Adventuring's My Game

[dawntrailing]

WARRIOR OF LIGHT (VIPER) in DAWNTRAIL'S OFFICIAL POSTER

[dawntrailing]

Outfit: Rosfield by SoSick Bearer tattoo: The Bearer by kiwiforma Weapon: Deepshadow Sword

[myriadicality]

@fatecursed

Sergei evened his breathing and calmed himself as he surveyed his opponent's movements, from the slight twitch of their eye to the position of their footwork, readying his next parry when they make their move to strike. Precipitation ran down the side of his forehead, leaving a glistening trail down his cheek, as it dripped onto the pavement beneath his feet. The opposition was wary to close the gap between them, knowing full well how talented he was with the blade, in stark contrast to his own tranquil bearing. Despite the lack of heavy armor for protection, the Captain of the Platinum Knights was a formidable foe to be trifled with, even in a training spar with his own men.

However, if this stalemate continued, this session would carry on until the sun sets. Thus, he intentionally adjusted himself slightly to give his combatant an opening to strike and, predictably, his knight took the bait and answered with a charge forward. From an outsider's perspective, it appeared as if his opponent had the advantage pressing the attack while he himself could only block each strike with his blade, but in reality, Sergei was gauging his men's ability to adapt to change. First, he defended himself with barely little effort, allowing the strike to slide off his blade, then he lead his training partner to follow his footwork. In the eyes of a more experienced fighter, Sergei's movements were graceful, akin to a dance, whereas the one pressing the assault was struggling to land a good hit.

It was here, however, when Sergei felt the lingering gaze of another's eyes peering on to his visage. At first, he thought one of his men ceased in their training to view their contest, but such a leer did not originate form his knights. While he could not pinpoint the origin of such a stare, he sensed it was not hostile, but it wasn't friendly either, rather he couldn't tell what was being projected with such a gaze. Strange...

One final block of his practice blade, and Sergei finally strikes back at his opponent, forcing the other knight to lose their grip on the blade and stumble back in mild shock. Their sword lands onto the pavement with a loud clang - the match is over. Sergei allowed his own sword to rest before him, placing both hands on the grip. Though the new recruit failed to adapt to Sergei's style, he was proud to see the potential in the youth's future given enough time and effort. With words of encouragement, the young recruit rubbed the back of hsi head and laughed meekly, but seemed determined to continue his lessons.

Sergei wiped the sweat from his forhead with the back of his right hand; the summer heat this year was a little warmer than usual, and his body glistened in his own sweat under the rays of sunshine that beamed down on him. He looked every bit as intimidating as the rumors say: big muscles and toned body made him appear larger, and his ever present stoic expression seemed stuck on his face, yet he carried himself regally and regarded those around him with respect, garnering him with the deserved loyalty of his own men serving under him.

As the recruit sauntered off to continue his training with the other knights, Sergei turned his attention to the guest whom made themselves known.

"I presume you were the one observing the training spar between the new recruit and myself, yes?" he finally spoke aloud, turning to face whomever it was.

[myriadicality]

The Darm Tower was a spire built by the Holy Empire in bygone eras, and now it stood decrepit as a ruined obelisk covered in all sorts of vines at the edge of the cape overlooking the sea, a testament of the power of nature reclaiming the land from mankind. Yet as old as the looming spire was, it recently became host to a most curious rumor whose origins could not be pinpointed. Supposedly, a great treasure is housed inside, though what it may possibly be was left vague. As a result, many would-be treasure hunters and cutthroats attempted to scale the steeple in hopes of finding riches, only to be cut down by the many traps laid about and the powerful beasts roaming its dark halls.

That is what he was told when he ventured towards the very same tower in the rumors; despite all the nasty things he was told about the ruined spire, he was not deterred by the dangers that awaited him. He fearlessly entered the darkness of the lair alone and navigated the halls himself searching for what he came for. He heard there were deadly beasts about, but so far he's only encountered what he could describe as dogs, and the first trap he encountered had the floor open up to reveal wooden spikes below.

