. if only you hadn’t fallen in love with someone so dangerous” y/n backed up to the edge of the open space “well like I always say, what’s love without a little danger” saying that she leaped off the edge of the building into the dust, the 3 men hastily ran to the edge of the building to check and as the dust settled down, her body, like Levi’s was no where to be found.

For a While she laid low and hid but when the walls were gone and the titans began migrating, y/n left the walls by horse, upon getting to the woods, y/n dragged the horse and walked by foot, on her path the smell of smoke from a camp fire, she tied her horse to a nearby branch and ran towards it certain that it would lead her to Levi, upon reaching the camp site gun were pointed at her she gazed at the weird mix of people eagerly looking for Levi, upon seeing him in bandages, her heart sank to her stomach, she moved closer to him slowly, “Levi?” Hange raised her head from her cooking “hey, you guys that’s no way to welcome, mrs. Ackerman!!, hey y/n it’s good to see you again” the rest of the pack seemed awestruck from the news that Levi had a significant other. Gazing at the faces of the soldiers her eyes unfortunately landed on yelena, neither women knew how to react it’s not like one could properly admit that she tried to kill the others husband, y/n tried to be the bigger person but seeing her husband lay lifeless at the verge of death, the memories of her miscarriage began flooding back to her, without thinking she jumped on yelena and strangled her, contrary to Helena’s normal reaction of fearlessness while maintaining a calm composure, she was scared this time and couldn’t hide it, yelena knew she had nothing to offer y/n, she knew she had caused pain to y/n and the eyes that y/n used to gazed at yelena didn’t seem like a threat it was certain death for yelena, the rest of the soldiers found it hard to move or stop what was going on, and for the first time yelena felt like prey “I’m sorry” that was all yelena could say before Levi spoke loudly “y/n! Stop it! I’m sure whatever is wrong we can talk about it”. Y/n got up to hug him dragging her feet against the floor like a disappointed child and the second her head later on Levi’s legs she fell into deep sleep. Hange spoke up “count yourself lucky that this asshole decide to get up and say something, y/n usually much more vicious I guess shorty here has made her soft or that would have ended much quicker, say did you know she used to be in the scouts but got laid off for being out of control and very impulsive, Yh she was a killing machine the issue was that back then there wasn’t much to kill and y/n was known for overkilling, it was totally disgusting, but I liked her cus she was sweet just angry like a misunderstood titan”. While stroking her hair Levi once again spoke “shut it four-eyes you are such a pain”. Once she woke up she was sat up in a horse barrow with Levi resting on her thigh and her arms supporting him in a cradle like manner, travelling to who knows where, for the purpose of stopping Eren. But looking back at the life she has had with Levi Ackerman, she realised she had no regrets and she would still choose him again.

The end

#captain levi #levi attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi ackerman #90s #alternative #mikey x female reader #fox #doggo #fishblr #cats of tumblr #attack on titan

[tamrieldrifter]

Bandit country

The North Weald and it’s surrounding area in southern Cyrodiil was thought a dangerous place to travel even before the alliances brought their Banners War upon our lands. But now, with no Legionary patrols or other support from the Imperial City to protect it, and with the Banners soldiers displaying little to no empathy towards the innocent peoples of the Heartlands, this area appears to have fallen completely under the control of bandit gangs.

One such bandit gang has completely overrun the village of Pell's Gate. It is said to have started with a few threats against the most vulnerable villagers, followed by a few night raids upon their livestock. And when their wickedness went unanswered, the pillaging only got worse, until one night a large group of heavily armed bandits descended upon the village from the ruins of old Fort Homestead, killing what villagers they could catch, before ransacking and destroying their homes and farmlands. Now it is but a carcass.

A little further to the south the Grey Host bandit gang feels so emboldened that they have built their own fort to operate out of. These bandits are little more then rats and skeevers plaguing the unprotected villages and farms, and picking at the bones of the Banner’s battlefields. It is a travesty that the innocent citizens of the Heartlands, the only group of people in these Divine forsaken lands who are not fighting, not killing, not burning and pillaging, the only group of people who are trying to keep life going in the midst of a war, shall perhaps be the only group who will not survive it.

S.K

#669 #the elder scrolls online #cyrodiil #tamrieldrifter #rpg adventure #eso #screenshots #esorp #the elder scrolls #mmorpg

[therangerswail]

How long have I been like this?

The war was a bloody one. Countless soldiers of the living had died, only to be raised as a weapon against their brethren as she had. Arthas had his plans for the dark rangers that he had raised in Quel'thalas; assassinate and destroy, but from the shadows. There were only a handful of her sisters raised to enact his quiet wrath; elves could be quicker and faster and quieter.

