#long starter

After he preformed a magical service for the other the other couldn't pay the price in money or blood. So he had offered sex to recharge his mana spent doing the service. He was watching the other man clean up and throw away the condom. "Do let me know if there's anything else I can provide for you. If not please come again. My door is always open." He says winking at the completely intentional innuendo he just made. "But really. We're all squared up. You can pick up your charm downstairs on your way out." He says the grabs a cigarette and produces a flame on the tip of his thumb to light it before blowing it out.

He was witch who owned a charm and herbal remedy shop. They were real. Only those who believed in Wicca or who were desperate sought him out. The other was of the latter variety. He wanted to find love so he had made him a charisma charm to help even the odds in both confidence and making the the other mor charming in social situations. Really it'd only enhance what was already there. This stud could pull any guy, gal, whatever he was truly into. It didn't matter. Sex was sex when it came to other men for Kieran.

It was only lightly raining when Kida left the Castle by carriage, but not even halfway through her trip, the rain had gone from a light drizzle, to a heavy pour. 

The carriage sloshed though the muddy road, and the two strong Rapidash that pulled it were panting as their hooves slipped in the mud as they struggled to pull the carriage onward. 

Kida looked out the window with a nervous look. She wanted to give the order to stop and rest the Pokemon... but that would be dangerous. Stopping now would surely leave them stuck in the mud, and open targets to Brigands and Rovers. 

She heard a loud ‘thunk’ outside, and the carriage came to a jarring stop. Her heart raced in her chest as all the worst case scenarios popped in her head. Finally though, before her mind could get too far ahead of herself, the carriage door opened, and the coachman peeked in. He was fully drenched and covered in mud. 

“It’s no use, Princess.“ He yelled above the sound of the rain and wind, “She’s fully stuck.“  “And?“ She crossed her hands over her lap, and tried to keep an emotionless gaze at the coachman.  “I’m going to take one of the Pokemon, and ride into town... see if I can get some help.“ He quickly replied, “Princess, please stay in the carriage. Lock the doors, and do not leave. I’ll be right back!“

For a brief second, that emotionless mask cracked, and she leaned forward as if attempting to grab the Coachman before he could leave, but restrained herself at the last second, “Wait! You cannot leave me here!”  “I won’t be long, Princess. I’ll get help!“ He looked nervous, and pointed at the Princess, “Do not open for anyone. Highwaymen could be anywhere.“ 

And with that, he closed the carriage doors, and Kida was left alone in the darkness. She ran towards the door, and pulled the curtain away, just in time to see the coachman disappear around the front of the carriage. 

She had no idea how long she sat there in the dark, before the rain started to subside. Kida moved to peak out the curtain once more. Surely the coachman should be back by now? As she went to push the curtain aside though, she heard a startled  whinny from the remaining Rapidash, and tensed up. She peaked through the curtain, only to see shadows moving out. The now soft rain that pattered against the roof of the carriage muffled their voices, but she could tell there was more than one. She quickly shut the curtain again. 

It couldn’t be...? 

Kida muffled a gasp, as the back of the carriage seemed to ‘fall’, and she was flung from her seat. Laughter came from outside. Someone was removing the tires to the carriage! 

She put both hands over her mouth, but before she had time to register what was happening, she heard the noise of a door handle jiggling, and turned to see someone trying to open the locked door. 

“Just smash it!“ Someone said from the other side. 

Not too long ago, Lady Angela had asked Tatsu to investigate the Galar Mine, that rested outside of Turffield. 

The mine was the main source of income for the town, but ever since a strange Pokemon started rampaging within the mine, the Miners were unable to work, and thus, the town was starting to suffer.

Angela herself could not venture down to the mine for her own safety, but she sent Tatsu down with one of her Guards to meet with the Miners that awaited in a small Miners Outlet near the Mines. To get there, she lent both Tatsu and the Guard a pair of Mudsdale to quickly reach the Outlet from the town. 

The road between Turffield and the Outlet was primarily farmland. It meant a swift ride through acres of wheat fields before they reached what looked like a small encampment of tents and rickety wooden structures. 

The people that awaited them were all large, burly men - stereotypical miners. They greeted the guests without words, as the Guard dismounted from his steed. 

“I am Sir Wilkens of Turffield, and this is Sir Conley of Motostoke.“ The Guard announced, as the Miners started to close in, in a curious circle, around them. “Sir Conley has arrived from the Capitol, and was sent by Lady Turffield to inspect the mines.“  “Inspect?“ A large, growly voice erupted from somewhere deep in the crowd, and the men around them moved aside to reveal a giant of a man.

The man was easily two feet or more, taller than the Guard, and was all muscles and scars. Given the way the other men stepped aside for him, it was clear that he was the one in charge. He pursed his lips under a large, thick mustache, and reached up to stroke his soot-filled beard as he inspected Tatsu.

“This guy was sent from the Capitol?“ He let out a large belly laugh, and leaned down until he was almost level with Tatsu.  Before he could say anything, the Guard spoke up, “Yes. Lady Turffield believes that Sir Conley can help.” 

