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crywreniandragonborn:

A ball. The audacity of the invitation as it sat on Vaná’s desk had overwhelmed him, his knuckles turning as white as the invitation itself as he had watched her, her lips moving, his eyes glued to the contrast of ink on a page. He had failed and they had taken him, and now they wished to put it on parade. The ride to the palace had been a rainy one, to say the least, his mood foul, his mind focused on one thing alone.

It wasn’t until they stepped foot in the palace that thunder well and truly rolled, the doldrums of war, lightning cracking the sky in two as Aneirin took in the finery of the room, the walls, the food, the guests. A scorching rage curled in his stomach, sour like bile rising. If Tàm tried to speak to him, he did not hear it ( a bitterness he can’t yet seem to let go ), giving his friend the slip not long before midnight. Ever light on his feet, slipping through a drunken crowd would not be much of a challenge.

Finding the entrance to the dungeons themselves proved to be more so, Aneirin ducking in and out of corridors, tailing various guards until he found a gate, attended by one man alone, with steps leading down into the cornucopia of halls and various cells. He clutched Aaellyon close too his chest, the warmth of the stone steeling him for what may come.

Waiting for the opportune moment to strike, Eirin watches, head turned ‘round a corner, waits as a pair of men pass before falling into step with them, effectively bringing him close enough for his eyes to burn, molten gold in the candlelight, blazing fire as they pass, “ Swefe nu. ”

The responding snore was enough indication to fall away from the crowd, footfalls light as he made his way back to the gate, crouched, lips nearly brushing metal as his fingertips did the same, whispering, “ Aliese, ” just before there’s a click, the door swinging open slowly, the cavernous staircase ominous before him. He presses forward, white stone heavy on his chest, beneath the cloth of his tunic.

Sticking to the shadows, he chases firelight, the torches lit every so often as stone stretches endlessly before him, a passing patrol here or there, mostly drunk on the night’s festivities, eyes glazed, unseeing as a shadow follows them. He hears sneers as he turns a final corner, and then silence.

And then breathing, rough, ragged, and his steps quicken, carrying him to the one thing that’s been consuming him since that quest gone wrong, since he failed, since he watched as his friend fell.

He steps into the light. He steps into the light and thunder resounds throughout the sky with such fierce force that he can feel it in the bowels of the castle, his eyes falling on the state of his friend, the bile in his throat rising until he very well feels as though he may be sick. Aneirin rushes to him, long legs carrying him there in two long strides, spindly fingers coming up to clasp the bars as he chokes, desperate relief, deep-seated rage, “ Arden. ”

“Arden.”

The familiar voice roused Arden from his stupor, though for a long moment, he could not place it. His eyes, beginning to glass over from the fever, scanned the room, slowly as he processed the voice and why it was so familiar. It wasn’t until he saw Eirin, however, that he he made the connection. But this couldn’t be Eirin, could it? He’d seen glimpses of the other warden several times, all of them phantoms comforting him through the long, sleepless nights.

“Eirin-” he rasped, soft and confused. “It- it can’t be you-” His voice fails him, and he can feel a familiar burning in his eyes as tears begin to well up. “C- can’t be.”

Arden moved to reach for the other man, to make sure that he was real, that he was there, but only the rattle of chains and a painful tug at his wrists answers him. “Eirin-” he sobbed, sagging against his restraints. “Eirin.”

#eirin #eirin004 #netherwar: event #netherwar: a royal invite #//my poor bb boy ;w;

{ open -- 2/3 spots filled }

The guards left Arden chained up as usual, leaving him alone in the dark and cold and damp. He shivered, arching his back to keep the still-fresh gashes from pressing too close to the rough stone of the wall. He knew he was falling ill - clued in not only by the number and severity of his wounds paired with the damp and cold, but also the way his body swung from too hot to too cold with alarming regularity.

Arden breathed, resting his chin against his chest, watching the tattered, bloodstained remains of his shirt move as his chest rose and fell. He closed his eyes.

Somewhere, in the distance, thunder began to rumble.

#netherwar: starter #netherwar: event #netherwar: a royal invite #// -side eyes emoji-

What day is it? How long have I been here?

Did Eirin get away? Did Tàm?

Do the Wardens know?

The all-too-familiar clanging of the door leading out of the dungeons startled Arden out of his thoughts. The same thoughts he’d been thinking over since he first woke up, wrists chained to the wall above his head, a little too tight. He pressed his head back against the stone wall, pressing his lips into a thin line to fight against the rising panic clawing its way up his throat and spine. He knew what it meant when someone opened the door. The bruises - both fading and new - and cuts littering his body never ceased to remind him what it meant.

The door to his cell rattled open, and guards - faceless as always behind their helmets - made quick work of unchaining his wrists and pulling him upright before shackling them behind his back. Arden had tried fighting them, once. The right side of his chest still flared with pain when he breathed, reminding him of the cost. Now, he just hung limp in their arms, praying they were in a good mood today.

As always, they dragged him to the same windowless room, chaining his wrists to a ring hanging from the ceiling. Absently, amidst the pounding of his heart in his ears, Arden registered the raw skin peeking out from under the metal cuffs. He wondered how long it would take for the cuffs to make him bleed.

The guards stepped away from him, leaving him to sag against the chains pulling him upright. The door opened, admitting the person Arden thought he’d never see down here.

The High King.

#netherwar: event #netherwar: a royal invite #self #self001 #torture tw #abuse tw #//if i have missed any triggers please let me know!!

crywreniandragonborn:

nonbclicvcr:

The first thing Tàm reached for as he turned to flee was not his dagger, nor was it his satchel. He reached for Eirin, grasping his wrist and holding it tight to pull the other man along. He would not let Eirin fall - he’d come too far to lose his best friend to Highwing guards in the sewers, of all places. “C’mon, Eirin,” he grunted, eyes trained on the path ahead. “I’ve got you, I won’t let you fall.”

“ Arden – ” he gasps on the name, fingers splayed wide, reaching behind as he’s pulled forward ever faster, blue eyes wide ; frightened as his feet spur him on, long legs carrying him swiftly to safety, grip on Tàm’s wrist tight ; clinging, an anchor in the the narrowed tunnels as Aaellyon was jostled, white light flickering, erratic, inconstant.

In desperation, Aneirin’s eyes flash gold, fingers now splayed wide with purpose as he shouts, “ Brimstréam ! ” sending jet streams shooting out at the patrol from the water in an effort to slow them. In an effort to help the three boys escape: together, alive, and free.

