How I Met Your Warden

<Master, are you there? Master?!>

Make sure... that everyone I love is safe.

<W-What?! Oh fuck right off->

Don’t communicate to me again until I say otherwise.

Fairy’s urgent complaints fell away, leaving John with only the pulsing of blood behind his eyes. The malformed Court made for a fine arena following Galley’s attack: the floor had been mostly cleared of all debris and carpeting, the tapestries had been ripped from the walls by the hurricane winds that had swept them up, and every fire elemental faithfully bound here had been snuffed out by those same terrible winds. The bare, cracked walls showed their age and vulnerability; the Order was venerable, after all... but the steel in the eyes of the Brightons did not speak of weakness. Behind William's feet, the unmoving, yet slowly-healing, body of Galley waited for John's rescue. Before William, so too did Moira wait for rescue, albeit of a very different kind. John eyed the shield... and realized that, until now, he had never had reason to give it a scan.

Shield of the Golden Rose
Unique divine artifact. Indestructible and non-malleable by any being of level 998 or lower, immune to divine magic, and weighs a mere three pounds. Contains a pocket dimension that is immune to disenchanting and augments the bearer's inventory by +500. Can be augmented by certain related divine powers of a Warden of the Golden Rose.

Moira looked at John, her future... and her past. Until now, I've always been drawn to answer my call, and I always thought that whisper was the truth of being Warden. But now... yes, now I see it: the frayed edges of my family, of my Order, of even my noble father... who has sacrificed so much, yet has hardened his heart as all Warden-Lords inevitably do. I must bring balance... we must bring balance to him, to the Order... to humanity. This is part of a Warden's duty. Moira saw clearly... and though her mind struck a somber tone, she remained Moira, now more sure of her path than ever.

John dismissed the prompts showing the Blessing. He also knew the only path before him, now.

"Please come quietly, John... I need you, but not like this."

John shook his head. I don’t want to fight her… and even if I do and kill the old man, she’ll still be blessed unless I... The thought of forcing himself on Moira didn’t sit well with John… despite all the questionable behavior he had engaged in up until this point. He could always rationalize or excuse it, before; this was entirely a different creature.

“I promise you’ll be treated well,” Moira offered, “and we’ll work together… to fix everything.”

Her promise almost tempted John… but her shape still shimmered with holy magic. The “blessing” remained intact. Leaving her in this state couldn’t be justified, even if it meant helping the Order become something less monstrous. Sorry, Moira.

You cast Move on Moira's school clothes!

The well-crafted attire of Ashcroft Academy was a few threads thicker than the dress John had accidentally torn off of a random woman some days ago, but John's grasp of the power had also improved since then. With a long and awful tear, the uniform tore from her back and front on every portion of it, leaving tattered sleeves and strips of skirt and vest dancing in the wind. The bra and regular panties, too, had been sundered by the attack and left only the stalwart chastity belt behind. Moira's wide-eyed stare was followed immediately by a thrust of her shield... and swerving it back to block Lord Brighton's path. The man, even more naked than his daughter in this bizarre arena, had started to move... and despite his level and his rage, his movement had not appeared too fast for John to follow with the naked eye. Thank Christ, not another Yarrick... John had an entire team of mages, a collapsing school, and a raging Gorbachev back then; what did he have now?

With her bared breasts shaking as she struck the **** pose, Moira managed in a more even voice than John would've predicted, "D-Do not, Father. I am ordering you now: we are to take him alive." The Lord Brighton's anger melted to a baffled glare at his nude daughter. She stared back at him, her glistening eyes trembling in the light that shined through the holes made in their home. "This is the Lady's will... truly her will, and you will not supplant it with your own."

John eyed the drawn blade now, finally calm enough to realize this was the first time he could see its softly glowing, silver edge.

Scalpel of the Angel of Blades
This Heaven-forged sliver of physical light was re-forged into a rapier weapon to be wielded by the Wardens and Warden-Lords who could control it. The sword is merely enchanted to survive contact with the scalpel, which itself is wrapped along both edges of the service-end of the blade. The Scalpel deals a base 200 unaspected damage on contact and is either sharpened or dulled by the faith (in any Heaven and its mission) of its wielder. Hitting with the non-Scalpel parts of the sword simply deals its base damage +10.

Angel of Blades... so the Order really does work for that thing...

