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➼ I post: Original writing & fanfiction; Fantasy, Sci-Fi and Literary; Tag games; Advice
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– MY WRITING –
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➼ My main writing tag is #Wandering Words
➼ My tag for tag-games, wip updates, and other things tangentially related to my writing is #Meta Wandering Worlds
➼ On Sep 12 I decided to start posting my old catalog of work, using the tag #for posterity. You can read about why here.
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Masterposts
A masterpost of masterposts for each of my different types of writing.
TESIV: Oblivion Fanfiction - Genderless HoK
TESIV: Oblivion Fanfiction - Haven’s Ember
TESIV: Oblivion Fanfiction - Talis the Baker (Slice of life)
TESIV: Oblivion Fanfiction - Teas of Tamriel
TESIV: Oblivion Fanfiction - The Many Faces of Kellandra Rhiannon Lorinda Rue
TES: Oblivion Fanfic - The Chronicles of Arkved of Cheydinhal
TESIV: Oblivion Fanfiction - Other
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Titan - the Fighting Fantasy World- Elowyn of Toreguarde
Titan - the Fighting Fantasy World - Alexis Dalliance
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ttrpg games are insane and make you insane in ways that are fundamental and irreparable. sometimes the best piece of fiction you will ever experience will happen to you and your friends over two to five years of your life. it will be your work and their work and yet somehow exist between and beyond you all. there will only be like three or five of you in the room and nobody else will ever be able to experience this in the way you did. it will be ephemeral and immediate and it will occasionally make you feel so bad you see hell. fuck. what a concept
Once again putting this here because otherwise I'll forget, but I need to write from Elo's POV the blinding moment of clarity I had when I realised I needed to cross-class her into paladin.
Now, I'm not sure how, because from Elo's POV the event of her ordination was extremely confusing, and she wasn't given much choice about it, in-game. She wasn't even paying attention for the first part, she thought the priest was talking about Meredith!
I might have to fudge things a bit for the sake of narrative satisfaction. And perhaps work in my own out-of-game POV?
Because I very strongly recall the GM frowning and asking me if I was really sure, as previously I'd said I would never ever play one, you see. And when I said I was, he handed me Defenders of the Faith and made me read The Code of the Paladin section, which details how a paladin must behave (humble, honest, not consorting with Evil or resorting to underhanded tactics). He asked if I really understood what I was getting into, and again -- was I sure? And only when I confirmed I'd understood did he let me start the cross-class process.
But I think it still needs to be written about; it's quite an important event in her life.
Putting this here, mostly for my own note. This is the in-game log of Elo's ordination to be a Paladin:
Bishop Remulos [of the Church of Pelor in Shakuru, City of Beggars] rests a moment, and [says] yes, they could maybe have taken it [the rouge kolyarut, Lok], but the important thing was to get the book away from both Lok and Darkhide. He then rises and looking at both Elo and Meri, says he has to talk to them about their mission.
He leads them down into a hidden crypt, telling them that the reason the monastery has remained here is because of this place - it is filled with the remains of many holy warriors, Paladins of Pelor.
He walks over to a chest under an effigy of the god, and pulls out some equipment. He holds it out to Elowyn, which surprises her, and says it would be remiss of him to send her back out into the world improperly equipped. Elo is surprised, thinking the old man had been talking to Meri all along - after all she is the key here [to stopping Darkhide from reopening the portal to the Pit under Toreguard].
She thanks Remulos as he goes to another chest and pulls out a shield, and she says she doesn't use those. He just gives a wink and and tells her she may do well to take it anyway. Again, she thanks him, and he takes a seat on the chest below Pelor. Remulos motions for her to come and attend him, so she hands the gear to someone else and steps forward.
He asks her what she use to do as a profession, and she tells him she was a watchman in Toreguard. He nods, and says that makes sense. They talk about her position in the world, and about how she has garnered such interest from various deities. He then asks her if she is willing to go a step beyond - to follow a stricter code, to hold herself to a higher standard. She says she is willing to take that next step - she says she's always going to be a watchman at heart, but since her watch has increased, so too must she become a better watchman. He nods satisfied, and says he's surprised she's gotten away with not being knighted this long. He bids her kneel and says he is pleased to bless her in Pelor's name, and as she rises, he announces her as Lady Elowyn, Paladin of the Light.
As Elo helps the old man back up stairs, Meri explains to the other's that Elo basically got a promotion at which point Felix says he needs to add Pelor to the list of gods who seem to have placed bets on Elo.
Once again putting this here because otherwise I'll forget, but I need to write from Elo's POV the blinding moment of clarity I had when I realised I needed to cross-class her into paladin.
Now, I'm not sure how, because from Elo's POV the event of her ordination was extremely confusing, and she wasn't given much choice about it, in-game. She wasn't even paying attention for the first part, she thought the priest was talking about Meredith!
I might have to fudge things a bit for the sake of narrative satisfaction. And perhaps work in my own out-of-game POV?
Because I very strongly recall the GM frowning and asking me if I was really sure, as previously I'd said I would never ever play one, you see. And when I said I was, he handed me Defenders of the Faith and made me read The Code of the Paladin section, which details how a paladin must behave (humble, honest, not consorting with Evil or resorting to underhanded tactics). He asked if I really understood what I was getting into, and again -- was I sure? And only when I confirmed I'd understood did he let me start the cross-class process.
But I think it still needs to be written about; it's quite an important event in her life.
Hi everyone. So I asked @druidx if she would be happy for me to post a transcript of the conversations Selene had with both Elowyn and Snotgrut since Snotgrut is way too verbose to adequately convey how annoying he was to Selene in the flash fiction On Thin Ice. Elowyn's section was included because I know how much some of you enjoy the drama ;P. There is a small warning for language. Emotions were running a bit high in-game.
Some modifications were made to make everything flow a little better, mostly cutting out the 'umms' and 'ahhs' and above-table chatter
Elowyn puts down a bottle of vodka and a glass on a table.
Elowyn; [nervous] Hi auntie.
Selene takes the bottle
Selene: [annoyed] care to explain… everything?
Elowyn: Where would you like me to start? 'Everything encompasses a rather large amount o things
Selene: [huffs out a sigh] How about from where you even came up with that ridiculous plan?!
Elowyn's tone turns professional, as if giving a verbal report throughout
Elowyn: Ok; well, I would say that the plan that was implemented most recently actually came into being sometime last year. The basis for the plan was implemented around about the middle of last year, in the recesses of Fangthane; whereby I completely screwed up sneaking, and tripped over a guy rope and thus became the Distraction.
