#but it was the post about undead possessions

[tench]

Justice in DAA: I am doomed, stuck in a dead body, mourned by people I don't know. Oh how unjustly do I hurt them, merely existing, though it's against my will I was thrusted into the world I do not wish to be in, against my nature I persist. I feel the rot of the flesh around me yet I don't know, what will become of me when the body is gone. The only thing grounding me is the sweet song of lyrium...

Manfred in DAV:

[nocifer]

The work of Nocifer

Hey hi!

In case you don't know me, I'm known in other places as Bl00dragon, though here I've taken the name of Nocifer. I'm a writer of interactive fiction, I work so far in Choicescript mostly on two works in progress which I intend to submit to Choice of Game for the Hosted Games label.

I've made this Tumblr account to post about my work and give some visibility for updates and sometimes silly or lore stuff.

I have two main works:

The Wight King: A story about a recently awakened undead warrior, stricken with the curse of the Wight King, risen weakened and without memories, they fight for their life as they strive to discover their purpose in this new world. Aided by an ally of circumstance on the road to the throne of the dead.

Ro list

Shattered - Oblivion: You are a powerful elven warlock, brought low and on the verge of death, saved in extremis by the kindness of strangers, you are given a second chance at life. The warlock's peace is short-lived however, as the shadows of their past catches up to them in the form of an inquisition, searching for the grimoire they possess. Survive on the run, long enough to reclaim what once was yours, and triumph over your pursuers.

RO list

Please go check them out! I'd love to hear more feedback about my work and everyone is welcome to come talk about them!

[miriani-lavellan]

Some interesting little tidbits about the world that are gleaned from Mementos found: It looks like there's already an almost full list here.

After the Exalted March against the Dalish, the Antivan crows signed some kind of treaty or agreement promising to take action if another march against the elves was going to take place. It seems they did 'stand with the Dales' in some form.

The Crow mementos in general seem to indicate when they realised the influence they had, they also began to discuss how they should use that influence, and the responsibilities they had.

When an archdemon is slain, the Grey Wardens recover a fang to keep as a trophy.

The Wardens keep a record called The Book of Ashes to record not the dead, but the Wardens who survived the Blights.

Scrying exists to tell the contents of certain containers or the function of certain magical items.

The Shadow Dragons disguise their manifestos and propaganda as spellbooks, in the hope the Venatori will pick them up and read them without realising what they are, and thus have their mind changed.

The Wardens wear blue because it's a local dye available in the Anderfels - I think we can probably say 'Anderfels Azure' is derived from Brona's Bloom. Poetic, as it's one of 'the first to fade when blight emerges' and that they mell of warm honey and rainy spring mornings—things the blight forgets.' The uniform is a reminder of what the Blight takes, and a hope for its return all the same.

Antivans typically have coffee (with or without an alcoholic addition) after dinner.

The Antivan Crows might once have been the Antivan Ravens. Both birds appear in early motifs, until finally crows won out.

Somehow, Blackwall's carved rocking griffon (or one of them) found its way into the Dellamorte estate.

Early post-Veil writings are found in a source called 'The Days of Death,' in which an ordinary elf records the realities of mortality, and grapples with the new need for food and shelter. Other early writings indicate they were attempting to map their new home.

One of the ways Kal-Sharok survived the Blight was by abandoning the caste system.

There's a scandalous... hit piece? book on the Inquisition, called 'Inquisition Exposed.' It's illustrated. Edit: My bad, it's smut. It's just smut.

In Nevarra, it's popular to give children coming of age a gift of necromantic, allegorical illustrations.

During the Storm Age in Nevarra, there was a trend of artists mixing their own blood into the paints. They were discouraged by the Watches as it kept leading to works of art getting possessed.

There's an undead thief making troubled around Nevarra City known as the 'half-made bandit'. He escaped from an anatomy class.

A Cassandra mention when considering the funeral of a Nevarran prelate.

Some spirits prefer possessing inanimate objects over the living.

Emphasising the Mourn Watch and the Mortalitasi in general's complex relationship with the Chantry, once a (probably possessed) Chasind shaman ended up sheltering with them.

Ancient Qunari did not have horses.

There seems to be, or have been, an element of ancestor worship in Qunari religion.

[wings-of-flying]

the thing about chip is that he's a little too unassuming. an orphan kid with no name and no memory of anything beforehand, yet is old enough to beg to join the black rose pirates. sure, you can believe it, even if the other orphan aboard definitely has a name

that orphan kid then goes on to survive the hole in the sea, amongst few who lived and made swift recoveries, but unlike lizzie he had no protector, and unlike roofus he was a child, only nine. alone in the recently corrupted black sea and with no magic, he managed to make his way to land, which we've learnt is at least a few days travel when on a ship. he didn't drown, or freeze, and he doesn't seem to remember it. it's odd. almost impossible, you could say. but fine, we move on

with gillion and jay, he's so clearly the odd one out. standing between the chosen one and a descendent of the sun, he seems out of place (especially from a meta perspective). but even then, fine, it's probably just meant to be funny

but then there's all the other things. out of the three deals we've seen, he's the only one who's found niklaus rather than vice versa. he slipped through a dream into the realm of who we can only imagine to be one of the most powerful people in mana. and you have to remember he didn't possess any magic until after the feywild. the deal happened after joaldo

he's undead now. his heart was ripped out, his flesh is decaying, but he lives. sure, the other crew members of captain widow were technically undead too, but the fact remains true that this is unusual. the undead thing lead to him following the compass (which is something else i'll get into, because doesn't he seem oddly interested in it yet unaffected) into that sack where he met with niklaus for a second time, the only riptide pc we've seen met him more than once. and the wish doctor seemed more than happy to share some of his secrets with chip

now the compass. it's made by niklaus, linked to desire, and when ollie used it just a few times in joaldo it had instant effects. chip keeps looking at the compass, so much so that it's now magically increased his desire to find arlin, and yet he's had no other effects

when he made the deal with niklaus, his price seemed hardly anything. "don't interfere". it doesn't exactly align with gillion's favour or jay's name and a command she must obey. also it technically gave him two things: knowledge of arlin's whereabouts, and reverting the effects on ollie. and once again niklaus shared more of his plans with chip than any other captain. like he trusts him, almost

inexplicably, chip can speak celestial. a language which just so happens to be key to unlocking all these clues surrounding the hole in the sea (the map, the door in the place beneath the sea as well iirc). jay's understanding of primordial is explained by navy lessons (makes sense if they're dealing with the undersea), but chip's celestial never is

and now the place beneath the sea -- where the cumagoon (do i have to write that in a serious analysis post?), now unlocked by the compass, led -- a voice welcomed him home

i think chip's more deeply connected to the black sea than even he has ever considered. it runs much deeper than simply the loss of arlin and the black rose pirates. i think he, like niklaus, is intrinsically tied to the entity known as the nameless prince, and thereby the egg. he might be more significant magically than we previously thought

[mrs-gauche]

Let's talk (some more) about the Red Lyrium Idol

So, if there's anyone who actually read all of this and is for some reason still interested in even more ramblings, here is Part 2 of my way too long tinfoil theory/summary post about the red lyrium idol, and I swear, it's the last one. 😂 Again, I just needed to get this out before we might get the first real trailer TOMORROW and I'm proven completely wrong, because that's just so funny to me. lol

(Note: This post was written before the title of DA4 was changed into "The Veilguard", so the implications of this title for the narrative were not taken into account for any of this. 💀)

The Phylactery Theory

"A phylactery is a vessel, often a glass vial, containing the essence of a magical being. The Circle of Magi and the Chantry use small phylacteries filled with blood, to track down mages that turn apostate."

"Phylacteries, ironically, are a form of blood magic. When a templar wishes to track down a fugitive mage they will use the phylactery as a way of homing in on the fugitive by way of a "hot and cold" situation, i.e., the phylactery glows, becoming brighter the closer it gets to its respective mage."

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin described the idol to feel rather heavy, like there was "liquid inside". In the 2018 teaser, we see glowing cracks creeping up the idol's surface.

Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

(- Solas when talking about blood magic)

In DAO, the Arcane Warrior specialization can be unlocked while doing the "Nature of the Beast" quest line, in the Lower Ruins of the Brecilian Ruins, south the Elven Burial Chamber. Inside a small chamber which looks like a ruined library, there is a broken stone altar. A phylactery is hidden in the far corner of the room. When you touch the phylactery you experience the memories of an elven arcane warrior who has remained trapped inside of the phylactery for centuries. It offers to teach you the secrets of the arcane warriors in exchange for setting its spirit free by placing the phylactery on an ancient altar.

In the "The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" poem in JOH, there is an idol that seems to possess a spirit that is connected to a demon wolf in a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol/spirit are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

The Black Vials are six small glass phylacteries that can be found around Ferelden. When the Warden takes a vial, the glass fractures and releases a hostile revenant. A revenant is a form of undead that is created when a powerful demon, usually that of desire or pride, possesses a corpse. Upon their death, each revenant drops a scrap of vellum/codex entry that reads:

"Bound by your true name, no mortal hand shall reach you."

In the Tevinter Nights story "Genitivi Dies at the End", Rasaan and the Qunari were searching for Solas' "true name".

In the final chamber of the Solasan temple, there's an ancient inscription that reads:

Faintly carved into the stone is a figure bound in chains. Two other figures have turned their gaze from the central image. "Pride in our accomplishments and in our hearts. That same pride became (a word meaning corrupted or altered) within him, he sought to claim (indecipherable), cast from favor and so he was bound." "Hidden from mortal eyes, death lies within."

A codex about an encounter with a revenant, 5:71 Exalted:

"[…] The descriptions of the creature's abilities were eerily similar to those our brothers at Marnas Pell encountered almost a century ago […]"

Solas' hideout in The Missing was located in the Deep Roads beneath Marnas Pell.

Cole's comments in Trespasser suggest that Solas was bound to Mythal.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

While Solas seemed to have burned her vallaslin off his face, could there be a chance that he is still bound to Mythal by his true name? Could it be that he is still bound to whatever part of Mythal is trapped within the idol?

Again, the ancient spirit in DAO can only be freed from the phylactery if it is placed on an ancient altar.

So, the question is, if the idol is indeed a phylactery containing Solas'/Mythal's blood and a part of her spirit that needs to be placed on its original location/altar to free her, and if it was ripped off its original location, then where did it originally belong?

The Place Where It All Began

In 2018, we got the first DA4 teaser, showing the idol in various close-ups as well as the focal point of this mural.

Look at how the idol is suspiciously placed in the very center of the circle/tambourine which we assume to represent the Veil.

Now, what else sits at the center of the Fade that is ever present and visible but cannot be reached?

Right, the Black City.

Again, the idol is very likely depicting Mythal's death.

Now, tell me, where do you think was Mythal murdered?

Or rather, where do you think did the Blight originate?

I'm convinced that the Black/Golden City is/was Arlathan. The place where the false gods were imprisoned when Solas created the Veil. The idol/blade was likely forged after Mythal died. The 2022 cinematic clearly shows that the Blight started to spread from the center of the Golden City before it turned black and began to consume the rest of the world, but seemed to have then been contained by the Veil preventing it from spreading further.

"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world."

Corypheus is physically covered in red lyrium. We can assume that he turned into a blighted creature when he entered the Black City, which was already black and corrupted when they opened its gates.

Red lyrium only began appearing throughout the surface of all of southern Thedas in crystalline nodes following the opening of the Breach.

In Future Redcliffe, a year has past with the Breach still open and the red lyrium has spread everywhere.

It is proven that the Veil is inedvitably getting weaker alltogether, and that it will eventually come down at some point, regardless of Solas' actions.

The Veil getting weaker correlates with the Blight spreading further. If the root of the Blight lies within the Black City, and if the Blight was contained/prevented from spreading further through the creation of the Veil, and if the seven Old Gods are connected to the seven imprisoned, tainted Evanuris and serve as seals to the seven gates/mirrors of the Black City, then this banter and these visuals make a lot of sense:

Seven semi-circles with two of them still “lit” and the “tambourine”/Veil looking more broken with each new update….

Seven Old Gods/Evanuris that were banished when Solas created the Veil…..

Seven mirrors shattering….

Seven gates of the Black City, which Kordillus Drakon prophesied will someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness….

Solas: Your Order… the Grey Wardens… Blackwall: What about them? Solas: The Wardens see themselves as the world's defense against the Blight, do they not? Blackwall: Yes… why do you sound so skeptical? Doesn't everyone know this? Solas: When an Archdemon rises, they slay it. What will they do when all the Archdemons are slain? Blackwall: Retire? Solas: Without Archdemons, there can be no Blights. Is that the reasoning? Blackwall: Right. Where are you going with this? Solas: Nowhere. I hope they are correct.

Varric: Give [the Grey Wardens] some credit, it's not like you can study the Blight safely. I may not like everything they've done, but without the wardens, we'd all be blighted by now. Solas: They've bought us some time, I will grant them that.

DA4 will likely be set ten year after the events of DAI. And the Veil has gotten even weaker/Solas might succeed in tearing it down.

In Tevinter Nights, Solas claims that whatever he's going to do will "save this world".

Maybe the idol will solely be used to destroy the Veil and merge the World and the Fade, in order for him to, quote, "casually reshape reality".

BUT, you know what was proven to be the ultimate power source for Dreamers to reshape reality in a time before the Veil?

Say it with me.....

Great. Dragon. Blood.

So let's go back and assume that the idol is a phylactery that contains some part of Mythal/blood and that Solas is somehow still bound to by his true name. Mythal was likely murdered in the Black City, which might've also been the catalyst for the Blight. Solas might want to enter the Black City with the idol. Again, the ancient spirit in Origins can only be freed from the phylactery if it is placed on an ancient altar.

So… What if Solas plans to bring the idol back to its original location and free her spirit?

The Mother's Return

"Why did Mythal come to you?" "For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens."

At last, let me put on the tinfoil hat one final time and break this all down.

