All series featured on this blog have their masterlists posted here! This is a master post of master posts! A master-masterpost. A masterpostception, if you will.
Side note it is Baelpenrose policy regarding shipping conundrums that all characters within stories on this blog are canonically either bisexual or asexual unless cannon decrees otherwise.
Edit YET AGAIN: I am always available on the Archive of Our Own, linked below. Tumblr’s increasing attempts to retire itself from relevance to bend over for Apple make it increasingly relevant to support Ao3. I will continue updating here, naturally, however, should I ever up and vanish, come find me there under the same username.
Final Forward: While I have written all of these, and am not ASHAMED of any of them, I have grown significantly enough as a writer and as a person since time of writing that I do not believe that Tiger Squadron is terribly reflective of the writer (or human being) that I am now, and encourage people to read my other stuff first, then go back to it if they want to get an idea of how I started.
LEGAL DISCLAIMER: No character in the following works is based off a real, living person with the exception of fan submissions, some of which are based off the fans submitting them. All other resemblances to living people is purely coincidental. Resemblance or reference to deceased historical figures, however, is usually on purpose.
Afterverse Studios Staff Announcement:
Afterverse Studios Staff, Writing Team, Beta Readers, etc
Beta-reading Policy
Tiger Squadron Universe:
Campy military sci-fi written for "humans are space orcs" - my first ever written works.
Original Series. (Complete!)
Next Generation (Complete!)
The Healing Earth:
Solarpunk fiction reflecting on humanity, government, religion, anti-capitalism, and possibilities for post-colonial life.
Arcadian Inquisition: Adept (Complete)
Nihilus Rex: Ongoing (Prequel series) (On Hiatus)
The Miys (Partner Series by CanyouheartheLight) (Complete!)
From the Ashes (Forthcoming) - Founder Era story
Under Avandra’s Eyes Series!
Sword and Sorcery fiction dealing with themes of trauma, healing, justice, found family, and coming-of-age.
Under Avandra’s Eyes Book 1: Companions of Torin pt I (Complete)
Under Avandra’s Eyes Book 1: Companions of Torin Pt II (Complete, very much meant to be read as one book with the previous link, split because Tumblr only allows up to 100 links on a given post)
Under Avandra’s Eyes Book 2: Exile’s Path (In Progress!)
Under Avandra’s Eyes Book 3: Netherworld's Reckoning (Forthcoming)
Project Praetorian Series:
Science fiction dealing with themes of trauma, colonialism, and the challenge of complicity vs. agency.
Phase 1: The Project (Complete)
Phase 2: The Invasion (Forthcoming)
Phase 3: The Last Gambit (Forthcoming)
Phase 4: the Aftermath (forthcoming)
Masterpost-ception by CanyouheartheLight (included here as both partner author and frequently cross-promoted. Also because her Miys series is part of the Afterverse)
And if you’re the type who would rather binge via Ao3....
Enjoy!
And support the ongoing madness on Ko-fi if you wish!
Boo hoo i'll be able to add more physical storage to my phone and be able to change out batteries if they degrade as well as all these other optional features I won't have to touch
I love how they add totally absurd things no one is asking for to make the idea look crazy. And still, I must emphasize, failing to make this look like a bad idea.
"Is this what you want? Is this ugly stupid bullcrap what you want??" the biggest loudest idiot in the room asks, holding up a picture of the hottest looking shit I've ever seen
“Musk talks about Mars as a lifeboat for humanity, which is among the very stupidest things that someone could say,” says Adam Becker, an astrophysicist and author of the book More Everything Forever, which outlines the messianic, sci-fi fantasies of the tech oligarchs. “There are so many reasons why it’s such a bad idea, and this is not about, ‘Oh, we’ll never have the technology to live on Mars.’ That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that Earth is always going to be a better option no matter what happens to Earth. Like, we could get hit with an asteroid the size of the one that killed off the dinosaurs, and Earth would still be more habitable. We could explode every single nuclear weapon, and Earth would still be more habitable. We could have the worst-case scenario for climate change, and Earth would still be more habitable. Any cursory examination of any of the facts about Mars makes it very clear.”
What You’ve Suspected Is True: Billionaires Are Not Like Us
I really like sci-fi stories where people have to go off and terraform a planet, or figure out how to rebuild civilization after some disaster, or ideally both. "The last ark-ship leaving Earth right before it becomes uninhabitable" sort of deal. But lately I've been coming around to this same idea, that it will always be more practical to try to save Earth than to try to start over elsewhere.
I was reading one story where the apocalypse was impossibly-rising oceans. Like, water is appearing from *waves hand* the Earth's crust or something, and literally all dry surface land on Earth is going to become underwater in X years. Part of the story was about a giant research project to invent FTL to send a few hundred humans to a nearby star which might have a habitable planet. You know what they were hoping to find? A planet with liquid water. Their plan was to descend from their starship and restart civilization using just the tools they brought with them, on a world with no life and no breathable air and the wrong gravity and the wrong temperate and the wrong sunlight and the wrong day-night cycle, just because it had liquid water. You know where else has liquid water? The flooded Earth you just abandoned. Instead of researching starship technology, you could have spent that time loading up all the same civilization-restarter tools into boats.
And this is really true of any futuristic apocalypse scenario. If you can terraform Mars to have a thick oxygen atmosphere, why not just do that to Earth? Even if you smash an ice comet into Earth and destroy basically everything, Earth will still be more habitable than Mars! It'll still have roughly the right atmospheric pressure, and magnetic field, and heat balance, and it'll still have whatever life the comet didn't kill... Same with a starshade to cool Venus. Same with excavating asteroids into city-stations. Same with abandoning Sol System entirely and heading to another star. If an ark-ship arrived in a new star system and found Earth-but-choked-by-climate-change, the crew would be ecstatic. They would never have thought to get that lucky. So why bother with the trip? Just stay and fix the damn Earth.
