COME ALL, COME SEE. Another Chapter Of This Ol Fic Brought To You By Yours Truly.

I feel this on a personal level, downloading S.T.A.L.K.E.R 2 and the bloody thing is 100gb+! Its not just the damn storage its the download speed, yes just let me have shit internet for the next 2-3 days so you can keep 20gb+ of unused assets/Allah knows what I won't even get to see.

Game studios learn to optimize your fucking games challenge.

Who the fuck do you think you are? You are a toy. A glorified slinky.

Didn’t Matter

Hello there, firstly I am trying something new on Tumblr. I wanna see how these short stories will do here. I am kind of new to these things so sorry if I am going against etiquette in some way. Anyhow I was meaning to talk about my headcanons and write them here but I thought giving an account of them through a story was a bit more entertaining and much more fulfilling. I hope you all enjoy this, if you all do I might continue it. also the link to the AO3 should be down there.

Warnings: Blood, Violence

WC: 1407

Rating: T+

It was not a quiet day. Far from it in fact as the sounds of battle reverberated across the temple I called my own.

Clashing steel against one another as they forced their way into his temple. Singing praises to my siblings. They poured into our home like thunderous rain, washing away the defenses set by my own flock. They showed no mercy as they ran them through, but as they moved forwards they noticed the death they gave was not the end for their would be victims.

One by one, all those they thought slaughtered rose from their supposed final slumber. To attack there would be killers. Some cried, some laughed maybe at the irony or just out of madness. But it didn’t matter.

Even as they got slaughtered back they pushed their way forwards with unending numbers on their side. An unceasing tide pushing against the shores of the restless dead. Eventually they came, the siblings I once called beloved. What a sight they were. Leshy breaking the very earth as he swung his hammer, Kallamar as he tore through the lines with his blades, Heket as she chopped my followers to bits. The only one standing unbloodied was Shamura, they stood clean amidst the carnage. If one were to ask me what was the oddest sight amidst this accursed day, I would tell them it was her. They were the most unusual. Not the sibling coming to slaughter one another nor the followers of the same faith tearing each other apart as they let their steel talk rather than the preachers. They stood as a Goddess of war, unbloodied amidst a carnage such as this. Even as my followers flung themselves at the four they stood unimpeded. Whatever opposition they had offered didn't matter. The four entered the throne room unopposed in the end, but none of their followers followed. Maybe it was because of orders or perhaps by genuine fear as they saw me in my fullest. 

I sat upon the throne with my scythe to my side. I wore no armor as I knew for beings such as us, no armor could stop our blows. No. I stood with only robes as white as snow. There were no words exchanged for what felt like eons. Eventually I spoke ‘’So, what has brought my dear siblings to my domain?’’ Even as I spoke I felt anger course through me. Trying to keep calm I drummed my hand against the throne. I was answered with silence as loud as the battle still waged behind. None met my eyes, not the proud Heket nor the coward Kallamar, other than Shamura. They gazed upon me as if they were judging me. What a funny little concept. They spoke after a sigh ‘’Narinder, Lord of Death, Traitor of the Old Faith, we have come to stop you for your Her-’’ 

I cut them off before they could speak more nonsense ‘’You think me as a traitor? a heretic even?’’ a scoff escaped me ‘’I am neither, my deluded sibling. Has your age finally gotten to you? Perhaps you have become maddened in your search for knowledge?’’ I got off the throne and as I did I could see my siblings take up arms once more, their limbs tightening against their weapons. I did not. I had my scythe still against my back.

I paced across the room as I continued ‘’You have come upon my realm, you have slaughtered my devout followers, you have insulted me with your baseless accusations’’ At last I stopped meeting Shamura’s eyes ‘’And you dare suggest I am the traitor?’’ I saw the way their face fell further as they closed their eyes, breathing once more they spoke ‘’I know the fate you wish to befall upon us Narinder. I saw it all, I saw your plans for us all, for the ones loyal to the Old Faith.’’ I laughed as they finished, what little faith for a God I thought. To believe some vision they have had over their own brother. To judge them based on something as simple as divination. I wanted to cry at that moment, to ask why, to demand why she would ever judge me on something that would never come to pass. I wanted to strangle her as I asked her what ill have I ever done to warrant the ostracization, the ceremonies I was excluded from, the unwillingness to hear my pleas for audience, the tears I shed not knowing why my cult had to be disbanded. But it didn’t matter. My laugh ended abruptly as I took up arms. My scythe by my side. Leshy was first. My brother was a being of chaos. His hammer reflected this well. He swung wildly as he tried to squash me down, but he held back. I could see it in his eyes as he tried to incapacitate me rather than kill me. It was a mercy that caused him much as I jumped over one of his blows to land upon the hammer. There was a pang in my heart as I clawed his eyes out, one swing and no more would the Leshy of Darkwood see. Next was Kalamar. He surprised me as he dodged my attacks. Weaving and countering all I could throw at him, but even as Heket helped him defend, he couldn’t keep up with me. I was stronger, faster, better, I was better. I saw his ears twitch as I got the upper hand on him, his brother always had his ears twitch when he was nervous. As of late it was whenever I was close to him, fluttering around as if I was an enemy, a beast, a monster. I swung, and no more did his ears offend me. Kallamar of Anchordeep would hear no more. A shrill voice came when Kallamar hit the ground weeping. and an ax flew for my throat, just to be caught by my scythe. Heket was a challenge. A challenge to be around, a challenge to be a friend to, a challenge not to love. She was strong, confident, smart, annoying, nagging and criticizing. Her words cut deep, deeper than the blow I almost received as I ducked just in time. It was time she stopped. a gurgle sounded from the ground as I silenced her forevermore. Heket of Anura would speak no more.

As we stood face to face with her, my sibling, my caretaker, the one I loved more than all, the one that took away my beloved cult, relegated me to a misbegotten legend, changed the very sermons so none could remember me. My first sibling now faced me with a withered look, their eyes not meeting mine. I could almost believe myself as I thought they wept. Only one word broke my silence ‘’Why?’’ We fought, steel against claw, magic against curse, brother against sister, traitor against traitor. I couldn’t match them, they were stronger, faster, better, they were better. But even as we fought, I could see their faith waning. Their blows softening, their curses now aimless, their eyes full of shame. In the end though, it didn’t matter. I struck their head, tearing apart the mind that thought me as a traitor. Shamura of Silk Cradle would think no more. As for me, well my chest wasn’t left untouched as my guts bursted out. 

