#why the hell is this boy carrying around two daggers and an axe. i feel insane

[itsalwaysforyou]

WHAT???????

#i am. actually floored #the thing about the books. is that the characterisation is either a little too kid-friendly or just absolutely unhinged #why the hell is this boy carrying around two daggers and an axe. i feel insane #can anyone hear me #me so scared of writing jay ooc & in coke melissa with a steel chair #what a fucking bit of characterisation #now i need to rewatch descendants knowing that jay has two daggers and an axe on him at all times #descendants #descendants isle of the lost #jay son of jafar

[lachesis-games]

Trouvaille Short Story

m!Trouvaille

tw: swearing, mild violence

~

This trip started out very simple. Go into the forest, gather spell ingredients, then get out. Getting dragged underwater by a sticky horse was not part of the plan.

While the others were searching for normal herbs like tarragon, nutmeg, or wormwood, you and Antigone waded knee deep in a wide pond. Morning sunlight streamed through the trees, casting an ethereal glow on the water’s surface.

“Remind me again what you need curly pondweed for?” you call out to her.

The witch doesn’t look up from her task when answering, “They promote growth in spells. And encourage perseverance.”

The plant itself was plentiful. Too plentiful, as she told you earlier that it was an invasive species. But every time you thought you found a good stem, Antigone waved you off, stating that your pick was too dark or too old or too tough.

You straighten up and stretch out your aching back. Tedium aside, the forest was beautiful in the morning. Red dragonflies skimmed the surface, creating ripples that jostled the aquatic flora. The natural song of chirping crickets and croaking frogs sounded throughout the clearing. At the water’s edge, a few meters to your right, you can see a dark figure among the cattails. It’s wide, but short, and moving slightly.

When you get closer, you can make out the creature’s long gray mane and thick black body. There are mossy spots and algae strewn across its body. It looks like it lives near the pond, but something about it seemed out of place in the tranquil forest.

“Um, Antigone?” you try to keep your voice down.

“What?”

“Are there supposed to be ponies in the forest?” You take your eyes off the animal to glance at her over your shoulder.

Her head snaps up and she drops the flat woven basket she’d been holding.

“Shit!”

Before either of you can react, the pony whinnies, rears up, and charges you. You’re too slow to dodge and it rams into you. Instead of sending you flying, you find yourself stuck to its flank as it dives deeper into the pond.

The pond is much deeper than expected and every few feet, the water gets colder and darker. Light brown sediment billows up as the probably-not-actually-a-pony settles into the bottom. 

The surprise attack, along with your wildly thumping heart means you’re losing air fast and the creature doesn’t seem like it’ll surface any time soon. Your elbow is fastened tight to the creature’s side. If you can just get to your dagger!

You open your eyes and regret it. The sting of the dirty water only hinders you more. You can’t see anything more than two feet in front of you clearly.

Panic sets in and you thrash and kick, desperately trying to separate from the creature. Its skin’s adhesive surface clings onto you. The harder you thrash, the more you pull at your own skin and clothes.

They say to be completely calm if you’re ever being held underwater, but the proverbial “they” are stupid and clearly have never been drowned before.

Black spots dance across your vision. Your lungs burn and your head starts to ache. Great. The artifact wouldn’t kill you. Nor would vampires or werewolves or any other badass way to die. No, you’re a lucky one. You get to die via drowning, stuck to this thing like gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

The pony flinches and so do you. It kicks up sediment in its panic. You get tossed around along with it until you feel a small hand on your shoulder. Sharp claws dig into you as it drags you away from the pony.

You can finally make out Antigone’s silhouette as she pulls you close. She presses her lips to yours. Air fills your lungs. Your vision and headache settle, and the burning sensation in your lungs subsides.

A blast of light breaks through your clenched eyelids. Her mouth is on yours again, breathing life into you. For some reason, though, she doesn’t do anything else. Just sits there and keeps breathing into you whenever your lungs start to burn again.

There’s a heavy splash above you. The cold sediment kicks up again and tiny bubbles pepper your face.

Someone hooks their arms under your armpits and the next thing you know, you’re being dragged up the bank of the pond.

Head spinning, you cough up what feels like gallons of water. In your delirium, you think you hear your name.

“There you are!” a familiar voice cries.

You rub your eyes and look up.

T.V. takes a step towards you, then stops. You want to tell him you’re alright, but Jackie grabs you in a bone-crushing hug.

Her clothes are soaking wet.

“We saw the basket floating in the pond! What the hell happened!?”

You hack more water and algae out of your lungs.

“Water pony,” you wheeze out.

“Huh?”

“Kelpie,” Antigone says through violent coughs. Despite her having been the one to save you, she seems much worse for wear. Dakota white-knuckles her hand.

“Kelpies are shapeshifters.” He pants, also soaking wet. T.V. is the only one bone dry. “They take the form of a pony or horse and drown people for fun,” he explains. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, “It dragged me down underwater. Antigone came to save me.”

Dakota’s eyes widen as he grabs the witch by the shoulders.

“You did what? Are you high?” he demands.

“Wait, hang on!” Jackie interjects. “What’s the problem here? She kept them both alive until we got there!”

Dakota crosses his arms. “The problem here is that Annie can’t--!”

Antigone cuts him off. “What was I supposed to do? Let the kid drown?” she rasps and shrugs off her knit sweater.

“Of course not! I just--” Groaning, he buries his face into her neck. Antigone allows the touch and strokes his hair gently. Her tired gaze flickers over to you. Jackie’s concerned voice steals your attention.

“Let’s get you back to the shop,” she says, holding a hand out to you.

You clasp her hand and the two of you pull in tandem. The moment you put weight on your feet, searing pain shoots up your leg.

The ground rushes up to meet you, then stops when a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle.

As soon as their fingertips make contact, your head erupts in a pain like someone took an axe to it. There’s a ringing in your ears and you cry out.

Whoever’s holding you lets go and you hit the mud, writhing in agony.

“I— I’m so sorry!” T.V. manages through his groans of pain, hands clenched tightly to the sides of his head.

It feels like your skull is full of liquid metal. The cool water of the pond is tempting all of a sudden, kelpie and all.

Antigone presses a cool hand to your forehead and whispers something in a language you can’t understand.

Your head is still heavy, but the white hot pain ebbs.

She crawls over to Trouvaille to give him the same treatment. His agony seems to decrease faster than yours.

Through your delirium, you hear her snap at him, “That was unbelievably stupid!”

“I know,” he replies, rubbing his temples.

“You know? Mistakes like that can be fatal. Do not let your bleeding heart be the reason you both die.” 

Carefully avoiding her eyes, he says, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” you protest through the pain.

“Shut up,” she snaps. “I don’t need one idiot defending another idiot.”

Jackie crosses her arms, “Very original with the insults.”

“I’m just calling them as they are. If they feel insulted, that’s on them.”

You clench your teeth, “He said he was sorry!”

“Sorry won’t bring back the dead,” she says directly at Trouvaille. Rounding on you, she says, “Let me take a look at that ankle.”

Your left ankle is inflamed and is taking on an angry red color. It must have happened when the kelpie hit you. The throbbing pain only grows as the adrenaline flushes from your veins.

She pokes an especially puffy part.

“Ow, fuck!” you cry out, hands grabbing onto your injured leg. “Why would you touch it!?”

“Punishment for being too slow to dodge the thing,” she deadpans.

“You think getting nearly drowned wasn’t enough punishment?”

“No.”

Thankfully, the poking ceases. A purple light emits from her clawed hand. She hovers over your ankle.

“Well, that is going to need a splint.” She retracts her hand.

“You can mend ribs but you can’t unsprain an ankle?” Jackie demands.

“For one thing, ‘unsprain’ is not a word. Second, normal treatment would take weeks. I can make it a few days. Any other grievances, hotshot?”

“Maybe if you were paying attention, oh powerful witch, you could have done something before it got this bad!” she shoots back.

The witch’s mercury eyes narrow. “You want to blame me for this?”

“I do. What are you gonna do about it?” Jackie takes a step forward.

“Don’t pick fights you can’t win, you little--” Antigone begins.

Dakota nudges her.

“We should head back.” They share a tense look, but she ultimately backs down. Then he turns to you, “Can I carry you?”

You nod in agreement. He places his hands under your knees and behind your back, careful not to jostle your ankle too much.

As he stands up, he takes on a comically cheerful tone. “Thank you flying Dakota Airlines! Please fasten your seatbelts and keep all electronics stored away until we reach cruising altitude.”

“Does this flight have snacks?” you jokingly ask.

“Check my pocket!”

You reach down into his kangaroo pouch and pull out a waterlogged 4 pak of Nutter Butters.

You raise an eyebrow. “You just carry these around?”

He shrugs. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re 25.”

“Okay? And?”

You chuckle. On the trek back to the car, you look over his shoulder to see sunlight glimmering off of caramel hair. Trouvaille strolls several feet behind you. He gives you a weak smile but makes no attempt to get any closer.

Reaching out for him, you beckon him closer. Not to touch, but you don’t like the wide berth he gives you.

He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouths.

‘Don’t be.’

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead of coming to you, he speeds up to catch up to Jackie.

The few seconds that he’s near when he passes by makes your hair stand on end. You almost reach out to stop him. You don’t. You can’t. Dakota readjusts you in his arms. After making sure everyone’s out of earshot he finds your gaze.

“Try not to be too mad at Annie. She just wants to keep all of us safe,” he says.

You briefly wondered if he swallowed too much pond water.

“You make it sound like she cares,” you grumble.

“She does. She really does. You know how if you don’t socialize dogs at a young age, they have trouble with other dogs later on? She’s like that.”

Raising an eyebrow, you reply, “Would she be mad at you comparing her to a dog?”

“Not if you don’t tell her.”

You chuckle and look ahead to see the three of them walking side by side. Trouvaille turn his head slightly. For a moment, you lock eyes before he pointedly turns back around. Your heart reaches out for someone who won’t reach back.

“Hey,” Dakota recaptures your attention. “Sometimes the people we care about decide for themselves that we’re better off without them. Those people are amazingly stubborn, but we love them anyway. Probably because we like pain, but whatever.” Up ahead, Jackie jokes around with T.V. while Antigone keeps her distance off to the side. “I just...” you sigh. “I don’t know what I think. I tell him I’m fine and I’m not afraid to get hurt, but he still pushes me away.” “I think that half of it is protecting himself. You may not be afraid of getting hurt, but he might be. Give him space, but let him know he can come to you.” “Easier said than done.”

Dakota shrugs. “Just know that these things take time. And patience. So much patience.” You glance back and forth between him and the group ahead. 

“Why do you sound like you speak from experience?”

