A Quantum Leap inspired SI multicrossover fic with an optional input from readers.

It's basically what the show was, but instead of travelling in time, SI gets to travel to various popular franchises and fixes things there. Al can be used as the readers' stand-in to communicate some of their comments about what the main character should do.

Few leaps:

1) HP world where he finds himself as John Dawlish in Harry's forth or fifth year at Hogwarts, either to save Cedric or Sirius.

2) NGE world where he's Makoto Hyuga and generally needs to stop the end of the world.

3) DF world where he's Harry Carpenter and needs to save Molly from becoming the soulless Winter Lady.

4) DC world where he's some random cop in Gotham and needs to stop Joker from shooting Barbara Gordon.

5) ASoIaF world where he's an ex-slave in Dany's army and needs to stop her from becoming the Mad Queen.

The important factor is that there is no Chaos Theory in the work there, but the Narrative Theory. His random actions won't change anything and bigger ones initiate counter-actions that try to get back to the original outcome. The best option is to not try derail the narrative, but rather put in on a different track. Maybe even change the setting themes.

 

Lucifer tv show plot bunny

God and angels' backstory going to be different. God created only the first 5 angels(Lucifer is the youngest), rest are just humans who ascended to angelhood through their deeds. The play is going on for thousands of years. So, in this setting, we see Lucifer chilling in one of the nightclubs in LA and observing humans. I want to show it as first scene.

The story will be like,

Lucifer takes a sip from his drink, ignoring the lady who is bugging him for sometime. Suddenly, a crazy dude opens fire on them, making him bleed for the first time in his life. Things go downhill for Lucifer since then. Having no idea what happened, Lucifer will be in shock. He notices his miracle recovery once the lady from the nightclub leaves. He decides to investigate it. After a bit of stalking and using his angel powers quite liberally, he finds the cause. This whole episode going to be intro.

The main story will have him as Lux owner and LAPD consultant. He will secretly study the Detective to know how she makes him almost human. He leaves the Hell to its own devices, spending his whole time on earth. This will cause trouble in Paradise, resulting in conflicts with his archangel siblings(no amenadiel will be in my story). His siblings instist him to take his responsibilities seriously. All the drama will follow. Lucifer will have no devil face. It's just an illusion to scare sinners in Hell. Also he is not going to seek counseling from any doctor. He is more than 5k+ year old. Why would he act like some dude in midlife crisis?! Instead, we will have his sister Gabriel annoying him his every waking moment. One time, Michael will flatten his Lux building in a fit of rage. Managing Hell is the most important thing after all. One can't leave it to hell.

So much potential.

 

My take on Terminator: Dark Fate to have both a new setting and not discard the old one.

Senator John Connor, a potential presidential candidate in the next election, gets a late nigh call from a special government agency, Judgment Day Prevention, he helped create. "It's happening again, sir" they say.

The special team arrives at the location where Grace and Rev-9 appeared to deal with the situation. At first it appears that they have an advantage, but the robot quickly adapts manages to overcome the opposition.

Grace and Dani escape with a help of a random bystander who turns out to be John. They decide that to have better chance against Rev-9, who can remotely use the modern technology, they need to go off the grid.

John takes them to his mother's house who even after all these years believes in being prepared for the worst. There they meet Colonel Carl, John's old mentor who helped create the agency.

Together they make a plan to battle Rev-9 and stop Legion.


In my opinion, using unofficial ending of T-2 with John as political gives a good start. He's a guy aware of what could easily happen and decides that while they got lucky, he and his mother aren't enough to prevent the next time Skynet or something similar. Instead of working outside of the system like Sarah, he works inside it. Of course, that gives Rev-9 a lot of information to use against his team and win their first confrontation.

Arnold is not a robot this time and John and Sarah can only guess why Skynet decided to use Carl appearance for its early units, but considering that he's basically a human Terminator and helped create a prototype mechanics arms that he uses for himself, there is definitely some connection between him and the AI.

Both Connors find a lot of themselves in Grace and Dani, but especially John finally has someone to talk about what it means to find out that you're suppose to become a savior of the humanity.

 

H. P. Lovecraft's notes about the world of Minecraft.

The cubic nature of the reality, the clearly not-human villagers, the utterly horrifying Mobs like the Undead, Creepers and Endermen.

And that's not even touching the Nether and the End!

