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#tales from valaria
tildeathiwillwrite · 21 days
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Tag Game: OC Questionaire
Thank you so much for the double tag! @willtheweaver here and @illarian-rambling here!!!
My questions:
What does the perfect day look like?
What time of day is your favorite?
If you were granted one wish, what would it be?
What's the best thing you've ever eaten?
What's the worst injury you've ever had?
Do you wish you looked different?
Gently tagging @fourwingedwriter @faytelumos @writingphoenix @phoenixradiant @agirlandherquill @late-to-the-fandom @cssnder @annakayy and open tag! I don't feel like making up new questions so just pick three out of the list above.
For the trio in The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure:
What does the perfect day look like?
Draven: Any day where I'm not being shot at, mauled, or chased is a good day for me! Octavian: Unfortunately, I have to agree with Cozenson. A day of silence is rare for us. Reese: It's raining, I don't have any obligations, my parents are out, and I have a warm drink and a good book.
What time of day is your favorite?
Draven: Sunrise. It usually means I've survived another day. Octavian: Celestials, you're morbid. I also prefer the early morning, but only because it's better for hunting. Reese: Night. I'm mostly left alone to do my own thing.
If you were granted one wish, what would it be?
Draven: That I wasn't fucking shot! Octavian: That the plague never happened. Perhaps then my people would still be around. Reese: *fidgets with her sleeves* that I could have had a normal childhood.
What's the best thing you've ever eaten?
Draven: Celestials, Octavian, do you remember when we went to that noble party in Zariya and they had that one berry pie that you said looked like blood? Because that was delicious. Octavian: I didn't only say it looked like blood, I said it appeared they used bloodberries, called that because the juice is the same color as blood. But you are correct, though I much prefer the berries fresh. Reese: Agreed on that. Also whoever the genius was that first combined coffee with chocolate, I want to give them a hug.
What's the worst injury you've ever had?
Draven: I've been scratched up many times in my line of work, but none of that compares to a classic gunshot wound. Fucked up my shoulder for weeks. Octavian: Almost drowning in a freezing lake is pretty high up there. Reese: *wordlessly points to the scars on her arms*
Do you wish you looked different?
Draven: Celestials, no. Well, sometimes I've wished I was better at disguising myself. I have the type of reputation that leads to people placing bounties on my head. Octavian: Should I? Reese: *shrugs*
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tildeathiwillwrite · 23 days
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"Is that a kid!?"
WoW Birthday Whump Day 7: Bloodied knuckles / Wounded / "Is that blood?!"
Whumpril Day 7 (Hesitation)
WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List
Whumpril Prompts List
Tales from Valaria Masterpost
TW: blood, referenced kidnapping, referenced poison, referenced torture, cleaning wounds
Context: Draven receives an unexpected visit from Octavian. And he's not alone. A.K.A. Draven meets a child who is definitely not traumatized.
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Draven was in the middle of housework when the front door lock clicked. He froze, dusting cloth in one hand, the other reaching for the pistol at his side. The door creaked as someone pushed it open, then it shut just as quickly. Was that two sets of footsteps?
The door lock clicked a second time, and Draven drew the pistol, letting the dusting cloth fall to the floor. “Hiro?” He called, scrambling off the table—where he was dusting off the lamp above—and moving towards the doorway that connected the kitchen to the main living space. What he saw when he entered the room gave him pause.
“Is that blood?!”
Octavian glanced down at his hand. The skin on his knuckles had broken, and the cloth wadded tightly around his palm was soaked in the pale red liquid. A nasty gash above his right eye dripped blood down his face like tears. “...yes.”
Draven jumped as a small head popped out from behind Octavian. “And is that a kid?”
The girl flinched at his words and ducked back out of view. She was young, couldn’t have been older than twelve or thirteen, with short blonde hair.
“Also yes,” Octavian said simply. “I found her in the forest while hunting.”
Draven slid the pistol back into its holster. “Did you lose a fight with a bear? I expected better from you, de Silv.”
The devar rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. I sustained these injuries while trying to escort her home.” He gave the girl a significant look. “Because she hadn’t bothered to tell me she’d been kidnapped.”
“I said I was sorry,” the girl mumbled, barely audible from across the room.
“Kidnapped? Is that why you brought her here, of all places?” Draven crossed the room and reassessed both their injuries. Other than the bloody knuckles, the cut above his eye, and probably a few bruises, Octavian looked all right. The girl, however, was another case.
Upon first inspection, she only looked to have a partially scabbed-over cut on her left cheek. But the deep red stains on the sleeves of her jacket, too big for her, told a different story. She also didn’t look like she’d had a proper night’s sleep in some time. Draven could relate.
The girl’s face reddened at Draven’s inspection. Her eyes were downcast, and she picked at the hems of her jacket.
“Yes. I assume that whoever had taken her had agents in Zariya, they tried to snatch her off the street before we got out of sight.”
The key word was ‘tried’. Draven nodded before turning on his heel and darting back to the kitchen. Snatching his bag from its place on the table, he returned and dropped it in front of one of the couches. “Sit,” he ordered.
Octavian did so without question or hesitation, and the girl meekly followed. Draven rummaged through the bag, searching through the disorganized mess for the medical supplies he kept on hand. The hunting business was notorious for many on-the-job injuries, even for the mercenaries.
The first thing Draven shoved at Octavian was the tiny bottle of augri, alcohol so pure that ingesting it might cause death. “For cleaning the wounds. Not for drinking.”
The devar regarded him with mild amusement. “My people—er—my poison tolerance is greater than you realize, Cozenson.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Draven handed him a pair of handkerchiefs. “I don’t have extra on hand and it doesn’t taste good anyway.”
“...how do you know that?” the girl asked quietly as Octavian wet one of the cloths with the augri.
Draven tossed the rest of the medical supplies onto the couch next to Octavian. It was a jumble of different bandages that he hoped would be enough to bind their wounds. All as clean as possible, of course. He had standards. “Hiro—my roommate—dared me to try some once when we were in training. I didn’t swallow it, obviously, but let’s just say I prefer whiskey.”
The girl frowned. “‘Training’?”
Octavian pressed the handkerchief to his injured knuckles and hissed out through his teeth. “He’s a lycanthrope hunter. My apologies, I didn’t introduce you. This is Draven Cozenson, my partner. Draven, this is Reese.”
