#original fantasy fiction

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 33

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:  KESLA

“I really wish you’d let me do this as soon as I got to you.”  Krakka grumbles now, giving me a frustrated side-eye while he pours his healing magic into my ribs.  I can feel it working already, what the sympathetic mending didn’t do when he set my knee right again starting to take hold while each breath I take hurts less than the last.  I still tense each time I take in a lungful of air, uncomfortably aware it’s largely in my head now, really.  I’m exhausted, just like the rest of us, so while his magic’s working well enough as always I ain’t really feeling it anywhere near so well as I’d like.

“I was not a priority.”  I reply through still-gritted teeth, leaning my head back as I will this to work a bit faster so I can just relax for a few minutes.  “More’n one of ‘em needed you a fuckload quicker’n I did when you finally made it in here.  I couldn’t have you dulling what you had on me ‘fore you got to ‘em.”

He looks down now as I start bending my knee again, working it some to loosen it up a bit more.  ‘Spite of him fixing it up it’s still a little stiffer than I’d really like, and I might still need it before the end o’ the night.  ‘Specially if I do go with the new plan.

“How is it?”

“It’ll serve.”  I growl, although now it’s more just due to my mood, the pain’s already fading fast now as the knitting in my ribs seems to be racing towards completion.  “I just wish this bloody thing’d stay fixed.  It had the worst bloody timing to go out on me, I swear.”

“Well I imagine you tweaked it doing something spectacularly foolish, just like the last time I had to repair it again.”  He meets my sharp glare with an unflinching look of his own.  “Am I wrong?”

Rolling my eyes, I let my head drop back again.  “No, you ain’t.  But I did have more pressing concerns at the time.  I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That is how it tends to happen.”  He presses one final time, and when I don’t wince this time he lets out a heavy sigh and takes his hand away at last.  The warmth lingers for several moments after, the last lingering licks of pain already starting to fade.  “What about this?”

“No, this one I got honestly.  That sellsword, Mallys … she’s bloody good.  She got a lucky shot in.  If it hadn’t been for Janna’s tailoring I’d have bought it up there.”  I take a deep breath and draw my legs up again, leaning forward now as I lean forward onto my feet so I can plant them under me to start pushing myself up.  I pause a moment while I’m crouched now, waiting for my knee to twinge and lock up on me again, but it behaves itself and I let the breath go slow as I shove myself upright.  In spite o’ the lingering remnants of his magic there’s still a lot of joints in me complain some before I’m standing again.  “Fuck … I dunno, you’d think I’m still too young to feel this old.”

“Please go easier on yourself, Kesla.”  he sighs, sounding every bit as tired as I am but also a good deal more regretful as he has to lean into the wall to aid him in following me up.  “My Lady can only do so much, you’ve still gone too long without any real rest.  Things have been bad enough for the others, I couldn’t bear it if …”

When he falters now I look down at him, seeing the despair welling up in him as he picks up his hammer and swings it up across his shoulder.  I step close and lay my hand against his back, giving him a little push which he lets tilt him gently into my side.  He lets his head rest against my now mended ribs and press a little more firmly, not really a hug but affectionate enough under the circumstances.  “It’s all right, old man.  We’re … good enough, for now.  ‘Least this part of it’s over.”

For a moment he starts to nod, but then his frown returns and he turns a much more wary look up to me now.  “Wait … I don’t understand, this part?  What are you saying –”

“We ain’t done yet, Krakka.”  I stoop to pluck my swordbelt up from the floor and take a moment to unwind it before starting to strap it back on.  “That heinous bitch is still out there, so’s the warlock, an’ worse.  We still got a price on our heads, with those sellswords out there.  So far Gael’s the only one took one o’ them off the board.”

“But you can’t … no, that’s idiotic.  You can’t go out hunting now, it’s folly.  Kesla –”

“I ain’t.  I’m gonna chase Hontiresk down.  Even if I gotta cause a proper stink in the Authority, I’m gonna make that bastard talk to me.  I need him to give the rest of ‘em up now.”  I buckle up and fiddle with the belt’s lie for a moment before finally sighing as I look down at him again.  “I could use you in this, old man.  I know you ain’t one for the rough shit, but …”

This just makes his frown deepen, and he looks away as he grips Bloodmoon’s shaft a little tighter.  Pondering what I’m asking.  He knows well enough what I mean now, when I find Hontiresk I plan on getting real ugly with him to make him spill the beans.  “Damn it … you don’t make it very easy for me to be your friend sometimes, Kesla.  I can tolerate a lot, but …”  He sighs, shifting his feet, then looks up at me again.  “But I’ll stand with you, if you need me.  For Gael, and for … well, after what we’ve found here, I can’t let that bastard get away with what he had to do with it any more than you can.  And for the boy …”

Yeah, that’s got me twisted up in knots as much as he is.  When the others finally opened the way so he could make it to us, he did what he could for Gael’s father, stabilizing him enough for Lady Naru to port back to the Temple with him for real treatment at the hands o’ the healers there.  He was determined to fix Shay’s wound after, but she insisted he come back to her, Zuldrad needed him way more urgent … but he came back after only a few minutes, looking as crestfallen as I ever seen him before.  The hobgoblin had already died before he could get to him …

That news hit me and Shay both like a ton o’ bricks, but it was worse for Darwyn.  From what I been able to work out she’d managed to keep herself distracted enough by the effort to get him some help, but once she found out that was all for naught it just broke her.  When I found him lying there on my way to help Shay he was still hanging on, he must’ve passed while I was helping Gael … but to be honest I don’t know what I could’ve done.  Just one look told me the old cleric was his only hope.

Art managed to hold it together enough to comfort her, but I could tell it was breaking him too, so when Tulen ported back to the Temple with Gael I had her take the pair of ‘em with her, and made her promise not to let him return after.  That’s it for him now, I can’t let him work himself any more raw now than he already is.  So she came back on her own, while Krakka was dealing with Shay, and I had a quiet word with both her and Naru while he was busy.

The sorcerer’s staying out of this one, same as I had her do last time I went to see the corrupt Administrator.  She needs to keep her integrity intact, with Madame Daste gone she’s all we got left besides Thura an’ the Silver Order.  Cafi Sirsk is still in position with the Administration, doing their best to cover for us, but I don’t know how much longer they’ll be able to before a successor’s named.  It’s a mess, and bound to get a whole lot worse now we just lit a fucking massive beacon in the middle of the city, even if it was largely by accident.

I had Naru contact ‘em to inform the townsguard and whoever else is up there dealing with this mess that there’s people down here needing help, people that were kidnapped from their homes at the behest o’ Hontiresk and his patrons.  Whoever they might be.  Inviting the Authority to blow the lid right off this mess, however big a stink that raises, as much to blacken Vandryss’ eye as cuz it’s just the right thing to do.

Sighing, I give him another clumsy little half-hug.  We stay like this for maybe a minute, then I hear someone clear their throat behind us and step away, turning to meet whoever it is.  I find Shay standing by, looking about as grave as we must do now, absent-mindedly fiddling with the knot of the torn swatch of fine black wool tied round her midsection now, over the corset.  Covering up the gaping hole from Jammund’s cut, I guess.  The remnants of Art’s cloak, apparently, sacrificed to protect her dignity.  She winces a little as she smooths the cloth down over where the wound itself used to be, no more hurt than I am now but mindful all the same.  She’s been at it long as I have, so she’s feeling it just as bad.  We’re all of us strung out.

“You’re sure you want to do this?”  she asks me now, looking to Krakka as she realises I’ve already talked him into this daft plan too.  “This was bad, but at least it was something that had to be done.  What you’re thinking about is … it could blow up in our faces if we get it wrong.”

“This needs to be done too, but you can still pull out if you don’t reckon you can be a party to what I gotta do.  I won’t judge you for it.  To be honest I’d kinda prefer it if you didn’t.”

Krakka gives me a sharp look now, as if offended by the suggestion after I already essentially emotionally strongarmed him into coming.  But he holds his tongue, instead just rolling his eyes and stepping past her into the corridor beyond.

Shay just gives me a similarly cold look as she steps the rest of the way into the room.  “After all we’ve been though, how can you –”

“Yeah, all right.  Cool.”  I wave her off.  “I’m glad to have you, really.”  I lean back against the wall now, taking a deep breath as I rub at my newly-mended side now, unable to break that psychological habit.  “Everybody else been let out now?”

Nodding, Shay steps up beside me and turns to flop back into the wall beside me now, looking a good deal more fresh and assured when she does it.  “They have.  We’ve opened all the doors, and the healers Shul sent from the Temple have been doing their best to tend to those who need it.  She promised to have food and water brought down too within the hour.  Otherwise they seem satisfied enough to stay where they are until the Authority makes their way down here to … assess the situation, I suppose.  That idea does have its merits, I suppose.  Make them pony up now that we’ve done all the actual work.  It has a nice ring to it, actually.”

Shrugging, I let my head drop back again, looking up at the bare stone-and-mortar ceiling with its thick, worn, badly polished rafters.  “That one’s for Daste.  She would’ve done the same, I’m sure.  I just wish …”

“Yeah.”  Shay sighs, and she falls silent much as I have.  We stay as we are for a few moments, and I ponder what we already been through tonight.

Lady Naru led the charge in the end, racing through the corridors with the others to get to that doorway ahead of the mercenaries, and Thel, Brung and Darwyn fought to cover her as she set about the business of opening the way for the ones still stuck in the tunnels.  In the end she didn’t bother with anything fancy, no need to try and counter whatever spells Tavarrat laid on the door.  Instead she just blew out the wall it was mounted in, after communicating to whoever was stood on the other side to clear the hell outta there before she did it.  So the still-sealed door and its frame wound up blown right across the antechamber outside while the way was clear for our reinforcements to come in.

Mallys’ remaining people didn’t wait round long after that, I’m told the hedge wizard took one look at what was coming and just grabbed hold of the halfling before porting away, then came back for the imori.  Naru said that one seemed particularly reluctant to leave, which made my skin crawl to consider.  Honestly, I’m glad I ain’t run into him yet, he sounds like way more trouble than I’d be ready to handle.

