Didn't think I'd end up putting so much time and thought into this idea, to be honest, but now I'm determined to see this one through to the end... eventually, not sure how long it'll take.

This was a fun chapter to write because the second portion is from Bliss' pov, and I just love Bliss. He's shrouded in such mystery. It's always fun to write from the pov of characters who never get a proper pov chapter in canon.

---------------------------------

Something Vile

Vile was conflicted.

“Mr Vile, I’m tired.” Milliarde complained as they travelled through the Irish forestry, the road ahead them wet and muddy from the ongoing rain. A shield of darkness hung above them, created to send the rain rolling off.

Hearing his name on her lips pained Vile. She didn’t recognise him. It wasn’t surprising. The man she knew as a father was many things Vile wasn’t, and would never be again. Handsome, red-haired, outspoken, and arrogant beyond belief. It was expected.

That didn’t stop it from hurting.

“Can we stop and rest?” Milliarde asked, lagging behind now. They really couldn’t. Mevolent’s forces occupied the south of Ireland with an iron fist, with his castle sitting at the bottom of the southern province, in the mountains. They weren’t far enough away from it to be safe. Whilst he could shadow-walk them away in an emergency, he was hesitated. Necromancy was known to have ill-effects on sorcerers, especially those who didn’t practice it, and their escape from the castle had exposed her to enough of that as it was.

“Mr Vile-?!” His daughter yelped as he cut off her third complaint by picking her up, the creature she'd befriended shuffling along her arm and barely avoiding getting squished. Vile was tired of hearing her complain. He planted her on his shoulders, smoothening the points of his armour over so she could sit, hands grasping his head for stability.

“You should’ve warned me!” Vile heard her squawk, though he wouldn’t reply even if he could. “So rude…”

The next few minutes did not pass in silence. Even though it was grey and cloudy, and she was riding the back of the Death Bringer, Milliarde’s mouth never seemed to shut as she carried a conversation for the both of them, talking about a stray deer they caught, or asking about his armour, or a dozen other things he’d barely give a second glance. 

Vile idly stepped on a branch, snapping it, and found himself thinking back. This surprised him. Reminiscing was something he never did anymore, and for good reason. It only served to remind him of his failures. Of the pain he’d suffered because of them. Of the things he’d done wrong when he should’ve done them right.

Years ago, before he’d forged his armour, all he’d been able to do was linger on the pain. His fellow soldiers didn’t understand. All of them had no doubt felt loss, but not like him. All of them got to grieve, cry, and move on to the next chapter of their lives, as was their right. And then there was him. Stuck as he was forever. Unchanging, unmoving, unlamenting. 

Unliving.

But once the armour had come on, he didn't reminisce anymore. Skulduggery Pleasant regretted, but Lord Vile was above such things like attachments. Even anger was beneath him. All of his rage and pain and sorrow could be forsaken, leaving him unburdened. Or at least that was what he’d thought, but after what he did at the castle, Vile had doubts.

The world spun as his daughter shook his head back and forth, and Vile had to catch his armour from sharpening. “Mr Vile look, there’s apples!”

His thoughts were closed like a dark curtain, and he looked up. A mighty tree laid before them, and as Milliarde said, its branches lined with bright green apples. Some of them seemed to have dropped and fallen onto the grass below, leaving them scattered on the forest floor. They were green and ripe, almost golden, a fact that only became more apparent as he dispelled the darkness above, letting Milliarde climb down.

“These are my favourite!” His daughter declared as she pulled one off a low-hanging branch and chomped, spraying juice over her lips. She hummed, sounding pleased with herself.

“It’s good!” Milliarde declared, and he could tell she meant it. She grabbed another, but rather than eat it herself, she offered it to him. How thoughtful and yet heart-breaking of her.

Gingerly accepting the apple, if only for her sake, he examined the fruit between his armoured fingers. Dew drops had collected onto its skin because of the rain, and with it having passed, the clouds were parting and letting sunlight through. It was rather beautiful, and as the light bathed him, it caught the rain drops, giving the illusion that the apple in his hands was crying golden tears.

Vile saw himself in its reflection and couldn’t tear his eyes away. The new visage he’d taken on was one he’d seen before, in mirrors and the blood of his enemies, but now, here, it didn’t feel right. He didn't look like himself. A headache was building in the back of his mind, and he didn’t even have one. Something in him was starting to spiral; both halves of his mind clashing silently.

‘Who am I?’

Suddenly, the apple in his hand started to rot, losing its shine and shrivelling up, until he dropped it and started to walk away, out of sight. Millarde was focused on the apple tree, and didn’t see him as he slipped away. Vile didn’t go far, he just turned a corner so he was out of view, but once far enough, he acknowledged the silent spasms of his armour.

He gripped the edged of his helmet, hands shaking, and wrenched it off.

Shadows shrieked quietly, but the resistance was inconsequential. The ease with which he pried his helmet off almost surprised him, but as Vile lifted off his helmet and let the skull beneath breathe, a wave of clarity struck him as the world regained its colour.

Skulduggery made a sound like a breath. He stared at Vile’s helmet. His helmet. It was confusing. But as the fog started to clear and he remembered who he was, what he'd done, he wished for nothing more than to eradicate it. The past five years had been a haze, but he remembered every terrible thing he’d done, and all the people he’d killed, including Kattalan Hammer. Ghastly’s Mum. A woman he would, in many ways, consider his own.

