Arkus the Ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Hm? Welcome to my home, stranger.

If you are looking for a warrior, you will be disappointed. I am a simple bug, living on my own. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello everyone, @weaveryivel aka Abby here with yet another Pharloomblr blog. Arkus is an ex-Grimm Troupe member and retired Warlord who has come to Pharloom to make a home for himself and settle down. He is trying very hard to stay away from his past. Will he be successful? We'll see! He's a Diabolical Ironclad beetle! His entire body is covered in black, rough armor. He has digitigrade legs and four arms. His elytra hang down from his waist like a weird, armored cape. He's also like... really tall and big. About as tall as the Pure Vessel, but bulky. He wears a dark red cloak that goes all the way around him and parts in front. It has fur around the collar. His main weapon is a large charred Greatnail, which he keeps on his back. AN IMPORTANT NOTE: Arkus' current patron god is a Nightmare deity known as the Devourer. Anon asks usually take the form of the Voices of the Devourer, who speak to him in his mind and hold power over him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rules! - No straight up NSFW. - Suggestive asks are fine. - You are welcome to mention this blog whenever you'd like and interact with their posts. Interactions more than welcome!! - Shipping is fine. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tags: [ironclad lord] - Any in character post. [war's respite] - Interactions with others [hungering voices] - Answering asks that take the form of Voices [a lord's hospitality] - Answering other asks [the beetles tour] - mod answering ooc

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew wakes to consciousness within a cage on wheels. He's being dragged by a handful of Legion bugs. They are moving as part of one great caravan. Two heavily armored warriors with hooked polearms flank the cage. As he stirs, a fluffy head and two red eyes peek down, hanging upside down from above. "Hello. You're the Green Silence, right? You look less impressive than I expected."

"Ughhhhh..."

Dew is slow to wake up, trying to get a grip on their current reality.

Good, you're awake. I was beginning to think you were dead.

They'd know immediately if he was dead, and they know this. They take a look around the cage. Any idea where they currently are?

A cage.

Yeah no shit, but where are they being taken to?

If I were to take a guess? Probably the Legion's base.

Dew notices the fluffy head and backs away, instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

"...Who are you? Where am I?"

@arkus-the-ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"You're in a cage," the moth points out helpfully. They drop down, now standing on the outside edge of the cage, hands on the bars. The hands, in fact, are the first thing to draw attention. This moth's hands are made of scorched, black metal. They are sharp - each finger ends in a perfectly pointed talon. There is a heat that emanates from them, too. The arms follow up to the shoulders, made entirely of this metal. Hollow on the inside, with holes that go through, they would have once been beautiful in their elegant simplicity. Now, they are beautiful in an entirely different way; melted out of shape, they exude strange menace. The moth's body is covered in fluffy fur, mostly black with patterns of white and red - a thick scruff of bright red fluff surrounds their neck. Their face is a sheer white, aside from ritual scars. They faintly pulse red, and seem to extend across their entire body. Their eyes are vivid crimson, though a glow of golden orange shines from within. They wear their wings around their body like a cloak, and seem to possess no other equipment or clothing. However, a few feet behind them, two large gauntlets made of the same scorched metal as their arms float. They hang down as if they were idle hands. They look deadly.

"What was your actual name? I've already forgotten. Oh, you asked my name right?" They smile. Oh, dear, the moth has a mouth with teeth. Their voice is soft, with tones of something distantly hypnotic, but they speak with barely restrained energy. "I'm Inferno."

[Images below cut! Art of Inferno, and an image of the kind of moth they are :3]

Art by @morphologist, my lovely friend and amazing artist, who you can also find at their toyhouse

Cecropia moth!!! The kind Inferno is meant to be :3

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...Where are you taking me?"

They do not answer Inferno's question of what his name is. They only get to know him as the Green Silence.

...There's something about this one. Keep your guard up around them.

Their guard is always up around the Legion.

Yes, but be wary of this one specifically. The energy they exude...it would be wise to not displease them.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They poke one of their strangely long fingers through the bars of the cage to point at Dew. "You are coming back with us! To Cinderhold!" Letting go of the bars, their metal arms hang down. Even just idle like this - perhaps especially like this - they look like weapons. They tilt their head, studying Dew. The way they look at him... This creature is dangerous. Yet they continue, in a cheerful manner; "You didn't answer me, and I'm curious. What is your name? I'd like to know."

[scarlet-and-dew]

Cinderhold?

That must be their base. They're probably intending to make you one of their slaves.

Well they're gonna die before that happens. They cross their arms as they think about Inferno's question.

"...Call me Branch."

He's not gonna tell them his real name, but refusing to answer would probably piss them off.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"Branch! Branch... Hm...." They lunge at the cage suddenly, grabbing the bars. It shakes. The air heats up. The guards near the cage flinch. "You hesitated! Tell me your actual name." They pause. They tap the bars of the cage with their fingers, producing the sound of metal tapping on metal. "... Well, it is fine if you don't. Everyone knows who you are, anyways. The Green Silence... what did you do, to get that title?"

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...You already know who I am. You probably also know why the Legion wants my head on a pike. Why bother explaining?"

Dew crosses his arms, staring at Inferno.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They continue to consider the bug before them. Then, they turn into a phantom of ash, slipping through the bars to stand in front of Dew. "All I know is that you killed a general, once. I am not the one who holds this sort of knowledge." The short moth sits down. "... And I don't know why we're bringing you back, either! Alys, Deikora and Rattle have all decided something, but I haven't asked yet. I'd prefer to be surprised!"

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew immediately backs away from Inferno as much as he can, reaching for weapons that aren't there.

"Wh-wha-huh-how-"

He's at a loss for words to describe what he just saw. Like, he's seen magic before and he's no stranger to it, but...something about Inferno...it's setting him on edge.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Inferno goes on, unbothered by Dew's obvious discomfort. "I think we miiiiiight...? Nah, I shouldn't tell you." They snicker. "It should be a surprise for you, too! More fun that way." They lean back against the cage bars. "So, how do you feel, 'Branch'?"

[scarlet-and-dew]

So either he's going to be executed, or they're going to try and brainwash him. Great.

I'm already trying to formulate an escape plan. For now, keep them distracted.

"...I assume you expect me to answer with something along the lines of "Gee, I'm feeling swell! I sure love being captured by the murder happy guild, of which the general I killed all those years ago belonged to! I'll definitely love probably being executed for the crime of defending myself!""

Dew gave Inferno a deadpan look.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"Really, you will? That's awesome!" They stretch, yawning a little. "You know, I didn't get to do much in that siege. I only burnt down five of those scorpion things! I'm really hoping we get to do something fun with you, or I might go mad!"

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew wakes to consciousness within a cage on wheels. He's being dragged by a handful of Legion bugs. They are moving as part of one great caravan. Two heavily armored warriors with hooked polearms flank the cage. As he stirs, a fluffy head and two red eyes peek down, hanging upside down from above. "Hello. You're the Green Silence, right? You look less impressive than I expected."

"Ughhhhh..."

Dew is slow to wake up, trying to get a grip on their current reality.

Good, you're awake. I was beginning to think you were dead.

They'd know immediately if he was dead, and they know this. They take a look around the cage. Any idea where they currently are?

A cage.

Yeah no shit, but where are they being taken to?

If I were to take a guess? Probably the Legion's base.

Dew notices the fluffy head and backs away, instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

"...Who are you? Where am I?"

@arkus-the-ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"You're in a cage," the moth points out helpfully. They drop down, now standing on the outside edge of the cage, hands on the bars. The hands, in fact, are the first thing to draw attention. This moth's hands are made of scorched, black metal. They are sharp - each finger ends in a perfectly pointed talon. There is a heat that emanates from them, too. The arms follow up to the shoulders, made entirely of this metal. Hollow on the inside, with holes that go through, they would have once been beautiful in their elegant simplicity. Now, they are beautiful in an entirely different way; melted out of shape, they exude strange menace. The moth's body is covered in fluffy fur, mostly black with patterns of white and red - a thick scruff of bright red fluff surrounds their neck. Their face is a sheer white, aside from ritual scars. They faintly pulse red, and seem to extend across their entire body. Their eyes are vivid crimson, though a glow of golden orange shines from within. They wear their wings around their body like a cloak, and seem to possess no other equipment or clothing. However, a few feet behind them, two large gauntlets made of the same scorched metal as their arms float. They hang down as if they were idle hands. They look deadly.

"What was your actual name? I've already forgotten. Oh, you asked my name right?" They smile. Oh, dear, the moth has a mouth with teeth. Their voice is soft, with tones of something distantly hypnotic, but they speak with barely restrained energy. "I'm Inferno."

[Images below cut! Art of Inferno, and an image of the kind of moth they are :3]

Art by @morphologist, my lovely friend and amazing artist, who you can also find at their toyhouse

Cecropia moth!!! The kind Inferno is meant to be :3

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...Where are you taking me?"

They do not answer Inferno's question of what his name is. They only get to know him as the Green Silence.

...There's something about this one. Keep your guard up around them.

Their guard is always up around the Legion.

Yes, but be wary of this one specifically. The energy they exude...it would be wise to not displease them.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They poke one of their strangely long fingers through the bars of the cage to point at Dew. "You are coming back with us! To Cinderhold!" Letting go of the bars, their metal arms hang down. Even just idle like this - perhaps especially like this - they look like weapons. They tilt their head, studying Dew. The way they look at him... This creature is dangerous. Yet they continue, in a cheerful manner; "You didn't answer me, and I'm curious. What is your name? I'd like to know."

[scarlet-and-dew]

Cinderhold?

That must be their base. They're probably intending to make you one of their slaves.

Well they're gonna die before that happens. They cross their arms as they think about Inferno's question.

"...Call me Branch."

He's not gonna tell them his real name, but refusing to answer would probably piss them off.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"Branch! Branch... Hm...." They lunge at the cage suddenly, grabbing the bars. It shakes. The air heats up. The guards near the cage flinch. "You hesitated! Tell me your actual name." They pause. They tap the bars of the cage with their fingers, producing the sound of metal tapping on metal. "... Well, it is fine if you don't. Everyone knows who you are, anyways. The Green Silence... what did you do, to get that title?"

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...You already know who I am. You probably also know why the Legion wants my head on a pike. Why bother explaining?"

Dew crosses his arms, staring at Inferno.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They continue to consider the bug before them. Then, they turn into a phantom of ash, slipping through the bars to stand in front of Dew. "All I know is that you killed a general, once. I am not the one who holds this sort of knowledge." The short moth sits down. "... And I don't know why we're bringing you back, either! Alys, Deikora and Rattle have all decided something, but I haven't asked yet. I'd prefer to be surprised!"

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew immediately backs away from Inferno as much as he can, reaching for weapons that aren't there.

"Wh-wha-huh-how-"

He's at a loss for words to describe what he just saw. Like, he's seen magic before and he's no stranger to it, but...something about Inferno...it's setting him on edge.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Inferno goes on, unbothered by Dew's obvious discomfort. "I think we miiiiiight...? Nah, I shouldn't tell you." They snicker. "It should be a surprise for you, too! More fun that way." They lean back against the cage bars. "So, how do you feel, 'Branch'?"

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew wakes to consciousness within a cage on wheels. He's being dragged by a handful of Legion bugs. They are moving as part of one great caravan. Two heavily armored warriors with hooked polearms flank the cage. As he stirs, a fluffy head and two red eyes peek down, hanging upside down from above. "Hello. You're the Green Silence, right? You look less impressive than I expected."

"Ughhhhh..."

Dew is slow to wake up, trying to get a grip on their current reality.

Good, you're awake. I was beginning to think you were dead.

They'd know immediately if he was dead, and they know this. They take a look around the cage. Any idea where they currently are?

A cage.

Yeah no shit, but where are they being taken to?

If I were to take a guess? Probably the Legion's base.

Dew notices the fluffy head and backs away, instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

"...Who are you? Where am I?"

@arkus-the-ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"You're in a cage," the moth points out helpfully. They drop down, now standing on the outside edge of the cage, hands on the bars. The hands, in fact, are the first thing to draw attention. This moth's hands are made of scorched, black metal. They are sharp - each finger ends in a perfectly pointed talon. There is a heat that emanates from them, too. The arms follow up to the shoulders, made entirely of this metal. Hollow on the inside, with holes that go through, they would have once been beautiful in their elegant simplicity. Now, they are beautiful in an entirely different way; melted out of shape, they exude strange menace. The moth's body is covered in fluffy fur, mostly black with patterns of white and red - a thick scruff of bright red fluff surrounds their neck. Their face is a sheer white, aside from ritual scars. They faintly pulse red, and seem to extend across their entire body. Their eyes are vivid crimson, though a glow of golden orange shines from within. They wear their wings around their body like a cloak, and seem to possess no other equipment or clothing. However, a few feet behind them, two large gauntlets made of the same scorched metal as their arms float. They hang down as if they were idle hands. They look deadly.

"What was your actual name? I've already forgotten. Oh, you asked my name right?" They smile. Oh, dear, the moth has a mouth with teeth. Their voice is soft, with tones of something distantly hypnotic, but they speak with barely restrained energy. "I'm Inferno."

[Images below cut! Art of Inferno, and an image of the kind of moth they are :3]

Art by @morphologist, my lovely friend and amazing artist, who you can also find at their toyhouse

Cecropia moth!!! The kind Inferno is meant to be :3

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...Where are you taking me?"

They do not answer Inferno's question of what his name is. They only get to know him as the Green Silence.

...There's something about this one. Keep your guard up around them.

Their guard is always up around the Legion.

Yes, but be wary of this one specifically. The energy they exude...it would be wise to not displease them.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They poke one of their strangely long fingers through the bars of the cage to point at Dew. "You are coming back with us! To Cinderhold!" Letting go of the bars, their metal arms hang down. Even just idle like this - perhaps especially like this - they look like weapons. They tilt their head, studying Dew. The way they look at him... This creature is dangerous. Yet they continue, in a cheerful manner; "You didn't answer me, and I'm curious. What is your name? I'd like to know."

[scarlet-and-dew]

Cinderhold?

That must be their base. They're probably intending to make you one of their slaves.

Well they're gonna die before that happens. They cross their arms as they think about Inferno's question.

"...Call me Branch."

He's not gonna tell them his real name, but refusing to answer would probably piss them off.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"Branch! Branch... Hm...." They lunge at the cage suddenly, grabbing the bars. It shakes. The air heats up. The guards near the cage flinch. "You hesitated! Tell me your actual name." They pause. They tap the bars of the cage with their fingers, producing the sound of metal tapping on metal. "... Well, it is fine if you don't. Everyone knows who you are, anyways. The Green Silence... what did you do, to get that title?"

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...You already know who I am. You probably also know why the Legion wants my head on a pike. Why bother explaining?"

Dew crosses his arms, staring at Inferno.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They continue to consider the bug before them. Then, they turn into a phantom of ash, slipping through the bars to stand in front of Dew. "All I know is that you killed a general, once. I am not the one who holds this sort of knowledge." The short moth sits down. "... And I don't know why we're bringing you back, either! Alys, Deikora and Rattle have all decided something, but I haven't asked yet. I'd prefer to be surprised!"

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew wakes to consciousness within a cage on wheels. He's being dragged by a handful of Legion bugs. They are moving as part of one great caravan. Two heavily armored warriors with hooked polearms flank the cage. As he stirs, a fluffy head and two red eyes peek down, hanging upside down from above. "Hello. You're the Green Silence, right? You look less impressive than I expected."

"Ughhhhh..."

Dew is slow to wake up, trying to get a grip on their current reality.

Good, you're awake. I was beginning to think you were dead.

They'd know immediately if he was dead, and they know this. They take a look around the cage. Any idea where they currently are?

A cage.

Yeah no shit, but where are they being taken to?

If I were to take a guess? Probably the Legion's base.

Dew notices the fluffy head and backs away, instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

"...Who are you? Where am I?"

@arkus-the-ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"You're in a cage," the moth points out helpfully. They drop down, now standing on the outside edge of the cage, hands on the bars. The hands, in fact, are the first thing to draw attention. This moth's hands are made of scorched, black metal. They are sharp - each finger ends in a perfectly pointed talon. There is a heat that emanates from them, too. The arms follow up to the shoulders, made entirely of this metal. Hollow on the inside, with holes that go through, they would have once been beautiful in their elegant simplicity. Now, they are beautiful in an entirely different way; melted out of shape, they exude strange menace. The moth's body is covered in fluffy fur, mostly black with patterns of white and red - a thick scruff of bright red fluff surrounds their neck. Their face is a sheer white, aside from ritual scars. They faintly pulse red, and seem to extend across their entire body. Their eyes are vivid crimson, though a glow of golden orange shines from within. They wear their wings around their body like a cloak, and seem to possess no other equipment or clothing. However, a few feet behind them, two large gauntlets made of the same scorched metal as their arms float. They hang down as if they were idle hands. They look deadly.

"What was your actual name? I've already forgotten. Oh, you asked my name right?" They smile. Oh, dear, the moth has a mouth with teeth. Their voice is soft, with tones of something distantly hypnotic, but they speak with barely restrained energy. "I'm Inferno."

[Images below cut! Art of Inferno, and an image of the kind of moth they are :3]

Art by @morphologist, my lovely friend and amazing artist, who you can also find at their toyhouse

Cecropia moth!!! The kind Inferno is meant to be :3

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...Where are you taking me?"

They do not answer Inferno's question of what his name is. They only get to know him as the Green Silence.

...There's something about this one. Keep your guard up around them.

Their guard is always up around the Legion.