Reese’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re the werewolf hunter? The one who used to work in the northern forests?”
Draven rocked back on his heels, mystified. “Yeah, that’s me.” He knew his fame had grown since training, but for a random Zariyan girl to know who he was… had he really gotten that famous? Apparently so.
Octavian finished cleaning off his hand and started wrapping it. “You’re going to have to remove the jacket,” he said softly. 
Reese glanced down at her forearms, hidden underneath the stained sleeves, and grimaced. “Oh… yeah….” She slowly slipped off the jacket, jaw set as her wounds were revealed.
Draven cursed. “What in the depths did they do to you, kid?”
The cuts were shallow, thank the celestials, but so much of her blood was smeared over the skin that it was impossible to tell the extent.
“The cuts weren't them,” Reese said, numb. She pointed to the bruises on her inner elbows and wrists. “That's what they did. The cuts were done by… I think it was a fellow prisoner. With broken glass.”
Octavian froze in the act of scrubbing the blood from his face. “You didn't tell me that.”
Reese only shrugged, reaching for the augri and the other handkerchief. She winced when the alcohol made contact with the cuts but did not cry out.
Draven made uneasy eye contact with Octavian as the devar cleaned the gash over his eye. This changed things, and they both knew it. Not only had the people who'd taken Reese tried to get her back, they'd done so in broad daylight. Octavian defended her, and although they escaped, her abductors would be keeping watch for both of them.
“I need you both to lie low for a few days,” Draven began, rising to his feet. “Perhaps even move to my other safehouse when it gets dark. Then we get Reese home safely and figure out our next move from here.” He glanced at Reese. “Did you learn any of your captors’ names?”
She hesitated before responding. “Only Sagon. I don't know his last name. He has long black hair, it's always pulled back, but he wore a mask like a black circle to cover his face.”
Octavian folded his arms. “I can handle myself, Cozenson. They were no match for me.”
“Clearly…” Draven deadpanned, eyeing the cut on his head. “How'd you end up with a wound like that, anyway?”
The devar muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
“Hmm?”
“...I let myself get slammed into a table…” Octavian repeated, face darkening.
Draven smirked. “‘Handle yourself’, indeed.”
“Shut up.”
@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds
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tildeathiwillwrite · 8 days
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Tag Game: Vaguely Summarized WIP (Round 2!)
I've been tagged by @gummybugg! First time I did this was with The Legend of Orian Goldeneye here, and now I get to do it again! :D
@chronicallydragons your tag game has spread and come nearly full circle
Rules: summarize your WIP in 15 2-5 word bullet points (as if you were trying to summarize it in 15 seconds)
For The Watcher and the Thief:
🗡️AMAB (all magicians are bitches)
✨lovely lovely curse
😵‍💫magic resistance can't save you now
🥷*mission impossible theme*
🔥this is fine
🪢attempted strangulation
💎glowy gemstones are surprisingly valuable
✨oh look another magician
🗡️OH SHIT ANOTHER MAGICIAN
🏃fucking RUN
😓the consequences of my actions
🥲everything's resolved, right?
😡WRONG
🥷*mission impossible remix*
🧊get frozen in stasis, idiot
Gently tagging @late-to-the-fandom @phoenixradiant @writingphoenix @illarian-rambling @thethistlegirl and open tag! :D
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tildeathiwillwrite · 26 days
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Tag Game: Character Voice (Round 3!)
Thank you to @somethingclevermahogony for the tag!
My line: "Can you pass that over here?"
Gently tagging @annakayy @fourwingedwriter @overdecorated-furniture @thewritingautisticat @phoenixradiant @writingphoenix @faytelumos @spitefulbull @gamerkats and open tag!
Your line: "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
I'll use my characters from Tales from Valaria this time:
Draven: *points* "Could you hand me that?" Octavian: "Pass me the [object]." Reese: "Can you get me the thing?" *points* "The thing." Luc: "Can I please have the [object]?" Damian: "Could you hand me the [object], please?" Hector: "Please pass over the [object]." Rift: "Hey, can you get me that?" *is gone the moment you turn around*
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tildeathiwillwrite · 1 month
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Tag Game: OC in 15
Thank you to @late-to-the-fandom and @thewritingautisticat for tagging me!
Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you’re free to include those as well!
I've been on a Draven kick lately so I'll choose him. He's got a lot of fun lines. These lines are all from The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure from Tales from Valaria. For context, he's a werewolf hunter with a sarcastic sense of humor and a gun. Two guns.
“What, you haven’t heard of me?”
Enough with the formalities, Fairy. You know who I am and my reputation, you're the one who summoned me here behind the Guild's back.”
"Are we judging each other's fashion choices? Because your fancy vest and dress shirt wouldn't last a day in my line of work."
“You are. So lucky. I didn't shoot you.”
“Try that again,” Draven hissed in his ear,” and I’ll carve out your organs and sell them on the black market.”
"You did say that… are you finally giving me answers a whole" —Draven made a show of checking the clock on the desk— "two years later?"
“The only reason you’re aware of this plan, Fairy, is you’re, unfortunately, essential to its completion.”
“I can name at least three people in the guild who’ll thirst for your blood after seeing this."
Draven winced at the thought. “Ugh, fine. But I will not apologize for the names I will call you.”
“You know what, I don’t want to know. I’m going back to bed.”
“Don’t you think that was a bit much?” he muttered out the side of his mouth.
“You’d think the living legend would know more about the mythical rock.”
“You do realize we’re talking about circumventing the laws of nature, right?”
“I can already tell I’m not going to like this.”
Fun fact: in the very first draft Draven had knives. But then I gave Octavian knives, so Draven got the pistols for more variety. I also love the idea of a character who's just Some Guy in a fantasy story. Just Some Guy with the power of gun.
No pressure tagging: @gamerkats @fourwingedsnake @themswritinwords @faytelumos @chronicallydragons @spitefulbull and open tag!
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tildeathiwillwrite · 4 days
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Tag Game: ROYGBIV
Thank you to @willtheweaver for the tag!
Rules: Find the main rainbow colors in your WIP!
I honestly have no idea how much I use color as a descriptor, it's either way too much or not enough. I highly doubt I'll find indigo that's for sure.
The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure (Tales from Valaria)
Red: He paused next to a large shrub with red berries at the bottom of a hill. The scent of blood was stronger.
