- Ubisoft: hey look at this game with four slightly different white male protagonists!
- Nintendo: Hey look at this game with four very distinct protagonists! One of them's even a guy!
- Nintendo: Oh and Smash 4 has a bunch of iconic females with distinct visual and fighting styles!
- Nintendo: Also we have a have with 32 different distinct squid girls!
- Ubisoft: But...France...
- Nintendo: Sit down.
After a very intense campain and finale I wrote some character stuff. Some points that may help: Keirna is a dragon. her names roughly means “fire” “shouts” “why”. So why is the fire shouting, why shout at the fire, shouting why at the fire and so on. After defeating the final boss (the Perfect Sin, head of the tower) we had to deal with all divine energy in existance that he’d pulled into one area to use as a weapon.
This war has broken Keirna. Maybe she’ll heal, maybe she won’t. But it’s broken her.
I mean, she was going with other Maelhryssians to keep the portals running and got mysteriously attack so separated out to go elsewhere and do other things. The fire is shouting “why?” tell me how it works, can I do this, how does it work, tell me more, let me learn. But in general she’s excited and interested. And it’s only for a while, so lets do this.
And then it’s all lies and withheld information. And she has comrade after comrade come and leave again, disappearing as suddenly as they arrive. And she wishes she could do the same, but for some reason she just can’t, she has to see this to the end, why this. The who was irrelevant, the came and were discarded with careless frequency. Always the back foot, always desperate, always outclassed, constantly played and scrabbling to catch up, the only slight advantage, being in right the place and time, a borrowed trick. The only constant is the duellist, who goes from a happy 2 year old, who just declares and believes everyone to be friends, who Keirna feels a bit protective of, even if she is annoying. And they change, to some twisted paranoid parody, who won’t believe in anybody, who suddenly isn’t remotely any of the things they used to stand for. And Keirna can feels these changes in herself, as she becomes cynical and jaded, and fears she’s actually getting as bad as she sees Danara but cannot recognise it herself.
A final party member arrives, and instead of as before being interested in them and what they can do she insults, belittles and is suspicious of them. Gives them a hard time about being from the less clear of the timelines in her memory despite it being the only one they know. And the strained relationship between the three of them highlights ever more starkly the damage this entire catastrophe has done to them. But he’s ok, and then he’s the kind of person who thinks unity is a good idea, and Danara thinks she should have total control. Shouting “Why?” at the fire, why me, why now, why them.
And even when she can visit home, to normality. It’s wrong. She’s entering her house every hour or few days, and seeing people and keeping up with the community as much as she ever did and smiling on the kobolds. But for her the gap is never less than a month, often a year or more. And the smile is more forced each time, there is less energy to spare for this. The tools of home becoming more alien to her hands as she is too exhausted to make on her visits, her inspiration spent. Why is the fire shouting? She’s tired, she has seen the city of the silver wing razed to the ground, she has to stop that, she has to keep there the same. So she can go home. So it can end. She just wants to rest, and despite the possibility for near infinite time within dreamkeep, it’s not enough.
And they defeated the tower, the perfect sin, the city stands, mortals live, rebuilding begins, the mourning of the long war that has been held for so long by so many may finally play out. The reason turns out to be unreasonable. You are here because you just put him through to attack you, you are here because you were here. Beginning and end melded and twisted together in a mocking lack of meaning.
But the power, the power must be dealt with. And the others with their blossoming delusions of grandeur cannot be left untempered, but she’s tired. It has ended, how much longer must she stand? She can’t fight against them taking it, so she takes some herself. She doesn’t have the time or energy to split it properly. But she can’t keep it, She can’t even keep them from being over gods with their myth of balance between themselves.
But it’s done. She can leave them at the end to sort it out on their own, she doesn’t care. The fire cannot even shout.
The fire burns down to dimly glowing embers, the dull red barely visible in the gloom.
Fire can be rekindled, when the situations are right it can seem spontaneous.
Keirna has to wait, she has all but burnt out, gutted herself for a normality she will never fit.
Keirna, Creator of this existence, Dragon of Maehlryss, fire who shouts questions, traveller of time, and a god who wishes to be forgotten.
