#Fire Snakes (Classification)

[violetganache42]

I just got out of a Discord Stage hosted by the Lorcana creative team, and the remainder of the Stage was card reveals for the upcoming "Reign of Jafar" set! The first few reveals were quite a bombshell for me because… THEY'RE NEW DUCKTALES (2017) CARDS! AND THEY FEATURE THE DUCK TRIPLETS NO LESS! The way the cards were revealed is amazing as you'll see why! 😉

Louie - One Cool Duck

Ink Cost: 3 (Inkable) Card Type: Character Ink: Amber Classification: Storyborn • Ally Strength: 2 Willpower: 3 Lore: 2 Rarity: Uncommon [SPRING THE TRAP] While this character is being challenged, the challenging character gets -1 Strength.

“The snakes are cool, I guess. Pretty standard trap, though.”

Art by Federico Maria Cugliari

* * *

Dewey - Lovable Showoff

Ink Cost: 4 (Inkable) Card Type: Character Ink: Amber Classification: Storyborn • Ally Strength: 4 Willpower: 4 Lore: 1 Rarity: Common

“Snakes? Firing Lasers? In a secret underground lair? No problem!”

Art by Federico Maria Cugliari

* * *

Huey - Reliable Leader

Ink Cost: 2 (Uninkable) Card Type: Character Ink: Amber Classification: Storyborn • Ally Strength: 2 Willpower: 3 Lore: 1 Rarity: Uncommon [I KNOW THE WAY] Whenever this character quests, you pay 1 Ink less for the next character you play this turn.

“Forget the magical snakes. There’s the way out of the trap!”

Art by Federico Maria Cugliari

(If you haven't noticed, the artwork and even the lower half with all the stats and abilities went over the cards' black borders. This was intentional because they all make one big connecting artwork! Even connecting the cards together pieces their flavor texts to make one bit of dialogue! The way the art team gets creative with drawing and making the cards is one of the reasons why I love Lorcana. 😊 As a quick aside, I also love that the triplets' newest cards were drawn by the same artist who drew them in "Into the Inklands".)

[diejager]

Hi! I got the notification that your requests are open skjsjsjs so exciting, can you do something about the noodle dragon with Monster!Task Force 141 please? That would be all, thank you and have a nice day! ❤️✨

Cw: canon-typical violence, weird water magic, weird dragon/monster shit and lore, death, crash, tell me if I missed any.

They’d gotten used to you over the month, watching you prance around them like a graceful panther in hunt, stalking around them with that cheeky smile of yours and a clawed hand always ready to patch someone up. You were a might dragon, a warm to some classifications and an Asian one to others, but the consensus was that you weren’t one to be trifled with —as most dragons were, but if anything, you were so a feline in a body of a dragon than the ferocious monster you were. Always prowling and on guard, watchful and observant, aware of the events transpiring around you like a protective cat.

They took well to you, forgoing the paranoia and apprehension at your eagerness to help them and you openness, your long tail, hard scales protecting the thick cords of sinewy muscles curled ever so softly around them, and the tuff of fur tickling any naked piece of skin. And however tender and soft-hearted you were, they’d seen the dangerous part of you, the draconic one with a strange affinity to water rather than the destructive fire they were so familiar with. Whereas Price was a chaotic force, burning everything on his path and leaving nothing but cinder and ash, you were an unmoving force of water, a typhoon and cyclone that would crash the land and leave broken pieces of what remained, cold and drowned —the calm before the storm as people said, a perfect imagery of you.

Yet there was a lingering suspicion that it was all, that there was a more monstrous part of you hidden away from their eyes. Horangi had shared such thoughts - another mythical creature of sacredness and nobility - and showed them what hehad heard of eastern dragons: giant snake-like creatures with the faces of lions and crowns of graceful antlers, born with lustrous manes and hard but flexible scales that let them dance and twirl as they wished it. Destructive beauty, Horangihad mumbled, a creature who’s image is drawn to represent beauty and nobility. 

They knew, they were fully aware, that you had more to show, yet they couldn’t hold back the awe and amazement that followed the gut-deep fear and worry after they saw you fall, your figure shrinking as you plummeted into the dark and silent ocean, gone into the wide, open sea. Rather than seeing your head pop out, gasping for air while they clung to their straps and helicopter, Nikolai screaming through the comma about holding onto something, swirling left and right to avoid being hit a second time by the war ship, it was calm, a smooth plain growing in darkness, a shape forming beneath the veil of a blue ocean. 

Then, before they knew it, a majestic serpent erupted from the sea, wet scales gleaming under the sun while you rose into the sky in a spiral, white fur floating like you hadn’t just come out of water. You were swift, curling in the air, your magicworking it’s wonder when you flew, stubby arms and legs moving as if you were swimming, looping around them to shield them from being narrowly hit. It was as Horangi gushed, water rose and fell with you, tendrils of salty water reaching out to curl around you, rising high to swarm the enemy ship the same way you did, circling around it until it was left submerged, swallowed up by your hydromancy. You had drowned warship in the depth of the abyss, a dark and cold pit that promised a lonely death, forgotten and painful. You had caused the deaths of hundreds with a twirling dance, an alluring, yet deadly show, like an oleander.

You made no show of joining them in the aircraft, keeping your distance from them, adequate enough to protect them from further damage without becoming a danger to them. They - especially Price, since he had never seen an eastern dragon, only from files and catalogues - gawked, gazing at your head-sized eye, blinking owlishly at them with a narrowed eyes, slitted pupil gleaming with glee at their admiration. You purred, a growling rumble that shook your gills, a deep sound shuddering through them like thunder, low and booming, but it was a happy sound, meant to comfort them from the near sinking that you’d saved them from.

Even in this situation, where they’d been saved by you, you were still trying to comfort them and reassure them despite having taken a hit or two. They were glad Laswell found you.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird-kamakse @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[okiedoketm]

Favorite Smash Bros Fighter Poll for Us Casuals

Nintendo™️ Icons are fighters that you look at and think “yeah that’s a Nintendo character” before you think anything else. Category includes: Mario characters, Kirby, Ness, Samus, Miis, Starfox characters, Isabelle, Olimar, Inkling, etc.

Pretty Ladys are fighters that you picked because you have a crush on them. Category includes: Bayonetta, Zero Suit Samus, Rosalina/Peach/Daisy, Zelda, Palutena, Little Mac, Sephiroth, etc.

Pokémon are self-explanatory. Includes the Trainer. And Kirby, if you genuinely thought he was a Pokémon.

JRPG Characters are any anime-looking fighter that a normie like me wouldn’t be able to name a franchise for with a gun to their head but it’s probably Fire Emblem. Category includes: Chrom, Marth, Shulk, Joker, Cloud, Robin, Hero, etc.

Bad Guys >:) are villain characters you choose because you like a nasty dude. Category includes: Bowser, Ridley, Wario, King K. Rool, Ganondorf, King Dedede, Dark Samus, etc.

Guys from Esoteric Console/Arcade Game are fighters that haven’t had a relevant game in ages but you gotta love them anyway because they’re iconic or just endearingly funky. Category includes: Duck Hunt Dog, Rob, Pac-man, Mr. Game-and-Watch, Ice Climbers, Simon/Richter, Captain Falco (sorry), Pit (SORRY), etc.

Links are any of the Link fighters and even Zelda or Sheik if you’re not choosing them for Pretty Lady reasons.

Insane Collab IPs are fighters that you still can’t fucking believe they had the balls to add and the legal rights to use. Category includes: Minecraft Steve, Sonic, Riyu/Ken, Solid Snake, Joker, Banjo & Kazooie, the Sans Undertale skin, Sora, etc.

Some characters fit into multiple categories, so you gotta choose based on the most relevant classification to you personally. (For example, Samus is both Nintendo Icon and Pretty Lady, but if you’re playing her because you have a crush on her, that’s a Pretty Lady.)

You’re also welcome to reblog and tag with your favorite fighter, what category they’re in, and why. (Mine is Sheik who is Pretty Lady because I’m a lesbian.)

[dangerous-yam-fries]

Male Naga x GN!Reader - NSFW

Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: prehensile dicks, hemipenes (two dicks), kidnapping, MILD drowning???, stalking, envenomation, double dick handjob, MINORS LEAVE GET OUT OF HERE!

You had been researching a multitude of lower classifications from the Chordata phylum, eventually becoming a member of a research term for the study of Serpentes-Homo Sapiens. Snake people, Naga, whatever you want to call them. Even if you didn’t find the famed Naga, you were excited to be in a different country surrounded by foreign life, so you bore with the bugs and humidity.

You were wading through a stagnant, mucky pond in your thick plastic overalls, while sweat slicked the inside of your clothes, mud and pond scum on the outside.

At first, you were simply gathering water samples, but that quickly turned into more of a fun, exploratory session as you walked in the water. It came up to about the middle of your thigh, so it wasn’t too deep, just a little mushy under your feet. You made sure to wear water shoes, they fit comfortably, but you could still feel rocks and pebbles poking the pads of your feet as you walked slowly into the middle of the pond.

“Well, aren’t you cool…” You mumble as you inspect a larva of a diving beetle. It looks like a grub with thin back plates and stringy antenna as the water around it clears up. It quickly retreats into the depths of the pond, leaving you to wander through the water. You decided to catalog the different fauna and flora, soon getting distracted and losing track of time.

You were so enthralled with the beauty and complexity of the biome that you didn’t notice you were being watched. Stalked, even.

Hyacinth laid eyes on the first day you landed at the camp, and for some reason, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were captivating, the way your sweat glistened on your skin like morning dew, how your face flushed under the sun, making your blemishes, scars, and freckles look like stars.

But he could never look into your eyes, for you’d surely notice him then. For weeks, he was content to merely watch your fluttering figure, but he soon hungered for more. So he waited until you were utterly alone, too far away from your fellow researchers for them to help you. And here you were, far away from any human life, and utterly distracted, sneaking up on you was far too easy.