Looking down now, I ponder the body that Gael left behind.  The half-orc Shay fought, back on the Heath.  Once I ponder his remains I remember the connection that Mallys let slip she had with him when it was clear he was way out of his depth in that fight, and the recollection gives me an uneasy feeling now.  From what I can tell, the dynamic within their group’s very much like ours, they’re less a collection of like-minded professionals, bound together for profit, than a makeshift family.  She’d do anything she could to protect every one of ‘em, I’m sure of it.  But this one … yeah, he was special to her, may be there was genuine love there.  And now he’s dead.  That spells major trouble for us …

When I turn to her now, I find Shay’s pondering the body too, and almost certainly thinking the same.  When our eyes meet for a moment she winces again, sucking a heavy breath in through her teeth, and I growl in sympathy.  Yeah, this is definitely gonna come back to bite us in.

Then Lady Naru steps into the room, stopping just inside the doorway as she leans into her staff.  She looks tired now, but there’s more to it than that.  She seems fraught, I can see it clear as day, and I know well enough what the root o’ that is.  She’s worried about Gael.  It’s become clear enough how much the half-elf means to her, and their father, which is another reason I didn’t want her coming with us any more’n I wanted Art along.  Far as I’m concerned once we’re done here she should head straight back to the Temple to look after them, and herself too, preferable.

“All right then,  I’ve done what you asked me to do.  Tulen will take you to it once I’m gone.”  She sighs.  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?  You can’t be sure that Vandryss won’t be there.  Tulen’s certainly capable, but if she is there, especially if Tavarrat’s with her –”

“No.  I’m sure.  Sit this one out.  Please.”  I try not to wince when I see her flinch, clearly wounded by my tone as much as my insistence, and push away from the wall now to step up to her, reaching out to touch her arm.  “Look, I’m doing you a favour.  You don’t want to be part o’ this.  Just go back an’ give Gael a hug, or … I dunno.  Just tell ‘em we’ll be back soon.  And thank you.  You been a proper godsend, I swear.  We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Blinking, she looks up at me, and while she still looks so down she nods, managing a weak smile now.  “Yes, that’s very true.”  she breathes, then before I realise it she’s stepped forward quick and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug.  I’m so surprised it takes me a moment to respond, but then I hug her back, crushing her as much as I dare.

“Thank you.”  she mutters into my shoulder  “For everything you’ve done.  For Gael, and Darion.  That means the world to me.”

Giving her a little extra squeeze for that, I just nod back, trusting she can feel it on her shoulder.  She pulls away soon after, letting another heavy sigh go, then turns to Shay, who’s more ahead o’ the situation than I was so she’s already opening her arms.  As the sorcerer folds her into another embrace, I step away and, after a moment’s consideration, carry on into the corridor.

There’s people already out here, many of ‘em shabby and worn and at the end o’ their rope, looking like they been through hell and starved within an inch o’ their lives.  Some seem proper broken, just sat slumped against the wall or laid out on the floor, but others are making the most o’ being out of their makeshift cells, breathing air that’s at least fresher than what they been stuck in since the Hardway.  As I look round more’n one looks my way, and while there’s a troubling mixture of emotions on many o’ their faces I see gratitude in more’n one.  I gotta take a deep breath and fight back the thickening in my throat as I feel my eyes start to burn as tears start to threaten me.

‘Least they seem to be in good hands now.  Soon as we had the place secure an’ Darion had been shipped back to the Temple, Shul had her own people wing their way down to us, resident wizards porting clerics in to tend to those who needed appropriate care on the spot.  Those healers are passing among the freed prisoners now, working their god magic, offering medical aid, or just a kind word and a shoulder to cry on.  It’s heartening enough to watch, but seeing the kindness of Minerva’s Faithful still makes it hard for me to keep my own emotions in check.

Then I spot Thel ducking through the jumble, with Tulen in tow, Krakka tracking along a little behind ‘em both now.  I’m a little surprised to see the dwarf back, I expected she’d prob’ly stay at the Temple with her friends now they’d been found and ported out to safety, much as they’d hoped.  Part o’ me’s glad to see her, figuring she’ll be help enough if we do run into trouble where we’re going, but I still kinda wish she’d stayed after all.

“Hey.”  She gives me a surprisingly broad grin as she draws close, looking me over now.  “Nice to see you up.  How’s the knee?”

“It’ll serve.”  I step up to meet her now, trying to smile back but not feeling much success in the endeavour.  “Surprised to see you back, I would’ve thought –”

“Du an’ Brung are back at the Temple with ‘em.  Yulla was tired as hell, she wore herself real thin trying to keep Drin alive, almost all the pittance o’ food an’ water they gave ‘em to survive she gave to her little girl.  Shul gave her something to drink, sent her right off to sleep, she said she’ll be out for ‘least a day from it but when she wakes up she’ll be feeling a whole lot better.  Du’s keeping an eye on her, I insisted.  Brung would’ve come back with me but Drin just would not let go of ‘im.  He’s always been her favourite, an’ she needs to feel safe after all this, so …”  She shrugs, growing more wistful now.

“But you could’ve –”

“No, I really couldn’t.”  Her smile’s gone in an instant as she gives me a very pointed look.  “I owe you, we all do.  Never mind that you saved us all in the Gods Round, an’ then again at the Heath, after I got real stupid.  We never could’ve found ‘em without your help.  Any help you need now we’re here for you.  So here I am.”

This makes my throat feel a little thicker, but I still manage to push the tears back down again.  I manage what feels like a more sincere smile, too.  “Thanks.  I really appreciate the help.”

Looking up past her now, I see Tulen’s clearly a bit more strung out, and the more pragmatic part o’ me starts to wonder if maybe Lady Naru would be a better choice right now.  The young wizard’s doing her best pretending she’s up to the task, but I can see the worry an’ wear in her now, knowing she’s gotta be fretting about Gael and Darion.  But we need her right now, so I have to bite back the concern and just go along with the plan as it is.  “You good?”

She blinks when I ask, but while she gives her borrowed staff a tighter squeeze than I’d like she still nods, and don’t stammer any when she speaks like I half expected her to.  “You don’t have to worry about me.  I can do this.”

“Course you can.”  I lie, trying not to wince.  “So, we ready?”

Nodding, she starts to turn back now, pointing down the way they just come.  “This way.”

Turning back, I find I don’t have to hold us up after all as I see Shay’s already waiting behind me, so I just give her a nod and cock my head for her to follow.  When I turn back Tulen’s starting to make her way back down the corridor, weaving carefully through the assorted crowd, so I just follow while Thel forges ahead after her.

She leads us around two corners before we finally turn into one of the newly-liberated rooms.  It’s bleak in here, just more o’ that cheap carpet and bare walls with fresh lit lamps mounted high in the walls casting a stark light on the confines some o’ these poor folk were trapped in.   Mostly it’s just an unpleasant miasma, the whole place stinking of fear-sweat and piss and shit from the buckets in the corner, but a significant section of the carpet’s been dragged up and rolled away from the bare floor now.  In its place, on the cold, flat concrete, is a teleportation circle, fresh drawn in chalk, courtesy of Lady Naru.  I don’t need to wonder where it goes, this was entirely my plan.

There’s two more folk waiting for us in here, looking suitably intimidating and more’n a little bloody now from spearheading the battle in the tunnels before they got hung up at the door.  Sonagh just gives me a simple nod which I return in kind, but the massive bugbear, Dow, tips me a sly wink and cocked grin which manages to raise my own half-hearted smile.  I step up to them while the others make their way straight to the circle.

“You’re okay with this, then?”  I ask the orc as he picks his shield up again, Dow following his example.  “You done enough for us already.  Might be better if you didn’t get involved in what we do next.”

Sonagh just frowns at me.  “I owe it to Venne to see this through.  An’ Dow’s his own man, which means he’ll follow me whether I want him to or not.”

“Damn straight.”  the bugbear rumbles as he stalks right past me, stepping onto the circle as the others start to gather on it too.

“Okay then.”  I turn and step up beside Tulen, and Sonagh doesn’t hesitate to follow.  I turn to the wizard.  “Ready.”

Sighing, Tulen looks down to study the markings under her feet as the stragglers finally take up their place with us, then licks her lips as she starts to weave a sigil.  It takes her a few moments to complete it while the chalk lines start to shine brighter with each second, then she speaks the incantation and I take a deep breath, even though I know from past experience this should be much smoother.

Everything seems to shift in a comparatively gentle shunt, then once the flash clears we’re stood in a more open space, with much fresher air.  I look up first, seeing a night sky overhead, oil-fed lamplight shining round us, then down, finding we’re now stood just inside a small garden patio just inside the low-walled perimeter of a three storey building.  It’s a pretty swanky looking place, ostentatious without being overly gaudy, as much wood as expensive carved stone in the construction, while the landscaped plants have been mercilessly manicured with a cruel precision I remember Gael called topiary.  This is definitely somewhere up on the Hill, which means we gotta be in the right place.

I asked Lady Naru to draw us a teleportation circle that would send us direct to wherever Hontiresk is, no matter where he might be hiding out or moving to when we actually used it.  Apparently this was a tall order, this kind of teleportation magic is real hard to master and tricky to execute at best, but she was equal to the task.  So it’s a safe bet we’ll find that sleazy bastard somewhere in this place.

There’s a sign by the front door, engraved in an almost indecently smooth, highly-reflective polished brass plaque, which reads: UNTERMER GOODFELLOWS.  GENTLEMEN’S CLUB AND GAME ROOMS.  MEMBERS ONLY.  When I look to Tulen she’s reading this too, and when she turns she has a nervous look on her face now, like she really don’t like what this entails.

Taking a breath, I just start up the steps to the substantial, polished redwood door, which could weigh half a ton all on its own.  Gods, I hope we won’t have to try an’ break through that, looks like even Dow’d have trouble with it.  I’m kinda wishing Big Man was with us now.

