#he didn't do too well during the Legion war but he found a way to work around his mediocre talents

[nocreativityfornames]

Everything we know about Michael so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He's an high-ranking angel from the Celestial Realm, more specifically a Seraph. (nb: 18-2 and nb card: Luke - "I can do it too!")

➤ His love for sweets is the reason Luke took interest in baking. (swd: 5-12 and 23-5)

➤ He and Lucifer were equals in the Celestial Realm and no other angel shared the same status as them. Simeon referred to them back then as "the two great leaders of the Celestial Realm's legion of angels." (swd: 23-7) But currently Michael carries that position alone. (swd: 23-5)

➤ He was supposed to meet MC when they visited the Celestial Realm with Solomon but couldn't because a secret spring suddenly started drying and Michael had to go there to investigate the situation. (swd: 23-7)

➤ He used to be Mammon's mentor and tried his best to train the white-haired brother while in charge of him but wasn't able to figure out how to handle him and eventually went to Lucifer asking for help. And since Lucifer was somehow able to get Mammon to listen to him, he ended up taking over Michael's role and became his mentor instead. (swd: 27-19)

➤ He was originally the one in possession of the Ring of Wisdom but gave the ring to Solomon at a time when the human was feeling "lost" and Michael wanted to help him. (swd: 29-5)

➤ During MC's 2° stay in the Devildom when Diavolo was keeping secret from everyone that their powers had become a threat to the three realms, Michael sent the prince a message through Simeon, warning him that if whatever he was keeping a secret affected the Celestial Realm, angels wouldn't hesitate to intervene. (swd: 31-16 Hard Mode)

➤ He's the one who found the Ring of Light, counterpart to the Ring of Wisdom that Lucifer had lost during the Great Celestial War (swd: 37-9), and quickly noticed it was missing when Simeon stole it to give it to MC ( since it was the only other way to control their powers ), shooting the other angel a text stating that they needed to have a "good, long talk" and that he wanted to see him as soon as possible. (swd chat: M, "untitled")

➤ When MC was given the Ring of Light and fell unconscious because of it, Michael appeared to speak with them. And during their talk, the seraph told MC that he had pictured them to be truly wicked person due to being so well-liked by the brothers, but that he had been proven wrong after meeting them. (swd: 38-17)

➤ In that same conversation, Michael confessed to being jealous of MC. He told them: "I must admit that I'm jealous of you, MC. I wish I could have been more like you. Because I loved Lucifer and his brothers, and I lost them. Perhaps things could have been different..." (swd: 38-17)

➤ When asked, Satan explained to MC that Michael was the opposite of Lucifer appearance-wise but that they felt like twins at the same time. And when Mammon brought up Michael's adoration for Lucifer, Satan chimed in saying that in his opinion the reason Michael liked Lucifer so much was because he was the embodiment of everything he wanted to be but couldn't. (swd: 43-19)

➤ He would be the one having meetings with Diavolo when the prince took over the kingdom if he hadn't thrown the responsibility onto Lucifer in the last minute, making Michael in a way the stepping stone that led Lucifer to question his faith and start having doubts about God and the Celestial Realm in general. (swd: 44-15)

➤ When MC ended up in the past Celestial Realm through a dream Solomon sent them to accidentally by feeding them his food, Michael was the one to bring them back home. The angel told MC that they and the brothers would likely forget what happened in the dream but that it would still have an effect on all of them and he would keep an eye on them to make sure that said effect didn't have negative consequences in the future. (swd: 44-18)

➤ Luke told MC that he often found Michael in the hall where the brothers' portraits used to hang staring at the empty space, lost in thought. According to the small angel, Michael to this day still deeply misses the brothers and has regrets about the war. (swd: 49-15)

➤ He was the one to cast out the brothers from the Celestial Realm and send them to the Devildom. (swd: 50-7)

➤ According to Mammon, Michael and Simeon must've pulled some strings behind the scenes to get Luke to participate in the exchange program and be able to visit the Human World with Simeon because, with his low ranking, he'd never be the one chosen for those sorts of things and the Avatar of Greed is convinced that they're doing this because they want Luke to experience life outside the Celestial Realm, see that there's more out there than heaven, and stop thinking that angels are perfect beings who can do no wrong. (swd: 50-10)

➤ He's knowledgeable on constellations and likes them so much he had Raphael rebuilt a whole room so Human World constellations could be seen even from the Celestial Realm. (swd: 52-7) He also taught Mammon about them when he was still in his care, and later on taught Luke as well. (swd: 50-12)

➤ It was actually he who went into the Devildom and told the brothers that they had been forgiven by God and had to choose between staying in the demonic kingdom ( and making an enemy out of heaven ) or coming back to the Celestial Realm and leaving Satan behind. And in a conversation with Raphael, Michael said the reason for his disguise was that he was worried about what could happen if he showed up as himself. But Raphael quickly rebutted that by saying that the true reason Michael didn't go as himself was because he wouldn't know how to act around the brothers. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

➤ Still disguised as Raphael before going back to the Celestial Realm, Michael told Luke that he wasn't surprised that the brothers didn't accept his offer to go back to heaven and actually knew that would be the outcome of it. He was also surprised not too long after when Luke, not knowing it wasn't Raphael who he was talking to, pointed out that Michael seemed sad and lonely whenever he was staring at the wall where the brothers' portraits used to be. Michael's exact response to the younger angel's words was: "...I didn't realize that's what people thought.” (nb: 20-A)

➤ When asked by Raphael if he planned to attend RAD in the future, Michael avoided giving an direct answer and left. (nb: 20-14 Hard Mode)

#there are some things here that have not been “confimed to be him” because he was under the name “???” during the scenes but #I added them here anyway because we all know it was him at this point #! there might be stuff I didn't add because I couldn't remember so tell me if you notice something is missing ! #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #omswd #obey me michael #obey me solomon #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me raphael #obey me #obey me lorebible #☙ no creativity for names ✾

[sirpuddingcup]

Before I get into it

SPOILERS FOR THE END AND THE DEATH VOLUME 3

Holy shit this book is great! It genuinely is everything I wanted and more. Volume 3 ties everything up so well that even though I knew the plot outline already just from lore it had me gripped from cover to cover. An emotional and bloody ending to the to the galaxy spanning series.

First off I really enjoyed getting the little updates on what some of the other players are doing while it all goes down. Bobby G and his endless strategy meetings as he tries to figure out how to get to Terra. Lorgar pulling a jonestown as he arrogantly misinterprets prophecies. Perturabo wallowing in self pity as he destroys his room like an angry teenager (the image of him pouting in his broken chair as the room lies devastated around him gives me life). Finally Eldrad and the others arguing over shoulda woulda coulda as they realize this is way worse than they thought. It was nice to check in with everyone before we dive into the trauma of it all.

Speaking of trauma let's talk about the black rage! We see sanguineous's mangled corpse in the lupercal court as the psychic shock sends the entire ninth legion (minus Zephon) into a berserk rage. I really can't think of a better word for it than traumatic. After all they've been through together during the siege to have the blood angels turn into actual monsters against their will is just twisting the knife for the loyalists. From Rans desperate fight for survival against a man he idolizes to Amit waking up dazed and confused at the end of a trail of corpses ("why do the bodys end here?" "That's as far as you got" kills me), it's safe to say nobody is having a good time.

Scratch that you know who is having a pretty good time? Rogal Dorn. Fresh out of the desert of endless boredom Rogal finally gets to let loose a little as he fights his way to Valdor. I love their dynamic and I wish we got more of them hanging out("damn you!"(frustrated) "damn you too."(affectionate)).

We check in with Fo and the genocide crew which ends predictably. I saw him completing the Terminus sanction then getting killed trying to escape a mile away. I did not see him making a fucking clone body and replace Xanthus! I love me a devious old scientist causing problems on purpose! I really hope he comes back in a big way.

The library crew didn't do a whole lot other than Ariman being a creepy magic man. It is buck wild that the archivist turned out to be Lilean Chase at the beginning of her career she goes on to found the fucking Cognitae so get it girl I guess.

The did my boy Loken so dirty in the end but fuck me was it good. They planted seeds earlier on talking about how a demon is made, a reaction in the warp to a traumatic event in real space, how in the warp effect can come before cause. But fuck me I wasn't expecting this. After the dust settles and Loken almost convinces Abaddon to give reconciliation a chance Erebus (fuck Erebus) stabs him in the back dooming the galaxy to endless civil war. And why did he do this? Because Samus is the man beside you, Samus right behind you, Samus is the guy she told you not to worry about, look out it's fucking Samus! The abrupt murder of Loken gives birth to the Demon Samus kicking all of this shit into motion. It truly is all Erebus's fault.

