NoriWasHere

The Symphony - A Fated Quest

“What a strange land,” Lys spoke to no one in particular as she watched a singular yellow leaf fall in front of her. This was her first time in the Empire of Man before winter hit, and it was her first time seeing the sea of colors all around the road. From the red, yellow, and orange leaves that dotted the canopy in the forest above, to the snow-capped mountains that filled the horizon, there was much that filled her with a wonder that she had never experienced. And thus far, she was enjoying what she was seeing. They did not have trees like this back in the Frost Tribes, no theirs were tall and prickly and always the same shade of green year-round. As well, she rarely got to see the mountain peaks back home as they were always in the clouds, and she was neither brave nor foolish enough to attempt that climb.

As she admired the scenery around her, movement ahead on the cobblestone road caught her eye. In a quick motion, she had a hand on her weapon and her face towards the unseen threat. A second later, she relaxed her grip and her expression softened as she watched a few small children running up the road towards her. The sound of laughter could be heard even from the distance she was at, and it brought a small smile to her face. These lands were much different from her own. While she thought that it was entirely too warm out, she loved the sights, the scents, and even the sounds of children feeling safe enough to run down the road even as a stranger walked them. As she continued her walk she noticed the children catch sight of her for the first time. It appeared as if the two children discussed what to do next before they turned away from Lys and began sprinting down the road.

“That is trouble,” Lys said with a frown. She knew that there was a village nearby. She knew this because she had led a small raiding party into it the previous winter. And she knew she may have stolen quite a bit of their needed food. While she was not dressed with the sigil nor the colors of her tribe today, she was still overdressed for this area and looked very much like one of the pale raiders. She knew the children would alert the local garrison, and they would come looking for her. Her eyes darted from side to side. She knew she had to keep traveling south, however, she would need to find a new path that would take her in that direction. As she thought, the wind carried a burnt piece of paper into her face, covering her vision completely. “The fuck,” she whispered as she ripped it from her face and looked at the writing on it. “Darmor,” she once again scanned the area around her, “is Darmor where I am meant to go,” she asked as she awaited an answer from The Fates. Silence was her only response. Silence, and then the ringing of a bell ahead of her.

“Shit,” she muttered as she took off to the side and into the woods. She held onto the burnt parchment like it was the most important piece of paper she had ever held. And she ran, running faster than she had in recent years, and trying to push through her own limits to run faster some more.

“Shit,” Grove muttered as she jumped over a fallen tree that blocked the path in front of her. She held onto the fated stick she was given like it was the most important sick she had ever held. And she ran, she ran faster than she thought she could but she knew she needed to run faster than even this.

Behind her, she could hear the shouts, the cries, and the frustration brewing in her pursuers. They were close. Much closer than they had been the past few days and much closer than Grove ever dared to fear. She could smell their anger, their desperation, and Grove needed to get away from it. Her eyes darted across the woods ahead, and she searched for whatever path would take her away from her pursuers. Eventually, she spotted it. There was a windy path that led towards a canyon, and Groves intuition and spirit birds told her that was the only way she’d get away. She turned her run towards that direction and set off down the windy trail.

Grove knew that there was something off about these woods. The leaves lacked the same vibrant warmth of her home, the trees looked old and sick, and there were as many dead trees still standing as alive ones. Everywhere she looked she felt like there were hungry eyes locked onto her, like she was the next meal to walk into their dinner plate. This was a place of danger. This was what the stories warned her about. This was a place where she could die. But yet, her smile never grew smaller. This chase, these woods, and these spooky sights were all new to her, and she was ready to face these new challenges.

Grove danced through the windy trail, avoiding every snag, every branch, and every fallen tree. Eventually, she had made her way to the edge of the canyon and was about to look for the trail when she heard a voice from being shout to her. “GROVE NO.” Her head turned slightly, trying to see who it was and only caught a glimpse of the scout Amara before she suddenly began to fall. The trail did not continue down a hill, or snake its way down the cliff side. Instead, the trail ended at the edge of the canyon before it gave way to a steep decline. It wasn’t a straight drop but it was a very steep slope filled with rocky outcrops and other sharp and dangerous objects.

Grove began to tumble down the side of the mountain. Her descent began to speed up only to be slowed down by collisions with the rocky structures that dotted the hillside. Again and again, she would tumble, fall, slip, and try to catch herself before she once again slammed into another rock. She curled herself into the tightest ball she could, protecting both her head and the fated stick with everything she had.

Eventually, the descent slowed and Grove found herself near the bottom of the canyon. She was bloodied, her bones were broken, and she would be crying in pain if it were not for the sheer adrenaline rushing through her veins. Grove attempted to stand up and the pain nearly pushed her back down. She tested each leg in turn and sighed as none appeared to have been broken in the fall. She had numerous broken ribs, that much she could tell, but her legs were the most important thing. She checked her bag and whispered “fuck” as she realized all her healing potions and jars were broken, however. She coughed, and with the cough, she winced in pain.

“STAY THERE GROVE,” Amaras faint voice shouted. Grove looked up and her eyes went wide with shock. She had fallen a great distance. The scout up top looked like little more than a baby deer in the distance as opposed to a roll-grown member of her species. “WE’LL GO TO TOWN TO SEE IF THERE’S A SAFE WAY DOWN. WE CAN HELP YOU,” Amara started.

“Leave me alone,” was all grove could shout back before the pain took her words. She scanned the area around, looking for healing medicines and plants. She knew that she had been given a blessing with this fall, and it was up to her to make the most of it. “What a strange land,” Grove finished with a smile.

The Symphony - A Fated Quest

“Ignis,” Eros shouted as he reached across the Obsidian hall with a hand stretched out trying to grab his friend. Yet, it was too little too late as Ignis was pulled across the hall and towards Malakith, and his symphony filled with heralds. Eros took a step back as the anger that filled his eyes slowly gave way to confusion before that too gave way to sadness.

“Alaria what do we do?” Eros asked as he looked back. She was in the middle of her protection song, her fingers becoming raw from the sheer amount of music she’s had to play. Alaria did not respond as she continued playing. Eros looked back towards the front and his eyes settled on Ignis. He was on the ground now, his back pressed downward by the darkness of the maestro's hand. The Maestro opened its mouth and began to sing its incomprehensible song, causing the entire area to shake violently. The song continued for several seconds before the maestro rose back up. The chains that binded him had begun to fail, and it was only a matter of time very he ripped himself free of them. A second later, Ignis began to clap his hands and applaud. “ALARIA,” Eros shouted as he took a step back. Ignis began to stand up, turning around as he did, and faced the group. His red face bore the tell tale signs of corruption as black tendrils began to snake under his skin.

“WHAT DO WE DO-,” Eros started but stopped as he turned and saw the Fates behind his friend. They were whispering in her ear, guiding her hand with a new song, and each had their eyes locked on Malakith. “Alaria..” Eros started as he lowered his guard.

“It’s okay, my friend,” Alaria said as tears began to stream down her face, “we can still seal him. We can buy the fates more time” Alaria finished as she began to pluck the strings.

“How much-“ Eros paused as he looked back at Ignis. Ignis had retrieved his weapon and had begun to walk towards the remaining two fated. “I can hold him off for a bit, how long do the fates need?”

“Years,” Veidia whispered to Eros, her voice in guts head alone.

“Centuries,” Chrona responded with a sad tone.

“More.” Eclipses finished as she pulled at invisible fate strings around them.