“Eirin-” Arden returned the call, forgoing reaching for the other male’s hand in favor of focusing on running. “I’m he-” Eirin’s spell cut him off, and his eyes widened as water shot out at the men behind them, sending some of the guards clattering to the floor.

It was then, in that split second of shock, that Arden tripped up, feet slipping out from under him as the pavement grew too slippery. “Eirin!” he screamed, pain jolting up his arms as he caught himself. He tried to stand, to push himself to his feet to catch up to the other wardens, but a heavy weight landed on his back, knocking the air out of him and driving him back to the ground.

Arden screamed, trying to twist, to turn onto his back so he could fight the guards off, but his arms were pulled back - wrenched and twisted until the pain in his shoulders grew too much to bear, and he fell still. Even so, he lashed out, kicking and tripping up the men who attempted to clamber past him and his captor to go after Eirin and Tàm, yelling wordlessly the entire time. A sharp blow to the side of his head stunned him, and he slumped in his captor’s grasp with a gasp of pain.

Run, Arden thought, vision fading to blackness.

#eirin #eirin003 #tam #tam001 #quest: a lost pet

crywreniandragonborn:

nonbclicvcr:

Tàm pouted when Eirin gently touched his wrist, trying to guide his dagger back to his sheath. “I’m just trying to protect myself if the lion comes at me,” he retorted, voice barely a hiss in the quiet air of the sewers. After all, Eirin had said it sounded skittish. “Those things have claws, Eirin. Claws.” He knew his friend was exceptionally talented at calming down animals, but a lion? All he knew was that he wasn’t about to let the animal hurt Eirin, no matter whose it was.

He was about to answer Arden’s question, when a flash of movement caught his eye. “There!” he hissed, grabbing at his companions’ sleeves and tugging them down the corridor. “I saw the tail!” Tàm broke into a run, chasing the flashes of furred movement taunting him up ahead, only barely heeding the way his feet fell on the stone underneath.

There’s a sort of rush, blood moving swiftly from head to toe as he stalks forward at first, before breaking into a run, feet as fast as ever, carrying Aaellyon to light their way in the darkness as the three of them dash through the sewers in hot pursuit of their feline friend, always two steps behind. “ We’re going to – ”

But he skids to a stop, grabbing onto the others as he hears the lion roar, undoubtably frightened, though of what he knows not. And in the stillness of the air, Aaellyon casts their shadows like ink spilt on yellowed pages, firelight from around the corner illuminating the walls of the tunnels. None of them carried a torch. Eirin’s breath hitches, realization dawning too late, turning, grip of his knuckles white as he clasps Arden’s shirt, pulling.

–– “ Stop ! ”

It pierces through the darkness like the rustle and clipped clangs of moving armor as the patrol approaches, choppy water evidence of their hurried steps. Clearly they’d been caught. “ Run ! ” Eirin shouts, voice roaring over the lion’s own.

The roar of the lion was enough to make Arden’s blood run cold, but the unfamiliar voice ordering them to halt turned his blood to ice in his veins. He barely felt Eirin pulling at his shirt, turning on his heel to flee back the way they came - they were wanted men. “Shit-” he swore, shoving his sword back into its sheath so he could run unencumbered. “We need to get out!” he cried, reaching out to snag Tàm’s arm to pull him along.

His breath burned in his chest as they ran, skidding over wet pavement as he whipped around a corner. The sound of armor and hurried steps drew closer, prompting the warrior to shove Eirin and Tàm ahead of him. Arden could - and would - buy the others time if it came to it. For now, though, they had to run.

#eirin #eirin003 #tam #tam001 #quest: a lost pet

crywreniandragonborn:

nonbclicvcr:

Tàm raised an eyebrow as Eirin continued to tease Arden, before shaking his head. “Trust me-” he added, eyes shifting between his partners and the corridor ahead of them, “-you’ll notice a lion. Especially down here.” He shifted to let Eirin pass, only to barely stifle a squawk at the other ranger’s teasing. “I am not,” Tàm insisted, lips pressing together in a petulant pout before he turned to follow Arden’s gaze.

He moved down the second corridor, slowly unsheathing his dagger and holding it ahead of himself in case anything jumped out at them from the darkness. “What did you-” he started to ask, in the midst of turning to look back at Arden when a splash further down caught his attention. “This way,” he hissed, gesturing for the others to follow him as he took off.

The sound of the splash echoes in the Druid boy’s ears as it bounces off the walls of the corridor and back to them. He takes off at a run, feet falling lightly, long limbs reaching to slow his friend once he’s caught up, hand grasping his shoulder. “ Sounds skittish, ” he notes, pointedly, long strides taking him ahead to lead the pack once more, gentling Tàm’s arm to lower his dagger as he passes. “ I recommend a less abrasive approach, ” a reproach, even to his own ears.

They can’t be more than halfway down the corridor when Eirin stops altogether, a hand shooting out to still his companions. “ Tàm, ” he whispers, peeking around the corner into yet another alcove. “ Can you feel the footsteps in the water ? ”

The rangers take off ahead of Arden, leading the way down the corridor towards the second splash. He followed after Eirin, albeit a little slower - he didn’t have the other man’s ability to run and yet still keep his footsteps light and quiet. Instead, he shuffled his feet, eventually catching up to the others as Eirin threw out a hand to stop them. “What footsteps?” he asked quietly, brows furrowed as he glanced at the water. Was this another ranger thing?

His hand drifted towards the hilt of his sword as he glanced around, waiting for another sound to direct them. “Eirin?” he asked, looking towards the other warden with a slight tilt to his head. “What- what does a lion look like?”

#eirin #eirin003 #tam #tam001 #quest: a lost pet

crywreniandragonborn:

nonbclicvcr:

As soon as they entered the sewers, Tàm’s heartbeat picked up, shoulders drawing into a tense line. His hand drifted to the dagger sheathed at his hip, and for a long moment, he didn’t answer Arden’s questions. He was too busy listening, trying to gauge what was normal and what was not normal for the sewers. “Listen for splashing,” he started, voice low as to not draw attention. “Any growling, huffing, that sort of thing.”

His free hand tapped at Eirin’s wrist, before he moved down the corridor to their right. “Might as well try this way first,” he murmured, glancing back through the darkness at his friend. “Ready?”