Selene pours out a generous glug of the vodka and downs it
Elowyn: All I'm saying is that this is a System that has served us very well in the past; you may, or may not be interested to note that the majority of our plans do tend to —uh — focus on the system of : I approach —sometimes on my own, sometimes with others — I ask the target, very nicely, if they would consider surrendering. Their answer, obviously, is usually 'No' because —
Selene: They're all idiots?
Elowyn: Occassionally they take one look at me and start giggling. While I have been discussing the conditions of their surrender, the rest of my team will have closed ranks behind them — as I'm sure you're aware, most of them can turn some flavour of not visible — they all move into position to surround the target. Once I have ascertained that the target does not want to surrender, then they go into action. This was a… modified version of that plan, whereby I was definitely not alone — I had a fellow Watchman with me —
Selene: [rising pitch] Who is not in any way magically trained!
Elowyn: Well, he is a Ranger so he has some magical training! [clears throat] So in this particular instance, I, and my fellow Watch Officer, provided a focus point for our target's attention.
Selene: In other words; you were bait!
Elowyn: I was a focus point for the target's attention. While the target was, indeed, focussed on me; Snotgrut, Quentin and Felix shot the ever-loving shit out of him.
Selene: [yelling now] And you are so very fucking insanely lucky that they managed to take it out as quickly as they did!!
Elowyn: In our defense, Grand Magus, everybody did their job exactly as planned. These are people that I, quite clearly, trust with my life. They performed admirably, given the circumstances. They went above and beyond any duty I might have otherwise expected of them. I was not injured. They were not injured. Everyone came out of this altercation completely unscathed. It went as smoothly as it possibly could — with the minor hiccup of Snotgrut not communicating effectively.
Selene: I will be having words with him later!
Elowyn: But for all that this plan may have seemed —
Selene: Half-baked?
Elowyn: Ah. No, Grand Magus, I will be the first to say that this was about as baked as we could possibly make it. We went through every possible contingency —
Selene:[calming down, sulky] It wasn't the initial part of the plan that I was claiming to be half-baked, which is why I'm having words with Snotgrut later.
Elowyn: [surprised] Oh! Well, in that case, that is totally acceptable.
Selene: I'm even surprised that half the Tower even went along with it.
Elowyn: He can be quite convincing. They are aware of his reputation as being very strong and very skilled, so I believe those were contributing factors in his ability to convince them that this would work. Nobody is saying that anything is particularly a good idea, but it was well thought-through, it was well-executed and everything went as well as could be expected.
Selene: [long-suffering sigh] And thank the Gods that it did!
Elowyn: We had contingencies for if it did not. [tone softening] I understand why you are upset; if our roles had been reversed I would be breaking things right about now. As it stands, I believe that everything came out to our satisfaction.
[Selene fires off a Fireball at a nearby flammable object]
Elowyn: I asked some members of staff to prepare this space especially for you. [takes a step back behind her aunt] Feel free to vent your frustrations on the landscape.
Selene: With pleasure!
[Selene hands Elowyn the bottle and glass, then proceeds to drain her destructive spells against every object in the pocket dimension. After she's done, Elowyn steps forward again]
Elowyn: Are you feeling better?
Selene: Much.
[Selene envelopes Elowyn in a hug]
Selene: [soft] You have no idea — I am still not entirely happy with the fact that you continuously as either distraction or bait. I'm just grateful you're here, and that, as I said; words with Snotgrut later.
Elowyn: Indeed. I am also quite glad that I'm still here, and —
Selene: [exasperated] What was he even thinking?!
Elowyn; Possibly, in his defence, he didn't quite realise who that Balor was. That being said; I am very, very glad that none of those Domination spells worked, because I got out of said Balor what his plan was and — let's just say it wouldn't have been very pretty for either yourself or Abouna Goodwin.
Selene: No, I very much gathered not. It does concern me, what he said. I'm assuming there's something else going on, though I suppose it's now a matter of finding out what.
Elowyn: Rest assured, ma'am, that we will be on point on that.
[Elowyn gives her aunt an extra big hug]
[A few minutes later. Snotgrut enters the pocket dimension. Chrackle has settled on Selene's shoulder in the meantime. Snotgrut looks around at the destroyed objects and pouts]
Snotgrut: Aw, you could have left me some.
Selene: What in all the Gods' names —
Snotgrut: Which ones did you want?
Selene: All of them!
[Snotgrut starts listing off the Gods he knows about. Selene casts Silence on him after the third, and waits. Snotgrut gives her a thumbs up, casts Whisper, which is immediately Dispelled. Selene glowers at the goblin while she waits for him to shut up. She eventually casts Whisper to Snotgrut to speak to him]
Selene: If you don't mind, I didn't ask you to name Them.
Snotgrut: Oh, sorry, I thought it would be helpful.
[Selene Dispells the Silence]
Selene: I will repeat again — without the backchat this time — What. In all the Gods' Names were you thinking pulling that damn stunt?!
Snotgrut: Which one?
Selene: Oh you know which one!
Snotgrut: [somewhat confused] Ridding the world of a bad Demon?
Selene: By Teleporting directly to him without letting the rest of your companions know what the fuck you were doing?!
Snotgrut: It would have given away the plan to the other one, and then it wouldn't have worked.
[Chrackle flutters over, lands on Snotgrut's shoulder and taps on the goblin's head. Snotgrut tries to pet him behind his earholes and gets his fingers snapped at.]
Selene: You are very, insanely lucky that any of you are even alive right this moment.
Snotgrut: It was planned out
Selene: It might have been planned out, but you are still very lucky that you are still here.
Snotgrut: I'm very lucky that I'm still here in more ways than one, but, yes, you're right.
[Selene mentally orders Chrackle to fire off a Fireball that he had been holding onto]
Snotgrut: [confused again] I'm sorry? I think that's what I'm supposed to say. It's not usually something I've had to do in the past in these situations. Unfortunately, I've not had the same upbringing everyone else has had. I was asked to do something so I made sure a contingency was there
[Selene takes a deep breath, attempting to calm down somewhat]
Snotgrut; [genuine curiousity] What would you have done?
Selene: Not Teleported my party directly to him, for a start!
