#augustday12026

For the Midnight Mercenaries Prompt Dicenne's story Ryland's story

In hindsight they were all extremely lucky that the spare wheel mounted alongside the bottom of the caravan cart hadn't taken any damage from upwellings of caustic venom. Not that there was really a great place to protect anything from taking damage from caustic venom down in the Vaults; it was everywhere. Any skin Sol had exposed stung from the sheer concentration of it hanging in the stagnant, reeking air.

They had been so close to the end of their contract when Ula'tek's brood flooded into the path behind them. He'd grabbed his heavy war-hammer off his back and stood alongside some of his fellow Argents in the Crew, waiting behind the shield-wall that had gone up with practiced ease. Anything that managed to slip past in the fray met a quick, messy end; bludgeoning damage would never be as tidy as the slice of a sword, but he'd always found it to be devastatingly effective at keeping a body down.

Then the telltale creak of wood that heralded a critical structure failure hit his ear. He had no time to shout a warning. The sharp crack of the cart's wheel giving way and shouts from the wounded passengers they were escorting did that for him. Sol swore and put down another coiled guard before immediately turning to assess the damage. If he needed to, he could use his hammer as an impromptu jack to lift the— if there had been time to be surprised by Dicenne simply lifting the cart he would've stopped and had so many questions. Instead he smoothly slung his weapon onto his back and slid on his hip plate underneath the cart to hit the keys that would release the replacement wheel.

In a flash he was on the side of the cart Dice was with the spare and his work hammers in hand. Sol wasted no time slotting into the gap that the larger man's body and shield made, and he tossed a polite smile up to his temporary guardian when Dice called down to him,"You've got this. I'll keep them away from you." On a quick inspection he was able to tell that the axle was fine and undamaged, that was a small blessing, but getting the damaged wheel off was going to take more time than getting the new one on if he wanted that to remain the case. Time to get to fucking work.

Everything else around him faded to background noise and time slipped into a fuzzy sort of future-problem as he focused on knocking the old wheel loose from its bearings. Building and re-building was one of his specialties, and he'd had to fix countless old carts and wheelbarrows that had failed on construction sites over the years. There was no time to dawdle, though. Not that he needed much of it with adrenaline fueling the strength of his strikes against the stuck-on hub once he'd removed the cross-keys holding it into place. He moved the broken wheel aside once it broke free and immediately shifted gears into lifting the new one, lining it up with the axle, and using percussive force to drive it on. As soon as he slammed the cross-keys back home he got out from under the cart as fast as he could and shouted up to Dicenne, "Got it!"

He wasn't sure how long the other man had been bearing the weight of the cart itself, but he hardly seemed winded. Dice's shield had certainly seen much better days, but Sol was grateful it had been used to keep the corrosive venom from soaking him while he worked. The wreck of it was quickly tossed aside in favor of a beautiful two-handed sword and Dice turned to join the fight once more. That's when the rest of the world started to creep back in at the edges.

Somehow they hadn't been completely overwhelmed. As Sol rejoined the scrum he noticed a handful of unfamiliar fighters moving with the kind of precision that came from being a long-term sort of company. He took the broken wheel and slammed it into a charging group of coilers, getting a few of them stuck between the spokes for someone else to finish off. He turned and grabbed his war-hammer off his back just in time to see the bear woman — Fiorenze, that was her name — shift back from being a slightly luminous ursine into an elf again.

Her seamless transition culminated in a powerful swing of her barbed staff up into the chest of a coiler. The sharp thorns gouged in, up and under the overlapping scales in a spray of caustic blood. The creatures weren't the heaviest, but there had to be some kind of cosmic power behind the follow-through of her weapon's arc. The snake creature launched high into the air and landed on the single horn of a burly tauren that had joined in the chaos.

Dire, painful and frantic as it all was there was still hope. A young, attractive battle-mage serenaded that same tauren companion and that set a couple people into a fit of laughter. Camaraderie. That was the sort of thing that had gotten him through difficult, harrowing battles in the Plaguelands with the Argents. The Ula'tekian line was starting to fracture and their own was starting to form up to decisively push back. On Commander Dal'shula's call they rushed in with retribution and zeal. His blood sang as Light arced off his hammer swings.

