Posts made by merlin

Night angel trilogy. Best character arcs I have ever read.

@Ezra

Soooo I have two things I do after dealing with something which breaks me. One is from my time as a paramedic and more of a quick fix. The other is from my time as a now reformed and happily married man whore.

I’ll give you the healthy paramedic answer :

After I saw something horrible, lost a patient or simply made the wrong call when there was no right one to make, I would do the same thing.

I would get breakfast. I would eat and remember that no matter what I just went through, I was still here. I worked graveyard so I would then get myself a drink and watch the sunrise, because there was still tomorrow. And when I woke up from a no doubt troubled sleep, I would get dressed and no matter what, I would keep moving forward. Because once you stop, that is when the doubt, pain and ugliness of it all takes you down.

And our job isn’t done. We are here to create, to save and to bring hope to others who are lost. So remember, you have a job to do. People depend on you and you aren’t done yet.

And on the former man whore note:

Bang as many randoms as possible. Bang their friends. Bang their siblings. Bang their mother and so in a way she talks about you longingly at thanks giving. Then when they call you to patch things up , bang them and tell them you’re sorry but you were just looking for something casual.

The point is to bang. If that was unclear

@mianngu it sounds metal until it 2 in the morning and your getting called because someone covered in poop want’s wrestle. Then your wondering what choices in life led you to being the 2am poo wrangler

Sooooooo, most of my adult life has been spent in the military or as a first responder, so unfortunately I have been there for dozens of not hundreds of worse days. Whether it be in Iraq, as a paramedic or what I do now, your average day is often someone’s worse. That is why we are called after all. No one call 911 just to hang out.

Which is why I have chosen to tell my funniest worse day. It was two in the morning and I was sleeping in the back of my ambulance when the tone alert went off. My partner Mark woke with a loud snort as the blaring alert roused him back to life from a sleep apnea induced death. He was a heavy set man in his early twenties with the health of a man in his fifties. I love him dearly to this day.

I made my way through the small space between the patient compartment to the driver seat and snacked the computer to shut off the alarm. I read the details and swore.

“Mark, get the fuck up here. We got a jumper.”

“So?” Mark groaned, “let the cops talk him down for three hours and let him give up after a bottle of water and a chicken sandwich.”

“Let me clarify. He was a jumper. Now he is a … well whatever the past tense of jump is.”

Dead?

“No,” I said “or you know, why would we be called, right?”

“If you say so.”

So, in short here is what happened prior to our arrival. A guy we will call him bob, decided to try pcp. For those who don’t know, pcp is a fun little drug categorized by super human strength, auditory and visual hallucinations with a healthy dose of straight up psychosis. So bob, Bob does pcp and decides to go for a run on the highway. So highway patrol gets called and bob chooses to run away, leaping off the side of the highway and falling four stories to the ground below.

So, I get there and bob is well, Bob is dead. Bleeding from ears nose and mouth. Hips facing the wrong way. Dead.

Until I walk up to him, and he snarls at me while swiping at me with a clearly broken arm. So, I am a decently masculine guy. A combat veteran. Ran into a burning building and been shot at in the same day.

And after I get done scream like a girl i stabilize him and get him loaded on the gurney filled with drugs and to s hospital where they would ultimately save his life. The entire ride he bit, spit and clawed at me. At the end of the call I was covered in blood, road dirt and other questions substances. I sat in the ambulance after the report was done and looked out the window with a thousand yard stare. Mark chewed on a bag of potato chips .

“That was fucked.” Mark said through a mouthful.

“Yes. Yes it was.”

And then the tone alert sounded. A diabetic in need of a pbj. I was bloody, sore and filthy. I wanted to go home.

And I hit the alarm and went to the next call

@TableTopProphet
@Ezra

I think we are missing the key threat here. Yes, we have to worry about the savagery of a werewolf, lost in the madness of a waxing and waning moon. Yes, we should always be wary of the dark under belly of the vampire syndicate plaguing are cities. But of both of those societies have lived amongst us for thousands of years, unseen by everyday Mortals.

No, we must be wary of the catalyst. The insinuating spark which flares into open apocalyptic warfare between the supernatural races.

Some call her the chosen one.

Others simply know her as the protagonist.

But all know of her story.

Beware, the unreasonably attractive 18year old girl from a small town with conveniently absent parents. For she is the bane to all immortal beings forever trapped as 17 year olds with strong jaws and a premium CrossFit membership.

Fear her. For she is war. She is death. She is the deadliest point of the love triangle.

@SwampCreature

The one that hit the most for me was Quentin Cold water the magicians. His whole story was tragically beautiful. He started out as a kid who was suffering from depression with thoughts of ending it all, only to learn he had Magic and the world he of fantasy that he loved was real.

But once he entered the magical world he quickly learned magic wasn’t going to be the solution to his problems. Even so he continued on, finding love, friends and even becoming the king of this new world. And then it was all ripped away but he kept on fighting.

He was never the hero, not in a traditional sense. He had no great power. At the end of it all, when he learned his true specialty of magic, it was the repair of small objects .

And when the world was about to end , his gift was exactly what was needed. And all it cost him was his life to do it.

Truly beautiful story telling that show

The most beautiful place I ever been was not so much a location but a moment. It was during my second tour in the military and my first to sea. I was the new guy on the ship and was still trying to find my sea legs after my tour in Iraq.

We had hit a port in Thailand and I had rented a house for me snd a bunch of sailers to crash in. Bring young men, we all wanted two things after a month spent at sea.

Booze and women.

So we went out to the beach. I bought a bottle of Thai whiskey and posted up at a bar facing the street. It wasn’t long before the guys I was with found the company they sought. Some tourists looking for a fun night others locals from the town. I talked to a girl from Australia who smelled of cheap beer and fresh flowers she wore in her hair, but my mind was else where and she found someone more engaging.

Soon, young men came from the town, looking to make money off must Thai fights. I placed bets and drank my fill. Around me I watched humanity. The violence. The sex. The booze. A heady aroma of vices.

I walked down the muddy street bottle in hand, while men fought and couples groped and at the edge of it all I saw it.

A elephant and a child.

The elephant was still an infant, smaller than a horse. The child was dressed in traditional Thai garb, as if putting on a cultural show . The child smiled and disappeared in the jungle. A single moment, shared only be me , a child snd an elephant.

And there i stood, drunk with one foot in debauchery and innocence.

And then I left it behind. I drank, I fought and flirted. I took Australian girl home. I was everything a sailor was. Everything a young man at war was supposed to be.

But for a single moment, just for me, I saw the duality of man. The dark and the light. The good and the bad.

Also Thai whiskey is amazing and we all should try it.

@SwampCreature

I would love to run a dive bar in night city in the world of cyberpunk. You never know what you would get to see. Serve a drink to a fixer and an edge runner about to pull a heist. Clean the bar and watch the beginning of a revolution. An oasis set on a dying world, poisoned by corporate greed, a powder keg ready to be set alight by a single errant shot. The beginning of a new world. The death of a dying one. Served one drink at a time

Plus, like robot arms are like super cool.