I hit the ground, in the pool of my siblings blood as well as mine.I heard the chanting raise from all around me as I lay. I wept then and there. I would deny it, but it is true, I did. I wept as the chains shot out from the portal to the limbo and took me by the limbs. The searing heat of them only a mild pinprick in comparison to the pain of betrayal I felt. 

I raked my arms upon the ground as I tried to claw myself away from the void I was being dragged to. I gave all my might even as they got torn apart. But it didn’t matter. As I was dragged off to my fate I saw Shamura. They spoke even through their wound ‘’five becomes four becomes three becomes two becomes one becomes nothing’’

I felt a chuckle raise its way out as I was swallowed by the blinding white. All their efforts, all  their spilled blood, all their sacrifice. 

It didn’t matter. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43839834/chapters/110230173

The true horseman of the apocalypse, or perhaps I should say ostrichman of the apocalypse?

I really love the Bishops in cult of the lamb. At the start I didn't (I even called Kallamar "Pussy mouth" when i encounterd him in his area) SO since the 4 are kinda the horseriders, they need horses.  My boyfriend said they should have those inflatable emu outfits, were your legs are the emus legs. So yeah, terrorfying... I will draw more of them.

Over abundance of fluff,

Perfection.

... Or I won't play

This is Pan, a character that belongs to @pioripan!

I wanted to draw her a looot earlier but I didn't have any time to do so

So, here it is... A little sketch of this truly beautiful sheep

Shasha

Sooooo fourth in the saga. Where we get to see the big spider in the spotlight for the first time since the series start. I am so proud of the old Spider with reallly sharp claws who finally gets to gets to have the stage.

As you might have guessed this chapter is about Shamura and how they went about the ‘joining the traitor’ business.

As usual the link to AO3 is down below if you all wish to read it there. (:

Seen Things that are yet to happen.

Precognition, a window to the future, a look to the will be.

A gift one may call it just as they had done it before now. Long before the accursed day they had peered to a future they wish they had not.

They wanted to call it a curse after seeing the horrors that awaited them. A curse that showed them what would be without a shadow of a doubt.

But yet they couldn’t call it a curse even if they wanted to, for they did not make that future take place but have instead just peered into the ugly truth of what awaited them. So they called it a call for action instead, a call that would not go unanswered.

But yet still, even with the truth of their ability and their need to take action. A part of them still yearned for what their siblings had, the sweet ignorance. But as always even a single fragment of the terrible truth of the future wiped that simple childish wish.

They could not remember every detail of those foggy visions. There was blood, so much and so dark. Spilling against the fair stone of the mountains carved into a temple for death and the dead.

There would be they and their siblings with only them amidst in the pool of their own ichor. before them there would be their dearest. The first sibling they called their own with a blade responsible for this atrocity extended towards their throat.

This is the fate they saw many moons ago befalling them and their most loved.

In the end they knew, they knew no vision of theirs would come false. But they had to try, even if they knew it was futile.

Lost in thought as usual, it took them a moment to realize where they were again. They sighed as they grabbed the railings tightly, grounding themselves against the allure of the terrible visage.

There was a time when their ability was spoken with much splendor, where they would be happy to receive a look into the future. Alas, those days had passed just like the autumn but a month prior.

Shaking their head from side to side, they looked below to their cult and realm, trying to clear their mind. It was, as it always has been dark as far as the eye could see in the low underground tunnels of their home. With only the light of the graceful moon shining above the cracks and fissures aided with the luminescent mushrooms that littered their domain helping carve away the abyss.

It was comfortable to look upon once, to see the unjudging dark enveloping their land. But that was before they had seen their vision, that was before they had learned that the dark did indeed judge. Just in a way none could understand until one was troubled so greatly as they…

Ignoring the dark they focused on the once soothing cold of winter, dulling one’s senses just enough to ignore the pain be it physical or even mental. It gave them much respite once, but now just like the darkness it only elevated their frustration.

Even with all of that, such trivial things as dark or cold could really affect a God even with their new found strength with their frustrations. No, Shamura was not one that was to be bested. Still even with their pride still sung within their heart and a cloak most well, it could not stop the shiver that spawned from their very heart.

Bringing their cloak closer and their eyes away from the dark, they decided that this much night air was more than good enough. With a yawn that came almost naturally they took off to their chambers, they needed rest as expected.

Arriving at Their chambers was simple enough, really the balcony was right outside. Not bothering to disrobe they quickly made their way to their bed, they would not wear them tomorrow anyhow and it was not as if they had no other robes they could use.

Sliding into the sheets, comforting silk met their body, warm and unrestricting. Almost as if on the clouds themselves they wrapped it around themselves and as snug wool pillows met their head they were ensured that it would be a dreamless night.

Now to sleep… . . .

After the thousand turn and toss they quickly choose to retract their claim of a quick night’s rest. Indeed, they had a feeling it would be rather the opposite for whatever reason.

Opening their eyes they began to gaze outwards around, if they were stuck tossing and turning maybe putting that mind of theirs to some use would help them tire themselves out.

First that met their gaze was the room they were in. It was as expected, not some grand and lavish room meant for a particularly pompous king or a queen. But a spartan living quarters that could belong to anyone… that was their size of course and barring the bedding itself as it would be unrealistic of anyone to assume they should sleep upon anything but silk and wool. They were in favor of utilitarian living, not ascetic ‘living’ if it could even be called that.

Really did anyone even wish to live in such… And here they were, instead of sleeping they were just wasting their mind on something like this, there was no way this could tire them out.

They rolled their eyes as they tried to bury themselves further into their now much colder sheets that seemed to strangle their throat as opposed to their previous unrestricting nature.

Trying to loosen the fabric they try to put their back towards the wool pillow which seems to bring a strange ache to their head as they sink into the soft material in the least comfortable way. With a cry of frustration they free themselves after tearing the silk away with their claws.

Breathing in and out, as deep as it could go and out as slow as they can manage. They slowly focus back to their bedding which now stood ruined.

For a moment they couldn’t help but to regret their quick action caused by frustration but then again, surely it was better that they were free than if they had stayed and simply let themselves get buried.

After all, they did not make mistakes. This was the better option.