The tap at his wrist is enough to draw his eyes from the blonde, the blue of them caught on Tàm’s lips as he speaks, pushes forward. Eirin simply hums, keeping pace as he reaches to pull Aaellyon from its home around his neck, the white stone piercing through the darkness. “ I think a lion will be quite hard to miss, farmboy, ” he shoots back, an easy smile spreading over the pink of his lips like honeysuckle, the blue of his eyes illuminated by the light of the stone.

Turning to forge ahead, here’s a carefree skip in his step as he bounces forward on the pads of his toes, boots as light as ever, dipping in to murmur in his childhood friend’s ear as he passes, a quiet, teasing, “ Dumber. ”

The light spilling from Eirin’s stone is enough to blind Arden for a long moment, forcing him to turn his eyes to the ground until the spots dancing in his eyes fade away. And while the smile spreading across the other’s face calls forth yet another wave of pink to his cheeks, Arden couldn’t help but shrink a little at the other’s farmboy comment. “It’s just- I’ve never seen one before. I don’t know what they look like,” he added, a furrow deepening between his brows.

He followed the other two, quieter now, trying to listen for the noises Tàm had mentioned, as well as keep an eye out. A splash down a branched corridor caught his attention, and he reached out, stopping in his tracks. “There,” he breathed, looking off down the darkened corridor to his right. “I heard something.”

#eirin #eirin003 #tam #tam001 #quest: a lost pet

crywreniandragonborn:

nonbclicvcr:

“If you open your mouth and tell me I’m Dumb or Dumber, I’ll tackle you off that horse of yours, Eirin,” Tàm threatened, though - as usual - it lacked any sort of heat behind it. He couldn’t bring himself to follow through with his threats when it came to the druid, and Eirin knew it. His shoulders tensed as they passed through the gates into the city, though he still tried to keep an outwardly nonchalant appearance otherwise. He couldn’t afford to give them away and risk Eirin being chained up again.

Tàm turned his horse down a smaller street with a click of his tongue, eyes narrowing. “The letter said we could find the entrance somewhere around here,” he mused, shifting into business mode. The faster they found this lion and returned it home, the faster they could get the hell out of here. “C’mon, Dumbest,” he teased, glancing back over his shoulder at his best friend and the blond trailing behind him with a soft, fond smile.

The entrance sat a few yards further down the street, nondescript save for a small inscription set in the stone at the base of the doorway. Tàm reined his horse in and dismounted, tying her to a nearby post with another click of his tongue and a soft, wordless hum. “Ready, you two?” he asked, gesturing for one of them to go first.

Pulling on the leather straps in hand, coaxing Carwyn to be still, Aneirin swings a leg over to dismount from his saddle, footfalls landing lightly as dust billows from the impact. Tying his gelding’s reins beside Tàm’s, he makes for the entrance, long strides carrying him quickly and quietly. There’s a moment where he hesitates, eyes darting for possible danger as he stands before the grate ; before he stops, focus falling fully on the task at hand.

“ Tóspringe, ” the spell is murmured, muffled by his hands so as not to draw too much attention as the grate is pushed from the wall, hinges breaking. With one last furtive look to his right, he turns to his left, giving his companions an undeniable cheesy ( self-satisfied ) grin, before stepping down into the sewers.

Arden followed the two rangers in dismounting, taking a quick moment to adjust the wrappings on his hands before moving to the entrance of the sewers with them. The question of how, exactly, they were to get into the sewers halted at the tip of his tongue as Eirin whispered a word - too quiet, too muffled for Arden to catch, let alone understand - and the grate opened before them. Thrown by the ranger’s cheesy grin, the first thing out of Arden’s mouth was, “Handy.” Handy? Nice, he thought, pulling a face as soon as Eirin’s and Tàm’s backs were turned.

He blushed a deep red as he followed Eirin into the sewers, wrinkling his nose against the smell. “What clues are we looking for?” he asked, peering into the darkness. “How do we track a lion down here?”

#eirin #eirin003 #tam #tam001 #quest: a lost pet

crywreniandragonborn:

nonbclicvcr:

{ @crywreniandragonborn }

{ @ardenwccd }

“Remind me again why we’re riding into Highwing, Eirin?” Tàm grumbled, keeping his horse to a relatively slow and steady pace as the three wardens passed through the large western gate into the city. His shoulders were tense, drawn into a stiff, straight line, though he tried to be as unobtrusive as possible when glancing around to look at the townspeople as they passed by. He leaned towards the dark-haired man, eyes narrowing. “You do realize we’re wanted men, now? Being Wardens and all?” he hissed, voice pitched so only the other man could hear it.

“And yet there’s three of us just sauntering into the city, just- just handing ourselves over on a silver platter. This is stupid, Eirin. Idiotic.” He gestured at the third member of their party - Eirin’s newest friend, apparently - and continued to grumble. “This is just asking to get killed. Or exiled. Or- or arrested. Or any combination of the three.”

Tàm rubbed at his face, groaning. “And all this for a stupid lost pet lion. I’m telling you now, mate, I’m not dying for a damned lion.”

“ And what am I ? Chopped liver ? ” he chides, body fluid as he rocks with the clipped steps of the beast beneath him, making his weight as easy on his companion as possible. Ever since Gonzalo had gifted him the lanky, knobby-kneed gelding, Aneirin found he’d grown rather fond of him ; their bond evident even in the smallest ways, as Eirin’s long, spindly fingers idly scratched at the rough hair of the horse’s neck, the responding chuffs rather approving.

He hums, paying no mind to his friend’s usual cynical prattle, “ It’s a simple task. We get in, I locate and sweet-talk our feline friend, we get out. Simple as that. ” His grin is undeniably cheeky as he looks to the two men riding with him, “ I’m only bringing Dumb and Dumber along for my own amusement. It’s a long ride to Highwing. ”

Arden loosened his grip on the reins to his own horse as Tàm and Eirin bantered back and forth, eyes focused on the strips of supple leather he’d wrapped around his hands following the Rifting. His mind was a million miles away, as it tended to be nowadays, turning the runes burned into his skin over and over again. Trying to make sense of them.

The change in sound as his horse’s hooves switched from soft thuds in the grass to the echoing clatter against stone paving snapped him back to the present, just in time to hear Eirin’s comment about dumb and dumber. “Who’s Dumb, and who’s Dumber?” he asked, a light blush painting the apples of his cheeks at the cheeky smile. “And- uhm. How do you suggest locating the lion?” Arden couldn’t lie, the thought of encountering a probably-frantic lion in the close confines of the sewer made him nervous. Even with the comforting presence of a druid ranger.