@mianngu

At the gates to the town, two armies faced. One formed of men and women, fighting for their lives. The other, a horde of rot eating monsters. From her perch on the town gates, Minoka could see the green monstrosities forming loose ranks at the base of the hill the village of Thimble had been built upon.

“Ugly fuckers aint they.”

Minoka leapt as she looked at the Towa, the old woman with short cropped gray hair she had first seen at the fire the night before. She was adorned in thick black leather armor, adorned with studs of tarnished bronze. A hand and a half sword, worn from use but well maintained hung over her shoulder as she stared down at the gather army.

“A very astute observation.” Minoka whispered under her breath.

Towa laughed, a deep lovely sound. In truth, this was the first time Minoka had ever laid eyes on Goblins. They were larger than she had believed, standing at about four feet tall, looking almost childlike in appearance, save for their green skin and bat like ears. What drew her gaze most of all however, was the Goblins mouths. Each bore a gaping grin, extending from one ear to the other. The things appeared to have no lips, only a jagged row of green interlocking teeth reminding her of the carnivorous plants which grew by the many ponds around the Citadel.

“You know, when you kill a goblin, they don’t bleed.” Towa said, casually, “Not like you and I do at least. No, when your blade bites into their flesh, it’s like cutting into a tree. Pulpy and thick. Blood is green too, because why wouldn’t it be. And if you don’t burn the bodies, new Gobs wills sprout from their withered corpse come spring.”

Minoka blinked, turning from the grotesque horde to where the old woman stood at her side. Towa never looked back. Her smoke gray remained on the growing horde. At first there were little more than ten. Then twenty. And then still more. Beating on makeshift shields of wood and bone. Armed with whatever weapons they could steal or make.

“My grandson will be fighting today. He has never killed a goblin either.” Towa said, “That is why I am here. Because I failed him. Told to may stories, of my time as a wandering sword. Filled his head with too many lies of the glory of battle. I wanted him to be a farmer. A barkeep. A fucking shit shoveler. Anything but this. But I failed and now he is here with a bow and arrow aimed at a fucking army of goblins.”

Minoka stared at the woman. If she had to guess, she was nearly sixty-year-old, only a few years older than Minoka herself. Humans lived so short of a time. They fought. They loved. They made families. All in the span of time it had taken for her to feel like little more than a child. Towa was nearing the end of her years on this mortal plane.

And she was spending them fighting by her grandson’s side.

“What is your boys name.” Minoka said.

“Bran,” Towa said, before leaving the wall and joining the ranks of men and women below, “Sing him a song won’t you. A pretty tune for him to die too.”

“I don’t sing those kinds of songs, Ser Towa,” Minoka said, “I sing the songs of heroes.”

Towa stopped at the final step to the wall.

“In my experience, Minoka of the Song, it is the same tune.”

---

“Don’t you have a battle to be preparing for?”

Mosh opened an eye and flashed the annoyed Sinette a smile from where he lay on the cot. Her Golden eyes were narrowed in annoyance, the nails of her hands sharpening to talons as her fingers tapped nervously against her arm. The Naguai girl was doing her best to hold in her rising anxiety. A good trait to have in the person who would be stitching him up later he supposed.

“Anyone tell you you’re kind of pretty when they are facing possible death and dismemberment?

“Charming.”

“I know.”

Sinette turned her back to him, going about the never-ending tasks she had to do before preparing for the battle to come. Brandy on other hand, seemed to be busying herself with getting drunk, taking sips from the various bottles that jangled around her waist. Mosh pushed himself off of the cot, leaping to his feet and placing his hands into his pockets as he followed Sinette about the medical tent. For the girl’s part she did her best to ignore him. It was only as he began juggling various medical equipment Sinette whirled on him, snatching the items from him an annoyed look in her eyes.

“What do you want, Mosh?” Sinette snapped.

“You know who you remind me of?” Mosh asked, ignoring Sinette’s question with the ease of the insane. “My little sister, Bajee. She was like you. Small.”

“Neat.” Sinette said, placing down the glass vials and forceps he had been juggling moments before. In one breath, you think I am pretty. The next you think I am like your sister. How incestuous.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I meant it as a compliment.” Mosh said, leaning against a table. “My sister was the smartest person I knew. You know what her Anima was? A rabbit. A fucking rabbit, born amongst a tribe of wild dogs and wolves.”

Sinette stopped despite herself. It was rare, the thing Mosh was describing. Every Naguai was different, but it was almost unheard of to hear of a sibling Anima being of a completely different species. And for the Anima to be the prey of another was unthinkable.

“Bajee was smart, in all things except me.” Mosh continued, his reddish-brown eyes staring off into a past unseen to any but him. “She wanted to believe I was like her. She wanted to believe I wasn’t like the rest of our tribe. That I wasn’t a monster.”

“Mosh-”

“I told her to run before the full moon rose. Bajee was smart, but not when it came to me. The fool moon came, and the change took hold of all.” Mosh said, “She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to listen. So, I fought, I fought them all. Wolf. Hyena. Coyote. Dog. I held them back and I begged her to run.
Mosh pushed himself off the table, his eyes never meeting her. For the first time, Sinette looked at the numerous scars that crisscrossed man’s bear arms and chest. Scars formed from claw and tooth. Mosh didn’t look back as he made his way out of the tent, only stopping at the billowing flap of the way out.

“Bajee was the smartest person I knew.” Mosh said, “And when she saw the fight could not be won, Bajee ran. Know when to run. Know when the fight can no longer be won.”

---

The ground shook as a heavy shadow fell over Caelus. He didn’t bother to look up as he hurriedly worked trigger to the large ballista, he had hastily made with less than a few hours’ time. Too hastily it seemed.

“How is it looking, Caelus?” A gravelly voice boomed behind him. Caelus cast an annoy look over his shoulder, his temper rising at the asinine question only to die in his throat as he saw the monster looming over him.

Caelus had known Naguai in his day. He had fought beside them during his time in the town Militia in his hometown of Knot. He had always believed them to be wild men, little more than beasts. A useful too when one need to beat an enemy back. But Rowan, Rowan was something different all together. A berserker, fully in control of his curse and able to change at will. His very aura radiated madness, a madness which seemed to affect all who laid eyes on him. Even Caelus, with his advanced mind and self-control could feel the touch of Rowan’s power.

The Leader of the Vagabond arms now stood some thirteen feet in height, not counting the massive antlers adorning the Naguai head like a dark crown. Rowan had discarded his tunic and trousers, choosing to wear instead a large kilt formed of stripped leather. The large bronze war hammer was now held in a hand twice the size of Caelus’s head. Caelus clenched his teeth as he looked into the dark brown eyes of the Naguai’s gaze, white fur covering every inch of the man face.

“The trigger is broken.” Caelus said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I need more time.”

