#YOUR PALADIN ENCOUNTER DID NOT HELP THIS HATRED

[deaddoveadventures]

ᒥ🔥ᒧ—        ❛ the gods must be angry. i sense a storm brewing. ❜ - Dante to Curumë @dm-tainthairs-collection Because I know how much Curu LOVES Paladins XD

"Or perhaps," Curumë answered, honey-sweet mockery lacing his words, "you sense what every simple man can see with his bare eyes: heat lightning."

Much like the Tiefling cleric he had met, the paladin was yet another member of the caravan of adventurers the Half-Elf had decided to travel with for the time being.

A gust of wind suddenly blew thick strands of his blonde hair into his face, and with a shiver, Curumë pulled his hood up. The weather was already grim enough on its own; the foreboding mutterings of the paladin were just the cherry on top.

@dm-tainthairs-collection

[clockworklozenges]

So, a good five or so years back, I played in one of the best worst DnD games I have ever been in. The DM had bought the Libris Mortis book, which, if you were unaware, was a 3.5 splatbook adding in a lot of undead stuff, including some monsters and undead player races and stuff. Wanting to try it out, me and my gaming group decided to play things from it, our then DM deciding to run a completely homebrewed session. This proved to be a...

Terrible Idea™

(for the uninitiated, never homebrew something you do not fully understand unless it's just cosmetic. If you want to make all elves worship the god of garlic bread, Ultimo-Metatron-Omega, go ahead, but unless you know how the game works, don't make mechanical changes). So we all picked stuff from the books-one player played a skeleton Sorcerer who in life was a tribal shaman, but an attempt at healing went wrong, turning him undead as his life energy was replaced with negative energy, explaining why most of his spells were necromancy and suchlike.

Another player played Krug, an antipaladin in very spiky full plate. He was a zombie made by a necromancer of a paladin who was fighting him, but his allies killed his would-be master before he could assert control, and not wanting to just off him, his allies just...yeeted his body into a portal and hoped it'd re-kill him. It did not kill him hard enough. It did, however, explain his stats which...oof. He had already got debuffs to some stats due to being a zombie, and rolled abysmally. Fortunately for the player, he played mostly to socialise, so didn't much care.

I played... Count Nox Feratu, the Campire. As in, a vampire with a very camp German accent, which I did not break for the whole time I was playing him. To the point where "ach, nein, I haf bin heet! Heal me, meine freunde!" was par for the course. My overly camp vamp was a wizard, but due to level adjustment was a bit of a shoddy one. For backstory, he'd been ousted from his clan for ineptitude, and had sworn revenge. I was going for a swordmage build but never got there. All his spells were utility or just necromancy spells.

Our last player played...sigh...Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of Nerull, God of murder and undeath. He was one of the clerics from the book's murder Domain, meaning that he got buffs to damage. He was a vicious arse both in character and out of it, and was so dripping with edge compared to the paladin with the same IQ as a horse after its trip to the glue factory, the shaman who thought killing fixed people and the Campire that if you gave him a pat on the back you'd have finely diced your hand into a red mist. Not going too outlandish with his backstory of wanting to dominate the world as his undead thralls, Damien F***ing Bloodmoon had only taken spells which either charmed live people, dealt negative energy damage or messed with ability drain and suchlike, which he used with aplomb on townsfolk on our way to our objective. He was also, importantly, playing an elf of some sort, I forget which kind. Meaning that of the party, only one was alive.

So, just as an aside, for those of you that haven't played 3.5e DnD or have only played 5e, in Libris Mortis, undeath was gone over in detail, and had a litany of pros and cons. For one thing, undead had only the HP they had-folks like Damien F***ing Bloodmoon could be 'dying', and had some time to be stabilised before meeting the reckoning of Papa John and dying proper. Undead did not, it was just how much you had and if you ran out, poof, you're dust, bones and fertiliser again. You were also harmed by positive energy, so healing spells hurt you, as did potions of healing. However, undead were kind of hardy - poison immunity, some had resistance to non-magical melee damage, stuff that drained your ability scores and levels didn't work on them, some crits wouldn't do extra damage, and the best part- negative energy healed undead. Meaning all the spells our party had which damaged others like the living Damien Bloodmoon were curative ones for us. Keep this in mind.

So, we began our quest, learning of a necromancer a nearby town was plagued by. After using our skills (to whit: Damien Bloodmoon charming and drawing the life force out of random villagers and the only potion seller in the town whilst we went shopping. Krug got a snazzy hat, which we put on top of his helmet, and we chatted to townsfolk as I looked alive enough to pass as human and the shaman had a fake beard and toupee that people were too awkward to point out was fake so went along with it) we learn that the necromancer has a base of operations in the cemetery. "Oh ja, zo original, dahlink. Ve vill need to educate zis guy on vhat is chic and vhat is just shabby!"

So we head there and the nightmare begins. Damien Leads the charge, using all of his knowledge to deduce that the shambling horde moving towards us were stronger-than-your-average-bear undead, and he was right. These were powerful armoured zombie mages of some sort, casting ability draining spells, negative energy ray spells and even having auras of negative energy that dealt damage on a failed Fortitude save. Even their punch and quarterstaves did negative energy damage as well as the usual bludgeoning or unarmed. However...only one of us was really in danger and the DM's face fell when the squishy casters walked up and began shanking their super-special homebrew zombie wizards, being healed by the damage of their attacks as we cut them down.

Like I said, one of the benefits of undeath is that negative energy actually heals you. So the strikes of the magic staves and punches that hit us did some basic damage. Which was then immediately healed by the negative energy their weapon strikes and spells were doing.

However, you'll recall that Damien Bloodmoon was an elf. And not dead. Being a Cleric of a death god doesn't mean that you have the abilities of an undead. That meant that even with the DM being merciful, by the end of the first fight he was covered in blood, mud and withered away to just above half his original strength and constitution. More were patrolling, so we had to run. But that posed a problem.

Remember Krug had heavy armour? And recall his awful stats? He in fact, hadn't got enough strength to wear the armour he'd been given for backstory. He didn't, according to the DM, have enough to remove his own armour. And we attempted to, but also failed our checks according to the DM. And Damien Bloodmoon refused to help, simply blaming Krug and his player. Krug's player thought it was hilarious, and Krug only had enough Intelligence and Wisdom to say his own name, so saw no problem. And Krug, Nox Feratu and Shaman realised that there really...wasn't a problem.

For us, at least.

We slogged through three combats dragging Krug and wading through the mud with him. His speed was so slow that for every step he took, we took about ten. The DM was confused and infuriated that his encounters weren't working, but refused to change them. So we had fun role-playing. Or at least three of us did.

Damien Bloodmoon refused to roleplay, and none of his ranged spells could affect the zombie mages. When he went into melee, he came out wounded as all hell. He went down twice, and it was only the healing supplies of the shaman that saved him.

All the while, he was... Let's say not best pleased. Damien Bloodmoon was getting increasingly wounded, exasperated and longing for the sweet embrace of death as reprieve from the humiliation. His player was getting increasingly redder and rage-filled as time passed. Each fight ended with our characters stronger than ever and his a bloody pulp on the floor, with poor in-character knowledge (and terrible rolls) preventing him from realising why.

Eventually, we reached the final boss, pausing only to paint Krug's armour in contact poison just in case, and to find a stick to help the now-partially-crippled Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of death and murder, walk after being beaten up by angry zombie wizards for hours. And it had, indeed, been hours. Among us, only Damien had a bonus to strength, and we had two swords, a mace and a staff between the four of us. Meaning it was re-death by a thousand cuts for the enemy and a slog and a half for us.

We reach the necromancer and, having taken so long due to dragging the oblivious Krug with us, his big ritual is complete- he raises a fist-sized black onyx egg aloft, crackles with arcane power and causes the bones around him to coalesce into one massive creature - an undead, giant-sized rust monster, radiating an Aura of pure negative energy. Krug opened his arms wide, eager for the metal-eating monster cockroach to free him from his poison-painted metal prison. It ignores him as he's still very far away. Me and the others have our weapons and armour devoured.

Our DM was very much a stickler for note-taking. So because Damien Bloodmoon hadn't written 'clothes' on his sheet, his armour being eaten by the monster left him naked and afraid.

It became clear that the DM had done another f***y-wucky. See, the Aura of negative energy healed me and the Sorcerer by more than its other attacks did. So whilst Damien Bloodmoon was naked, soaked in mud and bleeding to death almost crushed to a pulp in the fetal position, rocking backwards and forwards as his player seethed with hatred, the Shaman and the Campire set about beating the thing to death with our bear hands and a stick.

The session ended once we killed the necromancer, or rather when Krug walked up to him, closed his arms and just crushed the noodle-armed bad guy to death with the weight of his ridiculous armour and poisoned him with its paintwork.

We never revisited the game afterwards. We were told later on that the DM wanted us to use the non-undead races. But at no point had he said as much, even when we asked him about our characters and the restrictions on them. We also learned a valuable lesson. DM for the players who are there, not the ones who you have an idealised mental image of. Tailor your game, otherwise you'll get a sitcom featuring a camp nosferatu, a shaman with no healing, a paladin who could barely move and a Cleric of murder who was ironically the only one at risk of actually dying.

[xanderuwu]

for whom it may concern; here’s a letter

i wrote this long fucking rant about voltron, enjoy (click here to view on google docs)

My name is Alexander, I’m 23, and here is my sob story. I’m a bisexual trans man who grew up in a tiny village where people believed that being LGBT+ was just as bad as being a child molester. I spent the first 20 years of my life hiding my truth because of the fear & shame that was ingrained in me as a child; I was disgusted by myself. I have never gone a week in my‬ ‪life without contemplating suicide - I’ve tried to kill myself 9 times, the first time was when I was 8.‬

‪One of the main things that kept me afloat during my childhood & teen years were stories in any medium; film, TV, books, I swallowed them whole & they kept me sane. But they never made me feel goof about myself or my life. I didn’t experience the impact of good representation until I saw the first season of Glee in 2009 when I was 14 (that show went downhill as it went on too, wow). One of the main characters on Glee was gay & had an arc in the first season where he came out to his father, & his father … embraced him.‬

‪… I remember crying in bed, watching the coming out scene over & over in shitty quality on the Youtube app on my old iPod. I had never seen anything like it. Sure, I’d seen LGBT+ people in media before, but they were always either stereotype-ridden jokes, or they led miserable lives & never got a happy ending. & in so so so many cases … they died. Or their partner died. Or they got AIDS. Or they were framed as disgusting degenerates.‬

‪I’d never seen a parent accept & embrace their gay child. I had never seen a gay character who “made it” with loving friends & family. It gave me courage, it made me hopeful.‬

‪Hope is the most powerful powerful tool we have when it comes to suicide prevention within the LGBT+ community. Every day, thousands of people toe the line between life & death, & THAT is why our representation is so important. Yes, it helps normalize LGBT+ people to the cisgender & heterosexual audiences, but you have no idea how much hope & joy can blossom in the hearts of vulnerable LGBT+ people from good representation that shows LGBT+ characters being embraced & loved, finding partners, falling in love, getting that happy gay ending we so rarely get to see in media. I’m certain that that gay kid from fucking Glee of all things, saved me from the brink a few times.‬

‪In December of 2014, when The Legend of Korra made Korra & Asami the romantic endgame, I cried. Cried for all the LGBT+ kids who would, perhaps for the first time, feel good about themselves. I also cried for the child in myself who still struggles with the shackles secured around his feet from a childhood of isolation & self-hatred, because he needed it too. & then we got record-breaking amounts of well-rounded LGBT+ representation on Steven Universe, a show that not only features same-gender romances, but also explores gender & challenges toxic masculinity. & last year, Disney Channel, the fucking DISNEY CHANNEL, had a character on Andi Mack come out as gay! Freakin’ DISNEY, man! & Korra was on Nickelodeon, Steven Universe is on Cartoon Network - those are all huge traditional television broadcasters where shows have to be assessed by a whole lot of boards in order to make sure they’re suitable to broadcast.‬

‪Netflix, on the other hand, has more freedom. Many of their live-action shows have had explicit LGBT+ representation. Watching as more & more mainstream TV shows & films with prominent LGBT+ characters get released makes me believe in the change, from when i was a kid in the early 00’s to now.‬

‪I first encountered Voltron: Legendary Defender in the form of gifs, fanart, & screencaps on Tumblr. The first thing that caught my attention was Allura’s design; she’s gorgeous & I’m weak. I found out that she was from the Voltron reboot which, not gonna lie, sounded kinda dumb to me at first. I watched Voltron: Defender of the Universe as a kid, not because i’m old enough to have been a child in the 80s, but because we were a family with six mouths to feed & no disposable income that could be spent on cable TV. So we got public service television, & they ran a lot of cartoons from the 80s because they were cheap to license I guess.