The Legend of Orian Goldeneye
Orange: The cell had one occupant, a young man with dark, messy hair and a brownish-orange jacket. He was curled up in the farthest corner of the cell from the entrance, watching the group warily.
The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure
Yellow:  Blood stained its massive claws and teeth, and the primal desire for fresh meat glittered in its yellow eyes.
Green: The guard hesitated and pulled off his uniform coat, a simple jacket with unorthodox splashes of green and brown, more like a camouflaged coat for hunters.
Blue: Octavian rubbed his arms vigorously. His lips appeared blue in the poor light. “Should I?”
Indigo: As I thought, no sign of indigo...
Cinderheart
Violet: Jin opened her eyes to find the sky above the battlefields streaked with brilliant reds, yellows, and violets, the stars beginning to show themselves at the edge of the night. She was cold. So very cold.
Gently tagging @faytelumos @pluppsauthor @chronicallydragons @annakayy @illarian-rambling
@writingphoenix @elizaellwrites @fourwingedwriter @gummybugg and open tag! :D
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tildeathiwillwrite · 5 days
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Getting Stabbed Hurts, Who'd have thought? (Magician's Bait, Part 6)
Whumpril Day 22 (Stoicism Breaks), Day 27 ("Please don't go")
Whumpril Prompts List
Tales from Valaria Masterpost
first part | <- previous part
TW: stab wounds, stitches mention, disorientation, death mention, burns mention, dizziness
Context: Reese wakes up after passing out to find Luc binding her wounds. Damian is okay (for now).
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Reese’s head pounded like her skull was being used as a child’s drum set. Everything else was numb, but her head spun even before she opened her eyes. She lay face down, head resting against something hard and cold. Her arms were limp at her sides, and her left side throbbed in time with her heartbeat.
She lethargically turned her head and stared blankly ahead, prodding her tired mind to focus on her surroundings. The catacomb entrance… I’m at the catacomb entrance. We made it out… but how…?
Two people were seated on the ground opposite her, a woman with curly red hair pulled back into a braid and a man with wavy black hair. Both were facing away from her, and the woman was… painting the man’s arm?
Caiya… that’s Caiya Ebony. She must be painting healing runes of some sort. And he’s the prince. Why had it taken her so long to realize—?
“Reese?”
She blinked, eyes flicking to her left, where she found Luc. He knelt at her side, pressing something onto her back. Bandages?
Luc’s smile looked forced. “How… how are you feeling?”
She groaned softly. “Remind me… never get into a knife fight with a magician. Never again.”
“The wound looks worse than it is,” he said softly, “I had to give you emergency stitches. We would’ve gotten you some healing runes too, but, y’know….”
“How’d you spin that to Caiya?”
Luc scowled. “She hasn’t stopped fussing over His Highness since he dragged you out of the tunnel. You were both in pretty bad shape, he’s malnourished and weakened, but you were the one who was unconscious. He tried to get her to help you first, if it helps.”
Reese made to push herself upright, but Luc stopped her. “Hold on, let me help you.” He slowly lifted her from the ground and propped her against a nearby wall. “I need to finish tying your bandages, and then we can get you something to prevent infection.”
She hissed through her teeth at a sudden spike of pain from the wound in her back. “Do you have anything that can stop the pain?”
“Nothing that I haven’t already given you.”
Silence presided between them for a few minutes while Luc wound the bandages around Reese’s torso. She listened idly to snatches of the conversation between Damian and Caiya while ignoring the throbbing in her head and the twinging in her back.
“I told you, Caiya,” Damian said patiently, “she said her name was Natali Tallis.”
“And need I tell you,” Caiya snapped, “that ‘Natali Tallis’ died nearly a decade ago? Her body was burned and mangled almost beyond recognition due to a backfire in her rune structure.”
Damian sighed and took a cautious sip of water. “But can you deny that the description matches? Is it possible that she faked her death somehow?”
Caiya froze mid-stroke, her brush dripping ink onto the ground. She flicked her wrist, finishing the rune with a quick and precise stroke before putting the brush away with a huff. “I was there, Your Highness. I was the one who had to check her pulse to declare if she was dead.” 
She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Now can you see why I find it so hard to believe she had lived?”
Damian stared at her for a long moment. He took a deep breath and glanced at the rune she’d drawn on his forearm. The cuts left on his wrist from the rough ropes had closed, leaving only faint scars. “Who’s to say she died from the knife to the heart, then?”
Impossible.
Luc glanced over at the pair. “Should we go and check, if you’re not certain?”
“I don’t know,” Damian said softly, “you never really know with Stalkers, do you—?”
“It’s not possible,” Reese stated.
“But—”
“It’s not!” she snapped, wincing. “I stabbed her through the heart, yes. But any healing runes she might have used, written or spoken, would not have worked. She wounded me with the knife first. I then pierced her heart using the same knife. That knife was dripping with my own blood. It would have weakened, if not completely nullified her magic. She didn’t survive.”
Damian nodded in understanding, but Caiya frowned in confusion.
“Was that why you got stabbed?!” Luc hissed under his breath as he tied the loose ends of the bandages together, securing the binding.
“You think I meant to get stabbed?”
“I seem to recall our first lesson being ‘Don’t Get Stabbed, Reese’.”
Reese snorted and immediately regretted it. “Ow….”
Luc slowly rose to his feet, the concern evident on his face. “Do you think you can stand? We should get you home.”
She stared at him for a long moment before seizing his arm and hauling herself up, ignoring the way the wound in her back throbbed as she moved the damaged muscles. Her head spun, and Reese tightened her grip on Luc’s arm even as he grabbed her shoulder to stabilize her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, “I’ve been through worse.”
He sighed. “If you really think you’re alright, I should escort the prince home before anything else happens.”
Reese blinked. “I….”
Luc started to step away, but she stopped him. “Please… please don’t go and leave me alone.”
“You sure? Because if you’re not feeling up to it I can—”
“I’m sure.” She took a step forward, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. “I just… I don’t know. I just don’t want to be left alone.”
Luc nodded in understanding. “Of course. I can have an experienced doctor reevaluate your stitches at the palace.” He smiled reassuringly. “Not that I don’t trust my own work… but I have to admit my hands were shaky.”
Damian rose to his feet, Caiya quickly following suit. He joined them near the wall, absently rubbing at the scars on his wrists. The ink on his arm was fading as the magic did its work. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I can take on a sang with nothing but my bare hands,” Reese said sarcastically.
