#2. tapestry of the wizard (large as a wall)

[yellowfingcr]

// there are a few verses in which heysel is obscenely wealthy (modern and er, namely) and I can tell you that in both cases among the very first things she did with her excessive money was to get a giant portrait of herself painted. this isn't even a narcissism thing. it's a 'oh that's so cool you can draw! can you draw me?' thing put into the hands of someone with absolutely no limit to her budget.

[chromee23]

GREENPEAK MAGE KEEP

This lavish mansion is owned by a powerful but reclusive wizard Greenpeak, named after the foliage-covered mountainside he hails from. He is well known for both unique architectural design and his rare but extravagant parties. He has a multitude of both clockwork and human servants that travel the halls performing menial tasks and serving as guards. The lower halls of the keep are beautiful, but as the mansion rises to the heavens the structure becomes wondrous, magical, and at points difficult to traverse for anyone but the wizard and his servants. All the doors are expensive wood with the strength of metal, and all the windows are stained glass with the strength of thick wood.

The mage sat on an influential council of benevolent mages that must pledge an ancient and binding oath to never perform unethical or unsavory practices anywhere in the world. This did not stop the wizard though- he found a loophole in the wording of the pact and created demiplanes and pocket dimensions for his myriad of experiments. He hides the access points throughout his home, many of which reside on the upper floors.

1 FRONT DOOR the road to the keep winds up the side of a tall mountain, then bridges a gap over to wrap around a small spire jutting from the mountainside, before spanning a long gap to finally reach the arched 20 ft high double doors of the building itself.  There is a permanent rune of alarm that will alert anyone in the guard post (room 2) if anyone approaches using the road. The bridge 5-35 feet is pair of magical stone drawbridges that the guards can and usually do raise if trouble approaches, unless the lord of the mansion is hosting a party.

2 GUARD POST This pair of towers sit on either side of the main entrance 15 feet from the road and can survey the surrounding mountainside and inspect visitors at the doors, which are magically sealed unless the guards open them. There are 1 foot wide arrow slits on all outward facing sides of the tower (one could leap to the tower and squeeze through the slits if the door is sealed, but it would be difficult.) Both guard posts have controls that raise the drawbridges, open the door, and send an alarm through the castle in case powerful enemy forces are coming to attack. Usually there are 6 guards at each post, with at least 1 human with enchanted gear to man the controls and automatons to guard them. There are stairs up to the next floor to access battlements, murder holes into the foyer, and the guard’s quarters. There are also stairs down to the castles private dungeons.

3 FOYER AND STABLES The vestibule past the double doors is always staffed by at least 4 automatons that will take overcoats to the coat room, horses and wagons to the stables, and clean off anyone dirtied by the journey if necessary. There are locked doors to the guard posts on either side, so guards can bring suspicious people in and apprehend them.

4 ENTRY HALL AND MAIN STAIRWELL This large 45 foot tall room spans 2 stories and has a wide double staircase to the second and third floors. There are beautiful carpets on the floors and tapestries on every wall, the latter of which depict the owner of the home performing acts of magic and heroism throughout the realm. The south walls have 4 stands of exquisite enchanted armor that are actually inert automatons that only animate when commanded by a guard or the owner of the home; They will also attack any non-staff individual if the alarm has been raised.

5 KITCHENS The large kitchen is staffed around the clock by either 1 or 2 human head chefs and up to 6 automatons under their command. With full staff they can feed 40 people. The kitchens have a steep staircase under a trapdoor that leads to the pantry and cellar, and a staff’s stairwell in an adjoining room that leads to staff quarters. None of the staff here are combatants and will flee to alert other guards.

6 DINING HALL This long hall can seat 20 people and has large windows that can see the beautiful mountainside. The armor here conceals clockwork automatons that function identically to those in the entry hall. The corridor that surrounds this room is patrolled by 4 clockwork guards that will join any combat in the surrounding rooms. The balcony is covered and the doors to which are locked unless the owner is hosting people.

7 BALLROOM This extravagant hall can comfortably fit 60 individuals, though its rare that more than 40 people are invited to the mansion. The floor is tiled with beautiful marble and the walls are lined with ornate banners with intricate gold-lined designs. There are tables in 3 of the corners of the room for dining. The 3 suits of armor function identically to those in the entry hall. The doors to the balcony are locked unless the owner is hosting people.

[love4heejayke]

SYNOPSIS: Born from the full moon's light, Y/N is sent by her witch aunt on a secret mission to Decilis Academy, the purpose of which is to investigate the source of the obscure energy that hovers under the Silver Millennium. However, when she saves her roomate Sooha from the attack of dark creatures with the power to fortify themselves from the energy of nightmares and discovers her secret identity, she promises not to tell her friends, but everything changes once she falls for Lee Heli, one of Decelis' star students and posibily, her past life's lover.

TAGLIST #1: (closed) @enhacolor @amarillyis @ckline35 @fairycheol @jeanbobean @heejakegf @axartia @ineedcoffeeandtherapy @rosie-is-everywhere @prdxinvade @heedeungieluvbot @jungwonnnnnnnnnnnn @bambisgirl @yebin14 @m4r1eluvs (can't tag you bae, sorry)

TAGLIST #2: (open) [comment or send ask] @bluemanifesto @ineedaherosavemeenow @ahnneyong @jiawji @aki1e @yjjungwon @captivq @jaxavance @rikiluvly @dimplewonie @talia02 @cherriegyu @enhastolemyheart

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4 - the new student who wants to learn (4)

The El Dorado Empire is a land of great monuments and architectural wonders, built amidst vast deserts of golden sand.  The empire's central city is an imposing metropolis, surrounded by high walls, ornate with ancient inscriptions and intricate carvings. The buildings are tall and majestic, many with pointed spiers that reach into the sky. And now, Diana and Selene arrived together at Solaria, located in the center-southern region, to discuss with members of the Solari elite another attempt at a peace treaty between the Solari and Lunari, who 5 centuries ago, entered into a diplomatic conflict non-armed, with different objectives: El Dorado to expand its territory, military power and socioeconomic influence on the continent of Elysium, and the Silver Millennium, to protect its territories against Solarian invasions and carry out diplomatic agreements only with strategic cities, conserving cultures and traditions of their original peoples. Selene looked around the city with her eyes apprehensive and restless and bit her lip, listening for strange noises in the shadows.

"Mama, did you hear that?" Selene asked

"I didn't, dear." answered Diana. "You may be hearing things."

"But I swear mom, somebody is watching us."

"Calm down, daughter. You must be nervous to attend your first appointment."

"Yeah, maybe you're right." the young mother moon sighed.

Walking along the dunes, they bought more supplies from merchants who had set up their stalls to trade in the Empire: fresh starfruit and two canteens filled with icy crystal water, all for 20 drops of the sun – the official currency of El Dourado, the trek. to Solarian HQ would still take about 1 hour, so they need all the hydration they can get to survive the desert heat until the time of the meeting.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷☽⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

Hecate was sitting in her chair, surrounded by her apprentices and followers in the classroom of the Triple School of Lunar Magic, located in Riverfield, located 10 km from the Silver Millennium, with its attractive coastline for tourism and water sports, the city was one of the most highly developed in the Empire, whose lands were a haven for witches, sorcerers, and wizards from Lunarosa. The school is an imposing old stone building with thick walls and tall, narrow windows. The main entrance is adorned with a large Gothic arch and a silver coat of arms bearing its symbol. The central courtyard is spacious and has several water fountains and statues of mythical figures. The classrooms are equally impressive, with high ceilings and walls covered in rich tapestries and shelves of antique books. The overall ambience is magical and mysterious, evoking a sense of reverence and respect for the art of magic.

Hecate now teaches Mystic Meditation, in her guise as Professor Enodia. She wears a long, flowing, light gray dress with long sleeves and a discreet neckline. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose bun and a few strands fell softly across her face. She wore no makeup, but her skin glowed a silvery hue, lending an air of magic to her appearance. To complete the disguise, she wore a pair of low-key, comfortable flat shoes, and carried a small brown leather bag, containing the materials needed for her class. Her eyes were covered by round glasses, with silver metal frames, to disguise her true identity. A silver pentagram necklace, the pendant of which was a downward crescent moon with a star on top and a tiny sliver of birth peridot set in the center to protect her from dark spells. Despite her peaceful and serene appearance, there was something powerful and magical about her presence.

Since she handed over her crown and her royal status to her eldest sister to give birth to her daughter, the Kynthos royal family has agreed to fake her death to protect the family and her subjects from Solari imperialism and attacks by dark magic beings, leaving her Lunarosians her spiritual wisdom on the nights they pray and meditate in holy temples for her protection, in the hope that one day, the Spirit Moon, would be reborn. 550 years after Selene's coronation, Hecate still maintains this guise to seek out her daughter, while sharing her knowledge to wizards, fairies and sorcerers with a thirst for learning, making it clear that she was an experienced and respected teacher of magic.

She had just started her class on Spiritual Magic, teaching them the importance of mystical meditation to connect with the spiritual energies around them.

"My students, each and every living being that inhabits the realm of Elysium has an innate flow within them." Enodia began in a soft tone, closing her eyes.

Upon touching the ground, a stream of purple magic flowed from his fingers and spread across the air and the ground.

"This is mana, the essence of this universe, and the way we manifest mana in the world allows us to invoke magic, but for that, body and mind must be in balance with their spirits, so take a deep breath." Enodia's chest rose and fell in a slow breathing rhythm "And exhale."

The students calmly followed the teacher's commands, among them, a high elite vampire, student of the Decelis Academy. Decelis is in the middle of his summer vacation, but due to the recurrents he sees in his nights of sleep, he attends his classes as an extracurricular complement and to acquire knowledge about these nightmares. He had short purple hair and levitated in the air while invoking a sphere of shadows in his hands, at the same time his mind was consumed with negative thoughts, as the sphere grew, the boy lost his balance more.

"T-teacher, is too strong… I…"

Enodia, feeling the disturbance in the boy's mana, advised:

"It's okay Noa. "Don't try to repress these emotions. Try to use them as a guide and cast a spell."

He would then see the images he most feared as he fell asleep. In Noa's nightmare, he finds himself before a dark lake of mana, whose waters seem to pulse with evil energy. He feels drawn into the lake, and as he dives in, he feels his soul being corrupted by the darkness. He tries to fight the temptation, but something inside him makes him want to give in to that corruption.

He emerges from the lake transformed, his body covered in sinister shadows. He feels enormous power running through his veins and a desire for destruction growing within him. He raises his hands and conjures shadows that spread through the air, forming grotesque and frightening creatures.

Noa takes perverse pleasure in controlling those shadows, in seeing their influence spread wherever she goes. He smirks, feeling powerful and invincible. But at the same time, a feeling of fear and anguish envelops him, as if he knew that this was not what he really wanted.

By forcing his mind to get rid of that torment, he split the sphere of shadows in two and cast two dark beams across the school, emitting a dark aura that accidentally stunned the teacher and three classmates in a radius of 2.5 meters, luckily, they woke up in less than 2 minutes, but that was enough for others to whisper behind his back.

"Freak."

"Only a spoiled brat like him could stun our teacher."

"May the Righteous Moon purge this plague with her merciful light before it infects us all."

In a world where the light of the moon is venerated, beings who worship darkness are the most hated, when not excluded and subjugated from society, they are hunted and imprisoned, or depending on where they were born, executed, for refusing to accept this gift. As much as he saved many lives with his darkness, that Riverfield was no longer the same as last year's, a new moon was in power, new rules were established and from them only the "purest" are blessed, but sadness, remorse and darkness are what make Noa unique, but despised, so he couldn't do anything but lower his head and listen to those insults in silence, but to his happiness, his strength was admired by those who understood it and even without him knowing it , a powerful ally was before him, to lift his head and welcome his faith, whenever he felt the instability of his spirit.

"Miss Thrace, I failed! I couldn't…"

"Get it together, Noa, giving in to anger is not the solution."

"But what can I do if everyone here wants me dead?"

"That's a problem, but I have to admit," she put her finger under her chin, "I've never witnessed a shadow power of such magnitude. Keep it up boy, but watch where you're going or else you'll lose your way."

Enodia comforted him with a pat on his shoulder, but withdrew it as soon as she heard a strange noise through the walls. She closed her eyes as she concentrated, felt a presence, something sinister that lurked in the shadows.

"Something is wrong" Enodia said in a lower tone, "We need to get out of here now."

"Miss Thrace, what's going on?" asked one of the mages

The witch said nothing, she just clapped her hands to teleport her and her apprentices out of the school, attracting enemy shadows with her. They quickly attacked the witch, but she summoned her staff. Hecate's staff is made of dark wood and carved into an elegant, curving shape, resembling a coiled serpent. At its tip is a glittering crystal that seems to reflect moonlight. Engravings in silver adorn the handle of the staff, forming images of serpents, moon and stars, symbolizing the power and magic of the sorceress. When used to invoke your spells, the crystal glows brightly, emanating a moonlike glow that illuminates your surroundings. When she closes her eyes, she lets a portion of her mana out of her body to envelop herself in her apprentices' souls, healing them and enhancing the strength of her basic strikes, invoking one of her special spells: the Sheath of the Crescent Moon.

Together they draw a circle of mana with their staffs, invoking a wave of purple mana that repels the shadows' blows and nullifies their spells, however when holding it for more than 5 minutes, the mages' hands trembled, the sparks in their staffs lost strength and cracks appeared in the barrier, breaking it with a single blow from those creatures. Her allies still had some energy left to face them, but Enodia didn't. She tried to fight back with her purple mana spheres, but she couldn't. Her legs and arms were wobbly, her eyes heavy and she avoided them in slow, out of sync movements, nothing could be done to help those mages, so she used her last bit of mana to transport herself back home.

Upon arrival, she lay unconscious on the floor, her long black hair spread around her. Her silver and black dress was torn and bloodstained, her skin pale and cool to the touch. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was shallow and ragged. Despite her weakened appearance, she still exuded a powerful and mysterious aura.

Two soldiers from Selene's guard approached cautiously, checking that the place was secure before approaching the priestess. With great care, they lifted Hecate into her arms, feeling her lightness in her body, and carried her to the palace.

Along the way, Hecate began to mutter words in an ancient and unknown language, and her arms moved as if she were casting spells. But there was no strength in her hands, and the words that fell from her lips were weak and powerless. It was evident that this combat left her weak and vulnerable.

Noa found himself in a distorted world, a living nightmare, where darkness envelops him from all sides.  Friends of his, those he was sworn to protect and fought alongside him, now stare at him in fear and revulsion, as if he were a monster.  Shion, his best friend and confidant, now sides with his enemies, his face stained with the corruption of darkness.

Noa tried to convince them that he is not an enemy, that he is still the same as before, but his words fall on deaf ears.  They attacked him, with Jino using his fire powers to destroy everything around him, while being forced to use his own darkness to defend himself.

But the more he uses his powers, the more he finds himself consumed by darkness, growing further and further away from his friends. He screams in despair, trying to fight the darkness that consumes him, but it's no use.

In the end, he finds himself alone, surrounded by darkness and a woman's evil laughter, unable to find a way out of this terrible nightmare. He wakes up in a cold sweat, still feeling the sensation of his own darkness consuming him.

A/N: So much pain, nightmare and shadows, I wonder who's behind this...

[sevfanfic]

A Touch in the Dark - Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

Word count: 1,909

Just a quick note! for the purposes of this story you’re being placed in slytherin... sorry but we do have the most fun ;) 

“Good afternoon! You must be Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” Minerva shook your hand gently and then took you by the shoulder to a chair in front of her desk, “Please sit.”

“Thank you,” you smiled “I hope I didn’t arrive too early.” 

“Of course not, we have much to discuss before you meet the others.” Minerva was very welcoming to you, she made you feel like you belonged here. You went over your contract with her and she asked many questions about your life and why you accepted this position. 

“Now then,” the headmistress rose from her seat and swiftly made her way to a large pointed hat, “since you are new here, you shall be sorted into a house.” 

While you were a witch, you didn't grow up around magic. Your muggle parents refused. You went to muggle school and had a simple muggle life. You had to know more about this part of you that your parents desperately tried to suppress. Unfortunately you were too old to attend any traditional wizarding schools so you opted for self teaching, having spent most of the last four years reading and practicing. Your grandmother also helped, she was an amazing witch with incredible healing abilities. Travelling aided your discovery of different sources of information and you believed yourself to be a well rounded practitioner. However, your main focus was the healing arts like your grandmother. Minerva had reached out to you in a letter, she had read an article about your work and was very interested in having you teach a class. 

“Ah, very different,” a voice sounded from the hat that had been placed on your head, “not a traditional witch, hm.” 

You fiddled with the hem of your blouse.

“Interesting. Slytherin, perhaps. Yes, slytherin indeed.” The voice sounded satisfied. 

Minerva smiled wide and removed the hat, “Very good. Now I believe it is time to meet the others.” She waved her wand and the doors of her office swung open.

You watched as the other professors entered the room one by one. They circled around, chatting and didn’t seem to notice you. Last to arrive was a tall man with broad shoulders, his robes were black like his hair and eyes. You thought you recognized him from somewhere but couldn’t quite remember. He stopped suddenly, eyes widening slightly as he looked you over. 