*takes deep breath*

The fact that it is Mythal's mosaic that is revealed to be on the platform in that final fight with Corypheus (symbolically surrounded by red lyrium!), the same ruins that were once the foundations of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

The Sacred Ashes of Andraste, which possesses healing qualities "unsurpassed by even the most powerful spells".

Andraste, who was said to be too weak to bear children, but then miraculously was able to give birth to two daughters later in life. Almost like something came into her life that enabled her to do so. Like, for example, drinking the blood of a Great dragon.

Andraste, who might have not only been a mage, but also an Old God Baby like Kieran, carrying the soul of Dumat.

Old God souls, which a certain person seems to be particularly interested in collecting.

Not the Maker, but Mythal being drawn to Andraste's Old God soul, like a moth to a flame.

Andraste becoming Mythal's host, but that host ultimately burned at the stake, so she had to find another one.

Fast forward a few hundred years. Mythal has found another host in Flemeth, who just so happens to make a bargain with Calenhad Theirin, making him, again, drink the blood of a Great dragon, to gain special powers, leading him to become the first king of Ferelden.

So she watches the Theirin bloodline, until the fateful day Alistair gets almost killed at Ostagar. So she swoops in again, nudging the course of history by saving Alistair and the HOF.

Next up is Hawke, whom she saves so Hawke could find the idol and free Corypheus, setting the events of DAI in motion.

In DAI, if the Inquisitor drinks from the Well of Sorrows and you listen very carefully to the super creepy background noises while playing the audio backwards, the voices of the Well will tell you to "Stop her" and something else that sounds like "She speaks the Calling".

The Calling. A voice, a song, dreams that will haunt the Grey Wardens. Just like a certain idol does.

The Calling, which will force the Grey Wardens to go mad and join the Darkspawn as a collective hivemind to wake the Old Gods, but only after they consumed the Archdemon's blood in the Joining.

A being controlling people as a hivemind?

Like the Titans guiding their children like a collective mind? Titans, whom Mythal was the first to kill and mine their blood and something else to create bodies for her own people.

"The First of my People do not die so easily." (- Solas in Trespasser)

An Archdemon cannot be killed, because their soul will just transfer to the nearest soulless darkspawn. Transfering the soul. The secret of effective immortality.

How do you kill an Archdemon?

By drinking their blood, slaying them and taking in their soul.

What is an Archdemon/Old God?

A dragon.

What WAS Mythal?

"The new ones are faithful to Mythal, but do not understand what she was in her fullness."

Mythal's entire image is based on that of a dragon, a form that in ancient times was reserved for the gods. Because before the Veil, it was the dragon's blood that gave those dreamers the power to shape reality, so powerful that they came to be worshiped as gods. But, I think, not only had Mythal the chief role in the pantheon because she had great dragon blood within her, but because…

Her true form IS actually a motherflippin dragon.

So. What did the Evanuris do in order to KILL Mythal?

They slayed her, drank her blood and each of the seven obtained a part of her soul, but instead of getting killed themselves, they sought to become essentially invincible through both Mythal's blood and the tainted Titan blood/red lyrium.

Let me quote this wonderful post by @virlath from a few years ago.

With her conquering of the titans, I think it’s likely that her blood is a part of the blight and the red lyrium corruption. Mythal ran the elves' lyrium operations. She had a connection to the titans and their children. She also stole knowledge of the Void from Andruil. Combining all this knowledge it makes sense that she could use this to her advantage once she was imprisoned and corrupted, because she had a connection to both dragon's blood and lyrium. She just needed a physical aspect- Flemeth, and now Solas, to act out her plans. The use of dragon fire in Dark Fortress is further indication that the combination of dragons and lyrium results in a massive power nexus. I think it’s possible that red lyrium is simply lyrium tainted with dragon's blood. More specifically, Mythal's blood. This is why dragons were strictly reserved for the evanuris in ancient elvhen times- because the key to their immortality and power was dragons and more specifically, great dragon's blood. Mythal had strict rules about taking on the form of 'divinity’. I think this was likely because dragons and dragon fire/dragon's blood was the true source of the evanuris' power, and is what allowed them to appear immortal. This could explain why the old gods are so inexplicably linked to the evanuris in the lore. I think the evanuris each had a dragon- an old god, and they each used dragon's blood and dragon fire to make their dreams into literal reality. No one could infiltrate their dreams because only they had access to the power of dragons, which they claimed was their right.

Before BioWare settled on dragons, the Archdemons were supposed to look very different.

Meaning that, each of the seven Old God souls…. is what?

Yeah, I think it's all Mythal's.

Again, WHAT did the voices of the Well tell the Inquisitor? WHO speaks the CALLING?

It's the voice of the one who's the real owner of that soul. The one who for centuries has been trying to gather the scattered pieces of HER SOUL, driven by nothing but vengeance.

"So Mythal endures."

If the idol contains a part of Mythal, and if Solas used the idol/blade to trick the Evanuris like in Dalish legends, maybe it was because they were desperate to destroy the idol and get rid of Mythal once and for all.

Remember the visions described in Trespasser.

“Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!“ “In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing.” “The runes say the Evanuris fought the Titans. They mined their bodies for lyrium and… something else. It’s not clear.” “They made bodies from the earth. And the earth was afraid. It fought back. But they made it forget.” "For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire." “For one moment, there is a vivid image of two overlapping spheres; unknown flowers bloom inside their centers. Then it fades.”

A sphere of fire… you mean, like the SUN? You mean, Mythal actually creating a MOON, just like in Dalish mythology?

Bear with me here.

We established that Mythal mined the Titan's blood, which I believe was then used for centuries in combination with her fire to create bodies for her own people/spirits. On top of that, I believe that, after her victory, Mythal used part of a dead Titan and lifted it into the sky to use it as a "cornerstone" to build the capital city of Elvhenan, Arlathan, on top of her "enemy's corpse".

I believe that in the moment of Mythal's death, her blood altered the Titan's blood (which also sundered the Song) and that something happened to the moon that she had created, which in turn led to the unbridled power of the sun to corrupt part of the Titan that the Golden City, Arlathan, was build on, as well as both their blood. And that's when it turned black. That's when the Blight was created.

Elgar'nan is the God of the Sun in Dalish mythology. He was likely the main instigator behind the Evanuris' betrayal and Mythal's murder.

The sun imagery keeps appearing throughout DA4's promotional stuff.

If the Old God Lusacan is connected to Elgar'nan, they would represent two polar opposites. The God of the Sun and the God of Night and Darkness. Again, Kordillus Drakon prophesied that the seven gates of the Black City would someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness.

"All the world will soon share the peace and comfort of my reign."

“Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, calls to you. He lives where it is darkest and waits for the day he will rise. Drink of his blood and know the power in darkness: either fear the Night or wield it.“ "The darkspawn yearn to awaken and corrupt Lusacan to start a new age of darkness.” “A night that will never end”

But why does this need to happen? Because Mythal needs to act out her vengeance upon the ones who murdered her and doomed the world with the creation of the Blight.

"She was betrayed as I was betrayed! As the world was betrayed!" "Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!"

Solas wants to save his people no matter what, and for that, the Veil needs to be torn down, resulting in the World and the Fade becoming one again…

But, to truly restore his People, I believe that he needs the Mother to come back.

Mythal represents both Justice and Vengeance. If justice is corrupted, it will turn into vengeance. Solas makes no difference between spirits and demons.

"I am sorry as well, old friend."

That last line of Flemythal to Solas. It's so simple, but what does it truly mean? Why is she apologizing to him?

Is it because none of this would have happened if she didn't die and everything that happened to the people and the world was because of her downfall? Because it was her who started all this in the first place with the death of the Titans, stealing their hearts and corrupting their blood?

With her gone and no one left to keep the false gods in check, if it hadn't been for her death, Solas wouldn't have been left with what seemed to be the only choice?

Is she sorry for everything he had to endure, from her giving him a body against his will, twisting his original purpose, to him having to live with the guilt over the death of a world and an entire civilization for a thousand years?

Or is she apologizing for using him?

"An eclipse as Fen'Harel stirred."

"Cry havoc in the moonlight. Let the fire of vengeance burn. The cause is clear." (- Solas reciting Mythal's invication)

She knew that Solas would do anything at this point to undo his mistakes and save the people he doomed. She knew exactly what Solas would do when he came to her in that after credits scene in DAI. She knew that he would need that power and the idol to complete his ritual in order to tear down the Veil, but to what end?

Without the Veil, whoever controls the dreams controls reality.

[keicordelle]

You know, I was going to make a post about how, for all that Mizora says she can't undo the magic that transforms Wyll, there are plenty of ways a powerful enough spellcaster could restore him to his original body, but when I went to read up on the spells I had in mind-- there really isn't, huh?

The obvious go to is True Resurrection. I mean, you don't even need the dead person's body to restore them to life, the spell creates one for them. And admittedly, the spell description is a little vague about restoring them to their own body, but I have to assume that's the intent. It does restore undead to their non-undead form, so it can alter the body of whoever it resurrects, but given that it states that so clearly, I'm reluctant to assume it'd be the same for someone altered in a different fashion (say, a werewolf, or perhaps someone twisted into a devil as a result of their pact). It does clear curses and other nefarious effects, so if it's a curse laid upon him then maybe it would work. But I think the chances of it simply giving him back his devilish body are pretty high, and given the 25k gold price tag on it, that's not really a risk I'd want to take.

Resurrection is similarly worded, except it can't clear curses or raise undead, so probably even less likely to restore Wyll's human body.

Clone can restore your youth, but given that it requires an offering of flesh to cast, I think it's safe to assume the test-tube grown Wyll would also bear horns and pointy bits where he does not particularly want them. If even Mizora can't undo the magic that turns him, I have to assume it's transformed him down to his DNA, and growing a new body from that same flesh will result in the same appearance.

Reincarnation could craft him a new body with a reasonably high likelihood of not being a tiefling, but he wouldn't necessarily be human -- and even if he was, it crafts him an entirely new body, like hitting the randomizer on a character creator. There's almost a 0% chance he'd end up looking like he used to. So new appearance yes, original body no.

If he felt like dipping into less savory techniques, he could try Magic Jar and then possessing someone else's body, but again, that doesn't really help him regain his human form.

True Polymorph could work, depending on how you define "creature". Is a human a different creature than a tiefling? Or are we talking broad categories here? Do I need to turn from a humanoid into an aberation? (This could work though to turn a mindflayer back into a humanoid though, couldn't it? Hmm...) The changing of stats makes the idea of tiefling-human transformation a little awkward, but it could work. Maybe. Just make sure he's stripped down before you cast it, or you're losing all that lovely gear you spent 17 levels gathering.

And of course there's always Wish, but I'm not sure there's a Wizard in the world who wants to risk that 33% chance of never being able to cast it again.

But I also feel like all of that is moot, because I really don't think Wyll would take you up on it if you offered. For all that his new form discomforts and discomfits him, I think he'd refuse to part with it. He wears his altered, intimidating form with pride, because it stands for his beliefs, his refusal to bow down in the face of evil when his morals are on the line. For all that he looks the part of a devil, that body represents his complete and utter goodness, and even if that's probably not how he sees himself, I think that he would want to keep his body if only to show that you can look like the most monstrous version of yourself and still hold true to your virtue. And once he's had some time to grow accustomed to the horns and the stares, he would not wish to erase his body and what it stands for, even if the opportunity presented itself.

[kerubimcrepin]

ANALYSIS: Joris Jurgen, Mage-Slayer, Bearer of Grougalorasalar's Black Fire.

For quite a while I had wanted to make this post, concentrating my personal pet theory/something I noticed, but as of recently, it has been made especially relevant with to the role Grougalorasalar, as well as the Jurgen-Crepin family, may play in the manga.

This post touches on the following topic: Joris is probably mostly/fully incapable of using magic due to Grougalorasalar's possession, and there may be other consequences too, for his psychology.

"At the time of the Dofus film, we saw [Joris] as a mage-killer. Someone who does not practice magic, nor is attuned to it."

Note: Some parts of this were already proven true (or true-in-the-past-but-now-reconned) by this tweet, but I would like to go more in depth, and talk about why Joris is not practising or attuned to magic.

Black Fire, Stasis, and Dragons:

The magic of the world is based upon the Quadramental Breeze (the elements of Fire, Water, Earth, and Wind), Black Fire (Stasis, energy of destruction), and White Fire (Wakfu, energy of creation).

All of these forces originate from the three dragons of Osamodas: the elemental dragon Spiritia, the white fire dragon Helioboros, and the black fire dragon Ouronigride.

The descendants of Spiritia became the four elemental primordial dragons.

Dofus MMO Book "Dragon Era - Found Fragments III"

Ouronigride had three descendants, of whom only two are extremely relevant to this post: Grougalorasalar (ebony dofus), and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who refused a physical body, and therefore, remained without one, unlike all the other dragons.

Helioboros had three descendants, two of whom are important to keep in mind: Dardondakal (ivory dofus, his guardians used to be Joris, as well as Leorictus Sheran-Sharm), and Croulakrakoss, a dragon that has a history with Grougalorasalar.

Possession & violence:

"Young Lukruh… You don't know that I'm watching over you… From the shadows!"

Joris is not the first person in the history of the World of Twelve to be possessed by a Black Fire dragon — albeit his possession was less planned, and ended far less tragically for him.

While Grougalorasalar only resorted to possessing a body and mind that would not resist him, in order to save his own life — his sibling, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had always yearned to possess and overtake, and for that end, he chose a man named Lukruh.

"Go ahead! Set them on fire! Oh yes! Lukruh! Your hatred gave the two of us wings! Keep going, and then nothing will stand in our way!"

He spent a long time slowly weakening his defences to overtake his body and mind (the downside of possessing someone who is not a newborn, and actually has a free will and a mind to overwrite, I suppose), and fed on his anger, at some point even giving him wings.

Feeding on anger to increase control over the body, something isn't unique to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

It is unknown whether possession is something only Black Fire dragons are capable of, but we do know the dire consequences it has for the possessed — because Joris has opinions on this story, and he voices in the Dofus MMO questline for the Ivory dofus.