At the end of the day, 99% of bad behavior in fandom towards marginalized indie creators by marginalized fans is basically the same psychological dysfunction.
Society fucking sucks. You cannot meaningfully punish the people who make society suck, the ones with real power. But you want to see something bleed for how much the world sucks and hey, that guy over there who has an audience is marginally successful and marginally influential (not in any material way. They just have followers on Twitter.) but you can hit them and make them bleed, which you couldn’t for the people who actually make your life suck.
So you constantly hammer on them for any mistake or fuckup you can find, no matter how far back, because it gives you some kind of feeling of control over how much life sucks and how little it’s helping.
They are people, tho. And it isn’t helping. You’re just making life worse for other people and not improving yours in any way.
aint it crazy how many people realize they're queer when they have the language to express how they feel and a support system to encourage self exploration????
right at the beginning when she's like how do I help my son feel loved and accepted I'm here shouting
"QUEEN YOU ALREADY DID THAT BY TAKING HIS SIDE AND LEAVING THAT NO GOOD HUSBAND FOR HAVING THE AUDACITY TO KICK YOUR BABY OUT!"
And Good for her! this is the only response to a man who kicks out a child.
Under Avandra's Eyes II: Exile's Path
Chapter LV: Seriously, what was that?
Everyone finally talks about what the hell the regent was. Beta read by @canyouhearthelight and @writing-with-olive
Neith
The storm continued to rattle outside, but Neith had to go out and dig up a few of the more dangerous plants she'd seen. A few of the more benevolent ones as well. Once they caught up with the alchemist, they'd need it. She wasn't certain that she was allowed to throw proper poison around, not while maintaining Melora's favor, but before she'd fallen in with Vixen, she'd made weapon tinctures and hadn't felt any loss of connection.
The mixtures weren't complex - things that could be mixed on Iris's arrows or Thomas's knives and start shutting down organs when it got into the bloodstream. Now, no garauntees it'd have that same effect on the Mad Alchemist - he might well have altered himself past the point of it being a garauntee on him - but even so, with the potency Neith could brew, it would still slow him down and keep him from recovering as fast if he got away and they had to give chase.
That said, she was also mixing antidotes for various poisons. And antivenoms - mostly for a lot of chimera venoms, and hydra venom. She had no doubt those would come up if the Alchemist had been making more monsters, or even just mixing and matching new creatures.
Iris asked the question. "You said Howlers weren't his invention, right?"
"No, Howlers weren't, but he knows how to create them." Neith spoke.
Malzan spoke up. "He makes Chimeras, too. Lots of them - and pretty much any Chimera he makes is going to have multiple ways of delivering venom. From the one we cut open, I'd say a lot of them will have extra organs, so I wouldn't bet on any going down cleanly."
Neith shrugged. "I'm making her tinctures for her arrows that should help with that."
Marcus looked to Malzan. "Once again, you've seen him fight. you say he's as strong and fast as you are, how's his technique? You've sparred with me. Same level of skill? Or was he relying on speed and strength to carry him?"
Malzan shook his head. "You rely a lot on your training and skill to face down bigger and stronger opponents - and your khym, frankly. he doesn't have that. It's all the power alchemy has given him."
Neith rolled her eyes. How to explain the short conversation she'd had with the Mad Alchemist? "It's more than that. He's arrogant to the point of insanity. He thinks he could become a proper harbinger, not by the blessings of the ruinious powers, but by changing the body and ascending to divinity by simply changing the human form to where he could combine magic and alchemy to become a physical god. To his mind, swordplay, studying a weapon, is a crude waste of time for people with no such prospects. If you have to pitch yourself against him, you and Thomas, his chances of matching you in weaponplay are slim to none. It's not like the Regent."
Everyone stopped at the mention of the Regent. Even now, lit by a cozy fire, their bellies full and spirits relatively high, the memory of his power, rage, the blood red fire, and that ghastly blue white that had consumed his blade before he'd fled to chaos…it struck immediate dread into all of them.
Iris sat down, and tried to lighten the mood by contrasting their current enemy. "That's good news. I could feel the Regent doing something I didn't understand - magic of a type I'd never felt."
Neith tensed, especially as Itene added. "I did want to ask. I mean. My magic is elemental in nature, and I still need some prepartion, some artifice, to make it work. Not like true arcanists, who apparently need a lot of time, but, some sorcerers need nothing and can do a lot more, Iris says, but…"
"Every time a sorcerer opens their mouth, you can tell how insane they are. Thinks their hair is snakes and that their eyelids might be spiders - and if they're really powerful, them thinking that might make it actually true. And not just the hair on the head, by the way."
Neith gave a wry smile. "Spent time looking at just how screwed up the bodies of sorcerers are out of sheer, morbid curiosity? I've been there."
She saw Iris wince and explain. "Yes. I noticed the…the magic was so distracting I couldn't tell what was happening, but when I shot him, it went away, so I wanted to get a look, and I wanted to see how bad it was. I found the snake hair and spider leg eyelashes and couldn't look away. But…I digress. Those Cathedral diabolists…they weren't crazy. Evil, powerful, but not crazy. The Regent, he wasn't…"
And there it was again. There was no point in avoiding it forever. They were going to have to discuss him eventually.
Itene spoke up. "The Regent told me something about that. He said that he knew Vixen. That…that she'd had centuries to prepare for him. I didn't understand it at the time, he didn't look that old. He seemed angry that I was the best she could come up with. Said something like that…that the Cathedral did things to him like what Vixen did to me. Maybe their diabolists are prepared the same way."
Now what the hell did that mean? The Regent knew Vixen? And how long? That was impossible…no, it wasn't. Vixen did have a plan for everything, and she had ways of knowing things she couldn't have. Neith shook her head. "That's part of the answer, but not all of it. The cathedral mages were using Necromancy, right, Iris?"
Iris nodded. "Clearly. But I wasn't sure how."
