#Undergrowth Scavenger

[dravidious]

You're the most amazing

creature!

I also filled the other 5 color pairs with various frogs

[poppedbubblgum]

I read these concepts for Prime Silver by @krafterwrites and liked them so much I made designs of my own based off of them

And maybe gave them a few headcanons of my own :3

New Yoke Silver adopted the nickname “Ghost” from the citizens when he would vanish after doing a good deed. The resistance tried to recruit him on multiple occasions, but he refused, choosing to stay on his own, for better or worse. He’s not unkind, but he can get so wrapped up in his missions that it’s hard to get through to him. He has a little bunker of his own, similar to Nine, in the outskirts of the city. He only lets himself be seen when absolutely necessary, as his powers make him a major target for the council. He has the most developed skill with his powers compared to his alternates.

Spending so much time alone on his small boat means that No Place Silver (Skipper) is quite excitable when meeting anyone new. He did have a crew once, but the ship caught fire and sank, leaving him as the sole survivor on his little dinghy. That incident is why he needs the eyepatch too. While his boat does have a sail he crafted himself, he can move the boat while in the water with his powers. His powers help him survive on the open ocean where many others couldn’t, like he can simply grab fish from underwater (with marginal success) to eat. He loves to help but can sometimes go a bit overboard.

Boscage Silver (Sliver) wants to be left alone. Period. Never mind that he just stole your stuff, get within 10 feet of him and you are getting a tree flung at you. Ironically though, he’s really good friends with Mangey. He’s a man of few words, with only the occasional grunt to be heard. He’s terrified of Thorn, but prefers dealing with her to living with the other scavengers. His powers are really bright in the dim of the undergrowth, which means thorn can find him easier, so he doesn’t use them regularly, mostly for fighting and fleeing. Sometimes he disguises himself as a bush with how fluffy his head spines are.

[lucettapanchetta]

Scavengers are like people, full of diversity! Allow me to show you the biological differences between all six of them!

Outskirts / Pipeyard / Farm Arrays Scavengers:

The most common scavenger archetype.

Fur ranges from pale tones to various browns.

Eyes are typically dark and subdued.

Primarily diurnal.

Omnivorous with relatively small mouths.

Lankier and less fluffy compared to other scavenger types.

Sky Islands / Industrial Complex / Chimney Canopy Scavengers:

The second most common archetype.

Possess canine-like lower faces, with coarse ridges on their tusks.

Primarily carnivorous.

Eye colors tend to be dark or desaturated.

Garbage Wastes / Waterfront Facility Scavengers:

A highly nomadic and adaptable group, incorporating other archetypes.

Due to low genetic diversity, they have interbred extensively.

Insectivorous, with mouth mutations suited to their diet.

Possess sensory lip whiskers to detect prey and navigate their environment.

Some dye their fur using weaker pigments, possibly mimicking their acropolitan relatives.

Fur is often mangy or unkempt.

Extremely thin and agile in build.

Acropolis / Undergrowth / Looks to the Moon Scavengers:

Hand-signing evolved substantially due to advancements in scavenger hierarchies.

Most commonly seen with non-functioning tails.

Known for being more "advanced" than most scavengers.

Wiped out after a certain event but repopulated during the Saint Campaign.

Dye their fur and faces with vivid, hyper-pigmented colors.

Features are more pronounced, such as antlers, eyes, and fur texture.

Longer fingers adapted for vertical climbing.

The most diverse group of scavengers.

Shaded Citadel / Dormant Construct Scavengers:

Do not do hand-signing like other scavengers do, comfortably relying on patterned stomps and scratches to create a "language".

Characterized by large, hyperpigmented eyes that tend to glow in darkness.

Small antlers and a slim, hunched figure, enabling them to squeeze into tight spaces.

Many have sensory whiskers, with some becoming blind through evolutionary adaptation.

Their fur is chaotic and untamed.

Somewhat stationary, territorial and known to make noises.

A distinct lack of lower jaw shape often causes frequent drooling.

The literal embodiment of a scavenger, feeding on whatever remains they find.

Drainage System / Sunken Pier Scavengers:

An "aquatic" archetype, though they are not proficient swimmers.

Amphibious hands designed for catching prey in water.

Their fur is dense and semi-waterproof.

Streamlined, smaller antlers suited for their environment.

Eyes tend to be smaller, with a range of colors.

Greenish fur, caused by algae buildup, provides a symbiotic advantage.

Typically, stockier and more robust than other scavengers.

[crevicedwelling]

Are there any bugs that eat mammals? I think it's very interesting that the 'normal' food chain and mammal-centric pov would be subverted in that instance.

iirc there's a large centipede that lives in a cave and eats bats but also I might be thinking of a snake 😖

Thank you!

botflies, mosquitoes, louse flies, various other bloodsucking flies, mites, arthropods, and postmortem scavengers like other flies, carrion beetles

if you mean hunt and eat an entire mammal, several species of Scolopendra enter caves to hunt bats, S. galapagoensis was recorded eating a nest of rice rats, various tarantulas could probably eat small mammals opportunistically.

life in the undergrowth clip with Scolopendra after bats. formative experience for me watching this as a nymph

[opashoo]

You have an Artificer AU where they DON'T get redeemed? Tell me more, I'm all ears.

Well, I don't want to say too much because I want to tell these stories eventually once I start my AU askblog, but this specific part of Artificer's story is going to be covered pretty early on in the overarching plot.

The AU's basic premise is this: Blizzards have overtaken the land and all of the slugcats live in shelter in Undergrowth, run by Saint who maintains a garden. No single slugcat is the central focus except perhaps Saint, but the first storyline is going to revolve around Artificer.

An unconscious Artificer is actually the last slugcat that Saint brings into the shelter for unknown reason, and while everyone is more or less willing to allow it because they respect Saint's decision, it is a unanimously unpopular decisions. Arti's reputation is known and the shelter relies on scavengers caravans for materials that the shelter can't produce on its own, and no one wants to risk the potential fallout of harboring a mass murderer and enemy of the scavengers. The cirumstances of Artificer's backstory are different in my AU and are tied much more heavily to scavenger society, but these facts remain.

Once Artificer's awake, the other slugcats try to make peace in different ways for the sake of coexisting, from tenuously telling her "It's okay" to trying to assuage her guilt to avoiding the subject of her past entirely. Aside from Saint, who remains mysterious and aloof, Hunter is the only slugcat willing to tell her to her face "I know what you've done and I don't trust you. The only reason I haven't thrown you to the blizzard is because I respect Saint." Artificer ironically ends up gravitating towards her because of this, despite how much the two argue and legitimately hate each other at the start.

Eventually everyone learns to get along; I'm not interested in punishing Artificer narratively, but one of my primary goals with my story is to shift the usual framing around Artificer "redemption". One of the big points I want to emphasize is that there is nothing Arti can do can ever 'undo' all the pain and death she's caused. No one but her victims can give her forgiveness. At the same time, punitive justice doesn't actually accomplish anything meaningful in this scenario; it doesn't do anything to prevent further harm if Artificer has already stopped, and it doesn't materially benefit her victims. It just satisfies a sense of justice that isn't rooted in the material world.

