The First Blayde

@NIGHTPRINCE’S WIFE | Writer | Supernatural Fanatic | Reader | Lover | Passionate | Sinful

[nightprince]

Day 19: Shadow

Day 19 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Featured here is my Sorcerer character from Dark Souls 3. Not going to lie, this one was really hard to figure out. I am, once again, shouting out my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters and editing the prompts!

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Sriethlann did not fear the fading of the fire like so many others. She wondered if that was because she was a sorcerer. Wondered if, because unlike the pyromancers, the flames never called out to her. Wondered if it was because the heat and the light of the flames repulsed her. The magic of the arcane - and the crystal magic - were cool and precise. Not wild and rash like the flames.

So if pyromancy was out of the question, and she had learned all other sorceries, then what was left to study and learn?

The fools of the Vinheim Dragon School would argue that there was none. They’d turn in their undead graves if they knew she had learned crystal sorcery. Not that they would care. Not that anyone from that wretched school would care what she did anymore.

One pointed purple fingernail traced the dragon tattoo burned onto her face. The last humiliation before they exiled her. For daring to question. For daring to look at other sorceries. For daring to think there was more than what they taught.

So she left to find what she could. To find and master all sorceries. It didn’t matter to her if they had been considered heretical. She cast away the beliefs of the Vinheim Dragon School just as easily as they cast her out. After all, why should heresy concern an exile? After all, why should an exile care about how things should be done?

Sriethlann reached into her witch robes and drew out the tome of so-called Dark Sorceries. The Dragon School were fools for banning these sorceries. Fools for fearing what it meant in order to cast them. Such hypocrites the lot of them. After all, souls were the currency of the world. What did it matter if the sorcery was fueled by the soul? What did it matter if the sorcery was a reflection of humanity?

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Humanity was so feared that it was the first thing to be discarded. So feared that the darkness which lurked within everyone was constantly denied and ignored. So feared that anything which drew upon it was branded heresy. So feared that anyone who even glances at it is branded a heretic.

Sriethlann pulled the wide brim of her purple witch’s hat down, casting a dark shadow over the dragon brand. She had already been branded and exiled. What did it matter to her? She had sworn to master all sorcerers.

Nothing would stand in her way.

[nightprince]

Day 20: Tear

Day 20 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Here is my other female human Republic Trooper from Star Wars The Old Republic. I don’t normally have prompts related to each other, but this one takes place after Day 13: Burn. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife, @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts and editing them!

Also, fair warning … “Press F to pay respects”.

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Daeni placed her hand on the casket, closing her eyes and bowing her head. It should not have been a consolation that it could have been worse. That there could have been fewer members of Havoc Squad alive right now. Only Elara, Jorgan, Kayrana, and herself had gotten out of the mission alive. Still, there were four too many caskets before her.

“Complete mission failure,” Jorgan growled behind her. “This is what happens when criminals get in the way of soldiers.”

“You’re welcome,” Kaliyo snapped back, “Next time I’ll just let them kill you.”

Daeni ignored their bickering. Nothing could be done about it now. Arguing whose fault it was wouldn’t bring anyone back. Arguing wouldn’t change the mission outcome. Wouldn’t change that they had messed up. Wouldn’t change the fact that Daeni had failed to protect her squad.

They were soldiers. They all knew the risks when they enlisted. They all knew that any mission could be their last. Was what Daeni usually tried to tell herself. Had heard those same lines all throughout her career. It never stopped her from protecting those that she could. Never stopped her from ensuring that everyone on her squad would come back alive.

This was the first time she had failed so spectacularly.

The first time someone under her command hadn’t been saved.

The first time that they hadn’t been able to complete a mission.

“We had everything under control!” Jorgan yelled. “Then you started throwing around thermal detonators. We lost four good soldiers!”

“If they were so good-” Kaliyo began to say.

“Enough!” Daeni yelled, fists clenched tightly. “I’ll report to the Alliance Commander and take full responsibility for the outcome of this operation. Dismissed.”

Daeni spun around without waiting for a response from the others. She stamped down on her emotions. She would not break down. She would not cry.

“Damn it,” she hissed, punching the wall and squeezing her eyes shut. Her shoulders shook with the force of her trying to stop herself from crying.

“Ma’am?” Elara’s voice pierced the otherwise silent corridor.

“I failed them,” Daeni mumbled, collapsing into Elara.

The other woman wrapped her arms around Daeni. “You did all you could.”

Daeni clung to Elara, tears spilling down her face. Deep within her heart, Daeni wanted to tear through Zakuul to get revenge for those she had lost.

[nightprince]

Day 21: Impact

Day 21 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Featured here is what I consider my canon female protagonist from Nioh 2. I am once again, shouting out my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters and editing the prompts.

