#Champion may kin

[quinnred]

Tilshek: God of the Ugly Rage, WindRammer, He-Who-Drums-The-Summit.

Tilshek is the embodiment of warm storms, tantrum, frenzy, spasm, drunken fury, and unjust punishment. He is represented by the Urchin and Cactus in the South and by the Porcupine and Thistle in the North. Berserking warriors may don quills to evoke Tilshek in their rages, while others may wear a flower of a thistle or cactus to evoke his merciful servant, Mahtaa.

Tilshek was born from the abuse of two Feather Gods within the halls of The Sun. He emerged stillborn, fused with the bestial Jak that all Feathers Gods are pregnant with, and was denied feathers by his reckless parents. The babe was tossed from the sky and quickly forgotten upon the land. No god dare claim parentage as even they know shame.

Abandoned and with no guidance, the naked and pained god became a wild storm of knuckle and claw, scarring the land and terrorising all that lived on it. Only one, a young Manava named Mahtaa, would recognize this mindless wreaking as the divine bawl of a newborn god and calm it with soft word and tenderness and succour. The beaked giant would ever seethe, but placation allowed Mahtaa to guide Tilshek to the home of the Shell Gods, The Mesa.

The Shell Gods were impressed with the mad orphan’s strength and the wisdom of his guardian, asking what drove the new god to such a rage. He cawed to them that he was born of poor love and left naked and wronged, wishing that he could return to his home if only to pluck and maul his kin until The Sun hung red. The chief of the Shell Gods, mighty Zridtara, was greatly amused and sympathetic to Tilshek’s rage against their rival pantheon, welcoming him into his Mesa home as an honorary Shell God. Being too rowdy to live within it’s halls, Tilshek was appeased by sitting atop The Mesa, tended to by often smashed Godler servants and the soothing Mahtaa as he stared at the ever enraging Sun.

While the Godlers would serve their master divine boozes and sacrifices (and suffer pummeling due to minor grievances), Mahtaa’s role was to herd the ram skulled god away from fool furies. He became most needed whenever Tilshek was sent on an “errand” by his new kin, a distraction so the Shell and Feather god pantheons could visit and negotiate without conflict. As Tilshek would rampage across the mortal lands, Mahtaa would outwit his master and aim his rages away from innocent mortals, earning him the title “Storm-Guide”.

One day the tantrummer had been told of a piece of the moon that held Jak yolk, as it was the egg that The Mountain and The Sky conceived the Jaks from, and that it may yield him god feather. Mahtaa did not take this seriously, seeing it as yet another teasing of his master, yet Tilshek was ecstatic that his solar massacre dreams may yet be fulfilled. As they travelled Mahtaa would ponder that, if the moon yolk was real, should his idiot charge receive such a boon, even if it was his birthright as Feather God and as a Half-Jak? Surely he would not only kill his sun kin but also be slain himself in such a mad fervour?

And so Mahtaa would deny Tilshek his prize upon it’s discovery, allowing it to be taken and hidden by Godlers of the Feather Gods. In confusion, the normally unhesitating Tilshek paused for once in his life before striking down an offender. In those moments Mahtaa stood strong and loving, even as his god sprouted a pair of arms to strangle him with. But rather than suffocate, his head bloomed into a kind flower, his godhood blossoming into a champion of mercy due to his many good deeds. From then on Tilshek would ever carry the flower faced god as punishment for his betrayal, and in part as a comfort, like a child may clutch their blanket.

This arrangement would only end upon the coming of the Deiomachy, when peace between gods eroded and fate grew hungry for war. Tilshek silently granted his one and only mercy, releasing his beloved and loyal prisoner so as to spare him from the doom-drum of divine combat.

The Mesa would be capped by a false peak as Tilshek flung himself with a rising storm towards his twin-by-fate: Shrileket the Sun-Dropper. Their clash would announce war between the Feather and Shell, booming as only gods could for days until they fell upon each other’s impalements.

[really-burnt-toast]

Hi! Can you tell us more about your head canons for Fena and the other special followers you drew a bit back?

You don't know how excited I was to answer this! 🙏

Please allow me to ramble a little, because I decided Im going to go through every NPC / OC I made for cotl, specifically my au!

These are them all! I decided to finally get around to drawing Echo, Latra and the concept for Nalen too!

Imma be writing down a brief history of them along with fun facts/head canons (who are technically canon).

(all of that under cut, tw; mentions of abuse and death) (I may have missed something. Also brief mention of fertility struggles.)

Fena

Let's start with Fena first, cuz she's a fan favorite!

Fena was born in Darkwood within a big family that was traditional and mainly worshipped the old faith for protection. Their village was often the target of wolves (who have connections to the teeth in the darkness). During one of these attacks, the Villagers had to evacuate and thus, Fena's family were forcefully split up. Fena and their sibling had to spend days trying to get to another village, but were caught at night once again. Fena managed to get "rescued" by the old faith - only to be offered as a sacrifice to Leshy. Mellia (my Lamb) saved her. Fena is currently the head of disciples and Loyalty enforcement.

Fun facts: Fena is a trans woman. Fena was once married to Thorantre but got divorced. Fena is Mellia's favorite follower. Fena's sibling was later rescued by the Lamb. Fena has Cynophobia (fear of dogs and canines), but it's most aggressive against Wolves. Fena currently thinks Thyma is a spy.

Other hcs: Jumpy, definitely the type to get scared and then act all tough. Loves her body and is a proud lust rite champion (why she wears a flower crown). Unhealthily cautious. Horrible at flirting. Would probably crack someone's rib while attempting to. Kinda like the thought of her getting too obsessed with finding info about Thyma and then eventually she realizes they have lots in common... Like fuck, that guy is kinda funny and cool but also, he's definitely going to kill someone.

Thyma (real name unknown)

Thyma's story, as per they claim, is;

They were raised in Darkwood by their family/pack and one day an "incident" occured which left their family dead. The Lamb rescued them and promised safety. Thyma is not willing to speak any further on it. He is currently Night patrol and trying to dispel any distrust put against him.

Fun facts: Thyma is a Demiboy, born afab. Thyma has Nyctophobia (fear of the dark) and Insomnia. They chose to be a night guard to be alert at night. They also wear the Moon necklace to be awake 24/7. If they sleep, they do so in the day. Thyma has permanent markings on his face that cannot be removed. He is medically noted to suffer from hallucinations.

(More story to be revealed soon)

Other hcs: Sarcasm king. Also King of internal panic. Definitely gets horrible period cramps. Gets sick of seeing blood. Probably tried going vegan to look less suspicious but ended up horribly sick and malnourished. Tucks tail whenever Fena is near. Besties with Agana. Acts cool and stoic but is actually kinda pathetic. Monologues to himself when patrolling. Stares at bright lights, despite being told it could blind them.

Thorantre

Thorantre was also born in Darkwood. During the Genocide, his family were often harmed due to being mistaken for Sheep-kin. After the death of multiple family members, Thorantre decided to protest against the old faith and stand for the protection of Sheep. For his spreading of "propaganda", he was going to be put to the blade but was fortunate to be trialed at the same time as Mellia was beheaded. They rescued him and he became their first ever follower.

Fun facts: Short-fused and dramatic. Has canonically killed another follower during a petty fight. Doesn't really do his job as a disciple and is only still a disciple for Mellia's sake. Often mistaken for a sheep by the Lamb in moments of unclarity - personal gossip girl and somewhat Therapist to them. Close friends with Fena despite being exes.

Other hcs: Girls girl by heart. Shameless flirt but extremely picky with partners. Divorced because he was too high maintenance. Knows of everyone's business and keeps pulling Agana into gossip. Gets annoyed when people ask him for stuff so he makes them pay him to answer. Will say the most gayest thing followed by the most straightest cis-guy take ever. Will just randomly ditch disciple meetings because he's bored. Also suspicious of Thyma but for no particular reason.

Agana

First born in the Cult, raised to become a disciple. As a child they were wild and unruly but settled down with age and is now determined to befriend every cultist.

Fun facts: Is afab genderqueer. Had a huge crush on Fena growing up. Currently has a little crush on Thyma. Is usually the first to know of ANYTHING happening in the cult, even private happenings. Will often share their own savings with children in the cult. Is pretty forgiving with Tax enforcement.

Other hcs: Chronic simp. Fandom girlie, probably. She's the type to ship people unironically. Probably saw the tension between Thyma and Fena and misinterpreted it. Says "hello fellow kids" but is actually up to date with trends. Has been trying to integrate Thyma more into the group. Probably gets the most affected by sin.

Latra

Born in Silkcradle to a family of Shamura's worshippers. Latra ran away and got married on the outskirts of the domain. Her marriage was cruel and abusive, fueled by her husband's growing rage of her infertility. Despite praying daily, no one had come to save her and so she took matters into her own hands. One night she plotted to kill her husband but was caught, resulting in a fight to the death where she was the victor. Latra dragged herself away with two of her limbs damaged beyond repair and managed to run into the Lamb. She was taken into the cult and became a Missionary, as her knowledge from Silkcradle aided her skills. She has been in the cult since the first crusade through Silkcradle and has been resurrected multiple times. Currently she is in retirement again.