Saint's decision to allow her into the shelter protects her from being thrown back out to die in the blizzard by the other slugcats. Isolated in the shelter and marked as an enemy of the scavengers, there's no way for her to meaningfully reconnect with scavenger society (for better or for worse). Despite their very contentious relationship, Hunter is the one to tell her that there's no point in dying or wallowing, but there's no "redemption" either. So what else is there to do but keep on living and try to do better?

Anyway yeah, that's Artificer's place in my AU. Yeah she gets to live with all the other slugcats and go on fun adventure, but my goal is expressly to move the narrative away from both punitive justice as an inherent moral option and the idea that someone needs or even necessarily can achieve "redemption", if redemption even exists beyond an arbitrary binary designation. I prefer something much more neutral and pragmatic: You're alive, so keep on living. At least while you're alive you have to opportunity to do good.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

I am so invested in your posts about Mountain and his pack of moms.

Does Mountain turn into a big kit whenever he visits them? Like a college kid who goes back home to his family during holidays.

- @ghouletteanon

(I did exactly two Google searches and these are the names for the previous drummers I found. I went with Terra over Gamma for obvious elemental reasons. I think there's three total? My inbox and DMs are open to any and all earth ghoul stans who know more than I do.)

Nothing terrible under the cut except the horror of knowing your parental figures have sex.

He knows Pebble's aware as soon as he sets foot into the deeper woods. The trees and mycelium networks are her eyes and ears, leaves rustling with wind-carried words to wherever she is. Not a single twig in this forest snaps without her knowing about it, which would give anyone else an incredible headache but Pebble seems to like it just fine.

And sure enough, he doesn't get but a yard or so before she appears. Sitting on an ancient log like she's been there the whole time waiting for him to pass by, even though he knew he'd been alone just moments ago.

She's all criss-crossed up from her arms to her legs, still as a statue as she watches him approach with his picnic basket. He doesn't say anything; he knows this routine well enough by now. Pebble can get odd, when left to her own devices for too long. The others are usually good at bringing her back to herself though.

Food helps too. Not the food she can scavenge from the forest like berries and mushrooms and prey animals eaten raw. Food that's been altered, baked, cooked. He lifts the cloth of the picnic basket and lets the warm smell of fresh bread waft out. Her nostrils flair and she stands up, quick as a wink. With one quick nod, she's off; darting through the undergrowth like a fox. It's on him to keep up, but he knows she'll come back for him if he lays behind too far. She'll get impatient but she'll always come back.

The path is different every time he visits. Some trick of Terra's to keep strangers out if they aren't guided in but he doesn't mind. He knows how much they value privacy and the time it takes to get to the destination is never too long. The undergrowth thins out, the trees grow further and further apart until they're in Ivy's garden with Ivy herself bending over to tug up a bundle of root vegetables. Pebble licks her fingertips as she walks over, delivering a loud and resounding smack to Ivy's rear end that Mountain glances away to avoid seeing barely in the nick of time.

"Pebble!" Ivy shouts, shooting up straight and cuffing the small menace in return. "Just once, a hello would be nice to hear instead of-"

"Hello." Mountain calls, walking between the rows to her with a wave. She turns around again and her happiness is so infectious that nearby plants immediately start flowering in response. Pebble takes the opportunity to dart into the little home that's been carved into the earth, set into the base of gentle slope covered in soft green grass.

"Mountain!" She cries, dropping her harvest into the dirt and leaping over the plants to catch him up in a bear hug. "Oh, I was just thinking about you! Terra was saying you were all back from tour, so of course we've been expecting you but honestly not so soon and-"

"Let that boy breathe." Comes a deeper voice from the doorway of the little home. Mountain straightens up automatically, brushing a few fly aways out of her face as Terra easily lopes over with her cane. She stops a few feet away, looks over him with a critical eye and he's acutely aware of every wrinkle and stain in his clothes, the way his right boot's come untied and how the flannel he has on now was definitely hers once upon a time.

"Suppose we'll have to take you as you are then." Terra says, a telling twinkle in her eye though her face remains firm. "What'd you bring us this time?"

"Harvest bread." He says, finally handing over the picnic basket. "Gooseberry and raspberry jam. Two kinds of cheese. Wine and whiskey and weed."

"Good stuff." Ivy says in approval.

"We'll see." Terra says. Then, "Pebble, don't you dare."

Pebble slinks out from behind Terra, hands raised in innocence even as her tail whips back. It's caught just in time by Terra's own tail, wrangled into submission as Mountain pretends to be thoroughly engrossed by his feet. He's not a prude, far from it but it just feels awkward to watch the ones who helped him with his first moments Topside be...like that.

"Welcome back." Terra says fondly after Pebble yanks her tail away and stomps off to set the table. Ivy picks up her vegetables again and goes to put her gardening tools away. "Tell us where you've been this whole time."

"All over." Mountain begins. And, like he always does, hits his head on the doorframe on the way in.

Some things never change.

[gunpowder-arti]

you know, i'm unable to see saint as an ending, any more than it is a beginning.

gh--alright. i'm going to preface this by saying it is after 3am where i live and i am on enough melatonin to sedate a horse, which is probably why i've been possessed to write this post to begin with. all of this is up to interpretation, half of this is shit i made up in my brain, and maybe (probably) i'm finding meaning that wasn't intended to be there and maybe (probably) i'm grasping at straws (haha jusr like

but. okay. if you know me, you might know that I am a Paleontology Nerd. and you might know that I quite enjoy waxing poetic about it. bear with me here i promise this is connected

within rain world, there are multiple lines of dialogue that I would like to bring up--

Ah, in the end, everything reaches the conclusion of its journey. I'm not sure how many of us are even left in this world. A new cycle is already unfolding, one we need not be a part of. We've long outserved our purpose. (Looks to the Moon, Rivulet's campaign)

A little beast! Come to join me in this great undoing. The old world will soon vanish, wiped from history, to pave a path for the dawning of a new era. How many have been consumed so far? Were we the tenth civilization, or the thousandth? Amusingly, they thought their small struggles bore such great significance. All was naught but to serve the void. (Two Sprouts; Twelve Brackets, Saint's campaign)

even the title of the credits theme--Reclaiming Entropy--seems to speak to my point. which is:

there is one thing the world proves, time and again, and that is that life cannot end. it is a cycle in and of itself. entropy reclaims, epochs end. volcanoes erupt, meteors fall, glaciers melt. few can change fast enough to accommodate. 83% of genera went extinct during the Great Dying.

and yet, as entropy all-but-guarantees massive destruction, so too it all-but-guarantees that destruction is not absolute. that remaining 17% grow and spread and diversify. the world ends. the world lives. the world is changed. the world is new. the world is alive.

any that cannot change with it, die.

as Moon states in the dialogue shown above, the Iterators have outserved their purpose. this is their flaw. they cannot change, and they cannot reproduce, and they cannot perpetuate themselves forever. they live for a long time, yes, but time and entropy claim all.

and that time and entropy, indeed, is named as Saint.

I... do not interpret Saint's campaign literally most of the time, unless I'm thinking about them as a Character TM. but I think that to see them as an ending, as an absolute--it goes against this world's very nature.

the Saint is not absolution. the Saint is the psychopomp for an era. the Saint is the turning of the epoch.

