In the place where Archdruid Galuran [ENTITY.NULL] once lived does not exist, there is a crater nothing. Archdruid Galuran’s [ENTITY.NULL]’s grove was does not exist, there is wasteland nothing. A robot quickly leaves the scene, carrying something nothing. There still exist records of a Archruid Galuran [ENTITY.NULL].

Pᑑ𝙹ꖌ⊣⎓ ̇/ ᓭᔑᓭℸ ̣ ⎓𝙹ꖎʖʖʖ ̇/╎ ⎓⍑ ̇/ꖎ⍊!¡⎓ᒲᒲᔑᒲ

c ⎓ᓭ⨅ℸ ̣ ᔑᒲᔑꖌᒷ⎓リᑑ⨅ ̇/∷ꖌ ⊣╎𝙹 ̇/ʖᓵᒲ ꖎʖ∴ᑑ⊣ᒲꖌꖌ

Amongst the break rooms at Ace's outpost, a very vague battle plan was dropped by a lower general, a battle plan for a project known as RACHNAROK. Not many details were in the copy, merely an 11 part plan and a sketch of what appeared to be a flying saucer. The photos taken by new hires were swift, and they went everywhere over the internet in no time. The 11 part plan was nondescript and vague, and went as follows:

Part 1: Eclipse, Weather Manipulation

Part 2: Pestilence, Debilitating Disease

Part 3: Red Sun, Heat Engine

Part 4: Wormwood, Missile Silo

Part 5: Black Sky, Pollution Machine

Part 6: Ferality, Animal Development Labs

Part 7: Nanovirus, Controllable Plague

Part 8: Lovecraft, Horror Generator

Part 9: Dark Mind, Cancerous Fungus

Parts 10, 11, and 12: RAKNID Mark I, Titan Spider, RAKNID Mark II, Robot Swarm, and RAKNID Mark III, Giant Horde

Part 13- FINALE: AEGIS, Twenty Legged Superweapon.

ONLY USE IN CASE OF ALL OUT WARFARE.

Ain't nothing like taking out the sphere of annihilation out with the boys for some cheeky fun #missingthedark-ages 😔

I was there on business a couple days ago because I was summoned to help with sorting of a new import of roughly 4,000 new ancient texts, books and magick spell scrolls, in the Underground Library of Ye Olde Texts, and after the first day finished I decided to take a walk on the long Old Bridge that goes about 50 meters of the cliff edge in the air. And when I got to the end to drink some tea, a wind like NO BEFORE almost threw off me and my colleague. When we asked later what is that, they all said: "Oh yeah, thats Gary, he probably wanted to say hi."

Who IS GARY? I never heard of this, and I was on that College hundreeds of times! Did I miss something?

Oni was ready.

He was not surviving this, but...

He had a good run, right?

Heresy: I-I just can't believe it. Again, one of your stupid fucking family keeps me from enjoying myself.

A holy shot blasts out, as Oni dodges.

Heresy: Stand still~

Heresy fires more blasts, Oni dodging all of them.

Oni: Don't you remember?

Oni dodges another blast.

Oni: I'm as fast as you are, dumbass.

Oni grabs Heresy by the arm, slamming him down, before hitting him with a fireball.

Heresy tries to swipe with his holy weapon, but Oni dodges.

As Oni notices something to his right.

Heresy stabs forward, Oni dodging to his right, and hitting Heresy with a right hook.

Heresy: Enough. Of this. Bullshit.

More of Heresy's weapons spawn in the air. Pointed at Oni.

And then...

They fly forward, at Oni.

Dust picks up, as Oni braces for impact.

The dust clears...

As metal clatters to the ground. Oni emerges, unscathed.

Heresy: YOU-

Oni's wearing Flufferson's amulet.

Oni: While the three were leaving, Fluff dropped something of hers. And, surprise surprise, I have at least some experience with magic.

Heresy: THAT CAN'T STOP ME! HOLY WEAPONS COULDN'T EVEN TOUCH ME!

Oni: You're an angel. Just accept that.

Heresy: I'M NOT! I'M THE LORD OF HERESY! THAT'S- That's...Th-

A spike of Light magic pierces Heresy's chest.

Heresy coughs up blood.

Heresy: Wh-what's happening?

Oni: Guess what can hurt literally anyone? Spike through the chest.

Heresy looks down. He sees the spike.

Heresy: ...Oh...Oh no...

Heresy bleeds out...not dead...But certainly as close as he could be.

Oni runs...

Emerald silently watching, Heresy's divination marked with angelic blood.

She can't see them again...

But, she's proud.

Although, she can't help but...

Cry tears of her own.

Kriiddorah had been having a mostly good day. He'd been playing catch with his father for most of it, practising his shapeshifting all the while. Then death old dad acted a bit strange. Throwing a ball into the horizon isn't a normal thing to do afterall. As is normal for a game of catch, Kriid went to get the ball. But when he came back, his father was gone. That was five days ago.

