Oh my, is it ever.
Cold Winds Blowing (ASOIAF Celestial Forge)
- Thread starter TheBrokenLaw
- Start date
Not sure what you meant by this. So far, I've vetoed companion perks because a lot of them feel kinda gross. "Hey, have this person who is basically your slave, bound to you in ways you didnt ask for or want. Enjoy~"
Well, i wrote that because it seems that the sidestory was establishing a character, that then 'dies' so it would make sense if that was a prelude to call that character into westeros through the forge.
If you say the chapter wasn't about that, i can only think it's some kind of skill download for the Valkyrie Core (i think that's the setting, not sure), technology, in which case, yikes for the trauma.
If you say the chapter wasn't about that, i can only think it's some kind of skill download for the Valkyrie Core (i think that's the setting, not sure), technology, in which case, yikes for the trauma.
Ygdis' Story
Ygdis thought, nodding. "Okay. Stories, then. I have one, back when Grenwin first came to First Fork. She was wounded, carrying two dead goats and half a spear…"
Internally, she winced. This was not how you set up a story! The others were looking at her, judging.
"So, I was on watch that morning. It was foggy enough that you could barely see your hand in front of your face, right? I'm standing there, listening to the woods, when I hear this clonk-snip sound. I've never heard that in my life, so I listen, and it happens again, closer."
Yeah, she had them, fixed her hook and set the line. "It went, clonk-snip... CLONK-snip, and then it just stopped." She paused for effect, "Then I heard the humming. A nice tune, catchy. I hum along, it's fun, and the weird sound has mostly stopped. Now, the fog is clearing slightly, and I see this figure. Looks tall, with two horned heads and making that humming tune like anyone might. Moment I see that shape, I piss myself. No lie, out of nowhere, two headed humming forest-spirit standing in the fog, and its holding a fucking spear."
"I'm panicking at that point, getting my belt knife out, but the damn thing is stuck in it's sheathe. I yank it out, cut my belt in the process, and my pants fall. The spirit comes closer, humming lower, and it leaaaaans forward out of the mist. I'm looking straight into a goat's eye, being studied, while the rest of the beast is still hidden. I finally get my words out of my throat, shout a strangled 'Get the fuck back!' The monster holds out the spear, and the goat head drops right off it's shoulders, and then the other one. Next thing I know, there's a bloody-faced woman, eyes wide and staring, looming over me."
She waited, waited, anticipating.
Elder Hamgwyn opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "What did you do then?"
Bite.
Ygdis stood, stretched, "I screamed, kicked her in the shin, and passed out." Sitting delicately like how she'd watched Maia do sometimes, she carefully picked up another pastry and bit into it, heedless of crumbs falling from her chin.
The giant and the former elder stared at her, before Hamgwyn began chuckling. At least, she thought it was chuckling, though it sounded more like a direboar grunting. Ellir joined in, and Ygdis couldn't help herself and belted out a laugh herself.
"Is that a true story, young one?" Hamgwyn asked between chuckles. "I hope it is, truly."
Ygdis nodded rapidly, "Every. Word."
Internally, she winced. This was not how you set up a story! The others were looking at her, judging.
"So, I was on watch that morning. It was foggy enough that you could barely see your hand in front of your face, right? I'm standing there, listening to the woods, when I hear this clonk-snip sound. I've never heard that in my life, so I listen, and it happens again, closer."
Yeah, she had them, fixed her hook and set the line. "It went, clonk-snip... CLONK-snip, and then it just stopped." She paused for effect, "Then I heard the humming. A nice tune, catchy. I hum along, it's fun, and the weird sound has mostly stopped. Now, the fog is clearing slightly, and I see this figure. Looks tall, with two horned heads and making that humming tune like anyone might. Moment I see that shape, I piss myself. No lie, out of nowhere, two headed humming forest-spirit standing in the fog, and its holding a fucking spear."
"I'm panicking at that point, getting my belt knife out, but the damn thing is stuck in it's sheathe. I yank it out, cut my belt in the process, and my pants fall. The spirit comes closer, humming lower, and it leaaaaans forward out of the mist. I'm looking straight into a goat's eye, being studied, while the rest of the beast is still hidden. I finally get my words out of my throat, shout a strangled 'Get the fuck back!' The monster holds out the spear, and the goat head drops right off it's shoulders, and then the other one. Next thing I know, there's a bloody-faced woman, eyes wide and staring, looming over me."
She waited, waited, anticipating.
Elder Hamgwyn opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. "What did you do then?"
Bite.
Ygdis stood, stretched, "I screamed, kicked her in the shin, and passed out." Sitting delicately like how she'd watched Maia do sometimes, she carefully picked up another pastry and bit into it, heedless of crumbs falling from her chin.
The giant and the former elder stared at her, before Hamgwyn began chuckling. At least, she thought it was chuckling, though it sounded more like a direboar grunting. Ellir joined in, and Ygdis couldn't help herself and belted out a laugh herself.
"Is that a true story, young one?" Hamgwyn asked between chuckles. "I hope it is, truly."
Ygdis nodded rapidly, "Every. Word."
Ah, almost! I fully intend on Maia unlocking Armored Core tech at some point. All third gen, so Crest/Kisaragi/Mirage components, with improvements later on along the lines of NEXTS, if not quite there. I personally adore the military mecha as a concept, and an armored core is one of the most varied modular systems that I'm familiar with. It gives me the ability to give character traits via the Cores they choose to pilot, and how they outfit them.