You were suddenly pulled under the water, it wasn’t deep, but it was certainly enough to drown in. You held your breath as you kicked and struggled against whatever was trying to kill you, but it was no use. Opening your mouth, you felt water fill your throat and spill into your lungs, your eyes stung and your body felt like it was on fire. The muddy water soon turned black as you lost all consciousness.

Hyacinth was absolutely smitten with you by the time he made it to his home, he relished in forcing the water out of your lungs, it only gave him an excuse to kiss you. After multiple hours entrapped in Hyacinth’s warm tail you coughed and sputtered awake.

“Mmm pet~” Your body jolted awake at the sound of a person’s voice, your heart beating rapidly when you lay your eyes upon the owner of said voice. You choke when you see him. A real, live Naga, the very creature you had been searching so hard for.

“Awake, are we?” He smiles and you see a flicker of his tongue dart out of his mouth and caress your cheek. “Don’t be scared, pet. I won’t hurt you.” His face is right up against yours, and you find yourself staring straight into his eyes.

“Beautiful…” You hadn’t even remembered the events that transpired prior to your fainting as you swooned at his eyes. The scleras were reminiscent of opal, with purples, pinks and greens wrinkled together in the shiny orb. His pupils were two black slits as sharp as glass.

He found himself blushing at that, you thought he was beautiful! A joyous pure erupts in his throat as his forked tongue flicks over your lips. “W-who are you? Uh… I’m (Name), I, I think?” You mumbled, suddenly out of breath with your mind going a mile a minute.

“Hyacinth…” His tongue licked at your lips, his eyes not breaking from yours, even when they started to water. Your eyes were even more dazzling than he thought they would be. They looked as bright as the sun, practically glowing, or maybe that was the light of the fire… “I am Hyacinth”

“Hyacinth… like the flower?” You inquired, your breath hitching for no apparent reason. Your mind didn’t even register the intimate proximity, or his tongue gliding upon your lips, occasionally licking at your tongue and probing into your mouth.

“Like the flower.” He smiled, he was so happy to have you here, in his arms, wrapped in his tail, and so very receptive to his… courting. You glanced around you, breaking eye contact with Hyacinth to gaze at his tail. It was so purple, with scales like fuchsia petals, shining in the fires light like fireflies. He really looked so beautiful. His skin was a handsome tan, painted with freckles and scars and burns, like cartography on a worn map.

“M-may I, touch you?” You hesitantly reached your dominant hand out, just barely ghosting over his shoulder.

He trilled at this, taking your hands and placing them on his chest, cupping his sinewy breasts. “You may touch anywhere you please, (Name).” He drawled out your name, savoring the sound on his tongue.

You shivered, and squeezed his chest slightly, blushing at the way he flushed underneath you. Your hands slid to his shoulders, rubbing the freckles and scars on the rosy brown skin, your heart was pounding out of your rib cage by the time you laid your hands on his tail.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening when you touch the very end of his tail, the coil of scales coming to a bumpy end. “You’re so beautiful… Hyacinth.” You gulped, and caressed the tip, rubbing the scaly tail with your fingers, stopping when you heard him let out a strangled sound. “Is everything alright?” You ask worriedly, but still not letting go of his tail.

Hyacinth’s breath is labored, his eyes narrow, but not in malice. “J-just a little, sensitive there, pet.” He still manages a smile, glistening fangs shining in his mouth. Your face goes red as you become aware of a wet mess beneath you, two pinkish-purple tips peeking out of a glistening genital slit.

“O-oh, I’m, I’m sorry.” You gulp, and after a moment of self reflection, your mind hazy with scientific desire, you ask a confirming question. “I, I may touch, anywhere, right?” You practically drool at the sight of his twitching sex as your fingers run along his slit and spread it, letting loose his two cocks.

“Not waiting for an answer…” He said, less of a question and more of an observation as your fingers glide along the length of his dick, tracing the lithe veins as they curl around your hand. “They’re prehensile…” He gets bolder, rocking into your touch, his hands making quick work of your own clothes.

You don’t say anything as you play with them, gripping the bases and letting them wrap around your hands, thrusting in and out of them. Hyacinth moans and shudders just inches away from your face, muttering lewd phrases and dirty words, giving you quite a show.

“A little tighter, pet~ Your hands are so warm, I’m sure your insides are warmer~” He twitches and sighs as your hands clasp around his dicks even tighter, becoming slippery with slick and precum as you pump your hands slightly. “So, so good. More, faster, pet, please.” His voice is broken up and shaky, like music to your ears as he pants and moans. You comply, rubbing your hands on his prehensile cocks even faster, tighter, still pumping his lengths even after he paints your hands with cum.

“Ahhh~ p-pet, too much, slow down for me!” You try to stop but your hands move on their own, eyes tearing up with his as his nails dig into your bare waist. You stop your hands, not realizing how close he is to another orgasm as he bites into your shoulder, gasps racking his body.

Your tears fall as your eyes roll back, your body being pumped full of his venom. Choking, you can’t breathe, your throat seizing up, noticing this, Hyacinth kisses you roughly, forcing air down your lungs. Your brain activity is slowed, so you don’t even notice your body being lifted above his cocks and genital slit.

“It won’t hurt, pet.” He takes his lips away from yours, but only for a second as he continues helping you to breathe. Your hole tingles as he rubs his dicks against it, lathering it with his cum and slick before plunging a prehensile penis inside. “You are warm, pet~” His lips meet yours again, resuming the kiss.

One of his dicks thrusts in and out of your hole, curling against your most pleasurable parts, flaring at the entrance, giving your hole a good stretch. He drools and slobbers on your lips, his saliva dripping down your chin and his as he thrusts even faster. His other cock moves to caress your sex, rubbing it up and down and getting it wet with cum. It curls around your tip, squeezing and rubbing it mercilessly.

His cocks bully your sex, your body shaking from overstimulation even with the effects of his venom. It feels like you’re on fire, but unlike in the pond, it’s a pleasant burn, one that lights the fires of passion and lust as your insides constrict and tighten around his prehensile dick.

Your insides squeeze around him, your sex twitching against his dick as he ruts against it even faster, determined to deliver you a mind-shattering orgasm. You cum hard, getting the both of you even wetter, his dick squelching its cum inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm. He moans into your mouth, eyes locked with yours as he continues to hump your insides, eating up your sobs as overstimulation racks your brain.

You’ll have plenty of time to study him, especially his mating process. After all, the first session can take up to 75 hours. And he would make sure your hole milked him dry, daring not to spill a drop.

[magnus-marmot]

TMAGP 40 reaction

Spoilers!

I was properly expecting for the Starkwall guy to show up with a flamethrower and set the entirety of Berlin on fire. And after listening, I'm pretty sure he would've, if only he'd had access to flamethrowers. In an earlier post I wondered if Starkwall's use of indiscriminate fire was due to incompetence or malice, and I'm currently leaning towards the former. Although I suspect that the guys at the top might actually know what's going on.

We finally got confirmation that Fr3-d1 was developed for Stasi (die Ministerium für Staatssicherheit), so Colin didn't pull "mummy and daddy Stasi" out of nowhere. Heinrich sounds like a lovely lad, though I'm a bit disappointed that no one described his eyes in detail. I need to know if they are snake-like. I'm also less convinced that he's the same guy who's been dealing in other cursed objects, given how he seems to bond with evil children and mostly make toys. Plus the guy who met the violinist in ep. 4 at least acted convincingly like a "fellow Englishman", and Heinrich is definitely not hiding his German roots. Was a fun theory. But I'm not mad because I find it incredibly cute that this ancient monster needs someone to help him with programming so he can start making haunted games for modern children.

Not much alchemy for me to analyse, though a lot of the episode supports my wider theories. We have a toy that gained sentience because its owner started convincing other kids that it was evil. It started to hunger for fear, directly reflecting the intentions of the child. Then, as the stories spread and Heinrich became more ingrained in the collective minds of the children, he gained more power and manifested the stories into reality. Heinrich Unheimlich is just the personification of whatever the children of the current time fear, and more importantly, what his "chosen" imagines him to be. Which fits perfectly with my ideas of the collective unconscious and the shifting ideas manifesting from the mercurial sea. It's also the lunar reflection of specific children's twisted desires (or their shadow). Heinrich even talks about how he represents change, how he's simultaneously a toy, toymaker and the workshop, and how his location keeps shifting. All of which evoke Mercury and its elusive, multiplicitous nature.

I've been stepping away from my DPHW theories for a while since there are some outliers that don't fit the model, which means I have to rethink it. This one fits annoyingly well. The DPHW is 2167, which puts Hunger (Luna) at 6 and Weird (Mercury) at 7, and I just explained how those two seem very relevant here. But we don't even know if the OIAR's classification reflects whatever's really going on. I truly hope we'll get at least some answers next week, though I suspect we'll check in on the Other Side for a bit. What an excruciating time to be listening on release.

[valy-gc]

Manticore

Scientific Name: Feliadominus lamiaspina Common Name(s): Manticore, Hellmane, Flamefang Beast Classification: Apex Predator Origin: Wild regions of Scriptoria, mostly deep forests, mountains, and scorched plains

Appearance and Physiology

A towering predator of mythic dread, the manticore stands at 140 cm (4'7") at the shoulder (170 with the head but without the mane) and measures over 3 meters (10 feet), excluding the snake-tail’s full length. Its form seems almost too cruel to be natural.

Feline body with dense, sinewy musculature and blood-red fur.

A flaming mane of dark blue-black fire that flickers constantly, even in rain or underwater. Females have a smaller, yet still blazing mane.

A face with humanoid features—capable of a scary grin when it sees a prey, with piercing shining eyes of light colors (golden, blue, green, pink...) and dagger-like fangs.

A long tail ending in a living venomous snake, black as pitch and almost sentient in its reactive aggression.

Its claws are curved and thick, adapted for piercing enchanted armor and anchoring into prey.

