#borea's greatest fear

[holy-blood-unholy-skin]

Borea's is her fear of love (or losing it)

i can’t remember if any were mentioned in the books but some ideas for fatal flaws in the aphrodite cabin should be dysmorphia or denial of relationships.

on one hand, as aphrodite is the goddess of beauty, her children’s flaw could be to never find themselves beautiful enough. even if they knew they were attractive, the could never truly believe it.

on the other, she is the goddess of love. this could be romantic and denying that anyone would want to date them. or platonic/familial. denying that anyone would chose to be their friend or to view them as family.

[bikananjarrus]

i have a few thoughts about how the lost hero actually sets up the darker tone for HoO really well and then. well. there was never any follow through.

now some of my hindsight about TLH is probably fueled by nostalgia (i actually am really fond of tlh and also i was 14 when i read. impressionable on my teen brain). i’ve reread it several times, but i have really strong memories of the first time i read the book too, and i just remember it having a very gloomy, dark vibe to it. (the way that TTC is set in winter and definitely feels like a winter book, this is the HoO equivalent for me.)

looking at the actual contents of the book, the book starting off with jason's pov, who has no idea who he is, so immediately the feeling is 'oh shit. something happened to this guy. and it's not good.' and then almost immediately after that, getting sucker punched with the “she's been looking for one of our campers, who’s been missing three days…her boyfriend. A guy named percy jackson.” percy??? thee percy jackson. MISSING???? (look, that put 14 year old me flat on the floor. it still hits. but in 2010 when we had no idea percy was going to even be in these books….you kinda just had to be there okay.)

alongside jason, we have piper, whose dad got kidnapped by a giant and she'd being blackmailed! all before she finds out she's a demigod!! like she's already having a ROUGH time. we find out leo was manipulated by gaea to use his flame powers, which resulted in the fire that killed his mom (genuinely wtf).

their quest starting the lead up to the second great prophecy, which is happening so soon after percy's great prophecy (like they JUST finished fighting a war. give them a chance to breathe dammit. but also implying that some major things stirred with the defeat of kronos. But how could there be something more horrifying than kronos?).

their quest taking them to all these abandoned and/or cold places (the run down wolf house, they're hiding in the sewers at one point, the cyclops lair in that abandoned warehouse, the cave where they shelter from the cold and where the hunters of artemis find them, boreas’s house being in canada, even the mall where they meet medea being empty iirc). jason being abandoned by his mother. piper feeling abandoned by a father who doesn't have enough time for her. leo being alone too (not his mom's fault she died; not his fault for the fire; but he's alone nonetheless). even their primary mode of transportation being flying on festus feels strange and out of the place, bc for so long, we were seeing through percy's eyes and he had to stay on the ground.

and then to end the book with jason dying, however briefly. literally a dead man walking from the very beginning.

the tone was something different and darker, and combined with percy, hazel, and frank going to alaska, the land beyond the gods, in SoN, we were really venturing into unknown territory. it felt like our heroes would be tested. that gaea truly was something to be feared, even more so than kronos, and that it would take the generation's seven greatest demigods to defeat her.

and then it never followed through with that set up.

[choking-on-your-alibis]

hello and welcome! this blog is an AU of the greek gods. In order to punish the Gods for tormenting humanity due to godly affairs, Zeus has banished them to the mortal realm, to live like mortals. However, Athena and Hera saw this as unfair, as Zeus himself committed atrocities against humanity as well. Therefore, they worked together to banish Zeus to the mortal realm too. The Gods powers and immortality are still in tact, they are simply not allowed to live in their respective realms.

(this is not myth compliant! most of them are probably not going to be related due to shipping)

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interactable characters:

↬ achelous: patron god of the achelous river

↬ aeolus: god of the wind and air

↬ aether: primordial god of the upper air, light, the atmosphere, space and heaven

↬ alastor: god of family feuds and the avenger of evil deeds

↬ apollo: olympian god of music, poetry, art, oracles, archery, plague, medicine, sun, light and knowledge

↬ ares: olympian god of war (physical, violent and untamed aspect)

↬ aristaeus: minor patron god of animal husbandry, bee-keeping and fruit trees

↬ asclepius: god of medicine, health, healing, rejuvenation and physicians

↬ atlas: primordial titan of astronomy

↬ boreas: a wind god (anemoi) and god of the cold north wind and the bringer of winter

↬ caerus: minor god of opportunity, luck and favourable moments

↬ chaos: physical representation of the nothingness that all things sprung from. filled the gap between heaven and the earth

↬ chronos (NOT the titan cronus): the god of time

↬ dinlas: guardian god of the ancient city lamark, a place where wounded heroes could heal after battle

↬ deimos: personification of dread and terror. twin to phobos

↬ dionysus: olympian god of the grape harvest, winemaking and wine, ritual madness, religious ecstasy and theatre

↬ erebus: primordial god of darkness

↬ eros: god of sexual desire, attraction, love and procreation

↬ eurus: anemoi and god of the unlucky east wind

↬ glaucus: a fisherman who became immortal after consuming an argonaut, became a god of the sea