His pace exploring the tower was slow at first, but eventually he was quickly making his way to the summit with ease. A few minor obstacles barred his path, but nothing a good pounding from his fist couldn't solve. Though he admitted, the walls were a little sturdier than he's used to, they still stood no chance against his might. Perhaps they were artificially strengthened through magical means?

One last wall and...

"Hya!"

The wall exploded outwards from the impact of his fist. Stepping inside the new opening, he was met with a sight he did not anticipate: another man.

Another treasure hunter?

In the darkness, he could make out an unarmed man with a dark color scheme, from his hair to the clothes on his back.

Best to introduce oneself first lest this man think he some common thief, even if it wasn't so far from the truth. He was an honorable man with standards who only stole from those who make their money from the blood and sweat of honest workers.

"Howdy, stranger!" he greeted in a booming yet friendly tone, uncaring if one of those large dog-like creatures come running. "Don't worry-- I come in peace! Dogi's the name, and wall-crushing's my game. Pleased to meet ya'!"

[dawntrailing]

FINAL FANTASY XIV: DAWNTRAIL

[fairytalelagoon]

I love him, your honor

[myriadicality]

stovthearted​:

myriadicality​:

ignis told him that this man injuries were so severe that a mere potion wouldn’t be able to save him unless they bring a doctor quick. they did and gladio and the rest were obligated to stay out of the room while ignis and the doctor checked on the unknown man. gladio waits and waits until everything was done. the man is safe and alive. all he needs is to stay in bed and rest until the wounds are not a life threatening problem. that is all good and dandy, not harm will come with them keeping an eye on the strange man. things then moved forward after that.

ignis said he will bring a whole bunch of new clothes for the man to wear. after all, his original attire is destroyed but also no one in this era ever wears armor like his. it looks like something out of an old age where knights were a thing and not so anymore in their current time. gladio understood and suggested that if he ever woke up before they finished he would lend some of his for now until ignis brings the new ones for the man to wear.

the three left, leaving gladio to watch over the man and so he did. days passed and now is almost a month and gladio wondered when the man would wake up. here he is, still waiting and at the end of the day he didn’t have to use his clothes now that ignis already brought the ones he had for the man. gladio wondered if he even got the right size for him and ignis said it would be a perfect fit for the man. gladio just trust the man’s judgement on that.

another day passed and the man hasn’t woken up. the next day comes and that’s when something changed. gladio heard a voice and the sound of the bed as someone is shifting in there. he wakes up, he didn’t even realized when he fell asleep while reading one of his favorite books but he did and now he wakes up in fear someone came to do something fishy but nothing. the sight of the man sitting on the bed is all he sees. “oh…” it downed to him that the man is already okay and moving. “you’re awake.” but gladio doesn’t yell or make it a fuss. he calmly speaks to the other man not wanting to scare him as it seems he looks confused as to where he is.

“you’re at an inn.” gladio says. “uh… me and my friends found you almost dead at the beach.” and by the looks of it his wounds are okay and it seems he is also fine. gladio takes in the sight of the man shirtless, the sheet covering his lower half but gladio expected him to be wearing something down there anyways but his eyes went to look at the man’s body.

nice toned muscles covered in scars, many scars. this man must have fought many battles. cool. he wants to hear his stories. “how are you feeling? what’s your name?”

@fatecursed​

Under normal circumstances, Sergei would have been wary of this unknown man, but his situation was anything but normal; if this man intended any harm, it would have been done while he was unconscious and vulnerable, but here he was, still alive and kicking. That was enough to at least earn the man a semblance of trust.

“An Inn...?” he repeated, glancing around and pondering which establishment had such unique decor. “I see...” Sergei surmised this man and his friends assisted him in his time of need and brought him to one of the taverns to have his wounds treated. Although, he could have sworn something was off about that, yet for the life of him, he could not pinpoint why. 

When his gaze settles upon the man once more, Sergei caught him staring, but paid it little heed. “While I seem no worse for wear,” he inspected down at himself and spied no injury, just that his limbs felt a little stiff, likely due to being comatose for a couple days, “it would seem I am unable to recall the last few hours’ events.”

No, that wasn’t right either. He could recall it, but doing so would bring about traumatic experiences back to the forefront, and as a result of protecting his own sanity, he subconsciously blocked that memory out of his mind and refused to acknowledge it. A form of retrograde amnesia.

