Lugubrious

Dungeon Keepers

She was several hundred feet away from the stone that emanated the Ripper's presence and she hadn't yet formed the bond with Ripper that brings their minds closer together. I'd say she was safe.

Dungeon Keepers

A few notes, when I said idyllic, that was from the attention of other dimensions only. There were and obviously still are big flaws in Sophist's 'perfect world'. The only exception to the outsider-influence thing is the Apocrypha, which you by now know are the three horsemen (or women, rather) banished here.

Dungeon Keepers

The problem is this. The creator of Elysium died a set amount of time ago, well within the last decade. His death caused the rift that opened Elysium for the Keepers to enter. Prior to Sophist's death, this world was almost idyllic, preserved from outsider influence. I don't think that setting yourself way in the past is a practical idea. A creative one, but not feasible.

Dungeon Keepers

The night wore on.

Clotho knew her victory over the human hero should have afforded her more satisfaction than this. She had just beaten and corrupted the only being capable of keeping Virens from her, hadn't she? Yet, she felt empty. As she sat in the highest chamber of the King of the Forest, watching the cocoon that comprised her heart pulse lethargically with a warm orange glow, she did not at all feel satisfied.

Her head was propped up by her left hand, while the right rested on the hilt of her rapier, whose tip currently lay embedded in the paper floor. The weapon's material, an organic alloy of chitin and carbon, tough as the finest steel, gleamed in the pulsating light. Wasn't this all she'd ever wanted? To be in control, to have the power, to be able to control and take the lives of others?

Looking for answers, she dispatched an order to her waiting servant, a runty Myrmidon that -for lack of ability to fight- carried out her more mundane wishes. She didn't watch it as it scuttled off, only continuing to massage her forehead. This action helped the ache there very little; the chitinous shell there prevented any sort of pressure from reaching her brain. Giving up, she pushed herself to her feet and strode across the floor to a wall. With one talon she ripped a hole in it, revealing the night sky and letting in a cool breeze. As she thought, she stared at the stars.

A scuffle from behind her indicated that her requested guest had arrived. Two Myrmidon guards escorted in the former heroine. Even if her tail and pincers hadn't been bound, the Scorrow would still find walking a chore. The idea of coming to grips with her monstrous lower half was appalling to whatever pride she had left, but ignoring it clearly wasn't working either. The Scorrow was therefore in a sorry state when she was presented before the Swarm Keeper. She was the image of a broken bird: her blonde hair hung in ragged clumps, her skin was sickly and pale, and even her barbed, venomous tail drooped in melancholy.

“Leave us.”

Without a sound, the sentries left. Clotho and her enemy were left alone in her sanctum. Slowly, the Swarm Keeper turned around. She beheld the helpless hatred and depression etched on her captive's face. When Clotho had first inflicted this upon her, it had felt so good. A proud, powerful foe had been brought low, changed into the very thing she had set out to destroy. However, Clotho was beginning to see fault in her own reasoning. By poising the heroine and transfiguring her body, she had brought her down to 'her level'. Did she then subconsciously think of herself as a monster, as something low and vile? It wasn't a thought that had occurred to her before. Until recently, she had been the rebel, fighting back against the oppressors and heaping justice upon them. In the eyes of the Scorrow, however, she saw herself pictured as a despot, a conquerer, a beast. Something to be hated and feared. All Nona had ever craved was love and acceptance; when offered the chance, she had seized power and control as well. Her dominion and creatures had given her that, but it wasn't earned.

It wasn't real.

Of course it is. You've worked for everything you have. Earning yourself a living is all you've ever done. They deserve this.

“Why am I here?”

Clotho was torn between the two voices. The one in her head, soothing and comforting, and that of the Scorrow who had just spoken, questioning the meaning of her continued existence. No doubt she expected to be tortured, perhaps further twisted. It was an idea, certainly. But first...

“I...brought you here,” Clotho began, choosing each word carefully. The presence in her head was muddling her thoughts somehow. “To ask you a question. Why did you attack me?”