With a sigh they get up from the bed, it turns out they were not tired enough. Surely it should be expected that they would have much more energy than a mortal, they simply needed to stay awake further to tire themselves enough. ‘What better way than to inspect the preparations’ they thought as they tossed the ruined pieces of silk to the corner of the chamber.

 Walking out of their chambers to their temple they took in to walk back to see and confirm all was according to the plan, they needed to be perfect for tomorrow. All needed to be perfect; they had to be ready for war tomorrow against the… traitor.

They stopped momentarily at the thought. They sighed, It was still a hard idea to accept, their brother being a traitor. A heretic that had casted their teachings and has gone to his own path for whatever misbegotten reason.

They could still remember the day when one of their followers came to them with the grim news. Their brother, the traitor had esca- left their temple at the dead of night. They could still remember the sheer disbelief they had felt, the way they had searched every corner of their own temple to make sure he had left them even while knowing full well they had run off.

It was unexpected, it was rage inducing, It was… heartbreaking. To hear him leave them with not even the courage to come to them first. Their claw tightened at the sheer audacity their brother had shown with just the start of his little rebellion.

Surely however, what had made their descent into heresy worse was their next actions. The way they had taken the followers of all four of them to their rank with false promises, the way they had marched them to the tallest mountains to claim superiority above them all, the way they had forgotten them all as he had closed his temple to all, forever casting them away.

Their claw loosened, swallowing the small lump in their throat they continued their walk. ‘No matter’ they thought, no matter what slight was done against them, it would be paid back soon enough. After all, it was as expected.

In a short while they found themselves at their first stop, the armory. The forges where the war would take shape first. Where the bellows infinitely churned the tools necessary for their art, a place most holy for them and their followers.

Blades of many with axes to follow. All spears put neat and well with all arrows heads casted to perfection. A certain smile found their way to their lips as they couldn’t help but be pleased with the simple, brutal but yet effective artistry at work.

All made so well against the fires of the forges, still pulsing with heat that bellowed from within the eternal stone, beating against the venerable steel. Craftsmanship unfound in anywhere else…

Wait. Stopping their stroll through the sets they took upon a closer inspection, which showed many weaknesses once not seen. Some bent where it should be straight and vice versa, all showing wear and tear from past battles unworked in the forge. While some showed even rust where it would prove deadly only to the user of what should be venerable steel.

How were they supposed to wage war with these? They would not be going against the steel of a mere rival God, but the traitor’s army. They would be going to slaughter if they tried to. Just who gave them the orders to make these abominations?

How had this come to be? Who was responsible for all of this? Setting out to find a blacksmith was not so hard as they were already passing by even when they were doing their inspection.

At first it was nothing out of the ordinary until they had realized that The blacksmiths were not of their lot but that of Heket, if they could be called as such.

Following the blacksmith to their workshop they were even more revolted at the sight they had seen.

They saw the blacksmiths milling about instead of working to keep the forges going. Blunt swords and bent shields somehow considered fit to be used, bits of casted metal around with rust clinging to them greeted them.

All with flaws unworked on with the idea of them being ‘good enough’.

Outraged by the sheer audacity committed by these cretin they could almost feel their teeth grind against one another. Just what was their sister thinking? It was obviously their order which has set them in their current way, made them forge these monstrosities.

Then again, this is what could be expected of her wasn’t it. They felt the thought worm their way into their mind further and further as they stood in awe at sight in front of them.

Their sister was always of good enoughs and never of perfection was she? In a normal time of lackadaisical days maybe they could be looked past with only a slight show of unapproval. But here, now? In a time when they needed more than just ‘good enough’?

Unacceptable.

Laziness, the lack of drive, unwillingness to better one’s self, these were the only ways to describe her were they not?

Couldn’t she prove herself to them with more than just good enough just once?

They groaned as they bit down harder and harder. There were a lot of things she would have to prove if she were to ever take her place as their right hand. A lot of things indeed.

Yet, they could not bring themselves to be too disappointed in her. Yes she has shown her unreliability once more, but still there would be more times where she could prove herself to them.

It would be fixed alright. Fetching their own blacksmiths and letting them correct the mistakes was not hard. Before long sounds of metal beating against iron sounded across the temple.

With that taken care of they could finally feel their teeth relax as they sighed with a ghost of a smile, everything the way they were meant to be.

They could see it now even in a small vision. All steel in the hands of the warriors of theirs. Clashing against the heretic, though details were somewhat odd frankly…

Chasing away the doubt much like the warriors from their vision, they continued. There was much to attend. No reason to get stuck on things that do not matter.

Next stop was the Barracks, the path to the barracks was not a long from the armory as expected. In any invasion of any kind it was a needed feature. Though that had never come to pass, it paid to be ready.

Maybe like right now…

Shaking their head they tried to clear the absurd thought away, there was no way he could have figured out what was to be their fate. Even if they knew, they would have mounted an offensive right now.

They knew he was competent, much more than competent at times even and reached the perfection they were known for. As befitting of their once right hand, one did not reach such a position without some skill.

But it was irrelevant as he was no longer their right hand, nor did he know their plans. He was to be caught without defence and… brought to justice.

With thoughts stirring in their head they almost did not notice as they entered the barracks. It was a large part of the temple, it was spartan as furniture went as well as luxury. It was not expected from a warrior to need much other than arm and armor after all.

They saw rows after rows of neat armor meant to be worn under cloak, all straps holding the elegant and yet so effective armor, the expertise that would go unseen in battle, unnoticed almost. Much like their sister almost in their court.

At least, It was satisfying to see that here their warriors would remain unchallenged, they thought. Their warrior’s needed the gear to survive what was to come, they each needed to be protected amidst what they were to face.

But before they could be on their way back to their inspection something caught their eye. It was almost unnoticeable amidst all the others, but in a moment that had them look around the armor stands they noticed that it was all wrong

The straps were too large for even a beast and the armor, it almost looked like it was not even connected together.

On Top of all that, they all showed oddities that would prove too chaotic for any kind of planning. They were strange creations that could never fit in a battlefield, armor that bent like sheets of paper with helmets too long to make sense.

Looking at the others it told a similar tale. All different than each other in ways that made them all more strange than unique.

Their claw flew in a moment over one of the armor sets, and as expected it couldn’t take a single hit with all the unnecessary additions more or less bolted on.

Their eyes twitched as they discarded the broken piece of useless steel and leather. How could their soldiers wage war if their equipment was this strange?