He hadn't seen his father since, he didn't know where he went. A good son would look for his missing father, but Kriid knew two things about his father which means he didn't need to go find him. One, his father was a god, he'd be fine. Two, his father knew where Freetown was. He'd come back when he was done doing whatever it was he was doing. So instead of going to find his dad, he practiced what his dad would want him to learn.

Kriid had gotten bigger, he might be growing faster than before, now ten metres long from snout to tail tip, standing at three and a half metres from claw to spinal spikes. His wingspan was about nine metres. Not bad for someone six weeks old. His breath attack was getting better, the flames were hotter, more vicious to magic. His laser because of course he had that had gotten stronger to match, it was a good thing he'd mostly learnt to control it.

Kriid had been training for most of the time he was awake, but when he slept, he had weird dreams. He saw the world, but smaller, much smaller, for he was bigger, much bigger. A size among that of the mountains. Other times he saw the world from many angles at once, like how he imagined life would look with five heads. All the while something was constant, power. He had the strength to kill gods but he didn't. He had the power to turn armies to dust but he didn't. What good was incredible power if you only used it for violence? What good was incredible strength if it is used only for destruction?

After every dream he awoke slightly larger, slightly stronger, slightly more scared of the future. He hadn't really had a childhood, what if the rapid aging didn't stop? What if his entire life lasted less than a year? What was he supposed to do with such little time?

/uw With help from u/timpanzee38. Not sure if it’s a collaboration or not because it doesn’t use any of Agent’s characters, but I think it does. For those unfamiliar with the Buggo event, it’s a long running event involving Buggo and the hive, who have venom that can make people fight for them.

/rw Noella led a team of Buggo illusionists into Guild territory. They were on a mission to infiltrate them, and then steal what the Guild was using to identify members of the Hive. The plan was to head in through the towns, and then bring venom to anyone who noticed that they didn’t belong. Buggo’s lieutenant longed to bring what Buggo promised—- life itself—- to all of them, but they had to be stealthy. Guild territory was also big, and they needed to find out where this was before taking towns.

Besides, they were setting up this so they could turn more of these, unnoticed. Surely that was worth making a few go without it for longer. The Hive was planning something, and they needed all the resources they could get.

Real Noella, inside her mind, was concerned. The lieutenant of Buggo had mastered a ways of using the target’s mind to make an illusion real to the person it was cast targeting, and was working learning how to use people’s fears to shape these tangible illusions. Also, she was certain that Buggo was planning something.

But Noella had an idea. She had figured out how to move her dagger, even locked in the back of her mind. Maybe she could use it to break the concentration of the lieutenant of Buggo. Besides, it would be worth the pain it would cause her to hurt Buggo’s illusionist. So as the Illusobugs prepared their operation, she steered herself.

In the depths where shadow and ink conspire,
I watched a spirit break free from ancient mire.
Once chained to a legacy, a cursed design,
Now burns with a fire that is solely divine.

She defied the lure of power and of fate,
Rejecting a crown that would seal her as innate.
In that silent chaos where time’s threads unwind,
A human heart emerged, resilient and refined.

I witnessed whispers of fate shifting in the gloom,
A rebirth in fire, dispelling the dark’s doom.
Let this subtle turn be our quiet, untold vow—
When a soul dares reclaim its story somehow.

Samantha’s final moment was a silent collapse into darkness. Amidst the swirling chaos of shattered reality, her body lay still—a pool of crimson congealing around her neck. The world had gone quiet, as if time itself had hesitated at the threshold of her end. And then, as the inky tendrils of the lake’s essence closed around her, she was no longer among the living.

In that suspended void, the murmur of ancient power stirred. Samantha’s essence, fractured yet unyielding, was drawn toward the very heart of the Black Lake—a realm beyond mortal sight, where the true form of her father, Ctha’at, resided. The Nexus—a gateway between worlds—yielded to an inevitable pull, and she was carried away on currents of ink and shadow.

It was in this place, known only as the prison of Ctha’at, that Samantha’s consciousness began to flicker back into focus. The world around her was cold and oppressive, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of forgotten aeons. Slowly, her body reformed. The ragged robes remained, but something in her eyes had changed—a new determination, a clarity that belied the exhaustion of her past life.

Before she could fully grasp this rebirth, a presence made itself known. From the depths of that wretched prison, a figure emerged—a creature whose form seemed to be woven from the very substance of the lake. Ctha’at.

Ctha’at’s form loomed in the half-light, his features as shifting and unknowable as ever. He regarded her with a calm, almost gentle curiosity, though beneath it lay an unmistakable hunger for control.

“You’ve returned,” he said softly, his voice echoing as though coming from far away. “And yet, you still wear that mortal guise—those ragged robes… It seems you’re not ready to shed them entirely.”