I saved the best for last. The showdown on the vengeful spirit. This is where Horus really gets tho shine. I haven't loved his character like this since the first couple of books. He's a fucking mess and I love it this is the man who's daddy issues burned the galaxy to the ground, and as someone who has a difficult relationship with my father fuck me I get it. Dan Abnet is so good at making fights feel intimate, Horus isn't a one dimensional avatar of evil hes a son confronting his abusive father. Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants to be better than him, and not just stronger but a better person. He needs the Emperor to acknowledge that he had hurt Horus. Horus loved his father and wanted to reach out him on an emotional level so badly, but the Emperor was simply no longer able to do that. When the Emperor purged himself of the infant god the dark king his kindness and empathy went with it ( going on to create the star child). This emperor is nothing but power and cold fury. He enters the room having already written Horus off as dead. It's such a tragedy from top to bottom because we know from Malcador in his all knowing position on the golden throne, that there is a version of this confrontation where they both walk out alive. That does not happen.

The actual physical fight is nothing to write home about besides the fact that different people see it happening in different ways Dusk sees it as a clumsy slugfest between two lumbering giants while LE2 saw it as the greatest display of skill he had ever seen. In truth it was both. The psychic battle had them tossing each other across time and space and fighting through the sites of each other's greatest sins. They use the settings to try and undermine each other emotionally holy shit. Then the do the next logical step AND HAVE A FUCKING TAROT DECK YU-GI-OH DUEL! I need an imperial tarot card game right now GW take my fucking money. It ends with the cards predicting the fall of cadia (the despoiler unlocking the silver door) and the emperor loses. It has become obvious by this point that the Emperor can't beat Horus. Horus outclasses him in every way but Horus doesn't want to kill his father he wants acknowledgement. So what we get is several desperate attempts by the emperor and several others to fight back as Horus beats his father bloody. But nothing works until Oll and John show up having magically teleported much closer than they ment to. They stand right in front of Horus. Horus is bemused at best giving John just enough time to use the word he learned from the tower of Babel directly in Horus's smug face. The resulting blast nearly kills everyone in the room, but it's the first thing so far to actually damage Horus. While her recovers John makes a run for it but Oll goes to the Emperor gives him the athame (stone knife used to commit the first murder) and tries to wake him up. Only for Horus to wake up first and turn poor Oll to a fine red mist.

Finally Horus stands there triumphant and who is there but his own favorite son Loken. Loken is the only one who tries to reason with Horus to make him see the the chaos gods are using and manipulating him. It was a great touch to frame Horus pov in 2nd person as if someone is telling Horus his thoughts. Loken convinces Horus that he's not really in control anymore and the only way Horus can take back control is to give up the power that the gods gave him. The moment he does back on Terra Keeler uses the power of millions of praying souls to relight the astronomicon and and give the Emperor a font of power to tap into. The emperor rises as if from the dead. Horus at first tries to pull the power back but the gods hold onto it as punishment for spurning them. Then Horus looks at the Emperor empowered as an avatar of humanities faith and he finally understands. The gods panic and try to force their power back into him and Horus begs his father to kill him now while he can resist. Then it happens a father murders his son. The emperor tells Horus "I forgive you and I'll wait for you". Excuse me Dan Abnet what exactly does that mean? Horus returned? Ghost Horus? Reincarnated? What the fuck? From there it's mostly just wrapping up they teleport home and we get the last gasp of Malcador as they place the Emperor on the golden throne.

If you read this thank you this was mostly for me because I needed an outlet for my feelings and I don't want to bother my friends to much with Warhammer. It's been a wild ride and I can't wait to see where it goes from here (especially the third Bequin book).

#i said i would so here it is #warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer 40000 #40k #warhammer 30k #wh40k #space marines #primarch #imperum #the end and the death

[f0xgl0v3]

SoN Re-imagining Story snippet

This is that one strategizing scene I added to introduce some characters; the first draft of it specifically, it has been briefly skimmed and is of course a first draft. It’s really long, sorry dudes-

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It'd been a few weeks maybe? It didn't matter much anyways, Percy still hadn't gotten the best grips on Camp Jupiter and the routine, Hazel and Frank kept him away from trouble well enough and Dakota was as lenient of a Centurion as possible. It's been... rough, between drilling and the marches freetime was nothing more than a passing thought or joke; a jab to 'wait until after dinner' from more senior legionnaires who could only have gotten used to the constant hustle and bustle of Camp life.

"Wait- I thought Dakota said something about staying loose?" Percy asked, Riptide spinned idly in his hand while the three lazed about in the clearing. Perks of the Centurions taking half the day off for the Cohorts Legion-wide to plan for the War games and their Optiones deciding to also just give the legionnaires the day off too. Frank took refuge under the shade of a tree; the old strategy handbook looked small and paper-thin from wear as he marked down more notes into the margins. Hazel shook her head a little, moving over to stand shoulder to shoulder with him,

"No, you have to be really close next to each other during combat so you shouldn't be 'loose'. I mean maybe keep your shoulders relaxed?" She tried to off the advice, and urged the two to go back into practicing some drills for another half hour; even Frank joined in for the extra practice, even if it didn't really apply to him much as an archer.

The three were only interrupted by a voice shouting out at them, maybe it was something like 'Hey guys!' but it was for the most part cut off by the sound of it's speaker coughing on his own kool-aid. Dakota came running up, flask in hand and cap halfway unscrewed,

"Hey, Hey! We need some second opinions and you guys are the closest so hurry up before Hank and Sylvia decide for us," He didn't really give any of the three time to respond except for Frank's small muttered "What?" before they were following after their Centurion back to the Meeting place of choice (Bombillo's). It's not like they had much of a choice anyways; even if Perc would've preferred telling Dakota to find some legionnaires who were more experienced. But regardless the three made their way to the Fabrica strip, passing Legionnaires cherishing their moments off. Playing games, flitting in and out of the few shops in Camp Jupiter; the Forge, bookshop, Bombillo's and an empty shop that hadn't been inhabited for years and wouldn't be since the Senate was; in Mercury's words, 'Constantly arguing over what they'd actually do with it'. Not that Percy liked or trusted Mercury all that much, she also said that place had been an old hair salon in the 80's and 90's so who really knew? Dakota nicely enough held the door open for the three of them.

The smell of ambrosia hit Percy's nose immediately; the sweet scent of fresh brownies. Five other legionnaires sat huddled around a table with a rough drawing of what the Field of Mars looked like at the moment and the proposed interior layout of the Fort. Gwen; who Percy didn't talk with much, she always dealt with the senior Legionnaires in the Fifth Cohort, popped her blonde head up from the mass; with the rest following suit. A boy with scruffy auburn hair and growing sideburns that couldn't have been legion approved frowned and scoffed a little,

"Dakota couldn't you have found some people more experienced? Not three probatios?" The kid snapped, *Exactly what I'm saying*, though Percy kept the thought to himself. Hazel stood there silently, like she was going to mouth off but barely stopped herself; lest she got the three of them in trouble again. Gwen rolled her eyes and put her hand on the Centurion's shoulder in a placating matter,

"Calm down Hank, it's not that serious. They'll have good things to say, I mean they have to at least know *something*." Gwen gave them all; including Dakota a 'you better know something'. It seemed like a common enough stare that any legionnaire knew; plenty of them gave off that energy during drills or when they were paired with Percy. He nodded a little and walked over to the table, Hazel and Frank staying a little bit back still; everyone seemed to respect Percy a bit more here anyways. Gwen seemed satisfied enough and glanced over, something about her reminded him off his dream girl; Annabeth. Maybe it was that similar look in her brown eyes while Dakota stood next to her,

"Hey, we don't bite.. well, I don't at least," She joked a bit, a few of the Centurions chuckling along and it got a half snort from Frank. Gwen continued with some satisfaction, "You guys probably haven't been here long enough to know all of us- or, Hazel I know you do but just for the sake of it. I'm Gwendolyn, or Gwen for short, Daughter of Mithras. That guy with the beard is Hank-" "It's not a *beard*!" "-Whatever. Uh, that's Sylvia, Leila, and Tanner."