All haphazard, all chaotic…

They didn’t need to guess too long after that to know who was responsible for all of this. Their youngest, Leshy.

Their brother was a being of Chaos, that much was true and expected. They would be a hypocrite if they could ask their brother to stop their ways, their very nature when they themselves were known for their ferocity at times. But yet, in such a time where they could not afford even the slightest deviation from their visions could spell doom for them?

Apathy was the only way to explain how their brother could think to take such action. It was the sheer disregard their brother could show when he found things that he showed no interest towards.

Was this just a joke for the worm? Was their fate and the fate of The Old Faith just a game for him?

Their digits groaned under the pressure as their claws clenched. There were many things they wished to get their hands on at that moment. Maybe to finally show their youngest at least the concept of respect with it.

Yet, they could not bring themselves to blame them too harshly. Indeed they had done a great wrong with their casual dismissal of their own order and instead letting his own armorers run wild, but it could be fixed.

Waking the armorers was much like waking the blacksmiths, a single order given to a passing follower and in a few short moments before the clang of steel and fastening of leather rang out from the workshops dulling out the headache they were subjected to.

Each one they would meticulously check, test if need be. If they will fail them here, then how are they supposed to not fail against their br- the traitor?

After what felt like hours examining the strap that held each armor, they were finally satisfied or as close as they could get. All armor polished and readied for use by all kinds of followers and beast alike. None could truly withstand a God surely, but this was… acceptable, for now.

As they were leaving they decided to just peek into the future of the armor and saw that it was as they predicted. Armor would not protect against a God but it would protect against his forces.

A blow from a sword of a warrior grazing against a pauldron before being met with righteous teeth… wait, teeth?

They almost stumbled before straightening themselves against the cold stone pillars. They felt their head ache at the vision. Why was their sight so murky today? They could barely gaze a moment into the future and it was all muddled to oblivion. Was their precognition fail-. No, that was not possible.

Shaking their head they carried on, there was no need to doubt themselves. Their vision was true as always, as expected.

It was true, they were sure of it.

Besides, has their vision ever failed them before? It had not failed when they were attacked by their rival Gods, it had not failed when they saw the coming of their siblings from the stars above. It had not failed when it showed them their brother’s soon treachery. Though sometimes they wish it had failed at least this once.

Without even meaning to, they stumbled upon the arena. Where one met warrior against warrior, where one found themselves in their perfect selves as they showed them what truly was beneath their simple mortal coils.

Truly a place that would bring an end to their worries, well it was not worries per say but simple concerns.

Warriors each with a sword to call their own, battling with precision and elegance. Each strike thought with reason, unlike that of a beast that only relies upon rage and instinct.

Sparks flying in all directions as the swords clash against the other with shields blocking the next. The footwork to avoid each quick jab… dodging away from hits instead of fighting back…

Taken aback for a moment, looking around some more a similar tale followed, each warrior instead of standing their ground just gave away in a cowardly display. How were these warriors supposed to hold the line and push back when they fought like cowards?

It took them no time to single out the one that found themselves on the ground, who looked unashamed at such a shameless display of failure. picking themselves up and carrying on as if they had not just brought disgrace to all. It was almost like seeing their brother again at his first sacrifice.

Still trying to surpass the awful memory, few of the six eyes she had twitched as they felt their claw squeeze against their palm. How were they this unabashed? It was so insulting. Were they just doing it on purpose? did they simply do it to annoy them?

Unclenching their palm they looked upon the warrior that failed them. He was a young one, with mandibles of blue and eyes of turquoise. Moving towards him it took him a moment to realize he was facing the eldest of The Old Faith. It took him another moment to realize his body was high on the air as they took them by their training gear.

Entering the mind of the would be follower was easy, seeing where they got these notions of cowardice was also easy, almost unneeded.

It was none other than their cowardly brother who had thought them.

It took much of them to not crush the little crab in their grasp as they begged and wept, not because of the cowardice but for the show they had put on with their tears. Each moment reminding them of the day where they knew their second youngest would bring much dishonor to them in the coming time.

Maybe against their better judgement they let go of the mewling welp.

Tossing the now terrified creature full of tears that reminded them too much of their cowardly brother. They set out to fix the wrong they saw, they would show this arena what was true battle. Even if it would take the remaining part of their night they would make sure such traitors nor weaklings would dare ruin their plans.

After what felt like eternity they left the arena. They were to say the least, tired. The training took more off of them they would like to admit, not because the warriors were able to match them but because they were unable to.

It was infuriating to unteach the notions of dodging instead of answering a strike with a riposte, or how to keep their footing when attacked instead of relenting.

Even at the end of their lecture they still couldn’t do as they wished, as they perhaps needed but it was close enough, and it would be enough.

It would be enough even if the idea of ‘good enough’ gave them much disgust.

They didn’t even need to gaze to the future to know that would be more than enough. Why would they when they knew it was going to go as expected? It was simply a waste of time.

Besides, their brother would not have raised an army to match theirs yet alone all three even if they were subpar… Then again their brother was not unlike them when it came to battle now were they?

No, perhaps not.

They felt the door to their chamber before they could see it. One claw rubbing the spot on their head and with the other throwing the door open they entered.

It was as they left it, with the blankets still torn asunder. With a sigh that came from deep within they slowly made their way to their bed.

Even without the blanket, it was still comfortable. Though the wood of the frame groaning under their weight was not really pleasant. Also the strange wetness of the pillow was… odd. coupled that with the odd sting in their eyes…

Rubbing at their eyes they looked up, staring at the ceiling of their chamber.

Just why?

Why was nothing going the way it was supposed to be going?

Nothing was as expected and all was just…

Wrong.

Nothing they did felt like it was good enough anymore. Each part of their preparations felt worse than the last, the weapons were still subpar, the armors were falling apart, their warriors couldn’t even hold a sword correctly.

How could their followers… No, their siblings fail them so badly?

As the frustration crept within once more they started to remember the better days, the days before it was so much more perfect. Their warriors were trained by them personally, their armor and arms were done to their specifications. It was all just perfect.

From their own followers to their siblings, they were all just failing them. One by one they were refusing their vision, each giving away excuses for their faults and never accepting blame.

Their follower’s at least had a semblance of competence within, but their siblings? They all just failed them. They each failed them in so many damnable ways.