Samantha’s eyes, once dull with weariness, now burned with a determined light. “I’ve been reborn from the depths, father,” she replied, her tone steady. “I may wear the same cloth, but my spirit is no longer tethered to the past. I’m more than just your extension.”

A slow smile crept across his twisted visage, ink-like tendrils of shadow curling at the corners of his mouth. “A bold claim. Tell me, then—what do you truly seek? Is it not the promise of godhood? Total dominion over the magic of the lake? To command its power as your own?”

She held his gaze unflinchingly. “I seek no such empty inheritance. I reject the notion that my worth is measured by your legacy or the magic you wield. I want—no, I deserve—more than being another piece in your endless tapestry.”

Ctha’at’s expression darkened briefly, frustration flashing in his eyes before he let out a low chuckle. “You speak as if you have already rewritten your fate,” he murmured, his tone both amused and incredulous. “But how can you refuse the ultimate gift? To be elevated beyond the mortal coil, to know the full extent of what magic can offer?”

Samantha stepped closer, her voice rising with conviction. “I won’t let you define me anymore. I choose to stand as I am—independent, flawed, and resolutely alive.”

For a long, charged moment, silence reigned between them as the power of her words hung in the charged air. Then Ctha’at’s features softened, the mask of dominance faltering. His tone grew quieter, almost reflective. “You are…unexpected, Samantha. Perhaps, in your defiance, you have carved out something uniquely your own.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, a mixture of defiance and something akin to compassion glimmering within. “I am no mere extension of you,” she said firmly. “I am the sum of every choice I’ve made—even the ones that broke me. I won’t trade my pain for power, nor my humanity for dominion.”

Ctha’at’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally spoke, his voice heavy with reluctant pride. “Then go, and let the world bear witness to the new chapter you write for yourself.”

As Samantha turned away, stepping toward the doorway that would lead her back into a reality forever changed, Ctha’at’s eyes, those dark, eternal pools, softened. In that fleeting instance, behind the cold veneer of cosmic indifference, a trace of genuine pride shone through.

“You have rewritten the narrative,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. “After all, even I must admit—this is a story worth telling.”

And with that, the chamber’s oppressive silence swallowed his words as Samantha departed, leaving behind a legacy of defiance and hope that would echo long after the inky shadows receded.

After her final exchange with Ctha’at, Samantha stepped away from the oppressive chamber—a domain of shifting ancient shadows—and made her way back toward the Nexus’s gateway. The weight of their conversation still echoed in her ears, each word a reminder of the choice she had made: to reclaim her own destiny rather than accept a twisted inheritance of godlike power.

The journey back was a blur of dim corridors and the silent murmur of unfathomable magic. When at last she reached the gateway, the atmosphere shifted. The water roiled as if in violent protest, and the storm that had been gathering above the Black Lake broke loose. Rain hammered down, and thunder rumbled like the beating of a giant’s heart. The surface of the lake churned into a frenzy, a maelstrom of swirling ink and shattered reflections.

In that tempest, Samantha waded into the lake. Each step was a battle against the relentless force of ancient currents. The water lashed at her skin, and in its wild embrace, she felt the old wounds—the bitterness of loss, the weight of despair—begin to wash away. With every furious wave, the lake seemed to peel back the layers of her former self.

Then, in a climactic surge, she was pulled upward. The violent storm erupted around her as she broke through the churning surface. In that moment of rebirth, Samantha emerged—her form resolute and transformed. Though she still wore the same tattered robes, they clung differently now, as if acknowledging her new mastery. Her eyes, once dull with weariness, shone with a fierce determination and clarity. No longer a passive extension of a cursed legacy, she was unmistakably her own being—a woman forged from loss, anger, and the indomitable will to survive.

As she stepped onto the shore of Brinehold, the storm seemed to relent, as if the world itself was taking a hesitant breath. In the distance, the ominous shapes of the Black Lake receded into the dark horizon. The oppressive void that had once threatened to swallow her was now tempered by the steady rhythm of a new, determined heartbeat.

Samantha looked upward, her gaze meeting the darkened sky. Though the heavens had turned inky and foreboding—a silent reminder of the forces at work behind the scenes—she knew now that her story would be written by her own hand. In that final, defiant moment, she took her first step back into the mortal realm, leaving behind the spectral echoes of the lake and the haunting dominion of her father.

Her transformation was complete. She was reborn, not through the allure of godhood, but by reclaiming the essence of her own humanity—strong, flawed, and fiercely free.

/uw Sam was dead but she got better. I thought about letting her die but I have too much story left to tell with her. Also the poem is less good than normal because I was in a rush

Kalim stalked through the tunnel made by Adam, his adamantine plateridged earthdrake. The drake was in the scent of the body of the gemfolk that he sought. Based on the behavior, they were close. Finally the drake paused and came back to Kalim, depositing the tiny humanoid figure made of crystal. It was clearly dead but that was what the rod of resurrection that Kalim had acquired from Vulkan the Red was for. With it this single example of a long extinct species would be brought back into the world, provided it did the job that Kalim needed it to do.