Hank still looked faux-upset over the beard comment, brushing down his sideburns with his hands while Sylvia; his Co-Centurion gave a joking push. Leila was calm enough, wheat-blonde and sitting in her chair sipping on the culprit to the Ambrosia smell next to the dark-haired kid identified as Tanner. Percy gave a flimsy wave while Dakota tried to reel the conversation back in.

"Uh okay- cool, we have introductions but important stuff at hand. We still haven't picked formations and whose getting Hannibal." Everyone shifted a little, Hank and Leila straightened up, while even Tanner looked a bit more interested; even desperate to have everything sorted out. Dakota continued. It was... boring, to say the absolute least. Mostly just everyone arguing over who's doing what and various rock paper scissors games, bringing the legionnaires into it to pick sides. It was a bit hard- knowing if you didn't agree with your Centurion's opinion they could easily punish you for it. Though with some hesitation things might have finally been settled? Percy didn't exactly know but what he did fully know is that he wanted to be as close to the siege as possible, it almost felt like instinct in a funny way. Frank sublty moved his little scribbled notes over to Dakota to read; knowing their Centurion already let the hour and a half of planning slip his mind.

"So, we're all in agreement on this, we're going in first with the siege towers; the 3rd will come in around the sides to see if we can make any breaks that way and the fourth get's Hannibal when we're in-" Dakota was jabbed in the ribs by Sylvia, who over the time Percy had come to the knowledge that she was a child of Fortuna; the Roman Goddess of luck. Percy had to stop himself from calling her a daughter of Tyche several times, the Legion never liked hearing about the Greek names for Gods. Dakota rolled his eyes and moved the fake map to knock on the hardwood table, taking a drink of his kool aid, "There, we won't be jinxed. Gods Sylvia."

After seeming marginally satisfied with the half-hearted knock Sylvia nodded a bit. The Centurions rushed all of the normal legionnaires out for the Centurion clean-up Bombillo's after they moved several tables to fit their needs. Unfortunately it was also getting close to closing time of most of the shops so the legionnaires were getting their last minute.. Well, everythings settled and figured it out. Percy got pretty lost in the crowd immediately, only to be pulled out and away from the crowd by his upper arm into the much more deserted backroads that led to the barracks. It took Percy a minute to get his grips with what was happening and to tug his arm free whipping around to see his... somewhat halfway capturer, his crowd surge savior? It was.. the kid who had been staring him down when the legion welcomed him in. Those bacteria-pond algae colored eyes and very poorly healed broken nose was enough of a giveaway. The kid scratched at some of the scruff under his chin, a Pilum in hand; stamped proudly with the 1st cohort branding. Percy quickly jumped to asking,

"Are you from the First Cohort? What are you doing like.. not up there or on the main road then?" It was maybe not the most important question at the time. His new not-buddy gave a dry laugh, it didn't sound as... happy as it probably should've. He replied,

"Ah, nah. I'm Bryce, Bryce Lawerence. This is just an old family good luck charm, I'm actually in the 2nd. But that's not why I needed to talk to you." Bryce replied, he said the words 'Second' and 'old good luck charm' with some amount of bitterness. Like it was someone else's fault he wasn't in (From what Percy had heard of) the 'best cohort'. Bryce gave a smile that was probably meant to be welcoming and Percy noticed the braces that he had; and the same pond scummy green tone as the fun bracket rubber band color. He replied,

"The 2nd Cohort, that's pretty good right?" Percy asked, brows furrowing. It didn't sound really bad, it was the second best cohort anyways right? Bryce scoffed a little and began walking on the paths and Percy trailed behind,

"Not really; just for kids who had good letters and mediocre skills or no letters and bad skills. The scraps left behind from the First Cohort." Bryce huffed. Holding the Pilum close to him, the same type of way a kid might've held a stuffed animal or blanket. Percy didn't really get it, Bryce didn't seem like someone devoid of any skills; he was a big dude after all. In most senses of the word, tall, chubby, and muscular, even if his hair (That was in a grown-out bob type look). Bryce continued on,

"Anyway, that doesn't really matter. I wanted to talk to you, and say that the whole water thing you did on your first day was real cool. The whole, using the Tiber to rip those monsters to shreds was good. More legionnaires have to get off their high horses and realize powers are more useful and should be properly utilized." Bryce spoke. It felt.. uneasy, like he was a spring held tight ready to lunge. It just felt... off, if that made any sense. Percy nodded a little again, while Bryce graciously slowed to walk next to Percy and the Son of Neptune replied,

"Oh, uh. Thanks dude, a lot of people here didn't really appreciate the show. Do you.. like, know any of your powers?" Percy asked, turning his head a bit to look at Bryce. Who gave a grin and nodded a little. It was different, most legionnaires Percy had the off chance to talk with never really liked acknowledging their powers and didn't explore them much; unless it would've been good for the legion of course (Healing, sharing of strength, being able to relieve the mind, stuff like that). But Bryce seemed different, like he knew his power and how much more dangerous and that fact made him proud.

"Oh yeah, I don't have much. Legacies never tend to inherit too much, of course it only gets weirder once we mix up godly blood between parents. But I've still trained up my powers." He didn't seem like he was about to elaborate on what those powers entailed, so Percy felt the awkward air grow thicker around them as the conversation slowed. Bryce frowned a little and tried to pick it back up,

"Yeah- I came over to say. Use the powers during the war games, your cohort and the others aren't gonna win anyway. At least try and make sure you all put up more of a fight. Just.. think on it for the night." Bryce replied, with those words slipping off behind a building. Percy didn't bother to follow the strange, slightly off-putting 2nd Cohort legionnaire. It wasn't like the other interaction's he's had. It wasn't like Hazel telling him that bad things happen in the legion to those that mess around with their powers. Not like Frank fiddling with his bow and trying not to look too upset as a senior archer dug into him a bit. Not even the three at the helm of the First Cohort; Mercury, Octavian, and Michael Kahale. Maybe Mercury was similar-? If not just much more overt in any sinister intentions she had compared to Bryce. Percy shambled back to the Fifth Cohort's second barrack to hopefully re-unite with his Conterbanum or find someone he knew.

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I’m very proud of myself for getting through this scene (which would be a chapter methinks-) though the beginning and the actual Centurion part of the scene is somewhat clunky, I was getting into the writing groove and those really aren’t my favorite parts of the scene. Though all in all I think the transitions between settings, the uh PoV and probably dialogue in the first part could use some help, but that’s what drafts are for!

#hehe :3 #son re-imagined #Son of Neptune re-imagined #pjo fanfic #pjo hoo toa #hoo #camp jupiter #hoo dakota #hoo Gwen #hoo percy #hoo bryce #bryce lawerence #uhhh #I just wanted an excuse to write Bryce Lawerence I’ll be honest guys- #okay bye

[willinglyghoulified]

3, 9, 17, & 45 for the courier asks?

Thanks so much for the asks! I literally cannot get enough of talking about my lil blorbos. I don't give Dorothy (NV) half as much attention as I give Gwenora (4), so it's nice to talk about her.

3 - Melee, guns, energy weapons, or unarmed?

As for me personally: Guns all the wayyyyyyyy. Idk what it is about NV, but I love the guns. Maybe it's because of the cowboy repeaters, varment rifles, and magnums. Really gives it that western feel. Also, the sniper rifles were good as hell. But as for my headcanon courier, she prefers her magnum. It was a gift and has a lot of significance, too.

9 - Gender / sexuality / ethnicity / species / etc.?

My courier, Dorothy Vargas, is female and is canonically bisexual, though she doesn't discuss this much. She grew up in the Casa Madrid apartments where there were cheap prostitutes, and she didn't have any real role models for half of her life. Sex, booze, chems, cigarettes, and gambling kind of became a part of her life, and she experimented with everything in her teens and early twenties, including her violent tendencies. She doesn't talk about her sexual activities a lot, but she has been known to flirt her way through situations where she knew violence wouldn't do the trick regardless of gender. She winds up with Boone, though, because even though they only teamed up to kick Legion ass together, she found that she really enjoyed someone caring about her well-being. Who she is romantically interested in has a lot to do with her trauma. Boone treats her juuuuuust right, you know? Not too nice, but not too mean lol. As for ethnicity, she has a heavily Western-American lineage. However, she doesn't know much about her family history, so it's a bit of an unknown for her. Fun fact: Manny Vargas is her brother, who was separated from her when she was 7 and he was 12.

17 - What's their reputation with the Khans / the Brotherhood / the Boomers / the Powder Gangers?

