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dreadfutures · 3 years ago

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OC Questions

Thanks for the tag, @1000generations ! Tagging @whataboutbugs and anyone else who’d like to do this.

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Ixchel Lavellan

Role in story: The Inquisitor, and an inciter of rebellions

Physical description: She is very short--barely 5′0″--and muscular. She is very badly scarred all across her body but in particular her face is covered in deep gauges that have been incorporated into her vallaslin pattern; her throat has swirling scars from an Arcane Horror’s magic hitting her point-blank; her left arm is burned from her neck down to her fingertips. She has dark, stick-straight hair, thick eyebrows, dark skin. Her eyes are a dark ambery brown, and she has dark skin. (Basically she’s Mexican.)

Age: 25-28 ish (she doesn’t even know)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: Idk her MBTI but she’s probably a 2w1.

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear? The long arc of history bends toward cruelty always.

Inner motivation: To inspire kindness and compassion in those around her

Kryptonite: Abandonment

What is their misbelief about the world? That

Lesson they need to learn: She can’t save everyone. Just because she’s in a position to know about a lot of injustice doesn’t mean she can or is required to act on it all. Not every tragedy in the world is on her hands.

What is the best thing in their life? Found family love.

What is the worst thing in their life? Depression and by extension doubt. Doubt is not something that can be convinced by facts, and will needle her for the rest of her days, no matter how much she tries to trust.

What do they most often look down on people for? Cruelty, especially casual cruelty.

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive? Seeing different people come together for common purposes/love.

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way? Quality time. She just wants to be with people, even if she’s just a tag-along. Solas and Dorian hang out with her without ulterior motives a lot. :)

Top three things they value most in life? Equality, Compassion, Patience

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why? Maaaybe the inactive talking crystal that Dorian gave to her in her first life. She doesn’t really have much by way of non-expendable items. The Ardent Blossom now is very important to her, but nothing she couldn’t leave behind.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom. Hair tied close to her head in tight braids, the Ardent Blossom (marigolds) in her hair. Usually she has a quilted jacket with a high collar and long sleeves, trousers, and elven foot wrappings. Armor optional.

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life? Mula, pretiosa mula, ‘Chel, Sunshine, Champ, Rogasha’ghi’lan.

What is their method of manipulation? She’ll try to pitch her option as actually being more in-line with someone’s goals than whatever their current mission is. Compassion is the new fashion, or the truth is the most direct route to averting a disaster, etc.

Describe their daily routine. In Skyhold: Get up, eat with Solas, go stretch and spar, correspondence, paperwork and meetings, more meetings, check in on her Inner Circle, maybe have a drink at the Herald’s Rest, go fuck Solas.

Their go-to cure for a bad day? Fuck Solas’s brains out. Beat the shit out of Bull. Curl up in bed with wine and cry with Dorian.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life? Right now there are a bunch of rebellions brewing that are directly inspired by her so she feels responsible for their outcomes, even though she can’t play a part in all of them. She feels like her hands are tied and she’s pretty depressed about it. Only half of her closest friends know her secret too and that sticks with her.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment? Being able to let go of her guilt and responsibility.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality? She’s doing everything she’s supposed to to build trust in the universe and in the people around her. That’s the shitty part. For example, she’s trusted Solas around the orb and forced herself to “trust” that he has abandoned the din’an’shiral. The problem is getting her heart on the same page.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already? There are just too many very real risks for letting go of her fears and placing trust in the universe; as Bull said, she takes her fears and mistakes and holds them closer. It’s not learning from her fears if they’re crippling her.

How does they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of? She puts plans in place and plays a more supportive role where she can for those around her, and then forces herself to step back and trust that she has done everything she can to set them up for success barring her direct involvement. She has control issues, so letting go is key.

Blank meme:

THE BASICS:

Character’s name:

Role in story:

Physical description:

Age:

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

Inner motivation:

Kryptonite:

What is their misbelief about the world?

Lesson they need to learn:

What is the best thing in their life?

What is the worst thing in their life?

What do they most often look down on people for?

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

Top three things they value most in life?

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life?

What is their method of manipulation?

Describe their daily routine.

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

How does they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

#ixchel lavellan #meme

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midnightactual · 5 years ago

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Story

“Oh? You want me to play at being Scheherazade?” Yoruichi asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Fine, I’ll tell you a story. How about... How I came to exist.”

“Whatever you might’ve heard about the history of Soul Society is a bunch of propaganda designed to puff it up and make it sound good. Soul Society wasn’t around for a million years, nor did Shinigami exist before it. It all began about 70,000 years ago.”

“Soul Society’s never been interested in archaeology, so these dates are nebulous and’ve been determined through rather arcane means, but bear with me. Some 5 or 6 million years ago, the ancestors of humans split off from the ancestors of chimpanzees, and began their own evolutionary course. As they grew more complex, they began to develop more and more reiryoku. This led to a certain kind of reishi accumulation on Earth. This accelerated dramatically with the emergence of anatomically modern humans 200,000 years ago. It finally crossed a critical threshold when humans became recognizably behaviorally modern, around 80,000 years ago.”

“This concentration of reishi had strange and unusual effects. The reiryoku and reiatsu of the human population soared. For a time, death ceased to meaningfully exist. The bright beacons of human reiatsu also attracted other spiritual entities—now called Yōkai—and many hybrids emerged: Hanyō. For a time there was peace, and no difference between a human and a Plus. It wouldn’t last.”

“Something about this configuration was unstable. Hollows began to appear. With no effective means of stopping them, they began to replicate out of control. What are now called Menos were soon roaming the planet, and it seemed humanity and the Yōkai alike would quickly go extinct, with all souls being absorbed into a single Menos.”

“That’s when what’s now known as the Soul King arrived from... somewhere. It was a thing which might be called divine. I can see your reaction: yes, there are ‘Gods’ out there. Many more than one. No, they aren’t exactly pleasant or necessarily benevolent.”