Despite their awkward states, neither Brighton backed down from the exchange. "Then," William carefully whispered, "you still believe this farce... that this boy is Her champion-"

"I do not believe that. I know that."

Sovereignty: Eye of the King suppresses Moira's Vow Keeper!

“He is the sacred-” The steady gaze Moira managed only faltered as she felt her steel panties suddenly drop until her legs reflexively bowed, catching it just over her knees as her nethers tasted the air. "W-What is the meaning of- John!"

"I'm going to save you, Moira." The Warden and the Gamer exchanged tearful glares: she at his audacity, him at her blessing. She fixed her pose... and let the vow keeper clatter to the floor before stepping out of it. John continued, his whisper echoing in the barren chamber, "I can only see one way to do that... and it's not fair, but it is right."

Lord Brighton's knuckles grew white under his rapier's guard, but doubt stayed his feet. He looked between the two and felt something years forgotten: Moira, at fifteen, had urged him to let her go with the knights to destroy an encampment of undead on the outskirts of Springfield... and without Lord Brighton himself. It was to be a proof of her training; it was of no true risk with the aid of his best knights. But this emotion had been then, too:

Apprehension... fear. A father's terror as his innocent daughter was bared to some horror. Lord Brighton's faith and fatherly instincts grappled inside him and, in their bloody scrap, tortured the old man who watched his nude, armed daughter approach her ****.

"You're not going to save me, John... not until I've saved you." Her hammer rose as she approached; despite her newfound strength, it seemed heavier to her, here. "I promise we'll work together towards that goal... but you need to surrender, first."

[Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRHsEWIC8PI]

The combat had begun; John's interface came alive as Moira's walk became a sprint, her shield leading at an angle as its edge readied to cleave into John. The distance seemed just right as John sprung his first trap.

You used Move on the Vow Keeper!

The giant steel panties began their flight to chase Moira's legs, where they'd entangle her feet once he took his Eye off of-

... But John's plan sank as Lord Brighton's bare hand suddenly caught the underwear, stopping its flight as the Move failed to carry the old man with it. The old man was quicker than he had let on, then... but John still saw him move. Moira's charge continued unabated.

Moira's hammer readied to crush John's arm or rib cage as it aimed for the middle of his body. Her shield grew in John's vision as she closed their distance. This is sort of like how we met, Moira. Do you remember? Her shield swung outward and missed John as he backed away. Can you still remember? Her hammer followed it, and John's nimble steps kept him from harm's path.

Moira’s feet threw up settled motes of dust as she tried to recover before John could return her attack. John readied his own thrusts and tested the shield’s claim.

Your serpent’s bite was deflected by Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent’s bite was deflected by Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent’s bite was deflected by Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent’s bite was deflected by Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent’s bite was deflected by Moira!

Even as John shot his quickened hands to what seemed like openings, the shield, true to her new ability’s claim, met every attack with effortless grace until it finally closed in on him. The wind left John as she bashed his chest with the artifact, tossing him almost a foot clear of her.

Moira's shield bash deals 23 holy damage! Stun resisted.

John got his footing and prepared to receive another charge... when suddenly a look of concentration overtook his wife. He had seen her call down a pillar of light before, and tried to gauge the distance between them to see if he was, indeed, in range.

"Legion are the Lady's faithful!"

What-

Moira... divided.

WHAT?!

John blinked, and the illusion made itself apparent: mirror images of Moira, each one eyeless and seemingly made from liquid gold, walked out from her, each one missing her shield but wielding her warhammer with both hands. Each marched out this way and, with a noiseless warcry, charged John. Confounded, John struck out at the first one that arrived.

Your serpent's bite deals 313 damage to the Warden's Spirit! Warden's Spirit defeated!

The apparition faded, but four of its equals were upon John in quick succession. The first gave him a taste of these false warhammers which, despite their faded, golden appearance, were real enough to hurt.

-109HP

Cursing, John quickcasted his serpent's bites, dispelling the illusions one after the other... until, as they cleared, he was met with his own reflection in the golden shield now charging into his face.

Moira’s shield charge deals 82 holy damage!

John reeled back, but her hammer swiftly chased his head for the follow-up. ****, John narrowly leaned in and down to avoid its arc, hoping he might be able to spear her and grapple her to the ground... and just as readily, the shield slid between him and his target as he faceplanted into its mirror sheen.