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Hide walked out onto the jetty, gazing upon the woman who stood at the edge. Something within her told her she should know who the person was. Something instinctual within her called out to the other woman. There was a memory buried deep within her mind. Blurred and hazy.

A veiled woman reaching out to her.

A man with glowing red eyes.

A stabbing pain in her chest.

A tanto pressed into her hands.

“Live on … my child …”

Hide knew that there were holes in her memories. Had known since she couldn’t remember her own name. It was why everyone used the kanji forged onto the tanto.

The woman turned, though a veil covered the top half of her face. Even so, the slight smile upon her face was evident. “You have grown so strong.”

Hide tilted her head. Who was this woman to her? There was some form of familiarity, of that much she was certain. Deep within herself, she already knew. Yet did she want to dream? Did she dare to hope? She opened her mouth to speak, yet her voice cracked and no sound came out.

“Oh my,” the other woman said, placing a hand upon Hide’s cheek. There was no denying anything. The touch was so motherly. How could she be anyone else? “You have been through so much, my child.”

Hide’s mouth moved yet no sound came out and her chest burned. It was such a strange feeling. As if she had been stabbed twice in the same place. Once, by whatever strange man possessed the glowing eyes. And again, when the possessed Tokichiro stabbed her with her own tanto.

“It pains me that you must bear a great destiny alone,” her mother said, “Byodo-In may hold the answers to the questions that you seek.”

Hide silently shook her head. There were many questions that she had. Questions about what had happened to her friend. Questions about the strange man she constantly encountered. Questions to fill in the gaps of her memory.Yet at the moment, there was only one thing that she wanted to ask. “My … name …” She stuttered out, almost surprising herself with the sound of her voice.

The corner of her mother’s lips turned down. “I gifted you the name Akiyama, after the great samurai who slew Otakemaru.”

She said her real name to herself several times, finding it only slightly strange. She knew who she was now. She knew what she had to do. Akiyama could deal with the impact of the other questions she wished to ask later.

“Please,” her mother said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Head to Byodo-In. The key to defeating Otakemaru must be there.”

Akiyama nodded her head, a new determination shining within her crimson eyes. She would not fail. She would find what she must. Then she would stop her once great friend.

[nightprince]

Day 22: of @oc-growth-and-development​ OC-tober. Here is Aryana Sand from the Game of Thrones COnquest mobile game. Though technically speaking, Aryana is my wife’s original character, she’s allowed me to write about her. Again, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters and editing the prompts!

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“You must realize that she’s behind this,” Aryana said, leaning against the balcony railing.

“No need to remind me, Aryana,” Jorlyn responded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, are you going to do something about it?” Aryana challenged.

Between them was the body of an assassin. Only the latest of a dozen attempts. As with the other dozen assassins, there were no distinguishing marks or sigils. No pieces of parchment which bore orders for the hit. Yet still all the information that Aryana’s spy network had gathered all pointed to the same person.

The Lady Hardyng was finally moving against her daughter.

Now if only Aryana could convince Jorlyn to do something about it.

“We don’t have any solid proof she’s paying the assassins,” Jorlyn said.

Aryana almost rolled her eyes. “When has that stopped you in the past?” she asked, walking over to Jorlyn to wrap her arms around the other woman’s waist. “You’ve executed traitors on far less.”

“They were not my mother,” Jorlyn whispered. “I thought you would try and convince me to try and see the good in her.”

Aryana rested her head against the other woman’s chest, simply listening to the heart beat. Allowing herself to remember that Jorlyn was still with her. That they were together and nothing would tear them apart. “When I was younger, I certainly would have. But this is different.”

Aryana didn’t have to see Jorlyn’s face to know the northern woman raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Aryana pulled back slightly to stare up into Jorlyn’s face. “This assassin went directly after you.” Aryana took a moment to collect her thoughts. “I swore long ago that I would do anything to protect you.” Aryana backed away and returned to the balcony railing, crossing her arms and leaning against it. “I will never forgive such a blatant move against you.”

“How did you come by this information?” Jorlyn inquired, still staring out at the night sky.

“She’s been careful,” Aryana answered, “Using messengers and underlings in all of her dealings.”

“Not careful enough if you’ve discovered her dealings,” Jorlyn said.

“It’s no secret that she doesn’t like me,” Aryana stated, her lips curling in disgust. What she wasn’t telling Jorlyn, was that it was a lot easier than she had expected. Certainly Jorlyn’s mother was being as careful as she could be. Yet Aryana had spent years building up her spy network. Recruiting those who were easily overlooked. Those who could easily fade into the background. After all, it was amazing what royals said when they thought their servants were loyal.

“This discovery does not come as a shock to either of us, Jorlyn,” Aryana said, pushing herself off the railing and turned on her heel. “Do something about it or I will.” With that, she left Jorlyn there on the balcony.