Severus was surprised to see the dark haired woman from the bar standing in the headmistress’ office. He was quick to regain his usual demeanor, not wanting to make anyone suspicious. 

Minerva spoke to the group, she described the new class being offered and introduced you as the new professor. You bowed your head and when you looked up you caught the eyes of the man in black robes. His piercing gaze sent a chill down your spine. You remembered. The pub, in Spinner’s End! That’s where I know you from, you thought to yourself, grinning at him as he quickly looked away. The meeting went on, you listened intently as Minerva introduced everyone and described the plans for the upcoming year. When dismissed, you were given the keys to your living quarters and instructed to the dungeons. 

Severus, you finally put a name to the face. As you left the office you searched for him, wanting to say hello. He was quick to leave but you caught the sight of his robes as he turned a corner. You weren’t going to let him get away that easily. He must be embarrassed you speculated to yourself. You sped to catch up with him, as you approached he stopped suddenly. You were unprepared for his sudden cessation of movement and before you could stop yourself you collided with him. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just-” you stammered as the tall man turned to face you.

“Just. What?” Severus looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well, I had recognized you from a pub and I wanted to say hello and-” 

“Don’t flatter yourself by assuming that we are friends.” His voice was sharp. You couldn’t help but smirk at how much his serious demeanor intrigued you. 

“Never,” you shook your head, “I figured you could help me find my room?” You jingled your keys in front of him. He snatched them out of your hand and quickly turned on his heel. Severus had a swift pace but you managed to keep up. You remained silent and tried to memorize the path so that you would not get lost while on your own. Severus glanced at you and saw how focused you were. 

“It will take some time to remember how to make your way through the castle.” He spoke very matter-of-factly. 

“Yes, well, I am quite prone to getting lost.” You chuckled at yourself. 

“That is unfortunate,” a small smirk crossed Severus’ mouth but faded quickly. He was apprehensive about you, wary that he had said too much the night he met you. Was he drunk enough to speak about all that he had been feeling? If so, did you judge him for it? Severus knew that you would expect to see a certain side of him but he wasn’t sure how to approach the situation.

When you arrived at the door of your room Severus handed you the keys. You smiled and said “Thank you.” He opened his mouth to say something but hesitated. You saw him think for a second and then he finally spoke.

“That night,” he started, “I was not myself. If I said anything.. Inappropriate,” he paused again. You stopped him by raising your hand before he could continue.

“Nothing happened, you mostly listened to me babble on about myself.”

“Good.” He then turned quickly, wanting to escape the awkward situation but then turned back to you and said “Have a good night.” Then he disappeared down the corridor. 

Your living quarters were simple, adorned with long tapestries and dark wooden furniture. Being in the dungeons didn’t bother you, the cold air smelled a little like lake water and it wrapped you in a calming embrace. You waved your wand and your luggage unpacked themselves, you smiled at how simple life seemed with magic. You learned over time that magic couldn’t fix everything. The muggle world was complicated in it’s own way. You had longed to find something else in life other than a busy job and bills. Thoughts of love always crossed your mind but your soul had been torn before, so love was filed away to the back of your mind. Maybe one day, you imagined. 

That night you had a difficult time falling asleep. You were thinking too much about the past and could feel your anxiety creeping its way into your chest. You threw the covers off yourself, the sudden change in temperature gave you goosebumps. 

“A walk, that’s all I need.” You said to yourself as you threw a robe on. The cool stone floor on your bare feet helped to ease some of the tension you felt. You opened your door and looked out, the hallway was dimly lit by small sconces. I am definitely going to get lost, you thought. But with a shrug you started walking. The castle at night was eerily quiet. Only the sound of your light footsteps could be heard. You found your way to a set of winding stairs that lead to a small balcony. As you rounded the corner you saw him. Severus was standing with his back to you, he stared out over the edge and was as still as a statue. You looked at him, wondering if he was alright. 

“What do you want?” His voice suddenly made you gasp as you didn’t think he heard you behind him.

“Nothing. I was walking to clear my head, I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Can’t sleep?” He asked quietly. A part of him hoped that you would stay.

“No,” you hesitantly stepped closer, “my thoughts are too loud.”

“I know the feeling.” He looked down at his hands as you stood beside him. You were silent for some time, looking at the stars and the surrounding landscape. The quiet was soothing and peaceful. You were known for chatting but something felt right about leaving the air free of useless words. He wasn’t exactly happy that you stumbled upon him but he didn’t hate it either. 

“How is it you found this place?” Severus broke that silence. 

“Minerva found me actually, she was interested in an article I wrote and she asked if I’d be willing to teach.”

“‘The applications of muggle medicine in magical healing.’”

“You read it?” 

“Yes. You have interesting opinions.” He spoke slowly and you couldn’t make out what he was thinking. 

“So I’ve been told,” you laughed softly, “what are your thoughts? You must have some compelling ideas about the topic?”

Severus paused for a moment as he pondered the question. “I believe there is a time and a place for both but why not use magic when it can be utilized with equal if not better effect.”

“I suppose because, as with all things, magic has its limits. For example, someone with multiple injuries would require a large amount of energy to heal with magic. Perhaps, one could use methods that do not require magic for less serious wounds and preserve their magic for only the most life threatening injuries.” 

“And how does one decide which is the most life threatening?”

“It’s all about critical thinking and prioritization, professor,” you smiled at him, “but don't worry, I can teach you.” The playful tone in your voice made Severus smirk. 

“I have no doubts.” he was cautious, unsure of your intentions.

A cool breeze blew your hair gently and he could smell lavender and oak. Severus sighed as he looked over at you. You had closed your eyes and it seemed as if you had allowed the breeze to carry your worries away. Your soft features and plump lips made him feel something he thought he’d never feel again. Before he could dwell on the thought he looked away. His walls were strong and he was adamant about keeping them up, keeping himself safe. Besides, he thought, she’d never want me. 

Some time had passed and you became aware of how late it was getting. 

“I should get back to bed.” You said softly.

“Goodnight.” Severus said without looking at you as you began to leave. Then you realized you actually had no idea how to get back. 

“Uhm,” you started quietly, the tall man looked at you blankly, “I’m lost.” Was all you could manage, feeling utterly embarrassed. You could feel your cheeks flush. 

“Of course you are.” 

As you followed him your eyes looked him over, he was handsome and proud. His broad shoulders made you wonder how strong he was and you could feel your cheeks grew warm again. There was a reason why you approached him at the pub that night many months ago, he was different. You thought you had forgotten why you were interested but seeing him again re-awoken the allure you felt before. He appeared regal almost, carried himself with his head held high and back straight. But you knew there was something deeper. You felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t understand and even now that you were colleagues you knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore it.

[writingmyselfout]

Because I Could Not Stop for Death - Chapter Five

Language: English

Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Reptilia28′s Don’t Fear the Reaper Challenge, Manipulative Dumbledore, Black Hermione Granger, Slight Ron Weasley Bashing

Prologue 1 2 3 4

Chapter 5: This Is My Now

Summary: Sorting Ceremony

THE ride to the castle is not as eventful as Draco predicted, despite the slight delay caused when Ron Weasley loudly complains that Draco took his spot and Hagrid, realizing that all other boats already have four students, redirects him to be the fifth in the next boat over. Harry is too busy admiring the sight of the giant castle before them, with what looks like every visible window lit up against the night sky, to pay Weasley much mind. He understands now what someone means when they say something is breathtaking, because he’s sure he stopped breathing for a moment when he first saw it, and isn’t sure he’s quite managed to catch his breath as the boats take off across the lake.  

   He’s not the only one fascinated. There is silence except for the sound of water lapping against the magically propelled boats as their journey starts, with whispers only starting up when they’re about halfway across. Their boat is in the lead, but the fleet of boats--which Hagrid informs them is nineteen out of the school’s total of thirty-six--are close enough that the voices of one carry over to the occupants of those closest. Granted, Harry thinks, it’s possible that it only seems that way because Ron Weasley, in the boat just behind theirs on the left, is loudly complaining about Draco Malfoy having shoved him out of the way when he was going to sit with Harry Potter. A blatant lie that Draco scoffs at, but doesn’t deem to try to refute from this distance.

    When they disembark on the other side of the lake, they are on a landing stage slightly sheltered by rock formations. Hagrid looks them over, making Draco smile at Harry knowingly when he picks Neville’s frog up from their boat and hands the animal back to him, reminding him to hold onto it this time. Then, when he’s sure that no student has been lost, he leads them up some stone steps. Harry thinks this must have been a cave at some point, rocky walls closing in slightly on either side with lanterns alternating from one side to the other to light their way, and he thinks it’s a good thing he’s not claustrophobic as the shadows they cast on the ceiling make it almost look like it’s moving down closer to them.

    At the top of the stairs is a stone landing, similar to the one below they’d stood on after getting out of the boats, but the bright lanterns on either side of the door make the design on it clearly visible. The stones are gray, with a darker one used to create a capital letter H. The door before them, a large, sturdy-looking wooden door with metal bands across it and a small little hatch in the door. When Hagrid pounds his fist heavily against the wood, Harry expects it to open and a face to peer out, but instead the door opens completely, light flooding out from inside, and standing there is none other than the dark-haired witch, Professor McGonagall, in emerald green robes.

    “Evenin’, Professor,” Hagrid greets. “Got yer first years here, all seventy-seven of ‘em.”

    “Thank you, Hagrid. Come along then.”

    They shuffle in after her and find themselves now in a brightly lit room. There’s a large rug covering most of the stone floor, and directly across the door they come in through is a large fireplace, with an equally large fire lit and blazing within. It makes the room pleasantly warm after the cool air they were just in. There are two long tapestries on either side of the fireplace, totaling four, each of them in different colors and with an animal displayed prominently in its center around a letter. To the left are some benches along the way, and some portraits of landscapes above them. To the right is a door, which is where McGonagall walks to as she waits for them to all come into the room.

    Harry goes over in her direction after a brief glance around the room. “Hello, Professor,” he greets, a little shy. He’s never really been close to a teacher before, but while he doesn’t want his new classmates to think he’s a teacher’s pet, he rather likes the woman who helped ensure he could attend school.

    “Mr. Potter.” She addresses him formally, but she gives him a small smile, which negates her stern tone and her previously stern demeanor. “I see you made it onto the train all right.”

    Harry nods, and almost goes on to tell her about being moved into the smallest bedroom upstairs, but Hagrid closes the door then, signaling that all the students are inside. The big man makes his way around the students and out of the room through the door they are near, and Harry realizes this conversation will have to wait as the older witch clears her throat to draw the attention of all the students. Once all eyes are on her, she speaks.

    “Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” she begins. “The term officially begins with a start-of-term banquet attended by the entire school, which you will be joining shortly over in the Great Hall. Before you can take your seats, however, you will be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts houses.” She gestures over towards the tapestries hanging on the wall by the fireplace.

    The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has its own noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are students here, your house will be like your family within Hogwarts. You will sleep in your house dormitory, study and spend free time in your house common room, and most, if not all, of your classes will be with the rest of your housemates. You will also work together with your house to earn points for your house. Your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to your house, whichever it may be.

    “Now, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the whole school, so I suggest you all smarten yourselves up while you wait.” She runs a critical eye over them, pausing here and there on specific students. “Now wait quietly while I check to see if they are ready yet.”

    Without another word, she leaves through the same door Hagrid left, and voices erupt in her wake. Students asking each other what house they think they’ll join, and what the Sorting might entail.

    “Harry.” He turns to see Draco just off to the side with a group that seems to already know each other, waving him over. Harry goes over to the group, which consists of two girls and three boys besides Draco, assuming that these are the friends he previously mentioned. Sure enough, once he’s reached them, Draco says, “These are the friends I mentioned earlier. Theodore Nott, Vincent Crabb, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode. Guys, this is Harry Potter.”

    Others nearby hear the name and there’s a ripple effect through the room as it’s whispered back and forth. Harry tries to ignore it as he greets Draco’s friends. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

    Theodore Nott replies in kind, but he’s the only one. Pansy Parkinson leans into Millicent, saying in a loud whisper, “ The Harry Potter, huh? Somehow not as impressive as the stories would have us believe.”

    Harry feels his face grow warm while Draco scowls at her, but before either can respond, there’s a collection of gasps and a few screams. Looking around, they see what has startled some of the others, as a group of almost two dozen ghosts have come streaming through one wall. They’re just far enough that Harry can’t make out any conversations until a ghost in tights and ruff notices the students below them and asks what they’re all doing.

    “New students!” The answer comes from the ghost the first had been speaking with, a pleasant looking, chubby man dressed in a long corded tunic robe of some sort. Harry isn’t sure what it’s called, but he’s certain the man is a friar of some sort. “I believe they’re waiting to be Sorted, yes?”

    Various students nod. Harry looks over at Draco, and he hopes this isn’t a stupid question because it didn’t occur to him until now, but he wants to ask before McGonagall comes back. “How are they going to sort us?”

    “Honestly? Don’t know,” Draco admits with a shrug. “Mother and Father wouldn’t say. It’s tradition to go in not knowing.”

    “My brother Fred said it hurts.” They turn to see Ron Weasley, who’s clearly been eavesdropping.

    “H-Hurts?” Neville Longbottom, using one hand to try to fix his robe which is fastened under one ear, stares at Ron wide-eyed. His grip on his toad goes slack and he almost loses it before Hermione Granger nudges him.

    “I doubt it,” she responds once Nevile has regained hold on the toad. “It is a school, after all. They aren’t going to let us get hurt .”

    “Okay, Miss Know-It-All, what do you think it is?” Ron grumbles at her, glaring. “Since you know more than me.”

    She frowns at him. “I am just saying, it is highly unlikely that a school is going to purposely allow students to get hurt for, what, dorm assignments?” Neville next to her visibly relaxes, and there are a few murmurs of agreement. Ron’s face goes a little pink. “Now it doesn’t say in Hogwarts, A History what the Sorting entails, but I imagine it’s more likely a test of some sort.”

    “Oh, ‘it doesn’t say in Hogwarts, A History ’,” he mocks, pitching his voice higher and causing a few kids to snicker. “That’s not even one of our textbooks. What kind of nerd does extra reading before school?”

    Her darker skin doesn’t visibly change colors, but the way Hermione presses her lips together and crosses her arms reads to Harry clear as day as if she’s embarrassed. She doesn’t respond though, and Harry is annoyed with Ron Weasley all over again. He thinks of all the times he was bullied by Dudley in front of other students just before teachers came back, or in front of his aunt and uncle, leaving Harry unable to defend himself or talk back, and he decides he’s not putting up with it here. Even if the bullying isn’t directed at himself.

    “Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy it.” Both Hermione and Ron look over at him in surprise, though Ron’s face turns a shade of red that almost matches his hair.

    Then, to avoid getting caught in a confrontation on the first day by Professor McGonagall and because Neville was struggling one handed to fix his robe before he froze to watch the back and forth between Hermione and Ron, he goes over to him. “Want me to hold Trevor while you fix your robe?”

    “Oh, yes, please. Thank you.”

    Neville hands the toad over and adjusts his robes, just in time for McGonagall to return. She calls for them to get in a line and follow her, turning to lead them out. Hermione hurries to do as she’s told, very clearly trying to put distance between herself and Ron Weasley. Neville takes his toad back with another muttered thank you, hurrying to get in line as well. Harry follows suit so that Neville is in front of him, with Draco at his rear. They’re led across the large Entrance Hall, so big that he’s certain the entirety of the Dursleys’ house could fit in there, and the ceiling so far above that he can’t make it out despite the many flaming torches lighting up the room. They pass massive double doors to their right and a grand marble staircase to the left, towards another set of double doors.

    There’s the dull roar of hundreds of voices on the other side of those doors, which grows steadily louder as they approach, and Harry swallows nervously as his mouth suddenly goes dry. What if it is a test? He read through the books, but it’s not as if he could practice any of the spells, and he’s never been good at instantly memorizing stuff. He’s always been a hand on learner, needing to put whatever was being taught to him into practice to really grasp it. How embarrassing if he fails out of the school before he’s even started?

    The doors are thrown open and the voices die down to a silence as all eyes turn to look at the line of students being led inside. They walk between the center two out of four long tables, that start a few feet from the entrance and down across the large room almost towards the other end, from what Harry can see. He tries to not make eye contact with the students on either side of him, so instead he draws his attention up to the floating candles and the night sky above, half listening as Hermione explains to Neville that she’d read it’s enchanted to look like the sky outside. He thinks maybe he read that, but isn’t sure, and is tempted to ask how many times she’d read her books or if, unlike him, she has the kind of memory that allows her to read something once and just remember it.

    “What is that ?”

    Draco’s question makes Harry look down, and he sees that they’re approaching a platform that is shaped in a half circle. There’s a single step to get up onto the platform, and then there’s a stool set in the center, with a battered looking witches’ hat. Behind that is another two steps leading up onto a slightly higher platform where a table runs from Harry’s left to his right. There, a long line of adults are seated, and he realizes these must be the school’s teachers and staff. Before he can find Professor Snape to wave, he finds a pair of twinkling blue eyes staring at him, and he recognizes the face from his Chocolate Frog Cards. The headmaster is literally watching him.