Your grapple was deflected by Moira!

Alright, no more of this.

Moira shouted in surprise as John leapt up and wrapped his limbs around her heirloom... but it was John's turn to be surprised as she continued to hold it up with his entire body weight on her single arm. Crap-

"John, what are you doing-?!"

You used Move on the Shield of the Golden Rose!

John had thought to have the shield slide from her grip like a frisbee with him on it... but the sudden jerk simply spun her in place as she maintained a trained grip on her second-most precious possession. Moira was done with words and raised her hammer to strike John's head as it popped over her shield. He let go... but fell to her feint.

"By the light of the Lady!"

The hammer still struck where his head was, but it also struck her shield's edge as it activated its blinding ability at point-blank range. John's eyes filled with holy light, and he staggered away desperately, blindly, towards the corner of the room. His minimap proved no more helpful than his eyes as it filled with static, leaving him free to trip over a large, unseen stone as Moira chased him down. John fell face first onto the floor and scrambled to try and get back up.

"In the Lady's name!"

Her hammer shimmered with smiting energy as it came crashing down on John's spine.... and flattened him against the damaged marble. Out from underneath her hammer and his flesh, a spider web of cracks erupted in the ground, and the floor bucked with the divine **** that hit it.

John's body ceased movement.

Moira kept her hammer on his body... and tears welled in her eyes as she choked back a sob. It's over! Lady help me, I'm sorry, John, but now we can-!

CRIT! -638HP, subdual

John lost half of his remaining HP in a single blow... but the stinging in his eyes was fading, and he was far from finished. Slowly he formed the spell in his mind and repeated it.

Your Heal restores 70HP to you.

Moira looked down at John, her guilt chewing at her as she beat her lover into unconsciousness, and cocked her head curiously at his unmoving state.

Your Heal restores 70HP to you.
Heal is now level 8!
Biomancy is now level 13!

Something was wrong... but it wasn't an illusion, or at least not a magical one. He was alive. Of course he's alive... that was the point... so why do I feel like...?

Your Heal restores 80HP to you.

"He's still awake!" shouted Lord Brighton, startling his daughter until she realized it was true. She went to lift her hammer... and John's right hand shot behind his back to grab it underneath its head and keep it pinned to his back. His left hand gripped a fistful of pebbles as he spun in place, hanging onto her hammer for leverage to do so, and threw the fistful at her face. Her shield quickly rose to deflect the same while she also pulled with all her might to free her hammer... as John had hoped.

You cast Move on your feet!

John released the hammer, letting Moira throw herself off balance as her feet spread to gain a good base. John's feet clicked together and shot between those same legs, pulling John through as if he were lassoed by the ankles by the unseen **** of his spell. Moira barely caught sight of it as she looked, and she thought to spin around to face him-

You quickcast faerie fire, forming 5 tiny faerie fires!

The attacks were meager, pathetic even; each of these "fires" was meant to light ways and point out enemies, not be used to burn a victim for 3-5 damage... but they were attacks, all the same. Each one formed over where John once lay and dashed, one after another, to strike Moira as she turned... and the shield, ever loyal and aware, ever lawful in its execution of a defense, tugged her back to fend them off. She didn't dare let go of her shield; a Warden never drops her shield. But each bolt landed, dissipating harmlessly on the artifact, and as she continued to try and fight her own shield, it would return to block the next.

By the time the second flame had hit, John was already past Moira's legs and wrangled to hang upside down behind her... right behind her naked, unprotected back. ****, she spun while her shield remained anchored in defending her, striking backwards and blindly at John as she clipped him on the hip.

"In the Lady's name!"

-293HP

The damage brought John into worrying lows of health... but her shield remained occupied, and he would struggle to engineer such a trick again. Mercilessly, he rapidly struck Moira on her neck, shoulder, ribs, and back as they laid exposed to him.

CRIT! Your serpent's bite deals 909 subdual damage to Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 283 subdual damage to Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 283 subdual damage to Moira!
CRIT! Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 909 subdual damage to Moira!
CRIT! Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 909 subdual damage to Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 283 subdual damage to Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 283 subdual damage to Moira!
Your quickcasted serpent's bite deals 283 subdual damage to Moira!