“We’re going to lock him in here Eros,” Alaria spoke in a singsong tone, “we’re going to finish the mission.”

Eros felt his mind grow cloudy, his strength begin to falter, and a deep desire to lay down and embrace the eternal sleep began to fill his waking thoughts. “I guess that means that I won’t be able to do my hero’s whoring then,” Eros joked as he turned to face Malakith. He knew what was happening. He never considered the possibility of it, nor did he know exactly what the fates were doing. But something in his mind told him that he and Alaria were about to die. And that this moment was Fated. “Oi, you’re a proper cunt for taking my friends.. You’ve lost to the fated five once,” Eros paused as he felt the strength fall away from his legs, “and you’ve lost to them again.”

Eros fell to the ground and as he hit the ground he was gone. Alaria too began to slump over but she continued the song. Alaria rested her eyes on Eros before she shifted them to get corrupted friends and gave them one final smile. Eventually her music slowed as did her breathing before she too found herself on the ground next to Eros.

Malakith chuckled in response. He looked out and saw only victory here today. Three of the fated five had joined his symphony, and the remaining two were about to be dead. What ploy were they working on, what did the fates whisper to them? A second later the chains that bound him pulled taught. He watched as stands of fate itself made its way into the metal itself, blessing them and making them fated. What’s more, these fated strands were powerful. The maestro began to feel weakened, tired, and ready to sleep as well. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“A year, a century, or eons more time will free me forevermore,” he laughed as he commanded his heralds to sleep. The chains that bound him pulled themselves tighter, and tighter, and tighter until each of his limbs were locked into place. The dull red glow of the maestro went dark, bringing himself, the heralds, and the fated five into darkness.

Deep within the heart of the desolate mountain, The Maestro lay bound in chains. Its ancient and powerful form is bound by enchanted restraints. The cavernous chamber echoed with a low hum, the very essence of the mountain pulsating with latent magic. The air was thick with the weight of centuries, and the only light emanated from the glow of mystical runes etched into the walls. Various golden strands of fate wove their way up and across the metal of the chains that bound The Maestro, and these golden strands had begun to dull in intensity.

As another tremor shook the cavern, The Maestro stirred from his seemingly eternal slumber. His eyes flickered with renewed vitality. The chains that bound him rattled with an echoing resonance as the mountain itself seemed to respond to his awakening. The Maestro shifted his vision to one chain in particular, and a rumbling laugh shook the area as a rock had fallen and broken a link. Without the enchantments of the fates, The Maestro was able to free the hand from its containment and he stretched it out in front of his face. A smile equal parts wicked and alluring spread across his face. He began to slowly raise the hand, palm open to the roof, and as he did The Maestros' music began to play once again. It was a silent symphony, with the music beyond the ability of our collective understanding but the power behind the composition was felt as the mountain rocked with another quake. It was a fraction of his power, but it was enough for him to begin his plot for freedom.

The Maestro raised his hand further, causing a red glow to fill the area around him revealing seven statues kneeling in front of his form. As he raised his hand even further, several tendrils formed in his palm and they shot out across the cavern and impacted the stone figures, burrowing deep as they hit. The red glow that emanated from The Maestro raced down the tendrils and began to fill the stone figures from the inside out. In a moment, the figures began to move. The stone cracked, letting arms and legs move freely of their prison, and within a minute the seven figures stood up, each with a wicked smile on their face.

“My most vocal heralds,” The Maestro spoke. His voice was somewhere between a thousand individual whispers and a full choir singing. “It is time to spread my music once more, you must return,” he paused as he raised his hand even higher, bringing the unheard music to a level that vibrated the entire area, shaking even more rocks free from above. As it reached its crescendo, two portals opened up behind the heralds. “Igai, Agor, venture forth. The realm yearns for our music, play it for them once more. Spread my influence, my whispers on the wind," The Maestro commanded, his voice a sinister lullaby. "Let the Fates know that I have awoken."

With that, the two heralds got up and vanished through the portal, leaving The Maestro and the remaining five heralds in his dark chamber. The echoes of their departure lingered, and as the last portal closed, The Maestro began to hum an eerie tune – a haunting melody that resonated within the very essence of the shadows. The cavern responded to his song, the stones humming in harmony with The Maestro's malevolent melody as he began to envision a world under his rule, a world where everyone listened to his symphony and a world where the fates were forced to. The remaining five heralds began to swing their weapons at the thousands of chains that bound him. Their magic was weakened by the broken link, and they weakened further with each subsequent blow.

“Mom, I saw something I swear,” a young girl pleaded as she cuddled up next to her mother.

“Honey, you can stay in bed with us tonight,” the mother smiled. This was a nightly occurrence for the small five year old child. The parents would put her to bed, they would turn out the lights, they would lay down, and then fifteen minutes later the child would come in because they saw a monster in the dark. “Eventually you will never see these monsters again, they are remnants of an old terror called Malakith,” the mother paused as she looked over to the husband and winked. The husband smiled, shook his head, and rolled over in the bed.

“Malakith?”

“The Maestro,” The mother responded.

“What’s a maestro?” The child asked.

The mother frowned as she thought for a second. Maybe she chose the wrong story to tell this night. “It’s a guy who composes music,” the mother guessed, “anyway, the maestro was an evil force that came to our world many years ago. His music was evil, and it filled the children with a fear of the darkness, made them see monsters in it that weren’t there. The monster was defeated, by a group of hero’s known as the five fated, and his monsters were banished from our world forever.”

“In the shadows deep, where darkness creeps,
Lurks Malakith, where the blackness seeps.
But fear not, dear child, for he's not all bad,
In the darkest corners, there's light to be had.
He may wear a cloak of night so cold,
But even evil has stories untold.
For in the end, even darkness can spark,
A glimmer of hope in the deepest dark.”

The mother looked over to the father, who had decided to chime in with a rhyme. Everyone in this village knew the story of the maestro, though what they did not know was just how off they were. To the children, this story was meant to show them that the dark held no monsters while they were safe behind their walls, inside their homes, even though the story and rhyme were originally meant to tell the heroic tale of the fated five. Time has a funny way of changing things.

“So, there’s no monsters in the dark?”

“None,” the parents responded in unison.

*knock*

The sound of a fist delivering a singular knock at the door. The parents looked at each other, and the father reached down and grabbed his sword.

*knock*

The sound of an individual waiting for them outside. The father stood up and walked to the main room of the house. The mother looked at the daughter and smiled, though her eyes betrayed her worry.

*creak*

The sound of the front door opening, with the father asking who’s there. A quiet followed, but a low hum soon filled it. It was jovial, it was happy, but for some reason it was a sound that defied definition. Then the sound of footsteps approaching from the door. A second later the father returned, black tendrils of corruption snaking across his face. His smile was wide, pained but excited, and he motioned for an unseen guest to join them.

“You have to hear this music, dears,” he said, before the screams of his wife and child filled the air for a moment before it was replaced by all three humming together, and the sound of footsteps back towards the door.

The fates huddled together in their realms. Around them was a frozen forest, with broken trees and snow-covered fields surrounding them. In the distance, a wolf howls at the moon. Throughout the area golden strands of fated thread run over and across the landscape. These fated threads represented much to the fates. Where they converged represented the centers of life, cities and forests and places of the sort, and where they did not cover was the deserts, the tundras, and the volcanic fields where life did not thrive.