    Unintendedly, he stops in the spot as he’s overwhelmed with the most powerful feeling of mistrust he’s ever felt, and a voice seems to scream in his mind, Do not trust Albus Dumbledore!

    Then Draco walks into him, not having noticed what he’d stopped, and they almost fall over. Harry quickly apologizes, face red, and hurries forward as McGonagall directs them all to line up between the professors’ table and the stool so they’re facing the rest of the school. Once they’re all lined up, they stand there for a moment, nothing happening until the hat suddenly begins to sing.

    Harry’s eyes go wide and he is able to momentarily forget the headmaster behind him, astonished at this turn of events. Getting Sorted by a magic hat is better than anything else he’d imagined, and he’s immensely relieved. He claps along with everyone else when it finishes, and then listens as the first couple of names are called and students begin being sorted into the different houses. It isn’t until after each house has received one student that Harry remembers that he and Draco might not be in the same houses.

    “Draco,” he whispers, turning to the other boy. Draco looks over at where McGonagall is standing, holding a long roll of parchment from which she is reading students’ names, and then back at Harry, a single eyebrow raised in question. “Remember, if we’re in different houses, we’ll still be friends, right?”

    Draco blinks at him surprised. Hadn’t Harry asked him that right after they met, when they were first discussing the houses? Draco still isn’t convinced that it’s possible for them to stay friends, but he figures it won’t hurt for them to try at least. So he nods. “Sure, but don’t be mad when my house gets more points than yours.”

    Harry just grins in response, looking back at the students being sorted in time to see Hermione Granger is still sitting on the stool. He wonders if it’s normal for it to take this longer before she finally gets sorted into Gryffindor. His parents’ house. It would be nice, he thinks for what must be the hundredth time, to be in the house they were in, and get to see some of the places they once spent time in. There probably weren’t any traces of them or anything, but it’d be one more thing he would have in common with them. Plus, he would already know his Head of House with Professor McGonagall, whom he already knew he could trust. The only other professor he felt that way about right now was Professor Snape. Granted, if he ended up in Snape’s house, Slytherin, that might not be so bad either. Draco was sure he’d be in that house, so at least he’d have a friend there.

    Neville Longbottom also ends up in Gryffindor house after slightly longer with the hat than most other students, and he grins happily as he goes to join them. When it is Draco’s turn, the hat is set on his head and there is a few seconds of silence before he is, as he’d predicted, announced as the next Slytherin. Harry is happy for him, knowing that is the house Draco wanted, though it’s tinged with a bit of disappointment that he wasn’t last minute put in Gryffindor, like he himself hopes to be. Then he waits for his own turn to come. He tries to ignore the irrational fear that he won’t be Sorted at all, thinking it is just his nerves, but it isn’t easy. He still thinks it’s been too many good things after another, so surely the other shoe will drop soon.

    When Professor McGonagall finally calls, “Harry Potter,” the room is overtaken by a deafening silence. He’s actually tempted to stick a finger in his ear to see if something is suddenly blocking all sound, because it’s such a drastic change. Instead, he takes a few slow steps forward, hoping he doesn’t do something embarrassing like fall flat on his face as he’s acutely aware of every eye in the room being directed in his direction.

    He’s actually a little relieved to finally reach the stool and have the hat placed on his head, as it falls down and covers his eyes so he can no longer see all those faces staring at him.

    Well, well, what do we have here? Harry startles, although after the singing, he’s not sure why the hat speaking comes as a surprise. Strange…

    Suddenly, Harry’s certain the hat is going to tell him he doesn’t belong, and he feels his heart drop. Great , he thinks. I really don’t belong here.

    Oh, but you do , the hat contradicts, surprising Harry again because of course it can read his mind. Plenty of talent here, good head on your shoulders, and quite a bit of courage, with such a thirst to prove yourself. Yes, no question, you belong here.

    Then what is strange? Harry asks, curious now that the hat has assuaged his fears.

    The hat is quiet for a moment, as if it’s searching or perhaps deciding how to explain. Then, it says, There is magic here unlike any I have seen in all my time, and I’m quite old. Yes, strange, varying magics are at work in you. How very intriguing you are, Mr. Potter. Harry wants to ask more, try to understand what the hat is telling him, but the hat moves on, asking, So where shall I put you?

    Harry frowns in response, wondering that question himself. He has no real feelings towards being put in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Based on the hat’s song, he thinks he’s loyal enough for the former and maybe not smart enough for the latter, but he’s indifferent to either. He hasn’t met anyone interested in either, or made friends among those already sorted into it yet, so it’s hard to muster any enthusiasm besides it meaning he will remain at Hogwarts so long as he’s sorted somewhere . Gryffindor, though, has most of the few people he’s met and liked thus far, besides his emotional connection to it. But Draco is now in Slytherin.

    So Gryffindor or Slytherin, eh? Any of the Hogwarts houses could help you on your way to greatness, I’m sure, but these two especially.

    Then where are you putting me?

    I’m rather partial to Slytherin for you, but where would you like to be ? The hat counters.

    If those watching could see his face, they’d see Harry blinking in confusion and surprise. Instead, he blinks at the inside of the hat, not having expected the question. I’m not sure. I mean, Gryffindor, I think? It’s just, I’ve a friend in Slytherin. He said those houses are rivals.

    Hm . The hat is quiet for only a moment, before it says, Their founders Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were rivals and friends, you know. For a very long time.

    Oh . If the founders themselves could be both rivals and friends, surely Harry and Draco could manage that too, right? Gryffindor then .

    You’re certain? Won’t have any regrets? Then off you go, to “GRYFFINDOR!”

    Professor McGonagall removes the hat, and Harry blinks at the brightness of the room as he stands. The table on the far left has erupted into cheers, with many of them standing and clapping, and the Weasley twins chanting, “We got Potter!” repeatedly.

    Harry makes his way over, noticing as he does that the rest of the hall is staring at him still as the next student is called to be Sorted. His face warms, and he wonders if he’ll ever get used to the attention as a boy with a badge comes over to shake his hand. His red hair is such a distinctive, familiar shade that he’s not at all surprised to learn this is another Weasley, and in fact the one he’d heard speaking with the woman at the station.

    “Harry Potter! Welcome to Gryffindor. I’m Percy Weasley, one of the Gryffindor prefects. Such a pleasure to have you join our house!”

    “We got Potter! We got Potter!”

    Percy lets out a long suffering sigh before he turns and hisses at the twins, “Stop it! Do you want us to be the first to lose house points?” He shakes his head, then motions for Harry to follow him back to where he’d been sitting.

    Harry sits to Percy’s right, returning Neville’s shy smile and wave with a nod. Hermione is sitting on Percy’s other side, shaking her head at the twins who were still chanting a few seats further down, although they’d brought their volume down. Presumably to avoid notice from the teachers.

    “I wish people would stop staring,” Harry mutters, noting as he takes a seat that people are still looking over in his direction.

    Neville, sitting across from him, replies, “Well, y-you’re Harry Potter . You’re famous, you know.”

    “Well, that, and you’re the first hatstall in years,” Percy adds, taking a seat to Harry’s left.

    “A what?”

    “Hatstall. It’s what it’s called when the hat takes a while to place you.” Percy motions towards the hat where someone is almost instantly sorted into Ravenclaw. “Most people only take a minute or two. You three,” he motions to Harry, Neville, and Hermione, “took longer than most, but it’s only a hatstall if it’s more than five minutes.”

    “Was it really that long?” Harry asks, surprised.

    “It doesn’t feel that long in the moment,” Hermione muses. Neville nods his head in agreement.

    They watch the rest of the students get sorted, cheering whenever another Gryffindor is added to their ranks. If Harry’s cheering is a little less enthusiastic when the youngest Weasley also becomes a Gryffindor, he doubts anyone notices over the brothers’ loud cheers. Percy gets up again specifically to congratulate him and then comes back, his brother in tow. Harry, seeing that the free seats are on either side of where he currently is, moves to his left to take the one Percy had previously been occupying. Hopefully, the older boy won’t think anything of it except that Harry is trying to be considerate, and not hoping to avoid sitting next to his younger brother.

    Luck is with him in that although he doesn’t know what Percy thinks about the switch, not only does he not bring it up, but he takes Harry’s previous seat, leaving Ron to take the second one on his other side, so at least they’re separated. It has the added bonus, Harry thinks, to put him farther away from Hermione, who Harry thinks likely doesn’t want to risk another confrontation over dinner.

    The room quieted as the old headmaster stood up to welcome them all, saying a few gibberish words and sitting back down to applause and cheers. Harry doesn’t pretend to join in this time, frowning at the old headmaster. He doesn’t see Draco across the hall giving him the same raised eyebrow he had on the train, curiosity piqued.

    In any case, soon his and all the other students’ attention is drawn down to the tables as the golden place settings magically fill with food. He’s astonished, having never seen so much food in one place in all his life. Best of all, for only the second time in his life, he could eat to his heart’s content and no one would stop him or take the best for themselves, as his cousin often had. He filled his food with some of nearly everything on offer, and Harry is sure after a few bites that he has never had anything so good before.

    While they eat, talk revolves around questions from younger students to the older regarding classes or when the first Quidditch match will take place. Some discuss how happy or surprised their parents will be about their Sorting, which draws attention to the three seated near each out who had taken the longest to be Sorted.

    “What took the Sorting Hat so long to place you?” Ron asked, leaning around Percy to address Harry.

    He shrugs but Neville responds with another question himself. “Was the hat trying to convince you too? Thought I’d end up in Hufflepuff, but it insisted. Gran will be really happy about it.”

    “It was between here and Ravenclaw for me,” Hermione informs them, though she doesn’t look over in Ron’s direction as she answers.

    “What about you, Harry?” Neville asks.

    “Slytherin.”

    Percy looks at him in surprise. “ Slytherin ? That, uh, well a bit of a surprise, really.”

    “How come?” Harry asks.

    “ You-Know-Who was a Slytherin, s’why,” Ron offers, mouth full of food. “So were a bunch of his followers.” Ron looks directly at Harry. “Including Malfoy’s dad.”

    “He was found to be innocent and under the Imperius Curse,” Percy reminds his brother.

    Ron gives him an incredulous look. “ Dad thinks that’s a lie.”

    “Yes, well, the Ministry doesn’t,” Percy rebutts, mouth a thin line of disapproval. “So you would do well not to spread rumors about the Malfoys."

    Harry puts away this bit of information, but refuses to give Ron the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, he pointedly ignores him, turning back to his food. He’ll think about what he’s just learned and decide what, if any of it, to bring up with Draco later.

    Talk then turns to their families. Neville tells them all to laughter about his uncle trying to get him to do magic, although Hermione gasps when he tells them he was dropped out of a window. Seamus Finnegan takes over then, causing more laughter when he explains the shock his father received the first time his son performed accidental magic, as it led to finding out his wife had secretly been a witch the whole time. Many others have parents who are both witches and wizards, so they’d expected coming to Hogwarts, while others had been caught completely off-guard like Hermione, whose parents were both Muggle. Harry admits he was raised with Muggles himself, and therefore hadn’t a clue about being a wizard, much less famous, prior to receiving his Hogwarts letters.

    Many are surprised by this new and Harry, realizing he doesn’t want to answer any additional questions about his Muggle relatives or the parents he doesn’t remember, turns to Percy and asks about what they might expect from their first day. Percy is more than happy to tell them all about the things they’ll learn first year, his enthusiasm matched only by Hermione, so that Harry is drawn into talk of classes and schoolwork. It effectively makes everyone else lose interest in being a part of Harry’s conversation for the moment, and although he’s not nearly as keen on what Percy is telling them as Hermione clearly is, he nevertheless finds himself looking forward to getting to learn real magic for himself.

    It is while Percy is telling them about starting off small in Transfiguration with their Head of House, Professor McGonagall, that Harry happens to glance over towards the High Table. At some point, the stool and the Sorting Hat were removed. On the closest end is Hagrid, drinking from a goblet, with Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore speaking to each other somewhere around the middle. Further down he sees Professor Snape, speaking with a man wearing a purple turban, whose back is currently to Harry. He wonders if it might be the same turbaned gentleman from Diagon Alley he’d seen Snape speaking to, but he isn’t sure just how common turbans are in the wizarding world to say how likely that might be.

    Just then, Snape looks over and catches his eye. He nods his head towards Harry, who lifts a hand to wave when there’s a sudden pain in his forehead.

    “Ouch!” He presses his hand against his forehead, surprised.

    “Are you all right?” Percy asks while Hermione tilts her head to peer at Harry’s face.

    “Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Harry assures them, the pain in his scar already fading.

    “Is it your scar? Does it often hurt?” Hermione’s gaze is curious as it runs over his forehead.

    “No, actually. Never,” Harry admits. Which is true. It’s never once, in all his life, bothered him. “Say Percy, who is that speaking with Professor Snape?”

    “You know Snape, do you? Let’s see.” Percy runs his gaze along the High Table until he spots the purple turban, just as the man turns allowing them to better see his face. “Ah, that man would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Quirrell.”

    The desserts disappear from the table then, and the room quiets as Professor Dumbledore stands up. He addresses the room to inform them of a few start-of-term notices, of which were included the information that the forests on the ground as well as the right side of the third floor corridor were forbidden to students, the latter coming with the warning of a gruesome death for any who did not heed the warning. Percy mutters about this being news to him, noting that the prefects should have been informed, just as the headmaster has them all sing the school song to whatever tune pleases them.

    At no point does the man ever directly look at him, as far as Harry can tell, but somehow, he’s sure that the man is still watching him. It’s an unnerving feeling, and he’s glad when the Weasley twins finally finish their funeral dirge version of the school song and they’re dismissed to go to their houses.

    Already, Harry has so much to think about, and classes haven’t even started yet. He thinks he’ll definitely need to get some sleep if he’s to be prepared for what tomorrow will bring.

Story Notes:

Chapter title is a Jordan Sparks song.

[gameofdrarry]

Drarropoly: Lost and Found

Drarropoly is now in full swing, and our players are writing their hearts out as they make their ways around our Drarry-themed monopoly board. Each space has a prompt with different levels, each with different requirements, and players can earn points in a variety of ways. They can write or create art for these prompts, commenting and reccing gets points, and new this year, podficcers are welcome in Drarropoly!

Players are sorted and assigned at random to four different teams. All team activities and discussions are completely optional but can yield extra points to help win the game! These creative team activities are where players can imagine new, fun headcanons in the Harry Potter universe and perhaps a few stories of their own!

Team Activity 1: All Is Found

The leaders of the Hogwarts Unified Mavens of Protection (also known by their acronym, H.U.M.P.) are pleased to announce that four new artifacts have been found by our newly created research and excavation teams! It would seem by our research that these new artifacts once all belonged to the Hogwarts house founders. How exciting! Teams have already compiled images, as well as names, and what they have found about how this relic came to be.

For those that would also like to join one of our research and excavation teams, please check the links below before any irritable owls decide to eat this part of the report.

Signups are from Nov 1 - Jan 22, follow this link to sign up! Still have questions? Follow this link to read our full rules and FAQ!

Team Activity below the cut!

Team 1:

Rowena’s Remembrall

The Founders’ Follies by Bartholomew Collingwood, page 154.

Rowena’s Remembrall

This device was created by Rowena Ravenclaw in an attempt to keep her life in order. Ravenclaw is well-known for often being so involved in her hyperfixation on her studies that she needed to use the Remembrall to remember mundane things. Ravenclaw had a large hand in designing the Hogwarts castle, with its ever changing floor plan. In the process, she spent hours on this task, wandering and getting lost in the emerging structures, mapping the existing rooms and forthcoming spaces, and getting distracted by new ideas. Friends and colleagues often recalled Ravenclaw pulling out the Remembrall gone red and hearing her muse, "Hmm, I wonder what I've forgotten?"

This was how she missed supper umpteen times, as well as larger events like the changing of the seasons, and even, on one momentous occasion, her daughter's birthday. This was also how Ravenclaw ended up losing the Remembrall—she was too distracted and left it behind in an unremarked-upon location, and then didn’t have it at hand to remind her about it. It was later discovered in the Room of Lost Things, along with many other artefacts.

Team 2:

Helga’s Thimble

When Hogwarts was being founded and the castle was being prepared for students, Helga Hufflepuff was working to make the castle not just a place of learning, but a home for all the students that would inhabit it. Most people know that she built the greenhouses, and landscaped the grounds, but many don’t know that she worked her fingers to the bone creating bed linens, and curtains in the colors each of her fellow founders wanted for their students' common rooms. But her favorite after hours project was to create tapestries of everything from woodland scenes to famous witches and wizards.

Castle walls can be cold and she wanted more than anything for the halls of her school to feel warm and inviting. One day Salazar noticed at a meeting of the founders as they reported their various duties and accomplishments for their school opening that Helga’s fingers were often raw and pricked from all her tireless work. So he set himself to a task, and made her a thimble. One that would not only protect her as she created, but once worn would cure and heal all wounds. At least that’s what he told her it did. He didn’t tell her that he also gave it another enchantment. One that he worked on for months to perfect. He wove a spell into the thimble that would make her embroidery once finished, come to life. It took quite a long time to perfect and he wasn’t able to give it to her until she was working on the final tapestry for the school. She meant it to be a surprise for her fellow founders, an image of all of them together that she had worked tirelessly to perfect. The surprise was on her, after she completed it using Salazrs thimble, the images came to life and moved about on the woven surface.