He grimaces, “If I said I don’t know what you’re taking about, would you believe me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

Your gaze drifts between the trio in front of you.

“You can’t possibly--”

He cuts you off, “Wow, wouldya look at that! We’re at the car! Everyone please place your tray tables in the up position while we begin our descent!”

Trouvaille and Antigone are locked in a tense conversation. They stop to watch your approach until the witch mutters something and relinquishes her claim to the passenger seat. T.V. slides into the car without sparing you a glance.

#trouvaille #trouvaille game #ch:Trouvaille #ch:dakota #ch:Jackie #ch:antigone #snippet #some days you get snippets

[fahrenheit059]

The Lost Dragon Queen

Part 3, Nyx:

Nyx violently wakes up from her sleep, breathing heavily, while gripping her Sword. As she caught her breath, tears silently slid down her cheeks. Every night she had dreamed about the same memory, her parent’s assassination. Nyx felt responsible for their deaths, and in her heart, she wanted to make it up to them. Even if she wasn’t the direct cause of their death, she couldn’t help but think that her very existence was the reason for their demise.

Nyx wiped her face with a towel, and left to change clothes. She opted to wear her usual leather pants, and combat boots. She wore a sleeveless tunic that made her tattoos stand out. Nyx strapped her daggers to her legs and hid two in her boots. She then wore her black trench coat, tightened the buckle, and sheathed her Sword to her back. Nyx looked through the window and convinced herself to go to the town and look for some new books, and a job. Nyx wanted to get a drink and go Pit Brawling.

The château was a few miles away from the town, so it gave Nyx an excuse to stretch out her wings and fly. As Nyx flew around the night sky, she savored the feeling of the wind hitting her face and hair. She felt free. Ever since she was old enough to fly, Nyx and her father would fly around their family’s estate all night. Nyx’s wings were larger than the average female’s, and they weren’t the common feathered wing. Nyx had a pair of large dragon-like scaled wings. When she was younger, Nyx always loved showing off her unique wings. Now, she felt that they were a dark reminder to the bloodshed and pain her family brought.

Nyx landed away from the town so she could have time to use her magic and hide her wings again. Nyx knew what the town’s people thought of her. As she walked through the market and towards the pub, her Fae-ears could hear the whispers from the townspeople saying, “Look, it's the mercenary,” or “Stay away from her, I hear she’s dangerous.” The remarks stopped bothering Nyx a long time ago. Even if she saved a child’s life, or stopped the bandits from robbing the town, the villagers only saw her as a ruthless, unforgiving, and cold-hearted mercenary.

As Nyx walked to the pub, she looked around. Usually, everyone would be running away from the pub or out of the library. On the contrary, more people were running into the pub. When she reached the pub, she realized that more people were lining up to see the Pit Brawlings than usual. Good, perhaps this means there is someone worth fighting for once. As Nyx was handed her drink she spotted two suspicious males sitting in the corner of the pub. They were sitting at her favorite table. The one that was trying to hide his axe was getting up and walking to the Pits. He was carrying an axe longer than normal. It had a longer base, but the blade was elongated and curved. A weapon like that was rare. If someone was lucky enough to find one, they would either have to kill its wielder or pay a large sum of money. Interesting…

As Nyx continued to drink her ale, she felt there was something aloof about the other man, no- male. A Fae male ...how odd. The Fae usually avoid towns such as this. Why in Hell’s name would one come here?

Nyx consumed the rest of her drink and walked towards the Pit's Master. She had to wait for another five rounds before she could get in, but that gave her time to study the other male currently in the Pit.

The man…no also male,  in the pit has golden-blonde hair. He isn’t as muscular as the other male, but it was obvious he was carrying more weapons than he was showing. He had a sword equipped to his sword belt but he wasn’t using it. The male was wearing a black cloak but did little to hide his feathered wings, almost as large as Nyx’s.

Nyx watched the attack patterns and the way the mysterious male used his axe. He used the same repeating motions; swing, dodge, parry, hit, repeat. He looked like Death Incarnate, defeating each person with grace, similar to a butterfly flying in the sky. Nyx was entranced by the fight.

Sooner than later, it was Nyx’s turn in the Pit. While they circled each other, Nyx noticed his deep blue eyes that were easy to get lost in. Nyx’s thoughts were interrupted by a push to the sides of the wall. Nyx just realized, she had no way to defeat this, this…. Oh no. Oh hell no, he is an Awoken Daemanti.

The Awoken Daementi were a race similar to the fae, however they were very rare to find. Their physical appearance was the same, pointed ears, elongated caines, and extreme youth. However, they were far more lethal and had the ability to easily deceive a person with magic. Many of the Creatures of the Night attempted to kill them, but only few succeeded and less survived.

“So I guess, your axe gave your … uniqueness away,” Nyx said with a smug smile as she got up, and started to circle the male again.

“You're the one to talk to. You're so smug, but for how long, hm?” He questioned, raising a brow.

Before Nyx could come up with a retort, he was already his axe for her head. She crouched, dogged, circled, flipped, anything to avoid getting hit by the weapon. “Damn it,” Nyx started, as she finally started to draw her Sword, “I was hoping I could take you down the old-fashioned way, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“You call this desperate? For if someone can wield a Buster Sword, you should be able to get me down easily, wimp,” was all he said with a complacent smile.

“How DARE you, oh sh-” Nyx began, as she bent backward to avoid the axe. That stupid weapon was starting to get a little annoying.

Five minutes later, Nyx was still on the defensive. She couldn’t land an attack. Nyx attempted to parry the next attack but was kicked hard in the ribs. She spat out the blood from her mouth, wiped the blood from the cut that now grazed her cheekbone. Her opponent gasped when he saw her black blood drop to the floor. He looked at her with fear. Nyx used that as an opportunity to attack. Circling him, she started to aim towards his head. She misses, but her Sword manages to cut through the shirt he wears, which reveals a tattoo. Nyx looked at it, his axe and his face again. “Gods damn it,” she hissed under her breath realizing he was the Reaper of Souls and a member of the royal family that supposedly left.

Nyx stumbled backward, heavy with exhaustion. The Reaper of Souls continued to attack her once again, and Nyx continued to dodge him. Five more minutes, all she needed was to survive for five more minutes to land her critical blow.

While Nyx was getting bloodied up, she was studying the way the Reaper of Soul was attacking. She noticed that his wings continued to fall in the same direction. He was using it as a shield to protect his lower back. His weak spot.

Nyx let her Sword drag against the floor, as she ran towards him. She was trying to bait him into believing that she was tired, even though she was tired. When she was about to approach, she slid to her right, the same direction the Reaper of Souls’ axe was swinging from. The slide allowed the dust from the Pit to fly into the male’s face, and give Nyx a chance to get behind him. She hit his sciatic nerve in his leg, with the hilt of her Sword, causing the Reaper of Soul to drop forward onto his knees exposing his back.

Nyx hit his lower back with her knee and put him into a rear headlock. “I know who you are, O’ Mighty Reaper of Souls,” Nyx told him, as the male gaped from the pain.

“Then kill me and get your money merc,” He gasped out.

“I don’t want your money,” Nyx began. The Reaper of Souls was trying to get out of her old, but couldn’t. “I know why you … left. I don’t want to kill you, yield and this fight will be done.”

The Reaper of Souls dropped his axe, held his fist out, and yelled to the Pit's Master, “I yield this fight.”

Nyx let him go and climbed out of the Pit. Before she claimed her money, Nyx caught his scent. She gave him a glance and took her money from the Pit’s Master.

Nyx stayed at the pub, watching more of the Pit fights, and drank some more ale. She is trying to collect her thoughts. The Fae actively avoided small towns like this. The Awoken Daemanti in the Pit, was a member of the Royal family, one she had met years ago at a political party. Nyx remembered him as a stuck-up, pompous pretty boy. But, why was the Reaper of Souls, traveling with a Fae? Nyx thought, no knew that the Fae and Awoken Daemanti hated each other because of some idiotic blood rivalry. How peculiar.

After a couple of drinks and rounds in the Pit, Nyx spotted Fae and decided to fight in the Pit. Nyx immediately recognized his fighting style. He wielded a pair of twin blades, and his techniques were similar to the ones that the Prince of the Royal family used. The male was dominant with his right hand, and extremely weak with his left side, but did everything to protect his left flank. This was odd, but something about the male called out to Nyx. It was like some exterior force pushing her to him.

Later that night, when the two males left the pub, Nyx followed them. She wanted to know who they were. Nyx continues to follow them both until she accidentally steps into a puddle. “Bloody hell,” Nyx hissed, as the Fae male turned around to look at Nyx. Panic started to take over, but she tried to keep her cool, sly mask on. The male looked at her dead in the eyes. Nyx studies his face. A gust of wind passes, and it confirms Nyx’s speculations. “You are Prince Raonn Knight, rightful Heir to the throne of the Creatures of Night,” she blurted out without thinking.

The male continues to look at her. He is about to say something, but instead, another gust of wind passes Nyx, causing her hair to blow around.  She doesn’t need him to say anything. Nyx already knows what his Fae scenes can scent; her lineage.

Any mask of coolness the two had is gone. The Reaper of Souls, asks,  “Cousin, what is going on?”

The Fae does not reply and walks a few steps towards Nyx. “I am Prince Raonn and this is my cousin, Thanatos,” He confirms.

Nyx just nodded, turning around to walk away.

“Wait,” He calls out, “You are the Lost Dragon Queen, Nyx Fahrenheit Reaper-Diablo.”

Raonn’s last sentence stops Nyx like she was struck dead.

#The Lost Dragon Queen #rowan whitethorn #thanatos #nyx talks #carmilla #carmilla of styria #Reaper #diablo #Fae #creative writing #short story

[zandalarki]

Trading Fate

The journey to Icecrown had been long and filled with worry. Though Northrend had known peace since the fall of the Lich King, the frigid air carried an aura of unease. Whispers of the Banshee Queen’s own journey to Icecrown had spread, and as Dar’kran and his party travelled, they saw what fear her presence wrought. Warsong Hold had been on a tight lockdown, carefully vetting those who passed in and out. Taunka villages were walled shut, Braves patrolling around their perimeters in droves. The remnants of the Argent Crusade were on high alert, with sky patrols almost always overhead.

And yet, when word of her arrival at Icecrown Citadel came, none were prepared. The Banshee Queen and the swath of loyalists she held had stormed the Citadel, clashing with the Argent Crusade and Knights of the Ebon Blade, and despite the united front, she slipped through their ranks, ascending the Citadel.

“She must mean ta’ take the helm fo’ herself.” Suggested Zul’jawa, “Ta become a new Lich Queen!” 

