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#41
Last post by GoblinFae - April 26, 2024, 07:39:38 PM
"I forget. And I am unused to it. Spoiled brat and all that. I'm used to mind games and verbal chess games so I'm hesitant with what I say, what I share and have to think everything through before I allow myself the vulnerability. I try to be better than it. I try to be more communicative and clear to counter it. I try not to let things fester because I know firsthand how things explode. But, with you I don't know the insults I cause only see the aftermath. I feel like I just keep failing you because you're always tensed for a fight and I'm always ducking to avoid one."
He stopped his touching with how Fletcher started to look more concerned and bothered by it and instead rested his hands at his sides. "I'm sorry. You didn't want to have this conversation right now."
#42
He couldn't seem to relax into whatever it was Theo was doing. He just wasn't used to it. It was so foreign to him to be touched without expectation. It felt like danger, even though it was the farthest from danger he possibly could have been. His brow furrowed deeper with his own growing anxiety. "That's just life, though, isn't it?" he asked. "Where I come from, there's always someone trying to take your bread or insult your name to get ahead. There's always something to fight about, so I'm always ready for it. You forget that, don't you? You must've if you're making all this your fault."
Fletch reached up and tapped Theo lightly on the nose. "You're from here. I'm from there. We couldn't be more different. 'Course we're both stumbling in the dark. Be more strange if we didn't."
#43
Last post by GoblinFae - April 26, 2024, 06:59:02 PM
Theo rubbed his fingers against Fletcher's lips before shifting to pull the other man into his lap and begin finger combing his hair again. "Your yes now is allowed to be a no later. I am not the only one that needing consent from applies to."
He gently massaged the creases in his brow to help soothe Fletcher's features. The action also helped to delay and gather his thoughts before he was able to answer.
"I keep upsetting you when I'm not trying to cause conflict at all. I'm just bumbling through things when I'm not even trying to make things complicated."
#44
After Morthil's last mission had almost got him killed, he settled in a small village nestled in the foothills of the Thunderblacks. Away from trouble. Nice and quiet, and with a beautiful view, to boot.
Morthil had been in this village for a month. He was tempted to retire early. There was only one problem.
See, sometimes, Morthil stopped being Morthil and became a cat. Much to the absolute chagrin and detestation of himself.
Then it was blasted kids chasing him all over the village, Morthil escaping by the hair on his back and then sitting on a roof glaring at the blasted things.
Then he'd carefully climb back down only to be startled by some old lady (how did she know he was up there in the first place) cooing at him and offering his cat self a bowl of milk.
The last couple of days, Morthil had been perched on top of the village watchtower.
It was so peaceful and nice.
Until all hell broke loose.
Of course it had to be goblins.
Morthil slid down the watchtower and hit the ground running, quickly ducking into an alleyway and shifting back into elf form.
He hurriedly grabbed his sword and started to run out of the alleyway, before something in a puddle of water on the ground caught his eye.
"Are you kidding me?"
His cat ears had not shifted, comically leaving him stuck with cat ears.
Suddenly, a loud explosion shook the whole town. The ground vibrated violently beneath Morthil's feet.
He peeked out of the alleyway and was met with absolute chaos.
There were goblins everywhere.
Suddenly he felt himself shrinking.
"Really?! Right now? Come on!" He chided himself, before finding him back in cat form.
He was exasperated for all of two seconds before he shrugged, picking the closest goblin and launching himself at the goblins face.
"Pick on someone your own size, you vertically challenged piece of green meat!" Morthil yelled, shocking the goblin for two reasons. One, cats don't normally talk, and two, Morthil had a mean set of claws. The goblin tried to fight him off and Morthil scratched him again before jumping off of the goblin and running away.
The horde of goblins worked scarily fast. Soon, the town was ablaze, and there were just too many for the villages hunters to deal with.
Morthil found himself cornered in an alleyway, four goblins had him trapped against a dead end.
For a while Morthil was able to cause chaos, but then the goblins figured out it was a cat that probably normally is not a cat and chased Morthil.
Morthil looked around the alley way with wide eyes. He truly was trapped. He didn't think he had the energy for another shift.
It just might work...
"You might want to sit down," he advised the goblins, before he started shifting in front of them. As soon as he was fully into his elf form he ran.
He utilized their shock to push past them and make a run for it.
Until he ran right into another goblin, who knocked him out and dragged him into the town square.
