Aug 31, 2023
MIANITE
Quick little directory/introductory post to the (player) cast of Mianite
this will include names, igns, links to povs (if available), affiliation (if applicable), and alignment [long post under the cut]
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Iraq
seen from China
seen from Türkiye
seen from Armenia
seen from Singapore
seen from Poland
seen from China
seen from Jordan
MIANITE
Quick little directory/introductory post to the (player) cast of Mianite
this will include names, igns, links to povs (if available), affiliation (if applicable), and alignment [long post under the cut]
OKAY so I made a playlist of every video that has major lore importance from Jordan's pov in season 1 AND I compiled timestamps for EVERY video for easy consumption
(episodes with the timestamps and context for what happens between episodes under the cut; context is bolded and italicized, stuff in brackets is additional stuff that happens in the episode that is important, but not enough to be in the cut)
“WOAH–”
homie that’s gay
Homeward Bound
The whole universe felt like it had bloomed, like a sea of petals was surrounding him. It was agonizing to push through all the heavy petals, all while making sure he left neither Mot or Dianite behind. And yet, he held that image in his head, of the cinnamon grove inn, the room with all the beds, Tom—
He felt himself appear inside, feeling everything at once. The warm air, the floor under his feet, and by Mianite did he feel dizzy. Tucker collapsed to the floor, shaking, dry heaving. The floor was cold beneath him. His flesh felt too tight, as if his body didn’t belong there, which it sort of didn’t. He looked up, and sighed with relief. Mot and Dianite were there too, looking just a little dazed.
Tom looked at the both of them. Tucker waved, then retched. Sonja walked into the room, Martha peeking up from where she was studying a now sleeping Wag.
“Hi,” Tucker said. Tom opened his eyes, looking curiously at them, until he realized who was there.
Mot finally seemed to regain his senses, and rushed over to Tom’s bedside, Dianite stumbling after him. Mot collapsed by Tom, gathering him into his arms in a loose, gentle hug, wary of the bandages all around his chest, and the one on his knee.
“Mot? Hi, hey, it’s alright—“
“No it isn’t!” Mot snapped, “How did this happen?”
“Fucked with the wrong champion. Ianite’s. Her name is Celia, ya gotta be careful…”
“I have to be careful? You almost got yourself killed!”
Dianite set a large hand on Mot’s shoulder, trying to calm him a little.
“What he’s trying to say is that he cares, boyo. And this was sudden and scary for him. Right?”
Mot nodded, his eyes filled with tears that trickled down his mottled face.
“Martha,” Mot said, “can’t you make a potion? Use something to heal him?”
Martha shook her head.
“I don’t feel confident enough in my magic to do something like that, I’m scared that I would make it worse. And I never really was a healer…” she gently carded her fingers through Wag’s hair. “...I don’t know.”
Mot looked at Tom’s knee, then back to Martha.
“What about potions?”
“I don’t have anything to make them. No netherwart or anything.”
Tom groaned, trying to pull Mot closer to him.
“Celia will hurt you, she’ll hurt you if she finds out about the Dianite stuff… there’s a portal, to uh. To the nether in a place called Kuljät. Dianite is trapped there, and Lev and I are gonna go save him—“
“Not with that knee!” Dianite shouted. He laughed a little, rubbing his face.
Goodness, he was crying. A god, crying. Not the first time he had seen it, but… Tucker stood, the floor swaying under his feet a little as he did so. He looked at Sonja and waved, stumbling over to an empty bed and flopping down. Oh, he’d teleported with two people. He did that! Without any help— Gijsbert would be so proud. And soon enough, this would all be behind them, and they’d be home again. Home.
No more hurt, no more psychotic champions, no more shadows or any of that shit. Just the savannah, and the gods, and his Mianite.
Mot and Tom held one another, and Tucker laid down, trapped in memory.