Rowan turned his gaze away from the man, peering over the walls and looking at the gathering army at its gate.

“Time is something we don’t have.”

“I-I can fix it.” Caelus sputtered. “And I have fire carts set up. The villagers are ordered to fire once the other goblin camps come into range.”

“Do that.” Rowan said, turning toward the village gates. “I will buy you what time I can, As will the others. We need you Caelus. I know you won’t let us down.”

There were no other words. The time for words had passed. A roar escaped the giants throat, echoing loud throughout the village walls and reverberating in the hills beyond. A rally cry rose in response as the twenty-four members of the Vagabond arms charged out the gate to face an enemy outnumbering them ten to one.

---

Gobnob had lived a good life, in Goblin terms at least. He had been alive long enough to see four springs. He had killed a dozen fluffy wool gobs. Kill one of the ugly tall gobs and left him out to rot for a dozen moons before eating his intestine. He had eaten a lot of maggots and flies. And today was the best day of all.

Because today he was going to war.

Gobs loved wars. They loved stabbing and bludgeoning and tearing flesh. They loved the sound of dying men and women. The smell of blood and shit coming from dying pale gobs. The cries of tiny ugly gobs when they were pulled from there cribs. Today Gobnob was going to find his way in the village and eat one of those screaming things fresh. Gobnob loved his meat cold and dead, but he would make an exception. You only live once after-

A guttural cry escaped from his left. He turned to see one of his clan brothers with a stick protruding from his left eye. The Gob stumbled back and forth, swinging an axe mad of a moss-covered stick and the jawbone of a fluffy wool gob. The air whistled by his side and two more stick poked out of the other Gobs chest. The Gob fell then and Gobnob took his axe. He liked the dead Gobs axe. It went well with his spear. Looked good for killing Ugly tall Gobs.

Gobnob looked up the hill to see a group of Ugly tall gobs charging toward him. Most looked like the one he had killed, with their long limbs and ugly not green skin. Some wore hard beetle like shells and carried cutting sharp shiny blades. Others wore weird soft loose skins shooting sticks and carry small point blades. But others, seemed to Gob of which he had never seen.

One charged froward, big spear crown tearing through two other gobs. Another pounced biting snarling slashing. Another, fucking was screaming rhyming words, cutting with a stick of bow and hair. Gobs was so confused for a moment he forgot about the killing he was so looking forward too.

For a moment.

An ugly tall Gob swung at him with a shining metal sword, ripping through his right ear. Gob nob screamed. He rolled under another slash, nearly taking off his beautiful green head and thrust out with his spear. The tall Gob let out a grunt of pain as the bone tip of his spear glanced off of her thigh. Gobnob let out a cry of delight. It was a small wound, but enough for the poison to take its grip. He leapt on to the tall Gob then grabbing a handful of silvery gray hair as he snapped at the tall Gobs throat.

The Gob appeared old for her kind, though it was hard to tell with Gobs so ugly. Still, the Gob was strong. A large hand gripped Gobnob by his leg and swung him off. He landed hard in the dirt, the tall old Gob standing over him, blade raised over head. Gobnob roared lashing out with his new axe and catching the Gob just below the ribs. It cried out in agony as it brought the shiny metal blade down, driving the tip through his rib cage.

Gobnob gasped as the blade pierced his spine pinning him to the earth. He wheezed out a guttural snarl of hate as the old gob drew out her sword and took off another Gobs head. He was dying. He wasn’t supposed to die. Gobwrot hadn’t told he was going to die. No, Gobwrot had promised they would kill the ugly tall Gobs. Why else would they let the slithery black rot into their dens. Why would they build an army if Gobnob was going to die.

Gobnob did not get contemplate his death for long. He did not get to lament the lost chance of eating babies and the feast of rotting corpses he was promised. His mind became occupied by other things. Largely, the giant hoof of a Naguai berserker.

---

Rowan let out a grunt of disgust as his foot crunched a goblin skull as his hammer exploded another. Beside him Towa staggered, falling to her knee as her blade cut a goblin from head to crotch. She looked pale, white spittle forming on her lips as she pushed herself forward. A moment later she stumbled. Only to be caught by a young man with brown floppy hair.

“Grandmother,” He cried, “You hurt. You need to go to the medical-”

The boys head whipped back as the back of Towa’s gauntleted hand caught him under the jaw. He fell to the ground eyes wide with shock as the old woman whirled on him grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to his feet.

“What do you think this is, boy?” she snapped, “This is war. We fight. We get hurt. We move on. You want to be a killer? You want to find glory in battle. This is it. This is all there is. So, either run on home or fall behind me a shoot your fucking bow.”

Towa shoved her grandson back, knocking him back two steps before marching forward, kicking a charging goblin in the head, and stomping its head in with her boot. Rowan moved forward as well bringing his hammer down on a Goblin archer and killing another with his fist. Three arrows buried themselves in his chest. He tore them out with snarl of pain. The poison meant little to him. His body would burn off most of it. Brandy would take care of the rest.

“Tough old bitch aint she?”

Rowan turned to see Mosh dash past, spinning wildly as he threw a pair of bone knives into a couple of goblins eyes. A large goblin, standing some five feet tall bellowed as it charged the crouched Naguai male. The young Naguai male howled in delighted as he sidestepped the blow and raked the Gobs eyes out with his clawed fingers. With his free hand he ripped the club out of the Goblins hand and beat him with it until his skull was little more than green pulp. Mosh stared at the club admiringly before extending it to Rowan.

“Did you get one? You know they are just handing it out. Like for free!”

The air whistled as a barrage of poison tipped spears shot toward the pair. Rowan swore as he threw his hammer at the ambushing goblins hiding behind a boulder set at the base of the hill, catching one of the spear throwers dead in the chest. He leapt back, barely avoiding the spears as Mosh let out a bellowing laugh, catching a spear with his free hands and spinning out of the way of the others. He landed on the boulder, shouting with glee before pouncing on the ambushing goblins.

By the time Rowan made his way to the young Naguai the Goblins were dead and Mosh was carrying a bundle of poison tipped spears, a wolfish grin on his face.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” Rowan murdered grabbing his hammer.

---

Green blood splattered Minoka’s face as she dashed through the battlefield, slicing wildly with her violin bow. Somewhere in the chaos of it all she had lost the group of mercenaries she had befriended the night before. But as moved blindly about the battlefield she found herself swarmed, with little time to think of anything but what was right in front of her.

Minoka had once believed herself a soldier. She had stood beside Malc as he raged his rebellion against the crown. She had watched as men fought and died, believing herself to be amongst them by their leader’s side.

She was wrong.

War was not some glorious thing. It was terrifying, loud, and horrible. She watched as a man was disemboweled, crying out in agony as Goblin ripped the flesh from his face with those savage green fangs. She slipped in and fell to her knees in mud formed from red and green blood. She tried to push herself up, only to barreled over by a mass of stout green muscle, jagged green fangs snapping at her throat.