While the most common appearance of a manticore is blood-red fur with a black-blue flaming mane, variations exist across different regions and bloodlines:

Adult Color Morphs:

Ashen Manticore: Pale gray fur and a silver-blue mane; commonly found near volcanic zones or ancient battlefields.

Duskcoat Manticore: Deep purple-black body with a crimson mane; rumored to be born under eclipses or in the shadow of ruined temples.

Ivoryflame Manticore: Albino variant with white fur and a pale gold flame-mane; exceptionally rare and considered an omen of catastrophic change. Not a subspecie exactly, more of a mutation.

Coalhide Manticore: Black as night with deep black flame—invisible in the dark and mostly nocturnal

Sandskin Manticore: Dusty tan fur with copper-hued flames, adapted to desert environments.

These colorations don’t affect their power, but certain cultures ascribe superstitions or curses to specific morphs (e.g., white ones are death omens, dusky ones are soul stealers).

Venom and Combat

Neurotoxic + hemotoxic hybrid: causes progressive paralysis, searing pain, and rapid necrosis.

Lethal to dragons in under an hour. Antidotes exist, but they are rare, expensive, and often come too late.

The manticore possesses immense physical strength, capable of tearing through magical defenses and enchanted armor.

They do not use tactics like stalking or mimicry like Anatomorphs. They simply destroy everything in their path.

A manticore doesn’t "hunt" so much as crash through prey like a natural disaster. It eats its kills whether hungry or not—a manifestation of dominance, fury, and instinct.

Intelligence and Behavior

Manticores are capable of strategic thought, memory, and pattern recognition, but not language or tool use. They can recognize traps, ambush points, or people from past encounters.

They are solitary and highly territorial.

When hunting in packs (rare), they become unstoppable forces of destruction—whole villages vanish in hours.

Motheons, despite being larger, fear manticores instinctively.

Reproduction and Growth

Reproduction is violent and brutal, often leading to the death of one or both parents.

Females may bear multiple cubs per litter, from different fathers (like feline superfecundation).

Cubs remain with their mother, who is ferociously protective.

Baby Manticores:

They lack the snake-tail and the flaming mane at birth.

If spotted, it usually means the mother is very close. Most who see a cub do not survive long enough to tell.

Cubs are always lighter in color than their adult forms.

Most have cream, tawny, grey or soft orange fur, with their eventual coloration developing gradually over decades or centuries.

Mane-flames begin as flickers in the ears, very faint at birth before becoming a full little flame.

Tails are still catlike and short, ending in forks with 2–4 prongs. The snake-tail only forms fully after a slow magical metamorphosis, often triggered by age, trauma, or the death of the mother.

Cubs are rarely seen alone. If found alone, they are either lost or orphaned. No cases of successful domestication are recorded in history, found cubs are either avoided or killed on the spot.

Extended Juvenile Phase: Baby manticores can remain cat-sized for centuries due to a slow magical metabolic growth cycle. They do not grow into their full form until triggered by consumption of sentient prey (e.g., human, fae, mer, or beastfolk).

Notable Facts

No confirmed cases of taming a manticore exist.

Their flaming manes are a magical defense and cannot be extinguished by conventional means.

Killing one is a feat of legend, and some foolish hunters try to harvest venom or fur—most are never heard from again.

References and inspiration:

[bonefall]

I'm really sorry if you already answered but I did look through the whole lexicon and used control+f. Do we have words for Lizards/Newts//Salamanders/Reptiles?

I wanted to see the Clanmew names for 2 OCs Lizardsong and Salamanderclaw. The second being a Skyclan Daylight Warrior!

The word for reptile is "Skeep"! It is a wingless, typically scaled animal without fish "wings". So, it actually includes amphibians as well. This is because there are very few reptiles in the UK; Clan cats don't see why an amphibian is not simply a water-reptile.

So to them, a lizard is a four-legged reptile with a tail. It includes all of the newts that they encounter on a regular basis, even though these are technically amphibians. What are you gonna do, teach the cats cladistics?

Lizard (Generic) = Ssassa Adult newts and lizards, without breeding season adornments. Has 6 species.

Sail (of a fish or a breeding male newt) = Saoss The dorsal fins on top of a fish or a breeding male newt.

Viviparous Lizard (Zootoca vivipara) = Sipssa Eggs are much rarer in this part of the world than you might think. Like its name suggests, the viviparous lizard typically gives live birth, which is likened to the adder. This is the most common lizard in the area, encountered by all Clans.

Sand Lizard (Lacerta agilis) = Hwoossa Named for being seen mostly in WindClan's sandy lowland heath, because this IS an animal that lays eggs. It needs sunny, sandy areas to be able to hatch a brood.

Smooth Newt (Lissotriton vulgaris) = Fyenssa A contraction of "Flame's Lizard," for the quirk where these newts will often hide in piles of cold, wet wood, only to flee out when a fire is lit. The most common newt to encounter, feel free to translate as "salamander!"

Palmate Newt (Lissotriton helveticus) = Horrssa The "shade newt," so named because this one generally prefers forested, green areas. Its tail is much fatter than the other newts.

Great Crested Newt (Triturus cristatus) = Gisis What was once the Tribemew word for all lizards now only describes the great crested newt, the largest and most respected of the "lizard" classification. An accomplished hunter with an impressive sail during its breeding season, on both the back and the tail.

Some extra facts about newts and lizards in general...

Scientifically, all newts are salamanders, but not all salamanders are newts. You could translate any one of these words as "salamander."

Through their lives, newts will have terrestrial phases and aquatic phases.

Britain's cold climate and isolation as an island means there are very few reptiles in general; amphibian species outnumber them because it is very wet.

Slowworms are technically a lizard, but Clan cats believe they are a snake.

Clan cats also believe that snakes were not originally reptiles, but worms. There is a story about a cat who hunted them to extinction and then had to recreate them from memory, forgetting that worms don't have scales.

[aleksatia]

Feral Ties: Chapter 1

Image is AI (obviously), as I have no idea how to draw. Just first attempt to start publishing in English, CoD and Omegaverse. As I am not a native speaker, would appreciate any feedback.

Chapter 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley was not a man given to sentiment. If anyone had dared say otherwise, he’d have laughed—short, sharp, laced with contempt. A soldier had no use for tenderness, just as a blade had no use for mercy. He was made for something else. War. Blood. Killing.

Feelings were dead weight. Emotions? A liability. Attachments? A snare for the weak, for those too blind or too foolish to see the teeth waiting beneath. And Ghost was no fool.

He was a ghost.

Omegas. Alphas. Betas. The words meant nothing to him, nothing beyond the useless classifications people clung to in their need for order, for certainty. He required neither. He knew exactly who he was. He did not live by instincts but by war. Power wasn’t about scent or submission—it was about steel, precision, and the ability to outlast everyone else.

He refused to play their game. The hierarchy, the rules, the primitive instincts that decided who knelt and who commanded—it was all bullshit. Biology had no place in war. And war was all that mattered.

But duty… Duty was different. It was real. He understood it, relied on it. It was the only thing that had ever made sense.

And if duty required him to help an Omega endure the torment of her own body, then so be it. A transaction. Nothing more. No emotions. No attachments. No illusions.

And yet, they always tried.

Wide eyes. Trembling fingers. Voices dipped in honey, weaving the same tired traps of softness and submission. Some came with naive hope, others with the cunning of snakes, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Ghost never got caught.

Until today.

Emily Lamar was different.

She didn’t plead. Didn’t coax. Her scent wasn’t overpowering or demanding—it was subtle, like a whisper. Promised. A quiet, steady warmth he’d never known, never thought to crave.

That made her dangerous.

And now, she was tied to him.

His knot had locked them together, leaving no room for movement or escape. He hated this part the most. The false closeness. The illusion of something more than biology.

Most nights, he let himself disappear. He became nothing. He waited for it to pass.

But tonight—tonight—he let himself think.

About the mark.

His breath seared against her skin, a fleeting warmth tracing the curve of her neck. He could hear her heartbeat, erratic and desperate, slamming against her ribs. One bite. Just one. And everything would change. One bite, and she would be his. Forever.

What if there was something more?

The door didn't open. It exploded.

A she-wolf stood in the wreckage of the threshold, young and wild, raw energy radiating from every inch of her. Restless, like a storm rolling in from the north. White fur gleamed in the dim light, silver catching at the edges, and her emerald eyes burned, sharp as a blade catching fire. Claws bit into the floor. Her tail was raised high. She didn’t enter the room—she claimed it.

Dominant. Shameless. Defiant.

Selene Lariano. Nyx.

She was fury made flesh, and when she spoke, her words carried the weight of a command.

“Where the hell is Price? I’ve been looking for him all over the base for two goddamn hours.”

Emily tensed. A moment ago, her scent had been thick, unshakable, draping itself over everything like heavy velvet. Now, it was gone. Erased. Overwritten.

Selene stepped forward, and the room tilted under the force of her presence. She didn’t need to bare her teeth or raise her voice—she simply was, and everything else made way. Ghost exhaled, slow and controlled. He couldn’t check her, not here. Not like this. Not with Emily still locked against him. The last thing he wanted was to wound Selene’s pride.

She was his responsibility. His burden. A natural Alpha, but still untested, still clawing her way up through instinct and defiance. She had strength—undeniable, magnetic—but no control. No discipline. It was his job to temper her before that unchecked force turned on itself, before she burned too hot and left nothing but ruin in her wake.

Selene tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. She had been too caught up in her own fury to notice at first, but now… now she saw exactly what was happening. Her gaze snapped to Emily. To the way they were locked together. To what had almost happened.

Something shifted. The irritation didn’t fade, but it twisted into something else. Not fear. No, never fear. Something more complex. More dangerous.

“Hm.”

Her head cocked slightly. Silver-tipped ears twitched. Her voice came lazy, taunting, but the fire in her eyes sharpened.