Though they were all dead anyway, and served just the same.

Unlike his ebon soldiers that were prized within the walls of Acherus, a necropolis of the damned being reprogrammed into the perfect remorseless killing machines, the Dark Rangers operated solely within the shadows. Seek and destroy. That was their purpose.

It was a difficult transition, some of her brethren struggling with the acquiescence of the Shadow as opposed to Nature, and the Wild Gods they once so loved before. Some adopted the shadows as easily as their unlife. Falithel had been quietly torn in twain about it. Everything she had known was warped and twisted before her.

She was a creation of horror and tragedy, and the shadows are what kept her together, not her heart. Not a pulse. Not a soul. Though she couldn't find a place for anguish, not anymore. Every inch of her begged to be outraged, but the rest of her was simply a tool with the skillset of a killer.

She served.

That is what wrought her confusion often. How many of her siblings could fight. Some lashed out and drove themselves mad, taught a lesson and were forced to serve in another form of death. So much of her fight had been lost, and there was a grand understanding that she was alright with that.

Have I made peace with my death? How many more must die by my hand for me to accept this fate?

It was oft her that dealt the killing blow; the last thing many of the mad see are the tears of a fallen Quel'dorei that couldn't save her people.

Falithel also remembered the day she regained consciousness. It was a strange feeling, as if the cloud over her mind had disappeared and the marionette strings were severed. She remembered the day she looked at her hands and saw her hands, not the hands of the monster she was made. Though that didn't make who she had become any better.

Her and her siblings were lost. She was on a mission when it happened, when the Lich King had lost control of his puppets, both Dark Ranger and Death Knight alike. Such pain in their eyes, they were truly lost souls, damned to this prison.

Until their General returned. Sylvanas Windrunner had gathered her newly founded Forsaken, given a home and purpose under her banner once again. It was no Kingdom of Quel'thalas, but it was something. She was no longer Quel'dorei.

She was Forsaken.

I will never be free again.

#ic things #backstory

[luckhissoul]

it’s cold outside. he’s not sure when the last time was that he had seen the sun rise, felt the warmth of it on his face. light, it felt like ages ago. the cell that they had kept him in had a small window on the stone. too high too reach, too small for anything but to know for certain that the sun was no longer coming up. was that why it was there? or was it for the times that they had seen him struggling to see through it? as they dragged so many people to their deaths just outside and he couldn’t do anything. not that he would’ve. no, he liked being alive. even in a bloody cell. there was air in his lungs, there was - light, there wasn’t anything to look forward to. the shadow has won, darkness had taken over, and anyone who hadn’t surrendered, who hadn’t turned, who still held tight to their weapons as the victory was declared. they were imprisoned, tortured, sent to die. the air outside was thick and heavy with the smell of burning flesh, death, the pitch dark of the whole world. 

the dragon was defeated. they had declared it, burning the bloody dragon banner everyone to see. the dragon was defeated. and the whole world had faded. slowly until the light had gone out. the darkness swept through. and every so often people would gather some place or another to watch the dragon be paraded about. collared, he had heard. but he hadn’t seen it himself. rand had not been brought to this faction yet. he had counted the days, gone over the weeks in his head. they had subdued him, broken him, was what the whispers had said. the champion of the light had been extinguished. but then he had come to the faction, he had been paraded through the streets. and they had let mat watch, not go near to him. but watch. and light, it would seem that he was broken. making him think that he wouldn’t be able to pull any of it off. nothing was going to go according to plan. all that bloody ta’veren business, the pattern, the rolling dice in his head. all of it pointless. 

but it had happened. in spite of the doubt creeping in every bloody second. they had gotten him out. they, as if the group was very big. more than half of the band had fallen in the last battle, the rest had been strung up along with any one else who had fought for the light. elayne was being held in andor, collared, too, trapped. the aiel were either slaughtered or scattered, he had heard talk about aviendha being among the scattered and the slaughtered. the wolves were restless beasts endless searching for their king. the asha’man had been turned the shadow or killed. the same with the aes sedai. egwene had fallen in battle, nynaeve, light, what had happened to her? the group was a few soldiers, min, and a bloody forsaken. who had been a go between, light, had it gotten so bad that they latched onto anyone willing? a forsaken! but lanfear swore no oath to the dark one anymore, only to herself. not the light, not the dark. the worst place to be in, wasn’t it? in the in between? but she had lived up to her word. she had gotten rand and min out and rand was no longer collared. 

