Waypoint LARP: King George City

Do you want to hear a story?

A deep breath of rage escaped as the vision ended. My heart and mind still filled with the incredulous rage that a society could forget, that any society might forget, that it was possible his society would forget. The Waypoint stood in a stark juxtaposition to itself merely moments before; the confused fatebound were the same, but it looked well used – not a picture of dusted abandonment. My words held like a vice in my mind, “I fought to end this ridiculousness before, and we should never have let it get to this point.” It’s been over three hundred years since the Equinox truce was signed, and just as I’d said in the vision – I’d fought to make it happen. I’m not a strong believer in fate; second born Nephilim are incredibly rare, and while no one has ever made it clear to me whether or not it’s supposed to be good or bad – my “fate” was given to me with my name. Fate is a bitch if you can’t see it, and it hinted in the form of a common question pushed just past the point of quiet acceptance. Tonight, that question was asked by Whisperwind, with a mixed tone of casual indifference and genuine curiosity, “Why do you file your horns, Cliffe?” Normally that question ends with my normal shrug, or a vague ‘it helps hide’. Tonight, the question pushed and, in retrospect, it was the foreshadow to the foreshadowing that is Imbolc.

As I shook the lingering emotion stirred up by that vision from my mind, the other fatebound milled around and the numerous relationships across the courts reassured each other that what they saw would never happen. They’ll always believe it – that their love is the love that can transcend the courts, that their love is the love that can transcend the very principles that make up our beings. The lovers always believe that, as if there weren’t thousands of tales of love in Tir Na Nog that span the courts, hundreds of thousands of tales of love that all want the war to end. And the end of the war is what this is all about – the Endless War of the deathless isle that we all tried to abandon, and that same war that we’d brought with us in the beginning. It was the war that I fought to stop, and as it turned out the only way to stop the war was to win a war.

The year was 1648, and it was the last day of what would become known as the 30 years war.

The wind was especially harsh that day. I’d found myself in charge of the forces guarding Old Town from the Swedes and, more importantly, Kingu Pyrochles – the Unseelie King. The forces under my control had barely been able to hold Prague Castle long enough for the Conclave to escape to Old Town, and now I have to hold Old Town until they can reach an agreement. The Conclave was the last real chance that Fatebound had to escape the Endless War. It was a conglomeration of a majority of the Unseelie and Seelie nobles; who had staked themselves as leaders. All monarchs in their own right, they’d come together to try and find terms that were agreeable to both courts, an arrangement that could satisfy the principles of all involved. And, across the river, was an army lead by fatebound who believed that no treaty was needed as the war could be won here. At the head of this group was Kingu Alam Pyrochles, the Unseelie King. The entirety of this war was orchestrated by the courts manipulating humans for power, and while many fatebound had lost their lives, human’s had been the main casualties. The dissenters of the conclave were not only Unseelie; but, the only ones willing to attack the conclave, were. The Seelie dissenters simply couldn’t afford to send any forces to the conclave to help fight the ‘rebel forces’. We were getting closer to winning, to getting a treaty into place, we’d already received word from Westphalia that the Human factions had signed their own treaties. The dissenters were on borrowed time – they needed to break through Old Town before word of the treaties officially reached them. However, I knew that the Unseelie wouldn’t agree to the treaty as long as the rebel faction held this much power. The power and influence of ‘Lord Pyrochles’ was too much to allow the other houses to reach an agreement. They’d never say it, but it was true.

The sound of cannon fire shook me from my reverie. The swedes were trying to take Charles Bridge again and it was my job to hold it. The bombardment would be followed by their troops, and without a change in tactics, they would send them across the river and across the bridge at the same time.
The battle raged for an hour before something changed. It wasn’t a change in numbers, but a change in the fervor with which the Swedes were fighting. It was an effect I’d become well accustomed to – the fervor of humans fighting for their kings of old. Kingu had finally decided to break Old Town himself. His form was unmistakable on the battlefield, he moved with the presence that only Glory posses, and a stature that only we Nephilim hold. He wore no armor, only carrying his massive weapon – the sword he called ‘Tale’s End’, a sword that could cut through a treasure’s story like wheat to chaff. As he took his first steps onto the bridge, I was struck by the astounding parallels to that fated day in Findias…It’d been the last time my forces had been the only thing between two warring ideals.

I didn’t know it then, but it was the day that my life would never be the same.

It was seventy years before the Siege of Prague, and I stood as a commander of the guards of Findias. Commander Alam Gal, a torch bearer whose sole purpose was the continued protection of the city. The attack came quickly and with little warning. An entire army had slipped past our outer formations, murdered our forward scouts with brutal efficiency, and made it within our torchlight before the alarm was raised. It was an impossible battle to hold the wall. Kaiju scaling the wall, dragons breathing hellfire from above, aether being used to decimate entire sections of our forces. There hadn’t been time to think that day, all of my commands were issued with the breath of instinct, and somehow, when reinforcements arrived from other areas of the city, an eternity later, it was only my unit left on the wall. That day a second born Nephilim had held the walls of one of the four cities against all odds, so that the stalemate could continue. It was in that day that I realized that I couldn’t fight in a war without end. It was in that day that I realized that the only outcome of any battle in the Endless War was agony. Every enemy that fell that day would live to fight again. Every friend I heard die, would rise eventually to celebrate our victory. While there was Glory in this war, it wasn’t mine. While there was honor in this war, it wasn’t mine. While there was beauty in this island, it was being destroyed. While there was love in this land, it was being torn apart. As the reinforcements swept the Unseelie forces from the wall that day, I’d resolved myself to find the Fae named Rumpelstiltskin. They who’d boasted that they were so close to finding a way to slip past the Oath that barred us from earth.