Snotgrut: But that was the only way to take him out. Otherwise, he would have carried on doing what he was doing. The problem as I saw it — if you see it — is, yes, we weren't expendable, but our lives would save millions, would they not? The city, and everything surrounding it? I've been sworn to protect it, and so have at least two other people in our group. We were there to dispense with that particular Balor. We hoped to bring him to our cells here, so there was no real difference. The big difference was that he didn't know we were coming, so he couldn't prepare for it. So it was as much a surprise for him as it was for everyone else. I mean, he was too arrogant to notice and understand what else was going on around him. Elowyn did a wonderful job of distracting him. Brilliant job!
Selene: That's because they're all vain and arrogant, even if they are ridiculously powerful. [a pause] And full of themselves.
Snotgrut: Yes, I'll agree with that. He is going to be very upset when he goes to have a small, little chat with… well, Gruumsh likes things to play with.
Selene: Yes. About that.
Snotgrut: Oh, did you want one?
[Snotgrut hands an extraplanar teleportation beacon over]
Selene: And the rest!
Snotgrut: Oh, I don't have them on me right now, but if you want them, you can have them. I wouldn't push the button though because it's not particularly nice.
Selene: Bring the rest of them to the Tower as soon as you possibly can, then
Snotgrut: Ok, not a problem! Please don't just destroy them, though, they've proven very helpful in the past.
Selene: I still want the rest of them anyway.
Snotgrut: Yes, of course, if you'd just asked for them I would've given them to you anyway. I have put in a request for some of these to be created, but keyed to here. Is that something that's possible?
Selene: I'll think about it.
Snotgrut: Excellent, thank you very much. I'm sure they'll be very helpful in keeping us all safe and alive.
[Chrackle bites his ear, hard. Snotgrut is unbothered.]
Snotgrut: [almost as an afterthought] How have you been, anyway? You're looking a lot better than the last time I saw you. I don't know if the problems you were having have been taken care of?
Selene: They have been. Dismissed.
Snotgrut: Alright, good. I hope this is to your liking.
[Snotgrut pulls out another bottle of vodka from a bag he brought with him, and puts it on the table next to the first one before walking out of the pocket dimension]
This was definitely a fun, hm... reckoning for what we did, which as Elo acknowledges was a bloody stupid idea even if they were very careful about it (Aqua, one of us is actually going to have to write that up at somepoint...)
Also the fact that Selene chewed Elo and Snotgrut out about it, and only after the session ended did I, Elo's player, realise that it was never about what we'd done in a professional capacity; Selene's anger was wholly focused on losing what at the time she felt was the last remnant of her family (this being before she got together with Edwin & adopted Caitr and Bridget).
So in the week between sessions, I wrote this piece: Si Quis Mihi (or: Elo's Letter to Sel)
Universe: Fighting Fantasy World of Titan
CW: Fantasy religion, non-graphic murder of a child
Notes: This is set in the past, before Elowyn chooses her eventual name, so is still called 'Featherdown' here. See end of story for additional context.
The world seems, to Oakrose, to be made of cut crystal, as she walks through the lines of trees that will one day become an orchard. The sky is an empty dome of duck-egg blue, the air crisp and sparkling with the first shivers of frost, the scents of the dark earth deadened in her nose.
She settles on a bench, as the breeze sighs. She smiles, scooping sandy hair back from her face, fancying the trees whisper her name. A simple melody escapes her lips as she unpacks her lunch; a child's hymn regarding insects and amphibians, and other the small creatures in Galana's sphere.
The wind blows, harder this time. Hard enough to ruffle her hair and her skirts. The trees, small though they are, rattle their leaves and branches.
Oakrose gasps; it was unmistakable this time. The trees calling her, like a parent, to catch her attention.
A wave of calm, soothing as a warm bath, washes around her. She gasps again, realising what is happening. Her hands shake as she moves to find her flask and unpack her lunchbox, resorting in her her haste to upending it, dumping the contents out with little regard for eating. Into the metal box she pours water, holding it still and peering into its darkling depths.
The vision comes instantly.
She sees herself – skirts torn and bloodied, tawny face streaked with soot and tears – carrying a child. If it's Ashbury, or Featherdown, or one of the others that didn't make it, it's impossible to tell; the child's face is pressed against her neck, leaving only mud-brown skin and lank dark hair visible. More notable, however – the child is ringed in a halo, blood red flecked with licks of gold like fire.
The scene changes, and Oakrose sees her child swathed head-to-toe in brilliant gleaming armour. It's unlikely (though not impossible) to be Wickerswitch, leaving only Ashbury or Featherdown who clashs swords with a twiceling bathed in black. The aura is still there, the red has retreated to a band close to the body, the remaining space filled in with white, through which an assorted crowd in travellers clothes can be viewed.
Once more, everything changes: her child is on a stage, starched straight in the blue of a Watchman's dress uniform. She doesn't recognise the unit designation her child wears; she does recognise the ornate band of gold being fixed to the uniform as that of a Captain's rank. Blazing from around the Chief of the Watch, her child's aura is gold this time – gold as the Captain's bars, gold as flowing honey – the red naught but a fine lacing against her skin.
The Chief steps away, and Oakrose gasps again to see her child, her little Featherdown, standing proud in her blues and the unknown unit's badge blazing, blazing, blazing...
She startles upright as the vision ends, drawing in a deep breath as if coming awake from a long sleep. Oakrose wants what's best for her children. Of course she does. But terror grips her lungs, her heart. Sends shocks like thunder-zaps running through her limbs.
Of course with Alexis' training, her little girl will have the right skills. Putting her in the Watch will sharpen her mind and feet. Her little girl will be able to fight, as shown by facing off against the twiceling in black armour.
But she doesn't want that for her little girl, her little Featherdown, the child who pressed against her and sobbed for hours after she was found; Oakrose doesn't want her to know how to fight, doesn't want to send her off. The child deserves to stay in the grace of the Gardens, surrounded by civilised comforts and a mother's love.
The water in the lunchbox shivers through supernatural means. Oakrose looks down, and her vision fills again.
This time, her baby girl is dressed in armour red as blood; her aura is hardly distinguishable against it. Her face is disfigured by scars and hatred both. She stands on a overturned cart, smoke billowing about her, through the dishevelled and motley crowd hanging on her every bitter word.
The water shivers.
Featherdown, with a mighty sword, hacks at an orc child where it stands sobbing, clutching a wooden toy.
The water shivers.
Featherdown, casting curdling, putrid magic at a group of goblin-wives. They fall, coated in angry blisters.
The water shivers–
"Enough!" cries Oakrose.