[nightprince]

Day 18: Watch

Day 18 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Here is my female elf from Dragon Age Inquisition, though she is not the Inquisitor. I always like the idea of having the characters together in the same timeline.

As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts and editing them.

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Ellana could do nothing but watch Solas walk through the Eluvian. Could do nothing but scream his name. Could do nothing but reach out for him, even as he slipped just out of reach. Could do nothing but pound against the magical mirror. Could do nothing but scream and rage and cry.

Why had he not told her? Why had he disappeared? Why had he come back only to leave again? Why had he not taken her with him? Why had he constantly been lying to her? Why hadn’t he trusted her?

Why hadn’t he told her that he was the Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf.

The Well of Sorrows whispered in her ear. Any other day she might’ve ignored it. Yet she’d been listening to it more often. Ever since they had started their pursuit of the Qunari. Ever since they had travelled through the ancient Elvhenan ruins. Ever since they had found their first clues about Fen’harel. She had been listening to the Well of Sorrows when it spoke to her. Yet there had always been something missing. As if the Well hadn’t really known who Fen’harel really was. As if the Well had thought he was dead and gone.

Ellana wanted to rage against the world that it was too late now. That all the clues had come together far too late. And that there was nothing that she could do. She wanted to hate Solas. Wanted to hate him for everything that he had. Wanted to hate him for allowing her to fall in love with him. Wanted to hate him for leaving her behind.

A scream wrenched Ellana out of her thoughts and she spun away from the Eluvian. There was Solumera, on her knees and clenching her left wrist. The magic of the anchor crackling out of control.

“She needs help!” The Iron Bull shouted. “Ellana! Do something!”

But she wasn’t a healer. She was never able to reach out to the spirits of the fade to mend wounds. Fire and lightning and the arcane had always answered her call far more easily. “I - I don’t - I don’t know how,” Ellana stuttered.

“Please, help me,” Solumera begged.

“I’m sorry boss,” Iron Bull stated, picking up Solumera’s own greatsword.

Ellana ran past them, unable to watch as Iron Bull raised the greatsword. Unable to watch as the greatsword swings down. Unable to watch Solumera’s face scream out in pain. Unable to watch all that Solas had wrought.

[nightprince]

Day 17: Embrace

Day 17 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Here we have my female Awoken Warlock Guardian from Destiny 2. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the prompts and editing when she can!

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When the Black Fleet first appeared in the system, Rayina was unconcerned. Why should she be? The Black Fleet did nothing but make its presence known. No new or strange foes appeared within the system. The pyramid ships just hovered there, making no more of a move than what the Traveler must have done when it first went dormant.

Then the transmissions started to come in.

Then Guardians started to report strange messages when they were close to one of the pyramid ships. Then Valeriya reported that Savathûn was blocking whatever transmissions the Black Fleet were sending.

That alone was enough to pique Rayina’s interest.

She had always considered herself more open minded than many of the other Guardians. Always more willing to study and understand. It was, perhaps, one of the many reasons she had fit in with the Warlocks of the Tower. Yet she had never truly fit in with them either. There was a certain line that none of them were willing to cross. Many of them would never stray far from the Light. Would never delve too deeply into the Darkness.

That had never stopped her before.

So once Savathûn’s interference was cleared, Rayina communed with the Black Fleet and listened to the transmissions. Listened to the offers of power. She knew many Guardians would turn away. Knew they would never wield the powers of the Darkness. Yet Rayina couldn’t help but wonder, was it inherently evil? What made the powers of the Black Fleet any different than the powers of the Traveler?

After all, couldn’t great evil be done with the Light?

So Rayina accepted the Black Fleet’s offer. Accepted the powers of the Darkness. Found that she still could call upon the powers of the Light. Found that it was just another power to be used. Found that it was almost as easy to wield as any other power.

It was such a shame that Valeriya had refused this power. Such a shame that Astra refused to leave the Dreaming City. Such as shame that they didn’t understand the significance of the gift that had been offered. Such a shame that they didn’t understand like she did.

Rayina would use whatever powers she needed to defeat her foes. And if that meant embracing the Darkness … then so be it.

[nightprince]

Day 16: Lie

Day 16 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Here we have my female character from Game of Thrones: Conquest mobile game. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts and for helping write the dialogue for this one. You’re the best!

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The sand storm raged outside, which wouldn’t be so bad, Jorlyn supposed, if she didn’t know what was waiting within it. At least her scouts hadn’t been found. The sand storm had given them the perfect cover. If only they had better news to tell. If only it wasn’t all so dire. Not impossible. Certainly could have been better. Could have been much worse as well.

Well, at least it was only bandit groups camped outside her walls. Though if her scouts were to be believed, there were also troops from rival lords mixed in as well. Not that she’d be surprised if it were true. There was always someone who wanted her dead. Who couldn’t accept that she was their lord. Who wanted her position for themselves.