He grinned. “I’d like to see that fight.”
Luc made a face. “I wouldn’t. But my money’s on the sang.”
“It’s your money,” Damian said, chuckling. “Your apprentice fought well against Natali, despite the injury. You should be very proud.”
Reese held up a hand. “Uh… I’m not his apprentice.” She glanced at Luc. “Right?”
The Watcher raised his eyebrows in an expression of reluctant agreement. “Well… he’s not wrong… and I might’ve slipped a few of Hector’s lessons into our training sessions… wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”
She punched him in the shoulder. “I’m sure Father’ll be thrilled to hear that.”
“Celestials, he’s gonna kill me when he finds out about what I asked you to do.”
Reese shrugged. “Hey, I agreed to do it. Just tell him I volunteered so he blames me rather than you. But the Watcher’s apprentice thing? Dunno.”
Luc sighed through his nose. “Let’s burn that bridge when it comes to it, okay? Right now we need to be getting somewhere safer than just outside the catacombs.”
Damian nodded. “Of course, Watcher.”
@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril
Thank you for reading this whump ficlet! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :3
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tildeathiwillwrite · 1 month
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Tag Game: Incorrect Quotes
Thanks for the tag @spitefulbull!!!
I've already done a couple for The Legend of Orian Goldeneye, so I think I'll do some from Tales from Valaria instead.
Damian: Hostage or not, sometimes it’s nice being held. Reese: *in the middle of rescuing him* Are you okay.
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Draven: I never understood why people cared so much about kids until Octavian randomly came home with one. Draven: *Picks up Reese* Draven: I’ve only known Reese for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.
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Luc: Reese… Reese: Oh no, 'Reese' in B flat. Reese: You're disappointed.
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Octavian: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar? Luc: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it. Octavian: Luc: What? I'm a Watcher, not a cop.
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Damian: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.
This was fun!
Tagging @fourwingedsnake @gamerkats @late-to-the-fandom @faytelumos @thewritingautisticat @writer-of-worlds @chronicallydragons and open tag!
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tildeathiwillwrite · 7 days
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Tag Game: OC Interaction
Thank you to @illarian-rambling for the tag! This looks super fun! :D
Rules: Provide a short description of your oc, then using the description given by the person who tagged you, describe how you think the two of them would interact.
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Tagger's OC: Daedryn is a lady knight with one eye and red hair. She's the divine Chosen of Loqang, god of rivers and loyalty. Due to this, she is fiercely loyal to whatever person or organization she has promised herself to, to the point of following orders for orders sake. Outside of battle, where she is a force to be reckoned with, she's very sweet, a little awkward, and loves to talk about her god, who she sees as her best friend.
My OC: Hector Epsilona is Caenum's resident Watcher (which is a detective/bodyguard/mercenary-type job). He knows the law (and its loopholes) very well, and uses both extensively, and enjoys a small amount of freedom to operate outside the law if he sees fit. He is extremely protective of and attached to those he cares about, especially his apprentice, Luc. He is generally polite, if a bit stern, and is always looking for a way to turn something into a lesson.
How I think they would interact: I think they would get along decently well if they were to, say, work together on a case of some sort. They both have strong loyalties and moral codes. But Hector wouldn't hesitate to disobey orders if he disagreed with them and/or break the law if he felt he needed to for the case, and that is where they'd disagree.
Gently tagging @faytelumos @chronicallydragons @phoenixradiant @writingphoenix @thethistlegirl @gummybugg @zestymimblo and open tag! :D
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tildeathiwillwrite · 15 days
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Watcher and Apprentice, Part 2
(The Watcher and the Thief, Chapter 1 Scene 2)
WoW Birthday Whump Day 15: "I'm Sorry."
Whumpril Day 14 (Urgent Care)(kind of), Day 19 ("I need you")
WoW Birthday Whump Event Prompts List
Whumpril Prompts List
Tales from Valaria Masterpost
part 1
TW: stitches mention, wounds mention, blood mention, anger
Context: Hector has gotten Luc back to the blockade. Now he waits outside the medical tent, wondering if his apprentice will survive.
Aaaaand that's a wrap for this whump event! Thank you so much to @whumperofworlds for all the prompts! I will continue to participate in Whumpril, so stay tuned for more of that.
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“You’re going to kill the grass if you keep pacing like that.”
Hector paused mid-step and glared at the nearby elf, who sat cross-legged outside the medical tent, polishing his silver daggers. “By the depths, de Silv, he just got attacked by a magician, of all things!”
“True,” the elf replied. His hands were busied with the daggers, but his eyes, sharp as the blades, were fixed on Hector. “And I’m as concerned about that as you are concerned about your apprentice.”
“Then excuse me if I’m a little restless!” Hector snapped. He began pacing again, hands clasped firmly together behind his back. They'd gotten back to the blockade in record time. Luc’s heart was still beating when he’d set the boy on the table inside the medical tent. Unfortunately, the healers, Silas and Ven, immediately kicked Hector out so they could treat him in peace.
Assholes.
Octavian sighed, sliding his daggers into their sheathes. “From what I had glimpsed of your apprentice’s injuries, I am certain that, despite the blood loss, he should make a full recovery.”
“I’ll be sure to keep your professional opinion in mind.”
A series of shrill whistles echoed throughout the camp. One short whistle, one long whistle, pause. Two long whistles, one short whistle. Hector froze, mentally translating the code. A-G. It wasn’t the alert for a sang attack, three short whistles in quick succession. So what did A-G mean?
Octavian rose to his feet, the ghost of a smile on his face. “My presence is requested. I wish your apprentice a swift recovery.” The elf bowed his head to Hector and departed.
Ah. Ag was the alchemical abbreviation for silver. De Silv. It was a clever, if strange, bit of code. Why did de Silv have a signal to himself?
Before Hector could dwell on it further, one of the healers, Ven, emerged from the medical tent. “Watcher, you may enter. We have something we must discuss.”
Hector raised an eyebrow but did what he was told, following Ven inside. He breathed an audible sigh of relief when he saw Luc conscious, sitting on the table as Silas finished wrapping bandages around his torso. The healer nodded to Hector as he entered. “Watcher.”
“Silas. You need to talk?”
