[X] [Isabella]
-
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Sune's Solution (D&D/MGE)
- Thread starter Erien
- Start date
- Mature Fantasy
- Location
- Texas
Baeran is an interesting creature of contradiction. He wants to preserve beauty so people can enjoy it, but his death and extended lifespan have made him feel like an outsider in his own world which makes him unable to appreciate such things himself. That inability only fuels his alienation from the people he is trying to protect, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of quiet bitterness and resignation of just working himself to death.
It's a very compelling look into the drawbacks of power and duty, and the poor guy very much needs his nap.
[X] [Brynhild]
These two need to bond over tragic backstories!
- Location
- Newer England
[X] [Brynhild]
As much as I'm personally interested in seeing more Gorefiend, it just doesn't feel earned at this point in the plot - Ignis and Brynhild are much better established as sources of culture clash. Of the two, Brynhild seems much more impactful here - she's got the big character-defining backstory event to really showcase the cultural and metaphysical differences between the realms, and bluntly seems the better choice for actually discussing what that means.
As much as I'm personally interested in seeing more Gorefiend, it just doesn't feel earned at this point in the plot - Ignis and Brynhild are much better established as sources of culture clash. Of the two, Brynhild seems much more impactful here - she's got the big character-defining backstory event to really showcase the cultural and metaphysical differences between the realms, and bluntly seems the better choice for actually discussing what that means.
Obivously there are very many unresolved traumas behind this but - Baeran, please. You have literally died twice. You have if anything significantly more experience with exactly what it means to live than most people, so stop using that as an excuse to consider yourself not people anymore.
- Location
- Ohio
Whether it's a matter of differing moral values between two dimensions or because none of the monster girls have raped anyone yet, none of them reak of evil. A paladin of Sune would be hypersensitive to that kind of evil.
What does that say of Ilias' overwhelming stench of evil, Baerun?
I'd do a spit take in response to this, but Ruridragon taught me about this sort thing.
Why would she make that sort of joke!?
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The god of love is also a tease.Why would she make that sort of joke!?
DB_Explorer
Purveyor of alternate realities.
- Location
- San Diego, California
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Sune: Teasing will continue untill Baeran loosens up or ravages me
3.4 - That Which Once Loved
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qKFtaQaqGuw
[Brynhild]
Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!
TW: This chapter contains content of sexual assault, the section in question shall be marked accordingly.
—
The smell of apples was the first thing that greeted you, quickly joined by that of… flowers, of a kind you couldn't place. Your eyes opened slowly, lethargically. A wonderful warmth surrounding you like a warm bed on a cool winter's warming. But still, you opened them, and took in the sight of a purple sky. You stared up at it, the sound of grass rustling around you. The clouds were the same alien shapes as ever, the sun was the same as it ever was. Yet the sky was… purple. You reached down slowly, your hands digging into soft dirt, then you pushed yourself upright. The scent of apples caught your attention once more, and you turned your head towards it to see rows upon rows of perfectly aligned trees, their branches heavy and dipped with the weight of fat orange apples. Women moved amongst them, strange women. Tall, with, to a one, golden horns jutting out their hair. The hair was uniformly brown or salt and pepper black and white, and each was wearing cowprint clothing and… large golden bells around their necks. Their legs… furry things that ended in hooves, bashed against the trees, causing many of the apples to fall, where they were quickly picked up and placed into a little wicker basket each was carrying.
They chatted amongst themselves, cheerful and chipper, though their tongue was… odd to you, a strange dialect of animal sounds and soft spoken words you could make neither heads nor tails off. Closer still were others, idly pulling up weeds from the grass… barring one who was leaning on a wooden fence, chatting happily with a man in farmer's clothes who looked about the same age as her on the opposite side of the fence. His speech was the same as hers, though lacked the odd 'moos' you heard the others speaking in. The man leaned forward, kissing her, and the cow-woman blushed a brilliant scarlet before moving her hands to her cheeks and looking away, a bright and jubilant smile on her face.
You smile at the sight of it, then another figure catches your eye. She stands further away from the rest, a pitchfork resting against her shoulder. She was… a centaur, one oddly familiar. She wore a white dress that draped over her white body, complimenting it. Her fur… or horse hair you suppose, glittered in the light afforded generously by the sun. She was leaning against the fence, a book held in one hand, the other holding the pitchfork in place as she read. You moved up, to take a closer look at the women, her white hair hiding her features. The book was… unintelligible, the lettering on the front an alien script you didn't recognize. But on the front was the unmistakable image of a knight, a person bedecked in resplendent silver armor atop a white stallion.
"Brynhild! Tomsa mas innerd beaukin!"
