fandoms 31 and 32
31.
Title: Wandering Tactician
Fandom: StreetPass Battle/Fire Emblem
Characters/Pairings: Wentworth, Lyndis, no pairing
Rating: pg-13/gen
Tags: fusion AU, Wentworth is the Player Avatar
Word count: 300
Summary: Tacticians don't normally wander the wilderness looking for work. Or, indeed, of their own free will at all.
He stood up and shook himself down. The mud had ruined his once fine uniform. Whatever had hit him and left him for dead in the middle of a wilderness filled with hungry animals, miles from civilisation, had also broken his monocle. Everything was a blur without it. He couldn't possibly do his job. Assuming the blow to his head hadn't damaged his brain beyond repair anyway. Assuming he even had a Kingdom left to go back to. There was no sign of the King. He could hear no signs of life at all. It was suspiciously quiet, in fact. His instincts weren't failing him yet. Maybe with some careful planning he would leave this hellish land behind.
Always so impatient, he chided himself, so hasty whenever it came to an opportunity to expand. Ambition means nothing if you can't put your plans into place... What the hell made you think you were ready to expand onto the mainland when you had barely secured the Island? There had barely been enough boats...
Sudden movement. The flash of drawn blades, the scrape of metal. Instinct told him to duck down behind a boulder. A female voice rang out, a furious feline screech, a woman in battle, still fighting but backed into a corner...
Wentworth didn't like being in the fore of battle, not when he could be sipping tea in his command tent and calling out helpful advice. Still, he also disapproved of people attacking women and ganging up on them. There were standards to uphold, even in warfare.
Trying to remember how he had fought when he was still young and vital, he picked up a large branch and charged across the valley with it, bellowing what he hoped was a blood-curdling enough battle roar to scare off the enemy.
32.
Title: Sealed Sanctuary
Fandom: EVE Online
Characters/Pairings: N/A
Rating: pg-13/gen
Tags: mentions of slavery, blockade, starvation due to colony breakdown
Word count: 369
Summary: The cultists only got what they asked for.
They had gotten what they wanted in the end, those cultists, the ones considered insane even by Capsuleer standards - exactly what they had asked for. A pure land, untainted by the corrupt values of outsiders, a land that they truly controlled. It had even been cloistered from the temptations of the outside world with the helpful aid of the Amarr Navy who were quite happy to slap a strict quarantine on the solar system infested with madmen who had a habit of attacking every miner not contracted directly to them. Amarr had been chosen as their new homeland, the religious capital of the galaxy being a natural choice. A neighbouring low security sector of space, considered a problem area that the Amarrians were quite happy to get off their hands, had been given to their revered leader. It was even fairly profitable, full of raw materials that nobody really wanted to risk their lives mining, especially not with the cult there. Of course, the cultists were spared the indignity of having any actual trade relations, and they would never sully their hands by performing their own industry, a forbidden occupation altogether for the highest eschelons who had no training except for raiding unlicensed miners anyway. The barely policed area had attracted a lot of pirates and the cultists happily raided them back for ready made supplies but the flow of stolen goods didn't last forever. Especially once their own citizens, even the most ardent of believers, started to become disenfranchised once the food and power ran out. Most of them joined the larger pirate gangs who still managed to sneak through the blockade, unsuited to any other lifestyle. Others chanced the first wormhole that opened up. There were even people desperate enough to surrender to the Amarrians, knowing full well that they enthusiastically practiced slavery as a punishment, religious penance or just generic catch-all solution for most things. It was better than starving or freezing to death or being shot by your own law enforcers for daring to trade or build something without permission.
They had gotten exactly what they had asked for, and in the opinion of most traders, honest and otherwise, exactly what they had deserved.
Title: Wandering Tactician
Fandom: StreetPass Battle/Fire Emblem
Characters/Pairings: Wentworth, Lyndis, no pairing
Rating: pg-13/gen
Tags: fusion AU, Wentworth is the Player Avatar
Word count: 300
Summary: Tacticians don't normally wander the wilderness looking for work. Or, indeed, of their own free will at all.
He stood up and shook himself down. The mud had ruined his once fine uniform. Whatever had hit him and left him for dead in the middle of a wilderness filled with hungry animals, miles from civilisation, had also broken his monocle. Everything was a blur without it. He couldn't possibly do his job. Assuming the blow to his head hadn't damaged his brain beyond repair anyway. Assuming he even had a Kingdom left to go back to. There was no sign of the King. He could hear no signs of life at all. It was suspiciously quiet, in fact. His instincts weren't failing him yet. Maybe with some careful planning he would leave this hellish land behind.
Always so impatient, he chided himself, so hasty whenever it came to an opportunity to expand. Ambition means nothing if you can't put your plans into place... What the hell made you think you were ready to expand onto the mainland when you had barely secured the Island? There had barely been enough boats...
Sudden movement. The flash of drawn blades, the scrape of metal. Instinct told him to duck down behind a boulder. A female voice rang out, a furious feline screech, a woman in battle, still fighting but backed into a corner...
Wentworth didn't like being in the fore of battle, not when he could be sipping tea in his command tent and calling out helpful advice. Still, he also disapproved of people attacking women and ganging up on them. There were standards to uphold, even in warfare.
Trying to remember how he had fought when he was still young and vital, he picked up a large branch and charged across the valley with it, bellowing what he hoped was a blood-curdling enough battle roar to scare off the enemy.
32.
Title: Sealed Sanctuary
Fandom: EVE Online
Characters/Pairings: N/A
Rating: pg-13/gen
Tags: mentions of slavery, blockade, starvation due to colony breakdown
Word count: 369
Summary: The cultists only got what they asked for.
They had gotten what they wanted in the end, those cultists, the ones considered insane even by Capsuleer standards - exactly what they had asked for. A pure land, untainted by the corrupt values of outsiders, a land that they truly controlled. It had even been cloistered from the temptations of the outside world with the helpful aid of the Amarr Navy who were quite happy to slap a strict quarantine on the solar system infested with madmen who had a habit of attacking every miner not contracted directly to them. Amarr had been chosen as their new homeland, the religious capital of the galaxy being a natural choice. A neighbouring low security sector of space, considered a problem area that the Amarrians were quite happy to get off their hands, had been given to their revered leader. It was even fairly profitable, full of raw materials that nobody really wanted to risk their lives mining, especially not with the cult there. Of course, the cultists were spared the indignity of having any actual trade relations, and they would never sully their hands by performing their own industry, a forbidden occupation altogether for the highest eschelons who had no training except for raiding unlicensed miners anyway. The barely policed area had attracted a lot of pirates and the cultists happily raided them back for ready made supplies but the flow of stolen goods didn't last forever. Especially once their own citizens, even the most ardent of believers, started to become disenfranchised once the food and power ran out. Most of them joined the larger pirate gangs who still managed to sneak through the blockade, unsuited to any other lifestyle. Others chanced the first wormhole that opened up. There were even people desperate enough to surrender to the Amarrians, knowing full well that they enthusiastically practiced slavery as a punishment, religious penance or just generic catch-all solution for most things. It was better than starving or freezing to death or being shot by your own law enforcers for daring to trade or build something without permission.
They had gotten exactly what they had asked for, and in the opinion of most traders, honest and otherwise, exactly what they had deserved.