ozzie artman
toxic yuri enthusiast
SIDE: HEROES
Hoshido, Post War
Our heroes have made camp within a shrine of the Dawn Dragon. It’s claustrophobic, with vicious vines blocking out the gray sky. It feels as if one wrong move could reduce it to rubble…
…Still, shelter was shelter. A band of lost souls sat on the broken marble floor, looking to lure new recruits for their cause.
“I still think this is a preposterous idea,” Forsyth grumbled, picking at grout between the cracks. “Oddly enough, I have a moral objection to luring innocent soldiers into a death mission!”
Xane sat cross-legged, humming so he could tune his lyre.
“It’s that, or the King and his mutt get their hands on ‘em. Your call, big guy.” Xane brushed a strand of long, red hair from his face. “If it helps you sleep at night, it wasn’t my idea. Talk to Mr. Strategist over there.”
“Oh? Well, I suppose that abhorrent name is cursed to be mine, since I don’t hear you spitting out any grand ideas,” Soren hissed.
“And we’re supposed to just not question whatever this random priss says?” Python grumbled.
“Right! Exactly as I thought, Python,” Forsyth said, before elbowing Python in the shoulder. He could feel Soren’s eyes on him. “Um, besides that priss nonsense, of course.”
Anna huffed as she’d sort the coins she had shaken onto the ground, sliding them into separate groups. “Peh, you lot are always bickering about this plan. We’re not gonna get anywhere just sitting here, y’know!”
Xane held back the urge to break every taut string on his lyre as they bickered. Someone had to control this unlikely group, and the dragonspawn supposed it fell onto him.
“She’s right,” Xane nodded to Anna. “While we’re sittin’ around thinking, people are in real trouble with the King sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Soren would know a thing or two about that.”
He glanced up at his emblem, his resolve unwavering.
“He’s a wanderer, like me,” Xane said. “Among other things. So, I trust him. ‘Sides, I made a promise that I’d watch over him - he’s not some random guy.”
Xane strummed his lyre. “I’m ready when you are, Mr. Strategist.”
Soren rolled his eyes as he opened his tome, extending his hand to call for ancient magic to glow around the lyre.
As magic pooled at the center of his instrument, Xane recalled a traveler’s song. It was an old tune that had been passed between different worlds. Frankly it was the only tune that came to mind.
Forsyth leaned into Python’s shoulder. He was stiff, but he had stopped fidgeting from the discomfort.
“I guess all we can do is wait,” Forsyth felt his eyes droop as the music lulled him. “And give anything that finds us a thorough apology.”
Suddenly, a commotion from outside shot Forsyth awake. The sounds of groaning and dragging against the ground surrounded their little base.
“Blast,” Forsyth cursed, reaching for his lance and shaking Python to rouse him. “Looks like we have unwanted visitors!”
As Xane made to stop playing, however, he was promptly forced to continue. His hands strung the lyre like a puppet, and his sight got foggier.
“We must bolster our ranks,” Soren reminded him. “Keep playing. The rest of them can deal with the Faceless.”
Xane grunted, forcing himself to continue as his hands cramped. Anna went to his side, looking on with worry. Xane’s eyes seemed to glaze over as Soren continued muttering to the arcane.
“Let ‘em be, Fors,” Python said, stretching out his arms as he went to fill his quiver. “Doesn’t sound like we’re completely surrounded. Well, not yet.”
“Right,” Forsyth headed for the shrine doors. “This is no different than scrapping with the undead in our old hideout. We can take them on!”
------------------
SIDE: FALLEN
Leo and his cohorts are preparing to leave Castle Krakenburg. Leo wishes to pay Gangrel a visit, to once again bribe him into doing dirty work.
Blood dripped from the King’s hand. Life pushed through the cracks of the floor - abhorrent and all-consuming as they were, the Faceless were still alive - and Leo sent it away as soon as it came, to guard another faction of Krakenburg.
“That should be enough,” Leo returned the necromancy tome to its shelf and reached for the gauze at his desk. “Not even a gutter rat could sneak in without getting mauled.”
Next to the bandages was a thin piece of chalk. He grabbed it and held it between his slender fingers, lips pursed.