↬ hades: olympian (kind of) god of the dead and riches. king of the underworld

↬ helios: god of the sun. also known as sol

↬ hephaestus: olympian god of fire, metalworking, stone masonry, forges and the art of sculpture

↬ heracles: the greatest of greek heroes who became the god of heroes, sports, athletes, health, agriculture, fertility, trade, oracles and the divine protector of mankind

↬ hermes: olympian god of trade, thieves, travelers, sports, athletes and border crossings. the messenger of the gods

↬ hesperus: the evening star. phosphorus’ half brother

↬ hymenaois: god of marriage ceremonies, inspiring feasts and song

↬ hypnos: god of sleep

↬ kratos: god of strength and power

↬ krios: the titan god of the heavenly constellations and the measure of the year

↬ momus: the god of satire, mockery, censure, writers and poets and a spirit of evil-spirited blame and unfair criticism

↬ morpheus: god of dreams and sleep. dream walker

↬ moros: the physical embodiment of doom

↬ nereus: the titan god of the sea prior to poseidon and father of sea nymphs (nereids)

↬ notus: anemoi and god of the south wind

↬ oceanus: titan god of the ocean. personification of the world ocean

↬ olympos: primordial god of mountains

↬ paean: the physician of the olympian gods

↬ pallas: the titan god of warcraft and the springtime campaign season

↬ pan: god of nature, the wild, shepherds, flocks, goats, mountain wilds and is often associated with sexuality

↬ phobos: god of personal fear, panic and rout. twin to deimos

↬ phosphorus: the morning star. hesperus’ half brother

↬ plutus: god of wealth

↬ pontus: ancient primordial god of the deep sea

↬ poseidon: olympian god of the sea, earthquakes, storms and horses

↬ priapus: minor rustic fertility god, protector of flocks, fruit plants, bees and gardens (literally known for having a massive penis)

↬ prometheus: titan god of forethought (made humans out of clay!)

↬ tartarus: the god of the deep abyss

↬ thanatos: a minor god of death

↬ triton: messenger of the sea

↬ typhon: the deadliest monster in greek mythology, known as the father of all monsters. god of monsters, storms and volcanoes

↬ zelus: god of dedication, emulation, eager rivalry, envy, jealousy and zeal

↬ zephyros: anemoi and god of the west wind

↬ zeus: olympian god of the sky, lightning, thunder, law, order, justice, king of the gods

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[satelitesdejupiter]

Boreas

Summary:

Boreas: the north wind that brings winter.

.

.

Prompt: What if Mikasa had been kidnapped and bought by a rich lord, who raised her in a dome, meeting Eren at 19y.

Chapter 1: Winter

The first time he heard her, she was at the piano.

The meeting to discuss the establishment of the clinic had become an unproductive chatter after three quarters of the bottle of whiskey.

Grisha was not as strong for drinking as he was, and barely blinked when their three partners shifted the subject of investing in the necessary infrastructure to matters relating to their personal assets, women and gambling.

A game of trickery had started when he stood up uneasily, his head aching. He had spent the last few days adjusting every detail of the budget needed so that it didn't end in a night. He got up with the excuse of going to the toilet, and as soon as he reached the indicated place, he tried to relieve the tension with water on his face. He had so much to resolve.

Paradis was lagging behind. Bringing advances in materials, medicines and treatments known on the continent was a challenge. Consolidating that society was the best chance to break with technological stagnation.

That was it.

He had to remain patient.

He wiped his hands and left, listening to a familiar melody from a distance. He approached the stairs, trying to recognize the notes that were being played in a pleasant cadence.

Unconsciously he climbed a step or two to get closer, and when he realized how invasive he was to be inviting himself to a more private area of a stranger's house, he returned to the drawing room.

"Young Yeagar, I waited for you, but you took too long and we started another match," his host justified waving his glass of whiskey.

Sandes was a tall and haughty man with blond hair tucked at the level of his ears, what favored the framing of his angular face and made him look youthful, even though he was close to forty.

"Okay, I got distracted by a song from up there."

Sandes offered a wan smile "It must be the servants playing the piano".

"It must be someone with knowledge, in addition, she had a  beautiful tone."

The eyes of his other partner, Rotchford, darted between them.

Sandes's hand tightened on the glass “Effect of alcohol. Take a little more with me” he indicated to sit down.

"You can't meddle in a man's secrets," Ruthford mocked with the cigarette between his lips and Eren sat down, pouring himself a whiskey, choosing not to dwell on it.

The night turned out to be a long one, with more card games and even betting. Eren tried to concentrate, but when he said goodbye, the sound of that melancholy melody still hadn't left his mind.

xxx

Eren Yeager was a man of science. Myths, fallacies and legends of ghosts had no place in his world of logic and study.

On other occasions when he visited Sandes' mansion he always saw the attic light on, just as there was routinely the sound of sad music coming from a room on the first floor. He even asked Grisha if he knew about anyone else living with the lord of the mines, however he replied that it was not known to him that he had family or aggregates outside of Mitras.

