Officer Judy Hopps

“I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury.”

-       Groucho Marx

Chapter 8 – Red Wedding

The institution of marriage, the union of two lovers bound together forever, has been in existence for as long as anyone can remember. Despite varying customs and taboos ranging throughout numerous cultures around the world, marriage has always followed similar rituals. That is to say, it exists not for the parties involved to affirm their love, but rather to gain official recognition from everyone else.

And though it varies from couple to couple, it should always be remembered that marriage is a long and bloody affair.

Melinda slid a finger under her collar to rub at the little chafe marks. Not the worst part of the job, but close.

“I swear, if I have to hear another second of her whining voice,” she said, rearranging her cards, as if that made her hand any less rotten.

“She’s still just a girl, and she just lost her favorite toy is all,” grunted Arthur.

Melinda slammed her hand against the table. “Say that after we’ve switched places. Miss Lune is a nightmare!”

Arthur shrugged, “It is what it is. We are but humble servants and have no business talking down to our dear masters.” He tossed a couple of cards and slid a couple more off the deck.

“Loyalty to the Red Court,” scoffed Melinda, “and obedience to the Red Throne and taking care of all its members. But not our own kind?”

“You’re confusing how you’d like the world to be with how it is,” said Arthur.

“A little solidarity is all I’m asking. We’re all stuck in the same leaky boat,” grumbled Melinda, re-rearranging her rotten hand.

Arthur shrugged again and played his own. A pair of Queens. Melinda scowled and tossed aside her losing hand. “Your issue is you complain too much. The food. The cold. Your collar sores. Princess Lune. My snoring. Roger’s habits. The viceroy’s temper. It’s all quite aggravating.”

“As if life weren’t aggravating enough to begin with,” echoed Roger who had not joined their game and instead sat with his feet upon the table for the better part of an hour. Roger had the most unnatural patience with doing nothing.

Arthur sighed. “All I’m saying is all you have to do is wait upon a little girl, even if she’s a precocious brat. Laika was the closest thing she has to a friend and now she’s gone forever, but she’ll get over it—“

There was a knock at the door. Three quick knocks, in fact. The servants looked at each other, eyebrows raised. The quartmaster there to assign them more tasks and scold them for lazying about?

“You going to get that?” Melinda asked Roger.

“Why would I?”

“You’re closest.”

“You’re shortest.”

“What’s that got to fucking do with anything?”

“It’s funny.”

“Maybe my foot up your lazy asshole would be funnier!” Melinda shouted.

“Will you two please shut up?” Arthur chucked down his cards, levered his bulk from his chair and nudged Melinda aside. “I came here to take a break not to look after some children.”

Another insistent knocking. “All right, I’m coming!” Arthur snapped, turning the door handle. “It’s not as if –“

But Arthur couldn’t find the words and standing at the other side of the doorway was the largest person he had ever seen. The giant simply smiled, placed a parchment in Arthur’s hand, patted him on the head and walked away.

“Eh?” Melinda asked, dumbfounded. “Who the hell was that? What does paper say?”

Arthur unfolded it and read from the top, “Dear friends from the Red Court…” he paused and turned his head towards Melinda, “tonight, you are cordially invited to attend the wedding of the Warlord of the Forest and his new bride, Laika.”

---

The Silk Road.

Nora remembered listening entranced to her father’s stories of journeys back and forth down the long path to Ling, his eyes bright as he told of desperate battles against strange peoples, and proud brotherhoods forged in the crucible of danger, and of wealth and glory to be won. Ever since, she had dreamed of her own adventure, the names of those far away places bursting with power and mystery: the Badlands, the crossroads of Napoli, the Snowy Mountains. When Chief Grey looked for volunteers to accompany Shin and his bodyguards back to their homeland, Nora had jumped at the opportunity.

Strange to say, her dreams had not included the sore feet from miles of walking, nor endless clouds of biting insects, nor fog so thick you only got fleeting glimpses of the fabled land, and those of bitter bog and tangled forest, the joys of which were hardly rare back in Memorium. She didn’t much care for her current company either. Kovu, with his constant laughter, never taking anything seriously. Shin with his puffed up ego, enabled by his two bodyguards Xiao Xiao and Mei Mei. Raphael and Rhonnie, two new members of the tribe rescued during the raid on Castle Red only a week before, always together, brothers bonded by their chained past.

“Was hoping for more excitement,” muttered Kovu as though reading her mind, and she snorted in agreement.