A year later I stood in the halls of House Redcrosse, regaled a hero. Days ago Redcrosse had personally awarded me an emblem of valor, a silver necklace depicting Yggdrasil, and had even offered me entry into his house. There was to be a great celebration. It isn’t common, even with an Endless War, for Fae to earn passage into the house of bravery. I stood in the halls of House Redcrosse, and across from me stood a shadow who called itself Rumpelstiltskin. With a voice of whispers, they spoke my salvation. “It is not an easy process, Alam, but you’ve paid me the price.” He explained what I must do as we first left the house, and then the city. It had been the act of holding my ground and saving the city a year before that had shown me the truth of the war, but now I was escaping. I resolved to keep the necklace, held clenched in my hand, as a reminder of what I was running from, and why.


The year is 1648 and it is the day the Equinox Truce is forged.

The battle was quickly turning into a rout. Where Kingu stepped, my forces parted like water. He strode with impunity across the bridge. As soon as a gap appeared in our forces, he at the center, I bellowed for our cannons to shoot him – believing that if they didn’t kill him, at least they would destroy the bridge and prevent his crossing the river. As the smoke cleared, bridge intact, he advanced forward unimpeded. The parallels to that fateful day in Findias were growing with each step he took and each person he cut with his sword.

If I don’t stop him, we will lose. It is a thought that sends me charging across the bridge, fellow fatebound at my side. My own troops have started to succumb to his presence and are turning against us; the flash of anger that burns through me isn’t limited to the inevitable betrayal of human soldiers against a nephilim, it is sown with seeds of jealousy that I lack the same ability. What I lack in Glory, however, I make up with the blood of the warriors that flows in my heritage – as I close the distance across the bridge I recognize I have almost two feet on him, and a portion of my brain acknowledges the reach advantage that will give me. I hurl my shield at him the second I’m in range. A treasure shield cannot stop a swing of his sword, and mine wasn’t a treasure. He cleaves the shield in two, before stepping through and engaging me. My armor snaps into being reflexively as I take the final step against him, terror enveloping the hearts of all in the battlefield. Our battle is swift, brutal, and bloody. My reach advantage nullified by the endless horde of humans who my unit can not keep at bay. I can’t block his sword, only dodge. I lose my helmet to a pommel strike. I cut down more of his retainers as I look for an opening – It comes in a flash of instinct as he swings high. I tuck my head and catch his sword with my horns as it goes for my heart; at the same time my spear is flying for his own. My left horn is cleaved off entirely, a fire erupts in my chest, but the horns have stopped the blade from piercing my heart. My aim held true, and my spear has pierced his chest entirely – the king is dead. My right horn hangs connected by only a filament. I tear it off as I retreat across Charles Bridge. With the fall of Kingu the Swedes have lost their fervor, and are frantically falling back to the castle.

Three days later I stood in the Hall of Prague castle, surrounded by a nobles of every house. A King and Queen of Prague have been named, and they describe the truce, and how domains will be founded in major cities across the world. A large parchment is brought forth, and it is called the Equinox Truce.

It reads:

Leave the War in the past.
Do not enter the territory of another Fae without invitation.
Holy ground is sacrosanct. Cause no harm there.
Do not make a mess among mortals that you cannot clean up.
Make no bargains with Those Without.
When entering a new domain you must make yourself known.
None are above the price for breaking the law. An eye for an eye.

I am told that the head of each Fatebound house will each sign the treaty, along with a commoner of each court. Due to my heroic actions against the dissenters I am offered to be the Seelie commoner who signs. The Nobles of each court sign first, Unseelie, Seelie, Unseelie, Seelie, and I am the last fatebound to sign.

Days later as Fatebound return to the cities, towns, villages, or wilds that they came from, I walk away from Prague resolved to keep my horns filed – as a reminder that some causes are worth fighting for.


The Waypoint stood in a stark juxtaposition to itself merely moments before; the confused fatebound were the same, but it looked well used – not a picture of dusted abandonment. This was the one vision that I couldn’t allow to pass. As the confused fatebound reassured each other they wouldn’t allow this to happen, I finally made the decision to answer that question seriously. There is no use in knowing history if it is going to repeat itself.

Whisperwind turned as I approached her, my voice echoing as another vision started, “Do you want to hear a story?”