The large man straightened up, and folded his arms, “Well, we here know better than to judge a man by his cover.” He turned around and waved Tatsu after him, “Ya really here to help us with our pest-problem?”

Ares was walking in the surf down the coast of some unknown beach. He had his boots slung over one shoulder, and his other hand was resting comfortably in his pocket. 

Nothing much was going on. Sunlight streamed through the leaves above. What was the point in using Palkia’s powers to come to this Universe, if there was nothing going on here? 

And, to make matters worse... it was hot here. The feeling of the waves on his bare feet and ankles helped a bit, but he was still fighting the urge to dive head-first into the sea. 

Ba’ul suddenly stopped though, attracting Ares’ attention from the sky, and back down to Earth. A light breeze hit his face the moment he did, but despite the way it stung his eyes, they couldn’t help but widen as he saw someone further down the beach. 

It can’t be... His hand fell off his shoulder without realizing it, he dropped his leather boots into the water. No, it had to be the wrong person - or else he was going to kill someone when he got home.

Ba’ul looked up at him with a curious look, before looking back across the beach at the stranger. Is there something he should be worried about? Not being one to hesitate though, he continued forward towards the stranger. Ares opened his mouth slightly, and extended a hand as if he was going to stop the Absol, but no sound came out. He walked straight up towards the stranger, and raised his head in greeting.

Ares shook off his earlier surprise, and walked after Ba’ul, and gave the stranger a friendly smile, “Sorry about him! He’s not challenging you, I swear!” 

The streets of Novigrad were at full capacity when the sun began to sink and rays of gold bounced off of puddles of recently fallen rainwater and human, as well as horse, refuse. Beggers slouched in street corners, their hands perpetually extended, while Witch Hunters walked in triads, eyeing anyone who seemed the least bit suspicious, hands clasping the hilt of their swords; though they seemed to be more relaxed as the sun set, barely peeking over the waving roof lines. Their arms were languid at their sides, and they laughed as they roamed the streets. 

An emerald cloak was wrapped around Ysmay’s shoulders, covering her face in shadow, though she left it unclasped - the black velvet of her jacket and trousers visible - not only to appear less suspicious to the Redanian guards and Witch Hunters that plagued the city, but the heat in Novigrad had grown significantly in the days prior. There was not a doubt in anyone’s mind that summer was approaching, and with it, more burnings. 

Ysmay walked slowly, avoiding puddles in the midst of the cobblestones, and when she finally glanced upwards, she found herself in Hierarch Square - common people squeezed together, barely breathing room between them, right up to a hastily built wooden platform spanning three standing pyres - a non human tied to each one. A Priest of the Eternal Fire stood before them, yelling curses and condemning those tied to the wooden timbers. 

One was a little girl, no more than fifteen, sobbing and crying out, begging Melitele to help her and pleading with the Witch Hunters stationed at either side of the platform - her accusation? Healing the sick with magic. A man somewhere in the middle of the crowd yelled to ‘Burn the Witch!’ The little girl could barely breathe, and her hair, a stringy red mess, stuck to her skin. 

Tied to the middle trunk, and attempting to calm the girl, was a dwarf. He stood proud, though whispered softly to the girl - assuring her it would be alright. To Ysmay, he looked like a botanist. Not much was said of him. 

Tied to the right most trunk was a mage she recognized. She knew him from talk at Aretuza - a Ban Ard kid - no more than twenty four. The only thing she knew of him was that he supposedly cheated on quite a few partners, and Fringilla was interested in him. He had dawned a silver cloak that draped down the piles of tinder logs beneath his feet - as he looked over the jeering crowd, however, he was smirking. 

The Priest yelled once again, asking for the grace of the Eternal Fire, before taking a torch and lighting it aflame from nearby logs. With two strides, he stood before the timbers of the girl, who was blubbering and heaving in breaths - she paled and screamed before the Priest even got close to her. Ysmay, narrowing her gaze, turned and walked around the crowd briskly, making it seem as if she wanted a closer look. Nearing the side of the platform, the mage lifted her hand to her lips, mocking a sneeze. “Gwynt aen,” she whispered, and not only the torches, but all fire in the perimeter of the square blew out at once. 

“Gynvael caelm geehaet,” she said even quieter, the twinge of her fingers and a flash of blue was hidden in her cloak as the general populace began a frenzied panic. Then, in the first days of summer in Novigrad, little balls of ice began to fall from the sky, bouncing off of the cobblestones and wooden pyres - one hit the dwarf on the top of the head, and the sobbing girl had frozen completely, too in-awe of what was transpiring before her eyes to panic. 

The next moments were a blur to the mage - she glanced up, searching about her to see if anyone had noticed the magic coming from her, when she locked eyes with another in the crowd. Another with a knowing glimmer in their eye. Ysmay paled.

@norighteouspath

“I figured you'd chat me up... try and catch me off guard. Almost worked. I was expecting your mother.”  His gun was trained on Emma, his usually steady aim wavering almost imperceptible.  He didn’t want to have to shoot her.  God help him, he didn’t know if he could.

“It's not her place. I have to kill you.”  She said it like it was something she had been been forced to memorize, a mantra that she had been told a thousand times over.  This is the way of things.  “It’s what I am.”