Even with her inhuman strength she couldn’t get the leverage to push the thing off of her. She tried desperately to hold the thing back, but with every snappy bite the Goblin drew closer to her throat, black beady eyes rolling mad with blood lust. She cried out as a jagged tooth drew a burning line of bubbling blood as it bit down into her flesh.

“No, no, Gods please no!” She cried.

The goblin suddenly jerked, convulsing for a moment before going forever still. The weight was suddenly ripped off of her as a strong hand pulled the goblin off of her by the ear. She was yanked to her feet by a young man with mud speckled hair and dark grey eyes.

“Are you hurt?” he shouted over the roar of battle, “Can you fight?”

“Y-yes.” She shook her head for a moment before answering. “I just got overwhelmed for a moment.”

“Yeah, me too.” He said, “I-I am Bran. I never fought like this before. Never fought at all really. The Goblins, they got past the front line. Me and some of the other archers are holding them back as best we can, but they are going to make it to the gates.”

Minoka stared at the battle around them, at the dozen or so men and women still standing swarmed by goblins. A few had managed to stagger past the lines of mercenaries and were making their way to the medical tent. Most did not.

“We are going to lose.” Minoka said. It was strange to say it out loud. To admit she was going to die today. To bring a voice to the realization they were all going fail was painful, but also brought her peace. After all this time, it was over. At last, she would pay for all the evil she did. It was something she could-

Her thoughts were cut off by a fist colliding with her face. It didn’t hurt so much as catch her off guard. She blinked as Bran caught her by the collar and yanked her within an inch of his face.

“What do you think this is? This is war. We fight. We get hurt. And we move forward.” He yelled. Minoka blinked. Bran seemed as shocked by his own words as she was as he let her go and drew another arrow from his quiver. “So, either run on home, or help me kill some fucking goblins.

---

Towa staggered forward, blood tinging the white foam on her lips as she raised her sword again over head.

Twelve.

A goblin screamed as her blade shredded bone and muscle, biting through the goblins right collar bone, and embedding itself in its pelvis. She grunted as an arrow whistled through the air, its tip cutting a line of fire across her cheek and ear. Her hand shot the side of her face, the torn Cartlidge blazing as poison at away at the severed ear. Her eyes shot down the path of the arrow toward where the goblin archer stood, small, clawed fingers reaching for another shaft from its quiver. She pressed a boot against the dead Goblins torso and ripped her blade free.

Thirteen.

She was a foot away from the Goblin archer when an old woman rushed past her, driving the tips of a pitchfork into its chest, and pinning it to the earth. The woman, older than even her turned toward Towa, and smiled. It was the last thing she ever did before the bone club of a Goblin shattered her skull.

“No!” Towa roared, as a trio of Goblin brutes leapt upon the dead woman’s corpse. She lashed out with her all her rage, Cutting the first across the middle. The second thrust her with a spear, missing her by an inch as she whirled out of the way. She fell to her knees, slipping in the blood-soaked mud as she buried her blade to the hilt in the Goblins guts.

Fourteen. Fifteen

The last Goblin slammed into her, its protruding fangs tearing into her shoulders. She screamed out in agony as the ugly green thing slammed her into the dirt. Its claws tore at her armor as its head shook wildly rending her flesh. The world narrowed and darkened, her limbs turning to lead as the goblins mauled her dying body.

*Tell me another story, Nana.

Tell me of how you saved the villagers from a dragon.

When I grow up, nana.

I

Want

To Be

Just Like

You.*

“No!”

The world came back in a rush as her head slammed into the face of the Goblin tearing at her flesh. Her hand caught the gnashing fiend by what little excuse for a neck it had, tearing the things teeth from her shoulder. She kicked off the muddy earth and rolled on top of the Goblins squat body, teeth still snapping at her as it struggled under her grip.

“Twenty. Twenty. Twenty.” She snarled, punctuating each word with a pound of her gauntleted fists. “Twenty. Dead. Fucking. Goblins.”

The odds had always been that. Ten to one. Ten for her. Ten for Bran.

Twenty and she could say she covered his shared of death. Twenty and Bran would live. He would have to live.

“Towa!”

Towa whipped her head to the left as a Goblin screamed in its guttural tongue, axe raised over head. She didn’t have time to block. Didn’t have time to move. Only wait for the bite of the axe to-

The goblin whipped back as if pulled by invisible strings, a spear slamming into its chest and suddenly arms were wrapped around her waist. She looked down to see the pulped skull of the dead goblin. Fragments of bone and viscous green blood coated her arms. Only then did she see the twin blades of bone sticking from her gut. Goblin made daggers. Her vision spun as she fell against the blood matted hair on Mosh’s chest.

“Get her to the medical tent, now!” Rowan roared.

“Twenty.” Towa gasped. “I owe you twenty.”

“What the fuck does-”

Rowan’s words were cut off by a bellowing roar across the field of battle. Out of the haze of her swirling vision she saw it. She saw him. A Goblin, standing as tall as any man, with an arm made of swirling black tendrils and carrying a sword of black obsidian. A low snarling growl reverberated throughout the hills as the sun fell below the horizon. Six Enormous dogs, three on each of the Goblin chieftain’s side emerged from the mine shaft. Black tendrils twitched from a dozen stab wounds in the dead dog’s sides and behind him the cry of the goblin reinforcement roared.

“Get her back to the village Mosh.” Rowan said, fear tinging his words for the first time, “And tell Caelus to fire the damn Ballista and everything he has left. Send the others back to protect the village.”

“Rowan,” Mosh said, his voice soft, “What about you.”

“Mosh, Go.”

And with that Rowan broke into a run. Straight toward the Goblin Chieftain and his gathering horde. In that moment, as the poison raged her body, Towa had a singular moment of clarity. A single moment when she realized who Rowan was.

Rowan Whitehorn was not a born leader. He wasn’t the man who brought people together. At his heart, when everything was boiled away Rowan was one thing. He was a man who time and time again had found himself being an immovable wall. A thing one placed before an unstoppable force, to see which one would break first.

And that was why he had formed this Vagabond arms. To gather those who fought, for those who would answer the call and place their lives in danger for those who could not. Rowan had sought to build a home for the wandering warriors in the land who would answer the call of the weak.

And For Rowan, those men, and women he called his own, was worth breaking himself over.

---

Back, at the village Brandy and Sinette treated the wounded as the call for retreat rang throughout the town. Sinette, hand shook as the axe wound to the young man face stitched itself close. The air filled with the verdant scent of her Magick as the man, let out a groan of discomfort.

“You will be fine.” Sinette, said stumbling slightly as she her head spun with exhaustion. “The poison will burn away soon, and you will fell a little-”

“I need a medic, now! I am losing her.