Faust Meets The Family

Before Faust can even finish parking, Valour is jumping out of the door, slamming the door behind her as she hurries up the steps of the house. Faust simply just sighs. It’s begun all right. Faust finishes parking and even as he climbs out he can see Valour standing in muted excitement at the doorstep. Why she was waiting for him, he wasn’t sure, but he determined it was due to the fact she hadn’t seen her family since fatebinding. That does effect things. When he reaches the steps Valour whips her head back around and rings the doorbell and up close its easy now to see the actual worry on her face. Why would she jump out in such a hurry if she was also so afraid? But Val was never one to let things ride out, she was one to get things over with in a hurried fashion.
The door swung open and a middle age woman walks out, her dirty blonde hair tied back tightly into a neat bun. She is middle aged but she looks fairly young for having a twenty four year old daughter. She immediately smiles. “Nastia!” Valour squeals in excitement, and the two embrace. As her mother pulls away, her eyes stop at her hair and she lifts some of it in fascination. She says something in Russian, sounding dismayed and Valour counters, also in Russian with a wave of her hand. She turns back to Faust a moment later with an apologetic look.
“She’s asking why I have dyed my hair” She laughs and Faust, who is confused, laughs also although he isn’t sure what that is supposed to mean. A moment later she turns back to her mother and says something else to her in Russian, in which her mother replies although she sounds displeased. She shuffles inside and Valour follows, reaching back to grab Faust’s hand to lead him inside also. At the door they discard shoes and coats as the smell of warm good smelling foods hits them both. As Faust takes his time to remove his coat, a large man built like a bear walks into the front room, his greying salt and pepper hair slicked backwards and face frowning. He looks Faust up in down and he freezes for a moment. What beast is this?!
“Papa!” Valour’s happy squeal breaks the silence and Faust nearly trips backwards as Valour barrels into the man for a hug. He is horrified. This man… is her father… which means he will have to ask him for his daughters hand… Oh god how many people has this giant man murdered and kept in a freezer somewhere? As if the man knew what he was thinking, he turns to Faust, saying something in Russian and shoves out a hand causing Faust to flinch backwards. Valour sees this but she doesn’t address it however after another moment she leans in and whispers.
“say hello. And uh don’t shake too much, he can smell your fear” Faust looks at her with a look of horror. Val what did you get me into!?
“O-oh right hello I’m Quill Faust…” The man shakes it and grunts.
“Ivan. Right. That’s… well I should have guessed that.” After a moment he quickly adds “I mean because Va- Ana told me, not because its a common name or anything, I mean it is but I’m not trying to stereotype or any-” He is cut off by booming laughter. He looks up and sees that the man is slapping his knee in absolute delight and Valour seems to be snickering, but at least she was polite to put a hand over her mouth in attempt to smother it. He blinks in confusion.
“Did you see his face, Dochenka, he looked so scared I thought he would start with the sobbing” His voice was deep and just as terrifyingly deep as his laugh. Faust looks at Valour for help and she smiles at him, giving him the thumbs up. It’s then that he breathes back out in relief.
“There is food ready on the table, come eat!” Ivan invites. “Nastia go help your mother with dinner” Oh god don’t leave me here with this man. “This Quill Faust and I will go get firewood,” He turns to Faust. “you can lift yes? Well no matter you small wimpy arms, you will learn fast with how cold it is.” Valour nods, turning back to Faust.
“Good luck” She smiles before turning around to leave, much to Faust’s horror at the fact he is now alone in the front room with the beast of a large man that Valour calls her Father. He wonders if Good Luck was for the firewood or for the trip with her father. Faust sighs and puts back on his coat and is going back towards the door when he is stopped by Ivan. He smiles.
“No but really, you hurt my beautiful daughter, I take your head and grind it up and put in fireplace for kindle. Now, let’s go get some wood”

Tall Tale: It's A Bet Pt. 2

“Computer consultant huh” Valour puts a hand to her mouth as she holds in a laugh. “Do you even know anything about computers, what if somebody wanted you to actually fix something” The two of them are now sitting in her office with Valour in her chair behind her desk.
“I know my way around them” Faust objected pointedly. “I could probably fix it better than most people”
“without use of fae objects or magic?” Faust holds up his fingers and thumb to indicate ‘a little’ and Valour laughs. “Thats what I thought” Faust sighs, dropping his hand.
“Do you know why I’m here Val?”
“I know you aren’t here for a computer” Valour cut in. "As for the real reason for your visit I’m assuming it’s something along the lines of “Oh Valour I missed you so much” "
“… I don’t even sound like that” Faust wrinkled his noise at the impression. “And that isn’t it but I did miss you if that’s a condolence. I’m actually here because- oh right, I heard that a building caught fire and well… no offense Val but I can guess you had something to do with it” Valour gives him a face, clearly offended.
“That wasn’t me! Why do you assume every explosion in KGC is me!?”
“because it usually is?”
“Not everytime!” she objected hotly, jumping to a stand. She could see Emma raising an eyebrow at her and pointing at him as if offering help and Valour shook her head and sat down, quieter now. “It’s not always me”
“…But was it you?” Faust asked her.
“Well I mean technically it was my salamander”
“Val!” He threw his hands up with a sputter.
“what, the bamboo man wanted a steed so I provided”
“the what-”
“the bamboo- oh nevermind. Is that all you’re here for, to yell at me” Faust held up a finger.
“I’m not actually yelling, so theres that” he objected but Valour interupted him as she waved a hand at him.
“Fine, are you here to scold me”
“no I wanted to ask you for dinner but I felt that the explosions were a better topic to start with than any”
“…oh right… Well I get off in an hour so come back for me?” Faust nods.
“Sure but we’re taking a real car. What is this I heard about some civilians seeing a crazy ginger woman pulling a car out of a box?”
“probably someone crazy, okay lets go”
“Go?! I thought you-”
“I changed my mind lets just leave.” Valour gets up and grabs her bag and coat next to her computer. She puts on her jacket as she walks over to Emma, Faust hurrying along behind her. “Cancel any appointments, leave any paperwork on my desk. I’m leaving for the day” Emma looks at her in a mix of awe and confusion, her eyes then sliding over to Faust. Valour pointedly takes his hand in hers. “You owe me some money Emma but I think we can let it slide”