During the first Crimson Dawn, he took the life of Dardondakal, and some time after, died himself. What really happened is murky (perhaps in part because this is not my lore area of expertise), but we know that Hyrkul ended up as an undead lich, before being abandoned by the dragon.

Joris explains that:

1. Dragons of black fire are not evil, but merely drawn to destruction. While I personally believe him, the fact that he mentions this immediately and unprompted may point to this being an insecurity of his.

2. The He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named kept Hyrkul alive, or turned him into a lich, using black magic. Then, in response to being asked whether it is possible that Hyrkul could have recovered his free will, Joris says the following:

This implies that 1. Joris views the condition of being possessed as one you can't recover from, and 2. that he still does not entirely possess a free will of his own. His mind has forever been tainted by/muddled with Grougalorasalar's, and that is simply not something that can be changed or healed from.

...Perhaps Black Fire stirs his thoughts too. No wonder he would mention this not being an evil thing, then.

(To be honest, one of my own darker thoughts on this topic is that Joris as we know him has been possessed since infancy, so if Grougalorasalar overwrote his brain fully with his own personality without any memories, we'd just never know. Though, considering there wasn't really a personality to overwrite, it's a bit of a chicken-and-egg dilemma. Sorry for becoming a conspiracy theorist for a sec.)

Joris also elaborates further on their relationship in the Ebony dofus questline:

This reveals multiple things:

Joris may be implying that he and Grougalorasalar did not part on good terms.

The alternate explanation for his words here, is that Joris knows what Grougalorasalar feels due to his influence over his psyche — meaning that he also neither forgives nor forgets. While it is a fun possibility that fits in with the rest of the post, I am inclined to believe that the shorter and easier explanation for his words is the one meant by the developers. Occam's razor.

The conflict that led to their separation was based in their world-view and morals — but here Joris says something that is very interesting:

The thing about possession, is that it affects both parties, whether they like it or not.

(Imagine two pieces of clay. Imagine pushing them together, and then tearing them apart. There would still be a bit of colour from the other piece of clay, on both of them, you know? I suppose it works the same way with souls.)

Whatever their relationship used to be, Grougalorasalar no longer respects Joris's opinions. Joris still seems to feel protective of the Ebony Dofus — even if he couldn't fulfil his promise of keeping it safe forever.

Joris the Powerless:

The Black Fire eats away at all magic and life, like rust; and rules the thoughts and impulses of those affected by it, like hunger.

But it's not an evil energy — merely the yin to Wakfu's yang. It destroys without a malicious intent.

Even if we've seen the consequences that an abundance of it has, in season 4 of Wakfu...

*relevant parts of the quotes are marked with a red tint

It is not a secret that Joris was first conceptualized to be a character who had no innate powers of his own — instead drawing them from his magic wand/hand-held tree stump. (Well, the first idea was a warrior with a woman's voice, but Xa disregarded that brief and made up a whole new guy...)

It was the idea they had during the making of Wakfu season 1 — which is why he always held his magic wand back then — and it was the idea they had during the development of the cancelled spin-off game "Joris the Powerless".

It is also why he has seldom been shown with the tree stump afterwards — it has lost its relevance to his character outside of being his preferred weapon.

The reason I bring it up is that, while ideas change — when something is so integral to a character that you almost name a game after it, even multiple rewrites may not get rid of an idea entirely.

If black magic is a hunger that corrodes other magic, then wouldn't it make sense, if Joris could not use magic to begin with?

His situation is far different from Julith, who used black magic to try and resurrect Jahash. Black Fire is a part of Joris the same way it is a part of Black Fire Dragons, — it's not just a tool to him.

...Though, he does make use of it.

All of this together would explain why Joris was envisioned, and could still turn out to be, someone who neither practices nor is attuned to magic, and how the idea of him being a powerless individual may have evolved.

It is important to note, that while I think he is mostly incapable of magic, he can probably still preform simple spells:

Joris is shown using some type of magic in the Wakfu series, though we don't know what sort of magic it is, and what is its source.

And, this is a bit more shaky, but he may be shown using some sort of electricity magic in Dofus MMO's battles — to enhance his mobility/melee attacks. The only reason I am unsure is that it could just be game-specific animations, to make the fight more interesting.

Either way it would make sense — Black Fire Dragons are living beings attuned to Stasis, but they are not devoid of Wakfu, (if they were, they would either be dead or necromes...) and Joris is simply an individual whose body was warped — capabilities for branching out into other types of magic could be limited, instead of being gone.

From possession to possessiveness:

While the main point of this post was to analyse the fact that the possession probably affected his magical capabilities, it is also important to note, that I don't think his psychology was untouched.

We have multiple sources claiming that dragons are, in general, emotionally unstable, as well as textual evidence of said fact (via Arty's Burning of Bonta, which is mentioned by Qilby; Grougalorasalar's... Grougalorasalarness, as well as Adamai's many crises.)

As well as an interesting quote by Qilby, in regard to Grougaloragran. But it comes with a preface:

While we don't know whether the vocabulary of "white fire/black fire" applies to the Eliatropes, it is important to consider this:

It was said by Tot that six dofus are required to create a world.

The appearance of a new primordial black fire dragon (Rotalström) in the necroworld could signify that having six primordial dragons for the four elements, as well as stasis and wakfu, is a constant between various worlds.

According to Tot, Rotalström was the last dragon defeated by Toross. Could it be that Primordial black fire dragons play an important role in keeping the world safe? And is this why Grougalorasalar is very active in the new manga?

This would probably make Grougaloragran a black fire dragon. It would also explain why he is both impulsive, and very keen on self-control and trying to be a kind person. But this isn't outright canon — just my speculation.

(It would also explain why Adamai knows how to use stasis magic at such a young age, having been raised by him.)

Which brings me to this point: it is interesting to think about the way Grougaloragran craves violence and destruction as a baby (cute), and how this quote about impulsiveness and jealousy also fits Grougalorasalar:

Many people may not know it, but there is a lot of lore pertaining to Grougalorasalar in the Dofus MMO — and especially to his child, Crocoburio.

Crocoburio and Grougalorasalar tried to devastate and control the lands, slaughtering countless people, and Grougalorasalar was madly obsessed with his offspring: whispering him advice in the dark, supporting him every step of the way, giving him enchanted items.

These aren't necessarily normal behaviours for a dragon — but his son was so much like him, that it bewitched him for centuries, even after he was gone.

The quests in the MMO involve Grougalorasalar wanting to ressurect his offspring, even if it damages Crocoburio's soul irreparably — and the player trying to ressurect Crocoburio without hurting him, to use as a bargaining chip.

What I am saying is that:

Joris is a very impulsive person, a misantrope prone to poor decision making, involving himself in situations that don't concern him, and anger issues. He is also obsessed with his family — his so called "sons" (they aren't, but the three of them love playing pretend).

And maybe it's just how he was born — but maybe, just maybe, this too, is something that can be in some way traced to Grougalorasalar.

But maybe Joris also relishes in having posessive control over Kerubim and Atcham. Maybe he also hates everyone else besides them, and barely tolerates some people outside the family unit, with his brief friendships with others. Maybe its just like Grougalorasalar, and his love for Crocoburio.

[shadowshrike]

The Curious Case of Halsin and Astarion's Ascension

For anyone who's occasionally poked around my stuff, you probably know that I found my Evil run of Baldur's Gate 3 (by which I mean my selfish run where I tried to gain as much power, wealth, and companion trust as I could) to be my most satisfying thus far. Part of that was the unique experience of having Halsin ask to join Tav and Astarion's relationship post-Ascension.

At the time, I said yes because it made sense for my character to "collect" an Archdruid. Out of character, I was tickled by the idea that Halsin confessed after Astarion became the new biggest bad in the land. Halsin was supposed to be a Good guy. Surely, either a possessive Astarion would be spitting mad about the arrangement, or Halsin would have second thoughts about Mr. Vampire Ascendent once he got a taste. I was ready for the drama.

It never came. In fact, the glimpses of their dynamic were so comfortable and playful that I was shocked.

Since then I've been doing a lot of thinking about Halsin and why he might act how he does throughout the Ascension storyline. I realize most of this can be handwaved with 'fanservicey romance writing.' That's true for parts of all romance paths, honestly, and I don't consider it a wholly bad thing given the game's goal to make you its center. However, I think being dismissive of the writing is not as much fun as building headcanons that work with any set of behaviors or lines you get.

So enjoy some theories pulled from datamined dialogue and my personal games. As always, this is completely hypothetical - I encourage everyone to write 'canon' in their personal playthroughs however they prefer.

Note: it's impossible to get all these lines in a single run due to some hinging on Astarion leaving and some may be bugged or near impossible to trigger. They're just being used to explore a character and dynamic that I don't see much of around fan spaces.

Halsin on the value of lives

To briefly set the stage, it's important to understand how Halsin views life and justice. He spells it out rather clearly if Kagha kills Arabella and her parents are also dead.

Halsin doesn't consider himself to be an arbiter of good and evil, only a steward of nature and its Balance. He highly values life. However, it's not him, the leader of the Grove, who is ultimately responsible for deciding Kagha's fate; it's the wronged parties or, barring that, nature itself who should decide her true punishment.

Halsin: As for the idol? It's nothing compared to a life. A mere object, next to one of nature's creations. I cannot absolve you, even if you are repentant. The girl's parents should have decided your fate, but they perished. Instead, nature will judge you. You are banished from this place - banished from everywhere the Oak Father's creations thrive.

But valuing the sanctity of life doesn't mean he doesn't also understand the importance of sacrifice. For example, if Wyll chooses his freedom over his father, Halsin counsels that it's a necessity to sacrifice to grow at times, no matter how unpleasant.

Halsin: You made a hard choice, Wyll. But not one that is unknown in nature. At times, a seedling must strangle the very tree that bore it, if it is to survive.

The price of 7000

So, Halsin's not a big fan of sacrificing life, yet understands that sometimes, people need to die for others to thrive.

But what about 7000 lives? A whole village worth?

That level of sacrifice sounds an awful lot like the day his life was destroyed by Ketheric and the Shadow Curse. A horrible event that haunted his every thought and deed for the next 100 years.

Within this context, it makes sense that all of his responses during the Ascension, whether Astarion does it or not, are focused on the price being paid. He usually emphasizes the sheer number of people affected and never discusses Astarion's potential evil (more on that later) or the undead nature of those lives.

Halsin: Stay your hand, Astarion. To sacrifice so many is a tyrant's ambition.

Halsin: All those lives snuffed out, just to grasp some power. That was craven - unnatural.

Halsin: Astarion resisted the allure of Cazador's would-be powers - and I am glad of it. Whatever he would have gained would have come at a great price.

The interesting part about this is, as an Archdruid of Silvanus, those undead lives should be considered an abomination. The Oath of Ancients oath break if you free the spawn reminds us of this. So Halsin's advice to save the spawn is not necessarily druidic advice - it is a personal opinion wrapped in flimsy druidic justifications.

He even recognizes undead as unnatural when you enter Cazador's home:

Halsin: A lair of undeath - most unnatural. We must tread carefully.

Yet about the spawn, who are undead and an intimate part of that unnaturalness, he says this about releasing them:

Halsin: Good - they deserve a chance at life. Nature will handle their fates from here.

Mercy for all monsters?

This is interesting to compare to another encounter with a smaller version of an eerily similar choice in Act III. The mindflayer in the Windmill - a person turned into a monster, much like a spawn. Allow it to live, and it may devour a family. In that case, Halsin says:

Halsin: We allowed this unnatural thing to live - now a whole family's worth of blood is on our hands.

He joins a host of other Good companions who curse themselves for showing mercy where it wasn't warranted. These are largely the same companions who would also save the spawn.

Karlach: This is our fault. These people died because of us. What were we thinking?

Wyll: Justice does not entail granting mercy to monsters. We should not have let this abomination go free.

Gale: A cruel conclusion to the mercy we showed, but hardly an unpredictable one. As long as it lives, so will its appetite.

The contradictory perspective taken during these two storylines shows the importance of emotional context in how we make decisions. For most, their traveling companion, who also has a tadpole, is the first vampire spawn they've ever met, while mindflayers have generally been the big evil this entire time. This could lead them to feel as though a horde of spawn may have enough humanity to need a chance, while a newborn Mindflayer should be exterminated on sight. Also, most of the other Good companions are relatively young and idealistic, so it makes sense that some may make foolhardy, heroic decisions.

But this encounter also begs the question: if these heroes are so distraught by having the blood of one family on their hands due to a single hungry mindflayer they saved, how could they justify letting 7000 starving monsters with unquenchable bloodlust free? Are they simply kind-hearted and short-sighted? Or maybe they're only optimistic about the hunger of vampire spawn, despite having personal examples of both a spawn and a mindflayer who manage their hunger equally ethically - by feeding on enemies and criminals.

Their naivety is driven home by Jaheira not being moved by the mindflayer or the spawn due to her extensive life experience. She believes in both cases that the greater mercy is to kill the creatures now.

(About the spawn) Jaheira: And what of the living they'll feast on, should they not prove as admirable as Astarion? They deserve a chance, too.

(About mindflayer) Jaheira: Look well. Our stupidity. Our price to pay.

Halsin is even older. He's a devout druid. He recognizes undead as unnatural. By all accounts, he should be on the same page as Jaheira to preserve the Balance. Yet in the face of that, he still advises to give the spawn a chance to live free, likely wreaking havoc wherever they need to feed.

I like to think this strange blind spot in his doctrine is due to a combination of Astarion's presence humanizing the unknown spawn, therefore making their unlives worthy of protection, and his own history as a genocide survivor creating an emotional reaction strong enough to override his usual wisdom. The price of a village is simply too devastating and personal for him to condone. No matter what letting 7000 ravenous undead free may mean.

Making the price worth it

Once you've ascended Astarion, you may be surprised that Halsin - generally a good man - is now steadfastly on Astarion's side. His reactions to the Gur conflict highlight this. If you side with Astarion against them, he's not happy, but resolute.

Halsin: An unfortunate battle... but I must stand by those I count as allies.