“Although it destroyed the existing Menos, the remaining humans and Yōkai were terrified by the implications. That was when they discovered the closed cycle of reincarnation, and learned that the Soul King’s powers could obliterate souls.”

“Five individuals chose to act. Each had their own plan. One was afraid the Soul King’s powers would be used against humanity, and that they must take it for themselves. One concerned themselves with Hell, which had already come to exist after a fashion by that time. One wanted to restructure the world to bring permanent balance. One wanted to find a way to purify Hollows and turn them back into souls. And one wanted to expand the cycle of reincarnation to other beings, like Yōkai.”

“The last three were the ancestors of the Kuchiki, the Shiba, and the Shihōin, although they weren’t called that at the time. The third was a Hanyō man—half human, half cat Yōkai—named Yuvan. In the end, the five met and agreed to pursue all five of their ideas. They devised a ritual to bind the Soul King and split existence into realms, thus creating Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, the various pockets of the Dangai, and leaving Earth reishi impoverished.”

“Those five became the progenitors of the Five Great Noble Families, and they and their supporters, such as Hyōsube Ichibē, became the first Shinigami. Their ritual created a great cataclysm and left scarcely more than 1,000 humans alive on the planet. It also dispersed some of the powers of the Soul King and Menos in strange ways, leading to the eventual emergence of the Quincy and Fullbringers.”

“Things would go on rather quietly for almost another 60,000 years. The Five Great Noble Families identified and interbred with powerful humans and Pluses who emerged during this time in order to strengthen their bloodlines. All of them claimed different regions of old world Earth to ‘recruit’ from. The Yuvan—the later Shihōin—were particularly fond of South Asia at this time.”

“Eventually, 10,000 years ago, the Neolithic Revolution on Earth caused human populations to rapidly expand. Soul Society became increasingly organized in response. Around 6,500 years ago, in various river valleys, human civilizations entered the Bronze Age. It was at this time that Soul Society was split into theoretically coequal Eastern and Western Branches.”

“To begin with, the Eastern Branch looked after the civilizations of the Indus and Yellow Rivers, and all surrounding regions. The Western Branch looked after the same around the Nile, Tigris, and Euphrates. There was an effort at this time to associate the Yuvan with the Western Branch on the basis of ‘shared development’. However, perceiving that Ichibē already favored the Eastern Branch, the Yuvan demanded they be associated with it instead. Two of the Five Great Noble Families were initially assigned to the Western Branch, two to the Eastern Branch (the later Kuchiki and Shihōin), and one to go between them (the later Shiba). Minor branches could come and go more freely.”

“As you might expect, the Western Branch began with an aesthetic like that of the Fertile Crescent and Egypt, while the Eastern Branch had one like that of India or China. Over time, these would evolve. The Western Branch’s evolution was rather more pronounced. All this would come to a head around 2,500 years ago, when Ichibē declared he had discerned the ‘true names and natures’ of both branches, and the Five Great Noble Families themselves.”

“For the Eastern Branch, this was when the focus on Japanese aesthetics was established. It was also when the names Kuchiki and Shiba were given out, and the Yuvan became the Shihōin. The name was Ichibē’s way of referring to our profession and penchant for soldiery; although it means ‘Four Maple Court’, his intended allusion was apparently ‘Bloodshed Institution’. During this time, the newly minted Shihōin changed their primary focus to Ryukyu and Kyushu, while the Kuchiki concerned themselves with northern Japan. It was only in this time that intermixing with ‘commoners’ began to be restricted. Shortly thereafter, the Gotei 13 and the Shin'ō Academy were founded.”

“The Western Branch... well, that’s its own story. But by 500 years ago, interaction between the charges of the Eastern and Western Branches was growing more common and intense, and various additional reforms were undertaken. It was in the aftermath of those, on what by the reckoning of the Gregorian calendar would be January 1st, 1591, when I was born.”

Yoruichi gave a little grin. “Of course, that’s only how I got here.”

...

These are just my thoughts and should be taken with a grain of salt. I’m sort of working off what Can’t Fear Your Own World has revealed about the history of Bleach, while also strongly disagreeing with a lot of it and providing my version of it. (This post seems to be largely identical. This one’s accuracy is debated somewhat, but I find a few of its ideas interesting.)

Although I would admit that it certainly seems that Kubo decided to move to pattern the cosmology of Bleach off of Buddhism’s, I would argue two points against assuming that Buddhism is “true” in Bleach and that this structure is immutable and eternal. First, within Bleach’s verse Buddhism would clearly have been derived from this structure, not the other way around. (That is to say, while in real life Bleach is based on Buddhism, in Bleach Buddhism is based on Bleach; presumably as propaganda by Ichibē.) Second, Bleach presented itself as a kind of urban fantasy to begin, and repeatedly invokes scientific concepts, so I feel it’s appropriate to treat it from a realistic perspective rather than a spiritual one. Notably, Buddhism also doesn’t seem to much care about creation mythos.

The existence of Shinigami and Quincy prior to the emergence of humanity is fairly illogical given that humans can become both. This would require the fragments of the Soul King acting like miniature Hōgyoku and synchronizing humanity to function as vessels for these abilities, or something. In addition to being convoluted, I think that removes the human element from both groups, which are otherwise very clearly depicted as human, so I’m going to say that neither existed before humans did. Almost everything in the Bleach universe should, thematically, derive from baseline humans in my opinion.

The exception is my decision to include Yōkai. The idea that Sajin just comes from a line of cursed were-people strikes me as the most boring method of handling his backstory, and this fails to explain things like Hiyosu, or Akon’s horns, or some of the wilder phenotypic aspects of the population (strange hair and eye colors, gigantism, dwarfism, and so on). Introducing a non-human element that has largely been eliminated or suppressed solves all these issues handily. (Soul Society is probably pretty racist against most of their descendants, and they tend to be left to rot in Rukongai or imprisoned in the Maggot’s Nest. My feeling is the Shihōin are sympathetic for obvious reasons, and this is why they associate with the Shiba, who are generally anti-authoritarian.)