She’d spent her entire life fighting to prove her worth. They never mattered to her. It just hurt more than it should that she could count her own mother amongst them. That her own mother could never accept her. That no matter what she did, it was never enough for her.

It had only gotten worse when her feelings for Aryana deepened. When she made no move to hide how much the Dornish woman meant to her.

Suddenly it wasn’t her own bannerman

 that she had to worry about, but her own mother conspiring against her and Aryana.

Of course, her mother wasn’t so foolish as to act directly against her. But Jorlyn knew who some of the bannerman really answered to. Knew who had paid some of the assassins.

As if she wouldn’t find out.

As if Aryana didn’t have an immense spy network.

“You must know it’s hopeless.” Her mother said. “You must know they outnumber us.”

Jorlyn’s grip upon the handle of her sword tightened. She could practically hear the smugness dripping from her mother’s words.

“Just surrender, daughter, and we might be spared.”

Jorlyn derisively snorted. “You would like that, wouldn’t you mother? For my keep, my land, my people to fall on their knees and pretend they are loyal.”

“Sometimes that is the only way to survive.”

“Surviving is not living, mother.” 

Her mother rolled her eyes and sighed. “This is unlike you, daughter, to put your life at stake for others. That Dornish who—“

Jorlyn slapped her mother across the face, her ring cutting her mother’s lip. “Don’t you dare talk about my wife like that when you have sold yourself to any man who was stupid enough to bed you for any kind of solace.”

“What I have done, I have done for our house.” Her mother snapped back. “No different than what that Dornish-“

Her mother’s words were cut off with a strangled scream. “You can lie all you want,” Aryana purred from behind her mother, twisting the dagger deeper. “Everything I have done, I have done for Jorlyn.”

“I’m done with your games, mother.” Jorlyn spat, turning to gaze out the window. “Are the troops ready?” She asked Aryana.

Jorlyn ignored the sound of her mother’s body hitting the floor. “Of course they are,” Aryana said, coming to stand next to her. “They are some of Dorne’s finest soldiers, this sand storm will not hinder them.”

Jorlyn nodded only once. It was time to finish it once and for all.

[nightprince]

Day 15: Stitch

Day 15 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. This one was actually really hard to figure out what to do. Though this is also my first time writing about my female ninja from Nioh 2. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts.

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Kitajo was no stranger to the battlefield. How could she be? When she had been born into the Iga Clan of ninja. When she had trained all her life. When she had mastered the tonfa and the kusarigama and more than a dozen ninjutsu.

Still, there were few things that could really prepare one to fight a demon horde.

It was the numbers, more than anything. As the vast majority of the horde were the weaker gaki and the skeletal remains that had been corrupted by the spirit stones. Which was not to say that there weren’t stronger demons within the horde.

It was a namahage that had gotten a lucky hit in. Dragging its serrated blade across her stomach. If she had been anyone else it would have been a fatal blow. As it was, it was more of an inconvenience.

Her form shifts and suddenly she’s more yokai than human. Tearing through the horde with twin daggers. She can’t hold her shifted form for long. And it fades away at the most inopportune time. A namahage’s blade once again catches her when she’s too slow to dodge when the transformation fades away.

She flips away and breathes several fireballs. The namahage burns to ash with a screech.

She retreats into more shadows and calls on her ninjutsu to make herself nearly invisible. She needs to catch her breath. It hasn’t been long since the sky turned red. Yet it feels like she’s been fighting for days. Like there’s no end to the horde of yokai wandering the battlefield. She hopes Tadakatsu-sama and Hanzo-sama are alright. She hasn’t seen them since the sky bled red.

The only other person she’s seen across the battlefield is another Shiftling. The one everyone calls ‘Hide’. Though Kitajo doubts that’s their name. If they’re as strong as everyone claims they are. Perhaps there’s still hope. Perhaps they can fix whatever was wrong with everything.

Kitajo pops an elixir into her mouth, grimacing as her wounds heal. She’s running low on elixirs. Knows she only has a few of them left. Hopefully she won’t need them. Though she’s no stranger to more conventional means. Wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to sew and stitch her wounds close.

She steps out of the shadows, dragging the blade of her kusarigama along the neck of another yokai. She just has to keep fighting. It was all that she could do.

[nightprince]

Day 14: Cage

Day 14 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. This one is a little shorter, though it was also one of the harder ones so far. It also doesn’t really help that I haven’t really developed my female Redguard from Skyrim all that much. I will continue to shoutout my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts!

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There was one thing Reina despised above all else - it was being helpless. It was why she had taken up sword dancing. It was why she had ran away from home when she was young. It was why she had forced her way into various bandit groups. It was why she had risen through the ranks of those groups.

Most importantly, it was why she had stabbed her father.

