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[out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky]

What about playable races? (Ie: Elves, Lizardfolk, Warforged, Dwarves, Dragonborn, etc.?)

Dungeons and Dragons, but your character must be a self insert, and class is determined by your current abilities Barbarian Must have a demonstrable temper, go off I guess  Bard Must be able to play an instrument Cleric Must be involved in a religious organization Druid Must have demonstrable knowledge of, or passion for nature  Fighter Must beat the DM in physical combat (hope your DM’s a wimp)  Monk Must practice a martial art  Paladin Must have a cause that one actively supports  Ranger Must be able to fire a kind of ranged weapon accurately  Rogue Must sneak up on the DM (Hard mode: steal their dice)  Sorcerer Must have a powerful family heirloom  Warlock Must work for a powerful entity (Corporations, The Government)  Wizard Must have a College Degree or a 3.0 GPA  If you can’t be any of these you start as a commoner, and may become one of these classes when you finally satisfy these conditions.

[out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky]

Right! A lot of the reason you don’t see people really complaining about the Osmium Siblings is because they are presented outright as villains. And the excuse that “Mara is doing what she is for humanity” is a poor one as well, because that’s the same motivation that Aurash, Xi Ro, and Sathona had when they took the worms, and yet the narrative still (rightfully) painted them as villains, because that’s exactly what they are. Calus is also presented as being incredibly dubious and sketchy, despite claiming to have only good intentions. I doubt there are many people out there that actually fully support his actions. That said, people tend to gravitate towards him because he’s one of the first alien leaders to be willing to engage us peacefully. And unlike Mara, as far as I can remember he’s never spoken about how he “should/could have killed the Traveler”, also, when interacting with the player (or any other character), he doesn’t talk down to them or refer to them as “it”, in fact he frequently complements others and extends courtesy to them, which doesn’t by any stretch of the imagination make him good or trustworthy, but it does do a good job of earning goodwill from the players that he has asked for help multiple times, and who have saved him and his plans at least twice, again unlike Mara. Part of why the Osmium Siblings get such goodwill from fans is because they’re acknowledged as what they are, villains. Because that’s what their actions and behavior define them as. The problem with Mara is this dissonance that she’s pushed as a hero even though she brainwashed her people and sacrificed them en masse. That she sees this entire race of people that trust and depend upon her, that she essentially created, as nothing but fodder for her plans. A villain is defined more by their actions than their intent, and Mara’s actions so far have been just that, villainous.

…huh. I’m just realizing that The One Who Shall Not Be Named miiiiiight not be doing work for Bungo anymore. Decided to compare him to some of the others who’ve written stuff for Destiny and found an interesting difference..

He doesn’t have Destiny or Bungie listed anywhere on Twitter. Most, if not all, Bungie employees have it. Soooooo… yay?

[out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky]

Those are the first two stories in the series off short stories that will each feature a different central character related to the larger project I mentioned in the teaser. I’m hoping to experiment with different writing styles with each of these stories, and I’m excited to show you all what I have in store!

[out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky]

Pariah

Her feet pounded along the ground, her urgency conveyed by the speed and force of her footfalls slamming into the dirt path. Ahead of her she saw the great wrought iron gates to the city of Tohxalatol. Xoltek turned to look back at her companions. They were beginning to lag behind, the strain of pulling their haul behind them had begun to take its toll. She slowed her pace to match theirs. “Hey, I thought you three said that you could handle carrying the cargo. If you need me to, I can pull the cart too.” While the others could not see the impish smile of her mandibles beneath her helmet, they knew it was there. Otlach grunted and bristled the sharp foliage protruding from his arms and back. “Don’t think that we don’t know that you’re just trying to increase your share, no,” said Otlach, “We can handle this.” Xoltek shrugged, “fine, suit yourself. However, if you all don’t hurry up, we’re going to be late to the meeting. We need to be there before the markets open if we want to have any hope of getting a good deal for our haul.” She could see Otlach grimace, if it was already that late in the day, then she was right, there wouldn’t be much of a profit to split amongst them, behind him Kahnmar and Chalcta seemed to be weighing the decision as well. Especially since it was the day before the Grand Solis Ritual, when the city would close its gates for two days. He sighed and motioned Xoltek over to join them. She gave a triumphant clicking and hopped into place on the other side of the cart. Between the four of them, they managed to increase their pace.

Within seconds, the wrought arches passed overhead. With the late afternoon sun beating down on the myriad dark iron towers and buildings, they soon felt the great heat all around them. Xoltek smiled and let the warmth fill her foliage, happy to be home once more. As they rolled the cart into the marketplace, they found that the other merchants had already begun to arrive and take up the most favored locations. Xoltek instinctively reached into her pack for a brown shawl, however Otlach reached his hand out to motion her not to, and gave a quiet gesture of reassurance. Otlach and Xoltek gave each other knowing looks, and quickly split off to find a place to park their wagon and set up a stall. Within minutes, Otlach had found a location and signaled their cart. They quickly fell into position and set themselves up. Xoltek strode over and inspected their haul as she helped to lay it out. They had gathered valuable goods from all around, even ventured into the wilds for some of it. She thought of this as she hung several slain creatures by their tails. Their scales and pelts were as hard as iron. They had been difficult to take down, however, they were likely some of the most valuable items in their inventory. With the fascination that the Sun Empire’s citizens had with smithing, and the value that they attached to materials reclaimed from fallen foes, these had been an invaluable catch. From there, she unpacked dozens of plates of whale baleen that they had received as payment for working security on a Didoian fishing vessel for several weeks. Kahnmar and Chalcta were already unloading the rare ores and minerals that they had mined for in the foothills of the Krohroystan Mountain range, a place that few would draw venture. All told, this was a large and valuable haul. One that the four of them had spent months scraping together.

With any luck they would be able to exchange this for some high quality Night Steel and Star Obsidian, in the hopes that they might all finally be able to participate in creating a new arcane core on the second day of the Grand Solis Ritual, and in doing so, leave their own mark on the next generation of Thrak born to the Empire of The Sun. Xoltek looked up, and noted that the Sun had almost reached its apex in the sky, the markets would open soon. She quickly knelt down next to her projecture, and offered a quiet prayer to the Sun that the crew might prosper, looking up and opening her arms wide at the sky, as if offering to take the sun in an embrace. Otlach, Kahnmar, and Chalcta followed with their own prayers, appeals to the radiant warmth in the sky for prosperity. They turned to their wares and resumed preparing their stock for the day ahead. Xoltek added a silent prayer to watch over her three compatriots. She would give what she could for them, she felt that she owed them that much. Xoltek took up her position on the roof of the stand, where she would scout for customers and relay their location to Chalcta. In turn, Chalcta would usher them over to the stand, where Otlach would pitch the rarity and quality of their wares. Kahnmar would keep track of and calculate their sales. The four of them were a proper crew, well-practiced and skilled. They had done this many times before, in many different places, and as the crowds started to pour in, she felt a familiar rush flow through her. Though this was their first time selling in the capital, ultimately one of the Sun Empire’s city was much like the next when it came to marketplaces. All that had changed was volume of patrons and fellow vendors, but this did little to intimidate her, after all, this was her old home, and although it had been long since she had last been her, little had changed.