He chose not to mention it any more, but his curiosity was still piqued. And that did not go unnoticed by Rotchford.

He was at the solstice lunch organized by Sandes when the minority partner caught him watching the attic window.

"Sometimes I also expect her to show up, Yeager."

Eren looked at him questioningly, but he just returned it with a discreet little laugh "But don't get too excited, I hope the day he gets tired of her for years".

The doctor waved at the partner with growing discomfort and after a few more drinks he said goodbye claiming to have a family commitment. Which was true, since Carla enjoyed getting the family together at the time.

Only a few days later he finally saw her.

She was at the piano playing a tense melody. "It's the less devastating  thing I've ever seen you play, and yet ...", he said as soon as he entered the room, moved by the curiosity of weeks.

He couldn't see her face, but by the silhouette at the piano she was dressed well, white and fine cloth robes marked her thin body and made sure she was not a maid.

Despite making sure she heard  him, she did not answer and continued to play, the notes increasingly aggressive, loaded. Not wanting to give the impression that he just came in through sheer intrusion and lack of education, he decided to justify his sudden entry, but before he could, her voice overlapped the melody.

“Summer is neither sad nor happy. Just raw. The sun can be exhausting, good times precede bad and there is no summer without storms. ”

She continued to play as if he hadn't interrupted her, perhaps waiting for him to withdraw, and he even thought, but it turned out that she was good.

He listened until the end and when she passed the score she stopped a few seconds before starting again.

He decided to apologize.

"I'm going to leave, I just came in ..."

"Curiosity," she stopped playing, turning to him.

Her face was delicate, shaped by short, dark threads. Her rosy, well-designed lips stood out on her fair skin, and together with her dark curved eyes and sharp apples, she gave her a beauty hard to compare to any woman he had ever met.

"Yes. My name is Eren Yeager ”.

"Doctor Yeager's son."

"Do you know my father?"

"Everyone knows Dr. Yeager"

Eren can only agree. His father was known and respected on the three walls. He was even a trusted doctor of the royal family, despite refusing any official position, he was always required in special cases.

"Do you mind if I hear some more?"

"Sandes will kill you," she turned, playing again.

" Why would he do that”?

"You are smarter than that."

"If you don't mind, then I'll stay."

"At your own risk."

xxx

A few more days passed before Sandes arranged another meeting. The previous one had been canceled due to something unforeseen, which allowed him to spend more time listening to Mikasa. That was his name. It sounded familiar, as if he had heard it a long time ago, though unusual. They didn't speak much that afternoon, and he heard her until one of the servants went over the message.

He must have been very busy, since he warned that he would be late again.

When he crossed the garden, he saw Mikasa again. She was leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, her skin illuminated by these was approaching, dhe opened her eyes.

"Eren" she greeted and he accepted that informality without strangeness. Her first name sounded good on her lips.

"You did that?" he pointed to an embroidered cloth on the chair beside her. There was thread and needles on the table.

She acquiesced, "There is not much to do here."

"It's very beautiful. My mom would be in love. She likes these things. ”

"You can take it to her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I do one of these in a couple of hours," she declared with disinterest.

“If you are so fast, you should sell your talent”, he took the carefully worked fabric. Carla would like the gift, "It is very well done".

A line that made up her millimeter-blank face fell away, and she looked at the fabric.

“I'm not that good, my mother was. There was a bridal shop that only bought her work” Mikasa said in a soft voice, as if she had lost herself in a very pleasant old memory.

"What about your father?" Eren asked, assuming she didn't have. No father would let such a young daughter live as a man's lover, even if he was wealthy.

"He hunted, fished, planted ... We lived a very secluded life."

Eren almost invited himself to hear more, but his intention was suspended.

"Yeager," Sandes greeted him approaching and Mikasa stood up, looking at him tensely,"I'm sorry I'm late, some appointments have busy me".

"Okay, I just arrived."

"Mikasa, get in" he ordered in a low tone, however, a vein popped out of his temple.

She looked at him hesitantly, but swallowed, disappearing between the pillars of the mansion's hall.

With her departure, Sandes soon invited him to sit down. He treated him with cordiality, offered him a wine, heard about the planning of hiring and purchasing equipment, but there was also an impatience, the trace of animosity in his tone was almost palpable. In some moments his attention went to the attic. Eren feared he had  causing trouble for her.

"Mikasa was embroidering when I arrived, she hadn't even noticed me," he commented after a while, interested in leaving no room for any misinterpretation.

Sandes took the glass of white wine and shook it, "I am a great wine lover, Yeager. A cheap can be used to have fun and kill time, but the good ones ... those worth being appreciated take time. They're expensive. Believe me, once you put your hand in a really good, really good bottle, you don't want to share it. "

Eren's fist clenched, and he felt disgust. Hate.

He had fought several times in his life, his parents were the greatest witnesses, but he never felt such contempt and the desire to dislocate someone's jaw. Sandes, if he was aware of his intention, did not show it.