Tall Tale: It's a Bet

“Theres someone here for you. Pretty cute one too, a little on the nerdy side, poor guy looks like he hasn’t seen sun in years but for a computer consultant he isn’t bad looking” A computer consultant? She had trouble recalling ever calling for one of those? Valour turns around from the filling cabinet to turn to her coworker.
“I’m pretty sure he’s not for me, my computers fine Em” Valour turns on her computer and gestures to it with a hand as if to prove a point but Emily simply just waves a dismissive hand at her.
“Well he says he was called here to look at your computer and he’s pretty cute so why not at least let him look, worse case scenario your computers fine AND you get a phone number”
“I’m not looking for dates” Valour cut in sharply. “Em you know that” Emily rolls her eyes.
“Oh sweetie are you still not over that boy yet, honey you need to get back into mingling. You can’t stay hung up over some guy forever”
“he was my fiancee Em” Valour mumbles, choosing to look at her paperwork over the big eyes of her coworker. “It’s harder than just getting over a boyfriend”
“You haven’t even tried! Look i’m going to send him back here and at least try to be nice to him, okay? For me?” Valour opens her mouth in protest, glancing up to Emily who is turning around and walking out of her office, she turns back around and grins. “and hey after he’s done with your computer can you tell him to look at mine. It’s… been having troubles starting up recently” Valour rolled her eyes, yeah right, she just wanted to flirt with him. As wonderful as Emily was, she was also a little too enthusiastic. No matter what she said it wasn’t going to stop her from doing it either. Disobedient employees were terrible but Em was helpful enough that the playful rebellion wasn’t going to get her fired… and worse part is she knew that.
“Did you at least get a name?” She answers tightly, her voice showing her unease.
“Oh right yeah he said his name was Faust. Odd huh, must be part german or something.”
“Faust?” In surprise, Valour peeks her head over her desk and sure enough, standing awkwardly off to the side of the front desk is Faust, idly browsing the candy bowl for toffees.
“Yeah. Interested now, are we?” her coworker raises an eyebrow just as Valour ducks back down and turns back to her. “I told you he’s cute. See how helpful I am. Hey what do you think the chances are of him being single?”
“No” Valour cut in sharply. “I can bet you money he isn’t”
“are you saying that because you are interested or…”
“I can bet you at least 30 bucks he isn’t. And if he is, he won’t leave here single” Emily grins at her.
“That’s my girl”

Home and Hearth

“There’s a phone call for you, madam.”
The concierge hands Eri a mobile phone, reminding Eri of an English butler. Maybe it’s a combo of the uniform and the manners.
Curious, Eri takes the phone.
“Ayama, merry Christmas. How’s Russia?” Eri pulls the phone away to stare at it incrediously.
“Dad? How the HELL did you find out I’m in Russia?” Eri hisses, hurrying back to her room.
“I asked the opera company you work for, reasoning they would have a line of communication to your tour. Was I not suppose to call?”
Eri slams the door, startling Diavel.
“What gives?!” He snarls. Eri points to the phone and mouths ‘Dad’. She tosses her hat aside to run her free hand through her hair.
“Look, Dad, we’ve been over this. You can’t contact me, period.”
“Why not? You’re my daughter, even if you do have a cat ears fetish.” Eri looks up at the ceiling, seeking guidence. The ceiling remains unhelpful.
“Don’t be an ass, you know why. Mom would make your life a living hell for contacting me and do those purification rituals to try and cleanse my ‘yokai aura’ from you.”
“Let me handle your mother.” His tone becomes colder as the argument continues. “She is not going to prevent me from having a relationship with one of my daughters because of her beliefs. And neither will you, for that matter.”
Eri closes her eyes, fumbling for the right words.
“Dad. You know I’m not exactly normal anymore, right?”
The phone buzzes for a second and grudgingly he replies “Yes.”
“Things are different now. I have to worry about more than getting the star part in a high school play, and I can’t risk having you contact me unless I give the go ahead. It’s not always safe, what I do. You told me once the only way for three men to keep a secret is for two of them to be corpses. Same rule applies and I don’t want you to be one of those corpses.”
The silence stretches between them, humming with tension.
“All right. I won’t call anymore.” Eri takes a deep breath and releases it.
“Merry Christmas, Dad. I’ll call you on your birthday.” She hung up gently, ears pricked for any response: nothing.
Eri falls back on the bedspread, feeling shittier than she has in months. Diavel curls up with her and together they watch the ceiling and listen to people bustling up and down the corridors. Unable to stand it any longer, Eri grabs the phone and dials the phone number to the Waypoint.
Getting the answering machine, Eri and Diavel look at each other.
“Hey everyone, this is Eri and Diavel. We wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas and remind you all that we will see you soon. For now, we’ll leave a taste of what’s to come.”
And together they sing a duet of “White Christmas” with Diavel yowling along the best he could ((no performance XP lol)).
They finish by yelling “See you soon!” and hang up.
“Now that’s what I really needed this year,” Eri snickers and they cuddle until they fall asleep.


The vault door opened with a heavy click and a resounding echo as the cold air from inside rushed out into the comparatively warmer hallway of the large Sidhe under the Waypoint. The last little bit of snow that had been clinging to the feathers in Ace’s hair blew off with the gust and a chunk that went sliding down the back of her hoodie made the Trickster shiver uncomfortably

No light source existed inside the vault itself and while Ace had figured out a way to gain herself dark vision her company was less fortunate. Bard had been walking a couple of paces behind his companion the whole way and seemed entirely absorbed in some sort of prolonged thought. So for the white ravens benefit Ace picked up the torch in the wall sconce next to the door as they went in.

A similar sounding click and hollow boom followed as the door shut itself behind them. It always did that. Even if the Trickster tried to prop it open, which she totally had, the door would reject whatever means there was of holding it open and shut. It didn’t lock or anything, just shut itself. Bard jumped up and squawked in annoyance at the entryway and muttered to himself while Ace went to the egg.

Upon buying an obviously fae egg for 14 million dollars and then safely getting it back to the Waypoint , Whisperwind and Ace had discerned that the egg was from Falias so they hadn’t worried about wrapping it up. Currently it sat atop a nest of animals skins and old woven blankets the Trickster had found stored in a barrel sitting in the corner.

After setting the torch in a wall sconce Ace sat down and picked up the gryphon’s egg, gently placing it in her lap. There was a comfortable weight to it though she couldn’t help but grimace as a finger ran over the rune etched into the shell. The sigh she exhaled frosted in the air in front of her and Ace closed her eyes as she continued to slowly pet the egg in a reassuring manner.

“To this day I still wonder if I hatched from an egg.” She mumbled to the unborn fae after a long silence. Bard made a noise and rolled his eyes as he walked up to where his partner was sitting.