the collars. the aes sedai who wore them had been given them by the seanchan. they had been the few who had not fought when the light fell. just like that. the dragon’s peace broken, the world turned over. he could still feel that like a gut punch inside of him. but he had to shelve that for another day. he could’ve been protected there. that’s what tuon had said. she would keep him alive along with her people. a rare moment of vulnerability when she had reached her hand out to touch him. had she almost said please? he had left and ended up in that bloody cell. but the choice was made and he would not unmake it. but the dragon was out, the bloody dragon was out, wasn’t he? and that meant there was hope again? light, that’s the way some of them would see it. this underground ragtag army waiting for what? another last battle? that sort of defeated the whole bloody point of calling the first one that they had fought the last flaming battle. 

they were alone now. min reluctantly being dragged away to gather some supplies above. she had not been a prisoner. she had been proof though, hadn’t she? that the pattern was not completely undone, not destroyed. her viewings still came. it was just him and rand now in this dank and troublesome place. light, it’s cold, the candles flicker wildly. rand sits there in silence. they had been out for nearly a week now. the eight days passing so quickly. but they hadn’t made a move. it was too dangerous to make a move. lanfear had gone. off to where? perhaps to lead the dark one right to them. perhaps. but still they waited even it mat wasn’t sure for what? his mind feels weary, light but all that stress and worrying only ever suited rand not him. but it wracked his mind almost viciously now. trying to come up with a plan but they seemed to wilt in this damp room. 

he gets up from where he’s sitting to go over to rand. quiet and shaken. he looks defeated. he looks every bit the broken hero. only in the stories the hero always gets back up. even when you think he’s done. but rand wasn’t a bloody story. a light blinded fool, ugliest face he had ever seen. too flaming serious with a savior complex mat found terribly annoying. but rand was bloody human after all. he could see it all over him. human. he lifts the blankets in his hands and sets it over rand’s shoulders. “it’s wet down here.” he says quietly, before moving to sit next to him. he leans forward to catch rand’s eyes. a small smile on his face then. it feels a little forced on his face then. an amused sound comes from his throat. “think that you could do something about that?” he waits, almost eager for rand to look at him. just a look. that would be enough for him to know. know what? 

he’s not expecting rand to be alright. light, how could he? but he’s expecting - he’s not entirely sure. blood and ashes, he’s not sure what he wants. maybe he should try at running an idea by him. but how would he feel about going to seanchan, maybe he could - what? convince tuon to break whatever flaming deal she had with the bloody shadow? lift the dragon banner and go to war again. that was a stupid idea. but most of his ideas started that way. all a toss of the dice really. he didn’t know he was that bloody lucky. “they told me that you made the sun shine where ever you went. you really can’t spare me some bloody consideration.” he says, tugging a little to put some of the blanket over his own lap. he waits for him. waits. - @caracarnn​

#v; under the shadow #caracarnn #add to tracker #starter

[diffxrentwxrlds]

King of my city, king of my country, king of my homeland

King of the filthy, king of the fallen, we livin' again

King of the shooters, looters, boosters, and ghettos poppin'

King of the past, present, future, my ancestors watchin'

King of the culture, king of the soldiers, king of the bloodshed

King of the wisdom, king of the ocean, king of the respect

King of the optimistics and dreamers that go and get it

King of the winner's district and geniuses with conviction

King of the fighters, king of the fathers, king of the belated

King of the answer, king of the problem, king of the forsaken

King of the empathy, your resentment, king of remorse

King of my enemies, may they fall defeat, I rejoice

King of the skyscrapers, dodgin' haters, broke religion

Nine faces, go against 'em, I erased 'em with precision

I embrace them with collision, kings did it

King's vision, Black Panther, King Kendrick, all hail the king!

{ x }

#{ lyrical }

[dfroza]

At the forefront of our thoughts:

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 1st chapter of the letter of 1st Thessalonians:

Paul, Silvanus, and Timothy to the church gathering in Thessalonica, those living in God the Father and in the Lord Jesus the Anointed.

May grace and peace be yours [from God our Father and the Lord Jesus the Anointed].

We always thank God for all of you in our prayers. Your actions on behalf of the true faith, your tireless toil of love, and your unfailing, unwavering, unending hope in our Lord Jesus the Anointed before God our Father have put you consistently at the forefront of our thoughts. O brothers and sisters loved by God, we know He has chosen you. And here is why: what you experienced in the good news we brought you was more than words channeling down your ears; it came to you as a life-empowering, Spirit-infused message that offers complete hope and assurance! We lived transparently before you so that you would know what sort of people we truly are. We did it for your sake, and you have modeled your lives after ours just as we are modeling ours after the Lord. You took to heart the word we taught with joy inspired by the Holy Spirit, even in the face of trouble. As a result, you have turned into a model of faith yourselves for all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia. In fact, not only has the message of our Lord thundered from your gathering into Macedonia and Achaia, but everywhere we go, your faith in God is talked about so we don’t even have to say a thing! You see, they go on and on telling us the story of how you welcomed us when we were introduced to you; how you turned toward God and realigned your life to serve the one true living God—leaving your idols to crumble in the dust— and how you now await the return from heaven of His Son, whom He raised from the dead—namely, Jesus—our rescuer from the wrath to come.