Ah but if he left it there, this man would get the wrong impression so he quickly alleviated any concern about his mind. “Be that as it may, I recall everything else, including my name and entire life.” So memory isn’t much of an issue. “I am Sergei Strelka,” he answered, his gaze returning to the other male, withholding his occupation for the time being until he knew more about his situation. “And you have my eternal gratitude for saving my life, and---”

It was at this exact moment, his stomach grumbled. The pangs of hunger made him pause, and a look of embarrassment crept on his face, and though he tried hiding his mortification by keeping his face stoic, it made for an awkward combination that most men would find very difficult to imitate. “Oh...” It was the face the knights whom served under him would often say “How does he do that?” with a flushed look of bewilderment.

[debbiecolon]

I can finally share my entry from the @ffxivdudeoirzine; I’ve been very excited to share this spicy piece! Let’s go spar with Ardbert; he promises to go easy on you~

Zine leftovers are on sale, so go to the official Dudedoir Zine page for more details if you fancy yourself a copy!

[myriadicality]

FF16 giving me a sad because not enough content for Rodney Murdoch flattening Clive.

[fairytalelagoon]

Oh no, he’s hot.

[myriadicality]

idc I will take him up as a muse.

[myriadicality]

>Meet’s this guy I have a type.

Sergei Strelka, Basch fon Ronsenburg, Olberic Eisenberg, Mauvier, Gazeff Stronoff, and now Rodney Murdoch. What do they have in common?

Being fuckable a Knight.

[myriadicality]

who are you and why are you hot?

[myriadicality]

stovthearted​:

myriadicality​:

walking around the beach with his friends felt peaceful. no monsters nearby, none of those damn robots sent from those bastards to stop them. it felt like a nice beach walk break. that is until prompto yelled. everyone looked at the blonde, gladio thought he got spooked by some crab walking nearby or something but prompto then points at somewhere at the shore. “huh?” gladio looks at the direction pointed as prompto announces that he saw someone laying at the shore. at first gladio didn’t care much, maybe is someone taking a nice tan at the beach but then by looking better it seems the person is not doing that.

no, this man is wearing some clothes and armor but he also looks like he got quite the beating. gladio rushed ahead as fast as his legs allowed him, prompto followed him while noctis and ignis remained there waiting for news. it’s best they stay there. the man could be dead and if that were the case they could bury him right here. gladio kneels next to the man. his attire is so weird. armor? at this day and age? didn’t one of those bastards were wearing one? armor that enhances them and protects them but the design doesn’t look like part of them.

the man looks so beat up and his armor cracked and burn. he can see blood too. gladio speaks to him and all he earned were groans. oh, thank god he is not dead. he looks back at ignis and noctis and signals them to come quickly. “iggy bring some potions this guy needs it badly!” the potions will not make him feel better but will sure heal those severe wounds a little.

ignis and noctis used some potions on the man but is not enough and that is fine. they decided to take him and see what happened to him. it was decided that gladio is the one to carry the man since he is the one with the muscle of course and gladio didn’t object with the idea. he wouldn’t let the pair of twinks or ignis to be the ones carrying him. still that armor would make it hard for him to do that so gladio strips the man from his armor to aliviate the weight. after that with the help of the others he is able to settle sergei on his back and the party made way to the nearest city to rest at an inn.

after that gladio carefully places the man on the bed and he decided to remain and keep watch. ignis, just to be sure, uses one more potion on the injured man and leaves gladio alone with him as the three went out to stock up in groceries for dinner.

gladio then sits next to the bed with the man sleeping. they cleaned him and patched the scratches and wounds that remained. gladio was somehow admiring the man’s appearance. he seems to have some years in him, his physique telling that he is quite the fighter too. skin covered in scars and of course will be more covered in them with the new wounds acquired. then his face, he is handsome. really handsome. gladio didn’t notice he has been staring so intently at the man.