Wine
Mot had to take a moment to ponder divinity after Dianite’s second glass of wine. It seemed to have left him when they fell, and he was without magic, super strength, or any other protection godhood offered. Just a week ago they’d made stew, and Dianite cut his finger while chopping carrots. Mot had to calm him, wipe away his tears— ‘No, Dia darling, you won’t bleed out from that little scratch, hey, hey, don’t worry…’
So he could be injured with something besides a Kikoku. Which meant godhood could be stripped away. Which meant he could be stabbed. Which meant he could be crushed. Which meant—
“Mot, darling, another glass?”
—Which meant he could get drunk, apparently.
Andor had had two glasses, yet seemed unaffected, and Anya hadn’t touched her glass. Mot hadn’t, either. The wine of Vatredas was nothing like Urulu. In Urulu, they actually grew the grapes, water pumped out of rivers and ancient caves, the sun ripening the grapes wonderfully. This wine, however, he could almost taste the magic used to make the grapes overgrow, the fermentation to speed. Sure, it might not have required any chemical agents, but half of a good wine (in Mot’s opinion at least) was how ancient it was.
This wine, though? Bitter and strange tasting, with a strange metallic aftertaste. He dipped his finger into the wine, able to see a few golden specks on his hands. Magic, most certainly. Hell, it almost tasted spoiled, somehow, even though he had bought it just a week before.
Andor, however, certainly didn’t seem to mind. He poured himself a third glass, all the way to the top. Good gods.
“As I was saying,” Andor said, “I don’t know how the multiverse works. I think only Ianite does, but I come from another land. A place called Ruxomar, and a place that was once known as the kingdom of Dagrun. I was a prince there.”
“And I a god,” Dianite slurred.
“Yes,” Andor said, “he was Dianite. But. The multiverse is vast and never ending, I can understand if you’re confused— honestly. I still am. I like to think of it as a table covered with grains of rice, and each grain is like another universe— there is some space between, though… I’m not making sense.”
Anya looked awkwardly at her glass of wine.
“It does make… some sense.” She looks at the wine. “You know, I had a friend that worked in the vineyards. Making the grapes overgrow. Said that every day, deer came to the fields, shrouded in mist… nevermind. That makes some sense. Why you act so different, reference things that aren’t here…”
Mot looks at Andor. His wings are still up, stretched high and proud.
“Yeah.”
Anya leans forward, wiping some dirt from her face.
“So inertia. That’s a prison somewhere else. In this other universe… did your revolution work?”
Oh boy. Mot took a long drink of the shitty, shitty wine. Andor sighs, deep and heavy. He emptied the glass, then held it in his hands. He ran his hands over it. Behind him, his wings wriggled restlessly.
“No. It didn’t. I was imprisoned and the city was razed. I wanted to establish a democratic government, be rid of the monarchy once and for all!” He seemed triumphant for a second, then he softened, slumping forward a little. “Then I left. And nothing happened.”
One could have cut the silence at the table with a knife. Anya stared at him, confusion and worry on her face, and yet, she stayed silent. Mot was honestly expecting her to start talking, scathing him. Poor Andor. Sure, he had words, but what good were they if he had no clue what to do? Now he was all restless, and—
Anya shrieked. Mot whirled around, drawing his knife. There, right by the table, was an amorphous cloud of flower petals. It swirled violently around itself, a maelstrom of color. Pink, blue, purple, white. Then, it took form with a snap.
Tucker stood before them. He shook a few petals from his hair. Mot stood in shock, staring at Tucker.
“Tucker?”
“Tom’s hurt.”
Dianite stood, then stumbled back, spilling his wine on himself. Hurriedly, he stumbled over to Tucker.
“What happened?” He slurred, “what happened? What happened?”
Tucker looked at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“He fucked up, and got the Champion of Ianite to stab him.”
Dianite’s jaw dropped, brows furrowed, and Mot could see tears falling from his eyes. With a pained cry, he fell to his knees, burying his head in his hands. Mot rushed to his side, Andor shock still at the table.
“Tucker,” Andor said, stunned, “what the fuck is going on?”
Dianite looked up from his hands, sniffling.
“Since when do you curse?”