 

A DLP sitcom starring Salsa.

 

Got your pilot right here.

 

Tentative name: Fate/Hostile Takeover.

---
​

The cold air felt good - better, at least, than the stuffy bar and its too-bright lights, and especially his asshole of a boss and his gaggle of sycophantic newcomers. With motions born from years of repetition, he lit a cigarette and slid the lighter back into one of the pockets of his comfortable coat.

This was why he couldn't stop smoking, he thought, revelling in the feeling of nicotine flooding his lungs and the blessed silence of Tokyo at late night. The noises of talking and arguing and drinking couldn't reach him here.

He wondered where his wife was at the moment. It'd been ten years and her leaving without a word still ached like a broken bone.

God, he was becoming prosaic. It indicated that he'd just about reached his drinking limit for tonight, but he'd have to suffer the presence of his colleagues for more two hours at the very least. He idly planned out the set of trains he could take to get home if he left right now, but knew that he'd be dragged back into the bar sooner or later.

A bin clattered to the ground somewhere nearby, and with only a moment's hesitation Yamashita Kazuo, 52, lifelong salaryman, walked silently towards the noise of the sound, an alley around which garbage had been stacked as if to form a doorway.

It's probably just a cat, he thought, but with some dark amusement he spun into a fantasy of him discovering a corpse. It'd be an excuse to leave, at least, and his attempt at stealth was ruined by him snorting at his own joke.

The alley opened into a small open space, which had been cleared of garbage for some unknowable reason. More importantly, there were people standing there: three men, one woman.

Two of the men immediately drew his attention - although it was more accurate to say that his attention was drawn to one of the men. His hair was such bright red that in the weak, flickering light of the lampposts it looked like living flame, and it hung easily past his shoulders, reaching almost his hips. His eyes were wild, betraying not even the slightest attempt at sanity, and his body was so immense it defied description. In his hands, he held something of a shape that Kazuo's eyes couldn't make out in the light of the single lamppost.

The other man, by contrast, was small and far slighter of build. He was clothed from head to toe in black bandages, except for his face, on which a white mask had been stitched. The man danced from side to side in a weird imitation of a boxer's stance, a knife in the hand nearest to his opponent.

That was, Kazuo realized, what the two men had to be. He had stumbled on some fucked-up midnight duel between foreigners who were obviously gang members, and if his knees didn't stop shaking they were going to notice him.

But of the men and the two observers - the woman voluptuous, dressed like a cabaret hostess despite the December chill and standing primly behind the tall man, the man in casual clothing all but hiding behind the slight man and putting on an obviously false show of bravado - none of them noticed him. Which was good, because if they had he might've pissed himself.

He wondered what on earth possessed the smaller man not to just turn tail and run, overmatched as he clearly was. Loyalty to the man behind him? Mere inability to escape? Whatever it was, Kazuo hoped it'd allow him to overcome the gigantic weight difference enough to let both men leave with their lives somehow. He'd only been joking about the corpse, a minute ago.

"Berserker," the woman said, her voice coming out crisp and clear. "Go."

Berserker - the tall man's name, or his nickname, he didn't know - roared. Literally roared, like a lion, his hair bristling behind him as if it was caught in the wall of sound. Kazuo fell back onto his ass from fright, but somehow he maintained a good view of the makeshift arena.

The other man only stepped forward in response, his knife slashing back and forth in the air. The man who stood behind him all but fell backwards, his head smacking into the wall, and shrieked.

But Berserker didn't seem afraid of the knife, nor did he seem particularly afraid of the man wielding it. He lifted his arm, thicker than Kazuo's head, and threw it forward in a brutal haymaker that seemed far faster than physics ought to allow.

The other man slipped under it in the nick of time, and the huge fist went on to hit the wall behind him, cracking the concrete like tofu. Kazuo stared, dumbstruck, but Berserker didn't even seem to feel anything from the impact, merely withdrawing his arm. Was he on drugs?

Now the knife snaked its way to Berserker's throat, the bandage-clad man having somehow brought himself between Berserker's huge arms and thrusting upward with deceptive grace.

Berserker grunted in annoyance and, moments before the knife hit him, his huge head hit his chest, trapping the knife between his chin and his pectorals. It drew a drop of blood, but no more than that. The other man tugged, found that he couldn't wrench it loose, and danced backwards. Another thin knife, curved and obviously sharp, appeared in his hand as if by magic, and he charged forwards again.