Anyways, I was obsessed with VDOTU (we’re using abbreviations now because this is getting stupidly long & typing is hard) as a wee lad, Allura was my favourite character because she had long hair & a pink uniform - as I said, I’m weak for pretty people. So in late June of 2016 I watched the first season of VLD & I was so pleasantly surprised. VLD is animated by Studio Mir; one of my favourite animation studios, & the show has writers & producers who have also worked on Korra, so that, in addition to the show being distributed by Netflix, made the possibility of clear-cut LGBT+ characters & storylines seem more plausible. ‬

‪I loved the first season of VLD. I very quickly latched onto Keith & Allura, but as I kept watching I found myself adoring the whole team. Having Pidge be a girl was cool, & I was so excited when I found out that she was voiced by a gay actress! & whoever came up with the idea of making Allura, Hunk, & Lance brown deserves a high-five. ‬

‪(We’re getting to the real meaty LGBT+ rep rant soon, just stick with me here because I wanna talk about some other gripes I have with this show first).‬

‪So, we had a show with a diverse main cast of characters, good writing & pacing, a good balance between character & plot, & gorgeous animation. I was excited to see the second season.‬

‪However, the second season was when some of the show’s main flaws popped up for the first time. That nice balance between character & plot from the first season seemed to have driven right off its tracks and straight into a bio-hazardous lake. In the first season, each character got a fair amount of attention, but in season two Hunk & Lance were just … barely there? Keith is my favourite character & I liked the Blade of Marmora stuff, but Keith’s amount of screentime came at the expense of other characters, especially Hunk & Lance. Having Keith’s entire arc in season two pretty much only involve himself & Shiro did every character a disservice. & the reveal that Keith was Galra was so underwhelming. We only saw two characters react to Keith’s alien heritage. The episode with Keith & Hunk in the Weblum was lovely, but we haven’t really gotten team bonding episodes like that since season three so :/ And oh God, the whole subplot of Allura, a black-coded character, being “racist” against the Galra is a WHOLE other mess that I don’t think I can adequately explain. Just, why. ‬

‪Season three was good, the balance between character & plot seemed to be getting back on track & the lion switch-up made for some good character development, especially for Lance & Allura. Episode four was a mess though like y'all could’ve been just a liiittle more sensitive with that kind of stuff. Also it is embarrassingly obvious that in the first two seasons, Allura was portrayed as being around Shiro’s age & the two of them shared moments that seemed to be hinting at a future romance - until, suddenly in season three Allura is at the same maturity level as the other paladins? What, is it because that was when you decided to have Shiro be gay because you weren’t allowed to kill him after season two, & so instead of doing Shiro/Allura you started pairing Allura with Lance? That’s just absolutely stellar mate.‬

‪Season four - character/plot balance swings off the rails once more & to this day it hasn’t been recovered. This was the season where y'all’s plot became way too fucking convoluted & too damn big! The plot takes so much room, OF COURSE character development suffers! Season five had the same problem, & whoops Allura has a new love interest! It’s Lotor, a grown-ass man! Great! Totes loved it!‬

‪Season six had some good moments but again, y'all’s plot left no fucking breathing room for the characters! Also, Lance’s crush on Allura is suddenly True Love now? At this point you need a fucking Excel sheet to keep track of the plot & subplots. Lotor was an asshole all along & betrayed Allura? BITCH WE BEEN KNEW! Lotor’s betrayal could be seen from miles away. Bad.‬

‪SEASON FUCKING SEVEN HERE WE GO.‬

‪You ruined Keith’s entire character. Plain and simple. Keith & Shiro’s backstory was the highlight of the entire season. And in those flashbacks we see Shiro’s BOYFRIEND! Shiro is GAY! Shiro being gay & having a partner was revealed at San Diego Comic Con in July, & fans were so fucking happy. Remember at the start of this monstrosity of a letter where I talked about LGBT+ representation in media igniting hope? That was what you saw from fans after SDCC; pure joy & hope. It was amazing, people cried because they were so happy! & the showrunners said we’d learn more about Adam & get to meet him, shit I was so hyped!

Was Shiro, the character who has struggled the most in the show, going to get a … happy ending? As a gay character? With his partner of the same gender?‬

‪…‬

‪Y'know,‬

‪There’s still probably hundreds of thousands of LGBT+ kids who are growing up in a similar environment to where I grew up. They feel the same way I felt. That … indescribable loneliness that pierces through your bones, the self-hatred & hopelessness that weighs too much, you are the deer and the headlights is every person whose approval & love you need most. ‬

‪& then you see someone like you in a story, & they are happy, they aren’t alone, because people like us aren’t destined to be tragedies.‬

‪It gives you hope.

‪VLD could’ve given that to people y'know? And maybe that’s the saddest part, that instead they chose to kill the man Shiro loved, & thus put their only remaining confirmed LGBT+ character through even more suffering. ‬

VLD killed 50% of their confirmed LGBT+ characters. ‬

‪Imagine if they’d killed 50% of their female characters.‬

They killed Adam to show the gravity of the situation, to show that with war comes death. But LGBT+ viewers don’t need that reminder. We die every day. We know war, we know that war walks hand in hand with death.‬

‪And we didn’t even really have any feelings about Adam aside from “Shiro’s boyfriend!!!” We only got a tiny snippet of his & Shiro’s relationship. From a basic storytelling standpoint, killing someone like Colleen or Sam Holt would have been so much more effective because we know a lot more about Pidge’s relationship with her parents than we know about Adam & Shiro.‬ Adam’s death fell flat because we never knew him or his & Shiro’s relationship.

‪So why did they decide that the gay characters had to lose? VLD could have made something beautiful, something that would help people. But you didn’t.‬

‪Why didn’t they?‬

‪And why, in the same season, did they suddenly make Allura show signs of returning Lance’s feelings, despite her having shown zero romantic interest in him for over a third of the series? Why did they push Keith & Acxa together, two characters who had never spoken before this season? ‬

‪They take away the prospect of a same-gender romance, & then shove some half-assed straight relationships in our faces? It’s as if they’re doing this to be intentionally cruel.

‪Even if Adam somehow returns, that doesn’t repair the anxiety & hurt they caused their LGBT+ fans. With this season, VLD gave us the same age-old tale we’ve been told since we could understand words.‬

‪Happy endings belong to straight people. Gay people are doomed to live through tragedy after tragedy until we die young.‬

‪I believed in this show. I honestly thought the slow-burn romance would be Keith & Lance. Already in season one they had the “bonding moment” that was a textbook example of how to convey romance through visual storytelling. In that scene, Lance said “We are a good team” to Keith, & that was supposedly just bros being bros? But in season six, Lance says the exact same phrase to Allura as a flirty line, so what’s the deal here?

Are Allura and Lance the slow burn? Allura had never shown interest in Lance before now, when she suddenly noticed that Lance is … nice? What … is this? Honest to God, what is happening? VLD really decided to do the guy-likes-girl-girl-doesn’t-reciprocate-but-if-guy-keeps-trying-she’ll-like-him-back-eventually thing? Ah yes, If you flirt with a girl & she ignores your advances, you shouldn’t stop & move on, you should keep pushing, that’s how VLD staff want people to treat women I guess.‬

‪Keith & Axca … looked at each other three times & now they’re in love. Very good slow burn, I cried, 11/10.‬

‪Had the straight romances at least been well-developed I might’ve been slightly less angry. But no, you killed the man Shiro loved & then presented us with some gourmet heterosexual nonsense - no really, where are your Michelin stars because this hetero bullshit is top notch, truly.‬

‪I’m not saying this as a bitter shipper. I’m saying this as someone who invested so much time into your show, only to be severely let down. VLD has had some incredible episodes, but season four & onward was a massive display of incompetent storytelling. It’s as if seasons one through three were created by a different team!

Not to mention the showrunners themselves, who have consistently been dismissive of valid concerns from fans, & when given chances to confirm that Keith & Lance’s relationship was strictly platonic, they instead remained vague, instilling hope in fans - giving people false hope to string them along so they’ll keep watching your show is cruel.‬

‪There are so many other things I could say here, but I’m running out of time.‬

‪Y'all could’ve done extraordinary things with this show & these characters. You could have made something amazing, your show could have been remembered as a trailblazer. But instead, it’ll only be remembered as a clusterfuck & as an example of what not to do, for future creators to learn from.‬

‪I don’t know how or why y'all ended up turning your show into a damn mess. I don’t really care. I just wish you hadn’t exploited the fragile hopes of LGBT+ people.‬

The only thing that can save y’all now is if season eight makes me physically shit hundred dollar bills so I can buy a fucking boat, sail to the middle of the ocean, and just scream for a good six years or so.

Thanks.‬

[ghostiehatesithere]

Patches - I

Mateo didn't know what to make of Prince Lotor. Scratch that. He thought that Lotor was absolutely nuts! What could Zarkon have done to the Prince to make him throw himself at a sun in the hopes of escaping the Galra?

Allura had placed Mateo in charge of watching Lotor while the others tried to figure out what to do with him. Mateo honestly couldn't quite figure out how he got himself into this situation. He knew what happened, but now he's starting to question his thought process. He was one of the Garrison's top recruits. He was one of the best pilots of his class. His cousin, Lance didn't get into the pilotting program at first and Mateo was bummed out because they were thick as theives growing up. However, when Keith dropped out, he was also sad to see a potential friend go so soon but his attitude brightened when the open slot allowed Lance into the program.

However, Lance felt as though he had a lot to prove. He had been looking for Lance to comfort him for his bad run in the simulator the day that they found Shiro. He had walked in on the tail end of the conversation between Pidge, Hunk, and Lance and had leapt headlong into action in order to rescue Captain Takashi Shirogane alongside them, mainly because they never truly got out of trouble without him. 