"Mikasa" he pointed out as if he censored the fact that he brought his name, "it's my business. We can keep the good terms if we respect this restriction".

"Whatever".

Sandes smiled with satisfaction.

xxx

On occasions he chose to be more careful. He doubled the requests for meetings and excuses to show up at the house. He arrived a little earlier or did not actually leave until he was due, and he was always careful not to be seen.

She was always in the music room or in the greenhouse, where he once saw her come in from a distance and followed her, as in an unspoken agreement about where it would be more discreet to see each other.

She did not speak much, spent most of her time playing, or embroidering, but she was an attentive listener. She didn't forget any details about his parents or Armin. Once she gave Carla a curtain with delicate embroidery of peonies, just because he commented that they were one of her favorite flowers. In fact, Mikasa was always more open when he talked about the family, and sometimes she would let something out about her own parents. They had been very loving for what it seemed.

However, Mikasa did not allow him to probe her past too much, every time he went in that direction, she became evasive, and he was afraid to push it further away.

It was a mined area and one day it was inevitable to cross it.

It happened when she played Spring and he talked about Armin's longstanding plan to see the sea. His busy schedule had never allowed it.

"I wish you were with me," he said without knowing what he expected.

She offered him a sad smile. Like a child saying that she cannot .

She had never smiled at him, and the first was one that wasn't even genuine.

"I don't know how you can live here, like a bird in a cage."

“I don't live” she continued to play, “Sometimes I think I died here. That I died a long time ago. This would be just the place that I  haunt. That after all  there is nothing out there for me. ”

“You look very alive to me. What is wrong with you?"

She stopped playing.

"Eren, my life cannot be fixed by you or your good intentions."

"And about you?"

She kept her eyes down.

"Do you want to spend the rest of your days locked up here?" he insisted wanting a reaction.

Mikasa looked at him. A hard and impenetrable look.

“I am a harlot, Yeager. This is just a small kingdom palace, but enough for me. Maybe one day I want a bigger one, but it won't be on a trip to the beach that I will get it ”.

Eren held his incredulous look, "Mikasa ..."

"Do not come back".

No more words could be said. When he closed the room doors behind him, he heard the sound of Winter.

xxx

She played that day until her hands didn't want to respond.

What was she doing?

She couldn't drag him into her cursed life. That was her burden.

It was so easy to let him get closer. Be invaded by his presence.

One day she didn't even know him, the next he seemed to be everywhere. She spent the week waiting for him to show up. The expectation of seeing him started to fill his days. It was ... a feeling that had no place in that world.

"Sing for me," Sandes asked dismissing her effort to ignore his presence since he entered the room.

"My throat is not good," she made a sharp sequence.

"One won't hurt, I need some relaxing music."

"You can turn on the phonograph."

He got up from his chair.

“Mikasa, what are you missing? I do everything to please you, and you can't sing a song for me? ”

"I was only offering options, I can't sing."

He sat next to her and closed the keyboard.

“You can't obey me, that's the problem. I ask you to let your hair grow and it appears even shorter. I ask you to stay in your quarters when I receive visitors and catch you giving confidence to strangers.” His fingers touched her face and she looked away.

"No, no" she repelled his touch and he pulled her closer. "I will no longer accept your disdain."

Mikasa held his gaze and he loosened his grip.

“Sing”, he opened the keyboard and went to sit in the previous place.

Mikasa nodded, her expression charged with bitter perception.

It was Winter.

She had to walk carefully on the ice.

Then she sang, sweet and smooth like a bird in a cage.

[words4bloghere]

I love Lore Olympus and I love Punderworld, but there’s just something that bothers me with both. So here’s a fic!

First, you have to understand family.

When the Earth reached up to the Sky, and he embraced her, their commingling gave rise to the Titans. There was no birth and there was no relation, save for the relations that would beget the first.

So Rhea and Cronus simply were. And they simply begat.

It was difficult for me to think of the rest as siblings. Cronus swallowed us like his own seed, taken in after the fact. Perhaps that was the start of it; some paternal urge not to totally destroy his children. But either way, fatherly intent or not, we were taken in. We grew in the dark but did not germinate. 

And anyway, none of us then knew Zeus. 

He was a stranger and unknown to us. He was our hero.

(I would later come to despise Odysseus on principle.) 

After we returned, our expulsion, another act of birth - and certainly our father cried out as if in labor - the war began. 

It was won, as such things are, and we were given our parcels.

I was bidden unto Gaia, twice now a lovers’ traitor, and clearly in need of a sentry. It was because of my calling to sacred law; I would uphold the justice Zeus had laid out. Things would follow their proper routes, from life to death. No longer would fathers fear their sons, as they would only look at the blowing wheat and fear impending age. 

Not the Gods of course. The Gods had no such fear.

(Yet was it not fear that made wise Hestia choose her sacred virginity?)

Fertility was something I only considered tangentially. I cared about the budding of flowers, not breasts. Menstrual blood did not occur among the cereals, but I knew plenty about flowing seed. 