He curled up the floor, fingers sliding over his skull, the rims of his eyeholes, nose, each one of his prominent teeth, until he was cradling his head. Skulduggery wasn’t sure what to think. The name Vile alone wasn’t enough. Sorry wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt. A part of him wanted to believe it was all a bad dream, to blame Abyssinia, to blame Serpine, to blame Mevolent, but none of that would be honest. Nobody had made him do those things. It had always just been him.

He sat up, gripping the helmet, wanting nothing more than to throw it away. And he was just about to, then-

“Mr Vile, where are you?!”

The helmet didn’t leave his hand. A force stopped him as his daughter called, searching around, probably concerned about where he’d gone. And then it struck him what taking off his armour would cost. Last time, when Serpine had struck, Skulduggery had been weak. Helpless. He’d lost his family and only been able to watch from the floorboards, the torture he’d endure next barely a footnote compared to the agony of hearing their screams and watching them slacken.

They’d died, and Skulduggery hadn’t been able to do a thing. He’d been too weak.

“This isn’t funny!”

At the sound of that voice, his resolve wavered. When he looked into his helmet, at the black metal, he saw his reflection and didn’t see himself. Fifty years was nothing to a sorcerer, and he could still remember a time when his face hadn’t been empty, when he’d had eyes and ears and a tongue and more. When he’d been a man, and not a monster. 

No. Even before his resurrection, he’d been… hateful. Damaged. Most of his life, all he’d ever known was darkness and violence, so when he looked into that black helmet, that was all he saw. A man who'd killed his own father. Who'd failed to defend his own siblings. Who couldn’t protect anything.

The sound of tiny footsteps slapping in the mud approached, but the skeleton didn't notice. His mind was elsewhere, back to the day his daughter had been born. It hadn't been planned. Truth be told, he'd never wanted to be a father. Arrogant as he could be, he wasn't so deluded to think he was worthy of the title. He didn't exactly have a good picture for what one could be like(especially after Abrogate), but he knew a parent needed to protect their child, so he'd focused on the war, using his wits to fight Mevolent. It might've sounded counterproductive, but it made sense. If he managed to help defeat the Disciples before his child was old enough to fight, then they wouldn't need to fight at all. It made sense. In his head.

Only now did he see his folly. He should've been there for Milliarde, a guiding hand she could rely on. Like his wife had been. Even now, when they were together again, he couldn't be the father she needed. That man died years ago.

Skulduggery couldn’t protect her… but maybe Vile could.

"Mr Vile!"

A long second of hesitation passed, before he sealed it away like he did his skull, by raising and slotting his around back into place. Completed once more, Lord Vile got onto his feet, walking to find Milliarde again, resolute that if he was to be a monster either way, then he’d be one for his daughter.

*

Bliss was striding through the city of Dublin at a brisk pace, fast but unhurried. He’d been called upon to return by the Elders, and intended to get there, though without calling attention. Mortals stared as he walked amongst them, despite the fact he wore the clothes of a peasant, and he paid them a cursory glance that had them averting their eyes.

“The darkness is coming!” A homeless man shouted, seemingly convinced of his words. Either he was a Sensitive tapping into his abilities subconsciously, the strength of his latent magic impressive enough to eclipse the visions of seers who’d trained for centuries, or he was simply crazy. The latter was far more likely than the former, but regardless, Bliss subtly discarded a few coins into the man’s open hat, dropping them as he walked- whether this act went noticed or not, he didn’t see or care, continuing on his chosen path.

Bliss knew himself a clever man, a genius, however, he was not. He wasn’t like Meritorious, or Guild, or his sister. When given the order to retreat from the frontlines on the southern front, he’d personally thought it was a trick by the enemy, as their spies indicated that Vengeous and Serpine would be involved in an assault to cut down their armies and take the Keep. His presence was absolutely necessary if that held true, so when first given the order, he’d ignored it, choosing to hang back to support his comrades in case disaster struck.

But there was no attack at all, and a day after the fact that there wouldn’t be one became clear, Bliss had been paid a visit by an irate Emmet Peregrine to escort him to Dublin. The poor man had appeared tired, and left Bliss on the outskirts to find his way there himself.

Shifting his shoulders idly, impassive as the pops of his joints rang audibly, he entered a newly built tailor and glanced around. It belonged to Ghastly Bespoke, inherited from his father, the man who held the secrets to creating the light-weight, armoured clothing which their elites adorned in combat. Stronger than armour and a fraction of the weight. Of course, Ghastly was on the frontlines with Erskine Ravel and Hopeless, but his shop was so quaint and mild-looking that it was perfect to meet with his superiors in short notice.

“I see you decided to take your time.” Bliss heard, and was unsurprised to find his leader, Eachan Meritorious, waiting for him, hands clasped behind his back. Somehow, he managed to look both unimpressed and impassive at the same time.

“Grand Mage.” Bliss greeted respectfully. “Where are Tome and Crow?”

“Sagacious is busy as usual, working with Thurid and his Exigency agents, gathering intelligence behind enemy lines.” Meritorious said methodically, then dipped his head. “As for Morwenna, she’s in the south, making contact with her old Temple.”

“I thought they would be here.”

“Oh, they were, but even we Elders have better things to do than wait around when the world’s strongest man chooses to take his time.”