The Letter of 1st Thessalonians, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 51st chapter of the book of Jeremiah:

The Eternal has this to say regarding Babylon:

Eternal One: Watch as I stir up a destroying wind

against Babylon and the people of Chaldea.

I will send outsiders to sift through this nation,

separating the wheat from the chaff, laying waste this land.

They will fight her from every side

on that fateful day of Babylon’s reckoning.

Do not let the archers draw back their bows.

Do not let them put on their armor!

Do not spare the life of one young soldier.

Destroy her army completely.

They will all fall dead in the land of the Chaldeans;

her streets will be full of the dead and dying.

For Israel and Judah have not been forsaken

by their God, the Eternal One, Commander of heavenly armies,

Even though their land is awash with the guilt of their sins

against the Holy One of Israel.

Get out of Babylon! Escape with your lives!

Do not be caught up in Babylon’s punishment,

For this is the time for the Eternal to avenge His people.

He will pay Babylon what she deserves.

Babylon has been a golden cup in the Eternal’s hand,

intoxicating the whole earth.

Yes, the nations drank her wine,

which is why they went mad.

But now Babylon—cup of God’s wrath—has fallen and shattered.

Weep for her, if you can!

Give her something for her pain;

perhaps she may still be healed.

Exiles: We would like to have healed Babylon,

but she was beyond our help.

It is time to leave her and go home before it is too late,

before we get caught in her coming judgment.

Look, even now it fills the skies, rising up to the clouds.

The Eternal has vindicated us;

come, we must tell those in Jerusalem

What the Eternal our God has done!

Enemies of Babylon, sharpen your arrows

and fill your quivers. Get ready to attack!

For the Eternal has stirred up the spirit of the kings of the Medes

to accomplish His purpose against Babylon.

He will exact His vengeance for what the Chaldeans did to His temple.

Raise up the battle flags around the walls of Babylon!

Reinforce the guard. Station watchmen along the way.

Prepare to make a surprise attack, for the Eternal will see His plan carried through

against the people of Babylon.

You who live by the great river

with the comforts of your abundant treasure,

The end has come, and you will lose it all.

Your time has run out.

The Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies, has sworn by Himself.

Eternal One: I will cover your land with enemy troops

the way a swarm of locusts covers a field.

And they will shout victory over you.

God alone is powerful enough to create the earth.

He alone is wise enough to put the world together.

He alone understands enough to stretch out the heavens.

His voice thunders through the heavens, and the waters gush from the sky.

He summons the clouds to build up over the earth.

As the rain falls, the lightning flashes at His command;

the wind rushes in from where He alone can store it.

All of humanity is stupid and bankrupt of knowledge.

Those who make idols are shamed by their creations.

What they fashion out of gold are imposters—breathless, lifeless frauds.

Their idols are worthless, the work of their hands an embarrassing mockery.

They are doomed to perish under God’s judgment.

The portion of Jacob is not like any of these.

He was not fashioned by human hands.

Instead, it was He who made all things and appointed Israel to inherit it all.

His name is the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies.

Eternal One: You are My war club—My weapon for battle;

with you I shatter nations;

with you I destroy kingdoms;

With you I shatter the horse and its rider;

with you I shatter the chariot and its driver;

With you I shatter men and women;

with you I shatter both young and old;

with you I shatter the young man and the maiden;

With you I shatter the shepherd and his flock;

with you I shatter the farmer and his oxen;

with you I shatter governors and leaders.

But now, before your very eyes, I will repay Babylon and the people of Chaldea for all the harm they have done in Zion.

I have turned against you, O mountain of destruction, you destroyer of the earth.

So now I will raise My hand against you;

I will roll you down from the lofty rocks where you offered sacrifices

and turn you into a mountain of ashes.

When I am finished with you,

there will be no stones to salvage—

No cornerstones, no foundation stones;

you will be desolate forever.

Lift up a battle flag; let it wave in the land!

Sound the trumpet—call the nations together!

Prepare the forces for battle against her;

summon the kingdoms of Ararat, Minni, and Ashkenaz.