The three fates jerked their heads at once to the side. Two convergence points, one in the Empire of Man and a second in the Silvermoor realm, began to shift in color. The golden stands began to adopt a red hue. The fates scurried together and ran from one point to the next. The heralds had started their conquests, and the fates needed their champions to counter. Veidia reached out and began snatching the threads off to their sides before she channeled her magic into the threads. All across Eldoria people, creatures, and events began to make subtle changes.

“The fated are ready,” Veidia spoke as she grabbed several fated stands and held them up to view.

“They will face much trouble,” Chrona responded as she grabbed the fated stands, examining them closely.

“The Maestro has been busy,” Eclipsis responded as she grabbed hold of the fated stands.

“Several heralds have been sent,” Veidia spoke as she began to look over the stands of fate that dotted the path ahead of the new fated warriors.

“Corruption spreads in their wake,” Chrona said as she examined them closely. The fate strands that she looked at were different than the ones away from the heralds. Instead of a pristine, golden glow, they had a more reddish hue. The Maestero's corruption ran deep, not only corrupting the victims' minds and bodies it also corrupting their fate.

“His music,” Veidia said with a hiss.

“His melodies,” Chrona said with a growl

“His corruption,” Eclipsis spoke softly. Eclipsis used her fated magic to lift the fated strands into the air, and then used the magic as she started twisting the various strands together into a single rope. The end of the rope remained imperfect, with each fated strand still sticking out in its own, however from this point on the fated fellowship would be drawn to each other. Whether through luck, outside interference, or the actions of the fated they would be together before long.

“They will fight,” Veidia said as she examined the corruption in the fate strands.

“They will save,” Chrona responded as she examined them closer.

“And they will purge this corruption,” Eclipsis said as she tried to cut the blighted strand, yet her blade could not cut through.

“We need them together,” Veidia spoke with excitement.

“After some time apart,” Chrona said with a neutral tone.

“And after they meet,” Eclipsis responded with sadness.

“They must finish what they started,” Veidia spoke with sadness

“Our Fated Five,” Chrona continued with her neutral tone

“Our departed friends,” Eclipsis finished sharply.

Veidia resumed the process of pulling together various other threads of fate and began to use her magic to influence the world outside. Winds would blow, factions would fight, and despair would befall the lands. This plight will be like beacons in the dark for the new fated champions. They will be drawn to these areas of fated energy, and they will have many decisions to make as they traverse them. Will they save those in trouble, and begin the process of etching their names onto the legend of this reality? Or will they ignore it and simply try and face the heralds of Malakith on their terms? Regardless of how they go about these next few weeks, they will be drawn to two towns, Dalvinwood in the west, and Nightingale Thicket in the east. As each day passes, the Fates know that more monstrous creatures will await them as the Maestro's music spreads unchecked.

Nori And Her Stuff

"KEEP MOVING," Captain Roth shouted to his soldiers, "WE DO NOT STOP UNTIL THE MOUNT."

Captain Roth led his soldiers down the relatively narrow cobblestone path towards the Mount. The path was flanked on both sides by an old forest, while there was still some life in their branches there was more dead growth than new. While the leaves that did dot the canopy above started to show the first color of the autumn season, it was, by in large, a dead section. This dead section would stretch for the last leg of their journey, and this made Captain Roth nervous. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning the tree's and the canopy itself for signs of a thief. There had been a few attempts made by various groups already on their treasure, and he did not want to lose his prize this close to home. He did not want to lose his prize this close to fame.

"HURRY, HURRY, WE'RE ALMOST THERE."

Captain Roth had reason to worry more. This was the perfect spot for an ambush. The trees could be felled, stoping their advance, the branches could be dropped, crushing his soldiers, and the narrow path meant they could get blocked in easily. While his cavalry could maneuver still, the carriage couldn't. Captain Roth shifted his eyes back to the carriage. It was a metal monstrosity of locks, chains, and chained-up locks. It would take thirteen keys to fully unlock the door, and another one to get to their stolen goods. He knew that if an ambush were to happen, it would take longer for a would be thief to open the door and get the artifact than it would for reinforcements to arrive. He knew that he had completed his mission, but a single thought still lingered.

What if the thief was good?



An eerie calm falls over Orban and his traveling crew despite the sight of bodies littering the roadside and strewn across the village around them. These corpses were in a fight, they all wore some facet of armor and a litany of weapons littered the area around them. Their blood painted the road, the houses, and even the grass and it was evident that they did not die without a fight. Yet, despite the chaos and despite this bloodshed, there was one thing missing that Orban could easily tell. The villagers. The only bodies were the soldiers, and there were footsteps in the blood-stained mud that suggest that whoever once called this place home was led away from it towards the nearby forest. What’s more, there are several canine tracks unlike anything seen before in the mortal realm. These footprints were big, bigger than any dog or wolf and even bigger than some of the monsters that Orban would have faced.

There is also something off about the air. It is as if something powerful lingers within it. Some unspoken word, some unseen threat, or some unknown presence. If they look carefully they may even see an eye peeking at them from the windows, from the forest, and every direction and yet there is nothing there.



A most peculiar sight awaits Taiji. As he travels down the road a small caravan of wealthy-looking, but upset, businessmen will begin to pass them. They are dressed in fine linen, and carry expensive-looking crates and chests however they struggle to take each step. It is as if none of these people have actually worked a day in their lives, and this little effort of labor is too challenging for them. They all have the same look of sadness mixed with anger in their eyes, and Taiji may hear a few curses whispered under their breath at their misfortune.

“You, you look like you are up for a challenge,” one of the men shouted as she walked up to Tiji. He was tall, fat, and looked like he was used to commanding an aura of respect. He wore no jewelry however the tan lines on his finger suggest that he typically does. His eyes carried a look of contentment.

“What if I could promise you riches beyond measure,” he asked Tiji, “the name is Kaito, and I run the village of Hurrin,” he paused as he sighed with anger, “or should I say ran. A musical demon entered our village last week, and he has fought and killed his way through our militia until he forced us out. We called him,” he paused as he shifted his eyes from side-to-side, “the singing demon, the maestro of our misfortune. Will you help us?”



“GET AWAY FROM MY MOTHER,” a young boy screams as he charges towards Bren.

He is young, maybe seven or so years of age. He has a small dagger in his hand but it looks like it might as well be a sword. He has small cuts and scrapes across his face but is otherwise okay. Behind him, a younger girl is holding onto his clothes. Fear is present in both their eyes, a fear that is directed to the sight of Bren.

“I WILL STAB YOU, MONSTER,” the boy will scream again but as he continues his charge he will trip over a branch that had suddenly blown in with the wind, falling to the ground and sending the knife sliding across the pavement towards Bren. The boy is not hurt, at least badly, but he still screams. The boy scoots backward, trying to now put distance between Bren and himself, but also keep himself in between Bren and his family. Bren would notice that there is a woman in the ditch on the side of the road who is hurt badly. She has been attacked by a sword and a long laceration is seen across her chest. Her eyes flicker open, but they don’t stay open for long and she drifts back to sleep.

The family sits on the side of the road at a crossroads. The post has three signs on it. The first points towards a nearby village. Smoke fills the air coming from that direction and Bren would smell the blood that was spilled there. The second points towards a nearby city called Goldrun. It was a larger city, and they would have healers and possible help for the young family. The third pointed towards another village, and Bren may notice a familiar track in the mud heading towards it. A gnoll footprint.



“So, you must be why I am waiting here,” a well-dressed man whispered from behind Eve and his group.