Fun facts: Latra was offered a position as disciple but declined. She is known to delay retirement until physically impossible to work. She originally didn't worship the Lamb, but ended up doing so after many years of staying. Latra was one of the people to dissent from Shamura's curse. Currently engaged to Echo.

Other hcs: Has had rumors go around about her past. Has been working with children and has been helping rehabilitate rescues. Has babysat a few times before. Actually great at flirting but prefers pulling dad jokes and bad flirts. Wanted children but gave up on it due to her age. Actually best friends with the Lamb. Only didn't accept discipleship because she is worried about her own reputation straining Mellia's reputation.

Echo

Born in Anchordeep before it had that name and before Kallamar had the crown. Experienced first hand his climb for power and the subsequent events that shaped the downfall of the old faith. Was also a disciple for a short while before becoming a field medic during the genocide of Sheep kind. Echo married the general of their group and the two along with a troop were sent to patrol Anchordeep. That continued even after Mellia was resurrected and started killing the bishops. Once Kallamar started growing paranoid and cowardly, Echo started to question the strength of their god. That was met with backlash and after a huge fight in the group, Echo stayed back a bit. Eventually they found their group having been attacked by the Lamb and Echo mercy killed whoever was still alive. Echo dissented against Kallamar and was later found by Latra during a Mission. Echo was indoctrinated and became the cult nurse.

Fun facts: Echo is intersex. Echo is considered to be mute, but has the ability to talk. They only talk to Latra, Mellia and Kallamar (to screw with him). Echo is widely known to be an asshole, but is the most respected nurse in the cult. Echo suffers from mild PTSD. Is currently Latra's personal caretaker and has been trying to convince her to accept the golden skull necklace Mellia offered her (which is included in discipleship).

Other hcs: Fell in love after having to pull an arrow from Latra's shoulder. Has to go in evacuation after being flirted with because they are worried they'll explode (they won't). Academically smart but Interpersonally stupid. Can communicate with sign language but rather uses their expressions to communicate their opinions. Had begged multiple times for Mellia to resurrect Latra whenever she died. Has been secretly trying to figure out an early form of Fertility treatments in order to grant Latra the wish of having children. Also has been looking into adopting.

Nalen (real name unknown)

(This character is currently still a character concept and might change with time.)

Born and raised in the Lands of the old faith after the Bishops had already died. He was raised as a pup to become a spy that would sneak into the Red crowns cult to find any special information that could allow the old faith to overthrow them. He managed to sneak in during a time where the cult was facing a hectic time - entering with a group of people who were starving and asking to be indoctrinated. Able to avoid detection for a full two years now due to building trust and reliability, building relationships and faking worship. His mind hasn't even been read once yet due to Mellia struggling with their new godhood. Perfect time, perfect alibi.

Fun facts: I don't really have any yet, so I'll offer the description of the concept; I wanted a spy character that looks like they could just be any other cultist and who's a species that's both unassuming but reliable and easily trainable. So the golden retriever it was. And while all followers of the Lamb have a red base, his base colour was dark purple.

(same with hcs, but you know the stories of band kids just pretending to play the instrument all year? Kinda that. Him praying and just mumbling the words bc he has no clue what's going on. It's a miracle he made it this far.)

(Also, sorry for the lack of pictures but I got too impatient and wanted to answer as quickly as possible LOL)

[asongofgoldenfireandblackblood]

To All Lords and Ladies of the Realm, The Conclave of Archmaesters has convened, and by the wisdom of our order and the ancient methods of the Citadel, it is declared: winter is upon us. The turning of the seasons is no small matter, nor should its weight be underestimated. Let every lord and lady take heed, for the longest nights draw near, and with them, the cold breath of hardship. Grain stores must be tallied. Livestock must be secured. Walls must be mended, and the strong must see to the weak. This is no season for folly or pride but for preparation and prudence. Though we look to the skies and study the shifting patterns of the stars, winter’s strength will ultimately be measured not in days but in deeds. As each hearth burns and each hall resounds with voices calling for shelter and sustenance, the choices made by lords great and small will echo long after the snows melt away. Take this time to reflect not only on the cost of survival but on the bonds of kin and kingdom that might yet endure. The history of winters past tells us one truth: strength is drawn from unity, while division feeds the wolves that prowl in the dark. We urge all to act wisely, for while the days of summer bring growth and abundance, winter tests all things—land, lineage, and legacy. May the light of the Seven, the Old Gods, and every faith across the realm guide you, Archmaester Harrion, Keeper of the Keys, on behalf of the Conclave of the Citadel.

To the Lords, Ladies, and all amongst the esteemed peerage of Westeros, As white ravens announce another season's turn, it is my sincerest desire that the arrival of this correspondence in accompainament to the proclamation of a new winter's dawn provides respite, and reason to take heart, in the midst of our whole kingdom's commitment to preserving this era of prosperity regardless of what the coming season may bring to pass. Before the winter winds restrict travel and oblige your liegeships' absolute attention to the protection and care of our lands and its people, The Royal Court of King's Landing shall host it's second Formal session of 130 AC. Commencing the second week of the tenth moon, the forthcoming assembly will begin with The Smith's Day festivities and conclude after the celebrations for The Mother's Day draw to a close. With our ability to congregate for next year's observances of The Maiden's and The Father's Day highly suspect, the Crown intends to host outsized affairs for both holy days to demonstrate to The Seven Heavens all the gratitude for their unending blessings this winter is like to necessitate us to sustain in isolation, and in equal measure, to honor the ties that bind our peerage which have allowed us to face whatever harshness the coming moons may hold with optimism and a brave face. Whilst winter preparations consume our days, the generosity this court is prepared to bestow on those who grant their favor in attendance is not to be overlooked. In-keeping with the tradition of The Good King and His Grace, My Father, King Viserys—whose absence weighs heaviest for so many, and foremost myself, with the arivval of the first winter since his passing—as mine own nameday will come around in the midst of these events , I shall not ask for gifts, but instead offer them to those most outstanding in their contributions to allowing the start of my reign, and our kingdom as a whole, to thrive. Champions of The Court may be named for martial skill and exemplary service to Westeros alike, bestowed new measures of wealth to ease winter's burden, afforded safe harbor and positions within the walls of The Red Keep should they choose to seek it, and even greater honors than bestowed in years pasat on the seven young sets of intendeds chosen to represent our kingdom's future before the eyes of The Smith, our most blessed of this season. This invitation is not delivered flippantly nor without heed as to oncoming danger, but to remind its every reader that whatever they must do to preserve the interests of those sworn to them and who they serve in return, the unprecedented possibilities presented with this season's turn are a mandate to take every matter into account, and then meet the decision with steadfast dedication; As rulers, lieges, and regents, these verdicts define not just our legacies, but the very shape of the future for us all. Seven only know what this winter holds, but with these words, you are here by invited to meet it in the glow of our Court's light amidst the dawning dark. May you find good fortune in the moons to come, Her Majesty, Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name, Queen of the the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, and the Queen of All of Westeros

Arc III of A Song of Golden Fire and Black Blood: Alight in The Dark begins February 2nd

[witchofthesouls]

Someone please give D.C.!AU Soundwave a medal and a drink for dealing with the shenanigans. Also have to wrangle Tarn's general Tarn-ness.

First he had to deal with the donar clause was activated by Tarn and Tarn imprinted?! Wait he's seeker-kin and a has been a tank for ages." The telepath knows exactly why stascream was torn between lsughter and tears. Which means he has to be constantly be on guard that Tarn might try to trine with Lord Megatron.

Then he had to do with the twice accidentally very married couple being well married and also expecting more bitties. He knows in his spark his cassettes are to blame somehow regardless of the lack of evidence.

Then the chaos on board the nemasis caused by Tarn bringing back a pregnant conjux and a flock of bitties. Tarn being hyper protective made everything super hazardous just existing on the same ship. At least they gained two hyper compatatent medics. Even if Tarn's sexual tension was so high Soundwave had to take active measures to prevent three quarters of the ship from entering heats or ruts.

Then the Overlord Incident(s) culminating in premature newsparks, one very dead Overlord, an Soundwave discovering This nurse isn't some agent assassin, Camians, especially medical professionals, are just like that. Also that Camus has hazards that are insane and the planet is best avoided.

Speaking of which he had to browbeat Megatron into encouraging Tarn and the Nurse to call the Nurse's Mentor/Foster-sire so he could meet the bitties because Soundwave will be damned if he ends up gunning for the cause because of a misunderstanding. Also perhaps they can arange for him to teach medical techniques.

To top it all off inspite of the fact Tarn's dangerous broken coding and the couple are literally spark resonants powerful enough to smash through two layers of outlier grade baffels, Megatron wants the nurse to consider other potential sires or code doners since they are capable of kindling.

And all of this mess was basically caused because Tarn was a touch starved socially isolated virgin who wrote the damn doner clause with such specificity. Soundwave and Starscream have already pushed through amendments that allow the carrier to have their choice of potential doners amoung the unit responsible for the sire's demise.