The existence of a permanently deathless realm for all eternity doesn’t square too well with things like evolution, so I regard it as being a temporary circumstance brought about by the emergence of humans. Anatomically modern humans have been around for about 200,000 years. That said, there were still some tweaks left to be made. Humans didn’t become “behaviorally modern” until approximately 80,000–40,000 years ago. Likewise, the human population was also severely bottlenecked 70,000 years ago, going perhaps as low as 1,000 individuals. I’ve decided to combine these things together.

The history of Soul Society going back one million years is also nonsensical, as Yoruichi indicates. This would give the Kuchiki an average Clan Head leadership time of 35,714 years (across 28 Heads), and the Shihōin an average Clan Head leadership time of roughly 45,454 years (across 22 Heads, as Yūshirō’s tenure as the 23rd has been so short). Those are averages, meaning you could expect both longer and shorter ones. That’s a problem when, given Yamamoto appears to have aged 20–40 years across the last 2,000 or so years, a Shinigami can be generally inferred to live around 5,000 years, or perhaps 10,000 on the outside. (If longevity is correlated with reiryoku, we might expect Yamamoto to be one of the oldest. The Clans also seem to have existed from the start. The major exception to this would be Ichibē, who is clearly kinda weird anyway.)

Picking 70,000 years gives the Kuchiki an average Clan Head leadership time of exactly 2,500 years, and the Shihōin an average Clan Head leadership time of roughly 3,181 years. That first, very round number, speaks to me given the Kuchiki were the first Clan introduced within the narrative, and fits in very nicely with the above observations. This would also make Yoruichi’s abdication after only about 100 or so years far less scandalous.

The Soul King here (and the other “gods” in Bleach, such as the Quincy’s “God” or Giriko’s “God of Time”) can be thought of as Lovecraftian in nature. To draw a contemporary analogy, if the Soul King is like Jenova in Final Fantasy VII, then Quincy would be like Sephiroth. Another analogy to make might be that of Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters. Over the trilogy it starts, it’s revealed that Godzilla is a sort of natural and universal occurrence. Planets that can support life come into existence, life evolves to a certain level of complexity, and eventually a civilization appears which experiments with powers beyond its control or understanding (e.g., nuclear weapons), which produce something like a Godzilla: an apex lifeform that can reconfigure the entire planet around its existence. A Godzilla, in turn, is like a fruit produced by a plant, and the thing that comes in to eat the fruit is Ghidorah, a transdimensional horror. Here, Hollows are the fruit like Godzilla, and the Soul King is the eater like Ghidorah.

Soul Society having permanently had a Japanese aesthetic from a million years before Japan even existed is also nonsensical, given Japanese culture clearly evolved from domestic iteration upon Chinese and Korean inputs. (It implies there is something “uniquely special” about Japanese culture in a Manifest Destiny way that is more than a little problematic.) Setting the adoption of Japanese mores some 2,000 years ago alleviates this somewhat, but one must still imagine that either Soul Society evolved “along with” Japan, or that Japan’s history “conformed to” Soul Society’s existing image. This is still less bad than “Japanese culture is quasi-divine.”

Ichibē’s selection of Japan and the timing given here could be reckoned to play into the foundational myth of Japan, but I didn’t really want to go too deeply into that.

I kind of ignore the Tsunayashiro in this formulation as, in my opinion, it’s very clear they’re a retcon introduced in Can’t Fear Your Own World, did not actually exist “behind the scenes” in previous material, and were rather narratively inserted to tie events together and provide a new antagonist. They could be fit into this formulation, but I’m not particularly interested in doing so.

Likewise, although the “Western” Soul Society could be tied to what’s shown in Burn The Witch, I don’t find that depiction to be particularly interesting, engaging, or creative. I don’t think it “fits,” as it were. So I’ve made my own, although they could theoretically be united. (I imagine the Western Branch Shinigami would look more like Men In Black or Kingsmen in the present, personally, although some might still have affects like Valkyries or what have you.)

The first Shihōin, Yuvan, being a Hanyō is pure conjecture, but it’d handily explain their yellow eyes, and Yoruichi’s (inherited) ability to become a cat. You can basically think of Yuvan as the cat version of Inuyasha, probably with black hair and dark skin.

Given that the change to Japanese happens later, the name Shihōin (along with the others) is to be taken as an invention. On the one hand, you might think of this as like “the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha” becoming “the House of Windsor.” On the other, you might think of it as like Ichibē renaming shinuchi into bankai (indeed, I’m attributing it to him). Shihōin means “Four Maple Court,” but I think this wasn’t chosen at random. Maples are most known for how they change color in the autumn. Maple leaves have a kind of outward spray shape, and are often red. Falling red, spraying leaves... sort of evokes bloodshed. Their name could be read as evocative of “Bloodshed Institution.” Considering they’re soldiers, this feels very appropriate. It also fits Yoruichi’s poem quite well. (Some additional commentary on that here.)

As to what the older or original name for the Shihōin was, I find the simplest answer to be a patronymic surname based on the name of the first one. Nobody has any idea what human language was like 70,000 years ago, as even the Proto-Indo-European language only dates back to approximately 6,500 years ago. So, I looked at Sanskrit names and picked Yuvan, which can mean (among other things), “young king” or “heir apparent.” I doubt anyone really cares about this.

Shinigami aging is poorly defined, but it seems to proceed at normal rates for at least the first five years before starting to slow down, meaning that one doesn’t spend decades as a baby or toddler. If we take Rukia as an example, it seems to take roughly 150 years to go from an infant to being approximately 16 physically. If we take Byakuya as an example, it seems to take about 50 years to go from being approximately 16 to being in one’s early 20s, and a further 50 years to reach one’s mid-20s. After that, it seems to move at a rate of about 1 year physically per 100 years elapsed. Considering that humans fully (cognitively) mature at around 25, this makes sense. So we can say it probably takes about 250 years for a Shinigami to completely mature (10 times as long in total), and from then on they age at about 1/100 the normal rate.

