For future writing purposes, I wanted to understand just how did the Diablerie manage to murder all of the teleporters. However, I'm a bit confused and wanted to make sure I didn't miss everything.

So the people behind the murders were Murder Rose (who has a ton of knifes and I think high agility?), Gruesome Krav (who has enhanced strength) and Jaron Gallow (which I forgot what discipline he has). However, how exactly did they go about killing all the teleporters? They kill Emmett, but that's because he opened his apartment door (for some reason) and talked with them, so they had an opportunity.

Was this ever expanded on?

Into The Deep End

Dread. 

The sensation overloading Morton Fade’s mind was dread. It was sitting heavy in his chest like a ball of lead, making it hard to breathe. He only hoped it wasn’t reflected on his face; the sharks of the Depths would eat him alive if they smelled blood in the water.

“Follow.” A guard ordered and Morton did, knowing he wouldn’t be asked twice. He started to move mechanically, counting his footsteps as he went, feeling the cold stone beneath his bare feet. It was his first week in the Depths, and he wanted out.

The guard he was following didn’t turn back, nor did he speak, and for this Morton was both glad and frustrated. Socialisation was not a priority in the Depths. The prisoners housed here were the worst of the worst, the lowest of the lows, and letting them talk amongst and mingle amongst themselves was a rarity he’d yet to experience. His company had been its own for the past week, with nothing but the accursed silence of absolute isolation to hold himself over.

He walked behind the guard as the two walked under an arch, stone giving into dry sand. Morton looked up and found the abyss, hugging a titanic bubble of air which felt so very thin with an entire ocean of water laying above them. Around the edges of the prison were eight spires perfectly distanced away from one another in a lattice, edging the pocket of oxygen which kept them all from drowning in the ocean’s depths. If he had to guess, he’d say those spires were forming a giant sigil formation of some kind, using air and possibly water magic to indefinitely maintain the bubble’s structure. It was the only explanation. As an Elemental, Morton shuddered to imagine the effort it would take to constantly maintain such a thing.

A humongous dark silhouette glided through the water, causing the currents to bend, and Morton averted his eyes. This was not doing his fear of the sea any good.

“Consider yourself lucky that the Warden entertains your request, boy.” The guard spoke at last with a voice that was, like most of the Guards, distinctly Japanese. “Tread lightly and you may not find yourself drowning in the darkness.”

Morton frowned but said nothing, choosing to itch the shackles on his wrists which were a size too small. Up ahead, he saw the steel compound at the heart of the Depths, where the guards themselves lived. The two of them approached, passing and walking through the living quarters of the people who maintained the Depths. Their eyes were piercing Morton as he walked, trying and failing to ignore them.

And then, the two of them arrived at the steel door to the Warden’s office.

“I suggest you pray she is in a charitable mood.” The guard spoke quietly, then without waiting, reached for the door and pushing it open. 

Morton found an eye without an iris locked onto him, blind yet intense. Scarred flesh was what he registered next, trailing over a woman’s brow and carving a fissure over her delicate facial features. The Warden’s other eye, maroon, was boring into him, and she was smiling in a way that told him she was expecting him.

Warden Jacqueline Enmity was smiling, but it was not a real smile. Morton came from a legacy family and was taught the intricacies of underhandedness. How to spot when someone was hiding behind surface-level niceties and pick the venom out of words. How to notice when another was hiding a blade, metaphorical or otherwise, behind their back. How to stare into a mage’s eyes and tell their intent.

And it was because of all of that that, when Morton looked into those mismatched, terrible eyes, he could tell the Warden had no intention of hearing his words.

“I suppose you’d be the fresh blood.” The Warden said and smiled a smile as hollow as her right eye. “Welcome to the Depths.”

*

The shine of moonlight was basking the city of Tokyo, cleaving through the rain. It was midnight. A small form was running through the city’s dark alleys, moving like her life depended on it, because it very much did.

“Don’t let her escape!” A man’s voice came from behind Azami, not far enough, nearly blocked out by the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. She was panting and exhausted but couldn’t let herself rest. The alleyway ahead came to a dead end with a bolted fence. She was trapped. 

Rather than pause or give up, she glanced between the buildings at her sides and the cracks between them. Footholds. She jumped and leaped between the brick walls of the alley like an acrobat, finishing with a spinning jump to clear the fence. On the way down, she cried out as one of the barbs caught the top of the fence, drawing blood. She landed in a graceless heap, but was scarpering onwards before the pain could even fully settle.