The centauress looks up, and for the first time you get a glimpse of a single, white horn jutting out from her head before she gallops off towards a nearby house. She slows to a trot, then stops in front of it, grinning up at a woman, older than… Brynhild? Who looked nearly identical, and a man with his arm placed gently on her back. They began to converse, though you couldn't make heads or tails of the language still, though 'Brynhild' came up more than once.
Then, you were no longer alone. The sound of hooves clopping caught your attention, and you looked to the left to see… Brynhild, bedecked in her usual black with twin devil horns on her head. She had a… dazed expression on her face, she swayed slightly from side to side, her eyes unfocused. A symbol appeared above her head briefly, two open silver eyes, surrounded by stars. Selune. Her eyes then came into focus, and she became steady. Her head jerked around, taking in the scenery around her, then she frowned. "Home?"
"Good evening Brynhild, my apologies for the intrusion." You say.
But she ignores you, or rather, she doesn't even seem to hear you. Her gaze locked onto the two centaurs and the man standing at the house, a stricken look on her face. "Ah… ah don't want to see this. Don't… make me remember home…"
—
There's a flash of white, then you are elsewhere. A forest, bedecked in tall proud pines. You stood by a stream, not deep, not wide, but brilliant and clear all the same. Sitting right by the shore on a large blanket was the man you saw at the house, and the centaur who had spoken to Brynhild. A laugh, bright and cheerful then draws your attention, and you look to see Brynhild herself, much younger than you had just seen her, barely larger than a foal kneeling in the water. Her hands darting into it repeatedly, trying to catch small fish that dart away from her grasp.
"Brynhild, szarmash ton bringi?" the Centauress by the shore asks.
Brynhild… the foal, looks towards her, a bright toothy grin on her face. "Ni momi!"
"The old… creek by the house?" Brynhild whispers.
You look towards her, she had a spellbound expression on her face, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "It appears to be a place of happy memories."
She still doesn't acknowledge you, instead staring at the small white foal playing in the stream. The foal yelps, then gallops, hands stretched forward as she attempts to grab one of the fish. Then a new voice shouts triumphantly, young and male. And you look as a boy, brown of hair and not likely older than ten stands on the opposite side of the riverbank, holding a wriggling trout proudly between two hands.
The foal lets loose a warcry, arms raised above her head in anger as she chases the kid into the woods, the boy laughing the entire way.
—
The scene changes once more, you are back at the farm, the apple trees were gone, replaced by fields of wheat. The house had changed as well, gone was the small, one-story structure. Now it was both wider and taller, with… you assumed Brynhild playing out front for a moment, but there was three of her now. All white with the same singular horn. Instead, just to your left, resting on the fence and looking far more like you knew her now, was the Brynhild you knew. She looked near the same age, though not quite as developed. She was chatting happily with… what appeared to be the boy you had seen just moments ago, though, like her, he had grown into a young man. Around seventeen if you had to guess, perhaps just a hair younger.
A half filled sack of wheat is strapped to Brynhild's side, apparently forgotten in favor of chatting with the boy… a tale as old as time. You smile as they talk, their voices barely more than a whisper. It was a look you were familiar with, the words were unknown to you, but that meant little. The radiant glow on their faces was more than enough. The boy leaned forward, whispering something into Brynhild's ear. Her eyes widen, then she dives forward, wrapping the boy in a fierce hug before galloping off towards the house. "Momi! Momi!"
Your smile however, falters, as you turn your head just in time to see the Brynhild you knew, the black, instead of the white. Sobbing openly. "No… please, not… not this again."
—
TW.
Another change, another place. A small camp near a road. It was nondescript, little more than a tent and a small fire.
"Ma' mother gave me all sorts of tips on how ta' get the boy ah liked… it was… special fer us, more 'n most," Brynhild says to the air. "Ah… don't want to dream of this night."
The road was… traveled, though not modern by any stretch of the imagination. A simple dirt path going on through rolling hills in each direction. There was no sign of farm fields, her home, or anything else. Just the small camp and some sparse woodland surrounding them.
It was Brynhild once more, her white hair glowing in the light cast by the fire, staring deeply into the eyes of the young man. They whispered things to each other, soft words not meant for other's ears.
But you couldn't focus on that, not when the Brynhild you knew was muttering to herself, words you couldn't understand, tears pouring down her face. You looked back, and then you saw them, figures in the dark, unmoving, unnoticed by the two. The boy stood, looking towards the tent. Then he stumbled, as with a loud crack a crossbow let loose, and a bolt pierced his chest. He fell forward, twitching, as men barged into the camp. They weren't… brigands, they were actually wearing armor. It was rusted and damaged in places, but it was far more than any bandit you had ever seen. Brynhild screamed, moving to stand before a blade was placed at her throat. She froze, her eyes alight with panic.