Both healers glanced at each other for a brief second. Silas gave a slight nod, and Ven turned back to Hector, her expression grim. “His injuries are superficial. We should have been able to close them without stitches. But even with stitches, the skin refuses to heal itself. The blood won’t even clot. We’ve never seen anything like it, even from runes.”
Hector gritted his teeth, eyes on his apprentice. Luc’s face still hadn’t regained its color, but he seemed alert enough. “What are you saying?”
“The wound is cursed,” Silas said softly, “the runes make it so his body can’t heal itself.” He pointed to a bandage wrapped around Luc’s arm. “And it’s not just the runes she carved into his skin that won’t close.”
“Our methods accelerate the body’s natural healing process,” Ven clarified, eyes downcast, “but we can’t do anything if the blood won’t clot. I’m sorry, Watcher.”
Hector stared at them for a long moment as he tried to process their words. His wounds won’t heal? A rune could do that? The full implications hit him like an arrow fired at full draw, and he swore vehemently, slamming his fist into the table.
The healers flinched back at his outburst. “It… it is possible that the rune is only slowing his healing,” Silas ventured, “given time, he might recover.”
“Might? Might?!” Hector barked a harsh laugh, trying to stomp his rising fury before he lashed out further. “You just told me he’s going to slowly bleed out! If infection doesn’t get him first!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Luc, your mother is going to kill me when she finds out about… about how….”
He trailed off. No need to say the last part of that sentence.
“May we speak alone, please?” Luc asked softly. Ven and Silas glanced at each other before quickly leaving the tent. Hector and Luc were left in silence for several moments.
“It’s not your fault,” Luc said. Hector opened his mouth, but Luc held up a hand. “No. You couldn’t have known this would happen. No one could.”
Hector sighed. Unfortunately, he was right. “I just… is there really nothing more they can do for you? Are we just supposed to wait and see if your wounds close on their own?”
“I don’t plan on it. They’re planning on sending me back to Caenum to recover. Apparently they’re sending a messenger to the Draigo, to get someone to track down the magician.”
“Good,” Hector muttered, “she deserves to be brought to justice. Shame I couldn’t do it myself.” As he finished speaking, the first part of Luc’s response registered. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you don’t plan on it’?”
His apprentice inhaled slowly, steeling himself for what he was about to say. That was never a good sign, coming from Luc. He only did that when he was about to suggest something completely—
“I’m going to find a magician to reverse the curse.”
There it was.
Hector took a few deep breaths and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I want you to repeat that, except this time actually pay attention to what comes out of your mouth.”
“It’s not going to be the same magician!” Luc retorted as if that made the idea any better. “One of the wandering magicians from around Zariya or Valdove, one who we know for a fact isn’t a sang-hunting serial killer.”
“Do I have to spell out for you just how bad of an idea this is?” Hector started pacing the length of the tent. His apprentice was already responsible for several gray hairs on his head and seemed intent on giving him more. “No. Absolutely not. We’re going back to Caenum—”
“Where I can slowly bleed out? Or let my wounds get infected?”
Hector paused and glared at Luc, but the boy continued talking. “If we go back to Caenum, I will die. We haven’t seen a magician there in years! But if we seek out someone like… I don’t know… Qila Scoria? She might be able to undo the runes.”
“You’re insane.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Hector sighed. “No.”
“So it’s viable?”
Hector fixed his apprentice with a flat stare. “It’s viable… but if your wounds get worse, we’re going back to Caenum. Are we clear?”
Luc grinned. “Clear as glass.”
@fourwingedsnake @whumpril @pigeonwhumps
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tildeathiwillwrite · 18 days
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Tag Game: OC Questionnaire (Round 2!)
Thank you to @willtheweaver for the tag!
My questions:
1. Did you have any formal education? If so, what was it like?
2. What is your stance on friends and friendship?
3. How would you describe your relationship with your family?
Gently tagging @fourwingedwriter @writingphoenix @phoenixradiant @illarian-rambling @chronicallydragons @theeccentricraven @thethistlegirl @catwingsathena and open tag!
Your questions:
1. If you had to fight a member of the Fellowship of the Ring (Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Boromir, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli), who would you pick? (assume they know what the Fellowship is)
2. Would you win?
3. If you were stranded on a deserted island and could only bring one object, what could it be?
---
Representatives from all my posted WIPs will be answering today.
Did you have any formal education? If so, what was it like?
Jas (The Legend of Orian Goldeneye): Yeah, it was pretty standard for the United States. Graduated high school, went to college, got a STEM degree. The whole dreamshaper slash Jumper thing defies a lot of the stuff I know, but a physics background can be surprisingly useful. Ollie (Forsaken: The Doomed City): Not really. I know a lot of 'basic' things, but it was all stuff I read in books. Hiel (Trials of the Six): Well, I'm fluent in two languages, so I had to learn that somewhere, right? Pretty sure there aren't any schools for Mages in the Permafrost, so that would've been self-taught. Luc (Tales from Valaria): Graduated from the school system in Caenum, then studied to become a Watcher under my uncle, where I learned a lot about legal loopholes. And fighting, I suppose.
What is your stance on friends and friendship?
Jas: Would kill for them. End of story. If you want to hurt them, you're going to have to go through me, and you ain't surviving that encounter, buddy. Even if I haven't known them all that long. Ollie: I love my friends to pieces and would never abandon them but... *side-eyes the rest of their group* Any day we've all made it through without dying is a good day. Hiel: It's... interesting... to say the least. I had to get to know everyone all over again, and that certainly effected the group. But they helped me, and I feel obligated to do the same. Luc: That's an interesting question. An interesting question indeed.
How would you describe your relationship with your family?
Jas: Well, it's good enough that I'm sure my parents have noticed I'm gone. Dunno if they'd believe me about the whole dreamshaper slash Jumper shit. Ollie: I have... had... an older sister who taught me everything I know. Now Rowan, Sam and Victoria are my family. Hiel: *shrugs* Luc: I honestly don't know how my mother let my uncle mentor me to become a Watcher. We both thought she was going to murder him after I almost died. She discouraged my little siblings from following in my footsteps, that's for sure.
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tildeathiwillwrite · 18 days
Text
Reese vs Natali: Duel to the Death (Magican's Bait, Part 5)
WoW Birthday Whump Day 12: Magic Exhaustion / Collapsed / "So tired..."
Whumpril Day 4 (Swaying) Day 9 (Self-doubt), Day 26 (“How could you?”)