Like a light at the end of the tunnel, she exited the alley and came into the main streets. Nobody was in sight, civilian or otherwise. Azami motioned to flee into another alley so she could shake her pursuers off, but then a couple of men emerged. Hesitating, she turned into the streets, looked both ways, and found more men in garments like kimonos waiting for her. Katana were on their hips, sheathed alongside loaded guns. At their front was a stoic man without a droplet of empathy on his face, the tonfa on his hip oozing with a magic that seemed to devour the surrounding light.

She backed away, turned, and a punch to the throat sent her sprawling onto the concrete, gasping in pain and a lack of air.

“I apologise for the rough treatment, but you had to know what running would do for you.” The man above said, his voice a condescending drawl. Azami didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “Come now, did you honestly think that would work?”

Azami coughed, lungs and throat burning.

“Nothing to say?” He asked, then reached down, nails biting into flesh as he forced her to look up, whimpering. Zenken was smiling, his face sharp and handsome and cruel. Opposed to her haggard appearance, every hair on his head was exactly where it was meant to be. 

She tried to muster up a glare, but then his lips ghosted her lips, and she just shivered. A temptation was there to bite, but knew there would be no point.

“Do you want me to punish you?” He asked, voice edged with warning, and Azami realised he was waiting for an answer. She kept silent. Punishment was coming anyway.

The sigh he gave was long. “I’ll have to tame you somehow…” The man trailed off, frowning and looking to the side. His grip loosened, and Azami followed his line of sight, finding a silhouette watching from the street’s corner, frozen. A woman. 

A mortal.

“Kill her.” Zenken spoke aloud, nonchalant. At the order, the man in black drew his dark weapon. With a sudden jerk, the woman turned to flee, making the correct assumption she was in danger. But then the Necromancer, Yami, emerged out of the shadows behind her with an apathetic expression and tonfa poised.

“Don’t!” Azami cried out a moment before he slashed, and flesh gave way. She wanted to look away, but Senken wouldn’t let her. The innocent bystander gave a gurgle, and then she came apart, from the right shoulder to her left side. Red and innards mixed with rainwater, and she just stared, numb. She continued to stare as the death magic left in the woman started to take effect, eating away at her flesh and organs, until only a puddle of blood remained.

Indifferent as always, Yami withdrew his tonfa.

“Do you see what happens when you misbehave?” Zenken whispered softly, brushing a strand of mint-green hair off her face. Any other time, the action would’ve garnered a shudder. As she was, aside from a tingle passing over the back of her neck, she felt nothing.

She stared down hollowly.

“I don’t understand what use your father sees in you…” The wicked man muttered, then grabbed the back of her neck, fingers like iron as he rose. He addressed his men who, like him(and her) had crescent-like tattoos on their faces, marking their loyalties. “Clear away. The boss isn’t a man to be kept waiting, and frankly, I don’t think any of us want to be on the end of his temper.” 

Zenken clicked his tongue, then shook her up and down. “Speaking of, she’s going to need a new bodyguard. Any volunteers?”

No one raised a hand. Zenken pointed to a particularly uncomfortable looking lackey, his smirk stretching. “You’ll do.”

As he spoke, her gaze wandered, the rain dripping into her eyes. After having failed to escape, she should’ve felt devastated, but what was the point? All hope was lost. It was easier to drown in indifference. Now she was just waiting to return to her horrible family, to serve horrible people, and do horrible things.

She closed her eyes, letting her head loll to the side, and then, it stopped. Not the indifference, no, but when she opened it, she saw.

The rain had stopped.

“I think you should let the girl go.” A foreign-sounding and unknown voice said. She turned with Zenken to its source, and found a man in the alley, standing there, dry despite the weather. His hair was the colour of sand, and his eyes, the sea. He didn’t look remotely Japanese, she noticed, as the one gripping her hair shifted.

“And who are you meant to be?”

The caucasian man lifted his head. “Caspian Dweller.” The Japanese on his tongue was slightly broken, slow, like he had to think before speaking. “And I repeat again… you should let the girl go.”

“Oh? And how do you figure that?” Zenken tilted his head, and the men behind him started to draw their weapons, though the now-named Caspian didn’t blink.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you, like he killed that woman over there.” He said, pointing at Yami for good measure. “Only much, much more painfully.”