I’ve always felt Yoruichi is around 27, physically, so this gives her an age of around 400–450. Since Bleach seems to pay at least some token attention to the Chinese zodiac (e.g., Ichigo, being born in 1985, is an Ox, which fits his Full Hollow form in an interesting way), I decided to describe her exact year of birth largely based on that. My answer is January 1, 1591. This makes her a Yang Metal Tiger by birth year. January would make her “inner animal” an Ox. The 1st was a Tuesday, making her “true animal” a Dragon. Given her name I think she would be born between 11 PM and midnight, making her “secret animal” a Rat. I think all of these aspects suit her quite well. She would be 429 years old today as a result.

(As a random piece of errata: Metal is associated with the autumn, old age, and white and silver, while one of the Tiger’s lucky colors is orange; these nicely dovetail with her using the personal pronouns of an old man, and her preference for orange and white.)

This all means that Yoruichi’s ethnicity is essentially Indo-Japanese (over the last several generations anyway) with a dash of Yōkai blood.

The Shiba going back and forth between the Eastern and Western branches is a reference to their odd phenotypic expressions (e.g., Kaien and Kūkaku having green eyes, Karin having gray eyes, Ichigo having orange hair and Yuzu being blonde when Masaki’s lighter hair should’ve been recessive which implies Isshin was carrying a recessive gene, etc.) and their preference for Chinese-style clothing.

The Eastern Branch’s backdrop is not exclusively limited to India and China, or later Japan. (Nor would the Western Branch’s be to its starting locations.) I imagine things like, say, Hachigen’s Balinese demon mask, or Shinji’s Pharaoh mask, could be reflections of this.

There are probably some more things I wanted to say, but forgot, so I might make additional observations on this later.

#In Character #Drabble #Long Post #Headcanons #[ OOC Notes are under the cut ]#[ to explain/substantiate ]#[ I spent a fair amount of time discussing and contemplating this ]#[ so I'm pretty pleased with it ]#[ kudos to ]#mysteriousshopkeeper #[ for listening to me prattle on ]

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mystery-moose · 8 years ago

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[FIC] The Perfect Gift (4,200 words)

Spoilers for the Eleventh Hour.

[AO3 link]

A birthday arrives, and with it, an uncharacteristic emotional outburst. Angus gives something priceless. Magnus gives a bad hug. Taako gives it his best shot.

Neverwinter was a special kind of hell if you wanted to get anywhere, but especially when it rained. Magnus imagined most cities were like that, but the winding streets and intersections of one of the oldest settlements in Faerun were never meant for modern wagons, and the stormy season meant bad traffic and worse tempers.

A particularly large wagon pulled up just short of colliding with them. Magnus shoved Angus aside and slapped it on its front.

"Hey!" he shouted. "We're walking, here!"

The driver, a portly gnome with goggles and gloves, made a lewd gesture from his seat atop the wagon and shouted something indecipherable. Magnus stuck his tongue out and pushed Angus on ahead. People was too busy jockeying for position to care about little things like "pedestrians." He never would have come himself, but Angus had insisted on going himself, and Magnus wasn't about to let any ten-year-old brave this madness alone. Even if that ten-year-old was eleven.

"You're really sure it's around here somewhere?" Magnus asked as they stepped up onto the cobblestone sidewalk.

"Positive, sir!" Angus said, raising his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd. "I passed by it a bunch of times when I was staking out an inn near here."

"Why were you staking out an inn?"

"Oh, it's a long story, sir!" Angus said eagerly, side-stepping a pair of orcs arguing in the middle of the sidewalk. "See, I was hired by this tavern-owner to—"

"You know what, never mind." Magnus sighed and glanced around. "Just tell me if you see it."

"Aha!" Angus exclaimed, pointing down the street. He started running, and Magnus had to jog to keep up, shouting for the kid to watch his step.

It was an old building on the edge of an alley, looked like a real hole-in-the-wall. The worn sign hanging out above the sidewalk (carved from fine-grained walnut, nice) proclaimed it Redd's Threads! Vintage Clothier! Antiques, Heirlooms, and Hand-Me-Downs!

They stepped inside, and the door shut out most of the noise. Angus made certain to wipe his boots on the doormat while Magnus took off the toque that Merle knitted him.

"This is it?" Magnus asked.

"Yeah!" Angus said happily. "Isn't it great?"

Floor to ceiling, the place was lined with racks of clothes. Thick wooden shelves holding loosely folded shirts and blouses to heavy racks with hangers carrying endless numbers of jackets and pants. The shelves divided the room into crude aisles, with sections defined less by type than by age. There were mannequins modeling full outfits in the corners, and disembodied wooden hands on the walls wearing gaudy costume jewelry. If there was one constant that Magnus could recognize among the endless fashions on display, it was that they were all big, loud, and garish.

"I'll be ding-dang-damned, Angus," he said. "It's perfect."

"I know!" Angus said excitedly, unwinding his scarf from his neck. "There's got to be something here he'll like!"

Magnus chuckled. For the last few weeks, Taako had been dropping the least-subtle hints imaginable that his birthday was coming up. Practically everyone in the Bureau knew it by now, and they'd been arranging the least-surprising surprise party as a result. Magnus had planned on carving Taako a cutting board or something, but when Angus told him he knew a place in Neverwinter that had the perfect gift, he'd decided to put it off. Now he was glad he had.

"I'll check shirts, you check blouses?" Magnus offered.

Angus nodded. "And we'll meet by the jewelry!"

Magnus put his hand out, palm down. Angus put his on top of it. They raised them together and shouted, "Break!" and set out on their quest.