As if waiting for those exact words, over a dozen figures slowly emerged from their hiding place beneath the murky waters of the swamp, surrounding their group of seven.

“Look like you got your wish,” Xiao Xiao growled as a flurry of knives flew at them from all sides.

---

The Dawn Seeker rocked on the tide, boasting a new sail, freshly painted and freshly provisioned, lean and sleek as a holy blade. It was, without a doubt, a beautiful ship. A ship fit for high deeds and heroes songs.

Sadly, her new crew were not quite of that caliber.

“What do you mean Dio is coming along?” Sven had complained.

“Surely you didn’t think that I would trust you to be in charge?” Arachne scoffed.

“But look at him! He doesn’t even have a head!” Sven pointed at Dio and it merely jumped up and down and clapped its hand excitedly, evidently happy to be left in charge.

“Maybe you should follow his example,” Arachne snapped, and so that was that. Sven, Luka, and Isaac found themselves on a boat crewed by vampiric ghouls with the most ghoulish of all as their Captain.

“Alright you two,” Sven rubbed at his temples and addressed his two non undead companions. “I know this is all a bit sudden but if we do this right I’m sure I can convince Arachne to let you guys go.” Dio began tugging at Sven’s sleeves but Sven ignored him.

“We’re just supposed to pick up some medicine from some doctor in Brittania. The country has a strict ‘no monster’ policy, so we’re going to have to disguise ourselves. Other than that it shouldn’t be too difficult…” Dio began tugging harder, but was still ignored.

“If you meet a holy knight I’d caution you to run away. Immediately. I’ve fought with them in the past and – oh for crying out loud, yes Dio what is it?“

The headless zombie just pointed at the large tentacles that were wrapping themselves around the ship’s hull. The other ghouls were trying to fight it off, but were having little success, as the tentacles didn’t seem too much mind their biting and scratching.

As one of the tentacles grabbed onto Sven, he just let out a heavy sigh before being dragged off the boat and plunged into the water below.

---

Laika turned her head sharply, heart bursting in her chest –

But aw nothing but moonlight on the shifting branches. It was dark out and everywhere she saw the shadows of her pursuers. She might have heard a twig torn loose by the wind, or a rabbit about its harmless nocturnal business, and not, in fact, a lycan savage daubed with the blood of his victims fixed on skinning her alive and wearing her face as a hat.

She hunched her shoulders as another chilly gust whipped up, shook the pines and chilled her to the bone. Castle Red had enveloped her in its foul embrace for so long she had come to take the physical safety it provide entirely for granted. Now she keenly felt its loss. There were many things in life one did not fully appreciate until they were lost. Like a good meal. Or a weapon. Or a few dozen trained vampire guards and their psychotic knife-obsessed princess.

Much to her surprise, the man named Dante left her unguarded and unchained in one of the tents in his lycan village. Needless to say, Laika took the first chance she could to make her escape but was beginning to suspect her security had been so lax for a reason. She was utterly and hopelessly lost in every sense of the word. The barbs of hunger, cold and fear had quickly come to bother her vastly more than the feeble prodding of her conscience ever had.

Laika caught he faintest glimmer of flickering orange light through the trees. A fire! Jubilation quickly ran through her, but then caution smothered it. Whose fire? She caught a whiff of cooking meat and her stomach gave a long, squelching growl, so loud she was worried it might giver her location away. If it was just one person, perhaps she stood a chance, cold and tired though she was.

The fire had been built in the middle of a narrow clearing, a small animal neatly skinned and spitted on sticks above it. Laika suppressed a powerful impulse to dive at it teeth first. A single blanket was spread out between the fire and a worn out traveling sack. A large axe leaned against a tree, worn out but kept sharp. It took no expert in the use of weapons to see this was not a tool for chopping would.

The camp of one man, but quite possibly one it would be a bad idea to be caught stealing the dinner of. Laika’s eyes crawled from meat to axe and back, and her mouth watered with intensity almost painful. Possible death by axe loomed large at any time, but at the moment certain death from hunger loomed even larger. She slowly straightened, preparing to—

“So it’s you,” came a gruff whisper, just behind Laika’s ear. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead.

A man stepped past Laika. A large shape she instantly recognized as lycan lowered himself cross-legged next to the fire, bright embers reflected in his brown eyes. A man Laika recognized and thought long dead.

Lazarus ripped off a piece of meat from the spit and began chewing on it. “Small world,” he muttered with his mouth full, gesturing for her to sit down.

I hope so as well.

Have Nora finish up the mission and then crash the wedding!