It was only later, after the tide of battle had ebbed and they had returned to their camp that he realized how bad his armor had pitted from the constant splatter of venom being thrown his way. A few locks of his long, curly hair that had been bound back throughout the day had made their damage and breakage known when he'd hit the showers — enough to necessitate an impromptu, messy haircut to a shorter style. A petty, vain part of him was a bit desolate at the change, but there were others who had suffer far greater wounds and it would grow back in time.

His hammer gleamed in his tent with a fresh coat of polish and a few new scars; as his adrenaline finally crashed he realized how glad he was to be with this specific Crew.

((CW: Brief mention of death))

The ruins of the Dae’menel estate were as quiet as they ever were. Any life that wasn’t the crawling kudzu or other encroaching plants was long departed, and the only whispers that echoed off the walls came from ghosts and memories. The Void held its breath here, waiting with eternal patience for the next guest. It knew who to expect, and when.

Ilvisar stepped into the dilapidated Grand Study and released a breath in a heavy, burdened sigh. A stranger might almost mistake him for someone mourning by the deep furrow of his brow. Oh, how wrong they would be. His boots left a mild imprint in the dust on the floor, punctuated by the soft click of his heels as he wandered slowly towards a particular bookshelf near a fireplace that had long since lost its warmth.

Of many books and knick-knacks on the shelf, his eyes lingered on one intimately familiar to him. It was a small thing, blue-violet steel with silver filigree- a portable armillary. Star charts and sigils and celestial markings ran the length of the various bands surrounding its center sphere, and at his approach, it emitted the softest hum.. as if, perhaps, saying hello. With gently outstretched fingers, he reached and touched the top band, running his fingers along it in a practiced motion, and closed his eyes.

As he opened them, he gazed into the study as it was in the past. Vibrant, bright, lively, and even though he could see where every shadow lurked- as he always could- there was no sense of fear. No dread. Already for millenia, the Void had woven itself into the fabric of Dae’menel; it was as normal to any of them as breathing. To some, it had even become comforting- that, he knew, was dangerous.

He saw himself through the armillary’s eyes- younger, rejuvenated, before age and loss had haggard his appearance and mind both. His wife sat on a large, plush chair next to a bookshelf, bouncing a young girl in her lap while she mouthed some wooden toy. An older boy chased another girl around the hall with a stuffed animal, his mouth open wide in what Ilvisar knew was his best impression of a beastly growl- a noise that only made his middle sister giggle as she fled the ‘predator.’

Moraethan.. what happened? The thought came with melancholy, as it always did. His eldest son- the one who broke away. Altherei knew that, now- at least in part. She had no idea how much the present mirrored the past.

The memories shifted, swimming together gently like paint on water. His children were adults now. His jaw clenched at what the armillary showed him. His youngest daughter- precious, sweet Felynndra- lay in a makeshift cot in the study, with her family circled around her. Her mother held one of her hands. He had laid one of his own on her forehead, keeping the sweat-soaked hair off her face.

He remembered being told of the Amani ambush- the Troll Wars had taken much from human and elf alike. He never expected one of their poisoned arrows would take his daughter. All their magic and all their healing, yet nothing could touch it, and all they could do was keep her comfortable as she wasted away to the edge of death. For days, she stayed there- too tired to live, but too stubborn to give up.

Ilvisar never forgot what he did the night she finally died, and before the armillary could show him, he pushed through to another memory. There was enough to overwhelm him already; he didn’t need more. For what seemed like an eternity, he watched those memories- Rina’s death, the quiet disappearance of his second daughter, Annasae.. he watched Moraethan bring his would-be wife, Linarra, into the picture. Light that pushed back all his shadow. He watched the explosive fight with his oldest son; watched him storm out in anger to never return. He still hated that woman. She changed him.

Corrupted him.

His fists clenched, and with a simple thought, he returned to the present. The armillary hummed quietly, merely a messenger. Why had he come here, again? It wasn’t to torment himself, that much he knew.

Altherei.

Ah, yes. He’d watched the unraveling of his own family to remind himself of what was at stake. The house, the legacy.. all of it would go to pieces if this last generation couldn’t be reached. But there was more to it, now. More of history repeating in ways that he found particularly enraging. Just as the Light had stolen his firstborn son.. he could see it stealing his great-granddaughter now, too. Everything he had done- every life taken, every harm done had been to set her on the correct path.

At every opportunity, she refused it. Resisted it. Threw it in his face. She didn’t even know the half of what he’d done to try and reach her. To guide her. The more he turned it over in his mind, the greater the well of anger swelled up within him. Ungrateful. Still, all hope was not lost. He had the eldest brother now- Eldwin- and all he needed to do now was not overplay his hand. He could still draw her back; he was confident of that. Family meant everything to her.