Jotunn, to answer your question, is just an OC former-peasant-turned-mercenary type, obv serving in some larger armed force. No forge shenanigans, just home-grown "Hell yeah I want the bounty I get for this. Booze for weeks!" and tons of moxie. I think moxies is the right word, at least.
that sidestory is a bad future, where things went just right enough to prolong a swift execution into a bloody stalemate.
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I'm guessing this is something like: her inner self or soul self or something figured out how how to stop the loval divinities from tormenting her but yanking out their connection wasn't as surgical as it could have been, probably a mix of desperation and inexperience.
The Stormbringer
Worm Fanfic & Crack Connoisseur
- Location
- Spaaaaace~!
I sure hope some evil spirit didn't just get freed or given control of Maia's body.
Just reached chapter 3 so keep that in mind, but I just had to comment before catching up because this story is utterly fantastic so far. The characterization is wonderful and I love the MC wanting to be good for the sake of being good, I enjoy the pacing and the fact that she's putting all the power to use not just for herself but to help others as well. So many of these Celestial Forge stories end up with hundreds of thousands of words that don't involve interaction or anything at all, so this story is a breath of fresh air. Frankly I dread the moment I catch up because I want to have so much more of this writing.
Rambling aside, all I want to say is I deeply enjoy your story and I thank you for both writing it and choosing to share it with us. This feels like a character interaction-driven uplift/CF/fix-it type of story, and anything that merges several of my favorite genres is something I'm going to follow closely!
Rambling aside, all I want to say is I deeply enjoy your story and I thank you for both writing it and choosing to share it with us. This feels like a character interaction-driven uplift/CF/fix-it type of story, and anything that merges several of my favorite genres is something I'm going to follow closely!
Awww, thank you! I have no intention on stopping. If you've read The Wheel of Time, that's the kind of character focus I'd like to have. Not necessarily following someone moping in the woods for three hundred thousand words over the kidnapping of his wife, but in that vein of "these people feel like people, and watching them go through their own journeys is satisfying."
Nothing so sinister! This is something to do at the very fundamentals of what makes Maia Maia, and not anyone or anything else.
She's pulling off a Sakura and her Inner is doing overtime work?
I think I missed the reference, lmao. I'll reveal more in the next chapter.
Maia's Journal- Wings
Maia's journal DO NOT TOUCH
Day 23
9/10 good day.
I learned something important today. And, I'm going to have to spend time and effort remaking my brand-new COOL AS FUCK wardrobe from fucking scratch because I ended up eating a goddamn holy ass clothing light. Fuck. This is absolute BULLSHIT. At least the metals in the jewelry will be useful.
Anyway.
After a few bad reactions from the newcomers to me wearing my wings openly, I ended up putting away my nice dress and putting back on the parka to stand out less. It helped that the parka ended up being more comfortable than the dress, something about my DUMB clothier ability making the otherwise heavy fur and hide garment able to be comfortably worn by whoever wore it. I hadn't figured wings were accounted for with that, but if it worked, it worked. There was less chance of someone mistaking them for a rogue rooster attacking me and taking a knife to them. Again.
I don't care that the second guy said I fucking sounded like a rooster when I saw him coming at me. Asshole. They laugh now, but I'll show them. Revenge will be had. Blood for blood, honor for honor, goddamnit im just embarrassed about it. They'll be calling me rooster or hen or some shit, and I already didn't like the dove thing.
Day 23
9/10 good day.
I learned something important today. And, I'm going to have to spend time and effort remaking my brand-new COOL AS FUCK wardrobe from fucking scratch because I ended up eating a goddamn holy ass clothing light. Fuck. This is absolute BULLSHIT. At least the metals in the jewelry will be useful.
Anyway.
After a few bad reactions from the newcomers to me wearing my wings openly, I ended up putting away my nice dress and putting back on the parka to stand out less. It helped that the parka ended up being more comfortable than the dress, something about my DUMB clothier ability making the otherwise heavy fur and hide garment able to be comfortably worn by whoever wore it. I hadn't figured wings were accounted for with that, but if it worked, it worked. There was less chance of someone mistaking them for a rogue rooster attacking me and taking a knife to them. Again.
I don't care that the second guy said I fucking sounded like a rooster when I saw him coming at me. Asshole. They laugh now, but I'll show them. Revenge will be had. Blood for blood, honor for honor, goddamnit im just embarrassed about it. They'll be calling me rooster or hen or some shit, and I already didn't like the dove thing.
Sakura Haruno from Naruto has a complicated psychology. She somehow split part of her consciousness off and is her "Inner Sakura" which is her but less... Restrained by some social constraints. It's not super elaborated on in canon except for a few visualizations of her internal monologues and also she beats a clan jutsu that works by projecting their consciousness into someone else and controlling them.
Symon I
Symon regarded himself a diligent man. He carefully maintained his beard, finely waxed his nearly-there mustache with the slightest curl, and ensured his salt-and-pepper hair was the appropriate length and style for a man of his build and facial structure.