“Well, then, I should just kill you right now.”  If she was a monster then... that was what they did.  They killed monsters.  He just had never expected one of those monsters to be his daughter.  She looked so much like his mother, there was no question left in his mind.  Emma was definitely his daughter.

“Sure,” Emma reasoned, creeping a step closer, knife in hand.  What other choice did she have but to go through with this?  Either she killed Dean or he killed her.  There was no third option.  “But you could have done that 30 seconds ago.  It's weirdly hard, isn't it? It is for me.”

“Knock it off,” Dean snapped, harsh words contrasting with the pain and pleading in his eyes.

Emma held her position, at a stalemate.  Her heart was hammering in her chest.  This wasn’t going anything like how she had imagined it.  She felt a reluctance to follow through.  None of the others had ever mentioned feeling a connection to the ones who had given them life, but Emma felt something.  She swallowed, her eyes searching the pair so like her own and trying to read the swirl of emotion held in their depths.  “How could it not be? You're my father.”

“Hey! We're not gonna do that.”

Amazons didn’t refer to their parents as father and mother, not usually.  The men were disregarded as nothing more than a means to an end and a sacrifice to the great Harmonia; and upon completion of their Blood Rite, a girl’s mother was simply considered another of the more elder sisters of the tribe, given no special deference.  So why was there a voice in her head pleading with her to put the knife down?  “But it's true.  You’re the reason that we’re standing here.  I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.  So, now... someone has to kill someone.  It’s the way it has to be.”

Fate.  Dean had never been a fan of the whole idea of a cosmic destiny.  Fuck that, he downright hated the idea.  He wasn’t going to change his mind now just because his daughter had been born into some... some cult of father killing monsters.  “You haven't killed anybody yet, Emma,” he pleaded, his gun beginning to lower.  “Put the knife down.  Walk away.”

Walk away.  It couldn’t actually be that easy, could it?  Either he died or she did, no third option... or so she had been told.  She was beginning to lower her knife when the door slammed open behind her and she whirled around, face turning feral as her eyes bled to yellow.  No.  She didn’t want to die.  She wanted to live.

“Please,” she whimpered, forcing her monster face back as she looked over her shoulder at Dean.  “Don’t let him hurt me.”

There was a loud bang as Sam’s weaponed discharged in the same second that Dean yelled out.  “No!”  He reached for her, to protect her or to pull her out of the way, but he was only human.  He wasn’t fast enough.  Emma cried out as the bullet hit her low in the chest, sending her stumbling back into Dean’s arms.  “Emma...”

Carefully, oh so carefully, he lowered her to the ground.

“I’m sorry... D-dad,” she whispered before her eyes slid shut.

@elluq

Well, today had been hell.

Sadly, it was nothing new for Mason.

The man stormed upstairs, cradling the arm that Great-Uncle Stan had punched. If Mason didn’t have nearly 15 years of tolerance, that punch probably would have dislocated his shoulder.

Stanford had fallen for his lie about the hatchling... that bitch if a twin sister, not so much. And she sent her favorite muscle after him. Luckily, that had happened while Gideon was yelling at him about the moon dragon hatchling situation, so Stan literally had to pull his punches.

@the-last-command

There was always something about the desert, even high desert climates that did not set right with Valory.

She disliked the lack of trees maybe, of having to almost completely change tactics for hunting and patrolling. The increase types in smaller insects, smaller things were harder for her to hit.

The lack of nice water to roll and use to cool down in. Though her small pack had been lucky to find their small place with a small seeing and stream, turning into a pond. A tiny bit of familiar green. Grass that had survived for the moose to graze on, as well as the....big horned? Water for Lana to grow things as well as for them all to drink.

The old.... Not village but...camp ground, had taken three days to clear out of feral Lost Ones, and a wide range of bugs. But it had been worth it. Valory was proud of the hard work her human had done, getting power working in one building and the planting of all their razor grain. That stuff was.... surprisingly tasty mixed with meat and the spices.

At least, Valory could be happy that her human was happy at the sun and heat. How fast things grew outside of the mid west and north east climates.

...yet she was still restless today. Something smelled off, and that the wind was shifting thought the morning and afternoon did not help. There were off scents no matter the detection.

Valory left Lana safe at the camp, trusting the moose to be a well enough defense, and patrolled in widening circles. Walking the edges of the hills, hunched over and using her tail to counter balance. Staying away from the skylines, and relying on her mottled colors to blend in. Her hide had finally lightened up to the right tans and browns colors.

Valory was sure there was not other Deathclaws, she had made a good peace with the semi local matriarch and alpha male....

Blood scent had her freezing. After a moment Valory lifted her head to scent and taste the air, focusing on what was drifting in the air.

Sweet blood, altered human scent, thick scared skin... Gunpowder and not really a fear scent but... Valory flicked her forked tongue out slower, turning her head to the rocky outcroppings she was half using.

"I scent you." Valory lifted her voice, huffing and sniffing again. Her voice deep with a growling, slightly hissing accent, maybe some considered it a thicker voice. "I smell you... you are a-live."