“Perhaps.” Murmured Dar’kran, as they wove their way through the carnage at the Citadel, his mind elsewhere. His son, Zugon, kept close. Despite his harsh upbringing, the boy showed no signs of fear or worry as they were faced with brutality all around.

The three of them made their way to the inner sanctum, where a lone Argent Crusader laid, mortally wounded at the Saronite Elevator. Dar’kran knelt beside him, placing a hand on his wounds and channeling some soothing waters. “I cannot save ya’, but I can make ya’ end painless, mon.” He rested another hand on the Crusader’s shoulder, locking eyes with him. He was a young Human, with sky blue eyes and a pitiful excuse for facial hair. He was but a boy, left to die in the most damned corner of the world. He deserved some peace. “Did ya’ see her? Da’ Banshee?” The man nodded, his bloodied hand gripping Dar’kran’s arm. “How many are wit’ her now?” He shook his head, a single bloody finger held high.

Fuck.

Dar’kran lowered the man’s hand to his chest, channeling some more soothing waters. As his eyes drifted back and his lids fell, he laid him flat before rising, turning his attention to the elevator. “Only one way to go now.”

They stepped on, and the magical elevator began to rise. Zugon teetered close to the edge, peering over it as they began to rise with a look of wonder on his face. Dar’kran smiled to his son, as he and Zul’jawa unloaded their packs and weapons. Zul’jawa held his chakrams with a grin, “So, ya’ t’ink she’s got a chance, mon?”

“A’h dunno, mon. Against da’ current guy? It be hard ta’ say.”

Zu’jawa hesitated for a moment, as he pulled a whetstone to sharpen the edges of his chakrams. “Ya’ t’ink we got a chance?”

“Absolutely.”

A maddening laugh echoed behind Dar’kran, one that only he could hear. “Dat’s pretty gooood, mon. Don’t want ya’ best bud t’inkin’ he walked into a hopeless situation now, eh?”

Bwonsamdi.

Dar’kran spoke to his patron Loa, only the two of them could hear. “I brought him because he be da’ most unpredictable fighta’ I know. You gonna see, he gonna be avoiding death like it be a party. He growled, as he wrapped his axes, infusing them with the power of the storm. Bwonsamdi kept on laughing.

“Ooh yah, mon. He gonna be dancin’ in his grave if ya’ ain’t careful.” His eyes flared to life for a moment, his tone shifting. “I need ya’ both ta’ be careful, ya’ hear? Dis one gonna cause all sorts o’ trouble if ya’ don’t.”

“Ya’ keep sayin’ dat an’ bein’ cryptic. Would be a lot nica’ if ya’ were straight wit’ me.” The old warrior grumbled.

“Trust me, mon. Ya’ don’t need nor want ta’ know more. It be above ya’ head! Just do what I need ya’ to do, and everyting will be alright” Dar’kran just grunted, hanging his axes from his side as he turned his attention away from his Patron and to his son instead.

“Zugon, c’mere.” He laid a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder, handing him a small ritual dagger. “Take dis an’ stay close behind me, ya’ hear? Only use it if ya’ need to.” The boy nodded, a brave look on his face. His tusks were finally starting to take shape. They lacked his father’s spiral, but had his mother’s hooked appearance. He loved that about his boy.

The elevator began to grind and whine as they neared it’s apex. The three held their weapons tight, Dar’kran and Zul’jawa ready to pounce the moment they reached the top and were met with whatever forces waited for them...

...

...

...

There was nothing there for them.

Before them was a single, long causeway. It’s entire stretch was strewn with the bodies of the fallen. Mostly of the undead, and few living. Blood, viscera, and an unholy stench invaded their nostrils as the three of them carefully stepped past the masses, Dar’kran and Zul’jawa testing corpses with their blades to make sure they weren’t faking it.

None so much as stirred.

“Did she really do all o’ dis?” whispered Zul’jawa, brushing his chakram’s against the shaft of an arrow protruding from the chest of a fallen Crusader.

“Aye.” Mumbled Dar’kran, scanning every inch of the causeway as they made their way. The purple haze of the Banshee’s arrows was unmistakable, it was her calling card. Corpse after corpse was decorated in them. One soul had been impaled upon the spikes adorning the guardrails. Another had both of his eyes shot out by arrows with a third sitting in his throat, painted with blood. 

The cold air began to cut deep, and Zul’jawa and Zugon began to shiver, with Zugon trying his best to shield his eyes from the blistering winds. In a split second, the young boy slipped on a slurry of snow and blood, his whole weight shifting to the side and practically over the guardrails. Dar’kran was there without a second thought, grabbing his son by the collar and hosting him back up and into a free arm. 

As Zugon clung to his father, shivering and with his heart beating at a million miles and hour, Dar’kran’s own heart stopped.

No. No. How?

As he looked over the edge where his son had nearly fallen, Dar’kran’s gaze met a massive maul caught on a ledge, adorned with the blood red imagery that was once so typical of Kor’kron weaponry. Beside it, shattered fragments of armor, a puddle of tainted blood, and an all too familiar scent.

Skullcrusha. 

He..he’s here. Was here. His presence was but only lingering...By the spirits, was he...finally..?

“Bwonsamdi?” Dar’kran called to his Patron, and the Loa of Death appeared to graciously.

“Watchu doin’, mon? Why ain’t ya’ movin’?

“Where is he?” he said coldly, he was done playing games.

“Dun look at me, mon. He ain’t my responsibility.”

“So, is he dead or not?”

“Bahhh!” the Death Loa scoffed, fading away, “Ya’ ain’t got time for stupid questions, mon. Get a move on, or it be both ou’ heads!”

That last part took him by surprise. As he continued to walk the causeway with Zugon in hand, he kept wondering. “Both ou’ heads?” What was the bastard talking about?

“Hey, mon! Look!” Zul’jawa pointed to an opening at the end of the causeway, “I t’ink we’re almost to the end!” Dar’kran snapped his attention back to the matter at hand and jogged to catch up, the three of them making it out from the open air and into the antechamber there at the end. Inside was another elevator, presumably to the top of Icecrown Citadel, and beside it an arcane teleportation rune. The two older trolls sighed for a moment, as they gazed up the rest of the elevator.

They were nearly there. Loud cracks and the howling winds of winter echoed above them. By the Loa...

“They already be goin’ at it...” Zul’jawa spoke in awe, swallowing a lump in his throat. Dar’kran recognized the fear in his voice and as he set down Zugon, saw the same quivering in his son. Dar’kran’s own gaze shifted upwards, then back to his son as he set him down and knelt down to his level.

“You gonna stay down here, aight? It be too dangerous for ya’ up there. But we’ll be fine. We’ll be back.” He cupped his son’s face for a moment. “I promise.” Zugon smiled, holding his father’s dagger tightly and nodded. Dar’kran then turned his attention back to Zul’jawa, the mon was wrapping trinkets and bijous around his arms and chakrams, whispering zandali incantations and prayers to himself. They were prepared to face what was likely doom...

*CRACK*

What the?

*CRACK* *CRACK*

Dar’kran began to sway, his head feeling foggy.

A deafening boom reverberated down from the peak of Icecrown Citadel and beyond. A pulse of energy unlike anything anyone had ever felt before swept through them all, and quite literally knocked Dar’kran on his back, clutching his chest.

By the spirits...”Zul!” he gasped, clutching his chest in agony.

His heart had stopped...What the hell had happened?

“Zul?!” He gasped out again, Zugon at his father’s side now with a look of terror and confusion on his face. Zul’jawa snapped out of it, hearing Dar’kran’s crys, he rushed to his battle-brother. Both he and Zugon looked down on Dar’kran with terror and confusion. Dar’kran scanned the area around them in a frenzy, scared and unsure of what was happening, then he saw him...

Bwonsamdi...

“I told ya’! Ya’ were too slow!” Screamed the Death Loa, this time for all the hear. Zugon and Zul’jawa leapt as the the Loa loomed over them all, specifically Dar’kran. “And now look at what she did? She broke everyting!” Life an’ Death are broken!”

“Ww..w-hat?” Dar’kran mumbled, his vision becoming dark.

“Da’ very magic that I used ta’ give ya’ dis stupid body back is all out o’ whack now. I got nothin!”

Dar’kran turned to face Zugon, who looked terrified beyond all reason. He still clutched that dagger closely. Dar’kran tried to say something, but he was too weak. He was..fading.

“An’ now, ya’ makin’ me need ya’ more then eva! Damn you, Dar’kran, fo’ makin’ me do dis!” Cried Bwonsamdi, who in a blink of an eye had snatched the dagger from Zugon.

No...please. Not my son...not for my failure.

White hot pierced the fog, and Dar’kran’s attention snapped back to center. In the center of his chest, Bwonsamdi had buried the dagger to the hilt. “We gonna be workin’ a lot closa’ together now, mon.” Hissed the Death Loa, who turned both himself and the dagger to smoke, flowing into Dar’kran.

Dar’kran’s heart did not beat. Yet he did not die. The fog was lifted, and yet he felt stronger than before. He rose slowly, and both Zul’jawa and Zugon looked at him with horror and confusion. “What just happened?”

“Oh, ya’ couldn’t tell, mon?” Echoed Bwonsamdi from..within Dar’kran?

“For now, we are one.”

#World of Warcraft #shadowlands #trolls #zandalari #rp #creative writing

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 15: Time for Maintenance and Help

In a cold tundra, a peaceful family was enjoying their day. A hearty, meaty feast made of local game. The family themselves, were Orcs. Specifically of the werebear variety. Three little ones, two older boys and a younger girl, sat around the table eating happily. Their Mother, a Black Orc, meanwhile set out a lone plate with a feast all its own on it, just then the door opened up.

"Urrghaaaah! Geez, you'd think it'd be gettin less cold. Heheh.....," A Green Orc with salt n' pepper hair said before sniffing the air, "....Haha, yet another amazing meal. Thank you honey."

"Glad to please, and welcome home Bardak. Hope you're prepared for the feast that is lunch. Kids might beat ya if you wait any longer to start eating."

"Huh? Well then, let me put up my axe." Bardak states before hurrying to sit down and eat.

"Don't eat fast, and don't you dare choke mister." His loving wife told him.

"Easy Ulara, I know my manners. As long as the kids got manners too.," Bardak said sweetly before firmly shouting at one of the boys, "Hey will you quit trying to rip it with your mouth! Use your knife boy, that's what your Mama gave it to ya for!"

"Mmmm? O....sry Pa...."

"And don't talk to me with your mouth full either. Chew first then speak, or at least pack it away."

The boy gulped his bite down finally, "Sorry Pa."

"Hmph, and what about you?" Bardak asked of his other son.