“Is that important? I’m a grown man. Come on. Tom’s hurt…” Andor looked small and helpless, wrapping himself in his wings.
Mot slowly sunk down by Dianite, softly trying to console him. Being human must’ve done something, made him more… sensitive emotionally. Or it was the wine. Drunk and crying on the floor. Oh, so much had changed.
“I have to go see him,” Dianite cried.
“You can’t walk like this—“
“I have to! I— I gotta go…”
Mot stared helplessly at Tucker, who just sort of stared at him, looking ashamed. He deserved it. Blindly followed a tyrant, dragged them from hell and back, and now look at them. A god, crying drunk on the ground. His god, his lord, his love.
“Tucker, can you teleport more than one person?”
Tucker shrugged, looking a little self conscious.
“I don’t know. I’m not that strong yet, I could try. Yeah, I’ll try.”
The petals on the ground started to swirl again.
“I’ll stay,” Andor said.
The petals rose in a tremendous gust, spiraling around Tucker. He reached out with both hands. Mot took one, Dianite took the other.
And the three of them disappeared in a fury of color.
Home
The streets were empty. Sonja hadn’t been in the city long, but the fact that they were so suddenly empty disturbed her. The night was dark besides the streetlights lit with little orbs of glowing magic, ethereal and strange. Finally, a pale haired person appeared before them right outside of the Inn. It was Martha.
“What’s going on?” She asked. Ladia answered her with a shrug. Martha looked down from Ladia’s face, then met Sonja’s eyes. She gasped, covering her face with her hands.
“Oh my god, Sonja! You’re safe!”
Sonja smiled and charged Martha, squeezing her tightly and sweeping her off her feet, Martha yelping and holding on for dear life as they spun. Finally, she set her down, Martha looking a little dizzy, but still holding on tightly to her.
“We all thought you were—“
“—dead? Yeah, yeah, I thought you all had forgotten about me.”
“We could never forget you,” Tucker piped up from the crowd.
Says the one who let go… no. The rope burned. She had to trust him. Somehow.
She smiled his direction, then turned her attention back to Martha, who took her hand and started leading her into the Inn. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest as Martha opened the door, and her hand slipped from Martha’s grip as she rushed inside. The tavern was empty. Stairs. They were upstairs! She bolted up the stairs, and threw the first door open.
Her breath left her lungs. There, on the bed, was Lev and Wag. And there, on another bed…
“Jordan? Tom?”
The pile of feathers— Jordan’s wings— resting on the bed perked up, revealing a tan face, black hair, and the face of a zombie— awake, but looking worse for wear. Tom’s jaw hung slack in shock.
“Sonja..?”
She ran into the room, Wag standing to crush her in a hug. Tom whined and tried to grab at them, which made them all crouch down by him, making a warm, awkward, crushing pile that Tucker eventually wormed his way into. Tom was babbling, then grabbed her head and kissed her on the forehead. Wag’s face was buried in her shoulder, and he was crying. So was Tom, she was pretty sure.
And for a moment she wondered how she could ever feel shoved aside or forgotten among these heroes, how she ever felt like the odd one out when they wept over her return. But what happens after she’s returned and settled back into their lives? What happens when Mianite realizes that Tucker is the champion, not her?
“There we go,” Wag whispered, “now everything’s back to normal, we’re all together.”
Sonja pulled back a little from the hug, staring at Jordan.
“You all have some questions to answer.”
Tom jokingly saluted, looking pained as he did so.
“I got fucked up by Ianite’s Champion.”
“We got fucked up by Ianite’s Champion,” Lev drawled, their bandages off and revealing the plant matter that thrives under their skin (which was cool as FUCK in Sonja’s opinion), “It was our assbeating. Eh? Also. Ianite’s Champion is my sister, Celia Deorum.”
“Small world.”
“Not very,” Lev said, “but it was your executioner friend who saved us.”