Morthil awoke flat on the ground, his face pressed into the dirt, his hands tied behind his back and the feeling of cold steel on the back of his neck.
The goblins were going to kill him.
#45
Last post by Hyacinthus - April 26, 2024, 05:39:02 PM
Goblins were a curious handful of creatures. While they often resided within the depths of forests and caves, steering mostly clear of humanity, they did this because on some instinctive level, they were very much aware of their weakness and hierarchy on the proverbial totem pole that was Leraana. In a land of hunters, a lone goblin— even a small group of them— were often prey to creatures or humans... and so they often kept out of sight, stuck to their forests and caves, and went unnoticed on the main roads. Normally. There were exceptions to the rule, of course; lone goblins who broke away from the mold and made names for themselves across Leraana, as well as entire hordes of the creatures that weren't so easily denied taking to the civilized lands. This was a story in which both cases collided. A certain cursed elf just so happened to be caught in the middle of it. Midday, early Summer. The overbearing sun had thankfully been blotted out by rainclouds over Yermomstead, one of many small villages that dotted the base of the Thunderblacks. It was a quaint place; located to the south of the mountains, it contended with typically hot afternoons and cold evenings— a result of being located so close to the mountainside. For a blessing, miles south, east and west of the village were fairly clear, the Serha plains every bit as vast as they were flat. Raiders were often seen quite a ways off, and while the villages defenses weren't particularly impressive, the able-bodied hunters of Yermomstead often doubled as defenders at the gates when needed— their prowess with the bow and arrow allowing them to mark targets from afar before they could get within any dangerous range of the village. It was a peaceful town, one which enjoyed relative security and stability for several generations. Until today, at least. Who could say from whence they came, truly? The plains were quiet, tranquil... until they weren't. The hunters on guard, a pair of Adelan men— one a few years past his prime, the other in his early 20s— could feel it before they could see it. The rumbling. The vibrating earth beneath their feet, as if the ground itself were being trampled by a newborn, furious river's current. Raiders, they may have thought originally— yet with such vibration, surely the horses would've been seen over the horizon by now, yes? Yet there was nothing-- not a hoof in sight.
The rumblings, however, continued to grow in force and urgency. An earthquake, perhaps? Yet the ground showed no signs of faulting, nor did the structures within the village show any signs of failing. What was it, then?
"...Better call the chief. Go on, Serk-- I'll keep watch." Spoke up the older of the two men-- His blend of gray and black hair shifting in the ominous winds that picked up in the vicinity. His arms had instinctively drawn forth the bow and arrow with which he'd taken down several beasts in his time. 'Serk', the younger of the two, a red-headed man of considerable physique, did not contest his words-- It would've been folly to do so, in his eyes. The older man was his mentor, after all; He'd taken him on several hunts in the past, and of the man lessons the older man had forced into his head, disobeying an order in a time of uncertainty was one that stayed at the forefront. "Call if anything happens, then? I'll-- I'll be back as quick as I can." Came the redhead's rather uncertain words, though his body didn't move with the same hesitation-- indeed, before he'd even finished the sentence, he'd stepped down from his watchpost behind the village gate and begun making his way north, towards the residential's. His mentor was right-- the chief needed to know that something was amiss. With any luck, it was nothing and the tremors would stop soon.
Alas, luck was a two-sided coin.
"UNVEIL! ATTACK! TAKE THE SOUTH GATE AND CIRCLE TO THE EAST!"
A veteran rarely loses his edge. Under threat of beasts and raiders alike, it was natural to ensure that one's nerves were as steeled as a nocked and drawn shortbow. Yet as a therefore unseen stone javelin of relatively crude make quite literally materialized out of thin air, mid-flight as it spiraled directly for the hunter's head, his instincts won out; He ducked, thankfully in the nick of time as it just barely grazed his graying hair before landing harmlessly past the gates. As he cowered, the trembling silence gave way to a massive roar-- not a singular creature, but the symphony of tens of hundreds-- A rancorous, rallying battle cry. His eyes snapped open, and in spite of the unknown danger, he once more lifted himself up to peer above the gate from the watchpost... To find a sight most horrifying. For what now rushed forth at the gates was no mere raider party, nor flock of beasts... but a goblin horde. A MASSIVE goblin horde-- Lead from the front, it seemed, by a particularly unique 'chief'.