Keirna wandered the City of the Silver Wing. Everything was damaged, houses shattered and broken into. Rubble filled the streets, and a sense of great shock. Occasionally, the shadows of other dragons passed over her, but everything was so very quiet.
Everyone was doing the same as her. Just wandering. She found herself outside her house, instinct having drawn her there. It was outside the area anyone had managed to clear, so bodies of Tower Minions lay all around it. The roof had collapsed, but the Tarrasque-bone lintel had held the walls together. Stray passing thought. Would that upset her new friend, or would he appreciate it? Ah, no hysterics.
Blinking, a memory fought its way into her head. Kobolds, sitting in a circle, sheltering in her house. Panic rising, she shouldered through the rubble and into her house, eyes filling with tears as she saw the small bodies.
But..tears or no tears, they shouldn’t be wavering?
The sound of the Mother Song, tinny but still proud erupted from the music box, as the scene faded, replaced by a group of kobolds holding claws in a circle. In their center, an elder, one of Keirna’s apprentices, held up a geegaw. She recognised it from her horde. Some minor illusion magic? The Kobold grinned wearily at Keirna. “Made it work! Hid everyone!”. He sagged to the ground, another of them catching him. Keirna felt a tugging on her arm. A Kobold she didn’t recognise was holding something up. It was part of her hoard? Why did the Kobold have….She looked at the remains of her home. Other than this room, very little of the delicate objects she had created could have survived. But the kobolds were pushing toward her now, each holding up a beloved item, something she’d made, something she’d shown them.
It took a moment for her to realise that the music box was not singing any more. The song came from Kobold throats, and it picked up volumn and enthusiasm. More and more of the tiny, insignificant kobolds came out of their burrows. Tens of thousands picked up the Mother Song, clustering around Keirna. The city rang at the ugly, happy, beautiful sound. Spreading across the city from Kobold to Kobold, it passed confused dragon and Rellekhan, illithid and elf, Tarrasque and god. It reached Keriath, who put his head to one side and laughed, before assuming dragon form and bellowing the song into the sky himself. Dragons joined him. Humans joined him. Gradually, more and more of the alliance fell into the song by the ancient pressure of a singing crowd. Illithid waved tentacles, Kreen clicked percussive, and eventually, even the deep voices of the Tarrasque joined.
At the head of the kobolds crowded around Keirna, an elderly, heavily scaled Kobold, today’s Emperor by the chair he carried, took her hand, pulled her to her knees gently. Face to face with her, he quietly stated. “Kobolds remember. All Kobolds remember. Fire can sleep now, Kobolds watch things”. As she stopped fighting her exhaustion, she was struck by an odd thought. If they’d used Godeater to absorb all of this power…how did the Kobolds have it now?
In the Shadows of Keirna’s room was a small, non-reflective mirror. If anyone had been there to look they would have seen a now far older Keirna gazing through at the current Keirna slumbering amongst a pile of salvaged tools and trinkets. Around the edges were scattered many tools, far too small to be comfortable to even her human hands, kobolds, left where they had become distracted from their watch, or finding or fetching or fixing. Concern crossing the older Keirna’s face as her eyes rested again upon the sleeping form. She raised a claw towards the mirror, intent on stepping forward. A memory passed over her eyes, thorough inspection and covert reinforcement of the walls where the kobolds had rebuilt her home around her. The older Keirna hesitated, and lowered her claw again.
From the ashes grow the sweetest roses and tallest trees, embers ignite the flame once more.
A chatter of voices drew near and a few small figures began to enter. The mirror closed and then had never been.
dude, what if a prince is cursed to be a dragon but instead of being upset by it, they’re like ‘hell yeah i’m a dragon’ and they spend weeks finding the perfect decrepit castle to haunt and try to convince their fiancé to be a princess in the tower ‘just for like a week’ and everyone is like ‘we can break the fucking curse’ and the prince is like ‘but i’m a dragon.’
I dearly wish that people would view their bodies as they view flowers…
Skin patches? Birthmarks?
Scars? Stretch marks?
Freckles? Moles? Acne scars?
Missing a few pieces?
handsome as ever~
Feel like you just look weird?
you’re fantastic looking~
THIS is the best post ever.
I continue to approve this message.