Yes, but be wary of this one specifically. The energy they exude...it would be wise to not displease them.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They poke one of their strangely long fingers through the bars of the cage to point at Dew. "You are coming back with us! To Cinderhold!" Letting go of the bars, their metal arms hang down. Even just idle like this - perhaps especially like this - they look like weapons. They tilt their head, studying Dew. The way they look at him... This creature is dangerous. Yet they continue, in a cheerful manner; "You didn't answer me, and I'm curious. What is your name? I'd like to know."

[scarlet-and-dew]

Cinderhold?

That must be their base. They're probably intending to make you one of their slaves.

Well they're gonna die before that happens. They cross their arms as they think about Inferno's question.

"...Call me Branch."

He's not gonna tell them his real name, but refusing to answer would probably piss them off.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"Branch! Branch... Hm...." They lunge at the cage suddenly, grabbing the bars. It shakes. The air heats up. The guards near the cage flinch. "You hesitated! Tell me your actual name." They pause. They tap the bars of the cage with their fingers, producing the sound of metal tapping on metal. "... Well, it is fine if you don't. Everyone knows who you are, anyways. The Green Silence... what did you do, to get that title?"

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew wakes to consciousness within a cage on wheels. He's being dragged by a handful of Legion bugs. They are moving as part of one great caravan. Two heavily armored warriors with hooked polearms flank the cage. As he stirs, a fluffy head and two red eyes peek down, hanging upside down from above. "Hello. You're the Green Silence, right? You look less impressive than I expected."

"Ughhhhh..."

Dew is slow to wake up, trying to get a grip on their current reality.

Good, you're awake. I was beginning to think you were dead.

They'd know immediately if he was dead, and they know this. They take a look around the cage. Any idea where they currently are?

A cage.

Yeah no shit, but where are they being taken to?

If I were to take a guess? Probably the Legion's base.

Dew notices the fluffy head and backs away, instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

"...Who are you? Where am I?"

@arkus-the-ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"You're in a cage," the moth points out helpfully. They drop down, now standing on the outside edge of the cage, hands on the bars. The hands, in fact, are the first thing to draw attention. This moth's hands are made of scorched, black metal. They are sharp - each finger ends in a perfectly pointed talon. There is a heat that emanates from them, too. The arms follow up to the shoulders, made entirely of this metal. Hollow on the inside, with holes that go through, they would have once been beautiful in their elegant simplicity. Now, they are beautiful in an entirely different way; melted out of shape, they exude strange menace. The moth's body is covered in fluffy fur, mostly black with patterns of white and red - a thick scruff of bright red fluff surrounds their neck. Their face is a sheer white, aside from ritual scars. They faintly pulse red, and seem to extend across their entire body. Their eyes are vivid crimson, though a glow of golden orange shines from within. They wear their wings around their body like a cloak, and seem to possess no other equipment or clothing. However, a few feet behind them, two large gauntlets made of the same scorched metal as their arms float. They hang down as if they were idle hands. They look deadly.

"What was your actual name? I've already forgotten. Oh, you asked my name right?" They smile. Oh, dear, the moth has a mouth with teeth. Their voice is soft, with tones of something distantly hypnotic, but they speak with barely restrained energy. "I'm Inferno."

[Images below cut! Art of Inferno, and an image of the kind of moth they are :3]

Art by @morphologist, my lovely friend and amazing artist, who you can also find at their toyhouse

Cecropia moth!!! The kind Inferno is meant to be :3

[scarlet-and-dew]

"...Where are you taking me?"

They do not answer Inferno's question of what his name is. They only get to know him as the Green Silence.

...There's something about this one. Keep your guard up around them.

Their guard is always up around the Legion.

Yes, but be wary of this one specifically. The energy they exude...it would be wise to not displease them.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

They poke one of their strangely long fingers through the bars of the cage to point at Dew. "You are coming back with us! To Cinderhold!" Letting go of the bars, their metal arms hang down. Even just idle like this - perhaps especially like this - they look like weapons. They tilt their head, studying Dew. The way they look at him... This creature is dangerous. Yet they continue, in a cheerful manner; "You didn't answer me, and I'm curious. What is your name? I'd like to know."

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew wakes to consciousness within a cage on wheels. He's being dragged by a handful of Legion bugs. They are moving as part of one great caravan. Two heavily armored warriors with hooked polearms flank the cage. As he stirs, a fluffy head and two red eyes peek down, hanging upside down from above. "Hello. You're the Green Silence, right? You look less impressive than I expected."

"Ughhhhh..."

Dew is slow to wake up, trying to get a grip on their current reality.

Good, you're awake. I was beginning to think you were dead.

They'd know immediately if he was dead, and they know this. They take a look around the cage. Any idea where they currently are?

A cage.

Yeah no shit, but where are they being taken to?

If I were to take a guess? Probably the Legion's base.

Dew notices the fluffy head and backs away, instinctively reaching for weapons that were not there.

"...Who are you? Where am I?"

@arkus-the-ironclad

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"You're in a cage," the moth points out helpfully. They drop down, now standing on the outside edge of the cage, hands on the bars. The hands, in fact, are the first thing to draw attention. This moth's hands are made of scorched, black metal. They are sharp - each finger ends in a perfectly pointed talon. There is a heat that emanates from them, too. The arms follow up to the shoulders, made entirely of this metal. Hollow on the inside, with holes that go through, they would have once been beautiful in their elegant simplicity. Now, they are beautiful in an entirely different way; melted out of shape, they exude strange menace. The moth's body is covered in fluffy fur, mostly black with patterns of white and red - a thick scruff of bright red fluff surrounds their neck. Their face is a sheer white, aside from ritual scars. They faintly pulse red, and seem to extend across their entire body. Their eyes are vivid crimson, though a glow of golden orange shines from within. They wear their wings around their body like a cloak, and seem to possess no other equipment or clothing. However, a few feet behind them, two large gauntlets made of the same scorched metal as their arms float. They hang down as if they were idle hands. They look deadly.

"What was your actual name? I've already forgotten. Oh, you asked my name right?" They smile. Oh, dear, the moth has a mouth with teeth. Their voice is soft, with tones of something distantly hypnotic, but they speak with barely restrained energy. "I'm Inferno."

[Images below cut! Art of Inferno, and an image of the kind of moth they are :3]

Art by @morphologist, my lovely friend and amazing artist, who you can also find at their toyhouse

Cecropia moth!!! The kind Inferno is meant to be :3

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Dew shambles across the ruins of the City of Steel, or at least what everyone thought was the City of Steel.

How pathetic...the once grand Zenith District, falling to a few explosives...what in the hells did that Wyrm do to this District?

Dew does not ponder on Chalybs' words, as he simply focuses on trying to find somewhere, anywhere to hunker down and heal. He is bleeding from his mouth, and coughing more and more, on top of his already existent wounds. If anyone were to ambush him, he would easily fall to any foes.

-@scarlet-and-dew

(The ruins are being utterly pillaged.) (Ironclad bugs swarm over what's left, sifting through for valuables and for survivors. Massive bugs are lifting up as much metal as possible to be brought back to field smelters.) (Wicker statues have been erected, within which caught Steel Sentinels are being burned. Beyond the ruins there is a great deal of howling, chatter and feasting. The bugs are celebrating a successful conquest.) (The dead Ironclad bugs are being carefully pulled away, so that they can be eaten.) (If Dew isn't careful, he could be caught.)

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew immediately curses under his breath upon seeing the familiar sigil and armor of the Ironclad, diving behind some rubble as to not be seen. The hell is the Ironclad Legion doing here?

Doing what all other scavengers do: swooping into the chaos and picking away at the scraps. It would probably be best to avoid them this time. Neither of us wish for a repeat of Moorlane.

...Dew quickly looks over his cover, trying to see if there's anyone or anything in the patrols that stands out, as well as trying to study those patrols.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

The patrols are well armed, and seem to be going through the ruins in sections, each patrol assigned to a different one. Leading one of the patrols is a tall, lean Karak bug. She looks somewhat like a much tall and somewhat larger Kakri, but one without wings. Her shell is scorched black, and painted red with ritual markings. She holds her hands in front of her, gesturing, causing stone to move and shift the metal. She appears to be the one directing this search.

[scarlet-and-dew]

Shit. Dew quickly ducks back down. This is a completely new person that he doesn't recognize. Who is that?

It appears that there's been a change in command since we last encountered them.

Yeah no shit, this person is clearly important. How important, they can’t be sure.

There is no room for us to try and sneak past them. Perhaps we should turn around.

At this point, the Ironclad would most likely have surrounded the place. The only way out is through. Dew stumbles out from behind the rubble, shooting three times at the soldiers. All three shots miss, but he still charges at the Kakri with his nail.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Deikora has been leading the scavenging of this vast, metal corpse. It is a job she takes no small amount of satisfaction in. Picking through the remains of a conquest and finding all that can be taken and used for the Legion requires a great deal of methodical, efficient work, work that she has perfected. Once this is done, she will report back to Alys. She finds herself with no small amount of anxiety over this; why should she have any? She has done this for as long as she has been part of the command, and her efforts have never been found lacking before. Perhaps it is the way that her Ironclad Lady has been acting which has been causing her such feelings. Alys is so intent on proving herself with this, and she has been stressed as a result. It seems likely that this is... ... She's interrupted by her thoughts when she's charged by a mantis. She meets the strike with her forearm, deflecting it, and stomps on the ground. A pillar of stone shoves her attacker away. So, a survivor of the battle has decided their best bet for continued life is fighting? Stupid. She leaps atop the pillar of stone to look down on the mantis. Her patrol all stand in a loose circle around the area, prepared to close in and kill the fool at a word from her. She looks down with a haughty stare. "What fool decides that they'd rather find their death at our claws than starvation this day? Name yourself, lowly bug. You stand before Deikora, General of the Ironclad Legion."

Art by @lionacuty!!!

[scarlet-and-dew]

“GAUK!”

The pillar smacks Dew right in the gut, sending him tumbling to the ground. He struggles to get up, coughing up blood. His left eye is glowing a bright gold.

“…You know who I am.”

They raise their cannon to fire…

…And that’s when he collapses to the ground. It’s clear that he was running on fumes, and now they’ve run out.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She jumps down, laughing. "Poor mantis. Did you lose your family to the Legion, or such a thing as that? And you think we'd know you because of it? Cute." She walks over to Dew and plants one boot firmly on his chest. "... Hmm... You don't look useless. You might make a good-" She pauses, and her eyes widen. Whispers fill her mind like swirling smoke, as a Voice tells her something she had not known. "... The Green Silence? ... An interesting find, indeed. You'll be coming with us, now. I do not think you are in a position to resist, but regardless, the less you do, the easier this will be." She gestures at a nearby pane of metal, rendering it into a length of chain-like material and willing it to snake towards her.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Dew shambles across the ruins of the City of Steel, or at least what everyone thought was the City of Steel.

How pathetic...the once grand Zenith District, falling to a few explosives...what in the hells did that Wyrm do to this District?

Dew does not ponder on Chalybs' words, as he simply focuses on trying to find somewhere, anywhere to hunker down and heal. He is bleeding from his mouth, and coughing more and more, on top of his already existent wounds. If anyone were to ambush him, he would easily fall to any foes.

-@scarlet-and-dew

(The ruins are being utterly pillaged.) (Ironclad bugs swarm over what's left, sifting through for valuables and for survivors. Massive bugs are lifting up as much metal as possible to be brought back to field smelters.) (Wicker statues have been erected, within which caught Steel Sentinels are being burned. Beyond the ruins there is a great deal of howling, chatter and feasting. The bugs are celebrating a successful conquest.) (The dead Ironclad bugs are being carefully pulled away, so that they can be eaten.) (If Dew isn't careful, he could be caught.)

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew immediately curses under his breath upon seeing the familiar sigil and armor of the Ironclad, diving behind some rubble as to not be seen. The hell is the Ironclad Legion doing here?

Doing what all other scavengers do: swooping into the chaos and picking away at the scraps. It would probably be best to avoid them this time. Neither of us wish for a repeat of Moorlane.

...Dew quickly looks over his cover, trying to see if there's anyone or anything in the patrols that stands out, as well as trying to study those patrols.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

The patrols are well armed, and seem to be going through the ruins in sections, each patrol assigned to a different one. Leading one of the patrols is a tall, lean Karak bug. She looks somewhat like a much tall and somewhat larger Kakri, but one without wings. Her shell is scorched black, and painted red with ritual markings. She holds her hands in front of her, gesturing, causing stone to move and shift the metal. She appears to be the one directing this search.

[scarlet-and-dew]

Shit. Dew quickly ducks back down. This is a completely new person that he doesn't recognize. Who is that?

It appears that there's been a change in command since we last encountered them.

Yeah no shit, this person is clearly important. How important, they can’t be sure.

There is no room for us to try and sneak past them. Perhaps we should turn around.

At this point, the Ironclad would most likely have surrounded the place. The only way out is through. Dew stumbles out from behind the rubble, shooting three times at the soldiers. All three shots miss, but he still charges at the Kakri with his nail.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Deikora has been leading the scavenging of this vast, metal corpse. It is a job she takes no small amount of satisfaction in. Picking through the remains of a conquest and finding all that can be taken and used for the Legion requires a great deal of methodical, efficient work, work that she has perfected. Once this is done, she will report back to Alys. She finds herself with no small amount of anxiety over this; why should she have any? She has done this for as long as she has been part of the command, and her efforts have never been found lacking before. Perhaps it is the way that her Ironclad Lady has been acting which has been causing her such feelings. Alys is so intent on proving herself with this, and she has been stressed as a result. It seems likely that this is... ... She's interrupted by her thoughts when she's charged by a mantis. She meets the strike with her forearm, deflecting it, and stomps on the ground. A pillar of stone shoves her attacker away. So, a survivor of the battle has decided their best bet for continued life is fighting? Stupid. She leaps atop the pillar of stone to look down on the mantis. Her patrol all stand in a loose circle around the area, prepared to close in and kill the fool at a word from her. She looks down with a haughty stare. "What fool decides that they'd rather find their death at our claws than starvation this day? Name yourself, lowly bug. You stand before Deikora, General of the Ironclad Legion."

Art by @lionacuty!!!

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant jumps, startled out of their thoughts.

“̵͇̝̹͙̥̞͛́̂́̓Ï̷̩̖̲̣͌̋̈́̃͒͑̕͘’̸̨̗͎͈̭͎̂͜m̸̛̖̌́̆̃̀͐͘͝ ̷̬̠͔͆̔͑ṇ̶̹̩̉͌͐͌̅̄͠͠o̶̧̟̗͙̦̐̅̆͛́̈̃ṫ̸̲̫̣͖͇̟̹̃̇̈́̐̑͌͑͋̕̚͝ ̶̳͈̟̗̗̗͈̰̘͙̦́͜h̷̛̻̦͍̹̯̣̦̺͛̌̍̊̏̆̍̎̃̚̕̕͜͜ẽ̸̡̘͇̟̈̌̈͛͗̏͗͠͠ŗ̵̡̞͇̗̥͚͌̈́̇̉̅̅̕͝e̷̛͎͖̦̎͆̊̇̀̊̈́̍͐̏͗̏̒͠ ̸̪̜̖͇̦̰̯̺̟͓̦̳̣̓͊̋̈̿͆̽͠͝͝t̸̨̐͆̾́̽̈̓̽͆̈́̎̚ǫ̶̢̙̺̲̘̹̌̓͌̀̉̇̈́̓̿͜͝ͅ ̸̞̼͂̔̉̓͂̔́̌̔͒̚͝c̶̞͔̳͙̣͈͍͎̈́̍͂̔̀̓ạ̶̢͇͇͚̼̰̮̫͚͖́ͅṳ̵̧̭̭̺̘̗͓̳̫̮̓́̀͋̓̈́́̾͆̔̈́̈̏s̶̙̭̣͂e̴̤̟͎͍̗͎͌̀̓̐ ̷̨͈̥̝̪̼̻̮̏̐̑̔̏́̊͑͊̀̃̃̕̚͝h̵̛̖̿͆͗̅͌͐͘à̵̢̧̙̫̒͛̔͆͊̀̿̕͝͠͝ͅr̷̡̨̥̟̥̫̫͖͇̣͍͙̽͌̏̐̆͆̓̎̀̎̄m̸̦͚̥̯͇̤̞͉͔̒̇̈́͌́͜,̵̢̢̖̩͚̩͇̗̪͚̑́̑͂̈͊̌͂̀͒̋̚͝͝ͅ ̴̧̧̙̬̫̉͊̾͐̐́͗̔͑̚̕ḑ̶̛̮͇̲͓̘̘̬̘̰̞̯͆͛͊̔̐̈́͛ͅͅo̴̡̧̫͔͍͍̝͇̝̤͕̤͌͋́̍̐̈̑̑͜͜͜͠ ̸̡̤̥̣͇͕͚̙̰̟̫̟͉̺̬̓͛̿̆̽n̷̢̡͎̤̤̜͕̜͕̘̹̱̟̿͋͌̈́̐̐ô̶͉͇̇̐̋̏̌ţ̵̬̼̦͙̺̯̖͚̈̆͑̌̔͒̀͒̀̃̉̇ ̵̨̛̫͙͈͑͛̉͒͗̂w̴̨̲̺̙̱̮͉̗̝͖͕̤͇͇̋͆͠ó̵̧͍̯̩̜̗͓̜̺͇͓̩̓͆́̄ṟ̷͓̝͓͚̀̎̎̔̀̀͝͝ŗ̵͖̰̩͔̱̖̳͙̲̹̹̐̍̒̈́̆̈́̕͜y̸̛̬͐”̵̢̳͚̼̪̽̾̊̒̌̀̑͊͆̌

Vigilant rises. The shade of a vessel but off. There is a hole in their chest.