"That I can answer," Neith said. "That was ritual necromancy. It's very different than what happens if you tear the Veil by mistake - much more solid and long lasting, but it doesn't destabilize the Veil around you as you do it. There's a reason it's preferable to most people who want an army of ghouls. People who do it that way don't slowly become undead themselves."
Itene kept asking though. "But - granted I know very little of magic - he did something that doesn't line up with anything I've ever heard of anyone doing, even in stories. I threw something at him, and he disappeared and reappeared right next to me."
That was surprising - or, rather, it wasn't. That was possible, but only if the Regent was…well, he had said…
"He's doing something that even the Cathedral wouldn't approve of, then. There's magic sources that are too deep into Chaos for them to draw from. Ones that you have to be remarkably strong of will to be able to touch. Powers from gods you can't name, ones people don't know, or pray to. At a guess, the Regent is drawing on that." Neith sighed. "Which means he won't die in Chaos, if he's strong enough to do that. We'll probably see him again."
That struck everyone silent. there was a numb contemplation of the horror of facing him again. Thomas stared sullenly at the fire, and Iris stared out into the mouth of the cave. Marcus checked the edges of his weapons, and Malzan suddenly stood and paced around.
Then Itene dropped something much, much darker. "After…after the Harbinger….uh…whatever happened. Something really strange happened. Between me and the Regent. For a moment, I understood his thoughts. I saw the world through his eyes - saw - felt him - cutting down Marcus and Thomas. Felt him slam me into the ground. Heard what he thought of all of us. Does…anyone know how that's even possible?"
Neith went dead silent as everyone stared at Itene. She didn't. She suspected. But that would mean that Vixen had done a ritual forbidden almost everywhere in the world. She should have known when she saw the Book of the Fallen.
"Thomas. Liza. What, exactly, did Vixen say when she said she needed that book you stole for the ritual?"
"She said she needed it to break the curses."
"Did she say it was part of the ritual to break the curses?"
Liza thought, then swore.
Neith gave a ghost of a smile. "Damnit. Even dead, Vixen continues to make everyone a pawn. I have a feeling I know what happened. Itene, the good news is that you probably have a much bigger advantage than you think when it comes to facing the Regent. The bad news is that killing him might be up to you in the long run."
Itene sat down. "Please tell me what Vixen did to me."
Neith nodded. "I can't explain all the details, but I'll tell you what I know."
Wild how many young men are making themselves unfuckable for the sake of politics and calling it a return of “traditional masculinity”
If by “traditional” you mean “historical precedent” I have news for you. There is nothing more traditionally masculine than thinking you’re apolitical, accepting whatever politics you were assigned by accident of birth, then switching teams for a woman.
Born a pagan? Convert for a lady!
Born Christian in early dark ages Europe? Go back to the ancestral gods for a woman!
Fur trader in the American west? Yep, fuck the white man and his government, a native woman is giving you the signals you just switched teams and you will die alongside a people you weren’t born to to help them hold their land.
Wehrmacht soldier in Poland? Polish woman is smiling at you? Hm. Switching teams. (No really. This happened a double digit number of times).
There were people in the Rwandan civil war who switched sides for women.
There were members of the S Vietnamese army who switched sides for Vietcong women.
Genuinely. “I was born in a position that aligns me either one side of a conflict but have no personal investment in the cause and I’m switching sides for a girl” is a thing men have done throughout history. The new guys making themselves unfuckable for politics are, in fact, an abberation of the natural order rather than anything resembling a return to it.
there's something to be said about the choice to use "prince" as the main signifier of military rank for the andalites. because it kinda obscures the truth of the situation, doesn't it? a group of kids getting magic powers from an alien prince sounds whimsical and delightful. a group of kids getting pulled into a war by an alien colonel sounds tragic and horrible. the slow reveal of what "prince" actually means over the course of the early books is perhaps the most underrated twist of the entire series, because it fundamentally recontextualizes the entire premise of the series without the reader even consciously realizing it.
i think the key difference between george lucas’s star wars and disney’s star wars is that lucas is a man with an ideology. someone with a point of view, and all that entails. which comes with ideas of revolution, anti-imperialism, challenging the status quo, cultural appropriation and racist stereotypes. complex and contradictory ideas because that’s how artists are: complex and complicated people. disney is not. disney is a corporation. a corporation can’t have ideology, because ideology defeats the purpose of profit. and when the only thing you do is to turn on the movie manufacturing machine before you sit down and plan what ideas are you trying to convey to the audience, then your results are going to be washed out corporate garbage. and because when you’re a giant corporation who only cares about selling to the widest audience possible, you can’t take sides. you can’t decide on an idea. because you want to sell your product to people who are on the entire political spectrum. which results in movies without ideology, without purpose, without soul.
I have been looking for this post for years after I came across it and it’s finally here and I need to reblog this because it is absolutely and entirely accurate.
#as I always say: lucas was making a samurai film and a ww2 flying ace film and a western film and adding laser swords#because he fundamentally LIKED samurai films and dambusters films and westerns and 40’s adventure serials#but disney are making a ‘star wars film’ and adding nothing because it already had laser swords and they have nothing else to say#xerox of a xerox baybeeeee (via harrietvane)
"Why are teachers quitting?"
Well I was just told to my face that a series of absolutely heinous lies told about me were, quote, "obviously bullshit" but that it, quote "did not matter" because "if they hate you and respect you so little that they're going to lie and back each other up on stuff this obviously untrue, you're going to have a hard time controlling the classroom next year. What's your plan to deal with that?"
This was by an admin btw.
"We are worried about safety?"
Have you tried expelling the people who physically assaulted the teacher? No? They can come back to class? Really? That's not a safety issue? Okay, shut up about safety then.
"Why are you coming across like you're having a mental breakdown, we're kinda worried about you."
Could you consider not firing me over things you know are bullshit and actually consider EXPELLING THE PEOPLE WHO YOU KNOW BRAG ABOUT GETTING TEACHERS FIRED
No, I'm under investigation. Again. For shit that my admin. OPENLY SAID. They know is not true. Because 'why is there a classroom climate where they feel they are lying about this?'