She glanced sidelong at the other scouts atop the neighboring vendor’s stalls. Their own furtive eyes scanning the incoming crowds for potential customers. Because of their lateness, they had already lost out on some of the better vantage points and more spacious locations, however she was confident that they could make due with what they had here. She quickly spotted three ideal individuals from the amongst the crowd, their armor gave them away as smiths. She whistled at Chalcta and have a short series of clicks to convey their descriptions and location. Chalcta then made her way over to each of them and pointed them towards Otlach. The first two arrived and Otlach began his pitch, mustering all of his showmanship and charisma (a trait that still seemed unusual to her to see him exercise). Her hand tightened around the brown shawl in her pack, despite Otlach’s earlier assurances. As Otlach finished his pitch, one of the two had already pointed out an ironhide beast to Kahnmar, who quickly haggled a price in Night Steel from the smith, and they completed their exchange. As the second smith began to pick out some goods, the third one, a much larger individual, ambled over. As he approached the cart, he glanced up and caught sight of Xoltek. When he saw her, he changed course and quickened his pace to the other smith, and whispered something to him. Both immediately glanced up at her and gave a dirty look, before immediately turning away and leaving. She felt her brow burning with indignation. She pulled her shawl out of her bag and onto herself in one fluid motion, quickly covering her distinctive armor and foliage. She could see Otlach slouch in sympathy. She gave an aggravated sigh and returned to scanning the crowd.

Without the stress of someone potentially recognizing her hanging in the air, she found it easier to take a detailed look at the individuals in the crowd. She soon began to notice something quite surprising, mixed amongst the dark red foliage and shimmering black-grey metal, were occasional flashes of brown or honey in the crowds. It seemed that more humans had begun earning residence amongst the Thrak of the Empire if the Sun. This brought her some excitement. She had found that she quite enjoyed seeing how the humans interacted with her kind. Unlike the Thrak, humans were fragile, short-lived, and very vulnerable to poison and disease. Yet, despite all this, they created such a monumental and lasting legacy, and they lived their lives so willfully, and joyously. They created such incredible cultures, and, to her at least, there was beauty in so many things they did. Humans had always been a thing of fascination for the leaders and greater populace of the Thrak. She sighed and quickly signaled the locations of eleven potential customers to Chalcta, who in turn hurried to accomplish her own task. Slowly, the Sun rose, and then sank in the sky as the day went on. Customer after customer came to their stall and browsed, sometimes making exchanges. Often for the precious Night Steel that they so needed, sometimes however, they exchanged other goods that the four of them might be better able to sell. Soon, the sun sank to its lowest possible point before nightfall.

The gentle hum of joy and excitement rose among the majority of the gathered merchants as they counted their day’s pull. However, amongst Xoltek’s own crew, that initial hum of excitement quickly fell silent, as Kahnmar presented them with an unpleasant fact. Although they had managed to barter for all of the Night Steel they might need, even leaving them with extra, they had not received a single piece of Star Obsidian. Their goal remained just out of reach. The markets would be closed tomorrow, as it would be the first day of the Festival. Otlach put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as they finished packing away their things for the night, and said quietly, “I know that you are unhappy that our first Solus Festival together as a crew cannot be commemorated with new life, but do not fret, there are many more to come, and we have much time.” He then shambled off gently. She knew that those words had been intended to comfort her, yet she still felt a heavy disappointment wash across her core, like dark clouds covering the sun.

Later that night, she donned her cloak, and grabbed as many wares as she could carry. They had run out of luck as a group at the market. But perhaps alone she could solicit a buyer, perhaps one of the visitors or more well-off Thrak. Those types likely would not have been at the market today, and some may not even recognize her or the symbols adorning her armor. She made her way through the quiet night time streets, illuminated by soft lamps meant to emulate the glow of molten metal and rock. All around her tall buildings of wrought gray and black metal rose, their large eaves flaring out from the sloping roofs dramatically. While most of the city was dark, light still came from some of the windows. In particular, Inns, shops, and some of the seedier locales remained open. Her eyes quickly locked into a larger, more squat building. In front of it was a stable and a shed, within the stable, she could see a large wagon meant for carrying cargo was parked. This likely meant that a wealthy merchant lived here, given the size of the dwelling, and fortune of fortunes, the lights were still on. She hurried up to the door and knocked just loudly enough to be heard, careful not to disturb the quiet too much. She watched as a curious eye looked through a large, square viewport, before the metal door opened slowly. Standing in the entrance to the house was a large Thrak, armored heavily and towering over her. This Thrak emitted a rumbling sigh before asking, “And what brings you here this time of night, sproutling?”. She winced at the nickname. While she was not too much smaller than some of the other fighters her age, it always nettled her to be mistakenly compared to a juvenile. She cleared her throat and said, “My apologies for disturbing you at this late hour, however I have some goods that I desperately need to offload before tomorrow and am willing to offer a good bargain.” The other Thrak was silent for a moment before he grunted in affirmation and motioned for her to follow him into the house. “My name is Tahtxel, by the way, and welcome to my humble abode.” He gestured around himself at the warmly furnished room, from wooden floors to polished tables and multiple soft couches, this was evidently a place meant to host guests. It was also likely ideal as a location to host business meetings, all but confirming her suspicions of him being a merchant. Tahtxel immediately pulled up a seat to the hearth, where a warm coal fire burned, and sat down, motioning for Xoltek to do the same. Relaxing a bit, she seated herself and began to set out her wares.

When she had finished organizing her wares, she turned to face Tahtxel. He was lounging in his armchair examining the items in front of him, the firelight reflecting off of the shining black volcanic crystals that his furniture was carved from. He looked up at her, “So, what is it you would like in exchange for these?”