Tulen follows with a startled gasp, likely wanting to beg me off but stopping herself at the last.  I don’t turn, instead stepping up to the door itself, immediately seeing it’s already open.  Jut a crack, but it’s noticeable enough, which gives me wary pause as I turn back to the others.  Sonagh’s starting to step up after us, and I give him a look, pointing at him now to signal for him to slow up, get his wits about him when he follows.  He frowns, baring his teeth, and his hand immediately goes to his sword.

Pushing the door, I let it swing inwards, holding my ground as I peer through with both my hands gripping Hefdred, one on the hilt while the other grasps the scabbard, ready to draw.  Listening as well as looking, paying attention for any sign of … well, just about anything.  This already feels all kinds of buggered …

The place is silent, which is a whole lot more worrying than sounds of violence or screaming or anything else we could encounter would be.  I take a deep breath and step all the way inside, going slow as I adjust my grip but keeping my sword sheathed, waiting to see what happens first before I commit.

Gods, this place is as ridiculous as the Playhouse was.  Everything’s just stupid fancy, the walls and floors and even the ceiling of this entrance hall furnished entirely in the same kind smoothly polished and intimidatingly expensive-looking redwood as the door.  There’s another one o’ those chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, although this one’s a good deal more modest, just cast iron but still lit with a fuckload o’ candles.  The fact the similarly expensive floor ain’t been completely ruined by dripping wax speaks volumes on the kind o’ dedicated care the staff here must take keeping an eye on it.  Or maybe a single drop’s a firing offence so they got no choice.  Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised in a place like this.

So far nothing actually seems off, aside from the fact it’s so quiet.  But there’s something else that’s bugging me now, too.  I cast a sidelong glance behind me to find Tulen’s the first in behind me, still gripping her staff tight as she takes the place in with wide eyes.  I keep my voice low as I lean closer.  “Hey … places like this, they usually have doormen, right?”

For a moment she just looks at me, and I can tell she’s working out what I actually asked in her nervousness.  Then she blinks, nodding.  “Oh, yes.  Of course.  I mean I’ve only heard about places like this, they’re very strict with their rules.  Usually women aren’t even allowed in them, unless they’ve been specifically invited by one of the members.  And even then …”  She pauses when she catches my impatient frown, wincing a little as she works on getting herself back on track.  “And you’re right, of course.  There should be significant security in this place.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”  I draw my sword immediately and give up any pretence of stealth now, stalking into the centre of the room, underneath the chandelier, to turn a slow circle.  I don’t even make it halfway before I spot a pretty major confirmation.  “Well shit.”

“What is it?”  Tulen scrambles in now, hefting her staff some as she tenses, turning to look into the corner I’m inspecting now, out of sight from the doorway.  “Oh!  My … well that’s … I see what you mean.  That’s not good at all.”

Sonagh follows her right in, and when he sees the body sprawled in a bloody tangle he just grunts, noncommittal, like he’s been expecting it.

This is obviously one of the security guards I was expecting, very much in keeping with what I come to expect, ‘specially seeing what Hontiresk liked to keep around.  Big, solid and very well armed.  Not that it helped, this poor bastard looks to have been carved up pretty spectacularly.  Whoever did it clearly has issues.

Looking at it now, I already know who did this.  And it’s a real bad sign indeed.

“Spread out, look everywhere.  We need to find Hontiresk.  Now.”

“Dow mate, do us a favour an’ stay with Mistress Shoon.”  Sonagh growls as he draws his own sword, hefting his shield as he starts stalking across the room, heading through the door at the back o’ this main room.  I turn to the bugbear now, finding him watching me with a stern frown.

“Sorry.”  I mutter, feeling a little bad about him getting lumbered like that.

He just shrugs, picking his own shield up now as he just hefts his intimidating battleaxe, letting it rest across his shoulder.  “It’s fine.  I don’t mind at all.  Doubt you really need it, you look tough enough to handle yourself, but I’ll do him that favour all the same.”

Nodding, I look down at Krakka as he starts to frown, already catching what I’m thinking.  “Go with Tulen.”  When he opens his mouth I run right over him.  “C’mon, old man.  I need you to play this smart.  Back her up.”

Sighing, he don’t even grace me with a reply, he just starts tromping up the staircase climbing the right side o’ the room after the young wizard.  I turn to Shay now.  “D’you mind staying here?  Keeping an eye on the street?”

She arches her brows, seeming surprised.  “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I don’t like this any.  I don’t want anything to sneak up on us in here.  Things are …”  I grimace.  “I dunno, but I don’t like it.”

“Okay.”  She nods, sheathing her sword again as she steps back towards the still open door.  “I’ll come find you if … well, you know.”

That just leaves Thel, who cocks a brow up at me now.  “What about me?”

“Go after Sonagh.  I doubt there’s actually anybody here now, ‘least still alive.  But just in case.”

“Aye, you got a point there.”  She shoulders her battleaxe with a nod and heads off in the direction the orc went.

“All right then, luv.”  Dow rumbles now, quietly expectant.  “Where to?”

“Second floor.  Call it a hunch.”

The bugbear nods his agreement and heads straight for the stairs, letting me follow at my own leisure.  I pause at the bottom, looking to the door again, and find Shay looking back at me.  She frowns when she catches my eye, but gives a rueful little half-smile after a moment, and I return my own best I can before turning away and starting my own climb.

We find more bodies when we reach the first floor, two cleaved and bloody like the first, looking like they been cut down on the run, and neither of ‘em seem to be fighters like the guard clearly was.  More like highborn noblemen, soft targets that didn’t stand a chance against whatever it was caught up with ‘em.  Makes me queasy just looking at ‘em.

The third body’s a guard, but he wasn’t killed with a sword.  He looks burned, something hot and nasty, but while there’s scorch marks on the thick carpet underfoot and streaking the walls they look more like something seared across what it’s blackened with significant speed.  This stinks of magic, which makes me think o’ Tavarrat.  Which would confirm my suspicion that the blade must’ve been Vandryss’.

I go ahead now as we climb the next flight up to the second floor.  We find more bodies as we climb, broken as much by tumbling down the steps as any damage they received while they fled, but there’s room enough on the steps to slip past with ease.  The landing above yields a good deal more, we have to step with a lot more care now to make it through the nearest doorway, and I find myself checking each o’ the bodies as we go.  Both hoping one of ‘em is Hontiresk, but also dreading finding him dead after all.  Which’d make all o’ this worthless.

When I step inside the room, Dow patiently waiting for his turn behind, I find myself stopping just inside the door, a little taken aback by what I find.  Another ridiculously spacious room, tall as it is wide, decorated much the same as the rest of the building’s interior save the fact every wall in here is bookshelves, from floor to ceiling, every one of ‘em full.  Again I’m a little baffled by the kind of effortless displays of pointless wealth highborns continuously gotta rub in common folk’s faces.

There’s more bodies in here, but one immediately draws my eye at the expense of everyone else who’s been cut or blown down.  The moment I see it any fight I might’ve had in me ebbs away, my arms dropping flat at my sides while my shoulders sag.  “Shit …”

“What is it?”  Dow slips past me in the space available and squares up soon as he’s inside, bringing his shield up while he readies his axe … then falters when he sees there’s no actual point.  He sags almost immediately, his shield thumping on the floor as he frowns, turning back to me.  “I don’t get it.  They’re all –”

“Yeah.”  I hiss through my teeth, more regretful than angry now as I sheathe my sword again.  I really don’t need it right now.  “They are.  There ain’t no threat left here, you can stow what you need to.”

His frown darkens and I can sense a question coming, but he holds his tongue as I just start walking across the room.  Focused on the same sight that took all the wind outta me in the first place – Gubal, the orc bodyguard, pinned to the wall in the midst of what’s clearly the debris of a desperate fight to the death.  When I get close I realise that’s his sword run through both him and the wall.  Impaled with a lot of strength, clearly.  As if that cut throat weren’t already wound enough to finish him off.

“Oh … fuck, that’s just … damn it Gubal, you didn’t deserve to go out like that.”

“Who is ‘e?”  Dow wonders now, close behind me now, looking up at the dead orc.  He’s already strapped his shield across his back.

I’m already stepping away, feeling genuinely sick now.  “Hired muscle, but a higher class’n most.  The kind deserves genuine respect, far as I’m concerned.  Definitely deserved better’n that.”  I point to the corpse slumped in the chair nearby, its severed head lying on the floor several feet away.  “Worked for him.”

Dow’s next words are a long time coming, but when they do it’s in one big, heavy sigh.  “Ah hell.  That’s him, ain’t it?  This fancy fella we’re after.”

“Unfortunately.”  I’m eyeing the bar in the corner now, suddenly desperate for a snifter.

The sound of running feet entering the room stops me short, and I’m already turning as Shay skids to a stop a little inside the door.  “We’ve got trouble.  Outside.  Major trouble.”

“What is it?”  I find myself growling the words, feeling angry and tired and just sick o’ this shit all at once now.  The weight of not only this whole night but the entire week we just had is bearing down on me now, I can feel it crushing me.

“Townsguard.  And Terrors, a lot of them.”  She’s taking in the room now, the carnage.  Finally her eyes focus on the body pinned to the wall like some mad butterfly nut’s gone off in here.  Her eyes are wide, like she’s having trouble making sense of it all.  “Gods … what happened in here?”

“Vandryss killed Hontiresk.”  I snarl as I start making my way back across the room towards her.  My skin’s crawling, while a deep, unsettling chill rolls up my spine.

“She did?”  She gawks at me now, more shocked than ever, and has trouble finding the words as I reach her.  “But … I don’t understand.  That makes no fucking sense, Kesla.  Why the hell would she do that?  I thought they were –”

Taking hold of her upper arms now, I catch her eyes and hold her attention now.  “Cuz she had no more use for him, ‘cept one.  She murdered him, then she an’ Tavarrat murdered everybody else in the place to make it look like we did it.”