She turned as Mosh burst into the tent, carrying the unconscious form of Towa in his blood-soaked arms. Brandy gestured to a cot and Mosh set her on it. The old woman’s eyes were rolled back in her head and her body shook with convulsions. Blood poured from multiple lacerations, an arrow and two daggers protruded from Towa’s Torso. Sinette ran to a table and grabbed a bundle of boiled gauze, a sewing needle and a handful of medicinal salves. When she came back Brandy staggered back, eyes filled with a look of shock and terror.

“Where is he.”

“I don’t know.” Mosh said, “he ordered the retreat and then-”

“Rushed head long into the fray without a thought.” Brandy snapped, looking around the medical tent filled with wounded and dying soldiers. “Of course, he did.”

Mosh snarled and pounded his fist against the leg of the cot.

“I shouldn’t have left him. I should have stayed and-”

“Died.” Brandy snapped, yanking a thin metal vial from her corset. “All you would have done is die, boy.”

“Nana!”

Sinette looked up to see Bran, stumble inside half carried by a bloodied and battered Minoka. The boy all but fell by his grandmother’s side, hands shaking as they reach toward the hilt of a dagger buried in her gut.

“Stop that!” Sinette snapped, “We have to leave it in until I am ready to close the wounds. She will bleed out if I don’t.

Bran reached down and grabbed the old woman’s hand. Tears running freely down the boy’s face. To her surprise the woman squeezed back. Opening eyes seeming impossibly tired she opened her mouth croaked in a voice that seemed far too strong for a woman in her state.

“Sixteen.” Towa said. “I only killed sixteen. I am sorry.”

“What?” Bran said.

“Twenty, my heart.” Towa said. “Ten for me. Ten for you. It was a deal made with the dead gods. Twenty and you live. I didn’t keep my promise. I. Am. Sorry.”

Her eyes fluttered and she was lost again in unconsciousness.

Bran wiped the tears from his eyes and got to his feet. He winced as he placed weight on his ankle. Behind him Sinette watched as Brandy untwisted the cap to the vial and pulled out a small eye dropper. Three drops of a blood red fluid in each eye and the woman stumbled to a the side of the tent grabbing a pole for support.

“Two.” Bran said, suddenly seeming older as he pulled his shoulder. “I killed two goblins. I have to kill at least two more and she lives. You hear that doc. I kill two more and you save my grandmother.”

Sinette looked at the old woman. Her body ravaged by poison and goblin blade. It was a miracle she had last this long. In any other situation she would have slipped her the sleeping poppy and let her pass painlessly from this world.

“That is the deal.” She said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool.” Brandy said., her voice rising to a shout. “Save the woman and everyone else. You kill some Goblins. “Caelus, I know you can hear me, get those fucking ballista’s working. If there are any questions, ask the little bird while I am out.”

“Where are you going?” Mosh asked, leaping back as the tent pole shattered in Brandy grip. Sinette felt her throat tighten as Brandy turned to face her, rivulets of blood pouring down her cheeks from eyes transformed. The whites had been swallowed up by smoldering red cracks of burning ash, a black slit replacing the pupils. She had seen eyes like that only once before, when one of the princes of Oberon had flown into the woods near her tribe. Brandy plucked a vibrating vial of bubbling liquid from her belt and downed it in a single gulp.

“I am going to save that fucking idiot with whom I stupidly fell in love.”

And in a gust of wind the woman was gone, the flap of the tent billowing behind her.

“What the fuck was that.” Minoka asked.

“I have an idea,” Sinette said, “but it’s an impossible one.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bran snapped. “We have to defend the village and kill these fucking goblins. Minoka, come with me to the walls.

The young man stormed out. Minoka blinked in confusion staring at the pair of Naguai before slowly backing out of the room and following the young man, a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Is it me or is the princess beginning to crush on the farm boy.”

“I don’t have time for your madness, Mosh.” Sinette snapped as she laid out her medical tools, “In case you haven’t noticed the woman I was apprenticing under just went running off into a warzone, leaving me with a tentful of wounded.”

Mosh took in a breath crouching by her side.

“What do you need?”

Sinette let out a slow breath and steadied herself before going about the business of saving Towa’s life. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but stare at the metal vial laying on the floor by the broken tent pole. She had seen eyes like that before, but not by the prince of Oberon.

But by the dragon he had flown upon.

@SwampCreature

I actually had to look up actors to match the image in my head. Closest I could find was Ezra miller, with longer hair.

@SwampCreature

I have quite a few, but I think it would have to be a character in my latest WIP. Severin Moth

Severin is seen as the most beautiful Prince of the kingdom of Moth. He has flowing black hair, dresses in the finest silk robes. He smells of flowery scented oils and wears a thin layer of body powder to make himself look inhumanly beautiful. He spends his time in brothels and opium dens, intermingling with the darker parts of society, gathering little birds who feed him information on all the seven kingdoms.

He is also known as the poisoned prince. His gift has made his blood a poison, his sweat an alluring scent, his saliva a hallucinogen and his bite a paralytic. Under the finely applied powder his skin is yellowed with jaundice and covered in black veins.

Because of this, Severin keeps everyone he loves at a distance. His sarcastic nature plays down his fear of killing anyone who grows to close to him

@mianngu

Rowan looked at Sinette’s small form trembling as she held his hand, the calloused mitt dwarfing her own. He looked into eyes too young to hold such pain. Eyes of a woman who had spent her life hearing that she was a monster from others only to lose control and prove it to be so.

“You’re not asking me to stop you from hurting people.” Rowan said. “Speak plainly. Tell me what you expect of me.”

“I am a monster.” Sinette spoke, “You kill monsters. You save people from monsters. I am asking you to do your job.”

Rowan sighed pulling his hand free from the young woman’s grip. The chair groaned as he leaned back. He had shifted to a nearly pure human form. The effort was draining, but necessary with the panic Mosh had caused in the town square and with Sinette’s episode.

“You’re right, I do kill monsters and if you say you’re a monster I guess I’ll kill you. How you want me to do it?”

Sinette blinked as Rowan stood from his chair and began stretching his back. Then his shoulders and neck. Soon the man was all but doing jumping jacks in preparation for her mercenary assisted suicide.

“Rowan, I am serious.” She snapped, “I am losing control. People have been hurt. People have been k- “

Her words were stifled as the Man’s giant hand palmed her face, his fingers teasing into her hair. She gripped his hand with both of hers, trying in vain to pry it free from her face.

“I am serious too.” He said his words, suddenly cold, “Do you want me to crush your skull with my bare hands? Should I use my hammer? Or simply break your neck.”

Sinette felt her heart falter as Rowan’s grip tightened. Was he serious? Would he truly take her life? She had all but asked him to do so, but now that it was real so etching in her hesitated.

Then she saw their faces. Her brothers, her family, her tribe. All destroyed because of what she was.

“Do whatever you think is best “she whispered; her words muffled by Rowan’s hand.

Through his grip she felt his shoulders slump as a slow exhale of breath left his body. He removed his hand, and his dark brown eyes met her. He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face and smiled.

“Hammer it is.”