In my FF, Dorothy is a sort of special agent for the NCR. Thanks to Boone guilt-tripping her into doing "the right thing," she decides against siding with Yes Man and taking over Vegas. Instead, she joins up with the NCR, and let's just say that Colonel Moore has it out for her. Sending her on high-risk missions alone and cramming bouts of rigorous training in as few days as possible are two such ways the Colonel likes to remind Dorothy that she works for her now. And since she was sent on quests like this alone, she always tried not to chance eradicating everyone, so she worked on her diplomacy here. She talked the Khans into leaving, she talked the Brotherhood into a truce with the NCR, she left Yes Man in the care of Swank, and she conscripted the Boomers' help for the war. For the most part, she tends to completely ignore the Powder Gangers unless they give her trouble on the road, but she kills Legion scum on sight.

45 - What do they do after hoover dam?

I'm embarrassed to say that I haven't actually written this part yet, even though I've been "working" on this fanfiction for yearssssss. I feel like I'm literally going to melt just talking about this because I am so ashamed lol. But the plan for Dorothy after Hoover Dam is: Colonel Moore offers Dorothy anything she wants as thanks and as an apology of sorts for doubting her during her enlistment, and she really pulled through for the NCR. So Dorothy asks her to cancel the rest of her and Boone's 2-year enlistment term. Colonel Moore was very hesitant to adhere to Dorothy's terms, but an agreement is an agreement. So she let Boone and Dorothy go. On paper it's listed as "honorable discharge." Moore mostly agreed to Dorothy's terms because of Dorothy's pregnancy, though. She and Boone basically travel through the Mojave in search of a place to settle down. And funnily enough, she does run into Benny again, but he's in a t-shirt and overalls, scraping the dry ground with a hoe, trying to learn how to grow his own crops, the poor bastard. Dorothy stops, smiles, gives him the platinum chip, and continues traveling with Boone without so much as a word to Benny. (Book ends with Benny smiling and his favorite quote, "Ring-a-ding.") Pray that I finish this damn book, it haunts me lol.

#ask #fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #dorothy vargas #thanks so much for asking #i love storytelling #and talking about my imaginary people

[mostlyghoestly]

Yo okay incoming ask 👹

So how about a killer!reader that is amongst the stalking type, and they listen in on peoples conversations and info dumping on accident, survivors and killers alike. Killer! Reader gifting whoever of your choosing (killer or surv.) things that theyve heard that person likes, I.E Danny Johnson and some new notebooks to write down info on the survivors and killers if he so pleased.

Tata, from G-hoe-sty 💃👹.

Take it as you will |

Trickster x Killer! GN! Reader

Authors note: I actually want to do this again but with your example! So keep an eye out for that, if you dm me i can also tag you! I did choose Trickster for this one though. also this is more related to Dead By Daylights

You're quite new to the group of killers. Not many of them were talkers, so you didn't get the warm welcome you'd expect. It was okay though, you didn't want to talk to anyone anyways. Being forced to observe instead of communicate with the other killers in the Entity realm, you took notice of many things. For instance, Ghostface talked way too much (although you'd say you were closer to him then the others), Wraith was a self-proclaimed leader of your little 'reject' squad, or how the Legion's always have prank wars way too often. One person who captured your interest was Ji-Woon Hak also known as The Trickster. He was loud like Danny and self-centered but he caught your attention and when you see something you tend to hyper-fixate on it.

You started out watching him from afar, you'd have to note for being a killer he wasn't observant. You'd over heard him talking and reminiscing with who he calls 'friends', which was mostly Joey and Danny. He was quite funny and not to mention good looking. Sometimes while the entity pulled him into games you'd snoop around his living space, it wasn't til recently when you started to take small things and then bring them back next trial. During these times you've found out a little about what he did and likes to do. One of these things where using the victims screams for making music. As you didn't know how to get his attention, you felt this could be a little gift to him.

It was your time to be in the trials, usually you were the type to kill fast and not stall but you were on a mission. You were collecting screams and moans from them this time. Your first victim was Quentin . You strung him up on a hook and pulled out the black box, holding up close to him. Moans, groans and screams poured out of him like music to your ears. No wonder why he liked this so much. Finally after a few moments of recording him struggling you ended the first recording as the entity came to collect him.

Your next victim was Meg, you did the same to her as you did to Quentin. She was just as easy as well. Then was Dwight, he tried to hold his screams in but you grabbed your weapon and dug it into his shoulder making him cry out the loudest you've heard so far. Once he got taken you were off to stalk the last of them. You broke the hatch so the last one wouldn't have an easy escape. It was gonna take a lot of work as these survivors only did two generators and almost all was gone. Finally you spot him, Leon. This will be fun, he was always the loudest. You stalked him for a moment before he hopped on a generator and began to work on it in a hurry. You snuck up on him silently as you wrapped an arm around him. Your weapon pressed up against him as you whispered in his ear. "You're going to sing for me." You quickly whipped out the recorder and set it close by. You're going to preform a Mori, You don't do them often but this was a special case. He franticly struggled and whimpered, god he was so loud. He always was. It truly was the most beautiful sound. After toying with him for a few and milking those screams you finally performed your finale, as you picked up the recorder to get the screams better. He disappeared from under you and you started to fade back into the killers realm.

Once you were back you rushed to your tent, to listen to your masterpiece. Everything came out nicely. You wrapped a string around the device with a little note attached that read, " For you, With love" Once you walked out you asked Trapper who was in the games, he didn't know if it was Trickster or Hag. They were both missing. You asked a few more people and they gave you the same or just stared at you. You sighed and went over to his living space and knocked,

once,

twice,

a third time.

Nothing came back in response. You sneaked your way in and placed down the recorder, making sure it was in the correct position and you left quietly. You stayed hidden and in the shadows until everyone got back. Turns out Hag was exploring and Trickster was in the game. Trickster comes running and spinning out of the house- your gift in hand. "Who gave this to me?" He called out, a smile stretched across his face. Not me's chimed through the killers, even from you. "What is it Tricksy Baby?" Danny purred, smoothly getting into the other mans business. He reminded you of a snake almost with how smooth he was . Trickster played the screams, each one different and beautiful.

"Kinky." Danny's voice teased. He tilted his head in the mask, "But which one of you perverts gave it to my boy?" He whipped around to face everyone. Once again a chorus of Not me's were heard.

"Well whoever it was, I'll use them in my next him! Finally the people will love me again!" Trickster practically back to his place, not before stopping at you. He leaned over and your breath hitched.

"I know it was you." He kissed your cheek and continued on. This was going to be fun.

#dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #the trickster #dbd trickster #trickster x reader #ji woon hak #ji woon hak x reader #slasher x reader

[king-kira]

Valiant || Chap. 2 - The Accolade

Pairing: Eren/Fem!Reader

Genre/AU: Medieval AU, Royalty AU

Warnings: None

Words: 1,710

Available on: Ao3 & Quotev

Summary -> [Name] [Last], the only princess in a kingdom teetering on the brink of war. It's only a matter of time before danger rears its ugly head, so her father decides to assign her a personal knight, much to her dismay.

<- Previous Chapter || Next Chapter ->

Note: Happy reading! :)

All knights were to adhere to the code of conduct, especially chivalry. During the Accolade, a ceremony in which squires enter knighthood, knights swear to defend the weak and uphold virtues such as compassion, loyalty, generosity, and truthfulness until the day they die. Of course, the oath they swore made them sound like the kindest bunch in the kingdom. They weren't. Most became power-hungry and obsessed with the idea of climbing the ranks. The Knights Legion, or the Legion of Honour, if you will, was filled with lazy drunkards and corrupted souls. You had watched many knights change over the years. They start off young and naive, but the world changes them. Your father didn't care much for that. As long as they were strong and hid their true nature from the public eye, they were as good of knights as any. You just hoped that his ignorance wouldn't come back to bite him.

You stood adjacent to your father on the altar. He unsheathed his sword when several squires and knights entered the room. Usually, the Accolade would take place after a battle, when the squires had proven their strength and loyalty to the kingdom, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You watched in silence as, one by one, each squire kneeled before the king and swore the oath. The king would then dub each squire a knight with the tap of his sword on their shoulders. It was a repetitive ceremony, and you weren't quite sure why your father had insisted you be present. You guessed that it was because one of the knights would become your personal knight.