"Zaba-" the man whispered, clearly on the cusp of something, before he was interrupted.

Though he was faster and more agile than Berserker, it hadn't been enough. Berserker's other hand, the one that had remained at his side while he had thrown that wild punch, had come up with that bizarre weapon in it and smote down on the other man's head.

Kazuo very distinctly heard a "krack" as the weapon struck home on the other man's face. He hoped it was the mask, though he was sure it wasn't. "Dear God," he whispered, and his pants grew warm.

The blow to the head was followed up with a swift kick, and the body of the bandage-clad man struck the concrete wall with a bone-jarring impact. Kazuo expected blood to fountain, but it didn't. The observer on the other man's side had slid down the wall, and Kazuo could only now make out tears on his face.

Berserker took another step forward, and Kazuo realized it wasn't over yet. Was the other man going to become another of Berserker's victims? It seemed impossible, but so did everything he saw tonight. He didn't want to see another man dead, but what the hell could he do? His legs felt like jelly.

All was silent except for the sound of the man sobbing, blubbering out again and again pleas not to kill him. Blood trickled from the knife-wielder's body and head, and he didn't stir.

"Berserker, stop," the woman said, still in that eerily even tone of voice, and Berserker grunted in response. He stopped heading to the young man, though. "You there," she said to the sobbing young man on the ground of the garbage-filled open space. "Give up. You won't make the cut. Not everyone's as merciful as we are."

And without a further look at the crying man, she left. She looked, with some surprise, at where Kazuo was sitting propped up on his hands in a puddle of his own piss, and her nose wrinkled. She stepped over him without once looking him in the eyes, her elegant heels click-clacking away on the pavement.

Berserker, Kazuo realized later, was gone, vanished into thin air.

He sat there for what must have been ten minutes, at the very least. Then he gathered the tatters of his courage and his pride and left the alley at a sprint for the train station, leaving the stuffy bar with his coworkers, the sobbing man, and the scene of the brutal murder behind him.

I should've called the police, he thought. I should've run for my life. I should've... But he hadn't, and that was probably the worst of it all, he reflected. A man had died and he'd sat there.

Time passed in a daze, and he couldn't recall shaving or eating breakfast or sleeping or ever, in fact, waking up, which is why it was a surprise that he found himself at work the very next morning as if nothing had happened. Everything felt weird, unreal. He suddenly realized he'd stopped working and stared at his hands, which were shaking. He felt sick.

"You doing alright, Yamashita?" one coworker asked him. "Hangover from yesterday, huh?" They shared a smoke break sometimes, which made him the closest thing to a friendly face in the entire office.

"I'll manage," Kazuo said, his smile feeling brittle even to himself. "What's the matter?"

"Boss wants to see you," the man said. "Seemed urgent," he called, as he left for his own desk on the corner of the office.

"Right," he replied, and he headed for his boss's desk, expecting to be chewed out as part of the office's daily entertainment. He usually would've bristled at it, but he was too tired to really care that morning. Let the man berate him for whatever it was today; redoing some paperwork couldn't compare to seeing a man killed.

But he wasn't the only one at his boss's desk. Another man stood there, and with a jolt Kazuo realized it was the division head, a man he'd only seen during the giant all-hands company meetings and who'd normally never condescend to coming to the office.

The division head was trembling and sweating, his rotund belly quivering in fear. As soon as he noticed Kazuo, he trundled over, gripped him by the shoulders and looked him deep in the eyes.

"Yamashita," the division head said breathlessly. "What the fuck did you do?" He shook Kazuo's shoulders with desperate strength. "What the fuck did you do, Yamashita?"

Half an hour later, Kazuo found himself deposited by the limousine outside the offices of Nogi Group. It was, he vaguely knew from consulting the company pamphlets on days even more boring than the usual before the internet had been invented, one of the ancient zaibatsus, with leadership passed down an immensely long line of CEO fathers to CEO sons.

Bodyguards and secretaries and all sorts of other middlemen ushered him into the building, which had been made from glass and could have only been designed by an architect whose hourly salarly must've been higher than Kazuo's monthly earnings.

It was at least five stories tall, and multiple times whoever his current guide was pulled out ever-more luxurious cards to waive him past security.