Though he was the Garrison’s “Golden Boy,” Mateo wasn’t as well liked by his peers as he was by his teachers. They didn’t like that a nobody farmer kid with vitiligo was breezing through the courses like it was child’s play. Mateo would hear them whisper degrading nicknames like Cowbell, Frankenstein, and Patches. He pretended that he couldn’t hear them like Lance, Pidge, and Hunk couldn’t but he did. It didn’t help that he was...different. It was a well kept secret between Mateo and Lance that even their family members didn’t know and it was insanely hard to keep it that way so far out in space. Lance had been a big help by making excuses for him and getting him the things he’d need to keep up the facade. However, the others were already suspicious, and before Lotor even became a problem, they were actively trying to figure out his secret. So far the only one who hadn’t been hounding him about his strange “illness” that kept him in his room some nights. 

It was honestly quite stressful. 

Lance had urged his cousin to at least include Allura in on their little secret but the way she treated Keith after he had learned that he was half Galra had made him leery of the Altean. It wasn’t just with Keith. With Ulaz she was so insistent that he was evil just because he was Galra. Even after Ulaz had given his life to save them, she had insisted that he’d been the one to rat us out to the Galra. She had even been wary of the Blades of Marmora despite them proving to be peaceful towards them. She just...didn’t seem as open minded as he once thought she was and it left a sick feeling in his stomach when the others never truly reprimanded her for her actions. He felt that if he told anyone, especially Allura, anything, he’d be outcasted faster than Lance could say “holy crow.” 

Mateo was strung tight as a bowstring as his gaze never left Lotor’s. He didn’t know why they were having this staring contest, but he knew that if he looked away then he would lose. Something almost primal in him told him to never look away. Lotor smirked at him and he narrowed his eyes in response. He didn’t have anything against Lotor mostly because he didn’t know anything about him. However, that didn’t mean that he trusted the Galra prince. He didn’t understand why the Galra were so quick to turn on him when mere days prior he was their precious Prince and following his order to the T. If he had said jump then they would ask how high. Now it was like he was the dirt beneath their feet. It just didn’t make any sense. 

“You are different from the others,” Mateo frowned, muscles taut as a bowstring as he waited for the exiled prince to elaborate. “I’ve never seen a human with skin like yours.”

“What’s it to you?” Mateo curtly demanded. 

Lotor raised his hands placatingly, “Nothing really. It was merely curiosity that led me to ask.”

“I was born with a rare skin condition called vitiligo,” he answered, seeing no harm in it. 

“Does it lighten or darken the pigment of your skin?” the prince further inquired. 

Mateo raised a brow at him, “Lighten.”

Lotor’s eyes widened and his lips had formed into an “o” shape. There was awe in his eyes, a reaction that Mateo wasn’t used to. Usually he would get the scrunched noses of barely concealed disgust, shock, but never awe. The more ignorant tended to think that his skin condition was contagious and avoided him like the plague. Even Lance’s family was hesitant to touch him when he’d first been brought to their home. Yet, this strange Galra prince looked like he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him if his twitching fingers were anything to go by. “But that is not the only reason you are different.”

Mateo tilted his head in curiosity and the prince took it as another cue to elaborate. “You don’t look at me with hate in your eyes. The others could barely stand to lay eyes yet you do so as though I’ve done you no wrong? Why?”

"Because you haven't," Mateo answered honestly. "I've seen the videos of your encounters with the Paladins. All you really did was get on everyone's nerves. You never made an active effort to end lives like your father or his soldiers would have. You got in, got what you wanted, and left."

Lotor sent him a look of pleasant surprise. "I hope the others will see things the way that you do."

Mateo casually shrugged, "Probably not." Lotor gave him the most affronted look, like Mateo had crushed his hopes and dreams. "Allura hates your dad like alot and that hate kind of extends to your entire race. The others probably won't argue with her if she decides to shoot you out of an airlock and that’s if your intel doesn’t check out." Mateo tried to not sound as bitter as he felt about that but he couldn't help but feel that way.

Keith was of the mind of "stab first ask questions later," which often made him wonder how he was chosen by the Black Lion but he was rarely around anymore while he was running with the Blades of Marmora. Honestly, Mateo was happy that he’d found a place where he felt like he belonged. Allura was straight racist. Pidge doesn't care who gets hurt as long as she can save her dad which is honestly really understandable. Shiro doesnt really reprimand Allura anyone when they're wrong. Hunk was an absolute angel but he's also really passive. Lance would probably do whatever Allura says because he has feelings for her, which has been a great source of contention for the cousins lately. 

“That makes me wonder why you helped us?” Mateo pressed. “You could have gotten galaxies away while the Galra was focused on us and yet you came to our rescue. Why?”

Lotor avoided Mateo’s gaze, “I honestly thought about it. I had heard the distress signal and thought that it would be the perfect chance to get away. Yet, I didn’t know if I would be able to live with myself knowing that I could make a difference and save lives. All my life I had wished for peace coexistence instead of tyranny. It was for that very reason that I had been exiled in the first place.”

“Hm,” Mateo grunted absently in thought. He knew that Zarkon was a monster but even monsters care about their kids right? Obviously not because he was able to exile his own son and was so horrible that Lotor would risk burning up in a sun’s atmosphere to evade him. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea despite the facts staring him in the face. 

They had both fallen into a comfortable silence, well, almost comfortable. Mateo always needed something to do with his hands because he wasn’t used to stillness. He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a notebook, not noticing that he’d began to hum a song as he began to add words to the paper. The book was old and definitely worn and since coming to space, Mateo had been using it to chronicle the adventures of he and the Paladins. However, it also held short stories and his deepest thoughts, things he even kept from Lance.

Mateo had been about to ask if he knew a good descriptor words for the color purple when his breath hitched and he felt a tightness under his skin. He looked down to see that his hands were shaking and his vision was getting sharper as his eyes began to sting. This wasn’t supposed to have happened for another week at least. He should have been able to hold it off. Why was it starting now? He groaned in pain as his gums grew sore. Lotor shot up to his feet in alarm. “Are you alright?!”

Mateo didn’t answer as he staggered to his feet and tried to stumble out of the room, desperate to get somewhere safe. The castle must have been swaying under his feet because it was never this hard before. He groaned as the insatiable itching began. He managed to find leverage against one of the walls and his fingers clenched on the flat surface, leaving deep gauges in its surface. He yelped when his legs locked up and he fell into the fetal position. Lotor began to beat agains the barrier of his cell in order to help the pained human. 

All that Mateo could think of was getting to his room before the others returned. He felt like crying when the doors slid open to reveal Allura and Shiro who regarded the young man with shock. Shiro scooped him into his arms while Allura regarded the horrified Lotor with a deep glare full of hatred. “What did you do to him?!”

“I did nothing!” Lotor denied. “He had been writing on his strange little pad thing mere ticks ago!”

“Mateo! Speak to me, what’s going on?!” Shiro urged as he propped the teen against his thigh. 

“My...room,” Mateo rasped, hoping that Shiro would understand. The pilot nodded, hoping that his questions would be answered later. On his way he passed Lance who had been chatting with the others. Immediately the brunette dropped everything in order to keep pace with Shiro, his face set in stern determination. It was an expression that the Black Paladin often forgot Lance was capable of. 

The moment the door slid shut behind them, Lance took charge. “Put him on the bed.” Shiro nodded and slid Mateo onto the sheets. Lance gently nudged him out of the way and knelt by his cousin’s head, clasping his clammy hands in his. Shiro noticed with wide eyes that Mateo’s hands were turning purple with patches of white and he could just barely make out the texture of fur growing on his skin. “Shiro.”

The Black Paladin nearly gave himself whiplash returning his gaze back to the uncomfortably serious face of Lance. “I need you to promise me that everything that happens in here doesn’t leave this room.” Shiro could only bring himself to nod as he knelt next to Lance, Mateo’s raspy breaths further worrying him.

“What’s happening to him?” 

Lance stared at Mateo for a few moments, debating on whether or not to tell his leader before giving in with a sigh. “Keith isn’t the only half-Galra on the team. Unfortunately, Mateo can’t stay in human form all the time. He has to change at least once every couple of months.”

“His medical condition...” Shiro muttered in realization.

Lance nodded with a solemn frown, “Yeah, that’s how we’ve been able to keep it from everyone for so long.” Mateo whimpered as his ears grew and sounds became louder. He could hear Hunk, Pidge, and Coran down the hall worriedly talking about his condition. Lance furrowed his brows and he bit his lip, “But something’s wrong. I saw him change last week, so he should be able to hold back the change for another few months.”

A clawed hand balled into the material of Shiro’s shirt and he followed the weak tugging until his ear was practically pressed against Mateo’s lips. “Don’t...tell...Allura,” he choked out, his voice cracking as it deepened. 

Lance sighed tiredly and ran a comforting hand through his cousin’s hair, “We won’t, ‘Teo.”

When the seemingly transformation finally ended, Shiro took in the new yet familiar figure of Mateo. He had a layer of curly amethyst purple fur all over his body with patches of white in the same place as in his human form. His ears were a lot larger and swiveled back and forth. His clenched teeth had become sharper and the whites of his eyes had turned a burning gold. “Why don’t you want Allura to know?” Shiro pried.

Mateo took a deep breath calm his roaring heart, “Come on, Shiro. You know how she is about anything Galra. She calls them a race of blood thirsty murderers even though we have the Blade of Marmora, a Galra rebel force, as allies. Do you even know how she looks at Keith sometimes when she thinks no one is looking?” 

This gave Shiro pause. He looked to Lance but the brunette was avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry. I...I didn’t know,” Shiro said, ashamed that he’d been blind to this behavior. 

Mateo gave him a strained smile. He hadn’t been looking for an apology, he was merely extremely fearful of Allura’s reaction to his Galra parentage. At best she’d treat him how she treats Keith, but the worse case scenario is that she becomes extremely paranoid and starts to think that she’s surrounded by Galra spies. 

“I just want to know if Lotor’s information checks out,” Mateo inquired tiredly, not really want to go down the rabbit hole of his parentage. 

“Yeah it did. Everything he told us was true,” Shiro answered, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

Mateo’s shoulders sagged in relief, “Good, then we can trust him.”Lance leapt to his feet in incredulity, “WHAT?! We can’t trust that guy!”

Mateo scoffed, “Of course not. He’s shady at best, but he’s an ally and he helped us we he could have just have easily let us all die. I’m willing to give him the chance to earn my trust if only to end this stupid war and go home.” 

Lance bit his lip as a pang of homesickness shot through his heart. He’d always known that Mateo wasn’t really cut out for war. Correction. Mateo could fight a war if he needed to and most likely win it but he always sought out a peaceful solution. Mateo didn't even want to join the Garrison, but their family couldn't afford to put him through art school so he had to settle. And it showed in every confrontation they’ve had with the Galra that didn'ttry to kill them at first glance, he’d always hail them and give them a chance to peacefully resolve their issues. It always ended in battle but the fact is that he was always willing to try for peace. When did he stop trying? 

The brunette sighed and sat on the edge of Mateo’s bed before dramatically draping himself over his cousin’s stomach. “Fine, you win. I’ll play nice with Prince Jerkass for now, but if he betrays us I get to shoot him in the face.”

Mateo gave a dark chuckle and clenched his hand into a fist, “You can have his face after I rearrange it.” 