“̵͕͎̮͚̞̙̗͕͔̺̹̲͓̒̇̌̾̊͆̇̈́̍̀̚I̵̬̤̭̟̝̦̩̲̜͈̙̊͑̾́̽͆̑̍͂͊̕͘ ̷̢̢̺̘̺̦̰̮̫͉͌̈́ͅd̷͖͍̭̐̒̒̋͛͂̏̇͋ỏ̸̟͗͌̊̓͐͘ ̵̧̛̞̬̺̪͙͎͎̮̦̙̪̍̍̅̇͑̌͗̅̏ñ̴̝̰̟͙̦̔̏͐̇̉̿̈́̂͐̍͗͘ͅơ̵̧̨̼͎͕̼̣̪̹̯̼̄̐̅̎̄̓̄̚ͅṯ̶̨͕̜̱͈͈̤̊͋͑̈̍̎͛̾͝ ̷̢̛̯̜̭̻̣̭̗̓̎̂͂́̀̚w̷̛̛̤̠̭̝̰͈͙̭̃̇̊͛̐̂͝͝ͅą̵̤̮͔͕̭͗̓̍̍͋̇̇̒̔̑̿̆n̴̢̤̱̙̹̟̾͗̈́͑̍̓̃́̆̓́̚͝t̵̫̤̞̦̿͝ ̸̨̧̧̯̤͎̥͕̰̪̥̖̄͜t̸͔͇͍͑̊̈́̈́͆͑̈́̀̕͘͝ö̴̭͍̹́̊́̿̈́͛̈́͝ ̷̧̳͇̤͇̫̙̦̀̄̔̇̚ͅc̷̡͓̗̖͉̦̯̖̏̿̀͊̊̓͋͛̆̕͠à̴͉͔̟̂̓̈́̃̈̉̚͝u̵͖̗̗͖̱̖̥̘͛̇̆̊̓͌͑̓̊̆s̸͍̭͈͎̓̆͗͑̍ȇ̸̢̹̮͖̼̗̜̜͔̋̒̌̇ͅ ̵̨̪̞̜̬̩̇̏̀̽̉̏̉̎̊̃̽̂͝h̴̘̑̀̓͛͝a̴͙̰͉͎̪͉͖̭̺̺̟͕̝̎r̵̳̬̫̲̞͕͗̾͗̌m̷͖̮̣͇͎̳̺͇̑̈́͛ ̷̗͉̀̎̏̃͋̈́̽͋̄͐͝͝ę̸̡̨̝̭͓͖͇̰͍̬̀̅̏́͊̆̈́̕͜͠ͅv̶̛̼̝̿̈͊̀͆̌̇̓ę̴̡̨̡̖͓̗̰̯̌͜ͅr̶̺̼̺̫̖̻̥̐ͅ ̴͍͎̬͍̦̺̐̆̈́̍̆̀͑̿͂ḁ̷̡̱͍͙͌͐̇̈́̽̆̉͝ǵ̸̫̻̟͖͗a̸̦̘͆͗į̶̯̞̩̬̻̓̈̽̄̀ň̸̯̇͂͐̓͘”̵̡̞͈̙̝̲̱̻͋̇͛̋̑̀̈́̽̀͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Alys looks in wary consideration at the creature, which she can only assume to be one of the Revenant Shades. She doesn't like Revenants; they are surprisingly durable, able to use Soul to cast spells, and the taller ones can even call on Shadow for magic. Worst of all, some of them leave behind Shades when they die. She strains to make out what it's saying. The dragonfly feels the urge to simply burn the wretched thing away and be done with it, but something in those words rouses an ache in her chest. "You have harmed others, then, and come to regret it. Unfortunate for you."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̷͕̥̥͈̾̿͌́̾͐̀͑̿T̴̨͎̙̼͎́̌̄̊̔̇͜͠ḧ̷̝͇̱̝́̓ͅé̷̲͍̄͑̅͛̊͊͂̅̚͝͝ẙ̵̧̡̭̖͎̬͉͈̞͂̀̌ͅ ̴̧̢̯̰͖̞̐̾̀̿̽̏͆̈́̇͜͠ͅd̷̢̤͉͎̜̟̠̬̠̃̔̆́͋̓͑͝ĩ̸̡͈̥͚̘̠͆̓̓̀̕͜ͅd̴̢̡̙͕̰̰̪̟͈̻̺̏͜n̶͖̤̉̔’̸̖͇̯̞͎̝̃̈́̈̃̂̌̈̎ţ̸̞̘̻̬͙̩̣̩̃̋̎̐̓͗͘ ̵̞̯̘̎̈́̎͂̏̽̽̍̓̓̂̕d̷̬̬͚̝͎͚̗̰̠̗̯̠̊e̸̝̮̯̞̫͕͇̳̊̽̾̉͆͘s̵̫͗̊̂͋̆̾̇̿̄͛e̴̦̠̼͎̰̟̋͑̊̈́̀̈́r̵̛͎͚̎̈́̄v̶̪̩͍̟͕̗̲̰̇ȩ̴̨̱̺̫͈̱͐̑͒̽̄́͌̚̕͠ ̶̘͕̩̩̯͈͈̦̪̯̈́̌͑͌͝ţ̵͕̯̹͉̒̐̀̅͗́͒́̄o̴͇̫̩͖̗̪̓ ̶͈̺͎͚͚̐̓͋̆͑̓̿̚͘͝d̵̪͙̦͉̞̩͔̟̞̦̑̉͒̓͑́i̸͇̩̟͆̍̀͗̀̎̿̆͛̑͘e̸̢̥̰͒́”̴̡̟͔̦̳̫̉͜

Vigilant curls into herself.

“̶̼͚̥̼̹̼̬͔̇̌̾̉͌̓͜͝N̷̨̦͈̦͖̲̒̌̉̂̄̚ơ̸̙̲͚͔̘͇̥̓̂̀͌̌ ̶̳͇̭̫͎̠͖̻̪̜̙̃̽͒̂͘͜͠ơ̸̧͈̫̼̗͆͂̈́̓͆ͅn̶̨̛̞͇͔̥̲̳̔͊̒̃ȇ̵͙̬̽ ̸̢̨̠̌̇d̵̢̨͈̦̼̪̦̰̘̗̣͊̇̏͌̀́͒͗̆̀͜͠ͅe̵̳̟̠͚̟̱̗͙͋̋̈́̽̿̆̒͑̕̚͝ş̶̹̩̦̥̣̯̰̱̹͗̐͗͆͆̚͜ę̸̜͈͎̂̏̈̀̉̉̈́̏̕̕͠͝͠r̸̡̡͎̜̻̱͚̭̦͔̥̀̓̔̅̒̑̋͜v̸̩͍̰̤̣̬̍e̵͖̻̗̬͉̫̟͙͌̿͊͗̚s̸̛̫̘̪̰̻̈́̿̒̓͆̕͝ ̷̡̛͎͉̯̹̤͓̫̈́̇͆̾̐͂̚͜͜t̵̢͍̳͓͉͗͜͠ọ̶̧̨̢̼̯̝̗͕̝̻̀̐ ̷͍͎͇͒̈́͒̀̓͛̓d̴̼̈́̌͑̏́̄̓̓͌͘ȋ̸͓͓̲̼̜̜͇͉̆̓͂͛̈́̎̊̀͝e̴̤͔̼̦̭̼̬͓͆̏̽̓̋̇͗ͅ”̶̮͖̠̀͑͘͝͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She looks on with no pity, even as the words stir her own loathing. "Perhaps they did not deserve to die, but they are dead. Mourn and move on, Shade. They are no longer here." She should kill this creature, or walk away. She is compelled to stay and speak, instead.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̶̧͇̻͆̔̆̈̈́Y̷̢̡̢̺̥̖̯̻̜̘͎̞̅̉̍̿̿̅ȏ̸̰̞͖͎̀̂͠ͅǘ̶̞͋’̴̛̜̩̥̩̗̜̣̟̣̣̫͆̋̉̍̏̾͊̓͝͝r̸̨͙̠͉͈̝̹̹̟͓̍͛͂̌͐͆̈́̊̎̏̾́ͅè̸̛̥̘̙̝̔̃̊̉͒̅́̃͘͝ ̴̤͍͓͈͇̠̣̻̲̎w̶̱͐̅́r̵̼̳̐̈́o̸̞̦̥͊̈̓̓̀̐̔͝͝n̷̡̙̘̺̪̜̖̏̎̓̋̃g̵̡̲̞̻͍͍͓̳͑̊͋́͊̓͐́͠,̴̜͈̹͆̿̍̿̽́̐̽͒̽͠ ̵͓̦̳̯͎̓ë̷̗̟̦́̇̐̀̒́̌͂̚v̵͍̖̉͑̋̃̓̒͊͆̚͝͠ê̴͎̬̤̜̮͓̘͙̰̿̃͆̇̏̅͜͝ͅr̵̛̜̠͖̱̠̓̀̄͜y̶̨̛̜͖̝̩̟̻̰̩̪̩̎̀̆̔̍̓̾͝͝͝͝o̸̻̩̫̯͉͈͐ǹ̸̢̰͈͍̙̬̳̞̬̬̳̤̓͗͋̒̐̈́́̉̓͜ę̴͚͔̙̦̻̹͗̔̄̓͛ ̶͓̙̙̗͖̩̩͎͔́͒d̸̺̱͍̭̠̞͎̻̀͒̍̇͌̕̚͘̕͜͜ͅë̸̘̊s̷̹͚̖̞̮͍͖͙̲̣͆̉̇̒͛́͗̀̐̚̕͝è̶͇̤͈̞̤̯̪̟̆͋͊̐̈́͝r̷̼͆͋v̸̺̰̪̫̖̥͎̲͓̿͒͌̈́͂̽͘͝e̴͎̟̬͇̅s̵̯̥̮̩̗̜̖̠̻͙̊̐̃͊̑͆̓͒̈ͅ ̵̞̑̓t̶̘̹̜͇̬̞͈̱̀́̆̌͌͝ǫ̶̱̰̩͖̝̳̤̦̰̻̅̾͆̀ ̷̜̪̳̪͖̭̟͍̿̑̑̄͒́́̎̈́̀́ͅb̵̨̖̗̩͙̹͂͌͌͗̑͋̃̽̚͘e̴̪̘͖̒̇̓̄̄̚ ̷̨͔̯̖̦̯̘̲͓̗̊͊̑̆́̊̊̂̊ŗ̶̧̲͈̹̭̖̜͕̋́̐̿̾̏̽̇͘͝e̴̡̛̜̹̞͚̘̾̓̈́͗̈̄́̃̋̈̃̋m̸̦̱̺͚͍̱̥̱̭̗͇̎̉͋e̸̘̲̅̓͗̓̏̆̇̎͝m̷̜̺̔͑̈́̄͗̿̀̓̓͋́̕̚b̵̧̙̰̖̥͈̪͉͕̟͇̈́̏̈́̊̈̅̑̽͘ë̸̢̢͍͍̬̜͈͖́̈́́̀̄r̶̭̂͐́́͐̊̔̉è̷̢̹̅d̷̟̬̱̬͛”̶̨̛̪̬̲̖̥͔̲̙͉̽͑̌̊̍̈́͋͒̈́͘͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"When did I say that they did not?" she asks sharply. "I only tell you what I know to be true... mourning and feeling sorry for yourself accomplishes nothing." She turns her head away, getting lost in her thoughts. This advice, she knows that she must give it. It has helped her. It will help them.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

The hole in their chest was growing slowly.

“̶̞̭̣͕̻̜͛̎͂̓̌̃B̶̡̪͖̗̱̻̙̻̰̱̗͆̈́u̴̝͕͙̓̎̉̌̈̍̆ť̴̰̝̅́̉̇̓͋͂͋́̂̕͝͝ ̸̡͉͓̣̼̭̱̣̱̬̟̑͒̎̀́͋̌̋̃̊͘̕͠͝͝ỉ̶̢̨͚̗̱͔͉̭͙͉̜̦͕̣͆̂́̿̂̚ṯ̴̻̏̾̒̀̉͝ ̸̜̘̞̞̰̫̠̫̤̣̳̮̰͇̔̇w̷̡̱͎̲͈̻̫̗̺̠̲̙̩̮͆̂̑̀̓̊̓̍̍͠a̵̦͉̰̦̱̾̒̈́͊̏̔̎ś̵̨̡̮̳̝̙̫͉̯̹͍̪͖̞̻̽̿̂̈́̍͛́̒͆̕̕̚͘͝ ̵̹͔̯̭͑͌̃̾̃̍́͑̐̍̈́̕͝͠m̵͇̘̳͔̱̓̈͋̊̿͐̐̑̅̄̀̚͝͠y̴̹͉̰̭̯̍̐̈̀͒ͅ ̶̢̺̣̳̤͓̦͓͔̙̲̻̺̔̌̅̍ͅͅf̷͙̌ả̴̢̨͇̘̖̱̤̮̮̤̬̓́͜ȕ̶̡̦͎̦͈͕̮̗̗͓͍͐ͅl̴͎̋̇̈́͂́͌͛̐̐t̸̡̨̺̻̥͔̙̱̲̦̥̗̟̿̕͝ͅ”̴̧̡̛͖̱̟̬̝̬̬̬̲̆̏͆̓̀̒̍̓̌́̆͘͝

“̴̢̩͔̱̰̱͉̪͕̞̺͕̐̐̅̈́͋̉͑̃̋Į̸̢̣̤̺͇̩̤̻̩̙͕̩̝̃́͋̆̇̈̃̿͊̓͛̃̕͠͠ ̶̙͈̇̔̆̌̐́̏̌̀̈́́͠͝s̵̱͈̱͓̄̊͗̋́͋́̍́̐͘h̶̻̽̄͘͝ổ̸̢̭̥̞̣̲͇̫͇̤͔̣̽͜u̶͗̿͋͘ͅl̶̹̤͇͙̺̭̝̤͚̩͕̙̰̻̀̚͝͠ͅd̶̗̘̼͍̣͚̝͓̣̩̜̿ͅn̸̨̠̝̘̟̦͊̓̂̅́̄͘̚͝’̶͚͙̱̟̝̹̀̈́̎̍̇̿͛̽͛̎̃̂͝t̵̡̫̙̼̚ ̵̥͉̜̻̣̻̠͛̋͋͌̄̏̃̔͂͘͜j̸̰̻̀͊̅͝ȕ̸̗̬͉͔͛̍͒́̈̓s̷̤͋̿̓̓͌͆̉͐̇͂̚͘t̸̛̳̻̹̯̣̜͚̟̗̓̍̄̓́̈́̓̓͐̆̕͜͠͝͝ ̵̫̳͖͍̻͚̍̓̑͊͐̓̿̐͐̌̾͝͝g̸̪̉̏̄̄̚ĕ̷͇̹̦̫̅͋̓͜͠t̴̢̪̩̭̳̤͔̜͓̲̯̗̿̂̃̿̐̐̄̅̿̈́̈́͗͘̚ ̸̧̛̯̅̋̌̉̏̈́͌̎́͘͝͝t̸̰̫̩̬̋̋͂̂̿͒̽̈̆o̶̜̹̔͗ ̶̧̛̥̘̬͖̹͒̓̓́̾͂͑̈́͂̈͒͑͑͝ͅm̴̛̦̥̯͙̟̮̟̠͂͛̏̿̿̇̐͑́́̑͐̈́͝o̵̢̡̙̠̭͖͎̺͍̺͇͖̓͛̑͐͑̂͂́̓͗̏̋͘v̴̨̨̢͓̬̪͇̱̪̬̟̪̻͇̳́̌̈́̆͝ĕ̵̡̪̩̗̳͕̫̤͉̬͉̱̠͕̄̎̎́̈́̎̎͋̈́̚͝ ̸̩͍̜̺̠̐̽̅o̶̢̤͙̜̳̻̻͇̯̠̯̘̓̒̂̄̾̀̃͝ͅñ̷̛̛̺͕̙̈́̂̋̐ͅ”̵̢̛͔͎̲̟͌́͒̈́̄̎̔͜

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She shakes her head. "If the death's blame lies upon you, then it is even more necessary for you to move on. You killed this person, so it is your duty to continue living, so that their life is not wastes. To do anything less would be shameful cowardice."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

The hole is creeping further up. Twisting around her throat.