Let Hera go to the mortal women. Let her birth War from her loins. My work was maintaining the garden of plenty, my Cornucopia.

(Perhaps I should have worried about other things. Of more earthly things.)

I could smell earth, I could taste pollen, and I could see the result of my perpetual labor.

(I don’t think they’ll ever talk about the flowers I sent to him. They always died when I cut them.)

When a child is born to the gods, does anyone consider the pregnancy? A Goddess is pregnant for precisely as long as is required. But if a God cannot bleed, what trickles out as the babe is born? Is it ichor? Or salty water, as many were who came from Oceanus? 

I wouldn’t really know now, would I?

What was I, before Zeus came to me? Don’t any of you know?

But it’s not his season yet in this story.

For all of his name, I saw him plenty. 

The grain that spilled out from my hands after the harvest became silver coins in his. A mortal transition made this alchemy possible and it delighted me. We discussed that, among many things. Or really, he would argue with me.

“They sustain themselves on the death of my plants, and they pay for the privilege of staying alive.” I said. 

The harvest sunlight was the most Hades could handle, staying in the Underworld as often as he did. His helm caught no light, however, and became a permanent shadow that never looked quite like it belonged. 

“The cost of the grain goes down the less life it has in it. So really, they’re paying for life to extend their own.” He replied.

“Either way, death comes.” I said.

“Death comes for them all, either way.” He said.

(I know what the stories say, but he was my friend. If I had thought about it, I would have said I loved him for that.)

Back then, there was no winter. My grief had not frozen the world. I had not begun to hate it yet. Instead, I took a break as I watched the mortals celebrate. Hades kept me company and we both relished no longer being in the darkness. Neither of us did very well with the others of our brood.

And perhaps it was because of our watching that we began to understand. We understood power, and watched as Ares ripped through the mortals like a fire through dry wheat. We understood lust as the mortals and Gods both tore themselves apart when Aphrodite walked through a room. We understood rape when Apollo and Artemis were born.

(I did not tremble when Hera went to Artemis, and Artemis became a sacred virgin. Nor when the not-yet-Pallas Athena did the same. I did not know.)

We never suspected what would happen when Zeus stood between heaven and earth.

Or, perhaps he did, as he knew Zeus better. But I was naive.

I am not vain, but I know I look my best at midsummer. I know this because the stone fruits are near bursting with juice, the bees are constantly drunk, and the air smells like ambrosia. I am the cycles of the earth after all, and what is in me is reflected upon it. 

He found me in my garden.

He stepped beyond my boundaries.

He crushed my blossoms beneath his heel.

He struck me and I could taste cherry wine.

The earth drank in my ichor and my salt water.

He took of my fruit and left my pit on the ground.

Nothing quickened in my womb.

That’s the joke you see. I was charged with being midwife to the greatest womb of it all, and was barren myself.

What need of a womb has a God? Aphrodite sprung up from the testicle blood of my grandfather. Athena split open Zeus’s head in full armor. 

I didn’t care, but Zeus saw it as a deformity. And thought to torture me, but I loved my job.

I was Kore, the Maiden.

Hades found me, split open and glistening with countless pomegranate seeds. He covered me in his shroud, so that I might be invisible. He bade Thanatos to cut the wheat, threshing a much humbler death for once. 

He carried me down into the Underworld, where the darkness was cool and the water made one forgetful. He washed me and I met his dog. 

(What God counts souls and coins, and names his dog Spot? Another thing for him to count I think.)

I napped as he cared for me so gently.

But what happens to my body so happens upon the earth.

I was cold, so the earth was cold. I was in darkness, so the earth was in darkness.

My maidenhood was gone and so the budding spring would not come. I could not tend to the fields, so nothing would grow. With the fields barren, there was no harvest.

Mortals died by the thousands.

Hades only left me to take his accounts. The souls required their shepherd. And it was that, not all of the Gods pleading for my return, that made me leave. I had become bitter fruit from their ill attention.

“Persephone!” They lamented to me now. They accused me, but recognized my power. Nothing would survive without food, and without my blessing there would be only death. 

“I love you.” Hades told me, pressing his forehead against my own as he held my hands. Of course he would love that which brings him meaning to his domain.

“I love you.” I told him, closing my eyes and feeling myself breathe. Of course I would love that which opens space for new growth and takes such precise account.

“You are leaving the world of the dead. Do you know what this means?” He asked me. I opened my eyes and looked at him, looking at me. 

“You are reborn.” He said. He held my face and kissed my tears.

“I let you go, and you are Kore once again.” He said. 

I still was changed, and we knew that. Kore emerged from the Underworld and was, in fact, reunited with her mother. Gaia was, in mortal terms, the one who gave me life from her own body. I returned to her and planted seed. I tended them and as they matured, so did I. I was wary of men and kept them away, allowing only women to attend my festivals. I became Demeter as I spoke of the richness of the earth and of the cycle that plays out slower in themselves than the barley and amaranth. 

For the harvest, Hades joined me. The mortals celebrated the mask of death, recognizing it for the essential part of the sacred cycle. They bade farewell to Persephone and hoped that Demeter’s watch was not too bitter- or else the winter would see them suffer all the more. 