The water shivers, and shows Featherdown standing on a series of cages, each filled with goblinoids and the like. Her outstretched hands fill with necrotic magic, pulled from the victims below. The aura surrounding her is so red it's black.
The vision zooms out. Around her is a camp of rough tents, swarming with blackened mud and effluent and hateful-visaged twicelings.
The perversion grips at Oakrose's heart; it looks too much like pit of Toreguard-that-Fell.
"Enough," she croaks. "I've seen enough."
Her dripping tears shatter the vision.
Carefully the water is poured at the feet of the nearest tree. Then she's stumbling to her feet, food and box and flask forgotten. She's running, rushing home, the gardens streak by around her. She has to speak to Alexis.
Additional context:
I was talking with @aquadestinyswriting about how Elo managed to completely miss the Call to be a paladin for the longest time. As Aqua said - "[it's like] the gods were banging on her door while she had noise cancelling headphones on".
And I thought, what if the reason she missed it was because when it was sent she really wasn't ready for it? What if it got intercepted by someone else on her behalf?
I've long pondered why it may have been that Oakrose and Alexis decided to send Elo into the Watch, out of all the trades they could have picked. And I've always worked with the gut-feel that it would have been Oakrose's idea; Alexis just went along with it.
So to keep the analogy going: the gods banged on the door, Elo told them to f-off and put the headphones one, the gods then mentioned to her Mum they'd be back and what to do in the meantime. And then several years later one of them jerked awake in the middle of the night, swore loudly because they'd forgotten, and then sent the Call out again.
I haven't yet decided if this is canon, but it would explain a lot of things...
Putting this here so I don't forget¹, but this post has given me an idea for writing a Fighting Fantasy World of Titan story, using @aquadestinyswriting's Selene when she's the Head Librarian. Something about needing to take the book out somewhere new...
I'm gonna need a scholar OC tho²...
--
¹ I will forget. y'all are free to remind me in a month or so
² or maybe I could use Millicent & borrow Dwena for some gnomish hijinks...
As per tradition, the prompt for Day 1 of WIP Week is Your Oldest WIP.
Please tag your entries with the #wipweek or #wip week tag. Since multiple fandoms and ships are participating, please clearly list the fandoms, ships, and content warnings in the post so that they can be properly tagged for any potential readers.
Though each day will have a theme, you do not have to post every day. You are also not obligated to follow these themes. You can work on one fic or artwork for the entire week if you choose. If you’re not comfortable posting full updates but still want to participate in the week, you can post your daily word count and/or a small snippet from your work.
You can also post completed/updated fanworks to the official WIP Week AO3 Collection!
Turns out it's the notes of the last Fighting Fantasy World of Titan TTRPG campaign using the older characters¹ which I'd wanted to clean up/ fictionalise it, have it bound, and give to the players as a record. That was 16 Mar 2007, so you can see how far I got with that 😅️
Anyway. I was thinking I might pull out the last scene and have a go at fictionalising that. If nothing else, I'm sure Aqua would like it.
--
¹ (my Alexis Dalliance and @aquadestinyswriting's Selene Fridwake, among others)
Universe: Fighting Fantasy World of Titan
CW: Standard fantasy violence, non-graphic injury
Additional Notes: Re: this request from @aquadestinyswriting. I realised I can just, y'know, write the most interesting bit and not worry too hard about the gumph around it 😅️
Screams and cries echo through the hewn corridors of House Myviir's palace. As the sounds of fighting get closer, the drow around Merri get more nervous. They drift backwards, away into the shadowy corners where the orange light from the brazier does not reach, and from thence to who-knows-where.
The whirling dervish at the center of the fighting explodes into the room, the man she's fighting dropping before her. Merri gets a single moment to blink in confusion before she's being grabbed from behind.
"Not another step, girl, or I'll slice the Inquisitor from belly to breast," growls the drow holding her. Merri feels the dig of sharpened metal against her kidneys.
"Ah... I don't believe he's lying, hen," Merri says to the woodling whose hair and skin make her just as hard to pick out as the drow around them.
"I'm sure he doesn't think so," Elowyn grounds out. "He can certainly try."
Merri huffs. "Excuse me?"
"Not another step, girl!" the drow commands. Merri lets out an involuntary squeak as the blade is dug in a little more.
Elo hefts her makeshift club. "Meredith."
"Aye?"
"Do you recall that airship we went on that fell outta the sky?"
"Aye?"
"And you recall when that plane-walker had me dead to rights?"
Merri's brow crumples, confused what this has to do with anything. "Aye?"
"And do you recall what it was that Auri did to get me away from him?"
"Aye?"
"Right, well. This ain't that. Duck!"
Merri gets barely enough time to move, the club catching wisps of hair left floating in free-fall. It's not until she hits the ground – at an awkward angle too – that she feels a sting trailing up from her waist up to her armpit. Ooh, ouch. That's going to be a problem later...
Hands grasp at her; she fights by instinct.
"Mer, stop. It's me. Stand, yes?" Elo says in her thickly-accented dwarvish.
Merri allows herself to be hauled to standing. Elo doesn't let go, instead tugs her in the direction of another corridor. Merri bites her lip at the sting on her side.
As they run, Merri wonders – not for the first time – why Elo's dwarvish accent is so strange. Elo speaks common with a standard Torejar accent. Many other Torejar who learnt from Fangthanian tutors speak with that accent. Hell, even Snotgrut doesn't sound too distant with his Anvil accent. Elo, on the flip side, despite being taught by Merri – herself having a Fangthanian accent – sounds more like someone from Kar Kherril...
"Meredith," Elo says sharply. "We must move."
It's only then Merri realises she's stopped and is day-dreaming.
"Of course."
Elo frowns. "That talking to stone trick, can you do it here?"
"Sorry, hen. We're too far from Fangthane-the-Elemental."
A tut. "We're doing all sorts of things the old fashioned way today, one more won't harm."
Which is an odd thing to say, but Elo doesn't give Merri any time to question it, as she's already moving them along.
They round a corner and are confronted. Elo goes in for the attack without even looking back to see if Merri wants in. Clearly there's some cruft she needs to work off.
In the light of the phosphorescent globes lining the corridor, Merri leans against a wall and watches the fight; how the shimmering green glints off Elo's bodice, a strange metal-like affair that has Merri twitching her head in confusion; how it traces her curves, highlights her powerful movements. Merri finds herself sighing – with Yoruk in the mix, what the three of them could do...
Her thoughts slam into a mental wall.
Ah... That'll be the blood-loss then...
"Elowyn."
Elo delivers the final blow and turns back.