“Fuck!”  Dow snaps now, and I hear his heavy footfalls pounding after me now as he hurries to catch up with me as I turn Shay round and start towing her towards the door while I wait for her to catch up to the situation in her astounded state.

“We gotta get outta here right now.”

THE END OF BOOK FOUR

THE STORY WILL BE CONTINUED IN BOOK FIVE

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 4 chapter 33 #final chapter #original fiction #fantasy fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

[bengaly]

Meao-ixuí teeth concepts

#meao #meao-ixui #original species #species concept #artists on tumblr #brart #brartist #brazilian artist #maw #jaw #teeth #mouth #mouths #art #digital art #fantasy #fantasy art #worldbuilding #fictional species

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

A guy doing marine research into phytoplankton is far out to sea and waiting for the samples to be ready when he spots a fast-moving ripple in the water up ahead.

Fully aware that this spot is home to a migratory orca pod, he assumes he's stumbled across an orca hunting a seal and settles against the railing to watch, because it's not every day you get to see that.

The ripples get closer, the shadows in the water more defined, the water choppier, and suddenly the orca and its unfortunate prey are zooming directly towards the boat and he's waiting, breath held, for them to duck right underneath--

When the water breaks, the ocean sprays, and he's suddenly smacked fully in the face by a very wet, very confused, and very pretty merman, throwing them both down onto the deck while the boat rocks as a confused and now quite hungry orca dives beneath it.

The merman, it turns out, thought that the boat was an ice float and didn't realise his mistake until it was too late. But he's very thankful for the impromptu rescue, and wow don't you have nice arms, and holy shit you've got legs, can I touch them? Is that weird? Can I touch them anyway? And your hair--

So of course they get to talking because they're both utterly fascinated with the other, and soon the sun has set and the samples are long-since ready and the moonlight is making the ocean look black and they part with the knowledge that they'll never meet again, and a kiss, and a lingering look over the shoulder for all the things that can't be...

And the researcher gets back to land, moors his boat, readies his samples. He packs up his things, shoves them into his bags, and prepares to go home. He steps onto the jetty boards and thinks of the merman and the solid wood beneath his feet seems to sway for more than one reason.

There's a splash. He turns, pulled as if by the tide, and there's a ripple in the water. A face. A pair of eyes made black by the moonlight.

And this is how the researcher acquires a merman boyfriend who helps him find samples and the merman acquires a human boyfriend who rescues him from whales.

#short story #i guess? #original fiction #merman #mermaids #queer #fantasy fiction #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers #guess what suckers this is just a one night in hartswood AU!!!! #mer!penn 4 LIFE #this is NOT a prompt lmao #im happy for you to use it with fanfic or w/e tho #but not original fiction #on account of how its my idea for a book

[villiedoom]

Two wandering Moonhorses in their natural habitat - the Narr-Vaan Desert ~

They are probably the most unrealistic of all my creatures, but I love these skeletal guys - they are so surreal! Through drawing or sculpting them in all the detail is such a headache… It took some courage (and sleepless nights…) to finally finish this sculpt.

Made in Blender ~

#3D #3d sculpture #3d model #creature #fantasy creature #alien creature #fictional creature #surreal #original species #personal art #blender3d #blender #moonhorse #villiedoom

[obsob]

happy and proud!!

✷(print shop)✷

#mine #original #sm how managed 2 miss pride month....but its pride month every month in this house hold #ive read two bad YA books so far this month as a break from th 2nd farseer book but now.....i am back.........i am reading th 3rd one #its gna make my brain explode i can feel it #n then idk what i will read. maybe th hands of th emperor #could i read smth other than 800 page epic fantasy pls #the YA books werent too bad for YA but they hve that YA cringe 2 it. idk how u people read it constantly #if i hve 2 read th word 'heck' one more time #also theres always like. disney channel vibes. like i read gay YA romance n its so sanitised n vanilla. its so superficial #like i get this is for 16 year olds but were is the longing. the yearing. these guys are fanfic tropes stuck 2gether 2 glue. #also. what is with nearly every mlm romance / fantasy being YA not adult fiction. whats up w that #anyway hve a good evenin im gna do knitting!!!!!!!!!!!!

[keepcalmandwritefiction]

Reminder that fantasy is (most often) set in an alternate world inspired loosely by our own medieval history. Fantasy is, however, not historical fiction. Fantasy is not set on our Earth or bound by Earth’s rules and history. You can remove the racism, sexism, ableism, and homophobia if you want. It’s not a requirement. 🫠 (x)

#fiction #fiction writing #writeblr #writing tips #writing advice #fantasy writing #kcawf original #image description in alt text

[whereserpentswalk]

Your new roommate is an android. You could tell when you saw them, their skin is pretty obviously artificial material, their eyes glow a little, and they have that voice and those mannerisms that a lot of them have. They're warm to the touch, warmer than any human, most androids are warmer than humans despite the serotypes. This isn't surprising, you've met a lot of androids before, and you know a lot go to this school.

What is surprising is that they don't admit it. They call themself a human, act dismissive towards the idea of androids as part of human society, try to avoid anything that's part of android culture. You adapt pretty quickly to referring to them as a human, but you'll always know they aren't. You assume it's because of bigotry, you know androids still face a lot of social issues, but bigots can still tell they're an android as much as you can. And it's not like things are like they were back in the 21st century, especially in a college in a large city, bigots can't just openly say they hate nonhumans, they're subtle in ways that make pretending to be a human hurt even more. But you are human, so you think it's best not to say anything.

You see how much your roommate sacrifices just to look human. They never show any skin other than their face and hands, which makes overheating even worse. They waste hours trying to fake sleep, when everyone knows they can't sleep, they always make excuses as to why they can't eat any given meal. And you can't even mention nonhumans around them without them being dismissive of anyone openly nonhuman. They don't have solidarity with any other androids, can't participate in any of the things on campus specifically designed for people like them. You want them to be happy, and you know they'd just be happier if they admitted being what everyone knew they were.

There's a lot of nonhumans in your friend group, a lot of clones and cyborgs, and one or two androids. Most of the time you don't think about how they aren't human. But not your roommate, you always think about how they're an android because you have to in order to pretend you think they're human.

And they become so proud of their humanity. Humanity they don't even have. Like they're loving the fact that they can say that they're human, that they can say they're part of the most privileged group in the solar system. It's almost like they're larping as a character, they've mentioned family on Mars at this point, family that you know they physically can't have. It's best to just pretend.

Your roommate knows a lot about certain places, about how certain practices work, places and practices that are horrifying to think even still exist. Places where android suffer in ways that make you feel guilty just to be a human. Places only someone whose been there could know about. It's a miracle this person is in college at all. They don't want to be an android, don't want to be able to be hurt the way only their kind is hurt.

Eventually they cut their face. Cut it deeply enough so that you can see they don't bleed, so that you can see the metal under their plastic skin. They have to walk around like that for a while, they can barely go to class, barely talk to anyone, knowing they can't pass for human. By the time they get the cut fixed everyone knows, well everyone always knew, some people are confused because they didn't even know your roommate wanted to be a human.

When you talk to them again you realize they expected you to want nothing to do with them. They're still uncomfortable around other nonhumans, they don't want to be one of them, but they can still talk to you. They're not even wearing clothing, they don't need it, their only skin is on their head and hands, everything else is raw steel, but they still look themself despite everything. They expected you to see them differently, if anything you see them as an android less now.

When you hug them, it's warmer than any human hug could be.

#android #robotics #robot #robots #scifi #writing #writeblr #worldbuilding #writers on tumblr #my writing #196 #urban fantasy #near future #cyberpunk #fiction #origional work #origional content #original fiction #writers

[sarielsnowings]

After 10 years or so, I'm back, now with proper skills and a shitton of drawings to show you. HELLO WORLD 👁️

#illustration #artists on tumblr #twitter migration #ttrpg #original character #Queer artist #Please help me I'm new share your favourite artists below #Fantasy #Gothic fiction #Non binary #Trans artist #Angel #Biblically accurate angel #SarielSnowingsArt

[yellosnacc]

New year, new creature reveal!

This animal is an Iťalaq, a large creature adapted for the hot and dry environment of the east. Just like some earth desert animals, it has energy storage in the form of its watery bloodstream and of a large fat pocket under its 'pelvis'.

They feed primarily on plant matter. Bushes and grasses are easy targets, while hard or spiky materials will get stomped on with their middle limbs to then scoop up the insides. For food high up, they pick on it using their front limbs and throw it to the ground or insert it directly into their mouth. They do not mind a meaty snack.

As a bonus unpleasant fact, Iťalaq have the contents of their 'ends' ready to protect them from predators (both liquid and bullets), and it gets very stinky if they eat meat before the processing.

You are unlikely to ever see one in nature - at least not the domesticated species that are used all over the eastern sloman cultures (those are better reported to the nearest settlement).

Their history with slomen is not as long as it is with pamuli that evolved side by side with slomen. However, they are considered the first domesticated "arm-jaw" animals and have served people for thousands of years as their main "vehicle". Where they are used, wheels and carts are uncommon, finding most use in cities.

One iťalaq can often carry over 200kg (330 pounds), but it's better to keep the weight lower and let a pamuli take the rest of the cargo.

In this illustration, the rider is a sloman matriarch, likely stopping to stare at a strange phenomenon.