“Star Obsidian”

“Ah, so it’s for the Grand Solus Ritual then!” Tahtxel chuckled and leaned back. “Although I don’t need any of this right now, I’ll gladly trade some Star Obsidian for your baleen.” Xoltek breathed a sigh of relief, and allowed herself a moment to relax. While he went off to retrieve the Star Obsidian, she set about preparing the baleen for him. After a moment he returned with a smooth, shimmering black sphere of volcanic glass. He gently set it down on the table for her to examine, the Obsidian almost blending in with the black marble of the table beneath it. She took the cool glass into her hands and inspected it thoroughly. It was extremely high grade, with few flaws or intrusions in the material, this was worth far more than all of her wares combined. She was overtaken with relief and joy. “Thank you so much for this, however I don’t know how we could repay this kindness.” Tahtxel raised a hand as if to stop her, and shook his head earnestly. “There’s no need for repayment, I remember when I was young like you, and my guild, my family, celebrated our first Grand Solus together, the joy of working in unison, our hands all forging the components of a new arcane core. It’s payment enough that I get to pass that joy on to someone else.” Xoltek’s spirits soared, and she thanked him greatly. As the two began to shake hands to finalize their trade, she saw his eyes glance down at the back of her had and forearm, some of which had slipped out from under her shawl. Time seemed to slow as the realization of this dawned on her, and she attempted to shrug her shoulder to push the sleeve of the shawl back up, but the damage was already done, she watched as his expression changed from warmth to alarm, and her arm jolted back as he recoiled from her. He had seen the symbol etched into the armor on her forearm. Her moment of joy quickly overshadowed by mounting dread. He stuttered, and then composed himself before meeting her gaze. “My apologies, but I’m afraid that I can’t accept your goods here, you seem a kind enough soul, but if word spread that I had dealings with one such as yourself, well… you understand, right?” He looked anxious, almost sheepish. Hoarsely, she said, “Yes, of course”, and then went about, gathering her things and preparing to leave. As she made her way to the door, he whispered, quietly to her, “I’m very sorry, I wish you luck in your search”. As the door closed behind her, she heard the latch fall into place. Her eyes stung, rage and and sorrow swarmed around in her head like angry insects, and muddied her vision. She had been so close! If only she had been more careful, if only she hadn’t let her guard down, if only… No, she could not bring herself to clear the marks from her armor, they were her reminder of her first crew, her first family, and of an individual that she had come to deeply care for. Romance was rare for the Thrak, and she did not wish to lose the mark that reminded her of it, of this unusual gift that she had found, and of the kindness of all those friends as well. She steeled herself, she may not have her old family behind her any longer, however she had found a new one. They may be much smaller, and a bit more dull than the last one, but they all cared for each other nonetheless. She would do this thing for them, pariah or not, she was determined to attain the Obsidian for them.

And so, the night stretched on. Door after door she went to, and time and again she was turned away. Apparently, word of her presence had spread through the market earlier on in the day, and many would-be buyers had caught wind of it, and her description. Those who had almost always immediately shut their doors to her. Others took a few moments to realize who they were speaking to. Quickly, word spread as though the wind itself were whispering a warning. After hours of fruitless searching, she stopped in at one of the visitors inns, the few places in the city that hosted non-Solusians during the Ritual. Perhaps here, she would have better luck. She entered and walked up to the innkeeper, her exhaustion leaving her steps slow and her feet dragging. She looked up at the Innkeeper and asked them if there were any Thrak tennants. They seemed to ponder for but a moment, and then pointed her towards one of the doors to her right, she wearily gave thanks and slunk over to the door. She gave several loud, rapid knocks, before stopping to think that an outsider might find this manner of announcing oneself rather aggressive. Slowly, the door opened, and she caught sight of light green vegetation. Excellent! It would not be a Solisian, which meant that odds were they had no knowledge of her, and no care regarding her markings. However this joy quickly faded when the door opened fully, revealing the individual within. A Half-Mask. She groaned internally, there was little chance that a Half-Mask would have what she needed, as they were Thrak that went to live amongst the Humans. Specially these  half-masks lived in one of the newest human nations, The Union of Free States or UFS as it was so often referred to as.

In expectedly tactless fashion, he looked her up and down, as if analysing a potential opponent, and then said, curtly, “Hey, what do you want?” She had difficulty responding, she suddenly found herself very taken aback. As the term, “half mask” implied, he was only adorned with the upper headwear of his armor. This left his jaw and mandibles exposed. Amongst almost all Thrak societies, the revealing of one’s face was seen as an act of utmost trust and intimacy, and yet these Half-Masks from the UFS seemed to eschew that entirely. She quickly forced her gaze back up to his eyes. “It is nothing really, I was just wondering if I might offer you some wares to trade, you see I am in desperate need of someth-” He abruptly cut her off by closing the door on her. She stood there for a moment, and then quickly felt anger rising within her, like a roaring flame within a kiln. The others had refused her because they knew her to be a pariah, but this, this… Ass, he did not know these things, he had no stake in their social standing, he was just being rude. Angrily this time, she pounded on the door violently. Within seconds, he stood within the open door frame, a look of tired frustration plainly plastered across his face. “Look, whoever you are, it’s the middle of the night, and I want to be left alone, you said you didn’t really want anything, and I’m not looking to trade right now.” He once more began to close the door, but she put her hand out to stop it, and said quietly, menacingly, “I have spent the last several hours trudging about this Sun-Forsaken city, failing time and again to make a single trade, a simple trade. All I need is one thing, one thing! And yet, for some reason it seems to be an astounding impossibility for me. So before you close this door again, I’m going to ask you, do you have any Star Obsidian?” For just a moment, his expression seemed unchanged, and then his eyes lit up with curiosity and interest. “Get in,” He opened the door wider for her and then motioned her in. She stepped inside and found herself in a rather small room, adorned only with the basic necessities of as far of a trip as he had made, almost a third of the way across the continent. The only thing outside of what she would expect was a table laid out with human firearms, not unlike the Projectures of the Thrak, and a myriad of tools for said firearms. The air hung with the smell of oiled metal and the lingering stench of flint that wielders of such weapons seemed to carry about with them, as though it were an aura. Beneath all this, she could make out another smell, this one less pervasive but far more pungent, Human tobacco? She shook her head, the Half-Masks seemed to pick up many strange customs from their human kinsmen.