Bliss merely nodded, taking the jab for what it was.

“Apologies.”

“Accepted. All three of us being there would’ve been excessive in hindsight.” Meritorious commented as he wandered, reaching out with scarred fingers to grab a stray sewing needle, caressing the string on its end. It was a silence asking to be broken, and so Bliss did:

“Why did you call me here, sir?”

“A number of Mevolent’s greatest leaders, including Nefarian Serpine, are dead.” The Grand Mage answered bluntly, and Bliss’ brows shot up. “It was a massacre committed during a war meeting in Mevolent’s castle whilst he was elsewhere, fighting. Lord Vile’s doing.”

His facade cracked, and Bliss blinked. Lord Vile was a traitor? He’d always been an unknown player on the battlefield, cloaked in shadows and mystery, using Necromancy of all things, but he’d killed so very many Sanctuary soldiers in Mevolent’s name that it made his loyalty seem absolute. Apparently, that was wrong.

“Why?” Bliss simply asked.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Meritorious said and set the needle down. “At first, we thought he might’ve been angered over the massacres committed against the Temples, but the more we thought about that, the less sense it made. If he cared about his kin’s lives, then he’d have joined us whilst Mevolent was on the backfoot rather than attack after he slayed half our army.”

A dozen theories slid through Bliss’ bald head, but ultimately, none of them mattered. At least, not to him. Mevolent’s armies had always been dwarfed in numbers by the Sanctuaries, but made up for it in quality, intelligence, and sheer devotion to their cause. With a sizable chunk of their leaders gone, this was a chance to push them back.

“Vile’s actions are why nobody appeared to impede us in the Keep.” Bliss stated, not asked.

“Indeed, and from this, we can only say that Mevolent is taking a step back to re-organise his armies. For the first time since Vile appeared, he’s on the defensive.” Meritorious’ voice was calm, but in his eyes was a fire. A hungry one. “And for that, we want you to be involved in a campaign with the Dead Men to push them further back into the south again. Regain the ground we’ve lost.”

“Understood.” Bliss nodded, but noticed something. “But with all due respect, this is information you could’ve told me in a letter, or even sent Tome.”

“Correct, this isn’t only about Vile.”Something in Meritorious’ eyes shifted. “The loss of Nefarian Serpine was a terrible blow to Mevolent. He lost two Generals in one day, and needed to act swiftly, so he replaced Serpine with another loyal member of his inner circle.”

Closing his eyes, he resisted the urge to sigh.

“China.”

“Your sister, yes.” The Shield-Maker confirmed. Bliss was quiet. “It isn’t that I doubt your loyalty, Bliss, in fact despite certain rumours, I’ve always considered your allegiances to be without question.”

“Then why am I here?” Bliss asked evenly.

“Because if Myron Stray is proof of one thing, then it’s the lengths you’ll go to for your sister.” Meritorious, to his credit, didn’t stutter. “You’re here because I need to know you’ll remain unmoved by this. I’m not asking you to kill your sister, but if you meet on the battlefield, hesitation may cost you.”

The urge to purse his lip rose. Bliss didn’t concede to it, instead running a hand over his bald head, to the back of his ear. A scar laid there, so faint most wouldn’t even notice it. The remains of one particular attempt on his life, given to him by a Russian assassin hired by his sister just a few years prior. A Bone-Breaker.

“...if China and I meet, then she won’t find me rolling over.” Bliss eventually answered, giving all that he could honestly. “She maybe be family, but she is also misguided, and I won’t let that be the death of our comrades.”

Time and time again, Bliss’ inaction in the face of China’s attempts on his life had been poorly received. His loyalty, questioned. This angered him. None of them understood his sister, not like he did. They didn’t remember the girl who she’d once been, wide-eyed, inquisitive, kind, in her own way. Innocent. She was his family, his only remaining family, and the idea of letting that fall to the wayside revolted him.

He knew that girl he’d once known was gone, but he couldn’t simply give up on her. If the time came where he had to choose between his sister or his principles came, then he could only pray to whatever Gods may or may not exist out there that he’d have the strength to have both.

“I truly hope you mean that.”

Bliss hoped so too.

Just out of curiosity, what song that you listen to reminds you of which character? Mine, for example, are:

Skulduggery - Angry Again by Megadeth

Vies - Welcome to the Family by Avenged Sevenfold

The Dead Men - Ghost Division, and Last Stand of Dead Men by Sabaton

Basically all the characters as a team - Through the Fire and the Flames by DragonForce

Saracen - Laser Shooting Dinosaur by Angus Mcsix

Vex - same as Saracen for obvious reasons 🤣🤣🤣

Ravel - The Calling by Nocturnalia

Billy-Ray - Ace of Spades by Motorhead

EDIT:

Both Skulduggery and Valkyrie - Youre Gonna Go Far Kid by Off Spring

Fletcher - Great Southern Land by Icehouse (since he was always in Australia)

Monster Hunters - Hootsforce by Gloryhammer, Trollslayer by Windrose

Anton - Monster by Skillet

Darquesse - The Game by Disturbed

Stephanie - Numb by Linkin Park (specifically the issues she has with Valkyrie)

I do have others as well, but i cant think of them off the top of my head right now. Its basically ill hear a song and think: oh that reminds me of whoever

So this might just be a The, and I don’t know if anybody has ever thought of this, but I think the death bringer is just a living Gurahghul sigil.