"I'm doing it right, see Pa? I can use a knife."

"Hey you dummy!", the first brother yelled before bonking the other's head, "I know how to use a knife!"

"Pa he bonked me!"

"Oh quit your whining!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH! Now both of ya sit down and leave each other alone." Bardak firmly told them.

"Yes sir!" They both said in unison.

"Now, where's your sister?" Bardak inquires looking around a bit, only to get 'surprised' by a sneak attack.

"RAAAAAA! I got you Papa I got you!" She pipes up with pure delight.

"Ahhhhhhaha....certainly did. Now come on, sit down and eat." Bardak told her gently.

She scurried back to her seat just as Ulara finally sat down herself and began eating. The family continued their meal in peace and just as Bardak finished up, he heard his crystal going off.

"Hmm? What the?", He then answered his crystal, "Hey Death!"

"Ah there you are Bardak. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh not at all, just caught us at lunchtime. How are things on your side?" Bardak questioned.

"We're dealing with a wereshark."

"Which one?"

"Leatherbeard."

Bardak immediately freezes, "Uh honey, need you to watch the kids. I gotta take of something, but it's nothing really dangerous."

Ulara sees him going into a specific weapons chest, one with weapons that only has the crazy shit. She's instantly worried, "How can it be 'nothing really dangerous' if you're opening that chest?!"

"Ehehehehehe...heh...", Bardak begins whilst getting a specific dagger he got from Kobolds. Made from cobalt, jagged yet serrated with a hooked end, it ultimately looks like a shark in shape. ,"Heh...nothing but a simple problem that just needs some attending to. Nothing really dangerous heheh...."

The look on his face betrays him, but Ulara keeps quiet. For the kids' sake. Bardak then hurries off to go help out his old friend. Using another crystal to teleport to where everyone is. Everyone is shocked by the sudden appearance of a massive Green Orc in the room.

"Well then, didn't know I'd have this kind of welcome wagon."

"Right....well I suppose we'd best get your introduction out of the way. Everyone, this is Bardak, an old friend of mine." Death awkwardly stated as he rubbed his neck.

Course Bardak then took notice of Death's use of crutches, "What the hell happened to you?"

"Check my ankle, you'll see it."

"Most of time I see ya, you've got twinkle toes. What the hell happened, cement shoes?"

"Oh hardy harhar." Death says a bit grumpy.

"And there's the grumpy old man, where's your cane?"

War then piped up, "I believe he left it in his bedroom."

"Zip it, now. And look who's talking."

"Well if I'm too old for this", Bardak began before putting his hand on Death's head to hold him still, "then what else am I too old for?"

"Now you're just acting like a child."

Bardak shakes his head, "Said the old fart."

"Ugh, let's quit fooling around now."

"Ok." Bardak says before grabbing his old friend into a hug.

"Gah, that was my foot! Bardak put me down please."

Strife snickered, "You think he's giving him a bear hug?"

Bardak just gave him an annoyed look, "Oh sure use puns. Not like they're lazy or anything."

Death sniggered at that as Strife looked at Bardak, "Aw come on. It's wasn't THAT bad was it?"

"I'm a werebear, what do you think?"

"Ooooooooh.....oh....well then..." Strife lets out being unable to say much of anything to remedy that.

Bardak finally put Death down and let him adjust himself. Meanwhile Morgen walked in, "Oh my uhm, this a friend of yours Death?"

"Ah Morgen, yes. This is Bardak, figured he'd be a tremendous help."

Bardak couldn't help but pick on Death's current body language shift as Morgen came into the room. Taking a glance at the woman, he couldn't blame Death either. He then pats Death on the back, "Nice choice Death, nice choice."

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" Death shouted in response as Bardak laughed. He then glared at his younger siblings as they joined in the laughter.

Morgen only gave a light snicker to spare him of at least some embarrassment, "Well I'm glad to meet you Bardak. Guessing you know Death extremely well then hmhm?"

Death facepalmed before readjusting himself on the crutches. Leading to Morgen looking at his foot. She went up to him and sat in a chair next to him, "Since we're both here, may as well get this done."

"Uh Morgen....not in front of my siblings....please? It's....really not necessary."

Bardak shook his head, "If she can help with yer leg, then let her help. I've seen you when you're fucked up, and hell look at me, I know when I'm fucked up too. Shoot one of the reasons Ulara and I are together is because of this. Good way to build up your relationship."

"Shut. Up." Death expressed in a deeply embarrassed tone.

Morgen blushes a deep red herself, her eyelashes batting as she blinked. Bardak knew from Death's body language and Morgen's own reactions that the two didn't seem to be official yet. Or they may be aware of their own feelings but not the feelings of the other. Either way, he'd be helping with more than just a wereshark.

"Now go heal up, I gotta go prepare some stuff." Bardak stated trying to give them some minor privacy.

"Wait, what do you have in the way of weapons?" Death quickly inquired.

"Oh just a dagger, that's pretty much it." Bardak tells him.

"Seriously? A singular dagger?"

"Remember the last time we fought Leatherbeard? My axe did jack shit. Besides, this dagger ain't ordinary, it's cobalt. Trust me, this will do some major damage on him." Bardak states firmly.

"If you're certain Bardak, I'll trust you. Oh and be sure to say hi to Harker. Might do him good to see you, and to know that you're helping with Leatherbeard." Death says simply.

"You got it. See ya when you're all 'healed up'."

"Sure thing." Death replied shaking his head.

From there Morgen worked on mending his injury. She'd walked outside first to find a tree to make a small moonfruit tree with. Finding a dead tree in the garden's center, she began to work her magic on it. It takes a bit of work, but to her the small sapling tree is worth it. Even as saplings, moonfruit trees bare some fruit. Using her magic she tenderly sped that process along and smiled as the plump opalite colored fruits formed. Inside them all, was a single glowing golden seed. Morgen gathered all the fruit into a basket before going into the kitchen to prepare them. She chopped all but one of the fruit into bite sized bits and put those to the side. Her next step was to grind the seeds into a fine powder, which she mixed into a bowl of water. As it began to glow radiantly, she also added the thin slices of the final fruit into the bowl for a boosted effect.

Finally she came into the room again and inquired of Death, "In terms of fruits, what would you say your favorites are?"

Death cocked his head confused but thought back a bit regardless, "Depends, I'm a fan of pomegranates, dragon fruit, and prickly pear. It really does depend however."

"I see, well what if they were in a salad together?" Morgen suggests.

"Again, depends on the salad. So just say what you've got. You make it sound like you're about to hand me something that's extremely disgusting."

"Look I don't know your opinion of moonfruit ok? I'm using it to help heal you, but I imagine eating it on it's own might get boring. Hence why I'm asking about the fruit." Morgen explains a bit annoyed.

"What does moonfruit even taste like, when it comes to resemblances to other fruit?"

"It's sweet, with a grape like texture, but without the annoying skin of said grape." Morgen explains.

"Ok. What does it taste like? You said sweet, and that's fine. But details, they are important. Is it like apples, grapes, what?"

Morgen sighs and thinks a moment, "It's like a lychee or rambutan. If you know of those two."

Death snickers, "You do know people describe them both as grape like in flavor right? You could've have just said grapes."

Morgen rolls her eyes, "Yes very funny. Either way this will help to heal you."

"Yeah let's get this over with, please."

Morgen nods and gathers up everything after making the fruit salad with the fruits Death mentioned and the moonfruit bits. Using a tray to carry both the salad and the bowl with moonfruit infused water. Once beside him she places the fruit salad in front of Death before kneeling to place the water by his feet. Course Death is NOT used to anyone removing his boot, let alone anyone touching his foot.

"Gah, what are you doing?"

"You're supposed to soak your foot in this. It helps." Morgen explains.

"Ok then...I think I can handle this end of things. Thanks for trying...at least." Death responds awkwardly.

"You're welcome. Now just keep your foot there and....when was the last time you ....uh...I guess cleaned up?"

"Uhhhh...was it after the first or second dragon I had to kill?" Death questions himself.

Morgen facepalms, as does Fury nearby, "Brother, after you heal, you're bathing."

Bardak then calls after them from down the hall, "I'm an orc and a werebear! Even I know about personal hygiene!"

"SHUT UP OVER THERE!" Death shouts as Bardak laughs.

Puck then walks in to see both Bardak, Morgen with Death's foot in a bowl of water, and everyone else laughing, "Did I miss something here?"

"You know how bad Death smells like all the time? Apparently we found one of the reasons." Strife tells him whilst wheezing.

"Apparently our brother forgot to clean himself after dealing with a dragon." War adds on.

"Both of you zip it. He doesn't need this kind of ammo." Death quickly tells him.

"I already have enough ammo, but a little extra never hurt anybody, right?"

Death just groans and sits in silence as Morgen uses her magic on the water. He does glance towards the little fruit salad, and feels his stomach growl. Finally he takes a bite of the salad and is pleasantly surprised by the moonfruit. He can't help but indulge a little, which helps Morgen with her work since he's distracted. Course eventually she has to hold onto his foot as she's healing him.

Death suddenly jolts as he holds back a light chuckle, "Please be careful..."

"Same to you, I'd rather not be kicked." Morgen tells him simply.

"Right. Uhm....let's finish this up...heheh...hm." Death expressed whilst trying not to let out a laugh.

Morgen smirks but stays on course to be nice. Eventually she's certain she finally has it, "Alright, you should be good to go."

Death then works on standing up and nearly falls at first before Morgen helps him stay up. Course Death accidentally grabbed something he hadn't meant to. After a single, but gentle squeeze, he found out what it was. Quickly he pulled his hand down, his neck revealing yet again just how embarrassed he was at this moment.

"Oh shit my apologies I uhm.....I....ah....shit."

His siblings stifled their laughter, until Strife broke first, causing the other two to follow.

"Real funny, laugh it up before you all die." Death growled at them.

"Apology accepted, you did slip after all." Morgen reassured him, being forgiving.

"That is no excuse for touching you...like that." Death insisted.

"It was an accident Death, I can understand that much. You needn't worry. Now perhaps you should clean yourself up. Nothing like a warm bath to ease the mind." Morgen explains warmly.

"Uhhhhhh.....right. I'll get on that..." Death told her nervously before heading towards the bathing area.

Bardak looked at him funny, "Dude, you had your chance. You were waiting for your moment. That was it."

"Ugh....geez why is everybody trying to hook me up with her? First it was Strife and Puck, and now it's you."

"Because she actually seems to care you. Second of all you seem to care about her." Bardak tells him.

"And that's a completely normal reaction! We're kindred spirits if anything at all."

"Not to mention you yourself are a very attractive man. I am very confident man, so I bring awareness to those facts." Bardak states.