“We’re heading out,” He glanced over to the men in his study. “Bring enough gold to subdue our new business partner. Oh, and the ring.”
As he mentioned the bulky, golden band on Niles’s finger, the spirit which haunted it appeared.
“What…what now…?” The apparition winced. “Where are you taking me…?”
Leo smiled. It chilled to the bone.
“Are you truly in a position to ask questions?” The blonde tilted his head. “You’ll go where I say.”
“My, my! Strong words for a puppet on strings,” Niles would rub his thumb against the cool ring with a cruel smirk, twisting it slightly as he’d watch the light hit it.
“Such a shame about that friend of yours, though,” He mused. “He would have been a much more fun toy for his highness to gift me. He put up quite the struggle while we had him, and I wonder how satisfying it would be to break him. To see his will finally worn down, and to then show you the former husk of who he was…really, that would’ve been divine.”
He’d smirk as he’d tip his head to the side, as if in thought.
“Though, we’re better off crushing that rusty bracelet that holds him. As fun as my little daydream sounds, that hunk of scrap metal is a liability.”
“You…” Ike growled, lifting his sword at his master. “I’ll kill you-”
As soon as the words were uttered, the game was over. He was removed from Niles’s finger to fall once again into slumber, handed off to the mad king of Nohr. Leo kneeled down, drawing a transportation sigil at their feet. He, Niles, and a man clad in red armor stepped into the circle - then, they were in the castle granted to Gangrel. Guards and castle staff made way for the king and his coterie as they roamed the familiar halls.
The castle sat just in Hoshido’s boundaries. No one but Leo understood why a man not of Nohrian blood - not even of blood from the continent - would be granted such status and luxury. However, Leo was a man who danced with risk for high reward.
“A well kept noble is an obedient noble,” Leo thought, taking a seat in the castle study as a maid approached.
“Shall I call the master in?” She asked.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Leo motioned for his associates - Niles stood at his side, while the man in armor sat beside him with his hands folded in his lap. “Lord Gangrel is expecting me. I doubt he will keep me waiting long, if he enjoys having his head attached to his shoulders.”
Hoshido, Post War
Our heroes have made camp within a shrine of the Dawn Dragon. It’s claustrophobic, with vicious vines blocking out the gray sky. It feels as if one wrong move could reduce it to rubble…
…Still, shelter was shelter. A band of lost souls sat on the broken marble floor, looking to lure new recruits for their cause.
“I still think this is a preposterous idea,” Forsyth grumbled, picking at grout between the cracks. “Oddly enough, I have a moral objection to luring innocent soldiers into a death mission!”
Xane sat cross-legged, humming so he could tune his lyre.
“It’s that, or the King and his mutt get their hands on ‘em. Your call, big guy.” Xane brushed a strand of long, red hair from his face. “If it helps you sleep at night, it wasn’t my idea. Talk to Mr. Strategist over there.”
“Oh? Well, I suppose that abhorrent name is cursed to be mine, since I don’t hear you spitting out any grand ideas,” Soren hissed.
“And we’re supposed to just not question whatever this random priss says?” Python grumbled.
“Right! Exactly as I thought, Python,” Forsyth said, before elbowing Python in the shoulder. He could feel Soren’s eyes on him. “Um, besides that priss nonsense, of course.”
Anna huffed as she’d sort the coins she had shaken onto the ground, sliding them into separate groups. “Peh, you lot are always bickering about this plan. We’re not gonna get anywhere just sitting here, y’know!”
Xane held back the urge to break every taut string on his lyre as they bickered. Someone had to control this unlikely group, and the dragonspawn supposed it fell onto him.
“She’s right,” Xane nodded to Anna. “While we’re sittin’ around thinking, people are in real trouble with the King sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Soren would know a thing or two about that.”
He glanced up at his emblem, his resolve unwavering.
“He’s a wanderer, like me,” Xane said. “Among other things. So, I trust him. ‘Sides, I made a promise that I’d watch over him - he’s not some random guy.”
Xane strummed his lyre. “I’m ready when you are, Mr. Strategist.”
Soren rolled his eyes as he opened his tome, extending his hand to call for ancient magic to glow around the lyre.