She twirled the traditional Redguard swords, the same swords that her mother had given her. It was easy falling into the stance her mother had taught her. Body angled to the side. Feet spread and knees bent. Right arm extended in front of her. Left arm raised behind her. She took a deep breath and began to move.

Even after all these years, the moves were still second nature to her. Each spin and twirl and slash of the swords. It was all a deadly dance that their family had perfected over generations.

“Remember, daughter,” her mother would always say as they practiced the moves, “So long as you dance, you will always be free.”

It was something she took to heart. And she would always promise her mother she would always be free.

So it was the easiest decision she ever made when her father tried to marry her off to a rich noble family. The easiest thing to do to drive a dagger into her father’s stomach. Not because she didn’t think whatever match he had in mind wouldn’t be good for her. Not because she didn’t necessarily want to get married. She stabbed her father for daring to make the decision for her. For taking that choice away from her. She left the house that day with her mother’s blessing.

It wasn’t long until she had been contacted by the Dark Brotherhood.

“Reina!” The Listener’s voice echoed through the chamber. “The Night Mother has a mission for you.”

Reina stopped her movements, and reverently returned the swords to their display stand. She would keep her promise to her mother.

So long as she sword danced, she would never be caged.

[nightprince]

Day 12: Garden

Day 12 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober, this one was a little harder to figure out what to do for. This is about my female Pureblood Sith Marauder who is the Empire’s Wrath. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx to assigning the characters to the prompts.

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Varilia stood on the balcony of her Dromund Kaas mansion, unbothered by the eternal rain which poured around her. She’s not even sure why she comes here anymore. She’d much rather be on the frontlines. Much rather be fighting the Empire’s enemies. Much rather be crushing all who dared to stand against her under her boot.

If only there were enemies to fight.

She glared up into the sky of Dromund Kaas. She could see the ships of the Eternal Fleet of Zakuul, but she knew they were there. Ready to glass the planet at the first sign of trouble. As if Zakuul wasn’t fully aware they were already breaking the agreement. As if Zakuul actually cared about anything the Empire did. So long as they didn’t outright attack Zakuul, the Empire was more or less left alone.

It still grated on every one of Varilia’s nerves.

Which, of course, only fueled her anger. The greater her anger, the greater her power. The only downside was that all that power and rage had no outlet. It just built and built until she would snap at the first insignificant thing.

Normally she would visit one of the training grounds to work off her anger. In fact she had just been there moments ago. Though it did nothing improve her current mood. Her rage simmered just below the surface. As great as it would have been to unleash all of her power and feast on the pain and suffering of whoever was unfortunate enough to duel her … Varilia knew it would only be a waste. Would only serve to increase her power.

So here she was, standing within the garden of her Dromund Kaas mansion. With nothing to vent her frustrations at.

“Master?” Jaesa’s voice pulled Varilia out of her thoughts.

Varilia couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as her consort leaned into her. It was not love that they felt for each other - they were not Jedi. Still, Varilia knew enough that it was more than just simple lust that drove them. In the end, Varilia did not care what they decided to call whatever it was that they had together.

If nothing else, Jaesa always knew how to help her work off her simmering anger. Varilia pulled Jaesa close and kissed the human woman’s neck. Her honor guard knew enough to make sure that they wouldn’t be disturbed. Besides, the garden isn’t the worst place they’ve done things.

[nightprince]

Day 13: Burn

Day 13 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Today’s character is my female Togruta Republic Trooper from Star Wars the Old Republic. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts.

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Kayrana could still see the flames, even as blurry and unfocused as her eyes were. Could still see the shapes of the skytroopers as they clogged up the hallway. It was impossible to tell how many had been destroyed. Yet it didn’t matter. No matter how many Skytroopers were destroyed, there always seemed to be more.

How could everything have gone so wrong?

It was supposed to be a simple mission. No more dangerous than any other job that Havoc Squad has completed. No different than the types of jobs that they were known for. It may have been one of the most highly guarded places on Zakuul. But that never stopped Havoc Squad before. They should have been in and out with the Zakuulans none the wiser.

No one knows what happened.

None of them are really sure how they had been detected.

It didn’t really matter in the end. They had been fighting ever since.

At least they had been able to complete their objective. So it wasn’t a complete failure. Now all they had to do was get out of the installation alive.

“Get down!” One of the other members of Havoc Squad shouted.

Kayrana was blown off her feet, the heat of the explosion washing over her. Someone grabbed and dragged her back. Everything’s even blurrier and the ringing in her ears was even worse. If only she hadn’t lost her helmet early on in the fighting.

There’s a squad mate hovering over her. Kayrana’s sluggish brain telling her it was the medic. There’s something hovering behind her squad mate. She’s too slow to raise the blaster pistol. She needn’t have worried, as someone else tore into the Skytrooper. Even as unfocused as her eyes are, she can still make out the distinctive armor of the leader of Havoc Squad.