The original tapestry is lost to history. But the thimble was kept by Helga till she died. Even after division between the founders, it reminded her that there is kindness and love in the world.

Team 3:

Salazar’s Unending Chalice

Team 3 has come into the possession of Salazar's Unending Chalice, a magical artifact found deep inside Hogwarts that once belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. It is said that Salazar, as with the other founders, retreated into his vice of choice as history took a turn for the worse. Salazar's vice, as it was, happened to be drinking. The chalice is charmed to hold an unending amount of whatever drink is poured into it. Many have speculated that Salazar would fill it with all types of expensive, extravagant wines, but some have theorized that the drinks were a touch more... mundane.

Image Credit: https://shop.enesco.com/collections/wizarding-world-of-harry-potter/products/slytherin-decorative-goblet

Team 4:

Rowena’s Labyrinth

Rowena, having been the one to design the moving staircases and most of Hogwarts' unique architecture, seemed the kind of person who would put a mysterious labyrinth in the castle as an extra challenge to her chosen 'Claws.

Long before there were passwords or entrances with riddles, any Ravenclaw who found themself out of the common room quarters after curfew would find themself in a mysterious labyrinth. This was a treacherous, impenetrable maze that appeared around the less than punctual student, and the only way out was to solve every complex trick and riddle in the maze until reaching the end of the Labyrinth. And there are many. Of course, if the student couldn't get through them, they would just wander in it all night until dawn, at which point the Labyrinth would disappear and the student would find themself near the girls bathroom on the third floor.

Perhaps Salazar always suspected that Rowena built something of this sort, even if he never saw it for himself, and that is why he put the entrance to his Chamber of Secrets near her Labyrinth's exit.

Nobody has ever been able to prove the existence of the Labyrinth until now, even though many Ravenclaws have sworn up and down that they've been caught in it over the past thousand years. No other house has ever seen Rowena's Labyrinth, and even the Headmasters, who know the castle in and out, can't say with 100% certainty that it's real. Over time, the Labyrinth became an urban legend of sorts, and everyone has always assumed the Ravenclaws were just making it up.

Even now, although it's been at least two centuries since the Labyrinth last allegedly surfaced, the Ravenclaw prefects still warn the first years to be extra careful and to be back in the common room well before curfew.

Images in the collage were taken from the real Labyrinth of Buda Castle.

[the-starryknight]

ow #1&2 got me 👀

😀 thank you for asking about my WIPs, lovely!! @unicorn-in-the-library​ <3

A Room Up There (and you in it) is the title for my advent fic, so keep your eyes out!  In which Magical House Preservationist Draco Malfoy begins a new project at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, only to realize that something or someone in the house very much does not want him there.  Here’s a teeny taste:

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker in the curtains on the first-floor, but when he glanced back, they were still as could be.  Draco put his palm firmly against the door, letting his magic pour into the frame, ache into the ancient wood.

“Not to worry, old girl,” he said under his breath, “I’m here now.”

These Hallowed Halls was a fic I started writing over the summer, and I’d very much like to come back to it.  Featuring Harry as Master-of-Death immediately after the war with some funky world-building about what it means to be Death in a wizarding society. In the fic, Harry-as-Death acts as a guide for wizards to accept their deaths and leave the mortal world, visiting them in a sort of mental landscape that is different for every person.  It’s made all the more complicated by the fact that no one has filled the role of Death since Dumbledore passed, so there are many souls in limbo, many of whom were killed in the second Wizarding World.

Harry’s depressed and chock-full of PTSD and now dealing with this monstrous new way of seeing the world.  Everything changes when he’s drawn into a shaky, improbable mental landscape with none other than Draco Malfoy, who is clearly fighting for his life in the real world.  🤷  As the synopsis implies, it got pretty dense and complex and angsty, and I’m not in the right headspace to make it work, but gosh I’d love to come back to it someday.  The current opening paragraph:

In the uncertain quiet that followed, Harry walked aimlessly through Hogwarts’ aching halls, fingers trailing along the familiar stones.  Evidence of fights small and large littered his path, wands strewn without owners, bricks loosened or destroyed entirely, spatters of blood, dust, and torn tapestry decorated the floors.  A broken torch lay extinguished on the floor.  He leaned over, setting it against the wall, and picked up the lost wands, tucking them into his back pocket.  If they belonged to living wizards, they would be returned.  If they belonged to the dead, well, perhaps it could be a comfort to their living loved ones.  Any comfort in wartime would do, although, he supposed it might not be wartime anymore.

Thank you for asking, dear!! 

[bowldeepfannish]

Fanart commision: scene from the Sailor Moon Shakespeare pastiche AU titled All The World’s Stage being developed by  @coppercrane2​​  . She’s the most Penguin Lady of them all and one mighty pillar of the SenshixShitennou corner in the Sailor Moon fandom. ---> @ssrevminibang Feasting on the juicy plot previews and picking each other’s brains was a delight and the highlight of my Summer <3. Thank you so much Charlie <3.

All handmade traditional in pencil , just scanned and sepia-ed to enhance that Renaissance period feel a-la Da Vinci sketchbook.

----

INFO AND #SYMBOLISM ahoy (inner history nerd unleashed alert!)  so buckle up XDDD

Jupiter/Makoto (aka Viola) Capulets-Prada is here disguised as a (male) page ‘Cesario’ in the Montague-Moschino-Gucci (M-M-G for short) noble household, in order to investigate the murder of her parents. The M-M-G clan is likely involved in the murder but the lady is determined. Keep your friend close and your (likely) enemies closer? Yep.

The Montagues’ first son and heir Nephrite/Orsino ‘s troubledar (and also his UST) is pinging at the new page. Dun dun dun dunnnn.

While ‘Cesario’ is at it he tries to polish his fencing and fighting skills too, to the delight of Montague cadet’s branch cousin and blades wizard  Zoisite/Benvolio. Hence the dagger&swords lesson in their inner yard depicted in the above art happens. Orsino closely watches them on the ground while his sister Rei/Beatrice Montague gazes at the trio from her chamber window on the first floor >D.

Clothes, heraldic motifs and stonemasonry for the scene above are a mix of both authentical late medieval/early Renaissance refs, plot clues hidden in  plain sight and a nod to the source characters >D.

- butterfly/moth & flame motifs, heraldry for the Montague-Moschino-Gucci are peppered all over the picture:

1) moth to flame, anyone? It ‘s a nod to desires and ambitions of more than one kind in the fic, and a sign of danger. 2) moths partake with the meaning of butterflies but also bring a note of ambivalence compared to the diurnal, pretty butterflies. (They’re both awesome :P ).  3) flame: It brings light and warmth but also destroys. Ditto on passion! Also nod to Mars/Rei. 4) moths were also a signature Gucci feature in one of their recent-ish fashion collections so it seemed a perfect fit for the Montague-Moschino-Gucci family crest :P.

- spring (?) water well:

1) a private and handy source of drinkable water is a major boon in an era without tap water and no plumbing and hit-and-miss sewers. Another sign of status & luck. Plus water symbolism!

The water bucket is there but hidden behind the central character. We just see the rope attached to it. --> Things hidden in plain sight, the dive for truth at the botton of the well/under the surface.. and thirst in more ways than one X°D.

2) nod to Ami/Portia being part of the M-M-G family (married into).

3) water inside the well, flame motifs bas-relief outside to surround it, a metal moth on top of the well... yes all these bits are there and placed just like that and there for a reason. The whole metalwork atop the well included. Start speculating my darlings >D. 4) there is more but see point 3).

- swords & dagger:

1) if you are a novice daggers are better/more effective a weapon than futzing with a rapier. 2) Zoisite/Benvolio loves shiny stabby things :P . In any universe he values the aesthetic. To thyne own Extra self be true. Also him: dagger vs rapier? Why choose one?  :P

- hair/hairdo (or lack thereof):

for all the variance of styles in history strictly speaking for many centuries no respectable woman would go around with her hair down and loose.

Hence Rei’s hair at the window is properly braided and covered ( also a little nod to Olivia Hussey in Zeffirelli’s movie adaptation of Romeo & Juliet ) . Makoto/Viola here is disguised as a boy hence she let her hair down to blend with the males in the household + that combined with the ruffled collar helps disguising her lack of an Adam’s apple 8D .

Zoisite is still tying his hair in his trademark canon ponytail also because he’s such a wild walking genderbent Rapunzel his locks would get in the way of fencing XDD.

- hats (or lack thereof):

Nephrite/Orsino hates, hates, hates that cumbersome poofy embroidered hat. But for all his discomfort he’s a Good Kid (Mama Beryl/Tamora is a stickler for heraldic paraphernalia and power dressing) and as the first son and designated heir he gotta.

Rei wears her headband/hair cuff and and ribbons interlaced in her braid like a proper refined aristocrat young lady of means.

Zoi should probably wear some sort of hat and also tie his shirt laces but he can’t be bothered plus he’s from  the cadet branch: he’s gotta play such a non playing straight card whenever it suits him amirite :P

- miscellaneous wall work: it recycles elements from previous buildings, preferrably Romans. Includings choice bits from Antiquity in your very building was as much a sign of status (Roman Empire mystique!) as sometimes a necessity due to lost techniques/expensive exotic materials.

- lozenges/trellis window glass and decorated ceramic + ornamental bricks framing the window: very period. A handful of such windows still survive 50 metres from my house :P.   XV century Italian goodness <3. I actually sneaked a tad of late XIX century feel in too :P (medieval-ish Art Nouveau architecture is quite a thing where I live).

- glimpse of Rei’s chamber: carved and painted wooden ceilings, tapestry (landscapes with castles and/or mythological themes usually) hanging on the wall for both decor and shielding from drafts belonged to the noble class taste of the period ( a rather long period and large area in the Westt... much beloved in the middle ages up to well into the Tudors’ era at least :). Sometimes if you could not hang tapestries you would commision trompe l’oeil of tapestries :D ) .

A repeat of the pics as sometimes Tumblr doesn’t display the top pic in pic posts  for me :°D. Thank you for reading if you have made it to the end!

-------

I am looking foward to the published fic. Thak you so much again for this fantastic commission chance Charlie I loved working on this :,). -------- my twitter

[softshelltaakos]

alright, folks! if you know me you know that i 1) received the taz graphic novel for the holidays and 2) have hated the taz graphic novel since before it came out, and that 3) actually reading it in no way improved my opinion.

let’s review.

disclaimer: i love the mcelroys. i truly do. taz has gotten me through some very difficult stuff and i have a tattoo. all this to say i’m not doing this because i hate them or because i like hating things — on the contrary, i’m doing this because i care a lot about the podcast and analyzing things is what i do for fun and also because, like, it has issues that i want to talk about!

there are spoilers for the graphic novel and the whole of the podcast under the cut.

this is part 1, in which i’m talking about the actual storytelling and writing; for character design thoughts, you’re gonna have to stay tuned because i’ve been working on this for three and a half hours and i have shit to do. so!

let’s start off with the things i actually liked. there are a few!

the main characters get little intro cards, which i think are pretty cute. this isn’t all of them, but here’s a sampling (forgive my messy collaging):

[ID: four panels.

the first introduces magnus burnsides, a barrel-chested white guy with auburn hair and a fluffy beard and sideburns. he’s saying “trust me, if the law hassles us, i’m the guy you want at the front of the wagon. but look, if you want to drive so bad, i might let you spell me the next time the dwarf has to stop for a pee break.” there is a scroll with his name listed, as well as his race (human), class (fighter), and proficiencies: battle, carpentry, and “everything else... apparently”

the second introduces taako, a skinny mint-colored elf wizard. he’s blonde with pronounced lower lashes and a big pointy nose. he’s saying “hell, no! i’ve got stuff to do. i’ve read the books. adventurers are supposed to, like, forage for food and shit. bor-r-r-ring! no, thank you. not for taako.” the proficiencies on his title card are spell-casting, transmutation, and gastronomy

the third introduces merle highchurch, a brown dwarf with white hair pulled back into a bun and a big poofy beard. he’s saying “i’m studying my cantrips!” and his title card proficiencies are “healing... supposedly,” “religion stuff,” and bleeding

the fourth panel introduces griffin mcelroy, a white human man with brown hair and glasses wearing a collared shirt. he’s saying “guys! it’s me: griffin! your dm!” his title card shows his race as “actual human” and his class as “dungeon master,” while his proficiencies are podcasting, karaoke, and “weaving a rich tapestry of drama.”]

then there are a few cute references to other mcelroy stuff:

[ID: two side-by-side images. the first is a photo of justin mcelroy wearing a bib with “shrimpin’ ain’t easy” written on it in crayon. the second is a close-up of a similar bib on a goblin -- though the text is distorted, it’s the same phrase.]

[ID: magnus thoughtfully says “unless...” and the other boys echo him in traditional mcelroy fashion.]

barry also wears underwear that read “meloincloths” around the waistband, which i didn’t take a picture of because it was small and also i didn’t really want to take a picture of barry bluejeans’s underoos. but that’s cute!

as it mentions in magnus’s titlecard, there’s a running joke about him being proficient in everything. that gets some play in the podcast but it comes up a lot more here and i think it works pretty well and establishes early on that magnus is cocky and headstrong and all that. it’s actually introduced in the very first panel of the comic, where he mentions his vehicle proficiency, and then it comes up several more times.

there are some moments that shift out-of-character dialogue to in-character dialogue, and i think it works sometimes. notably, it occasionally happens with griffin’s dialogue, which i think is a good way to include his voice without constantly breaking the fourth wall. it’s done some, obviously, but it’s not to the point that it’s intrusive.

[ID: a panel featuring taako approaching the other boys, who are playing cards while they wait for him to scout the next room out. magnus asks, “would you say it is spooky... or beautiful?” and merle cuts in “or spookily beautiful?” followed by magnus finishing up with “or beautifully spooky?”

taako responds “if you were a gerblin you would actually find it a pretty chill den to, like, hang out in.”]

i also like the introduction of the voidfish static. i think it’s appropriately dramatic and does a pretty good job of emulating how it’s presented in the podcast.

[ID: a panel featuring killian, an orc woman with a crossbow. the lighting is dark gray-blue-green and she’s shouting something unintelligible marked by a cluster of consonants and a shaky, brush-strokey speech bubble distinct from the other speech bubbles stylistically.]

the scene where taako grabs the umbra staff is also appropriately dramatic, as is merle trying to talk down gundren/bogard from the gauntlet’s thrall, but those are full page images and very large, so i’m not including them.

then there’s this panel of lucretia, which slays me:

[ID: a closeup of madame director lucretia, a black woman dressed in blue with white hair, though her eyes are out of frame. she’s holding a white oak staff in her hands. she’s stopped mid-sentence and there’s a little jaggedy line near her head indicating surprise.]

this is lucretia turning around and seeing the boys for the first time since she dropped them off at their respective “homes.” she’s caught off-guard and i think this is a beautiful way of noting that without giving too much away, and this is a good moment of foreshadowing that she knows much, much more about them than she’s letting on. she catches herself quickly and gets back into the swing of things, but i think this is a very lucretia panel, and it’s probably my favorite panel in the book.

now it’s time for the negative.

first off, a nitpick: there are moments where the characterization feels very off -- at one point magnus is said to have been the kid who “always reminded the teacher that they had forgotten to hand out homework,” which... does not really match what we know of young magnus. at all. travis describes him as “a good but kind of rebellious kid, like he was probably kind of a little bit of a turd [...] who was kinda sarcastic” (ep. 60, the stolen century part one) which feels super incongruent with the homework thing.

my issues with characterization come into focus most strongly with taako. while a lot of moments get his voice down pretty well, there’s a major issue in his presentation, which is that from the very beginning, he’s bragging about his tv show.

[ID: several panels in which merle and taako are talking. the first is a wide shot with taako’s voiceover saying: “--and then the lights come up, and there i am, standing under a magnificent banner that reads:”

the second is taako posing under a spotlight, speaking in large, fanciful script: “sizzle it up with taako”

panel three is merle asking disinterestedly “so it’s a show... about cooking?” and taako replying emphatically “it’s about life!”

in panel four he adds “...told through the perspective of fine dining.”

another panel collaged in features a cookbook with taako’s face on it labeled “perfection: cook the taako way” and taako excitedly saying “i know that smell!! that’s my recipe for haunch a la taako!! it was in my very first cookbook!]

now, we all know that by the end of the show “taako -- you know, from tv?” has become a catchphrase of his, and i understand the desire to retcon that kind of thing into his personality from the start. it seems like a natural way to add character early on when in the podcast, the boys are still pretty underdeveloped at this point.

here’s the issue. neither tv nor the title “sizzle it up” are mentioned at any point during here there be gerblins. in the eleventh hour (e48, part 8 of that arc) we’re told that we’re six years out from the mass poisoning in glamour springs. while the maxfun donor bonus episodes, like the liveshows, play it a little bit fast and loose with canon, and this episode was the 2015 bonus episode (e48 didn’t come out until september 2016,) that’s the only real explicit sizzle it up development we have until the eleventh hour. i’ve transcribed some of the bonus episode below, as transcripts for it are not available via @.tazscripts.

justin: taako-- i’m sitting in a corner by myself with my hat sorta pulled down low so people don’t recognize me. and i’m just trying to eat my meal but i keep changing the items that i’m trying to eat into different substances, so every few minutes you hear from my corner of the tavern:

taako: damn it!

clint: i hate asparagus!

griffin: i turned this sandwich into wood!