#tam #tam001 #eirin #eirin003 #quest: a lost pet

roswitha-unroh:

warriorcasalis

The walk towards the rift was slow and silent, moving slowly around paths and burning buildings to remain covered and secure while also ushering the lucky few that crossed their path towards the woods. Most people they found were dead, burnt or bitten by those beasts and Gonzalo looked away every time. He should’ve been more diligent, more careful, he told himself but there was nothing they could’ve done. Nothing could’ve prepared them for it.

Not too long after they found themselves by the front of the tavern, one of the few buildings that seemed damaged but not destroyed. It brought Gonzalo some kind of joy, knowing not everything was lost. At least after this was over, they could drink the sorrows away. He wasn’t a big drinker, but for this? He might make an exception.

Arden’s question almost startled a laugh out of him, but Gonzalo remained strong and calm as he was taught. How could he know? People always looked up to him for answers but how could he be a reference when none of them had ever seen anything like this? “I don’t think it’s magic per se, Arden,” he answered instead. “Leave it be for now, just keep the pain at bay with what I taught you and we’ll figure it out once we meet the others at the rift.”

They were so close… he could see the rift in the middle of the town’s square surrounded by guarding people and they were only a few buildings away. Gonzalo looked over a corner, and his eyes widened at the sight. A netherspawn, one of those creatures, standing still as it looked into one of the green orbs Roswitha had described. He hissed at it, angry, and Gonzalo turned to the girl and her bear.

“If it’s a portal, that means that pushing the beasts into them might clear the path to the rift. It’s either that, or they’ll go right through. At least we have to try,” he said, a plan already forming in his head.

Roswitha gave him a tight-lipped nod. She could feel the panic bubbling up once more at the thought of fighting those beasts again. But now was not the time to panic, not when they were so close to the end. The Rift rippled above them, the sickly green light even stronger here than before and tainting everything with an unnatural hue. Roswitha looked across the remains of the square that was just as infested with netherspawn as the street they had come from, and shuddered. At least the netherspawn prowling among the strange orbs here were smaller than the one Gonzalo and her had barely managed to kill earlier.

She took a deep breath to steel herself. The time for caution was over. If they were to get Arden to the Rift so he could seal it, they would need to forge a path through the netherspawn, avoiding the strange orbs as they went. At Gonzalo’s signal, Roswitha began shooting arrows across the square with deadly accuracy. If she couldn’t get a clear shot to the creatures’ vitals she incapacitated them with an arrow to their limbs. Whatever she could do to help Birgir and the warriors clear a path through the square. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the netherspawn get knocked into one of the orbs and vanish immediately. So they were indeed a portal like Gonzalo theorized. With renewed zeal Roswitha notched and fired her arrows. They wouldn’t have to kill the creatures if they could manage to knock them into the orbs first.

A sharp pain shot up her leg and Roswitha stumbled, looking down with a gasp. There was no blood that she could see, no wound. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch as she realized it wasn’t her leg that was in pain. It was Birgir’s. She saw him in the corner of the square roaring as a netherspawn tore up his leg.

“Birgir!” she gave a blood-curdling scream as she ran to close the distance between her bear and her. She dove between the creature and her bear and fired an arrow directly into the netherspawn’s throat. It gave a strangled cry, lashing out in a final attempt to finish Birgir off but it only managed to score a gash along Roswitha’s arm. She howled in rage, stomping on the dying creature’s head with all her anger until in caved in with a sickening crunch. Panting and clutching her bleeding arm she dropped next to his mauled hind leg. As she stared at the damage she could feel tears pricking her eyes and growled in frustration, angrily wiping them away. Her lack of healing magic already made her useless. She wouldn’t let herself become a sobbing mess as well. She crawled over to the bear’s head, wincing as she held it up.

“Birgir! Birgir look at me!” she commanded, giving him a slight shake, “You’re safe now, you’re going to be alright. I promise.” He simply whined, the pain blinding any coherent words he was trying to communicate. She gently set his head down and went back to his leg. Taking the belt off of her quiver, she made a makeshift tourniquet. It’d have to do until she could find a more capable healer than her. If she could find one in time.

Frantically looking around, she saw Arden and Gonzalo across the square and heading towards the Rift. Good. she thought. At least they would soon stop anymore netherspawn from entering this world.

The closer the ragtag group drew to the Rift in the town square, the hotter Arden’s hands burned. The deeper the flames reached. He fought the pain, dragging in breath after breath with each step, forcing himself to step over the charred bodies of dead and the ruined skeletons of buildings, but there was one thing he could not fight.

With each step, the Rift called to him. Tugged him in like a fish on a line, drawing his focus until it was all he could think about. Through the flames and agony licking their ways up his arms, the Rift called to him in ways he’d never be able to describe later. Wordless, haunting cries drifted to him, distracting him from the monsters looming about him. From the dead and the dying. From even the warrior at his side, the man he’d come to think of as a friend as well as a mentor.

He didn’t hear Roswitha’s initial scream, nor her furious cry. He didn’t hear Birgir’s roars of pain. He didn’t hear the screeching of the monsters still attacking the townspeople - everything was distant to him. The world was muffled, silent save for the drumming of his heart against his ribs. Only one thing mattered now.

Closing the Rift.

Arden stepped closer and closer, managing to avoid stepping on bodies or chunks of wood and stone without looking, eyes locked in on the swirling green light of the Rift. His focus narrowed, vision tunneling until all he saw was green. Until all he saw was the Rift.

He raised a hand, driven purely by instinct, the runes glowing ever brighter - pure gold against the sickly green - and breathed out.

Golden light spilled from his hand, impacting the heart of the Rift and driving the breath from Arden’s lungs. Close, he cried, railing against the insidious, whispering cries from the other side. You’ve done enough today.

Close.

The light streaming from his hand pulsed, stronger, brighter, as a wordless, strained cry spilled from his lips.

Close.

#lalo #lalo002 #ros #ros001 #netherwar: omens in the skies #plot: omens in the skies

#audio #//too in love with this song

vanariel:

The young warrior’s polite curiousity made Vaná smile. Although the chance that Arden’s Cairius was the same legendary warrior from Highwing was rather slim, Vaná could not brush off the feeling that there was something she was missing. She glanced at Arden from the corner of her eye. Although he was nervously fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, there was a noble strength in his features. Under Gonzalo’s watch, the boy could grow into a formidable man; strong but kind. The type of heroes Eldris needed to remember, and the type of heroes the Wardens desperately needed to gain.

