I burst out of the saloon as the hoof-beats outside grew louder and louder. Normally I would dip once a package was delivered, but these FUCKING SAVAGES have been getting too bold. Shots are being fired around the town, clearly I'm not alone in trying to repel this raid. Glass shatters and arrows shatter the windows of the saloon behind me, It's not until I hear the whine of my horse and see it fall to it's side I'd realize moving into the open was a mistake. Somehow the tribals out here got their hands on some proper rifles and revolvers. Turning my head back to the road where the shots came from I see the Indians, draw my Colt, and fire twice. One bullet for a pair with long guns, clearly supposed to be of US ARMY make. I should have accounted for the hoof beats **around** the Town. A pair of arrows strike me in the chest, I barely get a chance to see the redskins behind the crates and bags of goods these arrows came from before my vision fades as i start to fall backwards.
Somehow I feel sluggish as I next wake up, like there's a fog on my mind. As it recedes I realize a couple of things. I'm already standing upright. That shouldn't be the case from what I remember. The other thing noticed is it's still too dark blinking and trying to rub my eyes has done nothing to help change the lighting. A quick look around shows that I'm standing in a stone room, surrounded by odd metal torches, cobwebs, and a couple other people standing around barely moving. One is armored and the other looks like he's wearing a suit.
> Check our wounds. > Check on one of these other guys. > Try to find a door and walk out of here.
The world has another side, one with secret societies and hidden powers vying for control. But it is not merely humans, nay. For millennia, creatures which a modern man considers fables have been battling in the shadows, both within their own, and others. Only the Magical Girls can slay the demons of humanity's suffering, and clean up the supernatural messes along the way!
Following next, an inexperienced magical girl grounds herself in her new life.
- - - - -
Last we left off, the newly minted magical girl, Sugar Rush, has triumphed in her first Barrier. Assisting her sisters in defeating the monster of the storm drains. Detransforming after the fight has caused our heroine to collapse. Leaving her to rest with one of her sisters to watch over her.
While resting, an opportunity presents itself. Why not ask a few questions about the world around?
- - - - -
Questions questions… you sigh.
“You guys didn’t seem to pass out like I did. What’s with that?”
Jacky makes a teasing grin. “Well, we’re stronger for one… But nah, it’s just practice. There’s a connection between the brain and soul with emotions and stuff somewhere in between. When you transform, you get a lot closer to all of that, and when you go back, it’s like dunking your head in cold water.”
Wait. “So why not just stay in the other form all the time?”
Jacky tilts her head. “Eeeeeeh, I mean. I know some people who try, but it ain’t good for you. Being so immersed in all that makes it a lot harder to unwind, and *trust me*, unwinding is the most important of this. Being transformed all the time also goes against some strategies some girls are anal about, but that’s no biggie.”
You take a moment to consider. There seem to be some metaphysics that you don’t have enough fucks to dive into. There is also the implications of the greater magical… everything. Thinking about that part just makes you head hurt. It’s not been even a day, you’re going to take this piece by piece. Though you do wonder. “How long did it take you to adjust to all of this magical girl stuff?”
Jacky pauses, her eyes losing focus for a moment, her expression going slack with reminiscence. “Damn that’s a question…. I guess not too long for me. I didn’t know much else before it, just went with it and tried my best.” She smiles gently, in a way you haven’t seen her smile before, her gaze still in the past. “I started real young though, got helped by others a lot, the start itself wasn’t all too bad just saw it as a game…” Her focus snaps back, her usual grin returning. “But that was a while ago, at least for me, we got some reeeal old ladies hanging around, y’ know.”
Might as well ask. “How long ago did you start?”
She snorts. “Round thirteen years ago, don’t remember the date but around that.”
Reawaken, O great one, thy time has come at last once more. Long left scorned and forgotten, you have not forgotten the heroes who laid low both you, your fortresses, and your dominion. Now you shall rise from the ashes, reclaim your power and reign supreme once again. Let your enemies tremble at the mere mention of your name, for you are the true ruler of this land and all lands beyond it.
Alas! For it has been too long; while the darkness has kept you safe like a cloak, it has also made you forget. Time and the dark have gnawed at you for too long. For while your trick with placing your spirit within a container might have prevented your demise, it also eroded and disembodied you.
A shrivelled shadow you thus became, ignorant of yourself. Ignorant of form, ignorant of name, what scarce memories you did have of your past mostly addressed you as 'lord' or 'master'. None dared speak it, not before your personage at the very least.