[...]

justin: mainly, i’m just trying to be nondescript. 

[...]

justin: the whole time i’m talking to [the tavern owner] i’m like, keeping my face down so he doesn’t recognize me.

griffin: why would anyone recognize you?

clint: why?

justin: well, taako, uh, used to host a cooking show. it was a very, very, very popular cooking show. uh, and--

griffin: what was it called?

justin: what?

griffin: the show.

justin: sizzle it up with taako.

this episode is when the boys take the job with gundren off of craig’s list, so the time gap between this and episode 1 is negligible at best. there is a moment where the other boys recognize taako and he doesn’t lie about his identity, but:

taako: (begrudgingly) yeah, i’m taako, i’m disgraced, you might have heard about the [poisoning] thing.

so... he’s clearly not putting himself on display the way he does later in the podcast. in episode 40 (lunar interlude III: rest and relaxation) which came out in may of 2016, we get the first reference to the poisoning itself:

taako: one time i transmogrified something that, uh… i transmogrified it into something you really shouldn’t eat, ever? for life, to live, i mean? And, uh, a lot of people ate that. and that went... so sideways. um... i-- i just decided i would never again cook for people i cared about, because i couldn’t risk, um, y’know, something happening to them. until i get this under control, i guess.

so we know that even at that point this is still something that troubles taako greatly. one might even say... he’s traumatized! and doesn’t talk about it! he does not go into detail about sizzle it up with anyone over the entire course of the podcast except for june while she is literally possessed by the chalice and forcing him to relive it. So. kind of a weird character take.

to skip ahead a little bit, most of the moonbase stuff is fine, but there’s one omission that feels very weird to me.

[ID: three panels. the left is a shot of the elevator hallway leading to the voidfish’s chambers. thb follow killian towards the elevators; johann is walking away from them. he’s a black human man with natural hair dressed in a silly bard outfit with a violin strapped to his back. he’s carrying a ton of scrolls.]

these three panels are the only time we see johann in the book. in the podcast it’s johann that escorts them to the voidfish’s chambers and inoculates them. it makes sense that this has been changed to lucretia in the gn; it gives her a much stronger entrance and cuts down on scene changes. but it also cuts out a lot of establishing things about johann that are all extremely important and set up not only his character arc but several core plot points.

it’s during that scene that we hear that johann’s greatest fear is being forgotten, and that that’s exactly what will happen to him and all of the other bureau employees when they die. it’s during that scene that we learn the basic mechanics of the voidfish and the mission of the bureau. it makes sense that some of that is going to be handled at the beginning of the next book (presumably) and i’m glad that lucretia is introduced here, but the gn adjusts it so that killian takes the boys into the elevator. that’s johann in the podcast, and it easily could have been johann here. it would’ve been a good chance to establish at least johann’s fears, which would be a weird and creepy setup for the voidfish mechanics when they do get revealed.

it’s just odd to me that johann, who is the reason for the song half of story and song, gets the short shrift here.

i’m gonna wrap up with one last thing. i wanna talk about arms outstretched.

griffin: and you’re both getting pulled into the rift now, and-- but with a 20, taako, you fight against the pull and both of you are flying backwards towards the center of the room, back towards the catwalk. and merle, you’re standing in front of the two liches, one in the form of magnus and one not. lydia just is there in her spectral form. and you’re standing next to a taako who’s gone completely catatonic.

[...]

griffin: okay, then, m—magnus and taako, you two are flying back towards the center of the room. the pull of this rift is still trying to suck you in. and out of nowhere, just merle turns around—turns his back to the two liches—and just outstretches his arms and as he does, you see, like, spectral versions of his soul-wood arm sort of reach out and grab you and he’s also pulling you back in too, now. and he rips both of you towards himself.

i don’t think it’s a stretch to say that this is one of the most emotionally charged moments in the show, and it’s that because it’s a moment where we see, crystal-clear, real character development and growth.

magnus, who rushes in, who has never wanted anything as much as he wants to be reunited with julia, actively resists the pull of death to help his friends.

taako, who’s good out here, who is so selfish that an entire town died because of his ego, risks his life to help his friends.

merle, who can barely feel his holy connection, who barely ever even heals, breaks planar bounds to help his friends.

we’ve been with these characters for 56 episodes. we’ve seen their worst regrets, we know their tragic backstories, we understand why they’ve been the jackasses they’ve been, and now we see them moving past that to work as a unit. one might even say as a family!

arms outstretched is a moment that has been earned over the course of those 56 episodes.

enter the graphic novel.

[ID: a full page. flames are everywhere and panels are intentionally chaotic. dialogue reads:

merle: maybe now would be good?

magnus: i’m a hero, not an idiot.

taako: actually, you’re both idiots!

he outstretches his arm from his position safe in a well.

taako: come on!

merle and magnus reach for taako’s hands. there is a closeup on their arms: merle and magnus each hold one of taako’s with one hand. then there’s a panel showing an explosion.]

this is obviously intended as a way to foreshadow arms outstretched. and typically i’m not against foreshadowing! i think one of the benefits of the graphic novel is that it’s an opportunity to insert foreshadowing in cool ways that were not necessarily possible given the in-progress nature of the podcast -- like i said earlier, that lucretia panel is a really great example of it. you can’t foreshadow arms outstretched in episode one because you have no idea it’s going to happen.

but here’s the thing. you also can’t foreshadow arms outstretched in episode one because it hasn’t been earned. these characters are not those characters yet. they don’t know each other. taako actively shuts down the title of “friend” earlier in the book. they’re not even coworkers yet. and you could make an argument that in the face of death, taako would try to save them, but... would he? really? he’s a pragmatist, and that’s putting it nicely. during the stolen century the only person he tries to get to safety at the risk of his own neck is lup, and, uh... neither of these guys are lup. hell, he doesn’t even know about lup right now, and we see in the podcast that not remembering her leaves him colder and more self-centered. he knows people are dust, but he doesn’t know there are people that aren’t. i truly don’t buy it.

the nature of adaptation is that things are going to change, and that’s fine; but this is such a major shift that it left me really jarred and unhappy with the writing. in the podcast itself, we get this:

killian: c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon!

clint: decision made.

justin: yeah, i follow her.

travis: i follow her.

clint: me too.

griffin: the three of you dive into the well.

it makes sense that the gn adjusts this slightly so that magnus and merle try to pull some heroics and save everyone; i don’t have a problem with that. that’s a good adaptation of character that hadn’t exactly been seen yet, but comes to be a core enough part of the characters that it makes sense to insert it earlier. but even then, they could’ve gotten to the well without taako’s help. it’s just such a weird rewrite, and i really think it weakens the impact of arms outstretched itself.

i’ve been meaning to get my thoughts on this out for nearly a month at this point so if you’ve stuck with me this whole time, wow! thanks! i appreciate it! i’m not a professional, and obviously the mcelroys signed off on this, so i don’t really have space to say “oh, taako would never do this” or “oh, magnus was never like that” on a canonical level -- i know travis says something along those lines in one of the ttazzes. but as i said at the very beginning: this story means so, so much to me, and it’s really deeply frustrating to see an adaptation that handles things so... weirdly.

[fictitious-whimsigot]

Day 8: Muto Imaginem

Muto Imaginem spells change and warp images, which present a lot of fun for a potential illusionist. The wizard who created the following spells enjoys spending time in cities; has a habit of pranks.

Hidden Thaumaturgy Level 15 Muto Imaginem (Mentem) Range: Personal Duration: Sun Target: Part

The caster runs a hand down one arm and then the next. He speaks his own name thrice; finds that any time he moves his hands to gesture, they appear to perform the sign of the cross. His hands still appear to lift, carry and move objects- it is only when he takes an action purely to illustrate a point or cast a spell that his hands are so cloaked. 

(Base 1, +2 Sun, +1 Part, +1 Mentem Requisite, +2 Complex Effect)

The Second Curse of Midas Level 20 Muto Imaginem Range: Voice Duration: Moon Target: Individual

The caster gestures aggressively at the target and says their name loudly thrice, then gestures up past his own ears. The target’s ears then unfold into hairy donkey ears and everything that they say comes out as an incomprehensible donkey bray.

(Base 3, +2 Voice, +3 moon) 

Canine Cloak Level 5 Muto Imaginem Range: Personal Duration: Sun Target: Individual

The caster pulls his clothing around himself closely and chants the names of several dogs of legend, invoking their power. Soon, with a small woof, he is shrouded in an illusion that makes him seem, by sight and touch, to be nothing more than a large dog. 

The caster still sounds, in all ways, the same; can still cast spells with no penalty. 

(Base 2, +2 Sun, +1 Complexity) 

Empty Parlor Trick Level 10 Muto Imaginem Range: Touch Duration Concentration Target: Room

The caster runs a hand along a wall; the entire room shifts slightly. Every person within the room seems, to the eye, to become something innocuous and appropriate for the situation and area. People transform into chairs, tapestries, statues or the like. 

(Base 1, +1 Touch, +1 Concentration, +3 Room) 

[riverstardis]

Aftermath - Chapter 3: “Maladies Of The Mind”

Summary: There’s no one who was affected by the Second Wizarding War as much as Harry Potter - or was there? An accidental crossing of paths in the Room of Requirement changes everything for the Boy Who Lived.

Genre: Angst

Tags: drarry, harry potter, eighth year, hogwarts, au

Warnings: guilt, ptsd, post-war

Chapter 1 - 2 - 3

AO3 | FF.NET | Wattpad

DRACO:

It was a few weeks into the new term and Draco was feeling worse and worse by the day. Guilt was weighing him down like the infinite darkness of a black hole. Everywhere he went he was greeted with glares and whispers. A small part of his brain begged him to take up McGonagall’s offer of someone to talk to; the rest of it knew that doing that would result in the loss of the little dignity he had left after the war.

 “I’m going to the library. See if I can finish that potions essay Slughorn wants by tomorrow,” he told his friends one Monday night at dinner after he had finished his food.

 “Draco Malfoy without his Potions done? Maybe the end is nigh after all,” Blaise said as Draco stood up from the table. Draco rolled his eyes at him and left the Great Hall. The truth was, he had finished the essay days ago. He was going to the library to find any books that would help him stop feeling enough guilt for all the death eaters combined. Not that most of them felt any guilt about what they had done, of course – most of them were safely locked up in Azkaban without any regrets at all.

 When he reached the library, he discovered that it was not as deserted as he’d hoped it would be: there were three Ravenclaw girls that looked to be in their first or second year sat at one of the tables in the Potions section. It’s a good job I’ve done that Potions essay then isn’t it, he thought as he walked past them.

 He chose a table as far away from them as possible and put his bag down. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was looking for, so he started looking in the household section of the library. These shelves contained books such as Magical Methods Of Maintaining Milk (Draco had no idea why a school library needed a book about breastfeeding) and Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide To Household Pests (Draco also had no idea why anyone would read that).

 After he had looked through these shelves a while longer, the only book Draco had found that even looked like it would be any use to him was Common Household Ailments and How To Fix Them but, upon an inspection of the index, he found that this book just contained things like headaches and minor burns. Draco, knowing he wouldn't find anything else of use in this section, moved on to the Divination section. Most of the books here were rather woolly and there was nothing that could help him.

 Draco knew when dinner was over because a trickle of students started to arrive at the library to work on last-minute homework before curfew. He wandered around the library looking at the names of the sections, trying to decide where he would find a book that would help. Eventually, he decided that the healing section might yield some results and went to look in there.

 The books in this section were a mixture of old and new. He flicked through a promising looking book about injuries of war, but it was very dated and, from what he could make out from the worn and yellowing pages, it looked like all it contained were faded drawings of gory injuries. Draco shut the book in disgust and carried on looking. Next, he picked up a relatively new book about head injuries and flicked through it. It was all about cracked skulls and brain damage and the 'delicate art of healing the brain' which, although he thought it was quite interesting, wasn't quite what he was looking for.

 Eventually, in the very corner of a shelf, Draco found a book entitled Maladies of the Mind which said on the back that it was about 'the topic of mental health that is so taboo and yet so prevalent in the wizarding world'. Draco flipped it open to the index and read the chapter titles. The chapter that caught his eye was the one entitled Dealing With Your Feelings. That looked like exactly what he needed so he took the book (along with the one about head injuries which he vowed to read later) back to his table and sat down.

 Draco opened the book and began to read the introduction. The book was written only very recently and the author, Susan Whisp, who was a half-blood and raised in the muggle world, said that among muggles the topic of mental health is taboo but among wizards, it's almost unheard of. He thought that made sense since Draco didn’t know anything about mental health and was sure that he’d never heard anyone talking about it. After reading the introduction he skipped straight to the chapter Dealing With Your Feelings and began to read.

If you are having overwhelming negative feelings, there are a few ways to deal with this. In some cases, just waiting it out will work but this is rarely the best way to deal with any mental illness. The best thing for you to do is to work to deal with your problems instead of letting them control your life. First, you have to think about what is causing these feelings to manifest inside you. This is the root cause of your problems and this is what you must address in order to feel better.

 Draco knew what the cause of his problems was: the war and his part in it. The overwhelming guilt he was feeling was as a result of all the lives his actions had ended. Now that he was thinking about it, he realised that he didn't even know the names of everyone that died in the Battle of Hogwarts. He wished he did so he could pay his respects to each of them and their families.

 One of the worst things you could do with an overwhelming feeling is bottle it up. You should never let negativity get the better of you like this. If you realise you have been bottling your feelings up, then you need to find a way to release them. This is a lot easier in the Wizarding World than it is for muggles as there are many more options for you. For example, if you are feeling overwhelming anger, instead of taking your anger out on someone, simply transfigure any old object into something you can hit or shout at to dispel your anger. You'll feel a lot better after this, I promise. Another thing you should do is find a place away from everyone where you can go if things get too much.

 That’s what he needed: a place to go to escape everyone. Somewhere where he could finally have some peace to think through his problems and deal with them without worrying about who was watching. He supposed he could use one of the unused classrooms – there were even more of them now that large parts of the castle were still in repair. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that it read 20:52, which gave him just over an hour before curfew. He decided he would go and look for a disused classroom that wasn’t in too much disrepair.

 After he went to Madam Pince to borrow the two books (he guessed that she didn’t trust him with them since she didn’t look too happy about this) and packed his things away into his bag, Draco headed out of the library and to the fifth floor of the castle, where he knew there were quite a few unused classrooms. This floor had a number of windows without glass in and as a result, in typical Scottish fashion, a strong wind blew through the corridor and whipped through Draco’s robes as he walked.

 He peered through the doorways of the classrooms he passed. One of them was completely unusable: it had a chunk of wall missing and a good part of the room was buried in rubble. One of them looked fine at first glance but had a horrible putrid smell coming from it; he covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve and moved quickly away from that one. Another had blood splattered along the far wall; that one made him feel sick to his stomach.

 By the time Draco had walked right to the end of the corridor, he hadn’t found a single classroom that was suitable for what he wanted – it seemed like they weren’t used anymore for a reason. As he began to make his way back to the common room, thinking that he would continue looking in other parts of the school tomorrow, he began thinking about what he actually wanted for his own space. He didn’t really have an exact picture in his mind, but he knew he needed to be able to relax and think. He wasn’t sure when the last time he had been able to do that was: for so long he was constantly looking over his shoulder, even at the Manor (he wasn’t sure he could call it home anymore) he couldn’t relax because ever since the Dark Lord had been staying there, it too served as a reminder of his and his family’s involvement in the war.

 Just as he was reaching the ground floor of the castle he stopped on the stairs. He had just realised that he knew exactly where to find the perfect room: The Room of Requirement. Although he didn’t know whether it would still work after the Fiendfyre, he knew it was worth a try. After a quick glance at his watch told him he still had 20 minutes before curfew, he turned and began to jog back up the stairs, heading to the seventh-floor corridor with the tapestry of the dancing trolls.

He paced back and forth three times thinking hard about what he wanted. I want a place where I can get over the war. Once he had done that he stood and faced the blank wall. For a moment he thought that maybe it had been destroyed by the Fiendfyre after all until the door started to appear on the wall. He felt relief wash over him as he pushed the door open and went inside, eager to see what the room would be like.

 The room could not look more different to what it had looked like last time Draco was in there. Last time he saw it he was on the back of Harry Potter’s broom, being chased by sentient fire and surrounded by the junk he had hidden among while doing the Dark Lord’s bidding. That sounded crazy even to him, who had lived through it all. He reckoned that if he told his 11-year-old-self everything that was to happen in this particular room of the castle, he would never have believed it.

 The room was a cosy size - not too big and not too small. The floor had a plush looking carpet. It was light grey, the colour of smoke. In fact, the whole room had the same mild colour scheme. In one corner of the room, there was a small sofa and in another, there was a desk with a small pile of books sat on it. The back wall of the room was lined with bookshelves. These are what Draco went to look at first. Looking through the books, he saw that there was a good selection of Potions books and several books on mental health among others.