It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was a start. After a couple of hours, Mateo was able to revert to human form with some effort. Shiro watched the purple fade and seemingly recede to hide under brown and white patched skin. “Shiro...” he snapped to attention when the older McClain cousin addressed him. “I want you to release Lotor.”

“Why?” Shiro wasn’t all that opposed to the idea but the answer to this question was extremely important. “We need to give him a chance to prove himself,” Mateo answered as he gently nudged at Lance’s head with his finger, jerking it back every time his cousin tried to bite it. “He can’t exactly do that inside a jail cell.”

“We can’t just have him roam completely free.”

“Then make sure that one of us is with him at all times but for his safety, let’s make sure that he’s never alone with Allura.” Shiro stared deep into Mateo’s brown eyes and his gaze never wavered from the Black Paladin's.

“Fine,” Shiro relented, “consider it his probation but there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to spare time for all of the Paladins to watch Lotor. The universe is getting bigger and we’re going to be needed to reclaim more planets from the Galra. Lotor will have to be your responsibility. Whenever you feel like your change is coming on, I need you to tell me so I can relieve you from Lotor duty. Think you can handle it.” 

Mateo offered the older man a smirk that made the Paladin believe that he was looking at Lance. "Of course I can. I'm a McClain.” 

Tag List: @starfaring-princelotor@marvelheaux @fandomsoffeelings@motheroflittlelions @legendofcarl@done-with-your-shit-shirogane@kirahhhh @lotor-for-emperor@yanderemommabean @lotorrential@planet-jumping-warrior

[palerdin]

The Siege

It all began one bleary morning. Mairèad was coming off the usual bender she went on when she returned to Stormwind from any type of travel and didn’t have to worry about conserving rum. Her trip had been a productive one, one that ended with Mairèad’s coffers much fuller and her body exhausted from marathon romps with Krogu, who hadn’t left her bed for a good five days straight. The seas had been fine during the trip back from Kalimdor as well, and the skies fair. The Burning Legion was defeated, the world was pulling itself back together around the wound in Silithus (or so she heard, still not going near the damned thing with a thousand foot pole), and all was well and right.

The sun was too bright that morning, sending stabs of agony through Mairèad’s head, but she smiled anyway, still coasting off the goodness of her trip, and staving off the rest of her hangover with magic and ice water and plans for a pastry. The latter was what got her in trouble; she could have remained blissfully ignorant for days, had she not disembarked, still adjusting her belt and scabbard around her waist, not really watching where she was going until she careened head-on into a Kaldorei.

“Oh! ‘Scuse me!” she chirped good-naturedly but felt her smile fade as she saw the victim of her clumsiness: statuesque and elegant, but covered in ash and tears and wearing a haunted expression. He mumbled something in Darnassian, not even looking at Mairèad, and staggered onward. Beyond him, Mairèad could see more and more of them: Kaldorei refugees, wailing and sobbing, healing each other’s wounds, all burnt or ashy or coughing or something in between.

It took Mairèad what felt like hours to finally piece together the story of Teldrassil’s burning, and when she had, the pastry seemed unimportant. Most things seemed unimportant, really. The banshee queen had done genocide, right when the world was finally supposed to see the peace for which it had been fighting for millennia. The summons to fight must have come not hours after Mairèad had left port Ratchet, and the fighting and horror were so unevenly matched and through so quickly that she didn’t even hear of them until the battle was lost.

When the horror had sufficiently sunk in, something else struck Mairèad that she might not have otherwise considered, had she not just spent five days making lazy love to an orc. Before the thought was fully formed, she paid for a portal to Dalaran and scribbled a hasty note that she shoved in the faction neutral mailbox she and Krogu used to write each other.

Krogu,

I don’t know if you heard about Teldrassil. I can’t imagine you didn’t. Please tell me you’re alright. Please tell me you didn’t help burn it. That’s all I need to know. I don’t care if you fought, I don’t care if you killed, that’s war, but please, please be alright, please don’t have that genocide on your conscience.

I’m fine. & slightly drunk.

Love you,

Mair

Stormwind now buzzed with war preparations, more than it had even when the Legion’s ships tore the sky open and dotted Azeroth’s landscapes. Rumors flew about where and when the counterstrike would be, but they soon coalesced into a solid truth: the Alliance would take back Lordaeron.

Mairèad, Kul Tiran at her most legitimate, had no true sentiment for the kingdom beyond that it was the home of her adopted family, a foothold for the Alliance, and the heart of all the labors of the Silver Hand and Argent Crusade. Still, the idea of taking out the banshee queen held universal appeal, and she found herself aboard one of the navy’s ships, trekking northward and overcrowded with those eager to fight.

She’d combed the crowd for any familiar faces, but the volunteers to fight in Lordaeron were too numerous, and all for different reasons. Nearly every human wanted to take the kingdom back, a healthy number claiming some sort of heritage there. The Gilneans, both cursed and uncursed, saw an opportunity to take from the banshee queen what she took from them, and the few Kaldorei well enough to join in the fight felt the same way. Others rode the ships out of a sense of loyalty to the Alliance, and still others in a mindset of moral correctness. They all seemed in good, determined spirits, or at least seemed optimistic about the battle. They had the element of surprise; surely they’d take back the city.

Mairèad felt less certain. The whole affair had the air of a trap, not just the battle itself, but the fact of Undercity’s involvement. She’d never been there, being alive and all, but she’d heard that it was a twisting labyrinth of sewage and rot, accessible only through old drain pipes and guarded lifts. Though she wouldn’t be in the Undercity herself, she couldn’t imagine that its invaders would escape with their lives.

But good odds or bad, they arrived north of the city and pressed down through Brill to the front gates under the command of King Genn Greymane and, eventually, King Anduin Wrynn. The battle was intense, far more than battles against the Legion had been, not least because the faces glaring back at her from the other side mirrored her own. Few wore expressions of virulent hatred; most were furious, afraid, determined, sad.

The Horde, unlike the Legion, still clung to some shreds of humanity.

Even as their enormous war machine rolled out across the battlefield, crushing fallen soldiers beneath it. Even as magic and arrows and blood flew. Even as the commanders’ voices grew hoarse and cracked with effort. Even then, the Horde weren’t mindlessly evil, following their very nature to destroy. Even then, they were soldiers, as much as Mairèad was.

As much, she realized, as Krogu likely was.

And once she realized that, she saw him in every orc that charged at her, every face glaring back through a halo of Light or a haze of fire. And it was more than that. She started to recognize faces, not by name but by familiarity, from Light’s Hope. Tauren and Blood Elves both; she couldn’t have called their names if she wanted to, but she felt sure that she’d exchanged smiles with one or two, sharpened her Orcish with another. They called upon the same Light she did, and the expressions of doubt and horror on their faces matched the one on her own.

Had any on the battlefield experienced this sort of thing before? Mairèad couldn’t imagine so. The Horde and Alliance had, she knew, tenuously worked together in Northrend, but things had been tense. She couldn’t recall a time when they hadn’t at least been separate, not until the Legion arrived, not until their world was in more danger than any but the oldest among them had seen. And now, Mairèad knew she wasn’t the only one struggling to strike against those with whom she’d so recently shared bonds.

She almost couldn’t help herself when she held up her shield to block the blow of a Troll charging at her; he must have been twice her height, but he also seemed impressed that she was able to throw him off with her Light-enhanced strength. He seemed even more impressed, behind his carved mask, when she remarked, “Hell of a day for it, too, is it not?” in Orcish.

Impressed, and amused. “Ya,” he answered with a chuckle, bringing another blow toward her side, as though they were sparring partners. “Where ya from? Ya Orcish sound like a Blood Elf’s.”

Mairèad snorted, stomping her foot and grinning as the Troll leapt away from her consecration. “It is funny, because in Common, I sound like a peasant!” she answered.

The Troll spun his staff about in a complicated gesture and seemed about to reply when an arrow flew from behind Mairèad and caught him in the neck. Mairèad staggered back, watching as he fell, one hand reaching towards her but soon growing still. “...fuck,” she whispered, rooted to the ground. What was she doing here? What were any of them doing here?

Now all she could think of was finding Krogu, if he was even at the battle. “Please don’t be here, please don’t be here,” she murmured, pushing forward. All of the Orcs she encountered were tall and taller, even the ones with hair the same hue as hers. Krogu had a good nearly two feet on her, but he was scrawny for one of his race, and none of the Orcs Mairèad faced stood an inch below seven feet.

And then--

There he was, she was sure of it, the features she’d memorized with her lips and fingers coated in blood, the mouth that whispered her name so sweetly bared in a snarl. She started to call out to him when the world in front of her exploded in clouds of sickly green--Blight.

Mairèad stumbled and coughed; around her, the armies began to scream in pain and horror, and not just the Alliance armies. “She’s blightin’ her own soldiers!” someone yelled, and Mairèad choked from something besides the wretched disease.

Paladins, especially those who bear shields, are not known for their rational decisions or for running away from danger. Mairèad let out a war yell and ran forward, into the sickening cloud, towards where she’d seen Krogu before the explosion.

She didn’t know how long it had been when she finally woke up again, woke with a cough that made her ribs ache and a pounding headache and her skin pink and raw and healing from chemical burns. She didn’t know what day it was, but Chadley was there, and he told her that he’d stopped her from charging in “like a complete idiot.” That the grace of the Light was the only reason they’d survived. That the Horde had been driven from Capital City, but it was a hollow victory, since Sylvanas had flooded the city with Blight as she fled.

No one had news on the casualties among the Horde. It was hard to say, as Sylvanas had raised so many of those she killed with the Blight, as so many were left in the ruins of the city that was destroyed out of nothing but spite.

Mairèad was bed-bound for the next several days, per orders of the medic who’d bandaged and healed her the rest of the way, after Lorcan and Chadley had stabilized her back in Brill. She’d fought it at first, but when she’d dropped to her knees in pain after just a few steps, she surrendered to her body’s pleas for healing. Her mind and heart still raced, but she wouldn’t be going anywhere on her own for a while.

So she held the letter in her hand, unsent, for nearly a week after the battle, hoping that her delay wouldn’t cause the kind of panic she felt.

Krogu,

Please tell me you’re alright, please don’t be blighted. I saw you there, I wanted to say something, but then fucking Sylvanas--

I’m alright. Mostly. I did something stupid and got myself fucked right up for my trouble. I’ll be alright once I’ve rested up.

Just please tell me you’re alright. Please. Please.

I love you.

Mair

[ohmygillygoshoppler]

so, I was thinking...

since a lot of my peeps still aren’t all down with their classes yet, I decided to dig up my old DnD manual and make a list of the best classes and backgrounds I could find! if anyone likes, they can select and go with it!

@imagine-darksiders

@askthedarksidersfam

@darksiders-scenarios

@bunnythemurderer

@alqulyndrys

@memesiders

@madyson-delayne

@mopiece

whoever the fuck else in involved... Jesus, this took forever...

barbarian- In battle, you fight with primeval ferocity. Rage is a key factor when it comes to your combat style. You can take a hit, and dish one out, too. You are a moving mountain fueled by rage and hatred, but your party takes care of you, and you protecc them. So whether you fight with your fists or a giant axe, know that your team can always count on you for a bloodbath!

bard- you’ve wandered the lands, playing music, telling tales, and entertaining audiences with your talent. Rarely does a community not welcome you in, as you bring the news of distant lands to the common folk. You can always find a spot to preform, usually at an inn or tavern. At such a place, you receive free lodging and food as long as you preform each night. In addition, your performances make you something of a local celebrity. When strangers recognize you in a town where you have preformed, they typically take a liking to you.