Because she needs to kill three people. A Lycan party where there isn't at least three deaths isn't a party at all.

Ain't no wedding like a Lycan wedding because a Lycan wedding ends with half the guests dead on the floor.

Wormtail

"At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separate from law and justice he is the worst."

- Aristotle 

Chapter 6 – A Price to Pay

The term “Eye for an eye” can trace its origins back to the Code of Hammurabi from Babylonian law, referring to equal compensation to the value of loss. Just as one inflicts an injury upon another person, so shall it be inflected upon him. It was a ritual of absolute justice and equivalent exchange, such was the vindictive nature of mankind. It wasn’t until centuries of bloodshed later that the phrase would be more commonly replaced with the saying “an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.”

Laika woke up in darkness. The floor was damp dirt, a chill draught across it making her shiver. The place smelled of mud and shit. They had blindfolded her, and marched her lurching across the dry field into the trees, crops tangling her feet, bushes clutching at her tattered clothes. They had crossed water on a creaking boat, a river perhaps. Then she had been shoved in here, heard a door wobble shut and the clattering of a bar on the outside.

And she had been left there in that dark cage, to wait for who knew what.

As Laika slowly got her breath back the pain began to creep up on her. Her scalp burned, her head thumped, her neck sent vicious stings down between her shoulders whenever she tried to turn her head. She wondered if Lune had made it to safety, but forced the thought away. For how many minutes or hours she waited there, she did not know, but eventually she heard voices outside.

“How do you know about her? This doesn’t concern you!” Caldina hissed.

“I have my ways,” Dante, the Warlord of the Forest, grinned at her. “I think I’m being very reasonable here, given that Grey has yet to give me his tribute for this season. If I could I would have you also, Caldina.”

“He has been busy fighting a war!” Caldina growled, “And that woman in there is a war criminal. You should hear of the atrocities she committed under the orders of those vampires!”

Fiona cleared her throat loudly, and their heated discussion came to an end. “Warlord, if I may have a word in private with Caldina.”

“Of course.” Dante grinned as always and left the two alone.

“You can’t be seriously thinking of giving her away, Fiona. You saw with you own eyes what that woman has done!”

“Calm yourself Caldina,” the old lycan responded. “Though he has some odd notions, he’s still the Warlord and we must follow him. What he said about the tribute was true, because our tribe has grown so large recently we owe him a large offering. Giving up that woman is a cheap price to pay. Besides,” Fiona gave Caldina her best Dante impression grin, “You know what happened to Dante’s last few wives don’t you?”

The door swung open and Laika was left blinking into the light. A man stood in the doorway, for someone the others called “Warlord” he was much shorter and thinner than she expected. He was also one of the most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on, if she was one to judge such things. Fiona followed close behind him, her claw darted out and slit the rope between Laika’s wrists in one clean motion. “Remember there’s a price to pay for everything.” The old lycan whispered in her ear. The man dragged Laika up by her armpit and flung over his shoulder.

“Your name is Laika, yes? The old witch told me so, and she is rarely wrong. You are to be wife number eleven!” He said cheerfully. As she passed the doorway Caldina snickered at her. “Wait until you hear about wives one through ten.” And then she pulled a bag over her head and Laika was once again in the dark.

---

Luka woke up but had the common sense to stay quiet. He could hear the human laying next to him snore softly. The woman nearby sat lazily in her chair scratching Dullahan behind its neck stump.

“You sure love that disgusting thing, Arachne,” the man in black addressed her.

“He makes better conversation than you, Johan, that’s for sure, and he’s a lot better looking too. Aren’t you, my darling?” Dullahan nuzzled closer to her in response. “My favorite creature in this whole organization.”

She felt a tap on her arm. “Miss Arachne?” It was Sven, looking straight at Luka.

“No, Sven, I’m afraid to say you’re nowhere near. In fact you need to work hard at not being my least favorite creature –“

“Not that.” Sven sighed. It seemed he did that a lot. “It’s the vampire we brought. The one from the courtyard. He’s awake.”

The woman called Arachne turned her head towards Luka and frowned. “Oh right. Dio’s new pet.” Johan chuckled and Sven shook his head.

“Hey man, have a nice sleep?” Sven asked sympathetically. “It’s a long story, but you, me, and sleeping beauty over there,” Sven pointed at the man lying next to Luka. “We’ll be going on a little trip. Welcome to Carte Blanche.”

Aeloshir, Dorian and Yvanna - The Hunt!