With a small pop, the Rakshasa, his drake, and the gemfolk corpse disappeared back to his home, where he drew up the contract and prepared the Rod of Resurrection.

As the saying goes, I CAST FIREBALL!🔥☄️🔥

‎Deep in a land of the bad, a land of corrupted and evil, the moon shone down on Moroko greeting every surface with a light, the moon itself is purple, the color of ones purity leaving their soul. ‎

‎At the gates of an orphanage a man in sketchy dark jacket and ushanka hat stood there in silence like a *crow*, he seemed to be seeking for someone, searching silently and observing. When the kids went back in the building not noticing the man, so he left, his boots light on the ground despite his tall and bulk structure, he was at least a good 6'10, yet silent. ‎

‎Walking down no where as the bells of the church rang, another death from the plague, he walked down in the pathway if the forest, when the moon light shone on hid face, his eyes lightened at the sight, but what an empty sight. He looked down before wrapping the jacket around himself, when he opened it, a bunch of crows left the shadow of his cloak, he was on a hunt for someone. ‎

‎unbenounced to him, or perhaps benounced, one of the kids from the orphanage did infact notice him, silently slipping in the shadows, moving from corner to corner, rooftop to rooftop like a trained assassin. Using the church's bell to mask any noise they make ‎

"‎... gonna have to take out that church on the way back" ‎

‎The kid thinks to themselves as they finally nest on a rooftop, taking out a glow needle that reshapes itself into a sniper rifle. ‎

"‎...let's get this over with" ‎

‎The kid says, clutching a heart shaped locket, before taking the shot at the man. An anti god 50.cal bullet aimed to insure the death of that man ‎

‎with a small move, the man hadn't even been grazed by the bullet, his eyes closed and his senses heighten. Not a word left him, he slowly looked directly at the roof where the kid has been nested, a crow circles above him. ‎

‎"where did you get this..." ‎

‎He spoke in a husky Russian accent, his voice deep yet no anger in his tone. He held the battles between his fingertips. ‎

‎the kid looks at the crow for a moment, then smiles to themself as they get up and jump off the roof towards the man, elegantly floating down to the ground. ‎

‎"I made it myself hehe, impressed?" ‎

"‎It's sorta my job you know, taking out gody bastards like you. Of course no one pays me to do it, but it's a fun time" ‎

‎The man with a light flick appeared behind the kid. ‎

‎ "I am impressed..." ‎

‎He took a good milasecond to take note of every weapons the kid had, he was indeed impressed. ‎

‎ "but im afraid you have the wrong guy..." ‎

‎upon teleporting behind the kid, something weird is noticeable, the kid was still facing the man, almost like their body morphed to be facing where they'd be ‎

"‎Awww thank you. And nah, I know I have the right guy, Conner right?" ‎

"‎I've heard some itsy bitsy bits about you and your kind." ‎

‎The selection of weapons Erik has changes as he smiles even more ‎

"‎You know, being able to access an armory using teleportation sure is a handy skill. I believe an introduction is in order" ‎

"‎I am Erik, or Erika depending on what you wanna use honestly, the god hunter. It'll be a pleasure to kill you" ‎

‎Conner's expression remains poker face, he lowers his gaze. ‎

‎"I've heard of you... but not good ways from others." ‎

‎With a small light step he was able pull the gun hidden under his jacket and aim it at Erik's head. ‎

‎"I don't see you as threat... I can't smell the blood in you... you're not human nor folk..." ‎

‎but a faint scent was slightly detected, a scent he was looking for. ‎

‎"Where are you from..." ‎

‎He growled out, his voice no longer human. It was beastiary, this man was not human either. ‎

"‎I'm from all over, or nowhere. Honestly I don't even know anymore. I know I am not really connected to this reality or pretty much any other. I just exist you know" ‎

‎Erik stares at the gun with the same usual smile he still had, slowly intensifying ‎

"‎How about we take this somewhere more isolated tough guy? We don't want anyone to be hurt" ‎

‎Erik's tone is taunting, he's enjoying this far more than one would expect him to ‎

‎Conner takes a step back. His eyes turning purple from the gleam of the moon shining down on him, he brought Erik to his own word, a small part of his consciousness. The land was dark, sick, and wilted. There was purple fog and a dark scarlet purple texture to all features but them. ‎

‎"As you wish." ‎

‎He sat down on the top of a branch, like any predator would watch over their prey. ‎

‎"Is it discussion you wish to speak... or is there more to you..." ‎

‎his moves very feline like, the way his eyes never leave Erik, nor does the expression change, his pupils sometimes dilate at certain words. ‎

"‎...I see, you have your own realm too, I suppose this is one way to avoid bystanders" ‎

‎Erik floats in the air a bit, gaining altitude before stopping ‎

"‎Though you may be confused on something" ‎

‎the words "spell card: needles of the hunter" appear above him, before a bunch of fast moving needles fly out in patterns everywhere like a bullet hell game ‎