Oh, by the way, you can hypnotize people with music. Just sayin’.

bounty hunter-However fine and noble at first glance, know that a ruthless jailer lies beneath. You’ll hand anyone over... For the right price.

charlatan- you’re a liar, a thief, a cheat, and a sneak. But you do what you can to do the right thing... the wrong way...

city watch- you have served your Community  where you grew up, standing as the first line of defense against crime. You’re no scholar, directing your gaze out toward possible enemies. Instead, you devote your service to your hometown, or in this case, your base. You’re basically the cop of the party. (talk to your DM about the services preformed as a city watchman)

crafter- you find trash and build stuff with it.

cleric- you’ve always had a thing for healing people and making them feel better. You feel like it’s your calling, the thing you were put on this planet to do! Guided by the hand of you deity, you can wreak havok, or weave miracles. As the paladin or monk, should you wind up in a temple or place of worship, you’ll be granted with healing, food, spells, items, and maybe even a chat with you God or Goddess.

cloistered scholar- as a child, you were inquisitive while your playmates were possessive and raucous. In your formative years, you found your way to a great institution of learning... and never came out. You stayed in school forever and now, you’re a genius. That’s pretty much what this whole class entails. Smart. As. Fuck.

commoner- you came from a humble social rank, perhaps a working as a farmer, or an average joe. Although your background may not be a glamorous as others, you find it easy to blend in wherever you go and have some sort of folksy wisdom that can sometimes help you out of a jam.

courtier- in your early years, you were the personage of some significance in the noble court or organization. You may or may not have come from an upper-crust family; your talents, rather than the circumstances of your birth, could have secure your position. You might have been one of the many functionaries, attendants, and other hangers-on in the court of the nobles, or maybe even a behind-the-scenes lawkeeper!

Even if you are no longer a person of importance, your relationships with your party members can be an advantage for you. You might undertake missions with your new companions that further the interests of your organization that gave you a start in life. In any event, the abilities that you honed while serving as a courtier will stand you in good stead as an adventurer.

criminal-you have a knack for breaking the law, and you’re awfully proud of that. You’ve spent a lot of time among other crooks, and may or may not still have contact with your criminal buddies.You’re far closer than most to the world of murder, theft, and violence that pervades the underbelly of civilization, and you’ve survived up to this point by bending the rules and regulations of society. (talk to your DM about your criminal specialties)

Druid- you love the world around you, and all of its creatures! You speak the ancient language of the druids, allowing you to communicate with animals, as well as races outside of your own. Your magic comes from the divine essence of nature itself, that you can cast at your will. Creatures, as well as some monsters are more inclined to listen and help you if you ask.

far traveler- almost all of the common people and other folk that one might encounter here have one thing in common: most live out their lives without ever traveling more than a few miles from their homeland. You aren’t one of those people. You are from a distant place, one so remote that few even know this place exists. You have come to this part of the world for your own reasons, which you may or may not chose to share. Although you will undoubtedly some of this land’s ways to be strange and uncomfortable, you can also be sure that some things its people take for granted will be to you, a new wonder that you’ve never seen. By the same token, you’re a person of interest, for good or ill, to those around you almost anywhere you go.

haunted one- you are haunted by something so terrible that you dare not speak of it. You’ve tried to bury it and flee from it, but to no avail. This things that haunts you can’t be beaten with a blade or banished with a spell. It might come to you as a shadow on the wall, a bloodcurdling nightmare, a memory that refuses to die, or a demonic whisper in the back of your mind. The burden is only now starting to take it’s toll, isolating you from others and making you question your sanity.

hermit- you lived in seclusion- either in a sheltered community like a monetary, or entirely alone- for a formative part of your life. In your time apart from the clamor of society, you found quiet, isolation, and perhaps some of the answers you’ve been searching for.

jester-You were employed as a jester by a noble. You preformed acrobatic stunts, told jokes and stories, and provided entertainment for your employer and his guests. However, you also served a key role, lacing your entertainment with criticisms and observations too controversial for others to say aloud. You enjoy the rare privilege of speaking your mind with little or no repercussions.  As a jester, it id your duty to use comedy as a way to point out the absurdities of the world. You can criticize through a lens of humor without offense. In addition, you gain access to other nobels in order to preform.

monk- you were raised in a monastery, far from the reaches of your peers. You’ve been devoted to a combat style and way of life ever since you were born. The discipline you’ve received from your time in the monetary will stick with you forever. The force in which you use to cut down your foes is called Ki, and you’ve learnt just how to use it.

noble- you understand wealth, power, and privilege. You carry a noble title, and your family owns land, collects taxes, and wields significant political influence.You might be a pampered aristocrat unfamiliar with work or discomfort, a former merchant just elevated to the nobility, or a disinherited scoundrel with a disproportionate sense of entitlement. or, you could be an honest, hard-working landowner who cares deeply about the people who live and work on your land, keenly aware of your responsibility to them.(talk with you DM about the connections and deeds of your family)

outlander- You grew up in the wilds, far from civilization and the comforts of modern technology. You’ve witness the migrations of herds larger than forests, survived weather more extreme than any city-dweller could comprehend, and enjoy the solitude of being the only thinking creature for miles in any direction.  You’ve been to strange places and seen strange things that other could not even fathom. Consider some of the distant lands you’ve visited and how they’ve impacted you.

 paladin- the presence of strong evil registers on your own senses like a noxious odor, and powerful good rings like heavenly music in your ears. As an action, you can open your awareness to such forces and detect them. You know the locations of any celestial, undead, or fiend within a 20 mile radius. Angels adore you, demons fear you, and your team all look to you for protection and valor in times of need.

priest- you have pledged your life to serve a god, pantheon of gods, or philosophy. You serve as the intermediary between your chosen power and the mortal world, conducting sacred rites, offering sacrifices, and expounding the teachings of your faith to those you’ve met. Your knowledge and experience are drawn from the time spent as a priest.

When you are in a temple, or holy place, you can expect to receive free healing, acre, and religious services for yourself and your party, assuming your friends are aligned with your faith.

ranger- you have significant experience in hunting, tracking and trapping. The outdoors are your home, and you are particularly familiar with one type of natural environment, and are adept at traveling and surviving in those regions.

rogue- during your training, you learned the stealthy, silent way of the knife. You’re quick on your feet, and lighter still. Nobody will ever hear or see you coming. You know how to strike subtly and exploit a foe’s distraction. Being the quiet type, you can hear, and are aware of other creatures locations within 10 feet of yourself. Oh yeah, did I mention the knives?

sage- you’ve spent years reading up on the lore of the multiverse. You soured manuscripts,studied scrolls, and listed to the greatest experts on the subjects that interest you. Your efforts have made you a master i your field of study (discuss your skill with your DM).

sailor- you’ve sailed on a seagiong vessel for years. In that time, you’ve faced nightly storms, monsters of the deep, and those who wanted to sink your ship to the bottom of the drink. Your first love is that distant line of the horizon, but the time has come for you to try your hand at something new.(discuss the nature of your ship with your DM)

Was it a merchant ship? A naval vessel? A pirate ship?

soldier- war and battle have been your life for as long as you care to remember. You trained as a youth, studied the use of weapons and armor, learned basic survival techniques,including how to stay alive on the battle field. You might have been part of a standing national army, or a mercenary company who rose to prominence during a recent war. (Work wit your DM to see what military branch you may have worked with.)

sorcerer- An event in a past life, or in the life of a parent or ancestor, left an incredible mark on you, infusing your blood with magic, be it angel or demon. The font of this magic fuels your spells. Charisma and intelligence are your spellcasting ability check. Be warned, however. Sorcery comes directly from you. You only have so much power to give, and that power can be taken away. It’s not a pretty process. It can kill you.

spy- At some point or another, you secretly gained information on a group of people or maybe one person. You were hired by a rival or political enemy, maybe searching for information that could hurt the other party. Maybe you were trying to fulfill your own agenda, but regardless, you’re good at finding things out and hiding your true self. You’re a master manipulator; years of stealth and trickery taught you how to not draw attention to yourself. The way you walk, talk, and move are deliberately forgettable, and utterly extraordinary. You dress in a  way that is easy to forget, no one will easily recall your characteristics or features unless they make an effort to do so.

In addition, you can read and write in a code than no one else is able to understand. Only someone trained in deciphering it.

thug- Years of living in the streets have given you an aura of menace. Your look conveys a basic message to your foes: you’ll as soon break their jaws as receive an apology.Threats and bullying tactics come easily to you. Your demeanor has landed you jobs with less-than-reputable organizations in the past, where you’ve provided the protection and muscle.

urchin- You grew up on the streets alone, orphaned, and poor. You had no body to watch over and protect you, so you learned to do all those things for yourself. You’ve fought fiercely over food and kept a constant watch out for other desperate souls looking to steal from you. You’ve slept on rooftops, in alleyways, exposed to the elements, and endured sickness without the advantage of medicine or a place to recuperate.

You’ve survived despite all odds, and did so through cunning, strength, speed, or some unholy combination of each. You know the secret patterns and flow to cities and you can find passages through the urban sprawl that others may miss. When not in combat, you can travel fast between any and all locations.You as a lot of questions. You hide food and other tools and trinkets in your pockets.You’re driven by your commitment to your squad, and the will to stay alive and fight.

warlock- As a warlock, you’ve made a bargain with an otherworldly being of your choice. For some, it’s as simple as giving a few years of devotion and faith, but for other, a greater sacrifice is required... The more you level up, the more you start to take after your deity; if you’re associated with angels, your hair will turn white, eyes will turn gold, and perhaps you might grow wings. If you’re associated with demons, however... Well, let’s just hope you decide to serve the light...

wizard- as a wizard, you practice and train for years and years to master the arcane arts, as well as arcane recovery. As a student of the mystics, whether they be angel or demon, you have a spellbook containing spells that show the first glimmerings of your true power. The more you level up, the better those spells become.

[the-royal-courier]

People of Azeroth: Rufaic Snowsteel, The Light for the Next Generation

By Risri Elthron

The air in Ironforge is always filled with a tinge of metal. The great forge making the city always feel warm. The welcome by the people who fill the city’s halls is always cheerful. It was no exception when I met with Rufaic Snowsteell.

The stalwart Dwarf is a leader of the Bouldershoulder Brigade, a paladin and a man focused upon insuring the next generation of Dwarves has it better than he did. Growing up in Thelsamar, Rufaic thought his life would be one of smithing. Then the Horde attacked and his path changed.

Now a paladin, Rufaic is quick to say everything he does is for the children. “After all the struggles that my brother and I went through growing up, just to reach adulthood and find ourselves faced with the Horde? I want to see my friends and my fellow Dwarves survive to see a peaceful world. To have a life at least as nice as I had growing up. But that won't happen if I just decide to retire, to stop fighting. I've been blessed by the Light, and I'd be disgracing both myself and the Light to give up on that struggle for a better world."

His prowess has seen him through the years and kept him fighting for all of Azeroth. As a member of Bouldershould Brigade, Rufaic has been involved heavily in the defense of Khaz Modan during the recent Legion invasions. Even coming up with a plan and helping to execute a dreaded Fel Reaver set loose in Twilight Highlands a few months back. He shared the tale with enthusiasm.