He strode back out of the study with purpose renewed, gaze steeled. She would unravel. He just had to pull the right threads.

((CW: Flashbacks, Trauma, Violence, Substance Use))

Ink blue tresses drifted on the water’s surface like kelp at low tide, steam rising above them. Submerged up to her chin, Jaeness waited for the heat to release the tension in her muscles. She took a deep breath, rose petals and cloves filling her lungs, followed by a whiff of bloodthistle smoke and dry red wine. Draping her arm over the edge of the clawfoot tub, she cautiously groped for the wine glass. It was half-empty, the rim smeared with traces of metallic plum lipstick —  she drank it down, then fumbled for the cigarette perched on the ashtray with trembling fingers. 

Her body ached. Her mind was clouded, but wine and smoke and swirling shadow couldn’t dull the memory. Every time she closed her eyes, she was confronted by the image of Rynathil’s broad hand wrapped around an elven cultist’s throat, of the muscles in his arm flexing as he lifted him into the air, of his roar. It echoed in her skull still, making her shiver even though the water was nigh scalding. She couldn’t escape the memory of the shadow-wielding caster’s pallid face as the Spellbreaker choked the magic — the life — from him. 

A shaky hand brought the cigarette to her bruised and bitten lips, and she took a long drag from it. The smoke offered a different kind of buzz than the wine. It was euphoric, a little hit of raw magic that bolstered her own — but not tonight. Maybe it was because of the wine, but more likely, it was because of what she’d seen. Her stomach soured and a wave of anxiety rolled through her. She couldn’t will herself to forget, couldn’t degrade the image with the herb or the alcohol. 

When she rose from the water, she could still feel his hand wrapped around her own throat.

((Mentioned: @gentle-undoing))

Leonardo's Little Deaths

(Extra Bonus) Reply to @lillandyrshadowglade

The Anomaly

Kiss It

Only Interrupting

Hungry Wolf

The Proposal

Domesticated

Truce

Our Creature

What's Mine

Leonardo smoked down his cigarette to the pinch of his cold undead fingertips and sniffed loudly in the unusually chill night air waiting for Lillandyr. His dark shadow was still as he leaned on the wall under the stone bridge with a leg bent and crossed arms. Idling in tension, he turned his head to the side, black curls resting to rival any devil and gazed at the city garden soaked by the twin moons.

He observed the trees painted in monochromatic moonlight occasionally shedding a leaf. Fall always slipped in first at night with a cool hand under the covers of summer gently, as if to ease the blow before winter hammered a new reality to leaves and their lovers. He loved the soft, inevitable little deaths of branch and bough mostly because he wasn't a part of it at all.

Leonardo did not suffer the lament of his brother when contemplating their vampirism. It was a means to a long life, blood magic and eternal youth. He no longer had designs to find a soul to share it with. Comfort would just be a bit of good fun, a flirt gone too far. When no longer interested, he made an art of disappearing. That was normally the plan from the start. He wasn't sure what he was trying to do with Lillandyr only that he couldn't stop himself.

The traits and habits of women who survived off others underestimating them were not unknown to him. He fidgeted with excitement, not worry, as he flipped a pocketknife engraved with roses in his hand wondering when she would arrive.

It felt a little pathetic to wait with this much anticipation at the mercy of an elaborate flirt. He frowned with agitation even though it was his own idea. At the time it didn't feel like a risk. Until she told him it was going to hurt and kissed the corner of his mouth in a tease.

Irritated at his boyish insecurities, Leonardo mumbled a curse to himself and sighed heavily. He lit a cigarette but had only one taste before flicking it away with temperament. It was dulling the taste of her lipstick still lingering.

As he imagined her walking toward him, hips tipping from side to side with her particular style, Leonardo's ears drew to attention hearing the real, hollow, unhurried echo of heels. An uncontrollable smile cracked his face as he looked for her approach.

For years, Tinnaire had been a soldier. She knew roughly what to do, even if she wasn’t a medic. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a basic first aid instructor droning, “The solution to pollution is dilution.” Tinn snorted to herself, repeating it back to herself as she worked. Clean water wasn’t exactly abundant down here, so she tried to be judicious with her flushing since there were others with much more extensive wounds would need it more. Still, to her, her lateral bicep looked bad.