He sighed happily as he observed the image in the somehow-perfect-silver-polished-iron mirror Maia had gifted him a few days after he had inquired about obtaining some. His cousins would be quite envious; Renalte had always been working so hard on achieving pirasattva, and he could imagine her shock to see him so put together.
With a chuckle, he put aside thoughts of a distant childhood. He was a man with duty once more, a duty he had taken on. His father had been a lowly midshipman aboard a, ah, humble Greatcog. His fathers, and some of his mothers, for generations before, had been similarly…
He paused, searching for a suitable continuation of the morning prayer. Ah!
Independent ventures. Yes, merely noble agents within the greater realm of the market. Into the market we sail, and on our own merits we rise with the tide. Sure, plenty of his ancestors and relatives had been dashed against the coral shoals of debt and distrust by swift and unyielding… market forces.
Satisfied with his morning ritual conducted with the quality a man of his nonexistent standing befits, he swiftly clothed himself in a light shore-walking dress. Thin ankle-high leather boots, finely woven hemp socks, and comfortable trousers adorned his lower body, while he shrugged into a strapped undershirt, bare arms, shoulders, and clavicles for optimal airflow. Next, finely trimmed and tailored undercoat in black-dyed (He had few options for permanent quality, and even his patron was capable of stretching what they had so far,) silk, kindly provided by those Myrish sea-pups.
A long overcoat went next, thick black-and-undyed-grey-green linen with gold embroidering (Ha!) and lightweight somehow-hollow polished granite buttons, near as wide around as his thumb was long, yet thinner than a fingernail. Etched into the surface, nay, the inborn patterns of this type of stone themselves, were repeating motifs.
By some trick of mineralization and… inventive skill of his, hm, queen? Queen-ish. Friend, that works, the buttons were finely colored. They showed an incredibly clear image of a beautiful slender tower, clad in the rings of the heavens, stretching to a new world. It was pure white against a deep, blue sky. Flanking the elegant elevator- He stopped, aghast with himself.
Flanking the delicate flower stem were two dove's wings, as though the icon were shielded against harm. Indeed, should he drop one of the buttons, it would surely impact the finely carved wings before harming the sturdier gate to the stars beyond. He snorted, appreciating the self-awareness involved with its creation.
Buttons buttoned, sleeves properly straightened, shoulders comfortable and loose, sides slightly more constricted- A perfect fit, a boon of these gifts. Fine wrist-length leather gloves (With high-traction fingertips and palms of some material he can hardly remember the proper name of, but could be summed up in "dry tar," perfect for slapping an errant deckhand free from idleness.) finished his torso. A simple belt with his pouches sheathes, and hidden substances that would not react well to the breach of their airless glass containers in the least followed.
A sound interrupted his morning ritual. A repetitive crunch-crunch, high speed- A lithe woman he'd seen around burst into his room, and he quite appropriately squealed like a man should when found mid-dress by a saltless highlander.
"Hornfoots!" She blurted, "Outside!"
Symon blinked at her.
She, quite rudely, took a rather disturbingly firm grip on his arm and pulled him. He surely would have fallen but for the woman pulling him along with focused abandon.
He was brought to the berm, standing atop the low palisade they'd finally erected. He did not fall when the outrageous woman released him, he simply recalibrated his footing on the earthy slope.
True to her word, there were quite a few people gathered outside the gates, in the clearing between them and the forest. They weren't setting up tents, but they were milling about large sleds pulled by enormous caribou.
Their appearance caused a bit of a stir, and an intimidatingly large man loomed out of the crowd. By his bearing, this was a man who was a quartermaster or deck sergeant, or something of a type to those; Much like Taegj, a man Symon found quite amenable when he wasn't trying to make hard decisions.
The small giant lifted gloved hands to either side of his mouth and hollered.
"Oi, is this Hansferd?"
Symon blinked.
The woman next to him blinked.
His voice was surprisingly highly pitched for his frame. Though Symon noted guiltily once he noticed, he had a scar across his throat, evidently an old injury.
Symon lifted his hands, "No, this is First Fork."
The large man turned, conferring with a couple of fellow officers. One of them, a young woman whom he thought he recognized in passing shouted back up at him.
"Is Maia around?"
Symon considered, taking a quick look behind him, noting a distinct lack of anything unusual. He turned back and shouted, "No. What do you folks want?"
The girl shrugged it off in disappointment, the larger man giving her a gentle but firm pat on the back. "Got any room? We've got things to trade, news to share, joinings to be offered. That alright?" The giant shouted up at them.
Symon considered, his newfound assistant considered, and he turned to her. With an incredibly serious expression on his face, he relayed vital information.
"I believe these may be the same people who once attacked me and were responsible for the loss of my foot."
The new assistant nodded thoughtfully. "So, you have a problem with it?"
He thought about it and turned back to the giant. "Hey, did you fellows attack a small group of Night's Watchmen, oh, two or three years ago?"
The giant took something out of a pocket on his belt, a tiny silver medallion Symon recognized. It had once adorned the neck of one of the others who were on his unfortunate ranging sent north.
"Was this yours, then?" The sergeant ask-shouted with honest curiosity.
"Yeah," Symon shouted back, "There was a large pack, as well."
The giant nodded knowingly, returning to one of the massive sleds. He returned a moment later, effortlessly hefting a pristine travel pack in one meaty hand. "This yours too?"