Assign a commander to lead the troops against her.

Send in the war horses, seething like bristly locusts.

Prepare the nations for battle against her—the kings of the Medes,

their governors and leaders, and the lands they rule.

As the battle rages, the land trembles and writhes,

for the Eternal is accomplishing His purposes against Babylon.

He will lay waste her land

and leave it completely empty.

Babylon’s mighty warriors have stopped fighting;

they stay inside their fortresses, afraid.

Their strength is gone; they have become as weak as women.

The houses of Babylon are burning, the bars of her city gates broken.

The news travels fast—a runner races to meet another;

the word goes from messenger to messenger

Until it reaches the king of Babylon:

His entire city has been captured.

The river crossings have been taken,

the marshlands have been set ablaze,

and the soldiers are terrified.

This, then, is what the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies and God of Israel, says:

Eternal One: The people of Babylon are like wheat ready to be threshed,

spread out on the floor waiting to be trampled.

A little while longer and the time for her harvest will come.

Citizens of Jerusalem (crying out to God): Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, has devoured us.

He has squeezed the life out of us and left us an empty jar.

Like a monster from the sea, he swallowed us

and gorged himself on the richness of Israel

Only to cough us up and throw us out.

“May the violence done to our people be repaid to Babylon,”

we the people of Zion pray.

“May our blood be upon those who live in Chaldea,”

so Jerusalem prays.

Eternal One: Watch now as I defend your case

and avenge what was done to you.

I will expose this monster and dry up her sea.

I will deplete her wellsprings.

Babylon will be reduced to a heap of rubble,

the haunt of jackals,

An object of horror and hissing scorn,

a place where no one lives.

O how this nation roars! Like a pack of young lions,

like lion cubs, they growl.

And once they are stirred up,

I will lay out a feast and make them all drunk

until they laugh and feel happy.

But when they fall asleep, they will sleep forever.

This is what I, the Eternal One, promise you.

I will bring these proud lions down like lambs going to their own slaughter.

Like rams and goats they will be humbled.

How Babylon has been captured!

Babylon, the pride of all the earth, has fallen!

How mighty Babylon has become an object of horror

among all the nations that once feared and admired her.

The rising tide of the sea has flooded Babylon.

She disappears beneath its raging waves.

Her cities have become an object of horror.

Her fruitful land has been left parched, like a desert,

a wilderness where no one lives, where no wants to go.

I will punish Bel, the false god of Babylon;

I will make him cough up all he has swallowed.

The nations will no longer make their way to worship him

because even the great walls of Babylon have fallen.

Get out of Babylon, My people, before it is too late!

Run! Save yourselves!

Run! Do not get caught up in the destruction

caused by My fierce anger.

Do not lose heart or give in to fear and panic

when the rumors start to fly in the land.

Year after year, the rumors will come—rumors of violence

and reports of one ruler warring against another.

So, look! the days are coming

when I will punish Babylon’s idols.

Her whole land will suffer humiliation,

and her dead will lie unburied within her borders.

Then the heavens and the earth and all that is within them

will shout for joy over the disaster that comes upon Babylon,

For the destroying armies will march against Babylon from out of the north.

As the slain of Israel fell, so must Babylon fall.

As the slain of all the earth fell, so must Babylon fall.

You who escape the blade of the sword

must get out now. Don’t delay!

Remember Me in that distant land;

remember the Eternal, and think fondly of Jerusalem.

In that bittersweet moment,

the remnant of My people will say,

“We are ashamed—we have been insulted by invaders,

and disgrace covers our faces

When we think of foreigners entering the holy places of the Eternal’s temple

and defiling it by their presence.”

But I, the Eternal One, declare that the day will come

when I will punish Babylon’s images and idols;

and the groans of her dying will echo through the land.

No matter how high she reaches or how strong her defenses,

I will send enemies to destroy her.

So says the Eternal.

Listen! Hear the cry that comes from Babylon.

It is the sound of great destruction in the land of Chaldea.

For the Eternal is destroying Babylon;

He will drown out the piercing sound of her cries

As wave after wave of her enemies roars in,

crashing against her, with the deafening sound of battle in the air.

A destroyer is coming to attack Babylon; her mighty warriors will be captured.

Their weapons will be broken.

For the Eternal is a just God who pays accordingly,

and He will repay Babylon in full.

Eternal One: I will make her leaders and wise men drunk

as well as her governors, leaders, and mighty warriors.

And when they fall asleep, they will sleep forever,

So says the King, whose name is the Eternal, Commander of heavenly armies.

Eternal One: The wide and sturdy walls of Babylon will be toppled,

and her massive city gates will be set on fire.