“Interesting. Wasn’t it you who said you couldn’t be tied down, Lieutenant?”

Ghost said nothing.

Selene stepped closer, every movement measured, deliberate. A hunter closing the distance, taking her time.

“I thought you were the type who was ‘in, out, no attachments.’” A slow smirk pulled at her lips, sharp and knowing. “But look at you now—lying there, getting comfortable. Relaxing.”

She knew exactly where to twist the knife. She was waiting for a crack in his composure.

She wouldn’t get one.

Ghost felt Emily tense. Selene’s presence devoured everything, drowning out the air, pressing against the walls. Emily was nothing more than a shadow now, fading against the oncoming storm.

"Are you finished, Lariano?" His voice was cold, stripped of patience.

Selene’s lips curved, slow and sharp.

"Between the two of us, you’re the one who’s finished."

She began to circle, lazy, unhurried, moving with the practiced ease of a predator that knew exactly how close it could get before the fight began. Her emerald gaze flickered, her tail twitched. She was enjoying this. And he let her. He could have shut her down, cut this short, ended the game before it started.

But he didn’t.

"The operation plan is complete shit."

His brow twitched slightly.

"And which part, exactly, fails to meet your high standards?"

Selene scoffed, shaking her head.

"The part where we blow up a damn train in the middle of the woods with no satellite coverage and turn it into a miniature Siberian apocalypse. You do realize we’ll have minutes for the fireworks, right? Mountains, tunnels—one thing goes wrong, and we’re buried under an avalanche along with the cargo."

He had been expecting this. She’d been stewing over it all day, long before the briefing even started.

"If you knew more than the rest of us, why the hell did you stay silent?"

"Back then, it was just a hunch. Now it’s a certainty."

Ghost held her gaze, his silence slicing through the air like a blade drawn in warning. No anger. No mockery. Just something heavy, unspoken, stretching the space between them. She wasn’t wrong about the op.

But that wasn’t what bothered him.

What unsettled him was the way she looked at him. Like she already knew. Like she had seen past every wall, every carefully controlled breath, down to the raw, primitive hunger coiled beneath his skin, gnawing at the edges of restraint.

Ghost exhaled slowly, pushing the irritation down, forcing it into a tight, iron-clad box. This entire scene was a performance—staged, deliberate, predictable. A game she was playing because she could. And he was tired of playing the silent observer in someone else’s script.

"Selene, we can table this conversation. Once I’m free, I’ll find you." His voice was steady, precise, the kind of edge that warned there was nothing left to push.

He knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Selene never backed down.

Never.

In her world, words like later or not now meant nothing. Dry leaves underfoot. She pushed, pressed, tested boundaries—not just because she could, but because she thrived on it. And damn, she was good.

She didn’t move. Not an inch. Instead, she prowled, circling him with the slow, deliberate confidence of something untamed. She invaded his space with shameless curiosity, drinking in every detail, searching for cracks. She was enjoying this—he could see it in the slight squint of her eyes, the subtle curl of her lips.

She was playing.

And he endured.

“How much longer is this going to last?” Her voice was lazy, indifferent on the surface, but amusement—sharp and cutting—flickered beneath.

“Depends. Up to an hour,” Ghost answered, holding her gaze. “Nyx, get lost.”

“An hour?” Selene tilted her head, pretending to consider. “How is it? Comfortable? Bored yet? Just sitting there, waiting, enduring? Maybe have a smoke? Flip through a magazine?”

His teeth locked, his patience stretched to its limits.

“Lariano. Get out.”

For a moment, it seemed like she would. She turned, took a step—then stopped.

The shift was instant. Subtle, but unmistakable. Her nostrils flared as she took a slow, deliberate breath. Her whiskers twitched. Her expression flickered—just for a second—before settling into something else. Something colder.

Disgust.

Her throat bobbed, muscles tensing as if fighting off a gag reflex.

“You’re gonna reek for days,” she muttered, tilting her head. “At least the last one didn’t stink as bad.”

Ghost closed his eyes.

Anger surged through him, hot and relentless, like a predator ready to strike. A slow, measured tide that dragged nails over his patience. Inside, it boiled—heavy, suffocating, dense as the silence before a storm. But outwardly, he gave her nothing.

The mask held.

His jaw locked, muscles coiled tight. The grind of his teeth, barely restrained. The impulse—dark and insistent—to shut her up with one quick, decisive motion.

It took everything not to give in.

His temples throbbed. His fingers twitched. His body pushed toward action.

Selene exhaled, flicking her paw toward the door, her voice barely a murmur.

“Try not to get too cozy, Lieutenant.”

The smirk in her tone was almost imperceptible.

Then she was gone.

***

The silence Selene left behind didn’t just settle over the room. It clung to it, thick and suffocating. The kind of silence that seeps into the walls, into the skin, slow and insidious, like smoke from a fire long since burned out. Ghost exhaled, the sound barely there, letting reality click back into place. Cold. Familiar.

Emily.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Or maybe she did, but so quietly the air refused to carry the sound. He knew this kind of silence. Had seen it before. In the hands of soldiers gripping their weapons too tightly, afraid their fingers might betray them with a shake. In the hollow faces of men who had just realized their lives had split clean down the middle—before and after.

Fear was written all over her.

The tremor in her muscles was almost imperceptible. Almost. But he noticed. He heard her swallow, the tiny, forced motion of someone trying to pull themselves together. And then, finally, she looked at him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t react. Didn’t acknowledge her.

That became a problem.

Her breath hitched. A small, sharp sound, barely more than an inhale. She curled in on herself, like an animal suddenly realizing it was locked in a cage with something that had just decided it had lost interest.

But he was still here.

Still touching her.

Heat. Weight. Presence. And yet—he was gone. Retreating into that cold, unreachable place where nothing could touch him.

Emily needed him to stay, to not vanish into that cold, distant place.

She had almost become his mate. Almost.

His breath had burned against her neck. His teeth—so close. She could still feel the ghost of them on her skin, the phantom of something that never quite happened. One more second, one more fraction of hesitation, and everything would have changed.

She had been right there—one half-breath away.

But now, he wasn’t looking at her.

Her body jerked instinctively, too sharp, too sudden. She caught herself, forced it into something softer, pressing in just slightly—an accident, or something close enough to pass as one. Warmth. Invitation. A quiet plea she wasn’t foolish enough to speak aloud.

He would feel it.

He would notice.

He would have to acknowledge it.

Because he was still inside her.

The dull, persistent ache of his knot—still there, unyielding. Still holding them together. A trap that hadn’t yet released her.

Some part of her wanted to speak. To shift, just enough to force his attention. To tell him it was too much, that it hurt.

But she wasn’t stupid.

If she said it, he would only pull further away. Shut down. Retreat behind that cold, impenetrable wall. And then she would lose him completely.

So she chose a different tactic.

A slow breath. Heavy-lidded eyes. A subtle shift, barely there, as if her body had surrendered on its own, yielding to the warmth still anchoring them together. Almost an illusion.

But he noticed.

His fingers twitched against her thigh.

A good sign.

She tilted her head, her voice soft—almost a whisper.

"You were going to mark me."

Ghost moved. Barely. A flicker of tension. His shoulders, rigid. His jaw, locked. But he was looking at her now.

Good.

Emily exhaled, careful, steady, holding onto the fragile thread between them.

"I want this."

Simple words. Not a plea. Not a demand. Just an offer.

And yet, she felt it—the shift in him. Not physical. His knot was still there, still holding them together, unyielding. But something inside him had vanished.

Not doubt.

Not guilt.

Emptiness.

A cold, absolute void swallowing everything that might have been an answer.

Emily realized—too late—that she had miscalculated.

Ghost exhaled. Slow. Merciless.

"No."

That was it.

No explanations. No justifications. Just a final, unshakable refusal.

The rejection struck like a blow.

Her throat tightened, something cold washing through her, settling like stone in her chest. She swallowed it down, forced the reaction deep, where he couldn’t see it.

Fine. If he wouldn’t give her this—she would take something else.

Her fingers trailed along his forearm, slow and deliberate, tracing the tense muscle beneath his skin. As if nothing had happened.

"It's not that important right now anyway," she murmured, deliberately light, deliberately easy. "We still have time."

Ghost didn’t respond. His silence pressed down on her, heavier than before.

Not reassuring.

But not dismissive either.

Not yet.

***

The armory was heavy with the smell of oil, metal, and gunpowder—thick, acrid, sinking into the skin. The dim overhead lights cut jagged shadows across the walls, casting patterns of steel and phantom silhouettes. The only sound was the rhythmic clatter of metal as Selene worked, her movements sharp, mechanical.

Receiver cover—gone. Recoil spring—resting in her palm. Bolt. Carrier. Click. Clack. Rustle.

Again.

Her fingers moved fast, flawless. Precise, almost predatory. The cold steel grounded her, steadied her hands, but it did nothing to quiet the fire inside. The anger didn’t fade. Didn’t settle. It gnawed at her, coiled tight in her muscles, demanding an outlet.

She wanted to break something.

To slam her fist into the damn table. To tear this useless feeling out of her chest, rip it apart until nothing was left. But she didn’t. Instead, she worked.

Disassemble. Reassemble.

Deep breath.

Again.

Click. Inhale. Exhale. Clack.

It wasn’t just anger. It was something worse—something deeper. A frustration so raw it scraped against her ribs. An itch she couldn’t reach, a sharp, suffocating helplessness that wouldn’t be silenced. It clawed at her insides, daring her to snap.

The scene looped in her head like a wound that refused to close.

She needed him. Needed to go over the plan, to break it down, to find a way to survive the hell ahead. But he had been busy.

With an Omega.

The thought made her fingers tense mid-motion. A second too long. A half-second too tight. The rage ground inside her like sand between her teeth. What pissed her off more—that it happened, or that she gave a damn?

Selene exhaled sharply. No.

It didn’t matter.