“̴̧̛̛̌̅͊̓̌̒̎̽̎̕͝I̴̜͓̊̈́̋̓̋̓̈́̈́͂͑̓̉̚’̴̨̭̤̟͙̫̩͚̜̘̬̟͙͖̅͋̈̓̌̊̄̒̑̊͆̚͘͠͝m̵͖̾̐̽̈̓̃̋͑́ ̶̨͉̻̺̙̮͇̩̪͈͓̤̱̞̘́̂͌͘n̸̨̗̼̰̳̖̲̭̐͑̿͑̔̎͒̉͋̇̂͘̕͘ő̸̫̫̩̺̫̘̱͈̯̙̈͛̏̐͌͆͗̇͠ţ̶̪͓͇̠͇̘̒͗̅̾ ̸̢̨̯̲̩̼͖͔͕̺̝̈́̋̇̏͌́͗͆̓̄̀̕̕͜a̵̧̧̗͚͇̘̺̜̜̫̫͍̟̯̿̅͆͗́͊̿͜͝ ̸̢̘͙̬͖̖͇̦̝̀̇͜͜͜c̴̨̤̰͉͍͔̦̰̞̪͉̜̮̜̣͌̉̈̄͐͛̊͂̉̓̉̌̇̕o̶̰͋̂w̴̛̼̣̪̯̫̘͇͇͙̖̥̋̆̇̎́̍̉͑̋̄͊̅̕ḁ̷̧̠̗͍̮̞̰͍̏̓̎̐̋͛͊̄̇̈́̒̚͝r̸̤͛̎d̴̡͎̜͓̺̣̣̳̝̻̃̓̓̅͌̈́͋͠”̷̧̢̱̩̼͍̫̘̉̿̏͑̔̿̅͒

“̴̥͊͗̈́̈͌̽̓͠I̴̧̨̮͉̣̠̓̀̚̚ ̷̡̟̻̳̺̟̫̮̜͛̄̈́̓̇̀͑͑͑̒͛̈́̚m̶͎̪͎̘͖̮̫̂͒̊͊ü̵͚̫̖̈́̈́̈́r̸̢̢̞͓̫͙̣͉̲̘͕̈́͂ḑ̷̨̼̥̠͕͎̤͕͙̦̰̏̀̀͒͛͠͝ͅę̶̛̮̲̣̜͙̥̖͎̉͛̀͛̏̉̈́̆͝ṛ̷̡͔̬̗͚̰͔͎̠̘̻̝͐̂̀̈̔͋̋̏͐̓͝ͅe̵̢̮͍͑͛̀͝d̷̹̲̼̖͚̜̹̣̬̣̜̠̹̮͌́̚ ̷̘̱̠̦̥̪̟͎̥͈̜̙̼̠̾s̵̨͓͚̹̫̠̝͕̋̾͘ở̸̛͉̖͛͋̎̏͒̇̋m̴̢̡͇̮̟̱̙͕̘̗̤͔̠̿̍͘͜e̷̛̫̤̾̍̕o̵̘̥͓̜̮̦͉̖̣͚͇̅͆́̊̀̍̓̀͒̕͝͝͠ņ̵̹̤͖̘̗̉͌͋͛̒̂́̔́̇̔̓̚é̷̹̞̯̳̥͛̎͆̈́͑̐̈́̆̈́͠͝ͅ.̷͖̭͍̟͕̖̎̔̑̓͝ ̷̧̢̟͈͖̺̗̝͍̰͚͊̀̇̽̇̈͌̔͜Ḭ̶̝̟̩̯̠̂̅͛̎͛̎͂̐̊̕ ̷̨̼͖̞̻͔̰̲͙͖̻̱͂̐͐̀͒͜͝ḁ̸̡̭̄̓͆́͑̑̑́͛̍͝͝͝m̸̛̥̗͇̜̰̲̞̘̝̬̤̐̊̋̍̚͘̕ ̴̡̧̮̝̜̣̮̣̺́͌̍́̐̔̎̑̾̏̆͌́̏́t̸̢̢̛̥͚͈̝͍̗̦̔̌̽̑͗͆̚͝͝͝o̸̘̰̖̯̫̮̠̹̅̓̔̒͌͛͂̿ ̷̢̞̟̖̻̎̎̉̏̉̈́̿̓́͊̐͋̍̕̚͜b̵̬͔̝̼͎͈̲̓̑͜ļ̸̮̮̬̯͎͍̝͑̽̾̒̕ͅā̴̡͎̘̺̻̟͚̱͙͚̰͈͋͑̈́̉͑͌͗̾̑̑͒̂̓m̸̛̜̦͐̍̌̓̊͛̌͋͂̄̒̀̚͝e̸̝͖͛̉̽̇ ̷̢͖̟̭̥̹̗̱̩̬̙̹̎̽̉̏f̵̛̹̩̃̇̆͐̀͐̀o̶̯͖̲̭͚͇͙͔̲̗̗̫̐͋̃̀͘͜ͅr̷̢̡̙̞̜͎̲̪̙̮̦̒͂͂̒͒̂͌̽̑͠͠ͅ ̷̧̛͍̣̼̘̘̜̥̰͊̌̃͂͐̆̆̋̒͝͝͝t̸̨͎̝̪̗͍͙̝̺̮̗̣̪̜͋͝͝h̸̫̯̭̤̟̻̞͔̖̠̖͔͉͍̘͗͠e̸̛̬̖̪̦̦̫̪̮͖̩̜̓̄̿̐͊̄͌̇͐̍̽̔͗͝ ̴̨̲͇͇́̓̽̌̿̓̽̅̃ļ̵̢̻̫̠̟̻̫̻͈̗̯͒̒̄̓̏̔̊͗͊͘͘o̴̧̘̥̻̭͉̼̫͕̩͛̽̍͗̕͝ś̴̢̨̛͎̬̠̼̣̱̝͚̥̮̜̼̅̽̓͑̋̀͜͝s̶̗̮̹̖̳̞̜̠͇͓̱͖̏̏̑͗̉͒̔ ̵̙̯̏͆̉͒̆̓͗́̅̓͐̄̏̚͝ö̸̧̟̪̯̈͗̽͛͜f̴̧̢̨̰͖͙͖̩̤̤̫͓̭̪͑͆̋̔̕̚͜ ̴̨̧̡̢͚̳̜̻̱̬̘̮̱̘͐͗̈̑͑͛͂a̵͆͌̄̂͛ͅ ̶̡̡̬̫͕͔͖̠̞͖͈̋̅͝l̸̨̞͔̻͌͒̃͋͘͜i̴͇̼͖͌̀͐̅̀͂̄̀̋̆̚̕f̴̲͉͍̦̗̥̐̃͐͘̕͝͝ȩ̴͓̩̇̋͑̎̒͆͑̏”̶̛̖́͗̇̀͐̈͌̋̐͒̑͠

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"And?" Crossing her arms, her tail lashes, the blade leaving a gouge in the earth with a shrill sound of metal. "If you are to blame, then you must take on the responsibility of what you have done. What do you think they would say, seeing you here, wallowing in misery?" She gestures towards them with one hand. "The only words for this are pathetic and cowardly. Live. You must live. If you do not, you are spitting on the grave of the one you killed. You are dishonoring them with your aimless existence."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant does not retort. Does not defend themself. They do not speak. They cannot speak. Void dripping away to form a hole where their mouth once was. They squeeze their eyes shut tight. They want to yell back. But cannot. The void is bubbling. Vigilant cannot stay here much longer. They sink into the ground. They shouldn’t have left they shouldn’t have left. She wants to scream and cry but does not make a sound.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She sneers as she watches the ghost fade away. "Pathetic creature. You cannot even speak for yourself?" ... Once it is gone, she pulls her eyes away from where it stood. She will never allow herself to become something like that. She burned that out of her heart a long time ago.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant jumps, startled out of their thoughts.

“̵͇̝̹͙̥̞͛́̂́̓Ï̷̩̖̲̣͌̋̈́̃͒͑̕͘’̸̨̗͎͈̭͎̂͜m̸̛̖̌́̆̃̀͐͘͝ ̷̬̠͔͆̔͑ṇ̶̹̩̉͌͐͌̅̄͠͠o̶̧̟̗͙̦̐̅̆͛́̈̃ṫ̸̲̫̣͖͇̟̹̃̇̈́̐̑͌͑͋̕̚͝ ̶̳͈̟̗̗̗͈̰̘͙̦́͜h̷̛̻̦͍̹̯̣̦̺͛̌̍̊̏̆̍̎̃̚̕̕͜͜ẽ̸̡̘͇̟̈̌̈͛͗̏͗͠͠ŗ̵̡̞͇̗̥͚͌̈́̇̉̅̅̕͝e̷̛͎͖̦̎͆̊̇̀̊̈́̍͐̏͗̏̒͠ ̸̪̜̖͇̦̰̯̺̟͓̦̳̣̓͊̋̈̿͆̽͠͝͝t̸̨̐͆̾́̽̈̓̽͆̈́̎̚ǫ̶̢̙̺̲̘̹̌̓͌̀̉̇̈́̓̿͜͝ͅ ̸̞̼͂̔̉̓͂̔́̌̔͒̚͝c̶̞͔̳͙̣͈͍͎̈́̍͂̔̀̓ạ̶̢͇͇͚̼̰̮̫͚͖́ͅṳ̵̧̭̭̺̘̗͓̳̫̮̓́̀͋̓̈́́̾͆̔̈́̈̏s̶̙̭̣͂e̴̤̟͎͍̗͎͌̀̓̐ ̷̨͈̥̝̪̼̻̮̏̐̑̔̏́̊͑͊̀̃̃̕̚͝h̵̛̖̿͆͗̅͌͐͘à̵̢̧̙̫̒͛̔͆͊̀̿̕͝͠͝ͅr̷̡̨̥̟̥̫̫͖͇̣͍͙̽͌̏̐̆͆̓̎̀̎̄m̸̦͚̥̯͇̤̞͉͔̒̇̈́͌́͜,̵̢̢̖̩͚̩͇̗̪͚̑́̑͂̈͊̌͂̀͒̋̚͝͝ͅ ̴̧̧̙̬̫̉͊̾͐̐́͗̔͑̚̕ḑ̶̛̮͇̲͓̘̘̬̘̰̞̯͆͛͊̔̐̈́͛ͅͅo̴̡̧̫͔͍͍̝͇̝̤͕̤͌͋́̍̐̈̑̑͜͜͜͠ ̸̡̤̥̣͇͕͚̙̰̟̫̟͉̺̬̓͛̿̆̽n̷̢̡͎̤̤̜͕̜͕̘̹̱̟̿͋͌̈́̐̐ô̶͉͇̇̐̋̏̌ţ̵̬̼̦͙̺̯̖͚̈̆͑̌̔͒̀͒̀̃̉̇ ̵̨̛̫͙͈͑͛̉͒͗̂w̴̨̲̺̙̱̮͉̗̝͖͕̤͇͇̋͆͠ó̵̧͍̯̩̜̗͓̜̺͇͓̩̓͆́̄ṟ̷͓̝͓͚̀̎̎̔̀̀͝͝ŗ̵͖̰̩͔̱̖̳͙̲̹̹̐̍̒̈́̆̈́̕͜y̸̛̬͐”̵̢̳͚̼̪̽̾̊̒̌̀̑͊͆̌

Vigilant rises. The shade of a vessel but off. There is a hole in their chest.

“̵͕͎̮͚̞̙̗͕͔̺̹̲͓̒̇̌̾̊͆̇̈́̍̀̚I̵̬̤̭̟̝̦̩̲̜͈̙̊͑̾́̽͆̑̍͂͊̕͘ ̷̢̢̺̘̺̦̰̮̫͉͌̈́ͅd̷͖͍̭̐̒̒̋͛͂̏̇͋ỏ̸̟͗͌̊̓͐͘ ̵̧̛̞̬̺̪͙͎͎̮̦̙̪̍̍̅̇͑̌͗̅̏ñ̴̝̰̟͙̦̔̏͐̇̉̿̈́̂͐̍͗͘ͅơ̵̧̨̼͎͕̼̣̪̹̯̼̄̐̅̎̄̓̄̚ͅṯ̶̨͕̜̱͈͈̤̊͋͑̈̍̎͛̾͝ ̷̢̛̯̜̭̻̣̭̗̓̎̂͂́̀̚w̷̛̛̤̠̭̝̰͈͙̭̃̇̊͛̐̂͝͝ͅą̵̤̮͔͕̭͗̓̍̍͋̇̇̒̔̑̿̆n̴̢̤̱̙̹̟̾͗̈́͑̍̓̃́̆̓́̚͝t̵̫̤̞̦̿͝ ̸̨̧̧̯̤͎̥͕̰̪̥̖̄͜t̸͔͇͍͑̊̈́̈́͆͑̈́̀̕͘͝ö̴̭͍̹́̊́̿̈́͛̈́͝ ̷̧̳͇̤͇̫̙̦̀̄̔̇̚ͅc̷̡͓̗̖͉̦̯̖̏̿̀͊̊̓͋͛̆̕͠à̴͉͔̟̂̓̈́̃̈̉̚͝u̵͖̗̗͖̱̖̥̘͛̇̆̊̓͌͑̓̊̆s̸͍̭͈͎̓̆͗͑̍ȇ̸̢̹̮͖̼̗̜̜͔̋̒̌̇ͅ ̵̨̪̞̜̬̩̇̏̀̽̉̏̉̎̊̃̽̂͝h̴̘̑̀̓͛͝a̴͙̰͉͎̪͉͖̭̺̺̟͕̝̎r̵̳̬̫̲̞͕͗̾͗̌m̷͖̮̣͇͎̳̺͇̑̈́͛ ̷̗͉̀̎̏̃͋̈́̽͋̄͐͝͝ę̸̡̨̝̭͓͖͇̰͍̬̀̅̏́͊̆̈́̕͜͠ͅv̶̛̼̝̿̈͊̀͆̌̇̓ę̴̡̨̡̖͓̗̰̯̌͜ͅr̶̺̼̺̫̖̻̥̐ͅ ̴͍͎̬͍̦̺̐̆̈́̍̆̀͑̿͂ḁ̷̡̱͍͙͌͐̇̈́̽̆̉͝ǵ̸̫̻̟͖͗a̸̦̘͆͗į̶̯̞̩̬̻̓̈̽̄̀ň̸̯̇͂͐̓͘”̵̡̞͈̙̝̲̱̻͋̇͛̋̑̀̈́̽̀͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Alys looks in wary consideration at the creature, which she can only assume to be one of the Revenant Shades. She doesn't like Revenants; they are surprisingly durable, able to use Soul to cast spells, and the taller ones can even call on Shadow for magic. Worst of all, some of them leave behind Shades when they die. She strains to make out what it's saying. The dragonfly feels the urge to simply burn the wretched thing away and be done with it, but something in those words rouses an ache in her chest. "You have harmed others, then, and come to regret it. Unfortunate for you."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̷͕̥̥͈̾̿͌́̾͐̀͑̿T̴̨͎̙̼͎́̌̄̊̔̇͜͠ḧ̷̝͇̱̝́̓ͅé̷̲͍̄͑̅͛̊͊͂̅̚͝͝ẙ̵̧̡̭̖͎̬͉͈̞͂̀̌ͅ ̴̧̢̯̰͖̞̐̾̀̿̽̏͆̈́̇͜͠ͅd̷̢̤͉͎̜̟̠̬̠̃̔̆́͋̓͑͝ĩ̸̡͈̥͚̘̠͆̓̓̀̕͜ͅd̴̢̡̙͕̰̰̪̟͈̻̺̏͜n̶͖̤̉̔’̸̖͇̯̞͎̝̃̈́̈̃̂̌̈̎ţ̸̞̘̻̬͙̩̣̩̃̋̎̐̓͗͘ ̵̞̯̘̎̈́̎͂̏̽̽̍̓̓̂̕d̷̬̬͚̝͎͚̗̰̠̗̯̠̊e̸̝̮̯̞̫͕͇̳̊̽̾̉͆͘s̵̫͗̊̂͋̆̾̇̿̄͛e̴̦̠̼͎̰̟̋͑̊̈́̀̈́r̵̛͎͚̎̈́̄v̶̪̩͍̟͕̗̲̰̇ȩ̴̨̱̺̫͈̱͐̑͒̽̄́͌̚̕͠ ̶̘͕̩̩̯͈͈̦̪̯̈́̌͑͌͝ţ̵͕̯̹͉̒̐̀̅͗́͒́̄o̴͇̫̩͖̗̪̓ ̶͈̺͎͚͚̐̓͋̆͑̓̿̚͘͝d̵̪͙̦͉̞̩͔̟̞̦̑̉͒̓͑́i̸͇̩̟͆̍̀͗̀̎̿̆͛̑͘e̸̢̥̰͒́”̴̡̟͔̦̳̫̉͜

Vigilant curls into herself.