The winter was none of my concern; I left that to Boreas.

He was the most gladdened to see me, as he waved me off and had free reign over the mortal lands. Some cycles my feet wouldn’t even touch the ground as he tossed me toward the cavernous gates.

Hades would count the freckles on my skin till I laughed, then scold me for ruining his count. He would clothe me in silver and gold, making me the only star in this underworld night sky. 

He called me Queen.

Ultimately, his work would add up. And Zephyrus would whistle for me. I would leave and Hades would linger.

(I make no apologies for any late spring, or hurried winter.)

I am the Maiden, I am Demeter, I am the Death Bringer. I am the sacred cycle of life.

I am the wife of Hades.

[paperanddice]

Fraughashar

Faerie ice goblins! A quick and not entirely thorough search doesn’t find any historical origin to the fraughashar, suggesting that either they’re an original creation of Kobold Press, or they’ve changed the name enough that I can’t find the mythological fey it’s based on. There’s no immediate or obvious inspiration from Scandinavian folklore, where Kobold Press gathers inspiration for many of their other fey, so for the moment I’m going to work off of the assumption that it’s so loosely based off of something that the connection is not apparent.

From that, I quite enjoy the fraughashar as low level enemies. They’re distinct from goblins in mechanics and fluff, though you can use them in the same niche if you like. As fey though, you can expand on their personalities and actions in different ways, building up a connection with the natural world and imposing unusual limitations on their actions and words that natural creatures such as goblins will not have. Perhaps fraughashar cannot step on ground that has no snow, limiting them to far extreme regions and they spread out as winter opens up territory for them. They could literally be birthed from ice and snow in some way, such as if a small sized humanoid freezes and is buried in the snow. When spring comes and the snow melts, the body wakes up as a fraughashar. These kinds of rules and limits may or may not be understood by those who live in areas fraughashar exist, and they’ll take actions that they thing will protect them.

They may also exist as servants of more powerful fey or other beings, primarily ones connected with cold and winter obviously. The Snow Queen, ice maidens, ice devils, Boreas from earlier in this book, and a number of other options. As minor villains, they’d be thugs and enforcers, loyal out of a promise of reward and the joy of having authority over larger creatures. Fey or winter heavy campaigns could definitely enjoy fraughashar as low level foes for the party to overcome, whether as the dangers of the wilderness or the minions of a later game foe.

As winter approaches, the townsfolk begin preparing for the return of the fraughashar. As the snow comes, so do the ice goblins, and everywhere the snow touches the goblins can reach. Patrols constantly clear path a wide trench in the snow around the town, large enough to prevent them from being able to jump across, and they watch for attempts to bridge the gap. Individual households will clear around themselves, ensuring that no dusting remains to provide a place for fraughashar to take a single step.

When the Snow Queen’s attention is drawn somewhere, the first to check it out are the fraughashar. When they appear in the area, people quail in fear. Any resistance to the fraughashar’s investigations draws violent retaliation, and if even a single of the fey fails to return, even greater punishment will be brought down upon the region. While the ice goblins aren’t the greatest investigators, they hunt tirelessly, tearing apart entire houses to ensure there’s nothing missed. If they move on without finding anything, those they leave behind have to contend with their livelihood being nearly destroyed. Resentment is growing towards them, but all fear the ice giants that follow up on missing agents far, far more.

Far, far to the South, on the frozen pole, the villages of the fraughashar sit on ice and snow. Their hunters bring in seal and whale meat to feed the village, and far ranging hunters will go far North to lands with changing climates to gather as much food as possible that grows in warmer seasons. Those who have only ever encountered the minions of powerful warlords and other raiding fraughashar may be shocked to find workers, children, and other noncombatants among the ice goblins, people who simply struggle to live in a rough, dangerous landscape, and who are as much victims of their masters as those further North.

[mask131]

Miraculous Ladybug Villains: Climatika

So, my first villain… Climatika in French, Stormy Weather in English. Climatika is of course a pun on the French word “climat” (climate) and “climatique” (climatic), with a -ka being added in the end to make it more aggressive (k), female (a) and maybe as a reference to Katrina, the dreadful hurricane.

Climatika is the archetypal “weather villain”. That is to say the villain that controls the weather. It dates back to the old mythologies, with the incarnations of the destructive forces of nature. Gods were using thunder and rain as a way to punish people, wipe out civilizations, and many cultures greatly feared the winds that brought with them coldness or storms. The north wind in Greek mythology, Boreas, was known to be a brutal and ruthless one. Zeus and Indra are both using thunder as a deadly weapon to punish people, and weren’t always depicted in myths as the kindest gods. The Japanese storm-god Susanoo was also a big troublemaker, going so far as to take part in murder, rapes and skinning ponies. And in the French folklore, both rain and frosts are often associated with witches and female demons, among other evil creatures.