The people toiled to build those walls,

but it was all in vain.

Prisoners from other lands exhausted themselves to build this city,

but their work went up in flames.

Jeremiah the prophet gave the following order to Seraiah (son of Neriah and grandson of Mahseiah), when Seraiah was accompanying Zedekiah (king of Judah) to Babylon in the fourth year of Zedekiah’s reign. Seraiah worked in the king’s administration. Jeremiah had written on a scroll all of the terrible things that would one day happen to Babylon (those things which you have just read). Once this important message had been recorded, he said to Seraiah,

Jeremiah: When you get to Babylon, find a public place and read aloud every single word written on this scroll. Then say loud enough for others to hear, “O Eternal One, You have promised that You will destroy this place so that neither man nor beast will live here. Babylon will then be a wasteland forever.” When you have finished reading the scroll and saying these things, tie it to a heavy stone and throw it into the Euphrates River. Then say loud enough for others to hear, “Just as this stone and scroll sink, so will Babylon and her people sink, never to rise again, for they shall be tired after the disaster I, the Lord, am bringing to her.”

The messages of Jeremiah end here.

The Book of Jeremiah, Chapter 51 (The Voice)

A set of notes from The Voice translation:

Prophets see things not as they are but as they will be. Babylon is still powerful, but her end is coming. Jeremiah sees her fall as an accomplished fact.

This strongly worded message about Babylon is the last of the oracles against the nations. Such is the message that the prophet Jeremiah is called to give—even while Babylon’s power is at its height. And so in 594 b.c., before the final fall of Jerusalem, the prophet to the nations delivers this prophecy to the exiles already in Babylon and—if they choose to listen—to the Babylonians themselves. Jeremiah instructs an assistant to the king of Judah to take this oracle to Babylon and read it aloud. As if that is not enough, he then instructs the man to perform a symbolic act—the sort of thing Jeremiah himself would do if he were there. His willing accomplice will dramatize the ultimate sinking of the Babylonian Empire by fulfilling the prophet’s strange request.

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Saturday, October 21 of 2023 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about 6 days and 6,000 years, and 7 days (a complete week) and 7,000 years:

Jewish tradition has long held that human history (olam hazeh) would endure for 6,000 years - from the time of the impartation of the neshamah (soul) to Adam in the Garden of Eden to the coming of the Messiah. There were two primary arguments for this view of history. First, the sages argued that a “divine day” (יוֹם) equaled 1,000 years based on Psalm 90:4: “A thousand years (אֶלֶף שָׁנִים) in your sight is as a day (i.e., ke’yom: כְּיוֹם).” They reasoned that since man was made in the image of God, and the Torah describes six days of creation followed by a day of divine rest, mankind (as a whole) was therefore allotted 6 x 1,000 years (i.e., 6,000) for “works” to be established in the world, followed by a 1,000 year Shabbat (Sanhedrin 97a, Rosh Hashana 31a). The ancient Seder Olam Rabbah catalogs historical events from the start of Creation according to the 6,000 years of history. Humanity will have its time of reign on earth for 6,000 years and then the Messiah will begin his reign in the 7th millennium, a "Sabbath" of sacred history. Later midrash goes along with this basic outline: "Six eons for going in and coming out, for war and for peace. The seventh eon is entirely Shabbat and rest for life everlasting” (Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer). The Apostle Peter may also have had this in mind when he wrote, “With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day” (2 Pet. 3:8).

Second, the Jewish mystics argued that there are six letters in the first word of the Torah, bereshit (בראשׁית), and since there are six Alephs (א) in the very first verse of the Torah, and that each Aleph (אלף) represents 1,000, there must be 6,000 years of human history. The Zohar states, "The redemption of Israel will come about through the mystic force of the letter “Vav” [the sixth letter of the Aleph-bet, corresponding to the sixth Aleph] in the sixth millennium. Happy are those who will be left alive at the end of the sixth millennium to enter the Shabbat, which is the seventh millennium; for that is a day set apart for the Holy One to effect the union of new souls with old souls in the world" (Zohar, Vayera 119a).

So according to both the sages and the mystics, human history will persist for 6,000 years - 1,000 years for each day of creation - followed by a 1,000 year “Shabbat” that represents the Messianic Age of global and universal peace. After the Messiah appears, there will be peace on earth, and all the promises of God given through the prophets will be fulfilled. It is worth noting that in the discussion from the Talmud, the 6,000 years of human history are divided into three epochs of 2,000 years (i.e., two days) each. The period of “tohu” (ימי טוהו) occurred from the time of the fall of Adam until the call of Abraham; the period of “Torah” (ימי תורה) occurred from Abraham until the time of the destruction of the Second Temple, and the period of the “Messiah” (ימי המשיח) refers to the time when the Messiah could appear to Israel before the Kingdom is established in Zion.