Moira was the Warden of the Golden Rose, the Champion of Humanity, the Shield Guardian, the English Lady-Protector-to-be... but here, as an angry John dashed his fingers into her back and struck her vitals until she was no longer awake, she remained mortal. The last serpent's bite struck set her well beneath her health, and with vacant eyes, the Warden stared back at John... before she began to collapse. John flipped in the air and sprung from his landing, diving to catch her as her weapon fell from her grasp and her shield, ever loyal, deflected the last of the attacks it could witness... even as the one who fell her now cradled her naked body to the ground.

You used Equilibrium, using 500MP to restore 1,250HP, to restore your health to full!

"Father," she whimpered as she tried to fight the fading, "please... no..."

"I'm sorry, Moira," John muttered, believing he knew what she meant, "but he... he has to go." John turned to finally face the old man, not realizing that the latter had been approaching silently since he-

SCHINK.

[MUSIC: https://youtu.be/g4mHPeMGTJM?t=15m21s]

A familiar sensation... horribly familiar; another nightmare chased into day, only John had lived this nightmare before. He gritted his teeth... but the blood bubbled up and rose through them anyways.

-1793HP
Gamer's body failed! Real damage sustained.
Critical damage: fourth left rib (broken), left lung (punctured), skin (two punctures). -15HP per round. Consciousness maintained.

"Ggrr.... Grrk....!" The taste of copper flooded John's mouth as he struggled to breathe, his gasps the only noise at this moment. He blinked through the tears and panic as his body convulsed around the blade. His blood dripped down the blade's edge that ran out from his chest; it sizzled and disintegrated as it touched the divine edge at the tip that had run totally through him. John's eyes slowly drifted up the musculature of an aged, red-haired devil... and the pitiless glare he gave the boy hanging on his sword.

The devil did not smile... nor cry, nor grimace. He simply was, as he ever strived to be, a stoic killer. He gave the boy no words. Outside, the healers and knights had eased the pain of the most injured, leaving the wailings and cries to a minimum. Here, in this ruined Court, the only sound was the soft drip of a teenager's blood on cracked marble... and the pained, choked grunts as that same boy tried to breathe.

John's face twisted as he tried to manage words; Lord Brighton continued to watch him die, and then watched as John gripped at the top of the rapier. He jerked once with an effort to dislodge it; the pain was unreal, and his body no longer responded to his will. John sobbed as pain and blood wracked his features; a cough of droplets painted Lord Brighton’s chest and chin, but he was unmoved. A gasp, **** breathing through a ruined lung as blood bubbled from the wound, a loss of focus in the boy’s eyes… and all those familiar tells of a dying man. John tried again to back away from the blade, to let himself off.

The blade exited John's body... but sideways as Lord Brighton slashed diagonally and through John with the plain steel portion of his blade.

-123HP
Gamer's body Fjfd8U# resetting. Gamer's body failed! Real damage sustained.
Critical damage: fourth U)TN$W9 rib (broken), fifth left rib (shattered), %$% lung (ruptured), skin (two punctures, one long cut), blood loss (serious), blood pressure DU#FHF (severe). -25HP per round. You will be F(H#$Ff to a dying state in 3 rounds.

John's legs were growing numb... and without his command, they suddenly collapsed, kneeling him before the master of the manor. The old man's sword reared back and low as he looked upon John with a more flowery dueling pose, an old habit of the former Warden-Lord's younger days... but nothing in the man's eyes spoke of mirth.

"GGggghrr....grrriii..." John's body began to tremble. His vision was fading. His eyes struggled to try and meet his killer as he barely managed, "I..gr... I'll... I'll destroy... you… and everything... you ever… grrk..."

"No, Mr. Newman," Lord Brighton sighed, "you will die... and the world will become a better place for it."

Goodbye… Mom... Fairy... Tricia... Moira....

John couldn't hear it as it came.

The blade glittered with the anger of Heaven, and Heaven's foe felt its taste a second time.

Alysha… Lily... everyone-.

The blade slid soundlessly through John's neck... and John briefly saw the final sights before the world fell away:

Glitching warnings from the Game.

Lord Brighton's grim sadness even as he struck the winning blow.

The color of marble dust dancing on the wind.

The dainty hand of Moira, still held up from where she laid.

The last rays of sunlight on a Monday morning.

John Newman, 18 and married, would not see the rays of the afternoon.