I would like to point out the Scavengers. they have grown and spread and changed.

The scavengers never cease to adapt, even in this weather! (Looks to the Moon, upon being brought a lantern as Saint)

they are widespread and ever-adaptable. they will live, i would hazard a guess, even when most do not.

even the lizards! they have grown fur (or feathers--i personally hc it as feathers. but it's not clear) in an adaptation to the cold. the strawberry lizards have developed unique and beautiful adaptations. the orange lizards have spread throughout the land. undergrowth grows lush and warm, even as the world is carpeted in tundra (it is not a wasteland! look! they're alive, they're changing!).

how can you look at this world and say it is dying?

how can you look at this world and say it is dead?

the saint is an ending, but so too--perhaps even moreso--the saint is a beginning.

the saint is the impact winter. the saint is entropy. the saint is change.

the saint is a mass extinction event.

[alexandraisyes]

how much am i aloud to know about the Hunger Games AU :glancescutely:

TEE FUCKING HEE BITCH BUCKLE UP

And y'all this is gonna be so long but this is an AU I've been working on with Turbo for *months*. We love our TSBS hunger games.

So these are the tributes, this is just a sketch obviously

And here are the mentors, they haven't been sketched yet but have heights

And a few important people from the capitol (there will probably be a few more added later on as we work on developing the plot some more).

Each character will have several refs for the different parts of the story.

Information about the tributes. "Group" is the age group for the Games. In this world the age of maturity is 17, and once you are 17 you are considered an adult in the eyes of the law. Teens are between 12-16, Young Adults are 17-21, and just like in the States while they are adults there are a few restrictions on what all they can do, and certain jobs they can't work until they are 22. Adult is 22-29, and really the only difference between Y.Adult and Adult is that there's certain jobs you can't do when you're below 22 because young people aren't expendable like that according to this government. Elder is the last age group for the games, 30-35, and once you've crossed 35 you are no longer applicable for the Games.

(Poleart is supposed to say polearm)

Information about the Mentors. Then vs Now is how old they were when they won their games, and how old they are in the current narrative.

Tributes are selected by one female and one male tribute, in the lists for the tributes it says which group they represent in that aspect too. The government doesn't care what your pronouns are, they just care about if you're AFAB or AMAB because of tradition. The single exception is Harvest, who is lying about being AFAB and he was so vicious at the reaping about being with Blood that they didn't even bother to question it for the sake of their fingers.

We have done entire descriptions for the past arenas, but there's so much that I'm not gonna include here. Maybe in a separate post? Or when I open up a blog specifically for this AU since it's so convoluted. For an example of how long the arena descriptions are it's 5000 words. I will give you the description of the arena design for the one they're in during the story though.

72nd Annual Hunger Games Victor: Theme: **Apocalypse Forest** A post-apocalyptic wilderness where nature has reclaimed the remnants of civilization, turning it into a sprawling forest of tangled vegetation and decaying ruins. Set in the aftermath of a catastrophic event, such as a nuclear war or environmental collapse, this arena presents tributes with a harrowing landscape where survival is a constant struggle against both the elements and the remnants of humanity's downfall. The once-thriving cityscape has been engulfed by dense foliage, with skyscrapers now reduced to crumbling ruins and highways choked with overgrown vegetation. Tributes must navigate through the twisted remnants of urban infrastructure, facing hazards such as collapsed buildings, hidden traps, and radiation hotspots. The forest itself is a tangled maze of towering trees, dense undergrowth, and winding creeks, where tributes must contend with natural hazards such as toxic flora, mutated wildlife, and unpredictable weather patterns. The air is thick with the scent of decay, and the eerie silence is broken only by the distant cries of scavenging creatures and the creaking of rusted metal. Despite the desolation, pockets of life still exist within the forest, including desperate survivors, feral mutants, and rival factions vying for control. Tributes must navigate this hostile environment while also avoiding conflicts with other survivors, scavenging for resources, and deciphering the secrets of the apocalypse that brought about the forest's transformation.

There are ships, but they're not really a huge focus of the story. The main ones are surprise surprise, Blood/Sun/Harvest. If you've read my writing you should have expected this. There are a few background ships as well.

Unlike the uh canon Hunger Games, we're gonna give everyone the chance to talk to each other, hang out etc. Form alliances, friends, and rivalries. Instead of it all happening in three days before the arena, they get a whole month of training and publicity. Some parts of the story may be grueling for that reason, since we really want to give perspectives on all of the tributes. We're probably going to do a two or three-parter fic, before the games. The games. After the games.

We already know who dies, how they die, who lives, and how they live the rest of their lives after the games.

Oh yeah this is a bio-organic AU. Some of the characters are partially mechanical, like most of the celestial-based ones, but the rest are purely organic. The society is a mix of cyborgs, anthropomorphic animals, and humans.

Here's a few snippets of the plot that we have planned.

Sun and Moon are an oddity. Never has there been a set of (actual) siblings in the games before. Moon tried to tell Sun it would be okay when his name was pulled, and made sure to put on a brave face for the sake of Sun. He knew there was a 1/24 chance of him surviving the games. That was a risk he was willing to take. He would come back to Sun. You can only imagine the way his blood ran cold when they then pulled Sun's name and there was nothing he could do about it. He swore to himself he would find a way to get them free so he didn't have to see his little brother die in his arms. When Blood's name was pulled Harvest immediately pitched a fit. Blood had to pull him off of him so he could go up to the stage (and got bit for his futile effort). The second the female tribute was drawn Harvest volunteered for tribute. No one was going to kill his best friend unless it was him, thank you very fucking much. The guards tried to protest since he was coming from the male group, but they backed off after one almost lost a hand to sharp teeth. Ronty and Frank were from the same district but didn't know each other until they were both pulled for the games. Golden, Freddy's mentor, is his father. Freddy has two younger brothers who aren't old enough for the games yet. Foxy and Roxanne both have kids they need to win the games for to get back to. The Creator is the President.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: The Forest of Souls

Author: Diminuel

Artist: nhyhu

Rating: Teen

Pairings: Dean/Castiel

Length: 30000

Warnings: No archive warnings apply.

Tags: AU – Monsters have taken over, (involuntary) camping in Purgatory, Creature/ Trueform Castiel, Hurt Dean

Posting Date: November 2, 2023

Summary: When a hunt goes wrong Dean is forced to choose between getting killed by hellhounds or seeking shelter in the Forest of Souls, a forest full of the worst things Purgatory could spit out into the world of humans. Dean’s chances of survival are basically zero but still better than getting torn apart by a hellhound. He expects the werewolves and the vampire, but nothing could have prepared him for Castiel. He wasn’t like any creature Dean has ever seen before; powerful enough to keep every other monster away from Dean, impervious to monster warding and constantly evolving. Towards what, Dean doesn’t know. But for all his grumpiness, Castiel doesn’t seem to mean Dean any harm. But what is he? And might Dean make it out alive after all?