Note that the time immediately preceding the appearance of the Messiah will be a time of testing in which the world will undergo various forms of tribulation, called chevlei Mashiach (חֶבְלֵי הַמָּשִׁיחַ) - the “birth pangs of the Messiah” (Sanhedrin 98a; Ketubot, Bereshit Rabbah 42:4, Matt. 24:8). Some say the birth pangs are to last for 70 years, with the last 7 years being the most intense period of tribulation -- called the “Time of Jacob’s Trouble” (ימי צרת יעקב, from Jer. 30:7). The climax of the “Great Tribulation” (הצרה הגדולה) is called the great “Day of the LORD” (יוֹם־יהוה הַגָּדוֹל) which represents God’s wrath poured out upon a rebellious world system. On this fateful day, the LORD will terribly shake the entire earth (Isa. 2:19) and worldwide catastrophes will occur. "For the great day of their wrath has come, and who can stand?" (Rev. 6:17). The prophet Malachi likewise says: "'Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and that day that is coming will set them on fire,' says the LORD Almighty. 'Not a root or a branch will be left to them'" (Mal. 4:1). Only after the nations of the world have been judged will the Messianic kingdom (מלכות המשיח) be established upon the earth. The remnant of Israel will be saved and the 1000 year reign of King Messiah will then commence (Rev. 20:4).

As for the exact timing of these events, “no one knows the day or hour.” In fact, various Jewish sages have argued for “missing years” in the prophetic calendar (due to periods of exile or other factors) and therefore they say that the Day of the LORD may be delayed on account of national sins. For example, based on the gematria of the first two words of a verse from the Torah (i.e., וְהָיָה עֵקֶב, Deut. 7:12) Rashi explained that the 2,000 years of the Days of Messiah actually began 198 after the destruction of the Second Temple. "198 years after the destruction of the Temple the bells of the Messiah will be heard" (i.e., the days of the Messiah would begin). According to Rashi, the delay was the result of Israel’s sin. (On the other hand, many ultra-Orthodox Jews believe they can “hasten” the Messiah’s appearance through special acts of teshuvah: “Mashiach Now!”).

Since the sages of Jewish tradition state that the "days of Messiah" (ימי המשיח) began after 4,000 years of history (i.e., after four "days"), we can understand the fervent Messianic expectation among the Jewish people during the first century in Judea. The Essenes were eagerly awaiting the advent of the “Teacher of Righteousness” and the “Zealots” wanted to establish the Kingdom of God by force of arms. if necessary. Even the common people of Israel expected that the Messiah would come soon appear to ransom captive Israel. It was in this context, then, in the “fullness of time” (Gal. 4:4), that our Lord Yeshua began His earthly ministry as the Suffering Slave (העבד הסובל) who redeemed us from the "tochechah," or the judgment of the law that held us captive (see: Lev. 26:14-45; Isa. 52:13-53:12; Gal. 3:13, Col. 2:14; 1 Pet. 2:24).

So to quickly review what has been said, both Jewish tradition (i.e., masorah: מָסוֹרָה) and ancient Jewish commentary (i.e., midrash: מִדרָשׁ) say that the six days of creation described in the Torah parallel six millennia of human history. The first day (היום הראשון) God created light which stands for the first thousand years that Adam lived: "He was the light of the world because he recognized his Creator." On the second day (היום השני) God separated the sky and the seas, which foretold when Noah was separated from the world of men at the time of the great flood. The sages here note that the Torah does not say "it was good" on the second day because of the great judgment upon the earth.

On the third day (היום השלישי) the earth became fertile and the first fruits were created, foretelling the time of Abraham and his descendants who accepted God's commandments. The fourth day (היום הרביעי) God created the sun and the moon, symbolizing the light of the two Temples and the anticipation of the coming of the Messiah. On the fifth day (היום החמישי) the birds and fish were created, picturing the advent of Messiah and his followers who would fill heaven and earth. The six day (היום השישי) God created Adam, for within six thousand years the Messiah, the "Second Adam," would come to judge the nations and to restore Israel.

Finally, the seventh day (היום השביעי), or the Sabbath, represents the 1,000 year period of peace of the Kingdom of Zion, as foretold by the prophets. We rest on this day in honor of Messiah's finished work and his reign as King over all the earth during the Millennial Kingdom. Note that this overall view of human history is consistent with the Christian eschatology of classical “dispensationalism,” a theological framework that helped the Zionist movement establish the modern State of Israel.