From seemingly nowhere this well-dressed man appeared and began to walk towards the fated one. He was well dressed, with an expensive robe that was covered in fine trims and details that would make even the vainest nobleman blush. Despite the robe being closed the trio could easily tell that the man was strong. The longer they looked at the well-dressed man, the more a sense of unease would fall over them. There was something off, something wrong, with the person walking towards them. And if sight alone was not enough, the air began to carry with it the faint hint of sulfur.

“I was told that I could expect someone of great power to face the coming darkness on this road, but even I could not have guessed that would be the Citadel’s first love,” a slight grin fell across the face of the well-dressed man as he sized up Eve’s traveling companions, “don’t worry, I don’t bite,” his voice a mix of sultry and sweet, “I am here to join up on your merry escapade,” he paused as he leaned in, “on your fated quest.”

The well-dressed man’s smile only grew larger, warmer, and more inviting. His eyes seemed kind, gentle, and compassionate.



“Wait,” a single voice cut across a sea of bodies.

“Wait, don’t,” the man coughed and blood followed, “don’t go you must help them.”

All around Iveus was death. A battle was had recently, and it was a battle that this human patrol lost. A hundred bodies dotted the landscape, all in some different state of destruction. Some were cleaved in two, some were thrown into the rocky landscape breaking their bodies, and others found a merciful death with a stab through the heart. However, there was no sign of whomever or whatever attacked them. The only bodies that dotted the landscape were this human faction, and they died fighting something other than themselves.

“I feel myself fading,” the man whispered. He had a look in his eye, a determined look. “I don’t know what it was but it cut through us, it was humming some twisted song as it swung…” The man gasped for air for a brief second, “it’s heading towards the village of Koi, it’s heading..” the man leaned his head back as a few more pained breathes filled the air. “It’s heading…” his voice grew weak. “It’s…” He grew silent as his chest ceased movement, and his head slumped to the side.

Iveus would notice that the air hung heavy with a strange energy. It was not magic, but it held a power he never felt before. Whatever cut through these soldiers was strong, and it was heading towards a village that would not be able to protect itself.

Nori And Her Stuff

“What a strange land,” Lys spoke to no one in particular as she watched a singular yellow leaf fall in front of her. This was her first time in the Empire of Man before winter hit, and it was her first time seeing the sea of colors all around the road. From the red, yellow, and orange leaves that dotted the canopy in the forest above, to the snow-capped mountains that filled the horizon, there was much that filled her with a wonder that she had never experienced. And thus far, she was enjoying what she was seeing. They did not have trees like this back in the Frost Tribes, no theirs were tall and prickly and always the same shade of green year-round. As well, she rarely got to see the mountain peaks back home as they were always in the clouds, and she was neither brave nor foolish enough to attempt that climb.

As she admired the scenery around her, movement ahead on the cobblestone road caught her eye. In a quick motion, she had a hand on her weapon and her face towards the unseen threat. A second later, she relaxed her grip and her expression softened as she watched a few small children running up the road towards her. The sound of laughter could be heard even from the distance she was at, and it brought a small smile to her face. These lands were much different from her own. While she thought that it was entirely too warm out, she loved the sights, the scents, and even the sounds of children feeling safe enough to run down the road even as a stranger walked them. As she continued her walk she noticed the children catch sight of her for the first time. It appeared as if the two children discussed what to do next before they turned away from Lys and began sprinting down the road.

“That is trouble,” Lys said with a frown. She knew that there was a village nearby. She knew this because she had led a small raiding party into it the previous winter. And she knew she may have stolen quite a bit of their needed food. While she was not dressed with the sigil nor the colors of her tribe today, she was still overdressed for this area and looked very much like one of the pale raiders. She knew the children would alert the local garrison, and they would come looking for her. Her eyes darted from side to side. She knew she had to keep traveling south, however, she would need to find a new path that would take her in that direction. As she thought, the wind carried a burnt piece of paper into her face, covering her vision completely. “The fuck,” she whispered as she ripped it from her face and looked at the writing on it. “Darmor,” she once again scanned the area around her, “is Darmor where I am meant to go,” she asked as she awaited an answer from The Fates. Silence was her only response. Silence, and then the ringing of a bell ahead of her.

“Shit,” she muttered as she took off to the side and into the woods. She held onto the burnt parchment like it was the most important piece of paper she had ever held. And she ran, running faster than she had in recent years, and trying to push through her own limits to run faster some more.

“Shit,” Grove muttered as she jumped over a fallen tree that blocked the path in front of her. She held onto the fated stick she was given like it was the most important sick she had ever held. And she ran, she ran faster than she thought she could but she knew she needed to run faster than even this.

Behind her, she could hear the shouts, the cries, and the frustration brewing in her pursuers. They were close. Much closer than they had been the past few days and much closer than Grove ever dared to fear. She could smell their anger, their desperation, and Grove needed to get away from it. Her eyes darted across the woods ahead, and she searched for whatever path would take her away from her pursuers. Eventually, she spotted it. There was a windy path that led towards a canyon, and Groves intuition and spirit birds told her that was the only way she’d get away. She turned her run towards that direction and set off down the windy trail.

Grove knew that there was something off about these woods. The leaves lacked the same vibrant warmth of her home, the trees looked old and sick, and there were as many dead trees still standing as alive ones. Everywhere she looked she felt like there were hungry eyes locked onto her, like she was the next meal to walk into their dinner plate. This was a place of danger. This was what the stories warned her about. This was a place where she could die. But yet, her smile never grew smaller. This chase, these woods, and these spooky sights were all new to her, and she was ready to face these new challenges.

Grove danced through the windy trail, avoiding every snag, every branch, and every fallen tree. Eventually, she had made her way to the edge of the canyon and was about to look for the trail when she heard a voice from being shout to her. “GROVE NO.” Her head turned slightly, trying to see who it was and only caught a glimpse of the scout Amara before she suddenly began to fall. The trail did not continue down a hill, or snake its way down the cliff side. Instead, the trail ended at the edge of the canyon before it gave way to a steep decline. It wasn’t a straight drop but it was a very steep slope filled with rocky outcrops and other sharp and dangerous objects.

Grove began to tumble down the side of the mountain. Her descent began to speed up only to be slowed down by collisions with the rocky structures that dotted the hillside. Again and again, she would tumble, fall, slip, and try to catch herself before she once again slammed into another rock. She curled herself into the tightest ball she could, protecting both her head and the fated stick with everything she had.

Eventually, the descent slowed and Grove found herself near the bottom of the canyon. She was bloodied, her bones were broken, and she would be crying in pain if it were not for the sheer adrenaline rushing through her veins. Grove attempted to stand up and the pain nearly pushed her back down. She tested each leg in turn and sighed as none appeared to have been broken in the fall. She had numerous broken ribs, that much she could tell, but her legs were the most important thing. She checked her bag and whispered “fuck” as she realized all her healing potions and jars were broken, however. She coughed, and with the cough, she winced in pain.

“STAY THERE GROVE,” Amaras faint voice shouted. Grove looked up and her eyes went wide with shock. She had fallen a great distance. The scout up top looked like little more than a baby deer in the distance as opposed to a roll-grown member of her species. “WE’LL GO TO TOWN TO SEE IF THERE’S A SAFE WAY DOWN. WE CAN HELP YOU,” Amara started.

“Leave me alone,” was all grove could shout back before the pain took her words. She scanned the area around, looking for healing medicines and plants. She knew that she had been given a blessing with this fall, and it was up to her to make the most of it. “What a strange land,” Grove finished with a smile.

