the stone @xhakonx - Tumblr Blog

starter for @xhakonx.

where: leavin ankhuria

when: current timeline

note: let's try this again

As all went their separate ways, Eino tasked himself with accompanying a blind man home. The Ankhurian sands let off a cool air as nightfall came over them, a dangerous time as ever to travel but considering they'd only narrowly escaped death by the jaws of Dumat, Eino was convinced the Wheel would be merciful on their journey home.

“So am I to drop you off at the gates of Avalon where you are to make your ultimate sacrifice?” Eino did not forget what Hakon had mentioned in the tavern, but he wondered then why the other had chosen his sight over the immediate Calling.

xhakonx

Hakon had strengthened his resolve a long time ago. His senses were sharp, his connection to stone, the same stone that threaded itself through the earth, would help him, now. He didn't need to lean on Eino, but his pride took a step back – and he dutifully followed his fellow Legionnaire back to Avalon. His sight was gone, one of those things that as a warrior, had been so precious to him. But now – he would adapt. The stone told him where someone was, his sharp senses weren't dulled – but the visage of what he'd seen, what they'd done, was enough to last a life time.

"If you'd be so kind," his voice was laced with a hint of mirth, though there was little to joke about when another old god was moments from breaking through. "Must be nice you don't get a shot past the Moongate. Lucky son of a bitch."

#eino

einolegion

starter for @xhakonx.

where: somewhere between here and there

when: current timeline

note: hey dere

Not everyone had been situated at Ardentgate and various legionnaires continued to trickle forth toward Amon Sûl from all over the depths of Lysara. A night of rest in some lowly tavern allowed his path to cross with the Stone and even Eino, as still as his mind had become in training, had questions and curiosities. "You started at Amon Sûl, yes? At least that is what rumors are whispered of you," often Eino spoke so cryptically but there was a puzzling bit of a half-smile on the cambion's face, knowing they were soon to face Death in all her devastating glory.

xhakonx

"I did, yes. So did Riandur. Vicoya. Haelim. A few have seen within. But it's been so long, to be honest with you, Eino." He looked at the tavern, those within it who had taken shelter fleeing Ardentgate. Many hadn't left, but some did not take the Blight as a silly story. "I haven't seen you in a while. If we survive Amon-Sûl, I'll be on my way to die in Avalon, most likely."

#eino

anwirxguarded

Who: @xhakonx Where: southreach

Anwir had missed so much but part of him was certain that his cousin would have been in Avalon a place he could no longer go, he could die of old age before his cousin felt the need to leave the safety of their fathers home. It was why he had followed a man in southreach with a familiar face, oddly clad in the distinct colour of the legion. It seemed like they had an encampment here, it made sense with the darkspawn in the area but why Hakons face was amongst them was confusing. He had to warn him that something was coming… or was it already here? It was all to confusing. Eventually they stopped at what looked like a sparing area and while the others were focused on those in the centre Anwir snuck up beside his cousin “black isn’t your colour Hakon.” There was a clear distinction in a lack of physical touch on Anwir part. “How did you come to wear it?”

xhakonx

"Is it not?" Hakon looked down at his black armor, thinking about how plenty of people found it his color. Still, the legionnaire was made for the sun of the Shore, not the edges of the world as he was being pushed towards. Endless darkspawn, coordinated attacks – and now that they were all coming in smaller waves, the presence of the Legionnaire in the South was dwindling. "Anwir. Why are you here?" He skipped the question about why he was with the Legion, the obvious answer settling between them. He'd become Blighted by the Laurelin, one of the unlucky ones, and had joined the Legion to extend his life as he knew it.