“̶̼͚̥̼̹̼̬͔̇̌̾̉͌̓͜͝N̷̨̦͈̦͖̲̒̌̉̂̄̚ơ̸̙̲͚͔̘͇̥̓̂̀͌̌ ̶̳͇̭̫͎̠͖̻̪̜̙̃̽͒̂͘͜͠ơ̸̧͈̫̼̗͆͂̈́̓͆ͅn̶̨̛̞͇͔̥̲̳̔͊̒̃ȇ̵͙̬̽ ̸̢̨̠̌̇d̵̢̨͈̦̼̪̦̰̘̗̣͊̇̏͌̀́͒͗̆̀͜͠ͅe̵̳̟̠͚̟̱̗͙͋̋̈́̽̿̆̒͑̕̚͝ş̶̹̩̦̥̣̯̰̱̹͗̐͗͆͆̚͜ę̸̜͈͎̂̏̈̀̉̉̈́̏̕̕͠͝͠r̸̡̡͎̜̻̱͚̭̦͔̥̀̓̔̅̒̑̋͜v̸̩͍̰̤̣̬̍e̵͖̻̗̬͉̫̟͙͌̿͊͗̚s̸̛̫̘̪̰̻̈́̿̒̓͆̕͝ ̷̡̛͎͉̯̹̤͓̫̈́̇͆̾̐͂̚͜͜t̵̢͍̳͓͉͗͜͠ọ̶̧̨̢̼̯̝̗͕̝̻̀̐ ̷͍͎͇͒̈́͒̀̓͛̓d̴̼̈́̌͑̏́̄̓̓͌͘ȋ̸͓͓̲̼̜̜͇͉̆̓͂͛̈́̎̊̀͝e̴̤͔̼̦̭̼̬͓͆̏̽̓̋̇͗ͅ”̶̮͖̠̀͑͘͝͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She looks on with no pity, even as the words stir her own loathing. "Perhaps they did not deserve to die, but they are dead. Mourn and move on, Shade. They are no longer here." She should kill this creature, or walk away. She is compelled to stay and speak, instead.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̶̧͇̻͆̔̆̈̈́Y̷̢̡̢̺̥̖̯̻̜̘͎̞̅̉̍̿̿̅ȏ̸̰̞͖͎̀̂͠ͅǘ̶̞͋’̴̛̜̩̥̩̗̜̣̟̣̣̫͆̋̉̍̏̾͊̓͝͝r̸̨͙̠͉͈̝̹̹̟͓̍͛͂̌͐͆̈́̊̎̏̾́ͅè̸̛̥̘̙̝̔̃̊̉͒̅́̃͘͝ ̴̤͍͓͈͇̠̣̻̲̎w̶̱͐̅́r̵̼̳̐̈́o̸̞̦̥͊̈̓̓̀̐̔͝͝n̷̡̙̘̺̪̜̖̏̎̓̋̃g̵̡̲̞̻͍͍͓̳͑̊͋́͊̓͐́͠,̴̜͈̹͆̿̍̿̽́̐̽͒̽͠ ̵͓̦̳̯͎̓ë̷̗̟̦́̇̐̀̒́̌͂̚v̵͍̖̉͑̋̃̓̒͊͆̚͝͠ê̴͎̬̤̜̮͓̘͙̰̿̃͆̇̏̅͜͝ͅr̵̛̜̠͖̱̠̓̀̄͜y̶̨̛̜͖̝̩̟̻̰̩̪̩̎̀̆̔̍̓̾͝͝͝͝o̸̻̩̫̯͉͈͐ǹ̸̢̰͈͍̙̬̳̞̬̬̳̤̓͗͋̒̐̈́́̉̓͜ę̴͚͔̙̦̻̹͗̔̄̓͛ ̶͓̙̙̗͖̩̩͎͔́͒d̸̺̱͍̭̠̞͎̻̀͒̍̇͌̕̚͘̕͜͜ͅë̸̘̊s̷̹͚̖̞̮͍͖͙̲̣͆̉̇̒͛́͗̀̐̚̕͝è̶͇̤͈̞̤̯̪̟̆͋͊̐̈́͝r̷̼͆͋v̸̺̰̪̫̖̥͎̲͓̿͒͌̈́͂̽͘͝e̴͎̟̬͇̅s̵̯̥̮̩̗̜̖̠̻͙̊̐̃͊̑͆̓͒̈ͅ ̵̞̑̓t̶̘̹̜͇̬̞͈̱̀́̆̌͌͝ǫ̶̱̰̩͖̝̳̤̦̰̻̅̾͆̀ ̷̜̪̳̪͖̭̟͍̿̑̑̄͒́́̎̈́̀́ͅb̵̨̖̗̩͙̹͂͌͌͗̑͋̃̽̚͘e̴̪̘͖̒̇̓̄̄̚ ̷̨͔̯̖̦̯̘̲͓̗̊͊̑̆́̊̊̂̊ŗ̶̧̲͈̹̭̖̜͕̋́̐̿̾̏̽̇͘͝e̴̡̛̜̹̞͚̘̾̓̈́͗̈̄́̃̋̈̃̋m̸̦̱̺͚͍̱̥̱̭̗͇̎̉͋e̸̘̲̅̓͗̓̏̆̇̎͝m̷̜̺̔͑̈́̄͗̿̀̓̓͋́̕̚b̵̧̙̰̖̥͈̪͉͕̟͇̈́̏̈́̊̈̅̑̽͘ë̸̢̢͍͍̬̜͈͖́̈́́̀̄r̶̭̂͐́́͐̊̔̉è̷̢̹̅d̷̟̬̱̬͛”̶̨̛̪̬̲̖̥͔̲̙͉̽͑̌̊̍̈́͋͒̈́͘͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"When did I say that they did not?" she asks sharply. "I only tell you what I know to be true... mourning and feeling sorry for yourself accomplishes nothing." She turns her head away, getting lost in her thoughts. This advice, she knows that she must give it. It has helped her. It will help them.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

The hole in their chest was growing slowly.

“̶̞̭̣͕̻̜͛̎͂̓̌̃B̶̡̪͖̗̱̻̙̻̰̱̗͆̈́u̴̝͕͙̓̎̉̌̈̍̆ť̴̰̝̅́̉̇̓͋͂͋́̂̕͝͝ ̸̡͉͓̣̼̭̱̣̱̬̟̑͒̎̀́͋̌̋̃̊͘̕͠͝͝ỉ̶̢̨͚̗̱͔͉̭͙͉̜̦͕̣͆̂́̿̂̚ṯ̴̻̏̾̒̀̉͝ ̸̜̘̞̞̰̫̠̫̤̣̳̮̰͇̔̇w̷̡̱͎̲͈̻̫̗̺̠̲̙̩̮͆̂̑̀̓̊̓̍̍͠a̵̦͉̰̦̱̾̒̈́͊̏̔̎ś̵̨̡̮̳̝̙̫͉̯̹͍̪͖̞̻̽̿̂̈́̍͛́̒͆̕̕̚͘͝ ̵̹͔̯̭͑͌̃̾̃̍́͑̐̍̈́̕͝͠m̵͇̘̳͔̱̓̈͋̊̿͐̐̑̅̄̀̚͝͠y̴̹͉̰̭̯̍̐̈̀͒ͅ ̶̢̺̣̳̤͓̦͓͔̙̲̻̺̔̌̅̍ͅͅf̷͙̌ả̴̢̨͇̘̖̱̤̮̮̤̬̓́͜ȕ̶̡̦͎̦͈͕̮̗̗͓͍͐ͅl̴͎̋̇̈́͂́͌͛̐̐t̸̡̨̺̻̥͔̙̱̲̦̥̗̟̿̕͝ͅ”̴̧̡̛͖̱̟̬̝̬̬̬̲̆̏͆̓̀̒̍̓̌́̆͘͝

“̴̢̩͔̱̰̱͉̪͕̞̺͕̐̐̅̈́͋̉͑̃̋Į̸̢̣̤̺͇̩̤̻̩̙͕̩̝̃́͋̆̇̈̃̿͊̓͛̃̕͠͠ ̶̙͈̇̔̆̌̐́̏̌̀̈́́͠͝s̵̱͈̱͓̄̊͗̋́͋́̍́̐͘h̶̻̽̄͘͝ổ̸̢̭̥̞̣̲͇̫͇̤͔̣̽͜u̶͗̿͋͘ͅl̶̹̤͇͙̺̭̝̤͚̩͕̙̰̻̀̚͝͠ͅd̶̗̘̼͍̣͚̝͓̣̩̜̿ͅn̸̨̠̝̘̟̦͊̓̂̅́̄͘̚͝’̶͚͙̱̟̝̹̀̈́̎̍̇̿͛̽͛̎̃̂͝t̵̡̫̙̼̚ ̵̥͉̜̻̣̻̠͛̋͋͌̄̏̃̔͂͘͜j̸̰̻̀͊̅͝ȕ̸̗̬͉͔͛̍͒́̈̓s̷̤͋̿̓̓͌͆̉͐̇͂̚͘t̸̛̳̻̹̯̣̜͚̟̗̓̍̄̓́̈́̓̓͐̆̕͜͠͝͝ ̵̫̳͖͍̻͚̍̓̑͊͐̓̿̐͐̌̾͝͝g̸̪̉̏̄̄̚ĕ̷͇̹̦̫̅͋̓͜͠t̴̢̪̩̭̳̤͔̜͓̲̯̗̿̂̃̿̐̐̄̅̿̈́̈́͗͘̚ ̸̧̛̯̅̋̌̉̏̈́͌̎́͘͝͝t̸̰̫̩̬̋̋͂̂̿͒̽̈̆o̶̜̹̔͗ ̶̧̛̥̘̬͖̹͒̓̓́̾͂͑̈́͂̈͒͑͑͝ͅm̴̛̦̥̯͙̟̮̟̠͂͛̏̿̿̇̐͑́́̑͐̈́͝o̵̢̡̙̠̭͖͎̺͍̺͇͖̓͛̑͐͑̂͂́̓͗̏̋͘v̴̨̨̢͓̬̪͇̱̪̬̟̪̻͇̳́̌̈́̆͝ĕ̵̡̪̩̗̳͕̫̤͉̬͉̱̠͕̄̎̎́̈́̎̎͋̈́̚͝ ̸̩͍̜̺̠̐̽̅o̶̢̤͙̜̳̻̻͇̯̠̯̘̓̒̂̄̾̀̃͝ͅñ̷̛̛̺͕̙̈́̂̋̐ͅ”̵̢̛͔͎̲̟͌́͒̈́̄̎̔͜

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She shakes her head. "If the death's blame lies upon you, then it is even more necessary for you to move on. You killed this person, so it is your duty to continue living, so that their life is not wastes. To do anything less would be shameful cowardice."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

The hole is creeping further up. Twisting around her throat.

“̴̧̛̛̌̅͊̓̌̒̎̽̎̕͝I̴̜͓̊̈́̋̓̋̓̈́̈́͂͑̓̉̚’̴̨̭̤̟͙̫̩͚̜̘̬̟͙͖̅͋̈̓̌̊̄̒̑̊͆̚͘͠͝m̵͖̾̐̽̈̓̃̋͑́ ̶̨͉̻̺̙̮͇̩̪͈͓̤̱̞̘́̂͌͘n̸̨̗̼̰̳̖̲̭̐͑̿͑̔̎͒̉͋̇̂͘̕͘ő̸̫̫̩̺̫̘̱͈̯̙̈͛̏̐͌͆͗̇͠ţ̶̪͓͇̠͇̘̒͗̅̾ ̸̢̨̯̲̩̼͖͔͕̺̝̈́̋̇̏͌́͗͆̓̄̀̕̕͜a̵̧̧̗͚͇̘̺̜̜̫̫͍̟̯̿̅͆͗́͊̿͜͝ ̸̢̘͙̬͖̖͇̦̝̀̇͜͜͜c̴̨̤̰͉͍͔̦̰̞̪͉̜̮̜̣͌̉̈̄͐͛̊͂̉̓̉̌̇̕o̶̰͋̂w̴̛̼̣̪̯̫̘͇͇͙̖̥̋̆̇̎́̍̉͑̋̄͊̅̕ḁ̷̧̠̗͍̮̞̰͍̏̓̎̐̋͛͊̄̇̈́̒̚͝r̸̤͛̎d̴̡͎̜͓̺̣̣̳̝̻̃̓̓̅͌̈́͋͠”̷̧̢̱̩̼͍̫̘̉̿̏͑̔̿̅͒

“̴̥͊͗̈́̈͌̽̓͠I̴̧̨̮͉̣̠̓̀̚̚ ̷̡̟̻̳̺̟̫̮̜͛̄̈́̓̇̀͑͑͑̒͛̈́̚m̶͎̪͎̘͖̮̫̂͒̊͊ü̵͚̫̖̈́̈́̈́r̸̢̢̞͓̫͙̣͉̲̘͕̈́͂ḑ̷̨̼̥̠͕͎̤͕͙̦̰̏̀̀͒͛͠͝ͅę̶̛̮̲̣̜͙̥̖͎̉͛̀͛̏̉̈́̆͝ṛ̷̡͔̬̗͚̰͔͎̠̘̻̝͐̂̀̈̔͋̋̏͐̓͝ͅe̵̢̮͍͑͛̀͝d̷̹̲̼̖͚̜̹̣̬̣̜̠̹̮͌́̚ ̷̘̱̠̦̥̪̟͎̥͈̜̙̼̠̾s̵̨͓͚̹̫̠̝͕̋̾͘ở̸̛͉̖͛͋̎̏͒̇̋m̴̢̡͇̮̟̱̙͕̘̗̤͔̠̿̍͘͜e̷̛̫̤̾̍̕o̵̘̥͓̜̮̦͉̖̣͚͇̅͆́̊̀̍̓̀͒̕͝͝͠ņ̵̹̤͖̘̗̉͌͋͛̒̂́̔́̇̔̓̚é̷̹̞̯̳̥͛̎͆̈́͑̐̈́̆̈́͠͝ͅ.̷͖̭͍̟͕̖̎̔̑̓͝ ̷̧̢̟͈͖̺̗̝͍̰͚͊̀̇̽̇̈͌̔͜Ḭ̶̝̟̩̯̠̂̅͛̎͛̎͂̐̊̕ ̷̨̼͖̞̻͔̰̲͙͖̻̱͂̐͐̀͒͜͝ḁ̸̡̭̄̓͆́͑̑̑́͛̍͝͝͝m̸̛̥̗͇̜̰̲̞̘̝̬̤̐̊̋̍̚͘̕ ̴̡̧̮̝̜̣̮̣̺́͌̍́̐̔̎̑̾̏̆͌́̏́t̸̢̢̛̥͚͈̝͍̗̦̔̌̽̑͗͆̚͝͝͝o̸̘̰̖̯̫̮̠̹̅̓̔̒͌͛͂̿ ̷̢̞̟̖̻̎̎̉̏̉̈́̿̓́͊̐͋̍̕̚͜b̵̬͔̝̼͎͈̲̓̑͜ļ̸̮̮̬̯͎͍̝͑̽̾̒̕ͅā̴̡͎̘̺̻̟͚̱͙͚̰͈͋͑̈́̉͑͌͗̾̑̑͒̂̓m̸̛̜̦͐̍̌̓̊͛̌͋͂̄̒̀̚͝e̸̝͖͛̉̽̇ ̷̢͖̟̭̥̹̗̱̩̬̙̹̎̽̉̏f̵̛̹̩̃̇̆͐̀͐̀o̶̯͖̲̭͚͇͙͔̲̗̗̫̐͋̃̀͘͜ͅr̷̢̡̙̞̜͎̲̪̙̮̦̒͂͂̒͒̂͌̽̑͠͠ͅ ̷̧̛͍̣̼̘̘̜̥̰͊̌̃͂͐̆̆̋̒͝͝͝t̸̨͎̝̪̗͍͙̝̺̮̗̣̪̜͋͝͝h̸̫̯̭̤̟̻̞͔̖̠̖͔͉͍̘͗͠e̸̛̬̖̪̦̦̫̪̮͖̩̜̓̄̿̐͊̄͌̇͐̍̽̔͗͝ ̴̨̲͇͇́̓̽̌̿̓̽̅̃ļ̵̢̻̫̠̟̻̫̻͈̗̯͒̒̄̓̏̔̊͗͊͘͘o̴̧̘̥̻̭͉̼̫͕̩͛̽̍͗̕͝ś̴̢̨̛͎̬̠̼̣̱̝͚̥̮̜̼̅̽̓͑̋̀͜͝s̶̗̮̹̖̳̞̜̠͇͓̱͖̏̏̑͗̉͒̔ ̵̙̯̏͆̉͒̆̓͗́̅̓͐̄̏̚͝ö̸̧̟̪̯̈͗̽͛͜f̴̧̢̨̰͖͙͖̩̤̤̫͓̭̪͑͆̋̔̕̚͜ ̴̨̧̡̢͚̳̜̻̱̬̘̮̱̘͐͗̈̑͑͛͂a̵͆͌̄̂͛ͅ ̶̡̡̬̫͕͔͖̠̞͖͈̋̅͝l̸̨̞͔̻͌͒̃͋͘͜i̴͇̼͖͌̀͐̅̀͂̄̀̋̆̚̕f̴̲͉͍̦̗̥̐̃͐͘̕͝͝ȩ̴͓̩̇̋͑̎̒͆͑̏”̶̛̖́͗̇̀͐̈͌̋̐͒̑͠

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"And?" Crossing her arms, her tail lashes, the blade leaving a gouge in the earth with a shrill sound of metal. "If you are to blame, then you must take on the responsibility of what you have done. What do you think they would say, seeing you here, wallowing in misery?" She gestures towards them with one hand. "The only words for this are pathetic and cowardly. Live. You must live. If you do not, you are spitting on the grave of the one you killed. You are dishonoring them with your aimless existence."

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant jumps, startled out of their thoughts.

“̵͇̝̹͙̥̞͛́̂́̓Ï̷̩̖̲̣͌̋̈́̃͒͑̕͘’̸̨̗͎͈̭͎̂͜m̸̛̖̌́̆̃̀͐͘͝ ̷̬̠͔͆̔͑ṇ̶̹̩̉͌͐͌̅̄͠͠o̶̧̟̗͙̦̐̅̆͛́̈̃ṫ̸̲̫̣͖͇̟̹̃̇̈́̐̑͌͑͋̕̚͝ ̶̳͈̟̗̗̗͈̰̘͙̦́͜h̷̛̻̦͍̹̯̣̦̺͛̌̍̊̏̆̍̎̃̚̕̕͜͜ẽ̸̡̘͇̟̈̌̈͛͗̏͗͠͠ŗ̵̡̞͇̗̥͚͌̈́̇̉̅̅̕͝e̷̛͎͖̦̎͆̊̇̀̊̈́̍͐̏͗̏̒͠ ̸̪̜̖͇̦̰̯̺̟͓̦̳̣̓͊̋̈̿͆̽͠͝͝t̸̨̐͆̾́̽̈̓̽͆̈́̎̚ǫ̶̢̙̺̲̘̹̌̓͌̀̉̇̈́̓̿͜͝ͅ ̸̞̼͂̔̉̓͂̔́̌̔͒̚͝c̶̞͔̳͙̣͈͍͎̈́̍͂̔̀̓ạ̶̢͇͇͚̼̰̮̫͚͖́ͅṳ̵̧̭̭̺̘̗͓̳̫̮̓́̀͋̓̈́́̾͆̔̈́̈̏s̶̙̭̣͂e̴̤̟͎͍̗͎͌̀̓̐ ̷̨͈̥̝̪̼̻̮̏̐̑̔̏́̊͑͊̀̃̃̕̚͝h̵̛̖̿͆͗̅͌͐͘à̵̢̧̙̫̒͛̔͆͊̀̿̕͝͠͝ͅr̷̡̨̥̟̥̫̫͖͇̣͍͙̽͌̏̐̆͆̓̎̀̎̄m̸̦͚̥̯͇̤̞͉͔̒̇̈́͌́͜,̵̢̢̖̩͚̩͇̗̪͚̑́̑͂̈͊̌͂̀͒̋̚͝͝ͅ ̴̧̧̙̬̫̉͊̾͐̐́͗̔͑̚̕ḑ̶̛̮͇̲͓̘̘̬̘̰̞̯͆͛͊̔̐̈́͛ͅͅo̴̡̧̫͔͍͍̝͇̝̤͕̤͌͋́̍̐̈̑̑͜͜͜͠ ̸̡̤̥̣͇͕͚̙̰̟̫̟͉̺̬̓͛̿̆̽n̷̢̡͎̤̤̜͕̜͕̘̹̱̟̿͋͌̈́̐̐ô̶͉͇̇̐̋̏̌ţ̵̬̼̦͙̺̯̖͚̈̆͑̌̔͒̀͒̀̃̉̇ ̵̨̛̫͙͈͑͛̉͒͗̂w̴̨̲̺̙̱̮͉̗̝͖͕̤͇͇̋͆͠ó̵̧͍̯̩̜̗͓̜̺͇͓̩̓͆́̄ṟ̷͓̝͓͚̀̎̎̔̀̀͝͝ŗ̵͖̰̩͔̱̖̳͙̲̹̹̐̍̒̈́̆̈́̕͜y̸̛̬͐”̵̢̳͚̼̪̽̾̊̒̌̀̑͊͆̌

Vigilant rises. The shade of a vessel but off. There is a hole in their chest.