They just wished Narinder was with them…

Taking a second to part their claws away from their head they looked above to the roof of their chamber. They blinked as they let the idea sink down further and further.

They wish they were with him now, instead of their brothers and sister they wished that Narinder was with them where everything would be easier. His blacksmiths would cast the greatest steel made to perfect the art of death. His armorers assemble the most impeccable armor to stop the coming of death for just a little longer in battle. His Soldiers, the ones that fight with no fear of their lord’s embrace as they march to their assured deaths.

Everything would have been easier.

It would be… perfect.

They wished for him to be back with them, things to go back the way they used to be before all this… mess.

Their mandibles quivered as a lonely drop of ichor found its way off their eye. They wished for so many things, so many things that felt so distant now. They wished for things to return to the way they used to be. Alas just as much as death couldn’t flow backwards, just as much as how they couldn’t undo their mistakes…

Another drop escaped them, It was their mistake was it not? It was surely their mistake of showing him the ideas of evolving when his domain should never have such ideals utilized.

They still could remember the conversation that led to that, could still remember how they were saddened for he could not create like the rest of them.

He had come to them as usual when this ancient sadness came again to the forefront of his mind, invading his senses. The sadness that fattened with each new sibling who could change unlike him.

It was easy back then, just to assure him of his place within the cult made of only the two of them. That they would change and he would stay the way he was, an equal balance set in a dance of two. Upset with the coming of more.

They did not wish to remember the way they looked upon them with his three eyes that shone the way they did when they first came to their world in a comet screaming through the skies. The way he looked so unsure, so unhappy as he had when he found the lacking of his domain.

They had assured him that he was just as important, assure them that creation was not any lesser than destruction, assure them that their siblings were not looking down on their second leader just because all that he was.

They wish it worked, they wish he just backed down and smiled back as he accepted his place. That he would just apologize for bothering them again, and that they could assure them that he had not bothered them at all.

However, that's not what happened.

He just stopped. He just looked within their eyes and claimed that maybe he should just… go. That he should just embrace it instead, embrace oblivion and destruction. Tell them that the Lord of Death should have no business with the living world.

As they saw the will within his eyes, they knew they were serious. He would leave them alone, he would reach his realm and forever bar the gates to stop them. He would leave them, their first brother, their first little headache that caused so much upheaval in their life.

They were weak in the end. The way their heart broke with his, as they couldn’t imagine a future without him by their side.

So they did it, they told him of change. They told him they could become different, evolve and become something he wished. So they could perhaps create in their own way.

As his smile grew with the idea of this new novelty, so did theirs fell as they saw the future that they charted for the whole of The Old Faith with just those simple words.

‘’So try brother. For my domain is knowledge and it is ever evolving, so can yours maybe.’’

The words spoken so long ago now felt like a curse that broke them down with each letter. They hated it, they hated every moment of that cursed memory and they hated themselves for all that came to be after that.

They were sure of it.

Shuffling up the mountains so far high, it was like a blur under the grayed out skies blending with the snow covered mountain.

Each begrudging and tiresome step after another taken with only vitriol to fuel it. The snow under their feet sinking down as it gets muddied more and more with each step taken behind them as untold warriors made their way up the mountain.

They had to give it to their brother, he had made sure every step of the way would be more painful than the one before. It was already hard marching an army up a mountain but one with snow on top? It would sap the strength out of their troops even before they would reach their destination.

As expected, most clever of their brother.

Still, they marched on. With all four armies combined they trudged through the mountain even as mud claimed more and more of their ranks as they sank down into it, before ever getting to taste battle breathing their last breath under the earth.

They should curse their brother for such cruelty, to steal them away to his realm before they could even test their mettle.

Alas they could only find an inkling of pride where there should be rage.

Eventually they reached the gates of the temple, manned by ram and ewe alike with odd species of all kinds amidst their ranks. All with weapons edged to perfection and armor to match, standing together as one, where theirs stood divided.

It took them much time to breach the gates, their warriors dying by the hundreds at the forefront as the lots of their siblings filled the ranks after them. Their warriors meeting their end to the onslaught just so that their sibling’s lot could stand a chance.

They should be howling in rage as the now mindless horde of fanatics led by their siblings fight against the honorable heretics of their brother. They should take apart the heretics who fought against the horde of teeth and claws with their swords and shields.

But they could only share a ghost of a smile in their lips as they stood unmoved. Yet again pride bloomed within as they marched on with only lethargy and perhaps apathy keeping them company.

Then they came to the last hurdle, perhaps the last heretic still able to hold a blade against them. With many broken bodies of their own warriors beneath his feet and the lot of Kallamar watching from far away, cowering behind their shields as they looked upon the wolf.

Melvin stood alone, his curved blade from lands so far away in their hands as they stood in front of the gate they had no chance to bar them against. There he stood, silent with only judgement within his eyes and perhaps even disgust.

They should be enraged by the sheer notion of judging them when he was but an insect where he stood. How could he even wish to criticize a god?

However yet again, they couldn’t help but be proud of their brother for having a witness with faith this strong when their end was so assured. They could even believe the old mutt felt no fear within his heart as they manned the gate of their Lord.

They almost found themselves asking him to move aside, to tell him he would be allowed to come with them once they take his brother back to the fold. To serve him once they claim back their brother away from his folly. But his gaze filled with nothing but fury told them, he would not listen.

They wish they could say he put up a fight. That he fought with valor befitting of a warrior, but no. For a moment he stood valiant and in the other he stood impaled against their youngest’s claws. Played like a toy, as they dangled uselessly in Leshy’s still apathetic grasp as he flexed his claws with boredom written in his face.

With shame plastered against his still face he uttered words that were only heard by their brother. Who looked on from his throne with only sorrow, his body almost like a statue sitting with their scythe by their side.

There was no need for words, they knew what was to happen. Their brother would fight against them when they had only wanted him back, he would wound each one of them until only they and he would stand where they would see what would follow soon enough.

Yet they still spoke, not because they knew it would change anything but because they felt almost an obligation to him to at least try.

 With a heavy heart full of sorrow ‘’Brother’’ It was hard to make up the words as they gazed upon the near empty eyes with a similar pain behind them ‘’Your folly comes to an end, resist no more and come wit-’’

They were cut by a laughter, one so empty that came from him ‘’Why?’’ Before they could ask what he meant by his question ‘’Why are you here? Why are you slaughtering my followers? When I left for there to be no more bloodshed, why have you followed me here?’’ There it was, within his eyes a spark that could not be killed so easily. One that would ignite the battle that was sure to follow.