“It is a mystery but my mentors were close with him. The Citadel of Light’s leaders are always in close counsel with the monarchy’s trusted advisors and warriors.” She paused to consider his words and pulled a long strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I think only something very important could have dragged him away from his duties in Highwing. Something that outweighed the importance of his duty to Highwing. He was a man of nobility and loyalty; it must have been something monumental.”

Their conversation made her oddly worried and her brow furrowed ever so slightly in thought. There was something which wasn’t adding up in the details but she would have to investigate into the matter later.

Vaná watched Arden gather his strength and punch through the trapdoor in a single motion. She beamed at the other as she joined his side to peer down into the gloomy, dirtied hole. “That was well done, Arden,” she patted him warmly on the arm and started to chuckle, “it will not be long until you can bend swords, destroy houses and crush stone with your bare hands. Warriors of the Arms Guild are truly formidable.”

Not wanting to waste any time, Vaná leapt downwards into the tunnel. Her traveling boots landed in dust, dirt and grime but it was not the worst she had leapt into on an adventuring mission. She stepped forward and created a ball of warm light; the tunnel’s features quickly flared to life and Vaná scanned their surroundings with a calculating gaze. “I can taste foul magic,” she cautioned Arden in a hushed tone and her features consorted into a look of disgust as she attempted to ignore the remnants of evil spells. “It is old, however, so we will have to travel further into the tunnels. I will follow your lead, Arden; and do not worry, the Light will protect you.”

She flashed him a confident smile and created a small, glimmering barrier which enveloped Arden in a cocoon of light. It gradually faded into only a dim shimmer but its warmth still lingered there, ready to protect the warrior from harm.

Arden wrinkled his nose, tilting his head in thought as Vaná continued to describe the Cairius he knew. While the man sounded similar, she was using words he couldn’t see anyone using for his guardian. Instead of calling him loyal and honorable, Arden would’ve just called him stubborn. After all, no amount of pleading or begging had convinced Cairius to let him visit the village at all, let alone spend time with any of the local boys.

Vaná’s praise at his job breaking through the trapdoor brought a small smile to his face, and he nodded. “I don’t know if I really want to destroy homes, though,” he commented, following her into the tunnel.

The mention of foul magic set his nerves on edge, and he reached for his sword. He wouldn’t unsheathe it without Vaná’s command, but he was nervous, and it didn’t hurt to be ready. “My lead?” he asked, eyes wide, startled. “I- I don’t know where I’m going, I-” he paused, chewing at his lower lip. “Alright,” he conceded, taking a deep breath and heading on.

He almost stopped to look at the light enveloping him, but he kept moving, not wanting to appear easily distracted in front of the Wardens’ leader. “What am I looking for?”

#vana #vana001 #quest: blood cult

i get up in the morning to the beat of the drum i get up to this f e e l i n g keeps me on the run i get up in the morning put my d r e a m s away i get up, i get up, i get up a g a i n

#mirror #//thank u bo!!!

roswitha-unroh:

warriorcasalis

Gonzalo allowed the party just one last moment to breathe, to release the tension of Arden’s pain, Roswitha’s adrenalin in fight and his own worries over the young boy and the girl protecting them. He needed to keep them safe, to make sure they were alright and reached the rift in one piece but the cracking of burning wood and the screams of innocents, people dying because they weren’t doing their only job, because the same wardens that swore to protect them were scattered and most likely dead, made him doubt his own ability to do so.

At the mention of the others, Gonzalo closed his eyes as if he was physically pained. He could still feel Vaná in his arms, her lips against his. A moment that could be a first but also a last if she didn’t survive the blast. No, that couldn’t be the end of it. The Divine would protect her as she had protected him. “We’ll find them, Arden. They’re strong, and I’m sure they’re alive. We need to hurry, we’ve lost too much time already and the rift being open only means more netherspawn and more threats to everyone.”

“We’ll continue through this alley. The rift seems to be in the middle of the town’s square, where the bonfires were, so we’ll go through here and cut after the tavern. It’s not too far away,” he nodded, turning to Roswitha to approve of her plan. He stood there for a moment, frowning as he though of her words and Arden’s question. He has never seen anything like what Roswitha described, an orb that could chase those monsters away, but it suddenly made sense. “Magic,” he answered. “Only magic could bring them to this world, and only magic, like those runes you have now, can take them back. I’m not an expert, but it makes sense that they won’t like to go back through he same door they came in.” It was strange to reason around magic, and once again he wished someone more knowledgable could help them, but that was all he could think of. “Lets keep moving, we have to hurry.”

Roswitha inhaled sharply at the young warrior’s inquiry. If any of the mangled and chewed up bodies she had seen belonged to any one of the Wardens then there was little help for them. But no. The Wardens were all skilled individuals. She took a shaky breath, trying to quell her rising panic, then said, “If any of them are still alive, then they’ll surely heading for the Rift as well.” It was after all, the very reason this group had been formed.

Gonzalo’s explanation about the strange orbs made sense, but it wasn’t as if Roswitha could argue against him either. She knew all manner of plants and beasts, but she was out of her depth when it came to magic, and even more so when it came to the sickly and strange nether-magic that now permeated the town. However, she supposed if she came from a world that could create such twisted creatures as the netherspawn, she wouldn’t want to return either.

She gave a quick nod, then turned to Birgir. She gave a low whistle to get his attention, then motioned him to join them. The large bear lumbered over, still doing his best at being stealthy. All good? he asked, looking between the others. Roswitha gave him a nod, absentmindedly rubbing his ear as she spoke, “We’re going to follow the alleyways to get to the town square.” Birgir grunted in understanding and took up the rear to the party as they left their alcove, Gonzalo leading the way. As they carefully stepped around the debris littering the alleys, she glanced around at the walls, a frown forming on her face. While they were lucky to have found shelter in a fairly wide alley, not all were built with bears in mind.

“Birgir,” she lowered her voice to an urgent whisper, not wanting to bother the warriors walking ahead of them with her concern, “If for any reason we get separated. If you can’t fit through a path or a wall collapses or… I want you to retrace your steps. Come back here immediately. Do not try to follow me.” She stared him down as the bear rumbled at her. You need me, he huffed, bumping his nose against her poorly healed leg. She hissed as pain shot up from the leg. The swelling and bruising from the fall had almost entirely masked the pain and stiffness that normally followed her every step.