The Donor Clause Au is such a mess. It has different versions at this point, depending on the take like 'What if Tarn had to be present at officer meetings," "What if Megatron was a High Priest of Megatronus Prime," and the current thought of "What if sparklings were ridiculously rare on Cybertron because Reasons."

In the verse where sparklings are super rare as in one newspark per full carriage (not the back-to-back-to-back clutches of three), Soundwave gets all the spiked tea he wants, his own spike milked by hand as he's one of the few mechs that 1) you actually like outside of the Peaceful Tyranny and 2) Tarn pre-approved in a very detail breakdown of very short over acceptable mechs in case your legal spouse isn't around, and he gets chirpy sparklings crawling into his lap.

Purring and happy with simple, one-tracked minds and emotions that don't give Soundwave migraines or induce distaste. He actually indulges the little ones as they paint his legs or tug on his plates or, in the case of the sparkling with a mess of a mouth full of sharp teeth, Soundwave utilizes his more heavily protected data-cables for the bitty to chew on.

Soundwave has never thought of parenthood as tapedecks can't carry sparklets, and finding a mech with a viable gestational chamber is akin to becoming a long-standing reigning Champion of Kaon, but...

Soundwave also nips those family yearnings because then he would need to deal with Tarn as a potential code-sharer along with your own idiosyncrasies as a Camien. Nor does he want to constantly deal with Ravage's and Ratbat's complaints of Tarn's super-charged, lust-addled repression. While the leader of the Justice Division may have the iron control to keep his highly charged field to his plating, any mech with a finely tuned sense of smell, like the majority of beastformers, would sneeze at Tarn's presence.

(If Tourniquet is around, the Hub would be fielding an immense influx of comms ranging from the Camien Healer's approval to take Decepticon personnel onto hazardous planetoids for a 'complete training experience,' Hook's bombardment of pulling the colonists into his division, and a flood of troops' terrified complaints/hopeful messages thanks as the Healer would literally hunt and drag any mech into his care, kicking and screaming with an unholy sense of cheer.)

The Cassettes, despite their denial, do get jealous the sheer amount of racket all six bitties make when the Justice Division troops back. No amount of patty cake, violent nursery rhymes, and edible paint will match the warmth and deep rumble of Tarn's frame or the Pet's yankable mane.

The bitties are defiantly chirping at their imprisoned state, being trapped by hard-light in mess hall.

As everyone goes through the usual song-and-dance because the mechs want to pick up a sparkling, but you're already at gate as a grim, no nonsense warden because the Justice Division are filthy from gore, dust, and dirt. You're on a third carriage and have no wants to deal with a sick clutch on top of it because the sparklings would try to lick it off a random, filthy armor piece.

It's usually easier to shoo Tesarus and Helex into Nickel's awaiting care, considering those two are the messiest and have a habit of inconsistent personal care. Kaon has his servos full tugging the Pet away to the communal showers. Vos enjoys being an ass because you tend to nick his cables with quick swipes of a scalpel as Tarn lingers and winds up both clutches over their papa and uncle.

Meanwhile, Soundwave is trying to make his escape because he knows Tarn is thinking about cuddles and you're projecting filthy X-rated scenes, but he's trapped by social convention and that sparkling still chewing on his data-cable.

Nurse blames the alcohol for the second clutch as well as disbelief since you shouldn't have sparked up. Not that fast.

The third clutch was just plain weakness because you could have put your pede down and stayed on the ship. But you didn't (and you're not thinking about the implications, no sir, not at all, you're most definitely not thinking about the taste of your legal Conjux's Energon and how his neck-cables felt beneath your denta-)

Tarn can be dense/oblivious as the Head of Idiot Sandwiches. Still doesn't know he had imprinted. He just knows he enjoys Nurse's company and the family life and feels more well-rested even with the chaos. (Aka his Seekerkin-coding is finally getting sociality it has been screaming for by latching onto a carrier-mate and resulting bitties). Tarn is patting himself on the back, being an excellent donor and upholding Decepticon creed, and thanks to Lord Megatron's clarification, he will do his Conjunxal duties!

(Cue everyone else staring at this walking disaster that's in deep denial he's been doing the enthusiastic husband role for a long while already, and Kaon is still awaiting for the orn that Tarn and Nurse will figure out their true feelings until then he has his evidence board, holos, and all the gifts under his floorboards that he's slowly giving to the intended couple.

The communication specialist was giddy, and Sixshot had done a sigh of relief when Tarn, miracles of miracles, had finally given into the impulse to bite a coaxing door-wing. The result had the poor guy hailing Nickel because your reaction was intense.)

High Command is in a deadlock on whether or not to update the Donor Clause, considering said ridiculousness is highly effective.

[slowthypiglordblr]

Toh Theory: Will the Titan aid Luz in the Final Battle, and has he been helping her?

Throughout the course of the Owl house (especially after the revelations from S2b) a question has been in the back of my mind. Has the Titan of the Boiling Isles been secretly helping Luz this whole time?

A major element of season 1 and early season 2 was Luz’s uncanny ability to discover and utilize glyphs, something witches and demons didn’t know existed until then. In a matter of weeks, Luz had mastered all four glyphs, and would eventually learn to combine them in only a few months. While this also stems from her artistic ingenuity (and reading some of Philip’s journal), it’s almost like the Titan itself had been guiding her as a sort omniscient second mentor. On the opposite, it took Belos/Philip Witterbane years to figure out the gylphs even requiring Luz to teach his past self the light spell (her first glyph). He even speculated that Titan would have such knowledge to begin with and was actively sabotaging him to prevent him from threatening the people of the isles. It’s fitting that the self-proclaiming “Humble Messenger of the Titan” was actually a false prophet despised by the being he claimed to serve where as Luz was unknowingly the Titan’s true champion.

Another interesting thing in “For The Future” of all the Hexsquad, Luz was the only one to stuck in the rift (a place she had previously visited in Yesterday’s Lie). The spiritual figure (who I presume is the titan’s soul) is desperately trying to reach, even waving at her to get her attention. Whatever the reason, the Titan clearly wishes to speak with Luz specifically as if he needs her for something important. 

This is mostly just a guess on my end, but I’m starting to wonder if Dana has been hinting this connection from the beginning. During the countdown for the season 2 premiere, Luz is shown resting inside the skull of a giant beast which seems to greatly resembles a Titan’s head. Another art piece shows Luz playing with a massive paper mache King’s skull, wearing it and even sitting inside of it. 

In the show proper, in the episode “Thanks to Them”, Luz and Hunter adorn themselves with a King and Owl mask respectively to face what they think is Belos returned. While this was mostly helped to give Hunter a much needed confidence boost, it might also serve as a symbolic function in the narrative. Hunter is revitalizing a part of his former identity as the Golden Guard whereas Luz wears the likeness of someone she views as a younger brother for emotional support. It also may foreshadow Luz drawing strength from the Titan itself in order to be on par with the Collector as what Lilith mentioned in “For the Future”, Titan’s magic can negate Collector magic. (Makes you wonder if instead of a CollectorLuz, we got TitanLuz, but that’s probably just me.)

.Before we get into Titan’s plans for Luz, we need to take reflect on elements on the small tidbits of information revolving around the Titans in general. As we can recall, the Titans were once the ruling species of the Demon Realm for an unspecified amount of time. One day, the Collectors arrived on their crusade of capturing and taking over other planets for their own agenda. The Titans stepped forth to oppose the Collector and drive them back, with the latter alongside the witches and demons who worshiped them and sought their extinction. This would lead to a long and bloody war which ended in both sides wiping each other out, save a youngster from each opposing species (King and our Collector). 

During this period of time, it helps to shed a small light on the Boiling Isles Titan likely as a person. While we don’t know much about King’s father, it’s in the face of the war and the slaughter of his kin, a he sought to protect his son (the last Titan) at all costs. He created an island hidden away from the Collector through a protective sigil inside a massive tower which King’s egg would be nurtured. As a last line of defense against any intruder seeking to harm his son, the Titan created an army of golems made from flesh and bone to protect and care for King. This proves to us that regardless of circumstance, King’s father loved and cherished his son more than anything in the world, even before his own life. 

This leads into the reason for the Titan seeking out Luz, the answer is as simple as it is profound, to be there for King. Ever since Luz arrived on the Isles, she’s had a massive positive impact on the island and it’s inhabitants (despite her believing the contrary). She helped Eda reconcile with her curse and her sister, she helped Willow, Gus, Hunter, and Amity overcome their personal struggles, reforge their friendships and come into their own, as well as play an important role in stopping the Day of Unity. But one of major accomplishments was with King, at the start of the show, he was self-centered attention seeking child lost in delusions of grandeur who often caused a lot of trouble her and others around him. But thanks in part to Luz, King not only learned that actions have consequences and to appreciate what he has, but also resolve his own identity crisis and discover his nature as a Titan. If not for Luz’s influence would’ve never become the mature, responsible, empathetic boy he is by season 3. Through that, it’s easy to see why the Titan would see Luz as the perfect person to watch over King, as well the world he created in his own death. 