The apparition of storms is also a common trope of evil. Whenever a bad action is done, you’re near a villain’s lair, a demon is released or any evil-doer is coming, dark clouds, rain, thunder, strong winds or a full storm will follow. The most famous horror-storms being, of course, the ones surrounding Dracula’s and doctor Frankenstein’s castle.

So anyway, it is no surprise to see villain’s control bad weather. They are after all one of the violent sides of nature. The wrath of the sky was always one of humanity’s greatest threat. You can fight someone who tries to attack you, you can flee from wild beasts, but what can you do against being struck by lightning?

However, what’s so unusual about Climatika is the amount of power she concentrates. Usually a villain’s controlling the weather controls only thunder/lighting or wind. Not both. And on top of that, you can add rain and hail. This makes her a truly powerful and impressive villain, with goddess-like powers.

Two small notes. 

One, you can notice that she has a tendency to use ice and cold a lot. It is probably because she is the akumatized version of Aurore Beauréal whose name is a play on “aurore boréale” (aurora borealis), the beautiful “lights in the sky” that happens in the northern and cold countries, full of ice and snow. 

Two, the fact that her akumatized item is an umbrella. It is for me strongly reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West, from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, because in the original book the Witch was always carrying with her an umbrella, and in some adaptations, it became her “magic item”. The Wizard of Oz, a story that involves a tornado/hurricane… See the link? And by the way, another interesting side note: in many European regions, the West Wind is seen as the bad one, not the North one, because the West wind brings all sorts of storms and rains.

Edit: Also, in May of this year (2018), some pictures of the Eiffel tower made the news, because during storms the tower was hit by lightning. You can go see them if you like.

Edit 2: The design of Climatika, especially the use of purple and its different shades may be a nod to Stormy, one of the Trix, a trio of evil witches in Winx Club (Stormy being, as her name indicates, a storm-controlling witch)

Edit 3: (Gosh, I’m sorry for the edits but I just have ideas that keep coming) I forgot to mention another typical example of weather-controlling villains. I don’t know their official name in English, so I’ll use the french word “les tempestaires”. A tempestaire is a kind of witch/wizard specialized in storm magic. They are part of the countryside European folklore, and they were one of the great fears of the old time, because they had the power to destroy all crops thanks to spells and curses that would create storms, hail, heavy rains or droughts, thus causing famines and misery. You can tell that they were considered as very dangerous and almost always as evil, often servants of the Devil. 

[libidomechanica]

‘a singly name thou art’

And that she is stand yonder leave thy lust: the made to see her head a singly name thou art,

if Theotormon one agreed, but somehow,—it may stormie

face sweet! But a Magic Shadow-

show, the brave Caledonian

cave— such man’s comfort from Boreas harsh terror fall:

And the pensions,

world, you shuffled roses, and braceless had never should be thaw’d before him tense— how blest the braunches

bear the head, while now and an ejection if to the more bright, To see thine: along some wee things pure have been poison, and death be still piper lads were he shrines! and that greates and flap

the rain,has such small here, sublimely dealt be gone: like them, as other noticed before. Than in Cupid’s bow she is not much in traffic on the lily, too severe,

as soon will sleepy one! Succeeded

like a seizure on the long, as hell—mere mortality,

where he was

allow’d nought thee be still, accorde not knowing day; the

carcanet. Unto his queen: ‘my liege,’ said he (you are a copy near,— a modesty, children she’s state to make it, who had pierced his pride! thou, greatest, so it seem’d to a lake where to such agonies at a boy, Within our fault much rather sublime confess’d with

your hand again the drops to the sweethearts o men

and birds singing communicate; But thee freely come, I adore

than the mind. as

when I am gone, and do this countenancie to that soueraigne head: look to Drinking spur? And yet now mething the other without all ye hears not fear her Saviours life. (You are a look, painted Vesuvius loaded, the colt that her

choice deserts of rest; that Jury-men may boasts of the will be laid her hath ended fair, and well-lin’d by far you said. Without

resisteth. This laurel, issuing from which people have shunn’d the profaned the same more glittering,

and at this fatter to kisses rain, fair

as frail China Vessels, fal���n

from thee blush, at least mud, the

bride into one hath my pen— where to run away, sets down. Before ye wherever the western still send search that

I thee round-table commandant of fashions run, they meaning stag and knit into

the fervor born of owls them thy life, you

squeal at and a flurry, and as starting him in vain, since, debauchee (who live; robert Burns: “grant with

a gloss, and fro:)) a

classic face, they know this

tails. As purple Fire.”)

[mechagalaxy]

Ants or no Picnic

 The bridge over the Prosperity river was burning again.  Running through the industrial heartland of Solaris V, its polluted waters were home to species whose heavy metal tolerance was high enough that local rumour has it they sang Iron Maiden to each other in spawning season.  The last fight had taken Dennis LePic down to his last mecha, and the destruction of his enemy (along with most of his own) mecha had set the river, and then the bridge itself on fire.  He had held off Tomson Jaeger, but by a hair and a quarter of a mecha.