He settled himself into a seat and then nodded up at her, “So what are you selling?” She settled into another of the seats. “A wide variety of materials from many distant lands,” said Xoltek, “Rare metals and minerals from Nipporus, shadow bug carapace from the deepest parts of the wilds, a plethora of high quality common metals from the Union of Free States.” Xoltek would have continued but the half-mask cut her off, “Alright, I get the picture.” He lit up a cigar and took a puff, “You sell raw materials.” He looked over some of Xoltek’s wares, “A lot of good stuff here, almost too much good stuff.” He turned his gaze to Xoltek, “You haven’t sold much today, have you?” Xoltek sheepishly averted her gaze, “No, we haven’t,” she admitted. “Well the folks around these parts aren’t so well known for their open mindedness. I reckon that as soon as they saw your markings they turned you away.” Xoltek returned her gaze to the half-mask, “Yes, exactly!” Xoltek responded excitingly. “Buncha assholes if you ask me,” the half-mask quipped, “Hey, you said it not me,” responded Xoltek with a chuckle. The half-mask also chuckled, “Besides, I’ve been on the receiving end of the same kind bullshit in the past,” he picked up a piece of carapace from a giant razor beetle and started to closely examined it. “They learned to put up with me whenever I come home, they’ll learn to put up with you too.” Xoltek’s bristles all perked up attentively. “Come home?” She said inquisitively, “I thought half-masks came from the Union of Free States?” The half-mask took another puff of his cigar, “We do, but we weren’t all born there. A lot of us immigrated to the Union from other places.” He put down the carapace and picked up a piece of brightly colored nebula metal. The half mask began to examine the magically infused ingot and continued to speak, “Of course,  back in the old days we were just Thrak without a home, lost in a wilderness that was constantly trying to kill us.” He sighed, “It’s strange that I sometimes feel nostalgic for those times.”

She wasn’t sure why, but talking to the half-mask seemed so easy to talk to and even comforting in a way. Despite his curt attitude, talking to him felt like talking to an old friend that she hadn’t seen in a long time. Almost like how her old crew used to talk. They continued speaking for a while, as the night pressed on both of them began recounting their own tales of combat and glory, the Half-Mask discussing His participation in the early days of the UFS, and his fascination with Human firearms. The half mask’s name was Tyber Everwinter. His last name did not seem very ‘Thrak, but he had taken it from his late human wife and continued to use it to honor her memory. He was a gunsmith and a very successful one at that. He had designed the current service rifle of the Union’s armed forces and was kept on retainer by the Freeman’s Repeating Arms Company, one of the largest in the Union.

In turn, Xoltek discussed her time training as a candidate for the royal guard, before she ran off to join a Caravnan ship crew. She rarely had the opportunity to discuss these matters without immediately eliciting a negative response. She discussed how she and the crew had journeyed across the Silent Ocean, or how they had journeyed to the neighboring continents of Aethomir and Iroas. Inevitably, the question that she should have expected came. “So then why aren’t you with them anymore?” She hesitated before answering. “I’d rather not get into it. Ultimately, we had to go our separate ways for a little while, the last I had heard from them, they’d found an impressive haul, and just ceased any communication with me after that.” Even just discussing this still stung. The Half-mask seemed to pick up on that and quickly changed the subject. They spoke for a bit longer before Xoltek began to feel time pressing in on her. She excused herself, and thanked the Half Mask for his help. She soon found herself back at the visitation quarters where Otlach and the others were waiting. They all began to sputter out questions and concerns simultaneously, her disappearance had been noticed and been considerable cause for concern. Without saying anything, Xoltek calmly reached into her satchel, and produced the Star Obsidian.

All at once a silence fell over the other three. Xoltek could feel the knowing grin forming behind Otlach’s helm. He was the first to speak up, “Haha! I told you two she’d pull through!” He nudged her good-naturedly with his elbow, “See, resourceful, like the rest of us!” He gave a short, bark-like laugh. “All right! If that’s everything, let’s move out and get to our places for the start of the Grand Solus Festival, it’s almost morning!” The group quickly gathered their gear and began to move out, finding their places in the heart of the city, around the base of the massive ziggurat that served as the exact center of the city and the home of the Antzaht The Radiant, the leader of the Empire of The Sun. Atop the ziggurat stood a massive series of lenses, arcane tuning stones, and energy storage mechanisms, all of which lay dormant at the moment. On each side of the Ziggurat stood a massive, empty basin in the ground, each one easily several dozen meters in diameter. The crew came to a halt a hundred or so meters out from the base of the Ziggurat, and took up positions all around their supply wagon. As the darkness of the night gave way to the first rays of morning light, thousands upon thousands of Thrak swarmed into the heart of the city. As soon as the first edges of the sun became visible over the horizon, the ritual began.

Every Thrak gathered in the city began to shed their arcane armor, that which allowed them to maintain their mobile, specific shape. Xoltek felt the plates of armor sliding off her and impacting heavily on the ground at her feet. She felt her limbs unfurling and spreading, arms becoming branches, the tightly coiled and folded foliage making up her extremities no longer restricted into a specific form by her armor. Her feet and legs became roots, spreading and finding purchase in the warm, dark stone beneath her. Her sensory organs split and spread from where her face had been earlier, to the tips of her branches. Several minutes into the process, Antzaht emerged from within the Ziggurat, taking up position among the myriad equipment at the top. They stood at several meters tall, an impressive sight to behold. Their armor shining and black, like a polished version of the night sky, their helm carved into a fearsome, fanged visage with a large, ornate metal frill. They knelt in a gesture of praise at the rising sun, before slowly and dramatically shedding their armor like the Thrak in the city below. Their myriad thick, powerful branches and vines spreading amongst the machinery, twisting and intermingling with it. A massive, magma red tree rising from the highest point in the city, towering over the forest of red with patches of green that had overtaken the city below it. The mass of foliage atop the Ziggurat began to move and twist, moving the machinery with it. By the time the sun had risen fully in the sky, the lenses and attunement stones had aligned in such a way that they had begun shining lances of focused sunlight into each of the four basins. The basins themselves were made to absorb, retain, and gradually release magical energy. As the day progressed and the sun climbed through the sky, the basins began to fill with luminescence and radiant arcane energy. Xoltek and the rest of her kind sat in silent supplication for the rest of the day, the warmth of the sun filling all their branches, many of the armor of the gathered Thrak acted as a smaller version of the mechanism atop the Ziggurat, collecting the arcane energy around them and releasing it into the ground around them. By nightfall, the whole city seemed to glow with a brilliant radiance.

After several hours of dark, the first day came to its conclusion, and gradually, every Thrak in attendance began to don their armor once more, allowing themselves to by molded back into a more mobile form. They then began to gather around the myriad forges littering the city, which had been absorbing arcane energy throughout the day. One group after another, they initiated work on various projects, seeking to make use of the radiant energy in smelting new weapons, tools, and even arcane cores for new Thrak to be born. Within a matter of hours, Xoltek and her crew found themselves at a forge, and began the lengthy and painstaking process of forging a new arcane core. While they worked, the Sun rose once more, and began its climb across the sky. By late morning, they had finally finished. Before the four of them sat the basis for a new life, a metal orb covered in runes, across which the beginnings of roots and stems had begun to sprout. This child would be raised by the community from here forward, never knowing who had created it, as was custom for them. But they had done it, the four of them together had created an entirely new life. With this, their time at the city had come to an end, the Solus Ritual was over for them. They packed their things, a renewed sense of vigor and joy falling across this crew, for now they were a family, they had worked in tandem, giving all they could to create something new and unique. With triumph they made their way to the city gates, however, before they could leave, two very large Thrak approached them from either side, moving to block them. They bore the crest of the city’s royal guard on their armor, and one put up a hand, gesturing to the group to stop where they were. The other spoke quietly, but firmly. “Which among you is Xoltek? Your presence is demanded by the Radiant themselves.” In that moment, all of the joy Xoltek had been feeling washed out of her, replaced only by icy dread.