Nori And Her Stuff

“Ignis,” Eros shouted as he reached across the Obsidian hall with a hand stretched out trying to grab his friend. Yet, it was too little too late as Ignis was pulled across the hall and towards Malakith, and his symphony filled with heralds. Eros took a step back as the anger that filled his eyes slowly gave way to confusion before that too gave way to sadness.

“Alaria what do we do?” Eros asked as he looked back. She was in the middle of her protection song, her fingers becoming raw from the sheer amount of music she’s had to play. Alaria did not respond as she continued playing. Eros looked back towards the front and his eyes settled on Ignis. He was on the ground now, his back pressed downward by the darkness of the maestro's hand. The Maestro opened its mouth and began to sing its incomprehensible song, causing the entire area to shake violently. The song continued for several seconds before the maestro rose back up. The chains that binded him had begun to fail, and it was only a matter of time very he ripped himself free of them. A second later, Ignis began to clap his hands and applaud. “ALARIA,” Eros shouted as he took a step back. Ignis began to stand up, turning around as he did, and faced the group. His red face bore the tell tale signs of corruption as black tendrils began to snake under his skin.

“WHAT DO WE DO-,” Eros started but stopped as he turned and saw the Fates behind his friend. They were whispering in her ear, guiding her hand with a new song, and each had their eyes locked on Malakith. “Alaria..” Eros started as he lowered his guard.

“It’s okay, my friend,” Alaria said as tears began to stream down her face, “we can still seal him. We can buy the fates more time” Alaria finished as she began to pluck the strings.

“How much-“ Eros paused as he looked back at Ignis. Ignis had retrieved his weapon and had begun to walk towards the remaining two fated. “I can hold him off for a bit, how long do the fates need?”

“Years,” Veidia whispered to Eros, her voice in guts head alone.

“Centuries,” Chrona responded with a sad tone.

“More.” Eclipses finished as she pulled at invisible fate strings around them.

“We’re going to lock him in here Eros,” Alaria spoke in a singsong tone, “we’re going to finish the mission.”

Eros felt his mind grow cloudy, his strength begin to falter, and a deep desire to lay down and embrace the eternal sleep began to fill his waking thoughts. “I guess that means that I won’t be able to do my hero’s whoring then,” Eros joked as he turned to face Malakith. He knew what was happening. He never considered the possibility of it, nor did he know exactly what the fates were doing. But something in his mind told him that he and Alaria were about to die. And that this moment was Fated. “Oi, you’re a proper cunt for taking my friends.. You’ve lost to the fated five once,” Eros paused as he felt the strength fall away from his legs, “and you’ve lost to them again.”

Eros fell to the ground and as he hit the ground he was gone. Alaria too began to slump over but she continued the song. Alaria rested her eyes on Eros before she shifted them to get corrupted friends and gave them one final smile. Eventually her music slowed as did her breathing before she too found herself on the ground next to Eros.

Malakith chuckled in response. He looked out and saw only victory here today. Three of the fated five had joined his symphony, and the remaining two were about to be dead. What ploy were they working on, what did the fates whisper to them? A second later the chains that bound him pulled taught. He watched as stands of fate itself made its way into the metal itself, blessing them and making them fated. What’s more, these fated strands were powerful. The maestro began to feel weakened, tired, and ready to sleep as well. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“A year, a century, or eons more time will free me forevermore,” he laughed as he commanded his heralds to sleep. The chains that bound him pulled themselves tighter, and tighter, and tighter until each of his limbs were locked into place. The dull red glow of the maestro went dark, bringing himself, the heralds, and the fated five into darkness.

Deep within the heart of the desolate mountain, The Maestro lay bound in chains. Its ancient and powerful form is bound by enchanted restraints. The cavernous chamber echoed with a low hum, the very essence of the mountain pulsating with latent magic. The air was thick with the weight of centuries, and the only light emanated from the glow of mystical runes etched into the walls. Various golden strands of fate wove their way up and across the metal of the chains that bound The Maestro, and these golden strands had begun to dull in intensity.

As another tremor shook the cavern, The Maestro stirred from his seemingly eternal slumber. His eyes flickered with renewed vitality. The chains that bound him rattled with an echoing resonance as the mountain itself seemed to respond to his awakening. The Maestro shifted his vision to one chain in particular, and a rumbling laugh shook the area as a rock had fallen and broken a link. Without the enchantments of the fates, The Maestro was able to free the hand from its containment and he stretched it out in front of his face. A smile equal parts wicked and alluring spread across his face. He began to slowly raise the hand, palm open to the roof, and as he did The Maestros' music began to play once again. It was a silent symphony, with the music beyond the ability of our collective understanding but the power behind the composition was felt as the mountain rocked with another quake. It was a fraction of his power, but it was enough for him to begin his plot for freedom.

The Maestro raised his hand further, causing a red glow to fill the area around him revealing seven statues kneeling in front of his form. As he raised his hand even further, several tendrils formed in his palm and they shot out across the cavern and impacted the stone figures, burrowing deep as they hit. The red glow that emanated from The Maestro raced down the tendrils and began to fill the stone figures from the inside out. In a moment, the figures began to move. The stone cracked, letting arms and legs move freely of their prison, and within a minute the seven figures stood up, each with a wicked smile on their face.

“My most vocal heralds,” The Maestro spoke. His voice was somewhere between a thousand individual whispers and a full choir singing. “It is time to spread my music once more, you must return,” he paused as he raised his hand even higher, bringing the unheard music to a level that vibrated the entire area, shaking even more rocks free from above. As it reached its crescendo, two portals opened up behind the heralds. “Igai, Agor, venture forth. The realm yearns for our music, play it for them once more. Spread my influence, my whispers on the wind," The Maestro commanded, his voice a sinister lullaby. "Let the Fates know that I have awoken."

With that, the two heralds got up and vanished through the portal, leaving The Maestro and the remaining five heralds in his dark chamber. The echoes of their departure lingered, and as the last portal closed, The Maestro began to hum an eerie tune – a haunting melody that resonated within the very essence of the shadows. The cavern responded to his song, the stones humming in harmony with The Maestro's malevolent melody as he began to envision a world under his rule, a world where everyone listened to his symphony and a world where the fates were forced to. The remaining five heralds began to swing their weapons at the thousands of chains that bound him. Their magic was weakened by the broken link, and they weakened further with each subsequent blow.

“Mom, I saw something I swear,” a young girl pleaded as she cuddled up next to her mother.

“Honey, you can stay in bed with us tonight,” the mother smiled. This was a nightly occurrence for the small five year old child. The parents would put her to bed, they would turn out the lights, they would lay down, and then fifteen minutes later the child would come in because they saw a monster in the dark. “Eventually you will never see these monsters again, they are remnants of an old terror called Malakith,” the mother paused as she looked over to the husband and winked. The husband smiled, shook his head, and rolled over in the bed.

“Malakith?”

“The Maestro,” The mother responded.

“What’s a maestro?” The child asked.

The mother frowned as she thought for a second. Maybe she chose the wrong story to tell this night. “It’s a guy who composes music,” the mother guessed, “anyway, the maestro was an evil force that came to our world many years ago. His music was evil, and it filled the children with a fear of the darkness, made them see monsters in it that weren’t there. The monster was defeated, by a group of hero’s known as the five fated, and his monsters were banished from our world forever.”