"I've got a wee problem."
Elo hurries over. "What's wrong?"
"I think that fella managed t'stick me after all."
Behind Merri, Elo sucks in an unhappy gasp. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Y'were a little busy..."
A thoughtful pause. "Yeah, that's fair. Can you heal yourself?"
Merri tries to concentrate, but her connection to the divine – while still there – is metaphorically covered in grease. "Nay, I can't cast straight."
"Right. No worries. We just need someplace to hole up for a bit."
Merri blinks, and it seems that Elo has teleported. There's a fresh scratch on her arm and blood on her face. Elo catches hold of Merri's hand.
"I found a room. Come on."
Merri's led to a small room which seems to be a living space. A bed peeks out from behind a leather room divider. A table with one chair and a flat-topped cabinet huddle close to the hearth, a banked fire glowing within.
Elo helps Merri to the chair.
It's a good job the room isn't much bigger or filled with more furniture, Merri thinks. It makes it somewhat easier on Elo. Even so, there's plenty of knocking and cursing as Elo moves around to stoke the fire, set water to warming, counting coins to pay for what they use, and ripping the cut sleeve of her shirt.
This last causes Merri some confusion, but despite the fire the room seems cool and anyway she's tired, so she makes no comment.
It's not until Elo's hards are on her back, dabbing at the cut and visibly preparing some kind of poulticed bandage that Merri shakes off her drowsiness.
"Elo... What're y'doing? Just cast something."
"Ah." Elo's hands still for a moment. "I'm having a temporary issue with magic today."
Merri takes a moment to parse this. "What? When did this happen?"
Elo clears her throat. "This morning."
"Why am I only finding out now!"
"As you said, we've been a little busy."
Oh my gods! This was a hilarious read from start to finish. You really nailed Meredith's personality here, well done.
Elo hefts her makeshift club. "Meredith."
"Aye?"
"Do you recall that airship we went on that fell outta the sky?"
"Aye?"
"And you recall when that plane-walker had me dead to rights?"
Merri's brow crumples, confused what this has to do with anything. "Aye?"
"And do you recall what it was that Auri did to get me away from him?"
"Aye?"
"Right, well. This ain't that. Duck!"
Yup, I can totally see that conversation happening in the middle of a fight. Nice reference to the airship fight too, because, yeah, this is a fairly similar situation alright.
As they run, Merri wonders – not for the first time – why Elo's dwarvish accent is so strange. Elo speaks common with a standard Torejar accent. Many other Torejar who learnt from Fangthanian tutors speak with that accent. Hell, even Snotgrut doesn't sound too distant with his Anvil accent. Elo, on the flip side, despite being taught by Merri – herself having a Fangthanian accent – sounds more like someone from Kar Kherril...
Love that you added this detail in <3.
In the light of the phosphorescent globes lining the corridor, Merri leans against a wall and watches the fight; how the shimmering green glints off Elo's bodice, a strange metal-like affair that has Merri twitching her head in confusion; how it traces her curves, highlights her powerful movements. Merri finds herself sighing – with Yoruk in the mix, what the three of them could do...
I really need to do some of my own stuff about Merri "appreciating" Elowyn from afar...
"I think that fella managed t'stick me after all." Behind Merri, Elo sucks in an unhappy gasp.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Y'were a little busy..." A thoughtful pause.
"Yeah, that's fair. Can you heal yourself?"
I like that Elo is being pragmatic here. Probably because she's too concerned about finding somewhere safe to get to.
"Elo... What're y'doing? Just cast something."
"Ah." Elo's hands still for a moment. "I'm having a temporary issue with magic today." Merri takes a moment to parse this.
"What? When did this happen?" Elo clears her throat.
"This morning."
"Why am I only finding out now!"
"As you said, we've been a little busy."
Yup. Merri would totally be a bit annoyed, but hopefully she's a little too out of it to go on a proper rant right now ^^:. There will probably be some words said later though :P.
Again, this was a wonderful read and I love and appreciate the work you do writing up our girls getting into shenanigans.
Ah I'm really glad I got her personality and tone right. I don't think I've ever done anything from Merri's POV before, and this was a bit of a gamble if I'm honest.
(With apologies to The Mincing Mockingbird)
Yeah, it's getting a bit harder to find places to fit shenanigans in, given their statuses and number of people usually around them 😅️
Universe: Fighting Fantasy World of Titan
CW: Standard fantasy violence, non-graphic injury
Additional Notes: Re: this request from @aquadestinyswriting. I realised I can just, y'know, write the most interesting bit and not worry too hard about the gumph around it 😅️
Screams and cries echo through the hewn corridors of House Myviir's palace. As the sounds of fighting get closer, the drow around Merri get more nervous. They drift backwards, away into the shadowy corners where the orange light from the brazier does not reach, and from thence to who-knows-where.
The whirling dervish at the center of the fighting explodes into the room, the man she's fighting dropping before her. Merri gets a single moment to blink in confusion before she's being grabbed from behind.
"Not another step, girl, or I'll slice the Inquisitor from belly to breast," growls the drow holding her. Merri feels the dig of sharpened metal against her kidneys.
"Ah... I don't believe he's lying, hen," Merri says to the woodling whose hair and skin make her just as hard to pick out as the drow around them.
"I'm sure he doesn't think so," Elowyn grounds out. "He can certainly try."
Merri huffs. "Excuse me?"
"Not another step, girl!" the drow commands. Merri lets out an involuntary squeak as the blade is dug in a little more.
Elo hefts her makeshift club. "Meredith."
"Aye?"
"Do you recall that airship we went on that fell outta the sky?"
"Aye?"
"And you recall when that plane-walker had me dead to rights?"
Merri's brow crumples, confused what this has to do with anything. "Aye?"
"And do you recall what it was that Auri did to get me away from him?"
"Aye?"
"Right, well. This ain't that. Duck!"
Merri gets barely enough time to move, the club catching wisps of hair left floating in free-fall. It's not until she hits the ground – at an awkward angle too – that she feels a sting trailing up from her waist up to her armpit. Ooh, ouch. That's going to be a problem later...
Hands grasp at her; she fights by instinct.
"Mer, stop. It's me. Stand, yes?" Elo says in her thickly-accented dwarvish.
Merri allows herself to be hauled to standing. Elo doesn't let go, instead tugs her in the direction of another corridor. Merri bites her lip at the sting on her side.