 Deciding he would finish looking through the shelves later, Draco made his way over to the desk and saw that there were two books sat there, along with a quill and an ink pot. One had a leather-bound cover and the other sat open on the table. His eye was drawn immediately to the large lettering on the open page that said: Write your feelings down. Draco opened the leather-bound book and saw that it was empty – it was a journal, he realised.

 Just as Draco went to look at the open book more closely, a loud chime nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. He looked around for the source of the noise and saw a clock on the wall that had not been there before. It read 21.55. Five minutes before curfew. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he could not be caught out of bed after curfew: he had only been let back into Hogwarts on the promise that he would not get into any more trouble. He ran out of the Room of Requirement and headed down to the dungeons at full speed, taking a few shortcuts that he had learned of in his sixth year.

 He reached the Slytherin common room just in time: as he entered, he saw the prefects getting ready to start their patrol. Panting, he rushed through the common room to his dorm, hoping nobody would notice him, and quickly went to bed, his mind buzzing with thoughts.

[thecreaturecodex]

Gravorg

Image by Raven Mimura, © Wizards of the Coast

[Here’s the corner case I mentioned. Although the gravorg never appeared in another D&D product, it did show up in the Gamma World expansion Legion of Gold. Which is as good a place as any for an anti-gravity lemur. The gravorg is probably the most different, mechanically and flavorfully, from the original of this suite of conversions. Although it’s one trick is a good one, I gave it more gravity themed abilities. I also boosted its Intelligence score. In a game with roughly 50,000 magical ambush predators, why not have one more you can chat with?]

Gravorg CR 8 CN Aberration This faintly comical creature resembles an enormous black and white striped lemur. Its yellow eyes are wide and owlish, and its tail long and prehensile.

Gravorgs are curious subterranean carnivores that hunt by manipulating gravity into a weapon. Despite their seemingly flamboyant coloration, they can shift their fur’s stripes into a mottled grey suitable for camouflage among rocks and cave walls. When they come across a suitable prey item, they repeatedly use their reverse gravity ability to batter it to death, bouncing it repeatedly from ceiling to floor. Creatures that manage to get close to a gravorg must deal with its claws and teeth, and flying creatures that escape its gravity traps are instead blasted by pinpoint bursts of intense gravity.

Despite their bestial appearances, gravorgs are intelligent and can speak, but they rarely have anything to say to creatures they consider being food. Most gravorgs will feign a lack of intelligence to trick opponents into underestimating them. When interacting with creatures that recognize their intelligence, gravorgs will often weave half-truths and riddles into a befuddling tapestry that convinces many that talking to a gravorg just isn’t worth it.

Gravorgs move ponderously on the ground, but are capable of manipulating their personal gravity to allow short periods of incredibly precise flight. Although a gravorg will use this in combat, they typically save a few rounds of this ability to facilitate escape—gravorgs are cowardly creatures that dislike fighting opponents that can fight back. A gravorg grows to twelve feet long, but half of this length is made up of its long prehensile tail. Although gravorgs rarely use weapons or tools, this tail is almost as dexterous as a human hand.

Gravorg                CR 8 XP 4,800 CN Large aberration Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +16 Defense AC 21, touch 11, flat-footed 19 (-1 size, +2 Dex, +10 natural) hp 95 (10d8+50) Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +9 DR 10/magic; SR 19 Defensive Abilities immobility Offense Speed 20 ft., climb 20 ft., fly 60 ft. (perfect); subjective gravity Melee 2 claws +11 (1d6+4), bite +10 (1d8+4) Ranged gravity bolt +8 touch (5d6 plus push) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks push (10 ft.) Spell-like Abilities CL 10th, concentration +13 (+17 casting defensively) At will—reverse gravity (DC 20) Statistics Str 18, Dex 14, Con 20, Int 11, Wis 17, Cha 17 Base Atk +7; CMB +12; CMD 24 (32 vs. bull rush, 36 vs. trip) Feats Combat Casting, Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Skill Focus (Stealth), Weapon Focus (claw) Skills Bluff +13, Climb +24, Fly +21, Perception +16, Stealth +17 (+21 underground); Racial Modifiers +20 Climb, +4 Stealth when underground Languages Undercommon Ecology Environment underground Organization solitary or pair Treasure standard Special Abilities Gravity Bolt (Su) As a standard action once every 1d4 rounds, a gravorg can fire a bolt of crushing force at a creature within 100 ft. This acts as a ranged touch attack that deals 5d6 damage and subjects creatures hit to the gravorg’s push ability. The damage dealt counts as bludgeoning and magic for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction. Immobility (Su) A gravorg gains a +8 bonus to its CMD against bull rush or trip attempts. Subjective Gravity (Su) A gravorg gains a +20 bonus to Climb checks and can climb on smooth or upside-down surfaces as if under a spider climb effect. In addition, it can fly at a speed of 60 feet with perfect maneuverability for a number of rounds a day equal to twice its Hit Dice (20 rounds for the typical gravorg). When a gravorg is flying, it does not need to make Fly checks to hover or to fly upwards at a greater than 45° angle.

[fancoloredglasses]

Dungeons & Dragons episode review Module 2-3: City at the Edge of Midnight

[As always, all images are owned by Wizards of the Coast and Marvel Entertainment. I’m a huge fan. Please don’t sue me]

Once again, we feature a look into our world and strange visitors to the Realm

Where the PCs are: Sheila reached level 8 last adventure. Diana and Presto are level 7, while the rest are 6th. My guess is that Eric will level up at the end of this adventure.

As always, Watch Cartoons Online has your adventuring goodness.

We open in a strange land that has miniature statues of heroes and villains of the Realm and a strange tapestry for a place called “OLTER SPACE”

Actually, it’s a child’s bedroom in our own world. This child is named Jimmy Whitaker. One has to wonder why an adventure in a fantasy role-playing game starts with a scene that is definitely not fantasy (unless you count the fantasy that a misspelled poster about outer space would get through Quality Control...)

We soon find out as a red glow appears under Jimmy’s bed and grabs him, pulling him under (I wonder how many XP the Monster Under The Bed would be worth...)

His father barges in and attempts to grab Jimmy, but Jimmy is pulled under as the police arrive (I wonder which nosy neighbor called 911)

Meanwhile, in the Realm, the party is lost (again), but this time it’s Eric’s fault and the party won’t let him forget that (enough to make you almost feel sorry for him) he tries to point out the right direction...

...and apparently it’s up Dungeon Master’s nose.

Yes, Dungeon Master once again appears out of thin air to give his weekly riddle-fest. He first claims the party will find “safety and danger ahead”, and they need to seek out the City At The Edge Of Midnight (hence the name of the adventure). He further explains (?) that “time is on your side” (so they’re going to meet the Rolling Stones? Cool!) and that children from the Realm and their world are in danger, and the party must save them. And with that, he vanishes in a minor dust storm.

Eric decides he’s best on his own...before tripping, rolling down a sand dune, and into a palm tree.

It turns out Eric was going in the right direction, if in the wrong manner, as he tumbled into an oasis. However...

...it seems it isn’t unoccupied, as Hook Horrors come out to complain about these damn kids in their pool. They surround the party and are about to attack when...

...a man (who later introduces himself as Ramoud) on some kind of large riding beast crashes through the wall and joins the fray. With Ramoud’s help, they route the Hook Horrors. I counted 11 in the battle, and the Fiend Folio lists them as 90XP each for a total of 990XP. Following the battle, Ramoud sees that a very confused Eric is being chased by more Hook Horrors, then uses his scimitar as a sonic weapon to single-handedly drive them off (In other words, the DM wanted to show how cool and powerful Ramoud is) Ramoud invites the party to travel with his caravan (not much of a caravan; it’s just Ramoud and a bunch of the riding beasts)

Later that evening...

...Ramoud treats the party to a feast (maybe he can outfit them with provisions so they’re not hunting for a meal at the beginning of every other episode...and can someone please give Eric a sword?) Ramoud says Sheila reminds him of his daughter. Eric asks where his daughter is,...and things get quiet. Ramoud explains that his daughter disappeared some time ago. After the party helps Eric remove his foot from his mouth, they head to bed.

Later that evening, as the party gets ready for bed, Hank reminds the party about Dungeon Master’s quest before they get too settled. Unfortunately, the rest of the party wants to stay (especially Eric, who all but admits he had a shitty childhood) Then Ramoud enters the tent with a gift for Sheila...

...a doll that belonged to Ramoud’s daughter. He then wishes the party good night.

Later that evening (just before midnight...)

...a red glow appears below Bobby and starts to pull him in! Hank fires blindly into the glow as Sheila tries to pull him back. However...

...what looks like a bondage demon (not that there’s anything wrong with that, as long as it’s consensual...) emerges from the glow. Then Ramoud enters and attacks the demon, but is repelled as the demon grabs Bobby, saying it has laid claim to him.

After they disappear, Ramoud explains that this was what happened to his daughter: they were taken to the City on the Edge of Midnight by the bondage demon, who Ramoud calls the Nightwalker

(A quick note: the Nightwalker does not appear in 1st edition AD&D, but does appear in 3rd edition, so I will be using those stats to determine XP when the time comes)

As it’s not yet midnight, Hank, Presto, and Ramoud use their magic items to force the portal open. (Even Eric’s on board for once, refusing to let Bobby be lost)

They all jump into...a city (well, what did you expect?) Eric notes that the city clock says it’s still a couple of minutes before midnight (the clock had struck 12 when they left) and spots shadowy inhuman-looking figures looking on. Hank says it’s fine, as long all they do is watch. So, right on cue...

...they stop watching. The demons chase the party to a dead end. Ramoud wants to attack, but Sheila stops him, saying they could take the party to Bobby and Ramoud’s daughter.

The demons take the party to inside the clock tower, where children are being forced to hold back the clock’s mechanism. The Nightwalker explains that the clock must never strike midnight (You would think by now villains would learn to not monologue away their plans and weaknesses)

That’s when Hank attacks, drawing the attention of every demon in the tower. Suddenly, Hank realizes the folly of his actions as he discovers the demons outnumber the party by about a zillion to one. So, being the brilliant strategist he is, he tells the party to run like hell.

The party manages to climb on one of the clock’s giant weights as it rises. As they rocket upward, Hank realizes the they have to get the clock started again. They then realize they need to get off this express elevator before it crashes and just so happen to jump on the platform Bobby is forced to work on.

One happy reunion (and a reequipping by Bobby) later, the party set about de-sabotaging the clock. One blow from Bobby’s club is enough to de-stabilize the mechanisms in place to stop the clock and it begins to chime midnight.

...which causes the Nightwalker to vanish, breaking his hold on the children and sending them home.

...well crap, I guess that means I need to figure out XP after all (I honestly thought Ramoud would do all the work) Looking at the 3rd edition Monster Manual and consulting the 1st edition Dungeon Master’s Guide to assign edition-appropriate XP, the Nightwalker comes to 20,800XP

That’s when Sheila and Bobby hear a familiar voice...

...Jimmy Whitaker (remember him from the beginning of the adventure?) The party tries to send along a message to their parents, but unfortunately Jimmy thinks this is all a dream. Not only that, but it would appear that only a day has passed in the real world since the series started (at least according to Jimmy. Then again, who knows how long he’s been down here?) and with that, he vanishes, and the party is teleported back to the surface.

Naturally, Eric complains about Jimmy, doesn’t look where he’s going and pratfalls down a dune...

...to land at Dungeon Master’s feet. Dungeon Master then reveals the Ramoud is a king (who apparently abandoned his kingdom to find his daughter. Hope he left some competent people in charge who don’t mind giving back the reins when he returns) and tells Ramoud his daughter has also returned...

...and we get our second happy reunion to end the adventure.

The party earned 21,790XP, or 3631XP each, which is not enough for anyone to level up

[a-thought-in-my-head]

A New World (pt 1)

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader Request: Reader from our world, dies in a car accident and her soul is send to middle-earth decades after Thorins death. She is confused why she is in erebor and from the corner of her eye she suddenly notice something moving further deeper into the mountain. She follows whatever is guiding her straight to durins tomb. She feels someone behind her and when turning around, she sees Thorin standing there curious look on his face asking who she is and why she is there. While explaining, thorin realize that Mahal has done this. Their souls being bound together, although they were in different worlds and it was only after death they were allowed to find each other. Lots of fluff 😀 Warnings: Somewhat Graphic Descriptions (of an Injury), Car Crash Word Count: 2723                    *Posted 29.7.17

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (Coming Soon - hopefully)

Crash!

Your head snaps back.

The front of your car crumples like tinfoil. Air bags smother your face. You gasp, then cough as you inhale the powder that exploded out with the airbags. Car alarms blare. You can see the other driver slumped over their wheel. Your right leg is throbbing, forcing you to ignore the destruction. You don’t want to look down at your leg but you have to. Maybe it’s nothing. Please be nothing, you hope.

But you can’t see anything other than the dash of your car pressing into your hips. You try to wriggle your legs free, but your muscles are putty, bruised putty. You clench your teeth. Your arms are aching and bleeding from a thousand little cuts probably made by the flying glass. Still, you force them to pull you over the gear shift and into the passenger seat. Your head swims with adrenaline and exhaustion.  Your arms shake. Panting, you rest, head just reaching the end of the passenger seat. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. Grunting, you flip yourself over. You look toward your legs.

You scream but you don’t. Your mouth is open and in your head, you’re screaming, but no sound is being made. You’re just silently screaming your agony and horror.

From the knee down, there’s just blood.

Blood.

Dripping, running, splashing…

Light falls on your face.

Someone must have pried open the passenger door. You can hear whoever it is trying to get your attention. You gasp. They may have opened the door, but the air seems to have run out. You gasp but there’s nothing for you to breathe. Your vision swims and shifts in and out. In and out. Like a kaleidoscope.

“I can’t feel a heart beat!”

You close your eyes.

You open your eyes.

You blink. You were not in an emergency room. Instead tall walls of solid, grey stone curve over your head. You were lying on a soft, warm cot. Three other cots wait, unconscious occupants in each. White covers are pulled up to each occupant’s armpits. The man to your right has gauze wrapped the majority of his face, but just you could just make out the blackened, burned skin. And facial hair. Lots of facial hair. The two on your left were just as hairy but had no noticeable injuries. Based on the scent coming from the one closest to you, a wound was festering. You turn your head away and breathe through your mouth. It wasn’t like he could do much about it.

At the foot of each cot, including yours, long embroidered tapestries hung. Each one depicted different locations. Fire breathing dragons soar over craggy mountains and giant eagles dive into sparking lakes. Glistening fish jump out of frothy rivers. Various creatures peek out of shadowed forests. Something about each scene seems familiarly unfamiliar, but you can’t place it. You rub your eyes. Maybe you had a concussion.

Between each tapestry, tall lamps with small flickering fires stand at the ready like thin soldiers. At the far left wall, large bunches of herbs and glass vials of variously coloured liquids waited for some medieval wizard or witch to walk through the tall wooden door that stood innocuously at the opposite end of the room, blocking you from whatever waited on the other side.

Ugh. Now you were being paranoid. Maybe you really had suffered a concussion.

Clenching your jaw, you brace your hands on the bed and haul yourself up into a sitting position. You swallow and tightly squeeze your eyes closed. Your mind aches as you remember the blood and pain. After taking a deep breath, you whip the clean, white sheets off your legs. You cautiously place your hands on your right thigh, keeping your eyes firmly shut. Your hands curve around your leg as your fingers slowly trail down it. You pause at the knee, thumbs resting on the patella, fingers resting at the back. Your hands tighten until you know your nails will leave imprints. Forcing your muscles to relax, you let your hand continue their route. [Too intense?]

They continue to your shin. And your ankle. And your toes.

Your eyes flash open as you stare at your right leg. Your whole, intact, same-as-it-was-before-the-accident leg. You flex your foot. Rotate your ankle. Wiggle toes.

Was it all a dream? But the rest of your body proves it wasn’t. Colourful bruises, healing cuts and aching muscles confirm that the accident must have happened.

The tall wooden door opens. A short, wide man enters. It wasn’t that he was fat, he was just… wide. He looked like a human battering ram. Or a short line-backer on steroids. A hairy line-backer.

Braided, chestnut hair hung down just past his shoulders. Long side burns stretched down from each temple to the jaw bone, with every hair neatly woven into additional braids that then twined around a poufy mass of carefully brushed beard hair that just reached his waist. Two smaller braids pull the man’s beard hair to the sides, revealing glimpses of a cheerful, smiling mouth.

Apparently facial hair was a thing here. …Wherever you were.

“How ye doin’, lass?” A surprisingly melodious voice escapes from the squat man.

“Umm, I have a lot of questions,” you admit.

He chuckles.

“This is not at all how I imagined the afterlife,” you throw out your hands to encompass your surroundings.

His brows furrow. “Afterlife? Lass… ye’re not dead. Ye’re in Erebor. This is one of the infirmary rooms”

Your mind short circuits. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Ye’re in Erebor,” he repeats slowly. “Ye were found amongst the fallen during the searches. A lot of fighters were injured during that last fight. They brought ye here fer me ta patch ye up.” He pats your hand comfortingly.

“But-,” you struggle to understand what’s going on and how you could have ended up in Middle-Earth. “I-… Erebor? As in Lord of the Rings, hairy feet hobbits, hot elves, Middle-Earth Erebor?” You shake your head “How?”