"Geez you're starting to sound like Harker."

"Because I'm right? Try an describe to her, you know as if I've never met her before."

Death facepalms, "Aside from the fact that she is indeed very beautiful, which I can say in confidence is an obvious fact. It's objective, not subjective here. Second, she is very kind to just about everyone. No matter what their background is, or how they look. If anyone deserves the title of noble, it's her. She has a very noble heart. And with her magic, specifically in the healing branch, she is highly skilled with it. Although she could probably use more training, specifically in fighting. At least for the time being."

Bardak smirks, having seen Death go from annoyance to peace as he spoke of Morgen, "And you say you're not into her?"

Death growled before saying quietly, "Zip it."

"What are you scared of things going wrong? That she'd leave ya for someone else? That she'd discover your dark history, and all it's bloody glory? People like her have seen people like you before. They understand em, hell Ulara and I are those types of people, or rather were. Remember how it was when I was young, back when you first met me? I was batshit insane by most standards. And you, were a stuck up son of a bitch."

Death chuckled, "You're not wrong, I was a bit stuck up back then. Among a few other things."

"And Ulara? She found me in the wilderness one day after I'd gotten into one hell of a fight. She took me in, patched me up, after that we started talking. And after quite a few years, we just had a 'thing'. And after that we got married and after that the family heheh..."

Death thought a moment and asked him, "Do you really think, I'd make a decent man for anyone? Or that perhaps I'd be a decent Father? Be honest with me."

"I have only one answer, yer siblings. You managed to protect Strife from yer asshole of an older brother. War, you fed like him a dragon and yet made sure he had manners. Fury? Well a debate is up on that one. But she's at least decent and she shows great promise....later. Besides, you love em and you have faith in em. And despite what you say, you care about em no matter what. You say you won't be a great Father, they prove that to be incorrect. As for the great husband part, and being a great man for someone. You gotta have faith in yerself and remember one thing, she's always right. And she never did anything wrong. Trust me, keep that in your head, and she'll be happy. Happy wife happy life, and I am a good example of that philosophy."

Death chuckled again, "Thanks for the...advice. 'Grandpa'."

"No problem, old fart. Now go take a bath, and get whatever you got on you OFF. I can smell it now, and OOOH BOY it is NOT pleasant. Did you cut your hair, and now cemented that way?"

"Hush up, I've got it covered." Death tells him.

"I'll time ya, see how long it takes ya."

"You're an asshole." Death responds before getting to work.

Bardak did as he said, and timed Death on it. And chuckled at each swear Death uttered or eventually started yelling out.

"Good old grumpy Death."

"I CAN STILL HEAR YOU!"

"Good! Cause you've been at it for about an hour now. Damn son, how long has it been?"

Death begins to see blackness behind him in the water, "Uuuuhhhh....I don't know.", he then smells what was just in his hair.

He immediately recoils, about to throw up. It smells like rotten corpses that took a bath in blood and fish guts, whilst using durian and raw sewage to clean themselves.

"Why couldn't I smell this before.....hurp....no wonder I was ok with eating durian....uurrgh....huuk....oh it's so bad.....gak....blarg...."

Bardak then smells it, "Ooop....ok I'm gone. Have fun with that, oh my gosh....Creator bless that man's hair."

As Death continued washing himself and getting more frustrated, Morgen made her way over in a towel. Course right as she removes it in the room she notices Death and the blackness surrounding him, "Uhm...you want to explain that to me?"

Death froze, "Ah.", then upon turning around he quickly jumps backwards slightly, "Gah wha?! Ok then......next time knock. May I ask by chance, why are you naked? Here at this moment, in front of me?"

He then turns around as Morgen quickly covers herself, "I'll leave now if you wish. But it seems you're having trouble over there. Perhaps you'd like some help? Besides someone has to drain this all out."

Death sighed, "Right......you can aid me, if you wish. Just be careful where you lay your hands."

"Of course. Just give me a moment to drain this mess here, it stinks to high hell, truly." Morgen tells him before using her magic to get the water into a current. One that moves the dirty water towards the drains faster. Eventually it's taken care of and Morgen hops in. Making her way up to Death. As promised she's careful, and for now just focuses on his hair. Course she pulls it back a bit and realizes just how bad it is.

"Oh merciful Creator."

"What is it this time?" Death asks nervously.

"Is this....a piece of entrails in here?" Morgen inquires before pulling at it and realizing it was indeed a piece of rotted guts from something, "Oh Creator! Ah!"

Death turns around to see Morgen shaking her hand to get it off and gently grabs her wrist. He then tenderly removes the entrail bit before inspecting it, "That's dragon guts, yeah...that should've been taken care of a few months. Sorry about that. That's probably very disgusting and disturbing for a female Unseelie to see."

Bardak then comes on back to check on Death, and sees the entrail bit in his hand, "Awwww, you've got her heart."

"Seriously? This was in my hair!"

"So that's the uh left ventricle of a dragon heart. How the hell did ya get THAT in yer hair? Did ya jump inside of it yeesh!" Bardak accidentally yells out.

"Shush ssssshshhhhh stop stop." Death quickly tells him, not wanting anymore attention.

Morgen meanwhile decides trying to put a comb through his hair and asks him, "Death, do you have a comb by chance?"

"What exactly is a comb?"

"Oh my....ok. One moment. Bardak, might you shut the door please?" Morgen requests.

"Alright. Wait a minute you want me in here by chance? Also why was the door open anyway?"

"Oh no, you can go. Also to answer the second question, I don't know." Morgen responds.

"Ok then." Bardak says shrugging and closing the door.

Morgen then gets out of the water to search around the room for a comb. Finally she finds an entire box of them, "Ah here they are, these are combs."

"That's a brush."

"A comb is a type of brush." Morgen insists.

"Then it is indeed a brush." Death responds sarcastically.

"Do you even brush your hair?"

"No, I don't see the point behind it." Death simply states.

"Ok, we are SO changing that. Give me a moment whilst I comb through this 'bloody mess'."

Death groaned, "Leave the puns to Bardak, at least he has an excuse."

"Right. Now hold still, wouldn't want to pull your hair by accident. Who knows how tangled it truly is." Morgen tells him.

He does so as she begins combing through his hair. Using magnemancy to pull a bucket from nearby and scraping anything on the comb into it. Death took note of the magnemancy and wondered what else she could do with it. He soon began to feel his hair slowly becoming longer, not to mention smoother. Normally it was coarse to the touch, but as Morgen worked with it, it seemed to become as soft as her own hair. From what he remembered of it at least. Finally Morgen sighed as her work was complete.

"There, fully combed through and ready for a proper cleaning."

"Huh.", Death begins before looking around them at the water. Surprisingly he sees nothing.

"It's all in this bucket here, if you really want to see the mess I cleaned out. Also you still have that dragon vein thingy on your hand by the way."

Death quickly smacked his hand onto the bucket's rim and got the thing off him finally. Next he cleaned his hand off whilst replying, "So anything else we need to do here? Unless you want to help me get my back."

"Ha, only if you return that favor. But I'd say all that's left is to clean your hair out a final time to be sure, as well as the rest of your body." Morgen responds coyly.

"Well let's get to work then." Death states whilst rolling his eyes. He'd NEVER spent this long in a bath before, and it was ANNOYING.

Morgen meanwhile gave him a shampoo to use and told him, "This is a spare I keep on me in my crystal, I have my own to use. And it is unisex in terms of who it's made for."

"Ah I see......well then....thanks?"

"Hmhm...you're welcome."

Morgen and Death then began working on their respective hair. Morgen had just begun combing her own as Death approached her from behind.

"Mind if I help out with your hair at least?"

"Oh not at all, just be gentle. My hair is wavy so likely the tangles may be thicker." Morgen replied blushing a little.

He then gently grabs the comb from her, and begins a rough brushing she isn't used to. Course she winces a few times, causing Death to ask, "Sorry, too rough? I'm not used to this."

"A bit yes. Just go a little slower with it, like I was doing. If there's a snag, that's when you get a true brush for it" Morgen explains gently.

"Ok. I'll to be more gentle this time." Death tells her softly.

He then works slower and notices the results seem better now. Morgen isn't wincing anymore and soon relaxes as the comb gently massages her head. She can't help but enjoy the experience a little. Death also starts getting more of the scent from the shampoo, but also something else. Something more pleasant that he can't help but accept the occasional whiff of it.

"Uh...ok I've got most of your hair. Mind getting my back for me?"

"I'm on it." Morgen tells him as she gently lathers him up.

Death freezes at first but calms down shortly after. From there, he felt just how good Morgen was with her hands. They were soft to touch as always, and he could actually feel a few muscles loosening as well. The scent from before suddenly becomes more noticeable the more relaxed he becomes. Course something else becomes noticeable too, more so than it has before. Death tries to manage his blade, but the scent keeps making that difficult.

Morgen soon finally finishes his back, "There. Are you alright? You've gone quiet."

"Of course, just fine just fine. I need to get my foot right now. I'll do that myself." Death responds before hurrying away.

"I haven't....scared you have I? I know you have 'bad memories' and all." Morgen implores with heavy concern.

"Hmm? Oh no no, I'm fine truly. I promise you needn't worry about me."

"If you say so....." Morgen says softly before working on her own body.

As she does so, Death works to keep himself under control. He finishes cleaning his foot easily enough to sell the story. But sheathing the blade was harder. Breathing heavy and fast as he took his time. Eventually he does cool down enough to trust himself around Morgen again. Just in time too as Morgen had finished the rest of her body, and had trouble getting her back. Death came over and began helping her out.

"Do you need help with that? You got my back I can get yours, you know?"

"Oh yes please, thank you." Morgen responds as he gently places his hands on her.

He's a bit more rough than her, but is still being careful for the most part. Morgen even begins enjoying the semi-massage of sorts in time. Meanwhile Death was trying to maintain control as he started catching whiffs of the scent around Morgen again. He could only assume the scent was Morgen's natural musk. Although he couldn't understand how it hadn't been so noticeable before now. Finally he and Morgen finished up and Death turned around to let Morgen dry herself in privacy. Morgen quickly worked to dry herself off and soon left the room. Giving Death his own privacy, which he preferred.

Admittedly, he was highly nervous. Perhaps, even scared. But not of Morgen, no, rather he was afraid of himself in this moment. He hadn't had to fight himself like this in a very long time. It frightened him, as he thought about what may have happened had he lost control. Even for a moment. Eventually Death finally dried off and left as Morgen had previously. Being spooked still, as he ran into Bardak again.

He decided to take the moment to ask him for advice, urgently, "Bardak, how do you control your werebeast side?"