“What? You act like its all obvious but you never talk about it. Whenever I ask you just stay silent.” There was more than a hint of bitterness in her tone and she found herself curling around the egg defensively. The Falias raven looked at her with his dark eyes and ruffled his feathers in an uncomfortable fashion.

“I don’t know what happened when I was born and why you won’t talk about it.” Ace said in a very quiet voice that caused the other raven to raise his hackles up even more. “But whatever it is I’m not going to let it happen to whatever fae hatches out of this egg. If I had paid more attention to my father and Dagon then maybe I would have a bit more of a clue as to what’s going on here and why my immediate family is smuggling fucking Grpyhon’s eggs onto Earth. But I didn’t, and you know, I had kind of hoped you’d open up a bit and help me out. I know you were told just to watch out for me and let me make my own mistakes but dammit Bard there are innocent lives on the line here. Can’t you give me anything.” as the Trickster went on her words lost their edge of anger and dulled into something much more like desperation.

Her Grandfather’s grimalkin just looked at her, slowly lowering his feathers back into a non threatening pose as Ace’s voice started to crack. Bard seemed abnormally still for a just a few heart beats afterwards. Enough for the other to notice that something might be wrong.

“Bard. . .” Ace said in an apologetic tone, “C’mon buddy I’m sorry.”

The white raven slowly walked over and dipped his head down to bump it gently against Ace’s side. A sad smile crossed her face as Ace smoothed down the rest of Bard’s ruffled feathers. He was shaking a little bit and she knew it couldn’t possibly be from the temperature.

“You okay dude?” There was concern in the Tricksters voice.

“Can’t help.” the grimalkin croaked out in choppy English. “Can’t explain.” he bumped his head against her side again to elicit another scratch on the head. “Sorry.”

“I know. . .” Ace’s voice was barely above and whisper. This was always the wall they hit every time the subject came up and while the Trickster had many theories on the reason for Bards silence none of them could really be proven one way or another.

“Well. . .” She said looking down at the egg. “Whatever happens, I’ll make sure you find a good place to grow up. I never really wanted kids with how my life always seemed to be going but now that you’re around I can see what all the excitement for a new baby is about. Certainly helps explain some of Blake’s overly motherly behavior. I hope that you get to meet them. They would take good care of you. But I think Whisper is right that you need to be with your real parents if you can.”

Feeling Bard’s eyes on her Ace looked up from ranting at the egg to see a confused look on the other bird’s face.


“It can’t hear you.” Bard said flatly in one of his rare full sentences. The Trickster simply laughed in response

“I know, and to be honest it makes the whole thing quite therapeutic. I know there’s something alive in here but it can’t really hear me. So I can tell it all my deepest darkest secrets with absolutely no consequences!” She gave Bard an enthusiastic and exaggerated wink and thumbs up. Bard looked simply unimpressed as usual.

“Oh C’mon. What could go wrong?”

Bard’s empty look turned into a glare and she heard him mutter curses under his breath.

“Wooah there excuse you. My parents were totally married when I was born so you can’t call me at least one of those things. " She shot back.

The two of them bickered for another minute before falling silent again. Bard had taken it upon himself to find a suitable napping place as it seemed that Ace was content to blab at her surrogate child for an unknown period of time. He fell asleep somewhere around a story involving Tex and Balthazar’s child.

When Bard awoke again there was no way to tell how much time had passed, the torch on the wall was still burning albeit dimmer than before. The grimalkin looked over to see his charge lying on her side the Gryphon’s egg nestled in near her stomach. He could see her lips moving but as ravens, even the mythical kind, don’t have stellar hearing Bard had to walk much closer before he could hear what Ace was saying. Or singing rather.

As the other game into view Ace quickly stopped the lullaby she had been singing. Ravens weren’t terribly expressive creatures by nature but even so Ace could tell that Bard was concerned.

“What?” She asked defensively.

“Where did you learn that song?” He asked.

“I heard Tex sing it to his kid when she was born. He said his mother taught it to him, she was a Mordant too. There’s not really a lot of songs in our language and I thoug-”

Bard interrupted her suddenly and sharply stated, “I don’t care what you were thinking. It doesn’t need to hear that. You need to stop being so careless with the words you were given.”

A an old but familiar pang of pain shot through the Trickster’s chest. If anything she felt just like a child again that was being scolded for a foolish mistake made in an attempt to make things better. Bard was by no means in charge of her and his opinion only really matter because of their relationship but still the words stung, because they were true. And dammit if the truth didn’t always seem to hurt the most, how cliche.

Ace waited for a couple of minutes to see if Bard was going to explain his point but apparently that knowledge was also restricted. Frustrated and tired from venting her lifes sorrows to an unborn Gryphon, Ace pulled herself up from the floor and returned the egg to it’s resting place.

As the door of the vault closed heavily behind them Ace let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Her eyes met with Bard’s and the grimalkin gave her a questioning look.

“I just wanted to know what it feels like to help care for an egg. It seems like that’s something my mom would have taught me but you know. . .” She said in an attempt at an explanation, “I guess maybe I’m just not cut out for it. I don’t wanna be it’s mom or anything, but like a big sister or an aunt or something would be cool.”

Bard shrugged, "I find it interesting that you seem so desperate for family here on Earth when it was something you had easy access to in Tir Na Nog. "

Ace winced at that and rubbed the back of her neck in a thoughtful motion. "All I ever wanted was to be excepted by my family. My father, my grandfather, my uncle, The Lady herself, I just wanted to be someone they could be proud of. But I was always at a disadvantage because I inherited my mother’s line of the shadow. It always pissed me off that I never quite understood why having the Mordant name made them treat me like they did. Even my grandfather. . "

“Leave it.” Bard sounded weary

“Yeah. . .” Ace said, turning around and pulling up the hood of her jacket. “Let’s go to Mr. Ed’s. Damn horse makes the best moscow mules.”