Jordan flushed red. Sonja couldn’t help but smile… that was going against Ianite, she thought, he really was more than hers. Sonja looked down Tom’s body—
“What happened to you?” Ladia asked. She grabbed Jordan’s wing and tugged it off of Tom, staring at his knee. Jordan clamored off the bed and so did Sonja and Wag, giving him space. Tucker stayed close by, brows furrowed in shock.
“I had her on the ropes!” Tom slurred, “I stole her fucking sword. Fuck! Careful!” Ladia touched the bit of blood at his temple.
“Then what?” Ladia asked, voice filled with concern.
“...dunno. My knee. My knee hurts. She, she stomped on it.”
Sonja looked at his knee. God. That was bad.
“How do you feel?” Ladia asked.
“Nauseas, saw fuckin’ stars— where… god. I feel awful.”
“What is your name?”
“Uh. Tom. My name’s Tom.”
“Where are you?”
“...dunno. Wait. The Inn.”
Ladia looked him over, waved her finger slowly in front of his face. He didn’t follow with his eyes.
“Concussed,” Ladia said, “she gave you a concussion. Gijsbert, ice. Ginger—“
“It’s Lev.”
“Sure. Lev, keep his head still. Jordan, there are towels in the bathroom for a washcloth. And Tucker. What did you do with that slash you gave yourself? Please tell me it isn’t infected.”
Sonja glared at Tucker. Why would he— blood magic. If she didn’t have her thaumanomicon and scanner, then why would he have anything of his?
“Got Gijsbert to heal it.”
Jordan stepped out of the room, probably to retrieve something to wrap the ice in. Martha sighed.
“Wings,” she whispered, “he really is an executioner. I can’t believe…”
“I saw him a few days ago,” Sonja admitted, “same with Andor.”
All eyes were on her, Tucker and Wag curious, Gijsbert, Ladia and Lev confuses, and Martha worried. Oh so worried.
“Was he okay?” Martha asked, “he’s not been back here— I’ve not seen him since he left!”
“He’s safe, I’m pretty sure,” Sonja said, “Taking up with the revolution outside of the city wall with a woman named Anya. He gave a really good speech about balance and Ianite and all that. Then Jordan broke in, and he screamed at him, ‘I invite you’. His voice did the wind thing, like when he was on the docks. Jordan ran.”
The room was silent.
“Did Andor see you?”
“No, just Jordan. I don’t know what he’s up to now…”
Tom screeched, Sonja looking over to see Ladia crouched over his bed. She’s cut off his pants above the knee to give herself access, and oh god, it looked horrible. Definitely broken. Bruised, slightly bent the other way… Sonja swallowed.
“Wag,” she whispered, “can you heal this..?”
“No,” he snapped.
“Are you even going to fucking try?” Tucker cried.
Wag stared at his feet.
“No.”
Tucker, Sonja and Ladia all glared at Gijsbert, who held up his hands in defeat, a little snow fluttering down onto the floor.
“Don’t look at me, I’m no healer. I was lucky I didn’t fuck up Tucker’s cut.”
Jordan stepped back into the room, holding a towel that Gijsbert dropped a small pile of ice in. Jordan passed it off to Ladia, wings close to his body, and she held it to Tom’s head.
“Your knee will need a splint. Maybe healing. You won’t be able to walk for a while while it heals. Which may take a while, since the only wizards in this room are… unskilled in healing, and any public healers would probably call Celia on you.”
Tom nodded, Sonja unsure if he even understood what Ladia was saying. Hell, she didn’t even know what Ladia was saying— what had Tom done…? Wait. Lev said… was Tom the man Lev had been looking for? To free their father? She sighed. Oh, that was confusing.
And what was a one-wing? Gijsbert had mentioned it when they were talking... she looked at Jordan, who was standing in the corner, nervously staring at Tom, unsure. Where has that prideful confidence gone? Same with Wag. What had happened to them?
Sonja looked around the room. This whole thing was a little… bittersweet. They were all together again, but so much has happened while they were away.
But they were back together again, wings and spiders and all, with a wide future ahead of them.
She sat on one of the beds, looking at Tucker, Tom, Wag and Jordan...