"First off, I was lucky I got the bear. Which is technically the most 'gentle' of the beasts. Second off, I didn't fight it. I let most of it through, kind of. Again, got lucky. I remember one werewolf friend, he uh was very off-putting at first. But he was kind, for the most part. When it came to the beast, he didn't let it in. And that's where it led to the whole moon cycle, rage filled monster. Wait, why even ask that?"

"Demonic half is being a bitch today. I caught whiff of Morgen's scent. It caused me to lose control almost."

"Welp, I mean you used to control that part of yerself by fighting all the time correct?" Bardak questions.

"I can't exactly fight inside a bath now can I?"

"Nah but you could handle it in other ways. Second, when was the last time you got laid? Last I heard Demons had high libidos." Bardak presses.

"Practically eons ago."

"That's yer second problem. And finally, what kind of hobby do you have outside working? Beyond occasionally visiting friends." Bardak tells him simply.

"I mean I cook but that's about it, I'm always busy."

"Let me get this straight, are you always busy, or making yerself busy?" Bardak asks.

"Shut up." Death told him annoyed.

"Come with me, you need some time to air dry your hair anyways." Bardak tells him.

Meanwhile as Death and Bardak headed outside for their walk, Leatherbeard had brought Arn along to start their job.

"Be glad that he doesn't want me to have too much fun with ya."

"Be glad I'm willing to tolerate your bullshit." Arn retorted.

Leatherbeard elbow swipes his head, "Heheheheh, keep that spirit up and I might teach ya how to fight."

"I've lasted this long without help. I'll last longer without yours.", Arn says rubbing the spot hit.

"Heheh, surviving's one thing, thriving's another. And buddy, creatures like us were designed to thrive. Ok, you take care of the baby and lady. I'll take care of Death. Hahah." Leatherbeard declares proudly.

"Heh. The easier it is for me to go home. Just so you know I'm not bailing you out, you die you get left behind for the crows.", Arn tells him.

"Heheheheh, I'm assuming you've never met the Horseman have ya? I have. Hahah...nearly came this close to biting his head off. And another time, his close friend almost became my bitch. Trust me when I say this, you have no chance against the Horsemen. Especially, their pussy for a boss."

"Lot of talk for someone who would've died in that arena. If you didn't have that equally bitchy healing effect.", Arn remarks.

"La pute, you were using the wrong weapons. You should've used something of either silver, or magic. And even then, it still wouldn't live up to the true cadence. But if you were to grab a few of those kind of items, you better yer shot counts petite merde." Leatherbeard states.

"Silver or not, you should've died from the blood loss alone. I've seen and done it a hundred times over, as much as you say to the contrary, you're not fucking immortal.", Arn retorts.

"You don't know what I am, nor what you are I'm guessing? Ye probably only think that the 'wolf' is all you are. Am I right?" Leatherbeard inquires coyly.

"I don't give a damn what you think. I just know that when you die, I'll look on your corpse and smile.", Arn explains almost gleefully.

Leatherbeard only laughs, then asks one of the men to bring them a non magical weapon. He does so and Leatherbeard then points it at Arn. From there Arn's shoulder erupts with pain as Leatherbeard stabs it, and twists the blade into the wound. Leatherbeard then coldly pulls it out and the wound heals over, not even a scar is left behind.

"That, was to open your eyes. Believe me boy, you're stronger than what most would think. And I'm far stronger than you or any other wereshark. Heheh. Now, we have a job to do, so get to it."

Arn growls in pain for a good few seconds but he just stares at the shark as they walk

'I hope the Horseman makes soup out of him.', He thinks to himself.

He does touch his shoulder as there is still blood present, but at least he won't be too sore to swing his weapon.

Arn then gets a handkerchief from Leatherbeard, "This scent's from the little one I found the other night. She's one of the few that are aiding the fugitives. She's not yer target, but she is close to them so it'll help."

Arn nods before sniffing the handkerchief and hurrying off on the scent's path. Leaving Leatherbeard to his own task. Suddenly he felt a presence calling to him, he did not know it, but felt it guiding him. Cautiously, he chose to trust it. As it was leading him around the scent as far as he could tell. Nergal meanwhile smiled, glad that his plan was working so far. The Wiseman now could only hope that Puck could bring the young man back from the dark path he was on. Nergal then sent a mental link to Puck, to warn him to 'watch over' Arthur discretely.

"The baby.....watch him.....he'll be needing you....."

Puck shuddered, "Ehhhh ok...creepy voices inside my head are giving me orders.", then upon looking at his current bottle, "Maybe I should really stop experimenting."

"Just go over to the child of Uther, he will need you....both of them will."

"Ok then....I must certainly be losing my mind again, oh boy. Wait, what do you mean by both?" Puck inquired confused.

"You'll know in time."

"Great, I'm dealing with a very vague voice to begin with, oi. Fine, I'll go check on the little squirt." Puck explains before going to Arthur's room.

He finds the little tyke hugging his stuffed lion as always, and notices the magic that's on the toy as well.

"Smart lad making such a good toy." Puck whispered before the voice spoke again.

"Hide close."

"Seriously hiding? Ok." Puck states a bit grumpy.

Arn eventually began to notice his surroundings shift and distort. He stopped and raised his cutlass in preparation for any attacks. He notices it starts at one tree in particular that he passed. One side of the distortion was where he was, the side he was now on seemed to be much darker as opposed to the Seelie Realm. A sure sign he'd been brought to the Unseelie Realm, he wasn't sure why though.

In his confusion, Arn heard a voice, "Continue on with your mission. There's someone there that will you want to meet."

Cautiously he continues on, but says to himself, "This better not be a trick. I am in already in the mood to kill someone."

Arn shakes his head before finding himself on the edge of the woods. There he sees the outer walls of the castle and the moat that surrounds it.

'Nothing I can't handle.' Arn thinks to himself before turning into his wolf form, the process of shifting one's body to a new form is a level of pain that's nearly indescribable, but Arn bears it without making too much noise. When he adjusts he uses his senses to take in the smells and sounds before he makes a plan.

He then gets on all fours and rushes the moat. Before reaching the edge he makes a daring leap from the shore, and by some miracle manages to get a grip on one of the looser stones. Arn then begins using his claws to get a better grip as he ascends the wall. Even leaping to spaces he cannot reach normally.

Once at the top he hears a single guard stop at the edge. Arn then grabs his face and slams his head on the stonework, tossing him over the side. Arn then hops onto the parapet and upon seeing another guard, closes the distance and slams him against the wall of the guard post. With one hand covering his mouth, the other digging into his throat. With one violent jerk, Arn rips open the man's neck. Arn puts the sight out of mind as he sniffs the air for the tyke. Finally he finds the scent again, following it through a few corridors and hallways all whilst dodging the patrols. Course as he follows the scent he doesn't realize he's leaving a trail of blood.

Arn soon finds the room but sees that there's two guards at door,

"Shit...if this goes sideways, just grab the kid and go...no hesitation. The sooner this happens the sooner I can go home." Arn whispers to himself before letting out an audible growl.

The guards look down the hallway and one lowers his pole arm. Arn rushes him, dodging the pole arm and slashing his throat with his cutlass. The second guard is a bit more competant as he deflects the follow up blow. They trade blows before the guy disarms Arn and goes to strike him down. Arn however claws the man's leg and gets behind him so he can get him in a hold. One good jerking twist is all it takes to snap his neck. Arn then grabs the guard's pole axe, snapping it in half so that he now has a hand axe. Arn then opens the door checking if anyone is inside, satisfied he walks over to the crib and sees the little tyke is still asleep.

'Heavy sleeper this one.' Arn thinks to himself before he attempts to grab the kiddo, it's only then that he realizes he's not alone.

He lowly growls before scanning the room and sensing a familiar presence.

#Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Darksiders OCs #Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited #Death #Strife #Fury #War

[tarkussenpai]

Ignore that last version, it was old and not edited.  This was is and has much more written!

Thanatos

Introduction

Thanatos, the Legendary God of Death, whose name brews fear in the hearts of his enemies, was not always the great embodiment of strength he is today, Thanatos was once a child like the rest of us –not quite as we were– but honoree as they come.  The Death God had to wake up and decide, would he be the savior this land needs, or be a catalyst for its destruction...  Born from the Primordial Deity Erebus, the true body of Chaos; and The Goddess Nyx—Night Incarnate—who stood at the beginning of creation.  This unholy match created many children, but Thanatos stood above the others, he directly inherited the strength of his Father, and that chaos broods deep beneath his skin, aching and roaring at him to unleash it, but this is countered by the love and compassion he had received from his beautiful mother of the night; Love and Hate battled within him, his kind heart tempted by the roar in his blood..  As a boy, Thanatos’s parents had begun to see that strength and had realized they could not release him as he is, so together they put a lock inside of Thanatos, a chain on him that would only unleash his full hell wrenching power when he was in dire need of it, then sent him as a gift to earth, to the Kingdom of Icarus to watch over and train as they see fit.  The King and Queen were resting in their palace chambers, an ornate room of gold and silver, a chandelier hung from the ceiling shining dim lit light across the beautify glowing room.  Burgundy curtains draped across the floor covering the entrance to the balcony, a wind blew in and tossed the drapes aside.  The couple rose from their bed and walked towards the opening and saw a boy upon their balcony, in a basket made of starlight, sleeping softly, his skin golden-tan in the sunlight with hair black as night and beautiful eyes, a crimson red swirling like fire in a pool of starlight.  The couple fell in love with the baby the moment they saw it, but the joy was cut short—for Nyx was there to greet them, “Tis’ a beautiful child, is it not?  I must say, I really out did myself.” The King and Queen studied her for a second, pursing their lips, and the queen resting her hands on her hips. “Who are you, and why are you in our home?  Answer my question before I call the guards!” The queen demanded.  “Oh hush up child; you would not want to anger a Goddess of Night, would you?” With that they dropped to their knees, bowing to the Goddess, “Much better, now do not speak until I say so, listen for a moment. This child is Thanatos; he is my strongest child and needs a home, for the underworld is not safe for him as a child, because I have enemies who would love to see him killed...  So I offer you both this…Take the child, and my blessings, raise him as your own and take care of him, but make him strong, train him, breed him if you must, but he is to not leave your protection until he’s ready, or you die...Whichever comes first...”  The two stayed quiet for a moment, scanning her words for a trap, then stood not all too fast, never dropping their gaze from the Goddess’s eyes--Then spoke—“Lady Nyx, we accept the child, we will raise him to be our own, and promise to train him to become the greatest warrior this land has ever produced..” A cold smile tugged upon Nyx’s lips, as excitement grew in her, “I guess it is settled then, but before I go, I wish for him to never know of his origin, let him believe you two to be his parents.” With that, darkness swirled around her, stars bent towards her as they swallowed her up, leaving nothing but a darkened mist where she stood, and then she was gone…  The queen stepped forward counting each step, as she approached the baby in its crib of starlight.  She stared at it for a moment, and then lifted him to her arms, the baby could not have been more than a few months old, just holding him, his warmth filled her arms, that warmth from the fiery chaos that festered within him –this baby was special... The King stepped closer and wrapped his arms around them both . . . This is how Thanatos began, abandoned by his godly parents and left to be raised by humans. . . .Now I shall tell you my story, and how I became the single strongest God of Death to ever carry souls to the underworld…