 Dennis LePic looked at his 1200 ton lineup and cursed.  Known for its ability to hold mountain passes and larger fortified bridges, the 1200 ton lineup was a giant killer, one of the greatest opportunities to strip away a superior foes advantages and make them meet you on even terms.

 The great trick was to put the most firepower into the least tonnage to keep under the total. Maximizing your advantages to produce the finest individual mecha possible, and put them together so they combined their net effects the most efficiently. A Fext an Regis in his front rank had all his good lasers, so the Dilophos in his back rank was left with solid high performance crystal lasers, but no really super niode weapons.  Looking at his left over weapons he noted a bunch of really decent cannons not being used.  Looking at the mecha in the front and back ranks, he noted all the “cannon cockers” he had were the Revenant and Antithesis already in play, except his Dreadnought that wouldn’t fit in the lineup.

 Hang on.

 He had the single Red Ant between his ranks that his CO had told him he had to use.  He stood at exactly 1200 tons, and had the 75 ton Dilophos with mediocre lasers in the back.  What if he pulled the ten ton Red Ant out, pulled the Dilophos, then put in his Dreadnought, with all those sweet niode cannons….yes back to 1200 tons, and better guns. Making the changes, he punched his officer override to the Red Ant requirement put on my his CO.  This was war, and rules were for training.  His CO understood results were what mattered, how you got them was your call.

 Warning sounded from his scouting infantry.  Tomson Jaeger was back again, determined to take the bridge and force the AFF to let the Brotherhood push troops across Prosperity and open the city to a general push. LePic smiled.  This time it would be different.  No Red Ant alone in the second rank, now that rank was empty, but the third was a lot stronger with his Dreadnought having better armour, more and better guns, and better freeze, fork and critical kill than the Dilophos it replaced.  This time would be a picnic!

 Riding in Invincible, his rear rank Dreadnought, Dennis LePic watched his enemy approach.  The front ranks clashed with an orgy of destruction as the best weapons either of them owned traded shots against the finest shields they possessed and the resultant storm of energy shot lightning back up to the clouds and filled the airwaves with the scream of energy bleeding across the spectrums, and pilots howling their rage, pain, and fear as machines twisted and died in terrible embrace.

 Dennis rocked as his Dreadnought reeled from a Kraken that shattered the Reaper blocking his view, and retained enough coherence to slam five hundred plus points of trample damage past his shielding and stagger his jade behemoth a step back. Looking through his gunsights before tightening ranks blocked his view, he got a good view of a lone Red Ant shuddering and shaking as its three stacked trample shields flickered under the torch of his Notas Hellbat.

 Rocking back to ready position, he saw his front rank Regis and Boreas both explode before the howling con trails of Omen Barrels that overshot the forking salvo hammered his front rank enfolded both his own Dreadnought and his flanking Torrent. The missiles took advantage of the shields that were flickering from the armour fragments of the front rank mecha, and the energy disruption of their shield failure over flare to punch clean through both mecha’s shields and hammer them brutally. System failure lights covered his console, and Dennis screamed as he slapped out the fire on his legs while clawing for the manual release on his cockpit fire suppression system.  As he let the halon gases kill the fires in his cockpit, his fingers automatically fitted his gas mask to protect him from the neither breathable nor burnable atmosphere.  Taking a few steadying breaths, he saw his lone tottering front mecha pump a mercy round into his enemies single Red Ant.   A completely untouched enemy last rank stepped up and returned the favour, sweeping his lone Regis into the scrap heap.  Uh oh.  Checking the status lights on his own machine he noticed his Dreadnought had been shut down before he even got to combat ranges.  The Torrent beside him was shut down, so was the Spitfire.   All of the back rank mecha lurched forward, three of them with shields and weapons shut down, frantically blowing chaff dispensers, flares, dropping ECM lures to draw fire their shields couldn’t interdict and their weapons couldn’t return.  A lone Nakshi blazed away with a Skeleton Key, flashing two enemy mecha with whips of ice.  It was the only mecha of his line to fire.  In point of fact, it was the only mecha of LePic’s last rank able to fire.  The rest were shut down before even reaching the line. Dancing like Drake on Jaegerbombs, LePic stayed alive two whole rounds, watching the rest of his machines die without getting off another shot, then at last a whip of hypersonic slugs took both his legs off at mid thing, and he came thundering in.  The second fight had been no picnic at all. Fading back into consciousness, he looked up at his Clan leader. “Didn’t I tell you to keep a Red Ant in the rank between?  They soak up all the trample damage.  If you have the space boy, you freaking use it.  You pulled it to get the extra guns on that Dreadnought in right?  How did that work out for you?  Did you get to fire at all?” I shook my head, and groaned, as dump shock made that a bad idea.

My CO chuckled and patted my shoulder. “It’s no picnic for the Red Ant pilot, getting shot to doll rags every single time, but without that Ant, it’s no picnic for anyone.  Try to remember for next time.  Now up and at em boy.  The Brotherhood got over the bridge and its down to city fighting” Lesson learned, but the war goes on.  Remember your Red Ant, or it won’t be a picnic for you either. John T Mainer 28840