It came down to the last couple of knights, and for some reason, you were a bit disappointed that you hadn't seen the boy from the courtyard. He was a squire, was he not? He was training with the others yesterday. Just as the thought crossed your mind, the doors opened, revealing the boy you had been thinking about, behind him was a shorter man you recognized as Sir Ackerman. Speak of the devil, and he doth appear, you supposed. After a pregnant pause, the ceremony resumed, and the boy quietly shuffled closer to the altar.

The ceremony came to an end, and the newly dubbed knights filtered out of the room. "Sir Jaeger, stay here a moment," your father called out, returning his sword to its scabbard. You hesitated to leave the room, were you meant to stay? Your father, perceptive as always, turned to you.

"You as well, [Name]," he motioned for you to step down from the altar alongside him. Sir Jaeger nervously approached and kneeled in front of your father.

"Your highness," he addressed your father.

"I believe both Sir Ackerman and the instructor discussed this matter with you?" the king asked, to which Sir Jaeger only nodded. "Right, [Name], Sir Jaeger will be your personal knight. He must protect you and only you, no matter the cost." your father sure had a way of putting things grimly, you could feel your hands become clammy, and you couldn't imagine how nervous the knight kneeling before you was feeling. Unsure of what to say, you nodded, fiddling with a frilly piece of fabric that lined your dress. Your father gave you a look that you could only describe as stern before leaving the room.

Now it was just you and a stranger, a stranger that has to follow you around everywhere you go in case of the rare occurrence that you are attacked within your own home. You couldn't blame him, though; you doubted he wanted to follow you around every day.

"Ther- there's no reason to bow any longer," you stuttered, eyeing him as he kneeled. He hastily stood to his feet as if following a command. You felt your heart pang at the thought. He didn't seem to speak much. Is this how it's going to be? Was he going to remain silent and follow your every command? You supposed that's what a personal knight was meant to do, but it was a bit saddening to think about. You tried not to let your disappointment show, but he seemed like the perceptive type. When he spoke, it confirmed your suspicions.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing. I- uh, I just got lost in thought," you explained with hesitation. "You need to need to get your gear from the armoury, don't you?" you asked upon further examination of the boy. He was clad in a pair of boots, trousers, and a green tunic. He nodded in response.

"Why don't you go receive your gear while I head to the library?" you suggested as you began to walk. Sir Jaeger followed a few steps behind you.

"I don't believe I'm allowed to leave your side during my shift, princess," he replied. Part of you wished he had forgotten the oath he had sworn minutes ago, it was a foolish wish, but you were a foolish girl wishing for a crumb of freedom.

"I wouldn't tell anyone," you stated simply as if you were bartering for an item or service of some sort.

"Uh, my apologies, but I don't fancy getting scolded my first day on the job," he let out an awkward chuckle.

"Well, you can't go without your armour. I suppose we'll just have to head over to the armoury together."

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One thing not many people knew about the castle was its many secret passages. They were once used as escape routes if when castle came under siege. The kingdom has been at peace with neighbouring nations for decades until now, so your father had them sealed up when you were little, but not before you found out about the one in your bedroom. You hadn't unsealed it in years because you never needed to, but now that you had a personal knight waiting outside your door, you finally had a reason. You didn't consider yourself very mischievous, but your father brought it upon himself. You doubted the castle would be attacked anytime soon. The neighbouring nation would more than likely attack a fort on the outskirts first. It's with these thoughts in your mind that you decide to push aside your dresser as quietly as possible and peel back the floral wallpaper that covered a hatch. Crouching down, you opened the hatch and entered the small crawlspace. Further down was a more spacious tunnel that led to a staircase.

You kept one hand on the stone brick wall to guide yourself through the darkness. The stench of mould and mildew was pungent, and out of the corner of your eye, you see something scurry across the floor. Yeah, no one had been down here in years, and you had half the mind to turn around and go back to sleep. Alas, you proceeded down the stairs, careful not to trip. Finally, you reached the end of the narrow passage. You pushed a rickety wooden door open and lantern light filtered out the darkness.

The passage led to the underground dungeons. You hadn't been down here often but recognized it by the iron doors that lined the hallway. Your eyes scanned the area. Odd, there weren't any guards present. You guessed it was your lucky day.

__________

Alone, at last, you sat down at your usual spot by the courtyard. You reached for your book and opened it to the page where you had left off on. The usual sound of swords clashing was no longer present. You supposed it was because most of the squires were knighted yesterday.

"You're quite the troublemaker, aren't you?" a voice startled you, causing your body to jolt. You whipped your head around and came face to face, or rather face to helm, with Sir Jaeger. You eyed his armour. It was different from most low-ranking knights, more intricate, and if you had to guess, crafted from a stronger metal. Though, you suppose he wasn't low-ranking since he was assigned to protect you. Thinking about it now, why was he assigned to you? He was a squire only yesterday. You expected someone more experienced. Perhaps, his swordsmanship was just that excellent.

"If you keep this up, you'll get me in trouble," he said, breaking your train of thought. You took a moment to watch as he sat down beside you before speaking up. "You wouldn't get in trouble. I'd just tell my father that it was my fault," you said, shaking your head and turning your attention back to the book on your lap.

"Not sure that's how it works, princess," he murmured.

"How'd you find me anyway?" you decided to change the topic.

"Well, it was getting late, so I decided to check on you only to find that you weren't even there, and there was an open hatch in the wall," he explained. "I went through the passage, and I figured I'd check the courtyard since I've seen you here often," he finished. You gave a curt nod, letting the conversation lapse.

"What're you reading?" the boy inquired after a long pause. He leaned closer to take a peek at your book. You slammed it shut, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. "Love in Turmoil? Didn't take you for the romantic type," he laughed, and you huffed, giving him a shove.

"Yeah, so what?" you snapped back.

"Nothing wrong with it," the turquoise eyed boy raised his hands in defence.

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

"Look, uh- I know you're not too fond of the whole personal knight thing. I'm sorry, but once this whole 'on the brink of war' thing passes, things will go back to normal," he attempted to reassure you, and you began to feel a bit bad. You shouldn't be giving him such a hard time, but there's so much frustration boiling within you that has nowhere to go. You exhale and turn to face him.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I just..." You paused to think of the right words. A wistful sigh slipped past your lips, and you turned your gaze heavenward. You watched as two birds soared across the sky, and that's when it happened. In an instant, the world around you began to crumble.

#eren x reader #eren x you #eren jeager x reader #eren x y/n #eren jäger #eren aot #aot x reader #aot #snk #snk x reader #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman #eren yaeger x reader #eren yeager #medieval au #royalty au #my writing

[starcaller-lunarsong]

"The time for mercy is over."

I finally finished this precious, angry druid! I love Luna so, so much, and I'm really proud of the digital painting of her I did. I didn't keep track of how long it took, but definitely took a few weeks on and off for sure! I also wrote a small story to go along with her transformation into a Night Warrior. Hope you enjoy!

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Sounds of fighting filled the midnight air, Lunarsong panting heavily as she slashed her way through yet another orc. For every one she killed, two more seemed to take their place. The tide of the Horde was endless in her homeland, and the thought filled her with murderous anger. The hand of a dying orc reached up, grasping her long, silver cloak, and ripped it off the druid. She looked down at him with cold amber eyes, feeling pleasure well up inside her at the terror in his own. The Horde thought her dead after the War of Thorns, her body rotting in the depths of the Veiled Sea.

Oh how terribly wrong they were… She allowed them to think she was dead, and any who discovered her identity never lived to tell their superiors. Her scythe blade dove down to his throat, hot blood splattering her cloak before she put it on once again. She didn’t bother to pull up her hood. None of the Horde soldiers here would live to see another sunrise, anyway.

She had seen what had become of Darkshore. The goblins were cutting the land dry and didn’t even bother collecting the wood they had made, leaving it to rot away. Such waste made her sick, and she wanted nothing more than to bury her scythe in the skulls of those despicable goblins. Especially their oh-so ‘beloved’ Trade Prince. But she supposed these orcs and trolls and forsaken would have to do. For now...

“By Elune, they’re everywhere!” Maiev’s voice brought her out of her bloodlust-induced haze, licking her lips to taste the crimson life fluids of her enemies that splattered her so thoroughly. She let herself get carried away yet again. Golden eyes flickered around the battlefield, and she could see that slowly, ever so slowly, her people were losing ground.