In the time it took Sinette fully to process Rowans words, the giant Naguai man had took a single step back drawn the Bronze war hammer from the metal ring on his belt and drew it back for a swing set right between her eyes. Sinette felt her mouth fall open as the massive head of hardened bronze rushed toward her.

A loud ringing filled her ears, A deep gong that revibrated down her spine and rumbled in her chest. The ringing came again, and again and again. Five bells.

“Well, fuck.”

Sinette sat cross eyed, feeling the cool metal pressed against her forehead pull away and bounce gently against Rowans shoulder as he squinted out the window. Only then did she see the slowly darkening sky. In the town square some twenty men and women stood, nervously waiting for the battle to come.

“Sorry, Sinette, but I think I may have to take a rain check on your murder.” Rowan said, shaking his head in apology. “Tell you what though. Let me fight this war really quick and first thing in the morning, you’re dead. Promise. Unless I am killed in battle. Or get my arms and legs chopped off and have no Shaman magicks to put me whole. Unless of course you think you can help with that? What you say, help me and our people survive this battle, and I will kill you dead first thing. Sound good?”

Sinette stared at the man who had once been her savior in the woods, then her employer, then executioner and yet somehow again her boss again in the matter of hours. He beamed at her with a confidence of a man not about to fight a battle against an enemy that outnumbered his men five to one. All for a village of humans who believe him more beast than man. With a newly formed ban of mercenaries who seemed greatly more interested in killing each other than goblins.

And she laughed. A sound so far gone from her ears it startled her as much as it amused her. Rowan smiled and ruffled her hair before getting on one knee as he looked at her eye to eye.

“Is that a yes.”

Sinette only nodded, her throat occupied with the rising bubble of laughter as she stared into the man’s eyes.

“Good. Now go find Brandy at the triage tent she set up just inside the gate. She will no doubt be looking forward to meeting with you.”

The thought made Sinette’s laughter die, but before she could say anything, Rowan was walking out the door.

In the town square, Minoka stared at the young human, iron blade held tight in his grip, eyes narrowed in rage. Blood stained his cheek, his clothes stained with the gravy of the meat pies he had been thrown in. Yet, She knew none of that mattered, not compared to the damage she had done to the man pride. Minoka let her eyes move from Caelus, too the sideward glances cast her way by the villagers and mercenaries as they busied then themselves with their task.

A smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she thought of the Young Naguai’s threats. Mosh might have been insane, but at least he knew how to use his madness for good. The thought brought her back to the man before her. Caelus, the artificer armed with his iron blade and shield, his mere presence an afront to her people. And yet he was a genius. If not for him, they wouldn’t have had a plan to begin with. The war would be over before it began.

And yet she couldn’t believe the man to be good. He was too cold, too calculating. He saw those around him as things to be controlled and used. He saw Mosh as little more than a dog needing to be broke in. A belief she had seen shared another.

When one is faced with protecting one’s family, it is nothing to sic one’s dog on the threat. The dog might die, My love, but at the end of the day that is what a dog is for. Something to be sacrificed so its betters may live.

Malc’s words sent a shiver down her spine, as her hate doubled for the man before her. Yet, she knew instantly the hate was not for Caelus. No, her hate belonged to another. To the one she had left her scarred and broken. To the one she had betrayed all those she had loved.

To the man whose life she had sworn to take.

“We don’t have time for this.” She said, finally, “Build your little war machines. Maybe it will keep you alive long enough for me to break your neck later.”

Minoka didn’t wait for Caelus to respond. As she made her way back to the tavern, she heard a man scream “Hyah,” followed by the boneless thud of a body against the dirt road.

“I don’t even want to know.”
——————

“Surely, Mr. Whitehorn, you wouldn’t want the reputation of the Vagabond Arm’s tarnished by the activities of your mercenaries. A respectable gentleman…” The mayor drew the word out until all that rang in anyone’s ear was “Man”. “Would ensure his customers are satisfied.”

Minoka watched as Rowan’s cheeks grew a darker shade of crimson, the tips of his antlers growing an inch or two from his skull as he sat, listening to as the bloated eel of a mayor stoked the flames of hate and dissent toward the Mercenary band who they themselves had called upon for aid.

Only an hour had passed since the fight in the square followed only shortly by Mosh kicking in the door as he carried in the Unconscious Naguai girl who had joined them the night before. Rowan’s second in command had trailed behind, looking unabashed by the torn and bloody garments she wore as she sat at the bar and ordered a pitcher of ale.

Around her the crowd cheered, pumping their fists in agreement.

“So,” The mayor, continued, a toothy grin spreading like a plague over a wobbly chin, “How do you intend to satisfy us, my good man.”

All eyes turned to the large man sitting on a barstool which seemed eternally too small for its occupant. A fact that only changed, as the man stood, the floorboards creaking as Rowan’s for shifted and grew. The dark brown of his hair went gray, then silver and finally white, sprouting on his cheeks and brow. The loose tunic writhed and stretched as muscles elongated and bunched under his skin. Most noticeably of all, however, was the twisting crown of bone, scraping the wood of the low ceiling as the antlers sprouted, twisting toward the sky.

Minoka gripped the wooden handle of her violin’s bow as the room filled with gasps and startled murmurs as the crowd backed away from the massive Naguai Berserker towering over their mayor. Her hands trembled as a wave of tension washed over her, pouring out of the berserker as he showed the raw power and level of control he held over his curse. Her eyes shot to Mosh, the young Naguai trembling as red fur sprouted from his arms and claws burst from his fingertips. Brandy placed a hand, still covered in cuts and slashes from what ever happened in the village before. Mosh seemed grateful for the woman’s touch, as he emptied the contents of his ale down his throat.

So, this is the power of a Naguai berserker. Minoka thought, struggling to control the trembling in her fingers.

“Right now, Mayor,” Rowan said, his voice a deep baritone. “I don’t really give a fuck about your satisfaction. Pay us what we are owed or don’t. Just keep in mind, however, after the battle is done, after the goblins are killed, the men and women who did so will be in your gates.”

“Are you daring to threaten me, Mr.-”

“I don’t make threats, Mayor.” Rowan said, gripping a too large hand on the rotund man shoulder. “Do you feel threatened? I would not want you to think me not a gentle…man.”

Minoka released a breath she didn’t know she was holding as Rowan returned to his normal size, all to comforting smile back in place. At the bar mosh, let out a trembling laugh tinged with a little too much madness. A sound, which echoed over a crowd of villagers to terrified to make a sound.

“Now, Mayor,” Rowan said, giving the man’s cheek a gently jiggling slap. “If you don’t mind, I have some war machines to check on. A long with a scared girl who lost control of her curse. I am sure I will see you on the front lines when the battle begins.”

And without another word the Head of the Vagabond Arms walked out the door. Leaving Minoka alone in a room of scared villagers. It wasn’t long before the whispers started. What would happen when the battle was done? How could they know those Naguai beasts wouldn’t go feral, killing them just as they did the goblins? They had to be ready. There was a store of weapons in the mayor’s villa. All they had to do was get to the villa while the battle was being waged and they would be ready. All they had to do was-

“You know what I hate about men.”