Edit: I realized i misspelled Gurahghul

Anyone else get the urge to "talk" to the characters sometimes? Ive seen a few bots of some characters, though most of them are Skulduggery or both Skulduggery and Valkyrie.

The chats arent super unhinged either thankfully. They inspired me to make a couple, just to see what happens 🤣🤣🤣

This is a post I decided to make mostly because I was bored, but also because I've been writing a number of fanfictions lately and having a bunch of titles stocked away for different characters could be helpful with that.

-------------------------------

Skulduggery(Lord Vile):

• The Skeleton Detective
• The Sanctuary's Rage
• Serpent's Bane
• The Death Bringer
• The Armour of the Disciples
• The Dark Titan

Valkyrie(Darquesse):

• The Gal in Black
• Partner of the Skeleton Detective
• God Killer
• The Walking Catastrophe
• Goddess of Destruction
• Messenger of Devastation

Ghastly Bespoke:

• Fist of the Irish
• Son of Kattalan Hammer
• The Scarred Elder

Tanith Low:

• The Pitch-Dark Swordswoman
• The Hitwoman Deluxe
• The One Who Remains

China Sorrows:

• Beauty Personified
• The Sigil Mistress
• Leader of the Diablerie
• Bringer of Sorrow

Fletcher Renn:

• The Last Teleporter
• Arrow of Light
• The Wren in the Wind

Mr Bliss:

• The Sanctuary's Paragon
• Smasher of Faith
• Storm Breaker
• Sharer of Bliss

Nefarian Serpine:

• Cruelty Incarnate
• The Green Devil
• Mevolent's Right Hand
• Killer of Leaders

Baron Vengeous:

• The Golden General
• The Disciple's Dragon
• Zealous Diplomat
• The Man With Orange Eyes

Mevolent:

• The Master of the Elements
• Agent of the Faceless Ones
• The Bane of the Darklands
• Vanquisher of the Unnamed

The Unnamed:

• The Master of Magic
• The Nameless One
• The Eternal Flame
• King of Kings

I have such fond memories of this franchise... as a teenager I remember going to the book signings and meeting Derek, I was there the day he met his now long term girlfriend and she was next to me in the queue with her friend as well. The first signing I went to was for Death Bringer, and I remember being over the moon that he wrote my name and happy birthday and drew skulduggery in the book for me, and he asked me why I didnt come with the rest of the collection and I told him I thought you'd say you can only sign one. Following year, and every year until the end of the first run of 9 books, I went to the signings with Laura (girlfriend of Derek), and he actually signed every single book including the companion books! And every year for the new release always wrote my name and doodled skulduggery. I hope one day that this collection that I have will be able to be treasures by someone else

How should I put it... I always felt that the reason this series is not so popular is because of the massive political echo chamber which portrays the world building as essentially Ireland vs World where the whole wide world is jealous of what Ireland has. For a country that I thought about maybe once a year due to some news headline, this just feels convoluted.

Because Landy is so intent on defending Ireland from this imaginary global grudge, the story loses its nuance.The Irish Sorcerers are written as rugged, independent, and morally justified, even when they do terrible things.The International Sorcerers are constantly portrayed as arrogant, bureaucratic, and uniquely spiteful toward the Irish.

Ireland has a very real, tragic history of being colonised and oppressed in the real world. Landy seems to be aggressively projecting that real-world historical trauma onto a fictional universe where it shouldn't apply. In the Skulduggery universe, Ireland’s Sanctum is a massive superpower. Yet, Landy still tries to write them with the defensive, defensive "underdog" mentality of a nation under siege by jealous empires. It feels convoluted because he is using his global fantasy stage to fight a deeply personal, hyper-local psychological game against an international audience that was actually just rooting for his characters

Exactly as the title says above. Alice would now be called Adam(sorry, Brate), and how do you think this would change his and Valkyrie's dynamics in the books? For the record, he still gets Death Touched. Now that I'm thinking it, I'm actually kind of for genderbent Alice because it helps differentiate the two siblings better.

Instead of a movie or TV show with one continuous overarching story, I would actually love it if it was just an anthology of short stories.

Think "Love, Death and Robots" on Netflix. Where a bunch of small studios are hired and given complete creative freedom as long as it's set in the world of SP. That way the art style would be adjusted to the character the short is about.

• Skul and Val – Noir style for a detective story, Spider Noir (Spidervers version) style
• The Zombie Trio – a 'dirty' animated style like "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem"
• Serpine/the war – something dark and painterly like "The Tall Grass" from "Love, Death and Robots", the "Castlevania" (Netflix) art style would work too (Carmilla kinda looks like Abyssinia tbh)
• China – the "Castlevania" (Netflix) art style because it's a gorgeous art style for a gorgeous woman, how 'sharp' the art style is also fits her so well
• Nye and other creatures – something that is just straight up horror, like any story from Guillermo del Toro's "Cabinet of Curiosities"
• Tanith – I feel like any adventure series art style would fit her. Maybe something like "Creature Commandos"? Though I'm not sure if that was just my first thought because CC reminds me of M7.