"Can I have it back?" Symon asked, receiving a nod in return.
Symon turned to face the gatekeepers, "Open it up."
The gates were pulled aside, and the hornfoots entered the camp. Symon tried to keep a count as they passed the gates, but he surely had missed a few. Sixty-three, maybe as many as five or six more.
Symon descended alongside Ame, as she had identified herself, approaching the mammoth of a man without much worry. If they were going to attack, the big man wouldn't have bothered to fetch something they ought not to even have kept intact, just to offer it freely.
The man gently held the pack out for Symon to eagerly take, and he undid the latches with shaking hands.
"We only opened it up to take the food and anything that might rot out of it. Otherwise, seemed fairly useful if we needed to trade back to the Watch. It's yours, I think. Seem to remember you leaving it with your horse after I got your foot. Sorry about that."
Symon stared up from the precious intact contents of the backpack, surprised for the first time in a few days.
"Huh. Weird coincidence. No hard feelings, I've got a new foot. Having my pack is great, though. Appreciate it."
"Ah, well," The giant rubbed the back of his hair in honest shame, "See, I was aiming for your neck, least then you wouldn't have to go footless for… new foot? However long, yeah?"
Symon nodded sagely, "It's a keelhauling, for sure." He said it casually with the air of someone accepting an implied apology. Indeed, it was a tacit acceptance, for he had the unfortunate experience of having survived a minor keelhauling and would prefer one more over losing his foot again.
"Glad to hear," The giant said absentmindedly, sniffing the air. "I smell meat. You two, let us share meat and mead, in thanks for your welcome."
With little effort at overcoming their protestations, he gently put a head-sized hand on one of their shoulders each. They were steered towards the lodge, sat at a table, and within moments bowls of hearty rice porridge and plates of roasted breast of steer, glazed with a summer berry reduction.
With food before them, Symon and his assistant's protestations were ignored, much as Lom and today's kitchen crew's confusion at the newcomers.
They ate, drank the proffered mead, ate of the sacred offerings, and quite honestly enjoyed the company of an avowed Crowkiller and Symon-Maimer.
Somewhere Else
Maia flicked back into awareness, dozing to full attention in an eyeblink. She sat up, noting her newfound friends still sitting nearby. The older one was dozing, but the younger one seemed more responsive today.
At least, she waved to her this time.
Maia waved back. In return, the girl came over to sit close. She was still holding the sheathed sword in her hands, cradling it like she was afraid it would burn her, yet afraid to let it go.
"Whatcha got there?" Maia asked, causing the other girl to start a bit. The sheathed blade was lifted for inspection and slowly turned. The girl's voice when she spoke made Maia's spine run cold.
"My brother's sword."
It was her voice. It was how she spoke at her most despondent, how Grenwin had described her after the slave raid.
Wetting suddenly too-dry lips, Maia calmly asked, "Who are you?"
The girl shrugged in the almost expectedly disturbingly same way Maia shrugged. "My family called me "Thing, Wretch, and sometimes when I was shown the garden, Sister. Kasey calls me 'Mai.' You should use that, too."
Maia offered her a hand, "Hello, Mai. My name is Maia. Is she," the woman gestured to the sleeping or insensate girl across from them, "Kasey?"
Nodding happily, Mai lowered the sword, setting it in her lap and idly holding it. "She's my big sister. She says she is, anyway, since she's too young to be a mom. She's taught me everything." Her voice was cheerful, yet slightly more somber towards the end. "Almost everything. My brother was nice too."
In a burst of motion, Kasey sat up, stretching animatedly. "Hooo! Another day of STAYING ALIVE. You hear me, Mai? Staying aliveeeee~"
Maia stared at the probable madwoman in front of her, who was busying herself with an incredibly brisk series of calisthenics. The other woman was reciting math, for some reason, then random facts, and memories from her life.
The last shook Maia; She could remember, in clarity, every single memory Kasey mentioned, because it was her memory. They all were, had to be, or else-
A suddenly aggressive grip across her shoulders shook her.
"DO NOT QUESTION YOURSELF!" Kasey screamed into her face, nose to nose, wide, fearful eyes too close for comfort.
Maia pulled back, "I won't! I wasn't!"
The woman pulled back, patting Maia's hand comfortingly. "Good, good. That's rule number one. You're you, got it? I'll explain the weirdness in a moment. Let me just finish my routine, okay?"
Wordlessly, Maia nodded and sat heavily next to the girl staring at a hilt.
Kasey's "routine" kept going for a while, before she suddenly stopped and sat across from Maia.
"Okay, questions. You've got them, I might have answers. Shoot."
Maia blinked. "Uh, what?"
"Yeah, I'm not you, and you aren't me. I still know you, though. So, I know you're going to have questions of the sort that we both know will sound insane should either of us relate this to a third party. So, mutual pact, in this place everything goes. Capiche?"
Maia nodded with increasing confusion. "Next question, I guess. Why aren't you me, when I remembered the things you talked about?"
Kasey beamed and clapped her hands in excitement. "Fantastic question! I'm the impression left by the soul that helped make yours up."
Maia opened her mouth-
"Hers too. You got her body, I didn't have one at the time. It was consensual. No, it wasn't blood magic or some weird shit like that. It was weird shit, though."
She closed her mouth, questions answered.