 Chapter One

I was fifteen years old when the admirals first met me; and now that I was eighteen, the three men strapped with fighting leathers and armed to the teeth were back, one almost looked about my age.  They examined me, watching every breath I made, and feeling for any hint of strength beyond that of a normal boy.  One stepped forward and spoke to me, “Well boy, your mother here believes you to be stronger than any one of my men, and you’re going to get the chance to prove her right.” I gave him a weary look and watched as he turned towards the others then beckoned me to follow them, so I did. Before this I was not allowed outside of the royal wing of the palace, the halls seemed to stretch for miles upon miles.  The tapestry was beautiful, it was like our entire history was being told through the murals on these walls, there was ‘The Battle of the West’, where the three kingdoms came together and fought off invaders from across the sea, and at the end was a picture of blood and gore and death, so much happening in one frame, blades clashing, bursts of fire sprang out, I looked down to read the inscription, “I Megali Sfagi”, The Great Slaughter of our capital city, I kept moving past, I never wanted to see that painting again..  On my way, I counted every door, every guard, and every servant on the way there; calculated every possible exit and the time it would take to get out them. Before I knew it, we were in the underground sparring arena, a dingy room, barely lit, and covered in mud and blood.  To the left, a large rack of weapons laid: Swords, axes, bows, crossbows, shields, and maces; everything you could need for training and to the right dozens of soldiers mindlessly sparring amongst each other, breaths of fire, ice, and shock shot from random soldiers.  The Skotal, I knew of these soldiers, they were written in legends as being fiercely loyal and brutal killing machines on the battlefield. Three men were lined up outside of the pit that lay in the center of the training arena, all well built with Skotal fighting leathers wrapped tight, each one with a blade streamed across their belt and a dagger tied to their calves.  As we neared the soldiers and the pit, pain shot through my back when one of the admirals boots connected with me and sent me tumbling in to it, mud caked my clothes as I stood and whirled towards the man who did it, it was the eldest admiral; the younger one wincing as the eldest one spoke, “Come on boy, your mother insulted my soldiers and now you’re going to learn the hard way, just how strong my men are!”  After he said that, one man stepped into the pit with me, unlatching his blade from his belt, and tossed me the dagger strapped to his calf.  I grabbed it then lifted my gaze to his eyes, fear started to swell up in me, I had barely reacted in time as the man lunged at me, I tried to dodge his blade but a fist to the stomach caught me by surprise, knocking the wind out of me as I crumpled to the mud..  I took a heavy breath and stood back up, he was already charging me. I tried to dash out of his way, but was still slow from the last hit; his sword caught my side, lacerating a deep cut, wincing from the pain I caught my feet then dashed back, slamming my shoulder into his waist.  Then man staggered back, but I didn’t let up, next my fist caught him in the ribs, then another in his gut.  The soldier tried to catch up, but kept fumbling as my hits landed, strike after strike, in the midst of sweat, blood, and tear; my dagger finally found his heart, I plunged it deep, bones crunching and cracking under the blade.  I saw the life leaving his eyes, and the pain wretched across his face as he fell, his breaths ending as he hit the floor. . .I killed him…  The eldest admiral roared with delight “That’s more like it, maybe you’ll make a soldier yet!” I collapsed to my knees in the mud and just peered at my hands, the blood now coating them.  My arms felt weak and begun to shake, tears began to well in my eyes . . . I’ve never killed someone before, what is wrong with me, this was just supposed to be a sparring match . . . My eyes found the admiral, still smiling from my work, he reached a hand out to me as he spoke, “Boy-” I shot him a wild glare “My name is Thanatos!  Stop calling me boy!”  The room hushed until only the clashing of steel and the swash of mud was all that could be heard.  The admiral slowly pulled back his hand, "Yes, well, Thanatos, I see much promise in you and I wish to see that skill grow and refine into something this kingdom can use.  Train with Ave here,” He gestured to the youngest admiral,  “and we can see how much promise is actually there."  I stopped for a moment, still shook from the blood that stained me, the sweat in my eyes and the mud that covered my clothing, I glanced up at him again "When do we start?"

The next few days were for resting after what I had done, my room was a mix of black, blue, and red; lights hung in every corner, my walls were black as the void and my ceiling was as blue as the night sky with lights scattered across it like stars.   I had a large central window next to my bed that overlooked the bustling city, my bed was a huge antique kings bed with crimson sheets that contrasted the room like a blood pool on dark concrete. I was dressed in my casual attire, black satin night pants, and a deep blue sweater gaped in the middle showing off my chest.  I stood from my bed a gracefully walked to the window, I saw merchants in their stands, selling different kinds of goods and foods; I saw soldiers walking down the street, citizens fawning and wishing them well as the strode pass on their routine patrols; there were children shouting and running, playing tag in the streets, and causing trouble for the merchants, I let out a quite chuckle at the sight of that.  But at the end of the pier, I couldn’t drag my eyes away, there was a girl there, maybe a little bit older than I, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I caught myself from falling out the open window, my breath was horse, I had to go meet her, but as I attempted to sneak out my room, the guards instantly caught me and sent me back in, with that I realized I wasn’t going to win this so I got back up on my bed and closed my eyes to go to sleep, I had training to do tomorrow and this girl wasn’t going to get in the way of that.  After a few hours I awoke to the youngest Admiral, from a few days ago, kicking at my bed. Once he saw my eyes open he began “Today we’re getting right to business, no messing around under my wing.  By the way, I never properly introduced myself; call me Avery, Admiral Avery.” Avery helped stand me up and looked me over, after giving a weary look he spoke again “I expect you to be up and ready everyday by six in the morning Thanatos.”  My eyes went wide, “Six?!  I’m barely asleep by six!” He just gave me a wild smile then beckoned me to follow him. As we left, the guards who previously gave me an unnerving growl every time they saw me, now bowed in respect to the Avery and I.  The hall way here had shiny golden-marble flooring, and ocean blue walls, guards waited at every door, the light glinting off their strong silver plate armor.  As we walked, Avery told me of the many battles he’s fought and of the hundreds of recruits he’s personally trained, one was named Jesse Duncan, he was a boy from a city in southern Icarus on the border of Ischyros; he lost his family from an attack by Daimones—The wild men of The Southern Kingdoms. On our way, we stopped by the kitchen, my stomach announced us before Avery could; the kitchen staffed turned towards us and the head chef gave us a big smile, “Ah lord Thanatos, I’ve got just the thing for that!” The head chef was an elven girl, far shorter than I, but had the same tan-skinned and dark haired, beauty.  The kitchen had many cooks and servants milling around, cleaning and preparing food for the meeting of the diplomats later that day.  There were more tapestries hanging on the walls—mother and father always loved art— along the back walls was the largest assortment of knives I have ever seen, they had enough to use each once and still last the next few year.  The floor was a pristine white marble colored with black ornate decorations and designs, and the walls and ceiling were blue and white checkered.  Large cookers lined the left wall, filling the palace with the most wondrous smells in the kingdom!  The Chef stepped forward and bowed to us, then leaned up and gave Avery and me a kiss on the cheek, lingering a little longer on me, then after presented us with an assortment of pastries and elven cakes.  My mouth watered as I grabbed a sugar cookie and took a bite out of it, slowly savoring the taste.  That got a giggle out of the little elven Chef.  I was about to say something, but Avery chimed in, “Thank you very much Chef Ellawen, but we just stopped for a quick snack for his lordship, we’ll be leaving now.”  With that Avery led me back into the hallway, rudely making me fumble my cookie.  We kept walking down the hallway, then down some stairs with some questionable decorations, at the base of the stairs we arrived at the palace grounds, soldiers were at the far left still mindlessly sparing with one another, “How long do these guys fight?” “Until one of them gives up, or can’t fight any longer.” I swallowed a lump in my throat after that, Avery led me to an empty dirt sparring circle, then began taking his armor off, I followed suit, and dressed in the Skotal leathers on the bench next to us—some still stained with blood—and got ready to fight.

The sun was going down by time we got finished, The air was damp from us and other soldiers sweating all day, my legs and back were drenched in mud by the end, sweat was pouring out of every part of my body, and my knuckles were bloodied a good bit.  I slumped off my fighting leathers then slid my boots and pants on, not bothering with a shirt.  After a moment of resting, Avery said “Thanatos, never before has any recruit, been able to keep up with me for an entire evening-” he paused to catch his breath with sweat beading down his forehead, “We’re going to be great friends, you and I.”  I gave him a dry smile then playfully kicked some mud on him.  Some other soldiers snickered at that, he gave me a wild glare and pushed me into the mud, it was on.  We wrestled in the mud for a few minutes longer, after we were covered head to toe in it; we called a truce then grabbed our stuff and made our way up the long flight of stairs again.  Servants swore as they saw the mess of muddy tracks we were making on our way to the royal wing bathhouse, Avery kept a smile on their face the entire time though. When we got to the showers, the Chef girl was just coming out; she was wearing nothing but a small bath robe to cover herself.  She mouthed the elven words for “Mitéra páno,” meaning Mother above.  She was monitoring us up and down, her eyes drifting a little longer on the mud across my abdomen, dried and molded, on my muscled body; even though Avery was in far better shape than I.  “Ellawen, you know the prince is off limits...” Avery almost sounded sad saying that, Ellawen pouted too, then made her way out the door, letting a finger slide across the hard part of my chest, then she was gone.  The showers was just as beautiful as the rest of the palace, the floors, walls, and ceilings were all pristine shining white and gold, across the floor was a large gold-incrusted insignia of Icarus.  They air was warm with steam and smoke from the hot water of previous peoples’ showers and sweet from the scent of the exotic shampoos.  We both took long showers, taking our time to get every bit of mud; we let the steam ease the pain in our muscles that were screaming from working all day. Afterwards, while I was drying off, I saw a note lying on my clothes from Avery I assumed:

  Dear Thanatos

I decided to head off to bed ahead of you, be prepared for more training tomorrow; we’ve got lots of work to do!  By the way, Ellawen’s room is on the next floor third door down the hall, she keeps a painting of Crotatia outside of it; it was her home before she came here.