“I gathered what Dwarves I could, mostly fellow Bouldershoulders here, and asked Tyrman Bladebreaker, of the Steelgrasp Brigade, to gather his best Gnomes and explosives. I had a wonderful, terrible, plan. I got my folks mounted, and prepared to play the role of bait. The lot of us rode all the way to Firebeard's Patrol, where we shouted obscenities and threw whatever we could to get the machine's attention. Once it was nice and pissed, making that sound that Reavers do, we turned tail and baited it along all the way to the Crucible of Carnage. I may have made a bad decision by not checking to see if my fellow Dwarves knew how to stay in the saddle, but not one got stepped on. That's the important part! Once the Reaver stepped inside the arena, the plan went off without a hitch. Tyrman's crew got a mage ta teleport them inside the machine, to plant explosives among its innards. All the while, my folks and I played "who can dodge a giant metal foot" and "who can yell for a medic loudest." It all worked out in the end. We had to manually disarm the fel machine, but it went down with no casualties!”

He added humbly, “I would put a disclaimer that only a Bouldershoulder is dumb enough to use that plan, though. Some folk might've called me insane or suicidal for going through with it, but I proved them wrong. Apparently pissing off a gigantic death machine ain't what folk would call sound military tactics.” His unorthodox plan, however, saw the Fel Reaver downed and Twilight Highlands safe once again.

His unique and brave strategies have played a big part of his military career. He joked there was no fun to be had by just straight up attacking, “In all seriousness, we try to keep our foes on their toes. There's no fun in just beating things senseless with our Dwarven martial ability.”

Unmarried, the paladin does hope to settle down one day and carry on his family’s name. His legacy is assured, however, in his work with the younger generations of Dwarves. “If it would inspire some of the younger adventurers out there to fight with your head, instead of your fist, absolutely. Be unpredictable. Maybe drink a bit. Never do what your foe's expecting.” He stated if all the wars were over he would channel his energy into opening a proper smithy and teaching, “I'd likely try to open my own proper smithy. Of course, I'd also like ta teach younger folk the ways of the Light.”

When asked about the most challenging thing he’s encountered in his life so far, his answer brought a somber reminder of all we have lost, “The most difficult thing to overcome, for me, was the initial Legion invasion. There's a part of me that wants to defend everyone, but I couldn't do it. On the Broken Shore, I failed. I'm certain everyone's heard of what happened to the Argent Crusade there. And while I was gone, my brother was obliterated back here during a Legion attack on the airfield. Further on top of that, I lost my best friends in a damn little cave during that scouting mission in Suramar. Perhaps there's a reason the Order sent me back home. I had to have time to recover from all of this, and find a new family.”

The final question of the interview, had him answering as a true paladin, “ I like to believe that people are basically good. There's a light within every heart, and a shadow as well. If the shadow was stronger, than I don't think we'd still be sitting here. The Light within us all outweighs our sins, and our hatreds. Even in the worst criminal's heart, the Light still shines. It's just a matter if folk will give it a chance to shine.”

Rufaic Snowsteel is a Dwarf worthy of his order and offered only one final word, “BOULDERSHOULDER!”

(Art by @theshadowborn)

[mechagalaxy]

John T Mainer 28840: It was that kind of war

It was that kind of war You have to understand, events from that war aren't going to make a lot of sense to people on the outside.  I was there, and at the time I totally understood and accepted that this was just right and holy, but even now watching the gun camera footage, it wierds me out a little bit.  Buckle up mecha jocks, its about to get strange. Time 3362 Faction War Battle 2 Place:  Division 1            Ice World Hoth Defending: Bouncing Blue Berserkers Our base in Hoth had been exposed by poor communications discipline by one of the supply ships.  As a result the Sith Lords had descended.  Their fleet of wedge shaped cruisers dominated the nearspace and the steady flow of mech sized laser blasts saturating the landing zone kept us from interdicting their landing.  Our own mining operations had revealed large caches of new mecha, including an up armoured version of the Fext, somewhere around a 4% stronger baseline with matching developmental improvements.  The Fext is the leading multipurpose 100 ton utility mecha in our fleet.  If you can't have a specialty mecha for any purpose, you can outfit a Fext to be a field expedient good enough to match any but the most dedicated specialty mecha.  We wanted them, everyone wanted them.  To get them we needed to hold Hoth. We aren't really all that good at defense.  I mean we are solid strategically, hard core professional soldiers and all that.  Mercenaries, and the top end of our trade, but there is something special about those called to be Bouncing Blue Berserkers.  The BBB or Bouncing Blue Brotherhood drew together in ancient times from the Smurfs, the Bunnies, Myth and Legend, Slaughterhouse 5, Star League, united by a common desire to stand together in the face of a galaxy where every hand was turned against the other.  We were united by one thing; we were crazier than the galaxy, no matter how wierd it got.  The Bouncing Blue Brigade went to war with a song on its lips and laughter in its heart.  That wasn't us. We were the Bouncing Blue Berserkers.  What was our problem on defense?  We had this little problem when the enemy came into sight. The majestic legions of the Sith lords marched in lock step across the ice plains,  sensors warned of sub formations moving into the badlands to flank us, 10, 20,30, 40. 55 ton scouts fought in ice caves and rift marked fells, on wind torn scree slopes where their claws scrabbled to hold onto the cliff side while armour flenced from their flanks like blubber off a butchered whale, but the main mass of unlimited tonnage walked with arrogant surety right into the heart of the plain, daring a confrontation of force on force their greater weight of metal made a foregone conclusion. Their challenge rang out with all the arrogance of the Sith. "Your pathetic defenses are no match for the power of the dark side.  Your friends cannot save you now, your alliance ends here.  Surrender and accept your fate" So Daniel "Hellbunny" Halbany hit him  with a Proton Blade, burying the axe helve deep in the Xango's intimidating cockpit.  I let Paladin my Redeemer cut loose with my Mjolnir which hit like the hammer of Thor himself to render a Sith Penner into a very finely polished heap of scrap iron.  I gave the only command needed to unleash the berserkers. "BLOOD AND SOULS!"  I screamed "BLOOD AND SOULS!"  They answered, and we unleashed hell. It was an oddly friendly hell, as both sides bathed in a soul deep love of slaugher, of rage.  Berserkers who gave themselves to the transforming ecstasy of rage, who drank pain and fear like lesser mortals drank wine, and chased it with the blood of their enemies met Sith Lords who powered themselves on hatred, on cold murder hunger, hot violent rage indulged in what was technically a battle, very nearly an orgy, and quite possibly the highest expression of violence as an art form. In a battle with Terry Cole, I nailed him cleanly with a Juggernaut, the power of the cannon punching through his shields with the true hunger for the murder-make that is the gift of the berserkerr, and I knew my shot hit true, for the energy surge of a critical kill washed over his Penn Killer Penner, only to see the dark crackling Force of his Sith arts restabalize his engine shielding.  The warning flashed on my screen "Critical Kill blocked".  Damn them and their dark side powers.  His return fire slammed my shield so hard it spun me around, and his second shot broke my mecha's spine.  That is when I saw it.   A lone Fext wandering across the field, a group of techs chasing it accross the ice calling "Here Fexty fexty fexty, come on boy!" I hit the open channel and screamed "CODE FEXT!" Like street hockey when someone yelled car, all the fighters locked their weapons down as the lone fext wandered accross the field like a lost pupply looking for its master, or someplace to pee.  When the techs gave us a cheerful wave and got the Fext into the hills away from our fire, we screamed at each other and resumed killing. As my former point mech Bun Bun (an old school Regis with more critical kill than sense) held a Notas by the cockpit in its Ferrite and crystal fangs as the pilot in the jaws laughed and urged him on. "Good, let your hate flow"  He said, ignoring his own position.  Bun Bun cut loose with his Galaxy Eye and tore the head from the armoured shoulder paldrons and neck baffles, to crunch in his fangs. I was standing on the ice in my body armour when it happened and swore intently.  "Odin curse you Bun Bun, we talked about this.  NO EATING PILOTS.  Bad Bun Bun.  They are Sith Lords not Telemarketers, and you can't eat them!" A rasping voice sounded behind me, I turned and Terry, sporting his dark creepy as all heck Sith Robes (which I noted seemed to be well heated for Hoth's ice world, better than my unpowered armour)..   "Don't discourage him, that Regis has a soul that was born for the dark side" Its not that he was wrong, its just that when the AI of our Regis was purged of its Forerunner sabotage, it got imprinted by one of our mecha bay bunnies.  Bun Bun the bunny had anger issues which were cute in a tiny fluffy bunny, and a serious war crime tribunal waiting to happen in a 90 ton Regis.  I guess Sith Lords have a really epic legal department, because they just thought it was cute not "lawsuit and bankruptcy risk" like we did. All across the field hatred was given free rein, perfectly good defensive positions were ignored by screaming maniacs closing to knife fighting range so they could feel the coolant splash on their armour from each strike, and bathe in the plasma flares of each engine kill.  The Sith were no better, pausing to coach and encourage each act of insane blood hungry murder frenzy they encountered, half way between being a death squad out to destroy us, and particularly good coaches who see real potential in an athlete and wish to push them past a performance plateau into a higher level of function. We had a good killing. The issue was settled within hours, the battle for Hoth was lost with the shattering of our main defenses, but both sides seemed to ignore this as trivial.  The battle was such a cluster frag that Sith mecha were spotted dragging Berserker mecha to the Sith repair depot to repair and rearm because they figured our repair backlog was getting bad enough that without help this pilot might not be able to get back into the fight in time for another round.  At one point I know I saw our field techs loading a Sith Specter with our missiles, shouting at the pilot  "Don't worry, we'll invoice you later".   When the horn sounded, the guns fell silent, we looked up and let the adrenaline fade.  Berskerkers and Sith were mixed in clots around the icy wasteland.  We had shot up the landscape so badly none of our mapping programs could identify our position.  Not one of either sides satelites were anything but radioactive slag from all the reflections and rebounds , so our GPS was out.  So much energy had been put into the ionosphere that we couldn't get a solid lock on the bases signal to direction find it for even a rough guide back to base.   There was an Apatotron burning in the middle of the field, and one of my mecha threw a Notas on top of it.  A Sith lord tossed a Humbaba with legs only on one side to join it on the pyre.   Pilots began to cluster around, tossing bits of battle killed wildlife on the armour plates sticking out of the fire as a makeshift BBQ.  Bottles began to circulate.  Screw it.  The techs can send speeders to collect us in the morning.  It had been a day of rage and murder, of fury and blood.  It would be a night of drinking and swapping lies.  We were at war yes, but it had been a good killing. A good killing indeed. John T Mainer 28840

[rytfujgkuhhgmjgh]

☆┋ BASIC INFORMATION.

FULL NAME: lieutenant arcadia lawrence west

OTHER NAME(S): the fist of justice (epithet); kell arkadia (epithet / title, given by the fallen)

GENDER: cis female

PRONOUNS: she/her

BIRTHDATE: around 2390

AGE: 27 (physically)

SPECIES: human

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: white

SEXUALITY: heterosexual

OCCUPATION: united states marine (formerly); titan guardian

☆┋ APPEARANCE.