Feelings didn’t solve problems. Emotions didn’t make tactical decisions. She had to focus, had to do something.

She sensed him before she heard him.

The air shifted. Thickened. Like the silence before a trigger pull. A cold edge sliced through the heavy heat of the room, running down her spine.

She didn’t see him. Didn’t hear him.

She felt him.

The smallest displacement of air. A faint, deliberate disturbance. The kind of presence that filled a space without needing to announce itself.

The door creaked open, quiet, controlled. The scent of metal and gunpowder mixed with something sharper. Colder. Almost sterile.

She didn’t look up—didn’t need to.

The atmosphere had changed, the space suddenly smaller. Tighter.

Ghost.

Selene didn’t look up. The rifle was assembled. Checked. Placed on the table. She waited.

"Talk?" His voice was calm. Even. Giving nothing away.

She scoffed, picked up the rifle again, and started taking it apart.

"You lost control. Again." His tone was flat. Unshaken. Arms crossed. "Was it about the op, or did you just feel like making a scene?"

Selene tensed but didn’t answer. Stubborn silence wouldn’t do her any favors, but if she spoke, she might start yelling. Instead, she dismantled the bolt, set it aside.

"You want me to leave?"

She shrugged, barely glanced at him. "No."

He stepped closer. Watching her. Studying her.

He saw the same thing he always did—a tall, lean figure, athletic, her silver-white hair bound in two tight braids, heavy like steel cables. Emerald-green eyes, sharp as knives, always gleaming with defiance. Sun-kissed skin. The dark silhouette of a sniper rifle entwined with a cobra inked onto her forearm.

"Explain what the hell that was." His voice was steady but edged, a clipped command. "Barging in unannounced, making a spectacle, pushing down on those weaker than you. That’s not strength, Selene. That’s stupidity. You think my tolerance is weakness? That you can do whatever the hell you want just because I don’t put you in your place every time you get an itch in your ass? You’re wrong."

Another step. His voice dropped lower, but the warning in it sharpened.

"I give you freedom because I believe you can handle it. Don’t mistake that for impunity. Cross the line again—I’ll file a report."

She snapped the bolt shut, harder than necessary.

Ghost moved in.

When she reached for the bolt carrier, his hand closed over hers.

"Not like that," he said, voice even. "Smooth. No jerking."

Her fingers stiffened, but he didn’t let go, holding the pressure just long enough for her to register it. She clenched her jaw, but she complied, adjusting her movements. He nodded.

"Selene, my patience is running thin. I’m your CO, not your babysitter."

"Fine, I was wrong. Happy, sir?"

"No." His voice was sharp, decisive. "You just dumped a mess of emotions on me, Selene. But where’s the logic? Where the hell are the facts?"

She exhaled harshly. "I needed you. And where were you? Stuck with an Omega while the rest of us are trying to stop this mission from going to hell. The op is a mess, and you—" she broke off, voice tight. "You were supposed to have my back, Ghost."

Needed.

The word hit like a rusty nail driven into wood. He ripped it out, leaving only splinters.

Focus—on action, not words.

"Omegas. You don’t have to love them. You don’t have to pity them. But you do have to respect them. Because without that, you’re just a rabid dog biting at everything in sight."

"You hate them too," she shot back, sharp and unyielding.

"Bullshit." His voice didn’t waver. "I’m not looking for a mate, but without them, we don’t last. Someone has to keep the balance, or everything collapses. And then what will the alphas have left to trample?"

His eyes locked onto hers.

"Tell me something, Lariano—if Omegas are so useless, how the hell were you even born?"

Selene’s lips twitched. "Hatched from a dragon’s egg."

For the first time, she lifted her gaze fully to his.

His masked expression didn’t shift.

"And raised by dragons, apparently," Ghost muttered, exhaling sharply.

His voice steadied, the steel in it deliberate now. "Listen. Supporting an Omega through their cycle isn’t indulgence, and it sure as hell isn’t a choice. It’s a necessity. Their condition isn’t a whim, not a way to get attention. It’s pure physiology. And if an Alpha turns their back on that, they’re not an Alpha. They’re just an idiot who doesn’t understand how this damn world works."

He spoke evenly, without excess emotion. Just a fact laid bare.

"I did what I had to do. Because it’s my responsibility. As an Alpha. As a leader. They depend on us, and if we start looking away when they need us, then what the hell are we even worth? This isn’t weakness, Selene. This is duty. This is strength. This is what we are."

His gaze didn’t waver.

"And I sure as hell ain’t gonna apologize."

Selene said nothing, but her eyes flicked to the side. Ghost exhaled, pulled his hand back, stepped away slightly.

"I know, I know. They’re weak and fragile. You want me to say I’m sorry?"

"Weakness and uselessness aren’t the same thing." His voice was low, tight. "This was my choice. My responsibility. And you’re gonna deal with it. While Emily’s in heat, she stays in my quarters. So either you learn to control yourself, or you get used to closed doors."

Her fists clenched. Anger stirred, raw and insistent.

"Come on, Selene. You’re not the type to throw tantrums." Ghost’s tone was firm, steady. "An Alpha isn’t just strength—it’s restraint. Discipline. Taking a hit and doing what needs to be done, not what you want to do. You know that. So stop acting like some fresh pup who just grew fangs and thinks that makes her untouchable. You’ve got a brain—use it."

Selene’s jaw tightened. "Fine. I’ll try." The words came clipped. A concession, but barely. "Are we discussing the op tomorrow?"

"I’ll think it over. Though if it were up to me, this plan would already be in the trash."

She smirked, stepping past him. Her fingers brushed against his shoulder—not a farewell, not gratitude. Just a casual motion, like a mark left behind, claws scraping over wood. Then she was gone. No hesitation. No glance back.

***

Ghost dragged a hand down his face, short and sharp, as if wiping something unseen away. Then he stepped toward the table.

No hesitation. No second-guessing.

The walls, lined with old repairs, swallowed the sound of his movements. Racks of weapons stood in precise rows, cold, indifferent. Just props before a battle. A warehouse of killing tools. Nothing more.

The scent of Selene still clung to the table. To the rifle she had just handled. Stubborn. Warm. A lingering proof of presence that was no longer there.

He ignored it. Almost.

His fingers closed around the nearest rifle. Tested the weight. Checked the balance. Mechanical. Break it down. Inspect. Reassemble. Deep breath. Again. The metallic clicks, the steady rhythm—usually grounding.

But not now.

Her presence was still there. Not the scent—the memory. The impression. Something barely tangible, but impossible to shake. It made him breathe deeper, prolonging the torment.

Worse than if she had still been here. Staring him down with that sharp, defiant gaze.

The phantom of it echoed in his skull like the crack of a gunshot. The familiar jolt in his muscles after a fight. He felt it in every precise motion, in every inhale that carried not just gunpowder but a shadow of her.

Stupid. Useless.

An Alpha had no business fixating. Not in their world. A world where everything hinged on defined roles, the balance between Alpha and Omega—how else was survival ensured?

He knew this. Had it carved into his damn instincts.

But her—

She was always the exception.

She crashed into his space, upset the balance, never hesitated to push, but never hesitated to return either. Her words hung in the air like a live grenade, waiting for someone to pull the pin.

He could ignore it. Could shove it down, bury it, pretend it didn’t exist.

If it were that easy, he wouldn’t be sitting here, dismantling a rifle that still held her warmth.

He pulled the bolt back. Click. Clank. Locked and loaded.

Exactly as it should be.

Just like always.

[passionateseadruid]

Why Lucifer is a dragon

Okay Fine! I'll write the essay you savages! But as consolation I'm tagging it as whatever the hell I want!

One may ask themselves what a mythical creature of Sin has to do with a quirky father in an adult Cartoon. Everything! That is what they have to do with each other! He has the religious evidence to back it up. He has the form of a dragon. Finally he has the symbolism. Throughout this essay the intent will be made to prove without a doubt Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel is certifiably 100% a dragon.

Onto the first point: what makes a dragon. Dragons have many forms from European six limbed beasts of destruction to Asian four limbed creatures of prosperity. Lucifer may seem like he fits into the Eurocentric definition of dragon but considering he has 6 wings that may shed some doubt on the credibility of this thesis. Fear not however, for according to Christian History For Everyman a seraph is defined a 1) a fiery serpent and 2) a six winged being. This seems pretty conclusive that some people saw seraphs as serpentine creatures. "Heavenly creatures of fire stood above him. Each creature had six wings" (Isaiah 6:2 — New Century Version). What more is there to say? So to recap Seraph (the singular form of Seraphim) are six winged angelic creatures with fire and serpent connotations.

Point 2: His form. Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel has a very unique form in the show. "According to Vivziepop... demons that appear more humanoid-looking, such as Lucifer and Charlie, are actually quite rare" (Hazbin hotel wiki, Demons page). So not only is his appearance called out to be quite different by the creator herself but as is about to be brought up in the show his "other" form is quite unique as well. Sera and Emily do have different forms from each other in their full angelic forms but they do have similarities, such as their long lashes and a third eye in their foreheads, as well as gaining several dozen eyes (Season 1 episode 6). Lucifer However notably lacks a third eye on his forehead. Some might ask themselves "why is this in the essay?" reason 1 to pad the run time, reason 2 because it demonstrates that Lucifer can have a draconic form even if he is still biologically an angel. Onto Lucifer's appearance! Lucifer's other form (his demonic form) has crooked horns with a small fire in between them, a snake shaped halo (Quite possibly being the same snake wrapped around his hat in his normal form), six wings (like previously mentioned), and a black tail with a red heart in the center of the triangular tip, as well as breathing fire at Lute when he tells her to "Go home" (Season 1 episode 8). When people think of dragon they usually think of the Eurocentric type of dragons that have two front legs, two back legs, wings, a tail, and horns (though a lot dragons/dragon variants (I.e. wyrms, wyvern, drakes etc.) have horns, even Asian dragons).

