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Description

THIS TAKES PLACE LAST YEAR around August 2015, of Harvest 8291 in canon.

Promises Part I: fav.me/d91f2q4

I'm sorry the story is in the description, but the art looked horrible as a preview on the literature page so I was like fuq that LOL

Noon, Local Tavern
Cantor, Harvest 8291
Raucous laughter rattled the merry atmosphere of the local tavern— though local perhaps it could not be called, for it had been erected at quite a distance from the central Abbey. Such a distance afforded both establishments some very small leeway to ignore their respective teachings and transgressions, though even many streets between them had always seen at least some decorum in the only Cantish business where mead flowed longer than holy wine.

That is, until now. Bearded, braided, and hulking Valski raised their pints, wooden mugs crashing together and great tales already being told despite the fact that it was but midday. There had been some amongst the refugees who spent their time drinking until the gravity of their situation was lifted from their shoulders for a glorious few drunken hours—and this was their roost, their home base of sorts. The only place that felt at least somewhat like the home they once had.

And stuck in the middle of this wild party was the considerably calmer Cantish lot—the ones who had always frequented this tavern before it became a place for forgetting troubles rather than a place for discussing the latest news. Amongst these hardy men, was the hardiest of them all: Jasper Cotterill, imperial guard of the Miran Royal Military.

While his companions may have been peeved by their boisterous foreign company, Jasper seemed not to hear nor take notice of them at all, his own pint sitting thoughtfully on his lips as he contemplated impossibilities becoming possibilities.

It had been many years. Many years since they lay tracing the stars on the glen. Many years since he’d told a fantastical bed time story of knights and conquests to replace venomous words their father used to poison their dreams.

Although it was different now, many years did not dull the familiarity one jot. Jasper would recognize that laughter anywhere, the mirth and carefree sound that he had desperately protected from the crushing loneliness that he himself had known as the eldest son with no one to protect him in turn. His mind was bursting with thoughts of what had happened since he left—why Cederic was missing when he came back to take him to the better life he had so carefully constructed. What he might look like, now that he was a fully grown man and not a young boy on the cusp of his teens. There were so many unanswered questions, and it seemed the bottom of his mug didn’t hold the key to unravelling the mystery of any of them.

So deep in thought he was that he hardly heard the ruckus when another group of Valski pushed through the swinging doors, welcomed by a rousing call of salutations and passed drinks. They were all deep in concentration recounting their latest mud brawls, which the Cantish found akin to pigs wrestling in a pit of refuse—but which the Valski seemed to regard as honorable and entertaining. There was no interest in such trivialities for Jasper however, as he was now ruminating on the fact that he would soon have to share with his sisters the suspicion that their younger brother had returned.

But one man, slighter than the rest and clean shaven, caught the attention of the local Cantish—for he was quite different from the other Valski; having only just walked through the door to hear many of his brethren accusing him of what seemed to be a very funny but not entirely valiant fight. The more conventionally handsome young man was defending himself rather loudly in light of these crows against his character, smug in the face of the Valski party’s amusement. “Well I wasn’t about to let him get the better of me! All’s fair in a mud fight I say—“

And his subsequent laughter prompted Jasper to turn in his seat, surprised to hear that very same sound that had taunted him but days prior during the first influx of refugees.

“Cederic!” The name escaped him before he was even aware of the thought forming in his mind, a strong note of surprise, shock and disbelief in his voice. And at first, nobody paid Jasper’s outburst any attention except for the Cantish, who seemed confused that their local bred imperial guard had his jaw hanging open with his mug clattering onto the counter.

The Valski on the other hand were entirely unconcerned with the imperial guard’s behavior, until they noticed the change that had come over the runt of their crew, carefully regarding the red haired man’s own shock, disbelief, and uniquely to him—disconcertion. The tavern soon fell quiet in the midst of what was clearly a standoff, as though the slightest movement might trigger what some feared to be the brewing of a fight. A pregnant pause that felt like an eternity passed before a great bearded Valski man ventured quietly, “…. Spencer? What’s got ‘yo tongue?”

And that set it off. ‘Spencer’ bolted like a spooked peryton, swinging doors bursting open as he shoved them aside and ran as if he were a crook caught red-handed.

“Stop!” Jasper jumped to his feet, dashing through the crowd of confused Valski at a speed much faster than anyone in the tavern would have expected for such a heavily built man—shouting after who he now knew to be unmistakably Cederic. “Cederic stop at once!”

Leaving mutters of confusion and indignation in his wake as he tore through the crowd that Cederic was restlessly weaving through, Jasper shouted after him in his impatience to have questions answered, “Cederic, why must you flee?!”

