#duskyverdict

Months stretch by with no end to the cold, the one constant of these lands. Perhaps a reflection of the people who for centuries have taken control of what was left behind by history. An empty throne to be filled by swords, conquered by blood and screams. The breaking of bones, the screams of a young boy turned into a man too quickly. 

It ceases, as the blood congeals and the heart stops. What is left is the picture of perfection, the frigid wastes himself. And yet it is not enough, not enough to satisfy those who pull the strings behind the curtains. What he is left with is simply the ruins of his own making. 

Winter does not change, Kaleb has been forced to acknowledge. His younger self would have desperately attempted to disagree, unaware of the consequences of refusal. His younger self would soon come to learn by fire and blood, by the bleeding of his own people. And yet that was never enough. The horrors of a child, the delicate trapeze act of becoming a concept instead of your self. 

Years later he stands tall enough to instill fear through hushed whispers of his name. A monster who spares no one, who razes down villages for even daring to think about insurrection. A man so desperate for control he insists on doing everything himself, too stubborn to trust anyone who could simply desire his head.

It is why there is no remorse in destroying that which does not belong - trampling beautiful flowers under his heel. The mage is an aberration, but one he decided to put to good use. Ever since he accepted the presence of the intruder in his home, the castle and its surroundings have changed considerably. Like weeds taking over any patch of soil it can find, flowers blossom impossibly in the snow.

It was not uncommon for him to be away from the Library - away from that which reminds him of the past, his smothering brother and his attitude towards everything. Things had changed since then, since magic slipped away from his fingers and the voice that guided him went silent.

He could still feel the threads in the air, but it was much like running your hands through water: as much as you could sense it around your fingers, it was impossible to grasp it. The uselessness of his body, the maddening realization of one’s fragility. Equinox had seen through it all. And yet his brother acts as if nothing happened, with a stupid smile that made the man want to break all of his teeth and bury his body so deep no one could ever find him again. 

But centuries passed, and he was still alone. Driving people away from the decrepit remnants of once was a bustling village, the tales of a black beast which would tear your body to shreds. His selfishness led to the suffering and death of innocents, and those who did not perish in his bouts of fury knew better than to stay. 

In the end, it was best to stay alone with his own secrets and ghosts. That was what he thought, at least. Who else could understand what he went through - the sacrifices and the unreasonable tasks he was given? The way of the old world and the new were not the same, a broken hourglass never to be used again. 

It is the sound of branches snapping that wakes the man from his stupor. That pulls away from his brooding into realizing the unknown threat that now presents itself. But it would not do to simply crack whoever-it-is-this-person’s skull open and leave. Instead of raising his sword at the unknown, he simply squints at the darkness. 

Not This Year, Not Yet.

“When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth.”

“And every day I have more reasons to be concerned about whatever is going on in Golarion!” He joins his hands together, keeping the upbeat smile even if his smile does not reach his eyes. “Considering the quite horrifying things you have told me, I guess it would make sense why your reaction to things that would normally be so simple are never quite what I expect.” 

Adonia runs his index finger against his cheek, pondering if he should really say what is on his mind right now. “See, I cannot blame you for the way you act. And I have apologized for resorting to... less than civilized ways when you insisted on harming yourself once more. I said before - and I dearly hope you remember it - that you should take better care of yourself. There is a difference between sacrificing yourself for the greater good and being reckless. While people might appreciate your sacrifice - like I am sure certain figures that you have helped previously do -  your friends just get concerned about your wellbeing. 

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.

except I have to add this because you're the only person who'd just look at something like this

In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been? (Aeron)

(puts my thinking cap) I think Aeron is always so willing and keen on the idea of self-sacrifice that the moment he is terrified is never about himself, it is about other people. It is about when the people he care about are hurt, in danger. Sincerely, it's either when there is a loss of power/control over himself that happens (such as when he's out of combat for some time in Ala Mhigo) or when something irreversible is happening to Vohti/Okishur/Evi. (hello? agape? yeah? we all remember that? cool) The only thing that manages to stop him in his tracks is when he realizes he can't really... do the thing he is set out to do. To protect and to shield, to keep the people who support him safe from harm. He'd rather take it all to himself than to even think about the possibility of any of them being gone.