While the idea of prophecy and chosen ones does not fit the themes of the owl house, but take away the Titan’s preconceived divinity to the witches and demons of the BI and a new picture is formed. A father who in death left behind a world for his son to call home and a family to cherish, with Luz serving to guide him into becoming a good person in a way he could not. 

[andrevalias-tes]

Meet the Character: Bloodies-His-Face

Report for the Elder Council

Compiled by General Alexus Nipia

Frostfall 7, 2E 583

With sincere regret, I cannot make direct contact with the Elder Council as the 2nd Legion still has the lengthy task of securing Bruma and the surrounding area. May this letter find Councilor Lovidicus and the rest of you well, and may I also commend Chancellor Tharn on securing a temporary truce in the Three Banners War. Whatever brief cessation of hostility it may be, know that the 2nd Legion will use every moment to restore Imperial control in Cyrodiil’s north.

Onto the matter at hand, I received a request to keep track of a former Arena Champion by the name of Bloodies-His-Face. Recently, he attended the Varen Memorial Cup held in Kvatch and then again in the Imperial City (Akatosh speed her recovery). It would please the Council to know he spent time up here in Bruma (as recent as last week), and I personally got reacquainted with the champion.

I’d known of Bloodies-His-Face (Red to his friends, a privilege I had the honour of using but will refrain otherwise to maintain formality in this report) indirectly from my time serving under Varen Aquilarios during the Colovian Revolt. He’d fought in several skirmishes alongside Varen’s personal cohort across the countryside and on the Red Ring Road. He was particularly known for his ferocity when fighting against Emperor Leovic’s army; part of a personal vendetta I later learned.

Before he became an Arena Champion, Bloodies fought in the Coronation Cup held in Leovic’s honour a decade prior. Alongside him were a cohort of Argonian servants whom Leovic had conscripted to fight. Despite his best efforts to train his egg-kin, Bloodies outlived them all and was even forced at arrowpoint by the Emperor to fight the second-last of his kin. For this, he sought revenge and joined Varen’s Rebellion.

When we disposed of Leovic in 2E 577, many of us parted ways. Since then, Bloodies recounted adventures had in Blackwood, Morrowind, and even Skyrim. He had ‘kept busy’, as he told me. The Council, of course, knows that a year later was when the dread Soulburst occurred and the Dark Anchors heralding Molag Bal’s invasion appeared. To recount for the Council: during this time, Bloodies had rallied local Imperial guard and citizenry against the initial wave of Daedra, as well as the treachery of Legion Zero.

From what I understand, Bloodies-His-Face formed the Order of the Sacred Ashes after helping many citizens escape the Imperial Isle six months later. Though a brotherhood of pauper knights initially, it serves to remind the Council that Bloodies and his comrades battled Daedra and the Worm Cult across Tamriel. They even, at times, partook in the Three Banners War. However, he insisted that his knights swear to maintain peace and justice first and foremost over any provincial claim to sovereignty. I hope this would satisfy the Council’s curiosity to his allegiance from the start.

I did not manage to learn more of what he has been up to between then and the Varen Memorial Cup, as he spent most of his time in the region at Fort Dragonclaw. Once again: my deepest apology for not compiling a more recent dossier on the Sekiryu clan, but I can at least inform the Council that it would appear Bloodies-His-Face is deeply affiliated with them. In the least, it can only be beneficial that he is of respected standing among their number as the Council knows that the Sekiryu are descended from the Akaviri who fought Reman at Pale Pass.

In summary, my brief contact with Bloodies-His-Face has informed me well of his character and alliances. I can confidently report to the Council that if we seek the services of Bloodies, his Ashen Knights, or his contacts with the Sekiryu, then it can only mean good things for the Empire. And at such a dire time when our citizenry worry for the future, we could always do with more heroes.

P.S: Bloodies wanted to convey his interest in a position as a General of the Imperial Legion that Varen promised him. I leave that proposition to your discretion.

[twistedshipper]

prompt: "be careful" | Arthur/Morgana | Not Rated | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

{Long May She Reign} for @merlinmicrofic

“Be careful,” she had whispered to him once, her words impressed upon him like a lady’s favor about his arm, and he, deferential of her care, took her words to heart, promising in return, he would be the one to escort her to the champion’s feast, thinking her pleased.

And then, seasons later, it had been her bracelet she had coaxed him into wearing about his wrist, the silver one with the amber gem that gleamed alight in the sun, as it had accompanied him into the Perilous Lands—it will keep you safe, she had vowed—followed by her own, violet favor, kin to the one she had once promised to the knight, Owain; he had died moments later upon the same field Arthur had set out towards, the fallen token blowing, discarded in the wind.

Losses come and they go, he now realized, like friends.

They had been friends, playmates, grown up together. In more ways than one she had been his closest companion in those early days, almost a lover in the later ones, and as beloved as the sister he never had.

“Be careful,” she had warned before they sparred with their wooden, practice swords. And while he had not taken her words lightly, still he had met defeat each time at the end of her blade as she grinned devilishly down at him, pleased with her own victory.

He could not help but smile in return, thinking, then, it had just been a game they had both been complicit in.

Now, it was far from that. His father—their father—was locked in a vice-grip by guards with a red Rowan tree emblazoned on their breast, and Morgana was seated across from him, her lips colored the same bloodred, their father’s crown atop her head, and he, silently, in the alcove above watching the scene below, powerless to prevent it all from happening.  

Be careful, the triumph in her eyes glinted dark with malice.

If only he had heeded her warning back then, saw the signs for what they were, the games they had played, always ending with him on his backside, dumbfounded, gazing up at her in awed astoundment, as now he looked down at her ashamed.

Maybe then, he would have noticed that she had been their father’s daughter all along, so cruel in her compassion, that she had been born to be Queen, more so than he had ever, with all his schooling, been reared to be the future King.

[aroaceleovaldez]

do you have any other pjo alter human hcs? 👀

Yes!

Leo being dragonkin and Jason being a wolf therian are my two main ones. Like i mentioned in that other post, I imagine Leo's is more spiritual-origin and Jason's is specifically more psychological-origin from being raised by Lupa's pack. I already went over some of the dragonkin!Leo ones in the previous post so I'll focus more on the wolf therian Jason ones here- (under a cut for length)

Because all the Romans are trained by the wolves, plus a small friendly monster population in New Rome that includes dog-headed people, Jason just. does not think twice at all about identifying so strongly as a wolf. He just presumes that's a normal thing. Everybody else just thinks he's being Very Roman so they don't question it either. It probably isn't until he goes to CHB that he realizes not everybody feels like that.

That doesn't stop him and Leo from having a conversation about feeling like a wolf/dragon respectively and continuing to presume that it's totally not an identity thing they're gonna be thinking about A Lot later on and either Everybody Just Feels Like That or they're both just got the same oddly specific unique thing going on (it's not like it'd be the only thing - they're also both Hera's champions. maybe it's just a champions of Hera thing). It's fine, they'll figure it out eventually. Piper is extremely confused about what they're going on about though.

Jason is excited a very normal amount about the concept of werewolves. He's totally not mad that he wasn't able to defeat Lycaon in battle and gain shapeshifting powers. Definitely not. He's also definitely not jealous of Frank for having shapeshifting powers, or jealous that Nico and Reyna got to fight the lycanthropes more.

Leo is also immensely jealous of Frank's shapeshifting and is heavily considering trying to bargain with the gods to swap his fire powers for that.

Jason has an encyclopedic knowledge of like every werewolf myth from different mythologies and folktales and he WILL excitedly infodump about them.

The Greco-roman werewolf myths may have not turned out for him, but the minute Jason finds out that Norse myths are on the table he's begging Annabeth if they can go visit her cousin. For science. Just to see if the Norse werewolf myths are any better. By the gods he will figure out if safely and ethically becoming a wolf is possible somehow. (He has definitely also asked Reyna to use Circe magic to turn him into a wolf before. Up to interpretation how that went down.)

Jason using claw weapons!!!!! He definitely has fought with his teeth before but he gets his hands on some nice hefty and sturdy claws and he is THRIVING with them. If he could get some sort of teeth armor/weapon to use too, he would. Unfortunately that one's a bit harder to get so his real teeth will have to do for now, when an option. (He definitely bit Krios and is 100% up for using his teeth in a fight you cannot convince me otherwise)

Speaking of biting - Jason is a biter, just in general. He affectionately chews on/nips at his friends as both an oral stim AuDHD thing and a 'kin thing. Also playfighting/sparring with them. He'd probably get into quadrobics and parkour as well if given the opportunity.

Leo's not so much into that sort of very active stuff (or very platonically affectionate stuff). He's mostly hanging out with his hoard of machinery in his den Bunker 9. They're still shiny things, they're still his hoard. He's a bit more territorial of Bunker 9 than he'd like to admit since it's his space (also combo dragonkin brain/autism stuff) but trying to explain why is way too much of a headache for him, and most people stay out of there anyways so it doesn't come up much which is fine by him.