As they run, Merri wonders – not for the first time – why Elo's dwarvish accent is so strange. Elo speaks common with a standard Torejar accent. Many other Torejar who learnt from Fangthanian tutors speak with that accent. Hell, even Snotgrut doesn't sound too distant with his Anvil accent. Elo, on the flip side, despite being taught by Merri – herself having a Fangthanian accent – sounds more like someone from Kar Kherril...
"Meredith," Elo says sharply. "We must move."
It's only then Merri realises she's stopped and is day-dreaming.
"Of course."
Elo frowns. "That talking to stone trick, can you do it here?"
"Sorry, hen. We're too far from Fangthane-the-Elemental."
A tut. "We're doing all sorts of things the old fashioned way today, one more won't harm."
Which is an odd thing to say, but Elo doesn't give Merri any time to question it, as she's already moving them along.
They round a corner and are confronted. Elo goes in for the attack without even looking back to see if Merri wants in. Clearly there's some cruft she needs to work off.
In the light of the phosphorescent globes lining the corridor, Merri leans against a wall and watches the fight; how the shimmering green glints off Elo's bodice, a strange metal-like affair that has Merri twitching her head in confusion; how it traces her curves, highlights her powerful movements. Merri finds herself sighing – with Yoruk in the mix, what the three of them could do...
Her thoughts slam into a mental wall.
Ah... That'll be the blood-loss then...
"Elowyn."
Elo delivers the final blow and turns back.
"I've got a wee problem."
Elo hurries over. "What's wrong?"
"I think that fella managed t'stick me after all."
Behind Merri, Elo sucks in an unhappy gasp. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Y'were a little busy..."
A thoughtful pause. "Yeah, that's fair. Can you heal yourself?"
Merri tries to concentrate, but her connection to the divine – while still there – is metaphorically covered in grease. "Nay, I can't cast straight."
"Right. No worries. We just need someplace to hole up for a bit."
Merri blinks, and it seems that Elo has teleported. There's a fresh scratch on her arm and blood on her face. Elo catches hold of Merri's hand.
"I found a room. Come on."
Merri's led to a small room which seems to be a living space. A bed peeks out from behind a leather room divider. A table with one chair and a flat-topped cabinet huddle close to the hearth, a banked fire glowing within.
Elo helps Merri to the chair.
It's a good job the room isn't much bigger or filled with more furniture, Merri thinks. It makes it somewhat easier on Elo. Even so, there's plenty of knocking and cursing as Elo moves around to stoke the fire, set water to warming, counting coins to pay for what they use, and ripping the cut sleeve of her shirt.
This last causes Merri some confusion, but despite the fire the room seems cool and anyway she's tired, so she makes no comment.
It's not until Elo's hards are on her back, dabbing at the cut and visibly preparing some kind of poulticed bandage that Merri shakes off her drowsiness.
"Elo... What're y'doing? Just cast something."
"Ah." Elo's hands still for a moment. "I'm having a temporary issue with magic today."
Merri takes a moment to parse this. "What? When did this happen?"
Elo clears her throat. "This morning."
"Why am I only finding out now!"
"As you said, we've been a little busy."
As a quick disclaimer: This is not me pointing fingers. This is not me discouraging anyone from participating in tag games. This is not me saying not to reblog other people’s posts. I just wanted to create a little post about writeblr etiquette when it comes to responding to tag games.
What is a Tag Game?
A tag game is a post, of any topic, but in writeblr most often is targeted towards a writer’s past or current works-in-progress, where people are invited to answer questions, share snippets of writing, goof around with OCs in random scenarios, etc. This is a great opportunity for writers to get know each other, learn about one another’s projects, and provides an easy excuse to share your writing.
Do I Need to Tag Other People?
Well, that’s kind of the point. If you don’t know anyone to tag, you can always go into a writer’s blog and see if it says anywhere that they are ‘Tag Game Friendly’. Some of us will put it in the description under the title of our blog, while others will state it in their WIP/Writeblr intro. If you are still unsure, sometimes there are posts that circulate about who would like to be tagged, and you are always more than welcome to create your own. I’ve personally created a list on my phone to refer to when I can’t think of anyone to tag.
Tag Game Etiquette
It is common practice in Writeblr that if you are tagged in a tag game, you create your own individual post. Sometimes, a tag game will be created to invite ‘chain reblogs’, which are continuous reblogs all participating in the original tag game. While some tag games welcome them, not all of them do. And whether it is unintentional or not, it can be considered rude to jump onto a post that someone else has worked hard on, only for whatever they wanted to share to suddenly be lost in a bunch of reblogs. If you are ever unsure if you should put your addition to a tag game in the reblog, the easiest answer is to go ahead and create your own post while tagging the person who tagged you originally. And if you’d like to credit them, that’s cool! But it is more than sufficient to just include a link to their original post, or interact with their post before responding with your own. We all want to have fun, and that’s perfectly okay and, in fact, encouraged in this community. However let’s please also be considerate of the person who has tagged you.
Right back at you with the Caretaker Lines. How about "When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" for Elowyn and Merri?
I started plotting... and realised that what I've planned is somewhere in the novella range, which is 10x more effort required than what I have in me right now.
So you get the elevator pitch version:
Elo is forced to wear a magic dampening bracelet by drow & gets kidnapped under threat of something happening to Merri by a group that do not want Merri doing a diplomatic thing she is doing.
Gets teleported somewhere near where the diplomatic thing is happening, fights her way to get Merri out of danger. Merri gets injured in the escape but doesn't mention it until they're safe [insert line from Elo]. Elo has to use 'old fashioned' healing techniques - bandages and a poultice. Merri, once feeling better asks what's up with that, and Elo shows her the magic dampening bracelet [insert line from Merri].
They struggle back to somewhere near civilization, where they are promptly rescued by a very annoyed Yoruk. A dwarven artificer removed the bracelet, and Elo is sent back to Toreguard with a 'maybe next time we see each other it should be under more controlled circumstances, eh?'.
Context: This is another one based on the actual events that took place in the previous roleplay campaign. This was during the final session (which we recorded so I had a reference for all the speech in this one). It does focus quite strongly on a single event within that whole fight, so I’ve left out all the rest of what happened for the sake of you (and my own) sanity. Once again, some minor creative liberties have been taken to add to the drama.
Summary: Let’s just say Ionah is a [insert bad word of your choice here]. Not going to say too much more to avoid spoilers for anyone who doesn’t already know what happened ;)
Words: 1,159
Warnings: None that I can think of right now. The events were kept deliberately vague even in-game at the time. Angsty parts are angsty and the fluff is fluffy.