[out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky]

Uzoch’s Awakening

Gradually, the fog over his mind began to lift. The vines making up his body quivered and began to shift back into place. It was dark, and Uzoch found that the space around him was so small that he could not physically move. So this was the prison in which his son had sealed him. His mind reached out and asserted control over the darkness around him, incorporeal fingers and tendrils of shadow fell under his command, and began probing the walls of the sarcophagus around him, searching for any cracks in the structure, any breaks in the wards and enchantments that kept him drained and contained. At first, nothing, but then he felt a divot, near the base of his feet. He immediately set to work, tendrils of shadow scraping and lashing at the one structural flaw in an otherwise perfect prison. Soon, however, he began to feel the energy draining from his body once more, unconsciousness closing in on him once more. His assault must have triggered a defensive measure of some kind. He quickly took the time to set an enchantment to mark time, and then felt himself slip once more into a dreamless sleep...

  ...Once more, the fog began to lift, enough magical energy had begun to seep into the proxy phylactery at the core of his being. Groggily, Uzoch shook the fog from his mind, and checked the enchantment. It had been millenia. He sighed, and once more reached out with the shadows around him, feeling his prison. Beneath his helmet, he felt his mandibles arrange into a smile. The divot from the last time had been weakened by his assault, and the passage of time had done the rest. He could feel an opening in the stone. He tentatively reached out from the sarcophagus with a thin, whisky tendril of darkness. Air, he felt open air. Quickly, he calculated his next course of action, and used the shadows around him to reach out through the crack, small, finger-like wisps of darkness dancing gently across the surface of the stone, feeling the enchantments carved into it, careful not to trigger another defensive measure. Eventually, he had felt the enchantments of the entire sarcophagus. After several moments, he devised his next course of action. It would require him once more triggering the defensive enchantments that would leech strength from him and force him once more into that infernal coma. However, if all worked out well, he would not be asleep for much longer than a few centuries. And so, he reshaped the soft tendrils of shadow outside the coffin into wicked talons, and with as much force as he could muster, raked them across the intricate patterns that composed the enchantment that minimized the Ley energy that could seep through the stone walls and into him. Immediately, he once more felt the defensive measures engage, and drain his strength from him. He allowed himself a chuckle as he faded into unconsciousness once more…

... The fog lifted more quickly this time, and he felt his mind snap more sharply and clearly into awareness. He checked his timekeeping enchantment. It had only been centuries this time. He felt a surge of hope in knowing that his plan had worked.

He had absorbed far more Ley energy this time, he could feel the shadows around him as natural extensions of his being as clearly as he could feel his vines. He took a moment to calculate. It would take all of his strength, but with the energy he had absorbed, and the weakened structural integrity of the Sarcophagus, (for cracks had begun to spread outward from the crevasse near his feet), perhaps he could escape. He took a moment to prepare himself, drawing all of the shadows within range of him into the Sarcophagus and around his body. He then relaxed his body, letting the vines loosen and dissociate from the humanoid form he kept them in. Then, with all the physical and mental force he could muster, the shadows exploded out from around him, and his vines expanded and began to press outwards on the walls around him. He immediately felt the defensive enchantments kick in and begin desperately leeching his vitality. It became a race, would the walls give in first, or would he. As he strained, he felt the wall to the left of him begin to buckle. With renewed vigor, he ace one tremendous last push. There was a terrible cracking noises, and then, seconds later, all the walls around him exploded outwards, debris and dust showering the area. With a roar of triumph and joy, all of the disparate components of his body snapped back into place, and he attempted to bolt upwards, only to lose his balance and fall forward. With a chuckle and a sigh, he slowly, and unsteadily got to his feet once more. This time he took a moment to get his bearings, stretching his legs and looking around. He was in a large, empty room,

likely subterranean. The only things in the room aside from himself were the debris from where he had been imprisoned, a pedestal of some kind off to the side, and a single, empty, stone throne placed firmly in the center of the room. He shakily walked himself over to the pedestal, pleased to see his signature staff resting gently upon it, a thick film of dust and cobwebs adorning it. He cleaned it off and lifted it up.  The gold-laced white stone that it was composed of glinting in the soft light. When both of his hands held the staff, the halo at its top began to glow, and a small cluster of stars once more came into existence within its loop.

After a moment, his mind registered something, and he looked up. Rather than a stone ceiling, the roof was composed of some type of thick, translucent, crystal. So he was not completely underground. He turned once more, and noted that on the far side of the room was an archway, that opened into a hall beyond. To think, that Khull had gone to all that trouble to trap him, only to leave the door to his place of imprisonment wide open. He strode forward confidently, quickly reaching the archway. With several more steps, he would be throu- he heard a crackling, popping noise as he made contact with what was a transparent boundary that occupied the space under the archway. He was violently propelled backwards.

As he skidded across the ground, Uzoch silently cursed himself for his lack of caution. *of course Khull would not have made escape that simple. The coffin had likely been a temporary measure to keep him down while the rest of this place was built up and designed with numerous defenses to keep him sealed in. Which explained the throne, his son had always had an... interesting sense of humor. He pulled himself up off the ground, and walked over to his staff, which had flown across the room when he had been thrown backwards. He picked it up and looked it over, not a scratch. He was pleased that Khull had shown the decency to bury him with his opus, an implement that he had spent decades designing and building, the Lattice Crown. If he would have any hope of escape, he would have to turn all if his attention and energy towards probing his surroundings to find any weaknesses.

He took a moment to relax and clear his mind, and the gently dipped the clawed tips of his fingers into the cluster of tiny stars atop the staff. When he had slowly pulled his hand back out, there were translucent little threads connecting each finger to the small cloud of sparkling lights. As if through muscle memory, he began dancing his fingers through the air, weaving and pulling the strings in different directions. In response, he felt the air around him shudder, as reality itself began to warp and twist. Slowly, he turned, pointing the staff at each of the walls around him, and continuing the dance with his fingers.

He found that, although he could not manipulate his surroundings, he could "feel" a detailed reading of all the enchantments inside and outside the room, as well as several traps and mechanisms hidden within the wall. This entire place was almost perfectly sealed magically, and very structurally stable.