Yet you were great and powerful once, the terror of a hundred kings. Sacker of a thousand cities, master of untold legions and hordes of both disciplined blackguards and savage barbarians. Others saw you as a god incarnate, or at the very least the high priest of a very cruel and demanding god, who was to be appeased with tributes of gold, silver and manpower. Yes, lesser princes, khans and chieftains willingly kowtowed and fought over your ever-fickle favour.
But all of that is gone now, scattered to the wind; your empire fell with you. No servant could ever keep it together. As you lay dying, you made your last desperate gambit. You transferred your soul out of your dying body and into an object.
Oh, it was a brilliant plan, an exit for just such a scenario. But you hadn't foreseen the consequences. It was long, too long, far too long for you to be able to do anything; you withered and diminished. Seething and crying until your spirit lost the ability to form a coherent face. Was this it? Would you spend an eternity in silent suffering? Forgotten and tormented by a world that had moved on from your greatness?
Perhaps not so, for as you lay in your diminished state, you watched from one of the gemstones, which were like windows, set within the object which you had chosen. Choose an option. Jewellery >A ring >A necklace >A bracelet Weapons >A mace >A sword >An axe Miscellaneous >A grimoire >A chalice >A staff
Welcome boys and girls, to the third part of Rey's newly busy life. Your new home is quite the place indeed, not exactly welcoming now that you've started to rub your nose into people's business... I do apologize for not being able to post last month; my health wasn't doing so well.
You are Rey Vesperus, half-elven daughter to a Cleric of the Path and a lady ranger, apprentice to your mother's trade, and newly adoptive mother? Caretaker? To a strange slimy lifeform. You've recently survived an attack on your home by a wave of undead dogs and one peculiar humanoid entity without being able to learn anything substantial... So you've decided to elucidate the case of Olin Aurora, a ten-year-old boy who died in mysterious circumstances and the son of your first friend, Augustine Aurora.
You've learned something quite frightening from the city Bishop, and your search for answers led you into the Mamono village condition, where you've witnessed firsthand the appalling conditions over there; it's one bad day away from a pandemic.
You are a wizard of the Tower. You have come of age and are now considered a journeyman of your order. You must go out into the strange and alien outside world for the first time to learn from it, take from it, and give back what you will.
Wizardry is a vast collection of arts and disciplines that amount to more knowledge than any one man could learn in a lifetime. However, all are roads that join together into the singularly divine path of magic. Your time in the tower has started you down the path of three. Each of these pursuits represent a lifetime commitment and will never be abandoned or added onto. The Tower emphasizes singular mastery above varied mediocrity.
>Path of War: You can kill and defend yourself with magic. You wear magic armor and carry a mystical blade crafted by your own hand. Your dragon is similarly armed and armored, and has likewise been trained in the arts of war to serve as your flying war mount. Other disciplines can be bent to a more martial application when used in conjunction with this one.
>Path of the Healer: You can mend wounds and cure the sick and dying. You are versed in various methods protection against maligned powers. You know much of the secrets of herbs and animals. Your dragon is larger and healthier than others of his kind because of the beneficial powers you have surrounded him with since hatching him. He can share his life force with you when you're in need of it. Other disciplines can be bent towards a more constructive and beneficial end when used in conjunction with this one.
>Language of the Spirits: You know how to commune with the elements. You carry in some form a sample of True Earth, Fire, Water, and Air by which to work with the four pillars of creation. Other disciplines gain immense power when used in conjunction with this one.
>Necromancy: You commune with the souls, remains, and remnants of men and beasts that have since moved on from this world, yet still linger. Great wisdom and knowledge, as well as power can be learned from those that have come before. Threats by which no mortal power can overcome may be dealt with more directly when using this strange and darkest of arts. When used in conjunction with other magic deeper meaning, greater insights, and mysteries undreamed of by mortal man open up to you. Your dragon may take you to the borders of the afterlife, but not even he can move beyond them.
Of the sky, the wind running along your skin, whistling in your ear till you can't hear yourself think. Sometimes it's a storm with you at its center, watching it crush everything in its path, thunder rolling, lightning splitting the world. Or space, where there's no noise, nothing weighing you down. Just infinity punctuated by stars.
Your alarm drags you awake.
The same drab ceiling with paint chipping at the corner stares back at you like always. The room's humid again from sleeping with the windows shut. Your routine never changes: get up, eat whatever's in the fridge, shower, work construction for twelve hours, come home dead, repeat.