"Reason I say I'm an impression, not an echo, is that I'm sort of… Well, we're both for weird metaphors, so try this. You stick your face in clay, fire that into pottery, and use it as a mold for… Awareness stuff, you could say. Mind-matter, cognitive bullshit. I'm shaped, literally, like the woman that helped make you. My little ritual there was to keep me in shape."
Kasey was rambling, with a distressing urgency, as though trying to impart the information as fast as possible.
"Look, I need you to carve me into a tree. I know how it sounds, but those red-leaved white-trunked trees? The ones with faces in them? Very important to me, right now. Those faces are anchors, sorta. Some of them, anyway, are carved by the loved ones of the departed so their shade can watch over the family. Without it, it takes a lot more effort to stick around. You're my only link right now, so please."
She grabbed Maia's face with both hands, forcing her to look into Kasey's eyes and study her face. "Please, remember my face. I'll be able to find it, don't worry, I just really, really, don't want to leave you alone."
"I will! Okay?" Maia told her forcefully, pushing her away. "I'll carve your face in a tree. I can do your body too, if you want."
Kasey promptly hugged the shorter girl, "Yes, please. Thank you!"
A moment passed before Maia was released. "Okay, next…" Her headache intensified momentarily, "You know, okay, just tell me this. How did you make the lights happen? What are they, how do they work, why do I have a fucking variable fighter in a pocket reality?"
Kasey stared at her gormlessly, and even Mai seemed more lost for words than usual.
"What?" Kasey asked, her exuberance shifting entirely into overwhelming confusion. "The fuck are you talking about?"
"The… Superpowers?" Maia tried, confused as well.
Kasey scratched her head, "Mai's family can fly and perform magic. Does that count?"
"…"
The three stared at each other, Mai with clear amusement on her face.
"Sorry, but you need to wake up, Maia." She poked her twin right in the wing, causing Maia to squirm away.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to wake you up! Kasey, help!" The girl cried plaintively, poking much harder.
Kasey crouched down next to Maia, a rather large stick in hand.
"Second rule, your perception matters. See this magic-wake-up-stick?" She waved it at Maia, who nodded. "Anyone I hit with this wakes up. Don't ask how it works, it's magic and we both know magic is bullshit. Now, go on, git!"
Kasey gave Maia a great thump across the brow.
Said thumpee disappeared.
Mai pulled Kasey down for a hug that was warmly returned.
At the heart of a stedding, in the comfortable guest room of an elder Ogier, a sleeping girl opened her eyes and was confused.
He sighed happily as he observed the image in the somehow-perfect-silver-polished-iron mirror Maia had gifted him a few days after he had inquired about obtaining some. His cousins would be quite envious; Renalte had always been working so hard on achieving pirasattva, and he could imagine her shock to see him so put together.
With a chuckle, he put aside thoughts of a distant childhood. He was a man with duty once more, a duty he had taken on. His father had been a lowly midshipman aboard a, ah, humble Greatcog. His fathers, and some of his mothers, for generations before, had been similarly…
He paused, searching for a suitable continuation of the morning prayer. Ah!
Independent ventures. Yes, merely noble agents within the greater realm of the market. Into the market we sail, and on our own merits we rise with the tide. Sure, plenty of his ancestors and relatives had been dashed against the coral shoals of debt and distrust by swift and unyielding… market forces.
Satisfied with his morning ritual conducted with the quality a man of his nonexistent standing befits, he swiftly clothed himself in a light shore-walking dress. Thin ankle-high leather boots, finely woven hemp socks, and comfortable trousers adorned his lower body, while he shrugged into a strapped undershirt, bare arms, shoulders, and clavicles for optimal airflow. Next, finely trimmed and tailored undercoat in black-dyed (He had few options for permanent quality, and even his patron was capable of stretching what they had so far,) silk, kindly provided by those Myrish sea-pups.
A long overcoat went next, thick black-and-undyed-grey-green linen with gold embroidering (Ha!) and lightweight somehow-hollow polished granite buttons, near as wide around as his thumb was long, yet thinner than a fingernail. Etched into the surface, nay, the inborn patterns of this type of stone themselves, were repeating motifs.
By some trick of mineralization and… inventive skill of his, hm, queen? Queen-ish. Friend, that works, the buttons were finely colored. They showed an incredibly clear image of a beautiful slender tower, clad in the rings of the heavens, stretching to a new world. It was pure white against a deep, blue sky. Flanking the elegant elevator- He stopped, aghast with himself.
Flanking the delicate flower stem were two dove's wings, as though the icon were shielded against harm. Indeed, should he drop one of the buttons, it would surely impact the finely carved wings before harming the sturdier gate to the stars beyond. He snorted, appreciating the self-awareness involved with its creation.
Buttons buttoned, sleeves properly straightened, shoulders comfortable and loose, sides slightly more constricted- A perfect fit, a boon of these gifts. Fine wrist-length leather gloves (With high-traction fingertips and palms of some material he can hardly remember the proper name of, but could be summed up in "dry tar," perfect for slapping an errant deckhand free from idleness.) finished his torso. A simple belt with his pouches sheathes, and hidden substances that would not react well to the breach of their airless glass containers in the least followed.
A sound interrupted his morning ritual. A repetitive crunch-crunch, high speed- A lithe woman he'd seen around burst into his room, and he quite appropriately squealed like a man should when found mid-dress by a saltless highlander.