Fuck teaching.
"What about student safety" Frankly I don't give a fuck at this point, all those little cunts could bathe in gasoline and swan dive into a bonfire and it would purely improve the human race.
Elliott page is a bad pick for Achilles. Achilles is an action hero. Fast. Strong. Lethal. I’ve seen Elliott page in action roles and he’s…not great at delivering those.
You know what he delivers really well? Cunning heroes with emotional depth.
What I’m saying is he should have been cast as Odysseus and not Achilles.
Under Avandra's Eyes II: Exile's Path
Chapter LIV: Tales around the Fire
an anthology chapter, in which Liza convinces everyone to tell one story around the fire. No beta reader, as @writing-with-olive has been busy as fuck, and @canyouhearthelight has been off having a marvelous and well-earned vacation.
Thank you for everyone who has liked, commented or reblogged.
Liza
She looked around. "So, who wants to go first? The greatest victory Marcus has won when we were not there? The greatest thing Baldor has championed when we were not there? The greatest hunt Iris or Malzan have had?" She glanced around, slowly fixing the tuning of her lute as she did. Marcus was leaning against the wall, checking his armor for the signs of rust. Baldor was doing likewise, and then…
"I'll tell one." Iris said, quietly. "I've got a good story about the time I brought down a ravener. It was the first major hunt I really did that actually made a name for me."
Iris's Tale - Hunting a Ravener
Liza knew that Iris had hunted Raveners - the massive mountain beasts occasionally lunged out of their caves and tore across the land, devouring everything in their path. But the bard had never actually seen Iris do it, though she knew that IRis was one of only a handful of people who had ever killed one. She began playing her lute to a stirring, almost primal stounding beat.
Iris glanced at her. "It was a few years ago. I'd just left home. I came across the wreckage that the beast was leaving in its wake. So i pursued it, right? I don't think I had a plan, I was hoping to figure one out as I went. As I got closer, I realized just how enormous this thing was, and that I wasn't going to have much chance of killing it with my bow, not unless I got a really lucky shot. I mean, I did have the Faldrean longbow, new to me then, so I figured I'd be able to pierce its hide but I didn't figure I'd be able to do enough damage. So I had to think. How to hit it hard enough? How to take advantage of it?" Iris stopped, and Liza could picture her. The young huntress, scrawny back then, looking over a trail of devastation in the wooded highlands of her home.
"And then I realized. I did know the area this thing was rolling through. It was heading towards a set of cliffs and valleys, and if I could get out ahead of it, I could lure it into a ravine and start actually getting an upper hand. So I picked up the pace, and tried to get ahead of it. Finally, I came to a place where the trail narrowed, stopped, and I saw the silhouette of the beast. Massive, hulking monstrosity, thrice again the size of the house I'd grown up in. So I went around, wide, and got in front of it. I knew I'd have to rest before I actually took it on." Iris gave a little smile. "I knew there was no way, then, that one arrow was going to bring it down, as was my wont with even bloodvelds. Based on the hide, though, I was sure I could get in deep enough to get its attention."
Liza changed keys and started playing a different tune, a slightly more contemplative one, to fit with Iris's narration now. She actually hadn't heard this story, so the bard was leaning in as eagerly as her daughter. She'd seen a ravener's bones, and could barely believe Iris had brought one down.
"So. I scouted ahead as the massive beast slept. I could feel the ground shaking from the breath of the beast." Iris's voice took on a dramatic timbre, as though she was trying to imitate Liza. "Not far ahead, I saw a ravine, more than deep enough for the beast to fall, and narrow enough that it might be trapped if it fell. I prepared an arrow with some rope, fixed one end to a tree, and fixed it to the other end, so I'd have a fast escape. So, the trick was how to get it to fall in. I rested up in a tree, and waited to feel the ground rumble. The moment it did, I woke, strung my bow, and ran for the beast."
Liza picked up the pace of her music, and began playing much more dramatically, a stirring tune that would have brought almost anyone's heart racing, and listened, picturing what must have played out as Iris told the tale. "So, I ran in front of the beast, and drew the bow back. I waited for it to open its mouth, right as it began tearing up the foliage - and then, I drew back an arrow, threaded the shot right between the branches this thing had upturned to devour, and shot down the throat."
Liza stopped the music, then crescendoed as Iris continued. "The roar that shook me at that, I thought the rocks were going to shatter. I turned and bolted, stopping and firing into an eye as it chased me, but it kept coming at me, screaming in a way that I felt more than heard. But I didn't stop. I kept running, kept running, knew I was getting closer and closer to the cliffside I was trying to get to, but I could feel the ground shaking from the behemoth coming up behind me. I jumped and grabbed the rope I'd set up, scrambling across the ravine, even as the beast laid about with its mighty claws as it charged. I felt my rope break, and I clung for dear life as I hit the far side of the canyon. Then I scrambled up the side as I heard a roar, and heard a massive thud."
The huntress grinned. "I looked down, and the Ravener was splayed at the bottom of the ravine, wedged between rocks even bigger than it was. From there, I had easy options. I found a place where the hills were risking giving way, and quickly dug away at it with a grapnel arrow and some rope, until it came away and left rocks tumbling down on the beast. It didn't even manage to roar again. I saw a boulder half the size of its head strike it in the dome of the skull. I stuck around long enough to make sure it wasn't getting back up, but then I saw it leaking enough blood that even a beast of that size couldn't have survived it. And that was the end of my first Ravener hunt."
Iris gave a little bow, looking at Liza. Liza was impressed - Raveners were extremely rare, hibernated for decades, and woke up to go on massive rampages across the countryside. Itene stared at Iris, and asked only one question. "Is a Ravener the biggest thing you've slain?"
Iris grinned. "Biggest, yes. Hardest, no."
Liza laughed. "I think we were there for the hardest one, Itene. You might have been, even."