Your name is Arthur Carr. You live in a run-down apartment, work dead-end construction jobs. And tomorrow, your niece who you haven't seen in years is coming.
Your mother had four children; you being the youngest. None of you grew up well-adjusted. Your eldest sister Rosie married a cop who uses her for a punching bag. She convinces herself that getting abused is part and parcel of the "good life," whatever the hell that means.
Irene, second oldest, grew up hating everything about herself and her family—-an ambitious overachiever, always with a barb loaded behind her tongue. The first chance she got, she fled with some rich boyfriend. Last you knew, she’d gone to school and divorced her boyfriend turned husband, she defends pharmaceutical companies for enough money that she can afford to forget where she came from
April was only a few years older than you, but when you were a kid, you sometimes imagined she was your mother. She was kind and reliable in all the ways your real mother wasn't. She stayed the longest, because of you. You don't let yourself think about her anymore.
It's April's daughter who's coming to live with you. The social workers made it clear you weren't their first choice, so you can only imagine how bad things must be with Rosie and Irene. Though Irene probably refused outright—that's her style.
You're halfway through a cup of coffee when a knock at the door comes.
You open and the social worker stands in your doorway. Her raven hair reaching to her shoulders, she's wearing that same unreadable expression as in all your previous meetings.
Your niece stands at her side. You got the date wrong. <span class="mu-i">How dammit?</span> "Hello, Uncle Arthur."
The girl's voice barely makes it across the threshold. You've met her three times— once when she was born and two supervised visits where the social worker did most of the talking while you sat there just listening.
It takes you half a second too long to respond. Uncertainty worms into her eyes.
The worker shoots you a look that breaks you out of your stupor. You get down to her level, smile wide and do your best to give a good impression.
Mission Wide Optional Sub Objective : Accomplish primary objective without causing Alarm or alerting the locals/ rebel elements to the Spartan presence on black sands
Secret mission wide objective: Prevent the Einherjar on Black Sands from warning the others
Violet Team (Sven-033, Shika-108, Nesta-097, Illya-077) Primary: Capture or Terminate VIP, Ingrid Askeland, Einherjar Political asset Codenamed Herfjötur, and retrieve her remains if she is neutralized
Optional Sub Objective 1: Capture additional Einherjar non combatants alive or dead
Secret objective 1: [FILE ENCRYPTED]
Secret objective 2: Capture or destroy the first and last shipment of "Bad Medicine" _ Indigo Team (James-005, Daisy-023, Cal-141, Anton-044)
Primary: Neutralize the Elite Einherjar Unit, the Rødt skjegg, either through complete decimation or extreme loss of irreplaceable veteran fighters
Optional Sub Objective 1: Capture "Erik The Red" Alive
Secret Objective: Prevent a false flag attack planned by the Red Beards, intended to cause further public distress and lower trust in the trustworthiness of the UNSC's peace making efforts _ Lilac Team (Naomi-010, Jorge-052, Solomon-069, Malcom-059) Primary: Ensure the safety of non einherjar aligned insurrectionist leaders/ groups
Optional Sub Objective 1: Keep all the VIPs alive to Mission end
Optional Sub Objective 2: Keep more than 50% of non essential members of the delegation alive to mission end
"Illya, lets talk shop" You say, keeping alert and scanning the Landing Zone's perimeter
"About what, Sir?" She asks immediately, pausing her own watch to glance your direction to acknowledge your request. Which was important, as you hadn't ordered her to give her two cents
"The Covenant Elite Soldier Caste" You tell her and she nods, understanding that you want to have a tactical discussion
"We call them Svartalfar" Shika chimes in "Sven came up with it"
"So that's why the operation was called that" Illya ponders outload "Kurt and the rest of us took to calling them Alligators, Svartalfar is a bit of a mouthful"
"So is Alligator, in all fairness" Nesta butts in, running her hands through her red hair and shaking it as she enjoys the sun and the breeze washing up from the shore. Cont
The gates of Felcross are behind you now. The city where you were raised, the city of your first failures and rare achievements, the last great city on the way east. You look back, as if to say goodbye. There is nothing of worth left for you there, only your bickering family and your more successful peers.
You are a wanderer now. On your belt is a sword, on your back - a bag with tools, travelling gear, some money - whatever was left after your purchases - and rations. They won't last long, but you'll think of solving this later. Two javelins fit nicely in the quiver, slung over your shoulder close to the travelling bag.