"Hornfoots!" She blurted, "Outside!"
Symon blinked at her.
She, quite rudely, took a rather disturbingly firm grip on his arm and pulled him. He surely would have fallen but for the woman pulling him along with focused abandon.
He was brought to the berm, standing atop the low palisade they'd finally erected. He did not fall when the outrageous woman released him, he simply recalibrated his footing on the earthy slope.
True to her word, there were quite a few people gathered outside the gates, in the clearing between them and the forest. They weren't setting up tents, but they were milling about large sleds pulled by enormous caribou.
Their appearance caused a bit of a stir, and an intimidatingly large man loomed out of the crowd. By his bearing, this was a man who was a quartermaster or deck sergeant, or something of a type to those; Much like Taegj, a man Symon found quite amenable when he wasn't trying to make hard decisions.
The small giant lifted gloved hands to either side of his mouth and hollered.
"Oi, is this Hansferd?"
Symon blinked.
The woman next to him blinked.
His voice was surprisingly highly pitched for his frame. Though Symon noted guiltily once he noticed, he had a scar across his throat, evidently an old injury.
Symon lifted his hands, "No, this is First Fork."
The large man turned, conferring with a couple of fellow officers. One of them, a young woman whom he thought he recognized in passing shouted back up at him.
"Is Maia around?"
Symon considered, taking a quick look behind him, noting a distinct lack of anything unusual. He turned back and shouted, "No. What do you folks want?"
The girl shrugged it off in disappointment, the larger man giving her a gentle but firm pat on the back. "Got any room? We've got things to trade, news to share, joinings to be offered. That alright?" The giant shouted up at them.
Symon considered, his newfound assistant considered, and he turned to her. With an incredibly serious expression on his face, he relayed vital information.
"I believe these may be the same people who once attacked me and were responsible for the loss of my foot."
The new assistant nodded thoughtfully. "So, you have a problem with it?"
He thought about it and turned back to the giant. "Hey, did you fellows attack a small group of Night's Watchmen, oh, two or three years ago?"
The giant took something out of a pocket on his belt, a tiny silver medallion Symon recognized. It had once adorned the neck of one of the others who were on his unfortunate ranging sent north.
"Was this yours, then?" The sergeant ask-shouted with honest curiosity.
"Yeah," Symon shouted back, "There was a large pack, as well."
The giant nodded knowingly, returning to one of the massive sleds. He returned a moment later, effortlessly hefting a pristine travel pack in one meaty hand. "This yours too?"
"Can I have it back?" Symon asked, receiving a nod in return.
Symon turned to face the gatekeepers, "Open it up."
The gates were pulled aside, and the hornfoots entered the camp. Symon tried to keep a count as they passed the gates, but he surely had missed a few. Sixty-three, maybe as many as five or six more.
Symon descended alongside Ame, as she had identified herself, approaching the mammoth of a man without much worry. If they were going to attack, the big man wouldn't have bothered to fetch something they ought not to even have kept intact, just to offer it freely.
The man gently held the pack out for Symon to eagerly take, and he undid the latches with shaking hands.
"We only opened it up to take the food and anything that might rot out of it. Otherwise, seemed fairly useful if we needed to trade back to the Watch. It's yours, I think. Seem to remember you leaving it with your horse after I got your foot. Sorry about that."
Symon stared up from the precious intact contents of the backpack, surprised for the first time in a few days.
"Huh. Weird coincidence. No hard feelings, I've got a new foot. Having my pack is great, though. Appreciate it."
"Ah, well," The giant rubbed the back of his hair in honest shame, "See, I was aiming for your neck, least then you wouldn't have to go footless for… new foot? However long, yeah?"
Symon nodded sagely, "It's a keelhauling, for sure." He said it casually with the air of someone accepting an implied apology. Indeed, it was a tacit acceptance, for he had the unfortunate experience of having survived a minor keelhauling and would prefer one more over losing his foot again.
"Glad to hear," The giant said absentmindedly, sniffing the air. "I smell meat. You two, let us share meat and mead, in thanks for your welcome."
With little effort at overcoming their protestations, he gently put a head-sized hand on one of their shoulders each. They were steered towards the lodge, sat at a table, and within moments bowls of hearty rice porridge and plates of roasted breast of steer, glazed with a summer berry reduction.
With food before them, Symon and his assistant's protestations were ignored, much as Lom and today's kitchen crew's confusion at the newcomers.
They ate, drank the proffered mead, ate of the sacred offerings, and quite honestly enjoyed the company of an avowed Crowkiller and Symon-Maimer.
Somewhere Else
Maia flicked back into awareness, dozing to full attention in an eyeblink. She sat up, noting her newfound friends still sitting nearby. The older one was dozing, but the younger one seemed more responsive today.
At least, she waved to her this time.
Maia waved back. In return, the girl came over to sit close. She was still holding the sheathed sword in her hands, cradling it like she was afraid it would burn her, yet afraid to let it go.
"Whatcha got there?" Maia asked, causing the other girl to start a bit. The sheathed blade was lifted for inspection and slowly turned. The girl's voice when she spoke made Maia's spine run cold.
"My brother's sword."
It was her voice. It was how she spoke at her most despondent, how Grenwin had described her after the slave raid.