In terms of more dragonkin-affirming activities though, despite his aversion to fire, Leo's fallen asleep in a fireplace/bed of coals/etc a couple of times in his life and he will never admit how comfortable and affirming that was for him. He does also generally feel a bit better about his fire powers if it's just the fire-resistance part, or if he's breathing fire specifically (because also it's just cool, and how can he not feel like a badass super big and strong dragon when he's literally breathing fire?) (that time in BoO he totally let loose his fire and turned into functionally a supernova of flames was also weirdly affirming for him and he doesn't know what to do with that information). He's also probably tried making arm stilts before, just to see what they're like, and if he could improve the design at all to feel and look more natural.

...Atypical pronoun sets? Atypical pronoun sets. It'd probably be awhile before they actually start using them, but I think both Leo and Jason might vibe at least a lil with he/its for otherkin/therian reasons. Leo also probably dre/drem/dris. I also think Jason would particularly vibe with wolfgender. He didn't know that was an option and once he does he really likes it. (Also have you seen the masc wolfgender flag? Look at that and tell me that's not Jason.)

Camp Jupiter probably has more alterhuman folks than CHB, just in terms of population sizes and also just given how they're trained/raised it probably comes up more over there. This does somehow simultaneously make Jason more convinced that it's just an average thing but also less aware that being otherkin/a therian is even a thing.

My friend and I have talked a lot about the absolute weirdness potential that might occur with being an alterhuman demigod. Can you imagine being some creature from mythology and then finding out not only do they actually exist in that exact moment in your world, but also they will try to hunt you down? Something something intense alterhuman linguistic debates about if you're a mythological monster does that qualify more as therian or otherkin (based on the proposed delineation of therian = real world creatures / otherkin = mythological/legendary/etc)? (second philosophical/linguistic debate happening in the background of feral/animalistic = therian / less feral/animalistic = otherkin delineation but if that monster was originally a mortal then which do they qualify as?) (third conference happening behind that one of demigods journaling their experiences as monsters who were originally mortals and how that impacts them as demigods.) The awkwardness that must exist from being like hydrakin or something and then having to fight a hydra. Or being a different kind of hydra than exists in the riordanverse (or, weirder, being hydrakin but Monster Donut hydra specifically and having to explain your odd inexplicable connection to donuts before you figure out that's a thing).

Again: Leo making 'kin gear for demigodsssss. Maybe he's the one who makes the claw weapons for Jason, who knows.

For other major characters: Annabeth would definitely be totally fascinated by daemonism and probably experiment with it at least a bit. Nico I could see vibing with voidpunk. Hazel I could also see vibing with just general label alterhuman relating to her whole being-revivied-from-the-dead situation. Maybe same for Thalia for the same reasons, or Thalia even vibing with being like dryad-hearted/kith due to the whole pine tree thing.

I got another ask about this so there will be more headcanons along these lines soon as well.

[brothersspacemarinecomic]

BROTHERS: A Tale of Treachery & Doom

WATCH CHARYBDIS LORE FILE:

HERALDY & LIVERY OF THE WATCH'S BROTHERHOODS Each of the 4 Brotherhoods of the Watch Charybdis maintain their own unique systems of Heraldry & Livery, steeped in meaning and tradition.

PART 1: THE KNIGHTS NUMENARIE

The Knights Numenarie, in their proud Robin's Egg blue armor, maintain Tilting Shields across all their Circles as a cultural touchstone to their strong tradition of dueling, and upon each tilting shield is a Coat of Arms, personalized to each Knight. Each Coat of Arms has 2 major elements: an OATH and a PERSONAL EFFECT.

------------------------- The Knights have 4 Oaths for different battlefields roles, and before battle they are renewed or changed as needed: -The OATH OF THE SWORD focuses on close quarters combat, shock tactics, special operations and high mobility warfare. Every Circle’s Leadership is sworn to the Sword Oath, and at any time may requisition other Swordsworn to assist their Circle. Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Bʟᴀᴅᴇ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɴᴋɪɴᴅ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛʀɪᴋᴇ,ᴛᴏ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ. ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜱᴄᴇɴᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪᴄᴋᴇᴅ, ᴀꜱ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴅᴀᴡɴ, ᴀꜱ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴀꜱ Dᴇᴀᴛʜ. ᴡᴇ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Hᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴍᴀʏ ʀɪꜱᴇ. -The OATH OF THE SHIELD is for those with a tactical focus on general warfighting and strategic flexibility. The bulk of a Circle is sworn to the Shield Oath, as Shieldsworn protect Imperial citizens and covering their kin in battle. Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Sʜɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɴᴋɪɴᴅ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴᴅ,ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ. ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴘᴇᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴊᴜꜱᴛ, ʀᴇꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴜɴᴛᴀɪɴ, ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴀꜱ ᴀᴅᴀᴍᴀɴᴛɪɴᴇ. ᴡᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ Hᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴍᴀʏ ᴇɴᴅᴜʀᴇ. The OATH OF THE ARROW for those with an organizational focus on capital ship combat, intelligence gathering and stealth operations. Combining a Circle’s recon and fleet command, the Bowsworn deliver orbital fire support and useful intel where it’s needed most. Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Aʀʀᴏᴡ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɴᴋɪɴᴅ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴛᴏ ꜱʟᴀʏ. ᴛᴏ ʜᴜɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ꜱᴛʀɪᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴡᴇ ꜰʟʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴍᴀʏ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ. The OATH OF THE HAMMER is for those with an organizational focus on battlefield engineering, vehicular combat, and battlefield repair. Every Circle’s Forgekeeper and Ritters are sworn to this oath, dedicated to the creation, care and use of the Brotherhood’s vehicles. Wᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Hᴀᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴏꜰ Mᴀɴᴋɪɴᴅ. ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏꜱᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜɪʟᴅ, ᴛᴏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ. ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴏᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴀᴍᴀɴᴛɪɴᴇ. ᴡᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴍᴀʏ ɢʀᴏᴡ.

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

PERSONAL EFFECTS, are unique elements added to the Shield, usually recalling a defining deed or moment in a Knight's service, and are very personal. AS AN EXAMPLE: Brother-Apothecary Daxan Tahlk, sworn to the Sword, bears the trinary helix of his office as medicae on his shield, his sword entangled with it, denoting how he views the task of saving lives as defining to his own.

Brother-Castellan Joachim Erlichmann bears two lightning bolts across his shield, a trophy earned by slaying the a champion of the fell powers, “Urjak, the Lightning Bearer”, in single combat at the battle of Craven’s Gorge on the world of Talibtu.

KEEP AN EYE OUT, LOYAL CITIZENS OF THE CHARYBDIS SECTOR: MORE LORE SHALL DROP OVER THE NEXT WEEK! CLICK HERE TO CHECK OUT MY BLUESKY!

CLICK HERE TO CHECK OUT THE REST OF THE COMIC!

[sasslett]

Vrtra for the NPC ask!

He’d sensed them from the moment they’d arrived in his kingdom - three souls with unmistakable bonds to his kin. They had, thankfully, remained blissfully unaware of his presence… as far as he could tell, at the least. Until they strode into his hall, until the eldest of the three had called to pull back the curtain. 

“Nay, he hath the right of it - the time for artifice is past,” Vrtra rumbled, resolve shaking in his voice. “Raise the curtain.” 

The great wyrm carefully watched the expressions of the warriors standing before him as his true form was revealed - shock, awe, and a particular smugness about the one. Perhaps he could fool his people, but those who had forged bonds with his kin knew better than the rest. 

The eldest held the strongest connection, to that of his brood brother, Nidhogg - and though he may have been young, he sensed the weave of corruption that laced the man’s very essence. The other two, however, had not stains upon their souls, but… blessings, a pact, perhaps. The taller of them, the purple-haired one, whose soul held the unmistakable mark of Vrtra’s own father. 

Oh, Midgardsormr… He had heard his father had awoken, had pledged himself to a champion of Hydaelyn… and the great wyrm couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy, of hope at finally meeting the one his father had deemed worthy. 

And the woman by his side… was perhaps the most surprising of all. For within her laid a borrowed power of another of his brood brothers, of one most reluctant to trust, to lend himself to a cause. 

Hraesvelgr. 

It brought a smile to the dragon’s maw that his brother had, perhaps, finally healed enough to let another in, to confide in a mortal once more. 

And that told him all he needed to know about the strangers standing before him, that they were the saviors Radz-at-Han so desperately needed. 

[hplrules]

ENTER THE GRIFFIN

Neverwinter's Protector's Enclave, a place of law and order compared to the docks or river district: our story begins with a local Mob All player, the monk Zen Cobain, strolling to his morning meditation at the beach the day after his Golden Griffins won the tournament.

Enter the Griffin, Zen Cobain thinks back to his winning play as he travels the quiet morning streets to the dock. He reached the goal because he follows the Way of the Fist, but he used his Chi power to score, and a little heroic inspiration.

He always enjoys peace, wishing well upon all folks, but playing and winning for the Golden Griffins has make him unpopular with their rival, the Sea Wyverns. The new local competition is a civilized move away from arena fighting, but moving an oblong leather ball between goals turned out to be as violent as any other sport, and that's just during the game.