He sighed and turned his attention to the doorway, and the halls beyond. He found that the barrier blocked all but the most basic of his sensory spells. He could not even use the shadows within the hall as proper extensions of his vision. Night must have begun to fall, as the light from the ceiling quickly began to dim. The room was eventually only lit by the soft glow of his staff, and the sickly orange light of his many eyes. This was not a problem for him, granted his affinity for shadows. What was a problem for him were the sudden thudding noises of footsteps from down the hall. He moved at a brisk pace over to the archway, careful not to actually touch the barrier, and  waited.

As he looked around, he realized that while there was a hallway that extended straight forward from the entrance, another narrow hallway also ran to the left and right of the opening. As he listened, he heard the footsteps coming from the left. He quickly conjured a luminescent orb of arcane energy and waited for the thing to step into view. With the light he hoped to get a good, full view of whatever it might be. Several moments later, a hulking mass of overgrown metal plate lumbered into view, easily four meters tall. For a moment, he felt his spirits lift. A member of his brood that had been imprisoned with him! He called out to it, in the hopes that it could break the enchantments from the outside. For a moment, it turned to look at him, and his hopes sank as quickly as they had risen. There was no spark of life in its eyes, it was not one of his creations, his children. It was nothing more than a hollow suit of enchanted armor that had simply been grown over by the aeons of neglect. An automaton. A guard for this seemingly empty prison built to house him. Wordlessly, the giant continued its endless, unenthusiastic march forward.

With each thudding step it took away, Uzoch sank further and further into despair.

Because, with each step, a growing understanding and realization of his situation dawned on him. This place that he was in was massive and labyrinthine, and in the distance he could hear the clanking and footfalls of many more such guards, likely awakening because of his escape from the sarcophagus. For a place this large and sprawling to have remained untouched for the many thousands of years that it had been here, it must be both very well defended and very well hidden. And for all the power that he had wielded prior to his capture, Uzoch was now all but helpless and trapped in this room, teased with open sunlight from above and a doorless archway in front of him. He sank to his knees, all hope of ever being found fading quickly from him.

Slowly, he got up, and wandered over to the throne in the center of the room. He sat down, and gradually, allowed himself to drift into a long, deep, sleep...

This time, however, he did dream. For the most part, he dreamt of this place, its vast, empty halls, and the regular, rhythmic clanking of the guards being the only thing to break the silence. Sometimes however, he would dream of old memories. Adventuring with friends as a child, spending countless hours researching and designing new ways to use magic, and all of the beautiful and peaceful places he had visited. Other times, he would dream of war. From streams of arcane energy flowing around and past him, vaporizing several nearby allies, to the reddish hue of large bolts of magically-produced plasma arcing through the sky and raining down upon enemy positions and towns that they lay siege to. He could clearly remember the smell of a battlefield several mornings in, metallic odors mixing with the scent of rotting viscera, all mingling with the earthy scent of morning dew rising off the ground. The scent of ozone as dozens of salvos of arcane electric mortars erupted from around him, produced by weapons that he himself had designed. And then, he would dream of nightfall, when he would go out and collect the bodies. Warping and twisting them into something new. With every soldier his enemies lost, he gained two. He dreamt, and he smiled…

And then, without warning, he awoke one day to a loud crashing noise. Starting into awareness, he saw that one of the guard constructs was lying halfway in the doorway, its right leg seemingly having given out from under it. Uzoch strained to get up, but his body had spent so long in that position that movement was difficult and slow. Nonetheless, he stumbled forward as fast as he could, the guard seemed to notice him, and began pulling itself out of the room and back into the hall. Both atrophied individuals racing to escape each other's hold. Ultimately, while slow, the construct was just fast enough to pull itself out of the room, and the barrier hummed as it was completed once more. The guard reattached its leg as efficiently as it could and then limped off. For a moment Uzoch lay in despair, however, that was quickly replaced with joy by the dawning of two realizations. First, the barrier was only attuned to seal him and his staff in. Something that he quickly confirmed by running over to the pile of rubble from the Sarcophagus and tossing a chunk of it at the archway, only to watch it pass safely through. The second, that his uninvited guest had left him a gift. When it had fallen over, seeds from the vines that had grown over it had shaken off, inside his room.

While this place was warded seemingly all throughout to prevent him from using magic to compromise or damage it, the wards against floramancy and scrying magic were few and far between. Finally he could expand his sight beyond this forsaken chamber. It would take time and patience, thankfully he had both of those in spades. He set to work funneling the faint Ley energy that permeated this whole place into the seeds, encouraging them to grow and spread with unnatural speed. Perhaps he would still find a way to leave this place. He gave a satisfied smile and a gleeful chirp, and sat back down in the throne, using some rubble to create a rune that would act as a timer, to awaken him to check on the vines in a decade or so. And with that he went back to sleep…

The dreams were different this time. He still dreamt of his prison, and of war, but now he also dreamt of freedom, of an entire promising world to explore just beyond these walls. How much had the world changed while he had been asleep? He did not know, but he knew that some things stayed the same. He knew when he was free, nobody would know who he was, or remember the lessons of the past. Humans forgot, as they always did, and as they always would. They were quick to forget the lessons of their hubris, and of the threats that waited and watched, just beneath the skin of their awareness. They would have forgotten him, and all that he wrought. And he would be free to shape himself and his surroundings as he sought fit. What story would he weave for them this time? What persona would he wear?

He dreamt of where his children were, of how they were doing. Knowing his firstborn, Khull would have hidden himself away as well. He dreamed of an entire fleet, Khull's Harbinger Legion, laying frozen deep in a glacier, ever vigilant. He dreamt of Zhalra, his ever astute daughter, and how she would have accrued a vast library of lost knowledge by now. One by one, he dreamt of his other children. Of how much joy their vibrant smiles brought him, of how each sought to excel in their own fields, some hoping to one day usurp him, others forging their own paths entirely. And then, he dreamt of home. Rather, of the many homes that he had lived in. Of some of his childhood at the Artrogan Monastery deep in the Vivid Forest. Of when he and his friends, playing adventurer when they were all young and foolish, how the older children would ease his fears when they were squatting in an abandoned house on Khova hill, in the middle of the vast Mahara plains. He dreamt of the joys of discovery, and the miseries of loss. And then he awoke.

He awoke to the soft pulses of energy from the timers he had set, and immediately set to work. He linked himself into the vines, he could feel through them and see from their perspectives as though they were extensions of him. Even with their rapid growth, they had not yet mapped the entire complex. He doubted they had even mapped a third of it. Truly it was vast. And from what he was seeing, quite empty, save for him and his eternal guards.