Minoka, nearly jumped as the woman spoke in her ear. Brandy, sat by her side, a vial of a strange iridescent blue liquid slowly twirling between her fingers.

“What?” Minoka stammered.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re going to want to do better than that.” She said, popping the cork off the bottle and spitting it on the floor. “If we are going to save this thing, we call a mercenary company I need you to be much more eloquent with your words.”

With a toss of her head Brandy tossed the mystery concoction down her throat, wincing as it went down. A heartbeat later and the wounds covering her body began to his, the smell of burnt ozone filling the air as they stitched themselves closed. A small burp came from the woman, as silver stream of smoke escaping her lips.

“As I was saying, what I hate about men is their strange need to solve conflicts by swinging their dicks around like Billy clubs.”

Minoka, opened her mouth to speak, stopped and simply picked up her mug to down more ale. Despite her best wishes, Brandy continued.

“It never solves anything. Look at the mayor, the weaselly prick behind the podium. Now he doesn’t have much to work with, but goddamn if he won’t talk a big game about it. Hell, talking about how much of dick he has got him that big villa overlooking the town. Hell, words were wieners he would be-”

“Please stop.” Minoka said, waving down Mosh and taking his pitcher of ale.

“What’s up.” The young man said, plopping down next to her.

“We’re talking about wieners.” Brandy said, uncaring of who was around her.

“Oh, cool.” Mosh said, resting his chin on his palm as he looked from Minoka to Brandy, “well, go on.”

“Of course.” Minoka muttered under her breath.

“Now, Don’t you think I am saying I prefer Rowans way of manhood measuring either. You think just dropping it on your opponent’s head is going to do anything to calm the masses. No, of course not. One look at that one eyed monster and the villagers are looking to grab their pitch forks and torches.”

“Is there any point to this, conversation or am I not drunk enough to understand.”

“yes, to both” Brandy said, “The point is, men are stupid. And after all that dick swinging nothing has been solved. Which is where us women have to come in and set things right.”

“And me too.” Mosh said, beaming “I want to help!”

“Of course, you do, Mosh. Because you’re a good egg.” Brandy said, pinching the young man’s cheek, “A crazy egg but a good one. You want to help too, don’t you princess.”

“I am not a princess.” Minoka muttered.

“But you sing like one.”

Minoka looked at Brandy, seeing the mischievous look in the human woman’s eyes. Humans always said her kind couldn’t be trusted. As if the gift of Magicks made them somehow any less conniving than their own kind. Yet, in all her years of life, she had never met a more conniving mind than that of a human.

“What do you want me to do.” Minoka said, “Speak plainly. No twisted words and for the life of me no talks about penises.”

“I think the plural is peni” Mosh said, taking back his pitcher and draining its contents.

Minoka got up from her seat to leave but Brandy cut her off.

“Okay, Okay.” Brandy said, “I want you to sing a song. I’ll take care of the mayor. I will make sure we get paid. I just need you to calm the villagers. Can you do that? Can you sing me a song and save the day princess?”

——————————-

The crowd of the tavern sat in tight murmuring groups as Minoka took the stage. Some talked about fleeing the town before the impending battle. Others talked about plans to turn to the mercenary band once the battle was done. Some, mercenaries of the newly formed band and the village militia spoke of deserting all together.

The small-town bar had turned into a powder keg, ready to ignite at any moment’s notice. From the stage she could see the four men she had met the night before. Deserters from the Kingdom of Spindle. Men who had abandoned their prince after he had done horrible things to a girl in a brothel without a name. Brave men who had been labeled cowards and traitors simply for following the wrong ruler.

This is what it means to lead. It means to bend those below you. You have your gifts. I have my sword. My iron blade. And the woman whose voice always guides my blade home.

Minoka gritted her teeth as she looked down at the crowd below. They were Human, mortals like the ones she had dominated. Bending them to her will with her song. Turning them into mindless drones to Malc’s cause.

Together they would overthrow the Citadel of Song. Her song would give them an army and his iron blade would tear out the Cambion rulers who claimed themselves rule of the land of man. She had loved him and because of that love thousands would die.

And so it was, until a Swan’s blade had found its way into her breast. A seed of mistletoe place into each rest, feasting off her power until she had been sapped to nothing but the dregs of her former power. But Malc would come for her. He had to come for her.

Yet he never did. He had forgotten her.

She was Cambion. A noble woman of Song who had fell in love with a man who only sought to rule. Malc had stolen everything from her. Had broken her to his will. Left her dying on a battlefield amongst the corpse she had sung to die on his blade.
He had taken everything from her. Except for this. Taken everything but her gift.

The cords of her fiddle wailed melancholy tune into the night of the dimly lit bar. She poured her heart break into each stroke of her bow. Calloused fingers pressed on cords lowering the pitch lower and lower as she parted her lips and let loose her power.

**Will you, will you raise your blade with me.
They called upon the kings and queens.
But none are to be seen.
So Here I stand blade in hand.
Will you raise your blade with me?

Those fiends did come and kill those loved.
And no kings and queens were seen.
They killed your men and skinned your sons.
And no kings and queens were seen.
So, I ask again, will you raise your blade with me.

The people cried because the royals lied.
And no kings and queens were seen.
Taxes paid and livestock claimed.
And no kings and queens were seen.
So, tell me now will you raise your blade with me.

A contract paid and a war pact made.
And no kings or queens were seen.
But Vagabond Arms did show.
But no kings and queens were seen.
Will you raise your blade with me?

Men with horns and girls with claws.
But no kings and queens were seen!
Brutes with swords and A cambion girl asks you all.
Will you raise your swords with me!**

“Will you raise your swords with me!”

The chant broke Minoka from her trance, vision doubled and spinning as she released the flow of Magick in her words. From the deserters to the villagers on the edge of betrayal, they all chanted the words. For the first time in a long time, Minoka felt a swell of pride in her chest as she looked at the change she had made.

She had used her gift and for once it felt good.

—————-

In the Villa on the hill, Mayor Laxduff woke, not sure of how he got there or with whom he shared his bed. Many a drunken afternoon had been spent in his extended term as Mayor of the village of Thimble. In truth there were more days than not he found himself passed out in his feather down bed, sleeping away the day as the people of his village toiled the day away. But what else was he expected to do, overlooking a shithole town set along every changing border of two nations.

But at the moment, that was not his greatest concern. As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he looked toward the woman curled next to him in bed, adorned in a too short skirt and shredded corset leaving nothing to the imagination. His alarm only increased as he felt the tight bite of ropes binding his wrists and feet to the corners of his bed.

“What is the meaning of this!” The mayor snapped, “Unbind me this instan-hmph!”

Brandy let out a sigh as she placed the apple she had been chewing on into the blabbering mouth of her victim. She arched her back as she sat up stretching her arms, she let out a yawn.