“̵͕͎̮͚̞̙̗͕͔̺̹̲͓̒̇̌̾̊͆̇̈́̍̀̚I̵̬̤̭̟̝̦̩̲̜͈̙̊͑̾́̽͆̑̍͂͊̕͘ ̷̢̢̺̘̺̦̰̮̫͉͌̈́ͅd̷͖͍̭̐̒̒̋͛͂̏̇͋ỏ̸̟͗͌̊̓͐͘ ̵̧̛̞̬̺̪͙͎͎̮̦̙̪̍̍̅̇͑̌͗̅̏ñ̴̝̰̟͙̦̔̏͐̇̉̿̈́̂͐̍͗͘ͅơ̵̧̨̼͎͕̼̣̪̹̯̼̄̐̅̎̄̓̄̚ͅṯ̶̨͕̜̱͈͈̤̊͋͑̈̍̎͛̾͝ ̷̢̛̯̜̭̻̣̭̗̓̎̂͂́̀̚w̷̛̛̤̠̭̝̰͈͙̭̃̇̊͛̐̂͝͝ͅą̵̤̮͔͕̭͗̓̍̍͋̇̇̒̔̑̿̆n̴̢̤̱̙̹̟̾͗̈́͑̍̓̃́̆̓́̚͝t̵̫̤̞̦̿͝ ̸̨̧̧̯̤͎̥͕̰̪̥̖̄͜t̸͔͇͍͑̊̈́̈́͆͑̈́̀̕͘͝ö̴̭͍̹́̊́̿̈́͛̈́͝ ̷̧̳͇̤͇̫̙̦̀̄̔̇̚ͅc̷̡͓̗̖͉̦̯̖̏̿̀͊̊̓͋͛̆̕͠à̴͉͔̟̂̓̈́̃̈̉̚͝u̵͖̗̗͖̱̖̥̘͛̇̆̊̓͌͑̓̊̆s̸͍̭͈͎̓̆͗͑̍ȇ̸̢̹̮͖̼̗̜̜͔̋̒̌̇ͅ ̵̨̪̞̜̬̩̇̏̀̽̉̏̉̎̊̃̽̂͝h̴̘̑̀̓͛͝a̴͙̰͉͎̪͉͖̭̺̺̟͕̝̎r̵̳̬̫̲̞͕͗̾͗̌m̷͖̮̣͇͎̳̺͇̑̈́͛ ̷̗͉̀̎̏̃͋̈́̽͋̄͐͝͝ę̸̡̨̝̭͓͖͇̰͍̬̀̅̏́͊̆̈́̕͜͠ͅv̶̛̼̝̿̈͊̀͆̌̇̓ę̴̡̨̡̖͓̗̰̯̌͜ͅr̶̺̼̺̫̖̻̥̐ͅ ̴͍͎̬͍̦̺̐̆̈́̍̆̀͑̿͂ḁ̷̡̱͍͙͌͐̇̈́̽̆̉͝ǵ̸̫̻̟͖͗a̸̦̘͆͗į̶̯̞̩̬̻̓̈̽̄̀ň̸̯̇͂͐̓͘”̵̡̞͈̙̝̲̱̻͋̇͛̋̑̀̈́̽̀͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Alys looks in wary consideration at the creature, which she can only assume to be one of the Revenant Shades. She doesn't like Revenants; they are surprisingly durable, able to use Soul to cast spells, and the taller ones can even call on Shadow for magic. Worst of all, some of them leave behind Shades when they die. She strains to make out what it's saying. The dragonfly feels the urge to simply burn the wretched thing away and be done with it, but something in those words rouses an ache in her chest. "You have harmed others, then, and come to regret it. Unfortunate for you."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̷͕̥̥͈̾̿͌́̾͐̀͑̿T̴̨͎̙̼͎́̌̄̊̔̇͜͠ḧ̷̝͇̱̝́̓ͅé̷̲͍̄͑̅͛̊͊͂̅̚͝͝ẙ̵̧̡̭̖͎̬͉͈̞͂̀̌ͅ ̴̧̢̯̰͖̞̐̾̀̿̽̏͆̈́̇͜͠ͅd̷̢̤͉͎̜̟̠̬̠̃̔̆́͋̓͑͝ĩ̸̡͈̥͚̘̠͆̓̓̀̕͜ͅd̴̢̡̙͕̰̰̪̟͈̻̺̏͜n̶͖̤̉̔’̸̖͇̯̞͎̝̃̈́̈̃̂̌̈̎ţ̸̞̘̻̬͙̩̣̩̃̋̎̐̓͗͘ ̵̞̯̘̎̈́̎͂̏̽̽̍̓̓̂̕d̷̬̬͚̝͎͚̗̰̠̗̯̠̊e̸̝̮̯̞̫͕͇̳̊̽̾̉͆͘s̵̫͗̊̂͋̆̾̇̿̄͛e̴̦̠̼͎̰̟̋͑̊̈́̀̈́r̵̛͎͚̎̈́̄v̶̪̩͍̟͕̗̲̰̇ȩ̴̨̱̺̫͈̱͐̑͒̽̄́͌̚̕͠ ̶̘͕̩̩̯͈͈̦̪̯̈́̌͑͌͝ţ̵͕̯̹͉̒̐̀̅͗́͒́̄o̴͇̫̩͖̗̪̓ ̶͈̺͎͚͚̐̓͋̆͑̓̿̚͘͝d̵̪͙̦͉̞̩͔̟̞̦̑̉͒̓͑́i̸͇̩̟͆̍̀͗̀̎̿̆͛̑͘e̸̢̥̰͒́”̴̡̟͔̦̳̫̉͜

Vigilant curls into herself.

“̶̼͚̥̼̹̼̬͔̇̌̾̉͌̓͜͝N̷̨̦͈̦͖̲̒̌̉̂̄̚ơ̸̙̲͚͔̘͇̥̓̂̀͌̌ ̶̳͇̭̫͎̠͖̻̪̜̙̃̽͒̂͘͜͠ơ̸̧͈̫̼̗͆͂̈́̓͆ͅn̶̨̛̞͇͔̥̲̳̔͊̒̃ȇ̵͙̬̽ ̸̢̨̠̌̇d̵̢̨͈̦̼̪̦̰̘̗̣͊̇̏͌̀́͒͗̆̀͜͠ͅe̵̳̟̠͚̟̱̗͙͋̋̈́̽̿̆̒͑̕̚͝ş̶̹̩̦̥̣̯̰̱̹͗̐͗͆͆̚͜ę̸̜͈͎̂̏̈̀̉̉̈́̏̕̕͠͝͠r̸̡̡͎̜̻̱͚̭̦͔̥̀̓̔̅̒̑̋͜v̸̩͍̰̤̣̬̍e̵͖̻̗̬͉̫̟͙͌̿͊͗̚s̸̛̫̘̪̰̻̈́̿̒̓͆̕͝ ̷̡̛͎͉̯̹̤͓̫̈́̇͆̾̐͂̚͜͜t̵̢͍̳͓͉͗͜͠ọ̶̧̨̢̼̯̝̗͕̝̻̀̐ ̷͍͎͇͒̈́͒̀̓͛̓d̴̼̈́̌͑̏́̄̓̓͌͘ȋ̸͓͓̲̼̜̜͇͉̆̓͂͛̈́̎̊̀͝e̴̤͔̼̦̭̼̬͓͆̏̽̓̋̇͗ͅ”̶̮͖̠̀͑͘͝͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She looks on with no pity, even as the words stir her own loathing. "Perhaps they did not deserve to die, but they are dead. Mourn and move on, Shade. They are no longer here." She should kill this creature, or walk away. She is compelled to stay and speak, instead.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̶̧͇̻͆̔̆̈̈́Y̷̢̡̢̺̥̖̯̻̜̘͎̞̅̉̍̿̿̅ȏ̸̰̞͖͎̀̂͠ͅǘ̶̞͋’̴̛̜̩̥̩̗̜̣̟̣̣̫͆̋̉̍̏̾͊̓͝͝r̸̨͙̠͉͈̝̹̹̟͓̍͛͂̌͐͆̈́̊̎̏̾́ͅè̸̛̥̘̙̝̔̃̊̉͒̅́̃͘͝ ̴̤͍͓͈͇̠̣̻̲̎w̶̱͐̅́r̵̼̳̐̈́o̸̞̦̥͊̈̓̓̀̐̔͝͝n̷̡̙̘̺̪̜̖̏̎̓̋̃g̵̡̲̞̻͍͍͓̳͑̊͋́͊̓͐́͠,̴̜͈̹͆̿̍̿̽́̐̽͒̽͠ ̵͓̦̳̯͎̓ë̷̗̟̦́̇̐̀̒́̌͂̚v̵͍̖̉͑̋̃̓̒͊͆̚͝͠ê̴͎̬̤̜̮͓̘͙̰̿̃͆̇̏̅͜͝ͅr̵̛̜̠͖̱̠̓̀̄͜y̶̨̛̜͖̝̩̟̻̰̩̪̩̎̀̆̔̍̓̾͝͝͝͝o̸̻̩̫̯͉͈͐ǹ̸̢̰͈͍̙̬̳̞̬̬̳̤̓͗͋̒̐̈́́̉̓͜ę̴͚͔̙̦̻̹͗̔̄̓͛ ̶͓̙̙̗͖̩̩͎͔́͒d̸̺̱͍̭̠̞͎̻̀͒̍̇͌̕̚͘̕͜͜ͅë̸̘̊s̷̹͚̖̞̮͍͖͙̲̣͆̉̇̒͛́͗̀̐̚̕͝è̶͇̤͈̞̤̯̪̟̆͋͊̐̈́͝r̷̼͆͋v̸̺̰̪̫̖̥͎̲͓̿͒͌̈́͂̽͘͝e̴͎̟̬͇̅s̵̯̥̮̩̗̜̖̠̻͙̊̐̃͊̑͆̓͒̈ͅ ̵̞̑̓t̶̘̹̜͇̬̞͈̱̀́̆̌͌͝ǫ̶̱̰̩͖̝̳̤̦̰̻̅̾͆̀ ̷̜̪̳̪͖̭̟͍̿̑̑̄͒́́̎̈́̀́ͅb̵̨̖̗̩͙̹͂͌͌͗̑͋̃̽̚͘e̴̪̘͖̒̇̓̄̄̚ ̷̨͔̯̖̦̯̘̲͓̗̊͊̑̆́̊̊̂̊ŗ̶̧̲͈̹̭̖̜͕̋́̐̿̾̏̽̇͘͝e̴̡̛̜̹̞͚̘̾̓̈́͗̈̄́̃̋̈̃̋m̸̦̱̺͚͍̱̥̱̭̗͇̎̉͋e̸̘̲̅̓͗̓̏̆̇̎͝m̷̜̺̔͑̈́̄͗̿̀̓̓͋́̕̚b̵̧̙̰̖̥͈̪͉͕̟͇̈́̏̈́̊̈̅̑̽͘ë̸̢̢͍͍̬̜͈͖́̈́́̀̄r̶̭̂͐́́͐̊̔̉è̷̢̹̅d̷̟̬̱̬͛”̶̨̛̪̬̲̖̥͔̲̙͉̽͑̌̊̍̈́͋͒̈́͘͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"When did I say that they did not?" she asks sharply. "I only tell you what I know to be true... mourning and feeling sorry for yourself accomplishes nothing." She turns her head away, getting lost in her thoughts. This advice, she knows that she must give it. It has helped her. It will help them.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

The hole in their chest was growing slowly.

“̶̞̭̣͕̻̜͛̎͂̓̌̃B̶̡̪͖̗̱̻̙̻̰̱̗͆̈́u̴̝͕͙̓̎̉̌̈̍̆ť̴̰̝̅́̉̇̓͋͂͋́̂̕͝͝ ̸̡͉͓̣̼̭̱̣̱̬̟̑͒̎̀́͋̌̋̃̊͘̕͠͝͝ỉ̶̢̨͚̗̱͔͉̭͙͉̜̦͕̣͆̂́̿̂̚ṯ̴̻̏̾̒̀̉͝ ̸̜̘̞̞̰̫̠̫̤̣̳̮̰͇̔̇w̷̡̱͎̲͈̻̫̗̺̠̲̙̩̮͆̂̑̀̓̊̓̍̍͠a̵̦͉̰̦̱̾̒̈́͊̏̔̎ś̵̨̡̮̳̝̙̫͉̯̹͍̪͖̞̻̽̿̂̈́̍͛́̒͆̕̕̚͘͝ ̵̹͔̯̭͑͌̃̾̃̍́͑̐̍̈́̕͝͠m̵͇̘̳͔̱̓̈͋̊̿͐̐̑̅̄̀̚͝͠y̴̹͉̰̭̯̍̐̈̀͒ͅ ̶̢̺̣̳̤͓̦͓͔̙̲̻̺̔̌̅̍ͅͅf̷͙̌ả̴̢̨͇̘̖̱̤̮̮̤̬̓́͜ȕ̶̡̦͎̦͈͕̮̗̗͓͍͐ͅl̴͎̋̇̈́͂́͌͛̐̐t̸̡̨̺̻̥͔̙̱̲̦̥̗̟̿̕͝ͅ”̴̧̡̛͖̱̟̬̝̬̬̬̲̆̏͆̓̀̒̍̓̌́̆͘͝

“̴̢̩͔̱̰̱͉̪͕̞̺͕̐̐̅̈́͋̉͑̃̋Į̸̢̣̤̺͇̩̤̻̩̙͕̩̝̃́͋̆̇̈̃̿͊̓͛̃̕͠͠ ̶̙͈̇̔̆̌̐́̏̌̀̈́́͠͝s̵̱͈̱͓̄̊͗̋́͋́̍́̐͘h̶̻̽̄͘͝ổ̸̢̭̥̞̣̲͇̫͇̤͔̣̽͜u̶͗̿͋͘ͅl̶̹̤͇͙̺̭̝̤͚̩͕̙̰̻̀̚͝͠ͅd̶̗̘̼͍̣͚̝͓̣̩̜̿ͅn̸̨̠̝̘̟̦͊̓̂̅́̄͘̚͝’̶͚͙̱̟̝̹̀̈́̎̍̇̿͛̽͛̎̃̂͝t̵̡̫̙̼̚ ̵̥͉̜̻̣̻̠͛̋͋͌̄̏̃̔͂͘͜j̸̰̻̀͊̅͝ȕ̸̗̬͉͔͛̍͒́̈̓s̷̤͋̿̓̓͌͆̉͐̇͂̚͘t̸̛̳̻̹̯̣̜͚̟̗̓̍̄̓́̈́̓̓͐̆̕͜͠͝͝ ̵̫̳͖͍̻͚̍̓̑͊͐̓̿̐͐̌̾͝͝g̸̪̉̏̄̄̚ĕ̷͇̹̦̫̅͋̓͜͠t̴̢̪̩̭̳̤͔̜͓̲̯̗̿̂̃̿̐̐̄̅̿̈́̈́͗͘̚ ̸̧̛̯̅̋̌̉̏̈́͌̎́͘͝͝t̸̰̫̩̬̋̋͂̂̿͒̽̈̆o̶̜̹̔͗ ̶̧̛̥̘̬͖̹͒̓̓́̾͂͑̈́͂̈͒͑͑͝ͅm̴̛̦̥̯͙̟̮̟̠͂͛̏̿̿̇̐͑́́̑͐̈́͝o̵̢̡̙̠̭͖͎̺͍̺͇͖̓͛̑͐͑̂͂́̓͗̏̋͘v̴̨̨̢͓̬̪͇̱̪̬̟̪̻͇̳́̌̈́̆͝ĕ̵̡̪̩̗̳͕̫̤͉̬͉̱̠͕̄̎̎́̈́̎̎͋̈́̚͝ ̸̩͍̜̺̠̐̽̅o̶̢̤͙̜̳̻̻͇̯̠̯̘̓̒̂̄̾̀̃͝ͅñ̷̛̛̺͕̙̈́̂̋̐ͅ”̵̢̛͔͎̲̟͌́͒̈́̄̎̔͜

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She shakes her head. "If the death's blame lies upon you, then it is even more necessary for you to move on. You killed this person, so it is your duty to continue living, so that their life is not wastes. To do anything less would be shameful cowardice."

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Dew shambles across the ruins of the City of Steel, or at least what everyone thought was the City of Steel.

How pathetic...the once grand Zenith District, falling to a few explosives...what in the hells did that Wyrm do to this District?

Dew does not ponder on Chalybs' words, as he simply focuses on trying to find somewhere, anywhere to hunker down and heal. He is bleeding from his mouth, and coughing more and more, on top of his already existent wounds. If anyone were to ambush him, he would easily fall to any foes.