"I'm Canadian"
((I feel this is appropriate, timing-wise))

“So did you hear? America’s new president is that Trump fellow.”
Eri yawns and rolls over, still mostly asleep, and mumbles.
Ilya reclines on the bed next to her, settling in comfortably.
“That Trump won.”
Eri sighs, and sits up to glare at him.
“So your morning-after talks always concern politics? Because I really could care less.”
Ilya raises his eyebrows, surprised.
“The man seems to be a threat, especially towards anyone strange in your country,” Eri narrows her eyes.
“Believe me, if it came down to it, I could leave America or just manipulate him to do my bidding. Or kill him. So,” Eri reaches over and drags Ilya close
“I’ll be fine when I go back.” She kisses him and they settle into the bed, cuddling. Ilya strokes Eri’s back and frowns.
Eri notices and groans.
“What now?” Ilya shakes his head.
“I think you are too late to manipulate him; my boss said our president has Trump in his pocket already.” Eri yawns.
“So Russia, at long last, gains dominion over America without shedding one drop of blood. Classy. Reminds me of home.” She turns over and dozes off. Ilya stares at her in amazement.
“Where do you come from? Such politics are not common. Aren’t you from the United States?” Eri smiles, but keeps her eyes shut.
“Nope. I’m Canadian.”

((I had to write something, so meh. Hopefully everything is going good in game!))

Storm Front

Kono was furious. Not mad, or angry, or even upset. But Furious. The kind of unchecked rage that gave his type of fae their name. Raiju were scary in a storm, but they were downright terrifying when they were the storm.

It took a lot of power to summon up clouds like the one the tiger fae was riding on and if Riza hadn’t seen Dagon help Kono summon them herself she wouldn’t have believed this much electricity could be pulled together.
Those were thoughts long gone however. Now the raven was operating on pure instinct and fear. Just as Kono was relying on his nature to chase her she was using hers to run. Tricksters are an annoying bunch but when you catch them at what they’re doing they spook pretty easily. Riza had lived her life being scared from one horrible situation to the next and tonight’s fights was really no different. Except the stakes were too damn high.
What was once the vast expanse of the Endless sea had given way to blue Pacific Ocean and the docks and ports of human cities. The two of them were still above the water and it would be another few minutes before she could shelter on land. Getting cover was her only hope, out here in the middle of the sky she was as good as gone.
A roar that would make a volcano jealous split the sky. Riza turned around to see a Raiju sized ball of lighting hurtling towards her at unimaginable speed. There was only a second to react and Riza made her choice without hesitation, she dove. Kono ripped past her and as he did she could feel the air above her burst with explosive energy. The force that carried the Raiju couldn’t be stopped easily and Kono went for at least another mile before he was able to hault and scream in frustration.
An acute but familiar pain went through the Trickster as light fell over her form. Her attacker was too far away for him to be the source and as Riza flew up and out of the way she saw a huge metal structure flying underneath her. It was the size of any reasonable Dragon but didn’t seem to pay her any attention or notice. She spent what little time she could assessing the thing before diving down and taking cover from Kono behind it.

Near the front of the giant metal machine Riza found the reason for its lifelessness. A human was sitting inside and driving it like one of the dwarven war tanks she’d seen back in the siege of Falias. The man seemed to be in some sort of panic and was having a heated conversation with a small black box in his hand.
The sky erupted once more in a blaze of thunder. Bolts of lightning tore through the sky straight at Riza’s cover. By the time she saw the attack coming through the pilots window it was too late. Pure electric force seared through the metal of the things huge left wing as the man inside tried his best to get out of the way of the storm. Metal met feathers in an alarming amount of force that sent the raven off her flight path and falling down.
There was another roar masked as a crack of thunder and with it came the Raiju. Without a word Kono shot another bolt of lightning straight at Riza just as darkness was beginning cover her. The raven dodge the shot again by diving. But there was no escaping the explosion.

Riza looked up just in time to see the metal dragon combust in an enormous ball of fire that knocked her even farther away and threw Kono off balance as well. Huge scraps began to fall from the larger shell of the machine. Looking down the Trickster saw she only had about ten seconds before they hit the water. Luckily she knew how to fall and the Raiju didn’t.

In one last ditch effort to safe herself Riza spent her last bit of aether to let herself breath water and dove straight down into the icy Puget Sound.

Nothing is quite so earth shattering as the sound of one’s mother screaming in terror. The screech came seemingly out of nowhere and cut through Aiden’s sound canceling headphones like an especially sharp knife. It lasted for only a few seconds but it was enough for ‘AFK’ to be quickly typed into the raid chat before the woman sitting at the computer desk jumped out of her chair and went running for the living room.

The scene was much less concerning than she first thought but distressing upon first sight none the less. A older woman dressed in a neat gray pants suit was slumped down onto her knees weeping into her hands in front of the television that was playing the local evening news. A glass vase had been broken on the floor next to her and lines of blood ran down one hand, mixing with her tears as she cried.

Confused as to the cause of her mother’s grief Aiden turned her head to the T.V. and listened to the report. The news caster was a short stocky man with dark brown skin and he began speaking as soon as the camera focused on him,

“For those of you who have just joined us we’re reporting on a freak plane crash over the water just north of Edmonds. Sea-Tac officials have confirmed that it is not a passenger plane, saying it was a plane on a final test flight headed back to the Bowing air fields. Our contact at Bowing has informed us that the plan was being piloted by veteran pilot Jonathan Roy and they expect that outside interferences are what caused him to crash. "
Aiden’s heart wrenched as her father’s name left the lips of the newscaster and she found herself silently leaning against the wall in shock as she watched the him go on about the crash. The scene changed to a man in a raincoat that looked to be fighting to stay upright in a wind storm, he had to yell into his microphone to get the other newscaster to hear him.