The sleeve of her leather armor had been completely eaten through (and was now cut away completely), along with her skin below it. Her stomach twisted to see the depth of the wound and the maceration of the tissue; later she’d be quietly proud of herself for never blacking out during the cleaning. It was going to scar, but she still had use of the arm. Or would, when it was healed. For now she tried not to move it as much as she could.

Daubing a wet cloth against the ulcerated skin made her eyes tighten and her mouth pull even through the local anesthetic Rynga had given her, but still she carefully folded to a clean area with each application. She didn’t want to push more of the caustic substance further into her arm or smear it to new places. She wasn’t a healer, but the palm-sized zone was deep enough. She was in for a few days of light-duty at the foothold.

So she sat, left arm throbbing and bandaged with antiseptic soaked bandages, leaning back and too tired to move. The healers had finished triage and were bustling around their patients like bees in a field. Tinnaire wasn’t even with the injured. This hurt, this caused damage, this would stay with her; but she wasn’t in danger of losing life or limb.

After the wagon had pulled back into the Foothold, everyone had been quickly cleansed of any lingering poisons. However, the corrosive substance itself was thick and oily and was not shedding off where it touched. It clung. It dug in. Stubborn and angry, like the creatures that had weaponized it.

Her head thunked back against the barrel she was resting against.

And to think, she usually liked snakes.

Day 1 Overwhelm/Soak

“Alone… at the edge of the universe… humming a tune… for nearly dreaming we were snow… a siren sounds like the goddess who promises endless apologies of paradise and only she can make it right… so things are different tonight…”

Tossing and turning fitfully in his sleep, tears began to burn at the corners of his eyes. The haunting melody and static call of his father echoed in his mind with such clarity that he rose from the bed in alarm, gasping and panting. Peering out into the darkness of their bedroom, a soft glow lingered around the hallway to the den, drawing Ruzzell to investigate.

Sitting on a pillow with a hunk of Alterac cheddar and a loaf of bread was Dirii looking over a pile of his parents’ records; playing at a low volume was his father’s song, “Dream Sweetly on a Midnight Sea”. Ears perked up at the soft footsteps, she turns with eyes glowing brightly to see Ruzzell.

“Ohh… Sorries. Didn’t mean to wake you…”

The song continues to play out between the two, filling the silence.

“It’s okay babe… Just haven’t heard that song since…”

A crumb of cheese falls from her muzzle as she blinked innocently. Patting her lap now, she beckoned.

“Come.”

Shuffling over in exhaustion, he flops down into her plush lap and was immediately scooped up into her arms for much needed cuddling. A deep sigh escaped his lips, only to be filled a moment later with a torn piece of rye bread and tangy cheddar.

“Eat and relax. You work too hard~”

It was true. In the past year, Ruzzell had worked tirelessly on restoring the little farmhouse they now called home. Picking up odd jobs, running deliveries around Eversong, and helping out both friends and people in need left Ruzzell constantly busy and overwhelmed despite making a decent earning. Dirii helped too in the renovations in her own way; making coin however she could, offering her boyfriend comfort and support when needed. But it was this emotional comfort that she gave him that was more helpful than anything she could ever give. It had been years since Ruzzell felt this way about someone. This secure and cared for.

“Luff~”

A silly word they had made up to show their deeper affections for each other. He kissed her pale hand after saying it, lingering the touch against his lips in a caress.

“Hehe, luffs~”

She nuzzled her nose against his, then licked at his cheek. Another oddly sweet way she showed him her feelings. He licked her muzzle in turn before moving to kiss her pouted lips, much to her delight. Squealing, she pulled him up into her chest and poured out all her adorations upon him. The record played on until the needle skipped, and the two lovebirds returned to their nest with late night snacks; feasting on kisses and soaking in all the luff they built together.

(Featuring @woolwander’s Dirii)

Day 1 - August 16, 2026 Overwhelm, Soak

Elu lets her head fall back and takes a deep breath, her eyes closing as she does so. She was used to this. Her emotions getting the best of her, and tonight has been no exception.

What was supposed to be a routine check on her men turned out to be her stopping a dispute between two of the newest recruits.

Now they stand in front of her, of course, both blaming the other one, and she was losing her patience.

“I don’t care who started it. I want this finished and done with, or both of you can take your leave. We have more important things to do than you bickering over what I am sure is something of little importance. I assume a girl is involved.”