Excerpt: A movement behind the fire made Dean look up from his map. He reached for his silver blade, then stared at the spot where he had seen the movement. There wasn’t a lot of undergrowth here, giving Dean a clear view of anything approached. And yet, whatever was moving was difficult to spot. All Dean could tell was that it seemed to be coming closer, very slowly, and not in a straight path at all. And then it was at the barrier. Dean was at a loss. It was small, maybe the size of Dean’s palm and it mostly looked like… well. Dean couldn’t quite say. A bit of smoke that elongated as it moved. Currently, it was slithering along the warding, following the semi-circle dean had drawn. Back and forth, back and forth. It didn’t look at Dean, if it even could look. It only seemed to be interested in the warding. It gave Dean another chance to observe it. It did look like a little dark cloud. It had a form, but it wasn’t solid. Even as his curiosity was piqued – he’d never seen a creature like this! – he watched with bated breath, the knife still in his hand. And then suddenly it crossed over the warding line, without any hesitation. Quickly, it approached Dean’s side, somehow got a hold of the cloth that had held his bread and pulled it close. It moved across the cloth and then the crumbs were gone. Dean stared at it. Was it a… scavenger? It still wasn’t interested in Dean, but it gave Dean the impression that it was settling down now, a little cloudy loaf sitting on Dean’s bread cloth. Dean wasn’t sure what to do, torn between fear and curiosity. This was the Forest of Souls and anything in here could kill him, even if it was tiny. Especially if it could cross his heavy-duty warding! “Just what are you,” Dean asked, studying it. He wiped the crumbs on his thighs to the ground and the creature seemed to perk up. It darted forwards and cleaned them up, retreating to sit on the cloth. “You’re kinda… Gooey looking. And you scavenge. Scavenge Goo. Scavengoo, yeah, that’s it. That’s what you are,” Dean said, proud of his naming. It was stupid. Just a bit of entertainment with a potentially soul eating creature before he was going to die.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[yoonkinii]

We Were Human

Pairing(s): Ascended!AstarionxReader

Part 5:

Synopsis: Astarion died as soon as he became something the world has never seen before. No one noticed the damage before it was too late and the Astarion everyone loved was lost to the new one. No one could notice when the turn was slow and silent. He slowly lost the playful glint in his eyes. Lost the love he gaze upon me with. Lost everything that made him the man I loved. Oh, how I would give anything to get him back. I would gladly give up my damned soul for him.

Aka you are transported back to the past in order to prevent ascended Astarion from losing himself the only problem? You don’t have a lot of time.

-

Warnings: Gore, blood, cruelty, cursing, death/murder, mentions of using oneself unwillingly, abuse, mentions of torture. It's ascended Astarion, prepare for the worst.

Masterlist

Note(s): For the sake of the plot- Astarion will not automatically be damned from the start. In this world, Astarion becomes lost to the ascension overtime until he becomes the ascended vampire we know him to be in the game. Another note that should be highlighted is that this story will be told from the first person perspective since it benefits the story more than any other perspective.

You will also notice various things being different from the game. For example, Karlach will be able to stay in the ‘human’ world and she fixed her heart. (I love my girl, I’m not sending her back), Szaars palace has a different layout cause the one in the game was stupid. There will be more that you will notice in the future so beware.

Thank You.

It’s just my luck for this to happen to me. Earlier, the sky had been a clear azure, but it rapidly transformed, now brooding with dark, menacing clouds that swallowed the sun whole. Adding to the irony, I found myself in the hands of the very goblins I was trying to reach before Astarion. I suppose that it was both unlucky and lucky at the same time. As I was led through the goblin camp- well more like forced to walk around unless I wanted to get impaled by a feisty goblin with a spear behind me. 

My capture had happened in a blink- an unexpected encounter with a goblin patrol while I was attempting to trail Astarion. I was just grateful that they decided to ask me what I was doing there instead of attacking right then and there. The charisma that I had harnessed over the months of lying to get past the people I wanted coming in handy. 

All it took was telling the goblins I was there to join their cause and they quickly ushered me deeper into the forest. It didn’t take long to reach their base, the base hidden within the heart of the dense forest amidst the labyrinth of towering trees and verdant undergrowth. Their stronghold was cunningly concealed within a labyrinth of towering trees and lush undergrowth. The settlement was fortified by a wall made of both felled and living trees, an organic barrier that melded seamlessly with its surroundings. Under the dense canopy, daylight struggled to penetrate, the impending storm turning the sky even darker above us, the air heavy with the promise of rain and thick with the scent of smoke. 

The familiar chatter and beating of drums sounded in the air, merry songs muddled with the shouts of anger, excitement, and drunkenness. Passing through the gap of the wooden wall, my nose wrinkles in distaste with the onslaught of goblin smell. I don’t know what I expected and I had no other words to describe the smell other than the smell of multiple things rotting. The camp was a chaotic jumble of makeshift shelters crafted from scavenged materials, standing stubbornly against the elements. There are several crude pits of fire, casting flickers of shadow that dance across goblins faces. Goblins either lounged inebriated, feaster noisily, or darted about with frenetic energy.  The center of the camp is filled with a large ramshackle tent, its fabric patched with various patterns and frayed from use. Surrounding the main tent, are smaller shelters, most being lean-tos made out of fallen sticks and thin logs. 

As I am led to the main tent, goblins gaze upon me with a range from sneering to curiously probing. I stumble slightly as I am harshly pushed into the tent, the flaps of the entrance being pulled back by a grumbling goblin stationed there. I squint against the difference in lighting of the tent. Inside, the tent was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the gloomy daylight outside. A few feeble candles flickered, doing little to dispel the shadows. 

Then, from the depths of the tent, a voice broke the semi-darkness, rock and mocking. “Ah, what a surprise to see you here, hero of Baldurs Gate.”

Recognition from the voice alone caused my eyes to widen in surprise, of course I showed mercy when everyone else in the team advised against it and it has finally come to bite me back. 

“How am I not surprised that you are the one causing trouble, Dror Ragzlin.” I scoff, my eyes adjusting enough to discern his looming silhouette. “Why persist in these schemes? The Absolute is gone, and it was never a god to begin with.”

As he paced the tent, my gaze followed his movements intently. He released a harsh laugh, the sound sharp in the quiet of the tent. “This isn’t about the Absolute anymore,” he declared, his voice echoing slightly, the raucous din of the goblins outside muted by the tent’s thick fabric. “It’s about revenge for what you did to me.”

I rolled my eyes with a scoff, hands landing on my hips. “Seriously? You’re lucky I spared your life!”

“You should have killed me!” He retorted vehemently. “Do you know how hard it is to deal with the embracement and shame of mercy? Death would have been a kindness.”

His words stunned me into silence; this man's foolishness was astounding. Shaking my head in disbelief, I sighed, “You can’t seriously believe that. It’s absurd. Instead of turning your life around, you persist in the very actions that led you here.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I muttered, “Looks like I might have to finish the job this time.”

Dror’s chuckled was deep and unsettling, sending shivers down my spine. 

“That-” He paused, the sounds of feet shuffling against the floor of the tent alerted me.The candles flickered out one by one, their light succumbing to the growing darkness, leaving only a solitary flame to my left. My muscles tense, my hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at my waist as I prepared to summon a flame to light the room. But before I could act, the tent flap burst open, flooding the space with blinding daylight. 

I recoiled, realizing just how close Dror Ragzlin had approached; he was only a few   steps away from me, easily within striking distance. He wasn’t alone; several goblins lined the walls, their grins menacing in the dim light. A nervous breath escaped me, aware of how perilous my situation might've become had we not been interrupted. 