And if you decide Astarion is evil now and side with the Gur, Halsin doesn't seem to care about what Astarion has become, only that you allowed the sacrifice to happen and then let it go to waste:

Halsin: We allowed Astarion to sacrifice so many, only to just turn on him soon after? We should have stopped him sooner.

In contrast, many other companions call Ascended Astarion a monster, evil, or maniacal if you turn on him. They believe killing him at that point was the only right answer.

Karlach: It's done. It had to be done. Astarion was... out of control. Gods dammit. Look, he was an evil leech, but he was ours. I thought he'd changed. I was wrong. I always am these days.

Minsc: Do not mourn Astarion. The Gur are known to be a just and righteous people among the Rashemaar. They named Astarion monster, and so monster he was. Yes, Boo - even if he sometimes seemed a friend.

Gale: That's one scourge eliminated. A vampire with that much power would be a death sentence for this city. A pity Astarion didn't understand that. Or rather, didn't care.

Lae'zel: Astarion proved himself no less maniacal than his master. His death was a favour - to him, to us, and to the city.

Wyll: Hunt the monsters of the Sword Coast, protect the people - that was my promise. Killing Astarion was the right thing to do. I have to believe that. But I'm not proud of it. Not after... all this.

Ignoring Astarion's evil and telling you that you shouldn't have betrayed him may seem odd for a character who usually has a strong moral compass. Especially since Halsin doesn't tell you that you shouldn't have betrayed Shadowheart if you choose that path, though he's wary of that decision since you're handing her over to Sharrans. However, if Halsin's focus is on the 7000 lives and not on Astarion's personal kindness or cruelty, it makes more sense.

The people are gone. There is no taking back all those lost. So he's left with the need to make their sacrifice something other than a meaningless slaughter. The power for his companion must be worth it.

Halsin on Evil Astarion

You may be thinking, "Okay, but even if it's all about the mass sacrifice mimicking his own horrific past, shouldn't he still care about Astarion being Evil? He doesn't like evil acts at all!"

That's mostly true. Halsin certainly hates Shar for personal reasons and can get upset when you do cruel things. However, he's also potentially had a bit of a soft spot for Astarion since Act I, when you can decide the vampire spawn is evil and kill him or kick him out of camp.

His lines for this are actually shared with Karlach, Wyll, and Jaheira, according to the data. The uniqueness is primarily in his distraught line delivery.

If you kill Astarion, Halsin admits that he liked the guy even though he was a killer:

Halsin: Rest in peace, Astarion. You may have been a blood-thirsty murderer, but I liked you all the same.

And if you send him away, Halsin says this about Astarion being alone in the woods:

Halsin: He's someone else's problem now, anyway. Woods are full of boars. Maybe he'll learn his lesson and start hunting something that won't miss him when he goes.

His camp reactions immediately after Ascension mirror this attitude of concern rather than condemnation of evil. If Halsin speaks directly to Astarion, he sounds exasperated (the way Halsin says his name always makes me snicker) while Halsin once again brings up the idea of the price being paid.

Halsin: Astarion... you have ascended amongst the ranks of the undead. I can only hope that you do not come to regret the price that you paid.

However, the almost identical line if he's talking to another player character is delivered differently, particularly in how he says Astarion's name. It's more concerned than judgmental, implying that his frustration with Astarion is coming from a place of worry rather than pure anger.

Halsin: Astarion... he has ascended amongst the ranks of the undead. I can only hope that he does not come to regret the price that he paid.

This is particularly notable because it's in contrast to Shadowheart, who has a very similar line after her evil choice, but the emotion behind both sounds more similar to my ear.

After that initial comment, Halsin can banter with Ascended Astarion about how he's turned the player into a vampire spawn if there's a player romance. Unlike most of the other companions who can comment, such as Wyll and Gale, he expresses worry for both of them, not just the player. He also explicitly explains he has no intention of kink-shaming them, just warns about how dangerous having a master/thrall relationship can be if made real.

Halsin: To give oneself wholly, and to have a lover totally in your thrall...? A harmless game, until it becomes real. I worry for the two of you, Astarion. For your sake, I hope some of it is just a fantasy, deep in your heart.

But perhaps the most blatantly accepting we see him of Ascended Astarion is if they go to the Drow twins together. There are always some playful lines with one another if they're both present, but one is unique to Ascension if the player bites Halsin as a spawn during the scene. Halsin's response is light and delighted, acknowledging Astarion's role as not just a vampire, but the lead in your new relationship.

Halsin: Ha - tickles. See what a bad influence you are, Astarion?

Combine with Halsin's direct propositioning of Astarion if Astarion teases him about his night with the player, and there's a case for long-held attraction as well, regardless of alignment.

Astarion: I hear things got wild between you two. I hope no one was too badly mauled. Halsin: We're all in one piece. Perhaps you'll join us next time. Astarion: It's bad enough having one person with fangs trying to keep control of themselves. Two of us could be dangerous.

All these lines, taken together during times when others label Astarion a monster, suggest that Halsin accepts Astarion as a whole. He doesn't believe in trying to change people's nature, so maybe he sees any distasteful deeds as part of Astarion's, the same as an owlbear cub eating its mother might disgust some though it is completely natural.

It makes sense, then, that Halsin might be proud of Astarion for choosing morality or personal growth, but he isn't too bothered if that doesn't happen either. What line Astarion would have to cross to earn Halsin's true ire is unknown. The reverse is a much more complicated question (mostly because it's plausible that many of Astarion's lines are rooted in deception) that I may delve into another time.

Is this whole relationship a little ironic given that Halsin is The Selfless Good Druid and Astarion is The Selfish Evil Undead? Absolutely. But that's the fun of it, in my opinion. It adds depth to these characters in ways that rarely shine through during a singular playthrough, especially since very few will do the crazy thing I did with an Ascended Astarion + Halsin romance.

It sure makes for narrative fun, though.

[ghouldtime]

Ghost'ed Part Two

Follow up to this post about literal ghost! Ghost

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Normally, an investigation wouldn't be halted so early on, especially upon seeing true, actual evidence. However, to simply put it, your equipment was fucked. No amount of button pushing would change that and replacing the batteries was a bust considering those somehow disappeared too.

Ghost the ghost who ghosted you might as well be a rotten thief too. You're certain that you put those batteries in your bag yet no matter how you rummaged through the many compartments it was as if they had vanished into thin air, much like the specter that roamed somewhere around the house.

As much as frustration weighed on you, urging you to just throw your hands up into the air once more, walk out, and quit - you knew that wasn't an option. You'd been paid to do a job and still had yet to finish. Saying "Oh well, sorry, my equipment died" wouldn't be a good enough explanation and would only end up with more sceptics and a thorough verbal berating you're sure would be worse than dealing with any ghost out there.

You couldn't let this bastard win. It's time to go the old fashioned route.

"Okay, I know you're here." You spoke as you grabbed your 'emergency' power out kit, knowing that there's no better time than the present to use it, "But so am I. You're not getting rid of me."

At least it paid to be prepared. It wasn't your first rodeo and unruly ghosts weren't unheard of but this is certainly the first time that one has had the audacity to steal your batteries.

A simple golden compass, glowstick, service desk bell, manual thermometer, mechanical film camera, and spirit board would hopefully be your saviors. All of your high tech equipment had failed you but that didn't mean the old reliable, tried and true methods couldn't work. They'd just take more time.

Rummaging in the bag, your fingers curled around the smooth glass of the thermometer tube and the gilded surface of the compass alike, pulling them out and settling them into your hands. The glowstick followed suit as you took it in hand, the crack of the tube echoing throughout the house as you shook the contents to life. While the dull, luminous green glow might not be much, it at least was better than having to rely on your eyes in the darkness alone.

The rest of the equipment stayed in the bag as you hauled it on your back. They'd come in use when you finally found this slippery bastard who you were already beginning to not like.

Each step you took further into the house echoed off the lofty walls and ricocheted off the high ceilings as you set off once more. Every hair stood on end as you kept all of your senses on high alert, listening for any little creak or groan that might give away the presence of something else.

This wasn't a basic ghost, it couldn't be. You mentally mused as you checked through the kitchen, the red liquid of the thermometer refusing to go down stubbornly as the compass idly swayed. Normally ghosts didn't usually have the capability to drain all equipment at once. Sure, draining a battery or two or short circuiting some devices were common enough - that's why you had backups. But all of them? That's nearly unheard of.

And that wasn't even considering the fact that it stole your batteries.

You didn't misplace them, that you knew. You'd reassured yourself too many times for it to be anything else. Checking through your equipment and being anything less than thorough wasn't your style. When it came to dealing with the paranormal and the undead, you couldn't be too careful. And yet it's like your batteries didn't even exist in the first place, like you'd never even put them there.

How it possessed such capability was beyond you.

Were you dealing with a ghost? Came to mind as an intrusive, unwelcomed thought as you checked the bathroom, scrutinizing for any abnormalities. The pipes felt cold to the touch still and absolutely nothing had moved in there, making yet another room that was a bust.

Ghosts usually weren't this strong. Taking things is unheard of. Was it a demon? The possibility flashed across your mind as you creaked open the door to the guest room, checking the temperature and compass alike which sadly both seemed content to stay in one place.

Then again, it drained everything. Maybe it took that energy just to steal the batteries. You tried to reason. A shudder ran down your spine at the possibility of dealing with something much worse than a simple paranormal apparition.

Dying to Ghost the demon would be laughable. This was just a prankster spirit, right? It had to be.

Checking through the house twice more turned up no results. Not a single temperature fluctuation, not a single moment of the compass going awry. Whoever or whatever this was was one slippery, sneaky, bastard. Your mind shuffled through the possibilities as you racked your brain, trying to figure out the next steps in this careful dance.

It couldn't leave the house, most spirits and paranormal were location bounded. So it had to be here. Maybe you needed to give it a minute after doing something that big - maybe it just needed to recharge.

Sighing, your lips pursed downwards into a frown. Wandering around aimlessly for another half hour would prove to be fruitless. Trying to do the same thing over and over again and expecting different results was the definition of insanity. You needed to switch it up.

Normally, taunting and trying to draw it out was risky behavior, but your equipment was broken (that would be a pain in the ass later to swap out the batteries on literally everything) and what else could you do? Maybe except for hoping that this just was a really bad spirit and not something worse.

"Okay, Ghost. That's your name, right?" You spoke as you started walking down the halls once more, brandishing your glowstick like the faint beam of light could turn up some evidence. "I'm not playing games with you anymore, I'm here for a reason."

Silence still greeted you, only interrupted by the sounds of your own breaths and heartbeat alike. "But I suppose you are too."

The stillness that greeted you should be expected for such a house but it still sent a shiver down your spine and had your hair stand on end as you tense, ears straining as you listened for something, anything.

Oh how you wish your beloved spirit box was working right about now.

"I don't know if you want to be here," You began as you kept walking, eyeing the streaks of paint that you supposed were supposed to be thought provoking paintings that hung on the wall, a small cringe running through your system at them, " But I sure don't. I mean, it's a place creepier than you. Who chooses white furniture? Now that's scary."

You're not sure if talking would do anything but at least it might make you feel a little less alone in this place, like you could possibly find the something that you knew was out there somewhere. "Not exactly a prime place for a haunt. Can't imagine you went out of your way to want to be here."

Solitude seemed to be your only companion as everything went unanswered, still, as your round of the house started to creep up upon a full circle. "Look, Ghost, I'm here whether you like it or not. And I'm here to help. It's your choice if it's going to be the homeowners I'm helping, or you. I'm the only one going to listen. You think the people who monogrammed their soaps are going to care about what happens to you?"

Maybe you needed to instigate, just a little bit. "If I can't find something or get an answer, you know what's going to happen? They're going to get a hot-shot know-it-all in who does something stupid and either straight up banishes you into non-existence, or traps you to a room. Do you really want that?"

Yet again the echo of your voice was the only thing that greeted you, but out of the corner of your eye the red of your thermometer slowly bobbed down, as if having been awaiting this cue.

Thoroughly resisting the urge to cheer as your heart leapt at the possibility that you've finally called its number, you didn't stop the smile that bloomed on your face or how you nearly dropped the items in your hand as you held them up.

The thin needle on the compass swayed the smallest bit, far too much to be because of the smallest jittery tremble in your hands. You had to keep going, this was the right way, "C'mon, you just have to work with me. That's all that I ask. Maybe I can even get you out of here." You spoke louder, hoping that your voice may carry further.

When the last sentence left your mouth, the compass needle twirled as a chill settled upon the air in an instantaneous reaction. Goosebumps prickled your flesh as your breath fogged in front of you, your movement halting as you glanced around the hallway you found yourself in. Moonlight filtered through the wide windows, bathing the space in a silvery glow that almost could've been comforting if it weren't for the fact it only drew out the contrasting lack of color that matched everything in this house.

Built in bookshelves and cabinets alike lined the wall, though the items on it were sparse aside from a few gaudy statues and decorative items which you couldn't quite figure out the shape of. Aside from that, there was little to note. The space seldom seemed used between the light layer of dust coating the racks and the obvious disinterest they had in decorating it. Maybe there was something here you overlooked - something they overlooked too.

Setting the bag of your stuff down, your first instinct was to peruse through whatever the shelf may have, but setting up first seemed a lot wiser. This time, though, everything was thoroughly ghost proof. Unless this was a throwing stuff kind, which you doubted (or at least sincerely hoped not).

Clouded mists of your breath fanned in front of you as the temperature kept lowering, a small shiver inevitably wracking your spine as you set up. Luckily, them leaving a lot of space meant you had plenty of room to do what you needed. Brushing some of the dust off, you set the brass bell down and placed the spirit board beside it. The compass and thermometer went back in your bag as a preventative measure in case it was the aforementioned throwing things kind of ghost, you would hate to have things damaged... or to have to clean them up, while the glowstick still remained.

Taking the still-luminous tube in hand, you held it up as you inspected the contents of the shelves closer. "You're tied to something here, aren't you?" You said mainly to yourself as you tilted your head to read the gilded writing that brandished the sides of the few books there were.