That killed the mood. "The Harbinger."
Iris said, quietly, "yes. And that wasn't all. There was a town nearby whose herd the Ravener had almost completely destroyed by the time I caught up with it. I didn't know. I felt a lot less like celebrating after that. I'm more skilled now, but…"
Iris had told the story like a hunter describing some wild prize, but that ending had taken the exhileration from it. Everyone went quiet. Then Marcus spoke. "I have a tale as well. it's not quite as impressive as Iris slaying a Ravener, but it was the first really hard fight I had, the first one that people started remembering me for. This is the story of how I killed the Grinning Knight."
Marcus's Tale - Duel with a Madman
Liza had heard the stories of the Grinning Knight - a Faldrean oathbreaker who had run south with a sword and a horse and had caused havoc, attacking travellers everywhere he went, painting the visage of a massive, grinning mouth on the faceplate of his helmet. Supposedly he'd gotten two shadar kai to follow him.
She had known, like she'd known that Iris had killed Raveners but never seen iris do it, never heard Iris tell the tale of slaying one, that Marcus had been the one to kill the Grinning Knight, but Marcus never spoke of the details, which had always frustrated her when she tried to make songs of it. Such silence told an awful lot of what kind of battle it must have been.
"So when I first ran off, I wanted to make a name for myself. I'd heard about this guy, this madman from another land. I wasn't aware of Faldrea at the time, I was hovering between the border of the Empire and of Asgaria, but, I wanted to deal with the problem. He was pillaging along the border, where soldiers couldn't really find him. He'd picked up a handful of deserters from both sides, or men who didn't care much but just getting to pillage. You know the type, men who get so burnt out from war that they simply don't care about what they're fighting anymore."
Liza remembered the fighting in the Empire - the first battle of the civil war they'd taken part in. Marcus had sworn and called the men they'd dispatched 'war crows,' but now she wondered if Marcus simply saw any murderous, pillaging oathbreaker as being cut from the same cloth.
Marcus continued, "Finding him was actually…suprisingly easy. He wasn't making it a challenge. Either he didn't believe anyone was tracking him, or he was mad enough to believe no one would be able to take him down if he was discovered. I followed him a long way, until I finally found where he'd gone. I found a few small family farms - totally destroyed. I don't know why it sticks out in my memory, but I remember a little boy whose body I found holding on to a cat. He had a broken lance sticking out of him, and he was holding tight to a cat that had also been run through…" Liza stopped playing at that as marcus shook himself.
"Anyway. I finally caught up to him. I shouted for a fight with the vicious bastard. A few of his men came forward. Neither of them knew what to do about me. Migisi trampled one of them, the other got dropped with an easy cut as I passed him. There were a few more men who came up, but I didn't want to go back and forth with all of them - I could see a big man, with a big shield, sable, split across with the device of nothing but a row of gules-and-argent teeth. He'd painted his helm the same way, and his armor had probably been burnished at some point, but he'd somehow stained the metal dark, or painted it since breaking his oaths. Must have been going for some kind of effect. I'll give him this much, it delivered one hell of a sense of dread."
Liza plucked up a slightly darker tune, then changed key as Marcus looked at her.
"But I looked at him, and I shouted out that I wasn't afraid to face him. Called him a coward. Demanded single combat. When he laughed, I asked him why his men should die for him if he wasn't willing to face a lone bastard for them. He swore, but he picked up a lance and faced me down. His men backed off as we got ready to charge each other. As we charged, I could feel myself getting nervous, could feel my heart pounding in time with Migisi's hooves as I realized how much bigger he was than me. And I got closer and closer - and I just barely parried his lance and hit him with the saber, and he fell off his horse, and got to his feet. He had a big sword, one that made me not want to risk Migisi, so I dismounted and drew my other blade, and walked over."
Marcus grinned. "I don't know how long we fought, but I kept dancing around him, khym flaring, dodging around blows that would have cut clean through my mail. Every time I thought I had him, he'd have these insane frenzies where he'd start laughing like a madman and lunge, hacking at me so ferociously all I could do was back up - but finally, he left me one little opening, and I got around him. Laid open the back of his knee, and when he stumbled, got him in the elbow with a thrust. He dropped his sword, and I got close and slashed just above his gorget, and even as the blood fountained, I rammed my sword right through his visor, right above that stupid smile he'd painted on his face plate. I ripped it clean and let him fall."
"When I turned, his men were already fleeing. I took his head with his own sword and lashed it to my saddle, then ran them all down. That was the day people started telling my story. It didn't make up for how far he'd gotten, but…" the swordmaster grinned. "That was the first real duel I ever had."
Liza smiled. She'd never heard that tale. "So why haven't you told us before?"
Marcus went quiet. "Because. He knocked me down at one point. Almost had me. And there's days…nights, mostly. When I still hear him laughing, the way it echoed in his helm. There was a long time that that was the closest I'd ever come to dying. And I'm just as happy no one saw that fight. No one would believe I could save them if they had."
Liza nodded. Somehow, it didn't suprise her. Marcus's telling had reminded her of old veterans telling war stories, at odds with the youth of his frame. "How old were you? When you did it?"
"Seventeen."
Dear gods.
Then Thomas muttered something. "Alright. Well, if we're telling tales. I have one. The first heist I ever pulled."
Thomas's Tale - No Torches, no Candles.
Liza had heard this story, but she was suprised that Thomas was telling it. Especially since Thomas had lost people along the way of this job.
"It was early in my career. Myself, and two others. We were just a bunch of arrogant little guttersnipes. At the time though, we'd been getting luckier and luckier stealing from rich merchants, and we had gotten angry with some older thieves, so we figured maybe it was time to make a real name for ourselves. Everyone in that slum had heard that the old smuggler had a set of jewels he'd gotten from some hard job, one way back from his days as a second story man, that he kept as a trophy. We thought, if we could steal those and fence them, we'd have a real name for ourselves."