FACE CLAIM: lauren cohan

HEIGHT: 5′10″

HAIR: purple (dyed); light brown (naturally)

EYES: golden (after resurrection, naturally hazel)

SKIN: pale

BODY: tall and muscular

VOICE: low with an american accent

DOMINANT HAND: right

SCARS: a gunshot wound on the back of her neck from her first death

TATTOOS: small usmc logo on her left bicep; a pattern of flowers on her right ankle

☆┋ FAMILY.

PARENTS: olivia west (mother); jeremy west (father)

SIBLINGS: nicholas west (older brother); eli west (older brother)

CHILDREN: n/a

OTHER FAMILY: kobayashi etsuko (close friend)

NOTABLE ROMANTIC PARTNERS: owen royce cho (boyfriend)

☆┋ BACKGROUND.

HOMETOWN: somewhere on the east coast of the united states

EDUCATION: four-year military college (similar to westpoint)

SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): golden age era english; golden age era mandarin chinese; golden age era russian (conversational)

MENTAL ILLNESS(ES): ptsd (medicated)

LIKES: tea, the snow

DISLIKES: warm weather, small spaces

SKILLS / ABILITIES: titan guardian (specialization in striker and sunbreaker classes)

WEAPON(S) OF CHOICE: her fists; shotguns; pulse rifles; swords

☆┋ EXTRA INFORMATION.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good

MBTI TYPE: entj

SIN: pride

VIRTUE: diligence

ELEMENT: earth

TROPES: one woman army; back from the dead; big fucking sword; did you just punch out cthulhu?; the dreaded; lightning bruiser; never bring a gun to a fist fight; the paladin; power fist; shoulders of doom; space marine; throwing your sword always works

PINTEREST

PLAYLIST

CHARACTER TAG

☆┋ PERSONALITY.

CORE STRENGTHS: loyal, obedient, compassionate, dedicated, steadfast, honest, disciplined

CORE FLAWS: uncompromising, humorless / serious, tense, extreme, abrupt / blunt

I. BACKGROUND

Arcadia was born at the end of Earth’s Golden Age, a time when technology and culture were flourishing and prosperous. Her father was a businessman who often worked on Venus, so her childhood was split between there and Earth. Aside from her father, the West family had close ties with the military---Arcadia’s mother had been a marine and now worked as a therapist who helped integrate off-duty soldiers back to civilian life. Her older brothers also both worked with the military in some capacity---Nicholas was a combat medic, and Eli was a military lawyer. Arcadia herself attended a four year military college, before receiving special training and going on to become a marine.

II. FIRST DEATH

Around three years after her entry into the military, the Darkness descended on Earth. Arcadia and her company were mobilized to fight Fallen soldiers at Krovsky Airfield in Russia. Her entire company was wiped out. Arcadia herself died face down in the dirt, a Fallen shock rifle pressed to the back of her head. Her family were soon also killed---only Eli survived longer than the rest, living through twenty more years of the Collapse.

III. REVIVAL

Several centuries later, Arcadia was revived by her Ghost, who she later came to call Polaris. Guided by Polaris, she managed to fix a ship and pilot it to the Last City, but not before encountering the descendants of the Fallen warriors who had killed her so many years before. Despite her status as a Guardian for whom death was merely a minor annoyance, she swore revenge on the Fallen for killing her in the first place, and harbored a special hatred for them.

Upon her arrival at the Last City, she quickly threw herself into service for the Vanguard. The structure of the Vanguard was familiar to someone with her military background, and as she was a Titan, she was matched with the branch that was most militaristically inclined. She quickly gained a reputation as an efficient, powerful Guardian, who used her fists as much---if not more---than her guns. She favored the Striker class, and was known for her penchant for close combat. Yet she was tactical---years of military service had taught her that. After her annihilation of an entire platoon of Cabal soldiers using only unarmed combat, she earned a fearsome nickname---the Fist of Justice.

IV. CAMPAIGN 

Arcadia was present for the destruction of the Black Garden and the raid on the Vault of Glass, where she was one of two Guardians to wield the Aegis. After that close brush with death, she focused her efforts into training a non-Guardian defense force for the Last City. She was brought back into action with the resurgence of the Hive on the Moon and Earth, and was part of the campaign to stop Crota. She was the one to strike the killing blow against him, but severely injured her arm in the process. She spent a few months recovering, training her defense force, and dealing with conflicts within the city and on Earth. By this time, Zavala had taken a particular shine to Arcadia, and she was in the running for his eventual replacement. She aided in the capture of the Fallen Kell Skolas, and thereafter resumed her activities in the field, her injury having been fully healed.

V. THE TAKEN THREAT

With the threat of the Taken becoming a great concern, Arcadia combined her tactical skills with prowess in the field, infiltrating the Dreadnought and leading strike teams against important Taken targets. She blended leadership with action, proving herself yet again to be an incredibly powerful Guardian. She was not present for Oryx’s death, instead waging war against his legions across the solar system. Her success in this aspect of the war and ability to handle responsibility only increased her reputation. From her first deployment on the field, she was noticed by friend and foe alike, but these actions solidified her as exceptional. An already fearsome epithet was supplemented by enemy titles, most notably one from Variks, who dubbed her Kell Arkadia in recognition of her leadership and high body count. (Needless to say, Arcadia was not thrilled by this).

Lord Saladin recruited her and an entire contingent of other Guardians to fight SIVA, which she battled with her usual ferocity. She also gained specialization as a Sunbreaker, a class that suited her aggressive style.

☆┋ SIGNIFICANT VERSE VARIATIONS / HEADCANONS:

Considered one of the most powerful Guardians in existence---particularly in terms of raw physical strength---and widely known for her power, both by allies and enemies.

One of the highest ranking Vanguard members and being groomed to eventually inherit Zavala’s position.

Holds particular animosity towards the Fallen.

Trains and occasionally commands a non-Guardian defense force.

[yeahwesaidthat]

TWWS: The Best of D&D

Ladiiiiiiiies and gentlemeeeeeeeeeeen! Welcome to the ultimate showdown: THE BEST OF D&D!

This post contains the best of the best of the D&D/RPG posts over the years of TWWS, all the way from the beginning. At the end of the post, there will be a link to a survey where you can vote for your favourites in each category (other/3.5e, 4e, and 5e) and nominate MVPs for each category. If the person you want to vote MVP has only been referenced as “Player,” just note down what quote they’re responsible for. A week from today (or until enough of you fill out the survey), Round 2 of the competition begins.

Everybody roll for initiative!

Overheard During Other RPGs

During Hackmaster, about a bottle label: SB: “It says ‘Thou shalt not question the DM over inane shit!’”

Overheard During D&D 3.5e

Unarmed damage?: MM: “It’s the difference between a slap and a bitch-slap.”

So wrong it's right: MM (IC): “I like your spunk.” KH (OOC): “So does [gay player].”

Rogue equipment: KB (IC): “I need [boots] that are…soft-sounding.” MM (IC): “We have socks.”

Describing a character: SO: “She is built like a brick shithouse.” DM: “She shits brick houses.” Bubbles: “She makes brick houses shit bricks.”

When the party has two rogues: KH (IC): “I can find it!” KB (IC): “I can find it better.”

RD (IC): “[Wizard], if you do not stop right now, I will arrest you for terminal stupidity, and I can assure you, I will find a law against it!”

A discount on services rendered: SO: “What’s 75% off of ‘I run and do whatever you ask without question’?”

Calling for divine help in very specific situations: MM: “Please state your current medical emergency.” KB: “Head-splosion.” SO: “If you have been stabbed, press one. If you are currently being stabbed, press two.” MM: “If your head’s detonated and you’ve launched into a wall, press three.” RD: “Why did you press three? We never expected anyone to press three!” SO: “We don’t know what to do in this medical emergency! Please dial again!”

IO: “[Wizard] is going to say - ” KB: “Can I tell you why this is a bad idea?” IO: “No.”

Proper procedure when everything goes to hell: RD: “[Cleric] goes outside and makes a magic circle, sits in it, and cries.”

KH (IC): “That stupid fucking son of a flea-ridden bitch cunt wizard - ” MM (IC): “Oh, him.”

How to pray to the god Ao: KB, KH, and MM: “I throw my hands up in the air sometimes sayin’ heeeeey-oh! I worship Aaaaaaa-o!” Bubbles: “[The wizard’s] gaaaaaaaay-o!"

Overheard During D&D 4e

SIDE NOTE: A Quiplash commentary on D&D 4e: A more environment-friendly alternative to toilet paper - 4th ed character sheets

What we think we saw - again?: Player: “If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and weighs the same as a duck, it must be a witch.” KH: “It’s a witch.” RJ: “Build a bridge out of 'er!”

Healing needed: Player: “I have a mess kit, will that help?” WS: “Only if you want to make a mess.”

Captain: “Neverwinter ho!” Dwarf: “Hos? Where?”

SB: “Eventually you end up at the most popular stall in the market.” Player: “Porn?”

About attacking a character that may or may not be good: SB: “Wait, what’s your alignment?” Player: “Lawful Paranoid.”

Taunting the kraken: Player: “Your tentacles are so short even an anime girl wouldn’t take 'em!”

Questioning the legitimacy of an NPC: SB (IC as Priest): “I have a degree in polytheism from the University of Phoenix Online!”

Making sure it’s really dead: SB: "You kick the head and it goes sailing through the open door of the tomb. You hear a voice in the darkness go ’Gooooooooal!’”

Killing the undead: SB: “Congratulations, you choked something to death that doesn’t breathe.”

Mass undead murder: Player: “We made a ghoul-ash. An evil gumbo, really.”

Architecture: Player: “I like big buttresses and I cannot lie.”

Interesting kills: SB: “You decapitated him with a bludgeoning weapon.”

About flying books: Player 1: “The window opens in! How do they fly out?” Player 2: “They’re paperbacks."

Player: “Thank God I decided to engage the dragon in melee.” MW: “You’ll never hear that in any other D&D campaign ever again.”

Player: “Is the food still on the table?” Three Of Us: “DON’T EAT IT!!!”

Overheard During D&D 5e

Annoying Teen: (about his character) “Would he still hate me?” AD: (not about his character) “I think everyone hates you.”

Don’t mess with a dire bear: JI: “There’s one inside who attacks the bear…" (rolls) "...and misses horribly ‘cause he shits his pants.”

JI: “He doesn’t have 100 hit points. He has 95.”

Demonic insight: KH: “I say in Infernal, ‘Peace! We mean you no harm!’” JI: “There’s no word in Infernal for ‘peace.’” Retroactive Edit: Demons actually speak Abyssal. Devils speak Infernal.

Animal form disadvantages: AD: “I’m going to bite [the zombie].” Everyone Else: (mass noise of disgust)

JI: “You feel a pinch in your mind as if she’s flipping through your yellow pages.” AD: “That’s got to be a euphemism for something.” ST: “Oh, yeah, baby, turn my yellow pages.” JB: “Turn to ‘F’ for fun.”

What happens in every religious venue in every D&D campaign ever: JB: “Here is the church, here is the steeple,” KH: “Open the door, and here are the zombies.”

KH: “Did you sneak off to her house in the middle of the night?” ST: “Does that sound like something I would do?” KH, AD, and CD: “Yes.”

JI: “You guys came in here - ” AD: “ - like a wrecking ball - ”

Post-adventure considerations: KH: “[Rogue] wouldn’t know what to do with her life.” AD: “She can bail herself out of jail.”