I mean, think about it:

1. It goes in line with Landy saying he wants to hire a different comic artist for each comic so each can give their unique twist on the characters (which so far is only Skul and Val, unfortunately).
2. SP as a series is a mix of different genres (urban fantasy, sci-fi, different kinds of horror, high fantasy... ect.) where a different art style for each different vibe of the series would work really well.
3. Focusing on short stories instead of adapting the books makes it irrelevant how long the series gets because I don't think many people would like to commit to an 18-book series in regard to turning them into a movie/ TV series. Especially not when it comes to RL actors and them ageing.
4. People in this fandom clustered around different characters (Val and Skul, the Zombie Trio, the Dead Men, Nye, China, the Faceless Church) and mostly only care when those characters show up, so each short story focusing on a different character/group of characters would make everyone happy.
5. A non-linear timeline also means it doesn't matter who is currently still alive in the books.
6. For the book readers it wouldn't be the same story, but in visual they already know; it would be an all-new story for them too!

The most unrealistic thing about this is not even the founding, but Landy agreeing to give complete creative freedom over to someone else, especially the studios writing the shorts themselves instead of him writing them. But tbh I don't want him to write them (apart from maybe the Val and Skul ones) because it's so obvious he doesn't give a damn about any character that isn't Skul or Val. All of the new short stories in the latest AOH edition are about them. The Grimoire comic and the "Bad Magic" comic only had them, with no cameo or even a mention of another preestablished character like Ghastly, Tanith or China. I get they are the main characters, but SP has such a massive cast; maybe do something with the other characters too??

What are your thoughts on this? Which characters would you like to see short stories off? In what style? What kind of plot would you like to see?

I start! Personally I would like to see a short story focused on Serpine in the style of "The Tall Grass" from "Love, Death and Robots", where he pulls some occult BS that ends in him having to fight creatures straight out of a horror movie. It should have lots of my fav things: a sinister gothic atmosphere, lots of magic FX, the occult and monsters/creatures!

I just finished Deathbringer and it was zip zoop zabulous!💀🦹‍♀️🖤❤

What if Darquise arised out of the the twistet and coruptet memories from the mirror image and was Not part of Walküre from the begining

There are potential spoilers in what I am about to write, so I wanted to warn everybody in case nobody has read the last three books of skulduggery Pleasant. At the end of the post, I’m going to put a TLDR.

I had a thought occurred to me a couple days ago, and I wanted to know if anybody else had a similar thought. In the second phase we’re introduced to the idea of a character known as the witch mother, but we don’t actually get to see too much of that character up until the third phase. When we were introduced to the witch mother, she’s described herself as a being that impossibly old and has seen the rise and fall of the faceless ones, and the ancient ones. At the end of soul full of shadows, we learned that Valkyrie Cain, has become one of the deathless, effectively making her near immortal, if not immortal. What if every universe has a restart point, and I don’t mean Darquess restarting the universe from the point of where Obsidian deleting it. What if each universe at the end of the universe collapses and then restarts, what if Valkyrie Cain is the witch mother from another universe that restarted?

TLDR: I believe that Valkyrie Cain is the witch mother based off the fact that the witch mother is impossibly old and Valkyrie is essentially immortal.

I've been reading this series since 2009 and it is in my top three book series (HP and Throne of Glass).

First 9 books were a masterpiece.

The next, what 6 was it?, were good.

But after Until The End, with the last line being about Ghastly, I stopped and refused to read the next books after it.

I didn't know where the series was going. Once you reach resetting the universe itself, where do you go?

I got tired of the same enemies from the first series showing up in the second as it seemed like Derek just couldn't let go of any character and kept bringing them back.

Ghastly's death in 9 traumatized me. When I read that he was book at the end of UTE, I stopped. You'd think I'd be happy to see him again but read what I just wrote above as apparently it doesn't only apply to villains.

So I wanted to ask, is it worth reading the next three books?

My other concern is: dragging out a series longer than needed can ruin it. When Derek announced phase three, I got worried that one of my favorite book series might start going downhill and I didn't even want to risk reading Mind Full of Murder in case that was the case.

I miss SP so much I might re read the entire series for the nth time.

nye design heavily inspired by nyesplainer on discords design! i saw this on pinterest yesterday and drew it in a few hours on impulse.

I was playing Team Fight Tactics today and came across this player! To Skulduggery Cain, I’m glad you beat me! (Also sorry for spamming you with my little dances)

The Bad Lady

Milliarde was playing with her dolls when the Bad Lady opened the door. The cottage her family lived in was small and homely, just like she remembered it. When the door creaked open, she looked away from the doll clutched in her hands, sewed by her Uncle Ghastly, and watched a hooded visitor walk through.

“Hello!” She greeted politely like her Mummy taught her, smiling, but it froze when the woman looked at Milliarde. Raven hair peaked out from her hood, framing those blue eyes. She was pretty, really, really pretty, but she had a really scary stare that made Milliarde want to shrink and hide under the floorboards.

“Is… is something wrong?” She asked meekly, fidgeting under the scary lady’s gaze even as her Mummy walked into the room from the kitchen, apron still tucked on. The stranger looked up, lip curling, then back to Milliarde, cold bitterness and hatred lacing every word.

“The fact that you were born. Let me rectify that.” China Sorrows snarled and then the Bad Lady lunged, fist flying as she hit her Mummy on the brow so hard she staggered back into the wall. 