The answer so simple, yet so hard to make him understand ‘’I… my visi-’’

They were cut once more, now with much more vitriol ‘’Oh so it was your delusions yet again’’ his words, an offense that would be punished swiftly even if he were the one to commit back on the lackadaisical days of yore.

Now only silence followed his words before they could muster the strength once more ‘’Brot- Narinder I…’’ They couldn’t finish their words. How could they? How could they even begin to explain their rightful reasoning, that their actions were just. How could they make him see?

‘’Whatever, I am done fighting.’’ He looked below to his hands as they clenched before with a sigh ‘’I am done with seeing my followers get slaughtered. I will come with you if you spare whoever is left.’’

They were stunned into silence with the end of their sentence. In a moment their sorrow was replaced with joy they thought they could never feel again. Could the fate they foresaw be avoided? Have their visions truly been falsehoods? But before they could rejoice at the fact that their vision would not come to pass, they were horrified at the idea that they were wrong.

They were… wrong. How could they be wrong? Were they wrong in all their visions, all of this preparation, all the events that led to this moment could have been changed?

Have they truly failed their brother? Could they have spared him the misery they caused, could they have averted hurting Nari so easily?

Too lost in their own mind, unable to even notice the world around themselves. They could only hear Hekets axe as it flew at their brother to be countered at the last moment with his scythe.

In a moment their world was shifted once more as their two siblings began to fight, one so full of rage the other so confused. They tried to find their tongue before Heket spoke between each of her hits.

With full of indignation ‘’Liar! you just wish to take back your spot. Well I am not letting you take back my rightful spot, where I deserve to be!’’ She swung fast and well just to be thwarted each time as he looked at her somewhere between furious and confused.

They looked at their sister as they continued their attack towards their brother. Why was she doing that? He already gave up, they could have just gone home, they could have…

Before they could finish the thought Leshy joined his sister as he swung his warhammer. Almost taking both of them down with one mighty and uncontrolled swing meant for both and neither.  

Now with a smile that reached his branches ‘’Sorry brother but this is too much fun to pass up on, hope you don’t mind’’ His words fell with laughter as he continued his onslaught of wild swings, Narinder looked at their youngest with frustration written on his face.

Few moments later, surprisingly they saw Kallamar find himself in combat alongside them. Coming from the outskirts of the battle to try their luck with an opportunistic strike, giving themselves room to dodge if need be.

‘’He is just lying! He is waiting to attack us when he gains our trust again!’’

They looked on the travesty in front of them, this dishonorable battle where three fought against one. Where chivalry and honor was tossed away by all three combatants that made a mockery of war and battle. Where the three threw away the one chance of them all going back to the days of old for their petty little reasons.

They were calm for a moment, a moment where they saw all three of their siblings. Heket who still could not land a hit where it was almost impossible not to, Leshy who still couldn’t take the battle seriously even where his life depended on it, Kallamar who was still acting like a coward where they were three against one.

That moment passed with howl of rage the likes of which had not been heard for centuries. One that shook the core of the temple they were standing in. One that stopped their fight for one moment as they looked upon a true God of War devoid of wisdom, before the beast threw themselves amidst the fight.

Claws and teeth followed them, one guided by instinct rather than true combat prowess. A cut here, a slash there with warm and cold vitae and ichor of many.

In a moment came a blur of green where their claws reached and plucked something off from, the blur fell with scream so delicious against their ears. Then a blur of red and some yellow, there they took something red and some white that too fell but now with a thud and a gurgle. There came a scream from the blue blur, that was quieted with a bite to the parts that stick away from it as they rolled away.

In the end there was only a blur of white, they couldn’t take anything from that one. No matter what they did, all they could do was a measly slash against their middle that saw the spilling of crimson, that was answered with an intense pain that radiated from their head.

Then the blur stopped, now even harder to see. All the ones they took from were on the ground now with much red all around. While the one clad in white and red stood above them, with something poking against their throat.

Had they seen this before? It felt like… Deja Vu? Was that the word… They could ask their siblings if they knew. Maybe Nari knew something about it.  

Where was he anyway? Where was their little furball? They called out as softly as they could manage, to not scare their baby brother of course ‘’Nari… where are you…?’’ For a moment the blur grew still ‘’I need you’’ Words fell slowly away from them as the odd sensation grew in their head.

Tentatively, the white and red blur lowered himself to their level, there he stood. They could almost make an image through the haze which looked like a cat with three eyes just like their little brother. They smiled as they felt arms around their body, giving them an embrace.

There it was, their brother’s voice. Though why was it so tired? ‘’Shhh it's alright Shasha’’ They felt cold fingers find the pain radiating out of their skull, soothing the pain slightly as he whispered ‘’it's… it’s all gonna be alright.’’ He gave a pause ‘’I promise’’ They were happy their brother had come to help them. As expected of their little brother, always so faithful.

They were so lucky they had a sibling.

They wish they had more siblings.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/116636956

Alright, another chapter and another one after this already in the works. It is good to be back on track with enough time left to worry about other things. Other than that I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it is a bit short but alas this was kind of the only way I could chop the chapter in a cohesive manner.

(:

Crunch, munch

Hey, Leshy. Ever find something interesting while digging? I bet you can find something valuable underground.

Leshy : I found bones!! *muching on them*

Narinder : STOP EATING GARBAGE!! WE HAVE FOOD!!

Saw this on my Sketch book when I was going through it. I had made this years ago when things were a bit better, when he was still here with us. Anyway I decided to post this here finally.

I know I should probably try to make this digital and all that, but I am not sure how. So I guess for the time being it shall stay as this until I get around to it.

Froglet

Hey People, firstly sorry for the delay. As you might have heard, my country (Turkey) ain't doing so hot at the moment. Between the storms and more importantly the earthquake it has been a little hard here. luckily we weren't hit by the earthquake where I live, but we got our fair share of unpleasantness from the storm. Anyway other than that there is not much I want to say, I hope you all enjoy this one. More regular uploads will continue when I can manage. Trying work without a stable internet and cold fingers is kind of hard sadly and there is only so much a candle can heat up.