Switching to melee for a change: CD: “Let’s see if this ‘offense’ thing you do all the time really works.” (rolls a critical hit)

The logistics of being swallowed by a sea monster: ST: “Am I going to take damage if I move further along his digestive tract?”

EC: “If you had leprosy and your ears fell off would you be a deaf leper?”

Identifying mysterious cults: KH: “What’s the Cult of Howling Hatred?” EC: “The Westboro Baptist Church, obviously.”

DR: “Apparently your god has personally intervened due to your badassery.”

A Mass Effect cameo on a dexterity check for dancing: EC: “If you roll a one, you dance like Shepard.”

EC (IC): “So what you’re saying is that it’s very dangerous and we shouldn’t go in. I’ll take point.”

Things to worry about in combat: KH: “You don’t have enough hit points to take it like a man, honey.”

The ends justify the means?: Bubbles: “Did you have fun role-playing an interrogation?” DR: “You guys are fucked up.”

KH: “How do you stun-lock a Terrasque?!?” JB: “Fourth Edition.”

ST: “Do we have to kill them before we eat? I hate murdering on an empty stomach.”

About a revenant and a possible lover: EC: “Well the beast is committing necrophilia and the necro is committing bestiality…” DR: “What happens in Faerun, et cetera.”

Rolling high on a seduction check: DR: “Frankly, I didn’t think you’d go down this road.” KH: “Oh, I went down all right.”

More on the seduction roll: Bubbles: “Try to convince her to come with us. The way she came with you last night.”

About a nonviolent kua-toa: Player: “He’s a paci-fish.”

About dealing with face-hugging enemies: CD: “You swung at yourself and missed?” AD: “I swung at myself and missed.”

ST (IC): “I’ll be staying in the boat unless you have need of my specific skills.” CD (OOC): “Dying first is not a skill.”

About cultists: DM (IC): “They are water people. Maybe they’re just going with the flow.”

About a minotaur who keeps missing: DM: “At least when you put a bull in a china shop he’ll break shit.”

About bottles of brandy: EC: “I have two questions: how many of them are there and how many of them can I carry?”

Ideas so bad they’re good: KH: “We’re gonna blow up the temple with the distillery.” F: “The temple, the lich, half the plot…”

About going forward: KH: “Against our better judgment.” DM: “What better judgment?” KH: “Good point.”

About shooting arrows: KH: “'Nock’ yourself out.”

About using a lot of magic: JS: “We’re blowing a big load here right now.”

JS: “You wanna go up the shaft?” ST and T: “That’s what he said.”

About flirting with an efreet: JI: “Below her waist is a trailing cloud of black smoke, so you’re not getting anything.”

Questioning the guardian imp: Player (IC): “What happens if someone disturbs the sarcophagus before your time is up?” WS (IC): “There’ll be six more weeks of winter.”

MR (IC): “Trying to undercut me on my quest to restore my former glory?” KH (IC): “You have no glory to restore.” Other Players: “Oooooooh!” SW: “Quick, someone cast heal!”

When talking with a spirit: MR (IC): “You can’t just ask someone if they’re dead! That’s incredibly rude! The correct term is ‘mortally challenged’!”

After a petrifying encounter with some basilisks: BC: “I always thought she was stone-hearted.” KT: “I dunno, I thought she rocked.” JS: “I am going to kill all of you.”

What to do with windmills: KH: “If we had a lance, we could go tilting.” MR: “Cavalier idea.”

Quest priorities: Player 1: “No one’s going to pay us to do it right now. It’s not worth the attention.”

JF: “Roll to see if you hit me by accident.” KH: “Oh, I’d hit you on purpose.”

K’s paladin chastising A’s paladin about her sex habits: A (IC): “I thought you were the paladin of joy!” K (IC): “Not that kind of joy!”

About a previous edition of D&D: KH: “[What] the hell couldn’t you do in 3.5?” SW: “Win.”

KH: “Technically you’re underage.” ST: “That’s never stopped me before.” AD: “You or your character?” ST: “Do I have to answer that?”

D: “We’re gonna make the Underdark great again!” ST: “We’re gonna build a wall - a really big wall in the Underdark, and we’re gonna make the gnomes pay for it.” A: “We pay for everything already! Screw you!”

About a character who caught fire: T: “He’s not rolling initiative; he’s rolling on the ground.”

T (IC): “Let’s go before the men’s egos get us killed.”

JB (IC): “My god believes in good opportunities. Not dying is a good opportunity.”

Passing on some bad news: JI (IC): “[Chief] not sick!” AD (IC): “He was when we were done with him.”

To a healer: KH (IC): “I don’t suppose you have a cure for the common cold?” JI (IC): “I’m not a miracle worker.”

Reassuring a woman scorned: AA (IC): “Go tell her - all men dogs.” JI (OOC): “Says the cat.”

To the tune of “Like a G6”: ST and KH: “Roll a d6, roll a d6!”

KH: “Of course it’s always about dirty sex - I’m a bard!” AD: “The hell are you two talking about down there?!”

To a mindflayer, about a stupid character: KH (IC): “I’d offer you his brain to eat, but I don’t think he has one.” JS (IC as mindflayer): “I don’t eat junk food.”

MGW: “It’s Tza…Zsa…his name is Jasper.”

Saying goodbye to the barkeep: MR (IC): “I’ll be back visiting the northern parts soon.” KH (OOC): “And then you can visit her southern parts.”

About a questionable NPC: ST (IC): “I would never dream of hurting you!” KH (IC): “I would.”

About prison visitations: JB (IC): “How often is it that a [gypsy] walks in here voluntarily?”

Failing a romance/persuasion check: AA: “Ooh, she cast Zone of Friend!”

Preparing for a swamp adventure: CD: “I want to buy some insect repellant.” AD: “What, your personality doesn’t drive them away?”

About a magic boat: JB (IC): “I saw it grow!” ST (IC): “Are you sure you didn’t rub it? That sometimes happens with wood.” JB (IC): “You would know.” ST (IC): “You wouldn’t.” JB (IC): “Tell that to my two children.”

About an injured drow: MGW (IC): “Look at that poor girl! She has a black eye! You can’t see it, ‘cause her skin is black, but still!”

Last-minute aliases: RD (IC): “Unfortunately, no, my name is Dick Ballsenshaft.”

To a half-orc and Sir Bearington, regarding weirdness: MGW (IC): “…but for me to assume you’re in a loving relationship with a talking bear is where we draw the line?!”

Wisdom for stealing magic items: KC: “Anything that glows goes.”

About fleeing: RD: “I’m going to run like an Amazon employee during the holidays.”

MGW: “You were doing so well until everybody died.” JF: “D&D in a summary.”

Once more about fleeing: RD: “A smart man knows when to run like a little bitch.” J: “Why do you think that’s the first thing I did?”

Recapping the previous session: A: “There was a shitshow, but we got away with it.” S: “So the usual, then.”

About creature size: MR: “Is an ettin large or huge?” MGW: “I think he’s just large.” A: “He’s probably large but pretends he’s huge.” AS: “Typical guy.”

When a pervy character is disgusted by a perv: RD: “Dear Kettle, I have an issue with your current hue. Signed, the Pot.”

A: “He told us to send a message.” KH: “A sword in the stomach is a message.” SW: “The Lannisters send their regards.”

The pervy paladin: A: “I used Lay On Hands. I healed him.” KH: “Yeah, but where did you lay your hands?” MGW: “Wherever she wanted.”

About our tactics: SW: “We put the 'fun’ in 'dysfunctional.’”

About possible activities: MGW (IC): “I know you’re a tiefling, but we’re all the same color in the dark, right?”

Interesting weapon material: MGW: “You all take a moment of reflective silence.” JB: “Nah, I’m just cleaning my bone.” KH: “Technically that’s a moment of reflective silence.” KC: “Not if you’ve seen the barbarian do it.”

Scrying like bad cell reception: KH: “Switch to AD&D.” JB: “Can you scry me now?”

About the taste of human: SW: “You would know.” A: “Nah, I don’t swallow.” MR: “This conversation is making me uncomfortable.”

Wrestling prep: MR (IC): “I want a good, clean fight.” A (IC): “No we don’t.” JB (IC): “What’s a clean fight?” A (IC): “It means you have to take a bath first.” JB (IC): “What’s a bath?”

MGW: “There’s a bridge that looks like it may have collapsed at some point.” JB: “Is it a-bridged?”

Beautiful references (read in Rorschach’s voice): AA: “I’m not grappled with YOU,” ST, AA, and KH: “YOU’RE grappled with ME!”

About remaining spells: KH: “I have three 1st-level slots and one 2nd-level slot.” CD: “Those are 'keeping people alive’ slots.”

Dealing with extra-limbed gorillas: ST: “Uh-oh! They must have been forewarned!” AD: “What makes you say that?” ST: “Forewarned is four-armed.” AD: -_-

Negotiation skills: AD: “It’s just me trying to bullshit him.” JI: “Why don’t you make a bullshit check?”

Trying to figure out if the staff is necromantic: CD: “We could kill a mouse in front of the staff. We could kill a mouse with the staff. How much is it to buy a mouse?”

JB: “Anyone die while I was gone?” SW: “Not on the outside.”

Wizarding limits: JS: “You may not polymorph your zombies into t-rexes.”

Zombies aren’t too smart: BC (IC): “Bobs, attack the closest gnoll!” Bobs: (run at gnoll party member) KH (OOC): “Et tu, Bob?” JS (OOC): “If this doesn’t belong in your blog, I dunno what does.”

Far too relatable: JS: “Twenty psychic damage.” BC: “I’ve taken more psychic damage from my mother.”

Worst-laid plans: KH (IC): “I have a very bad feeling about this.” MR (IC): “You should.”

Our go-to combat tactic: MR: “Are we going to stupid the guy to death?”

Zing!: MGW (IC): “If you join me, I can make you the greatest dwarf who ever lived.” TP (IC): “I am the greatest dwarf who ever lived.” Whole Table (OOC): “Ooooohhhhh!!!”

Another verbal duel with a sea god/character class limitations: KH: “I would say 'what is a god to a nonbeliever,’ but I’m a cleric.”

Activating the mysterious device: BC (IC): “We did it! I wonder what we did?”

Business as usual: KH: “This seems like a bad idea, but go ahead.”

Old adages: MR: “No plan survives contact with the enemy.” (IC) “But then, no enemy has survived contact with us!” (OOC) “Was that quote-worthy?” KH: “Yes.”

KC: “She can ride me. I don’t care.” KH: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) KC: “…I’M A BEAR IN ARMOR.”

Advantageous druidic inanity: KC: “Are you still riding the flying bear?” MR: “It’s flying now?” KC: “Yeah, he flew up to unlock the door.” AS: “…So he’s a flying bear with armor…”

Spell modifications for humourous purposes: MR: “Using a Dex[terity] save for Zone of Truth means they’re literally dodging the question.”

About a wild, crazy, out-of-left-field hypothesis: RD (IC): “I figured if you pulled something that big our of your ass there’d be bleeding involved.” MR (IC): “…That’s between me and my proctologist.” SW (OOC): “Did you take fire damage for that? That’s like Taco Bell levels of burn.”

As is per usual: MR: “We may have once again survived this by the skin of bullshit.”

Take the survey and vote for your favourites!