“It’s really bizarre,” The man in the storm began " All of our eye witness reports say they saw anywhere between five and ten bursts of lighting accompanied by what many of them describe as an animalistic roar. Two of them claim to have seen figures fighting in the clouds and one couple said they watched a large black shape collide with the plane just as it began to go down. "

Each new word hurt to process and eventually it became too much. Aiden put the news on mute and went over to her mother, bending down to hold her. They sat there like that for what seemed like ages.

“He’s gone.” The older woman whispered

“You don’t know that mom.” Aiden replied through some of her own tears “The reporters say they haven’t found him.”

“I saw the explosion live.” Merissa Roy said in a tone void of any life "Before they could edit it out. The news started reporting as the plane was going down. It looked like he was going to be able to land it but about half way down another bolt of lightning hit the fuel tank. "

Mrs. Roy looked up at her daughter with bloodshot eyes “No one could have survived that.”

The Funeral for Jonathan Nester Roy was held only a month after his death. Being that he died on the job, and that Jonathan and his wife had worked for the air company for thirty years, Bowing paid for most of the expenses. It was the only silver lining Ace could find in the whole thing. Her father had been about to retire in a few months and the money it would have cost her mother to have him buried in the same fashion would be a huge kick in the gut.
A lot had happened in the month since the crash. The company let her mother retire early and, unable to continue living in their current home, had moved in with her sister. Taking the same cue Aiden had left to go and finish her internship at a bird sanctuary just outside the city. She’d come back fatebound.
So it was with a lot of concealing clothing and more make-up than she had ever worn in her life that Ace gazed down at the empty hole her father would spend the rest of eternity in.
Besides all of the normal feelings of sorrow and pain that accompanied any funeral Ace felt that there was something else wrong. Something at the edge of her mind that she couldn’t quite remember. It had been a problem she’d been facing ever since fatebinding but others she’d talked to had assured her it was normal to forget some things after gaining the memories of a whole other individual.

“Hopefully it’s just that” She thought as the priest began to speak.
“Dearly beloved,” The old man began, his deep voice cutting through the sound of rain falling on a crowd of umbrellas. "We are gathered here today to remember and lay to rest Jonathan Nester Roy. A man who served his country here at home and abroad as one of the best pilots this world has ever known. "

The priest and her relatives went on for over an hour to honor the life of her father. It was too long and too short all together and as everyone continued to speak the nagging feeling that something was wrong continued to grow inside of Ace’s gut.
Friends and family alike lined up to put a final flower on the chest of Jonathon Roy and by some sick twist of fate Ace found herself propelled by the others to the front of the line. It was his face that brought the memories back.

A horrible headache like nothing either Riza or Aiden had ever experienced overcame her. There was a flash of memories that had somehow been suppressed and it only took about five seconds of staring in the coffin to realize why she’d felt so wrong this whole time. The rose fell from her fingers and Ace broke off into a run so fast no one could even think to stop her.

I did this. I used his plane as cover.
No, she did this. The fae, not you.
But that IS me. That is my past now too, those were my choices.

The realization hit Ace like a truck and she only made it to her car in the parking lot before collapsing in the driver’s seat. It was a long time before the Trickster moved again and when she did it was only to fish under her seat for something she’d hidden there a long time ago.

The familiar sound of the zippo signaled the lighting of a habit she’d quit nearly six years ago. But if there was ever a time for a cigarette, it was now.

( Guess why Ace hates lighting )

No Romance Here

Moscow, Russia

Why me? Eri thinks as she watches other members of the opera troop grating on the dance floor.
Why can’t one, just one, of the other adults watch these hormonal teenagers when they want to party? Why did I get stuck with babysitting every goddamn time? Ugh. This is not worth it. She absentmindedly signals the bartender for another cocktail, still watching and brooding.
I wish Valour was still around; she always made nights like this unpredictable and exciting. Now I’m on my lonesome again. Eri barely looks up when her drink arrives, eyes fixed on the current reason of her foul mood. The brats are so not getting puking drunk tonight or she would strangle every last one.
“Now why does such a lovely lady have an ugly expression on her face?” A voice murmured in English near her elbow. Eri didn’t bother to turn around to punch the speaker in the gut. As he let out a surprised wheez, she answered in flawless icy Russian.
“The lady did not ask for your opinion or intrusion, playboy. Leave.” Staggering, he limped into view, and boy was it a view.
Thick blond hair just curly enough to tousle easily, pale green eyes and a mouth-watering bod. Tall and lean, just the way she likes them.
Too bad he’s arrogant, Eri considers him over the rim of her glass, eyes gleaming. She gently set it down, tilting her head.
Maybe I’ll help him with that.
“It’s too bad you don’t know how to treat a lady right; none of them will want to dance with you.” Eri yawns, as if bored and sips. He stops and turns to look at her, a glint of annoyance in his face.
Good, that’s what will make this fun. She smiles inwardly to herself, but remains uninterested on the outside. She is a professional actress after all.
His face twitches, as if reining himself in.
“Funny, I never seem to have that problem. They all seem perfectly happy with the way I treat them, ordinarily. Although no true lady would strike a man-”
“On the contrary. A true lady knows when to strike with fists and when to use words. Men rarely listen after all, so how else are we suppose to get your attention?” Eri leans back, enjoying the expressions flickering across his face and the effort he was using to restrain himself.

Боже мой, what’s with her?! Ilya thinks, trying to keep a grip on his temper. The foreign woman is small, but curvy where she’s suppose to and wearing clothes that accent that fact. Her eyes have the asian tilt but not the color. Her hair is long and curly, a nice deep brown. If not for the hat, she would be a knock-out.
Who the hell wears a hat inside a club?! Freaking weirdo! He almost growls, pissed. This was not how it was suppose to go: he would be smooth, get her to dance and drink with him and then later have a one-night stand. Easy, right?
Bitch, why won’t she play along?!