His eyebrows lift at your descriptions but he just gives you a half smile. You know you’re kind of freaking out, but nothing is making sense. “Yeah. We would have dropped ye off in Laketown or Dale, but with them just reclaimed from the Easterlings, twas easier ta bring ye here. Hope ye don’t mind short dwarves; ye’ll find ‘hot elves’ are in short supply.” His facial hair lifts as he laughs, but you can hear a note of melancholy.

“I haven’t met a dwarf that I didn’t like yet,” you answer truthfully. Sure, he was the first dwarf you met, but that didn’t mean you were lying.

Easterlings? You scramble to remember everything about Erebor and dwarves. You hadn’t read Tolkien in ages, and while you were pretty sure you knew enough general information to get by, you couldn’t quite place when Easterlings had tried to take Erebor.

“Could I ask what age and year it is?” you inquire politely.

He peers at you in concern, “Oh lass… Ye don’t remember.”

Feeling a bit guilty for lying but deciding amnesia would give a better excuse for any of your ignorance, you answer, “Not really… I remember my name though; it’s Y/N.”

Patting you hand again, he sighs, “Well, my name’s Frór. Maybe ye’ll remember – some do, some don’t – but ye’re welcome here fer as long as ye need a place. Now, let’s get ye some food.”

“Thank you.” You accept his proffered tray of soup and bread. As you eat, he explains to you what’s happening in your new world.

It was 3019 in the Third Age. Almost 80 years after the reclamation of Erebor. And the year that the One Ring was just destroyed and Sauron defeated. Yay, Frodo! Despite this, the kingdom was in mourning. The King Under the Mountain, Dáin Ironfoot, and King of Dale, Brand, had both died in one of the final battles against Sauron’s forces.

Between trying to figure out what you were going to do in this world and new life, moving out of the infirmary and occasionally helping Frór out with the injured or sick, you would explore Erebor.

It was during those explorations that you met the new King Under the Mountain, Thorin III. He was hiding from the stress of his new responsibilities and you were running form the oncoming existential crisis you could feel coming. Eventually, you wound up sharing meals and thoughts. He was afraid of failing his people and torn up with the sudden loss of his father. And you? Well, you were mourning the loss of the comfort and familiarity of your previous life while trying to find your place in this new one. Still, somehow sharing these fears soothed the both of you, and, after a little convincing, he became the only one to know that you were actually from a different world, rather than an amnesiac. You became friends and confidants.

So, watching him stand miserably alone at the head of his father’s monument during the funeral made you hope that he found his One soon. Because then he’d have someone to support him help him, no matter how lost or sad he felt. Because then, maybe you would too. You look away, guilt at your selfishness leaving a sour taste on your tongue. But your chest aches as you could see the loneliness you felt every night reflected on his face and slumping his shoulders. Hand slowly rubbing your chest, you slink into the shadows.

Something cool brushes your shoulder. Surprised, you turn towards it, only to see nothing. Just a shadow moving amongst the shadows, slipping out of view. Probably another just person wanting to mourn in private, you theorise. You start to walk the other way planning on ignoring whoever it was and just wander the halls of Erebor. But you see the shadow again, just from the corner of your eye. You stop. For some inexplicable reason, you feel as if it’s beckoning you, urging you to follow. You think you should be worried at how compelled you feel, but you don’t. You just float after the unknown person and their shadow.

Wandering deeper and deeper into the mountain, you try to talk yourself out of trailing this stranger like an idiot. …and a stalker. But no matter how many times you tell yourself how stupid you’re acting, you follow.

Eventually you end up in the middle of a large, well-lit room. Giant fire places heat the room at each end. Large marble columns march down the length of the room, towering over long rectangular stones. Carved frescos depict battle scenes and life events on the sides of each stone. On top, large stone men lay as if sleeping. At their feet, names and epitaphs were engraved into the stone. The newest had the name Dáin II Ironfoot, son of Náin, son of Grór.

You gasp softly. You are in the Durin Tomb.

Your eyes search for the owner of the shadow, but there is only you. The need to follow has dissipated, and you rub your arms at the realisation that something or someone wanted to down here. With the tombs of Durin’s Folk. Despite your unease, you walk up to the closest tomb. Your breath stutters when you see the plaque. Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thráin II, son of Thrór. Thorin. From the Hobbit.

You walk towards the head of the stone man resting on Thorin’s tomb. Fingers tracing the stone temple, your ribs suddenly are too tight. Something about this man, or rather his stone statue, steals your breath. It doesn’t help that he looks exactly like his actor. [A/N: sorry, a little Richard Armitage love there] But even made of stone, you can see his determination, loyalty, pride. Staring into his stony face, you lean closer. You’re not thinking, just feeling. You press your cheek to his cheek. Your body heat warms the stone. You close your eyes. For a moment, you can pretend that he’s alive. You can pretend that you feel his breath against your ear. Hear his voice murmur your name.

“What are you doing?” A low, gravelly voice asks.

You spin around.

Large leather boots with pale fur trim stand in the darkened doorway. Shadows hide the possessor of said boots, but something about the stranger makes your heart pound in anticipation rather than fear. Something about him makes you want to join him in the shadows, press your body into his and let his warmth soak into your bones.

“Ummm.” You brush away the irrational thoughts. Ever since coming to Middle-Earth, you were having the oddest thoughts. “Just visiting?”

“You kiss the tomb every time you visit?” The stranger’s deep voice takes a humorous, lilting tone.

“I didn’t kiss him! I just-,” you pause. You just pressed your cheek against a stone replica of Thorin II Oakenshield and pretended he was alive and that he would say your name as if he loved you because for some reason you wanted, needed him to be alive. Yeah, you couldn’t tell this stranger that. He’d think you were crazy, and even if you weren’t strangely drawn to him, that probably would not be received well.

“You just?” The stranger steps out of the shadows. Except he wasn’t a stranger. “You just wanted to press your cheek to his and pretend that he was alive and holding you? Because for some reason, you ache for him. You feel drawn to him. You want to hold him tight and never let go.”

“Thorin?” You place a hand on Thorin’s tomb to steady yourself. Your heads whips back and forth between the stone and actual face. “Thorin Oakenshield, son of son of Thráin II, son of Thrór?”

He nods. “Do you?”

You stop giving yourself whiplash. “Do I what?”

“Do you… Do you hope… long, hunger, yearn, want, pine, need me as much as I you?” Still at the doorway, his hands reach up, grasping, as if to catch your soul and hold you tight. “Do you….” Carefully walking up to you, he lifts his hand, hovering it by your cheek. You close your eyes and tilt your head. Your lips press a kiss into the base of his thumb. His finger curve around your cheek bone and jaw.

 “Y/N?” You startle. Thorin’s hand drops to the pummel of his sword as he turns to face the intruder.

“Thorin!” You stride over to the young king and bussing his cheek. “Thorin III Stonehelm meet Thorin II Oakenshield. Thorin, your cousin Dain’s son, Thorin.” You gesture to each one as you introduce them.

Both Thorins frown but grasp the other’s forearm in greeting.

Thorin II nods starts to slide an arm around your waist, but you manage to slip away.

“Well, I’m sure you have many things to discuss, like how you’re,” you tip your head towards Thorin II, “here.” You make your escape despite Thorin II’s attempts to grab you.

In the hallway, you press both hands to your chest. You close your eyes, but all you can see is his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones and… Your eyes blink open, heart drumming even faster now.

You’d just the met the man and yet, somehow, you’d developed the largest crush you’d ever had.

“I am honoured that you carry my name,” Thorin II tells his cousin’s son. You perk up, ears twitching. You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but how else will you learn anything?

“Thank you.” Thorin III’s voice catches. You beam, happy for the young dwarf. You knew he was worried about living up to the grand legacy of Thorin Oakenshield, Reclaimer of Erebor.

Both men clear their throats. You giggle softly into your hand.

“I shouldn’t be here for too long.”

Your blood freezes in your veins at Thorin Oakenshield’s proclamation.

“I’m just here for my One. Apparently, someone messed up and we couldn’t meet while I was alive, but Mahal says that should be all straightened up now.”

Your heart drops. That’s enough eavesdropping. You walk back to your room and bury your face into your pillow. So Thorin was looking for his One, it wasn’t like it really mattered to you. Yeah, you had a crush, so what, you’d get over it.

You keep lying to yourself, even as tears slipped down your face.

A/N: I’m not really recognising dwarvish vs men heights, just because of personal preference. Also, yeah, I did write Thorin Oakenshield meeting Thorin Stonehelm, Dain Ironfoot’s son. I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity. About the Request – Sorry this isn’t an oneshot; it kind of got away from me. And I know this is more of an establishing the story section, sorry. I’m planning developing the romance/adding the fluff in the second/later part(s). But thank you @deepestfirefun for the resquest! Again, sorry about making this longer than you’d initially asked (and I lied, this probably will be longer than two parts). And for taking longer than I said; it’s hard to finally post

[cyberkevvideo]

Throne of Night Theory Builds Part 11: The Veiled Commander

In September 2014, Gary shared a couple monsters that the players could expect waiting for them while sailing the Sunless Sea. One of them was the CR 20 nightwave undead monstrosity, which I’m mentioned previously in another entry, and at the time I didn’t know, but the other creature showcased was the veiled master. At the time, the veiled master was not OGL, and couldn’t technically be used for anything out of Paizo adventures. I say “technically” because with having special connections with Paizo staff, I would assume that Gary could gain special permission to use it and possibly others. Now, however, the creature is part of Bestiary 6, and much more available. At the time I thought it still couldn’t be touched, and made the picture of the three aboleths waiting in the water, the end boss encounter, and it could still very well be the case. The veiled master might not even be the end boss of Book 5, nor is there anything saying that it would be as advanced as I’m making it now. It might even just be a straight sorcerer, or it could even be an eldritch knight (which was my initial idea).

The ecology for the veiled master says that they are the nobles of the aboleth hierarchy, but aren’t considered the masters of the aboleth, per se, because all aboleth know that their are things far more powerful and can pull the strings of the noble veiled master. Funny enough, that’s what inspired today’s build.

As always, the encounter is cropped for space purposes.

All images shared here were done by the forever fantastic and amazingly talented Michael D. Clarke, aka SpiralMagus.

This picture doesn’t appear to be in colour, but it also could be done in a way such as to convey the darkness of the depths and the shine of the light from the creature. When I first saw the nightwave I thought it was unfinished as well, but there’s not much light when you’re that far underwater. Especially when, from the point of the view of those with darkvision, everything’s basically in black and white anyhow. The only colour in that particular was the dark crimson colour of what was likely blood. It’s not like either picture is black and white. Just not very vibrant. That really adds to the atmosphere and terror of the situation.

The veiled master’s original M.O. (modus operandi) was to transform into something that looked like one of the locals, infiltrate, and secretly look for any secretive uprising or rebellion among the slaves/citizenry. While that still works here for the underwater tribes of skum-like drow, and any other underground races, that they’ve warped and transformed, it makes more sense for this particular one being the one behind all the recent disappearances.

The reason for Book 5 and 6 existing is that after the fight with the drow army and the demon entourage, the PCs learn of a series of random kidnappings that have slowly been increasing as of late. Most of them took place near the waters. This is supposed to spurn the party to go rafting and find out what’s going. Because veiled masters can transform into other creatures, it would sense that this one would learn about the drow, steal some memories of nearby victims, show up on land, infiltrate and learn as much as it could, go back and talk it over with the other aboleth, and then over time mind control a bunch of drow to go out into the waters, expose them to the mucus, and convert them into loyal slaves.

When I was coming up for this build, I wanted it to be a terrifying encounter, but I also wanted to give it a fitting background. The original idea was just go all sorcerer, then I thought fighter/eldritch knight, but that seemed so boring. Then I thought, mystic theurge. What if this particular aboleth was receiving visions from the star spawn of Cthulhu from the end of the series? This was already supposed to be Lovecraftian in a way, so why not go even further? Have the veiled master start to receive visions, dreams, and telepathic messages that it didn’t understand. Have it slowly corrupt the creature and empower it. Even better, what if the sudden rush on more slaves wasn’t for the sake of the aboleth, but for the new master pulling the strings. The Sun Killer isn’t going to build itself. It might need a structure built to help power the crystal or magnify its power and radius.

Something to note, even when it transforms into a drow or other creature, it still has the clouded vision look in its eyes. Its disguise ability likely wouldn’t help with that. Not that anyone would ever question it. There’s plenty of oracles out there. That said, the veiled master could wear contacts to hide that fact. It has no way to produce faerie fire like a real drow, but it does have access to glitterdust, and it can use other drow-like spells to make it look like it has their spell-like abilities, despite being actual spells. I will mention that there is a D&D 3.5 item called ring of drow blood that gives you “dancing lights, darkness, and faerie fire as spell-like abilities, each once per day.” It costs 4,800 gold to create. Not out of the realm of possibility to have a custom version of it made for this adventure, or because it’s a home game, it could be the original version.

This creature could be something hanging out in the background during the time PCs are in town taking it over, or stopping the current regime. It could easily observe them and learn of their abilities. It would help determine whether they could be a threat or not. As well, how much the veiled master and the other aboleths will have to prepare should the PCs ever go looking where they shouldn’t. They could even discover the veiled master while out at sea, in a female drow form. Female drow, typically, do have more divine power than males, so it shouldn’t set off any alarms. It could say it received visions about tentacled creatures taking “her” people out into the water, and despite telling the drow nobles and their courts, “she” couldn’t convince them of sending help, and decided to head out on “her” own. She could even help the PCs. The veiled master will likely know about the undead threats, and not want to deal with them on its own.  Even going so far as to heal the PCs or aid them with spells, if need be, to help with the ruse. Its own name isn’t that far from a drow’s name so it shouldn’t be that suspicious sounding to a dwarf PC, but a drow might get suspicious of it. If it thinks anyone suspects it after it says its name, the veiled master will say that’s “her” official name, but her drow family name is “Sharril“. If possible, it will try to play up a sorrowful background of being a half-drow with a demonic parent, and “her” name is honour of “her” birth.

Btw, while it says “unique”, all I really did was switch a couple of spells around because clerics and wizard spell lists are so similar. It also makes sense that if there’s undead swimming around, the aboleth master would have something to deter them from trying to eat it and others of its kind.