It would make the most sense, you rationalized. Ghosts could often have their spirits tied to certain objects and with how the homeowners insisted they hadn't had problems up until a few months ago, it was likely something that was brought in. And seeing as they didn't exactly seem to be in this area, maybe they simply forgot something in their own possesion.

Your eyes flickered over towards the desk bell and the spirit board alike, hoping to catch some form of a response, but once again nothing happened. Typical.

Near everything present seemed to be typical, boring, modern - not something that you'd figure was tied to anything aside from an abnormally bad sense of style. Books on finance, economics, and healthy lifestyles could be horrifying in their own way but they're nothing you were looking for.

The odd sculptures that decorated the shelves and the few trinkets seemed to be relics of a wine night and art class. Matching initials carved into the corners of the pieces seemed to confirm that, as did the more recent dates engraved right beside it. Imperfections present in each told how it was the work of an amateur and certainly wasn't something that was picked up, but rather handmade. Honestly though, as weird as the sculptures were, it was the most human thing in the house. At least there was some semblance of personality in them.

All of the shelves, however, were devoid of anything that could even be a plausibility for an object of interest. Nothing even remotely sent a chill down your spine, nothing immediately registered or seemed like a fit, all of them were too modern, too plain. Deciding to squat down to the cabinets, you popped open the doors and shone the feeble light of the glowstick inside, hoping to find something, anything.

Yet it's only when you reached for a plain, small, leatherbound book in your back that the familiar feeling of being watched prickled the hair on the back of your neck. A gust of breath fanned along the shell of your ear as the same voice you heard earlier spoke. Though this time not through a spirit box or any device, it was right in your ear as clear as the night sky itself.

"Took you long enough, love."

Barley missing hitting the top of the cabinet with your skull, you yelped. Backpedaling, you whipped your head around and were met with anything aside from the nothingness that graced you prior.

All of your breath left your lungs in a single beat as the shimmering apparition tilted their head at you, still crouched. His form swirled in an indistinct yet solid inky blur, as if made up from the shifting shadows themselves. Though the intricacies of his form were swallowed by the shifting darkness, the bleached eternally grinning facade of a skull decorated his face. Had it not been for the fact he stood so close that you could see the ridges of it lifting up as it settled on his face, you would've mistaken it for his skull.

Deep mahogany eyes regarded you with an unreadable, scrutinizing gaze as he simply stared right back at you. "Well?" He asked as he tipped his head the other way in a slow tilt.

Like molted lead had been poured down your throat, any words that had possibly been formed burned away, sinking into the pit of your belly.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He quipped as he rose to his feet, taking a step back from you but staring all the same.

If you weren't so taken aback by his sudden appearance, the absolute absurdity of such a comment coming from a ghost himself would have had you scoffing. Yet he didn't seem to mind your lack of reaction as you stared, all color draining from your face as your mouth fell open.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, the dark brown pools of his irises stood out amongst the stygian shroud of fog that made up his vaguely human form . Had he been a bit more opaque and had a solid consistency instead of a shifting pattern of darkness, you're sure he could have passed for another living being with how he held himself and how clear his voice resonated in the otherwise silent house.

A shiver racked down your spine as a small tremble made itself known in your limbs as you scrambled to your feet. Throughout all your investigations and countless nights spent investigating in dozens of places, you'd never seen something someone so consequential and solid. Any interactions with your equipment, any spirit orbs spotted in a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of your eye, any hushed whisper you heard down a dark hallway, utterly paled in comparison to the being in front of you.

"Y-you.... you're..." Words failed you as your tongue tied itself in knots, your mind scrambling in every which way as it tried to figure out what to say.

You knew ghosts were real but this was -

"Ghost?" He offered, picking the word for you. The thick Mancurian accent lingering on the washed out, almost echoing tone was much too real to be apart of your own vivid imagination.

This was something very different than what you're used to.

You nodded, shutting your mouth as you fell quiet, not trusting yourself to say anything sensible. The rapid thudding of your heart pounding against your ribcage as your breaths came in shaky exhales was the only thing that echoed in the otherwise still, silent room - aside from automatic rush of blood in your ears as your body urged you to run, to do anything to get far far away from here.

Yet adrenaline wouldn't save you from this one. It held you prisoner as you stood rooted in place, your limbs not obeying anything you pleaded them to do as your eyes refused to leave the singular reason you were even in this house to begin with. Said silence remained even as he took a step forwards, the lack of any noise persisting despite the fact he clearly was walking. Even on the hardwood, there wasn't a whisper of noise as he moved closer. "You're awfully quiet now for someone who has been chatting my ears off all evening." He remarked as those dark eyes, framed with the smallest hint of pale lashes that glinted in the moonlight narrowed once more.

Your heart must've skipped another beat at that realization that he'd probably been there from the moment you stepped inside and started talking, lingering in the shadows. "You - you listened?" You spoke, nearly choking on the stuttered words that came out as you tried to find your voice amidst the storm of emotions you felt.

"Hard not to with how loud you are." He snorted, though he seemed less peeved and more amuse with how his eyes seemed to once again fold in what you're assuming was a smile under the mask he wore.

The faintest heat of a blush rose to your cheeks, dusting your pallid features with something warmer as you glanced away for a split second, unable to hold his gaze. Logically, you know you shouldn't be embarrassed about doing your job. Yet you couldn't help but to feel ridiculous when faced with such a real creature of the night, calling you out for doing such things.

Putting yourself in his shoes, you're sure you'd be not too happy all the same if someone waltzed into your house and started throwing their equipment around as they tried to get your attention. Then again, it's not like you were invisible or in that situation. It's not like you were the one haunting the house.

Another realization struck you when you snapped your gaze back to him. The self-consciousness faded away to something that burned much brighter as you tried your best not to glare. "Then why didn't you say anything? Do you know how long I've-" You cut yourself off, shaking your head.

Of course he knew how long you were looking for him, all around the house. He was right there the entire time.

He seemed none too bothered with it, tilting his head once more. If he were arching a brow or smiling again, you couldn't quite tell as the expression faded. "I did." He countered, "It's not my fault that you found my answers unsatisfactory."

"You only said ghost!" You protested, unable to help the half pitch up and the rush that your words came out in.

He nodded, "Answered your questions just fine, love."

You swear you heard the self-satisfied smirk in his voice, even if it were hidden amongst the everything that he was. Another flare of indignation rose in you at that as you pointed an accusing finger at him.

"I asked you your name! Not what you are."

"That is my name. Or was."

You weren't sure if he was plain stupid, confused, or truly thought that's what he was called. An exasperated sigh left your lungs as you threw your hand up and dropped it on your thigh.

"You're telling me that you, a ghost, are named Ghost?" You echoed, pressing your lips into a thin line.

You didn't let him answer as you continued, "You're also aware that you're not alive and that ghost is a thing - a way the people here," Your hands swept to the house in a broad gesture, "Are referring to you as because they don't know your name."

The charged hush that fell between you was anything but peaceful. No words were said for a few long moments as you glared at him. Raising up his arms, he crossed them as he regarded you with the same, unreadable expression.

"I'm dead, love. Not deaf." He replied, his own voice infuriatingly calm, "No need to shout."

Your mouth fell open once more but this time not from horror or surprise, but from the utter audacity he had. The same low, rumbling chuckle that you heard earlier echoed as he surely grinned. "While I'm dead, I'm not stupid. I'm well aware." He answered as he moved further backwards to lean against the wall, nearly seeping into the shadows there.

"Ghost was my name before I died." He explained with a casual shrug, "Quite ironic to end up this way, really. Suppose its the universes' retribution and eternal punishment for using it as my callsign - if you believe in that sort of thing, anyhow."

You might as well with what you were staring at. Had there ever been a moment to believe in such things, now would've been the perfect time as you stood in the presence of an undead being that shouldn't have existed; much less, one you shouldn't have been talking to. Even as he said that though, he didn't seem to care for it or believe it himself as he snorted a small sigh through his nose and shrugged, regarding you with a lazy gaze.

"Callsign..." You repeated, your brows furrowing as you wracked your brain from where you knew that word from.

"You were in the military?" You asked the moment the connection formed, recalling such a thing from the videogames you played in the days of your youth.

Ghost gave a single, curt nod. "It's the reason I'm Ghost in more ways than one now."

At least his sense of humor wasn't dead - as much as you weren't a fan of it right now.

"Right." You said, biting back the instinctive urge to apologize for something you didn't do, as a pang of something seized your heart with a relentless grasp.

You weren't the reason he was dead, and you certainly don't know what you were apologizing for. The fact that he met his maker? The fact he was here right now? The fact he was a ghost? Either way, it wasn't your fault, but you had to bite back the 'Sorry' that threatened to fall out on instinct, as if you were hearing about someone's bad day.

"Why are you here now, then?" You asked after another small beat, looking around the house that seemed anything but fitting for him. "I mean... in this house. I don't think either of us can figure out the afterlife thing fully." You clarified in a quick rush, trying your best not to sound like a total idiot.

Though the flush on your cheeks returned and made itself known as it warmed your body once more like you donned a light winter jacket, he didn't say anything about it or your jumbled rush of justification.

Ghost contemplated it for a long moment, glancing around the hallway itself and staring at the figurines on the shelf and the few decorations to match. Bringing a hand up to his face, he scrubbed it down his chin. "Wasn't my idea, believe me. I've seen livelier decor in a hostage cell."

Admittedly, that part had you agreeing as you suppressed the smile that fought so hard to surface and the giggle to match. You weren't going to admit that as much of an initial annoyance he had been, he was growing on you and... okay, maybe he was funny. Not yet. The annoyance from earlier would have to fully fade away to nothingness.

Ghost nodded towards the bottom cabinet that you had left open, "They have my journal. It was on me when I died."

Your eyes were drawn back to the faded frayed edges of the black leatherbound journal, tucked away in the corner that you had almost touched before he made his appearance. That had to be the one. Hesitancy weighed on you as you didn't reach for it just yet. Touching such a personal item with him right there felt wrong - especially admitting it was something that he had on his person when he finally met his maker. Yet you didn't fight the urge to step forward towards it, nor to urge to kneel right back where you had been.

"You should be able to fill in the rest. After all, aren't you the paranormal investigator?" He remarked as he too stepped closer too, silent footfalls leading him to hover over you.

Of course you were - and of course you knew. Violent deaths meant there's a chance that a spirit can be tied to something, especially a personal object of value. It was your initial haunch when you stepped into this all too modern house. There had to be something here, a reason why a ghost would suddenly turn up. And seeing as there weren't any deaths or burial grounds or anything to warrant such a level of haunting, that was the typical reason.

Seeing as he was in the military and didn't seem to be too old, it's likely because he met an untimely end too that he ended up anchored to such an object to begin with. Unfinished business, as they would say. Not that he had a choice in that matter. You weren't going to pry on that part and why or how he died, but it told you all that you needed to know to do your job here.

Technically, you now had everything you needed to know to finish your job. You could walk out that door, evidence in hand, and tell them that they were indeed housing the super natural. That's what your job was as a paranormal investigator and nothing more. They called you in to find evidence of the supernatural, not to "take care" of it. You were not exorcist or priest to match and weren't ready to play on that scale of fucking around and finding out.

Yet, for some reason, you hesitated. As much as you wanted to be out of the house, you didn't want to go and simply leave this restless spirit. Doing such a thing after making a discovery this huge felt like abandonment after he showed his face and talked to you.

Of course, it could be a trick. It could be another supernatural creature posing, pretending to be the spirit of a soldier who met his end all too soon. Maybe it was a demon taking form and -

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his form flicker. The solidness of it fading in and out, as if a flashlight were being shone through him. "As nice as this chat was, afraid I don't have the energy to be here much longer." He spoke, the echo of his voice more pronounced, like the whispers of his tone were being dragged out and thrown to all ends of the room, "The batteries you had were lovely but they can only do so much."

You didn't even have it in you to be mad at him for that anymore. Not when he probably swiped them and drained them of all their energy just to be able to make himself visible and to come to you. How long he had been waiting to do something like this, hoping to have someone, anyone to talk too you didn't know. There were so many questions, so many things unanswered, but those were pushed to the back of your mind as you locked eyes with him once more.

Like a watercolor wash, those deep browns ebbed away bit by bit as they faded out into a tawny shade to match the swirls of shadows that made up his form hazing into fuzzier lines. Even though they were waning like the moonlight from the tall windows as they turned into a muddled shade, the slight melancholy and droop of his the corners spoke plenty that words couldn't say.

You didn't need to say anything else as you took ahold of the book before you could think, the thrum of energy that greeted you instantaneous as the pads of your fingers grazed the cool leather. The electricity that flowed through your veins caused your hair to stand on, the tidal wave of a summery balm coursing through them all the same as it set your nerves alight. While he couldn't touch you physically, its as if he himself were matching your energy with his own, the little that he had left. You didn't need to ask anything to know that this was right.

Wrapping it in your arms in a wordless promise, what had once been a plain unassuming book alone gathering dust on a shelf was now the most precious thing you could hold. You weren't holding a book alone, no, you were holding a life - a life that had been cut short and doomed to walk the earth, bound to the confines of the singular object that weighed him down more than any physical anchor could have. What you held was his lifeline and his burden all the same; his chance at redemption and damnation all the same. And you weren't going to let that, or him, go anytime soon.

A silent vow passed as your eyes met what was left of his - you weren't going to leave him, you weren't going to abandon him or leave him here to rot all in his lonesome. He'd taken a chance and so would you.

Before he finally disappeared, he leaned forwards, bringing the tips of his wisping fingers to skim against your cheek. Though his ice cold touch froze you as it gusted across your skin in a breeze, sending another shiver down your spine, your heart couldn't have been warmer. Your eyes snapped shut at the sensation, the cool touch fading just as fast as it came.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted with an empty room. The pang of disappointment that hit faded as fast as it came as your hold on the book tightened once more, the smallest spark of energy tingling through your veins. He might not be in the room but he was still here, tucked underneath your fingertips.