In truth, Magnus hadn't expected it to be quite so easy to shop for Taako. He didn't know a damn thing about fashion, cooking, or magic, and those were the only three things he knew Taako liked. But he didn't have to know those things-he only had to know Taako. And Taako would have loved it in there. Half the inventory would leave him gasping with mocking laughter, and the other half would have him counting his coins.

There was only one other person in the shop besides him and Angus. The titular Redd, Magnus supposed, considering the bright crimson scales the dragonborn had. He had a thick neck, a barrel chest, and a surprisingly gentle voice. He'd answered some questions Magnus had about the age and nature of certain items—there was a sort of cloak-cape-poncho thing that he had his eye on, but it had a bunch of tiny holes in it Redd explained couldn't be mended.

"Some old wizard's dueling cape," the dragonborn said, scratching at a spot below his eye. "Pretty sure he lost. Tried everything to patch it up, but no dice. Must have been some spell."

Magnus had grimaced and put that one back where he found it. Maybe jewelry was a better idea.

He found Angus in a corner, going through a bin with a sign that read, Bargain Bucket! Name Your Price!

"Any luck yet?" Magnus asked, admiring a big crystal necklace hanging on the wall.

Angus pulled his arms from the bin and regarded the salmon-colored shirt he'd pulled out with disappointment. "Not yet," he said with a sigh. "But I know I'll find something soon! How about you, sir?"

Magnus started to reply when one of the wooden hands on the wall caught his eye. "Hey, Redd," he called out over his shoulder. "What's this one?"

The shopkeeper looked up from a book he'd been reading and laughed. "That's a doozy. Meant to look like Lady Blisk's bracelet, big ol' thing covered in dragon opals. Some con-artist tried to impersonate her a few years back. When they threw her in the clink, all her stuff got auctioned off."

"So what's it made out of?"

"Enchanted sea-glass, I think?" Redd shrugged. "Costume junk. Cost more to make than it's worth."

Magnus picked it up off the wooden hand. The light caught and shimmered across the band as he turned it in his hands. It was big, and loud, and gaudy, and fake, and very oddly elegant.

Yeah, that sounded about right.

As Magnus finished paying for the bracelet and Redd wrapped it up for him, Angus shuffled over from the corner.

"Nothing?" Magnus asked.

Angus shook his head and sighed. "I really thought I'd find the perfect thing here..."

"Hey, Ango." Magnus got down on his haunches and put a hand on Angus's shoulder. "A gift doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be thoughtful. And you've put a lot of thought into this, right?"

Angus nodded slowly. Magnus grinned and ruffled the boy's hair a little too hard.

"So just grab something. He'll be over the moon about it, I promise."

"Was that a joke, or—"

"Just go grab a shirt and let's go home, Ango."

"Yes, sir."

Magnus stood as the kid went back into one of the aisles. Redd huffed behind him.

"Kids, right?"

"Tell me about it," Magnus said.

"So, you adopt, or...?"

Magnus turned, eyes wide. "What? Oh! No, he's not mine! We're just, like... co-workers."

Redd stared at him. Magnus stared back.

"Co-workers."

Magnus nodded enthusiastically.

"You know," Redd said, "I wish I could say that was the weirdest thing I've heard, but—"

"Sir! Sir!"

Magnus turned around and saw Angus bounding down one of the aisles with something in his hands.

"I found it! I found it!"

"Found what?"

Angus held it up.

"Holy shit."

"Oh yeah," Redd volunteered. "Someone brought that in years ago. No idea what it's about. Threw it in the bucket after a while because no one wanted the damn thing."

"How much?!" Angus shouted across the five feet separating them.

Redd shrugged and scratched at the spot below his eye again—Magnus was pretty sure it was a scar. "Bucket says name your price. But it being a gift and all... whatever, you can have it."

Angus stood stock still for a second, then sprinted around the end of the counter and hugged the very startled dragonborn. "Thank you, sir! This means so much to me!"

Redd looked down at the kid, then at Magnus, who smiled and shrugged.

"Kids, right?"

Taako got up on the day of his birth, announced loudly to Magnus and Merle that he was going to be out for a few hours "doing wizard stuff, no bigs," and went to go nap on the quad. Truly, he was a master manipulator.

It had been years since anyone besides Taako had actually celebrated his birthday, and for years before that he hadn't celebrated it at all. Now he had people around who seemed to give a damn about him (and who he had begun to give a damn about despite himself) and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip by. Especially when there was a chance this would be the last birthday he'd see, depending on how much more dangerous this job got.

Besides, the last person who gave him a birthday present had later tried to kill him. Taako would much prefer that not be the last one he received.

After a couple hours dozing on the grass underneath one of the big oak trees (how did they even get them up here?) Taako figured he'd given them enough time to set up his surprise party. He ambled back down to the private Reclaimers' suite, swishing his cloak and whistling happy birthday to himself. With a quick breath to prepare himself for acting just so surprised, he opened the door.

The suite was empty. Magnus and Merle were still at the dining room table, past the porthole in the floor. Magnus was whittling, and Merle had a book. He licked one of his wooden fingers and turned the page as Taako stared.

After a moment of considering whether or not he had been too subtle (and another more frightening moment when he wondered if no one really cared) Taako smelled something in the air. Not a smell, really, but more... abstract. More arcane. He reached up, tapped a finger to his temple, and cast True Sight.

The entire Bureau appeared at once, crowding the suite from wall to wall. Streamers hung from the ceiling and walls, and balloons crowded the space above the porthole. As one, everyone shouted, "Surprise!"

Taako didn't have to act much at all, turns out.

There were a few exceptions to the party—Garfield had sent a BOGO coupon through the mail, Klarg had written a lovely little birthday letter in flowing cursive, and Leon sent a death threat—but most people he knew had bothered to show up and wish him well. Carey had gotten him a knife ("For cooking or stabbing, whatever!") while Killian had gotten him a pair of fabulous new boots with fur trim. The Director had abstained from gift-giving, but came as a courtesy, and to get her cut of the workplace birthday cake. Avi had gotten him a pocket flask filled with what he called "the Good Stuff," and Johann composed and played a song that wasn't a total downer for once.