Finally onto point three. Symbolism of sin. Lucifer is the sin of pride in both the show and in the Peter Binsfeld classification of demons. "In 1589 Binsfield published [a]... list of demons and their associated sins... Lucifer (pride)" (Wikipedia, Peter Binsfeld page). An important thing to note is that other lists also have Lucifer as the sin of pride such as the Lanterne of light. Dragons are also the ultimate symbol of sin. Being big and powerful (both good to represent Pride and Wrath), sitting on mounds of gold all day (Greed and Sloth), kidnaping princesses/generally beautiful women (Lust), and eating any humans who come by especially if they're trying to save said women (Gluttony and Envy).

Bonus:

Dragons are literally associated with the guy

So to recap Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel is a dragon. He has the religious evidence to back it up. He has the biology to back it up. Finally he has the symbolism to back it up. If somehow this essay isn't convincing enough then 2-3 hours have been wasted on making this.

Isaiah 6:2

Demons

Peter Binsfeld

[redrage25]

Are drakes biologically possible?

Just to be clear i mean the four limbed no-wing creatures in fairytales called Drakes

I haven't read the book dragonology but I'm pretty sure that's where the classification came from.

I know classical gaint 4 limbed 2 winged fire breathing reptiles aren't possible. But what about their less impressive and arguably cooler relatives ?

You could say drakes are basically overgrown normal lizards but the drakes in fantasy and the lizards in the real world have one distinct quality and that's their knees.

Real world lizards have out ward face knees kinda like this "< >". When they are at rest their torso lay on the ground and when they are moving they actually have to lift themselves up from the ground and move .

And apart from legless snake-like lizards (yes they exist) all lizards that I know of have this physiological build.

But most depiction of drakes are of 4 legged reptiles with mammalian knees (specifically carnivorous since the knees of herbivores bend outward) that bend in wards like felines, canines..

So for example, imagine we could perfectly fuck around with the genes of a lizard, do you think we can make drakes ?

And bonus question can cold blooded reptiles(outside snakes) get as big as a tigers or wolves ?

[fuckthisshitimin]

I spent too much time just staring at the other spreadsheet but look I think I'm onto something.

You know the DPHW/TSHU IDs? Yeah I've been staring at those for the most part of my day, and I very much had other things to do so I hope I can get my mind off it soon.

I've read the Theory of Fears, and it's cool but it doesn't scratch the itch in my brain because this is a classification system used by the OIAR; so the codes you get should give you... an assessment and a suggestion of response, I guess.

I don't know what the letters stand for yet, I don't speak German, but I highly doubt the numbers are 'ratings', that would be extremely inefficient. More likely, they're sub-categories. I'm gonna disprove this example in half a paragraph but just to illustrate:

Let's admit D=T is Death=Tod, then we have cases 5246 (the dug up corpse with a tattoo of a boat), 5257 (the woman who sees something that is "some of [her deceased partner]") and 5337 (Dr. Frankenstein). Cases 4426, 4622, 4728, 4824 are respectively; death by snake horde transformation, death by gambling shady app, death by Bonzo crashing your bachelor's party and death by Needles. So if D=T is Death=Tod more than a scale of deadliness it might be

D (death)

non-lethal

violent death (misc)

???

violent death (creature)

corpse desacration/post-mortem vitality

???

feeding

or something like that. No it doesn't work because the D3 cases have very different attitudes towards death, but maybe I'm just missing something crucial.

Now I don't know if that would be correct in German, but I kinda want D=T to be Department=Teilung. Why? At the end of report 3338 (Hilltop Road - Oxford Trust taken over by volunteers), the person says she escaped and then was held at gunpoint by a man wearing black, who let her go when she cried and seemingly partook in burning the store down. Report 3354 (fateful dice) was a statement given to TMI which also burned down. Now, the location of report 3366 (liminal brutality) has not been burned down. So that might just be a coincidence - though if Forton Services catches fire I'll get to say I called it.

But okay, you want to know what's very interesting if I'm at least a little right? 2275.

That's the DPHW for Bonzo's first appearance. That's also the number on Fr3-d1's boot screen on the trailer, with the date 29/05/2023. That's... around six months before canon, right? Around the time Sam had his 'Incident' at work, right? Unlike Bonzo's Incident who's a CAT1RB, this one is a CATIRB, and it's the only one so far with a letter for "CAT". So if I'm right, the conclusion of a "2275" is hire this guy. Why would Lena be so deterrent in the interview then? I don't know.

And if I'm right, you know what might be funnier? The D4 ones.

Because Bonzo's Bachelor Bash has a D4, and he was kinda sent by the OIAR. Serpent shop owner was maybe too obsessed about a certain institute? Don't know if this is gonna be anything, but if the D4 are cases originating from OIAR 'external contractors' I'll be so thrilled.

Okay, I'll stop looking at a screen now and get some sleep. Hope I'll do something else tomorrow.

[adarkrainbow]

Green in fairytales (a Pastoureau translation)

In France, Michel Pastoureau has earned himself a strong reputation as a "historian of colors" thanks to very thorough and well-researched books he published about the history, evolution, uses and cultural connotations of each color (blue, green, red, black...). I borrowed from my library a copy of his book about green (Vert, Histoire d'une couleur ; Green, History of a color) and what a surprise! There is a segment about fairytales in there!

The book is organized by chronology, with a first segment covering the origins of humanity up to the year 1000 (Green: An uncertain color) ; then a second part deals with the span between the leventh and the fourteenth centuries (A courtly color) ; a third the span between the 14th and 16th (A dangerous color)... But what interests us is the fourth part, "A secondary color: 16th-19th centuries".

This part is divided itself into several sub-sections. "Protestant morality" "The green of painters" "New knowledge, new classifications", "Alceste's ribbons and green in theater" ; "Green during the Enlightenment", etc... And one of those subsections is called "Superstitions and fairy tales".

I won't copy all of this sub-section, because the first part about superstitions covers theatrical superstitions and other beliefs - but here is a rough translation of the part about fairytales.

A same ambiguity is observed in fairy tales, a literary genre that the 17th century did not invent, but renewed and made very famous. Notations of color are rare but very significant and the green might be less recurring than black, white or red, but it is the color of supernatural beings, notably of fairies. In several European regions of the modern era, fairies are called "dames vertes" (French for "green ladies"), Die grünen Damen, or The green fairies. This is due to several reasons: either they appear with clothes or shoes of this color, either they have green eyes or hair (just like witches) - and sometimes they simply live in a green landscape that reminds how their origins are tied to the vegetation cycles, and the cult of waters, trees and forests. In Northern Europe, if fairies dress in green, they do not like when mere mortals do the same. If one wants to gain their favors, they better not wear this color, nor any of the plants from which they get a part of their magical powers: the hawthorn, rowan, hazel, and others. Green is the color of fairies. But the fairy is a capricious and volatile being, sometimes godmother, sometimes lover, sometimes guardian angel, sometimes wicked genie - and just like the color green, the fairy can quickly change her mood, her appearance or her role. She is to be feared, and to be respected. Occidental culture does not have the monopoly of green fairies or greenish genies. They are encountered under various forms in Oriental cultures. The Islamic tradition, for example, presents a weird character that belongs to the supernatural world and whose name evokes the color green: Al Khidr (or Khisr), the "green man". His identity is a difficult thing to clarify. Some claim he is a son of Adam, others that he is an angel or a saint, while a third group calls him a clairvoyant prophet or a guide sent by fate itself. But all see in him a benevolent, though mischievious, genie who protects sailors and travelers, sends away the storms, puts out fires, saves people when they drown, banish demons and snakes. The Coran only mentions him once (eighteenth Surat, verses 65-82), but numerous tales and legends were told about him. Let us return to European traditions and fairy tales of the modern era. Just like the chivalry novels of the Middle Ages, they like to play on the sonority or the ortograph of some words to create strange or marvelous atmospheres. In French the name "vert" (green) is a better material for wordplay than any other name of colors, thanks to its phonic relationships with words such as "vair" (a type of fur), "verre" (glass), "ver" (worm) and "vers" (verse). (T.n.: they're all pronounced the same in French]. This results in numerous semantic confusions and interpretation uncertainties that make the happiness of commentators.

[Note: for an unknown reason Tumblr doesn't let me write more, so I'll put the rest in a reblog]

[witchhaunts]

HERE THERE BE DRAGONS : SPECIES &. COLORS

there are not only many different types of dragons , but many different colors that relate to their magic &. what they can breathe.

while there are sentient dragons , such as those that have significant influence on the city they claim domain over , not all have human level intelligence. both fall under the same classification system , as they themselves do not use it , but bestial &. sentient dragons are more like cousins. think of sentient ones as a more evolved version of the bestial with their human transformation &. more magical nature over all.

additionally , these are the most common &. often accepted ways to classify dragons with how information spreads in a disjointed society , so there are some who do not use these exact terms. it is simply public consensus for most people.

TRUE DRAGON : these are the prototypical dragons with four legs &. wings.

WYVERN : this is a dragon that's wings double as their front legs.

WYRM : these are essentially snakes , there are no wings &. no legs. they cannot fly.

SERPENT : much like a wyrm , they do not have any limbs , but they do have fins , as they are aquatic creatures. they also cannot fly.

ARCTIC : because they are , as the name implies , exclusively found in frigid environments &. have both scales &. fur. most do not have wings , but flying arctics do exist. those are often referred to as arctic winds.

LUNG : these are very long like wyrms , but they have legs &. have some fur. they are capable of flight.

LINDWURM : another species similar to a wyrm , but they only have front legs. they are incapable of flight.

HYDRA : a multi — headed dragon that can have wings but does not always.

DRAKE : they only have four legs &. do not have wings. they cannot fly.

KIRIN : while they may seem similar to a drake in description , the different lies in the fact they are four legged in a way that's more akin to a horse. they cannot fly.

AMPHITHERE : the only limbs these species possess are wings with an otherwise legless body.