The Scorrow decided that she might as well give her captor the answer she was looking for. “Because you're evil. All the pain you've caused, and all the suffering you can yet inflict. The city is starving. Flies are everywhere, disease is rampant. You're poisoning us from the inside out. You're a monster, and we have to get rid of monsters for the good of everyone.”

Clotho flinched. “No! You're wrong! I'm an opposing force. We are armies, nations at war! Warring factions always starve each other out, always cripple defenses, always engage the foe and kill! I haven't done anything a human wouldn't do. I might look like a monster, but I'm no different than you!”

Sensing an opportunity, the Scorrow decided to wait a little longer before begging for death. “No, you are wrong. There is all the difference. You play with your enemies, you extract their pain and feed on it until they're gone. That's why you haven't killed me. You want to enjoy my suffering. That's not what men do.” Her voice dwindled to a whisper. “That's what evil does.”

“...but evil never looks back at the path they've come and questions it. While we heroes believe that evil must be stopped, we must always give it a chance to turn itself around. You've done horrible things, but there's still hope. You must turn back now, or you'll always be a monster.”

-=-=-

Kill her she's poisoning your mind
I don't want to be evil. That wasn't my intention!
EVIL IS WHAT WE ARE IT IS OUR NATURE
Clotho's arm shot out, grabbing the Scorrow by the neck. The former heroine's arms feebly grasped at the Swarm Keeper's, still trying to save herself.
No! I am who I choose to be!
YOU ARE A DUNGEON KEEPER YOU ALWAYS WILL BE YOU SNIVELING WRECK YOU PUNY BITCH YOU WEAK-WILLED FLEA YOU WILL OBEY ME
Her fingers squeezed tighter. The Scorrow was choking. “Please...don't...prove me right...”
I will not submit to a voice in my head!

The Dungeon Heart left Clotho. She was suddenly standing in a white void. She was human again, a young woman, naked and alone. In front of her was a huge being, shades of green and yellow and black, four crab legs, five mandibles, and two clawed arms. Its gargantuan maw opened to scream.

I AM TIRED OF YOUR PATHETIC LIFE I AM AVAK IASCOR AND YOU WILL SUBMIT YOUR BODY AND SOUL TO ME IT IS WHY I CREATED YOU

The Heroes of Beacon

KabenSaal said
And yet you said I get bonus points. But really, I only looked at the bottom paragraph.

Oh no, that wasn't the reference. The whole bit about plotting is a reference to Red vs Blue, specifically Tex talking about the Reds.

The Heroes of Beacon

KabenSaal said
Hansen and Gretchen seems reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel.

No kidding! It's almost like their names, appearances, and weapons were pretty much directly based off the fairy tale characters...

The Heroes of Beacon

Bonus points for whoever gets my reference in my last paragraph.

The Heroes of Beacon

A tense moment passed. Three people with weapons raised waited for their opponents to make the first move. It became obvious that neither of the siblings had seen Maggie arrive. After a few seconds, Hansen and Gretchen shared a knowing look. Abel prepared himself to defend.

Then they burst into laughter.

With a clatter, the Witch's Brand fell to the ground, and its flame vanished with a pop. Stunned, Abel simple stared. Gretchen herself fell to her knees, giggling helplessly, almost to the point where tears were coming from her eyes. Hansen, meanwhile, was reduced to leaning on the Liar Bone for support, too full of mirth to properly stand. Suddenly, the situation didn't seem nearly as menacing as it had moments before. As his anger melted away into confusion, there was only one thing Abel could say.

“What?”

Hansen managed to regain control of himself as his sister wiped tears from the her face with a ruffled sleeve. “You...” he gasped, “were really going to do it! You were gonna brawl! Haha! Man, I'm sorry, but you got baited hard. We didn't think you'd take it so seriously!” The stylized halberd compressed itself to a manageable size once more, and Hansen replaced it on his belt. Gretchen's weapon found its way back into hers as well. Both seemed so gleeful whereas before they had only been nasty; it was hard not to believe that it all had been an elaborate prank. The siblings high-fived, and with that, the situation was defused.

"Hang on a second, you..."