She looked back toward her High Priestess. Tyrande’s eyes were sealed shut as she levitated in the air, cool and soothing moonlight illuminating her in the form of a beam. She was more like a beacon, almost inviting any stray arrow to strike her. Never, Lunarsong snarled silently. She will not fall. She will become the Night Warrior. She has to…

She needed more time. The ritual wasn’t complete yet, and she needed more time. Arcane magic crackled fiercely around the druid, her eyes taking on a violet sheen. She was done hiding who she was. She was Lunarsong Fel’lendar, former heir of the House of Stelleris, a former member of the Highborne. She was the Starcaller. She would make damn sure the Horde remembered her name - and feared it.

Moonfire flared down to those who dared approach her, and roots grabbed those who survived. Slowly, she closed her open palms into fists, each small movement sending the unfortunate soldiers deeper and deeper into the earth’s cold embrace. Their screams were muffled as the roots continued to grow, covering their mouths. No one would remember them. No one would grieve for them, least of all her.

The old her would’ve been appalled at the methods she used. At her using the same arcane magic she swore to never use, as a rejection of her family’s legacy. But she died the day Teldrassil burned. The day that orcish scum ran her through with a blade from the back - a cowardly blow. The day he ripped off her moonstone pendant, the only gift from her mother she still cherished, clean off of her throat, and threw her into the Veiled Sea. The day she was left for dead, just barely clinging to life because of the intervention of her father. The day her entire world turned to ash…

Mother, father, Elyssa… To think that they could actually follow Sylvanas and her twisted Horde, after all the atrocities she has committed. How could they be so blind? Cold anger filled her as she continued to fight, the power of her spells fueled by her emotions and pain. Fueled by the need for justice for her butchered people, for the families and lives erased in mere moments, all for what?

We were just an example for Sylvanas to use. To show what happens to those who defy that evil, slimy and treacherous banshee!

Elunara Voidcaller fought at her side, her tabard of the 7th Legion covered so thoroughly in orcish, troll and forsaken blood that you could barely see the lion of the Alliance poking through the crimson fluids. Her blue and gold armor was covered similarly. Void energies swirled around the mage, Elunara’s blue eyes alight with a vengeful fury that paled only in comparison to Lunarsong’s own. She sent those who advanced too close tumbling and screaming into the endless void, turning others into sheep, and many more dead to the ground, arcane magic lacing through their bodies brutally.

There was Lindrith Icebloom, screaming the names of the dead night elves in Teldrassil, and the countless innocents butchered in the War of Thorns, of the fallen Alliance soldiers at Lordaeron, over the clamor of the battle. The death knight was a flurry of blades, striking out at any Horde member with brutal mercilessness, but their lives didn’t end there. She raised the dead as skeletons, sending them upon the other soldiers without care. Thaldryn fought beside her, his frost spells freezing anyone foolish enough to attack his mate. They were like a well-oiled machine, freezing and shattering the Kaldorei’s enemies with brutal efficiency.

And then there was Lunarsong’s own mate and daughter. Tehlmar and Lilyura had taken the form of their demons, great wings of shadow sweeping orcs and trolls and forsaken off their feet before their warglaives beheaded them easily and cleanly. Lilyura’s demonic form melted away to reveal the night elf once again as she vaulted over another orc, landing on his shoulders before twisting, slamming him into the ground. There she dispatched him with brutal efficiency, her revealing armor and blindfold already splattered with blood. Tehlmar turned toward Lunarsong’s direction, noticing her staring. He grinned at her before winking, charging once again into the fray.

She grinned back, continuing to fight before the hand of her general, Shandris Feathermoon, gripped her shoulder tightly as she turned the druid around. “The ritual is nearing completion! Lunarsong, release the Eye of Elune!” The druid nodded silently before putting away her weapon. She swiftly embraced her husband and child once she ran to them, each sticky with the same crimson fluid that was on her.

"I swear to Elune, if you two die on me, I'm going to kill you..." Tehlmar chuckled softly at that, kissing her lips gently.

"Bold of you to assume they'd even be able to land a hit on me, Luna." He kissed her one last time before breaking away to rejoin the fray as Luna ran to the Eye of Elune - and to her High Priestess.

Her hands glowed with starlight as she began the process of releasing the eye, calmness washing over her as she communed with her goddess. She had never felt so at peace, despite the raging battle behind her. Tyrande lowered to the ground, opening her eyes at last.

The moonwell surged with power from the ritual, Lunarsong’s breath catching in her throat as her High Priestess finally spoke. Rage was evident in her voice, transforming the once beautiful, melodious sound into something akin to a war chant. “With ancient words, I invoke your most ruthless phase.” As the water in the moonwell turned dark, she took a severed orc head from her side, tossing it into the center of the well. It sank into it, stars glittering on the surface of the darkened water, shadow and moonlight crawling up the sides of the ancient, pristine stone.

“With this offering, I demand to wear your darkest face.” As she continued on, she walked into the well slowly. She lifted up her face to the night sky, the crescent moon high above. A beam of moonlight flared down to her, Tyrande opening her arms wide to embrace it as if it were a lover. “Elune, make me the instrument of your vengeance!" She raised her hands that were now glowing with starlight, releasing the power that was welling up within her.

Lunarsong could barely make a sound before she doubled over, gasping out in agony. She could feel it. Elune’s rage, her wrath, pure and overwhelming, and yet she welcomed it with open arms. She welcomed the agony, the rage, the power and glory of her goddess. She wanted this power more than anything. Wanted the chance to claim vengeance more than anything. Her fingers curled upwards, her nails digging into the palm of her hand before she collapsed on her hands and knees.

Time felt as if it slowed down to her. Her golden eyes turned the colors of the night, the irises of her eyes taking on the form of eclipsed moons as stars once again twinkled to life within. She felt...whole, and strangely calm.

The silver leaf armbands on each arm turned as dark as the night, the metal gleaming in the moonlight, and the rest of her armor changed similarly. Her silver robes turned a dark blue, stars twinkling on the fabric, and the gems a gradient of black and blue. Elune listened to her heart during the moment of judgment, and found her worthy. Her heart, once crying out for everlasting peace, now screamed for vengeance and retribution. She wouldn’t declare her hunt over until Sylvanas was rotting on her throne of bone and hides, until those who allied with the banshee willingly and forsake all sense of honor paid for the blood they had spilled.

Her crescent moon just inches from her face began to crack, the lines racing across the glowing metal before it completely shattered. The shards sliced across her face, her arms, and before she even realized what was happening, her voice was raw and scratchy from her scream of terror, agony, and rage. A dark blue moonfire poured from her fingertips, swirling around her before condensing before her very eyes. It took the shape of her former headpiece, the raging flames just barely contained, waiting to consume everything in their path. All the while memories flashed through her head. Elyssa telling her why the Nightborne constructed the shield around Suramar City, the sickening sense of betrayal eating away at her. The invasion of her home, and her endless grief when she came across the massacred civilians in Astranaar. Her piercing scream of horror and rage when she beheld the burning husk of her beloved home - her beloved Teldrassil. Every memory, every emotion, burned white-hot in her mind. They all led her to this very moment, led her to seek out vengeance for the slain.

She felt as if her new moon was a reflection of her pain, her rage. It reflected her burning desire for vengeance and retribution - and she gladly welcomed the pain that accompanied it.

The time for mercy is over.

She looked up at Tyrande, the High Priestess appearing as a beautiful, yet terrifying warrior maiden. The silver armor gleamed in the moonlight, her dark eyes glowing with unbound rage. She made a gesture with her hands, starlight crashing down upon the remaining Horde soldiers, wiping them out in one fell swoop. “Now we shall have vengeance. The night warrior lives...within me.”

Lunarsong stood up with difficulty, her braid falling over her face, hiding her features before she raised her head. All the other night elves and worgen could see the changes in the Starcaller, but none look horrified. They all wanted what she did. They wanted Sylvanas to pay.

Her lips curved into a dark smile.

Her people would reclaim their lands and drive the Horde before them. Nothing would stop them now, not with the Night Warrior on their side. Not when her people were the children of Elune, and now the vessels of her wrath. She, and they, would stop at nothing until Sylvanas’ Horde was in ruin, and the Kaldorei’s ancient lands were reclaimed.

She now understood her husband and daughter’s hunger for vengeance, for their willingness to sacrifice anything and everything to achieve it. She once chided them for turning into the very things they swore to destroy, turning into demons. Now, she felt the same, and they stood by her side. She felt Tehlmar’s arm wrap around her waist, pulling her close to him as he kissed her cheek. “We will have our vengeance, my Lunar Light…” She stared at him for a long moment, smiling widely at him, but it wasn’t cruel. It was full of love and warmth. For him, for their daughter, and for their infant son.