“Tell me everything.”
And Back Again
Pushing through the crowd took surprisingly long, getting into the library even harder. Ladia was stuck outside holding the door for about half an hour as people came and went. Then, an hour wandering the massive halls of the library, asking around for the librarian. Finally, someone on the second floor with their face buried in a book said he was in his study. So Ladia took her by the hand and led her upstairs. Sonja’s heart was doing somersaults in her chest. Tucker, Tucker could be here. They came to a door. Ladia pounded a massive fist against it.
“Not now!” A voice from inside said.
“Gijsbert!” Ladia bellowed, “It’s Ladia. Open the door.”
The door opened a sliver, then was flung all the way open, a man with black hair, pale skin and heavy bags under his eyes smiled up at them. His grey eyes were lined with black eyeliner. Sonja stifled a laugh— he stood a full foot shorter than Ladia! Sonja looked over him into the study. A black robe laid on the floor, books were everywhere. And sitting at a desk—
She pushed past Gijsbert, the only sound she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. All over she was shaking. Tucker still looked at his book. His shirt was a little loose— she could see a deep scar on his shoulder. He had let her go. She was separated from them.
Yet somehow, she found her way back.
“...Tucker?” She whispered. Tucker froze. He turned around slowly, eyes huge with disbelief. Nervously, she waved.
“Sonja!”
Tucker lept from the chair with a shout, wrapping her in a crushingly tight hug, and Sonja crushed him back. He lifted her off the ground and she squeaked, especially as he started to spin her around, chanting her name over and over again.
“Sonja, Sonja, Sonja— oh my god, we thought you… we were so worried! Sonja!”
Sonja’s heart was in her throat, and she heard herself laughing. He was solid, her best friend.
After what felt like years, he set her down, but didn’t let go. She could feel his shuddering breaths. Tears soaked into her shirt.
“The rope burned when we fell— oh, Sonja! I was so— oh my god. Where were you?”
“Wilderness,” Sonja said, realizing she was crying too, “the middle of nowhere. I met someone named Lev, they took me here— I met Andor, outside the wall. He’s involved in another revolution. And Jordan— Jordan has wings. He’s an executioner.”
Tucker’s brows furrowed.
“Like, he’s killing people?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t kill me, or Andor—“
“Preposterous,” Ladia snaps. “An executioner that doesn’t kill is like a fish that does not swim. Impossible.”
Gijsbert looked at Sonja. “Is he a one-wing?”
“No, he has both his wings. What do you mean, one-wing?”
“Nevermind,” Gijsbert said. Sonja glared at him. He faltered. “Well,” he continued, “Executioners who don’t—“
“I can’t believe he would do something so hare-brained!” Ladia exclaimed, “I thought he was the smart one! I thought he was sensible. Poor thing— I can't believe…”
Tucker wiped his face.
“I can. Believe it, I mean. Ianite means the world to him. I’ve done… awful things…”
“In the name of Mianite? Like the Ianitias?”
Tucker looked at her in shock.
“Oh. Ladias cool?”
“I’m cool,” Ladia repeated. Tucker nodded.
“I’m his champion. Was. Is? Either way. I’ve done awful things, but that comes with the territory. Jordan was Ianites— he always prioritized her. And we got into a pretty bad argument, so… Martha told me he thinks Ianite is like the first Ianite. Or the second one. I wish I could do something.”
An awkward silence fell over the four of them. Sonja took his hand, gently squeezing. He squeezed back.
“We’ll discuss it back at the Inn,” Ladia decrees. “Martha and her boy might be back. Same with Tom. Gijsbert— why’s your robe on the floor?”
“Oh.” He says, a little thrown. “Oh! I felt dreadfully hot, so I took it off.”
Ladia nodded, then stood.
“To the inn?”
Sonja squeezed Tucker’s hand, beaming like a sun in the night. She’d found Tucker— his hands were hot in hers. Wag, Tom, Jordan...
“To our friends.”
Of Monsters and Men