-@scarlet-and-dew

(The ruins are being utterly pillaged.) (Ironclad bugs swarm over what's left, sifting through for valuables and for survivors. Massive bugs are lifting up as much metal as possible to be brought back to field smelters.) (Wicker statues have been erected, within which caught Steel Sentinels are being burned. Beyond the ruins there is a great deal of howling, chatter and feasting. The bugs are celebrating a successful conquest.) (The dead Ironclad bugs are being carefully pulled away, so that they can be eaten.) (If Dew isn't careful, he could be caught.)

[scarlet-and-dew]

Dew immediately curses under his breath upon seeing the familiar sigil and armor of the Ironclad, diving behind some rubble as to not be seen. The hell is the Ironclad Legion doing here?

Doing what all other scavengers do: swooping into the chaos and picking away at the scraps. It would probably be best to avoid them this time. Neither of us wish for a repeat of Moorlane.

...Dew quickly looks over his cover, trying to see if there's anyone or anything in the patrols that stands out, as well as trying to study those patrols.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

The patrols are well armed, and seem to be going through the ruins in sections, each patrol assigned to a different one. Leading one of the patrols is a tall, lean Karak bug. She looks somewhat like a much tall and somewhat larger Kakri, but one without wings. Her shell is scorched black, and painted red with ritual markings. She holds her hands in front of her, gesturing, causing stone to move and shift the metal. She appears to be the one directing this search.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant jumps, startled out of their thoughts.

“̵͇̝̹͙̥̞͛́̂́̓Ï̷̩̖̲̣͌̋̈́̃͒͑̕͘’̸̨̗͎͈̭͎̂͜m̸̛̖̌́̆̃̀͐͘͝ ̷̬̠͔͆̔͑ṇ̶̹̩̉͌͐͌̅̄͠͠o̶̧̟̗͙̦̐̅̆͛́̈̃ṫ̸̲̫̣͖͇̟̹̃̇̈́̐̑͌͑͋̕̚͝ ̶̳͈̟̗̗̗͈̰̘͙̦́͜h̷̛̻̦͍̹̯̣̦̺͛̌̍̊̏̆̍̎̃̚̕̕͜͜ẽ̸̡̘͇̟̈̌̈͛͗̏͗͠͠ŗ̵̡̞͇̗̥͚͌̈́̇̉̅̅̕͝e̷̛͎͖̦̎͆̊̇̀̊̈́̍͐̏͗̏̒͠ ̸̪̜̖͇̦̰̯̺̟͓̦̳̣̓͊̋̈̿͆̽͠͝͝t̸̨̐͆̾́̽̈̓̽͆̈́̎̚ǫ̶̢̙̺̲̘̹̌̓͌̀̉̇̈́̓̿͜͝ͅ ̸̞̼͂̔̉̓͂̔́̌̔͒̚͝c̶̞͔̳͙̣͈͍͎̈́̍͂̔̀̓ạ̶̢͇͇͚̼̰̮̫͚͖́ͅṳ̵̧̭̭̺̘̗͓̳̫̮̓́̀͋̓̈́́̾͆̔̈́̈̏s̶̙̭̣͂e̴̤̟͎͍̗͎͌̀̓̐ ̷̨͈̥̝̪̼̻̮̏̐̑̔̏́̊͑͊̀̃̃̕̚͝h̵̛̖̿͆͗̅͌͐͘à̵̢̧̙̫̒͛̔͆͊̀̿̕͝͠͝ͅr̷̡̨̥̟̥̫̫͖͇̣͍͙̽͌̏̐̆͆̓̎̀̎̄m̸̦͚̥̯͇̤̞͉͔̒̇̈́͌́͜,̵̢̢̖̩͚̩͇̗̪͚̑́̑͂̈͊̌͂̀͒̋̚͝͝ͅ ̴̧̧̙̬̫̉͊̾͐̐́͗̔͑̚̕ḑ̶̛̮͇̲͓̘̘̬̘̰̞̯͆͛͊̔̐̈́͛ͅͅo̴̡̧̫͔͍͍̝͇̝̤͕̤͌͋́̍̐̈̑̑͜͜͜͠ ̸̡̤̥̣͇͕͚̙̰̟̫̟͉̺̬̓͛̿̆̽n̷̢̡͎̤̤̜͕̜͕̘̹̱̟̿͋͌̈́̐̐ô̶͉͇̇̐̋̏̌ţ̵̬̼̦͙̺̯̖͚̈̆͑̌̔͒̀͒̀̃̉̇ ̵̨̛̫͙͈͑͛̉͒͗̂w̴̨̲̺̙̱̮͉̗̝͖͕̤͇͇̋͆͠ó̵̧͍̯̩̜̗͓̜̺͇͓̩̓͆́̄ṟ̷͓̝͓͚̀̎̎̔̀̀͝͝ŗ̵͖̰̩͔̱̖̳͙̲̹̹̐̍̒̈́̆̈́̕͜y̸̛̬͐”̵̢̳͚̼̪̽̾̊̒̌̀̑͊͆̌

Vigilant rises. The shade of a vessel but off. There is a hole in their chest.

“̵͕͎̮͚̞̙̗͕͔̺̹̲͓̒̇̌̾̊͆̇̈́̍̀̚I̵̬̤̭̟̝̦̩̲̜͈̙̊͑̾́̽͆̑̍͂͊̕͘ ̷̢̢̺̘̺̦̰̮̫͉͌̈́ͅd̷͖͍̭̐̒̒̋͛͂̏̇͋ỏ̸̟͗͌̊̓͐͘ ̵̧̛̞̬̺̪͙͎͎̮̦̙̪̍̍̅̇͑̌͗̅̏ñ̴̝̰̟͙̦̔̏͐̇̉̿̈́̂͐̍͗͘ͅơ̵̧̨̼͎͕̼̣̪̹̯̼̄̐̅̎̄̓̄̚ͅṯ̶̨͕̜̱͈͈̤̊͋͑̈̍̎͛̾͝ ̷̢̛̯̜̭̻̣̭̗̓̎̂͂́̀̚w̷̛̛̤̠̭̝̰͈͙̭̃̇̊͛̐̂͝͝ͅą̵̤̮͔͕̭͗̓̍̍͋̇̇̒̔̑̿̆n̴̢̤̱̙̹̟̾͗̈́͑̍̓̃́̆̓́̚͝t̵̫̤̞̦̿͝ ̸̨̧̧̯̤͎̥͕̰̪̥̖̄͜t̸͔͇͍͑̊̈́̈́͆͑̈́̀̕͘͝ö̴̭͍̹́̊́̿̈́͛̈́͝ ̷̧̳͇̤͇̫̙̦̀̄̔̇̚ͅc̷̡͓̗̖͉̦̯̖̏̿̀͊̊̓͋͛̆̕͠à̴͉͔̟̂̓̈́̃̈̉̚͝u̵͖̗̗͖̱̖̥̘͛̇̆̊̓͌͑̓̊̆s̸͍̭͈͎̓̆͗͑̍ȇ̸̢̹̮͖̼̗̜̜͔̋̒̌̇ͅ ̵̨̪̞̜̬̩̇̏̀̽̉̏̉̎̊̃̽̂͝h̴̘̑̀̓͛͝a̴͙̰͉͎̪͉͖̭̺̺̟͕̝̎r̵̳̬̫̲̞͕͗̾͗̌m̷͖̮̣͇͎̳̺͇̑̈́͛ ̷̗͉̀̎̏̃͋̈́̽͋̄͐͝͝ę̸̡̨̝̭͓͖͇̰͍̬̀̅̏́͊̆̈́̕͜͠ͅv̶̛̼̝̿̈͊̀͆̌̇̓ę̴̡̨̡̖͓̗̰̯̌͜ͅr̶̺̼̺̫̖̻̥̐ͅ ̴͍͎̬͍̦̺̐̆̈́̍̆̀͑̿͂ḁ̷̡̱͍͙͌͐̇̈́̽̆̉͝ǵ̸̫̻̟͖͗a̸̦̘͆͗į̶̯̞̩̬̻̓̈̽̄̀ň̸̯̇͂͐̓͘”̵̡̞͈̙̝̲̱̻͋̇͛̋̑̀̈́̽̀͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Alys looks in wary consideration at the creature, which she can only assume to be one of the Revenant Shades. She doesn't like Revenants; they are surprisingly durable, able to use Soul to cast spells, and the taller ones can even call on Shadow for magic. Worst of all, some of them leave behind Shades when they die. She strains to make out what it's saying. The dragonfly feels the urge to simply burn the wretched thing away and be done with it, but something in those words rouses an ache in her chest. "You have harmed others, then, and come to regret it. Unfortunate for you."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̷͕̥̥͈̾̿͌́̾͐̀͑̿T̴̨͎̙̼͎́̌̄̊̔̇͜͠ḧ̷̝͇̱̝́̓ͅé̷̲͍̄͑̅͛̊͊͂̅̚͝͝ẙ̵̧̡̭̖͎̬͉͈̞͂̀̌ͅ ̴̧̢̯̰͖̞̐̾̀̿̽̏͆̈́̇͜͠ͅd̷̢̤͉͎̜̟̠̬̠̃̔̆́͋̓͑͝ĩ̸̡͈̥͚̘̠͆̓̓̀̕͜ͅd̴̢̡̙͕̰̰̪̟͈̻̺̏͜n̶͖̤̉̔’̸̖͇̯̞͎̝̃̈́̈̃̂̌̈̎ţ̸̞̘̻̬͙̩̣̩̃̋̎̐̓͗͘ ̵̞̯̘̎̈́̎͂̏̽̽̍̓̓̂̕d̷̬̬͚̝͎͚̗̰̠̗̯̠̊e̸̝̮̯̞̫͕͇̳̊̽̾̉͆͘s̵̫͗̊̂͋̆̾̇̿̄͛e̴̦̠̼͎̰̟̋͑̊̈́̀̈́r̵̛͎͚̎̈́̄v̶̪̩͍̟͕̗̲̰̇ȩ̴̨̱̺̫͈̱͐̑͒̽̄́͌̚̕͠ ̶̘͕̩̩̯͈͈̦̪̯̈́̌͑͌͝ţ̵͕̯̹͉̒̐̀̅͗́͒́̄o̴͇̫̩͖̗̪̓ ̶͈̺͎͚͚̐̓͋̆͑̓̿̚͘͝d̵̪͙̦͉̞̩͔̟̞̦̑̉͒̓͑́i̸͇̩̟͆̍̀͗̀̎̿̆͛̑͘e̸̢̥̰͒́”̴̡̟͔̦̳̫̉͜

Vigilant curls into herself.

“̶̼͚̥̼̹̼̬͔̇̌̾̉͌̓͜͝N̷̨̦͈̦͖̲̒̌̉̂̄̚ơ̸̙̲͚͔̘͇̥̓̂̀͌̌ ̶̳͇̭̫͎̠͖̻̪̜̙̃̽͒̂͘͜͠ơ̸̧͈̫̼̗͆͂̈́̓͆ͅn̶̨̛̞͇͔̥̲̳̔͊̒̃ȇ̵͙̬̽ ̸̢̨̠̌̇d̵̢̨͈̦̼̪̦̰̘̗̣͊̇̏͌̀́͒͗̆̀͜͠ͅe̵̳̟̠͚̟̱̗͙͋̋̈́̽̿̆̒͑̕̚͝ş̶̹̩̦̥̣̯̰̱̹͗̐͗͆͆̚͜ę̸̜͈͎̂̏̈̀̉̉̈́̏̕̕͠͝͠r̸̡̡͎̜̻̱͚̭̦͔̥̀̓̔̅̒̑̋͜v̸̩͍̰̤̣̬̍e̵͖̻̗̬͉̫̟͙͌̿͊͗̚s̸̛̫̘̪̰̻̈́̿̒̓͆̕͝ ̷̡̛͎͉̯̹̤͓̫̈́̇͆̾̐͂̚͜͜t̵̢͍̳͓͉͗͜͠ọ̶̧̨̢̼̯̝̗͕̝̻̀̐ ̷͍͎͇͒̈́͒̀̓͛̓d̴̼̈́̌͑̏́̄̓̓͌͘ȋ̸͓͓̲̼̜̜͇͉̆̓͂͛̈́̎̊̀͝e̴̤͔̼̦̭̼̬͓͆̏̽̓̋̇͗ͅ”̶̮͖̠̀͑͘͝͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She looks on with no pity, even as the words stir her own loathing. "Perhaps they did not deserve to die, but they are dead. Mourn and move on, Shade. They are no longer here." She should kill this creature, or walk away. She is compelled to stay and speak, instead.

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̶̧͇̻͆̔̆̈̈́Y̷̢̡̢̺̥̖̯̻̜̘͎̞̅̉̍̿̿̅ȏ̸̰̞͖͎̀̂͠ͅǘ̶̞͋’̴̛̜̩̥̩̗̜̣̟̣̣̫͆̋̉̍̏̾͊̓͝͝r̸̨͙̠͉͈̝̹̹̟͓̍͛͂̌͐͆̈́̊̎̏̾́ͅè̸̛̥̘̙̝̔̃̊̉͒̅́̃͘͝ ̴̤͍͓͈͇̠̣̻̲̎w̶̱͐̅́r̵̼̳̐̈́o̸̞̦̥͊̈̓̓̀̐̔͝͝n̷̡̙̘̺̪̜̖̏̎̓̋̃g̵̡̲̞̻͍͍͓̳͑̊͋́͊̓͐́͠,̴̜͈̹͆̿̍̿̽́̐̽͒̽͠ ̵͓̦̳̯͎̓ë̷̗̟̦́̇̐̀̒́̌͂̚v̵͍̖̉͑̋̃̓̒͊͆̚͝͠ê̴͎̬̤̜̮͓̘͙̰̿̃͆̇̏̅͜͝ͅr̵̛̜̠͖̱̠̓̀̄͜y̶̨̛̜͖̝̩̟̻̰̩̪̩̎̀̆̔̍̓̾͝͝͝͝o̸̻̩̫̯͉͈͐ǹ̸̢̰͈͍̙̬̳̞̬̬̳̤̓͗͋̒̐̈́́̉̓͜ę̴͚͔̙̦̻̹͗̔̄̓͛ ̶͓̙̙̗͖̩̩͎͔́͒d̸̺̱͍̭̠̞͎̻̀͒̍̇͌̕̚͘̕͜͜ͅë̸̘̊s̷̹͚̖̞̮͍͖͙̲̣͆̉̇̒͛́͗̀̐̚̕͝è̶͇̤͈̞̤̯̪̟̆͋͊̐̈́͝r̷̼͆͋v̸̺̰̪̫̖̥͎̲͓̿͒͌̈́͂̽͘͝e̴͎̟̬͇̅s̵̯̥̮̩̗̜̖̠̻͙̊̐̃͊̑͆̓͒̈ͅ ̵̞̑̓t̶̘̹̜͇̬̞͈̱̀́̆̌͌͝ǫ̶̱̰̩͖̝̳̤̦̰̻̅̾͆̀ ̷̜̪̳̪͖̭̟͍̿̑̑̄͒́́̎̈́̀́ͅb̵̨̖̗̩͙̹͂͌͌͗̑͋̃̽̚͘e̴̪̘͖̒̇̓̄̄̚ ̷̨͔̯̖̦̯̘̲͓̗̊͊̑̆́̊̊̂̊ŗ̶̧̲͈̹̭̖̜͕̋́̐̿̾̏̽̇͘͝e̴̡̛̜̹̞͚̘̾̓̈́͗̈̄́̃̋̈̃̋m̸̦̱̺͚͍̱̥̱̭̗͇̎̉͋e̸̘̲̅̓͗̓̏̆̇̎͝m̷̜̺̔͑̈́̄͗̿̀̓̓͋́̕̚b̵̧̙̰̖̥͈̪͉͕̟͇̈́̏̈́̊̈̅̑̽͘ë̸̢̢͍͍̬̜͈͖́̈́́̀̄r̶̭̂͐́́͐̊̔̉è̷̢̹̅d̷̟̬̱̬͛”̶̨̛̪̬̲̖̥͔̲̙͉̽͑̌̊̍̈́͋͒̈́͘͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

"When did I say that they did not?" she asks sharply. "I only tell you what I know to be true... mourning and feeling sorry for yourself accomplishes nothing." She turns her head away, getting lost in her thoughts. This advice, she knows that she must give it. It has helped her. It will help them.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant jumps, startled out of their thoughts.