Wetting suddenly too-dry lips, Maia calmly asked, "Who are you?"
The girl shrugged in the almost expectedly disturbingly same way Maia shrugged. "My family called me "Thing, Wretch, and sometimes when I was shown the garden, Sister. Kasey calls me 'Mai.' You should use that, too."
Maia offered her a hand, "Hello, Mai. My name is Maia. Is she," the woman gestured to the sleeping or insensate girl across from them, "Kasey?"
Nodding happily, Mai lowered the sword, setting it in her lap and idly holding it. "She's my big sister. She says she is, anyway, since she's too young to be a mom. She's taught me everything." Her voice was cheerful, yet slightly more somber towards the end. "Almost everything. My brother was nice too."
In a burst of motion, Kasey sat up, stretching animatedly. "Hooo! Another day of STAYING ALIVE. You hear me, Mai? Staying aliveeeee~"
Maia stared at the probable madwoman in front of her, who was busying herself with an incredibly brisk series of calisthenics. The other woman was reciting math, for some reason, then random facts, and memories from her life.
The last shook Maia; She could remember, in clarity, every single memory Kasey mentioned, because it was her memory. They all were, had to be, or else-
A suddenly aggressive grip across her shoulders shook her.
"DO NOT QUESTION YOURSELF!" Kasey screamed into her face, nose to nose, wide, fearful eyes too close for comfort.
Maia pulled back, "I won't! I wasn't!"
The woman pulled back, patting Maia's hand comfortingly. "Good, good. That's rule number one. You're you, got it? I'll explain the weirdness in a moment. Let me just finish my routine, okay?"
Wordlessly, Maia nodded and sat heavily next to the girl staring at a hilt.
Kasey's "routine" kept going for a while, before she suddenly stopped and sat across from Maia.
"Okay, questions. You've got them, I might have answers. Shoot."
Maia blinked. "Uh, what?"
"Yeah, I'm not you, and you aren't me. I still know you, though. So, I know you're going to have questions of the sort that we both know will sound insane should either of us relate this to a third party. So, mutual pact, in this place everything goes. Capiche?"
Maia nodded with increasing confusion. "Next question, I guess. Why aren't you me, when I remembered the things you talked about?"
Kasey beamed and clapped her hands in excitement. "Fantastic question! I'm the impression left by the soul that helped make yours up."
Maia opened her mouth-
"Hers too. You got her body, I didn't have one at the time. It was consensual. No, it wasn't blood magic or some weird shit like that. It was weird shit, though."
She closed her mouth, questions answered.
"Reason I say I'm an impression, not an echo, is that I'm sort of… Well, we're both for weird metaphors, so try this. You stick your face in clay, fire that into pottery, and use it as a mold for… Awareness stuff, you could say. Mind-matter, cognitive bullshit. I'm shaped, literally, like the woman that helped make you. My little ritual there was to keep me in shape."
Kasey was rambling, with a distressing urgency, as though trying to impart the information as fast as possible.
"Look, I need you to carve me into a tree. I know how it sounds, but those red-leaved white-trunked trees? The ones with faces in them? Very important to me, right now. Those faces are anchors, sorta. Some of them, anyway, are carved by the loved ones of the departed so their shade can watch over the family. Without it, it takes a lot more effort to stick around. You're my only link right now, so please."
She grabbed Maia's face with both hands, forcing her to look into Kasey's eyes and study her face. "Please, remember my face. I'll be able to find it, don't worry, I just really, really, don't want to leave you alone."
"I will! Okay?" Maia told her forcefully, pushing her away. "I'll carve your face in a tree. I can do your body too, if you want."
Kasey promptly hugged the shorter girl, "Yes, please. Thank you!"
A moment passed before Maia was released. "Okay, next…" Her headache intensified momentarily, "You know, okay, just tell me this. How did you make the lights happen? What are they, how do they work, why do I have a fucking variable fighter in a pocket reality?"
Kasey stared at her gormlessly, and even Mai seemed more lost for words than usual.
"What?" Kasey asked, her exuberance shifting entirely into overwhelming confusion. "The fuck are you talking about?"
"The… Superpowers?" Maia tried, confused as well.
Kasey scratched her head, "Mai's family can fly and perform magic. Does that count?"
"…"
The three stared at each other, Mai with clear amusement on her face.
"Sorry, but you need to wake up, Maia." She poked her twin right in the wing, causing Maia to squirm away.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to wake you up! Kasey, help!" The girl cried plaintively, poking much harder.
Kasey crouched down next to Maia, a rather large stick in hand.
"Second rule, your perception matters. See this magic-wake-up-stick?" She waved it at Maia, who nodded. "Anyone I hit with this wakes up. Don't ask how it works, it's magic and we both know magic is bullshit. Now, go on, git!"
Kasey gave Maia a great thump across the brow.
Said thumpee disappeared.
Mai pulled Kasey down for a hug that was warmly returned.
At the heart of a stedding, in the comfortable guest room of an elder Ogier, a sleeping girl opened her eyes and was confused.
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- Location
- California
Are we sure this isn't sinister? Dream People asking to carve a physical vessel seems sus. Like TheBrokenLaw says it's not, but I'm concerned.
Its a mother fucking stedding. Thats a big yikes. That means it is the great wheel. An age far removed but still the same wheel.