It is often that a northeastern family has at least one iťalaq, and the oldest members are the primary riders (both because of the member's importance and less energy from old age). The matriarch is the oldest and most respected, so it's only expected she's most familiar with the animal.

the picture with no text

hope the text wall doesn't have too many mistakes man

#art #speculative biology #artists on tumblr #digital art #artwork #worldbuilding #speculative evolution #spec bio #fantasy #original species #speculative zoology #speculative fiction #xenobiology #slomen #sloman culture #domesticated animals #spec evo #alien animal #elve

[gracelesstars]

You either die breaking a forth wall to send a bitchface directly into the camera to the fans who write fanfiction about a gay couple involving the character you play or you live long enough to see yourself write & produce tv series of your own fanfiction about a straight couple involving a character you project on and a character you secretly want to be fucked by

#SUPERNATURAL IS NOT ABOUT ROMANCE YOU GUYS...unless #you are dean & dean is Mary and you've got a crush on JDM #we all live out our fantasies through fiction sometimes i guess #Jensen Ackles #SPN #supernatural #the winchesters #dean winchester #Destiel #original #lol #SPN crack #1k #2k

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK FOUR: THE HUNT - CHAPTER 32

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Boof 4 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO:  DRAMRATH

When Vandryss walks into the room it’s all I can do not to stalk right up to her and behead her on the spot.  I’ve just gotten so thoroughly sick of all of this shit, I truly don’t care what might happen anymore, I just want this done with, and to never have to look at her hateful smarmy face again.  Their plan has gone to hell in spectacular fashion, leaving my friends in a genuinely terrible situation, and she just looks bored.  It’s honestly a miracle I don’t kill her right now.

The fact we’re stood at the back of the main upstairs lounge of Hontiresk’s gods-awful gentleman’s club, with more than a few of his fellow idle-rich peers present to witness such an act, is just about the only reason I don’t.  As it is I still break away from my position leaning against the impressively tall bookshelf to approach her as she joins us now, my still empty hands itching to commit magnificent violence upon her.  Trouble stays where she is for now, still cradling her sword like a mother with her child, trying to ignore the disapproving looks the distinguished highborn gentlemen around us aren’t even trying to hide.  She hates this place even more than I do, that much has been clear since the moment we set foot in here, but while the general atmosphere of unnecessary opulence and unrestrained arrogance just makes me ill-tempered, she’s become a good deal more meek.

“Perhaps this isn’t the best place for you to be right now, Mallys.”  she sighs as she looks me over, her expression slipping from apathy to irritation now.  “You might be better off joining your companions, helping them complete the task you’ve so far spectacularly bungled.”

“Shut up.”  I snap at her now, stepping close so I can tower over her as I glare down with all of my enraged intensity.  “Your idiotic little enterprise, as you so charmingly call it, has turned into an incredible clusterfuck.  You better pray none of my friends end up getting hurt by what you’ve done here, or I really will have to end you on the spot.  Regardless of where we are.”

The way she just rolls her eyes as she cranes up at me, like she doesn’t care a single jot about the fact she’s barely more than half my size, is so infuriating that I feel the fire raring up inside me again.  “Calm yourself, Mallys, you’re creating a scene.  You wouldn’t want your employer’s business being aired in public now, would you?”

“It already is, you stupid cunt.  The Playhouse is burning down.  As soon as the Authority find out what you idiots have been doing down there in the catacombs, there’s going to be absolute uproar.  There won’t be any covering this up any more, it’s already out there for anyone to see.  In a few hours you’ll be done in Untermer.”

“Calm yourself, Mistress Mallys.”  Hontiresk produces a cigar from somewhere inside his robes and starts rolling it between the fingers of his right hand while his left starts rummaging through the various layers of rich grey silk and linen draped over him.  He’s sat there in that ridiculously opulent soft leather armchair like he doesn’t have a care in the world, sniffing the expensively rolled tobacco, looking almost as bored by all of this as Vandryss.  “The Oceanic has been insured for centuries, and this … unfortunate incident is clearly no fault of mine.  I stand to be recompensed significantly more capital than the entire business is even worth.  I can rebuild it finer than it already was and still pocket a substantial profit on top of it.”  He finally finds the silver cutter he’s been searching for and snips the tapered end of the cigar with swift efficiency.  “Perhaps I should invest it in some form of expansion.  What do you think I should try?”

Gubal doesn’t even have to move from where he’s been stood the whole time since we first arrived after we all arrived here together from the Playhouse via swift private carriage, he simply leans over the back left corner of his master’s chair as he strikes a match.  Hontiresk doesn’t even glance in his direction, simply turning his head just enough to meet the flame with the cigar he plants between his lips.  Their complimentary actions unfold with such startling precision it’s clear they’ve done this a thousand times before.

“I don’t fucking know, your world is burning down around you and you don’t even seem to care.”  I completely fail to keep the frustrated sarcasm out of my voice as I step away from her so I can regard him more directly.  “I’d suggest you buy yourself a one-way ticket to the Isles of Gedouhan on the fastest clipper you can charter, but I suspect you wouldn’t listen to that advice.”

When he looks up at me with a slightly raised eyebrow, the way his face tightens mid-puff is the first real show of any actual acknowledgement of inconvenience he’s shown all night.  Even when we were obliged to flee at Tavarrat’s insistence once he contacted her with our warning via a strangely coloured stone he produced from one of his well-concealed pockets, he remained so unreasonably calm it was all I could do not to shake him.  It doesn’t feel very much like the victory I would have preferred.  “I really don’t see what you –”

“Gods, this has become exhausting.  I’ve always credited you with far more intelligence than you’re currently displaying, it’s like you’re being wilfully dense.  She’s fucked you and you don’t even seem to see it.  If you had any sense left you would have cut loose of her and her dark, dangerous friends the moment she had that Silver Order wizard kidnapped, and certainly before you called on me and mine to murder a dozen or so people to cover up the mess she’s made.”

His eyes flicker around the room to check his surrounding peers, far enough away they might not have caught my every word even though I’m not making any effort to control my volume, but close enough for my words to carry to them all the same.  This admittedly tall, expansive room has been suitably muffled by the well-laden bookshelves lining all the walls and the thick carpets underfoot and richly upholstered furniture, but even so there are more than enough pairs of eyes still trained on our group.

“Have a care, Dramrath.  I’d have you remember –”

“Oh stick it, Refick.  You may have bought me and mine for a pretty sum for the duration of our transaction but you haven’t bought my silence.  You’ve been an incredible fool letting this … woman involve you in one of the most heinous horror-shows I’ve ever had the misfortune to witness, and it’s finally snapped back to bite her in the face, and you with her.  For someone I’ve always considered to be significantly more intelligent than your father you really have proven very stupid in your judgement since I’ve been gone.”

Vandryss glides past me now, still moving with unnervingly silent ease across the rich, thick carpet to the substantial wet bar set against the side wall.  Tavarrat’s already there, nursing a glass of what I suspect is just water that I don’t think she’s actually touched yet.  She has her staff propped casually against her shoulder as she leans against it, still watching the floor very much as she’s been doing since she preceded Vandryss into the room and took up her silent position.  Now she looks up for the first time, giving her colleague a wary sidelong glance that the smaller woman largely ignores as she collects a tumbler and immediately fills it from a decanter without even bothering to consider her selection.

Something about it has the shorthairs at the back of my neck bristling, it just feels wrong.  Again my hands start to itch, and I shoot Trouble a wary look, finding she’s already watching them both with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw.  Hontiresk, meanwhile, is frowning down at his expertly manicured nails as he takes a hefty pull on his cigar, his mood clearly thoroughly ruined now.

“My business with Mistress Vandryss, along with those she represents, remains my business, not yours.  I would again prefer to remind you that I hired you for a very specific task, one which has only the most tangential bearing on any other business I may have at this time.  I will, however, state that your continued failure to complete said task has created the circumstances which have made this current inconvenience possible, and so –”

“Oh please, this whole shitshow’s been entirely inevitable ever since you first let her move those people out of that warehouse on First Point and stash them underneath your big fancy theatre.  Honestly, I’m surprised she hadn’t already worked out that was going to happen ahead of time, it seems painfully obvious with hindsight.”  I turn to her now, giving her a suitably sharp glare.  “Or perhaps you did.  You do seem the type who likely got a sadistic thrill out of setting your own business partner up to take the fall for your shady dealings.”

Knocking back the contents of her glass in one single swallow, Vandryss gives me such a bland look it almost feels like sarcasm.  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mallys.  I’m as surprised by this unfortunately turn of events as your employer.”

Rolling my eyes as I turn back to Hontiresk, I let out a weary sigh as I take a step away, starting to sidestep towards Trouble now.  I’ve a mind to just leave them both to it now, I’ve definitely had enough of her for one night.  “You would do well to cut her loose, Refick.  All she is now is a threat, there are no more business opportunities to be had in her company.  Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t murdered you already.”

This makes him frown a little deeper as he gives me a cool sidelong glance.  “Whatever are you prattling on about?”

Vandryss is watching me too, putting her glass down behind her on the bar without even looking as she starts to move towards us again, her face becoming a good deal more neutral now.  “Careful now.”  she purrs, and while she says it in a particularly matter-of-fact way, I can sense a cold threat in her words all the same.

Through the corner of my eye I see Gubal stiffen, his eyes narrowing as he looks from me to her, and back again.  I see his hand shift to the hilt of his sword now as he senses the same threat I do.

“You’re no longer a viable business partner to her.  Her precious enterprise has entirely collapsed here in Untermer now.  I told you, before the end of the night the Authority will know exactly what’s been going on at the Playhouse, behind closed doors, and they’ll be looking at your other concerns too.  Everything you’ve been trying to keep off the books, intentionally buried from their prying eyes, either through bribes or obfuscation, it’ll be dug up and used to hang you.  But I suspect she’ll have had you butchered in your sleep long before that, likely having made it look like it was just some business rival or perhaps even some cleverly constructed accident or a particularly embarrassing botched suicide.  Whatever this may be, she’ll make sure none of it can be traced back to her.”

Cocking her head, Vandryss regards me for a long beat, unmoving now.  Hontiresk’s watching her with a very wary look on his face now, growing increasingly uncomfortable as he seems to finally consider my words.  Far too late now, I can’t help thinking.  I really don’t know what he could actually do now to change any of this in his favour.  At this point his only hope would be that swift shipboard escape I just suggested.

Finally she sighs, shifting her feet a little as she just shrugs.  “Well, aren’t you the observant one?  I’ll have to come up with a better use for you after this.”