Zen travels through the Dock district, Sea Wyvern territory. His own team is made up of the city's crafters, and his woodworking trade puts him solidly in their company. His rivals are the dockworkers, sailors, and salty rogues of the harbor. There are some military and a few other trades that take up with them, but none of those are fine folks. Being a hero is always a matter of perspective, and to this angry rummy lout, the monk isn't at all welcome.

Zen drops his pulse with slow breaths, listening to the quiet dawn at the Broken Anchor Inn, which was almost silent but for this mugger. The rough man steps up with bravado and sneers, "A Griffin in the Wyvern docks", he taunts as recognition comes to his blazing eyes, "Are ye mad? That's yer last mistake, Sonny Jim!"

Zen bows his head and salutes, slowly lowering his staff out of sight, "I wish you peace." It was the only response to aggression that his sect, the Sun Temple, allowed to be spoken. He actually meant it, but this blighter paid no mind to his chance to walk away. With the threat still heavy in his voice, he chides, "You're a monk, eh? What's the style you'll be losing with today?"

After a moment of silence, the Griffin champion answers with a hint of good humor, "It's the art of fighting without fighting." The Wyvern player cackles derisively, "ah ha ha haaa...that just sounds like yer afraid t' fight meee!

Holding his salute in place, Zen Cobain affirms his blessing, "Peace to you."

Mohag the Wanderer, a solitary barbarian, feasts at the Broken Anchor Inn on Neverwinter's Dock District. On this fine morn, his plans are to sign on for work at the Porthaven Adventurer's Guild for a wagon escort job supplying Phandalin, a modest mining town forty miles south and east down the High Road to Leilon.

While stronger than most, faster than many, and tough as a bag of hammers, Mohag is a troubled soul driven mad with the loathing of his racial enemies, which are many and varied, but chiefly goblinoids, orcs, and giants. He attacks with the abandon and fury of a berserker, and then his strength matches his passion. Mohag is a Battle Rager, the unhinged type of spike-wearing wildman that only dwarves are capable of. This tavern is the last in this rough part of Neverwinter that serves him, his last chance to not use the furnishings as weapons, and he's gotten extremely primal of that as late. He just needs an excuse to go, and he'll go big enough for all of the Verbeeg giant-kin that leveled his village while he was delivering ore for his forge, dooming him to a life of mayhem and lust.

Mohag notices the mugging outside his window at the Broken Anchor, and picks a champion in it. He grumbles to himself, "Tha skinny lad is gonna get 'is arse handed to 'im by tha rummy mobber. He may shoulda slept in t'day, or stayed in bed all t'gether. Either way, I get a match wit' me meal, so it's lookin' a fine day." But even as he says as much against the wimp, there's something about him that compels Mohag to back him, an odd coolness that he's never witnessed and doesn't understand.

Nyx Ningle and Vanaer Larium are nightowl adventurers at the Broken Anchor Inn, closing down a long night of celebration of red wine and dark ale, a half-eaten spiced goose and baked yams on the platter between them. They're keeping watch on the burly mountain dwarf near the entrance who's made to sit apart from others for his rowdiness. The rogue and ranger/cleric have travelled together locally for a couple seasons, and their team is about to expand.

Nyx is a foundling forest gnome who was raised by steps and nannies until her sage thirst for knowledge drew her away from her sylvan life in search of libraries and cities. Her wild spirit became a lawless use of street skills as she and a few friends searched for New Sharandar. They found it and entered the Feywild through a fey crossroad, the Great Oak in the Neverwinter Woods. She was distracted from her group by an amorous satyr druid, but withdrew from him after a month for lack of reading and left on her own, returning to the portal back to Toril.

Trekking unprepared along the north bank of the Neverwinter River, she collapsed on a moonless night near the wooded town of Nightsedge and was discovered by a ranger who heard her sobbing in anguish over withdrawal from the passionate Feywild environment, which is always a great shock and can potentially lead to madness. The kind ranger approached her in the dark, greeted her in Elvish, and they chatted without a campfire in the old growth woods until sunrise. From there they went to Neverwinter together and became close friends while she began an apprenticeship with a master burglar and then focused on the Arcane Trickster path, teaching herself the arcane studies for it.

Her time in the Feywild later shaped her development with the sharpening of her mind to the highest brilliance possible for her experience, and with two spells she'd seen in popular use there: Misty Step and Animal Friendship.

Vanaer, a half-elf of both Wild and Moon Elf heritage, was the ranger who found Nyx alone, hungry, and distressed. He saw her first with the Umbral Vision of his Gloomstalker training, the supernatural gift of that subclass.

Upon arriving in Neverwinter, he visited the Temple of Selune, his goddess, and received the calling to serve as her "arrow of the night" against his favored enemies, the goblinoids and orcs who threaten the forests. He's as likeable as most half-elves are, but usually too retiring and silent to be very sociable until he has a few ales, his favorite diversion. It's enough of a distraction that he can't truly find his footing in a city while he indulges, and he's grateful that the Moon Maiden is just as free spirited. In her service, he is a Twilight priest, which extends his Umbral Darkvision to the range of his longbow. Van, as he prefers to be called, has considerable skill with folk medicine and carries an herbalist's kit. He's a survivalist Outlander without a favored terrain. He keeps well with dwarves and their culture, speaks their language, and prefers their stout ales.

Nyx casts her Mage Hand cantrip and leaves it visible, a "Mad Science" green, to get Vanaer's attention. Taking the cue, he quickly removes his cowl before she starts goofing with it. She admits in the influence of her cups, "My mentor left me last night when I told him about your Umbral Vision ability. Now he's off to be a Gloom Stalker and become unseen in darkness, and to gain Dark Vision himself." She took a last bit of dark meat and fed herself with the hand before raising it high.

Vanaer lifts his holy symbol as Nyx tests her balance without regret, and heartily exclaims "Selune's mystical glow, that's amazing! Aye, being a halfling, Hatchwork doesn't have that naturally, and there's very few creatures in the world that can see us by other means... Say, have you considered branching out to something a little more academic? You'd be a fine mage, and then we'd have it all covered: my bow and healing, your skills and arcane!" The half-elf knew his plan was the only one for his brilliant friend, as Nyx was running wild with the powers she'd been gaining since he'd met her.

"Aye," Nyx answers candidly, "it's something I've always been drawn to, but there's another path to magic that suits me. It's much closer to what I already do, right in line with my style. And there's no better time for it than now, while I'm still young and beautiful." She watches her partner blush at her closing, knowing that her sharp sylvan features had captured his interest.

Vanaer relaxes as her mischievous spell cancels, then wonders how dangerous she'll become with a full spell book in hand. It had been a wild theater of cardsharping for their expenses through the autumn festivals these last couple tendays of Lowsun, and he'd enjoyed the chance to protect his darling fey muse each night.

Just then, out on the street, the Wyvern mobber takes a swing at Zen Cobain, "I'll have a piece of you!" As the thug steps in, the monk channels his Chi power into a Flurry of Blows, gaining an extra attack, and swings his staff up and forward in a smooth arc as he steps to the left and away from the punch. He catches his attacker in the groin with the staff and punches his face in a vertical long fist. Wasting no time, the interception continues.

Zen spins his staff down and to the left, checking the man's right arm at the elbow and pulling him forward unbalanced as the monk switches his stance to the right, palm striking with his left to his opponent's jaw with the start of an energy vocalization, "KI..."

"YAH!!!" Stepping in with a crescent motion, Zen brings his left hand to his weapon and whips the back of it over in a fast arc, crashing down on the man's head, knocking him prone and pained.

The Griffin collects himself as the Wyvern sprawls on the cobblestones. "Without fighting?" he groans low, "you fought."

"Yes... but you didn't", Zen replies calmly as his opponent blacks out.

Zen is quickly surrounded by Wyvern players, one coming across from the butchery with his cleaver in hand! With him is a pirate, certainly no surprise to this fel and motley crew. A drunken rake finishes his bottle and breaks it, and a huge squire in a gambeson coat draws his sword. The Griffin considers the serious techniques he'll need to stop them all as he steps clear of his first opponent's body with flowing cranelike movements, surveying the threat of this deadly dual.

Inside the Broken Anchor, Mohag watches from his table, and his ire is stirred by the wicked mobbing.

Seeing the crowd mobbing the lone monk enrages the barbarian, who keeps a strong code of honor despite his wildness. Downing his ale horn in two heartbeats, he rushes outside to join the fight armed with a fat drumstick.

Mohag bursts out of the entry, swinging with all his raging might at the rake, smashing the meaty leg across his face! It doesn't break, luckily enough, but the bone is the only part left as the meat flies away to some lucky wharf rat.

Zen hears a rapier being drawn behind him and the crunch of heavy boots just past that. As the big squire advances and steps awkwardly onto the arm of his fellow, the monk spins backward to the two opponents behind him.

Mohag takes no notice of the condition of his weapon as he pummels his opponent, ending his wind and a couple of ribs with a punch to the belly, his arm spikes doing further damage as he follows up with a savaging rip.

The squire stumbles forward over the thug's arm, too late and well out of range as Zen spins away, and the pirate misses as well with his backstabbing lunge. The monk catches the butcher with a staff strike to his neck, stunning him, and the man falls to his knees.