“In the shadows deep, where darkness creeps,
Lurks Malakith, where the blackness seeps.
But fear not, dear child, for he's not all bad,
In the darkest corners, there's light to be had.
He may wear a cloak of night so cold,
But even evil has stories untold.
For in the end, even darkness can spark,
A glimmer of hope in the deepest dark.”

The mother looked over to the father, who had decided to chime in with a rhyme. Everyone in this village knew the story of the maestro, though what they did not know was just how off they were. To the children, this story was meant to show them that the dark held no monsters while they were safe behind their walls, inside their homes, even though the story and rhyme were originally meant to tell the heroic tale of the fated five. Time has a funny way of changing things.

“So, there’s no monsters in the dark?”

“None,” the parents responded in unison.

*knock*

The sound of a fist delivering a singular knock at the door. The parents looked at each other, and the father reached down and grabbed his sword.

*knock*

The sound of an individual waiting for them outside. The father stood up and walked to the main room of the house. The mother looked at the daughter and smiled, though her eyes betrayed her worry.

*creak*

The sound of the front door opening, with the father asking who’s there. A quiet followed, but a low hum soon filled it. It was jovial, it was happy, but for some reason it was a sound that defied definition. Then the sound of footsteps approaching from the door. A second later the father returned, black tendrils of corruption snaking across his face. His smile was wide, pained but excited, and he motioned for an unseen guest to join them.

“You have to hear this music, dears,” he said, before the screams of his wife and child filled the air for a moment before it was replaced by all three humming together, and the sound of footsteps back towards the door.

The fates huddled together in their realms. Around them was a frozen forest, with broken trees and snow-covered fields surrounding them. In the distance, a wolf howls at the moon. Throughout the area golden strands of fated thread run over and across the landscape. These fated threads represented much to the fates. Where they converged represented the centers of life, cities and forests and places of the sort, and where they did not cover was the deserts, the tundras, and the volcanic fields where life did not thrive.

The three fates jerked their heads at once to the side. Two convergence points, one in the Empire of Man and a second in the Silvermoor realm, began to shift in color. The golden stands began to adopt a red hue. The fates scurried together and ran from one point to the next. The heralds had started their conquests, and the fates needed their champions to counter. Veidia reached out and began snatching the threads off to their sides before she channeled her magic into the threads. All across Eldoria people, creatures, and events began to make subtle changes.

“The fated are ready,” Veidia spoke as she grabbed several fated stands and held them up to view.

“They will face much trouble,” Chrona responded as she grabbed the fated stands, examining them closely.

“The Maestro has been busy,” Eclipsis responded as she grabbed hold of the fated stands.

“Several heralds have been sent,” Veidia spoke as she began to look over the stands of fate that dotted the path ahead of the new fated warriors.

“Corruption spreads in their wake,” Chrona said as she examined them closely. The fate strands that she looked at were different than the ones away from the heralds. Instead of a pristine, golden glow, they had a more reddish hue. The Maestero's corruption ran deep, not only corrupting the victims' minds and bodies it also corrupting their fate.

“His music,” Veidia said with a hiss.

“His melodies,” Chrona said with a growl

“His corruption,” Eclipsis spoke softly. Eclipsis used her fated magic to lift the fated strands into the air, and then used the magic as she started twisting the various strands together into a single rope. The end of the rope remained imperfect, with each fated strand still sticking out in its own, however from this point on the fated fellowship would be drawn to each other. Whether through luck, outside interference, or the actions of the fated they would be together before long.

“They will fight,” Veidia said as she examined the corruption in the fate strands.

“They will save,” Chrona responded as she examined them closer.

“And they will purge this corruption,” Eclipsis said as she tried to cut the blighted strand, yet her blade could not cut through.

“We need them together,” Veidia spoke with excitement.

“After some time apart,” Chrona said with a neutral tone.

“And after they meet,” Eclipsis responded with sadness.

“They must finish what they started,” Veidia spoke with sadness

“Our Fated Five,” Chrona continued with her neutral tone

“Our departed friends,” Eclipsis finished sharply.

Veidia resumed the process of pulling together various other threads of fate and began to use her magic to influence the world outside. Winds would blow, factions would fight, and despair would befall the lands. This plight will be like beacons in the dark for the new fated champions. They will be drawn to these areas of fated energy, and they will have many decisions to make as they traverse them. Will they save those in trouble, and begin the process of etching their names onto the legend of this reality? Or will they ignore it and simply try and face the heralds of Malakith on their terms? Regardless of how they go about these next few weeks, they will be drawn to two towns, Dalvinwood in the west, and Nightingale Thicket in the east. As each day passes, the Fates know that more monstrous creatures will await them as the Maestro's music spreads unchecked.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

From @fernstone and I! The demon that Britney, Lila, and Lynn summoned

The Stealer Of Joy

Razgoy.Stealer of joy

????? | Razgoy “Skelly” | They/Them

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" I’m not here to kill you, I’m just going to take all that brings you joy."

Description:

Skelly is a horror that was brought to our universe when Britney, Lila, and Lynn accidentally performed a summoning one drunken night. They are old, and it is unknown just how old they truly are. They take the form of a skeleton though it is unlike any that is known in our universe. They have four arms with none attached to their body, instead it appears as though they are levitating. Their body is mostly bones however visible muscle sinew is present across it. Their head is the most visibly distinct, with white tendrils flanking what appears to be a visible brain that gives off light. Their most demonic features are their eyes which look like two lanterns ablaze in a dark, soulless expanse.

Razgoy was formed from the emotions of one of their universe's very first serial killers. They took a particular joy in making a game or of their killings, and when they died the joy in this suffering created Razgoy. Ever since then they have been hunting targets, individuals or pairs, and bringing a specific brand of misery. They will fight their targets, steal their most prized possessions, ruin their special moments, remove their ability to seek help, and slowly corrupt their target, stealing every emotion but rage. Once they’re at this final stage, they will force a final confrontation to seal the kill. Their current targets are Jasper Wilde and Luca Oliviera.

Abstraction:

Apparition - Razgoy The Stealer Of Joy
Razgoy is an apparition with a love of dramatic flair, and comedic timing. Razgoys powers are focused on isolation, stealth, and creating opportunities that it can later exploit. At the end of the day they are a hunter, a stalker, and a fearsome foe to be chased by.

Mark: Razgoy marks up to two targets at a time. They will search an area for individuals who are, by and large, filled with joy. Happy people, joyful people, and people filled with emotions that are in a sense happy. They will mark them, putting them under their spell. Once marked, Razgoy will begin to hunt their marks periodically. They won’t show up every day, but they could show up every hour of a single day. They’ll show up at times of happiness, drawing their marks into a rage through a fight or by stealing an item or both. Then, they’ll slip away before the fight can turn against him.

Silent hunt: There is nothing Razgoy hates more than a ruined hunt. As such, they will prevent their marks from seeking outside help through this spell. If a mark tries to speak, write, or communicate in any form that they are being attacked the mark will be forced to lie in increasingly bizarre ways.

Stealthy hunter: Razgoy knows where you’re at, and they know when you’re happy. It has the ability to know where the mark is at all times, and it can tell when they’re happy. It will wait for the right time in these moments of bliss before they make their move and teleport in. Often it will wait, unseen and unheard, in the same area of the marks. They might let them have a moment of happiness before it strikes, or it might ruin it then and there.