Universe: Fighting Fantasy World of Titan
CW: Minor suicidal ideation, standard fantasy violence
Additional Notes: This is a scene from very early in the Destiny's New Servant's campaign, not long after Elo & co have been made outlaws from Toreguard (they assume) but before she's ordained as a Paladin. They have been tasked by the Fangthanian Mining Guild, and latterly the Dwarven Crown, to investigate and solve the issue of more sophisticated kobold raids. Some further backstory to this scene can be found here
Tagging: @aquadestinyswriting
Her body aches with a numbing weariness. There's grit in places she didn't know she had places. If she asked, Merri would tell her they've only been a week down in this labyrinthine void, but to Elo it feels like months since she saw the sun, bold and blazing on the summer horizon. She hates it down here in the dark and damp (don't tell Merri). She's sick of the cuts and bruises gained from the all-encompassing clammy hardness.
If she wasn't honour-bound, if finding the kobold king didn't affect the fates of Cuthbert-knows how many, she would have packed it in a long time ago, instead of grimly trudging through this doomed and destitute hole in the ground. When they get home (you can't go home, remember?) she's going to make a drey in the Gardens of Galana and stay there forever and ever and–
"Why are we doing this, Lord Torg?" a kobold yips, close by. Too close.
Cragspine jumps. Elo thrusts a hand out to stop the others.
"What is it?" comes a hissed whisper from behind; Felix, she thinks, based on the mellow voice and plumy accent.
"Bad news," she hisses, tugging Cragspine back.
Enezege bullies his way to the front, followed by Felix and Merri, as Cragspine moves back to join his fellow clerics of Kurtulmak.
The disembodied voice in the dark continues, "Why are we throwing all of our traditions away just to help this... man?"
Merri points ahead and to the left. "It's coming from over there."
Once more, Elo silently curses the dark. "Where?"
Merri cups Elo's chin, steering her vision towards the dimly illuminated outline of a empty doorway.
Felix clears his throat. "Allow me, madam." He places a hand on Elo's shoulder while his other crumbles something that smells vegetative, sweet and green (she'd give all her worldly possessions for just the sight of a tree). With a few muttered words, the area around her springs into stark contrast of white and grey.
Elo now sees clearly the entryway, sees the small draconic shapes moving past it. "Thanks."
In the strange tower, a dwarven ruin, where this kobold council meeting is taking place, the conversation has moved on. Now the voice declares, "We have stopped giving veneration to Kurtulmak. He will turn his back on us!"
A gravelly voice interjects: "Pah! We do not need Kurtulmak any longer. Not when we have the power this man brings us."
Someone gasps, scandalized. "This is heresy!"
Another says, "Kurtulmak will see this, and we will all suffer."
The younger voice of the first speaker implores once again, "Lord Torg, why are you doing this?"
There comes then a hollow chuckle. The sound pricks the hairs on Elo's neck.
"He does it for the same reason anyone might," says a smooth, human voice. "He does it for power. He wishes to have dominion over that which has been denied to your people for so long. He wishes to crush the dwarves.
"They have increased their power steadily, creating weapons and armour. Why do you insist on remaining in the mud, grubbing about for so little, when you could rise as their equals… No, their betters, even.
"That is what I am offering: I will be able to use your people to crush the dwarves once and for all. With them at my heels, and with Toreguard slowly coming under my control, I will soon–"
"No one cares about Toreguard," the gravelly voice returns. "Wait... What do you mean you will use my people? Are you declaring we are no longer partners in this endeavour?"
"That is correct, now you have begun to fail me. The dwarves sent but five pitiful children to stop our plans. They should have been easy for you to dispatch, and yet they still persist! So I will take your dead, raise them to be my willing slaves, and then I will crush the dwarves!"
"Lord Torg, did you know about this? How can you let this stand?"
Aggrieved, the voice of Torg says, "I was aware, before this betrayal, of our friend's plan... But I am still your King, and you will still obey me. If we must, we will kill our own to further the defeat of the dwarves!"
"My Lord... You would commit genocide against our own, just for your ambition?"
"Yes, I would. I would kill every last whelp! Now – you can serve me in life, or you can serve me in death. It is your choice..."
Behind Elo, one of the younger kobold clerics whines, the sound seeming to ricochet off the silent stone around them.
That smooth human voice reaches out, clutching at Elo's already pounding heart. "Ah... I believe we are not alone... Knight Kiks, see to our eavesdroppers."
Something inside the ruined towers clangs like a death-knell.
"Yes, one alone should be enough to bring them down!"
"Get back!" Elo hisses, "Hide!"
The clerics fall back, the others in her group scatter like leaves in a gale.
Elo stands alone (she can't go home. What's the point if she can't go home?) to give the others a chance (she's already died once this week, what does another matter?) against the lumbering, clanking, improbably-armoured creature coming down the tunnel.
Behind her, the clerics are discoursing. Terrified, angry, confused, whining yips and snaps.
Then a sibilant whispering, that grows as they fan out around her: "For the Vassal! For the Vassal! For the Vassal!"
Elo blinks and there are twenty-two extra versions of her, spread out around the tunnel.
The knight stops, flaming eyes peering out from the helm. It looks left, then right, and left again; despite herself, Elo empathises with it's confusion.
Then it attacks the nearest Elo-shaped cleric, and what follows is a confusing maelstrom of fighting. Spells whistle through the air. Elo and Enezege dance in and out of range as they strike. Merri sends wallop after wallop, her shield denting against each rebuttal. But the Knight's armour is as thick as they are wiley – it's difficult to land a hit that counts, the spells seem to slide straight off. Vexation abounds.
Evidently the Knight agrees, because as Elo's trying to come up with some stratagem, it makes the most gods-awful noise, and from its out-flung gauntlet spews a ball of flame.
The fire chews through the crowd of clerics. It passes dangerously close to Merri, enough that she shrieks and curses through the sulphurous fumes from her singed beard. The remaining clerics keen for their departed brothers, chanting to raise mist from the clammy walls. They gather tight about the knight and Elo can see only flashes of spells, until with a triumphant shout, Merri swings her morning star. The mists depart and all Elo can see is a sooty pile of dust where the Death Knight once stood.
—
Enezege leads the way as they fall back further down the tunnel; far enough that Torg will think them all dead or fled. The kobold clerics surround them. Only half of them are left (your doing; if you hadn't said 'yes' to their god...)(If you hadn't said yes, you'd be in a much worse fix...).