"Nope! No time for questions, see you later, sunshine!" With that, the two were on their way, leaving the Guardian they had bullied alone once again. He couldn't decide whether they had been serious and were just covering their tracks or had genuinely only played a prank that he took too much to heart. After massaging his face with his free hand, he resolved to forget the incident ever occurred and resume his exploration of the campus.

-=-=-

Some time later, he had completed his trek and was in the process of pulling a fresh can of People Like Grape from a vending machine when Goodwitch's announcement resounded across the school grounds. Looking up, he noticed that the hour was indeed growing late, and joined the trickle of students heading to the ballroom. Once in, he noticed most of the others had already arrived with their things and were preparing for an early bedtime. His own drab brown hardcase was among the luggage that hadn't been claimed yet; after fetching it, popping it open, and briefly rummaging through his things, he noticed that he hadn't brought any sort of sleepwear. He did have some clothes that would do, but there was no point in soiling anything new when what he was wearing would suffice. Able pulled off his hoodie, boots, and tunic wrap, leaving him in his decidedly unexciting brown striped shirt and shorts.

As he reclined on a mattress, he noticed Hansen and Gretchen. Flippantly disregarding the unspoken rule about separating gender, the brother and sister had pulled their mattresses side-by-side in the middle of the gap that separated the two halves of the ballroom. Both were sitting up, propped on extra pillows that they could have only pilfered from other mattresses, and talked in low, excited tones. Abel frowned; he knew plotting when he saw it, and that was definitely plotting. Following their example, a few of the other students were mingling as well. He noticed Mary just arriving, and gave her a short, stiff wave.

.::Legend of Zelda :: Whispers in the Night::.

Cain glanced down at Ekra as she tilted her head and bubbled forth questions. He considered them briefly and the best response, in the end deciding on a simple, “Yes, no, no, you'll see shortly.”

As it turned out, 'shortly' didn't even cover ten seconds. As if on queue, the little Gerudo child appeared. What was her name again? She seemed like a different person. Neither aggressive nor non-cooperative, she simply stood there with her hood up, tossing her rock. Cain wondered if she thought that made her look more impressive. After holding a hand up to excuse himself from Angus for a moment, he knelt in the air in front of Veitaru. “Not everyone, dearie. I'm sure we've both been having trouble remembering everyone we were supposed to find. But we've got a fair few. Hope it'll be enough.”

He indicated that she ought to join the others at the graveyard's center before turning back to Ekra and Angus. The towering blacksmith informed him that he'd be giving him a chance after all, and Cain was inwardly pleased. “Too true,” he declared in response to Angus's words, and led both Hylian and Skull Kid with the others.

This time, rather than simply melting into a shadow once again, he remained in half-bodied form. The phase in which stealth had been necessary to avoid causing disruption in Kakariko was gone; now, he had to try and seem as trustworthy as possible. While even he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his current nebulous form wasn't very trust-inspiring, it was probably better than a disembodied voice at someone's feet.

So, in half-bodied form, he scrutinized the gathering. The Darknut was here, clearly bored and fit to burst with contempt for those around here, but here nonetheless. Two others had arrived unnoticed by him, presumably brought by Veitaru. One was clearly a Sheikah given his garb and bearing, and while the other was very similar he was also unique. Unique, that is, in the sense that he was pretty much unremarkable compared to most of those present. Given their proximity, it was obvious they knew each other, and it wasn't a hazardous extension to say they were related.

Once he was done staring intently at the two newcomers, he hovered over to Frore's side. The Chilfos-turned-Hylian seemed pleased that he was back, but said nothing, as if the gravity of the current situation silenced her. She wasn't far wrong; the current atmosphere in the graveyard was grim and expectant. The people naturally formed a sort of circle, staying nearby those they knew but also -for the most part- sensing that they were part of a new little community. There were so many questions hanging in the air, and the only individual who could answer them all was not present. Cain knew that if Lethe did not return soon, some of the less interested members of this unorthodox gathering would bail. Come on, you wretched pixie. If I have to pretend I'm working for you we might as well make accomplish something.

The Heroes of Beacon

Dagnabbit! A time skip right in the middle of my confrontation with NPCs. Can I at least finish it before I catch up to bedtime?