He could now, however, fully discern the nature of the room he was in. From within it was truly impregnable, with redundancies and  backups even in the event that he could perform a miracle. Of greatest note were powerfully enchanted chains hidden in the walls, with runic seals that could only be broken from the outside, designed to hunt and ensnare him in the event of any non-guard entity setting foot anywhere in the complex aside from this room. That said, the chains had a lock that was intentionally designed to be opened by at least two people. One had to be human, another... Ordithralben? Why would Khull have designed it so that one of Uzoch's own children, one of his creations, could free him?

Ah well, those questions would have to await another day. Uzoch set another timer, and sat back down in the throne, gradually drifting off to sleep…

This time, he dreamt almost only of his imprisonment. Of sitting day after day, hearing the clanking, feeling nothing, doing nothing, saying nothing, just a lot of nothing. And then he dreamt of the intermediary, of that empty, forgotten world-between-worlds he had visited as a child. Of its hollow silence, the weight of a green, yet alarmingly lifeless forest. Of the foggy, pristine ruins of a nameless civilization, abandoned for millennia, yet somehow unmarred entirely by time. And he felt a chill creep up his spine, and a voice speak in his ear. "You thought I had forgotten you, lost little earthworm?"

Uzoch awoke screaming.

Another decade had passed. He calmed himself with the gentle pulses of energy from his alarm. His long periods of inactivity had left him overgrown with patches of the purple Sarkhess moss that he had used to house arcane energy, and the cracks and chips in his armor had become more pronounced. He once again set to work and checked the vines, and this time, although they had not yet mapped the full complex, they had found the most important feature. An entrance. It was sealed with the same enchantment as the chains, it would only open for a human and an Ordithralben. But what was important was that there was an entrance, and above-ground, accessible entrance! There was still hope for his freedom! Now all that he had to do was wait, and wait he could.

He returned to sleep once more, this time foregoing setting an alarm. The dreams came and went, some were pleasant, others nightmares. Sometimes, he dreamt of the beautiful places of his early childhood, abandoned and fallen cold and silent with the passage of time and tragedy. He slipped in and out of sleep, awakening to maintain his chamber, and then returning to slumber in his throne. Decades became centuries, and still he waited. He began to know the rhythm of the guards' unceasing patrols by heart. Decade after decade he would dream and sleep and wait. His dreams of imprisonment and his reality gradually intermingling until the two were almost indistinguishable. And then, one day, he dreamt of his prison, as he had many times before. But this one was different, this time, he heard the clatter of steel against steel, the distant sounds of battle. Shouts of bravery and cries of pain, the rhythmic thump of guards' slow patrols replaced with the pounding of the rushing to defensive positions and battle stations. And with a start, he realized that he was not asleep, for he could feel something he had never before felt in here. a draft. Someone had broken the seal on the front entrance! As he moved his stiff limbs to try and stand up, chains shot out of multiple hidden compartments on the walls, ensnaring him and lifting him into the air. Which could only mean that the invaders were in the complex proper. For the first time in countless years, he allowed himself a sigh of relief, as he heard the sounds of battle growing closer, he knew that this was it, he was free! He began to sob, uncontrollably, and with immeasurable joy. He was finally free! He would grant his liberators any request they wanted when they got there, for, because of them, he was free to roam the world, to go on adventures, to experiment, to fight, and most importantly, he could continue where he left off. He could continue with the remaking of this world. And he smiled.

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Here’s a teaser for something that I’m working on related to my posts

The continent of Ahrgaht is shared between the two races that have settled it, the Humans and the Thrak. In Ahrgaht, a strained peace among its various nations is carefully maintained. At the heart of this peace lies an agreement between the nations to share in lost knowledge regained from The Wilds, a series of inhospitable environments that make up most of the continent. Despite the many treasures that exist in the Wilds, there are just as many horrors.

Seven individuals, each representing a major power on Ahrgaht, are sent out on a joint mission to discover valuable artifacts and information. However, what they discover has the potentially to radically change the course of Ahrgaht’s fate.

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hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, well there’s my first post from my own setting I’ve been building, there should be many more, especially this month. Expect me to alternate between short stories and setting primers.

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Primer #1: On the Thrak

          On The Nature of our Neighbors; the Haertithrakken

                           (2037, Fifth Revised Edition)

   A brief educational primer published by the research and archival                       division of the Victarian Clergy for public distribution.

The Haertithrakken, or Thrak, for short, are a sapient race whose physiology consists of foliage and enchanted armor. While their plants compose their actual bodies, the armor that they wear as a sort of exoskeleton allows them to retain a specific form, most often humanoid. The Haertithrakken were relatively unknown to us until around 1489 P.U., when the country of Mugaul began expanding their borders southwards into the wilds, in an attempt to obtain more farmland for their growing populace. At the same time, however, the then-unknown Thrak nation of Khamanschia had begun expanding their borders northwards into the wilds. As fate would have it, in the Autumn of that year, the borders of the two nations would come to meet, and a diplomatic delegation would be sent into Mugaul by the Khamanschian leader, Semilis. This first interaction would forever shape the history of our two races, as it quickly paved the way to a strong alliance between the Human and Thrak nations that stands to this day. The ensuing cultural exchanges also led to a renaissance and reinterpreting of our understanding of our continent of Ahrgaht. After this first interaction with our neighbors, we quickly discovered that there was a host of established Thrak nations and customs on the southern half of our eastern coastline, almost rivaling humanity in it’s breadth, scope, and cultural variety. With the two most prominent powers among them being Khamanscia and The Empire of The Sun.

General Thrak culture: while the beliefs and customs of the Thrak varies greatly from nation to nation, there are some commonalities amongst almost all Thrak. For example, Thrak cultures tend to place a heavy emphasis upon communitarianism, almost to the point of being eusocial. Additionally, Thrak reproduction is not simply a physical event, it is also tied to rituals,  beliefs, and values of the Thrak in question and their nation (this will be covered more in the “physiology” section). Due to their incredibly long-lived nature (to date there have been no recorded instances of any Thrak dying of old age), they put considerable emphasis on patience and level headedness. Additionally, the death of a Thrak is seen as a great tragedy, and is often felt by their wider community. Should a Thrak die, their closest compatriots take their arcane core or pieces of their armor as mementos of their friends, so that they might live on, in a way. Almost all Thrak children are raised communally, and their family becomes those with whom they take up after they reach maturity. Additionally, Thrak see the revealing of one’s face to be an act of utmost trust and intimacy, because of this, all Thrak armor consists of full masks or helmets with spaces so that only their eyes might be visible. The exception of this rule would be the Half-Masks of the UFS, who intentionally design their armor so that their mandibles/jaws are always visible. Thrak have no known natural lifespan, as such their nations are ruled over by the same leaders from inception.