And with leering expressions, the men approached her.
—
TW End.
—
Screams fill the air, mixed with sobs. The Brynhild that was and the Brynhild you knew now look much the same. You don't know how much time had passed, the sun cast light to reveal… Brynhild, now black of hair, curled up against a tree. Her hands were wrapped around her horns, yanking and pulling at them, her dress had changed now, to the deep black you recognized. Though it was tattered and torn in places. The horns were jagged, cruel things, especially in comparison to the single horn that had been there just moments before. They looked like someone had taken that horn, split it, then painted it jet black.
She had changed, and it apparently had not been a pleasant thing. The Brynhild you knew was standing beside you, looking down at the sobbing figure with pity.
"Does Baeran think ah couldn't love someone? Ah did, once. Then ah was made into something that never could again." Brynhild says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ah had ta' leave home, my own father had begun to lust after me." Brynhild shakes her head. "It wasn't 'is fault, it wasn't anything ah had control over."
—
Then the scene changes once more, a small hut, in a small clearing. It was a simple thing, shoddily constructed. Brynhild, looking identical in age to how you knew her now, was tilling a field, a hoe held in her hand as she dug deep rivets into the earth. She sighed, leaning against the farming implement, her looking up at the sky.
Then, she screamed, as a golden portal opened up underneath her. She fell then, tumbling out of sight. With a clatter the hoe hit the ground, as did a single, battered book. On the cover of which was the image of a knight in silver armor astride a white horse.
—
You awaken, blinking slowly, staring at the ceiling above your head. A glance towards the window showed only the barest hints of light, perhaps five in the morning, perhaps earlier. You slowly raised yourself into a sitting position, it had been years since you had last truly slep-
*Rustle*
You glance down as a piece of paper lands in your lap from where it had been apparently placed against your chest. Reaching down, you grab it.
'There have been several successful relationships in Faerun already, please, defend these couples as you can. They do not view love as we do, but they feel it all the same.
PS. Barring Ilias, they are all quite fond of you already.
PPS. I'm tired of waiting for your wedding night.'
You stare at it, then towards the door. Your mind… a jumble of thoughts.
—
[] [Seek out Brynhild]
She may have seen the same as you just did, and you have multiple questions for her… and a need to comfort her as well. You also… you don't even know.
[] [Leave her]
That wasn't your past, and you would be invading her privacy by making yourself involved with it.
—
Relationship Stats___
Fuyao : 9/10
Ignis : 3/10
Brynhild : 5/10
Ilias : 1/10
Miki : 2/10
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Indeed.
I've described MGE as the setting where the rape monsters who violate people in mind, body and soul, are the objectively less shitty faction compared to the God and Catholic Church expies.
Zeroth Jupi
Sporadic Writer and Haver of Ideas
- Location
- Somewhere
- Pronouns
- He/She/They
[X] [Seek out Brynhild]
- Location
- Texas
Hmm, a distinctly different language, but not what she was speaking when she arrived. Do summon spells add a translation effect?
And yeah, it's origin story, which for a bicorn is... rarely pleasant.
And the least pleasant option it is. Poor girl.
Sadly, MGE is a fucked up world, and there's no going back here even if you do manage to pull out the extra horn Brynhild.
Well, divine directive from Sune here, followed by relationship hint and then relationship "hint". I guess we have marching orders!
[X] [Seek out Brynhild]
She may have seen the same as you just did, and you have multiple questions for her… and a need to comfort her as well. You also… you don't even know.
I can see the idea of leaving her alone and not telling her that her privacy was intruded upon, but it feels sketchier to me NOT to talk to her about it, and we will hopefully be able to comfort her.
- Location
- USA
[x] [Leave her]
- Location
- Newer England
[X] [Seek out Brynhild]
This honestly doesn't seem like good timing; Baeran is still thoroughly out of sorts after everything that happened last night and I doubt Brynhild is much better after freshly reliving her own trauma. It just doesn't feel right to ignore it though.
This honestly doesn't seem like good timing; Baeran is still thoroughly out of sorts after everything that happened last night and I doubt Brynhild is much better after freshly reliving her own trauma. It just doesn't feel right to ignore it though.
Impatient indeed.
[X] [Seek out Brynhild]
I honestly think Baerun has just been given an important piece of context he needs to cross the gap of understanding with the one otherworldly companion he has that he has the most common frame of reference with, and rapport. He asked for guidance, he received it. Yes, it appears to be in a form so blunt that it almost appears to be callous, but such is the nature of the gods.
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Sometimes blunt is necessary.