#anwir

gaybuckybarnesss

CHARLIE VICKERS The Survivors Episode 5

#more tiddies #mirror

thefluffersblog

Charlie Vickers

#mirror

elokian

Elokian hadn't registered just how weak he was until he started to readjust to having his soul unburdened. He let himself forget who he was in the mystery box and continued to not remember that, for all this time, he simply dealt with his dark passenger. He grips Hakon's forearm to steady himself, but even his grip was weak. Feeling shaky on his feet, he looks around at those who came to help briefly to give a slight nod before his gaze settles on the faiman. "Aye. Another day, another song to add to my canon. The Fool Captain or Landlubber of a Raider both have a nice ring to them." Though Elokian's tongue may have been quick, he felt the way no captain ever should: weak. This was the price to pay for his choices, but all he could do was hope his current state didn't impact his crew. Making it back to his armada without broadcasting that he stepped away for this ritual would be difficult. "You all came for him, but I still owe you each a great debt. And a whole tavern's worth of ale," he says, acknowledging that Hakon came through for him more than he could've possibly imagined. "The strangest thing is that I can't dangle my heroism over your head any longer. I can't even call us even," he mutters to Hakon, still holding onto him. Were his stories, singing, and affections in Avalon worth this much especially after Elokian had chosen the Veiled Sea over its light? He didn't think so, but he was selfish so held on anyway. "I'll make us even. One day. Thank you."

xhakonx

"You are a fool. But you're alive, and lucky, so perhaps everyone else is just as foolish as you." Hakon's words were quiet, but loud enough to be shared with the captain. He'd seen how the other's form was breaking down, the way that the Greater Demon had nearly torn from his chest. The faiman was no stranger to a sight, there was a darkness seen as a Legionnaire, demons that were blighted as much as the darkspawn that would come to haunt his dreams. As it was, he'd been tortured in his own as of late – over and over again – by a silver dragon with horns that did not leave him alone. Doing this for Elokian at least took his mind off of things.

The rest of the Elvhen said their goodbyes, those who'd known the captain from his time back within Avalon, as well as the faiman, until it was the two of them left. "I would say that you owe me nothing, but I quite like the idea of holding something over your head." Despite the fact that they'd never had the plan to return to Avalon, dalliance aside, the Legionnaire turned to face Elokian once more, "You have a ship to return to. And a life. The Kossith are gone for now, but something new will arise in their place."

#elokian 2

loo-nuh-tik

My name is not Halbrand.

The Rings of Power | 2.02

#mirror

@elokian Location: Caer Glas, after the events of the Kossith

Beneath the stoned halls of Caer Glas was a sealed off tunnel. The tunnel used to lead down, further beneath the land, and connect with the ones within the Spine. It had been sealed off ages ago, but the Blight touched every crack, every possible opening – only for the Legion to move in and ensure that the Blight stayed sealed away. Close to these collapsed walls were the cells. Old, hardly used, and never bothered with. The Legion didn't take prisoners; they didn't burden themselves with those who could not be saved.

Elokian had stood in the circle, a few Elvhen from Avalon that Hakon had known. They'd come because he'd asked, because he'd done them a favor in the past. Within the Shore, the Elvhen did not lord favors over one another – but they never forgot. So as Elokian finally stood, freed from the pride demon that had nearly broken down his body completely, it was Hakon who helped lift him to his feet, "Well. You live to see another day."

#elokian

loo-nuh-tik

Welcome to Mordor.

The Rings of Power | 2.01

#mirror

legionariejon

Jon knew better then to let the quite settle him. It was like as soon he stepped out from behind the kitchen of the keep all this training, all his time as a blademaster came flooding back to him. His hand rested on the pommel of a sword that hadn’t been picked up with cause in years. “One would assume they have. It’s difficult for the land to recover from the blight.” Jon knew this because his own presence would stop any growth of his little garden… it was a very barren garden. “Those ships strike me as odd. It’s what you’d use to move troops… and it is leaving.” There was always a difference between civilian and military.

xhakonx

"This place is dead. The Kossith are atteempting to breathe life into something far gone." Itzcoatal itself was lush, some sort of strange place that no one had ventured into, leaving the rest of the world strangers and unprepared for the attack. "They were last seen in Hestia's Cove, but chose Aventia most likely because of their immunity to the Blight. Don't quote me on that, but it makes the most sense. Old Gods were chased into Itzcoatal during the Cataclysm, but their resting places...remain unknown."