Finally he was brought to a beautiful oaken door, in the middle of a hallway where the walls had been painted an artful, calming cream white and a nameplate had been affixed to the door: in fine gold lettering, it read Hideki Nogi, Chairman of Nogi Group.

Kazuo's knees hadn't stopped shaking even once. His breaths came at a pant, his throat felt dry, and his chest felt cramped. He felt another panic attack coming on, though he doubted the one he'd had last night had stopped yet.

Were they going to interrogate him over the murder he'd seen? Dear God, did they think he had a part in it?

With his heart in his throat, he knocked on the door. "Come in," a voice said over the intercom, and Kazuo stepped inside.

The room was every bit as opulent as Kazuo had expected. A gigantic glass window was set into the rear wall, offering a fantastic sight of Tokyo at its 10-o'clock glory; even at the front of the room, Kazuo could see traffic speeding by in the distance and tiny dots move from building to building, tiny people leading tiny lives.

The man sitting at the desk with his back to the vista below as if it didn't matter to him motioned him forward. Nogi, Kazuo presumed. A secretary stood close by the desk, looking at him with cool indifference. She was young - middle twenties, at a guess, though he'd never been good at guessing.

"Good morning, mister Yamashita," the chairman said affably. Kazuo noted the way in which he was addressed - almost like an equal, to be treated with respect. What the hell?

Nogi waved a hand. "A cigar? A drink, perhaps?"

"N-no, sir, thank you, sir," Kazuo managed. His hands clenched and unclenched without his conscious approval.

"Very well. Getting down to business immediately, eh? I can respect that in a man," Nogi said, winking. Kazuo didn't get it and sat there, stewing in his questions and the cold sweats they inspired.

Nogi clasped his hands and looked at Kazuo curiously. "Do you know what that tattoo on your hand means, mister Yamashita?"

A tattoo? Kazuo looked at the back of his hand. There was a tattoo there, although he was sure it hadn't been before yesterday. It was shaped like modern art: three strokes which got wider as they went, tattooed in dark red on his right hand.

"N-no," he said. What the hell was this? Since when had it been there? He looked at Nogi's hand, where a similar tattoo was prominent. His was also divided into three parts: a circle in the center, a long spike underneath it, and linked stripes above the circle.

"It means you're a Master Candidate for the Fifth Holy Grail Annihilation Tournament," Nogi said, with some amusement. "Don't worry about your Servant, mind you. We'll take care of everything except the summoning itself, of course. Or have you got a catalyst in mind already?"

Kazuo sat back in the chair worth more than his house and was honestly, completely, and utterly baffled.

---
​

This is that thing I mentioned in the "what's your current projects" thread. Idea is fairly simple: Kengan Ashura-style tournament between big companies, except instead of hiring fighters they have Fate-style Servants. The Masters would largely be from KA, the Servants largely original. I basically only have the intro worked out - how it goes from here is something I haven't even thought about yet. It'll probably my new outlet for writing fight scenes, if nothing else.

 

I had a weird dream that’s a HTTYD/Frozen crossover.

Humans have been engineered to be faster, better, stronger. Some have been engineered to have special skills. When it’s time for humanity to leave earth because they’ve destroyed the environment, they send two groups to complete the terraformation the new planet. Hiccup brings large lizards and other animals, all designed to assist the colony in redeveloping the landscape and surviving harsh Martian weather. Elsa, the designated colony leader, helps her team control the weather and is in charge of shaping the environment outside the dome.

The terraforming is not going as planned. Tensions mount as their plan to grow food outside fails and their animals start dying under mysterious circumstances. Hiccup challenges Elsa for power and with the introduction of the Nightfury on the latest shipment from earth, he might just be able to take it.

 

The Ainur cannot be killed. Their spirits can be broken, banished, or imprisoned, but they are never fully gone.

When the One Ring was destroyed and Sauron defeated, his broken spirit fled Arda. Quite by accident, he ended up in another world. A world of Ice and Fire.

Sauron was reborn in Westeros in the guise of Annatar, available once more to him now that he was far from the rule of Eru and his Valar. His spiritual power was in tatters, to the point that it would take lifetimes of men to fully recover, but he was still one of the Maia. Enough power remained to him that he would be formidable among mortals.