The small-talk and pleasantries was broken by the arrival of an old Tiger-like Aslandi. He looked wise and mellow but there was something about his whole countenance that firmly conveyed the fact that this one had partaken in a lot of hunts during his lifetime. He wore his scars like proud jewels, true to his Aslandian pride. There was a large claw swipe that ran through half of his maw, covered a bit by an eye-patch that he wore to cover his eye. His ear was also missing and his fangs were bared. He was a strange mix of savagery and sagacity.

Guys I have 69 likes pls don't like anymore of my posts. Thank you.

Dorian Salttail

Dorian groaned in an exasperated fashion under the hot sun of the plains that most Aslandi called home. He didn't want to be here. He hated the dry heat of the southeast, much preferring the sea air of his home port. In fact, if it hadn't been a repayment for a favor that he owed to the man who'd originally been contacted by the Aslandi to help them with these poachers, he wouldn't be within multiple miles of the place. But, he had bailed Dorian out of a rather large jam, and his leg had been badly damaged in the process. Filling in for him was the least the Sea Cat could do. Besides which, poachers who were crafty enough to exploit his race's culture like this were bound to offer a greater challenge than the gangs back home. And what did Dorian live for, if not a challenge?

Thus far, little of interest had happened. He and another poacher hunter, this one a large and ferocious Aslandi who, like Dorian, was odd in his own way for their species. Aeloshir Goldmane was his name, and he and Dorian had been talking about whatever caught their fancy; themselves, their hobbies, their experiences, things of that nature. Things took a sudden turn, however, when another oddity amongst the village turned up. A Tav'Salan, one of the rabbit folk, came up behind them, her anklet bells softly signaling her arrival, and asked them a question about whether or not they were there to hunt like she was. Something in her voice made Dorian's ears prick upwards; he knew that voice. He whipped his head around to look at its origin, and when he beheld her face his eyes went wide. Dorian Salttail never forgot face nor voice of those he took a liking to, and even years later he was like to greet such people as if they had met only the day before.

"Yvanna? Is that you?"

Already certain of his answer, he plucked the apple- gala, he noticed, as it was his favorite- out of the air and threw his arms around her. Her bewilderment made it awkward, however, so he released her and held out the apple for her to take back... only to snatch it back when she tried.

"Oh come now, don't tell me you've forgotten me! Dorian? Dorian Salttail? The little alley cat that you gave that apple to last time you snuck out to the port? How have you been? You must tell me!"

Aeloshir Goldmane
Proud servant of the Blood God

Ah, what a wonderful day on the plains were the thoughts that went through Aeloshir's mind as he took a deep breath. Their openness, with no dense woods or bogs, made them a perfect place for a straightforward hunt. No trickery, just pure physical contest of power. And the heat! Oh, by the Skull Throne, the heat makes the blood run faster and spill out from the wounds more; it heightens the passion and makes the whole ordeal more enjoyable! To make everything even better there was quarry to be had! Well, poachers aren’t a very glamorous prey, but it’s better than nothing and the Blood God demands blood to be spilled. All the better Aeloshir would get paid for it.

He would also have companions for this task. Aeloshir has been speaking with one of them, another aslandi called Dorian, for a while. To the priest’s eyes the sea cat was a bit odd for a member of their race, but it didn’t matter to Aeloshir. After all, most aslandi would consider him a weirdo as well. The conversation they had was a relaxing and fun affair. Nothing makes people bond faster like a few jokes and talk about one’s travels over a bottle of booze.

Shortly afterwards the last member of their poacher hunting warpack. It was a pretty Tav’Salan girl with a beautiful voice spoken with the peculiar accent of her race, making her whole appearance alluring. It seemed as if Dorian knew her, but it was the first meeting for the young priest.

“Hello there pretty lady!” Aeloshir spoke cheerfully with his usual roaring voice, announcing his good mood. “I am Aeloshir Goldmane, proud servant of the Blood God, and yes, this is indeed the hunting pack assembled by the aslandi of this town to hunt down those pesky poachers! Please treat me well, hahahaha!”

 

Fate: Age of Scions

Prologue

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

"These are dark times. Times without hope. Times without love."

"I once believed that love was a force so powerful that reason was blind to it, and hate was as a candle before a hurricane. I was wrong."

"A shadow born from our deepest nightmares comes to engulf the world and cover our sun in eternal twilight."

"We are about to witness the end of life as we know it, and there is little that I can do to stop it but I will try. For that is my fate."