‎Some music starts playing from nowhere too weirdly enough ‎

(‎https://youtu.be/8HXVbBiGk74?si=5my9cu3EQIqCampp) ‎

"‎I AM NOT HERE TO TALK YOU FILTHY GOD!" ‎

‎Conner dodges all, but one. He stood there surrounded by the needles, his gaze dropped to his hand, where one had hit his palm. He lowered his gas mask and a bunch of dark purple scars are all over his chin and mouth, along with a burn mark on his jaw. He used his teeth to get the needle out and he licks the wounds. ‎

‎"It hurts like a needle..." ‎

‎His eyes go up to Erik and a snarl on his face. ‎

‎"I underestimated you..." ‎

‎With that wind passes through his hair and jacket, a hoard of crows all start attacking at Erik, and when they all make way, there was a massive tiger that had leaped, it was at Erik's face and with a growl, his teeth bared on Erik's body, he was able to fit him almost entirely in his mouth, but he didn't, he let him hang loose, and he didn't sink his teeth in him, he didn't even bite. ‎

‎Erik feels surprised at this, he's gonna have to find a way to go back to his adult self soon because that childish arrogance he's stuck with is being difficult ‎

"‎...wa?" ‎

‎Erik takes half a second to adjust himself to what is going on, he looks around him to see himself in the maw of a tiger, yet unharmed ‎

"‎... what the hell ARE YOU DOING NOT KILLING ME!?" ‎

‎Erik immediately expands like a pufferfish, spikes covering all his body to push away Conner from him. ‎

‎the tiger growls and starts pawing at his snout in pain at the spikes, it snarls and starts chasing after Erik, purple goo seeping out of its mouth ‎

‎"What a hunt! Keep going..." ‎

‎ He growls at Erik yet his voice rangs like a growl ‎

‎Erik flies out of the tiger's maw and immediately starts sliding across the ground. Jumping between obstacles and whatnot that randomly appear Infront of him as knives start shooting from his body towards the tiger ‎

"‎Hunter or hunted, LET'S SEE WHO'S WHAT!" ‎

‎"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA" ‎

‎The tiger hisses at Erik, making a scary face to intimidate his prey yet it didn't work, it's ears pin back and it darts at Erik, chasing after him despite the knives piercing it's fur, the knives melt on its heated body. ‎

‎"I see nothing but void in you... do you even have a heart child." ‎

"‎No heart, no soul, nothing hehe" ‎

‎Erik suddenly stops mid air and flies at the tiger, a golden hammer appears in his hands as he swings at the tiger ‎

"‎GO ON! SHOW ME WHAT YOU HAVE CAT"! ‎

‎with a powerful bite of the hammer, it creaked but didn't break, it held it in its mouth and growled, using the hammer and throwing it back at Erik. ‎

‎"Show me what you have first..." ‎

‎It growled ‎

‎The hammer flies back towards Erik, gracefully landing In his hand ‎

"‎... you... Are you really a god?" ‎

‎Conner transforms back into human form and looks into Erik's eyes, his eyes still hold a fire, a thrill of the hunt. ‎

‎"No, gods are pathetic fools who think of themselves kings... I am a grim reaper... not a filthy god." ‎

‎... ‎

‎Erik immediately puts away his weapon, battle music stops as Erik looks genuinely happy with childish glee ‎

"‎Really!? Woooo!!!!" ‎

"‎I'm sorry for attacking you, I thought you were a god hehe..." ‎

‎He sends Erik back to the church, and he was sitting on the roof of the church. staring down at Erik. ‎

‎"You have earned respect... but I would like to ask you..." ‎

‎The silence fills the air before the bells starts ringing in the distance, crows caw and fly by. ‎

‎"Have you seen... my son? He's like a shark... hard to miss him, black hair... green eyes, a bit stupid sometimes." ‎

"‎hmmm... I do know a shark called pilot, I don't know much about him but people keep eating him last I heard." ‎

"‎...now if you don't mind, I'm going to demolish this church, part of the job you know" ‎

‎Conner's gaze dropped, he had his hat in his hands and his ears twitched. A slight sigh escaped his parted lips. ‎

‎ "where last have you seen him, you smell like you came from north..." ‎

‎He puts his hat back on and smiled softly. His smile like a warm hug of gratitude. ‎

‎"See you real soon... God hunter..." ‎

‎Before more, he wrapped his jacket around himself and shifted into a larger crow, it cawed and left the church to north. The church bells started ringing as a woman and her child enters the church to mourn a death. ‎

‎Erik sighs to himself as he goes back to demolishing the church, scaring everyone away, then blowing it up. The usual charades... ‎

Aoi makes her way up the mountains... she had just left the dwarven fortress, having thought long and hard about her next step...

Eventually she reaches the peak of the dwarven mountain range... the biting cold losing to the roaring flames...