Stealer of joy: As the hunt progresses, Razgoy will begin to steal more and more of their targets positive emotions. Soon, these once joyful individuals will be filled with nothing but rage and a seething anger towards a monster they can never describe. Once they reach this stage Razgoy will finish the hunt, kill the marks, and begin anew.

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

Luca’s Place

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Jasper wished them a good night before he and Luca drove back to Jasper’s place. He spent a total of fifteen minutes inside, emerging with various painting supplies, canvas, fresh herbs and other food items, and a backpack filled with his clothes and other hygiene supplies.

After another drive, and three trips through the elevator, Jasper finally fell down onto a chair and exhaled. ”Bro,” he paused as he slicked back his hair with the sweat that covered his forehead, ”I need to pack lighter for the boys slumber party.,”. Jasper looked over to Luca and smiled. ”So, I brought stuff to make us something for food, what’s your protein of choice? I got beef and chicken,”

”It’s all the art supplies, you gotta be less creative,” Luca laughed. Thankfully the livingroom was large enough that Jasper would be able to set up in there, while Luca would still have his little corner to work in while avoiding damaging anything. ”Hmm… Beef! Olivia once made this chicken thing thay looked amazing but gave us both food poisoning. I’ve never been able to look at chicken the same way since.”

”Beef it is,” Jasper paused as he grabbed the raw meat placed it on the counter. He went over to the sink, rolled up his sleeve, and washed his hands. “We’re going to work with what I had, and you have, and from what I’m seeing I can whip up some mean enchiladas. Not spicy, but tasty,” he paused as he looked back over towards Luca. He flashed him a quick smile. Jasper wanted to avoid anything that could be too rough on the stomach, and he did not know if excess spice would hurt him. “Unless spicy is okay, and I can up the heat

”No spice is better,” Luca nodded. As much as he loved spicy food… His stomach couldn’t handle it anymore. He had to be careful with it, otherwise he’d spend the whole night throwing up or in intense pain. It sucked a lot, but at least he could still eat. ”I can’t wait! I haven’t had enchiladas in a long time. Uh, if there’s anything you need help with, just let me know?”

”Oh of course,” Jasper started as the memory of the day rentered his mind. ”I’ll tell you what, we both need showers after all that tear gas. You want to catch the first, I’ll prepare the food and get it in the oven and then we’ll switch, you’ll watch over the food in the oven and I’ll get clean? You’ll just need to take it out when it’s ready.”

”Oh yeah…” Luca had honestly forgotten he was still coated in tear gas, because the light burning sensation wasn’t much different from normal. But it’d be good to get it off. ”Sounds like a plan, I’ll jump in then!”

With a grin, Luca went into his room. He came back out with a plastic bag, which he’d stuffed his towel and change of clothes in. With a, ”I won’t be long,” he went into the bathroom - situated between his bedroom and Olivia’s. The sound of the shower turning on spilled through the door, followed by some very off pitch singing. Luca took a bit longer than he’d expected, having to carefully scrub the tear gas off his skin without tearing it along with washing it all out of his hair. He’d taken almost half an hour by the time he came out, changed into a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants riddled with holes.

”Shower’s all yours! Just be careful, there’s a few loose tiles in the wall. Wouldn’t want them falling on you or anything.”

“Perfect,” Jasper said as he closed the door to the oven, “I have the timer on there microwave set for thirty minutes, and that clock starts ticking now.” he paused as he returned to the sink to wash his hands. “I’ll be out in a second,” Jasper finished as he grabbed his backpack and headed for the shower. The shower was already hot and he could have stayed under the torrent of warmth forever, but the sound of the timer going off back in the kitchen drew him back to the time constraints. He finished his shower, dressed himself in a baggy Nike sweatpants and a v-neck t-shirt before he exited the room and rejoined Luca.

“How’s are we looking?”

”Good!” Luca was crouching a little bit away from the oven, squinting to look through the glass on the door. He very carefully opened the door, immediately bombarded by the hot steam. He grabbed a nearby kitchen towel and, concentrating hard on keeping as much of his decaying under control as he could, he pulled the dish out. He very quickly put it up on the counter and backed away, before he started decaying any vegetables in it. ”It smells amazing, wow, I should’ve invited you to stay over way earlier.”

Jasper laughed as he sat down on a stool and spun himself the rest of the way to face Luca. “You’re too kind. So! While that settles, what should the itinerary for the boys slumber party be? I know! After we eat I’ll paint your portrait. Nothing too fancy but I noticed you don’t have a lot of photos around. A nice painting or two would liven this place up. Then, we can just see where the vibes take us.“ Jasper paused as he smelled the aroma coming off the food. It did turn out well from what he could tell by the smell alone. He wasn’t the best cook in the world but he’s learned to be at least a decent one, and he knew that fresh ingredients made the difference.

”If I'd known you were gonna paint me I would've worn my Sunday best,” Luca laughed. He got out a couple of plates, a spoon for server and cutlery - normal metal stuff (kept in a plastic bag) for Jasper, and plastic for himself. The good smelled amazing, and he couldn't wait to dig in to a proper meal. ”I never bothered to decorate the place because paper doesnt tend to last long around me… but if you put the painting up high enough I probably wont affect it!”

“No this is perfect, it’s a character study into the man that they called..” Jasper paused as the evilest grin he could summon spread across his face, the moment finally arrived where he could use the best thing he had ever heard, “baby.”

Luca froze, forkful of enchilada near his mouth. Thank god he hadn’t started eating, because he would have choked. His cheeks turned red and he dropped his fork, a little bit of him dying inside. Since nobody had commented about it before he’d hoped they hadn’t seen, or had somehow forgotten it! ”Pleassseee, no, that was so embarrassing! I have never, in my life, been called baby until today and… ewgh… it was so fucking weird! What kind government agents are they hiring nowadays?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, but all that I know baby is that it made the situation feel so weird, like she was baby bottle feeding you,” Jasper paused as he began to eat some of the food, “don’t worry baby I’ll keep my use of that nickname limited.”

”You’ve already called me it twice,” Luca shook his head, putting on an exaggerated upset expression. He wasn’t actually upset, of course. Embarrassed, sure, but it wasn’t like he’d been the one to initiate the whole thing. He shovelled some food into his mouth… and it was fucking amazing. Freshest thing he’d tasted in months. ”It felt like she was bottle feeding me, honestly- but fuck, this is amazing.”

“Anything for you, baby, anything for you. Jasper chuckled as he took another bite and he realized that it truly was amazing. “Oh fuck it came out perfect.”

Luca fake gagged at that, before eating like he’d never seen food in his life. He had to eat quickly, before the food started getting affected by his aura - though what happened to it inside of him he didn’t want to know. ”Mm’sho good…” He stuffed another piece in his mouth. ”You willing to cook dinner every night?”

“Always willing to, I’m not the best but there’s only one way to get better,” he joked as he scarfed down the last of his food. Each bite appeared better than the next. “Maybe the secret ingredient is tear gas…

”Better than anything I can make,” Luca sighed contentedly, leaning back and holding his stomach. He’d eaten a shit ton - way more than someone his size normally could, but he needed to eat double just to process the normal amount. ”Shit, maybe we should get tear gassed more often if it makes stuff taste this good. How do I call in a tear gas raid on my house?”

“That’s easy,” Jasper chuckled as stood up, walked over to food, before he grabbed seconds. The first round of food was barely enough to calm his hunger. “the PRA is in our phones, yeah? Anytime we want to get gassed again you can simply send me a text that says something about Father Wolf. They’ll come and tear gas us for free,” he paused as he frowned, “This is America, it can’t be that hard for us to find either..