Addendum: What about the "Gap Theory?"

Some people have postulated a "gap" of indeterminate time between the first two verses of the Book of Genesis, namely: "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth" (Gen. 1:1) ... [gap] ... "and the earth was without form and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters" (Gen. 1:2). The implicit hermeneutical assumption is that God created the heavens and earth but then something catastrophic happened: Satan rebelled, the earth became a realm of chaos, "without form and void,” and darkness was over the face of the deep."

Instead of reading the opening verse as a grammatical summary statement of what is to follow, the "gap" theory reads the subsequent verse as a description of a cataclysmic state of the earth that resulted from divine judgment. In other words, the original earth was created before the description of the subsequent "creation week." This is supported because at the beginning of the narrative the earth is described as formless and empty (הָאָרֶץ הָיְתָה תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ), darkness was upon the "face of the abyss" (חֹשֶׁךְ עַל־פְּנֵי תְה֑וֹם), and the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters (רוּחַ אֱלֹהִים מְרַחֶפֶת עַל־פְּנֵי הַמָּיִם). When God therefore said, "Let there be light" (יְהִי אוֹר), He was recreating the heavens and earth, and the subsequent "days" of the creation narrative therefore pertain to this remade world.

The motive for the gap theory is to harmonize the biblical account of creation with modern scientific theories and presuppositions. The “gap” allows the earth to be billions of years old, subject to evolutionary biological processes, and to account for modern cosmological reasoning that vast amounts of time were required for light from the stars to reach the earth. In other words, the gap theory attempts to synthesize the claims of modern physical sciences such as geology, biology, and astrophysics, with the idea that the earth is only several thousands of years old (the age of the earth being derived from a literal reading of the creation account combined with the earliest genealogies presented in the Bible).

Most of the early parshanim (Jewish commentators) believe God created the universe "yesh me'ayin, or "ex nihilo" (out of nothing), but some (e.g., Rashi, Nachmanides, etc.) entertained the possibility that raw materials preexisted (e.g., earth, fire, water, and air) before this world began... Later kabalistic mystics, influenced as they were by pagan neo-Platonic Greek philosophy, taught that the world was created by "divine emanations" and that there were earlier forms of creation that God had dissolved in his quest to "perfect" the creation and make it just as he wanted... Some midrashim (traditional Jewish commentaries) say that these early worlds were rejected by God because the man did not eat the forbidden fruit and therefore did not need redemption and sanctification, and because of this God started over. In this connection it should be noted that even if there were any pre-Adamic people, it would have no bearing on the message of the Scriptures given for the generation of the heavens and earth today. In other words, it is irrelevant from a soteriological point of view, since the essential message of the Bible is how fallen humanity may be saved from sin and spiritual death by the salvation given in Yeshua.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

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Psalm 90:4a reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm90-4a-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm90-4a-lesson.pdf

10.19.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

Shabbat, at its core, is a celebration of creation and of God as the Creator, as it says in Exodus 20:11

For in six days Hashem made heaven and earth and sea—and all that is in them—and then rested on the seventh day; therefore Hashem blessed the sabbath day and hallowed it.

Shabbat serves as a reminder that God alone is the ultimate architect of the universe, and therefore He is the one and only true God.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

October 21, 2023

The Vine

“What could have been done more to my vineyard, that I have not done in it? wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes?” (Isaiah 5:4)

In Scripture we find many references to vines and vineyards, but there are three major passages that together reveal three aspects concerning the character of God and His love for His people.

The first, Isaiah 5:1-7, includes our text. Here we find that God, the owner, planter, and caretaker of the vineyard, cannot contain His disappointment, for despite the loving care showered upon the vine, it has brought forth improper, worthless fruit. In this parable, “the vineyard of the LORD of hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant plant” (v. 7), the chosen people who had seen more clearly than anyone else His abundant provision, but who had chosen to reject Him and not bear Him fruit. To them, and to those of us who reject His cultivating grace, He says, “I will lay it waste” (v. 6).

Psalm 80:8-19 gives us a picture of the abject desolation of the unfruitful vineyard once it is abandoned by the vinedresser. It is ravaged by enemies, wild animals, and fire, utterly helpless. The “vine” (Israel) may cry for help and restoration, but there are consequences to be paid. What a graphic picture this is, and what a reminder to believers today that we cannot for long ignore His will for our lives.

The last and most precious passage is found in John 15:1-16 and concerns fruitbearing. “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing” (v. 5). Here are found the secrets of the believer’s growth and fertility in glorious union with Christ. “Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples” (v. 8). JDM