That makes me frown as a genuinely icy chill rides up my spine, I don’t like the implication in what she just said at all.  Meanwhile Hontiresk turns to look up at me, his eyes slowly widening as something seems to dawn on him, and he opens his mouth to speak.

In the same instant she moves, very nearly faster than I can actually catch, certainly quicker than I could realistically react to.  Her sword’s left its sheath before I’ve quite registered it, and she’s completed her savage, sweeping stroke long before he actually realises what’s just happened.  It certainly happens so fast that there’s almost no blood, just the finest cut slowly seeming to open up across his throat.

He manages to blink twice in genuine surprise, a small trickle of blood starting to run down from the corner of his mouth, before his head rolls off his neck with a surprising lack of ceremony.  Now the blood comes, a surprisingly lively jet of it spurting up in a tall jet from the stump, painting half of his surroundings with the first scattering of fine red droplets, then the second.  Gubal’s so startled that he’s caught twice in the pump of that severed pulse before he finally reacts, stumbling back against the bookshelves behind him in wide-eyed shock as his grip tightens on the hilt of his sword.  Still conspicuously sheathed at his side …

My eyes shoot to Vandryss as she gives her sword an almost casual swipe off to the side in order to shake loose the very few drops of blood that actually stain the blade, but her eyes are scanning the rest of the room instead.  Taking in the reactions of the uniformly startled bystanders around us.  “Mistress Mallys, if you want your people to survive another night beyond this one, I would suggest you follow my lead and kill that impressive orc bodyguard before he’s regained his senses.  Am I understood?”

Just as I’m about to ask what she even means by that she jumps up onto the couch directly behind her, using it as a springboard to launch into the centre of the room, where she cuts down two of the nobles while they’re still rising.  This is enough to break the trance of those who are still just stood by watching or not yet risen from their seats, each of them going from stunned surprise to abject terror in a blink.  Then Tavaratt suddenly materialises at the far end of the room, just inside the entrance, swinging her staff to strike the first one to make it that far.  He folds instantly, but the strike itself knocks him aside with significantly more force than it has any right to, a bright, flashing crack resounding across the room as he’s blasted a good ten feet into the wall.  The bookshelf he’s hurled into explodes in a great avalanche of displaced books, but even this can’t hide the splash of freshly shed blood as he’s broken on impact.

I turn back to face Gubal then, and he hasn’t moved, still looking down at the headless corpse of his master as the severed stump gives one last, far more half-hearted little spurt to indicate that that’s definitely it for one of the most powerful men in the city.  It takes me another moment to muster enough focus just to squeeze out the word:  “Fuck …”

Slowly Gubal’s amber eyes rise to meet mine … and as they narrow their irises immediately start to grow darker.  His fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword as his other hand goes to the scabbard, taking a firm grip of its own, and that cold weight that’s settled in my stomach feels like it’s just dropping right out of me as I feel the rush of adrenaline hit my system and I react.

We both move at the same time, Gubal drawing his sword and starting to shift around the chair still inhabited by his boss’ dead body.  I don’t give him a chance to work his way into clear space to attack me, rushing forward to kick the chair hard with full force, launching it with surprising ease across the carpet so it takes the orc’s legs out from under him.  He stumbles and starts to drop, but manages to catch himself enough at least that he halfway sprawls over the corpse, and I have to jump back to avoid his bastard sword’s sweeping blade as he swings it outwards to warn me off.

Shoving himself off the body, he stumbles away from the chair and gives his sword another wild swipe to keep me from trying to take advantage of his further distraction, but I’m just keeping a wide berth as I draw my own, backing up as I start to circle him.  I catch sight of Trouble, who’s now finally shaken off her own shock, drawing her sword and dumping the sheath as she works her way around behind him, clearly looking for a chance to attack with that oversized blade.  I catch her eye and wave her down, hoping she can read well enough that I want her to just back off, I can’t risk her complicating this further right now.  It’s bad enough I have to do this right now, knowing full well that Vandryss would follow through on her threat in a heartbeat if she felt sufficiently obliged.

Gubal’s eyes meet mine again as he finally settles himself enough to take up a ready guard.  The rational part of my mind is trying to come up with some way to word an apology, a plea, something to make it clear that I really don’t want to do this, that it’d be easier if he just ran away and tried his best to just get past Vandryss and her pet wizard.  Perhaps find a fast way out of the city, like the fast ship I suggested to Hontiresk.  But I know that’s not going to work, there’s no chance he’d listen to me anyway.  His blood’s all the way up, his eyes are indicator enough, and even if I could make him listen I’m not sure Vandryss would really go along with it.  I’m as stuck with this as I’ve been with everything else we’ve had to do so far, she’s put me in another impossible position and this time I even saw it coming …

For a long beat nothing happens, he just watches me while I watch him right back, trying hard to ignore the chaos unfolding behind him as Vandryss and Tavarrat wipe out the remainder of the room’s occupants.  That being said, right now they’re already starting to make their way outside to start mopping up the rest of the building.  Given that we’re on the second floor I can only imagine there’s going to be a lot more murder laid at their feet before we’re done with this.  It’s enough to make my skin crawl as I edge a little to the left, looking to open a little more space between us while I adjust my grip on my sword.

His lunge comes fast, his footwork impressively accomplished, jabbing at me with surprising agility and clear educated skill I’ve rarely seen in a full-blooded orc.  If I hadn’t been taught so relentlessly by my own tutors when I was young he might have killed me on the spot with his opening move, but I simply turn it aside while sidestepping and dancing to his right.  While he’s adjusting I respond with a swift and merciless flurry of deft cuts on his open side, and he jumps back again, eyes widening, startled now by the speed of my own blows.

Making a feint to the left that I’m not even remotely surprised that he spots, I spring to his right and slash down from on high, aiming to cut him down but simply pressing him back again, and there’s a moment I think I might catch him out.  Instead he sidesteps the couch behind him I’d been hoping to trip him up over, once again warding me back with a wild swipe before he lashes out with his foot and kicks this piece of furniture aside too.  Opening up a little more space for us to manoeuvre in, although the way he does it still smells like well-hidden desperation.  I’ve got him worried now, I can tell, he’s worked out that I’m the better fighter and he’s not sure he can survive this.

Sidestepping again, I circle again the best I can, hoping to turn him around again so I can perhaps work him back into the wall instead, or maybe get some more of the disturbed seating behind him.  But he catches me too soon, skipping the other way before pressing me instead, and I have to lean onto my backfoot to keep from getting forced back myself as I parry his still skilful attack.  Turning the latest cut aside I respond in kind, pushing forward on light feet while I swipe back with speedy strokes that he starts to struggle to turn away as well as he works to just keep his own footing.  This time when I feint he doesn’t catch it so quickly, almost responding to the trick so that when I turn and thrust at his exposed belly he stumbles aside more clumsily.

This time when he tries to keep me beyond arm’s length with another wild slash I instead step into it and counter with my own parrying strike, and as I batter his sword aside with a great ringing buzz it opens him up just right.  While he desperately plants his feet, trying not to trip himself up while his arm goes halfway numb from the rattled shock, I simply step into the sudden gap in his defences and turn my sword round and down in mid swing.  I time the slash to perfection, opening his throat right across in a swift diagonal cut.

There’s a moment when Gubal staggers back, fighting to keep his feet under him, that I think he might just go down right here, as he tries to pull in a breath and instead simply produces a hollow, uncomfortably wet sucking sound from his severed trachea.  He shuffles back on unsteady legs, still battling to keep upright, and when he raises his sword between us to keep me at a distance his hand shakes … but he manages to stays up as he presses his empty hand to his gushing throat and squeezes, glaring at me with hot, still clear eyes.  He tries to speak now, but only produces an ugly rasp.

For a single beat, I almost attack him after all, ready to bash his sword aside and just rush him, hoping to cut him down with a last, forceful two-handed slash up through his torso.  But it just seems too brutal, an ugly, graceless way to end a fight I’d rather not be having in the first place … which I realise too late is a mistake as he rushes me instead.

He charges on still clumsy legs, but he’s got desperate speed in his feet now as he comes like a furious bull, winding up an underhand swipe that I barely manage to parry in time, and as I turn it aside he keeps on coming.  I’m wide open when he ploughs into me, turning just enough to hit me shoulder first, and I barely manage to plant my feet in time to try and bear the brunt of the hit and maybe keep my feet.  The impact is hard, he nearly takes me down as I instead throw him aside, and as I stumble aside I fumble my sword, which clatters to the floor and spins away across the carpet.  Leaving me momentarily unarmed, which should be all he needs.

Gubal’s a dead man, he knows it as much as I do, but he’s not about to just lie down and let it happen.  He’s an orc through and through, I’ve not known many purebloods in my time but enough to understand they probably really are Thorin’s favoured race, and he smiles on them brightest when they’re facing death.  He wants to go out like a true warrior, with his sword in his hand and blood on its blade, preferably taking someone with him.  Right now his only opponent is me.

Only wavering for a moment before he rights himself, he’s already coming when I settle my feet again, now unarmed with a substantial length of strong, sharp steel rushing to meet me.  My hand itches to draw one of my knives, but I hold back, knowing it won’t be enough to fight back in this moment … so I do the only thing I can think of in the slim time I have available, shifting my feet as he comes in and twisting aside at the same time I bring my hands up.  Gubal doesn’t recover in time to stop me when I grapple his wrists, but there’s still enough strength in him as I give his arms a good twist that he fights me on it, even as his life’s blood keeps gushing from the ruin of his neck.

There’s a genuinely worrying moment, when our eyes meet and I see the fire still hot in his blood-red eyes and he holds fast against my own sorely pressed muscles, that I think  there might still be too much strength in him for me to beat.  He bares his teeth and growls in my face, but nothing like the powerful, rumbling thunder I would have expected comes out, it’s barely a rattle.  And now the steel in his limbs is jut starting to ebb, slowly I feel it slipping inside of him, and I twist a little harder, putting the very last ounce of my own power into it now … and he finally gives.