She was about to argue when their disagreement came to an abrupt end as the party slowed in front of the tavern, scorched bodies and fallen timbers scattered all over the area.

Nausea swelled in Arden’s stomach as he stared at his hands, trying to understand what was happening to him. The patterns - the runes - spread across his palms and the backs of his hands matched those he’d seen in his nightmares exactly. The nightmares where he’d seen his father and his mother die, over and over and over again. Was this what his dreams were trying to tell him? What did it mean to close the rift? Would it hurt anyone? Would it hurt him? He’d always felt larger than the farm Cairius had kept him on, but if this was what that meant, Arden couldn’t help wishing for his simple life on the farm again.

But he was a warrior now. He was a Warden. He had responsibilities.

So he steadied himself, steeling himself for what he knew would be a rough journey to the rift, and nodded. “Let’s go, then,” he said, voice soft to try and disguise the shakiness and the fear. He was a warrior now, he couldn’t afford to show any fear.

Arden followed Gonzalo, glancing back occasionally to check on Roswitha and make sure they weren’t being followed. And when they reached the tavern, and the field of destruction there, he swallowed. “Oh, Divine-” he gasped, stomach sinking to his feet. There were so many dead, so much destruction. The runes on his hands tingled, starting to burn once more. “How do I- I’ve never done any magic before, how do I stop this?” he hissed, looking to Gonzalo once more.

#lalo #lalo002 #ros #ros001 #netherwar: omens in the skies #plot: omens in the skies

roswitha-unroh:

warriorcasalis

“Yes, you can! Concentrate, Arden,” Gonzalo urged, the energy flowing through his body and back down to the earth as he kept it there, waiting for his young apprentice to take it. It was a shame that this was how the boy would go through such an important stage of his training, but there was no other choice. Whatever those runes were, they were clearly causing him pain and they couldn’t let them paralyze him for the sake of formalities. Dorn would probably agree that rushing through the boy’s training was necessary this time.

He could see Roswitha and Birgir close to them, protecting the entrance to the alley that led to the city. His body shook uncomfortably; Gonzalo was used to being the protector, the one who put his life on the line to keep others safe and asking someone else to be in his place pained him. He knew how it felt to face fear and smile at it, go through the worst with eyes closed and being willing to give up his own life for others, but he would never ask anyone else to do it for him. Roswitha was brave, and if they got out of this, Gonzalo would have to thank her for her friendship and loyalty.

The screams alerted Gonzalo that something was wrong, that they were in danger and his hands tightened over Arden’s, urging him to trust him and the energies around them so he could stop the pain. They needed to move on quickly, continue on their way to the rift so they could close it and save Miwor Town. Otherwise, they were all as good as dead. Roswitha’s arrows flew across the alley, probably hitting every target perfectly and if they weren’t in such a situation, Gonzalo would smile at being so lucky to share his place in the Wardens with someone as talented as her, but her expression changed from one of practiced concentration to a more confused glance and Gonzalo’s lips parted, releasing Arden’s hands. “Roswitha, wait!” he exclaimed when she saw her get away from his line of sight, but soon enough she was back at their side. “By the Light, don’t do that again!” he sighed.

Arden’s gasp made Gonzalo turn his head to him, a smile forming on his lips. He held the boy close against his chest, letting the relief curse through his body as the energy of the earth recognized a new Warrior, accepting him and protecting him. “If you mean the runes, I have absolutely no clue. I heard the first netherwalker had runes like yours, but that doesn’t explain how this happened. We need to find the others, Vaná probably knows what’s going on,” he replied, finally feeling more calmed and determined now that Arden was safe. “As for the pain. Well, lets just say you just took a big step into becoming a Warrior. Congratulations,” Gonzalo patted Arden’s shoulder before standing up. It was time to keep moving. “Roswitha, did you see any safe route for us to get to the rift?”

With one last look to make sure the netherspawn were all still otherwise occupied, she hurried over to the warriors. Birgir stayed where he was, guarding the alley entrance. Roswitha’s eyebrows raised in surprise at Gonzalo’s concern. A connection like the one between a Ranger and a companion meant even if Birgir was momentarily out of sight she could still sense that he was safe and nearby. She had forgotten that humans didn’t have that connection to rely on.

She paused before offering an apology, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to cause any worry.” At Arden’s sudden gasp, she turned to watch in fascination as all the pain and tension that had plagued him only moments before melted away. She listened to Gonzalo, checking her bowstring as he spoke. A netherwalker? She remembered hearing a few scattered stories about them during her travels. Not enough to offer any substantial help of course. She was just as lost as the rest of them. But it was all the more reason for them to reach the Rift and find Vanáriel as soon as they possibly could.

She lowered her bow as she looked over her shoulder, a grimace on her face at Gonzalo’s question. “A safe route is unlikely. The main road is crawling with netherspawn, both on the ground and in the sky. Although most seem to be more interested in their… food.” Her face twisted in disgust at the memory. “A safer route would be to stick to the alleys like we are now, assuming they aren’t too destroyed. Most of the creatures won’t be able to fit even if they do come after us.” She lapsed into silence as her thoughts went back to the strange sight of the netherspawn’s fear. She hesitated a moment before saying, “There was something else. Something… odd. One of them was about to attack me, but then it ran off. It seemed like it was scared of this giant orb.” She shifted her footing, unsure of how to describe what she had seen better than that. She looked between the two men in front of her, hoping that one of them would have an explanation.

Arden breathed, great, heaving gasps as the pain finally eased its iron bands around his chest. The energy from the earth kept surging through his body, leaving behind only a tingling at the edges of his fingertips and the runes that still glowed along his hands. He knew he should be fetching his sword, getting ready to fight alongside his mentor, alongside his friends, but all he could do for the moment was just breathe. The air soothed his lungs and throat.

He stayed kneeling for a moment as Gonzalo stood, watching the pair as they discussed what to do next. “Did you- did you see anyone?” he asked, swallowing the unspoken alive. Whatever had happened had scattered the Wardens, flung them far away from each other, and he needed to know if they were even still there. “Vaná? Aneirin?” Anyone?

Once the tingling started to recede, he pushed himself to his feet, unsteady as he was. “A giant orb?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” A distant part of his mind tried to understand why the orb was the most confusing part of the day, compared to the apparent explosion and destruction of Miwor Town, but he pushed it aside. “What in the world could scare those monsters?”