“Get them out of here!” Daeni’s voice blares over the squad comms.

“We’re not leaving you behind!” Elara shouted back.

“No arguing Elara! That’s an order!”

Kayrana shook her head to clear it and pushed herself back to her feet. Taking hold of her assault cannon she laid into the advancing Skytroopers. “With all due respect, ma’am.” Kayrana shouted over the blaster fire. “To hell with your orders!”

The rest of Havoc Squad joined her war cry. Havoc Squad was a family. And they would burn the world down for each other.

[nightprince]

Day 10: Wish

Day 10 od @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. This one is about my female Chiss Imperial Agent from Star Wars the Old Republic, and takes place after this prompt. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts and editing them!

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Kho’reoxia stormed away from her drunk sister, not even bothering to activate her stealth unit. Not even bothering to try and hide her annoyance. Not even caring that the other members of the Alliance can see her. Not even caring that she was technically trespassing. Not even caring that they could arrest her. It had all been worth it to try and see her sister.

It had been the perfect chance, too. The Alliance was celebrating Life Day. More importantly, they were celebrating finally defeating the Eternal Empire. They were celebrating her sister’s rise to empress. As a result, their security was more lax than usual. It presented the perfect opportunity to slip in. The perfect opportunity to reconnect with her older sister.

She never expected to find her sister drunk in a dark corner of the cantina.

Kho’reoxia should have known better than trying to interact with her sister. Should have known that her sister wouldn’t have wanted to see her. Should have known that her sister’s pigheadedness would come between them. Should have known that her sister would never believe that Kho’reoxia had changed. That she had put the past behind her and changed. That she no longer transferred their mother’s harshness onto her sister.

It was strange, what five years could do to someone.

What five years of continuous searching would do.

For five years Kho’reoxia had searched for her sister. Five years trying not to think that her sister had died. Hoping, praying, that she would find something.

Kho’reoxia could admit to herself that even back then, she had cared for her sister. Could admit that her own bitterness clouded her own thoughts and feelings. She had told herself she was only searching for her sister to confirm one way or another. She just wasn’t ready to admit to herself that she cared about her sister. That she missed her sister.

Some time during her five year search, Kho’reoxia regretted her treatment of her older sister. Regretted the bitterness that had dominated for so many years of her life. For the first time in her life, Kho’reoxia missed her sister. Wanted to be with her sister. Wanted to seek her sister’s forgiveness.

She had poured all of her available resources into finding her sister. Had chased every rumor of the mysterious Alliance Commander. Even once Kho’reoxia had confirmed that her sister was alive and was the commander, she wasn’t sure how to approach her. It had always seemed that there was just no opportunity to approach her sister. It always seemed that the war with Zakuul was more important.

She had thought Life Day would be the perfect chance to reconnect with her sister. Had thought her sister would accept her once again.

She should never have wished that they could ever be close.

[nightprince]

Day 9: Spice

Day 9 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. This is one is also a female Dunmer Vampire from Skyrim, though she is not the Dragonborn. She’s also my first attempt at a crueler vampire. As always, shoutout to my wonderful wife @nightsminx for assigning the characters to the prompts and editing when she can!

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“You are not welcome here, mortal,” Rollia snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

She hated guard duty, preferring to hunt and stalk her prey. Yet times like this actually made it worth it. When the idiot mortals thought that they could get into Castle Volkihar. When idiot mortals thought that whatever message they carried was so important that they were the ones who could get in. As if her orders had meant nothing.

As if the Mistress of the Volkihar had not banned all non-court members.

“Please,” the pitiful mortal begged, “the Jarls of Skyrim are demanding that the Dovahkiin attend the King’s Moot.”

“I do not care,” Rollia snarled, her patience all but gone. Who were the mortals who dared to demand anything of the Mistress of the Volkihar Court? What gall did the mortals possess that they thought they could demand anything of the greatest bloodline of all Vampire-kind?

Rollia had always thought the worst thing that could have happened was the common knowledge that the Dovahkiin was a vampire. It was a small miracle that the majority of Skyrim did not care. And those that did, all learned the hard way what the power of a Volkihar vampire truly was. Still, the mortals forgot their place, if they thought their demands meant anything against the wishes of the Volkihar Mistress.

Besides, Rollia owed a great debt to the Volkihar Mistress. Otherwise, Rollia would have been just another corpse on the side of the road. Rollia was not sure why she had been given the Volkihar blood and turned into a vampire. She didn’t find herself worthy of it and yet everyone around her willingly accepted it. If only she could see what they did. 

Despite it all, she would do everything in her power to make sure that her orders were followed. Just because she was unsure of her worthiness, didn’t mean that anyone else needed to be. She would protect that weakness at all costs. Even if that meant that Rollia had to deal with every intruder herself.