As magic pooled at the center of his instrument, Xane recalled a traveler’s song. It was an old tune that had been passed between different worlds. Frankly it was the only tune that came to mind.
Forsyth leaned into Python’s shoulder. He was stiff, but he had stopped fidgeting from the discomfort.
“I guess all we can do is wait,” Forsyth felt his eyes droop as the music lulled him. “And give anything that finds us a thorough apology.”
Suddenly, a commotion from outside shot Forsyth awake. The sounds of groaning and dragging against the ground surrounded their little base.
“Blast,” Forsyth cursed, reaching for his lance and shaking Python to rouse him. “Looks like we have unwanted visitors!”
As Xane made to stop playing, however, he was promptly forced to continue. His hands strung the lyre like a puppet, and his sight got foggier.
“We must bolster our ranks,” Soren reminded him. “Keep playing. The rest of them can deal with the Faceless.”
Xane grunted, forcing himself to continue as his hands cramped. Anna went to his side, looking on with worry. Xane’s eyes seemed to glaze over as Soren continued muttering to the arcane.
“Let ‘em be, Fors,” Python said, stretching out his arms as he went to fill his quiver. “Doesn’t sound like we’re completely surrounded. Well, not yet.”
“Right,” Forsyth headed for the shrine doors. “This is no different than scrapping with the undead in our old hideout. We can take them on!”
------------------
SIDE: FALLEN
Leo and his cohorts are preparing to leave Castle Krakenburg. Leo wishes to pay Gangrel a visit, to once again bribe him into doing dirty work.
Blood dripped from the King’s hand. Life pushed through the cracks of the floor - abhorrent and all-consuming as they were, the Faceless were still alive - and Leo sent it away as soon as it came, to guard another faction of Krakenburg.
“That should be enough,” Leo returned the necromancy tome to its shelf and reached for the gauze at his desk. “Not even a gutter rat could sneak in without getting mauled.”
Next to the bandages was a thin piece of chalk. He grabbed it and held it between his slender fingers, lips pursed.
“We’re heading out,” He glanced over to the men in his study. “Bring enough gold to subdue our new business partner. Oh, and the ring.”
As he mentioned the bulky, golden band on Niles’s finger, the spirit which haunted it appeared.
“What…what now…?” The apparition winced. “Where are you taking me…?”
Leo smiled. It chilled to the bone.
“Are you truly in a position to ask questions?” The blonde tilted his head. “You’ll go where I say.”
“My, my! Strong words for a puppet on strings,” Niles would rub his thumb against the cool ring with a cruel smirk, twisting it slightly as he’d watch the light hit it.
“Such a shame about that friend of yours, though,” He mused. “He would have been a much more fun toy for his highness to gift me. He put up quite the struggle while we had him, and I wonder how satisfying it would be to break him. To see his will finally worn down, and to then show you the former husk of who he was…really, that would’ve been divine.”
He’d smirk as he’d tip his head to the side, as if in thought.
“Though, we’re better off crushing that rusty bracelet that holds him. As fun as my little daydream sounds, that hunk of scrap metal is a liability.”
“You…” Ike growled, lifting his sword at his master. “I’ll kill you-”
As soon as the words were uttered, the game was over. He was removed from Niles’s finger to fall once again into slumber, handed off to the mad king of Nohr. Leo kneeled down, drawing a transportation sigil at their feet. He, Niles, and a man clad in red armor stepped into the circle - then, they were in the castle granted to Gangrel. Guards and castle staff made way for the king and his coterie as they roamed the familiar halls.
The castle sat just in Hoshido’s boundaries. No one but Leo understood why a man not of Nohrian blood - not even of blood from the continent - would be granted such status and luxury. However, Leo was a man who danced with risk for high reward.
“A well kept noble is an obedient noble,” Leo thought, taking a seat in the castle study as a maid approached.
“Shall I call the master in?” She asked.
“You needn’t trouble yourself,” Leo motioned for his associates - Niles stood at his side, while the man in armor sat beside him with his hands folded in his lap. “Lord Gangrel is expecting me. I doubt he will keep me waiting long, if he enjoys having his head attached to his shoulders.”
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