Ignis

He was always the one that made sure to carry enough provisions in case things fo south,  whether that be medical supplies such as potions and bandages or cans of food in the case of a hungry prince, whenever they go on these little adventures outside the city. It was not uncommon for them to run into stray beasts that leave them with a scratch or two in the end of a fight. It was fairly common for one or the other to forget important equipment to bring with them for camping trips, and it would be up to him to save the day, so to speak. He was always prepared for anything.

However, the last thing he expected was to chance upon a man on the verge of death. It was Prompto that noticed him first. The blond was taking pictures on his new camera, practicing his portfolio on scenery and style, and it was likely through photography that prompted the younger male to notice right away that something was not right with the picture. It was Gladio that made the first move to rush towards the injured man and inspect what occurred. Even as the larger male called for him to ready the healing tonics, it was Ignis who already readied the first aid, discerning the state of the injured man.

Potions would only speed up healing process, but they would not completely revive one on the brink of death. As they discarded what remained of the armor to lighten Gladio’s load, it became all to clear that this man needed medical treatment a doctor could afford. The regalia was only a few minutes away, and they could reach civilization in less than ten minutes. He could have Noctis or Prompto call for a doctor while he drove, and make sure Gladio kept the man steady to prevent furthur injury. There was one thing that bothered him however....

Was it his imagination, or did the wound on his midsection look akin to a bite from a large creature? The sight alarmed him and gave him a dreaded mental image of a man caught in the jaws of a giant monster about to be bitten in half. Looking at the wound again, that would have been impossible for anyoen to survive, and this man was very much alive. Much needed answered, and he felt this man’s personal belongings will alliviate some of the burning questions he had. He would have Prompto help him carry those to the regalia, and hopefully they could find some answers.

As soon as they reached town, Ignis waited for aid to arrive. And so began the waiting game...

Sergei

Even as he faded in and out of consciousness, his fragmented mind was able to glean a group of young men coming to his aid. At first, he was alarmed civilians were present in the middle of a battle against a dragon, but the scenery did not correspond with his memories; gone were the sounds of engagement and fiery death raining from above, now replaced by the serenade of a calm beach on a sunny day and the gentle warmth of a helping hand now bearing his burdens.

What followed next was but a blur, but he vaguely recalled being carried far away from the burning sting that bit his skin, wounds that now felt like a phantom pain from a distant past, and at some point, he let the darkness overtake his consciousness and fall into a slumber. There he dreamed of happier times when his twin, seraphim bless him, would cause quite the stir in the blessed capital and become the center of attention in many taverns. Happier times such as meeting a childhood legend come to life in the form of Shepherd Sorey and aiding the beacon of hope to bring about peace between warring nations. Happier times such as spending time with Princess Alisha and Lady Rose over a cup of tea.

As all things, good things must come to an end, and reality starts to set in.

As he roused from sleep, his mind came into focus. Rays of sunshine reached his vision causing him to squint and shift his gaze away, where he would spy a muscular young man perched against a chair whom likely tended to his wounds. He could not tell if this man was awake or not, but he seemed motionless as he settled there. Sergei sat up with a groan, clutching his forhead in one hand, the dull ring in the back of his mind soon subsided paving way to a dulled ache that seemed to vanish as soon as it came. The blanket that shielded him from the cool air slid from his bare chest as his vision finally adjusted to the room.

Plain white walls and ceiling with a few cracks here and there, sparce furnishings giving little character to the chamber, only cosisting of a bed, a few chairs and a singular small table, and other objects he could not identify. And sat on the table was his armor and clothes, shattered and torn, haphazardly but in one place. The rays of light beaming from the windows and the birds chirpping outside told him it was likely late morning. Just how long had he been unconscious?

“Where...am I?” he whispered to himself.

His gaze landed back on the sole occupant of the room: a large, muscular man with a rugged look about him, and clothing not dissimilar to what he was familiar with, yet somehow it looked alien to him, not its fashion, but its make. It looked too finely made and clean. And the top was left open, showing hard muscles that told him this man had seen many battles. And his face, it appeared the man indeed had been asleep - had he watched over him all night? Was it the sound of his voice that awoke him?