WoW Birthday Event Prompts List
Whumpril Prompts List
Tales from Valaria Masterpost
first part | <- previous part | next part (coming soon) ->
TW: duel, knife wounds, magic whump, death, blood, blood loss, dizziness, collapse, fainting
Context: Reese duels Natali. The Stalker may have runes on her side, but Reese has a hidden ace up her sleeve that might win her the day. But at what cost?
Reese didn’t give Natali time to react to the—admittedly very shocking—news that she was not, in fact, Caiya Ebony. She closed the distance between them in three leaping strides and went on the offensive, going for the Stalker’s throat.
Natali ducked backward, her self-satisfied expression wiped from her face. She fumbled with her knives and barely managed to draw one before Reese drove her own blade into Natali’s shoulder.
She screamed in pain and fury, weapon falling from numb fingers as the injured arm went limp. Her other hand went for the second knife, and she swung out, trying to catch Reese in the side.
Reese yanked out her knife and twisted away. Natali’s blade sliced through the fabric of her jacket and left a shallow scratch, but it was better than the alternative. Reese hissed out through her teeth and retreated, allowing the Stalker to make the next move.
Blood streamed down Natali’s arm, and her eyes burned with rage. “You’ll regret that, child,” she hissed. Before Reese could react, the Stalker spoke a rune.
The wind stirred around Reese, lightly toying with her hair, but nothing else happened. Reese grinned at Natali’s shocked expression. “Was that supposed to impress me? You’re gonna have to try harder than that!”
“How?!” The Stalker screeched, repeating the rune as Reese charged at her again. She retreated, going on the defensive as Reese chased her around the room.
Reese didn’t have the energy to spare for an answer. She lunged, knife point intent on Natali’s heart, but Natali knocked aside the blade. Natali tried to counterattack, but Reese blocked the thrust and used her free hand to grab Natali’s wrist.
The Stalker’s eyes were filled with pain, fear, and desperation. She spoke another rune, one Reese recognized all too well. The familiar weight settled on Reese’s chest, and she faltered, struggling to breathe. Natali seized the opportunity and kicked Reese in the stomach with rune-enhanced strength.
The force of the kick threw Reese halfway across the room. Time seemed to briefly slow as the ground came up to meet her. The impact sent fireworks through Reese’s shoulder and back, and she rolled another few meters before stopping. Her knife clattered to the ground, out of reach.
Natali staggered across the room, swaying from blood loss or rune exhaustion. Possibly both. Reese pulled herself to her feet and raised her fists. The closeness of the pit where she’d accidentally tossed Caiya’s cowl unnerved her, and the hairs on her neck prickled.
Natali still had her dagger, but she was wounded. Even hand-to-hand, Reese had the upper hand. Didn’t she?
“I don’t know the extent of your protection, little magician,” Natali hissed, knife raised. She was only a few steps away now. “You may have put up a good fight. But you’re finished, now. Yield, and I’ll let the prince go.”
“Liar,” Reese spat, “and you’re right. You don’t know the extent of my protection. But you’re also wrong. I’m no magician.”
With those words, Reese lunged, ducking under Natali’s swing and diving for her legs, tackling the Stalker to the ground. Pain erupted in her lower back, causing her to cry out, but Reese pressed on, punching Natali in the throat.
Natali gagged and let go of the knife. Reese didn’t hesitate, yanking the weapon out of her back and driving it in between the Stalker’s ribs into her heart. Natali’s eyes widened in shock, and she sagged. Reese didn’t release her hold on the knife until her breathing slowed… slowed… stopped.
Reese exhaled shakily and rose to her feet, retrieving her own knife from the ground. She left Natali’s knife where it was. Head swimming, she staggered across the room to the prince, who stared mutely at the Stalker’s corpse. Reese sliced through his bonds, a simple matter with the rune-engraved knife, and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled on legs weakened during his imprisonment, and they supported each other as they crossed the room to the tunnel where she’d entered.
“How…” Damian whispered when they entered the tunnel, “how could you? How could you resist her runes?”
“It’s simple, really,” Reese muttered, trying to ignore how the floor pitched and heaved beneath their unsteady feet. “I’m a Draigo.”
Damian froze midstep, and Reese nearly tripped over his feet. “A Draigo?! But I thought they were all—”
“Not all of them, your Highness. Just most of them.” She tugged his arm, and he started walking—or, more accurately, lurching—down the tunnel again.
“...so that’s why you’re here,” he mused, “instead of Caiya Ebony.”
“Caiya Ebony is a coward. I’m here because a friend asked me to.” Each step was like another knife in the wound in her back. Was she supporting Damian, or was Damian supporting her? They needed to get out of here.
“Ah.” Silence stretched between them for several steps before the prince spoke again. “Was it the Watcher?”
Reese nodded wordlessly. Was the tunnel getting darker?
“You said your name was Reese Takari, right? Like the diplomat?”
“I’m…” Reese mumbled, “I’m his daughter…. We should be… getting… close….”
Damian paused, concern evident. “Are you alright? Reese?”
The tunnel seemed to blur, and a strange numbness settled over her, like when her limbs fell asleep after sitting on them for too long. She didn’t have time to respond before her legs buckled under her weight.
But she didn’t hit the floor. “Reese? Reese!”
Damian’s voice sounded far away like he was at the other end of the tunnel. Reese wanted to respond, but darkness flooded over her, sending her into the depths of oblivion.
@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @whumpril
(if you want to be tagged in my writing please lmk!)
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tildeathiwillwrite · 1 month
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Other Characters in The Legend of Orian Goldeneye
Characters who show up in the story and aid the main cast in some way. All reference images made with this picrew.
Masterpost
Draven Cozenson:
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Valarian human (from the planet Valaria)
Jumper (inter-dimensional traveler)
mid-30s
uses guns
lycanthrope hunter and mercenary
reputation within the hunter's guild for his effectiveness
dark brown leather jacket that has seen a lot of use
gruff
stubborn
lives on sarcasm and sass
works with Octavian de Silv
very whumpable
Octavian de Silv:
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Valarian elf
Jumper
seeks his people
hair looks silver in the sunlight
facial features are very delicate and angular
ears have a slight point, could pass as human in a place unfamiliar with elves
devar (skinwalker)
bipedal form is that of a Valarian Elf, other form is that of a massive silver wolf
quiet, analytical, formal personality
fights with long, thin knives
magic-resistant
tendency to adopt children
long-lived
pendant is yellow and translucent
wears light leather armor
very whumpable
Diana Ozborne:
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musician, flutist
flashy, but fairly reserved
spy, part-time smuggler, can pick locks and other thievery things
works with Orian
not a dreamshaper
also not a Jumper
heterochromia is a lot more subtle
wears green and gold, the colors of Saint's Shoal, also because it makes the different colors of her eyes stand out
good at hitting people with her staff
wears a dark brown glove on her left hand
Orian refers to her as "Oz" but she doesn't care either way
around Henrik's age, complicated history with him
afraid of fire
fairly whumpable
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tildeathiwillwrite · 1 month
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What's your favorite trope to write?