COATYL : in appearance , they are basically still amphitheres , but they have feathered wings &. plumage instead.

SALAMANDER : this species of dragon has a serpentine body but with three sets of legs &. no wings. they cannot fly.

PSEUDODRAGON : these are very small dragons , anywhere from fitting in the palm of your hand to a large dog , that are classified much the same way as cheetahs are not considered big cats. this is still a point of contention for some researchers , who believe these should simply be considered smaller versions of the larger species. pseudodragons are still dragons but not quite the same. they can resemble all other types of dragons , &. are typically referred to as a pseudo version of that species , though more often than not they resemble true dragons. regardless , pseudodragon is their primary classification.

SPRITE : also considered small dragons , sprites were once a subspecies of psuedodragon. however , these exclusively resemble true dragons or amphitheres except with dragonfly wings. there is still debate if these are actually fae creatures ( the name certainly not helping matters ) but they are considered primarily dragons , &. only recently became a separate classification in the majority of circles as of the mid 1800s.

COLORS : they are related to an elemental alignment , of which there is overlap. red &. gold dragons can breathe fire , but salamanders , which are often these colors , often have the ability to spew lava as well. it's believed to come from the fact they tend to inhabit rocky , craggy areas near or in volcanos. black &. bronze dragons spit acid. blue &. copper dragons breathe lightning , however , these are also the most common colors of serpents , which are capable of breathing fog. like salamanders , draconologists believe is a sort of adaptation of these serpents' inherent connection to storms at sea. copper dragons also can oxidize when they are of significant age , though their scales can do so much faster when they've been removed or fall off. green &. brass dragons breathe poisonous gas. white &. silver dragons breathe ice &. snow , which is not exclusive to arctic dragons. conversely , arctic dragons have only ever been documented as white , silver , blue , or copper.

[frattocri9724]

Stand Name: The Real World

Stand Origin: The Real World, by Owl City.

Appearance Classification: Other/Natural Humanoid

Stand Type: Evolving

Stand Appearance: The Real World has three Acts.

Shared Abilities: Although each Act has its own set of abilities, they all share the common ability to generate magic in several different forms, its complexity evolving with the Stand’s own development. The Stand can also evolve and de-evolve through the first two Acts willingly, although the third can be aquired only through a unique condition for only once, after which the Stand is lost forever.

ACT1:

Appearance: The Real World ACT1 takes the form of a small wooden owl, similar to Eda’s Owlbert. The difference is that the Stand has a small purple wizard hat on its head, big green eyes, golden feathers on its wings and an “opening” on the Stand’s back where sheets of parchment come out of it.

Stats:

Destructive Power: D Speed: B Range: A Durability: C Precision: C Development Potential: A

Stand Abilities:

Glyph Magic: The Real World ACT1 grants the user the ability to cast elemental spells through the usage of “glyph symbols” drawn upon sheets of parchment the Stand itself creates itself and “prints” out of the opening on its back. The user has access to four different glyph symbols to use in combat; each symbol is linked to a different element, each one with their own uses and effects. In order to function, the glyphs must be activated through physical contact with the parchment they’re drawn upon, which can be done by anyone, including the user’s opponents. The effects of the glyphs vary according to the user’s will (see examples of said effects in the lower section).The Stand does have a limit of up to ten glyphs that can be printed at once and it’s up to the user to decide which one to utilize, which usually takes some seconds to compute. Plus, once generated, if they’re not activated, the sheeths will disappear on their own after a certain amount of time. If used carelessly, the glyph spells can end up damaging both the user itself and the allies. The glyph symbols are:

Light: The weakest of the glyphs in terms of damage output. It creates bright flashes of light that can illuminate dark areas or blind opponents. Through tests on the battlefield, the user discovered another effect of the Light glyph which is to break mental alterations like possession, confusion or hypnotism from her allies.

Fire: The most damaging of the four glyphs. It allows the user to cast powerful flames in many shapes like fireballs, walls of flames, flame whips and even flamethrowers. The flames are hot enough to melt metal in brief seconds.

Ice: The second strongest of the four glyphs. Through activation, the user can generate multiple ice constructions, from ice pillars, platforms, icicles and rudimentary weapons like clubs and swords. When used as a set-up trap, it can even encase the opponent in a solid block of ice.

Flora: The most utilitarian of the four glyphs. It allows the user to generate vines and tangles which are mainly useful for entrapping and debilitating opponents, but they can also be used as a way to swing and climb through the environment. The vines themselves aren’t that strong however and can be easely cut.

ACT2: Appearance: The Real World ACT2 resembles the form of Luz’s Palisman, Stringbean, only though as an amalgamation of the many forms the Palisman shape-shifts into. The result is a scorpion-dragon-bat-snake chimera.

Stats:

Destructive Power: C Speed: B Range: B Durability: B Precision: D Development Potential: C

Stand Abilities:

Everything At Once: Once evolving into ACT2, The Real World upgrades the usage of glyph symbols through sheets of parchment. Now the Stand is capable of generating new kinds of glyphs which are actually combinations of the four fundamental glyphs. Luz discovered this new ability when she and TRW experimented with the four basic glyphs and once they did so, the Stand evolved into its second Act. By combining the four elemental glyphs within certain patterns, a whole new glyph will be created and memorized into the Stand’s memory. The Stand is then capable of printing the newly discovered glyph to use in combat, and thanks to the Stand’s new evolved form, the four elementary glyphs’s basic power is increased as well. At her current degree of experience, Luz had already discovered numerous glyphs combinations which effects are, although not limited to: turn objects and people invisible so long as they’re able to hold their breath; soften people’s falls through levitating them; casting petrification; generating smoke; and a limited demonic summoning. Despite this, because of the numerous combinations immaginable, the Stand’s potential is seemingly endless. At the price of a higher potency and versatility, once evolved into ACT2, TRW’s glyphs take more time to be made and the amount of available glyphs is limited to five at a time.

ACT3: Activation Requirement: Once experiencing death and crossing the “Space In-Between”, Luz receives the Boiling Isle’s Titan’s blessing and her Stand evolves into ACT3.

Appearance: The Real World ACT3 resembles Titan Luz form, only more animalistic, with longer claws on both hands and feet, and longer dark hair. The Stand can also summon a broom which leaves a dark purple dash behind.

Stats:

Destructive Power: A Speed: A Range: A Durability: C Precision: B Development Potential: E

Stand Abilities:

    · Titan Magic Mastery: The Real World ACT3 is the ultimate evolution of TRW and besides receiving a tremendous boost in pure power, speed, agility and the ability to fly, it posseses the ability to cast powerful spells on its own without the usage of paper glyphs. Said spells are so powerful they’re able to damage Emperor Belos once he starts taking over the carcass of the Titan of the Boiling Isles. Not only that but TRW ACT3 protects the user and its allies with an impenetrabile magical forcefield which redirects any attack thrown at it. TRW ACT3’s final ability is to “separate an individual’s being into its individual components”. In essence, the Stand is able to literally extract a person’s inner components and forecefully remove and even destroy them if it wishes to. For example, the Stand can separate a person from their Ego or their Es, thus removing said components and leaving them "incomplete", and thus broken. In Belos’s case, Luz orders TRW ACT3 to separate the demonic emperor from the Titan’s carcass, thus saving the Boiling Isles. One of the Stand’s weaknesses is that the surge of power flowing through the Stand causes Luz to become more reckless and impulsive, as if she craves for the enemy’s destruction (which considering it’s Belos we’re talking about, is totally understandable!). Secondly, once the time activation reaches its limit, not only the form disappeares, but Luz loses access to her Stand once and for all. The Stand’s disappearence doesn’t affect Luz herself who still lives on, only without a Stand anymore… unless until King will finally take his papa’s place. In which case, perhaps a new Stand will be born…

dA: https://www.deviantart.com/frattocri Twitter: https://twitter.com/Fratto_Chri97

[seewetter]

Ooh, gnome lore!

This actually is a very interesting topic, because gnomes tie right into the heart of how we classify beings for the purposes of fantasy worlds.

A lot of modern fantasy tends to classify fantastical creatures the same way we classify regular creatures: into species based on how related they are to each other. That scientific classification dates back to the 1700s, when Carlus Linnaeus (who is himself not easily classifiable by name) wanted to give each animal and plant an exact species.

But gnomes are beings of folktales. These tales report of things that are uncanny, rarely witnessed and outside the realm of everyday experience. By their very nature, all the different supernatural creatures therefore have a tendency to just “bleed together”. For example, the word “elf” or “fairy” can be applied to almost all the “little folk” as an umbrella term. The same is true for the Scandinavian term “troll”. The word “wight” originally just meant “person” or “guy”. And “jinn” is used in Islamic cultures to classify just about any being that is neither man nor beast, neither angel nor demon. In short, these creatures could be regarded as “spirits”.

Many of the specific terms people are familiar if they start researching the folklore of the world are actually just local terms from the dialects and languages around the world. “Folet” is really just the French “elf”, while “folleti” is simply the Italian variant.

Creatures from legends also “morph” over time. Sirens in Ancient Greek myths are minute creatures the size of your palm with the bodies of birds who sing you to your doom in beautiful voices. Modern readers don’t know about how tiny sirens were meant to be and imagine them as human-sized. What modern readers also overlook is that in medieval and renaissance times, people constantly claimed to be seeing sirens: women with the bodies of fish, who gazed into mirrors and combed their hair.