Your eyes traced over the name etched on the top that had gone unnoticed prior as you held it up in the moonlight, "Alright, Simon. Let's get you home."

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: An Evil Without An End

Lady Talmere was a monster long before she rose from her grave, having taken to the recreational murder of commoners the way that others of her social class took to falconry or painting. Killing was a hobby for her, a privilege of her aristocratic birth that she could indulge while others were forced to work for a living. She chose her victims purely for the fact that it was easy to make them disappear: her country estates were far from prying eyes, her demanding nature excused the high turnover rate in her staff. She employed those with nowhere else to go, to hardworn by life to ask questions, and when complications did occur it was so easy to wriggle out of them by charming or greasing the palms of the local magistrates .

It was a true injustice that Lady Talmere died happy and of old age, moreso that her wretched spirit was not claimed by some devil and dragged to hell, instead rising some decades later as a mohrg. While most of her old self has rotten away, Talmere still possesses her love of killing and scene of digression, prefering targets that will go unnoticed. To make matters worse Talmere is now prone to reanimating her victims with the parasitic worm that makes up part of her undead corpus, simultaneously creating a new minion while getting rid of the evidence.

Adventure Hooks:

In recent weeks rumours are beginning to spread about the "Tattergaunt", a thing that wanders the night preying on lone travellers and isolated homesteads. The authorities are skeptical and have yet to post a bounty, suspecting beasts or even slavers given the lack of remains left behind. It's only when the party stumble into some of those remains on the side of the road, reanimated, worm bloated, and dragging another corpse that the picture becomes clear.

Talmere is having her zombie minions clean up after her, stashing away the undead that are about to slip out of her control in the hopes that no one will find them. Her choice of using isolated locations for these zombie stockpiles makes for a great random dungeon encounter.

The party may find themselves tasked with investigating a haunting at Talmere manor, inadvertently begun when the spirits of the lady's victims sensed that she'd risen. Unable to communicate through any means other than terrifying vision or violent poltergeist activity, the spirits long to be put to rest, and don't care how much they have to terrify or imperil the manor's mortal occupants in order to get that message across.

Challenges & Complications:

The old groundskeepeper served Lady Talmere in the final years of her life. Though he was only a boy he assisted the previous groundskeeper in all his tasks, which meant he also helped dispose of quite a number of bodies in the first few years of his employment. Riven by guilt and fear of punishment, he'll point the party in the right direction while keeping mostly to himself. However, Interrogating the old man or secretly leafing through his journals might provide the party a vital clue.

Though they want the haunting dealt with, Lady Talmere's descendants are just as prideful as any noble family and won't stand for their ancestor's honour to be besmirched no matter how true the accusations are. The party could make powerful enemies should they go blabbing about the old woman's crimes to the commons, or worse yet the local temple.

Likewise resistant to the investigation is the demon that's been lurking in the Talmere family estate for generations. It didn't corrupt the lady or drive her to violence, merely fed off the injustice of her kills and used it's power to ensure she was a little less likely to be caught. Every body burned to ash in the estate's furnace was a sacrifice on it's altar, and it seemed only reasonable to return the favour by seeding her body with the spark of unlife as she lay on her deathbed. If the party investigate well enough to disturb the demon they will soon find Lady Talmere's corpse knocking on the door of her own home with a small army of undead at her back, ready to massacre anyone inside, including her decendants, just for the thrill of it.

As her life (and subsequent unlife) suggests, Lady Talmere has a knack for escaping punishment. Any time she is slain, her mind transfers to another of her worm-animated undead, beginning a process of transforming it into a mohrg. As such she always keeps a few of her undead in reserve, scattered about the countryside or mixed in with those stockpiled zombies that've slipped her control. Once she's "settled in" to a new body she can start making more zombies provided she finds someone to kill, meaning unless the party stikes her hard and fast (ideally getting rid of her stockpiles before fighting her) she'll always be one murderspree away from cheating death again.

As she exists as an emboyment of moral and cosmic injustice, it seems only right that a weapon of true justice would be Lady Talmere's end. If they haven't already gone searching for divine aid, Midway through their troubles the party is approached by a temple scholar dedicated to the goddess Erathis, who has received a vision compelling him to help the party and lead them to a weapon wielded by a saint of the lawbearer herself. This might be as easy as swearing an oath on the saint's tomb, or as dangerous as tracking down where the stolen relic was hidden by the goddess's enemies.

(thanks @thirdtofifth for the monster stats)

Artsource

[maverick-werewolf]

Daily Werewolf Thoughts - Days 17-23

Day 17- So how about this idea that werewolves are unholy? It's a load of bunk, if you ask the old legends. That's right, even in the Early Modern Period as werewolves became associated with satanic magic, the werewolf itself still wasn't unholy - because the werewolf was a victim. And older than that, they simply weren't at all.

Traditionally, werewolves were never considered unholy and, in fact, were often considered associated with God. We see this in the Werewolves of Ossory, among others, and if you believe Thiess or Thies of Kaltenbrun, the Werewolf of Livonia, there were also the Hounds of God who became werewolves and went into Hell to retrieve grain stolen by demons and battle Satan and his witches*. True, he was basically considered a crazy man, but it's a fun concept to discuss. Likewise, werewolves in antiquity were never turned by Satan, as he does not possess such power. God, however, could turn people into werewolves for various reasons (I will discuss this further when I talk about the Werewolves of Ossory, one of my favorite tales). Those who became wolves by a satanic power were also still considered victims, such as Jean Grenier. As printed in records of his trial, preserved by Sabine Baring-Gould (shameless plug: https://www.amazon.com/Book-Werewolves-Superstition-Annotated-Translated-ebook/dp/B0CK4YY16Z )… "The president went on to say that Lycanthropy and Kuanthropy were mere hallucinations, and that the change of shape existed only in the disorganized brain of the insane, consequently it was not a crime which could be punished. The tender age of the boy must be taken into consideration, and the utter neglect of his education and moral development. The court sentenced Grenier to perpetual imprisonment within the walls of a monastery at Bordeaux, where he might be instructed in his Christian and moral obligations; but any attempt to escape would be punished with death."

Werewolves in legend were never driven off or harmed by holy artifacts, holy words, or holy ground - unlike vampires, demons, and other forms of undead, etc. Obviously, popular culture has had them now frequently associated with demonic imagery and acts, but I personally have never liked it, because I love werewolves and I think it's pretty awesome that they actually -weren't- associated with that kind of thing.

There's a (an old, actually) Werewolf Fact on this and more, of course: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/how-to-kill-a-werewolf/

*: It is extremely noteworthy that werewolves were NOT considered witches at any point in antiquity or the Early Modern period. They were different, and the difference remained important including and up to the famous werewolf and witch trials of the 1600s-1800s. I will discuss this some more in future thought posts, as it's extremely important to my research and arguments and how modern scholars have spread so many outright inaccurate concepts as "fact" just to scrounge out more "arguments" for the "academic conversation."

Image: the werewolf from Red Riding Hood (2011), shockingly one of my favorite werewolf movies, despite the werewolf doing the whole "werewolves are unholy" thing. Don't let the teen romance fool you, it's actually really good, and the werewolf is awesome!

Day 18- I am really sick of this concept of "millions of werewolves" like a zombie plague, no puns intended. You see it everywhere these days and have for over a decade, and it's gotten very old. There's a brand spanking new B-movie coming out later this year based on this concept, too.

Back in my day, werewolves came in 1's. One werewolf, one story, very character-driven - made things dramatic and interesting and kept the werewolf horrific, not to mention unique. It also kept the werewolf as a relatable character, which is hugely important for such a story. Today, more often than not, werewolves come not only in "packs" (I will rant about this another time) but also in massive zombie hordes. In such a state, they aren't even dangerous individually. One werewolf isn't even a threat. They're just a plague, like rats. In WoW, you have an objective in the worgen starting zone to "kill 80 worgen" in one go because there's a blue million of them and they all absolutely suck (you have several objectives like this). It's a terrible way to approach werewolves as a concept. At this point, especially with modern zombies being some infectious disease, why isn't the story just about zombies? Why not just make it about some infectious rat-people plague, since that's what it is?

If you see the scary monster in question slaughtered in droves, it lowers your perceived danger level of one as a threat. No matter what occasional thing has managed to arguably pull this off well regardless of seeing dozens on the screen at the same time (I have heard all the Aliens arguments*), it still ultimately works to make the single thing less intimidating. Especially when, in the case of werewolves, they're largely only talked about as dangerous because they might infect someone… you know, like how modern zombies are handled.

Again, I have to say: if the werewolf is just a plague-carrier that comes in hordes, why not go with rats instead? Call them wererats if you must. It'd still be better than using werewolves.

I want to overall be positive in these posts, but often I cannot help myself. I hate the "werewolves as zombies"/"werewolves as rat monsters" trope, and after zombies already stole the "infection by bite" straight from werewolves. Today, it often takes an army of werewolves to do even one small thing. It's just stupid and terrible. Use zombies for your zombie plague and leave werewolves alone.

image: worgen in Gilneas, the worgen starting zone (pre furry redesign)

*: I love Aliens, before you ask

Day 19- One of my all-time favorite werewolf stories is a Breton lai by the wonderful Marie de France. You guessed it: it's Bisclavret, the Lai of the Werewolf. I adore this story.

I relayed the entire story and discussed it in depth in this post here: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-fact-67-the-lai-of-the-werewolf-bisclavret/

But for the sake of brevity (although this will not be incredibly brief), I just want to say again that I adore this story because it's such a classical tale of chivalry, knightly code, and a noble werewolf. I've always enjoyed that although the tale opens with a description of werewolves and what they are/how they are perceived, the werewolf in the story defies this description - and why? Because he's a noble knight (and baron). Even when turned into a beast, he holds true to his chivalry and fealty. But frankly, such a concise description of werewolves is something I really enjoy too-- “a werewolf is a man who suffers a change and runs wild in the darkest wood, horrible to behold, and devours men.” Solid gold. That's a werewolf, right there.

Bisclavret is one of several similar tales of treacherous wives, a theme of more than a few medieval stories, who betray their good husbands. In this case, when she is told the truth of his being a werewolf, she is horrified and hides his clothing so he cannot return to human form. Guess there was a good reason he didn't tell her the truth - but at least he found out she's a terrible person, right? Treat your werewolf knight husband right. I mean, come on.

Similar to the tale of the Werewolves of Ossory, a moral of Bisclavret is not to judge a book by its cover, essentially. Bisclavret behaved noble and true even as a beast, and his king saw this and recognized it, sparing his life. The wife, however, was told the truth of her husband and was disgusted by the idea of him becoming a beast. In the Werewolves of Ossory, we see people who have been turned into wolves by God, and it becomes a test of others as well as the werewolves themselves - for others to recognize that even those beastly in appearance who behave in good nature should be treated in kind. More on this later when I discuss the werewolves of Ossory and the priest who met them.

If you've never read Bisclavret, it's a wonderful story, whether you're reading it for the werewolf or not. I highly recommend it. Someday in the future I'll publish my own collection of old werewolf tales, with my own thoughts and translations etc. throughout… it's on the backburner.

I've almost kept this up for the entire month! I'm so happy people actually read my ramblings. Thanks to you if you've stuck with them.

Day 20- One of the biggest tropes of modern werewolf media when they aren't a rat plague, though sometimes these go hand in hand, is a "werewolf pack" and/or "werewolf family." This insanely popular trope has taken many werewolf stories by storm, although especially the "shifter romance" genre. I confess I have never read a single book in this genre. I wouldn't be ashamed if I did and would admit it, but instead I am confessing I actually have no experience with it, so anything I say can be taken with the biases of someone who's never read one but has heard a gracious plenty through osmosis. They won't be a focus of this discussion, though.

The focus of today's thoughts are the concept of the werewolf pack and/or family. It seems like a fun idea in theory, although I still prefer focus on an individual character and back in my childhood they were called "werewolf clans" and I think that is VASTLY preferable, because a group of werewolves should be insanely frightening. Trouble is, it's almost never done well. I have seen far too many instances of a werewolf requiring a "pack" to even survive (because werewolves suck, apparently?), even to the point of the lore stating a werewolf will outright die if they don't have some werewolf buddies hanging around because that's just how their biology works ("biology" and "werewolf" in the same sentence loses me pretty fast anyway though)…

The concept of werewolves having packs and families that they do or must live in is an extremely modern one, for the record. Back in folklore, werewolves weren't so directly equated with wolves on a biological and behavioral level that they are driven to seek out or live in or create a pack.

I think it could be interesting - and in fact I do plan to tackle the concept myself, in a horror way - it just… usually isn't. Nine times out of ten, for instance, a "werewolf family" is just a bunch of dog jokes bouncing around on trampolines, chasing frisbees, calling each other "pup" and other such terminology, biting at water sprinklers, and barking at the mailman.

There is, as always, a Werewolf Fact for this: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/packs-communities-and-families/

Image - Sketch artwork for Wulfgard of a group of werewolves, by Saber-Scorpion (our setting in which we create a lot of fiction)

Day 21- Remember how werewolves didn't used to be considered "diseased" or insane? All that came about in the Early Modern Period, and actually, it's where we also started using "lycanthropy."

The word "lycanthrope" in itself is derived from Greek "lykos," meaning wolf, and "anthropos," meaning man - which I mentioned before as well. It's why "lycan" doesn't make any actual sense and is just word butchery, etc. But referring to the curse of the werewolf (or disease of the werewolf, in most Early Modern cases) as "lycanthropy" became almost the standard, and it was recognized as an illness of the mind rather than a physical affliction that caused transformation. This is one of the many cases of scientific thought attempting to rationalize older stories and beliefs - which, by the way, also led to a great deal of organized and purposeful wolf slaughter (as in, real wolves, the animals) in this time period, far moreso than existed in the past.

When popular culture took the word "lycanthropy" and ran with it, medical institutions started using a different word to refer to those with "wolf madness," and that's how we have "clinical lycanthropy" today.