She laid her head down on his shoulder, closing her eyes and allowing herself a much-needed sigh of relief. The battle was over, for now, but the war would keep raging on until a winner emerged. She prayed to her goddess that for Azeroth’s sake, the Alliance would be victorious. If not, she trembled at the possibility for what could become of her beloved home, her beloved Azeroth. In her mind, Sylvanas was no different from Arthas now. The banshee would stop at nothing until Azeroth was hers and both the Alliance and Horde were her mindless servants. Instead of dying as a hero, freeing her Forsaken from the Lich King’s legacy, she pushed them deeper into his shadow.

Tehlmar’s fingers ran through her hair as he planted a kiss on her again. “You don’t need to worry, we’ll win. The Horde will know ruin, and Sylvanas will pay dearly for her crimes…” She smiled again at that.

“With Elune as our witness, they will know ruin,” she breathed, echoing his words. She opened her eyes to stare at him. They agreed silently. They were on the same path now, and they would be each other’s anchors.

The time of reckoning was at hand.

We are coming, Sylvanas...

#world of warcraft #alliance #warcraft #night elf #lunarsong #druid #kaldorei #warcraft art #warcraft elf #for the alliance #luna #night warrior #warcraft oc #story #short story

[rask-the-rogue]

When the Day is Done

[Notes: Sorry about the length!  There’s been a lot going on with Rask, both leading up to and after the burning of Darnassus.  Quick reminder that Rask worked for Sylvanas for a while during the early part of Legion; he has an Undead disguise that allowed him to do so.

The first bit here is from an actual role-play in game, though I didn’t log the chat and don’t know the people on tumblr so I can’t tag them and greatly simplified the conversation.  The troll featured belongs to a great rper who I also can’t tumblr tag; if you know Gronn the Tauren deathknight, this is his alt!  Further credit: Mavrassle is over at @exileforthecause​ and Rask’s sister Celune can be found at @sconesandsorcery​.  The art is mine, and I’m glad I finally found a reason to draw Rask’s kids :) Thanks as always for reading my stuff <3]

He wasn’t able to get the face of the nine-year-old gnome out of his mind.  She had been so small, and yet so fiercely dressed with her practice weapons on her back.  “I’m going to march with my Order in the war,” she’d said, and Rask had felt his insides go cold.

The woman he’d been chatting with idly at the Slaughtered Lamb had returned his shocked exclamation with a narrow look.  “She has to be able to defend herself, don’t you think?”

“She’s nine,” was all he could sputter for a moment before an icy rage seized him.  “There’s a diff’rence between self-defense an’ marchin’ ta war!”

“She can make her own choices; shouldn’t we all?” The woman had huffed as she drew the child gnome back, ushering her out of the door.

“She’s a kid!” he retorted, ignoring the fact that the entirety of the bar was  now watching this exchange.  “She can choose what veggies she don’t like, an’ what color clothes ta wear that day-- NOT whether or not she can die in battle!”

The woman’s lips pinched together, and she shrugged.  Rask scoffed, tossing his glass roughly back onto the bar.  “I reckon I oughta get goin’,” he spat.  “I got three kids at home I gotta get back to.”

He’d walked home, hoping it would clear his head, but the conjured image of the child on a battlefield-- tiny hands clenched around non-blunted weapons, the certainty of her face that she ought to be there giving way to the dawning reality of death-- haunted him the whole journey back.

The gold paint of the rising sun on his door winked at him despite the twilight hour, the honeyd rays of the actual sun having long ago surrendered to the jut of the mountains that encircled Stormwind, now only able to touch the docks and sea far, far from Old Town.

Felpaw, the Demon Hunter Mavrassele’s gift to him and his children, nearly pinned him against the door as it shut behind him, loud rumbling purrs interspersed with snuffling sniffs of his nose as he puzzled out the myriad of smells on Rask’s trousers.  Rask chortled as he endured the bunting rubs of the saber’s head, scratching his ears briefly before the thunder of padding feet brought his hands up to stymie the flood of children that rushed toward him down the hall.  “Pa!”

He grunted as he lifted Irvin-- the boy had just turned six, but Rask was already betting money that the kid would become a warrior, considering he was a bulwark of a child.  “Oi,” He exclaimed, bracing himself for the even younger elven child that leapt up onto his back a moment later, scrambling up it like a monkey.  “Ain’t you all supposed ta be in bed?”

“I tried, Pa,” Idalee’s voice cut in; at eleven, she was too old to demand a lift into his arms, so he leaned over to give her a stubbled kiss instead, watching a pleased smile cut through the self-important annoyance on her face.  “They kept watching out the window for you.”

“Tsk,” Rask mock-chided, looking from Idalee to her blood brother, Irvin, and then to the little Ash on his back, whose blood lay on both sides of the war: Sin’dorei and Kal’dorei alike, judging by his luminous eyes and pale purple skin.  “Well, I’m here now, so no more excuses.  Ta bed, with tha lot of you.”

☽ ☼  ☾

He hadn’t had the heart to pull himself away to his own bed, especially not since little Ash clung and whined when he half-heartedly tried to move.  They’d all ended up in a pile of limbs on Ash’s bed, Idalee tucked against his back while Irvin had finally splayed himself across his legs and fallen fast asleep there, like the odd duck he was.

Rask listened to the breathing of their small bodies as he stared into the semi-darkness, thinking of the gnome child once again, thinking of how talk in the taverns of Stormwind and Orgrimmar alike had turned to terse discussions of the opposing faction and its bid for Azerite.  It felt like mere days since Anduin and Sylvanas had declared the threat of the Legion was vanquished; and yet now it seemed all of Azeroth was holding its breath, waiting for the next hammer to fall-- waiting for the first warning gong or bell, so they could throw themselves into the bloody flames of precious war once again.

War-- He had broken his ties with Sylvanas at the Worgen tower in the Broken Isles, and had dared to allow himself to hope that soon-- soon-- the war would be done and the factions would speak together of peace.

Fear ate away at that hope.  The gnome-child’s face loomed up in the dark.  Was he doing enough to prepare his children for war?  Would they have to protect themselves-- could they?

He pushed the questions away, squeezing his eyes shut and pleading for sleep.  It was still speculation, bar-talk.  He would allow himself to worry when it came to pass.

☽ ☼ ☾

Word spread like the fires of Darnassus itself through the city.  Their door was knocked on so many times-- Did you hear? -- Have you heard? -- Did you know anyone there?-- that Rask had finally shuttered the windows and told the children they wouldn’t be answering it the rest of the day.  They whiled away the hours playing board games, and he pretended to ignore his children’s glances toward the window at every knock or shout in the street, just as they pretended to ignore the tightness around his eyes and mouth.

☽ ☼ ☾

"De World Tree. Dey burned it," the troll whispered.  Rask had heard his coughing and had left his kids within the circle of light from Idalee’s lantern to go investigate.  They had waited until near dusk to set out for the tower in Elywnn that housed his adopted sister and her family, and had gotten about halfway there when the strange hacking noises had drawn their attention.  Rask had been surprised to find a druid in cat form, soot clinging to his fur and the smell of woodsmoke clogging the air around him; he was less surprised to hear the troll say he was leaving the Horde.  "Saw de smoke from Dalaran. Decided I'd help de right side."

Rask dropped his arms that he’d lifted to show the troll he was indeed a ‘Raznos’, or friend, as he’d called out through the gloom as way of introduction.  He let his shoulders slump; his children couldn’t see him, for the moment.  "I heard as much,” he admitted, “But by tha time I heard, it was already done-- done enough that if I went ta help, I'd jus' be in tha way.”  He heard the uncertainty in his own voice; had there truly been nothing he could have done?  He pushed the nagging thought away, as he had countless times in the last twelve hours.  “Stars an' suns," He cursed in Thalassian before switching back to Orcish, hearing his voice ache.  "Why?  Why?"  The tears that sprang to the back of his eyes surprise him, but he didn’t let them fall.  Not yet--  not here.  "D'you know?  Has she gone mad?"