Thomas kept a solemn face, and LIza knew what was coming. "So, we did everything right. We were robbing a dangerous man. We cased the joint. We figured out when it wasn't going to be guarded - and figured out exactly who was guarding it. When. What their patrols were. How often the guards shifted. Hell, a little work, and a bit of spying and we were able to figure out the secret of his lock. So we thought we knew everything about how to break into the place."
He gave a sad smile. "So one night, we did. No torches, no candles. We opened the lock. I remember my hands shaking as I slipped it open, but the hinges screamed. I thought we were dead, but no one showed up. We kept moving, thought we had gotten away with it. Up the stairs, and down the hall. It was quiet, all I could hear was our breathing."
Everyone was quiet, and Liza didn't even touch her lute. She could feel the tension in Thomas's voice as he continued, his own tone and body langauge mirroring her natural storyteller's instincts.
"We heard a click as we got closer - some trap we hadn't accounted for. It didn't fire off any kind of trap, but all of the sudden, there was the toll of a bell,and we heard the thudding of boots. We started running, fast. Didn't run - should have run. But we were determined. Had a way out already. Bolted up for the safe room. Found it. I remember the satisfaction of ripping open the door, tearing open the case, and grabbing that chain of priceless jewels."
Liza froze. She'd not heard this part before.
"Then I turned, when Lucas called my name. He had a knife to his neck. Big guy, much bigger than us. Wasn't the old smuggler. It was his main enforcer. He wasn't moving. I pulled my knives, and he told me to drop the weapons. I did, and then the guy told me to give him the jewels. So. I threw them to him, and when he moved to catch them, Lucas grabbed a knife and stabbed him in the leg. I saw blood pour onto the ground, but before the enforcer fell, his knife plunged into lucas's back as Lucas was trying to scramble away. And lucas started screaming - it had sunk right into his kidneys. I snatched up my knifes and slashed the enforcer's throat before he could recover the weapon - it was the second guy I'd ever killed, the first I'd ever killed on purpose." Thomas was quiet.
"Lucas was pale, and he was whimpering. But he shoved the jewels at Jenna. Said that we needed to leave. I shoved him over my shoulder, said we'd get him to a temple. Jenna got the rope out the window, and shimmied down. We tied him on and lowered him down, but he kept screaming. At that point, someone was already coming after us - after Jenna and Lucas on the ground. So I jumped down from where I was on the rope. Tackled the guy, fell on him. Started stabbing. I started running, I don't think anyone saw the scrawny 14 year old, covered in blood in the torchlight and thought I was someone to be crossed."
Liza began playing a desperate tune as Thomas continued. "We staggered for the temple. Thought we could maybe get to the temple. I thought someone was after us. A dart missed us, and I ran back and went after the guy shooting it. He didn't switch to his blackjack and drop the blowgun before I stabbed him. I don't know to this day if he lived. But…I doubt it. In that night, I'd gone from a boy who had killed one man by mistake when he'd grabbed me to a murderer who'd slain three on purpose. But we drew up to the temple, and the Matron of the meloran priestesses saw our friend and set him on the altar, and cleaned his wounds. They saw the jewels on Jenna's neck, and asked two of them, to help feed other beggars. We pried them loose of the chain, and the altar blazed to life and Lucas stood again. We thought we'd gotten away with it. We still had three of the gems, and we'd gotten away alive."
He laughed. "We had made a mistake though. We'd left Pyke alive. He came after us. That's…why I wound up going on the road later. But the desperation…losing his gems did expose Pyke for the weak man he was. He was eventually hunted down by his rivals. So there was that."
Liza grew quiet. "I'm sorry, Thomas."
Baldor winced. "That is a hard story. What drew you to the prize?"
"Glory, partly. But also that there was only so long we could stay in that circumstance without getting bigger. Without getting a reptuation. More and more urchins were coming to our outfit, and we needed a score to stay fed. So…we went for something bigger. And our options were either another criminal or a noble. WE thought another criminal would be easier."
"Gods." Baldor sighed. "I'm sorry, Thomas."
Malzan nodded. "That is a hard story. I believe I ought to share one with you all as well. One from the days when I was a young man, and foolish."
Thomas's telling was closer to a bitter thief, but at its height, it had reminded her of some of the stories she'd heard from the gentleman theives she'd known - not that any had ever matched Thomas.
Malzan's Tale - Strength and Nerve
"A young Chimmaerian is not a man until he has brought down a worthy beast. I was far from my people due to a mistake my parents had made, but I….I was determined to prove myself worthy all the same. I saw the spoor of a troll, and I…I decided that I was going to pursue it. Such a beast was my prize. If I could bring down such a mighty beast, I could be proud."
Liza raised a brow. A troll hunt as a young man. Even Iris had only killed one of the great rock apes as an adult, and she preferred to hunt them as part of a group. If things went wrong, they were damnably agressive and durable, and it was better to have help.
Malzan continued. "So I followed the tracks. I could run for hours, and I eventually heard the beast. I realized, too late, that I hadn't actually made any kind of plan for how I'd bring down a ten foot tall mountain ape with four arms. I figured I'd just have to win by strength and nerve. I had never actually faced such a massive foe, so as I got closer, I realized I might have overestimated myself. But I didn't want to back down. didn't want to know I was a coward. I swung my axe and forced myself forward. I shouted for its attention and felt my ax bite sinew, and then the beast grabbed me."
Liza knew full well that Malzan lived, but the timbre of his voice, the cadance of the way he spoke - she had, years and years hence, had the luck of being there when her caravan and a Chimmaerian band had feasted each other. An old Chimmaerian storyteller with one eye and one hand had told tales in the cadence Malzan used now, and it got her attention perfectly. She remembered to play the music with the tale.