“I’m not Cederic!” The man shouted back, though it sounded less like a rejection of the claim so much as a denial of it.

“What are you trying to pull!” Jasper hastily jumped over a wheelbarrow, feeling as if he was closing the gap between Spencer’s head start—“I would recognize my brother anywhere—“

“That’s rich!” Spencer laughed derisively, reaching a fork in the road. Chickens fluttered and clucked with distress as he chose his path at the very last second, turning the corner too sharply and rattling their cages as he whirled past. He offered a hasty apology to the keeper before shouting back at Jasper, still hot in pursuit—“So I’m your brother now am I? Sure didn’t seem like it when you abandoned me to the dogs!”

Taken aback by the bite in his words— the resentment and the nasty edge, Jasper faltered in his chase for a moment as though indignant to be accused of such things. But he faltered also because he, more familiar with the Cantish streets than his younger brother, knew that Spencer had turned onto a dead end. “What—“ He spluttered, nose and brow crinkling in confusion, “What nonsense is this?!”

Spencer himself ground to a halt as passerbyes stared in bewilderment at this odd chase between guard and Valski, whirling around as though glancing for some path he’d overlooked—some golden escape. But there was none, and so he finally turned sharply to face his pursuer, who was still unable to discern meaning from the claims that he had abandoned anybody.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, Jasper!” The edge of Spencer’s mouth curled into his signature smirk, though it seemed less confident than usual. “You knew you were handing me over into a lifetime of suffering when you refused to take me with you!”

“I promised you I'd return for you!” Jasper took a step forward—and Spencer took one step back. “And I did, but you'd all but vanished!”

“Well you were too damn late weren’t you!” Spencer snarled, tensing up like a cornered dog, “I did what I had to do—Did you think I would still be faithfully waiting for you like a helpless whelp by the time I turned 18?” He spat on the ground, as though the words themselves tasted vile—“I ran away, just like you did—Made a new life for myself because you obviously didn’t want me in yours!”

“…” Jasper straightened, fists clenched as tightly as his brows were knit in light of this terrible misunderstanding, heart wrenching accusations and what was clearly years of festering resentment. “…Cederic, I—“

A curled lip and a snap interrupted him as Spencer thrashed his arm through the air as though smacking the words away, “Don’t—! Call me that.”

“Cederic,” Jasper repeated, voice stern as he began to realize that Cederic was, despite the years, still a young boy at heart, “I'd never have abandoned you. I trained every day so that I could afford a place for the both of us—for our sisters and to deliver everyone from our father—“

“Well father is dead—and so is ‘Cederic’.” Spencer spat, cold and callous yet trembling all over his towering frame, “So I don’t need your protection, I don’t need your money, and I don’t need you to start acting like you care now that I’m not a burden anymore.”

As frozen as the Valski landscape, ice-like words riddled the imperial guard, each bitter wave unrelenting and stripping Jasper of his defenses. How he now envied the Northern Wilds' unfaltering mountain ridges, solid and barren— unable to feel.

During this brief moment of silence, Spencer spied the opportunity for escape. Brushing past his estranged brother, with a scowl etched across his handsome face; Jasper declined to bid Spencer adieu, for nothing he'd could say now would bring relief to the perceived injustice of what he'd done.

"Cederic..." the Cantish native whispered with regret, the name lost to the murmuring crowd and disappearing along with the person to whom it belonged.

The title of this should honestly be Fully Grown Men Still Can't Get Along The Movie.

Oh my gosh let me tell you how overdue this is haha like-- this is supposed to happen basically a week after the original Promises comic above!! (WHICH WE FINISHED BACK IN JULY 2015.....) But row and I both got really busy so the comic that we planned for this never happened. In lieu of that, we decided to do a literature piece so that you guys can see what happened.

As some of you may know, Spencer has spent the past 2 or 3 months in Amedra mooching off his FWB, Nice. So after this little confrontation and a few more troublesome things Spencer got caught up in, he was basically kicked out of Cantor/ran away from the possibility of running into Jasper again whiiich basically means that this meeting, dramatic as it was, produced little to no results. But now Jasper knows that Spencer is alive-- and Spencer knows exactly where to find Jasper and subsequently, his sisters.

With Spectre Day and the Day of Forgiveness coming up, Spencer's finally gotten off his bum ass and is heading towards Cantor without knowing what he'll find for himself there; but hoping that it'll be better than what he left behind.

Also more from the Cotterill brothers coming, for they have yet to thank this lovely group for their very silly but very lovely awards. 8) Please look forward to it!!