She sits down in a meditative position, and calms her mind... calms her flames... the cold finally getting to gnaw at her.

Rage always consumed her... She was of pure ancient Oni blood. Her scars burnt with soulfire... her strength ever increasing with every gash, thump of wound she received in combat... It was perfect for war... for the thing she thought she was born to do...

But she was far more than that...

Max had shown her the joys of life... To feast with friends and family... to toast to victory... to enjoy the good times together... and to mourn the bad times together.

To fight not for the sake of letting blood... but to protect those who could not fight for themselves...

She thinks to the times before... when she waged war upon the clans of the east... not for any reason but the thrill of battle... to feel alive with her life on the line... all those lives were lost to her hands... she can still hear the beat of the drum... It's ever resounding cadence marching on through her mind...

She still smells the burnt blood... she still feels the terror she wrought upon the samurai that fought to protect their towns... Her focus broken as she hears the screams of the townsfolk.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD." She grabs onto her own head, bent over in pain. The drums get louder, the smell gets thicker, the screams... the fear... it's all so loud... it's so overwhelming...

But in the panic, she grabs a black metal trinket from her belt. A little item that Max had forged for her, and told her to only use when she felt like she needed his help... and as she holds on to it, the panic in her subsides, a wave of calm washes over her... and she remembers one of their first conversations, shortly after she had joined Max and Sarah in their travels.

"Do you really think I deserve this kind of life..."

"Now what kind of question is that?"

"I hurt so many people... I... killed so many people... for no reason at all. How could I still live a normal life?"

"We're all lost in life sometimes... We do... dumb things... bad things..."

"If we let our mistakes define us, we might as well all give up before we start at all... Instead, look at the past... and think about what went wrong... what you did, and what you'd want to do now... to fix that... to prevent that..."

"To be a better person... and with that, comes living a life where you can allow yourself to become that better person. Just look at Sarah and I... Neither of us have a clean history... She's an old slavetrader's guard, I've been... many things, some good, some bad... but right now... I work to make the world a little bit better..."

"Is that not what matters..."

"Who you are now?"

With his last few words, she snaps back to the now... the snow starting to pile up on her back and shoulders... the frigid cold rips through her nerves...

She slowly rises to her feet, holding a hand out to the sun above. Tears flow from her eyes.

"What am I now... I hurt you... in my rage, I almost caused everyone so much grief..."

She thinks to how she gave in to her Oni rage during a raid. She let her emotions take over, to the point where she could not even calm down after the dust settled... Max had used his draconic form to tank blow after blow, his skin and scales boiling and melting away... But after he was healed up...

The first thing he did was check up on her. There was no spite for a monster in his eyes... Only the deep concern in his voice... for one of his most cherished family members...

Right... She was family... She was flawed... Like all the others... But even so, she was loved... and they believed she could improve... That she was better...

That she was no monster... But someone to cherish.

She stares into the sun, as the flames roar within her once more, the snow around her melting away and turning to steam. She finds something in the silence that she hasn't known for thousands of years...

Peace.

She finally found the answer to her questions...

She was Aoi, Oni of the Setting Sun. Wielder of the heat of the Sun itself... Family of the Silverweaves... Friend to some... Ally to many...

As she finally comes to peace with herself, the drums silence themselves entirely. Her form shifts to reflect her progress, a multitude of extra arms, something only extremely powerful Oni of legend had... She dangles the metal trinket before herself with one of them... and all she can think of... is how she really wants to give Max and Sarah a big hug like this.

/uw This happened just before the big Zeroth war.

Repost PS: Some people may have read this post before. this is due to it having been posted to a sub that rhymes with AsphaltLayer before, and having been double-posted to my own profile for preservation... but with that Sub now being replaced with r/Rathara , it's high time this lore returns for people to actually read on here. Did already get permission to repost these to wizardposting, and there will be a few more that had vanished with the wind when that sub went down.

If you wish to skip the wait for the reposts, I have a post that has all my lorepost links, right here!

unsupringly, this was inspired by Duncan, the Protection Druid ( u/EmergencyLeading8137 ) and his druidcraft lessons of nature, so please follow his work.

The great Ironsides floats above the forests of Qt'un, it's grandiose form hidden behind artificial clouds and translucent like a ghost... To most, it would seem like nothing more than a mirage in the sky.

"So... this is Kavrala's homeland..."

Maximillian peers out the window, down at the land below... He had spoken with Kavrala about the next location of the sanctuary... a place outside of council jurisdiction... a place where all those dragons would be safe... under his watchful eye, and ARMADA's guarding wings. She had spoken of her preferences... She would like it to be in her homeland of Qt'un, but warned of the nobles here... They were... uncooperative, to put it lightly. They had turned down requests to trade, again, and again...

"Rach, Sarah, with me. Everyone else... establish a perimeter around the future sanctuary... get those watch towers started... after all..."