"I felt the troll's iron grip straining agianst me, and I could feel my body being pulled apart. My sinews, muscle, flesh - I strained against it, and by sheer chance, I won free, twisting out of that brutal grip. I snatched up my weapon as I won away from him, and darted to a tree. It swung after me, and I felt the sapling I had braced against snap like a toothpick. I hewed at one of the great arms that had swung for me, felt the ax bite bone again, felt hot blood splatter my arms to the elbow, heard a roar that shook my bones. But then I felt the rush, and sheer instinct saved me as I dove. Had I been struck by a troll tackling me, I know that even I would have been crushed to a crimson pulp."
"I wheeled and struck, and then found myself backhanded hard enough to careen through the air, and I do not know even know how I avoided cutting myself on my own ax, save that the gods must have favored me. As the troll wheeled around, I siezed upon a sapling, and prepared a strike of desparation. It lunged for me, and I snapped myself forward as an arrow from a bow, around the trunk and forward, leaping with all the might of my legs and the springing tension of that young tree, and past those grasping arms. With all the strength of my back I brought the ax down, and split that great gry ape to the breast bone, and with relief, I wrenched my weapon free."
Malzan gave a aveage smile. "I'd not hunt trolls alone again. Not unless I had to. Neith would never let me, and it's a young fool's game."
Liza laughed as she saw Marcus grin at that.
Neith groaned. "Right, well. I suppose I ought to tell my own tale…"
Neith's Tale - The Real Curse of Greyheath
"You've heard of Greyheath temple, right? Of course you have. We all have. The legend, the curse. Some inane nonsense about it lying in the middle of a mausoleum city. It isn't. Not exactly. There's…there's no curse, at least, not as far as I know. What there is is a poison, one that does not decay or relent or degrade. To open the tombs within is to disturb it, and to disturb it is to inhale it. To inhale that powder is to die, and die horribly. None have ever wandered within and survived to tell of its wonders, for this reason. And yet, I have one of the treasures from the depths."
Neith's face drew into a serenely dark expression. "So, how does one such as I come by such as this?" She waved the carved bone whistle she carried. "This ancient piece of artifice, made by those who built Greyheath. Certainly, I didn't whittle it. And certainly, what it calls is beyond my magical knowledge. A trio of heroes once ventured into the depths of Greyheath, believing that they had what they needed to best the curse. I know not what happened to one of them - only that one of the survivors returned covered in blood and murmuring his name, over and over, and did not live out the night. The third, the third was in better shape. That third man, that third man I worked on. Others swore to me that he was not possible to save. That he was cursed, damned, for violating the sacred tombs. But I knew better. I could tell - that was not a curse, I swore. I knew what curses do, and this, this was a poison, which meant that I could, given time, cure it."
Liza listened with rapt attention as Neith continued. "He said that if I managed to save his life, I was welcome to any part of the treasure - and the cypher he'd found for using it, one of the few things i didn't have the training to figure out on my own. The issue was that I'd never seen a poison this complex - his skin was coming off in chunks, and he seemed to be coughing up parts of his lungs - literally - as long as he was alive. The potions I could make to help him were mostly good to salve the damage, to help him heal from it or to mitigate the damage the poison did, but unless I could work out an antidote, it wasn't going to save him. So I did the truly insane thing - I looked at the bodies of the other two people. Found traces of some kind of dust - the wrong color and texture to be what falls off the limestone that the Greyheath Labrynth is supposedly built from. I swore and bound my head in a wet rag, and realized what I was looking at. I started checking it against what i knew of poisons. I started boiling this one - mixing with common alchemic antagonists. The man began groaning, began thrashing - and then I realized that he'd made a horrible mistake. That I'd made a horrible mistake. I'd disturbed the dust on their clothes, before I'd wrapped my mouth and nose. I'd given myself a tiny dose. It wasn't much - must have been a tiny fraction of the dose he'd gotten - but it was enough to start giving me a headache."
Liza blinked, and caught her breath. Poison was always terrifying. Neith kept going. "Now, I was experienced. I knew it was possible that it was just in my head. I kept going. Tried as much as I could. I kept salving the guy, but I started fading in and out of consciousness - I was jotting down what i was feeding him. But he was starting to recover, near the end, he'd been bought time. I realized what I had done - there was a combination of agents that I had thrown in that, in combination, created a powerful purgative of the lungs - I wasn't looking forward to it but I'd survive. I created the tea, and I forced it down my throat and his."
"I don't know how long we heaved up thick, heavy, toxic phlegm, but when we were done, I could breathe and I wasn't bleeding from the eyes. The man was breathing again, and his skin was in tact. He spoke, a desperate rasp, and told me the cypher of runes that were etched into the whistle. Asked me to keep caring for him. I kept the whistle on my neck, and wrote down the cypher. I kept caring for him, and I broke the curse of Greyheath."
Neith went silent. "That treasure hunter died anyway. The poison had taken too much out of him. I gave him the funery rights. But now, if I ever go to Greyheath, I know how to get in and out alive."
Liza let out a low whistle. "That's incredible."
Thomas looked at Neith as though he was already considering a heist that he couldn't wait to attempt. Before he could ask any other questions, Liza spoke.
"Alright. I have a story to tell that does me no credit, but should tell a tale of cunning and murder with wits alone. The day I unravelled an alliance that could have profited three greater Imperial houses that had hurt me dearly - their plans undone by wits alone.
Liza's Tale - Grand Plans Undone By Wits Alone
"So to tell this tale, let me set the scene. I was seventeen, and still a courtesan. At the time, I was in the guest house of the Palatine of Constantia. His son, you see, was my age, but he had a promising marriage pact with a noblewoman - the daughter of Burgrave Antakya. But the thing was, that girl's twin brother was a known expert duellist - and a hothead besides. This whole arrangement had been set up by Viscount Dyrracho, who was doing this as a favor to two of his allies, and because having a burgrave owing him a favor would have allowed him to effectively steal the tax revenue of the province."