Art/prose/Spencer Stroud - Me
Edits to the prose/Jasper Coterill -

Description

THIS TAKES PLACE LAST YEAR around August 2015, of Harvest 8291 in canon.

Promises Part I: fav.me/d91f2q4

I'm sorry the story is in the description, but the art looked horrible as a preview on the literature page so I was like fuq that LOL

Noon, Local Tavern
Cantor, Harvest 8291
Raucous laughter rattled the merry atmosphere of the local tavern— though local perhaps it could not be called, for it had been erected at quite a distance from the central Abbey. Such a distance afforded both establishments some very small leeway to ignore their respective teachings and transgressions, though even many streets between them had always seen at least some decorum in the only Cantish business where mead flowed longer than holy wine.

That is, until now. Bearded, braided, and hulking Valski raised their pints, wooden mugs crashing together and great tales already being told despite the fact that it was but midday. There had been some amongst the refugees who spent their time drinking until the gravity of their situation was lifted from their shoulders for a glorious few drunken hours—and this was their roost, their home base of sorts. The only place that felt at least somewhat like the home they once had.

And stuck in the middle of this wild party was the considerably calmer Cantish lot—the ones who had always frequented this tavern before it became a place for forgetting troubles rather than a place for discussing the latest news. Amongst these hardy men, was the hardiest of them all: Jasper Cotterill, imperial guard of the Miran Royal Military.

While his companions may have been peeved by their boisterous foreign company, Jasper seemed not to hear nor take notice of them at all, his own pint sitting thoughtfully on his lips as he contemplated impossibilities becoming possibilities.

It had been many years. Many years since they lay tracing the stars on the glen. Many years since he’d told a fantastical bed time story of knights and conquests to replace venomous words their father used to poison their dreams.

Although it was different now, many years did not dull the familiarity one jot. Jasper would recognize that laughter anywhere, the mirth and carefree sound that he had desperately protected from the crushing loneliness that he himself had known as the eldest son with no one to protect him in turn. His mind was bursting with thoughts of what had happened since he left—why Cederic was missing when he came back to take him to the better life he had so carefully constructed. What he might look like, now that he was a fully grown man and not a young boy on the cusp of his teens. There were so many unanswered questions, and it seemed the bottom of his mug didn’t hold the key to unravelling the mystery of any of them.

So deep in thought he was that he hardly heard the ruckus when another group of Valski pushed through the swinging doors, welcomed by a rousing call of salutations and passed drinks. They were all deep in concentration recounting their latest mud brawls, which the Cantish found akin to pigs wrestling in a pit of refuse—but which the Valski seemed to regard as honorable and entertaining. There was no interest in such trivialities for Jasper however, as he was now ruminating on the fact that he would soon have to share with his sisters the suspicion that their younger brother had returned.

But one man, slighter than the rest and clean shaven, caught the attention of the local Cantish—for he was quite different from the other Valski; having only just walked through the door to hear many of his brethren accusing him of what seemed to be a very funny but not entirely valiant fight. The more conventionally handsome young man was defending himself rather loudly in light of these crows against his character, smug in the face of the Valski party’s amusement. “Well I wasn’t about to let him get the better of me! All’s fair in a mud fight I say—“

And his subsequent laughter prompted Jasper to turn in his seat, surprised to hear that very same sound that had taunted him but days prior during the first influx of refugees.

“Cederic!” The name escaped him before he was even aware of the thought forming in his mind, a strong note of surprise, shock and disbelief in his voice. And at first, nobody paid Jasper’s outburst any attention except for the Cantish, who seemed confused that their local bred imperial guard had his jaw hanging open with his mug clattering onto the counter.

The Valski on the other hand were entirely unconcerned with the imperial guard’s behavior, until they noticed the change that had come over the runt of their crew, carefully regarding the red haired man’s own shock, disbelief, and uniquely to him—disconcertion. The tavern soon fell quiet in the midst of what was clearly a standoff, as though the slightest movement might trigger what some feared to be the brewing of a fight. A pregnant pause that felt like an eternity passed before a great bearded Valski man ventured quietly, “…. Spencer? What’s got ‘yo tongue?”

And that set it off. ‘Spencer’ bolted like a spooked peryton, swinging doors bursting open as he shoved them aside and ran as if he were a crook caught red-handed.

“Stop!” Jasper jumped to his feet, dashing through the crowd of confused Valski at a speed much faster than anyone in the tavern would have expected for such a heavily built man—shouting after who he now knew to be unmistakably Cederic. “Cederic stop at once!”

Leaving mutters of confusion and indignation in his wake as he tore through the crowd that Cederic was restlessly weaving through, Jasper shouted after him in his impatience to have questions answered, “Cederic, why must you flee?!”