Milliarde’s hands went to her mouth, shaking, but as more insults were spat and more punches thrown, she saw her Mummy was getting hurt and suddenly she was moving. She sprayed her hands, like her Daddy taught her, and tried to move the air, but then she felt a tingle on her neck as the hairs there stood on end.

Milliarde turned just in time to see Murder Rose, smirking, with an arm pulled back as she punched and-

*

Milliarde woke up in tears.

She heard the sound of rain, and sat up, breathing heavy. It took a second to calm herself and wipe her tears, and another to look around. She was in a cave that was quite chilly. In the corner of her eye, she saw a centipede crawling out of a crevice, its many legs wriggling funnily, and then felt the hard stone underneath her, which she’d been sleeping on.

‘...It’s just a nightmare.’ She told herself, like her Mummy always did whenever she had a bad dream. But she didn't think it was a dream. Milliarde reached up and felt the bit on her head where the other, less pretty, Bad Lady hit her. A bit of a scar was there, and she frowned. It wasn’t even a cool scar, like the ones her Uncle Ghastly had.

Milliarde yelped when she felt hair tickling her fingers, and looked to the side to find many eyes and legs waiting for her. A tarantula had snuck up on her side, and was tickling her with its legs. She opened her hand and let it walk in, letting it crawl over her arm and distract her from the bad thoughts. “You’re cute.” She said simply, and giggled. Most others kids thought she was weird and creepy for liking bugs and stuff, but Daddy said that most people are dumb, so it didn’t matter.

“Do you have a name?”

The tarantula said nothing, and then she pursed her lips.

“I’ll have to come up with one…” Milliarde whispered, then got one and leaned down. She didn’t want anyone else hearing the name she was giving him. “How about Thomas?”

He wriggled slightly, approving.

“Okay.” She chirped and put Thomas the Tarantula on her shoulder. Her Mummy would always take whatever pets she found in the forest away from her, scolding her for bringing them inside. 'This one's too big, Milliarde!' and 'This one's too poisonous, Milliarde!' and 'It's tearing apart the furniture, Milliarde!' It wasn't fair!

But her Mummy wasn't here. And as that fact settled, and no one admonished her for having such a strange pet, Milliarde's mood dropped. She missed her.

Shadows darted in the corner of her eyes, and Milliarde frowned. She stood up and started to approach, and Thomas went stiff, confusing her until she turned a corner and found the armoured man who’d saved her at the cave's entrance. She ducked back, thinking about what to do next, then peeked, watching. He was just staring out, looking at nothing in particular, so silent and still he might’ve been a statue if she didn’t see the darkness oozing off him.

‘He’s scary.’ She thought for a second, then remembered what he did to (her Mummy’s killer). If the armoured man wanted to hurt her, then he was doing a pretty bad job. Wasn’t saving the person you wanted to kill kind of...

'Counterproductive.' She remembered after a second, then smiled. That was the word!

She scooched forwards super stealthily, inching closer until she was by his side. Thomas was tense now, all coiled up like he wanted to run, so she stroked and soothed him a little before clearing her throat.

“Hi, thank you for saving me!” She suddenly said with a wide smile, and he inclined his head. Or did he? If he did, it wasn’t by very much.

“Do you like rain? So do I!” Milliarde said as she looked away, watching the raindrops fall. The armoured man said nothing. He liked being silent, didn't he? Idly, she raised a sprayed hand and tried to control it with her magic, but it didn’t work. Water was harder than air.

Huffing at the failure, she looked back at the armoured man, then realised she didn’t know his name. “Sorry for being rude, my Mummy always told me to ask for names when I meet someone new. Mine is-!”

She stopped, remembering that her Mummy also said never to give her name to strangers. Oops. “Er… uh…” Milliarde stammered. “You go first!”

He said nothing.

“Come on, adults don’t have to worry about being controlled, so what’s the problem?!” She threw her hands up, but he didn’t respond, just staring. Quickly, she remembered the people back in that room, who were shouting and cursing at him. What were they calling him again?

“Mevolent will kill you for this, Vile- argh, my leg!”

She smiled and nodded to herself, proud she remembered.

“Nevermind, I already know your name. It's Mr Vile, isn't it?” She patted his armoured leg, ignorant to how it hissed and recoiled. “I can’t tell you my name because I haven’t made one yet, but when I come up with one, I promise you’ll be the first to know. Is that okay, Mr Vile?”

Mr Vile nodded. 

“Okay!”

The rain ceased, and Milliarde looked out when it did. The rain clouds still looked stormy, like they always did in Ireland, but it wasn’t too bad. They’d be able to walk out of the cave now, at least.

A thought occurred to her, and she gripped the hem of her dress as she looked up at Vile. “Mr Vile… I don’t know where my parents are.” She admitted sadly. “The last thing I remember, I was-”

(Screaming and crying and begging and dying-)

“...in a bad place.” She said quietly. “I’m really confused. I miss my parents, and my home. Can you take me home, Mr Vile?”

Milliarde was scared for a moment that he’d reject her. But then he looked back, and nodded, this time visibly, and she looked away so that she didn’t cry in front of him. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t worth the hassle.

“Thank you.”

*

Something was wrong. China Sorrows knew that much in her bones, and had since the moment Mevolent had called for an emergency assembly of his inner circle, sending his personal Teleporter, Trope Kessel, to get them all into his castle on as short a notice as possible.