The wicked man holding her lost his joviality. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “Do you think you’re a hero, foreigner?”

The foreigner shook his head. “No. I might've been at one point, but I'm no hero anymore.” Caspian looked down, meeting her eyes for flicker. He looked back up. “I’ve just decided that I don’t really like you.”

Zenken scoffed, then raised a hand and the men she now saw were holding their pistols pulled the triggers. An ear-splitting series of bangs followed and Caspian became peppered with bullet wounds, from his skull to his legs, stepping back as liquid wept out of the collection of holes his body was now sporting.

But what leaked out of him wasn’t blood. It was clear. 

And as he stared up, she saw crystal-blue in his skull where white was meant to be, a moment before his skin closed itself around his wounds. She stared as several men behind her cursed.

“Well, that does it.” Caspian said with a grimace, then clenched a fist, and the puddles under his adversaries’ feet frosted over, leaving the bulk of his enemies immobilised as ice covered them from head to toe within moments, leaking into their mouths. Only Zenken and Yami weren’t caught. A strangled yelp rang out from the thugs as they collapsed, and then he threw himself at Zenken, who spun on his heel and dropped her, the tattooed man engaging his foe with a snarl.

Azami groaned, rubbing her tender throat in the dirt. Her clothes were soaked through. Raising her head, she saw Yami appear from the shadows behind her unexpected saviour, raking the blade across his back. Caspian gave a faint grunt, then javelins of ice emerged from the vertebrae of his spine, grazing flesh as Yami rolled to the side. As though their job were finished, the spikes on his back shattered, their fragments raining down on Zenken like a hail of bullets that he dodged with inhumane grace.

“Your magic is powerful, I must wonder what kind of mage you are. An Elemental?” Zenken questioned, his voice steady, then he shook head. “No, that doesn’t quite feel right. This level of water manipulation is beyond all but the most elite of Elementals.”

“Talkative, aren’t you? The opposite of your friend here.” Caspian asked as he brought his arm out in a wide arc, a broadsword of deep blue ice materialising out of thin air, which he used to block the incoming tonfa. Yami's eyes were cold, though he was silent. 

“I think I might’ve heard of you before.” Zenken spoke as he drew his katana, sneaking in behind Caspian, evading his spears of ice before thrusting it through his back. The blade emerged where his heart was meant to be, yet again, drew no blood. “Hard to kill, aren’t you?”

The shadows stirred around Yami’s tonfa, and he swung, sending a stream of miasma at Caspian that was just barely blocked by a wall of ice that turned black, then broke like glass, its remnants raining down on Yami as he formed a dome of darkness as a barrier. Then the area around where Caspian had been stabbed froze over, ice crawling down steel as Zenken withdrew, and the blade shattered.

“If you have something to say, say it.” Caspian said as he glared back, crystalline ice crawling over his fists and glazing them over like makeshift knuckle-dusters. He punched, each one swift and powerful, but Zenken was slippery, evading them by a hair’s width each time.

“I’m a well-informed man, Mr Dweller.” Zenken said calmly as he threw an elbow that struck perfectly into Caspian’s eye, staggering him. “Even in the happenings of other Sanctuaries and their mages. Their criminals. I’ve heard of a group of mercenaries, new but powerful. Rumour has it that their leader is a man who can conjure storms out of water, the sole escapee of the Depths.” He tilted his head. “The Depth Dweller.”

Caspian’s face spasmed, but then Yami flung his arm and impaled him with half a dozen arrows of darkness. Pain and rage bloomed over his expression as the miasma lost its shape and started to sink into him deep, corrupting, spreading, like a virus taking root.

“I take it you don’t like the name?”

A growl emerged from Caspian throat, and Azami blinked, moving to make her way out of the streets. To escape. Then a hand wrapped around her throat and she turned, finding one of the men had broken free.

“If I return without you, the boss will have my head.” His grip tightened and she thrashed, fighting him. Over his shoulder, the other thugs within the group laid on the floor, dead, frost at the edges of their mouths, eyes glazed. She looked up grasped at the hands around her throat, tried to pry them off, and whilst she’d always been strong despite her small stature, his strength was unnatural. An Enhancer.

Nails failing to dig into his wrists, she looked over his shoulder as the rot infecting the Depth Dweller froze away and shattered. Holes were in his torso where it broke, but they were already closing. His eyes locked onto Azami’s. Frost crawled below his feet as though alive, shooting and latching onto the foot of the Enhancer, and he seemed to scream as his grip loosened.