His armor was crimson and spike-covered; Likely painted red with the blood of his enemies-- And he wore the skull of a bear, fashioned into something akin to a warrior's helmet. Yet what caught the man's attention was neither his armor, nor the large warhammer he wielded in his right hand. No... it was the fact that in his left, he very clearly wielded magic. Magic that, as he made a singular gesture with his fingers-- like pointing a projectile weapon at the main gate-- pulsed forward with a horrifyingly surreal force. Green flames, as green as his skin, poured out from his hand and slammed against the wooden gate like a flood of water, shocking the older hunter and throwing him off balance besides. Before he could catch his footing, the unthinkable happened; The flames had burrowed a massive hole straight through the village gates, the sturdy wood giving way to unnatural, profane forces. It all happened in an instant-- all as if premeditated. Before the words "Goblin Horde Attack!" Could completely make it out of the hunter's throat, the little green raiders were inside-- and he was burned to a crisp by flames of green from their leader.
The rest of the village fell in short succession. A cascade of villager's screams and warcries echoed through Yermomstead within minutes of the horde's arrival, as they spread and terrorized the men, women and children alike in their absolute conquest. Those who could fight, did; Hunters took to their bows and spears, and though they valiantly defended their homes in the ensuing chaos, there was only so much they could do against the encroaching horde. Before long, the small town had gone up in flames; A pyre which could be seen far into the distance, even in the midday sky.
A pyre which a certain young Goblin heroine just so happened to be close enough to spot, as 'luck' would have it.
#46
Fletch frowned, genuinely confused. "What you're doing wrong?" he repeated. He took Theo's hand and drew it towards him, brushing his lips against the man's fingers. "You know that's always going to be a yes."
#47
Last post by GoblinFae - April 26, 2024, 05:14:37 PM
He sighed and sat up, reaching for Fletcher but stopping at the last minute. "May I touch?
"I don't think we're fighting. Or I definitely don't want to be. I just...I don't know what I keep doing wrong. I'm not trying to be problematic. And yes obviously we will have this conversation tomorrow or later. But I want simple too. I hope you know that."
#48
"Yeah. M' sorry, I had a bit more when I got back," he winced. "I just...I want yesterday. I want this feeling to go away and I want what we had yesterday. I don't want to fight anymore. I'm so tired of fighting, love. I want simple. Can it just be simple?"
#49
Last post by GoblinFae - April 26, 2024, 04:56:24 PM
He collapsed into bed with him but leaned up on his elbow so to be on more equal lounging. "It's not like that at all to me, Jack. I don't consider it a chore or a way to keep you here or even as a means to apologize or manipulate you. I offered because I do want it. But I understand we're not in the best of moods currently either of us. Now's not the right time."
Theo slid one hand across the bed closer to Fletcher without touching. He craved the contact but felt like he was doing everything wrong. Everything was setting his anxiety on edge and none of it would be any semblance of better until they had a chance to talk.
"I know you've been drinking—which is fine—but are you feeling able to talk about things right now? Or should we wait until you're less tipsy? Either is perfectly alright and I know this is not optimal timing especially when you wanted to talk earlier and I wasn't comfortable doing so at the time."
#50
"Yeah, 'n I'm the bastard man who makes you cry, so..." Fletch followed without question, not the most graceful man he'd ever been by far as he stumbled forward and rolled onto the bed, pulling Theo down with him. He didn't wrap the man up in a tight embrace as he usually did, but remained far enough away from him to gaze at him. It was a mournful gaze. A troubled one. Theo's offer had seemed to do the opposite of what he'd intended it to.
"Love...I'm not in the business of comparing who I've been with. So don't take this that way, alright? But..."
Fletcher trailed off. He turned and shoved his face into the pillow and let out a heavy sigh and a few choice words before turning back so he could be read. "My husband went through it before I met him. Alright? The man before me was a son of a bitch. And Ven treated this sort of thing...a bit like you're doing now. Like a chore. An obligation. And that's never how it should be. That is never what I wanted from him, and it's never what I want from you. So whoever taught you that that's what you've got to do to keep a man...well. I've words for him, first of all. But second: he was wrong.
"What I want from you," he continued, a little softer and a little closer now, "Is for you to want it. And to want it for you. Not for me. You could offer me everything on a platter, love, and I'll not take it from you if it's coming from where this is."
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