As I wrench his sword from his fingers, his grip barely slipping but still enough for me to drag the sword away and pull back into a low, primed crouch with my thighs coiled tight, he staggers back a few steps, knees starting to wobble now.  I can see his legs beginning to give out under him as the blood that’s been steadily soaking through his clothes finally reaches his knees, but even now there’s still a little fight left in him now.  I’ve disarmed him but he’s just as determined to go down fighting, slipping a knife free from behind his back that he brandishes with a shaky hand.

Oh Thorin … at least he goes out with a blade in his hand.  I draw back low and tight as I can and spring at him now, charging forward with full force with the sword thrust in a firm two-handed grip, and power it in a hard upward angle through the centre of his torso.  As the blade runs him through with little real resistance I keep moving forward, letting a harsh, gritted snarl go as I force him back across the carpet and keep on going until I finally meet something genuinely solid.

When we meet the back wall I thrust harder with my last reserve of strength, driving the blade as deep as I can into the wood panelling while a battering cascade of disturbed books rains down over and around us.  It’s enough of a pummelling I’m forced to stumble back, but Gubal stays where he is, stuck fast by his own sword.

For several long moments I stand there, rubbing at a sore spot on my wrist where a strike from a particularly hefty volume’s raising what I don’t doubt will be a mighty bruise, watching the last books thump down while he hangs where I’ve left him.  His feet are almost flat on the floor, he’s tall enough to reach at least, but even so the sword’s the only thing keeping him up now, what’s left of his blood gushing around the blade driven clean through him just below his heart.  His chest’s still heaving, even with his throat cut his lungs are still dragging some air down through his ruined windpipe, but there’s less point to the process by the second as his blood pools underneath him, turning all that paper red.  There’s a woeful, savage beauty in a death like this, I realise, but it doesn’t hurt any less being the cause of it.

He still has the knife in his hand trapped in what’s fast becoming a death grip, but there’s no strength left in him now to raise the arm now, so it just dangles at his side.  But he’s still in there, his eyes blinking but still just about managing to focus enough to meet mine, and they’re that striking yellowed amber colour again, as much because of his calm returning as the loss of so much blood.  He opens his mouth now, but as before nothing comes out, his voice comprehensively lost now thanks to my handiwork.  But I understand the sentiment he wants to convey clear enough.

“Trouble?”  I barely manage to get her name out now, my own voice cracking badly as I speak, my throat very thick while my eyes are hot with the threat of tears.  “Are you … can you do something for him?”

“But … I don’t understand …”  She steps closer, gripping her sword two-handed as she had before, but held low now, no real intention left in her.  Her eyes are wide as they shift from taking in the dying orc stuck to the wall like a pinned moth to searching my face, and she looks as desperately sad as I feel.  “I thought … you’ve killed him.  I thought … was that not the plan?”

“No … damn it, Trouble, he’s going to die.  Can you help him?  Please?”

She’s another moment finally understanding, then she raises her offhand to her mouth as she gasps.  “Oh … oh gods, yes.  Of course, you’re right … I’m sorry …”  She springs forward and rushes to him now, turning her sword around as she goes to hold it underhand now.  She stops in front of Gubal and pauses for a moment, unsure again, before taking a breath and seeming to steel herself before offering up her free hand to him.  “Forgive me.”

He watches her for a beat, eyes starting to turn glassy but seeing enough to catch her meaning, and when she reaches forward and starts to take his free hand he lets her interlace her fingers with his.  She raises her sword now and presses the hilt to her chest as she bows her head, taking another breath to start praying.

“My blessed Lady, I know you are not the god this man would pray to in his final moments, but I ask you to look kindly upon him all the same.  Help him to the place he wishes to go, send him off with your blessing and your mercy, let him go fast and with all the righteous glory he deserves for such a brave and heroic death.  Should the Stormlord’s Valkyries arrive in time to collect him please guide them sure and true to his side, and tell them how proud Thorin should be of the latest recruit in His Immortal Army.  Please hear Your Servant, Your wondrous dark Majesty, and know my words are true.  Amen.”

The sound that Gubal produces here is more of a weak, wet wheeze than a true last breath, but as his chest deflates one last time and remains still after his head sags down on the ruin of his neck, his fingers finally go slack and the knife falls.  It bounces a few times over the sodden books surrounding him before finally clattering away across the carpet, and after that the room grows silent again.

While Trouble lets out a slow, weary sigh and extricates her fingers from the orc’s now limp hand, I turn around and plod away, starting to feel every moment of the fight I’ve just had and the rest of the night besides.  The unfulfilled duel with Kesla Shoon and my subsequent desperate escape from falling to several broken bones on the burning stage, and of course narrowly avoiding a very lethal trampling from that monstrous golem … gods, I’ve definitely been right through it tonight.  Finally locating my sword again, I take a moment to step close to one of the nobles Vandryss cut down and drop into a crouch beside them, taking a deep breath so I can hold it when I lean in to grab a handful of their robes in order to wipe my blade clean enough to sheathe.  Desperate not to breathe in the stink of all the blood that’s been spilled around me while I’ve been trapped in another fight I would much rather not have had to start at all, let alone win.

Even so, once I’ve got my sword safe in its scabbard again I stay where I am, just putting my hand to my face instead as I start breathing again, looking up slowly to take in the wreckage.  My gorge start to rise, slowly but with growing enthusiasm, and it takes all I have to tamp it back down, desperate not to vomit right now.  It’s hard enough, what I see now makes me sick to my stomach.

Then I feel Trouble’s gentle hand rest on my shoulder and I lower my hands, taking a deep breath in through my mouth and lowering my head, finally swiping my hand across my eyes while I inhale deep anyway just to clear out my nostrils, smell be damned.  She squeezes, working to reassure me now, but it really doesn’t help as I sigh heavier than I’ve done all night, finally looking up again as I start to push myself upright again.  “Fuck … I really didn’t want to do that.”

“I know.”  She steps back now to give me some room.  “She didn’t give you a choice.  It was kill him, or … well, it sounded like something awful, really.”

“No.  I won’t let her do anything to harm you, Trouble.  Not any of you.  I’ll kill her first.”

“What … what they hell have they done?”  When I turn to her now she’s looking around with wide, haunted eyes, cradling her now sheathed sword very much as she did when we first arrived.

“Something monstrous.  Again.”  I step close and rest my hand against her cheek, trying to sound soothing as I pull her into a hug.  Looking back at Gubal now, still stuck fast at the back of the room, and hate myself for letting any of this happen.

Gods, I hope the others are all right.  I need one thing to go right tonight after all this unpleasantness.  Right now I’d be happy enough just seeing Kuth smile at me again, make a joke, make me feel better about things.  I need to get out of here, I need to sleep.  Maybe even to get well fucked again in the morning, but in truth after this night I’d settle just for him to hold me …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

#never split the party #The Creeping Bam #the adventures of the creeping bam #book 4 chapter 32 #original fiction #fantasy fiction #original fantasy fiction #to be continued

[vyriadurav]

(Edit: using this as a pinned post about all my books for now in lieu of another one. This was formerly for International Lesbian Day but now is a one stop shop for all my books) For starters, consider checking out

Catnip Amazon | Itch.io | Alternative Ebook Sellers | Audiobook For all his life, Sol has believed he's only worthy of affection as long as he's useful--and he intends to prove his ultimate use by restoring a colony on Venus as a new home for his friends and lovers. But upon arriving, he realizes there's more here than he bargained for. For one, the resident artificial intelligence wants to make friends with him. For another, the nanites want to completely change his body... and in the process reveal her true self. Stuck (or perhaps blessed?) with a new form, she must find out what it means to live, to be loved for who she is rather than her work. Catnip is a cozy space exploration novel about a trans woman's journey to find herself and what it means to be loved for who she is, with the help of her polycule and a lesbian AI. If Sci-fi isn't quite your speed, you can also check out

The Hatchling Amazon | Itch.io | Alternative Ebook Sellers

Sarric dreamed of dragons all his life; such flights of fancy captured his imagination at a young age and sustained him through the cruelty of the hunters that ruled the isolated mountain town of Rivermist. One day, a real dragon appears before him, dazzling him with her beauty and an answer to the unease that's afflicted him for as long as he remembers. He's eager to take what she offers--but the greedy hunters, driven by tales of treasure hoards, will do everything in their power to destroy her. The Hatchling is a fantasy about a trans woman's journey of accepting her identity and her new found family.

If you want something a little spicier, consider reading Wyrmheart Itch.io exclusive

A mage without home or family seeks to establish a legacy for herself so that her name might ring out through the ages.

An assassin is charged with striking at the heart of a draconic cult that surely hides some greater evil.

Wyrmheart is a story set in Maria Ying's Those Who Break Chains universe and tells the story of trans women making their way through life in this fantastical world.

You can also take a look at my Patreon where I am currently writing several things, but primarily

Forged in the Light of New Stars

Forged is a t4t lesbian isekai story about a closeted trans woman and a repressed, rotten egg (in the trans sense) who find themselves transported to a vibrant, magical world filled with advanced technology, mysteries to discover, and most importantly: a place where they can their truest selves. Follow Gwen as she strives to take control of her life, to be the woman she's always known she could be, and find true happiness.

Follow Brian as he struggles to cast off the chains that his family has bound him in, to undo the bigoted messages they poured into him constantly, and find out, deep down, who she truly is.

Watch them fall in love with each other and with the mystical world of Tellara and all the new friends they make along the way. See them uncover secrets about the connection between Earth and Tellara and their purpose as travelers between worlds. Magic, alchemy, and queerness collide in this otherworldly journey.

#t4t wlw #trans lesbian #transfem #trans author #wlw #original fiction #transfem author #Dragons #transhumanism #science fiction #fantasy #modern fantasy #isekai #portal fantasy #novel #polyamory #yuri #girls love

[villiedoom]

Winter Goliaths ~ ❄️

These are fantasy creatures from my world that look mostly like a mix of a hyena and a bear, and are based on the creatures I once saw in a dream.