Taako saved certain gifts for last. Kravitz had popped in briefly; he stayed just long enough to flirt awkwardly and hand over a small box containing a silver medallion with a raven crest. Taako had no plans to take it off anytime soon.

Merle, bless the stupid crunchy jackass, had gotten Taako a joke book. Though it was more of a joke omnibus—the thing was five hundred pages and had a glossary of terms and a bibliography. It was comprehensive in a way that was almost frightening. He would have mocked Merle for his gift (and he did, a little) but in all honesty the old dwarf was probably the one person Taako knew who could reliably make him laugh, so he'd appreciated it all the same.

Magnus and Angus came last, at the tail end of the party. They both looked extremely pleased with themselves, Angus doubly so since he had also baked the cake.

"Marble with buttercream frosting," Taako said clinically, licking frosting from his finger. "Nice."

"Thank you, sir!" Angus said, beaming proudly. "I could have tried something different, but this didn't really seem like the occasion for experimentation."

Taako shrugged and playfully nudged the boy with his elbow. "The classics exist for a reason, my dude."

Magnus handed over his gift, a wooden jewelry box with an umbrella carved into the top. Taako was in the middle of asking why it wasn't a duck when he opened it and had to stifle a gasp.

"Damn, homie," he said, lifting the spiral bracelet up towards the light. "Where'd you get something like this?"

"Trade secret," Magnus said, with a playful glance at Angus. As if Taako couldn't figure that one out. "It's costume, obviously—"

"Obviously."

"—but it reminded me of you."

Taako turned the bracelet in his hands, admiring how the massive opals caught the light. He slipped it on, and though it dangled a bit, when he shook his hand it didn't go anywhere. This was definitely made for someone with wrists like his, and startlingly similar tastes too.

"Gotta admit, Magnus," Taako said reluctantly, "this is... it's something."

Magnus reached over and clapped him too hard on the shoulder. "Happy birthday, buddy."

Taako rubbed his arm and held his tongue—his own personal gift to Magnus—then turned to the boy detective practically vibrating off the couch. "Alright, Agnes, what have you got for me?"

"The best gift I could hope to find, sir!" Angus said, picking up a wrapped shirt box and running over to hand it to Taako. "Something to thank you for teaching me, and celebrate your cooking again!"

There was little Taako could do or say to stifle his enthusiasm, so he didn't bother. He tore off the bow and opened the box, expecting a souvenir t-shirt or maybe a picture made of macaroni.

He did not expect the apron.

It was a rich, vibrant purple that the years had been kind to. The material had grown stiff and musty from disuse, but when he felt it between his fingers he could still recognize the dale cotton that they'd used for the first batch. The gold embroidery on the front was beginning to fray, but it had held together remarkably well; each delicate cursive letter was still fully legible.

Sizzle It Up!

with Taako

He still remembered designing the logo. What it felt like when he finally put it on. He'd slept in it, that first night. Hadn't taken it off the next day, either. The pride radiating off of him could have powered a sun. It felt like he'd never stop smiling, that his future was bright and certain, and nothing bad could possibly happen to him.

Here, now, Taako didn't know how to react. He barely even knew how he felt, seeing it again, holding it in his hands. He was torn between wanting to clutch it to his chest and cry, or tear it apart and burn it right then and there. It was paralyzing. Distantly, he was aware of voices; Angus, asking his opinion, maybe. He wasn't looking at him. Couldn't see beyond the thing in his hands.

There were people around him, he remembered. Staring at him. The paralysis of feeling was starting to get to him, make his heart thud harder in his chest. He was suddenly overcome with the need to be alone. So, without a word, Taako folded the apron back into its box, stood from the couch, and carried it to his bedroom. He shut the door behind him and sat down on the edge of his bed, letting his hands rest on the folded apron in his lap.

Taako had no idea what was going on in his own head. It was a kind of misery he had rarely experienced. He felt detached—more than usual, anyway. Like he was outside himself, seeing himself. Sitting on his bed, cradling a stupid piece of fabric like it was a treasured pet. What did it matter, anymore? The past was past. Dead and buried alongside forty corpses. It meant nothing to him now. Less than nothing.

So what was this, then?

Sazed had called it his armor. Taako had laughed—protects me from deadly splash-back, right?—and Sazed had said, no, no, because you're a different person when you put it on. More powerful, somehow. More confident. Taako had always preferred to think of it as a costume, like an actor would wear. But then, he'd always been drawn more to theatrics than poetry. That stuff was more Sazed's bag.

Taako realized his knuckles were white, and he had to work to unclench his hands from around the apron's straps. There were marks on his palms, and he'd broken a nail. He wondered if this is what madness felt like.

He heard a door open. His door, in his bedroom—right, that's where he was—and someone in heavy boots walked in. Taako didn't look up, but he tried to focus more on the present.

"What the hell, dude? I knocked like five times. You didn't answer."

Taako ran the pad of his thumb over the embroidery and said nothing.

"You've been in here for like twenty minutes. Everyone's gone except Angus. He's out there having a breakdown."

It occurred to Taako, then, that he wasn't sure which apron this was. They'd had so many. But there had been one that was his, and one that was Sazed's. Those had been unique.

"You have to go out there and say something to him. Even if you hate it. Just... swallow whatever it is that's bothering you and say thank you."

He turned the apron over, looked on the back, ran his fingers along the inside, searching. Taako wasn't sure why he cared whose it was, but he did, very much, and he needed to know right now.

"I mean it, Taako. I'm not leaving until you come out."

There. There it was. He lifted it a little to expose it to the light. A small sewn in tag with the letter "L" on it. The size. This wasn't his, wasn't Sazed's. This was one of the aprons they'd made to sell after the show. Just another piece of merch. Nothing special.

"Taako? Are you even listening?"