Mohag hooks the rake's arm with his drumstick bone and grabs his belt buckle with his left, then steps into a throw and the man is flung at the squire. The big man turns in time for the impact, but is clobbered by it anyway.

Zen kicks the butcher to the curb, and he tumbles away as the monk also strikes at the pirate. That opponent is a better match, and deftly parries the staff with his rapier.

Nyx and Vanaer rouse to their feet as Mohag shouts and storms outside. The trickster sets her empty goblet down with a hop to the floor, and draws her crossbow from over her back. With the normal use of her Mage Hand Legedermain cantrip, a bolt flies into place from her quarrel by the unseen force, nocks itself, and the weapon draws ready. The ranger stows his holy symbol while replacing his hood. They hear a melee now, the distinctive knock and ring of wood on steel and the loud thumping of big fists.

Mohag the Wanderer assaults the big squire with berserk fury, clubbing his jaw with the bone. The melee becomes a fist fight as the squire drops his sword and they exchange a few mighty blows, but nothing slows the raging dwarf who lives for battle.

Zen Cobain finds a greater challenge with the pirate than he's known in a long while, and the cutthroat's blade commands respect as his footwork keeps him in the duel. They dance to a deadly tune.

Nyx and Vanaer enter the scene as the melee closes with Mohag crushing the squire as he insults the big man, his hot fury now a growling temper. Zen has out-dueled and disarmed his opponent. The pirate runs off to get help.

The rogue is shocked by how quickly the fight resolved as she and the ranger rushed outside, and speaks quickly without an introduction, "Well fought, fellows, but you mustn't overstay this. I can help you get away before they return with too many more. Shall we fly before the rest of them show?"

Having no options, the new party takes Nyx's lead through backstreets and allies that the others have never used, avoiding attention by anyone but a few homeless tramps, waifs, and urchins. Nyx pays each a copper for their silence, should they be questioned later, but she's also popular here.

The four travel together, giving brief respects. "I'm Nyx Ningle, a finder of wondrous antiquities, and this quiet fellow is Vanaer Larium, a gob hunter and priest of Selune, the Moon Goddess," she reports, starting their conservation.

"Well met, all," the half-elf gives the common greeting.

"I am Zen Cobain of the Sun Soul Temple," the monk replies with a respectful nod to them.

"Call me Mohag," the barbarian offers gruffly, recovering himself from his battle fury.

They save any more talk until they arrive at a rustic inn on the outskirts of Neverwinter, far to the east of the waking metropolis.

The party winds through nearly all of Neverwinter until they reach a welcoming business, the wind bringing pine and the clang of a dropped teapot from the kitchen. "This is it, lads," Nyx reports happily, "sounds like the cook is hung over again." She laughs merrily, adding to the charm of this rural sanctuary. "I think you'll like the Woodsman Lodge, my favorite escape, far from the bothers and cares that found us today. We'll cool our heels a bit and have some tea, though half of you will want their..."

"Red ale!" shouts Vanaer, giving a thumbs up as he interrupts from behind them. Mohag chuckles and turns back to wink his agreement. They laugh with the start of their brotherhood, feeling that a great connection is at hand.

Zen listens to every creature, drinking in the rural morning tranquility as a smile overtakes him. This is his kind of day shaping up.

The four adventurers go inside and greet the cook, who's up before the innkeeper. He's baking bread, and the smell of it finishing fills the place with a natural magic. Only the tea is ready now, and Zen and Nyx each get a cup, hers with fresh cream and honey.

The monk politely insists on using an old wooden bowl from his pack, and the trickster wonders what is so special about it. Could it be enchanted with purification properties? Her eyes note the chip in its brim, damage that doesn't usually happen to most enhanced items. Maybe it's an heirloom... She concentrates on sensing its magic.

While they're waiting for their ales, Vanaer follows Mohag to the hearth where a crackling fire is blazing. He draws forth his holy symbol to Selune, and shows it to his slightly battered companion. It's a black field with the white outline of mystical eyes orbited by seven stars, which begin to glow with a pale silvery blue light as the clerical healing spell is cast by a short prayer to the Moon Goddess.

The divine illumination dances across dwarven chainmail, healing the bruised ribs underneath, and Mohag exhales loudly with relief. He's only had divine healing a few times, and so long ago that he'd forgotten the wonder of it.

Zen watches it with total approval, his soul warmed by the goodwill of such a healing without any charge of payment. This is a good and humble fellow, he realizes.

The ale arrives with a cold drumstick, as requested, and Mohag wastes no time in getting the first couple of bites. "Thanks to you and your moon mistress, Van Ear," he misses on the half-elf's tricky name. "Any dwarf will take a healing, but no other magics, if ye get me."

Vanaer, pronounced Van-air, gruffly responds in Dwarvish, "I've little else and none of it arcane, so no worries, my friend."

Mohag's eyes fly open wide with shock, "you speak me people's tongue, a rare thing indeed! We'll travel well together. It'll be a treat to have me best insults understood." He raises his tankard in salute and takes a large swallow before continuing. "There's a wagon escort job south to a mining town I'm signing onto today, could use yer help. I've worn out me welcome 'ere anyway." He sets into his meal intent on finishing this one, which is far better without the fishy smell of the harbor ruining his day.

Vanaer also feels at ease being in the outlands, and slaps his bow to his cloak in a ranger's salute of agreement to the offer. "You might call me Van Lar, if you like."

"Vanlar, aye," the barbarian agrees through a mouthful of roasted meat, crunching the names together.

Zen and Nyx overhear the job offer and nod an agreement to it. The shaggy monk takes the initiative, "I'll return to my order to collect my trade gear and give my farewells. I have little in the world, but I shouldn't leave without notice."

Nyx's response comes almost as a fencing riposte, "I'm just the reverse, keep my gear with me and never owe any goodbyes." Her eyes light up with mischief in this idle moment. It's time to test this man and see if she can beat him at her game.

[shallahi-and-snowflake]

Hello! Sorry about the roughness of my blog, I mostly just used this one for lurking before I ever thought to get in on anything.

I’m Shallahi Ksheh Bah-Teft, I’m… around… Nanish-er, that’s 20 years old, I think? (Years, months, days, and hours are different where I’m from.) (UPDATE: it’s closer to 22.) I’m human (mostly), Thaylen/Alethi, but I have longer eyebrows than most half-Thayleni. (I’m a Luxray Hybrid now, as of 2-29-24.) Yes, long eyebrows is a weird thing here. I tend to wear them over my ears, if that’s a good image to use as a metric.)

(Update: Apparently I’m Luxray-kin? I just figured it out, so…)

I’m from Kharbranth, also known as the City of Bells. I’m a Knight Radiant (something like a “Chosen” for a smaller, less powerful being. I’m of the Sixth Order, a Lightweaver of the Fourth Ideal as of 1-23-24), a Worldhopper (a “Faller” with more agency in where they go, basically), a collector of stories and knowledge and a lover of food and adventure!

I am a member of Bridge Four and an Incursionist.

I thought I was 6-foot-something, but I’m closer to 6-and-a-third of this world’s feet in height.

I use she/it/fae, and by your standards of gender, I would be transfeminine. (I transitioned by accidentally taking in an entire lamp’s worth of Stormlight, so no need to worry about HRT access, thank goodness. It’s such a shame that others can’t just breathe in magic and—poof! Be properly aligned to their Spiritual aspect.)

I may say words that don’t make sense to you, or don’t fit in the context you’d use them in, that’s just a consequence of the mixing of my own vocabulary and knowledge that I took with me here, me learning new words and assuming their meaning, and the Connection tricks I use to help learn new languages.

I said I was a Worldhopper earlier; don’t worry, while yes I might steal away to Scadarial or elsewhere for a bit, I’m making this world with weak storms, static grass, and colourful fluffy creatures my home. Like Shinovar but with more colour and less ksenophobia!

Now for you, Snowflake!

Mmmmm…

Ah! I am called “Snowflake” or “Snowy,” (She/Her) and I am a Patternspren or Crypticspren. A spren is… mmmm… a small fragment of a God. Not your gods, mind you. I am bonded to Shallahi, who you have already heard from. This world is strange to us. There is no Shadesmar, no Cognitive Realm that we could find. This means that I am just a Pattern on a dress or other form of clothing. I am dictating my words to Shallahi. Mmm… unfeminine.

(SH: Don’t listen to that stupid old book, it’s full of lies.)

I like lies. You know this.

SH: Then why let those lies dictate your life?)

Mmm… I am called Snowflake because that is how my Pattern looks. This is everything I can think to say.

I sign asks as ❄️.

I have a ton of siblings from Bridge Four, and also Oppy @freeroaming-curiosity is my sister!

Malkah (@faller-of-kharbranth) who just Fell here recently, is also my sister now!

Konnie @abyssanon is also my sibling, as well.

My little sister, who goes by Kitt but is technically a younger me, is at @kitten-of-kharbranth.

SALUTATIONS. I AM HER MAJESTY THE DUSK QUEEN LUNALA, THE PSEUDO-PATRON OF SHALLAHI.