Made in Blender ~

#3D #3d art #art #digital art #3d model #3d renders #fantasy creatures #fictional creature #original species #winter #snow #hyena #goliath #blender3d #blender #villiedoom

[kingsdespair-if]

KING'S DESPAIR: THE FOG OF WAR. BOOK 1.

''Welcome, dear slayer.

Or better yet, slayer-to-be.

Sit with me by the fire and help yourself to some ale.

This journey will be long.

And what a journey it will be!

We are about to slay the spawn of a god.''

King's Despair is set in Melethya, a planet similar to Earth.

Our main character is a young adventurer sought after by the renowned sage Egon. Egon presents a mission to slay creatures born from nightmares, the offspring of a bestial god believed to have created the entire universe.

But is this belief true?

Before the creatures can be slain, a sword must be retrieved. Its pieces are scattered throughout the continent of Kellet, where the slayer was born and where our adventure begins.

Kellet is the largest of the five great continents in Melethya. It is also the most hostile, filled with magical creatures who are not keen on sharing their spaces. Now, you must form a party with creatures from different species who despise each other and try to make it work. The greater good calls for heroes, and you are those heroes… sort of.

Choose from 6 unique races, each with their own abilities and appearances.

Fully customize your SLAYER, including their name, height, weight, eyes, body, hair, sexuality, and gender.

Romance, befriend, or become enemies with any of the 6 romance options (plus a secret one).

Select your class, define your personality, and determine the fate of the world. Fight for peace or for destruction.

And who knows, you might even have the opportunity to hatch a dragon egg and have a dragon companion. 👀

This game will primarily focus on character interactions and romance.

Please note that this game contains explicit content and graphic violence, and is only suitable for players aged 18 and above. Reader discretion is advised (This is a very horny and very gory game).

Amisha Kahax, SHE/HER, 29 years old, lesbian, WARG. She has been your best friend since childhood, when your parents found her lost and alone in the forest. Amisha is a formidable warrior who can transform into a powerful white tiger. Despite her fierce appearance, she has a sweet and playful personality, often teasingly flirtatious with the female Slayer. Amisha will always crush on the female Slayer and is dedicated to protecting her friends and loved ones.

Standing at a height of 5'11" (1,82), she possesses a muscular physique and wields a heavy battle axe with great skill.

[Friends to lovers, puppy love, best friends falling in love]

Veleena, SHE/HER, 31 years old, bisexual, HALF ROYAL ELF. Veleena possesses a quiet and lethal demeanor. She is cold and distant, likely due to the mistreatment from her father and the abandonment by her mother since birth. Her father, a human from the human realm, began training her in combat from a young age, as soon as she could hold a dagger in her small hands. Despite her tough exterior, Veleena is fiercely loyal to her cousin, Veldon. However, there are moments when she lets her guard down and reveals her vulnerability, as evidenced by the faint sound of her crying when she believes everyone else is asleep.

Veleena stands at 5'7" (1.70) with a slender body. She has albinism.

[Oblivious to love, Emotional scars, Everyone can see it]

Prince Khalid Razzarq-cassim, HE/HIM, 24 years old, bisexual, HASSAM. Meet Khalid, the youngest member of the royal Hassam lineage. He is fiercely loyal to his people and will go to great lengths to protect them from the mistreatment of other races. Khalid is a strong and passionate individual who isn't afraid to show it. He tends to judge others quickly and is even quicker to dismiss any threats. With a strong sense of pride and stubbornness,

Khalid stands at a height of 5'3"(1,60), taller than most in his race, and despises when anyone suggests otherwise.

[Enemies to lovers, Unattainable love, Lovers in denial, Royal]

Veldon Heredon, HE/HIM, 33 years old bisexual, HUMAN. Veldon is Veleena's older cousin. He hails from the human realm's royalty and takes great pleasure in indulging himself in the city's brothels. He enjoys getting to know the people who work there, as well as engaging in activities like drinking and gambling. However, he puts a pause on his fun-filled schedule when his cousin needs him. At that moment, his playful smile transforms into a serious frown. Veldon has always made it a point to protect his cousin, even from her own father. The scar on Veleena's face haunts his nightmares, as he blames himself for it.

Veldon takes pride in his appearance and engages in regular training for two main reasons: to ensure his cousin's safety and to maintain his attractiveness to potential suitors. He stands at a height of 5'9'' (1,75).

[One-night stand to something more meaningful, Belated love epiphany, Playboy in love]

Kaellë Lorthan, SHE/HER, 27 years old, demisexual. SALT ELF. Kaellë is a timid salt elf who is fearful of her own shadow, but possesses exceptional healing skills. She has never failed to save a patient, even during her years working aboard perilous merchant ships. Accompanying her at all times is her affectionate sea wyvern, Jokhan. Blushing easily and frequently hiding behind her hands, Kaellë exudes a charming presence. However, her thanatophobia raises doubts about her suitability for her current occupation. "Has Egon lost his mind? Oh well, so be it."

She is 5' 1'' (1,55).

[Love at first sight, First love, Can’t say 'I love you', Sweet love]

Mauthak, the cruel, HE/HIM, 35 years old, gay, ORC. Mauthak lives up to his name, being strong, big, and fierce. However, this doesn't mean he indiscriminately kills every creature he encounters. He simply enjoys fighting a little too much for his own good. As the leader of his Orc tribe, Mauthak is responsible for training the young recruits in the army, a role he takes very seriously. He has a love for drinking, fighting, and sex, making him a straightforward individual.

Physically, Mauthak is an imposing figure, standing at a towering height of 6' 5'' (1,98). He possesses the strength of a minotaur. He confidently struts around, his muscular and scarred chest exposed, wearing heavy armor on his shoulders.

[Redemption, Nobody thinks it will work, Forbidden love]

SECRET. Selectable Gender, 28 years old, gay/lesbian/heterosexual, their sexual orientation depends on MC's gender. UNKNOWN race.

They are familiar with you, even if you are unaware of them. They have been discreetly observing you, captivated by you. You are their sole focus.

Unknown height.

They possess immense power. Wait, did you hear that?

[Unrequited love, Dark secret, Secret identity, Secret admirer, If I can’t have you, nobody will]

PLAY THE DEMO

English is not my first language, so please be gentle with me.

//

My side project, Shadow of Styria, can be found HERE.

//

Join the Discord and come chat with me! 🥰 https://discord.gg/NcnHwV65xn

#twine if #interactive fiction #original character #romance #medieval #fantasy creatures #hosted games #twine game #interactive story #choice of games #kingsdespair-if #lgbtqia #twine wip

[nixnephili]

This is Shin. Shin is your new hyperfixation.

Engage with AFS.

🔫🔫🔫

Ask me questions. Talk about it. I want to give you a new hyperfixation. Let me.

🔫🔫

-Nix🌙

#nixnephili #original fiction #dark fantasy #fantasy #demon character #demon oc #original writing #original character #original art #ocs #oc art #oc #mystery #mythical creatures

[whereserpentswalk]

People don't realize how liminal it is to be a time traveler. How you don't ever really feel like you're in the time you are. Even when you're in your own time, everything is off, your coat was something you bought in interwar France, the book you're reading on the train is from a bookstore you had to visit in Victorian London, even your necklace was given to you by a Neolithic shaman, from a culture the rest of the world can never know. You find yourself acting strange even when in the present, much less in the past you have to work in.

You remember meeting a eunuch in 10th century China, and having him be one of the only people smart and observant enough to realize you were from a diffrent time. You could talk honestly with him, though still you couldn't reveal too much about your time. And it was still so strange hearing him talk casually about work and mention plotting assassinations. You're not allowed to but you still visit him sometimes.

You remember that the few times you were allowed to tell someone everything it was tragic. You knew a young woman who lived in Pompeii, who you had gotten close to, a few days before she would inevitably die. On your last day there you looked into her eyes, knowing soon they'd be stone and ash, that the beauty of her hair would be washed away by burning magma. And you hugged her, and told her that you wanted her to be safe, and told her she was wonderful and that you wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And you let her tongue know the joy of 21st century chocolate, and her eyes see the beauty of animation, knowing she deserved to have those joys, knowing it wouldn't matter soon. And you hugged her the last time, and told her she deserved happiness. And when you left without taking her it was like you were killing her yourself.

You want to take home everyone you're attached to. There's a college student you befriended in eighteen fifties Boston. And you can't help but see him try to solve problems you know humanity is centuries away from solving. And you just want to tell him. And it's not just that, the way he talked about the books and plays he likes, his sense of humor. There's so many people you want him to meet.

You feel the same way about a young woman you met on a viking age longship. She tells stories to her fellow warriors and traders, stories that will never fully get written down, stories that she tells so uniquely and so well. She has so many great ideas. You want so dearly to take her to somewhere she can share her stories, or where she can take classes with other writers, where she can be somewhere safe instead of being out at sea. She'll talk about wanting to be able to do something, or meet people, and you know you're so close to being able to take her, but you never can, unless she accidently finds out way too much then you can't.

You remember the longship that you met that young storyteller on. You were there before, two years ago for you, ten years later for the people on it. The young woman who told you stories wasn't there ten years later, you had been told why then but you only realize now, her uncle, who ran the ship, had been one of the first people to convert to Christianity in his nation. He killed her, either for not converting or for sleeping with women, you're not sure, but he killed her, and bragged about it when you met him ten years later.

You talk to the storyteller on the longship, ask her about the myths you're there to ask her about, the myths that she loves to tell. You look into her eyes knowing it's probably less then a year until her uncle takes her life. You ask her if you think that those who die of murder go to Valhalla. She tells you she hopes not, she doesn't see Valhalla as a gift but as a duty, she hopes for herself to go to Hel, where she wouldn't have to fight anymore. You slip and admit you're talking about her, telling her that you hope that's where she goes when she's killed. You hope to yourself you'll be forced to take her to the twenty first century, you're tempted even to make it worse, you want to have ruined her enough to be able to save her.

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