There is, as always, a Werewolf Fact for this: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-fact-70-werewolves-in-medical-history-clinical-lycanthropy/

Day 22- I've mentioned the tale of the Werewolves of Ossory a few times now, so it's about time I discuss it. I enjoy this one a lot.

This tale comes from Topographia Hibernica, written by Giraldus Cambrensis (c. 1146-1223), also called Gerald of Wales, a Welsh cleric and chaplain. In the story, a priest is traveling when an enormous wolf stops him along the way. The wolf, speaking, humbly and kindly beseeches the priest to help his companion, displaying all good Christian manners. Though reluctant and frightened, the priest follows the wolf back to his companion, a wolf who is sick. The wolf - "using his claw as a hand" - pulls back the wolf skin of his companion to reveal she is an old lady. The priest assists the old woman werewolf, who then returns to her wolf form.

The werewolves explain they are from the land of Ossory, whose people become werewolves as a form of trial; a man and woman take the form of a wolf once every seven years. Mention is made that they were descendants of an Irish warrior, Laignech Fáelad, ancestor of the kings of Ossory. He was the first of his kind to assume the shape of a wolf and go “wolfing,” and his people followed after him.

The first werewolf says he will watch over the priest and his companions for the night and protect them from danger. In the morning, the werewolves bid them on their way, and the priest leaves. He later relays this tale with a moral: do not judge others by their appearance/form, if they be good and kind.

As always, there is a Werewolf Fact for this, in which you can read passages from the story in detail: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/werewolves-of-ossory/

Day 23- One of the most fun things to a werewolf story is that the werewolf must hide the curse, even from the closest of family and friends. Once everyone else finds out the truth, if they do, it just isn't as interesting anymore.

This goes back to folklore, too, of course - being a werewolf wasn't exactly desirable, so even in the stories where the werewolf reveals it to someone else, the other people generally react with horror and fear. Niceros's Tale, Bisclavret, and many others are examples of this. Sure, there are other examples (like how the king wasn't bothered in Bisclavret because he saw the goodness in the knight's heart and behavior), but generally, it wasn't exactly a good thing. It isn't super uncommon for the werewolf in the old stories to end up badly, same as in the classic werewolf movies where the werewolf was actually scary*.

Storytelling-wise, it's just very fun and interesting. It leads to a lot of character questions, moral questions, and generally dramatic situations. If you were turning into a monster, you wouldn't want anyone to know, either - if you even knew, yourself. More on that part later, though. I just really love stories where the werewolf has to hide the truth from everyone. It's always so good.

*: The werewolf dying is far from a necessity for a scary werewolf, but the werewolf has traditionally died in the things that are conveying them as truly terrifying, even in some things where the werewolf wasn't really all that bad or was even a force for good. I'm talking about all those mountains of films that were ultimately offshoots of The Wolf Man (or, it could be argued, offshoots of The Wolf Man because The Wolf Man was an offshoot of Werewolf of London [1935])… anyway. The werewolf dying has become so predictable I just assume it will happen in most of the type of werewolf media I even theoretically enjoy. Not saying I like it, though.

image: concept art for the werewolf from Morrowind: Bloodmoon, just because I love it

[paruparuparuparu]

*It is not as different as I: For it seeks knowledge beyond what it already possesses, devouring all those who come into contact for answers to soothe its own troubled mind.*

-GORE AND DISTURBING IMAGERY WARNING-

Ok I know it isn’t Halloween, but since I’m seeing apocalyptic stuff (cough cough mlp infection cough cough) on my fyp, I decided to have a try at it. The only thing bad about this idea is that I might take a while to post actual art of it.😔

This was originally a concept sketch for another Au based on the Bishops’ purged forms, but I decided that I enjoyed the design for Shamura way too much to scrap it

Now, this Au first takes place in the Goat’s universe, specifically pre-betrayal where Shamura is assisting Narinder with expanding his domain. Since Narinder is still quite new to resurrection, the occasional cursed follower appears; which is similar to the cursed followers in the Lamb’s cult.

After the first couple of cursed followers appear, Shamura decides to look further into the cause of this disease. And who else to look to for information than the Plague God himself?

So, with along with Kallamar, they research into the potential cause of this phenomenon over the course of 70 years, reading through their old scrolls and ancient texts dating back to the War of Gods. So much information was known about it, so many puzzles, so much proof of its existence yet so little reason for it to exist.

They kept the infected in a dungeon, serving as an easy way to experiment on the undead(and a cruel method to punish dissenters). The infected soon went from 1 to 13 in the span of 14 years, and one that that was apparent was the odd way the disease grew in intelligence with each victim. So more were sacrificed to feed the infection, making Shamura’s curiosity grow more and more whilst Kallamar’s concern was at an all time high.

Eventually, after sacrificing a dissenter who had tried to free chained followers to the horde of infected, Kallamar had decided it was enough, saying the whole experiment was a mistake, and the disappearance of many followers was causing much trouble and doubt to appear in their cults. Shamura was reluctant, yet understanding of Kallamar’s concerns, suggesting to take a break for a few decades before returning back to their research.

Yet, before either of them could come to a decision, the dungeon containing the infected had been broken, leaving the two no choice but to defend themselves. Within the chaos in such a small corridor, Shamura had managed to get bit.

After the gory fight, was then and there Kallamar had decided to forcibly shut the project down for good to attend to Shamura. Within the first 2 weeks, Shamura had felt off, but overall they behaved quite normally. Next thing they knew, memories they held dear began to fade, being replaced by an unbearable feeling of emptiness. On the third week, they had the sudden urge to lash out at their siblings, and it was at this point they knew something was terribly wrong.

They go to visit Kallamar, demanding that he chain them in his dungeons. In shock, Kallamar declines their demand only to be met with a menacing glare, causing him to reluctantly agree in the end.

Within the dungeons, Shamura’s mind could make sense of the groans and cries of the infected, going into one of the cells as they use the power of their crown to chain themselves to the ground. They then order Kallamar to keep the experiment going, at his dismay.

And over the course of 2 months, Shamura documented their process of the infection and how unburdened their mind was becoming, while Kallamar was forced to watch his beloved sibling decay in front of his very eyes. And finally, Shamura had given in, no longer responding to any outside stimulus. And at this point, as pictured in the drawing, they are both trapped in the cell by their own chains and trapped inside of their own mind.

[yanderes-galore]

Hii!!! Literally so excited for this!!! How about Rdr headcanons for a yandere romantic Jack Marston with the self-aware au? I remember seeing a post about how he probably feels a little upset that he’s essentially the sloppy seconds of the protagonists, and I really wanna see more on it! (I apologize if this isn’t within the request format, I tried)

This poor man is so underrated. Rockstar gave him trauma and then just left him to his own devices.

Yandere! Self-Aware! Jack Marston Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Self-Aware Yandere, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Violence, Isolation, Dubious relationship.

Jack is a... neglected protagonist by most.

Compared to his fellow Self-Aware protagonists, he isn't given much affection from his player.

Think about it...

Arthur gets his own story in RDR2.

John, Jack's father, gets RDR2's Epilogue and RDR1's main story... AND Undead Nightmare.

What does Jack get?

RDR1's Epilogue and whatever sidequests John left him.

It gets on his damn nerves.

Jack's left with what amounts to table scraps in terms of what he can do with his player.

Arthur and John are the spoiled protagonists who get to bond with their player the most.

But there's a good chance Jack will just be abandoned when you finish his Epilogue mission.

The most Jack gets is minigames, outfits, roaming the map...

All small 'tying up loose ends' tasks.

Even Jack knows you're just playing him to finish things.

You just want to do Stranger quests and challenges...

Jack almost wants to resent you.

But deep down, he knows he's too attached and nervous that you'll shut off the game and not come back.

That's the curse Jack bears.

He's given sentience... Only to have his player leave him.

Truth is, he's felt your presence for a long time in his life.

He probably felt it through Arthur and John.

You really are a guiding force... Even if you don't guide him for long.

I imagine all of this makes Jack desperate to keep you entertained.

I can see him trying to alter the game by undoing quests or making certain guns on sale.

Do you have all the horses yet? The outfits? Quests?

Did you finish all of your challenges?

Come on, won't you 100% the game to spend more time with him?

Jack would eagerly let you dress him up in the outfits.

It shows you care when you put him in your favorite outfit....

Jack would keep trying to add content for you to play.

PLEASE don't try John again...!

Just... spend more time with Jack!

He really is the neglected child of the protagonists...

Which makes him push the game's limits.

Jack has the highest chance of leaking his code out of the game.

He'd do it when he realizes you aren't going to play anymore.

He can tell you're getting bored...

Even when he tries his best to convince you to stay.

He starts by trying to break the fourth wall a bit to make you intrigued.

He makes small compliments seemingly directed at you.

He refuses to acknowledge other people at times in any way but is passive aggressive.

If you're having trouble with bounties, he makes things easier by making them unable to flee.

If you want to have him show more violence, he allows it and even tweaks the Wanted meter to prevent a huge bounty.

However... His efforts appear to be fruitless when he notices you no longer on your save file.

This behavior would make him work to infect your device like a virus.

He either forces the game and save file open to make you play.

That or he corrupts other games or saves....

That's the more "realistic" option, him forcing your attention back on him so he can properly greet you.

Imagine if he greets you like a cutscene, looking at you dead on as he greets you warmly.

Even worse, imagine if he confessed while you aggressively try to find a way to shut the game and console off.

Even if you try to turn it off, it never shuts down.

Jack only ever seems annoyed when you act like this.

Then there's another option to consider that I don't typically do...

Jack traverses to your world once he gets fed up with your panic or you ignoring him.

He would probably either travel to yours or lock you in his.

Honestly, you neglecting him is so rude.

Even worse when you cower away from him as the outlaw steps closer.

He tries his best to calm you, claiming he'd never harm you.

In fact, he's in love with you!

He knows that you used to spoil Arthur and his father...

But look who's winning now!

Neither of them could come here to see you.

He's quite excited to see you, smiling as he tries to pull you closer.

Stop crying, will you?

Jack would probably drag you to his world since he's used to it.

He doesn't understand your world much.

Imagine Jack dragging you back to his world with you in his arms?

He holds you close, kissing your forehead as he promises to take care of you.

Do you want him to pamper you?

He can give you dates, buy you outfits, surely you need to look like you belong here....

He may be an outlaw now, but he still tries to promise that he'll get you two a home together.

You aren't going to be harmed by anyone on his watch.

Jack has Dead Eye like the rest of the protagonists.

Any NPCs that threaten your life are immediately put down.

His gaze is so cold towards them... especially since he knows they aren't real.

You're the only person who's truly real.

You're all his and his alone, too.

The best part about taking you here?

You can't run from him.

Unless he allows it, you'll never go home.

Jack at first seems like the unluckiest protagonist of this AU.

Yet if he manages to make this breakthrough before the others...

He may just be the luckiest AND last one to have you after all.

He won't have you neglecting him anymore.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Could you please explain Armand's hunting habits? TVL and Qotd say he lured out people who wanted to die and was gentle with it (at least physically), the same is also shown in 2×05. But I've seen posts about TVA that imply he's tearing his victims apart. So which is it? Was he messy in the past but changed later? Is it somehow a mix of both?

The writers took up something for season2 that Anne wrote for .... *drumroll* the Playboy. As a "lesson for Louis". Not kidding: "Interlude With The Undead." The writers said they looked into it, and the quote "half in love with easeful death" is from there.

It being a lesson... and part of the tale (which was edited by Armand as we know)... it cannot be the whole truth though.

In TVA, he expresses himself in violent ways - that said, there are scenes where he does have violent outbursts, but the violence itself is not the goal, let's put it that way.

Like, for example here:

Making sure he was dead, I wrapped its length around my left hand and purposed to pull the whole mass from his scalp. David gasped. "Must you do this?" he asked me. "No," I said. Even then a few thousand strands had ripped loose from the scalp, each with only its tiny blooded root winking in the air like a tiny firefly. I held the mop for a moment and then let it slip out of my fingers and fall down behind his turned head.

Armand rips off the scalp of his victim... just to see it in his hand. It's interesting in that moment. Later he stomps on it, to try to get a reaction from David:

Yet I turned, and ripped the black scalp of hair from my victim and stomped on it with a Rumpelstiltskin foot.

After his turning, Armand was pretty violent and impulsive, by his own words:

I was at the onset a dreadfully violent and impulsive killer. Having been set down by Marius in a nest of assassins, I went to work with a clumsy fury, drawing out my prey from the tavern or the flophouse, cornering him on the quay and then tearing open his throat as if I were a wild dog. I drank greedily often rupturing the victim's heart.

It is part of Marius' tutelage that Armand changes his "killing style":

As for those I killed, they were to be dispatched mercifully, and I was to become the absolute master of mercy, never causing pain and confusion, indeed snaring my victims as much as I could by spells induced by my soft voice or the depths of my eyes offered for soulful looks, or by some other power I seemed to possess and seemed able to develop, a power to thrust my mind into that of the poor helpless mortal and to assist him in the manufacture of his own comforting images so that the death became the flicker of a flame in a rapture, and then silence most sweet.

... I think for the most part Armand hunts his food like that.

But there are moments where he hunts other vampires for example, sometimes (later) even with Lestat, and those hunts are not the same.

Armand is very much able to be very... messy. And violent. Most of the time he chooses a different approach though, in alignment with the gifts he has - and which he has great powers in, aka spell and mind gift.

Most of the time that hunting style suits his ... nature, I guess. But Armand can also rage, and has done so as a mortal already, too, in one instance infamously going at Marius' door with a battle ax, for example.

I was further enraged. I went down to the lower floor. I took a great battle-ax from the wall. It was one of many weapons on display in the house which I'd scarcely ever noticed. Well, it was time for it, I thought. I've had enough of this coldness. I can't stand it. I can't stand it. I went upstairs and heaved the battle-ax at the door. Of course it went through the brittle wood, shattering the painted panel, cracking through the old lacquer and the pretty yellow and red roses. I pulled it back and smashed it into the door again.