“Get it off! Get it off!” He cried as she pushed him off, but the blue was merciless. It didn’t care about his strength. Stretching over his boot, it shattered, and all the skin of his leg was skinned off, leaving only bone and exposed muscle for him to clutch and scream at.

She took the opening and lunged, clasping the hilt of his katana and thrusting it through his eye, leaving it there as he went limp. Azami stepped back, weak, watching as Caspian endured another onslaught.

“You’re certainly strong.” Zenken said, unbothered, darting back to avoid an icicle to the throat. “But are you as strong as the rumours say, Depth Dweller?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Caspian asked, then brought his hands down. Nothing happened. Then a dew drop hit Azami’s head, and she frowned, looking up to find ripples in the sky. 

No, not ripples. Water.

All the water the oncoming rain had built up over the past minutes crashed down onto them, peppering Azami so hard it stung. It continued on, until it didn’t, and she looked up to find Caspian’s face straining with effort as he swung his arms around, the motion becoming wider and wider as the water followed and started to rise, swirling into one.

And then he thrust his arms out at Zenken and Yami, sending a whirlpool at them.

Azami could only watch on, eyes wide, as her tormentors were caught in the spiralling pillar of water, spinning and spinning round and round, faster and faster, until the entire construct exploded. The glass lining the surrounding buildings shattered, and she was hit by the drenching recoil that soaked into her clothes, skin, and bones.

She leaned against the wall and lowered her arms to find the streets of Tokyo clear, save for Caspian Dweller, who was panting at the extreme usage of magic. Nevertheless, he turned, and she caught his piercing eyes, the colour of the water which he seemed to have mastered.

He said something, inquiring, but she didn’t hear, the world darkening as she fell down against the wall and felt the exhaustion take hold. The last thing she noticed was that it was raining again.

Does anyone read or write SP fanfictions? Ive written a few terrible ones before 😅🤣🤣🤣

Im trying to get back into writing, so started a new one. Cool idea, terrible writing 😭🤣🤣🤣

Name as many characters as you can from Skulduggery Pleasant, BUT it has to be a character someone else hasn't already mentioned.

Has anyone ever thought about or got an SP tattoo?

Lets see it or comment what youd want!

And no, I'm not going to steal ideas. I have my own tattoo that i will be adding to soon ☺️

>!For me it'd probably be Fletcher or Leibniz Vile.!<

Why the hell are people saying >!Erskine Ravel?!<

(Hey I’m new to reddit so sorry if anything goes wrong...)

Does anyone have any interesting stories about how you got into the books? Hardly anyone I know has read them (and only after I recommended them) so I was wondering why you guys started reading them :)

Phase 2 is very convoluted and one of the things I don't understand is why darqueese seemed so different. Like i understand shed been gone for like 6 yrs or something but she literally had no human interaction while she was fighting the faceless ones. She had no human interaction so why did fighting a race of primordial evil gods change her mind about humans? The darqueese i knew would be MAD when she realised that shed been tricked. Ik she spent a lot of time alone but this was a drastic change- she completely flipped her mind about humans. But then one could say thats why she sent trillions of herself down to the universe to "collect information" to decide if she wanted to kill or save. But I just don't understand why she would do that- I get why she changed her mind about humans after she received the info from her fellow hers but the thing I don't understand is why she would even send her fellow hers in the first place and not just start to destroy roarhaven in anger

(Btw unrelated but why did nuncle call omen the "first"?)

&#x200B;

Skulduggery Pleasant

Valkyrie Cain

Ghastly Bespoke

Tanith

Winter Grieving

Solomon Wreath

...

I just realized how much the character's we actually care about dropped as I was writing this...

Mine is Scarab.

Honourable mention to Lethe. Bro was low-key one of the best villains in the series.

In whichever book it is nuncle takes omen to a seperat dimension/space and im rly confused as to what it is like, was nuncle actually aarava kahann and he just needed to do that real quick like to get his plans in motion or was he actaully one of the watchers who got bamished for some reason or other. And whats with the dimension they were in since omen couldnt see anything properly was it a psychic ability or was it because omen literally couldnt process where he was

My headcannon for the whole thing is that they were actually in the source rift dimension and thats why he could see the dimension and once it had grown fully it would become its own source dimension for another infinite dimensions