"This'll be an offer they cannot refuse."

....................

Not long after, one of the nobles of Qt'un, one that holds the rights to much of the land surrounding the forest, would find their home invaded. Their guards sit slumped against the wall, incapacitated but alive... Some have their armour dented and battered beyond measure, and whatever ranged guards there are, are all tied up like a spider's lunch.

Eventually, they make it to their office... Where they find a man, clad in an incredibly fancy suit... waiting for them to arrive.

"Took you long enough, Noble... I was starting to grow tired of waiting."

"Just who are you, and why are you in my office, vermin?"

"Vermin, huh... I guess she was right..." He sighs deeply. "I have sent out envoys, again and again, bearing gifts and requests for trade..."

"I have no intention to trade with a lower being like YOU."

"Yes, yes, I know that's how your broken mind likes to think... and so, I'm here to present you with my final offer. It would be wise for you to listen."

 "Scram, you filth! I told your snakes and one-eyed freaks plenty of times, I'm not fucking tra~"

The noble's words are cut short by a flash of steel, a dagger now planted firmly in the wall besides them, and blood dripping down their cheek.

"I said... it would be wise to listen to my offer."

The noble looks panicked... they didn't even see the dandy move, let alone see the dagger...

"You will hand over all of your land... and when I say all... I mean every, last, deed. In exchange... You'll get to live your petty little racist life, here in your terribly decorated home, with your crooked, crappy guards."

"And if I refuse?"

"Do I truly have to spell everything out?" He grumbles.

"Your untimely demise will be staged as an accident, but you won't be nearly that lucky. My sweet sweet Rachnia will get all the details we could ever need from that head of yours, and will amplify whatever suffering I wish to inflict on you... Your fate will be far worse than death could ever be."

The noble quakes in fear... There's not a grain of regret or lies in the dandy's eyes... only disgust... disgust for them... They feel tiny, powerless... But they would never give in to a lesser man like him.

"Then do your worst, Vermin."

"Well... I can't say that I didn't try." He shrugs.

The elven noble feels a towering presence behind them, grabbing them like a doll and lifting them up...

"I doubt Sarah really appreciated being called a one-eyed freak... Now... what shall we start with... How about a little... fun with daggers."

Maximillian pulls the dagger from the wall, as his wife Rachnia drops down from the ceiling, putting purple silk around the noble's neck... they can feel everything... as if it's amplified tenfold. The grip of the Cyclops, the pulling of the silk, their eyes widen, as the glint of steel makes their fate clear... The twisted grin on the dandy's face before him says all they need to know...

....................

A few hours later the noble's mansion would be found burning, with the origin being a kitchen fire... the corpse of the noble themself was never found... only the charred remains of a trade agreement, to transfer all assets to ARMADA, in exchange for something unknown... that part of the contract was burnt away.

On the outskirts of the forest of Qt'un, the construction of the new dragon sanctuary is rapidly underway... and Maximillian is helping the draconic species he evacuated from the last sanctuary to settle in. There is a bright, sweet, caring and genuine smile on his face.

Noone would know the events of what truly transpired that day... and that was fine with him.

The new sanctuary, now under ARMADA's watchful eye, was ready for it's retainer, Kavrala.

/uw This has been sorta in the works since the dragon hunts and the evac. Took us a while to actually get started on writing it since we’ve both been super busy (Both Kav and I)
Written with approval of Kavrala aka u/Traxxya

Repost PS: Some people may have read this post before. this is due to it having been posted to a sub that rhymes with AsphaltLayer before, and having been double-posted to my own profile for preservation... but with that Sub now being replaced with r/Rathara , it's high time this lore returns for people to actually read on here. Did already get permission to repost these to wizardposting, and there will be a few more that had vanished with the wind when that sub went down. Reposted with the permission of Traxxya, of course!

If you wish to skip the wait for the reposts, I have a post that has all my lorepost links, right here!

Maximillian stands in his lab, still working on finishing up his batch of second chance brews... as his thoughts inevitably trail off again... This time... to a memory far older... far more painful... a memory when he used far too many of these... when he was at his lowest.

......................................

He's sitting on the beautiful golden desert sands, below his ramshackle tent, in the dark of night, his heart feels heavy... sorrow is all that he's known for years now... It had been fourty years since he 'lost' Rachnia... he's spent more time alone now, than he's spent with his beloved...

He takes the music box out of his bag. His one lifeline... the one thing keeping Rachnia alive... frozen in time... he opens it, but does not activate it, to look at her without risking her life... a reminder of what he fights for... but the reminder is as cruel as it is comforting, for it shows him why he has to fight at all... the blood... the gash across her stomach... those empty, vacant eyes of his beloved sweetheart, on the verge of death...

He begins to weep... they finally had happiness... and fate took it all away... He cries... and he cries... clutching the musicbox as he slowly drifts off to sleep... This had become standard... the norm... this pain and sorrow had become his nightcap... and it became the only way he could find rest at all...