Ooooooo I had to think long and hard about this one.
I think my top three general tropes are amnesia, protagonist in fantasy story is just Some Guy, and interdimensional travel (I call it Jumping or Traveling).
Amnesia is just so fun because the character used to be somebody, and they have evidence of that somebody through people who used to know them or items they owned. But they have to rediscover that person and the journey fundamentally changes who they are.
Draven is a prime example of Some Guy in a fantasy story. I've never been the biggest fan of the chosen one trope where it's played as "the protagonist has super special powers and they must defeat this ancient evil or whatever". I still like giving my main characters powers but when they aren't special it becomes more like "well this is messed up, someone has to deal with this so I guess it's gonna be me". And when that character doesn't have powers, it becomes a case of "I may not be able to do everything you magic people can but I'm just as capable with or without this gun".
And then interdimensional travel is fun because I can explain why I decided to stick Octavian and Draven in The Legend of Orian Goldeneye when they are from a completely different planet.
For whump tropes my favorite is immortal whump, because there's so much more I can do to an immortal victim that I can't with a normal whumpee, since I prefer realistic whump alongside magic whump. I also like the used as bait trope, sickfics, etc.
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tildeathiwillwrite · 12 days
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Please Don't Kill the Messenger
(The Watcher and the Thief, Chapter 1 Scene 3)
Whumpril Day 15 (Mind Games)
Whumpril Prompts List
Tales from Valaria Masterpost
previous part
TW: gradual loss of senses, magic whump, mentioned death, mentioned injuries, creepy whumper
Context: Octavian has been sent from the elven blockade to the Draigo stronghold with an urgent message. Unfortunately, he doesn't get very far.
-----
Octavian moved quickly through the forest, following an old deer path south. He’d been across the Fells so many times, moving between the blockade and the Draigo stronghold near Valdove, that he knew its paths and trees like no one else.
He would have gone faster in his other form, but Iason had given him two messages. One was verbal, the other in a scroll tucked into his pack. The scroll was for the eyes of the Draigo Council only, and the verbal message was for the person who oversaw the justice division. For Marcella. Or Maelyn, if the Council was meeting when he arrived.
A rogue magician has struck in the Fells.
Simple, easy to remember, and Octavian had more information if they requested it. She had brutally killed two sang who had slipped past the blockade and almost murdered the Caenum Watcher’s apprentice. The attack occurred between Zariya and the blockade. And Octavian could sketch the runes he’d glimpsed on the boy’s body with near-perfect accuracy.
But he wouldn’t. They were too dangerous to risk the wrong eyes seeing them. But he was sure Marcella would understand. The rest of the Council might not, so it was best he pass along the scroll and get back to the blockade as soon as possible before they asked too many questions.
A twig cracked nearby. Octavian placed his hands on his knives but did not slow his pace. Like it or not, that magician was still wandering around the Fells. She was injured, sure, but she would know healing runes and—
The stench of blood hit him all at once. He stopped in his tracks and glanced around wildly, trying to locate the source. 
It was strong, too strong, there was so much of it, how did he not notice it before? Surely he would have caught some of the scent, the wind—
No. There had been no wind.
As Octavian came to this realization, the Fells plunged into darkness. He cursed, drawing his knives and backing up the trail. It had to be the magician, but how? Hector said he’d shot her twice, and it had been only a matter of hours since!
She was clever. Blinding both sight and smell would place him at a severe disadvantage. How she’d known Octavian would come this way, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that. Sound and touch were his remaining senses, and he couldn’t afford to let himself get—
Everything went silent. Completely silent. Since when could magicians—
“Well! So you’re the messenger!” The voice had no source, as if it had been projected into his head.
Octavian continued moving back, relying solely on the ground beneath his feet to navigate. He raised his knives, trying to sense the world around him through the soles of his boots.
“A little bird told me you’re on your way to the Draigo,” the magician said in a sweet, perky tone. “I’m willing to bet it’s because of me, isn’t it?”
“Your skills of observation are uncanny,” Octavian muttered, “considering you brutally murdered two sang and nearly did the same to the boy.”
The magician laughed, a harsh, bemused sound that echoed throughout his skull. “They’re sending you over that?! Ha! After I took care of the sang for them? Ungrateful, much!”
Octavian turned into a slow circle. “And the young Watcher?”
“He simply got in my way,” the magician dismissed. Air displaced behind Octavian, and he whirled around, slashing blindly. The only thing they sliced through was air. She must have ducked away.
The magician tsked softly. “Can’t have that, now. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”
“Enough with this game!” Octavian snapped, backtracking in a random direction until he hit a tree. “Are you going to kill me or not?!”
Silence. The magician hummed softly in thought. “Hm, no. I don’t want you dead.”
Octavian’s hands suddenly went completely numb, the knives slipping out of his fingers and landing somewhere on the ground, unseen and unheard. The strange sensation spread up his arms with terrifying speed. “How are you doing this?” He demanded, voice shaking as he stumbled, trying and failing to maintain control.
“Oh…” the magician said mockingly, “has the devar gotten used to his rune resistance? Don’t worry, love, when I’m done with you, there will be no need for such fear any longer.”
The last thing Octavian felt before his entire body went completely numb was cold fingers closing around his throat.
@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril @phoenixradiant
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tildeathiwillwrite · 21 days
Text
Watcher and Apprentice
(The Watcher and the Thief Chapter 1 Scene 1)
A.K.A. The Snippet Where I Realize That a Disconcerting Number of Magicians Are Evil.
next part ->
WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 9: (Alt) Bridal Carry
Whumpril Day 21 (“Just Hold On”), Day 12 (Weak Pulse)
WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List
Whumpril Prompts List
Tales from Valaria Masterpost
TW: hunting, monster, blood, knife wounds, magic whump, corpses, gunshot wounds
Context: Hector and his apprentice Luc have been tasked with hunting down a sang, a violent creature of the mountains, before it can attack a human settlement. What could go wrong? Everything, apparently.