           Yours Truly, Admiral Avery

I tucked the note on my pocket, a wry smile on my lips as I read it, and headed back to my room after going by Ellawen’s room and leaving her a gift.  As I opened my door, I noticed a small package laying on my nightstand, I decided to ignore it and flop into bed, I’d done enough for the day. The night sky seemed to drift into my room as I faded out of consciousness, starlight swallowing me whole, and then I was asleep.

I dreamed of the darkness that had been following me my entire life, I was alone on the center of a tiny island, the water was as black and blue as the night sky. . .it was the night sky. . .stars swirled in the abyss, little lights that were being consumed by the never ending assault of darkness, I could feel the ripples of power coming off the waves and it felt, embracing, like a mothers love... Just beyond the swirls of night, there was a incredible tsunami of fire and chaos; that same chaos that burned inside me and that I felt when I lost my temper. All of this was a representation of me, my fiery rage being held back by the calming love of the darkness, and alone in the middle to watch the battle, but never control it; was me... Suddenly the island was being sucked up by the abyss, water was pooling in on all sides of me, pulling me down into it; I fought as hard as I could possibly, but the power of it was overwhelming, it pulled me in until a was consumed by it...then everything was gone. I was alone in the abyss, at least I thought I was--after I calmed down I noticed a lady standing over me, and next to her was my new friend Avery, then were quickly speaking to one another and when they noticed me, the lady spoke, "Hello Thanatos, it is good to see you;" Tears began welling up in her eyes, "It has been so very long since I last saw you, and my how you've grown.."  I paused for a moment, who was this lady, and why did she seem to know me..  Before I could say something back to her, Avery cut in screaming at me "THANATOS THE KINGDOM NEEDS YOU TO WAKE UP!" I wanted to reply by darkness covered me again, before I disappeared I heard a woman scream too, "LORD PLEASE WE NEED YOU!"  and then I was envoloped, as if something had just yanked me from my dream, back into the real world.

The first thing I noticed was the smoke, then I saw Avery and Ellawen came into picture, blood was on Avery's face and clothing..  We were under attack...

#my first book #writing #book #books #fantasy #mythology #greek mythology #aspiring author #aspiring writer #action #adventure #thanatos #please read #criticism is needed #give me feedback

[aoriethetheif-blog]

3

"The temple is under attack by a red dracolich in the shadow realm. This dracolich is why the temple has never been returned to our realm. There is a High Priest that keeps the dragon away from the temple but as long as it threatens he cannot return the temple. So, I study dragon lore and search for spells that will help me get to the temple and destroy the dracolich." They discussed other things while they finished eating. Aorie was just passing the last bit of hers to Shima, when the door of the taproom was kicked violently open. In the door stood a bald dwarf with half his face and head covered in old burn scars. His bright blue goatee reached past his belt, and he glared at Aorie and Shima with fire in his green eye, the other had a milky film and was partially buried in the scar tissue. Draga followed the dwarfs glare to find the drow wearing a merry grin and the dwarf trying to smother a laugh. "Commander," Aorie called. "You are looking well this morning. Did you change your beard? I like it!" Shima almost repressed a snort. The Commander started towards them roaring, "Ye did this," he lifted his beard, "Ye damned troublesome half-drow. Ye've been a pain in me backside all yer damned life. Tell me one good reason I shouldn't just put an end yer endless pranks and run ye outa me city!" Shima had slid under the table; it heaved with her suppressed mirth. Draga and River tried to clear the table before something fell off and broke. Aorie stood and fearlessly met the enraged dwarf commander in the middle of the room. She picked up the end of his beard, rubbed it between her fingers and showed the blue tips of her dark fingers to the dwarf. "This is a comb in color. When have I ever combed your beard?" She asked with infuriating calm. "What's that got to do with it? Ye're a sneaky one," the captain roared. "Which is why you pay me enormous piles of gold to catch thieves for you," she replied dryly. "But does not explain how I dyed your beard. So, why do you think I had anything to do with this." "Where were ye last night? Did ye go to Dwarftown? And just how do ye know this is a comb in job done on me beard?" "Look around," Aorie said, rolling her eyes. "I live in a brothel. I do the hair of many of the...employees on my off days. Of course I know about hair stuff. That stuff in you're beard will wash out next time you take a bath. And I was on the wall last night, per your orders." She slipped into a good impersonation of the commander's brogue, "Humans ain't no good on the durned wall on moonless nights. Ye round up them as can see for the new moon. And be there yerself." "BATH! I have to take a BATH to fix this," he bellowed. "Baths make ye sick. And me armor will rust!" Shima's laughter filled the room. Draga and some of the other patrons joined her. And the commander's anger was redirected. He stomped over to the table and drug Shima out from under it. "What're ye laughing at ye damned unnatural dwarf?" River had taken refuge in the rafters, as Draga returned the rescued crockery to the twins, who stood behind the bar, enjoying the show. "Aren't you guys going to break this up?" Bardo smiled at him, "Our guard Commander is only happy when he is yelling. Those two are his favorite targets, and they seem to enjoy upsetting him. He's not going to do anything but yell. And our gossip mongers," he pointed with his chin at a table full of well dressed patrons, "will talk about this for weeks. He usually keeps his fits in Dwarftown or the barracks." "Dwarftown?" Draga asked. "There are a couple hundred dwarves in the Citadel. They have their own district in the city's warren of tunnels," Zaria answered. Shima was sputtering, "Captain Bluebeard, you seem to have lost your eyepatch. Would you like me to go find you a new one?" It was only then that Draga noticed Shima did not carry the typical dwarvish accent. "See," Bardo said to Draga, "They can't help but wind him up. They say he takes himself too seriously. He'll be renamed throughout the city by the end of the day. The rest of the guard will take up the joke and present him with soap and eyepatches for a month or more." "Then, he'll most likely keep the color." Zaria told him, "The Guarda need the laughter, and he knows it. They are the ones charged with keeping peace in the city. They have to deal with all the horrors some people do to others and not become horrors themselves. Its hard on them." "Ye're both fired!" The commander declared. And with that, he left, slamming the door. Bardo said, "Now those two will spend the next month or two gambling, and starting bar fights. And there will eventually be some huge robbery, or murder that the rest of the Garda can't figure out. And he'll come stomping in here to get them back on the job, because they really are some of his elite." He grinned. And called out, "I think he means it this time, Aorie." "He means it every time," Shima answered for her friend, still laughing. "You want me bouncing the rabble out tonight?" "How many times has he fired you," River asked. "This makes five," Aorie said still wearing that tiny half smile the seemed to be a permanent fixture on her face. She yawned. "I'm tired. You guys still want an escort up to the monastery?" She looked at Draga. "Elite?" He looked at Bardo. "What kind of elite soldier lives in a brothel and plays childish pranks on superior officers?" "We've lived in many places," Zaria told him. "So, I would say, with some certainty, all of them. Soldiers, garda, watch, or whatever the local name for them, usually spend most of their off duty time in brothels much less genteel than this one. And they all play pranks on each other. People who depend on each other in the way the Garda do become family, but since they would feel awkward with traditional familial shows of affection, they play pranks." "Ok," Draga said slowly. He looked to Aorie, "When do we go see Grand Master Castellen?" "Give us four hours," she told him. "Explore the city, and meet us here. I'll send word up to Grand Master Castellen so he'll be expecting us this afternoon." Chapter 2

Aorie was dressed in tan breeches and a bright yellow blouse that made her eyes seem gold. Shima had thrown a green tabard over her armor that made her eyes look like sea foam. She carried a large covered basket that Draga assumed held the strawberries that the twins had asked them to carry up to the monastery. "Grand Master Castellen is expecting us for the midday meal. Shall we?" Aorie said, gesturing with a sun hat that matched her blouse towards the door. They walked up a slight rise though blueberry fields that were just waking from their winter slumber to the monastery. River danced and played in the fields as if glad to be free of the city. "What is she doing?" Aorie asked. Draga smiled gently, watching his fey companion. "She is fey. Her life is closely tied to nature, specifically to rivers, but all things in nature call to her. She is putting her blessing on the fields and most likely playing with other fey that live here," Draga replied. And at Aorie's raised eyebrow continued. "Most fey use their glamour to remain unseen by 'the big folk' as they call us. But, they can see each other. River decided to travel with me for reasons she has never explained. She knows I won't let any of the other big folk bother her so feels safe using the glamour to make herself look like a halfling or gnome." The gates of the monastery were open. He could see that when they were closed they would show the symbol of Ilmater, pale hands bound with a red cord. Just inside the gate, they were greeted by a young accolite, "Miss Aorie, Miss Shima, who have you brought to us today?" "A priest of Denier, interested in the library," Shima answered. "Brought some strawberries from the Widow in thanks for helping out our girls this morning, too." The lad grinned, "I'll make sure most of them get to the temple." "Where is Brother Abbott?" Aorie asked. "He took over the Grand Master's dining room this morning. I don't know what he is preparing but it smells wonderful. May I join you?" he answered. "Not today, Brother Joist. Maybe next time," Aorie sounded strange. There was a slight nervousness to her voice. When the boy had gone, Draga asked, "Joist is some carpentry thing, isn't it?" That got a laugh from Aorie, who had not said much since leaving the inn. He did not know her well, but she liked to talk, he knew. Her silence worried him. "His brother's names are Dowel and Mantel. Their father was a carpenter," her tone was the same dry amused one she had used when talking of her salary, "and wanted his boys to take up the trade. I think the oldest, Dowel, will. The boys came here when a fever took their parents," her tone was now matter of fact, as if this was were all the orphans came. And when he thought about it, he'd seen very few beggar children when he and River had explored part of the city. "Are there many orphans here?" Draga asked. "Ilmater loves children," Shima answered. "So, the Garda brings the kids that have nowhere else to go here. At least half the people in the Citadel have lived here or have friends who have." They continued across the courtyard to what looked to be an oversized barracks building. Shima pointing out different buildings and their purpose and greeting friends as they went. Aorie had gone silent again. Inside the barracks, they went up a stair on the right, and down a hall when they heard a weird noise, sluup-pop, sluup-pop. Aorie signaled to Draga to stay put, she had a dagger in her hand. Draga never saw where she had been keeping it. She moved around a bend in the wide hallway, Shima next to her with what looked like a cut down halbard, axe on one side balanced by a hammer head on the other. They looked up. Aorie relaxed, the dagger vanished and she sounded disgusted when she said, "What in nine hells are you doing here, gnome?" She held up a hand. "No, I really don't want to know. Do the Brothers know you are in the Monastery?"

#drow #dnd #half-dragon