#lalo #lalo002 #ros #ros001 #netherwar: omens in the skies #plot: omens in the skies

roswitha-unroh:

warriorcasalis

Gonzalo smiled at Roswitha when she approached him, nodding his own thanks at her bravery and skill. They looked at the creature for a moment, unnatural and evil; the was no magic in them, no survival or kindness to its own kind, just death and destruction. “We need to avoid them as much as we can. We cannot fight them, it’s useless. Their skin is too thick,” he reasoned, avoiding to mention how much strength he had put into piercing its skin. It was worse than he had imagined.

They rounded the corner of the wall and the sight that they found made Gonzalo crack a very small, amused smile. It seemed out of place and wrong to smile in such a situation, but Arden held an innocence comparable only to a child’s, and seeing such a huge beast sniffing him was endearing. Gonzalo stepped forward, ruffled the fur on Birgir’s back to express his gratitude and approached Arden. “Are you alright?” he asked but his question seemed to fall and deafened ears when the boy’s expression suddenly changed.

Arden’s knees buckled but Gonzalo’s quick reflexes caught him as he hit the floor, preventing the boy from falling forward. “Arden!?” he exclaimed, eyes wide in shock, searching for injuries created by the netherspawn but the only thing he found were markings, glowing runes all over his arms and hands. His arms wrapped around the boy and eased him down to sit on the floor, eyes searching Roswitha’s for answers. He couldn’t panic, they needed to remain calm, but Arden was suffering and they didn’t know what was going on.

“Yes, yes you can, Arden. You’re a warrior, and you’re going to get through this,” he assured him as he held him. There was a way, one that Gonzalo didn’t enjoy, to know if the boy was fine or dying in his arms so he turned to him, releasing from his arms and looked at his aura. It was pulsing, gold intertwining with green tones as runes marked it. It was like nothing Gonzalo has ever seen before, but it was bright and strong and not dimming, so that was a good sign.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to teach Arden his next lesson on being a Warrior: how to accept pain. “Roswitha, this might take a few minutes so stay where you are and make sure nothing approaches.” Arden needed time, and only Roswitha could buy them some. “Arden, listen to me. Close your eyes and put your hands down,” he muttered as he guided his hands to press flat on the dirty ground. Warriors got their strength from the earth, and it was only fitting that new recruits got their first surge of energy from there.

“Breathe,” Gonzalo murmured, worrying that this wasn’t going to work. It was a rite of passage for them, and never done under extreme amounts of pain but Gonzalo believed in Arden. “Feel the energy of the earth. Concentrate, and pull from it. It’ll stop the pain. You have to trust me,” he said and waited, his own body pulling the earth’s energy to the surface to make it easier for the boy. Now, it was only up to him.

Roswitha stared wide-eyed in shock as Arden fell to the ground. She could have sworn he was fine. There had been no serious injuries that she could see. So what was wrong with him? She was about to go over to them, but she stood transfixed as golden runes started appearing on his skin. Of all the things Roswitha had seen in her life, she had never seen anything like these runes before. Of course, this whole night was nothing like anything she had seen before. She opened her mouth as if to give Gonzalo an answer, but she was at a loss. She could barely cure a simple cut. She couldn’t possibly heal whatever was afflicting Arden now. The runes seemed like they were killing him. They had just rescued the young warrior, he couldn’t die so soon.

Her brow furrowed in concern as Gonzalo placed the boy on the ground. But hopefully whatever it was that Gonzalo had in mind would save Arden. “Will do,” she responded, motioning for Birgir to stand beside her as she turned her sights to the street. Two sets of eyes were better than one after all.

She turned her head around the edge of the building, her nose crinkling in revulsion at the scene before her. Packs of netherspawn wandered up and down the streets, each one more horrific than the last. Some were sniffing the air, peering into the broken windows and unhinged doors of the destroyed homes. Other groups were fighting among themselves over what looked to be human remains. She watched in grim fascination as one dragged a body from a collapsed house, and several more immediately descended upon its find. Disgust twisted her stomach into knots. It was almost like a perverted version of wolves hunting. And while it was rather morbid to think it, Roswitha was relieved that most were too interested in their meals to pay attention to their group.

Suddenly a piercing scream filled the air, and Roswitha looked up to see three winged netherspawn circling them. Birgir started barking in alarm as one broke away from the flock and dove towards them. In a flash, Roswitha had readied an arrow and shot it into the creature’s gaping maw. It fell in the mouth of the alley with a dull thud, and the two remaining let out an outraged cry. They started swooping down as well, screeching as they descended. Twice more Roswitha fired off her arrows, each meeting their mark. Her relief was short lived though as one of the feasting netherspawn broke away from their group, no doubt drawn by the cries of the winged netherspawn. Roswitha held her breath, bow at the ready, but she knew this wouldn’t be as easy. The winged netherspawn had been small and easy to take down with one shot. The eye-less monstrosity quickly closing in on the alley was even bigger than the one that had been attacking Arden. It had taken its first step into the alley, lowering its head to sniff the netherspawn corpses, when it backed out of the alley with a hiss and ran back across the street. Roswitha’s confusion only grew as a large bubble floated past the alleyway entrance. Certainly that wasn’t what had scared the netherspawn off?

Roswitha took a deep breath, doing her best to suppress the panic that was beginning to bubble up inside her. This was all so terrifyingly strange, and her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she ran off to find Birgir. It felt like ages ago. She quickly snatched her arrows out off the small winged corpses and ducked back into the alley. When it became clear that no other netherspawn were coming to investigate or had spotted her, she looked back at where Arden lay on the ground. Gonzalo was still by his side, speaking words of encouragement.

The pain was so bad, Arden couldn’t breathe.

Or, he could, but in only came in gasps, strangled attempts at dragging air into his lungs. His hands shook as he pressed them to Gonzalo’s chest, the man wrapping around him to try and steady him and keep him from falling face-first to the ground. The metal against his skin soothed some of the burning, but the runes only shone brighter in response, and he closed his eyes.

“I can’t-” he insisted, shaking his head. He let Gonzalo take his hands, wincing as the man pressed them to the dirt they were kneeling in. He swallowed and closed his eyes, just as his new mentor told him to, and tried to feel the energy in the earth.

A long moment passed, but he couldn’t feel anything. Arden shook his head, taking in another shaky breath. “There’s- there’s n- nothing there,” he stammered, digging his fingers into the soil in desperation. Just when he was about to open his eyes and pull back, however, something surged underneath his fingertips.