"She always been mad, boyo," the troll hissed, finally revealing his natural form in a flash of druidic magic.  He wore his dark hair in dreadlocks, and an eyepatch covered his right eye.  The rings on his tusks chimed faintly as his frame shook with more ragged coughs. "No one knows,” he continued once the coughing fit settled into a rasp. “No one sane, anyhow.  But she ain't my Warchief no more.”  His voice grew hard, and Rask felt the words burn like a brand in his chest.  Not mine, either.  “I knew about Darkshore-- still no reason why-- but I didn't… I didn't know she'd burn Teldrassil." Rask heard the shame in his voice, saw it glinting in his eyes when they locked with his own.  "...I'm sorry."

The words cut him to the quick.  He’s heard them too many times, said them far more.  He shook his head, taking a step forward toward the troll and lifted his hand, holding it palm up.  "You ain't got nothin' ta apologize fer.  My kids an’ I are headed fer sanctuary-- my sister’s tower, which she shares with her Sin’dorei husband an’ kids. ��If yer lookin’ fer a safe haven, fer tha time bein’, we can give it ta you.”

☽ ☼ ☾

His home was strange in the still stiffness of the early morning light, with no human breaths or heartbeats but his own to fill it.  His children, and the troll Ra’him, were safe with Celune and Jath for now; he’d told them he needed to tie up a few loose ends.  Celune had given him a knowing look and a squeeze on the arm, and told him to be back in time for dinner.

Felpaw whines at him as he stood in the doorway to his home, staring down the hallway that ended with a stairwell on the left, and the kitchen on the right.  Providing another route to the kitchen was the sitting room, strewn with children’s toys and couches dusted with fur despite the strict orders not to let Felpaw up on them.  He picks his way carefully around them, unwilling to even nudge the toys aside like he usually did, as if preserving bones in situ.

He wonders if any toys had survived the fire, imagines the charred remains of dolls or warped metal horses strewn about a playroom in Darnassus.

One of the sturdy chairs around his dining table lends him a needed crutch as he fights the urge to collapse right then and there.  He leans heavily against it, casting a despairing gaze about the room while he struggles to moderate his quickening breaths.  The sink and its magic that would cheerfully draw water up from the well below with no hand-pumping was of Sin’dorei make, while the kettle hung above the currently ashy hearth had been purchased directly from an Dwarven blacksmith, who had guaranteed his design would boil water faster and keep it hot longer.  (He was right.)  The ceramic bowls his children ate soup from were patterned with the bright colors of the Tauren, made by their large and careful hands; the glass cups they drank from, spun thanks to tiny Gnomish ones.

His thumb catches on the scrollwork on the back of the chair, smoothing itself over the curves as one would rub a circle of prayer beads.  He had requested from the woodcarvers that a rising sun motif be carved there, budding out of the swirling vines and leaves that spread over the rest of the backrest.  Silvermoon meets Darnassus, co-existing there in the sturdy frame of his chairs.

A sob chokes him.  His body sags until he’s keeling, and he presses his forehead so hard against the chair that it would surely etch dents into his skin.  He finally gives himself over to grief there in the empty silence of his home, and weeps for all that’s been lost.

☽ ☼ ☾

Do you ask why I'm sighing, my son? You shall inherit what mankind has done In a world filled with sorrow and woe If you ask me why this is so, I really don't know.

[To be continued]

#story #my art #world of warcraft #bfa #wra rp #DAM WELL IT'S BEEN A WHILE HUH #rask's just been taking care of his adorable lil kids #until you know #everyone has to go off their rockers and screw everything up #ghh rask has been SO HOPEFUL #as have i #that actual peace may be an option #sighs heavily #thank you if you read the whole thing! you're awesome #ugh i forgot my current theme doesn't show italics so forgive the bolded things grr

[leucinxandorath]

It's been weeks since Delaraina was buried. Leucin spent his time in the trade district within Silvermoon, selling jewelry he designed after melting down his share of the loot. It was a decent profit to make in this city. After all, who better to sell to than a bunch of self-entitled nobles or snobby politicians?

Life still wasn't really that easy for the Illidari; although playing a pivotal role against the Legion, which played a huge part in saving Azeroth, they were still sometimes met with distrust, stereotyped, and socially avoided overall. Especially those who joined the ranks soon after their return.

Leucin was one of them.

He didn't mind it, however. The solitude gave a sense of peace and more time to work on his craft and make gold. He wasn't one for a lavish lifestyle though, so his net worth just mostly sat in the bank. Perhaps one day he'll splurge. Around the afternoon, two elven guards approached his stand. Adorned in their crimson and gold armor, their shields held equal to each other, and their blades upright, they looked like living statues identical to each other.

"Demon Hunter," the one to his right said, "you are to come with us at once!"

"No." Leucin replied, his gaze being felt through his blindfold.

"... Can he do that?" The other guard asked, apparently new to this.

"You are summoned by the Magistrate Alis'synathara; to reject such a demand would be considered treason to the city. Come along now, or face the penalty of death."

He sighed. He knew all too well who this woman was; they had a history together. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. He nodded and moved to follow them.

Walking through the city, curious gazes would fall upon him with whispers and murmurs of speculation as to what is going on between the Demon Hunter and the city guards. Was he being arrested? Executed? Banished? The imagination gave a number of reasons. There were a few Illidari who would stare as well but would do nothing as Leucin met them with a nod, gesturing that is was nothing to worry about.

They made it to Murder Row where a majority of the Illidari found themselves soliciting amongst the locals.

"Need help, brother?" One would ask as they passed by.

"No, all is fine." Leucin would often reply.

Finally, after what felt like being paraded through the city, he found himself being dropped off at the door of Magistrate Alis'synthara's home. A well crafted door of oak wood lined with silver filigree opened for him to enter. As he walked through, before him was a crimson carpet atop a marble floor that led to staircase of marble and gold, with two house guards at the foot of it.

At the top stairs, standing with grace and beauty, was Magistrate Alis'synthara. Her silver hair shining brightly through the glow of the stained glass window behind her.

"I have heard tale of a man who set aside his Argent Crusader mantle to become one of the very things he fought against. A Captain who led others into battle against the Scourge, or demons who ran rampant on Azeroth. An elf who many trusted... Are you him?"

He crossed his arms, looking at her for a long moment before finally answering.

"You would know; you were there. Magistrate."

"Indeed I would," she sipped on her wine and began to come down the stairs, "it has been quite some time since those days, wouldn't you say? So much, that, it has led us on two different paths."

He watched her as she gracefully walked down, her dress flowing with grace and her beauty becoming more apparent as she came closer. Like her wine, the years have treated her well. A slender, almost seductive, body with skin so flawless it's as if she was made by the titans using the finest stars they could find.

"What is it that you want from me?"

"Oh, come now Leucin," she said as she circled him, letting a hand glide along his body feeling his Illidari form, "always to the point, with you. You never gave yourself time to take things slow, even during our time in the Crusades."

"I'm a busy guy." He replied, "Maybe after I do whatever you brought me here for, we can take it slow; over another bottle of that wine."

"I certainly hope so. I'd like to... feel this new form of yours. Your entire physique changed since you became a Demon Hunter. You look nothing like you once did."

"So what does this Magistrate want of me?" He said, getting to the point.

She took another drink of her wine and swirled the glass before replying, "There is a man-"

"There's always a man."

"Yes, but this elf defected to the Alliance; and he took something of mine. I want you to go after him."

He glared at her, although blindfolded, she could still feel his gaze upon her.

"This sounds like a job for an assassin. I am Illidari. This war is soon to be over, I have no interest in playing the part of 'clean up crew'. Leave that to those of the Horde."

She dismissed all of her guards, so that they would be alone. She looked at him not as a Magistrate, but as an old friend from their past.

"He has my daughter. He manipulated her emotions for him into following along in his defection. Last I was I aware, they were headed to Dalaran. If I send an assassin, or anyone else really, especially from Silvermoon then word would get out that my House is home to traitors. I will not have our name tarnish over the hormones of 'young love'. I'd rather her fuck an orc than to be labeled as defectors."

"So you want me to do it, so that it stays quiet."

"Exactly. I need someone who I know I can trust; I need my Captain." She kissed his cheek, "Bring my daughter back to me and I will owe a debt to you. As well as two hundred thousand gold."

He looked at her. The roughness of his complexion softened by her tenderness for a moment as he thought about it.

"That's a lot of gold."

"No amount is a lot when it comes to your name and your blood. For some, it's gold, for others... it's a different path in life. Your daughter still loves you, even though you've been gone for so long. I want you to know that."

He stayed quiet for a moment before finally making his way to exit her home.

"I'll bring her back."