And suddenly, things crystalized. A course of action burned itself into his head, and Taako knew it was what he had to do. A little voice in the back of his head urged caution, consideration, but he ignored it. He'd had enough of this fucking paralysis, and the relief he felt at being free of it overrode everything else.

Taako looked up, and his room seemed to come into focus. Magnus was standing a little to his right, by the door, arms crossed and an uncharacteristic frown on his face. Taako stood up, threw the shirt box to the floor, folded the apron over one arm, and marched out.

The common room of the suite was strewn with after-party debris, paper cups and plates, streamers dangling from the ceiling, balloons starting to wilt and hang lower to the ground. There was no one there except Merle and Angus, sitting on the couch by the porthole. Angus was shaking, hugging his elbows and staring at the floor. Merle, looking supremely uncomfortable with his position as the only adult left in the room, was resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. They both looked up as Taako strode purposefully into the room, and Angus seemed both hopeful and terrified.

"S-Sir, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—"

"How's about a magic lesson, Angus?" Taako said flatly without breaking stride.

Angus froze for a moment, his mouth still open. "Uh—"

"Gotta take every opportunity to learn, my dude. Lessons are important."

Taako marched past them towards the door. He grabbed his umbrella off a coathook and turned back. Magnus had followed him from his room and now stood near the couch with Angus, who was now definitely leaning more towards terrified.

"This spell's a good one," Taako said, striding back towards them. "Got a lot of utility. Great at solving all sorts of problems."

"Sir, please—"

"Can't interrupt me now, kiddo, I'm on a roll." Taako stepped to the coffee table by the couch and gently laid out the apron. "Now, pay attention, because I can only do this once."

Merle's eyes widened and he stood up from his seat. "Hey, now, Taako—"

"Not your lesson, short round," Taako said as he rolled up his sleeves.

"You can't be serious," Magnus said, stepping away from the table.

"Or yours, dullard." He turned towards Angus, whose hands were balled up nervously beneath his chin. "Are you watching?"

Taako waited a beat, didn't get a response, and turned back to the apron. He leveled his umbrella at it.

"Taako, for god's sake—"

"I get that you're angry, kid, but really—"

"Sir, don't—!"

"Aaaaaand bazinga."

Taako jabbed the umbrella's point forward, and everyone flinched; Magnus held a hand up in front of his eyes, Merle winced and looked away, and Angus buried his face in his hands. There was a flash of light, a brief wave of force, and it was over.

With a meaningless little flourish, Taako set the umbrella aside to pick up the now much smaller apron. He held it up and examined it critically. Satisfied, Taako turned to his right, stepped forward, took a knee, and gently hung the strap over Angus's head.

"I know, it's a tad gauche to regift," Taako said mildly as he tied it and dusted off the front, "but I think this'll mean more to you than me."

It was impossible to avoid his eyes forever, and when Taako finally looked up into the boy's teary, stunned disbelief, the only thing he could think to do was tilt his head and give a crooked smile.

"Looks good on you, bubeleh."

For a long, frozen moment, no one made a sound. Then the dam broke.

Angus threw his arms around Taako and heaved ugly sobs into his neck. Taako wrapped his arms around the boy and let his chin rest on his tiny shoulder. He closed his eyes, let the emotional turmoil of the moment wash over him, and sighed.

"I'm no good at this, pumpkin," he murmured privately. "You know that."

Taako felt Angus nod his head against his shoulder in between gasping sobs.

"I'm not a great person. Not even a good one. I'm just... me." Taako hugged him tighter. "All I can do is try."

Angus squeezed tiny handfuls of Taako's shirt. The sobs were starting to subside, even if the tears persisted.

"Are you mad at me?"

For a few long moments, Taako worried at the answer. But Angus, his breath hitching in his chest, shook his head. Taako felt the last of the tension leave his chest, and he smiled into Angus's shoulder.

"Thank you."

It took a little bit for Angus to calm down, but Taako didn't rush him; he held the embrace until Angus finally started to pull away. His eyes were red, his cheeks were wet, and his glasses were fogged up, and for a moment it all looked as bad as Taako could imagine. But then Angus smiled, and everything was okay.

Taako squeezed his shoulders as he stood and turned toward the others. Merle was looking at Taako like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears, while Magnus had both his hands over his mouth and was weeping openly.

Taako shrugged. "What?"

Magnus rushed over—and Taako really should have seen that coming—and scooped Angus up in one big arm and mashed Taako against his barrel chest with the other.

"God damn it, Magnus—"

"Shut up!" Magnus shouted, voice cracking. "You earned this!"

"It's my birthday, you dullard," Taako croaked.

"I just love you guys so much!" Magnus said loudly. "Merle, get over here!"

Merle held his hands up and shook his head. "Oh, no thanks, I'm good—"

"If I suffer, you suffer, you little turd," Taako ground out from beneath Magnus's crushing bearhug. "Get over here."

With tremendous reluctance, Merle Highchurch wandered over and attempted to insert himself into the group hug. Magnus bent down and mashed him between Taako and Angus, who laughed as Merle started inventing new and exciting curses. It was, without question, the least comfortable group hug ever devised, and Taako was miserable in it.

He didn't really mind, though. No regrets. Taako had learned that lesson long ago. It was one of the most important things his aunt had ever taught him, right up there with how to make a roux and how to not give a fuck. They were the words he'd lived his entire life by, and they had never steered him wrong.

Live like you're dyin', bubeleh, because no other time matters more than now.

#taz #the adventure zone #taako #angus mcdonald #fanfiction #boy i couldn't figure out what to do with this one #but it's sat there for too long #and i like it too much to fiddle with it forever #please enjoy this overly emotional schmaltz!!

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sea-salt-bastion-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Shotgun #1: I'd like to Apologize for what the Alchemist did.