"Who requires healing?" Cragspine asks, and moves to Enezege as the monk puts his hand up.
"I dunno about healing magic, but I'm out of offensive spells," Darius says.
"I'm afraid I am too," says Felix.
"Sorry t'say, hen," Merri looks at Elo apologetically, "but I make three."
They're all looking at her, expecting a plan. It feels like her brain is stuffed with rags and straw. Her nerves are still singing. Pain echoing dully.
Felix says, "Perhaps we should retreat...?"
Elo feels her heart gripped in a vice. Her mind instantly fills and swirls: leaving just to come back, if they even get another chance at the target. The dwarven King, with his worried mien. How many more lives – kobold and dwarven, both – are relying on this. Two more weeks underground, trudging through the interminable dark (the dark; the dark; the cold, hard dark).
"Get some proper rest back in Fangthane?"
"No!" The word startles them all, not least Elo who spake it; she forges on: "No, we can't. Don't you see? He's right there." She gestures to the tower, perhaps a little too wildly. "We aren't going to get another chance at this! Come on, think! You must have something left we can use." She turns to Felix. "What about your phantom noise spell? We could draw him out! And Merri – you could do something with the rock?"
Merri draws back, blinking.
It is Enezege who takes Elo's arm with kindness. "Were you struck?" he asks, voice a concerned rumble. "Perhaps on the head?"
"No, I was not." She pulls away. "Come on. We are so close. We just need one last push to end this. One last-ditch effort and then we can go ho– back."
"Well, I s'pose I have Prestidigitation," Darius offers, looking at Merri.
"Yes! That's the spirit," Elo cries. "There's always other ways to get the same outcome. We don't necessarily need a full-frontal attack–"
Cragspine clears his throat. "I agree." He turns to his fellow kobolds. "Brothers, hark! Kurtulmak's Vassal is correct. What are we, at heart, but trap-makers and sneaks? Have our people ever come at an enemy full-bore?"
There is a muttering of 'no' from the clerics.
"Did our teachings ever proclaim Kurtulmak to use anything but ambush tactics? Are any of our legendary heroes renown for bold-faced assault?"
The clerics stir, their 'no's becoming more clearly defined.
"Then brothers, I say verily, we must aid the Vassal in the best way we know how! Come, let us create a trap to ensure Torg, our so-called king, cannot be left alive to commit heresy and sacrilege against our people!"
With a small cheer, the clerics set forth, politely pilfering the group's supplies and scurrying silently over the dwarven ruins.
Enezege steps back to watch them.
"'Lo?" he asks.
"Buggered if I know," she replies.
Darius plops down, leaning against a wall and closes his eyes. "Let them carry on, I say."
"It's terribly fascinating, isn't it?" Felix says, his forward movement arrested by Merri's hand on his shoulder before he can break cover.
"If you say so, fella."
One of the urn-carrying clerics clears his throat meaningfully at Elo. "It may take some time before the work is complete," he says. "Vassal, you should take this opportunity to rest."
If she sits down, she may never stand up again. She'll rot in the dark, against the cold stone; rot with nothing to nourish, far far from the trees and the plants which would need her–
"Vassal?"
"I'm fine." She swallows back her gorge. "But please, don't stand on my account."
Draconically slit eyes regard her for a long moment. Then the urn-bearer bows and carefully sits next to Darius.
Presently Cragspine and his fellows return.
"The trap is laid, Vassal," he says, and gestures to the ruins. "Once triggered, this column here will block the single exit. These here and here will fall twixt-wise and crush the tower, killing those within."
Elo nods at their good work. "And how will it be triggered?"
Cragspine says, "One of us–"
"Me! I will–"
"Shan't! I can–"
"No, it should be–"
"Stop! Few enough of you are left as it is. I will not have any more of you die." Elo looks to Cragspine. "Can we trigger it remotely?"
"Yes, Vassal."
"Good. Felix, that phantom noise spell–"
"Ghost Sound. It can be used to create a specific noise, or as an amplification. I assume you wish them to hear something which may draw them out?"
"Yes. If you amplify our voices, we'll sling insults at them until someone tries to leave."
"And if they don't?" Enezege asks.
"Darius can use his Prestidigitation to set it off." Elo looks to Felix. "When you're ready."
There's a flash of orange light as Felix mutters and waves, and Elo feels her tongue tingle, like she's just eaten a rare curry from the Plot Hook. She glances around and the others do the same
"That's it?" Darius asks.
"That's it," Felix says.
When no one moves, Elo sucks in her courage along with a breath and steps out of cover.
"Oi! Torg! You scaly, flea-bitten wanker! Your knight did shit-all. You oughta come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough!"
And just like that, the floodgates open, and all of them are venting their frustrations and fears in a fusillade of obscenity towards the kobold council.
Neither does it take long for one of the kobolds inside to investigate.
The trap is sprung, the columns tipping gracefully to crush the old tower to dust (premeditated murder. That's 20 years in the Big House back home)(home that you can't go back to)(technically also regicide, which would be the gallows, for sure).
As the dust clears, Merri turns away. Darius and Enezege join her, and Cragspine starts to chivvy the clerics to follow. They are congratulating each other.
It was necessary, Elo tells herself. 'Right' does not always mean 'Good'. She heaves in a clarifying breath. Stop halfway through the exhale at Felix's expression.
"Do you... hear that?" he asks in a small voice.
She listens. Focuses past the chatter behind her, focuses past the drip of condensation. There is a shifting noise. Sliding. As if the rubble...
"Run," she says, pushing Felix.
A hand, clawed and grasping, breaks free.
"Run!"
Enezege scoops up Felix and takes off like a bolt. Some of the clerics drop to all fours, and Darius does his best to keep up with Enezege.
Merri drops back to where Elo is trotting backwards, covering their collective arse.
"Hen?"
"There's something still fucking alive!"
The something roars as it breaches the rubble. Brickwork sprays as a jagged edged, armoured monster gains its feet. A ceremonial headdress sways, broken and tattered, on its body.
"Betrayed!" it roars, in a voice that grates like King Torg's. "What am I become?" Clawed gauntlets curl and grasp. "What abomination is this!" It turns, eyes of fire blazing. Elo gasps as it's malevolent gaze sweeps past them. "Darkhide! Fell necromancer! This is your doing– You will pay!"
"Fuck!" says Merri.
Elo stumbles to a halt. "What the shit?"
Merri catches hold of Elo's arm. "I'll explain when we're safe. Now, run!"