“I’m not Cederic!” The man shouted back, though it sounded less like a rejection of the claim so much as a denial of it.

“What are you trying to pull!” Jasper hastily jumped over a wheelbarrow, feeling as if he was closing the gap between Spencer’s head start—“I would recognize my brother anywhere—“

“That’s rich!” Spencer laughed derisively, reaching a fork in the road. Chickens fluttered and clucked with distress as he chose his path at the very last second, turning the corner too sharply and rattling their cages as he whirled past. He offered a hasty apology to the keeper before shouting back at Jasper, still hot in pursuit—“So I’m your brother now am I? Sure didn’t seem like it when you abandoned me to the dogs!”

Taken aback by the bite in his words— the resentment and the nasty edge, Jasper faltered in his chase for a moment as though indignant to be accused of such things. But he faltered also because he, more familiar with the Cantish streets than his younger brother, knew that Spencer had turned onto a dead end. “What—“ He spluttered, nose and brow crinkling in confusion, “What nonsense is this?!”

Spencer himself ground to a halt as passerbyes stared in bewilderment at this odd chase between guard and Valski, whirling around as though glancing for some path he’d overlooked—some golden escape. But there was none, and so he finally turned sharply to face his pursuer, who was still unable to discern meaning from the claims that he had abandoned anybody.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about, Jasper!” The edge of Spencer’s mouth curled into his signature smirk, though it seemed less confident than usual. “You knew you were handing me over into a lifetime of suffering when you refused to take me with you!”

“I promised you I'd return for you!” Jasper took a step forward—and Spencer took one step back. “And I did, but you'd all but vanished!”

“Well you were too damn late weren’t you!” Spencer snarled, tensing up like a cornered dog, “I did what I had to do—Did you think I would still be faithfully waiting for you like a helpless whelp by the time I turned 18?” He spat on the ground, as though the words themselves tasted vile—“I ran away, just like you did—Made a new life for myself because you obviously didn’t want me in yours!”

“…” Jasper straightened, fists clenched as tightly as his brows were knit in light of this terrible misunderstanding, heart wrenching accusations and what was clearly years of festering resentment. “…Cederic, I—“

A curled lip and a snap interrupted him as Spencer thrashed his arm through the air as though smacking the words away, “Don’t—! Call me that.”

“Cederic,” Jasper repeated, voice stern as he began to realize that Cederic was, despite the years, still a young boy at heart, “I'd never have abandoned you. I trained every day so that I could afford a place for the both of us—for our sisters and to deliver everyone from our father—“

“Well father is dead—and so is ‘Cederic’.” Spencer spat, cold and callous yet trembling all over his towering frame, “So I don’t need your protection, I don’t need your money, and I don’t need you to start acting like you care now that I’m not a burden anymore.”

As frozen as the Valski landscape, ice-like words riddled the imperial guard, each bitter wave unrelenting and stripping Jasper of his defenses. How he now envied the Northern Wilds' unfaltering mountain ridges, solid and barren— unable to feel.

During this brief moment of silence, Spencer spied the opportunity for escape. Brushing past his estranged brother, with a scowl etched across his handsome face; Jasper declined to bid Spencer adieu, for nothing he'd could say now would bring relief to the perceived injustice of what he'd done.

"Cederic..." the Cantish native whispered with regret, the name lost to the murmuring crowd and disappearing along with the person to whom it belonged.

The title of this should honestly be Fully Grown Men Still Can't Get Along The Movie.

Oh my gosh let me tell you how overdue this is haha like-- this is supposed to happen basically a week after the original Promises comic above!! (WHICH WE FINISHED BACK IN JULY 2015.....) But row and I both got really busy so the comic that we planned for this never happened. In lieu of that, we decided to do a literature piece so that you guys can see what happened.

As some of you may know, Spencer has spent the past 2 or 3 months in Amedra mooching off his FWB, Nice. So after this little confrontation and a few more troublesome things Spencer got caught up in, he was basically kicked out of Cantor/ran away from the possibility of running into Jasper again whiiich basically means that this meeting, dramatic as it was, produced little to no results. But now Jasper knows that Spencer is alive-- and Spencer knows exactly where to find Jasper and subsequently, his sisters.

With Spectre Day and the Day of Forgiveness coming up, Spencer's finally gotten off his bum ass and is heading towards Cantor without knowing what he'll find for himself there; but hoping that it'll be better than what he left behind.

Also more from the Cotterill brothers coming, for they have yet to thank this lovely group for their very silly but very lovely awards. 8) Please look forward to it!!

Art/prose/Spencer Stroud - Me
Edits to the prose/Jasper Coterill -