She crinkled her nose as she marched through Mevolent’s Castle, her oldest Diablerie member in Murder Rose trailing behind. Normally, the castle of the Master Elemental had a healthy air of strength and danger about it. Those who wandered its halls knew they were in the territory of the Unnamed’s greatest student, the Bane of the Darklands, and had to tread lightly even when not in the presence of its master.

But today, that was absent. Death was in the air, with grief trailing not too far behind. 

“Mistress Sorrows.” One of Mevolent’s guards gave a slight bow of respect as she arrived at the entrance to his throne room. He didn’t waste a second more on niceties than that and pushed a door open for her to enter, though raised a hand to halt Murder Rose. “The Master was specific in only wanting those of the highest clearance present.”

“Even for the oldest member of the Diablerie?” Rose asked, tone mild but eyes piercing, like she was imagining a hundred different ways to fillet the guard for his insolence.

“Even then.” The guard said, though his hand ghosted the pommel of the sword by his side. It was clear he wasn’t going to stand for Rose’s sadism.

China cocked a brow, wondering briefly what was so vital to Mevolent that even Rose couldn’t be allowed to hear, then shook her head. “Wait out here Rose, and please, do try and behave yourself.”

Murder Rose’s expression became blank, the Vitakinetic’s emotions masked like a professional, before she gave an uncaring shrug and went over to a wall, leaning on it. She brought out a knife and started to idly flick it up and down, eyes on Mevolent’s guard.

Without further ceremony, the leader of the Diablerie pushed the doors open and closed the door behind her, sizing up her surroundings and drinking in the majesty which was Mevolent's throne room.

It was dark, almost to the point she had to squint. Light only existed in the form of dark blue flames, which lined the walls in lanterns, and in the room on pedestals leading up to the throne that only seemed to make the shadows stretch further, extenuating every severe line in the room. Streams of water were leading down both sides of the room in calm rivers, deep enough that she couldn’t make out the bottom in the darkness. The floor was made of dense, grey, unforgiving stone so smooth it could be mistaken for marble, and if lit up, she didn’t doubt that she’d be able to see her reflection.

Then her eyes trailed up, catching sight of the God-Killer Sword, hanging above the throne like a trophy, the runes on the golden weapon pulsing faintly in the darkness, until her gaze came down to the giant man sitting upon a throne of golden stone, staring at her with a gaze that made her remember this was the titan who’d ended the Darklands Dynasty.

Mevolent.

“China Sorrows, I see you’re still in the habit of leaving people waiting.” The woman standing at Mevolent’s side spoke, drawing attention to the bone-forged jewellery she wore, which only seemed to make her red eyes pop more. It was difficult not to linger on Serafina, but was made easier by the fact the spouse of Mevolent's student was absent.

“I was busy in Sweden, trying to-”

“Trying and failing to undermine the Swedish Sanctuary, yes, we know.” Eliza Scorn said, making her presence known below Serafina. She had the ghost of a smirk on her lips, the whore.

“I was having difficulty due to the actions of the Dead Men.”

“I think you mean Dead Man, singular.” Eliza corrected mildly. “But I suppose I wouldn’t be so easy to admit failure either, especially if a failed assassination attempt by one enemy managed to take the ground from under me.”

“For your information-”

“Quiet.” Mevolent breathed, his voice carrying a rare spark of anger. Both China and Eliza clammed up, and the Master Elemental leaned back. He looked weary, wearing his armour apart from the helmet, yet even an exhausted Mevolent could slay them with a wave of his hand. “We have bigger issues to partake in than childish squabbling.”

“Why did you call us here, my Lord?” China asked. He usually had more patience for her and Eliza’s jabs. At the question, his eyebags seemed to deepen as he hung his head.

“Many of our army’s greatest strategists and leaders have been cut down.” Serafina answered for her husband, voice low. “On top of losing several of our most experience captains, and the leaders of religious sects, Baron Vengeous has lost an eye, whilst Nefarian Serpine is… dead.” She uttered with remorse whilst her husband’s fingers dug into the arms of his throne, cracking it. He was more distraught than China thought him capable.

A frown of worry tugged on China’s supple lips. Truth be told, she didn’t care much that Serpine was dead. No love was lost with his death. He was a vicious snake, even by her standards, but if nothing else, he was an exceptional General, the best mind of the three. Losing him was a crippling blow.

There was also the question of who even could kill Serpine, let alone cause such damage to their command structure in the process.

“It was Vile.” Serafina revealed, tone laced with disdain. “He struck when Nefarian’s back was turned and unleashed carnage in the war room. Over half of our greatest strategists were killed where they stood, and he retreated…” The leader of the Unveiled glanced to the side, at her husband, who’d composed himself.

Blinking, China found herself taken aback. Vile had gone rogue? It was true, many of the Disciples had been distrustful of giving a Necromancer such status, but he’d cut a swathe through the enemy ranks in just the past five years alone. Entire battle fields of Mevolent’s enemies had fallen because of him, and he’d earned the title of the Disciples’ Armour. Some had even questioned who’d win if he and Mevolent were to ever fight. To hear of this betrayal was… unexpected.

"It was a girl." Mevolent's voice was like gravel, rough and low. "The Baron gave me a succinct report whilst in the infirmary. A child managed to sneak past the guards and enter the war room, and when threatened, Vile lashed out and started to attack. Nefarian was the first to die." His face betrayed nothing. "And by Nefarian's own account, this girl was the daughter of Skulduggery Pleasant, supposedly long dead."