Dror Ragzlin snared, looking at the goblin that opened the tent. She was hunched over, breathing heavily, the beads in her  hair clinking softly. Shadows played across ehr form as she struggled for breath under the harsh outside light. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” She gasped, voice hoarse, “It’s just that-” She paused to clear her throat again, the urgency in her eyes unmistakable. 

“Spit it out already or the next breath you take will be your last.” Ragzlin snarled, his sharp teeth catching the harsh light gleaming in.

The goblin took a deep breath, stammering as she replied, “Someone has broken into the camp and is slaughtering everyone!” She exclaimed, her voice trembling with urgency as she fixed her gaze on Dror.. “We’re losing warriors by the dozens. No matter how we retaliate, he just carves through us-as if we’re nothing.”

My eyes widened at her words- she said him. 

“What did he look like?” I demanded

Both Dror and the goblin shifted their attention to me. The goblin’s mouth opened, but Dror’s stern look silenced her. “I…don’t know,” she murmured, her voice strained as if honesty caused her physical discomfort-a surprising notion of a creature usually so adept at deceit. 

I shot an irritated glance at Dror. “What do you get out of not telling me?” I pressed, hoping my voice masked the creeping dread I felt. If it really was him, my fear was justified, yet I could not let that fear paralyze me. As I weighed my next move, Dror signaled subtly, and the armed goblins lining the tent’s edges swiftly departed, their faces set with grim determination, unaware of the slaughter that likely awaited them.

Dror lifted the tent flap, the female goblin hovering behind, poised to follow. 

“Stay put, or things will get worse for you,” he warned. 

I fought the urge to respond sharply, my throat tightening with fear. The mere thought of facing him again, after our earlier encounter, dredged up nightmares I had long tried to suppress: memories of being pinned down, cut repeatedly as my own vampiric blood fought to heal the wounds only for them to be reopened- him observing, a grotesque smile playing on his lips while adoring acolytes clung to him as though her were a deity. The memories of unbearable hunger twisted my stomach; I had been so famished I thought of ripping out my own entrails, but I couldn’t, no matter how deeply my nails dug into my flesh. I could never bring myself to do it. His laughter echoed in my mind as he once forced me into sunlight, my skin bubbling and dripping off my very own bones, until he forcefully dragged me back to the shadows and forced me to drink blood in order to continue living for his own pleasures. Resistance was useless; his compulsion was absolute, leaving me powerless and broken. 

An ear-piercing scream shattered my descent into the past, reverberating through the goblin camp. I stared, wide-eyed, at the tent flaps, the chaos outside syncing with the pounding in my ears. I had to stop him, but the enormity of that task loomed over me now. 

“Stay Away.” 

Astarions voice suddenly rang in my ears. His body doubled over, grappling with an unseen agony. Stay Away. He told me as he shuffled backwards, his eyes wide not with fear of me but of what he might do to me. He was battling something internal, perhaps his very nature. . 

Without fully processing my decision, I bolted from the tent. The scene outside instantly froze me in my tracks. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood mixed with the acrid stench of burning flesh. Fire rampaged through the camp, casting wild shadows as panicked goblins scrambled, desperately seeking a way to overcome an unstoppable foe. The carefree revelry I had first witnessed was annihilated, replaced by sheer survival.

A goblin darted past, arms laden with weapons, oblivious to my presence. I trailed him, cautious of becoming an unintended target. It wasn’t long before I encountered the epicenter of the carnage. 

There he stood in the midst of it all, his figure shrouded in a macabre cloak of crimson. Fog crawled along the ground, cloaking everything in a deceptive calm. Blood, dark and viscous, coats his skin in a mosaic of pain and violence. It drips from his moonlight hair in rivulets, staining his features with a grotesque mask of beauty. At his feet, a sea of bodies formed a grim carpet.

His movements were eerily calm as he lifted the severed head of Dror Ragzlin by the hair. The morning light filtered through dense clouds, casting a pale glow on his teeth as they parted slightly. I watch in silent horror as he tilts his head back, blood dripping into his mouth, some missing and streaking down his chin. His once vibrant clothing was now a sodden tapestry of dark stains, each a silent witness to his brutal deeds. 

I was frozen, eyes flashing to what was before me. This is what happened in my previous life. This is what destroyed him. This is what I was meant to stop but- I was too late. A distant cry snapped me back to the present. He let the head drop, and it landed with a soft thud, swallowed by the fog. Nudging something with my boot, I bent down and recoiled as my fingers closed around the cold, severed head. I straightened, the dead eyes staring back at me, the mouth agape unbelievably wide  in a permanent scream of terror. 

Releasing a shaky breath, sweat beaded down my neck. I dropped the head, which hit the ground with another dull thud. Suddenly, the owner of the earlier battle cry materialized through the fog. He  moves, a flash of violence as one moment an ax is raised and the nex it has raced through the air, the blade glinting ominously before embedding itself in the ground beside me, a green, bloodied hand still clutched around the handle. Blood slowly drips down the hand, creating small ravines of blood on the wooden handles. 

Swallowing hard, I looked back through the fog, where he kneels before the goblin, both figures fading into the mist. The crackling of flames devouring the camp mingled with the ringing in my ears, overwhelming my heightened senses. I widened my stance, every nerve on edge, attuned to a danger I could not yet see. 

My heart, though lifeless, threatened to burst from my chest as an arm encircles my waist, yanking me against a solid frame. A hand clamped over my mouth, stifling the scream that clawed its way up my throat. 

He clicked his tongue, his breath warm and disquieting by my ear. “What are you doing here, pet?” he murmured, his voice a sinister melody that sent shivers down my spine. His fingers eased from my lips, tracing a path along my bottom lip and jaw before coming to rest ominously at the crook of my neck. I was in this exact position before but this time, it was different-cold and calculating. His grip on my neck served as a chilling reminder; it was not affection but control, poised to turn lethal with any misstep. 

Gulping down the fear that thickened my throat, I mustered a facade of bravery. “I was-” My voice trembled. I moistened my lips, gathering the shards of my resolve. “Looking for you.”

Chuckle rumbled in his throat, amusement coloring his tone. “Looking for me? And why is that, pet?” The pressure of his fingers increased, pinching my skin, a pointed reminder of his dominance. 

The truth of my next words could provoke his wrath, but silence was no longer an option. I had not returned from the past to quiver under his gaze; I had come to confront the past, to change him and to save us both. Pushing past the paralysis of fear, I declared, “To stop you.”

A hush fell, thick and suffocating. I waited, every nerve taut, for his reaction. Suddenly, he burst into laughter, the sound sharp and devoid of any real joy. He released me as he stepped away, allowing me to spin towards him, my breath catching at the sight of him.  

Blood marred his mouth, his lips a grim canvas of crimson horror. The eyes that had once danced with vitality now shimmered with a void of emptiness, shadowed by unseen specters. His smile twisted cruelly, revealing fans slick with dark blood. His laughter subsided, leaving his chest heaving with its remains. 