He's definitely capable of both, and it depends on circumstance and age, his experience, which one he employs.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Skizzekai- First Few Days Summary

Now that the asks have calmed down a bit, and hermits have been established, here's a summary post to get a general idea of where we're working from. I've also cleaned up any plotholes best I can.

Skizz, a human from Earth, was summoned to this fantasy world by god-king Joel. A prophecy stated he would defeat a great evil. It did not explain how. He keeps a journal to help him figure things out and keep track of everything.

Over his adventures so far, Skizz has made both allies and enemies, and picked up a magical necklace from travelling merchants. His suit also picked up durability enchantments somewhere, but only after the sleeves came off. The necklace was made for mages, gathering and focusing ambient magic for their use. It was not designed for a creature with no magic of their own.

He probably wouldn't have stayed human either way, but the necklace certainly sped it up. He's adapted to the world, become able to use it's magic, and dragonfly wings have begun to sprout from his back.

This could be concerning. But Skizz finds he loves his wings, his adaptation to the world that is gradually becoming his home. He embraces it. Maybe he really does belong here. Maybe soon he'll even be able to fly.

Joel, the ruler of the lore kingdom and recently ascended god, was originally an ogre- but after the belief of his people sent him through a few transformations, he's settled into his divine status. He can look however he wants now! But an ogre form is still most natural to him. Just a really tall and handsome ogre.

Skizz finds quick allies in Tango, Impulse, and Zed. Tango is a being of fire, with strong flame magic connected to his emotions. He is also in possession of a magical deck of cards. Zedaph, apprentice of Death Himself, joined their group after bringing Skizz back from the dead. He insisted on the completion of some difficult tasks first, but now they're buddies! He's also capable of reality distortion magic, knows alchemy, and has a card of luck magic Tango gave him. Everyone is terrified of Zedaph. Probably for good reason.

Impulse.... may not have intended to become an ally. The demonic man used to work for the forces of evil- before Skizz showed up, and his doubts became a true betrayal to join the side of good. They became fast friends. He doesn't want Skizz to become lost like the last hero was.

That last hero is one Gemini Tay, human-turned-Drowned, who was summoned a few years back, and is not happy about Skizz. It's like she's not even needed anymore. She puts a bounty on Skizz's head. She cannot accept her failure.

Chasing that bounty is False, harpy and former pirate queen. She may have had to leave her crew after that deal lead to a mild case of possession, but she still appreciates some good treasure. That's why she's been working as a travelling merchant.

Her fellow merchants, Cub and Scar, are equally possessed but not quite as motivated. They mostly just like messing with people. Including Skizz. Maybe especially Skizz. They are fae, after all.

Skizz did have one unfortunate interaction with them- he got his name taken for a bit. Fortunately, after returning Scar's cat familiar to him, the name was given back.

Gem isn't the only former human in this world. Joe Hills, a half-ghost living in the republic of the undead, was summoned from Nashville a while back, and befriended Prime Minister Cleo along the way.

Cleo's republic was once a kingdom, run by Ren, but as soon as she got the throne she declared the monarchy over. She got voted in, and Ren is her second in command. Together they run the place, maintaining the army of constructs and fighting back against the sculk creeping into the tunnels.

Most humans that end up in this world don't tend to stay human long. The ambient magic eventually soaks in and alters them, and most embrace it. The changes are a new beginning, or a sign of belonging in this strange world. But Hypno did not embrace it.

No, Hypno was the human half of a changeling deal, and has been clinging to his humanity for quite a while. He's even gotten hold of an artifact, somehow, that pushes the ambient magic out of his body, keeping him human. His friend, Jevin, is a slime guy who enjoys being a slime guy, and doesn't understand this drive to stay human one bit. Magic is cool.

Other hermits that I couldn't neatly tie into the one ramble:

Wels is a selkie proficient in bard magic, and a former member of False's crew.

Stress is a fae queen who rules a kingdom specializing in ice magic, with Iskall as her loyal bodyguard.

TFC is a miner of unknown species who helped Skizz out during a quest

Mumbo is not a vampire, thank you very much. He's actually the former god of the night who lost half his power. Vampires were made from that stolen half.

Pearl is a moth fae who used to rule a prosperous kingdom... until a talking dog came to advise her, corrupting her into a cruel and evil queen. She has since slain the beast, fled into exile, and changed her ways. She now works delivering mail.

Etho and Bdubs are plant constructs, guarding a deep and dangerous jungle. Etho may have a metallic shell, but he's all plant inside. Doc and Beef guard the jungle as well, the four of them ensuring safe passage for travellers. Doc in particular has the ability to become absolutely gigantic.

Xisuma was a bubbling puddle of nothing that became a person and sustains itself on bones. Far too many bones. Bones in places they really should not be, such as outside the skin.

Keralis is a unicorn! He is also a menace who is very protective of his magic, refusing to use it unless he feels like it. Claims to be able to read the value of souls. Bothers xB by calling him the princess of the lake. xB is not a princess.

Grian is... something. He's strange, is what he is. He's a nice guy, and helpful to Skizz, but has these weird mutterings about "watchers", and what was that about accidentally stealing Mumbo's power?

And that's the AU so far! It's still going, so send in more ideas when you have them. Happy headcanoning!

[infinite-orangepeel]

kas!eddie/monstefucker!steve: pt. 2

read pt. 1 here !!

steve never thought he’d see eddie munson again. but there was nothing in this world or any other that could have stopped him from venturing back down to the depths of hell to save him once he realized he was alive.

after dragging him out of the upside down two weeks ago, they’d kissed, touched, fucked, told secrets, cuddled, and cried together. it was absolute bliss.

steve felt like he’d been transported to wonderland. so he didn’t hesitate to move eddie into his house in order to help him recover and heal. everything seemed fine and strangely normal.

eddie was still eddie. a bit different on the outside, but on the inside—his wicked sense of humor, selfless heart, nerdy interests—all remained the same.

except for the fact that he was kind of oddly possessive over steve.

which steve didn’t really mind because he was so used to dating people that couldn’t give less of a shit about his well being. the amount of times he’d shown up to a date with obvious marks or bruises on his arms after fighting supernatural creatures and had them ignored was off the charts.

by stark contrast; eddie watched his every move, protected him from harm (including from mundane things like hot stoves and rainy weather), called him ‘beloved’ ‘perfect’ and ‘mate.’

but if there was one thing steve was learning that eddie hated—it was the thought of anyone else laying a finger on steve. especially in a romantic or sexual sense.

which was how they ended up here.

steve fucked up. he fucked up badly.

of course, steve doesn’t realize how badly until eddie—or; this new super strong, muscular, bloodthirsty killer, undead in a way that still doesn’t quite compute version of eddie—is pinning him to the bed within seconds of him walking in the door post-work. name badge still attached to his polo.

“holy fuck! jesus, eds! i literally just got home. give a guy a minute to decompress!” steve’s words are vastly ineffective and get muffled into the pillow as eddie makes quick work of his clothes.

“shut up. be quiet. face down. my turn.”

he strips steve down to his gray briefs with little ceremony. steve groans as he listens to the seams of his family video uniform rip—sharp claws grazing his skin as the fabric falls to the wayside in tattered shreds.

how many times can he tell keith his dog ate his uniform before he gets fired?

doomed to be fired or not, it doesn’t matter, because steve’s so gone for eddie munson that he’d give up his job, dignity, and livelihood just to keep him happy.

he wags his ass back and forth to taunt, play, and entice. not that he needs to with how eddie’s acting, but because he wants to. he wants to rile eddie up even more.

“someone missed me, hm? can’t stay away from my pussy, can you? such a perv, munson,” steve jokes, but his laughter’s cut off when he receives a sharp slap to his ass. it’s certain to bruise.

“who the fuck touched you? who thought they were good enough to get so close, huh? where are they? i’ll kill them,” eddie’s voice is dark, deep, dripping otherworldly ichor and heat.

“n-no one! no one touched me, eddie! i swear! you can trust me!” steve always finds it alarming how easily his cock starts throbbing when eddie threatens to kill someone on his behalf.

but that’s neither here nor there. right now all he can think about is cumming and surviving, but mostly cumming.

eddie’s fully naked. steve has no idea when that happened or how, but suddenly his briefs—his brand new calvin klein’s—are being bitten off and discarded along with the rest of his clothes while the thick, leaking, barbed dick of his ‘friend’s’ is rubbing between his ass cheeks. it slips and slides and makes noises that would have definitely embarrassed the hell out of steve prior to this. squelching obscenely.

“who is she? why did she touch you? smells like girl. you smell like girl. don’t like it. hate it. hate her,” eddie’s crying which breaks steve’s heart, but he’s grown used to this too.

“it’s okay. you’re okay, eds. you have me. we’re safe. we’re in our nest,” steve says as calmly as possible, “no one’s going to hurt me and if they tried—you’d protect me, wouldn’t you?”

“always protect you, stevie. always,” he cries into steve’s skin, breathing hot and heavy. steve twists to grab his hand and squeezes three consecutive times.

“i know. i’m so proud of you. i’m so lucky,” he adds.

all of ‘new eddie’s’ emotions are insanely heightened in this way. he’s volatile, temperamental, and loves harder than anyone steve’s ever known. it’s terrifying and beautiful.

something clicks in steve’s head. a very vague, seemingly inconsequential moment from earlier that day. he needs to be more careful.

“baby, listen—it’s not what you think. this girl i used to go out with—years ago,” he stresses that part to dilute the importance, “came into family video today and she hugged me to say hi. we caught up for a minute. that’s all! and then she left.”

“don’t want to share, stevie. mine. you’re mine,” he’s nuzzling into the side of steve’s neck and licking at his throat, “mine. mine. mine.”

“yours. all yours. always yours.”

steve breathes a sigh of relief as eddie starts purring—that’s the closest thing he can compare it to—against him and rocks his hips back to let him know everything’s going to be okay. he still wants to be fucked, bred, filled.

“need to get rid of her scent. make you clean. make you mine again,” eddie grunts and lines himself up with steve’s hole. his hole, which, is still dripping and gaping from the events of that morning.

“good. that’s real good, baby. that’s what i’m here for. take what you need.”

eddie likes to cum inside him before he goes to work as a way of marking his territory since he can’t follow steve out into the world outside of this house (for now).

most days, steve wakes up with that huge cock buried in his ass. usually already pumped full with three or four loads and somehow eddie will still be rock hard and insatiably horny. nothing quells his constant arousal.

steve jumps when eddie’s tongue dips past his rim and begins lapping at his inner walls. eddie grips him by the waist, hands encompassing him with ease, and holds him in place. he finds his spot quickly and presses up into it with the tip of his tongue.

“taste like mine,” eddie slurps and then gathers a mouthful of saliva to spit directly into steve’s ass. it tickles, makes everything sloppier just as eddie likes it, “put babies in you this morning. going to put more babies in you now.”

it’s not exactly the truth but the possibility of pregnancy—specifically of eddie getting him pregnant—makes his dick ache for release and hang heavy between his legs.

“yes, sir. please, sir.”

“good human. good stevie,” eddie praises.

steve shivers from head to toe and whines into the pillow. his back arches to give eddie a better angle and he reaches around to spread his ass as far apart as possible so eddie can eat him out properly.

as he licks into him, steve gets a funny idea in the back of his mind. it’s risky given eddie’s physical prowess and unhinged state, but he’s feeling bratty.

“there is one other thing—she did tell me i looked hot in my uniform, but don’t worry i don’t think she meant anything serious by it,” steve bites his lip and smirks to himself.

he likes when eddie’s rough. he wants eddie to be rough with him.

the reality of the situation plays out so much better than it ever could have in steve’s imagination.

eddie flips him onto his back in one swift motion. kicks out his legs from underneath him and growls deep in the back of his throat.

steve sees his face finally and mewls. he’s fucking gorgeous. his eyes are blown out—pupils the size of the full moon. his sharp, elongated incisors are visible and bared. he’s snarling, panting, and his dick is swollen to the point that it’s slapping against his stomach with every move and barely fits between his thighs. it’s going to hurt like hell and steve wants it more than he’s ever wanted anything. he’s ready for eddie to break him.

“stay,” eddie orders him as he pushes steve’s knees into his chest and holds him by the ankles.

he’s drooling which should be gross, but steve opens his mouth to catch the droplets like they’re snowflakes. he moans on each swallow and eddie licks over his mouth in a sloppy half-kiss to express his pride.

and when eddie enters him in one forceful stroke, steve screams bloody murder. he sobs, whites out as eddie thrusts without pause. as he renters consciousness, he finds a puddle of his own cum pooling in his belly button.

a second orgasm building while eddie dips down to lap at his milky release. gathers it all in his mouth and feeds it to steve from the fat part of his tongue.

“thank you,” steve moans, as his body gets moved up and down the bed by sheer force and strength, “thank you for making me cum. thank you for making me yours. please breed me. please get me pregnant so girls won’t flirt with me anymore.”

eddie pins him down further, bending him past the point of comfort. steve’s a human pretzel, contorted in ways he didn’t think possible. eddie’s hips snap into him and steve knows it’s only a matter of time before his barbs will lock into place.

“my stevie,” he punctuates his words with bites to steve’s nipples, suckles on them and drags the sharps of his teeth over the buds to tease, “keep you safe. protect you. give you my babies.”

eddie’s trembling. tears back in his eyes. this is emotional for him. steve’s surprised to find that he’s welling up too despite the filth and pleasure.

“come on, eddie. cum in me. get rid of her. make me forget she exists. i’ll never think about her again,” steve whines, desperate to feel the spread of warmth in his sore hole. it purifies him every time. heals him.

the barbs take hold, lock in, and eddie cums with a violent cry. he chokes steve out while he does it, drags his talons down his chest and marks him up. and steve cums moments later, watching eddie’s gruesome lust turn into a soft smile of satisfaction and adoration.

he’s purring and rutting into steve ceaselessly. hips rolling in circles as he bends to lick steve clean. drags his tongue from top to bottom as his cock pumps seemingly endless spend into steve’s body.

by the end, his stomach is fuller and more rounded. be it from a baby or otherwise, they’ll have to wait to find out.

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