“Oh, look your finally awake. You know you should really not trust any woman who so easily agrees to come home with you.” Brandy purred, “You never know their intentions.”

The Mayor’s muffled cries continued as Brandy pulled herself out of the bed and made her way to the small desk in the corner of the room. Plucking a few papers from the basket, she began to peruse through the Mayor’s letters. Only as she picked up two letters, one bearing the insignia of Spindle, the other of harvest did his protests stop.

“How interesting.” Brandy Purred, “A oath of fealty to the Kingdom of Spindle, and another to the Nation of Harvest. My good Mayor, you should be more careful of who you let into your bed chambers. Some might see this and accuse you of treason. How is it a mayor gets paid? Through Taxes am I right. Must be quite payout when the mayor of a village being in two nations. Would be a shame though if either nation found out though. Some might call that treason.”

Brandy let the letters fall from her hand to the floor. Her dark eyes set on the pale moon like face of the mayor. It had been nothing to slip the narcotic into his drink. A bit more to get haul the bulbous man up the trail to his villa on the hill. The Narcotic was only short acting, knocking the man out for less than an hour. Still, laying in bed beside the man, listening to his guttural snores had been torture enough.

“Mayor, have you ever heard the story of how the Naguai came to be? I ask because there is a message in the tale which parallels your current predicament exactly. I hope it is a lesson you can absorb” Brandy said, walking the space between them and placing a gentle hand on the mans many cheeks. “In the time before the rise of the Summer courts, the world was ruled by the High Fae Queen of the Seelie court, Titania. Her rule expanded from every edge of the continent, her kingdom set at its Heart, the ruins of which the Kingdom of Spindle are built upon to this day.

“Surrounding her Kingdom, Were the Titania’s wood. You have heard of it, I am sure. In the woods live enormous beasts. Bear. Elk. Crows. Wolves. All manner of creature calls this place home. And all grow from to massive size. A truly magnificent sight these beasts. And a real problem to the mortals who called the woods their home.

“So, one day the humans have enough. Their villages destroyed; their livestock killed. They called upon the Royal Fae Fen for aid, hoping the Massive Fae wolf would hunt down the beast that plagued their home. But Fen said no, the woods belonged to the beasts as much as it belonged to them. Fen believed in only helping those who were strong enough to help themselves. Next the humans went to the Royal Fae, Gospel, hoping the Fae of loving Harvest would be more amicable to their cause. But not even Gospel’s mercy extended far enough, for it was her own Magicks which allowed the beast to grow to such size. Finally, the men of the woods approached Titania herself, and asked her to kill the beasts of the wood. Their plea was only met with her wrath, the very thought of the killing of her beast an afront to the Queen of Summer. All who came to her palace were left blinded and broken.

“Only when the Humans of the wood had lost hope where they greeted by a mysterious stranger. A young woman dressed in strange brightly colored clothes, who agreed to give them the strength of the beasts who hunted them. She claimed to be a great Fae magician and with his power the Dire beasts of Titania’s Wood would be made their equals. When the people asked what he wanted in return, the Magician said all her asked was the people to always remember the kindness of the Fae.

“It was that very night, when the moon set full in the sky that the curse took hold, as the spirits of the beast were forever bound to the spirits of the men and women show called Titania’s wood home. As two souls occupied one form, their minds were shattered, their bodies twisted into an amalgamation of man and beast.

“The curse broke the first generation of Naguai completely, turning them into mindless beasts. It was until a few generations later the Naguai were able to take control of their curse. To take the trickery of the Fae and turn it into a strength. Some to this day let their curse run them. Others have reclaimed their place in Titania’s woods, finally finding a way to live amongst the Dire beast they once warred against. And others, became mercenaries, who are placing their lives on the line for fat fucks like you.”

Brandy looked at the mayor still bound to shit bed by expensive sheets bought from the stolen funds of poor villagers. The Mayor stared up at her trembling cheeks with bulging eyes. This man. This man was the believed himself superior to her Rowan just because of a curse. She shook her head as she reached down and ripped the apple out of the pig man’s mouth. The mayor worked his stiff jaw open and closed for a moment before speaking, poison filling every syllable.

“What does you’re the story behind your beast man’s curse have to with me.”

“It is simple.” Brandy said taking a bite out of the apple, “You have a choice. Pay us for the work we have done or-”

“or what? You will blackmail me.” The Mayor scoffed, “Try it and I will be gone before you finish dragging your dead men off the battlefield. I have political connections from Song all the way to The tower of Oberon. You think anyone is going to believe the word of a drunken whore and feral beast like Rowan.”

Brandy paused halfway through her bite, her dark eyes, boring into the fat man tied to his bed. She chewed slowly watching as the bead of sweat began to form on the man’s balding head.

“You should learn to let others speak.” She said, “What I was going to say was pay us for the work we have done or slowly shit out your insides as the poison I slipped you takes hold.”

The bead of sweat trailed its way down to the tip of his nose where it hung shakily as the man gulped.

“You’re bluffing.”

Brandy took the final bite of the apple and tossed the core on the floor.

“Feel free to find out.” Brandy said, getting to her feet and walking out the door.

@mianngu

My buddy keeps trying to get me to play secret hitler! I just need to make time to get it done.

@mianngu

This event sounds awesome. Unfortunately I work that day but I’m sure it will be amazing

@Sachi

I would choose immortal, because in sense you would also eventually live a life as a portal jumper with more connections. You can’t live for eternity in the same place without eventually being discovered. Every ten years or da you would have to restart your life. Become a new person with a new name in a new place.

Leading to my next question

Would you rather be a vampire, forced to live in the shadows and hunt prey at night never to see the light of day or enjoy the pleasures of the living again or as a werewolf, enjoying a mortal life while having to live with a beast of which you have no control of.

@mianngu

I’m not sure if it counts but one night ultimate werewolf is where it’s at. You need at least four players. Each player draws a card and guess who is the werewolf. It’s an awesome game where you turn on your friends and loved ones. Best part in my opinion is when no one is the werewolf and people just go on a random witch hunt with no evidence. It is chaos I love it

@ae-writer85

Fairy god mother all day! I’d rather deal with a clumsy shoe losing princess than a wooden puppet with an identity crisis.

——————————-

Would you have the ability vomit spiders at your enemies or the ability to call forth a swarm of biting flies to engulf your person and act as a protective cloud

@mianngu

When I was a child growing up in Hawaii, I got bit by a tiny pig fish. Ever since that day I have plotted my revenge. Cancel the rescue party, no one is finding Nemo today. Prepare for sea world war 3.

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Would you rather make a deal with an obviously evil djinn or a talking yorkie who may not have magical powers but promises he will do his very best. Bonus if you tell me your wish

My creation demon is chained up in my basement and forced to ride a peloton. He might hide away in the shadows every now and again but I run like a protagonists alcoholic step in beat him with a newspaper until he gets back to work