[myriadicality]

stovthearted​:

myriadicality​:

there it is. he knew the other would say this but is not an outright rejection. he can see his face, he is flustered and there’s hesitation in his eyes but he knows that sergei feels the same way, he knows. he just unsure and of course he would understand. an union between a knight and a prince will gain nothing and a man can’t bear children which would hinder any chances for the next heir to be made. that is something he had planned. since marriage between royalties are just business in the end he could go along and marry a woman of power that would benefit both of their kingdoms and have a child and he will make it so he can stay with sergei as his lover.

sergei doubts but he also underestimate how smooth napoleon can be with his words. the kingdom loves him! no one has ever doubt his decisions that had benefited his home these years. he knows the king will oppose but he already has a set plan in motion. he will make this happen, he will make sergei his partner no matter what. “i know, but i can convince father and everyone.” he says with certainty in his voice. he is 100 percent sure his plan will work.

“we can keep it a secret. i will tell father of this and i know he will not publicly expose it but i will make a deal with him. i know i can convince him but he will want me to give him a child to continue the lineage which luckily i have found someone who would be down for this.” they could make an union with someone without marriage. having a child together would be the symbol of the kingdoms’ union. he will not mask his marriage with sergei with a fake one but maybe this could work on his favor. he gives his father a child and an union with someone and the woman gains power from him. all these royalty stuff is just business at the end of the day.

“i will make sure that everyone accepts you and my love for you.” that said he holds sergei’s face. “so… will you finally accept my feelings?”

Hearing how far Napoleon would go just for him meant much to the knight captain; the road to happiness is often rife with many hardships with countless sharp turns that could break either one of them. His Highness’ proposal would have them tread lightly when in the presence of others within the empire; they would act accordingly as a dutiful knight protecting the royal family and a prince having his faithful knight serve him without rousing suspicion; such acting would be difficult if anyone caught wind of their relationship before Napoleon had a chance to ease his father into their union.

Napoleon was confident, this Sergei could perceive, and that charisma charmed him into believing the man’s words as truth, quelling much of the worries he had with those plans. And charming, Napoleon was, with that boastful smile of his and brash personality, and deep voice that melted his stoic disposition. Still, he was hesitant to answer knowing the repercussions this would bring about. High reward, high risk. Maker, his brother would tease him to no end.

“... Yes...” He finally said, his tone was quiet, uncertain, but it was laced with want. He tried turning his reddened face away fromt he other, wanting to hide his doubts and embarrassment, unknowingly that it made him appear exactly as Napoleon described him to be: impossibly cute for a grown man. He quickly added, “if it is kept secret.” For now, anyway.

His heart raced, disbelief clouding his mind, at what he responded with. Childhood fancies be damned, the reality of it settling in was beyond belief that he found himself pondering if he was really dreaming. It made him feel like he was reliving his youth. And it made him realize just what was he supposed to do in a proposed relationship having no experience in romantic affairs. And when he glanced back into Napoleon’s sapphire eyes with his own emerald eyes, he realized how quickly Napoleon had closed the distance between them, a hair’s breath away from just pressing lips.

And just maybe, he wanted to continue gazing at such beautiful sights under a starry night sky.

[myriadicality]

The distant sound of crashing waves reached his ears as the cold touch of water trickled into the tiny crevices of his damaged armor and swashed against wounded flesh that stung like the mourning pyres of holy purification when salty spray brushed against it. Barely conscious, he was aware he laid face down on soft sand with his legs half submerged in the shallows of the sea. He struggled to shift his body upright, but his vain attempt at movement was met with intense pain causing him to groan in agony. There was a lingering taste of iron, of blood, upon his tongue, and it made him fear that death was close at hand to claim his soul.

He could not spy the gravity of his situation, eyes barely open and vision flickering between a state of consciousness, but somehow he knew the damage was grave. His armor had cracks, a piece of it had shattered off and the red, black, and gold fabrics of is plating were burnt and covered in dark soot. Much of his injuries were exposed to the elements, and without the aid of a medic, there was little he could do but wait for death’s sweet embrace.

The last memory he could remember prior to his trauma was that of a battle against a legendary, fire-breathing dragon told only in fairy tales. He and his men were able to lure the phantasmal beast away from the capital and trap it in the windy valleys where rock formations provided them ample cover from the dragon’s flames. Alas, the beast proved far too powerful for a band of ordinary knights without the blessings of the heavenly beings that often graced them with protection.