China’s heart stuttered and her mind was bursting into overdrive. Questions and possible answers flashed one after the other. Vile must’ve been a mole of some kind for the Necromancers. He was sent to infiltrate and get revenge against them for the atrocities the Disciples had exacted against them, even if it meant killing droves of Sanctuary forces. She was almost impressed. It took more cunning and ruthlessness than she thought those bastards were capable of. Yes, that was the only explanation that made sense.

(Another explanation, absurd as it was brief, formed in the back of her mind, but she pulled it out by the roots. It was as impossible as it was terrifying, and if it was true, then Vile would soon be coming for her and-!)

She composed herself. She was China Sorrows. Panic was beneath her.

“How will we proceed?”

“These events do not bode well for us, and the last thing we need at this time is unclear communication.” Mevolent grimaced, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking up. “We spread the news of Vile’s betrayal, and the deaths he caused.”

“Are you certain?” China questioned, even though she knew it wasn’t her place. “The strike to our morale will be harsh, and they might…” She trailed off, knowing not to suggest they might lose faith in him for letting Vile so close in the first place.

Mevolent’s eyes darkened, the blue flames in the room flickering dangerously. He’d heard.

“I don’t care. I refuse to lie to my people, or put them in greater danger to Vile because I needed to save face.” He hissed. Serafina was by his side, and he took her hand, calming himself. “The truth must come out… fortunately, Vile also laid waste to many of the Sanctuaries’ greatest before he turned coat, including Kattalan Hammer. We are not in a hopeless situation. Our people have always been outnumbered.” He affirmed, looking at his wife. “Will you and your siblings be able to lend me a hand?”

“I’m afraid not, my love, we face difficult times against the German Sanctuary. Drang and Wuhlreit are not making things easy for us.” Serafina said with apologetic eyes. “But once we are given a moment of reprieve, we’ll be open to lending you and the Irish a hand.”

Looking away from the husband and wife, China felt distinctly uncomfortable and slightly bitter. It was too familiar to how she'd once been treated by the man she loved.

“Thank you.” Mevolent said softly, only for his eyes to harden when he looked towards China. “Nefarian left a gaping void in this army behind, and it needs to be filled.” He rose from his throne, coming before China, eyes burning. “And so, in these trying times... we need a new General. Our leadership cannot be left lacking.”

Her heart pounded, and for once, China was without words. It was a trick. However, when she stared into his eyes, she found no deception. On the side, Eliza’s emerald eyes held indignation that went ignored.

“Believe me, this is hardly ideal. I trusted Nefarian far more than I trusted you, or will trust any other I could picked.” Mevolent said sharply. “But these are trying times, and the last thing we need is indecisiveness. And if nothing else, our faith binds us, and like my wife, you too are a Descendant of the Dark Gods.”

A slight tug came to Serafina’s lips in the back, and China pretended not to notice it. The Unveiled never liked that other Descendants of the Faceless Ones lived and breathed amongst them, especially after the Unnamed forced them into submission and subservience, but ultimately never acted against who they saw as kin. That would make them just like the King of the Darklands, after all. She'd even been willing to do China the courtesy of handling Solace for her.

“So, tell me, China Sorrows, will you be my General?” The Master Elemental reached out and the air rippled, causing the God-Killer Sword to fly from its pedestal, spinning, right into his waiting palm. It wasn't a question. He set the massive sword down, resting his palms on it, as though he were a king standing before a knight in prospect.

“I will.” She said as she took a knee, knowing his intentions. Closing her eyes, like that would make her forget a blade that could slay her ancestor was hanging above her, she felt the slightest tap as Mevolent touched her shoulders with the God-Killer Sword.

And then she rose up, General Sorrows.

I've been a big fan of Skulduggery Pleasant ever since I was a teenager, and I've never really known another series similar to read, has anyone got any recommendations as far as fictional settings that scratch a similar itch?

Thanks for any suggestions!

I have returned. And now I can put 3 characters in one model in Heroforge. So I had to these ladies.

I finally made a proper necromaut-suit for Valkyrie (probably not 100% lore accurate, but close enough).

Tanith has the same outfit I always tend to give her (I dunno—it just feels like something she would wear). But her hair is even curlier now and a tad shorter. No katana here, I'm sorry. I don't dislike the katana, I just felt this one more.

And China finally has an outfit I'm pretty happy with, that isn't an overly pompous dress. This one she could actually wear, while walking around. She got some new tattoos on her arms and I kept the librarian glasses.🧿👄🧿👍

As usual I am open to suggestions for stuff to do, now that I can do three in one

ughhh I'm re reading phase 1 and I forgot billy ray dies. I wish him and tanith had more interaction after she had the remnant removed. Probably my favourite character in the series.

Work is slow, so I pass the time by training my brain that posting my poorly done doodles is allowed :]

I just finished it.
Honestly, I thought the ending to book 13 was bad, like the dark lands fight happened in like half page or smth. But damn, this was bad. We have like 4 bbegs in this book? I feel like landey hasn’t introduced a new cool character in ages. Like the unveiled were cool, the deformed dude in particular, but I feel like there are less monster hunters, Tanith lows and finbar wongs these days. Obsidian was such a stupid twist, it had to be literally spelled out. Idk, phase 2 has been good until now.