“No need?” I echoed, incredulity sharpening my voice. His eyebrow arched, a silent challenge. At that moment, my patience shattered. I wouldn’t let his menacing  demeanor silence me. Gesturing to the chaos around us, I pressed on, “Look around you! All this carnage, this needless slaughter-this isn’t our mission. We were not sent here to massacre every single one of these goblins.”

His expression darkened, a storm brewing in his gaze. His lips twisted into a force scowl. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice resonating from deep within. 

“I’m your wife,” I replied, the words stark and heavy in the air between us. Standing before him, the man who haunted my darkest memories, the distinction between him and Astarion was stark yet irrelevant in the face of my fear. A battle loomed-not just between us but within myself-and I clung to the hope that I would not falter.

“No.” That single word fell from his lips before his blood-stained hand clamped onto my cheeks, tugging with brute force to make me meet his gaze. He leaned in, our noses almost touching, his eyes drilling into mine with ferocious intensity. “You are my consort. Not my wife,” he snarled. 

Confusion and anger knitted my brows together as I met his piercing stare. “Consort?” I echoed, my voice tinged with defiance. “Is that just another term to claim me as your spawn? Another way to soothe your conscience, Master?” Venom dripped from my words, mirroring the malice he often showed me.

A chilling silence followed my outburst. His grip on my jaw tightened, threatening to crush the bones-something only my vampiric blood prevented. Our eyes locked, unblinking until without so much as a twitch of his lips, he hurled me to the ground. The earth beneath me, muddied with gore and viscera, squelched under my weight. My hands and robe stained with the filth of battle, I hit the ground with a force that left my body aching, sure to bruise. 

He towered over me, never stooping even as he gazed down at me as if I were beneath him. Tilting his head slightly, he seemed almost to savor the sight of me in such a depraved position. “It seems you do not know your place, Consort,” he scowled, the pure disdain in his voice unmistakable. “No matter,” he mused, his tone chillingly casual.  “I know exactly how to teach you respect.”

A sinister smile curled his lips as he noted the confusion on my face. He lifted his gaze to the overcast sky, humming thoughtfully. “I wonder how long these clouds will shield you from your demise.”

Panic widened my eyes; his cryptic words hinted at a terrifying fate. The privilege of withstanding daylight was now revoked from me. My mouth opened, but words failed me. No plea for mercy would sway him, would save me from this man. Driven by instinct and terror, I scrambled to my feet, my hands reaching for the familiar strands of magic, the weave that had always been my anchor. 

I chanted the cantrip for Misty Step, desperation fueling each repetition as I pulled on the weave, feeling it burn within me. It didn’t matter that the city was near, my life hung by a mere thread. No matter how far I got away from him, his laughter echoed in my ears like a harbinger of my doom.  

Again and again, I casted the spell until I was sure I was sick. Even when my vision blurred from exhaustion, I muttered the spell under my breath. My body was soaked with my own sweat, tears of panic and despair flooding my vision. Even as I breached the city's walls, I didn’t stop; not when the sun was now at its peak and the clouds could no longer hold it back. 

Spell after spell, I cast until sickness overwhelmed me. Even as my vision blurred and my body protested, soaked in sweat and tears, I continued to mutter the incantations. Finally reaching the city, I didn’t stop-not when the sun climbed higher, the clouds thinning dangerously. The previous gloomy weather seemingly disappearing with every passing moment.

Casting the cantrip, my feet landed against a tiled roof- choosing to avoid the crowd that could prevent me from making it to my destination in time. Only the footing on the roof slipped upon a loose tile. A raspy gasp was all that signified my fear as I plummeted down to the stone walkway below. A scream rang out from a passerby as I cracked, body wracked with pain, painting on the cold stone, my nails digging into the ground.

Every muscle in my body screamed, my eyes begging to close, to rest, yet I forced myself up. The fall had broken something within me, causing me to lose focus on simply casting and ignore everything else. I was too drained to tap into the weave, too weary to walk straight. I stumbled through the crowded streets, jostling against strangers, too parched and desperate to apologize. 

I avoided the path that would lead me back to the crimson palace. It was perhaps a folly, but with my skin still crawling from the memory of pain and the muffle of fear clouding my senses, I couldn’t bring myself to return to the place he would inevitably come back to.  

Seeking refuge, I made my way to the one place in the lower city that promised even a whisper of safety-a modest house tucked away in a secluded corner, home to a solitary resident. My steps faltered as I approached, my hand raised to knock but my strength betrayed me. I swayed, crashing heavily into the door and relying on it to keep me upright.

“Bloody hells!” came a startled voice from within. “I swear to the gods, I’ll bust your hea-Shit!” The exclamation cut off abruptly as the door swung open, and I nearly collapsed through the threshold. Warm arms quickly enveloped me, steadying my trembling form. “Woah, soldier, are you alright?” Karlac’s concern was evident, her face etching with more questions that seemed to dissolve into the thick air around us. Her words barely registered as the relentless grip of fear that had ensnared me, keeping my body awake, finally began to loosen. As darkness edged my vision, cloaking the world in shadows, a single, haunting thought pierced my weary mind:

Was I really meant for this?

[vellatra]

Rewrite the Stars for Silen Fah for the music prompts.

Sanatra propaganda real I'M JUST KIDDING DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. XD XD

Honestly I kind of predict a Zac and Joy reaction from your brain, but we'll see. (Studies you under a magnifying glass.)

...You know we could do a lot of different ships with this song. Sanoj/Vellatra would be a good one, but Zac/Aileev(Joy) is also a good idea (along with the other human x "alien" ships, Nen/Vixie and Ryan/Tannufia). Originally, I was actually planning on making this a Nen Krixie snippet.

But then I listened again. And I kept thinking. And actually there's an even more fitting couple for this prompt....

This totally got out of hand and isn't a snippet so much as a chapter but whateverrrrrrr thanks for the inspo!

Everyone looked at the sky now and then.

It was just a good habit to have, this far from the Pedestal. You never knew when raiders might show up from the Mervaen, and if you could see them coming ahead of time, so much the better.

But that wasn't why I kept looking at it.

I couldn't stop thinking about it, that time when, for a few short minutes, I'd been up there. It had been so scary, but so exhilarating, all at once. I couldn't stop thinking about the boy who'd taken me up there, either. My chances were pretty much nonexistent, but deep down, I kind of wished I'd see him again. He'd seemed so nice. He was even kind of cute. We could've been friends, if he wasn't from the Mervaen.

I kicked a rock on the path ahead of me. "Stupid war," I grumbled under my breath. It didn't even feel like we were fighting for something anymore, it had gone on for so long.

Then something did move up in the sky - a shadow went over the trail. I jumped and ducked for the undergrowth, arms over my head, braced for an attack.

I heard a pair of feet landing lightly where I'd been, only moments before. Then the leaves began to rustle as the fi pushed his way toward me. I crouched as low as I could and held my breath, praying that I blended in.

"Oh, good," said a soft, familiar voice. "I was hoping it was you."

I straightened back up. "Drackio?!"

"You can't be comfortable in that bramble bush," he laughed, backing away and returning to the open path. "Come on!"

I gingerly plucked myself out of the thorns and clambered out after him. "What in the world are you doing here this time?"

"It's my mom's birthday," said Drackio, shuffling a little awkwardly. "She loves pikolah berries, so I thought maybe... maybe I could scavenge some for her? They're so expensive where we live, especially for a kid with no job."