He was tall, broad of shoulder and strong of arm. His face was fair, and his eyes keen. His body, though that of a man, possessed the physical gifts of an elf: strength, speed, stamina, grace, and immunity to ageing.

He still had his mind, a mind with millennia of knowledge and experience, a mastery of manipulating men, a deep understanding of the workings of the world, and an unrivalled skill with craftsmanship.

And though his spiritual power was a shadow of its former strength, he could nonetheless manage some small tricks: the ability to lace his words with authority, to see into the hearts of men, and to master the will of beasts. Further powers would return to him in time. The speed of his spiritual recovery would depend on the power he managed to amass in the physical world, for physical and spiritual power exist in symbiosis.

Unfortunately for Sauron, he was also penniless, and bore no name that the noble houses of Westeros would recognise. A commoner.

Basically: a Sauron-centric fic which unashamedly follows his amoral attempts to build himself a power base in the new world he finds himself in. He's going to have to use every trick in the book if he wants to rise to the top, and that includes marriage if he wants to get himself a title that gives him access to the highest levels of power.

But also he's aware that he is not the only spiritual being in this world, and that he is in no state at present to contest the other powers of the world. So his long-term goal is to build up enough strength that he can contest the true powers of the world for dominion over men.

@Roarian @Steelbadger @Cxjenious

 

So I've had this Star Wars/Warhammer plot bunny bouncing around in my head for like two years, ever since I first played Total Warhammer 2 as the Lizardmen, and I've gotta vent it somewhere before it drives me (more) insane.

The basic gist is that the story is set shortly after Episode II, and follows the journey of a specific ship, the Grymloq, and its crew. The captain, our protagonist, is Kroq-Gar, greatest warrior of the Lizardmen. He was dropped on Nar Shadaa a decade or so back, and through raw strength and brutal cunning, carved out a niche for himself as a mercenary/bounty hunter/troubleshooter for hire, and built up a small crew of reliable sapients to help him. The story opens with Kroq-Gar and his crew of mercenaries intercepting their target, a merchant vessel traveling to some Mid Rim world, mid-transit and demand they hand over the Jedi. The captain of the merchant vessel tries to prevaricate a bit, but eventually Obi-Wan steps in and agrees to go over to Kroq-Gar's vessel in exchange for letting his transport go on its way after, which Kroq-Gar accepts.

Obi-Wan comes on over, planning to subdue the pirates and get on his way, but upon boarding the Grymloq, Obi-Wan finds himself cut off from the Force by the anti-Immaterium wards Kroq-Gar had erected all over it, and is swiftly rendered unconscious and bound before he can recover from the surprise.

Kroq-Gar and co proceed to search him for his ID and whatnot, lock him in a cell, and then head off to Coruscant. While on the way, Kroq-Gar and Obi-Wan have a conversation on the what and why and all that, with Kroq-Gar explaining that someone is screwing with things best left untouched, and that while he has no real quarrel with the Jedi, he needs Jedi access for his next job. He goes on to explain that Obi-Wan would be free to go once that was done, while stonewalling any questions about why Obi-Wan can't access the Force.

Upon arriving on Coruscant, the real operation begins. The mercenary crew spreads out to their various jobs, with the slicer and former thief using Obi-Wan's credentials and biometrics to slip in and get access to Senate security systems. At the same time, Kroq-Gar and the remaining two members of the crew proceed to work their way around into position around where Chancellor Palpatine is giving a speech. And once in position, they spring into action, with two guys creating multiple distractions while Kroq-Gar uses some warded munitions to kill Palpatine on the spot.

Between the security access and the distractions, the whole crew manages to slip away in the chaos and start heading back to the Grymloq, but on the way, Kroq-Gar realizes something is wrong. He has a brief and uncharacteristically visible moment of panic, which worries his crew something fierce, before he performs a quick ritual to check on the Immaterium and starts swearing sulphuriously.

It turns out that, while Palpatine was definitely a witch and messing about with Chaos something fierce, his actions had unanticipated consequences. All the dark side energies Palpatine had been stirring up and condensing to himself, the very thing that had given him away to Kroq-Gar in the first place, has begun to coalesce with his death, forming a kind of proto-Warp God, and stirring up the Immaterium, what the locals call the Force, to levels depressingly similar to the Great Catastrophe. Naturally, this is quite upsetting, and requires a revision to the plan.