Rollia bared her fangs and snatched the pitiful mortal by the neck when they went to speak again. She sank her fangs in their neck and drank their blood. Not enough to kill. But she took enough to ensure that they would be easy to manipulate. One of her fingernails elongated into a razor sharp claw. She drew a simple rune upon their chest, drawing upon both her own magicka as well as the mortal’s own blood to power the spell.

She gazed into the enthralled mortals eyes, her own eyes blazing gold as she drew upon her powers. “Return to whatever Jarl you serve and remind them that no one makes demands of the Volkihar Court.” Rollia watched as the thrall shuffled off to deliver the message, the rune upon their chest glowing dark crimson as it used the mortal’s own life force to power itself. Content in the knowledge that the mortal would be reduced to ash once the spell burned their life force.

Rollia licked her fangs clean and leaned back against the wall. She may have hated guard duty, but times like this really spiced things up.

[nightprince]

Day 3: Duel

Day 3 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. Featured here is my female Cathar Sith Warrior (my female pureblood also makes an appearance). Not mentioned before, but my wonderful wife @nightsminx assigned each of my OCs to the prompts. She’s also the one who edits everything as well.

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Koliarria drew the Cathar Honor Sword from her back and regarded her opponent. She merely shifted her feet and waited, letting her opponent make the first move. She was, after all, a Juggernaut and no one’s defense was as great as hers. Which was not to say that she couldn’t go on the offensive, she just didn’t have to. Her fighting style relied on taking hits from enemies, wearing them down and then striking. She was the first and last line of defense, no one would get through her.

Predictably her opponent made the first move, charging at her with all the rage of a typical Sith. She held her ground, not moving even as she blocked her opponent’s attacks. She didn’t flinch even as her opponent attacked with all their strength. She could feel the rage that was put behind each attack — yet it wasn’t enough to break her defenses. All she did was either parry or deflect the attacks which only served to anger her opponent further. Which was fine with her, as all she had to do was wait for her opponent to burnout.

That was what it meant to be an Immortal Juggernaut.

She blocked another strike and backhanded her opponent, sending them crumbling to the ground. She stabbed her vibrosword into the ground next to their head. She took a moment to let what happened sink in before backing away. “That’s all for training today,” Koliarria addressed the other members of the Honor Guard.

She returned her Cathar Honor Sword to its place upon her back as the others filed out of the room. She made no move to follow them, instead moving back towards the center of the soaring ring.

It wasn’t that she was disappointed with the other members of the Honor Guard, not truly. They each had been handpicked for their position, so they were among the strongest of the Sith. Yet how could they hope to beat their opponent if they attacked like an apprentice. How could they hope to grow stronger if they simply tried brute force everything they did.

“You fought well, Captain.” Varilia’s voice nearly startled her. 

“You honor me, Lord Wrath.” Koliarria bowed.

“Tell me Captain, why do you hold back during these training sessions?” Varilia inquired.

Koliarria took a moment to gather her thoughts, knowing that holding back wasn’t typical Sith behavior. Then again, Koliarria wasn’t a typical Sith and she had spent her entire life hiding that fact. Not that she thought she had to hide her more light sided tendencies, not now, anyway. Not being in the position that she’s currently in. Not being the Captain of the Empire’s Wrath Honor Guard.

“Each member of the Honor Guard was handpicked by you, Lord Wrath. There is no question as to their strength.” Koliarria clasped her hands behind her back. “These training sessions are meant simply to keep their edge.”

Varilia merely chuckled in response. “Well put, Captain. Still, how would you like to fight someone that you could go all out on?”

Koliarria drew her vibrosword from her back and spread her feet apart. “You do me an honor, Lord Wrath.”

Varilia didn’t respond, her twin lightsabers snapping in her hands and lashing out. Koliarria couldn’t help the grin spreading across her face as she and Varilia fought. Now this was a duel that she could enjoy.

[nightprince]

OC-tober Day 1: Journey

 Day 1 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. This one is about my Sith Inquisitor from Star Wars The Old Republic.

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This was it. This was the culmination of everything that she had done. Everything that she had been through. Everything that she had fought for and sacrificed. This was why they had created the Alliance. This was why she had taken up the role of Commander. This was why she had been frozen in carbonite. It was why Lana had rescued her. Why they had spent so many months fighting against Zakuul.

The Eternal Throne was before her.

Draleeria calmly walked down the walkway, taking all the time she wanted. She paid little attention to Theron and Lana as they remained by the entrance to the throne room. It didn’t matter anymore. There was nothing that could stop her now.

Not the Empire.

Not the Republic.

Not Zakuul.

Not Arcann.

Not Vaylin.

No one.

Not even whatever machinations Valkorion schemed could stop her.

This was her destiny.