Physiology: All Thrak consist of thickly-grown foliage surrounding and animated by an object known as an Arcane Core. This Arcane Core acts as a sort of central nervous system to the Thrak, allowing them to think, learn, and grow. These cores come in a wide variety of forms and composition, however all are made of some manner of inorganic material, and are often created by hand by Thrak wishing to reproduce. Despite being composed of plants, Thrak eat and drink to sustain themselves, in addition to consuming arcane energy. Until Thrak reach maturity, they appear as small, mobile shrubs. When a Thrak is of age, they undertake a task that differs from nation to nation, but is meant overall to be a show of skill and knowledge. After they complete this task, they are granted enchanted armor that fuses into their bodies and grants them a defined form, one that is almost always humanoid. That said, the appearance of a Thrak changes based upon which nation it is from. Below we will list the physical characteristics of Thrak from several nations:

Khamanschian: Vibrant green foliage with small spade-shaped leaves. Their arcane armor is typically made of silvery-white metal with bright gold detailing, and is curving and flowing in form.

Solusian (Empire of The Sun): Deep, magma red foliage, sometimes with fiery orange, with patches of quills. Their arcane armor is typically made of Night Steel, and is usually angular and bulky.

Kholdranthi: Beige, wheat-like foliage with long blades and stalks protruding from numerous parts of their bodies, often their backs and faces. Their arcane armor is often made of weathering steel and slate, and features a mix of rounded angles and sharp edges.

Caravnan: Deep purple  to pink foliage, reminiscent of many of the tropical corals found in reefs off the coast, with regular coral or sponge-like nodes and branches protruding from their backs and extremities. Their arcane armor is typically made of bell metal heavily accented with dark gold plates, and rounded and styluses to pay homage to many sea invertebrates.

Nulloskan: Black foliage with faded purple splotches and long, thin leaves. Their arcane armor appears to be made of a white porcelain or ivory.

Wilrunan/Kanmaji: dark green foliage with very large, spade-shaped leaves protruding from their backs. Their arcane armor appears to be made of weathered cast iron.

Half-Mask/UFS: deep brown foliage with light/mint green leaves reminiscent of evergreen branches and leaves. Their arcane armor is typically made of hammered brass, and stylistically varies greatly from one individual to the next.

While generally humanoid, they still maintain many distinctly non-human characteristics, such a digitigrade feet, claws, the number of eyes varying between individuals, and some occasionally possessing extra limbs. They are also not confined to their humanoid form, for example, many Thrak choose to take on a “Lumbrege” form, akin to a large turtle that walks on six limbs, with various smaller limbs. Some also take aerial, vermicular, or sinuous forms. The only known way for a Thrak to be killed or permanently injured is if their arcane core is damaged or destroyed. Otherwise, any injury sustained by their foliage is simply regrown.

Arcane Cores: The fundamental component that no Thrak could live without, an arcane core functions as a sort of central nervous system, and housing for their soul. Arcane cores are almost always either made from metal or stone, and covered in various runes, sigils, and glyphs. These cores are often forged or created by several Thrak that share a close enough bond to be considered a family unit. The forging usually takes place as part of a larger ritual observed by a nation once per period of years or months. For example, Solusian Arcane Cores are forged during the Grand Solus Festival, which occurs once every three months.

More detailed information on the Thrak and their technology can be found at any local archive, or at the Grand Library in Rittia.

*The Victarian Clergy is not officially associated with any deity or pantheon.

**This material can be obtained for free at any local archive or other center of learning, if you have been sold this you have likely been swindled.

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Sorry that I’m so late on reblogging this, but this is another amazing commission that @canned-teeth Did for me of one of my characters for some upcoming stories I’m planning on doing. Their work is amazing and y’all should definitely go commission them!!

Another commission piece for the Big Nerd @out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky​ !

Also, my Commissions are OPEN ! If you like what I do, please consider commissioning me, it helps pay the bills and get me through college !

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a wild egg appeared?

everyone who reblogs it before Oct 25 will get a Pokemon based on their blog in their submit inbox (make sure submit is open!)

happy hatching!

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Looking for stupid d&d items to spruce up your game? Here you go!

The Necklace of Fire Alarm: this object is a gorgeous, elegantly-cut ruby on a golden chain. Usually, it will lie still around the neck in a state of dormant calm. However, upon hearing any sudden, loud noises or flashes of light, the necklace will immediately become alarmed and and burst into flame. The fire lasts one minute, and is undeniably, unforgettably, scorching. Wearer beware.

The Snow Coat: a thick woolen coat that, for some reason, is always full of snow. Very cold. Very wet.

The Magnet of Missing Things: point this magical magnet in any direction, and concentrate on something you’ve lost. If it is smaller than a five-inch cube and is within a 20-ft radius, it will fly out from wherever it was hiding and attach itself to the magnet. But in return, another one of your belongings immediately goes missing, appearing in a random, hidden location within 20 feet of you.

The Band of Animal Handling: this band is a small wreath of oak leaves. It can be used once per day to instantly summon a random animal with a challenge rating of 0 into your hands. Does not help you deal with the resulting animal.

The Butterfly of Tempestuous Effect: a silver butterfly hairpin, with tiny sapphire eyes. Once per day, this pin can be used to cast the Gust cantrip. Upon the 1,000th utilization of this pin, instead of Gust, it will cast the 9th Level conjuration spell “Storm of Vengeance,” centered on itself, lasting a full 10 rounds. When the churning clouds subside, the pin resets. Try not to lose count.

And two submissions that made me laugh:

The Ring of Detecting Magic-Detecting: this ring glows faintly blue if anyone casts a Detect Magic within a 1 mile radius. Bad if two of these rings ever get too close to one another. (via @fluffy-papaya)

The Bagpipes of Invisibility: a set of scarlet bagpipes enchanted to make their user invisible. Upon playing this instrument, you instantly vanish from view. However, the invisibility wears off when the music stops—so take a deep breath, play strong, and pray your opponents are deaf. (via @madsadcatfish)

• • •

(more lists here! and if you enjoyed these, consider a ☕ ☕?)

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This is Amazing! @canned-teeth does great commissions, and y’all should go check them out! I’m also gonna be posting a short story to accompany this character soon too!

Finished commission piece for my buddy @out-of-the-deep-and-into-the-sky​ c:

Also, my Commissions are OPEN ! If you like what I do, please consider commissioning me, it helps pay the bills ! 

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Optimistic nihilism only lads

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evergladesholidaypark @gabbynikolleis getting those hard to reach spots for Seven.

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a mess