Kroq-Gar announces that plans have changed and instead of lying low, they'll be getting the fuck out ASAP. Then he marches on board, straight to Obi-Wan's cell. The Jedi, having broken out of his restraints by then, springs an ambush on him as he walks in, but Kroq-Gar turns it around quickly and tells the Jedi that he needs to evacuate Coruscant, starting with the Temple and all of the younglings therein before they explode or start eating each other or something.

Naturally, Obi-Wan believes none of this, up until Kroq-Gar marches him outside of the ship and he can feel the Force practically shrieking in distress at what's happening. That shuts him up real quick and he demands a ride to the Jedi Temple, which Kroq-Gar agrees to. Along the way, Kroq-Gar explains what's going on and why and that anyone still on Coruscant in another few days is going to be insane, dead, or desperately wishing they were lucky enough for either.

The Jedi Council is (relatively) easy to convince of the matter, given what they can feel from the Force, and there's a frantic evacuation of as much of Coruscant as possible, even as daemons start manifesting in the weaker-willed Force sensitives, or driving the same to madness. Kroq-Gar's warded ship, the only real respite from the brewing storm, ends up packed full of younglings, while the rest of the Jedi and civilians pack up as much as they can in a few hours and flee, leaving billions of people to die as Warp God Sidious finally finishes gestating and devours the souls of everyone left on Corsucant when he emerges.

Roll credits, fade to black.

Possible sequel in Kroq-Gar and crew, the remainder of the Jedi Order, meaning most of the Council, a good chunk of the younglings from the Temple, and the various Jedi off serving as generals, and the Grand Army of the Republic fighting against Warp God Sidious' endless hordes of daemons and corrupted sapients as they try to cleanse the galaxy of this new evil, but I haven't come up with any ideas for that at this point.

 

As a more Star Wars fan who knows nothing of the lizard men I feel like you have to give the Star Wars side more wins. There’s often an obsession with feats and such which perhaps entirely support your summary and plot, but as a reader it’s zero fun to watch some no-name super edgy character trample over the more standard entry point to the crossover.

Perhaps as a non-total war player I’m biased, but I think that puts me in the majority. Alternately you just follow your artistic vision and let the readers fall where they may.

 

Certainly a valid take. The idea I was more going for was that this whole thing was Palpatine's ascendance to a kind of Abeloth style existence, the only real touch of Warhammer there was the exact mechanics of "lots of magic 'stuff' in a small area for a long time, then given a shock equals new god".

I mean hell, something like this was canonically (in the EU at any rate) what happened to Palpatine after he died, just that he was anchored to a series of clone bodies.

 

I am not a big enough Star Wars fan to ever be able to write fanfic about it (I don't know the lore nearly well enough) but I thought it'd be interesting to do a story based around this line from Attack of the Clones



What if Obi-Wan actually *does* believe him? They have some kind of relationship b/c Dooku mentored Qui-gon, and through some connection Obi-Wan and Dooku form an alliance to take down both Palpatine and the Republic as a whole (Dooku still has Separtists leanings, saw the writing on the wall with how the Jedi Order and the Senate had bungled things, Obi-Wan obviously doesn't want to see the Jedi wiped out but is frustrated by their lack of action).

I don't know how plotty it would get but I imagine there's still conflict with Anakin and Obi-Wan as Obi tries to hide his subterfuge, Anakin is pining after Padme, the Jedi Council doesn't believe anything's wrong, Dooku is turning against Palpatine. I could see a lot of threads you could explore.

 

@wox2d https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322434/chapters/28015809

 

Starfire's villain sister Blackfire from Teen Titans appears in Westeros during the Blackfyre Rebellion.

Our resident DC expert @Celestin might know what happens next.

 

Of course. But the thing is: what's next?

 

Honestly, nothing. Tamaraneans are near invincible, fly, shoot lasers, have super strength, and more. Unless they manage to lock her in a deep dark cave for awhile she's queen of their planet. What's a dragon to someone stronger, faster, and able to hit at a better range? Armies face the same problem as if she was a dragon. Even if she only lives a few centuries, she's changed the face of the planet.

And if she has kids? Imagine Dance of the Dragons, but instead of dragons it's a few dozen Tamaraneans.

 

See, and here's the story. Imagine Westeros a few hundred years later. Not from the POV of Blackfire, but other people who were born under her (and her heirs) rule.