How quick is your character to trust someone else? (Aeron)

You're so funny asking me when you know he pulled Okishur out of a coffin and now trusts her with his life. You're so funny asking me this when you know he expects goodness in people, even after all that he has been through. Though he will not quickly buy what you are selling as he used to do, I think one of his biggest positive points is that he functions in a way that if you are asking him for help - or something and directly reached out to him and not to the rest of the party - you can be expected that he trusts or at least will listen to you. Of course he will not fall for obvious scams or lies, but. You know. It's the goodness in you that makes you believe you are a good person, then you need to at least extend that reasoning to others.

Describe a scenario in which your character feels most comfortable. (Vi)

Cheesy but. One where he does not need to fight. Because it is such an unattainable scenario, it is where he would like to be. Though Violette is probably aware of how weirded out he would feel if he actually got the peace he seeks, so accustomed to violence that he is. Which is why it's a dream and not something he knows it is possible to reach out to.

Realistically? He's very simple to please. Good food and a good bed. Being even more cheesy? I think journeying with Mal/Vanya/Iris is the most comfortable he has ever been. He's not used to people that really rely on him, or to rely on someone else. To have people like that is a weird but a good change of pace. He knows how things will end for him, so to have the company of people who see him as his own person is strangely comforting.

Is your character more likely to remove a problem/threat, or remove themselves from a problem/threat? (Vi)

Depends on the situation. And to him, 'removing a problem' usually means 'kill it very dead'. If it's a person he can't get rid of, then he will remove himself. If the problem is something that can be solved with brute force, then he will do it.

... He's really not different from Okishur who just casts axe when confronted with an issue lmao!! They share the braincells. The barbarian mindset.

It is time to go home. His mission went without so much of a blip, so that is a success in his book. Long, bony fingers run across the panel of the Iron Maiden, pressing something that would give the controls of the machine to Christine. His drones had long been returned to the frame, decorating the odd halo. 

This would allow him to be able to relax until he arrived back at his quarters. The blinkspace passage would be automated, so Lucien takes this moment to check on his own condition. Sweat clings to his hair, which he carefully brushes aside. 

Inside the many monitors, a woman talks to him. He reassures her that he is fine. And he should be. Besides the exhaustion, there is nothing wrong. Lucien rests his head for a second against cold metal, and closes his eyes for a moment.

It stretches into infinity, and then comes back in the form of a loud thud. It really might have been a second, and there is a distant beep that can be heard. It announces how displaced from his destination he was. 

Actually, he could not pinpoint his location at all. His sensors can make out a shadow in the distance, coming at him fast. He slams the panel, and tries to move. Tries to propel himself out of the way. 

It is too late. But it is not another mech that he sees. A woman. A dragon. A horse. All of it. The next moment, she uses her monstrous legs, the sheer force against the Iron Maiden turning it off for a moment. Whatever she did, it was quick and jammed his controls. 

Surprisingly, Lucien does not speak. Does not curse the unknown. There is the faint curiosity to find out whatever this was, sure. But now he focuses his attention on his forced entry through this planet's atmosphere. His mech can handle it. Landing will be what is the problem. Even if he survives, there is no way to figure out if he can print a new machine. He grits his teeth, the pressure making his nose bleed. Something inside him shifts, and it seems to help stabilize his body. It is a falling star, an omen. 

For a moment he truly, truly tries to ignore her. Her and the voidsent this maniacal woman comes with. It would be easy enough, pretend to be preoccupied with something else. But whatever Okishur threatens him with, it is not empty. He knows, because this infernal woman makes true to their promise. Every time. And it is not like she needs a reason to spar, either. If Okishur cannot find a reason to fight, she will find one. Violette himself has been on the other side of an axe pointed at him way too many times. And she will swipe at his ankles and try to break one too many bones if he simply dismisses her.

It probably means that the person Okishur usually tails is too busy. Such is the fate of a ‘hero’, something he does not see himself as. A concept too far removed from his reality to even register as true. Not that the person pestering him for a moment of his time looks like one, either. 

Okishur looks more like somebody who would appear in the middle of a well-known road and simply take all your money because you did not entertain her enough. Something to that extent. He grits his teeth, trying his best not to give in to the obvious provocation. 

But Violette hates being threatened. The stubborn, idiotic part of his brain takes it as a challenge. It is why he quickly raises his hand, grabbing Okishur’s head and pressing against her forehead so she stops mid-attempt at headbutting him for attention. He is careful not to touch the horns, but that gentleness does not extend far enough into how tight his hold is. This keeps her at a good enough distance that he still has a way to dodge if the Xaela decides to play dirty and fling spells at point-blank range.