My name, should you need it, is Nyx, and I use she/he/it/moon pronouns.

Should I send any asks, I shall sign them with -Her Majesty, the Queen of Dusk, Lunala.

Rose @hisuianhellion is MY GIRLFRIEND AND I LOVE HER SO MUCH!

I have 12 kids:

• Sword @sword-of-injustice, who talks like this. (Your pronouns.)

• Crystal @crystalclearribbons, who doesn’t live with me. (She/Her)

• Vivillon @shinx-oh, who also doesn’t live with me. (She/her)

• Fox (Eevee), who lives with Vivillon. (He/him)

• Illanero @zoruascanbetrainerstoo, who is the Champion of Hoenn, Kanto, Kalos, and Unova!! (All, but mostly xe/xem)

Xe usually travels with Cresselia/Zrosenza @moondreamscape. (she/it/dream)

• Svirak-Daughter-None, a Squawkabilly (She/Her).

• [Zeradin, a Zebstrika] (They/He).

• <Zan, a Dwebble> (He/Him).

• {Vinette, a Joltik.} (She/It).

• Palana, a Natu (She/Him)

• Navari, Eevee/Axehound hybrid, egg obtained from Quasar ( @rogue-nebula) (She/her? Hatched. Unknown.)

Here’s my Trainer Card:

Annoyingly, there are very few darker-skinned Trainers with blue eyes in the options. Nessa(?) here is the closest I could find.

Pelliper Mail is ON!

Same with Musharna Mail!

Don’t be afraid to ask me stuff, serious or silly!

In fact, don’t be afraid to be goofy with your asks.

Magic Anons are ON, but FILTERED!

Current Arc: Arc Shash (on hold sort-of), Purrsona! (more of a topic tag).

Previous Arcs: Purifying Waters Arc, Time Heist Event, Rotomblr in Wonderland, Lightweaver Luxray, Robot Rescue, Mini-Arc: Curse Of Angy Teen, Muse Mixup Madness (Get PMD’d (Luxrayposting)), Mini Arc: Pokesona Time!, Muse Mixup Madness (Shashariposting) Mini Arc: More Cat, Castelia trip!!

//No proshippers, no TERFs, no NSFW stuff. I don’t really want drama, I just want to have fun. Oh, yeah, also, POTENTIAL COSMERE SPOILERS!

//Sentient Pokémon are A-OK to interact, if previous reblogs haven’t made it clear.

//Self Insert Fallers and Branded are also clear to interact.

[rat-pagi]

Kaleesh Week Day 3 - Demigod

An animated short, based off of the last couple lines of If All Goes Well, which I now know of, thanks to @inonibird's Qymaen jai Sheelal playlist (if you haven't taken a listen yet, I highly recommend it, it's been a huge inspiration to me in all my Qymaen musings)

More specifically the last couple of lines--

You see, thing that gets me about about the Kaleesh concept of demigod is that it's both a blessing, to elevate another of your kin to godhood, while they still walk among you-- it demonstrates love, admiration, hope that they may bring about a better future-- and yet a the same time, it seems a curse. I mean, damn, how hard must it be to not only have the entirety of your populace looking to you to lead, but to also be expected not to really screw up because demigods don't do that (not to say there isn't a conception of gods/demigods making mistakes in most Kaleesh cultures, but it's still a Bad Thing that Doesn't Happen Often).

In the EU canon, there's a line that has stayed with me-- Qymaen never really agreed to become Grievous, not until his wives and children were led before him. I think that line's expected reading is that, when he saw them, he was moved to realize how much Kalee (and he) had to lose by refusing San Hill's deal. However-- I wonder if, along with that, there was also his demigod-hood among the Kaleesh to consider. What would it do to them to see their champion beaten, his body broken-- and by a shuttle crash, no less? At least discarding the remains of his Kaleesh body, the ideal of Qymaen jai Sheelal, the dreamer, the demigod was preserved. Even if it destroyed the man himself.

But that was the price that Qymaen was willing to pay.

[ladyvaingloria]

"Death," wrote the scrivener, "is the end of all things." Gasps. Shock. Cautious applause. Novelty sells, as a rule, made to be broken, but to be the first to champion a radical notion is just scandalous enough to warrant pause. "To die," he continued. How splendid! How like him. Scarcely had he made a new word, and he was already conjugating it, "is to cease to be. Memories, impulses, implications." The tempest frowned. That was the scrivener's weakness. No sense of phonetics. Alliteration eluded him. Two imp words, tricksy and small, yet the third was nothing of their kin. Impressions? Imperatives? Bah, she can criticize once the draft is finalized. Nonetheless, she casts her vote against, before listening further. "There is no change, following death. No travel, no elucidation. Purest eradication. How wonderful." A swirl, a flourish, a rare sight in the scrivener's work. The throng clamored, and criticized. Wonder? Here? How? "To die is to impart meaning into what is lost. Without death, life is hollow." Calamity. Mockery. Meaning, reliant on a baleful thing like that? Perish the thought! Why, thoughts can perish now! Who was this penner of papers, to discredit all their eternity so casually? No, so indulgently? Look at his pride. The votes poured in. He had gone too far, the iconoclast scrivener he. When would he learn his lesson? "You disagree," he wrote, appended with a smirk. "Breathe." "Poison," wrote the scrivener, "is the bringer of death. One among many. Death always comes. Death is everywhere." The glances turned nervous, though death was nowhere to be seen. Well, let him have his fancies. "To imbibe it is to cease to be. Not now, but soon. Soon is the domain of death." Time frowned, and voted for. An odious notion, but power is power, and politics matters more than sensibility. Play this one out. "Even time will die," with another smirking flourish. The frown deepened. The vote did not change. "This air is a poison. These words, an infection. This thought, a famine." "You will die. As all things do." Cries, now. Definitive vetoing. A supermajority. The scrivener wrote, nonetheless. The stage could only be willingly left, and he had more to write. "I curse you, in this moment," wrote the scrivener. "I afflict you with the truth I define. You will suffer, and lose, and that will be all." Wailing. Gnashing of teeth. Power, for that is the only response to power. No good came of it. Every action taken, died. "You may accept this curse. You may not reject it. It is true, and it is of you, and you will despair." A pause. A common pause. He always was dramatic. But none humored him, now. They cursed and demanded. Continue. "Or." Another pause. Blasted man. "Or you may accept." "As I have written. Death will give you meaning." He tore his pages, bound them with a flourish, and tossed them to the throng. He often did such a thing, and sometimes they accepted his madness, but now, they could feel a burning inside them. They could see the relief in those pages. Meaning. That which death had robbed of them. Acceptance. "You may live, cursed, miserable, and die. Or you may live, melancholic, acceptant, and die. I offer you the latter." This page, the scrivener kept. And he smiled. And he waited. Some rejected. They cursed, and died. Most took the tome. They read it. They wept, they loved, they spoke, ah, this is the meaning I have never known. The meaning they could not remember they had known a minute prior. And they, too, died, for meaning has no sway over death. The tempest passed. The throng passed. Time passed. The scrivener stood, the lecture hall now empty. All things passed away, as he had written, but he was not a thing, not quite. Objectification is an unfair sorting. So he had written, once before. And yet, though meaning had not left him, though death had no touch, he leaned down and took his tome, much the same. It was not in his nature to abandon a writing. He read it. He smiled. He laughed. What a talent, had he.

[theirheartandsoul]

I'm unsure if it's the same over there, but over here, a gym leader cannot be removed from their position unless a few specific criteria is met. (Not all need to apply at the same time.)

1) They have broken the law with trial and proof. 2) All gym leaders and the Champion have agreed to it. 3) The gym leader is stepping down, which may be passed on to next of kin if said kin proves their skill.

You don't need to worry about being removed .. teens are like that, I'm afraid. Once that child sees how difficult it is to manage a region- and that being a champion isn't all about power- they'll most likely run with their tail between their legs.

-@dorakoryusei

YEAH UH- JUST FOUND OUT THAT THIS KID HAS A VICTINI SO THAT'S FUN-

also that's uh- not how it works here. i mean the first two are in place but champs can fire gym leaders if they just... feel like it.

theres a bunch of paper work but it can happen.

but um, i hope so- fucking hell-

i kinda just dont want this kid to become a champ??? he doesnt sound fit for it at all????

ill update in a moment uh hes almost at my chamber-

-gold

[slenderverseagainsthate]

Hello friends, Mod Lee here. Last night, the moderator team and I watched WhisperedFaith as a group. While watching the series, I began to experience a number of sensations and memories that I had never before felt. When looking at the character of Lee, my namesake while on this blog, I began to see memories from his perspective, and know things that would only have been known to him. It is through this I have made a discovery. I believe I am 'fiction-kin' for the character Lee. When I see him, I am reminded of myself, and I feel feelings that were his. I have his memories and talents. I hope you will all support me as I navigate this difficult process. I believe Mod Stan may be the Mo from my timeline, but I can't be sure, and I have yet to communicate this to him. If you see this, Stan, please message me privately. Looking forward to engaging with you all as I embrace my new life, - Mod Lee "Stand Up. A Champion Shouldn't Be On His Knees."