Jasper turned his focus down on the food and devoured it faster than he should have. As he finished his last bite, he realized that he too was full. And he still had to do all the dishes, put away leftovers, and clean the cooking areas. He wasn’t a quitter, though, but first he had to ask a question. “You want any more food? I can grab it for you!”

”Oh yeahhh, I bet they’ll be knocking on my door if I use the wrong buzzword in a text now. Like this shit was the bomb or something,” Luca laughed. ”Hey I’ve never tried buying teargas… You really think it’d be that easy?”

He shook his head with another laugh. ”I’m good for now! Will probably need to eat again with some medication later, but that filled me up. Think I’m going to need a moment before I can move!”

Jasper stood up and grabbed all the dirty dishes that needed washed. He first washed the dishes, then he put the leftover food and their container in the fridge after wrapping it closed. The, he washed all the utensils, and ensured there was nothing that was dirty left in the kitchen. As he finished, a slight groan escaped his lips. He was full. There would come a time he would need to sit down and take a rest. That time would come. Instead, right now, he knew he had an important goal.

“Alright,” Jasper spoke as he moved back over to his stuff and grabbed a blank canvas square and his trusty paintbrush. He got his oils ready. He quickly painted the canvas black, and used his power to dry it instantly. Once it was finished, he looked back to to Luca and smiled“Pose,” he whispered as he readied himself. “do note you’ll have to hold it for like ten minutes…”

”Alright,” Luca nodded, taking a moment to think of a pose. What could he hold for ten minutes? That took out anything holding his arms up, because he’d end up in pain after five. So he just turned around to face Jasper and leaned against the breakfast bar with a wide smile. ”Alright, I’m ready!”

Jasper went to work. As soon as a layer was done he flipped his paintbrush to use his abstraction to dry it completely. He did not channel any intent into the magic, but it did allow him to advance at a raid pace. Several minutes would go by very Jasper smiled and used his spell one final time, before he put the paintbrush down completely. “That should be enough for now, I got enough of it down and now I can add some more detail as the night goes on!”. Jasper flipped the canvas and it looked a lot like Luca. In fact, it appears that it was the second time tonight that he was able to make a miracle happen in thirty minutes or less.

”No way,” Luca's eyes widened as he looked over the painting. It really looked like him. He'd never been painted before, and rarely took photos now that Olivia was gone but… it looked nice. Wow. ”Its amazing… thank you, Jasper. I don't know what to say! I mean whoa, it really looks like me.”

He laughed, still looking at it in disbelief. He knew Jasper was a talented artist, he had been ten years ago but wow…

”Uh, since the art's done for now, what should we do? Oh, why don't we watch a movie? I have a ton on my computer we could watch!”

“Yes, yes a movie! Tis the season for something horror themed, what do you have? Jasper finished with a smile.

”Heh, I have a whole selection,” Luca grinned. He got off the stool he'd been sitting on and stretched out, before going over to the far side of the room. He pulled a wooden stick out from beside the work couch, with one end visibly rotting, and used it to hit the power button on his desktop computer. It flickered to life, large screen booting up. He plopped down on the couch itself and pulled a small coffee table towards him. On it was a keyboard and mouse with a very long cable, plugged into the computer. It was the way he worked around the problem of a constantly decaying aura - keeping the more difficult to replace things far enough away from him. Once his computer turned on he clicked through some folders, before finding his movie collection.

”Hmm, let's see… I've got the Blair Witch Project, Hereditary, the Exorcist, the Conjuring… I can easily download another too if you have suggestions!”

“What about Talk To Me? I heard that one is pretty spooky, and my friends were telling me about another one called The Ritual,” he paused as he thought, “let’s do Hereditary first and we can see where the vibes take us,” he paused as he sat down, “baby.”

Luca shot Jasper a mock glare, quickly setting it up to download the other two before opening up Hereditary. ”Should we grab some snacks before we start? Dunno if we'll be able to get out of our seats during it…”

“What’s a movie without movie snacks,” Jasper got up and grabbed the snacks he got for himself, and the ones he got for Luca. He brought them over, sat down nearby, and braced himself for the night to come.

---

About half way into the movie and Luca was at the edge of his seat, mouth ajar and fingers digging into the couch beside him. It rotted away underneath his hand and he jumped when objects began to fly around the screen.

”Shit this is scarier than I thought it would be,” Luca whispered, glancing over at Jasper, and then back to the screen.

Light tapping echoed through the room as the mother got possessed on screen. It grew louder, followed by sharp nails scratching against wood.

”The sound effects are really good too,” Luca said, shivering. It really sounded like something was trying to get into the house to possess them.

“Really, really good,” Jasper said as he shoveled another round of popcorn into his mouth. He listened for a second and the hairs rose on the back of his neck. He figured the movie would be scary, but not this immersing. He looked over to Luca and back to the screen. “I feel like it’s in the room with us right now.

”Yeah, like we could be possessed too,” Luca shuddered. A door creaked open, syncing up with a door opening in the movie, and the sounds of scratching against the walls grew louder. At the same time the temperature began to gradually drop… Fuck, the heating must have turned off. He grabbed some chocolate and shoved it in his mouth. A low, echoing snarl rang around the room and set his heart racing. An acrid odour filled the air… Shit was there something nasty rotting that he hadn’t noticed?

”This is the most realistic horror movie I’ve ever seen,” Luca pulled his legs up to his chest, trying to calm his ragged breathing. It was just a movie. ”Heh, you don’t think there’s actually an apparition in here with us… Just kidding.” He laughed.

Jasper tilted his head as he side eyed Luca. The movie was scary but Jasper didn’t realise that it affected him this much. Jasper made a mental note to check in on him after the movie and see if more horror movies were okay or if they would need to switch to something else. “I bet you there is an apparition in the room with us right now,” Jasper let out a laugh, joining Luca.

And then something behind them joined the laughter.

Luca froze, laughter dying on his lips. The creepy, not quite human laughter from behind them continued. That wasn’t coming from the movie. He could hear more laughter echoing in his mind as the Rot joined in taunting him, his whole body tensing. Slowly, surely, Luca twisted his head to look behind them. His stomach dropped and he nearly stopped breathing.

A towering, skeletal creature stood behind the couch, its glowing eyes focused on Luca and Jasper and its barely existent mouth open in laughter. A disembodied arm reached towards them, sharp claws bared.

“HOLY SHIT!” Luca screamed, automatically jumping towards Jasper and wrapping his arms and legs around him.

Jasper caught Luca instinctively, and the sheer shock of what was coming towards him was almost enough to completely mask the sense of rot, he wrapped his arms around Luca and joined in the screaming, his shirt and exposed skin rotting away as he did. “FUUUCK”

Luca continued screaming, tears spilling from his eyes out of fear. He realised he still had the chocolate in his hand and lobbed it at the creature. It smacked it right in the face and fell to the floor with a thud. It stopped laughing, eyes somehow seeming even more terrifying. Luca hugged Jasper even harder, yelling, ”I DON'T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS!”

“SAME,” Jasper shouted back as he put Luca down on the couch and grabbed the small coffee table and swung it at the apparition.

The Symphony - A Fated Quest

First IC post incoming either today or tomorrow!

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

@Punished GN done! Let me know if any more needs trimmed

Recollections: Under The Sycamore Tree Part. 1

@Punished GN

On it boss