Shotgun DM #1 happened on Saturday night. We all rolled 12th level Characters for 5e. I played a Half-Elf Songsword Bard who successfully relies on a great personality. The others: A Human Cursed One (he refused to pick a subclass because he loves to make useless characters and get into hijinx), A Human Controller of Chaos Hexblade (Who loves Elementals. Loves. Loves... *Hand motions*), a Halfling Pathfinder Ranger who for whatever reason was Guy Fieri and a Dwarven Boneshaper Alchemist who made this whole shitshow go from a 9 to a 10.

So we start with the first DM. We start with the tavern troupe, it's tried and true. I'm performing. The Ranger is reviewing a Steak. The Cursed One is doing his best. Hexblade was chatting up the bartender with the Alchemist. We are picked out for our obvious look of experience by the bartender and he tells us we should seek work at the Castle. The Alchemist's owner sets this up with a King who needs to overthrow a whole city because of corruption and then kidnap the prince. We are promised half his salary. We promised a shiny new city. The first DM did a good job of providing us with direction and where to go in the end with whenever each of us took over. The timer goes off for the first time with us still talking to the King who is finishing up the exposition as the Hexblade is sensually caressed by an Ice Elemental who pops out of portal to come and get herself some Hexblade and disappear. It's the Hexblade's turn to DM. My Bard just finishes creating and memorizing a symbol for her spell of Teleportation Circle.

We travel there and find folks in front of an overturned cart. Because of mine and the Cursed One's Perception, we see that one of them has a knife at the ready. I fire off lightning bolt and blow people away and light the cart on fire as well as Mom the other two and have them come back and face me so they can explain what they did. This successfully gets the attention of more bandits who fall to the might of the spellcasters. We finally get there aaaaand the Bard acts like a Rogue and starts us off by gambling with some locals at the tavern while the Ranger is yanking food off people's plates and "reviewing them" and claiming they are "money". The Dwarf becomes the Bard and plays us some Dropkick Murphy's ala Dwarven Can-Can line. The Cursed One was hellbent on keeping my honor intact. The Hex Blade was drinking. I manage to cheat my way into a private conversation with a Half-Orc I beat at cards. He tells me the movers and the shakers and I charm my way to somewhere to lay low because the rest of party was blowing our cover fast. We get to a safehouse and the Hex Blade comes back as my Bard leaves so I may take over the reigns.

The Bard leaves with the Half-Orc to go find out more about this prominent guard. They are at the local thieves guild safehouse. The Guild Master Qana comes to greet them. They get acquainted and they devise a plan to raid this storehouse for weapons in case we decide to confront the King of this city the old fashioned way. Ranger has a brilliant idea. He and the Hexblade go and scout out the location. Ranger pretends he knows how to converse like a regular person to regular people. Oh, look, low rolls. The guards tell him to piss up a road. Ranger finally gets a good enough roll in to convince the guard at the entrance to accept some cooking made by the Ranger, little do the guards know they will shit their pants eating this dish. He prays for guidance from the flavor god. He receives a recipe for Glorious Beef Stew. The ranger and hexblade go shopping for poison and ingredients. They get on back and start cooking. Everyone who cares makes peace with the culinary sin being committed. My only regret is someone not saying "I command this particular drop of laxative by the powers of naughtiness to be really, really shitty!". The party spends the night fucking off by getting plastered at a Thieves Guild rager sponsored by Mead and Prostitution. There was fine entertainment at this party, the main event was a big name performer from another land. Suddenly my Bard appears to perform and Qana shits a brick because his ex-wife just stepped on-stage. At that point I had to give the reigns to the Ranger's owner as he gets sucked into a portal full of bubbling cooking oil, we hear "this is gonna be money...."

My Bard is back, I inform the party that Farenn (Big Guard Guy) invited me to a date that night and I would be attempting to seek an audience with the King so I could commit regicide. They tell me, they have poison stew ready for this warehouse they plan to raid. I'm game. Dwarf is ready to blow shit up. We arrive and the stew is carted to the entrance. People are served and then they have to consider new pants and organs. My Bard waits for the right moment for when in the panic, these guards are running around shitting. They finally get in a good line and I fire off lightning bolt and set the armory on fire. We panic and load up the cart as best possible, war horns sound in the distance, we move fast and the guards arrive. Alchemist tosses one of his magical bombs at the mob of them who happen to be near the armory... there's a massive explosion and the whole mob is just gone. Gone. Boom. Gone. I'm howling at this. The rest of this kind of gets out of hand as the DM just kind of lets the Hexblade run around murdering random people. The Alchemist has gotten livid and decides to go for a walk while drunk Qana sulks over my Bard. He gets stopped by three guards who give him shit. He kills them and blows up a crowd with another Arcane Bomb. *sighs*. This is now the start of the fun quote: "Hey, I think I saw a body in the woods". He goes around telling guards this to lead them away, murdering them and then lightning them ablaze. The timer goes off and the Cursed One spaces out.

My bard goes on her date and gets an audience with the guard with a good persuasion roll, trying to avoid having to sleep with anyone. We go to our audience. The Alchemist uh "finds (and makes)" two bodies in the woods for the lols. We get in, I perform for the King... a giant chicken on top of a golden egg (the prince)... I now want liquor, out of game and also in game. I succeed and beseech his royal highness so I may kiss his royal wing. The King agrees and extends his wing. I grab it sweetly and cast lightning bolt, obliterating the chicken and country frying it as the Ranger put it. I frantically begin drawing a Teleportation Circle to get back to the other King while the others fend off the royal guards. We push the egg onto the circle and everyone but the Cursed One is on the circle and we teleport out. The Alchemist for good measure sends a quick magical message to his dad saying "now". The DM has a massive arcane bomb drop on the city and annihilate the whole city. We see the mushroom cloud in the distance (war, war never changes)...

To wrap this up, long story short this could have gone horrible but in the end was incredibly fun and actually coherent. We found that it ended up being a good way for inexperienced DMs or folks who need work on coming up with stuff on the fly to get better. This surprised us and it actually ended up happening one more time. This has become a new tradition.

#d&d #dm tag #shotgun

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