#jon

veseniya-tqd

Veseniya crouched beside her fellow Legionnaire in near silence closer to the Kossith and they chaos they wrought on Aventia than many would choose to venture. Hakon, she guessed, was there as a keeper of what knowledge the Legion had on these strange beasts. The spores druid was present because they had taken her friend–or at least she assumed as much given Celaya’s absence–and her duty up to the point of death in the Legion did not sway her. If this was where her service was to end, then let her time at least be useful, she thought. She did not look to Hakon as he spoke, but as always, she was listening.

Thin, pale hands sifted into the underbrush beneath them. Her eyes closed as she curled her hands around the moss and tall grass below. Mycelial networks were far more advanced than most people thought possible–in depth communication systems existed where the fungal growths were visible, and underground sending out messages of resource availability, defense strategies against what impeded growth and threatened life, complex enough to guide fungal reproduction and warn of threats. “Disturbance amongst the mycelium, new growth in other directions,” she muttered after a few moments. “Most likely because of the path and interference of Kossith–I could illustrate, overlay it on a map…” Her hands withdrew from the vegetation below and she looked at Hakon.

xhakonx

He glanced at Veseniya, but his gaze turned back to the Kossith within Aventia. He could see the Arishok, see how he sat on his self-made throne. He could see people collared, magic used by those who stood by them. Hakon hadn't heard of anything like it before, but he knew that there were many people who needed to stay away – many that would need to run far to escape clutches such as this. "That might be best. Their path to Haven will not be bothered or interrupted, I doubt the Queen in Eterna will attack while so many are gone." It was an interesting thought, though Avalon was silent as well. The Old God within would pose a bigger threat than the Kossith on the outside.

#veseniya

diarmad

Diarmad’s last conversation with his brother had been playing on a loop, the genath’asir had been just outside of Aventia at the time, but Deimos -

Somewhere within or across the tides, his brother was held to the whims of these beasts that proclaimed themselves the end all, be all of the Blight.

In the Dark Age the Old Gods and the Forsaken who served them fought one another just as frequently as they fought the forces of the Light. Diarmad likely hadn’t been asked, but he’d been spying and Hakon’s question - either addressed elsewhere or spoken out loud - spurred the dúnedain’s manifestation. “Fanatics that serve without question, absent leadership they’ll fall apart.” The Arishok remained in Aventia, with apparent plans to march North if rumors were to be believed.

"He's still here, their Arishok." Diarmad's eyes drifted closed a moment, watching as the Arishok sat on the self-made throne: eyes shifted as if to lock onto Diarmad's from his purview, then his own eyes opened once more to look back at Hakon.

xhakonx

"Does the Arishok lead his people into battle? Or does he remain from behind, like a man simply pulling strings?" He turned to look at the druid that had joined him, though Hakon's voice remained steady. Any help in this time was welcome, and the Legionnaire could only shift as he watched the Arishok on his throne. "Do you know someone who has been taken?" The Kossith were beginning to move, the war drums echoing across the land that had been scorned by the Blight since Aventia's fall. Nothing new had grown, the Darkspawn now purged, but their legacy lingered.

#diarmad

fukutomichi

The Rings of Power ∙ S01 ∙ Charile Vickers as Halbrand / Sauron "Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age" is the fifth and last part of The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien.

#cinema #mirror

ringsofpowersource

#me when i'm a dark lord who's set a warg upon another man to tear him to shreds but i'm feeling a little silly

#mirror

open to first 3 Location: Just outside of Aventia Notes: Open to other nightingales or legionnaires

The black robe and darkness spell settled around them. The woods were silent in the darkness of the morning, the birds nearly waking, but even they didn't have a song to sing. The Kossith had overtaken the city itself, constant patrols as they decided they would do this their way and control the region as they saw fit. Ships had sailed out of the port, and with the Kossith being just a stone's throw from the border, from the Aetherian's prismatic barrier, Hakon had simply been watching. "The legion only has so much history on the region of Itzcoatal. Most is buried in Amon-Sûl." He was a man of few words, but he had a point to make. "I would assume they have a natural immunity, or resistance, to the Blight. What it did to Iztcoatal remains to be seen. Have you noticed any patterns?"

#starter