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Act I: Fate

♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸❤¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪

Hmm? =3

Now, now dear. We both know you're not the type to cave to peer pressure. xD

Oh, if only you kn- OW OW OW NOT THE CLAWS OUCH HEY I NEED THAT EAR JESUS WHY MY EYES OWWWWWWWWWWWW

Fate: Age of Scions

by Naifu

A Scion courts Lady Fate by Saint Heun

Contents
The Story

• Prologue, Act I: Fate
• Prologue, Act II
• Prologue, Act III

The Bestiary

• Bandits. Bandits are outlaws who plague the countryside by raiding caravans, attacking farms and small towns. Bandits can consist of any member from the playable species.
  
  Spoiler

  Bodyguards: Bandits who usually tank for rest of his group.
  Rogues: Thieves who know how to get in, do their damage, and then get out fast.
  Arsonists: Renegade mages who specialize in starting fires.
• Black Orcs. Living weapons that serve the Nightmare Realm unquestionably. Black orcs live and die by their concept of strength. Anything that does not meet this standard is eradicated.
  
  Spoiler

  Grunts: Newly created black orcs and thus the weakest of their species.
  Raiders: Specialists in dueling and attacking settlements.
  Veterans: Seasoned warriors who have been promoted to leadership positions.
• Trogs. A primitive species found mostly in forests and jungles. Extremely xenophobic, their religion centers around the worship of stone carvings.
  
  Spoiler

  Fighters: Bruisers and thugs, these trogs are always the first ones into a fight.
  Shamans: With the power of earth and lighting, shamans support their allies while destroying their enemies.
  Crushers: Elite warriors skilled enough to command other trogs in battle.
• Demons. Creatures from the nightmare realm who have slipped through cracks in the barriers that separate the endless worlds across infinity.
  
  Spoiler

  Imps: Honey devils tasked with the specific purpose of enslaving members of other species.
  Ravagers: Powerful spirits who magic is fueled by chaos.
  Slimes: Rage demons who resemble living tar and flames. A few slimes are usually enough to devastate most armies.
• Yha'Goth. The personal army of a pumilo mage gone mad with power. Yha'Goth are a type of construct, and as such do not need to eat, sleep or feed. They are flesh and iron infused with evil.
  
  Spoiler

  Corrupters: Special yha'goth that cover their enemies in acid, before absorbing the liquified remains to increase their size and strength.
  Champions: Formidable fighters who excel in close-quarters combat.
  Widowmakers: Crafted for war, champions were design specifically to kill brave heroes.

Acknowledgements
Special thanks to your co-gm, DR, for putting up with all those random notes I pm'd him, and to everyone who join in on the fun.

Or our GMs decide to be sadistic.
 
And choose to put SISTER AGAINST SISTER. .__.!!

Neither of our GMs would ever do something so cruel, they just don't have it in them.

Well, that's guaranteed. Given the sides they're both on, and Pitou's 'love' of ships, they'll be pitted against each other.
Probably a death match if they're in the mood. Hah

I specifically recall there actually being angels in St. Peter's rendition in one instance (or was I hallucinating?). I think someone may even have gone to literal Hell.

The RP didn't last long enough for Peter to elaborate on those 4's origins. I believe the gist was they'd been REALLY empowered by the Church, but I do know they were all once regular humans.

I think Pitou mentioned something about Vampires and Lycans whose respective originators were human before they decided to play God, turning them into those creatures of the night. I think she may have gotten this from Peter, but I can't be sure. This was from a conversation months ago.

Delineate the commonalities between my characters like one of your French girls.

If I had to choose one thing that I've found to be in common with each of Missy's characters (that I've witnessed), it's a sense of displacement.

The Minerva I saw didn't start out in the lifestyle she came to lead. When her heritage caught up with her she rose to meet it, but the sense of being an outsider remained.

Maddie is literally an outsider. An alien who disguises herself to live the life she has.

Jeanne was common-born and adopted into one of the most prestigious families around. Despite the acceptance of her brothers, she always seemed to feel like she didn't belong or have the right to be a Gryphon. Like she had to somehow earn the name through her actions and honor.

Laika is a freed Lycan slave who lingers in servitude. She's happy with her place by her mistresses' side, but knows Vampire society is intolerant of her.

You seem to favor characters who fought for what they have. Jeanne's case was somewhat different in so much that her immediate family was actually alive, around, and welcoming; but that might be because four out of five of them were me...

I'll agree with Liar about the moral complexity bit though. I notice you tend to favor atypical moral stances and display them through the unique situations that crafted those characters. It's fun to watch those play out.

Keep in mind that I'm not super familiar with a lot of the characters you're known for though.