"Hmm," I said. "Well, it's a little early in the season, but I know a few good places we could check." I hesitated a little, then took his hand. "Come on, I'll show you!"

"Thanks," said Drackio, looking at his shoes. Was that... a bit of a blush? I willed those thoughts away and started walking. Don't even think about it, I told myself. This is just a second lucky meeting. I'll never see him again.

You know, I really needed to stop telling myself that.

**********

As unlikely as I thought it was, I kept bumping into Drackio again and again. First he was looking for pikolaen. Then he was trying to learn how to catch fish. Then he was just bored and going for a joy flight, but happened to go by my neck of the woods. Then... well, the excuses got weaker and weaker.

Things really came to a head late that winter, when he sidled out of the woods right on the edge of our back yard, one arm behind his back.

"What are you doing?!" I hissed, shooing him back into the trees. "You can't come here! My father's in the army. We'd both be in so much trouble!"

"Sorry," he said, hanging his head a little.

His puppy eyes caught me off guard. "What are you up to this time?" I asked, more gently.

"I came to see you, actually," he said. "You said you get kind of sad, after the snow's been falling for so long. You miss the grass and birds and flowers. Well, anyway... spring comes sooner in Nahbi Harumvah. And... I thought these might help cheer you up." He drew out his hand from behind his back, revealing a large bunch of flowers, in varying shades of blue. There was a faint glow to them.

"...Oh my," I said. "What kind are they?"

"Vee tiz Ornaru," he said. "Those trees grow everywhere in there, but you don't have many out here, do you?"

"They're beautiful," I said, accepting the bouquet and bringing it up to my nose. I smiled over them at my friend. "Thank you. This does make me happy." I held out one hand, which he took, and led the way deeper into the woods, to the skating pond. No one else was there today - the ice was too thin this late in the season; it wasn't safe for skating anymore. I brushed the snow off a fallen log and we settled there. "We need to talk." Drackio eyed me a little nervously. "We're obviously not bumping into each other by mistake anymore," I started.

Drackio snorted and started giggling. "To be honest," he said, his face rapidly turning red, "I've sought you out on purpose every time. Well, except for the first time of course."

"Why?" I said, also blushing.

"I'd hoped you'd figured that out already," he said, looking at the ground again. Even his ears were tomato red by now.

"No, I know that," I said. "But what made you think I was worth all this? Where are you trying to go with me? I... don't know if you've forgotten, but I'm a jeltura."

"To be fair," said Drackio, looking me in the eyes again, "right at first, I just wanted a friend. You know I don't really have any at home. But you... you were nice to me, even though we were enemies. And then... then I started noticing other things about you. Like your sense of fun. And your beautiful eyes. All your forest wisdom, and your willingness to teach a clueless fi like me. And... well. It didn't take much to make me fall for you. Where we were going? I thought about that. I probably should've stayed away as soon as I realized I was in love. But I couldn't stand it. Every waking moment we're not together, I'm wishing we were. Or I'm thinking about giving you flowers," he added, gesturing at the bouquet with a sheepish little smile. He hung his head again. "I'm sorry. It was selfish. If you want me to go away, I will."

"Don't you think it's a little late for that?" I groaned. "You're right, we should've parted ways a lot earlier than this. Now I don't want to. But it's either that, or keep meeting like this. And how long can we go on this way?" My face was so hot I wanted to rub it in the snow by now, but I pushed on. "You know what most people do after they've courted for awhile."

"Courted?!"

"That's what you've been doing, isn't it? What else would you call... this?" I asked, now taking my own turn gesturing at the flowers.

Drackio put his head in his hands. "You're right. By the grandparents, I have been courting you. Ohhhh no."

"But we can't do what most people do," I went on. "I'm the daughter of an officer in the army of Silen Fah. They wouldn't be caught dead binding me off to a Mervatur."

"So I should go," said Drackio.

"No," I said, more quickly than I'd meant to. "Erm... I can't bear it either. Being away from you, I mean. But what are we to do?"

Drackio was quiet for awhile, as I stared into his deep magenta eyes. Finally, he furrowed his eyebrows a little. Then he tilted his head to one side. "I don't know," he finally said. "But... who says we have to make a decision today? You're right, it can't go on like this forever. But there's nothing wrong with tomorrow, is there? Next week? Maybe... maybe something will come up. Something that helps us make a decision. Maybe the war will finally end."

"The one that's been going on for decades?" I asked.

"Well... you never know," he chuckled awkwardly, looking away. Then he glanced back up at me. "Listen, Llefar-ta. I love you. They say where there's a will, there's a way. And I'm willing to look for that way if you are. But I don't want to waste your time or break your heart or whatever else, either. So..." he trailed off, holding my gaze. "...Goodness, you're beautiful," he said softly. I found myself leaning slowly in....

[markrosewater]

Caverns of Ixalan has Craft a "Graveyard as a resource" mechanic like Flashback & Scavenge and Descend, a "graveyard as a measure" mechanic like threshold and undergrowth. From what I can tell a graveyard had set has always been built around one or the other because the themes clash. Why does Caverns mix the two? Thanks for answering our questions, sir.

Both mechanics work with things that fill your graveyard, so there is some synergy, even if there's also some tension.

[es46]

An amphibian mixing great apes and giant salamanders, with a touch of pachycephalosaur. - URONEL-ARONA Title - Stagnant frog Monster class - Amphibian Known locales - Forests, with occasional forays to canyons and wastelands Element/ailment - Water + Bubble + Effluvium + Fire Elemental weakness - Ice (3), Fire (3), Thunder (2), Dragon (1), Water (0) Ailment weakness - Sleep (3), Poison (1), Stun (1), Blast (1), Paralysis (1) Uronel-Arona is a bizarre ape-like amphibian known to inhabit forests, though it known to venture towards canyons and valleys in search of food. Instantly recognised by its simian countenance and the hard boney protrusions on its body, Uronel-Arona's purplish-blue colour hints at its strange ailments, including slits on its arms and tail that vent heat and a watery substance stored in a throat sac. Notably, it is accompanied by a mutalistic species of scalebat that acts as a vector for effluvial bacteria. Uronel-Arona is an osteophage, dedicated entirely to eating bone that it crunches with protruding jawbone lining its mouth. Occasionally it will supplement its diety with hard-shelled nuts and fruit, but bone is its prized meal. To this end, it has allied with scavenging scalebats who host a flesh-eating bacterium nigh identical to the variants found in miasmic-rich locales. The scalebats strip the flesh from carcasses, leaving the bones fresh for Uronel-Arona. Small creatures are not safe from this deadly alliance, and likewise humans may be considered a potential meal. Any field researcher should endeavour to avoid the amphibian's attention by exploiting its sense of smell, coating themselves in lavish rich odours to deter it and its symbionts. As expected, the scalebats releasing effluvium is a dangerous ailment, and Uronel-Arona's protruding spines are often coated in the bacteria. In addition, it produces a thick watery substance in a throat sac that it can spit out in large globs, reacting with the air to create a bubbling effect akin to the leviathan Mizutsune. More strangely, specialised muscles and vents on its arms and legs can rapidly vibrate to produce intense heat. Flint-opening openings on the vents react to ambient miasma to produce flames, essentially allowing Uronel-Arona to ignite its own limbs for a terrifying assault. This heat can also be channeled through the throat sac, making the water it spits scalding hot. Uronel-Arona excels at frightening carnivores away from their kills. Between its size, strength, and the aggression of the scalebats, most monsters flee from the amphibian. The larger males will endeavour to secure a huge carcass when the time comes to find a mate, competing with each other by butting their thick skulls. Presenting the prize to a female, the dominant male is permitted to fertilize her eggs, which are then deposited into the carcass where the tadpoles will eventually hatch and feast on the bone inside. The young emerge as froglets who make their living in the undergrowth, accompanied by scalebats that may well be the offspring of the parent Uronel-Arona's symbionts. Despite its strange appearance, this monster is surprisingly dangerous (Low Rank - 4, High/Master Rank - 3). Hunters must be wary of both its brute strength and its variety of ailments. Fire and ice weapons are advised to disrupt its thermal processes, as well as repelling the scalebats. Aiming for the arms and tail when it is overheating can damage the heat-generating musculature and significantly weaken it. Uronel-Arona are respectably powerful monsters and so have few natural enemies. They clash with Jansilla, whose young prey on the scalebats, and likewise contend with carnivores like Alkanodos and Rathian that it aims to scare from their kills. When they venture into canyons and subterranean turf, Uronel-Arona may contend with the likes of Qessalys and Caustasioth. Overall, it is confident in its own abilities, though it won't dare challenge a true apex. - Thank you reading and take care.