She drummed her fingers against the arm of her throne. Each tap trying to rise above the cacophony that has overtaken her temple. Each tap trying and failing to silence the clattering steel and shouts of warriors getting ready for what was to come. Tap, tap, tap, tap her four fingers went with her thumb pushing against the side of the throne, digging into the wood. She was calm, really she was. She was so calm indeed that she was barely even thinking of what was to come, it was simply off from her mind as she calmly waited… and waited… waited. Her eyes were closed, all four shut against the world and the temple she called her own. To the cut stone beneath her throne to the rustic walls that kept her cult sheltered. To the ones she used to call her patrons, now divisions and warriors that were meant to march. Really calm, really, truly calm… No, she wasn’t. She was not calm, not in the slightest. She couldn’t do this to herself. She was many things, a Goddess, a Bishop of the old faith, a sister and not a liar. Besides, she was not really someone to believe in her own lies. Though was she? Was she really not a liar? Even in that sentence there were lies if not some half truths at least. It was true she was a Goddess, Lady of Famine, the one over the domain of sate and hunger in their dance that only ended with the release of death. Then again, if she were the Lady famine then why were her patrons armed in weapons instead of scythes and buckets? Why were they getting ready for what was to come, instead of fasting in their homes? She knew the answer, but really it was better that she kept the answer away from herself. It was also true that she was a bishop of the old faith, she was the new right hand of Shamura, the first one to establish the faith. Then again, was she really? She did not really feel like she was a bishop as much as a commander for her armies now or some odd figurehead at times. She was not really preaching the perseverance that came with the abstinence of what was most vital to life and the release and euphoria that came with the feast. The dance of gorge and the fast. No, these days she was preaching the righteousness of what was to come. Of how one can only find themselves true in war and not by the release of a hot meal after a long day of work toiling in one's lot. It was true, she was a sister. Sister to Leshy, the fifth in the roster of the old faith. God of Chaos that stood over the realms of green and brown. The one that has been with them the least. The hardest to contain amongst the old faith. The one that had brought nothing but a headache to her since his lowly beginnings as a mewling worm. From the days he saw fit to set ablaze her temple in his many ‘pranks’ to his inability to listen to her heeds and warnings. Choosing to ignore where she tried to reason, to use his domain against the criticism he needed to improve. A child she could never see sitting on a throne. Sister to Kalamar, The fourth to come to their coven of Gods. God of Pestilence that stood over the blue and yellow. The one that had done nothing but cower behind her, never setting right where he erred. The one that threw the blame when her honest words came too much. The leach that took all love and gave but disloyalty, a snake she had to trust in what was to come. A coward she never wanted to see ruling. Sister to Shamura, her oldest sibling who was the leader of their quartet. The one that has given her the weapons and arms to wage the war they assured her was necessary. The sibling that has taken the honest work of her patrons in her tavern and has transformed them all to warrior kin only they could assemble. The one that has only taken when her dance was of gift and forfeit. A dance she came to break with their steel and bronze where once there was only wood and clay. A mad tyrant with a vision that may as well have been for their ruin rather than salvation. She was lastly, the sister to Narinder. The second to come in the pantheon of the old faith. The one she was to meet soon, in what was to come. The pompous prick that dared to defile the word of the old faith, dare go against Shamura’s wishes, dared to take his lot away… dared to leave her alone, dare to leave her in charge where he was meant to stay and lead with Shamura, dare to push this responsibility to her. The one that caused all of this… did he though? The traitorous thought snaked its way into her mind. Did he truly cause this all? No, well yes but… half truth she supposed, it could only be called that. He was the one that left, the one that took his followers with him away from them. Into lands they were to march in what's to come. He was the one that made his temple there, on the misty mountains where white met against white with the snow and clouds. A temple he built of marble and stone of the unforgiving silver mountains where his realm was closest to. But, she knew he didn’t want to. She knew he didn’t mean to defile a faith he helped to create in its infancy, if it hadn’t forgotten his name. He was the one that went against the creator of the old faith, their eldest sibling, Master of War, Shamura. To fight against their gospel when it stopped suiting him instead of accepting them as law as must all in the lands of the old faith, be they mortal or God. But she knew. She knew he wouldn’t have went against Shamura’s wishes if they weren’t so unreasonable as to demand him to reduce his own cult to nothing. To waste his days away from them in solitude. Though she supposed, that part did come to be eventually. He was the one that took what was left of his lot away. The pitiful bunch that stuck with him even after what had happened… She knew they had no other choice as much as he. He was the one to leave her alone. To fend for herself in this complicated dance of politics she was thrusted into from her humble patrons and tavern, to the halls of the spider. To the insolent and egotistical court of lies. To make her a moth to the webs of affairs and intrigue, she had to learn from. She knew a lot, but she still didn’t know how he could have done such a thing when he was the one that embraced her for the first time when she was but a tadpole, swimming in the unknown depths of her soon to be realm. Again came the taps; tap, tap, tap, tap as she remembered the faithful day. She was alone on those days. So long ago she could barely remember the way stars have shone when she came crashing down from the heavens above. Alone and with no purpose, wading through the swamps of her now land. She was fierce, she was strong, she was the second inevitability of the world. Hunger. She hunted as she jumped from pond to pond, letting her hunger guide her in the murky waters. Alas, she was not the strongest nor the fiercest for she met one mightier. A dark God she could best in but a moment now, but back then a foe she withered against. However, even with the odds against her, she did not meet death that day. At least not in the way she thought she would while struggling in the dark God’s grasp. A slice and a broken body in the pond where she thought she would see the last of the stars. Finding herself in the arms of the cat clad in black black with three kind eyes and a mouth full of gentle but sharp teeth. She met him then, God of Death, her second eldest. The one they would slaughter soon.   