Then he heard a voice call out to him, followed by the sound of rushing footsteps upon the sand drawing closer, but he could not make out what was being said. He tried tp speak through his injuries, but his words only came out as pained, incomprehensible groans.

[myriadicality]

stovthearted​:

myriadicality​:

napoleon heard his words even if they were muttered for himself. he laughs. “haha! well, you would know of this place sooner but…” and his expression becomes a little sad. “back then we were both too busy…” oh how he missed seeing sergei during those times. this place managed to keep his sanity in check but it would been better if his childhood friend was here with him but it’s fine. he finally got him here and that’s all that matters.

he thought that sergei would discard his armor and his shoes and join him on the walk around the shore but it seems that the other is still wearing his armor and it seems he hasn’t taken off any piece of clothing. a sigh leaves his lips. always the serious man. he shakes his head but is fine. seeing him enjoy this place, seeing him smile like that did numbers on him. oh how much his heart wants him. napoleon approaches the other. “i’m happy that you love this place…” he says as he holds sergei’s hand. “there’s more on why i wanted to bring you here.” he says as he guides the hand towards his lips as he places a small kiss. sad that all he feels is the cold steel of the gauntlets that covers his hand but he hopes this conveys what he wants to do.

he gets closer. a hand placed on the man’s hip. “i wanted to bring you here to confess something.” to confess my sins. “sergei, my loyal friend, my knight…” he looks into sergei’s eyes. oh how beautiful they are even now where the moonlight shines on them. “i want to confess that i love you.” he says. “my heart can’t bring to find it on anyone else but you. you must have noticed back then.” the way none of the women that came to him and attempted to win him over ever hold a candle against sergei nor even made him interested in them. he should tell by now.

“since when we were younger, i always wanted to confess. i want you to be my lover.” even if might not go according to what the king and queen wanted, they know when napoleon has his mind set there’s no way to make him go back. they would understand how his heart work and he hopes they accept that his heart belongs to his most loyal knight and friend. still that isn’t to say that sergei would reciprocate. if he doesn’t then it’s fine but he just wants to let this out. he wants to tell this and be done with it. now he waits. “would you accept my feelings?”

Under a starlit night sky, the cool breeze brushed against his suddenly flushed cheeks, his face now frozen in disbelief from the confession that parted Napoleon’s lips, which was but a hair’s breath away from his own - so close, and yet, so far; Sergei wondered if he was back slumbering in his bed dreaming childhood fantasies of a dashing knight or lord sweeping him off his feet and riding off into the sunset on a noble steed. Yet the way Napoleon held him close, lips but a hair’s breath away - warm breath danced along his flushed cheeks, afforded him little room for jests and forced Sergei to confront forbidden emotions he tried quelling in his youth.

“Ah....?”

His bewilderment was expected. Sufficed to say, it was improper for one such as he to harbor such feelings for royalty when the Imperial Family stands to gain nothing from this union, but harbor them he did. As the Emperor’s heir next in line for the throne, Sergei knew Napoleon was expected to continue the Imperial Line by marrying a lady of standing power, but choosing a man like Sergei would bring about a scandal that would cause civil unrest amongst the denizens of the empire. The current Emperor would disapprove of this relationship, and the people would not accept Sergei as the Prince’s lover.

“I...”

He was indecisive, placed in a very difficult position; his expression faltered as he gave the confession thought. His heart fluttered in elation at the prospect of his childhood fancies coming to fruition, but feared the ramifications that would follow in the wake of such a union; if the scandal were discovered and threatened the Imperial Line, it would not be Napoleon that faces the consequences, so how was he supposed to answer when his duty to protect the Imperial Family clashed with his desire to give in to intimacy? It was plain as day, however, what Sergei wanted. He wanted to accept Napoleon’s feelings, yet he knew that if he followed his heart, it will not end well.

“Napoleon,” he finally said as he broke free from the gentle hold to step back and return the gaze with a pensive look. “We both know that can’t happen. Your father, the Emperor, would disapprove of this.” Even as he tried explaining this, it felt like he was convincing himself.