Both men look abashed by her words, and as a bit of heat rises to their cheeks, both suddenly rub the back of their necks and shift from foot to foot. She knows from their reaction that she has hit the nail on the head about the girl.

She shakes her head slowly back and forth, taking another deep breath and pursing her lips together for a moment before she decides what their punishment will be.

“I can’t let this just slide by. This isn’t your first offense, and I grow tired of you men acting like little boys. Both of you are on guard duty for the next week. And I better not hear of any more of this fighting in house. You hear me?”

Both men nod, and she tilts her head, raising her eyebrows, in which both voice their agreement. She knows they aren’t bad men, or they wouldn’t have volunteered to join her band of misfits. As she had saved both of their hides, they felt they owed her, and this was their repayment. Still, she couldn’t have unrest among them.

“Alright. You guys are dismissed.” Her voice leaves no room for argument as the two look at each other and then turn and walk away.

She too turns to walk away toward her office, and her twin sister Sia moves to join her. “I suggest a soak in the ocean after a pleasant run along the beach.”

Elu groans as she closes the door to her office. “That sounds lovely. I will get Brian to keep an eye on things while we are gone. I could use some relaxing time in the water.”

“Than its settled. Me, you, and Costa?”

Elu nods and lets a bit of laughter slip from her lips. “I hear there is a Faire going on there. Perhaps we could even partake in the festivities.” Already she was calming down and feeling less stressed, her eye color returning to normal.

Both women give each other wide matching grins.

“Give me a moment to inform Brian.”

Elu moves toward the door, leaving to give the man directions before they head out.

In a few minutes, she is back with everything taken care of, her sister grinning.

“Let’s do this!”

Day 1 - August 16, 2026 Overwhelm, Soak

Elutia lets out a long, deep breath that she has been holding for so long that she can’t tell you exactly how long. Her head leaning against the shower, her arm braced above her head, eyes closed as she takes another breath through her nose, this time letting it out immediately.

A shiver runs up her spine; the water slowly becoming like ice. Still, she doesn’t move, letting the cold pricks of the stream cascade over her. She continues to stand there until even her bones hurt from the cold before she finally turns and shuts off the water, quivering so hard that her teeth chatter.

She sucks in another lungful of air and lets it out this time through her nose. Not that it helped the voices in her head to disappear; some even in her own. Nor the heaviness in her heart.

It didn’t.

It does, however, make her relax enough that she can function again. Enough at least to get her bearings and focus on not freezing to death.

She grabs the towel and wraps it around her and pads to her bedroom. Instead of getting immediately dressed, she plops down on her bed and buries her head in the pillow. A scream leaves her for several seconds before she flops over and lies there with her eyes closed, her mind replaying the same scene over and over until it is left with nothing but an overwhelming sense of dread.

Weeks have passed since her grandson took the dark dagger from her. Weeks since he visited her and almost killed her with that same dagger. She still isn’t sure if he missed anything important on purpose or by accident. She would like to think that he had done so on purpose. That he didn’t really want her dead.

However, he had disappeared after he thought he had landed the killing blow. She had lain there bleeding in shock before she finally came to her senses enough to seal the wound with a self-heal that she was thankful now to know. It wasn’t a big heal, but it would at least close the wound. Enough that she wouldn't bleed completely out.

Another deep breath. In. Out.

When he finds out she is still alive, will he come back to finish the job?

And then there is Santana Ravenwood. The woman who had betrayed her. The reason her grandson wants her dead.

Sure, Elutia gets it. Her daughter killed her sister. An eye for an eye. Since her daughter is dead. It seems fitting to get her grandson to take his grandmother’s life instead. She just feels this is over the top even for Santana.

Though better herself than her sister. Which to her seemed the logical choice, but she would count her blessings that she wasn’t the target. Even so, she had informed Eclesia of what was going on and warned her to stay vigilant in case he decided she was his next victim. She honestly didn’t know how far Santana and he would take this vendetta.

One more deep breath through her mouth and out her nose. She had lost track of how long she lay there before she finally moved to get dressed. No rest for the weary. She can’t just dwell on this.

There are still things to do. Of course, there is always something to do. She pitches in wherever she is needed. Additional threats were always coming to light, and a new one had just emerged. She had agreed to meet a friend, and they would head out together to battle this new threat.

She grabs the key on her desk, using it to teleport to the Arcantina.

No matter what is happening in her personal life, she still has responsibilities, and she will continue to take care of those until something changes or she is no longer needed.

Still, she is watching her back least she be stabbed in it.