He gasped as the energy poured into him, finally able to take a clear breath without the pain wrapping tight iron bands around his chest. The pain finally dissipated, leaving Arden to sag against Gonzalo with a sob of relief. He opened his eyes, looking up at the other warrior. “What’s happening to me?” he asked, voice shaking.

#ros #ros001 #lalo #lalo002 #netherwar: omens in the skies #plot: omens in the skies

roswitha-unroh:

warriorcasalis

Gonzalo ran, putting his faith in Roswitha’s skills as he rushed from cover to cover, around walls and over burning logs to surround the creature and Arden. He prayed to the Light as he ran, begging for the boy to hold onto his strength and survive. He was still too young to perish in such a situation. Burning flesh, the smell of it made him stop for a second only to turn around and find a couple, a young boy and the woman he was courting dead under a wooden beam. He closed his eyes, his chest tightening painfully as his thoughts began to turn darker; you should’ve saved them, he thought, if you hadn’t been distracted before this happened, you would’ve been able to save them.

The loud growl Birgir let out caught his attention, making him focus once again on his task. The netherspawn took a moment, a too long second that made Gonzalo think his plan was going to fail but soon enough it was making its way angrily to Birgir, back turned. Gonzalo ran as fast as his legs would carry him across the open field and grabbed Arden by the arm; the boy had gotten on his feet and was getting ready to attack. In another circumstances, Gonzalo would’ve praised him for his courage. “I should be the one thanking the Light you’re alive. We don’t have much time, hide behind that stone wall, I’ll kill the beast and meet you there. Whatever happens, Arden, you don’t look back. Get Roswitha and Birgir and keep moving,” and with that instruction, Gonzalo was pushing Arden in the direction on the wall and making his way to the netherspawn.

Roswitha’s skills were something to be proud of, perfect aim that had blinded the creature on one eye and had given them enough time by cutting one of its tendons. Gonzalo saw it fall, recover and start making its way to the Wardens. His lungs burned from the smoke and the thick air made worse by death and suffering but Gonzalo kept pushing forward. The beast was almost there, he wanted to scream at Roswitha to get out of the way, to run with Arden and let him fight it but suddenly, the beast stopped and Gonzalo reached it with a swing of his sword straight through its back, a raged scream ripped form his throat as he pushed with all his strength through the creature’s body.

The creature fell and Gonzalo sighed, allowing himself to close his eyes for one second in relief. “Lets keep moving,” he said, mostly to himself, as he met Roswitha’s eyes and started walking towards where Arden awaited them.

Roswitha drew her bow back as far as it would go. As she feared her arrows didn’t seem to be doing much damage. And the creature’s anatomy was so foreign she wasn’t sure where its vital organs were. But if her shot was strong enough, maybe it wouldn’t matter. The netherspawn was almost upon her and just as it was about to strike, Gonzalo’s sword burst through it. With a final strangled cry, the monstrosity fell to the ground. Roswitha lowered her bow, a sigh of relief passing her lips. If they were able to just pick netherspawn off one by one like this, they might be able to survive this whole ordeal. She met Gonzalo’s eyes, a silent thank you in her gaze.

She quickly walked over to the corpse of the creature, face twisting in disgust at limbs and muscle that shouldn’t exist in this world. That were wrong. Gritting her teeth, she pulled her arrows out of its eyes and limb and placed them back in her quiver. There were many more monsters to face, and she couldn’t afford to run out of arrows. Then she really would be useless.

Done with her task, she followed Gonzalo to where Arden was. A chill ran down her spine as she imagined what might have happened if it had just been her and Birgir facing down the netherspawn on their own. She shook the thought from her head. Now was not the time to worry about speculations. She had to stay focused. She looked back for Birgir to check him for injuries, but he was gone. The large bear was already snuffling the newest member of their party.

“Hey, Birgir, human manners.” she said, swatting his rump as she joined the group. After a netherspawn attack, having a large toothy bear in your face was probably the last thing you would want. Sorry. Birgir huffed, moving so that he stood behind Roswitha. A cursory look didn’t reveal any serious injuries on him, so Roswitha returned her attention to the men before her.

She tilted her head and looked over the young warrior. He didn’t seem to be any more bruised than her or Gonzalo. No broken bones or gaping wounds that she could see. Which meant he wouldn’t slow them down. But maybe Roswitha had spoken too soon.

Arden opened his mouth to protest, to keep asking what had happened here, but then Gonzalo was pushing him back, telling him to hide behind a nearby stone wall. He swallowed back the hundreds of questions threatening to break free and nodded, still breathing hard. Part of him wanted to go with Gonzalo, to fight alongside him, but at this point in his training he knew he’d just be a hinderance. He’d get in Gonzalo’s way, and while in training that only led to deeper bruises than usual, now... now it would lead to someone dying. Or getting seriously harmed. Arden couldn’t risk it.

So he crouched behind the wall, clutching his sword to his chest, and closed his eyes. He startled when he heard Gonzalo yell, and the monster screech, hoping and praying that the sounds were a result of Gonzalo killing the monster and not the other way around.

Before Arden could turn to see what’d happened, a large bear ambled around the wall and pressed its nose into his chest, sniffing at him a little roughly. “I-” he stammered, glancing around and chewing at his lip when he saw the warrior and Roswitha round the corner. Roswitha called the bear away, and Arden nodded, stammering out a quick, “Thank you.”

Before he could say anything else, however, a searing pain exploded in his head. His sword fell from listless fingers, and he clutched at his head, a ragged scream tearing out of his throat. His knees buckled, but he barely registered the pain of falling heavily to them underneath the feeling of his head exploding and imploding simultaneously. It hurt so b a d - he could barely breathe for the pain.

Another scream ripped from him as the pain spread to his hands, shifting into an all-too familiar burning sensation tracing paths across his skin. Arden forced his eyes open, squinting through tears to stare at his hands. Glowing golden runes - the s a m e runes from his nightmares - were tracing their way into existence, wrapping around his palm and fingers and down towards his wrists.

“N- no, no-” he gasped, faltering and curling into himself, even as he held his hands away from him. “N- no, I c- I can’t- wh- what-” He couldn’t form any solid words, instead looking up at Gonzalo and Roswitha, terrified. What was happening to him?

“Help me.”

#lalo #lalo002 #ros #ros001 #netherwar: omens in the skies #plot: omens in the skies #//some formatting but it's to show how. messed up and fractured his thinking is rn

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