“̵͇̝̹͙̥̞͛́̂́̓Ï̷̩̖̲̣͌̋̈́̃͒͑̕͘’̸̨̗͎͈̭͎̂͜m̸̛̖̌́̆̃̀͐͘͝ ̷̬̠͔͆̔͑ṇ̶̹̩̉͌͐͌̅̄͠͠o̶̧̟̗͙̦̐̅̆͛́̈̃ṫ̸̲̫̣͖͇̟̹̃̇̈́̐̑͌͑͋̕̚͝ ̶̳͈̟̗̗̗͈̰̘͙̦́͜h̷̛̻̦͍̹̯̣̦̺͛̌̍̊̏̆̍̎̃̚̕̕͜͜ẽ̸̡̘͇̟̈̌̈͛͗̏͗͠͠ŗ̵̡̞͇̗̥͚͌̈́̇̉̅̅̕͝e̷̛͎͖̦̎͆̊̇̀̊̈́̍͐̏͗̏̒͠ ̸̪̜̖͇̦̰̯̺̟͓̦̳̣̓͊̋̈̿͆̽͠͝͝t̸̨̐͆̾́̽̈̓̽͆̈́̎̚ǫ̶̢̙̺̲̘̹̌̓͌̀̉̇̈́̓̿͜͝ͅ ̸̞̼͂̔̉̓͂̔́̌̔͒̚͝c̶̞͔̳͙̣͈͍͎̈́̍͂̔̀̓ạ̶̢͇͇͚̼̰̮̫͚͖́ͅṳ̵̧̭̭̺̘̗͓̳̫̮̓́̀͋̓̈́́̾͆̔̈́̈̏s̶̙̭̣͂e̴̤̟͎͍̗͎͌̀̓̐ ̷̨͈̥̝̪̼̻̮̏̐̑̔̏́̊͑͊̀̃̃̕̚͝h̵̛̖̿͆͗̅͌͐͘à̵̢̧̙̫̒͛̔͆͊̀̿̕͝͠͝ͅr̷̡̨̥̟̥̫̫͖͇̣͍͙̽͌̏̐̆͆̓̎̀̎̄m̸̦͚̥̯͇̤̞͉͔̒̇̈́͌́͜,̵̢̢̖̩͚̩͇̗̪͚̑́̑͂̈͊̌͂̀͒̋̚͝͝ͅ ̴̧̧̙̬̫̉͊̾͐̐́͗̔͑̚̕ḑ̶̛̮͇̲͓̘̘̬̘̰̞̯͆͛͊̔̐̈́͛ͅͅo̴̡̧̫͔͍͍̝͇̝̤͕̤͌͋́̍̐̈̑̑͜͜͜͠ ̸̡̤̥̣͇͕͚̙̰̟̫̟͉̺̬̓͛̿̆̽n̷̢̡͎̤̤̜͕̜͕̘̹̱̟̿͋͌̈́̐̐ô̶͉͇̇̐̋̏̌ţ̵̬̼̦͙̺̯̖͚̈̆͑̌̔͒̀͒̀̃̉̇ ̵̨̛̫͙͈͑͛̉͒͗̂w̴̨̲̺̙̱̮͉̗̝͖͕̤͇͇̋͆͠ó̵̧͍̯̩̜̗͓̜̺͇͓̩̓͆́̄ṟ̷͓̝͓͚̀̎̎̔̀̀͝͝ŗ̵͖̰̩͔̱̖̳͙̲̹̹̐̍̒̈́̆̈́̕͜y̸̛̬͐”̵̢̳͚̼̪̽̾̊̒̌̀̑͊͆̌

Vigilant rises. The shade of a vessel but off. There is a hole in their chest.

“̵͕͎̮͚̞̙̗͕͔̺̹̲͓̒̇̌̾̊͆̇̈́̍̀̚I̵̬̤̭̟̝̦̩̲̜͈̙̊͑̾́̽͆̑̍͂͊̕͘ ̷̢̢̺̘̺̦̰̮̫͉͌̈́ͅd̷͖͍̭̐̒̒̋͛͂̏̇͋ỏ̸̟͗͌̊̓͐͘ ̵̧̛̞̬̺̪͙͎͎̮̦̙̪̍̍̅̇͑̌͗̅̏ñ̴̝̰̟͙̦̔̏͐̇̉̿̈́̂͐̍͗͘ͅơ̵̧̨̼͎͕̼̣̪̹̯̼̄̐̅̎̄̓̄̚ͅṯ̶̨͕̜̱͈͈̤̊͋͑̈̍̎͛̾͝ ̷̢̛̯̜̭̻̣̭̗̓̎̂͂́̀̚w̷̛̛̤̠̭̝̰͈͙̭̃̇̊͛̐̂͝͝ͅą̵̤̮͔͕̭͗̓̍̍͋̇̇̒̔̑̿̆n̴̢̤̱̙̹̟̾͗̈́͑̍̓̃́̆̓́̚͝t̵̫̤̞̦̿͝ ̸̨̧̧̯̤͎̥͕̰̪̥̖̄͜t̸͔͇͍͑̊̈́̈́͆͑̈́̀̕͘͝ö̴̭͍̹́̊́̿̈́͛̈́͝ ̷̧̳͇̤͇̫̙̦̀̄̔̇̚ͅc̷̡͓̗̖͉̦̯̖̏̿̀͊̊̓͋͛̆̕͠à̴͉͔̟̂̓̈́̃̈̉̚͝u̵͖̗̗͖̱̖̥̘͛̇̆̊̓͌͑̓̊̆s̸͍̭͈͎̓̆͗͑̍ȇ̸̢̹̮͖̼̗̜̜͔̋̒̌̇ͅ ̵̨̪̞̜̬̩̇̏̀̽̉̏̉̎̊̃̽̂͝h̴̘̑̀̓͛͝a̴͙̰͉͎̪͉͖̭̺̺̟͕̝̎r̵̳̬̫̲̞͕͗̾͗̌m̷͖̮̣͇͎̳̺͇̑̈́͛ ̷̗͉̀̎̏̃͋̈́̽͋̄͐͝͝ę̸̡̨̝̭͓͖͇̰͍̬̀̅̏́͊̆̈́̕͜͠ͅv̶̛̼̝̿̈͊̀͆̌̇̓ę̴̡̨̡̖͓̗̰̯̌͜ͅr̶̺̼̺̫̖̻̥̐ͅ ̴͍͎̬͍̦̺̐̆̈́̍̆̀͑̿͂ḁ̷̡̱͍͙͌͐̇̈́̽̆̉͝ǵ̸̫̻̟͖͗a̸̦̘͆͗į̶̯̞̩̬̻̓̈̽̄̀ň̸̯̇͂͐̓͘”̵̡̞͈̙̝̲̱̻͋̇͛̋̑̀̈́̽̀͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Alys looks in wary consideration at the creature, which she can only assume to be one of the Revenant Shades. She doesn't like Revenants; they are surprisingly durable, able to use Soul to cast spells, and the taller ones can even call on Shadow for magic. Worst of all, some of them leave behind Shades when they die. She strains to make out what it's saying. The dragonfly feels the urge to simply burn the wretched thing away and be done with it, but something in those words rouses an ache in her chest. "You have harmed others, then, and come to regret it. Unfortunate for you."

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

“̷͕̥̥͈̾̿͌́̾͐̀͑̿T̴̨͎̙̼͎́̌̄̊̔̇͜͠ḧ̷̝͇̱̝́̓ͅé̷̲͍̄͑̅͛̊͊͂̅̚͝͝ẙ̵̧̡̭̖͎̬͉͈̞͂̀̌ͅ ̴̧̢̯̰͖̞̐̾̀̿̽̏͆̈́̇͜͠ͅd̷̢̤͉͎̜̟̠̬̠̃̔̆́͋̓͑͝ĩ̸̡͈̥͚̘̠͆̓̓̀̕͜ͅd̴̢̡̙͕̰̰̪̟͈̻̺̏͜n̶͖̤̉̔’̸̖͇̯̞͎̝̃̈́̈̃̂̌̈̎ţ̸̞̘̻̬͙̩̣̩̃̋̎̐̓͗͘ ̵̞̯̘̎̈́̎͂̏̽̽̍̓̓̂̕d̷̬̬͚̝͎͚̗̰̠̗̯̠̊e̸̝̮̯̞̫͕͇̳̊̽̾̉͆͘s̵̫͗̊̂͋̆̾̇̿̄͛e̴̦̠̼͎̰̟̋͑̊̈́̀̈́r̵̛͎͚̎̈́̄v̶̪̩͍̟͕̗̲̰̇ȩ̴̨̱̺̫͈̱͐̑͒̽̄́͌̚̕͠ ̶̘͕̩̩̯͈͈̦̪̯̈́̌͑͌͝ţ̵͕̯̹͉̒̐̀̅͗́͒́̄o̴͇̫̩͖̗̪̓ ̶͈̺͎͚͚̐̓͋̆͑̓̿̚͘͝d̵̪͙̦͉̞̩͔̟̞̦̑̉͒̓͑́i̸͇̩̟͆̍̀͗̀̎̿̆͛̑͘e̸̢̥̰͒́”̴̡̟͔̦̳̫̉͜

Vigilant curls into herself.

“̶̼͚̥̼̹̼̬͔̇̌̾̉͌̓͜͝N̷̨̦͈̦͖̲̒̌̉̂̄̚ơ̸̙̲͚͔̘͇̥̓̂̀͌̌ ̶̳͇̭̫͎̠͖̻̪̜̙̃̽͒̂͘͜͠ơ̸̧͈̫̼̗͆͂̈́̓͆ͅn̶̨̛̞͇͔̥̲̳̔͊̒̃ȇ̵͙̬̽ ̸̢̨̠̌̇d̵̢̨͈̦̼̪̦̰̘̗̣͊̇̏͌̀́͒͗̆̀͜͠ͅe̵̳̟̠͚̟̱̗͙͋̋̈́̽̿̆̒͑̕̚͝ş̶̹̩̦̥̣̯̰̱̹͗̐͗͆͆̚͜ę̸̜͈͎̂̏̈̀̉̉̈́̏̕̕͠͝͠r̸̡̡͎̜̻̱͚̭̦͔̥̀̓̔̅̒̑̋͜v̸̩͍̰̤̣̬̍e̵͖̻̗̬͉̫̟͙͌̿͊͗̚s̸̛̫̘̪̰̻̈́̿̒̓͆̕͝ ̷̡̛͎͉̯̹̤͓̫̈́̇͆̾̐͂̚͜͜t̵̢͍̳͓͉͗͜͠ọ̶̧̨̢̼̯̝̗͕̝̻̀̐ ̷͍͎͇͒̈́͒̀̓͛̓d̴̼̈́̌͑̏́̄̓̓͌͘ȋ̸͓͓̲̼̜̜͇͉̆̓͂͛̈́̎̊̀͝e̴̤͔̼̦̭̼̬͓͆̏̽̓̋̇͗ͅ”̶̮͖̠̀͑͘͝͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

She looks on with no pity, even as the words stir her own loathing. "Perhaps they did not deserve to die, but they are dead. Mourn and move on, Shade. They are no longer here." She should kill this creature, or walk away. She is compelled to stay and speak, instead.

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"

[duckofmisfortuneoffical]

Vigilant jumps, startled out of their thoughts.

“̵͇̝̹͙̥̞͛́̂́̓Ï̷̩̖̲̣͌̋̈́̃͒͑̕͘’̸̨̗͎͈̭͎̂͜m̸̛̖̌́̆̃̀͐͘͝ ̷̬̠͔͆̔͑ṇ̶̹̩̉͌͐͌̅̄͠͠o̶̧̟̗͙̦̐̅̆͛́̈̃ṫ̸̲̫̣͖͇̟̹̃̇̈́̐̑͌͑͋̕̚͝ ̶̳͈̟̗̗̗͈̰̘͙̦́͜h̷̛̻̦͍̹̯̣̦̺͛̌̍̊̏̆̍̎̃̚̕̕͜͜ẽ̸̡̘͇̟̈̌̈͛͗̏͗͠͠ŗ̵̡̞͇̗̥͚͌̈́̇̉̅̅̕͝e̷̛͎͖̦̎͆̊̇̀̊̈́̍͐̏͗̏̒͠ ̸̪̜̖͇̦̰̯̺̟͓̦̳̣̓͊̋̈̿͆̽͠͝͝t̸̨̐͆̾́̽̈̓̽͆̈́̎̚ǫ̶̢̙̺̲̘̹̌̓͌̀̉̇̈́̓̿͜͝ͅ ̸̞̼͂̔̉̓͂̔́̌̔͒̚͝c̶̞͔̳͙̣͈͍͎̈́̍͂̔̀̓ạ̶̢͇͇͚̼̰̮̫͚͖́ͅṳ̵̧̭̭̺̘̗͓̳̫̮̓́̀͋̓̈́́̾͆̔̈́̈̏s̶̙̭̣͂e̴̤̟͎͍̗͎͌̀̓̐ ̷̨͈̥̝̪̼̻̮̏̐̑̔̏́̊͑͊̀̃̃̕̚͝h̵̛̖̿͆͗̅͌͐͘à̵̢̧̙̫̒͛̔͆͊̀̿̕͝͠͝ͅr̷̡̨̥̟̥̫̫͖͇̣͍͙̽͌̏̐̆͆̓̎̀̎̄m̸̦͚̥̯͇̤̞͉͔̒̇̈́͌́͜,̵̢̢̖̩͚̩͇̗̪͚̑́̑͂̈͊̌͂̀͒̋̚͝͝ͅ ̴̧̧̙̬̫̉͊̾͐̐́͗̔͑̚̕ḑ̶̛̮͇̲͓̘̘̬̘̰̞̯͆͛͊̔̐̈́͛ͅͅo̴̡̧̫͔͍͍̝͇̝̤͕̤͌͋́̍̐̈̑̑͜͜͜͠ ̸̡̤̥̣͇͕͚̙̰̟̫̟͉̺̬̓͛̿̆̽n̷̢̡͎̤̤̜͕̜͕̘̹̱̟̿͋͌̈́̐̐ô̶͉͇̇̐̋̏̌ţ̵̬̼̦͙̺̯̖͚̈̆͑̌̔͒̀͒̀̃̉̇ ̵̨̛̫͙͈͑͛̉͒͗̂w̴̨̲̺̙̱̮͉̗̝͖͕̤͇͇̋͆͠ó̵̧͍̯̩̜̗͓̜̺͇͓̩̓͆́̄ṟ̷͓̝͓͚̀̎̎̔̀̀͝͝ŗ̵͖̰̩͔̱̖̳͙̲̹̹̐̍̒̈́̆̈́̕͜y̸̛̬͐”̵̢̳͚̼̪̽̾̊̒̌̀̑͊͆̌

Vigilant rises. The shade of a vessel but off. There is a hole in their chest.

“̵͕͎̮͚̞̙̗͕͔̺̹̲͓̒̇̌̾̊͆̇̈́̍̀̚I̵̬̤̭̟̝̦̩̲̜͈̙̊͑̾́̽͆̑̍͂͊̕͘ ̷̢̢̺̘̺̦̰̮̫͉͌̈́ͅd̷͖͍̭̐̒̒̋͛͂̏̇͋ỏ̸̟͗͌̊̓͐͘ ̵̧̛̞̬̺̪͙͎͎̮̦̙̪̍̍̅̇͑̌͗̅̏ñ̴̝̰̟͙̦̔̏͐̇̉̿̈́̂͐̍͗͘ͅơ̵̧̨̼͎͕̼̣̪̹̯̼̄̐̅̎̄̓̄̚ͅṯ̶̨͕̜̱͈͈̤̊͋͑̈̍̎͛̾͝ ̷̢̛̯̜̭̻̣̭̗̓̎̂͂́̀̚w̷̛̛̤̠̭̝̰͈͙̭̃̇̊͛̐̂͝͝ͅą̵̤̮͔͕̭͗̓̍̍͋̇̇̒̔̑̿̆n̴̢̤̱̙̹̟̾͗̈́͑̍̓̃́̆̓́̚͝t̵̫̤̞̦̿͝ ̸̨̧̧̯̤͎̥͕̰̪̥̖̄͜t̸͔͇͍͑̊̈́̈́͆͑̈́̀̕͘͝ö̴̭͍̹́̊́̿̈́͛̈́͝ ̷̧̳͇̤͇̫̙̦̀̄̔̇̚ͅc̷̡͓̗̖͉̦̯̖̏̿̀͊̊̓͋͛̆̕͠à̴͉͔̟̂̓̈́̃̈̉̚͝u̵͖̗̗͖̱̖̥̘͛̇̆̊̓͌͑̓̊̆s̸͍̭͈͎̓̆͗͑̍ȇ̸̢̹̮͖̼̗̜̜͔̋̒̌̇ͅ ̵̨̪̞̜̬̩̇̏̀̽̉̏̉̎̊̃̽̂͝h̴̘̑̀̓͛͝a̴͙̰͉͎̪͉͖̭̺̺̟͕̝̎r̵̳̬̫̲̞͕͗̾͗̌m̷͖̮̣͇͎̳̺͇̑̈́͛ ̷̗͉̀̎̏̃͋̈́̽͋̄͐͝͝ę̸̡̨̝̭͓͖͇̰͍̬̀̅̏́͊̆̈́̕͜͠ͅv̶̛̼̝̿̈͊̀͆̌̇̓ę̴̡̨̡̖͓̗̰̯̌͜ͅr̶̺̼̺̫̖̻̥̐ͅ ̴͍͎̬͍̦̺̐̆̈́̍̆̀͑̿͂ḁ̷̡̱͍͙͌͐̇̈́̽̆̉͝ǵ̸̫̻̟͖͗a̸̦̘͆͗į̶̯̞̩̬̻̓̈̽̄̀ň̸̯̇͂͐̓͘”̵̡̞͈̙̝̲̱̻͋̇͛̋̑̀̈́̽̀͝

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Alys looks in wary consideration at the creature, which she can only assume to be one of the Revenant Shades. She doesn't like Revenants; they are surprisingly durable, able to use Soul to cast spells, and the taller ones can even call on Shadow for magic. Worst of all, some of them leave behind Shades when they die. She strains to make out what it's saying. The dragonfly feels the urge to simply burn the wretched thing away and be done with it, but something in those words rouses an ache in her chest. "You have harmed others, then, and come to regret it. Unfortunate for you."

[arkus-the-ironclad]

Vigilant has floated out, headed towards Hallownest, but stops. Floating down to an outcropping of rocks. Guilt and shame swirling around in their chest. They bring out Crane’s dagger, staring at it. Void tears dripping onto the blade.

“…I’m sorry…”

They took a deep breath(?) closing their eyes. The hole in their chest pulsing rhythmically.

Alys is sitting nearby, thinking. Would he be proud of her? Would he do better? Of course he would do better. There is no question. So how does she do better, now? ... She is interrupted in her musings by the whisper of another bug. Standing, she draws her nail-lance, looking coldly in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?"