That is bad, that is bad bad bad. Everything else is secondary now, shaitan cannot be allowed to ever win, it must be contested throught all time and space, forever. For to loose would kill the inherent goodness of humanity and thats unacceptable.
I think an elder forger maybe be able to make a multiversal construct that could replace the dark ones function across forever but it would almost certainly require all perks.
That is bad, that is bad bad bad. Everything else is secondary now, shaitan cannot be allowed to ever win, it must be contested throught all time and space, forever. For to loose would kill the inherent goodness of humanity and thats unacceptable.
I think an elder forger maybe be able to make a multiversal construct that could replace the dark ones function across forever but it would almost certainly require all perks.
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Hasty, now! Don't worry, this is one of those worlds the Ogier arrived to/from the Wheel. No dark one, no forsaken, just homegrown eldritch shit.
Well, okay, technically, it's still an age where that thing is sealed, so this part of the multiverse is safe, probably.
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the dark one is acausal as it exist outside of time, that is also how it can revive balefired people it just grab them before they are balefired, it just has to win once and it will retroactively have always won, that is the most terrifying thing about it, the dragon has to keep winning an infinite amount of time but the dark one has to only win once and then the pattern is corrupted forever.
I would highly highly recommend that you handwave it away somehow, like maybe the forger made artificial evil prosthetic for reality before balefiring that thing into oblivion and that effect propagated through time to the multiverse. because you need to have a replacement for it or rand would have killed that mother fucker in the last book. or maybe a dragon did it or something.
I don't want to sound hysterical, but the dark one as a concept terrfies me, on a visceral level.
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So, I was happy to see you picked this back up, but it seems like you decided to write a very different story this time around and the disconnect seems rough. This isn't about the direction the story is going just more mechanical aspects of its execution.
At this point I have no idea if she is still gaining perks or really why any of what has been going on is important or even meaningful. If you're actually doing a deeper crossover perhaps change the story tags, or add an authors note or something.
At this point I have no idea if she is still gaining perks or really why any of what has been going on is important or even meaningful. If you're actually doing a deeper crossover perhaps change the story tags, or add an authors note or something.
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Cool WOT fic premise make this a thing
If it's acausal, then the fact that it hasn't won yet can just as easily indicate that it will never win.
Also, *my* theory is that the Dark One *always* wins, somehow, at the end of the cycle, at which point the Wheel undoes his victory and tries to advance the future in a different way. The purpose of the Wheel is not for time to be circular, but to chart a course through time that does not end with the victory of the Dark One. If it fails, or realizes that this particular course has failed, it starts over with a new path. Time is therefore meant to be linear, but has come to *seem* circular due to the Wheel trying similar but slightly different methods each time it goes through the Ages.
I actually began a fic that took that as its premise, and it began on an alien world more than ten thousand light years from Earth that channelers during the Age of Legends had reached through a Portal Stone (this being my interpretation of one of Thom's stories about the Age before the Age of Legends) where the explorers found a ter'angreal identical to the one in Rhuidean, a ter'angreal that contained both an active alien AI formed by the One Power and the collected history of every prior 'cycle' of Ages. It was going to involve the idea that the Bore was not universal, but that it expanded across the light-cone of Biedomon's experiment, and that due to the warning of the AI, the link between Earth and the colony was severed before the Bore was sealed, meaning that saidin was never tainted on the colony due to the effect of the event only spreading across its light cone.
Somehow I would have had to reconcile that with the recognition that without the effect of the sealing reaching the colony, the Bore would have continued to weaken the Pattern until the Dark One was freed, which this fic would have depicted much like a false vacuum collapse. I think it's a much more interesting take than that of the characters from the Wheel of Time, particularly since they don't know anything about physics.
tell me more
i was working on a shameful self-insert worm-shardpower fic set during the period when Moriane and Siuane and Elaida were still Novices. The SI woke up in the medical bay of an ancient age-of-legends era onei'll cylinder. It was incredibly well preserved, being both shaded from the sun and mostly in vacuum with a clean and clear orbit. She found a massive rent in the side of the station's hull, wide as long island is long, that was the result of one unfortunate man they provided refuge during the Breaking. There was the hope that, as Saidin aboard the station seems to be clean, any man would be able to be treated. First case brought aboard, they didn't know the man himself was already mad, and as soon as he woke in restraints he was a ticking time bomb.
Edit; They stole ceres to build it.
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Arimai
Curmudgeon
Every instance of this should be replaced with dragged.
Drug as a verb means to administer medicines or narcotics to a person.
Volantis
Led
What I mean
Principles
Kludged, Jerry rigged
In use
A false vacume collapse is so much less scary than what the shaitan actually is. Its victory us the death of empathy, kindness and humanity,in the moral sense, forever. Good people would loose their goodness and everyone has no choice but be evil.
A false vacume collapse is just death. Its so much less interesting. Its the difference between eternal damnation and just cessation of consciousness. Hell some people actually seek out nirvana so it might even count as a net benefit.
Also they do know physics, its just through the lense of the one power.
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SV version is missing the interlude. @TheBrokenLaw
I, ah, don't know how to add it to this thread in a way that won't make it seem like it's weirdly out of place.
Edit: Turned your earlier post with the link to SB into a threadmark, is that alright?
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