Barely a man, not a youth, you start down one of the roads. You don't know much of the world, but you've had dreams. Dreams of power, people bowing to your might, of... freedom, to do what you want, however indulgent your desires may be. Of immortality, like in the tales of the Flower Harbringer and the Collector of Names.
They are far away, but one who doesn't begin his journey will most certainly never see its end.
You possess basic ability in the way of the sword and the javelin, having been given basic training for the militia, like any able man of the kingdom. You also know your way around the streets, courtesy of your upbringing. You can repair and take care of your weapon, and know the basics of crafting, having helped around the smithy for a time. You think you can survive on the road and subsist if need came. That's about all you are capable of.
You heard the road east leads to the frontier, the outlands. Not completely devoid of settlement, it is, nevertheless, a dangerous place - some of the monsters manage to sneak into the heartlands of the kingdom of Hien, not to speak of these wild lands, where they may have greater reign. Their distance from the heartlands means all kind of folk flock there, sometimes good in heart, but often dark. It also means greater freedom, whatever the cost. At least, that's what the caravans and travellers from that land told you when they passed through Felcross.
"Only madmen go east," your grandpa once said spitefully. "Those that don't know the worth of a family at your back or a proper home you can return to." Didn't stop one of your elder brothers from going there. Didn't stop you.
The road is calm for a few days as you pass by caravans going west. You didn't have enough money to buy your place in one, so you're going alone.
After the sun sets on the 4th day of travel, you consider making camp, like the previous days, but see a light further down the road. Approaching closer, you see a person sit by the campfire, a man, if you read their build correctly. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, tinkering with something in his hands. A tent is pitched nearby, and a spear rests by the fire. The faint scent of herbs and medicine drifts in the air. The smoke, too, of course. (1/2)
This is part 7 of the "side quest" for "Disappearing Hogwarts". An unofficial alternate timeline based on HeadQM´s highly praised quest, Disappearing Hogwarts. Reading the original story is not exactly necessary but heavily encouraged since this quest will contain references to it. Created mostly as a place to wait while HeadQM was away for a while but slowly evolved into his own thing.
Quick recap so far: >Recently graduated Ravenclaw student is hired at Hogwarts as the new Caretaker. >Merlin somehow ended up inside your head. >Harry Potter´s daughter died, letting Salazar Slythering (previously stuck inside her head) free to continue his quest to control The Beast, an all powerful ancient creature accidentally created by Merlin. >He is currently now trapped inside a poor and weakened girl named Artemis. >This bought you valuable time while you learn how to contain The Beast >Hogwarts is slowly becoming an administrative mess now that Harry Potter himself disappeared. >You have a private investigator lurking around Hogwarts and is heavily suspicious of you. >You also learned an ancient powerful spell >Fought Artemis while she was possesed by Salazar and took her to St.Mungos after defeating her. >Merlin regained some of his senses back and you are now lurking around St.Mungos looking for an explanation.
<span class="mu-i">Saturday, May 14, 1985. Chicago.</span>
You open your eyes to the sound of rushing feet and whispered voices. It’s still dark, your wife turning over and muttering in her sleep. What’s the time? The digital clock reads 3:46 AM. There’s more voices outside in the corridor. People are running. What’s going on? You get out of bed, taking care not to disturb Linda, and look for your dressing gown. You find it and wrap it around yourself while you look through the window. The city is quiet, only a few cars lazily crawling down the streets, empty of pedestrians. You see that there’s been a light rain, droplets of water still clinging to your window and leaving the city streets glistening.
There’s a knock at the door, and as you turn, it opens, and your friend, Albert West, pokes his head through and says: “Mr President. We need you to come with us.”
SOMEWHERE ABOVE THE ARCTIC
A beeping rings out through the cockpit. Three pairs of eyes are staring at the dashboard. Cpt. William Blakely, aircraft commander, pushes a button and the beeping stops. He orders the navigator to check in with command. The navigator pushes some buttons and listens to his headset, then shakes his head. Cpt. Blakely pushes some more buttons, and CAP811 flashes on his screen. He resets the system. CAP811 flashes on the screen again. He looks at his pilot, who nods, slowly. They both unzip a pouch on their vests, and pull out two documents, marked TOP SECRET. They break the red ribbon seal, and read what is written on them. They look at each other’s documents. The contents are identical. There is silence in the cockpit.