She idly wondered if her mother had felt the same way when she had ascended to the Dark Council. Wondered if Sharilia had felt that same sense of triumph. That no matter who had stood in her way — no matter who had tried to stop her — that she had beaten them. That she was the one who remained. That she was the one who stood over their corpse. That she was the one with all the power. At this moment, Draleeria felt closer to her mother than ever before.

Draleeria ascended the stairs to stand before the throne. All she had to do was sit upon the throne and the Eternal Fleet would be hers. Victory would be hers. And she’d proved -  just like her mother - that no matter what or who stood in her way, she would be the only one to remain.

She basked in the rush as she took her place upon the Eternal Throne. Draleeria reached out with the Force, feeling for the connection which would bind the throne to her. It was there, blazing like a beacon. Calling out to those who would dare harness its power. She reached for it, knowing that she was strong enough. Knowing that everything she’d learned throughout her life had prepared her for this. Knowing that the knowledge her mother passed down to her was enough. Knowing the power she’d acquired from Valkorian was enough. Draleeria pressed her will upon the Eternal Throne —

And it reacted to her.

Electricity coursed down the Eternal Throne, enveloping her in a static bubble. She grit her teeth against the pain burning through her body. It was almost too much to bear, and then she remembered. She remembered everything that had been taken from her. Her mothers killed. Her friends and companions missing. Five years of her life stolen. She pushed back with all her power. Bringing all her hate and anger to bear. Just as she thought she would be overpowered —

The electricity stopped.

The Eternal Fleet stopped.

Everything stopped.

The journey for the Eternal Throne was over.

A dark chuckle, all too familiar voice in her head, “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Power exploded out from her. There was a pull and a push and everything went black.

[nightprince]

Day 2: Glass

Day 2 of @oc-growth-and-development OC-tober. This has my female Adaar from Dragon Age Inquisition. Prepare to have your heart ripped out of your chest.

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Solumera hefted her greatsword onto her shoulder, making sure her feet were firmly planted because of the new stance. She glared down at her opponent, daring them to make a move. When they didn’t, she shifted her feet and swung out with her greatsword. The large blade thudded into the training dummy, stopping halfway through. Her eyes narrow, that strike should have gone clean through the dummy. She frowns and yanks her greatsword, nearly snarling when it doesn’t budge. She braces one foot against the training post and once again yanks her sword.

It doesn’t budge and this time she really does snarl. She goes to grip the handle with both hands and freezes.

The stump of her left arm hovers over the handle of the blade.

The stump wobbles and shakes and she can’t look away. Can’t bring herself to admit that everything below the elbow is gone. Can’t shake the phantom sensation of the Anchor’s painful flares.

Can’t shake the scream which tears from her throat as the Anchor’s magic destabilizes, ripping her lifeforce apart at the seams. The unstable magic condensing and lifting her into the air and exploding out and sending her flying.

She’s on her knees, good hand gripping the stump of her left arm. She can feel herself shaking. Yet she can’t stop herself. Can’t pull herself out of whatever it was that was happening to her.

Can’t unsee Solas just standing there. Gazing down at her as the Anchor tears her apart from the inside. As if everything they’ve been through had meant nothing. She glared back up at him, refusing to cry from the pain even as the Anchor slowly killed her. The pain fuels her anger and she shouts her rage at Solas’ back as the elf finally turns away from her. She doesn’t stop even as he steps through the Eluvian. Doesn’t stop even as the ripples fade and she’s left screaming at her own reflection within the glass of the magic mirror.

“Boss?”

“Help me.” She ground out, the nails of her right hand digging into her left forearm. “Get it off.” She whimpers. All there is is pain and it’s tearing her apart from the inside. The Anchor’s poisoned magic is already in her blood and it’s slowly making its way up her arm. She had made sure to keep it covered, but she can still see the green veins. Can still see the glowing green pulses as the corrupted magic traveled up her arm. There’s no saving it now. No denying that once it reaches her heart she will die.

“Get rid of it.” She cries.

“Cut it off.” She begs.

A pair of strong Qunari arms envelop her and the Iron Bull’s voice rumbles from behind her, “I got you, kadan.” He rocks her back and forth. “Breathe with me, kadan.”

She can feel his chest rise and fall with his own breathing. Yet her own are short and ragged and refuse to even out. She can’t think of anything beyond the blinding pain of the Anchor pulsing its corrupted magic along her arm. Can’t think beyond her soul being torn to pieces has its forced to bear a magic that was never meant for it.

“You’re safe.” The Iron Bull’s voice once again rumbles from behind her. If nothing else, she wills herself to concentrate on his voice alone. Letting it ground her in the present. “There’s nothing there. It’s over. You’re safe with me.”

Solumera gazed down at the shard of glass by her knees and idly wondered if she’s as broken as it is.

[taylorswift]

*presses post* *cackles maniacally*

Level: casually cruel in the name of being honest

[nightprince]

@nightsminx