I want to take a little detour away from the gnomes just to illustrate our modern misunderstanding:

Carlus Linnaeus and his scientific tradition have strongly influenced modern readers and so people today are always looking for the “reality behind the myth” by which they mean the scientific reality. They are trying to scientifically capture what sirens *actually are* and start classifying the beings described in the stories. “Medieval sirens aren’t *really* sirens”, some 21st century fairy believers might say, “those are actually sightings of mermaids”. Similarly, many modern secular thinkers try to classify the mythical creature until only a real creature or phenomenon was left. Stories about will-o-the-whisps, so early Enlightenment thinkers argued, are really the result of bandits lighting swamp fires. Herodotus, the Roman writer must have meant rhinos when writing about unicorns. He must have meant king cobras when writing about basilisks. Sometimes this insight can be quite neat: winged serpents were likely misunderstood but honest travel accounts of both locust swarms in Ethiopia and anhingas (the proverbial snake-bird). That’s neat, but in ancient and medieval times people did not assume they lived in a world with distant lands full of locusts or anhingas, but distant lands with winged serpents. Their warriors didn’t die to large-toothed plant eating hippos that had been disturbed, but to the horrendous carnivore odontotyrannus. The world they inhabited was just as knowable and just as strange as ours, but mass media didn’t trivialize misunderstandings of the world...you couldn’t just watch hippo videos on YouTube. The gap between ignorance and education might have sometimes been smaller when it came to those things that are strange about the world.

So, gnomes:

Gnomes don’t appear in any ancient legends or myths by name. Instead, they are the result of an attempt to classify the fairy world 100 years before Carlus Linnaeus would take a shot at it (published in this book by Paracelsus in 1566).

The alchemist Paracelsus was an avid collector of folktales and fairy stories. He began to notice that although the fairy folk were quite diverse, he could perceive a correspondence between the 4 elements (fire, earth, water, air) and these stories.

He called fairies that lived in the mountains gnomes and argued that they must be a species, since they are so often small in size and often involved in mining the ore below ground.

He called the fairies from sailor’s yarns “undines”, given the large resemblance between the femme fatales of the sea.

He called the majority of fairies that fly through the air on wings “sylphs” and he assumed that “salamander” might be a good name for the creatures of flame.

This teaches us a bunch, right?

dwarves live underground, a “dwarf” has been synonymous with small size and dwarves resemble miners. So dwarves are (a type of?) gnomish creatures.

why would miners, working in small mine shafts that you can’t properly stand in assume that the spirits of the mountain that visit them in their shafts are small in size? Why did they not assume that gnomes were as tall as the Chrysler building while visiting the miners in their tiny mine shafts? Truly a mystery! No one will ever solve that! I certainly have no idea! We will never know!

Basically, I think an alchemist dealing with 4 elements was like a hammer to whom fairy creatures looked like a nail. So Paracelsus the alchemist alchemically subdivided fairy stories into fire, earth, water and air. The fact that dwarf stories always tell of “little guys” while mermaids often have fish bodies (it’s just easier if they have fish bodies so that they can swim in the sea, you know. Easier than having them be as human looking as a regular forest elf or whatever).

I think he kind of assumed that he was dealing with a natural feature of a real being. And thus, the gnome was born.

Paracelsus argued these beings are “elementals” (that’s where that fantasy term comes from) and argued that they are beings created without souls. Now why did he do that? Why are gnomes and undines considered soul-less?

Well, in the medieval Christian world, the word human had a much broader definition than today. Medieval maps painted human “monsters” at the edges of the world: one Christian saint (Saint Christopher) was said to have the face of a dog and hail from an foreign civilization of canine folk.

To a medieval Christian, lizardfolk or birdfolk or feline races of fantasy worlds would just be humans, descended from Adam and Eve, somehow.

Theologians like Augustine of Hippo argued that if these creatures were not humans, the only other option was that they were beasts and their human-like speech exaggerated.

For reasons I don’t have time to get into, religions like Christianity divide the cosmos into good and evil and don’t deal well with the idea of grey areas. So although crane men (as seen in the image above) could be seen as human and integrated into the “grey area” of humanity, beings with supernatural powers were a different story. Although the New Testament mentions spirits that are neither angels nor demons and neither good nor evil, medieval Christians were very dualist and did not reference such spirits. Instead, supernatural beings must be either good or evil. Dragons are either good (some interpretations of the Leviathan) or evil (the Beast of Revelations or the dragon George slew) or they must be mere beasts (like certain dragons in Arthurian legends that get tamed and held as pets).

This meant that ordinary people’s stories of meetings with little mountain fellows who granted wishes or punished foul deeds with curses were...at odds with this good-evil binary.

Paracelsus, by arguing that some spirit/fairy/dwarf stories were actually about beings that had no souls was able to put these stories into a new context. No longer did dwarves or leprechauns call into question the binary between good angels and evil demons. Now they were a lesser creation, a side project, soulless persons who were irrelevant to the larger cosmic battle of heaven vs hell but also more interesting than just “humans abroad who look reaalll different but have no special powers”. He could popularize the aspect of spirits most frowned upon (that they ARE magic, that they are magical from birth, that they aren’t like...crane men who learned black arts from the devil or miracles from god but are actually weird beings that just do magic because it is in their element.)

That inspired lots of people. The Rosicrucians were a religious movement that I almost want to call “New Age, but like 300-400 years ago” who tried to marry gnomes (and undines and salamanders...) in order to give them souls.

And the whole idea of these beings was fascinating, drew the attention of 19th century Romantic writers...who are, lets be frank, writing fantasy fiction before Tolkien codified the concept.

So by the time we get to the official birth of the fantasy genre, there are operas about gnomes, paintings of gnomes and lawn and garden gnome statuettes. The line between gnome and dwarf could never be drawn (since gnome is an umbrella term or synonym for dwarf) and then, possibly with D&D, gnomes found their way into “official” contemporary fantasy as separate beings from dwarves. And since Carlus Linnaeus had done his work, these two beings were kept completely apart, like two separate species. 

When D&D included gnomes, they had already included halflings and dwarves. Gary Gygax, one of the two creators of D&D, wanted all non-humans to be rare. He wanted players of D&D to experience the world through the eyes of  a human. So back then, since the hobby was quite new, the idea was that the game rules would disincentivize players to make dwarves or hobbits (which halflings were called until the Tolkien Estate sued).

The result was a rule set that insisted that although dwarf wizards existed, you couldn’t play one. Dwarves had to be warriors and with the creation of AD&D, the rules became that “dwarf” was a (magicless) class.

Absurdly, gnomes became magic-users to enable people to play “small guy, but with magic”. That became their niche. The D&D spin-off novels (Dragonlance) codified gnomes as tinkerers and engineers and when TSR (the company that made D&D) decided they would sue various smaller companies that were making supplemental material for them this prompted their British distribution company to form Games Workshop and make a wargame similar to, but different from D&D that could be argued in court to not be D&D. It was called Warhammer and it kept engineering and mechanically savvy gnomes.

Then a company called Blizzard got a license to make a Warhammer game and then lost the license...and used the already made 3D models to populate their game, which they called Warcraft. This meant that gnomes now existed as (A) a basic playable race in D&D (B) a basic playable race in Warhammer and (C) a basic playable race in Blizzard’s World of Warcraft.

The End.

NO wait, wait, wait.

The point is gnomes don’t have a fixed identity. Their presence all across major franchises has to do more with weird early game design in the 70s and legal decisions than with any enduring popularity.

A gnome can be anything. Aren’t the goblins in the 80s movie Labyrinth a bit like “gnomes”? Or maybe we could call them gremlins or pixies. Like if someone saw one of those and said “ugh, what’s that gnome?” would you necessarily correct them? You might not.

Gnomes could be the giants beneath the earth or the earth elemental that beats you to a pulp in D&D. They can be straight-up dwarven miners. Their exact nature and characteristics have never been straightforward and you have countless historical sources to draw from to create your own gnomes or widen your expectations about what they might be.

Thanks for reading.

[creature-studios]

Spec Evo Profile - Chimera

The prompt for this one (thought of by me) was to create a fictional animal that would be the culprit behind the mythical chimera.

Name: Chimera

Scientific name: Leonophis cornutus (meaning “horned lion-snake”)

Origin: Ancient Anatolia (modern-day Turkey)

Classification: Mammalian carnivore

Length: About 6 ft (1.8 m)

Height: 3.8 ft (1.1 m) tall at the shoulder

Weight Estimate: 330-550 lbs (150-250 kg)

Description: The Chimera is a large and powerful predator that belongs to the felidae family, closely related to lions and leopards. It has a tawny fur coat with dark spots and stripes, and a mane that covers its neck and shoulders. It has two distinct features that set it apart from other big cats: tufts of fur on its ears that resemble horns, and a long, prehensile tail that resembles a snake. The “horns” are used for camouflage and display, while the tail is used for balance and manipulation. The Chimera is a solitary and territorial animal, preferring to hunt at night and rest during the day. It feeds on a variety of prey, such as deer, goats, sheep, and sometimes humans. It lives in the mountainous regions of Anatolia, where it is feared and revered by the local people. It is often depicted in art and literature as a symbol of chaos and destruction, or as a challenge for heroes to overcome.

Abilities: The Chimera has several abilities that make it a formidable hunter. It can run fast and jump high, using its powerful legs and claws. It can also climb trees and rocks, using its agile body and tail. It has a keen sense of smell, hearing, and vision, especially in the dark. It can communicate with other Chimeras using roars, growls, hisses, and tail movements. It can also produce a loud and frightening sound that resembles a fire-breathing roar, by exhaling air through its nasal cavities and vibrating its vocal cords. This sound is used to intimidate rivals, scare off predators, and stun prey.

“Horns”: The Chimera does not have true horns, but rather tufts of fur on its ears that resemble horns. These tufts could be a form of camouflage, mimicking the appearance of plants or rocks in its environment. They could also serve as a means of thermoregulation, helping the Chimera to keep warm or cool depending on the weather. They could also be a sign of age or health, changing color or shape over time. These tufts could be mistaken for horns by human observers, who exaggerated their size and shape in their stories and legends. This could explain why the Chimera is sometimes depicted with different types of horns, such as straight, curved, or branched.

Status: The Chimera is still alive, but very rare and elusive. It is occasionally sighted by local people, who regard it as a sacred and mysterious animal. It is also protected by conservation efforts and scientific research, which aim to understand and preserve this unique creature.