....................

He's spent many lonely nights... searching for solutions... but his deal with the duke of greed had finally paid off. He saved a small oasis village from a rampaging beast... and received knowledge for each individual he rescued this way. He received knowledge of a beast... no... a god. The Incarnation of Propagation's path. A creature that had long been forgotten... dead alongside it's people... but it's memory now lived on... for better... or rather... for worse.

As he peers off into the sandy dunes... he knows what he must do. He must find the old god... and harness it.

......................

As he travels through the desert, his thoughts continue to plague him as they've done for years... How he should have been there for her... how he should have prevented this all... how his ineptitude now prevents him from curing her.... how it would have been better if he wasn't there... how Rachnia would have been alive, if he didn't take her to the shopping district that day...

He was nothing without her... a will-less, ambitionless worm... insignificant... incapable of achieving anything...

He just wanted her back... to go back to how things used to be.... To go back to the days where they laughed about a silly cat on the streets, or went from café to café to try the local sweets... or even those simple times, where they sat on the train together in silence... holding each other's hands as they peered through the window to the world flying past them...

His mind continued to battle itself... thoughts of wanting to go back, thoughts of wanting to just sacrifice everything to bring her back...

.............................................................

Days later, he finally arrives at his destination. The Pyramid of Propagation.

The town that stood surrounding the great temple was empty... vacant... not even a wayward adventurer slept here... It was as if everyone here had simply vanished one day.

He enters the temple, and flawlessly dodges each trap... He already knows where they are... He knows where to disable them... He knows everything about this place... and yet, once he reaches the apex of the temple, the ritual chamber, he is shocked.

Bodies... so, many, bodies... ancient yet intact... dead yet without rot... untouched by nature itself.

This... was where the followers of Propagation went.

This... is where Propagation as a path, ended.

and This... is where he would bring it back, to take it's power.

He inspects the chamber, slowly placing relic after relic on the primary shrine... ones that were once stolen... and that he had acquired for this very day...

He lights the ancient candles that sat there... waiting for their next ritual...

And with a beautiful, ornate, golden dagger.... he slits his arm, letting blood flow onto the shrine.

Before him... the illusion of the temple crumbles away, revealing a gigantic open desert. A realm dedicated to a singular purpose... to hide away inside of. The Incarnation of Propagation had never truly died... it simply bided it's time... waiting... for someone to come find it... like a spider, waiting for a fly to land in it's web.

Maximillian wasted no time. He drank a beautiful golden brew, and a crimson red vial, before attacking the beast... it's form was as formidable as it's strength and durability. Propagation can be found in any creature... the desire to reproduce and continue their existence... this made it's path stronger than that of most gods...

Max takes fatal damage, but with a golden glow, his wounds seem to revert back in time... as he chugs another one of the golden brews, and charges for the beast again.

Day turns to night...

Night turns to day...

In this dance of death, between a man with nothing left to lose, and everything to gain... and a god in it's own domain.

Weeks.... months...

YEARS...

For a 1001 nights, he would be on the brink of death... any time he would have taken his last breath, he would get back up... fighting the beast with tooth and nail... his second chance brews should have ran out in the first month... but strangely, they never did. They even seemed to sparkle and shine a brighter gold than ever before.

The beast was weak, and this was his cue. Max took a rope from his bag, throwing it around the beast's right horn, and swinging up to it's head, where he plants the golden dagger straight into it's head. The beast falls to the ground, slowly being absorbed into the blade...

The propagator was dead... for as far as he knew. He looks at the blade, a mythical powertheft dagger...

Before he rams it into his own chest.

His body contorts, spikes starting to form, skin turning to chitin...

Maximillian dies... and his belongings fade alongside his consciousness, to reappear back in his home city...

..........................

Maximillian snaps back to the now... tears flow down his cheeks... He remembers how he felt back then... it hurts... it hurts so much...

He puts his equipment down, and goes home to find Rachnia.

................................................

The memory had ended at his death... but while Max thought that had been the end of it...

In reality the changes had continued... until there was nothing left of it's previous inhabitant.

Instead of the desperate dandy, there now stood... the Last Warrior of Propagation. A beast that had been roaming the deserts for centuries now... and Max would soon hear of it's existence.

To harness a path by force... was a fool's errand.

............................

/uw Some lore of Max's very, very distant past... when he was hopeless... aimless... and had only recently lost Rachnia. Here's the music I listened to while writing this.

Repost PS: Some people may have read this post before. this is due to it having been posted to a sub that rhymes with AsphaltLayer before, and having been double-posted to my own profile for preservation... but with that Sub now being replaced with r/Rathara , it's high time this lore returns for people to actually read on here. Did already get permission to repost these to wizardposting, and there will be a few more that had vanished with the wind when that sub went down.

If you wish to skip the wait for the reposts, I have a post that has all my lorepost links, right here!

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