-----
The Fells held its breath, waiting in anticipation as Watcher and apprentice prowled in the cover of its trees, tracking the path of the rogue sang who’d slipped past the elven blockage. Not a sound could be heard save their soft footfalls and the occasional crunched leaf as Hector’s nephew forgot to pay attention to where he stepped.
Luc hissed in frustration as a twig snapped underfoot. “How do you watch where you’re walking and track the beast at the same time?”
Hector paused and glanced back at him. “You already know the answer to that question.”
Luc scowled. His akinaka was drawn, but he held it lowered, pointed towards the ground. Hector raised his eyebrows, and the boy quickly raised it, muttering an apology. The Watcher pointed to the ground at the footprints in the soft earth, far too big for a human, and at the branches of the trees, broken in the sang’s crazed dash through the forest. Droplets of blood glimmered in the faint moonlight, shining through the leaves overhead.
“It’s injured,” Luc noted, “but we already knew that.”
“Not just that…” Hector muttered, studying the prints with a critical eye. “Look there.” He pointed northeast, back towards the blockade. “Between those two aspens.”
Luc moved towards where he indicated, taking more care to step silently. When he noticed what Hector had found, he swore. “There’s two of them!”
“The second one must’ve slipped past while the elves were occupied with the first,” Hector mused, “there’s no blood.” Either the elves were getting sloppy, or the sang were getting sneakier. Neither option appealed to Hector. It meant more work for him and Luc. They’d been pulled from Caenum to help with the blockade per special request from Takari, and he already wished he’d declined. Dealing with sang was different than dealing with the average human criminal or guarding a politician for a night.
“Well,” Luc said, trying to sound upbeat, “they’ve got two of them, and we’ve got two of us. It’s even now, at least.”
“And one of them is injured,” Hector agreed. “Come. We need to catch up to them before they make it to Zariya.”
Luc made a better effort at stealth this time, akinaka raised in front of him defensively in case they stumbled upon the sang or were ambushed. Unfortunately, the path of the two rogue sang split shortly after joining.
Hector cursed under his breath. “Have to admit,” he muttered, “they can be clever sometimes.” He pointed down the trail the injured one took. Judging from the position of the moon, it was heading southwest. “You track that one, I’ll take the other. We’ll regroup back here. Clear?”
“As crystal.”
Hector eyed Luc’s back as the boy took off down the trail. He appeared a little too excited at the prospect of taking on a sang on his own. He sighed before turning and following his own tracks, a more difficult task.
Without the blood, Hector had to pay more attention to the disturbed undergrowth, the broken branches, the faint footprints. This was part of why he had Luc go after the other one; that one was easier to track. Its injuries would also make it easier to take down, but Hector knew enough of Luc's fighting prowess that the boy could battle even a healthy sang.
Hector quickened his pace. He wasn’t sure how far it would’ve traveled under the cover of darkness, and he wanted to catch up before it reached a settlement. Luc wouldn’t have the same concerns. His target wouldn’t get too far in its current state.
He found the corpse five minutes later.
Sang were powerful creatures; one well-placed blow could snap a man's spine in two. But they were slower, which was part of why the elves had taken charge of the blockade. And few creatures were immune to a bullet to the head or something sharp in the throat.
It hadn’t died from either of those things. The creature lay on the ground, limbs twisted and bent at unnatural angles, mouth open in a silent scream, bleeding from a hundred thin, deep cuts. It was still bleeding, its greenish skin still retained its color. The sang had died recently.
It wasn’t the severity of the wounds themselves or the state the body was in that made Hector whirl around and sprint back the way he’d come. No, it was how the cuts weren’t random slashes by a knife or sword. It was how they were arranged in strange symbols that he couldn’t understand but recognized all too well.
A magician had killed the sang.
And she had done it slowly, making it suffer.
As he ran, Hector tried to convince himself Luc was fine. Perhaps the magician had already killed the second sang and moved on before the boy caught up. Perhaps the boy hadn’t reached the sang yet, and Hector could still join him before they encountered the magician. Or perhaps the magician had no interest in killing humans, only after the rogue sang.
Doubtful. When someone killed in such a way, magician or not, they had no respect for life. Hector quickened his pace, shedding stealth for speed. He had to find Luc.
He had reached the point where the paths divided and was only two steps down the injured sang’s trail when he heard a blood-curdling scream. Hector’s akinaka blade was already out, but he slipped his handgun from its holster as he ran. He favored the akinaka or the crossbow for stealth—the gun was far too loud—but in situations like this, stealth was out the metaphorical window.
The injured sang hadn’t gotten as far as the healthy one, so he reached the trail's end in minutes. Moonlight reflected off the magician's silver cloak as she crouched over Luc, facing away from Hector. She was between him and the boy, but he could see that Luc was on the ground, motionless. The sang’s corpse lay a few feet away from them, body twisted and mangled, identical to the other one.
Hector didn’t wait to discover her intentions, firing a warning shot as soon as he came within range. The bullet whizzed inches from her head, and she flinched away, revealing what she’d been doing. She had drawn a complex circle of runes into the soft earth underneath Luc’s body, the circle glowed with a faint reddish light as blood dripped upon it. Luc’s blood.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Only two out of the four total shots hit her, one in the shoulder and one in the side, as she dove madly to the side. She lurched away, free hand clutching her injured shoulder. Hector stared her down, gun and blade raised.
She hissed softly, frustration obvious. For a moment, she seemed to consider attacking. But she thought better of it, turning and fleeing into the night. Hector watched her go, gun and knife raised. The moment she was out of sight, he stowed his weapons and dropped to his knees beside Luc.
The boy still breathed, thank the celestials, but his pulse was weak, and the blood from the runes the magician had carved into his flesh oozed out in a steady stream.
“Luc? Luc!” Hector shook him, but he didn’t wake up. Hector cursed vehemently and scooped him up. She hadn’t finished her work. He wasn’t dead yet, but he would be if Hector didn’t get him to a doctor.
“Just hold on, kid,” he muttered as he started to run, Luc’s limp body held tightly in his arms, “just hold on.”
@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @whumpril
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