Her eyes opened, slowly as she drummed her fingers faster and faster. Tap, tap, tap, tap they went as she accepted the truth, she was a liar. A true liar. Truth was, she was none of those things. She failed in all of those or at least she was about to. With  the blood of her brother spilled over the marble of his temple, her fate would forever be sealed as a liar. In those misty towering behemoths of white would he be waiting, for what was to come. So what was to come, came. Here she was, waiting for her fate just as much as the cat clad in white with three eyes and a not so kind sharp teeth had. Tap, tap, tap, tap came the noise out her axe as her claws met the handle. She waited, she waited for something she knew was not going to happen. She waited for him to give up, to let them take him back, to let them exact punishment against him and his ilk. A miracle. But she knew, he would never give up. He would fight, now and always as he had all those faithful years ago against the Dark God. With vain hope she looked around, to see her own ilk. All discarded like toy soldiers, strewn about like mere dolls. Their sorrowful faces drowned amidst the warriors of Shamura with their proud eyes. Another thing she was to blame him for, but she knew she couldn’t. From seeing her ilk to seeing her kin. She saw Kalmar first, terrified as ever. He wore a face of nervousness, his ears hung low as his eyes peered around as if he looked all as an enemy to fear. His followers did not share their master’s fear however, all brave faces. Not proud, but brave. All holding their heads high even if their very Lord couldn’t. She held off her sneer as she looked to see Leshy. Bored eyes met hers, he looked all around lazily like it was just a game. Just some sightseeing tour he was barely paying attention to as he twirled his hammer. Unmoved by the soulless eyes that gazed back at him from the ground. His own followers now gone and dust, looking at them with emotions even she didn’t know. She held her tongue as she gazed once more which landed on them, the one that brought them here, Master of War that looked sorrowful where they were to be in delight. The crest of their brow low, hiding all that was going on behind that old decrepit mind of theirs. Looking straight at the one they came to slaughter with eyes that spoke of only regret. She felt the blood in her veins boil as her fingers went TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP. She held her venom as she looked to see him. He held himself high, ears following afoot. His brow high and eyes that shone with purpose and commitment. There wasn’t much left of his followers, but they held the same look as their master even in the end, and most likely beyond. Waiting for him to join them in his rightful domain. ‘So he is the whom I am to slaughter, one that stayed one with his ilk when the rest of his kin had not’ she thought. One that looked not apart from the bodies that once fought against the invader in his name. Shame, she thought. Shame to the ones on the ground, the ones who are about to meet it and to the rest who are still above it. So it began, after a couple of pretty words uttered by their sibling. First tap, she swung first and true. If she was to be damned, it was to be done with grace to match the one that dodged her attack. He fought with elegance she had only seen from their eldest, one that had not fought for long years even before this. He would vault over the haphazard attacks of Leshy that at times felt like they were meant for her. Just as he would vault he would dodge the opportunistic attacks of Kalamar in the same breath. He would complete the dance with a counter to her own attack that would have hit if he had waited but a moment more. Second tap, she changed tactics. Now she would try to push him instead of hitting him, trying to force him into the attacks of Leshy who lacked the cohesion to understand her idea or just didn’t care. Just as she would push him off Kalamar would be there to give him back the space she so hardly fought to take. Running and dodging where he was meant to stay and deliver. After the third tap of the scythe against the axe she realized she was not just outmatched but she was also very much alone. It didn’t matter what she did, what tactic she implored. All it did was to give her a fool's hope that would be dashed into pieces when put into practice. Her tactics were like the speeches she delivered in court, ignored without the input of their sibling who still hadn’t joined them. Before the fourth tap she saw her brother, this time fully. His brother stood above the three, like the dark God that was to take her to his realm from all those years ago. For one terrible moment she realized, she was going to die. Maybe not a liar like she thought but dead nonetheless for his brother was death, the killer of Gods fore and now. At the fifth tap that she sounded with the drop of her knee she could see. She saw the still figure of Shamura who watched the slaughter. She saw the sibling that brought them here, to the place where his kind brother became the nightmare from her long lost nightmares. The one that watched with pity as they were cut down. The one that still looked from above as their brother breathed death against them. She saw her enemy. She saw the real traitor. There was no sixth tap, it was more of a clang that reverbated across the halls of the temple. The clang that came to be by her axe which saw the claw of Shamura. At that moment as all of her family looked at her, she knew she was dead. For a moment silence and in the next ‘’Traitors’’ came the hiss of Shamura, then came her claw that with grace that could only be matched by their second eldest. Proven with his scythe came between her and the cold claw of their eldest. She didn’t know what compelled her to block the hit that came from Kalamar that was meant for Narinder. She didn’t know and would most likely never know, but at the moment she couldn’t think much about that. So they continued, a froglet and a kitten against three dark Gods. Scythe and axe matching claw, sword and hammer. It was a dance now, one that somehow felt comforting as she sliced the ears of their cowardly brother. It felt like the ones they shared when it was just the two of them when the traitor had gone to tend to their court. When the cold of the night and the mist of the temple reminded her of the day she met the monster that almost made her its prey. So when he took the eyes of Leshy she couldn’t help but tap, tap, tap, tap. Then came tap, tap, tap, tap from his scythe to the ground as they were pushed back by the enraged Master of War, who now only saw red as their two siblings met the stone of the temple. Slice to cut, out came the ichor that danced in the air. For a moment she had a lip barring no scar that sang away those awful nights with his brother’s kind eyes watching. Now scarred they were, with a split that came from the claws of the traitor. The kind eyes looked at her once more as she lost her footing. Shining with determination she wished she could match before the three were now two as the traitor took more off of them. She found herself on the ground as his brother found himself pushed to the ground as the traitor took him apart, slice after slice as they cursed him. His weapon broken and away where he could not reach. For as many things she knew she didn’t know many yet. But she knew one thing, the traitor had to meet their end. She didn’t know how she matched the grace of the spider for that moment, but for a moment she truly felt like she danced maybe for the first time with Shamura before she met the cold claws once more. This time she would gain not a scar but lose a tooth and maybe two. But there came no more slice nor cut for the Traitor met his end with the sharper claws of their brother. With the same claws that gently took her up from the pond to a home, he took apart the brow that hid many and the mind that was behind this terribleness. Tap, tap, tap, tap. She heard, against her palm as she lay. She held his gaze as her four met the last two eyes of a cat clad in white and much red, with a mouth full of kind razor sharp teeth that gave her a smile. She closed her eyes as she heard ‘’Tap, tap, tap, tap froglet of mine’’ His hand found her lip as she felt his soothing cold claws, healing the damage of the traitor. ‘’Tap, tap, tap, tap cry not for I am here. Forever and more, with you.’’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/112140313

I have been playing this board game longer than I have been in that cesspit known as twitter, and I have to say I rather be with you all suffering through boredom together than go to that piece of internet that is meant to be forgotten.

Or in other words, you tumblr people are not that bad, would take you over anything related to twitter