[pokefossilclub]

Pokemon Fun Facts!

So since Eevee have been living with humans for so long, what are they up to when they don’t?

Well, in the wild, Eevee tend to live in small dens in a wide variety of areas, just as long as they can excavate stable living space from the undergrowth, tree roots, rocky caves or the ground. They are always found in groups, usually averaging around six to ten although up to fifteen or even twenty have been recorded in areas with above-average food supplies and below-average predator numbers! Their dens are cosily lined with their own shed fur and they sleep together in piles; if there are young, they dig out a separate nursery chamber and parent the pups largely communally. 

Dietwise, their default foods are berries, nuts, some fungi, small insects, and worms for the most part, with scavenged eggs as a favourite rarer treat. If they live nearby a stream or brook that is safe enough for them to swim in, they spend a lot of time catching fish and crayfish, and clans that live near the sea will hunt for shellfish and crabs. In scarcer times, they will also eat carrion (bones and all), tree bark, lichens and mosses, and a wider variety of fungi than usual; after all, they are known for their adaptability!

Wild stone Eeveelutions generally live separately from Eevee clans, usually in small groups of their own type; Flareon and Jolteon are usually seen in groups averaging about three, whereas Vaporeon, Leafeon and Glaceon are more social, averaging around five individuals. Mixed groups are much rarer, since unlike with Eevee each evolution occupies its own niche. The affection evolutions, however, will generally live either with or nearby Eevee clans, or in extremely tight-knit groups of varying size that can include Pokemon that are not Eevee-line. This is especially common with Sylveon!

[sycamorality]

3, 9, and 13 for the rw ask game thingy!! :3

3. What is your favorite region?

outskirts because its such a lovely introduction to the game. it seems familiar to you at first glance, but when you move around, it's alien and you know nothing of the place. you're a completely clueless slugcat, thrust into a new world.

industrial too, because it furthers this alien feeling. you can tell this was supposed to be for something, and yet, for what? you can't tell what it's original purpose was, and the slugcat doesn't know either.

sky islands because it truly shows you that this isn't a world like ours. it's not a world you recognise. it's a world you're learning about at the same time as the slugcat.

memory crypts[/shaded citadel but fuck the spiders btw. mostly memory crypts as the subregion tho] because of how it sets up that Something is Looming Above you and casting Everything into darkness.

the leg because of how white lizard plays and sets something up. underhang too and its music. the wall - specifically on top of pebbles and near the top, where you can see all the iterators in the distance and pebbles' city.

five pebbles memory conflux - especially the rooms with the black windows behind them. it makes you feel like you're in space, like you're somewhere completely new, somewhere you can't understand - because for the slugcat this is new. it doesn't understand it either. you, the player, are nothing but the slugcat itself.

submerged superstructure because you can see that everything used to be something. you can tell what rooms it used to be in spearmaster [if you played spearmaster first], or you can tell what each room has something in common with rooms in five pebbles. you can tell they're both iterators; siblings; they're so alike yet so different. moon's now dead structure is so far-gone and yet you can tell what it used to be in its prime. it's fascinating to see how life bloomed in the fallen corpse of her structure, and here you are, a semi-aquatic slugcat [or not even semi-aquatic if you're playing survivor or monk], exploring it, seeing what it has become.

chimney canopy in saint, solely for the moment of when you instinctually go to pebbles but he's gone.

undergrowth because you can see how much everything has flourished and changed in the time since rivulet - a stark contrast to what happened to shaded citadel and pebbles -

directly lining up with my love for silent construct. everything seems fine at first when you enter it from industrial, but as you go further you start to notice it's... lighter. a bit too light for what used to be the darkest place in the game. and then you enter a room and The Husk shows up on the bottom of your screen as you see snow gently falling through an unseen cavity, falling onto what's now parts broken off of five pebbles and could soon be a small lake beneath it all. and as you go further you see how dilapidated everything is and how every part of shaded citadel is mangled together with parts of five pebbles. how you can see how violently torn apart five pebbles was from the rot and the damage sustained from it, and how you can see how the scavengers flourished in it, taking shelter from the harsh snowstorms, the reactor that once held the rarefaction cell that moon now has taken up by a scavenger merchant and decorated so nicely to feel homely. you can see how the scavengers have taken refuge in the corpse of a dead artifical demigod and made it home. some rooms still remain the same as they did in past citadel - and yet such a large majority is now overtaken by the dying half-breaths of a demigod, his entire being now torn apart and twisted to mesh with what was once the True Anointed Citadel before his construction. the fact you can see the red lights still on, trying to signal errors and damages, scattered about.... it's so well done. the atmosphere is breathtaking, literally, at so many points. you can tell what it used to be. you can tell what both parts of this frankenstein region used to be and yet both of them are so, so far from what they once were.

9. What are your opinions on Five Pebbles (character)?

he's a complex character, certainly. i'm mostly neutral but i like his canon depiction.

13. Which of the pearls are your favorite?

i'm saying all of them because i love lore and i hoard them in like every playthrough.

[funkyphonophorae]

rain world is such a mixed bag when it comes to luck. 1 hour ago i kept getting speared by scavengers because they kept taking the pearls in the room to the right of the farm arrays<-->outskirts gate, meaning i then had nothing to pay the toll with. this happened almost every cycle to the point where i gave in and karma cached so i'd have enough karma to get into undergrowth

then i found a vulture mask sitting in the middle of garbage wastes (i'm playing saint, there's really no way i can demask a vulture myself), went into the next room, got attacked by 2 miros vultures completely out of the blue, and somehow dodged both of them without falling into a pool of sea leeches

and after all that...a snail stunned me while i was in the water, and i drowned in about 10 seconds. i was 1 room away from a shelter.