Aw, poor baby. Not getting what you want right away. Sorry, but you only get the good stuff if you work at it bud. He took a deep breathe, straightens and assumes an icily polite expression.
“Excuse me then, miss. It seems you don’t want company, so enjoy your foul mood alone. Enjoy your drink.”
Eri raises an eyebrow, amused.
“I already have; be a good boy and get me another? I would like a White Russian this time.” He gritted his teeth and enunciates very slowly.
“Of course, miss.”

Several hours later

“Eri! Who’s the hottie?” Some of the dancers had noticed Eri’s reluctant busboy and filled her table to get a glimpse of him. Eri rolls her eyes.
“Don’t know, don’t care. He’s my entertainment for the night, so try not to drown him in your collective drool.” The dancers ignore the last bit in favor of the first.
“How can you not know?! HE’S HWAUT! Hey, do you think he would dance with me? God, that’d be so amazing!”
“So amazing you would sleep with him if he asked you to?”
The table abruptly fell silent, stunned. Eri sips her drink and sighs.
I hate this part.
“Look. Yes he’s hot. He might even be a good dancer. But that doesn’t mean you should jump into bed with him if he snaps his fingers at you. Make him work for it. Never let a guy take you for granted, ever. Bad shit will happen if he does.
All of you are a bunch of college students, so I’m hoping I’m not talking to any virgins here, but if so, all the more reason to say it. Don’t hop into bed with the first hot guy you see. Unless you want to do a one-night-stand, then it’s fine. Now go away so I can drink in peace.”
The girls left together, whispering and giggling when Mister Arrogant walked past. Eri closes her eyes and leans her head back, ignoring him.
“God, I hate being a chaperone.” She groans, still ignoring him.
Ilya stays quiet, removing the glasses from the table. Eri cracks a lid and watches him.
Oh, what the hell. He’s yummy and I’m done with chaperoning for the night.
“Are you afraid of a challenge?”
Ilya keep his eyes on the table, not even looking her way.
“No, miss.” Eri grins slowly.
“Really? This one will be quite difficult.” He doesn’t look up.
“I will be fine miss.” She stands and leans on the table , feeling a pleasant hum in her veins.
“Well, if you’re sure you can handle it…” Ilya finally snaps and glares at her.
“I.Will. Be. Fine. What. Do. You. Want?” Eri’s smile takes a predatory turn as she saunters around the table.
“To dance until the witching hour and then several hours of sweaty sex followed by more dancing and sex. Sure you can handle it?” She whispers into his ear as she cages him in, using the table. Ilya looks at her with a mixture of confusion and lust; Eri likes it.
“Come on baby, say yes.” Eri murmurs in Russian, hands gliding up his abs. His breathe hitched as she meanders her way first up then down.
“Don’t. Know. Name.” He gritted out, trying to stay sane. Eri laughs softly.
“Eri,” she whispers, playing with his ear. “You?” He groans, giving in.
“Ilya.” Eri smiles.
“Well, Ilya. Are you finally ready to dance?”

Sidhe Showers and Pity Parties
Also he's drunk

Sopping wet and naked as the day he was born Eon just sits letting his eyes dance in circles, the waterfall seemed to be raining in every which way ranging from up down and backwards. He already showered earlier so the soap bottles were abandoned in the other room. His horns weigh heavy. His wings pull him backwards and he rolls on his back like an inebriated turtle. Groaning was the only appropriate response at the moment.

How did he get here? He wondered. Cliff and Valour had something to do with it, he remembers an ambulance but he wasn’t in real need for an ambulance. Though his face fucking hurt, a lot. In fact the smell of burnt flesh was the reason his stomach is so upset. But that wasn’t just it… why did his face hurt?

Incomprehensible light and pain. A soul forge?

The image causes the Fiend to coil with a thunderclap of a headache. His Carbuncle still wasn’t as cool as it usually was. What a fucking nightmare. Time to just lay down and let the water drops bombard the Rephaim’s sculpted body like a piano concert with Bach slapping the keys. It helps stimulate the body and keep the spins from tormenting the poor bastard.

An entire bottle of god damn Rum. Did Eon think he was a Nephilim or something?

There is a pain in the heart. Love, and loss. The idea stopped the Demon in his tracks of circular squirming complaints. Something was hauntingly sobering about his love life. Truthfully speaking, the Demon felt lonely. And it’s True he intended to be the last living entity of existence, but he wasn’t quite ready for it but would be when the time comes. At least he thinks so.

Wolf and Lamb need help. Eon can probably help, but it has done poorly so far. The shower is proof.

His face sundering wasn’t even the only symptom of his pain, his heart felt a division down the tissue. Loves left behind and friendships betrayed and forgotten haunt the Demon like ghosts. Half of the damn haunters aren’t even his own shit storm but a sin of his fathers’, at least in terms of his Fatebound iteration.

The damn fool never seems to stop pitying himself. He shrugs, not like anybody else is gonna do it for him. Besides other people are hurting worse and need his help, no use in complaining about feelings when lives were on the line.

A sigh.

The Fiend doesn’t know when to stop, and he has always wanted to be a hero. But even now… he has the muscle, but it isn’t easier. He thought once he gained the strength to protect others the pieces would just fall into place. They haven’t. Damn the horns are heavy.

Maybe he’d just leave his head against the mossy floor. Let his heavy eyelids rest while the alcohol passed. It is easy.

No wait, he has a job to do. But shit wait what was it?

Fuck. You know what? The mossy floor will do, at least until the Rum is gone.


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