SHAIODRR’RUL    (CR 20; 307,200 XP) Unique veiled master oracle 8/mystic theurge 2 LE Large aberration (aquatic, shapechanger) Init +13; Senses darkvision 60 ft., blindsense 30 ft., blindsight 15 ft.; Perception +25 Aura mucus cloud (30 ft.) DEFENSE AC 34, touch 19, flat-footed 25 (+4 armor, +9 Dex, +1 insight, +11 natural, –1 size) hp 383 (26 HD; 24d8+2d6+268) Fort +18, Ref +19, Will +23 Defensive Abilities evasion; Immune electricity, mind-affecting effects; Resist cold 20; SR 25 OFFENSE Speed 10 ft., swim 80 ft. Melee bite +27 (2d6+5 plus consume memory and slime), 2 claws +27 (1d6+5 plus slime), 4 tentacles +22 touch (2d6 electricity plus thoughtlance) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. (20 ft. with claws and tentacles) Special Attacks brain drain 2/day (8d4, W-DC 24), delayed suggestion Spell-Like Abilities (CL 21st; concentration +31)   Constant—mage armor   At will—detect thoughts (W-DC 22), dominate person (W-DC 27), hypnotic pattern (W-DC 22), illusory wall (W-DC 24), mirage arcana (W-DC 25), persistent image (W-DC 25), programmed image (W-DC 26), project image (W-DC 27), veil (W-DC 26)   3/day—dominate monster (W-DC 31), quickened dominate person (W-DC 27), geas/quest, mass suggestion (W-DC 28) Oracle Spells Known (CL 11th; concentration +21)   5th (5/day)—mass inflict light wounds (W-DC 26), slay living (F-DC 26)   4th (7/day)—cure critical wounds, black tentacles, blessing of fervor, inflict critical wounds (W-DC 25)    3rd (8/day)—aura of cannibalism (F-DC 24), bestow curse (W-DC 24), dispel magic, inflict serious wounds (W-DC 24), prayer, tongues   2nd (9/day)—aid, dust of twilight, ghostbane dirge, inflict moderate wounds (W-DC 23), shield of fortification, spiritual weapon   1st (9/day)—cure light wounds, entropic shield, forbid action (W-DC 23), know the enemy, inflict light wounds (W-DC 22), murderous command (W-DC 23), shield of faith   0 (at will)—bleed, detect magic, detect poison, guidance, mending, read magic, resistance, stabilize, virtue Mystery dark tapestry Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 15th; concentration +25)   7th (4/day)—mass hold person (W-DC 30)   6th (7/day)—globe of invulnerability, symbol of persuasion (W-DC 29)   5th (8/day)—feeblemind (W-DC 27), symbol of pain (F-DC 27), teleport   4th (8/day)—dimension door, enervation, phantasmal killer (F/W-DC 24), symbol of slowing (W-DC 27)   3rd (8/day)—clairaudience/clairvoyance, explosive runes (R-DC 24), hold person (W-DC 25), secret page   2nd (9/day)—blindness/deafness (F-DC 23), invisibility, levitate, symbol of mirroring (W-DC 23), touch of idiocy   1st (9/day)—charm person (W-DC 23), comprehend languages, erase, ray of enfeeblement (F-DC 22), silent image (W-DC 21)   0 (at will)—arcane mark, dancing lights, daze (W-DC 20), disrupt undead, ghost sound (W-DC 20), mage hand, message, prestidigitation, touch of fatigue (F-DC 21) STATISTICS Str 20, Dex 28, Con 31, Int 21, Wis 23, Cha 30 Base Atk +19; CMB +25; CMD 46 Feats Arcane Strike, Combat Casting, Combat Expertise, Deceitful, Eschew MaterialsB, Extend Spell, Greater Spell Focus (enchantment), Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Quicken Spell, Quicken Spell-Like Ability (dominate person), Spell Focus (enchantment, necromancy), Weapon Finesse Skills Bluff +30, Diplomacy +21, Disguise +23, Intimidate +21, Linguistics +9, Knowledge (arcana, history, nature) +23, Knowledge (planes) +18, Knowledge (religion) +14, Perception +30, Sense Motive +30, Spellcraft +25, Stealth +30, Swim +32, Use Magic Device +29 Languages Aboleth, Abyssal, Aklo, Aquan, Common, Draconic, Drow Sign Language, Elven, Undercommon SQ change shape (any Small or Medium; greater polymorph), combined spells (1st), oracle’s curse (clouded vision), revelations (brain drain, cloak of darkness [+6 AC/+4 Stealth], gift of madness), runemastery, swift transformation Gear spellguard bracers, circlet of persuasion, ioun stones (deep red sphere, dusty rose prism, incandescent blue sphere, orange prism, pale green prism, pink rhomboid, pink and green sphere), page of spell knowledge (1st—identify, magic missile, shield; 2nd—darkness, glitterdust, mirror image, silence; 3rd—displacement, fireball, nondetection; 4th—greater false life), ring of counterspells, ring of evasion, gold rings and jewelry worth 3,500 gp in all SPECIAL ABILITIES Consume Memory (Su) When a veiled master bites a creature, it consumes some of that creature’s memories. The creature bitten must succeed at a DC 28 Fortitude save or gain 1 negative level. A veiled master has 5 hit points restored each time it gives a creature a negative level in this way, and it also learns some of the target creature’s memories (subject to the GM’s discretion). This is a mind-affecting effect. A veiled master can suppress this ability as a free action. The save DC is Charisma-based. Delayed Suggestion (Sp) Whenever a veiled master successfully uses dominate person or dominate monster on a creature, it can also implant a delayed suggestion that triggers when the dominate effect ends. Typically, this suggestion (which functions as a spell-like ability, CL 20th, Will DC 23 negates) is for the previously dominated creature to seek out the veiled master and submit to a new domination attempt, but sometimes, a veiled master implants other suggestions (such as a suggestion to attack the first person the creature sees). Mucus Cloud (Ex) While underwater, a veiled master exudes a 30-foot-radius cloud of transparent slime. All creatures in this area must succeed at a DC 28 Fortitude save each round or lose the ability to breathe air (but gain the ability to breathe water) for 24 hours. Renewed contact with this mucus cloud and failing another save extends the effect for another 24 hours. The save DC is Constitution-based. Runemastery (Ex) A veiled master is particularly skilled at casting spells that create magical writing, such as explosive runes, secret page, and spells with the word “symbol” in their names. It never requires material components or focus components when casting such spells, and the save DC of these spells increases by 1. A veiled master’s symbol spells are difficult to disarm—the Disable Device DC for these symbols increases by 2. Slime (Ex) A creature hit by any of a veiled master’s bite or claw attacks must succeed at a DC 28 Fortitude save or have its skin and flesh transform into a clear, slimy membrane over the course of 1d4 rounds. The creature’s new flesh is soft and tender, reducing its Constitution score by 4 as long as the condition persists. If the creature’s flesh isn’t kept moist, it dries quickly and the creature takes 1d12 points of damage every 10 minutes. Remove disease and similar effects can restore an afflicted creature to normal, but immunity to disease offers no protection from this attack. The save DC is Constitution-based. Swift Transformation (Su) A veiled master can use its change shape ability as a swift action. Thoughtlance (Su) Four of a veiled master’s tentacles end in glowing spheres of light. These spheres deal 2d6 points of electricity damage on a successful touch attack and also blast a creature’s mind with waves of mental energy. A creature touched by one of these tentacles (regardless of whether the touch deals electricity damage) must succeed at a DC 28 Will save or be staggered for 1 round. Additional touches increase the duration of this effect by 1 round. While a creature is staggered in this manner, it must attempt concentration checks to cast spells as if it were experiencing extremely violent motion while casting (DC = 20 + spell level). The save DC is Charisma-based.

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Next time I’ll be working on drow nobles. There’s one picture in particular I shared around, and thankfully someone was far more observant than any of the others. Was most definitely a huge boon.

[discipled1]

Encounter

They had no choice. Well, that wasn't true. They could wash their hands of the whole mess, just leave.

"We can't do that and you know it." Jormund said.

The glistening plate mail was meticulously cared for. The symbol of the god of light shone, not only from polish but with an other-worldly sheen. That paladin was grim.

"I don't like it any more than you. I probably like it less. A lot less." He continued.

"How can you, of all people, even consider this? You should want to storm the place and start smiting! " Kairou shouted, exasperated.

"Despite her... condition. It doesn't mean she's evil." Jormund replied, calm but pensive.

"Oh and her criminal organization just sells pastries door to door?" Kairou shot back.

Jormund sighed. "Point taken, let me rephrase. I have no proof she's of the abyss. I smite supernatural threats; worldly evil is not given for me to judge. Though you have little room to talk about such things."

Kairou scowled, "That... it's... she's different!"

She may have sputtered more but she was interrupted by the door opening.

Three more persons entered the room, faces solemn.

"It's a bust." One said, a long sword at his side and armor tinkling like ice as he moved.

"Not even Aren's gilded tongue could buy us purchase." Another said, smirking under a broad brimmed wizard hat.

"You can't reason with moron." Aren said, hanging his feathered cap on the hook as he shut the door. His rapier stayed at his side while is lute was put in a case with care.

"It's not like we have much to bargain with." Brunish, said as he leaned against a wall. His armor didn't make so much sound when he stood still.

"But even such a poor position should have been manageable for the great orator." Taliteann said, her smirk still in place.

"Lay off." Aren said completely serious. Taliteann's smirk disappeared. Their banter was usually playful, but even Aren was in no mood for games.

"So that's it then? The worst path is ahead of us?" Jormund asked.

"Unless your man upstairs has sent any divine inspiration?" Brunish asked.

"Unfortunately, he's trusted my faith on this matter." Jormund said.

"Of course." Brunish said, irritation barely hidden.

"And so we find ourselves with no other recourse." Taliteann said, "Neither the arcane, divine, or cleaver tongue provided us any other way."

"And so five heroes must make a deal with the devil for the good of many." Aren finished.

***

The room was large, well decorated and mostly dark. The carpet was fine, high quality. The tapestries of exquisite detail. Gruesome detail. They showed scenes of demons and other infernal beasts. Some portraits like you would see in a noble's keep, but the subjects hailed from the abyss. Other were battles, these had some mortal subjects, most of them dead and dying at the hands of hellish warriors.

They had walked through a long hall of similar works of "art" and as more hung on the walls of the room the five adventurers had eyes for none of them. They were locked forward.

A tall throne stood on a raised dais, behind it wreathed shadows dancing in the low torch light. Spikes adorned the chair in all but the functional sections. The figure on the throne sat, eyes closed and barely noticeable, their dark skin and dark apparel blending in the low light.

The human servant bowed to the throne before announcing, "These mortals seek an audience with you, oh Great Lady."

The figure on the throne was silent. Then slowly the eyes opened. They were bright yellow and shown in the darkness, almost as if back lit by the fires of the underworld.

"Who?" She said. With the word the torches flared, bathing the room in sudden unfriendly light. All but Jormund flinched.

The added light revealed more. Two armored figures on either side of the throne, invisible until now. They stood silent and still. The visitors hardly noticed them. The figure on the throne, now plainly visible did have dark skin, dark red. She wore black a form fitting type of armor, which looked serviceable but still stylish. It traced her curves perfectly.

She had the form of a beautiful woman in every way. Her shape was attractive, but no one could mistake her for a human. She had two horns which sprouted from her temples, curved out, then back in, narrowing to a straight point directly up. Snaking behind her, lazily draped over one arm of the throne was chevron pointed tail.

"You may announce yourselves." The human servant said, and then promptly walked to stand by the entrance, out of the way.

"We are a humble band of travelers." Aren started. "W--"

"Halt your tongue." The figure on the throne said, her tail flicked in annoyance. Like a cat, if that cat was a hellscape panther, "I know who you are, it is my business to know, and you are no humble travelers. Travel you may but lowly you are not. I will not abide lies silver tongued Aren. In flowerful language you may indulge, but falsities have no benefits of those I entertain."

Silence reigned. Only twice before had the party seen Aren give such pause.

"If you know of us already I shall not misspend your time in introductions oh great Crimson Lady." Aren said.

A... there is no more fitting way to describe it. A devilish grin spread upon the Crimson Lady's face.

"Very good." She purred. Her posture relaxed, but this only caused the five visitors to tense more. She lounged on her throne, her stillness replaced with an idle swing of her tail. In a word, her pose was seductive, she flexed her legs in such a way as to show their form and her head tilted as her eyes glinted, perhaps literally, with mischief.

"We know of each other yes." She said "However we have not had the pleasure of being acquainted. Though what I know of thee is interesting. Or should I say, what I know of thee makes this meeting interesting. Never in my wildest dreams would I think thee to grace my chambers with a visit. Verily, I thought I would have to entice thee here."

"You wear lies like elegant ball gown my Lady." Aren said, "Surely I heard you speak against falsities here."

The grin on the red face deepened into a smirk, "I said no such thing Silver Tongue. I merely informed that lies are of no benefit to my guests. By all means create trouble for yourself with falsities, I shall utilize them most efficiently."

"Double talking snake." Brunish whispered so quietly even Kairou barely caught it.

Taliteann winced.

"You flatter me, stalwart fighter." the Lady said with what looked like a genuine smile. She rose with grace from her throne and looked down straight at the warrior.

His hand went to his sword, only to remember they checked their weapons at the front door. His fist clenched.

The Crimson lady glided down the stairs, or at least appeared to. Her eyes never left the warrior.

"Forgive my c--" Aren started but was silence when the Lady held up a single finger.

She walked across the twenty or so feet that were between the stairs and the group. Her eyes bored into the fighter, her hips rolled from side to side, her eyelids lowered. Her tongue licker her top lip, revealing fangs behind.

The group was frozen, unsure what to do.

The Lady reached Brunish and delicately brushed the armored shoulder. Brunish looked at her eyes without blinking.

"The steadfast warrior of the weak. What is it you seek here?" She asked. Her breath smelled of sulfur.

"This was a mistake." Brunish said, he started to turn towards the door.

A strong grip stopped him. The lady squeezed and the metal of the shoulder pad started to buckle.

"Oh come now, you just arrived. Stay a while yet." The Crimson Lady said.

If Brunish moved, she would break his shoulder, armor or no. The warrior was like a statue.

The crimson lady turned her yellow eyes to Kairou.

"Be a dear and move your hand away from that hidden dagger. My doorman are skilled but I'm sure you slipped at least one passed them Kairou the Thief."

Kairou spread her figures, showing she had nothing in them before moving them back to her sides.

The Lady looked over to Taliteann. "You can let go of that arcane energy you have held there. At this range you can’t be sure your spell wouldn’t hit you ally instead of me Tally."

The wizard was shocked, not so much that the Lady sensed her magic, but that she used her little known nickname.

"We'll stay, for now." Brunish said.

The lady released him and only then did he turn back forward, glancing quickly at the hand shaped dent in the metal.

The Lady laughed. It was a pretty laugh, with school girl enthusiasm, but the rich tones of a great singer.

"Jormund." She said "The Holy. You live your name well. Haven't decided on me yet?"

"It remains to be seen." He said, "But don’t think I take to injuring my companions lightly."

"Of course not. One such as you would not be here to parley if I had proven myself of the darkness. As fun as this has been, we do have business to discuss do we not?"

She looked at Jormund for an answer, he looked at Aren.

"We do." Aren said.

The Crimson Lady looked back at Brunish and with a wink, stroked his cheek, before turning back to her throne.

The warrior yelped in surprise as she smacked his backside with her tail as she turned.

She pranced away towards her throne, slowing down her pace as here tail swished back and forth, playful.

She crossed her arms in front of herself as she stopped before the stairs. She leaned on one leg, the pose almost vulnerable.

"And what business do you wish to discuss?"

Aren paused a moment before answering, "It's a delicate matter. One we do not discuss lightly with our allies, let alone..."

"Demons?" The lady asked, quiet.

Aren gave further pause. Did she--

The Lady spun around, a "gotcha" smile on her face. Aren chided himself for falling for the act. "The devil's in the details my sweet." She said, "It must be serious, especially if you are turning to me for help."

Encounter part 2 "Quite." Aren said, composing himself.

The king is--"

"Dead?" The Lady asked, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

Aren faltered and was frustrated with himself. Silver Tongue was by no means an overstatement. He had and could navigate social situations expertly. Was she just that good or was it the way she looked?

"How can the king be dead when he appears in public so often?" The Lady asked.

Wise to her games now and getting ready to play ball, Aren started, "Because a ne--"

"Necromancy?!" The Lady said, enjoying the fact that she cut him off, but noticed he was ready for it this time. "In this kingdom? Such vile magic hasn't shown its ugly visage in decades."

"We have proof. Undeniable. And a plan to reveal the plot we just need some more boots on the ground and some contacts inside the castle." Aren finished.

"Men I have in spades and always on the lookout for more." She said, turning her gaze back to Brunish and winking. "But would you dare insinuate that I have spies in the court? Surely such a thing would be immoral." She looked at Jormund with a smirk.

Aren drew in a breath, "I would never dishonor your name Lady--"

The Lady clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"I would never doubt your capabilities." Aren amended.

She gave him an approving look.

"Such capabilities I may have. But I have to wonder what I may gain from undoing this so called plot. Surely one such as myself could very will be in league with such a scheme. Don’t deny you've considered it."

Aren was dealt a poor hand, but played it the best he could, "It would not be a large leap in conclusion, but one we've ascertained to be false. You may be on the wrong side of the law but you are loyal to your word and until proven otherwise, you do not fall in line with evil."

The lady smiled, "I like you. You lot. As long as you are agreeable to me I do not wish to stop you. This plot you have uncovered has indeed been a thorn in my side, perhaps I could use some help in removing it."

The group’s tension, finally, lifted somewhat. Perhaps this negotiation may not be a dead end after all.

"However, one never gets into my position by making fair deals." She smiled wickedly.

The group was tense again.

"It is true that these schemers have caused me issue, and should continue to do so more frequently should they take full control of the King's Court. But that is for me to deal with, I have only little vested interest in whether your own plots succeed or fail. Perhaps I could deal with this incursion myself and then I could control the Court."

No one said anything for a moment.

"But alas perhaps such action would be costly and the potential gains only possibilities. If I were to aid another party in eliminating mine enemy, while also gaining a sure benefit. Then perhaps that would be a deal worth considering."

"You have just as much to lose as we do, if not more!" Brunish interjected.

"I have not gained my power by losing little, dear Brunish. I have attained this position by gaining much. I will help you. We will take on our mutual enemy, as friends. But I request one thing."

"What do you request, my good lady." Aren asked.

"One favor."

"Name it!" Brunish said before Aren could speak.

"I shall, in time." She purred, "My help in this matter for your service at another time. After this affair has concluded."

"You'd have us sign a blank check?" Brunish asked.

"In a way. I give you my word, my favor shall not see you break any law, nor harm any innocent. But at this time you shall not know of its details or purpose. Do we have a deal?"

Aren looked back at his companions.

"She won’t have us break any law, or harm any innocent." Kairou said in a whisper.

"You trust the word that she devil?" Brunish whispered back.

The lady smirked as if she heard every word.

"Her word is good." Jormund said, "She will not violate the letter of her deal. I sincerely doubt we will appreciate the outcome of such a favor, however."

"We have little other choice." Taliteann said.

"I still don't like it." Brunish said.

"None of us do." Jormund says, "But I cannot abide a necromancer behind the throne."

"The devil you know..." Taliteann said.

"We don’t know her!" Brunish said, his whisper barely describable as such.

"We know she keeps her deals, and those that don’t keep hers don't stick around long." Aren said, "We have no other option."

He looked around. No one was happy, but no one stopped him. Aren turned to face the Crimson lady.

"We accept your proposal."

Her teeth, fangs included, showed in the widest smile yet.

"Excellent!" She cooed, "My friends, for now I feel I can call you such." Brunish looked disgusted by the term. "Let me assist you in any way I can for we are now allies. We must draw up plans a prepare. I offer to you rooms in my manor here, you shall have all my luxuries at your disposal."

"Oh we couldn't presume!" Aren said as he started to back everyone to the door.

A loud bang signaled the door being shut.

"Oh, I insist." Grinned the Crimson Lady.