Liza smiled. "Now, here was the problem. I was known to the young Lord Antakya. Very well. So when he came to me, it was an easy feat. Listen to his fears for his sister - learn how well he loved her. Plant the fear, first, in his head. Tell him, first, that the pro-Palatine vi Constantia was a regular visitor to my chambers. It planted it in his head, of course, that his sister would face an unfaithful husband - already a stain upon the honor of his house. Already one that he didn't care for, but one he could not openly call out. Could not openly object to, obviously. But then, he didn't have to. He was a known hothead. And pro-Palatine Castor vi Constantia was…well, he never had the best handle on his temper either. So what was I to do?"
Liza gave a quiet little smile. "One might say that my easiest answer would have simply been to allow things to happen. But…I was angry. I was already furious with Castor's father. With the way that his house had used and abused me for their own benefit. And I was going to make them pay. So when I was called forth to preform at dinner - the formal annoucnement of the engagement, with the Viscount present for…you know, it's funny, I'm still not certain? To this day? I believe he was there to talk business with the in-laws to be. However, partway through the meal, I made eyes at young pro-Palatine Castor, in ways that our pro-Burgrave could not have missed. And soon, the bride to be was asking her dear brother whatever was the matter. I didn't have to say anything, just watch the young man burn with shame with answers he couldn't give without shaming himself for a hypocrite. You see, the Viscount had brought another eligible girl to court - one that had been given to him to help debut, one that I have no doubt the young pro-Burgrave very much wanted to impress. Beautiful, eligible, and with a good name behind her."
Liza gave a sudden smile. "Of course, that didn't last long once I started making eyes at him, and he flushed. I didn't take him for having much of a face for playing cards. The statesmen were busy arguing, which was better for me. but what really did it - what really started everything - was when I'd already gotten the two young lords glaring at each other. Our young pro-Burgrave was already on edge, angry, nervous. Resentful of his future brother in law. And Castor was irritated at the suspicion, his fiance nervous about the tension in the room. So as I played the song, I looked more and more nervously towards Castor, and gave pleading looks at the fiance and her brother. I figured I didn't have to say anything, not really. They'd come to tehir own conclusions. Castor eventually jumped and asked why his future brother in law kept glaring at him…and I jumped and whimpered when he raised his voice. Like i was nervous."
Liza smiled. "That was all it took. I'd been Khyming the young pro-Burgrave all night, he was aroused, and angry, and worried for his sister, and young, stupid men in that state are easy to turn to violence. He connected the dots I'd drawn. He decided that I was clearly afraid of retalation, that i was used to being beaten, and he'd not have his sister marrying any such man lest he lay hands on her. And so, in front of his father, and the man who'd abused me, he called Castor to a duel. A challenge that could not be revoked."
The bard leaned back, satisfied as a cat with a full belly. "The duel didn't last long. Castor was never much of a fencer. It ruined the alliance they tried to forge. The Viscount's reputation was damaged. Their plans were ruined, a great deal of money spent for nothing, and the son of the man who'd imprisoned me all those years was slain in front of him." She shrugged. "I'd not escape for several more years, but I did accidentally prevent a defrauding of a huge swathe of the empire. I believe the Viscount was ultimately executed during our coup, and I am fairly sure that that young brother-sister duo of Burgraves were among those who bent the knee to Alexander."
Baldor muttered something. "I don't know how I feel. The young pro-Burgrave still abused you. By right that should still be a hanging offense."
Liza shrugged. "And I made him a catspaw, almost twenty years ago, when we were both very young, made him party to a conspiracy for murder. There are crimes I will hold grudges for, but I consider his debt paid if he's enforcing Alexander's will in making my story less common. I could rightfully hold a grudge, sure, but…what would be the point now, I suppose?"
Baldor sighed. "Alright. You've all convinced me. you know how much I hate telling war stories. But I do have one. The story of how I met Ghaztir, when I was a squire and he hadn't yet earned his champion's cloak."
Baldor's Tale: A Kindred Spirit
"It was many years ago, obviously. Some nothing Pikar raid, one we mistook, in our arrogance, for a proper incursion. Their army was plenty big, lots of hideous warbeasts, but nothing…nothing huge. It was happening in Kazarak-Ur, so about four hundred knights and squires headed over, to back up our allies. I was a squire then, under a longstanding friend of my father."
"I was proud to be there - my father was there, with his squire, my own knight's son. We saw a huge swathe of Pikar - loud, screaming, all the usual trappings of pale flesh and self-scarification. We charged, and I could feel my lance splinter off in someone's chest. I saw a group of orcs being rounded up, and charged to help them - I was strong even then, laying about with my hammer, but suddenly I found myself dragged out of the saddle, and I couldn't see whatever was happening, but a group of the pikar fell away from me, and I found myself wrenched to my feet. Then I heard his voice.
"Faldrean! Your charge saved my life. Figure I can save yours. Hold on, let's see how long it takes for someone to help us out." Baldor's voice broke as he imiated the old Orc's voice.
"I don't know how long we stood there, my hammer dashing skulls, his sword swinging in great, figure-eight motions, leaving shattered bodies. Every so often an armored Pikar ran forward and met the ground at my hammer, and he'd just sweep them away. At some point, the bodies clogged the area in front of us, and I started reeling, covered in blood. My shield was chewed up, hacked to splinters, and my arms had gone numb, but we couldn't stop - not until some massive charge hit."
Baldor shrugged. "It's not much of a tale, I'm afraid. Eventually, the knights swept back around, and hit. The orcs, the full adults with their champions' cloaks, hit from the other side and carved the Pikar to bits. Ghaztir and I introduced ourselves, and swore an oath to guard each other's houses. My father and my knight considered it a good omen, so did Ghaztir's father. House Torin has enjoyed particularly good relations with Khazarak-Ur ever since."
Liza shrugged. Baldor had never been much of a story teller. But that was the most of an old story he'd ever told.
Itene looked around. "That's…I think I'm starting to understand how you all became the people you did."
Liza wasn't certain what she meant by that. But it had been spoken not with reverence, or with disgust. Just with a quiet, measured respect - and a newfound understanding.
