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mery-cm99 · 2 years ago

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Vixen ~ Nikolai Lantsov (Chapter 4)

Masterlist

Description: Vixen is one of the Crows. Kaz saved her a long time ago. He’s the only one who knows the truth about Vixen. He’s the only one who knows her past, her secret. That’s until a certain privateer shows up in Ketterdam looking for a living Saint.

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x fem!OC

Warnings: Mention of trauma, blood, war and sad stuff in general. English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any grammar or spelling errors. The sign language used in this story is made up and does not correspond with any official one. The story is based on the series, not the books.

Rating: Teens and up

Chapter 4/6

Word Count: 2,257 words.

The journey to Os Alta was even more tense than the one that had taken them to Shu Han. Vixen had managed to avoid being asked about her grisha identity, but only because she had spent most of her time away from the rest. Her demons stirred stronger than ever, as if the water she had used with her powers had shaken them. She saw her mother more often, saw how she used her powers to create a wall of water between them and the men of the Second Army. She watched as her expression of love as she looked at her turned into one of pain as her heart began to fail. She saw her father pulling her while the column of water crumbled as her mother’s lifeless body fell to the ground. And she saw the grishas dressed in their red keftas chasing after them, trying to repeat what they had done with her mother with her father and herself while they ran through the streets of Ketterdam, streets that they knew by memory. It was clear to Vixen that she and her father had only survived on that occasion because their city gave them the advantage. They had lost them in the maze of streets that made up the Barrel and had hidden in a small space between two buildings that only those who lived in the worst part of the neighborhood knew. Their hearts had pounded loudly, but they were camouflaged among the other twenty hearts that were in that refuge of people fleeing their countries of origin.

And her father, she also saw her father more often. The three-year period when she had seen him lose his head over the death of the love of his life. She remembered having to pick him up at the gambling joints and drag him out while being barely twelve years old. And then watch him slowly rot in Hellgate.

She also remembered all the times she had gone into hiding as soon she had seen keftas in the city. The grisha frightened Vixen, but she was especially terrified of the Heartrender. Nina had been the first one she had had so close to in the five years since one of them had killed her mother. And Tolya now.

So now she had to use all her willpower to join the rest in the ship’s main hall to talk about how they would act when they reached Ravka. As soon as she entered the room, she noticed the look of Tolya and Nina, but the rest were busy talking over a map. Kaz was explaining that they were going to split. Inej, Nina and Zoya would go with the ship to The Fold to bring the sword to Alina. The rest would stay to help the prince and his men protect themselves from General Kirigan and his grisha.

Everyone went to get ready, but when Vixen was going to go back on deck, Tolya called her.

"I’m sorry about what happened to your mother, Vixen. But you can’t run away forever. At some point you’ll have to stop running from your past. You’re grisha, you have a gift the world should know", he assured her. Vixen nodded slowly and climbed the stairs.

When they reached Os Alta, those who stayed to help in the fort got off the boat and the others continued towards the Fold. Tolya went on one side, claiming that it was best to split up into two sides. Kaz, Jesper, Wylan and Vixen went on the other.

“We’re going to need your grisha power, Vixen” Kaz told her when they were alone.

“Did you know?” asked Jesper, so Kaz gave him an obvious look.

“I found her at the docks. She was unable to control her power and I gave her a way to do it: controlling her pain,” explained the boss of the Crows. That had happened right after watching her father die. In the boat back to the city her power had gone out of control and Kaz had found her crying hard as the water swirled around her like a human-sized tornado. Both were grateful that it had been night, because it would not have been good for neither of them to call the attention. “Now let’s focus on the present. Wylan. One of your bombs,” he asked, indicating that he should throw it to where the group of grisha were dressed in colours.

It exploded next to an inferni, which flew at the feet of the other two.

“Where did that come from?” a voice asked. So the crows peeked over the roof where they were hiding.

“My demolition expert,” Kaz replied calmly.

“Expert?” Wylan asked quietly. Vixen was nervous because her worst nightmare had come true. She was in Ravka facing Grisha. But at the time she could not help but smile whens she heard the redheaded. She pointed at him and then made a fist, with which she hit her other hand and faked an explosion. “I mean... Yes. Expert” corrected Wylan, pretending security.

The four went down and Jesper used his grisha power over the doors to open them. Jesper and Wylan went into the trench on the right, with two people in blue keftas, who looked like the good guys, if their position served as a guide, and a girl dressed much like Tolya. It must have been the sister the man had told them so much about, Tamar. Kaz and Vixen went into the trench on the left. As soon as they hid in it, Vixen noticed the other person crouching to her right and felt the air leaving her lungs. Her memory did him no justice. His blue eyes were more vibrant than she remembered, and she could see them very well because they were fixed on her, as if he couldn’t believe they were really there. Considering that the four were the only ones they had seen on their way, Vixen assumed that the situation was not very favorable for that side, and that they did not expect reinforcements. The arrogant smile she remembered seemed distant, behind a worried expression and his blond hair was more disorganized. He had an ugly wound on the side of his head. He didn’t look his best, but that did not mean that he had lost a shred of his handsomeness or prevented Vixen from recognizing Sturmhond. Only it wasn’t Sturmhond. She knew when she saw his uniform, and a voice from the next trench confirmed it.

“What is Sturmhond doing here?” asked Jesper with his weapons ready.

“Around here he goes by Nikolai“ replied Tamar.

Vixen looked back at Sturmhond/Nikolai. It was him. The prince of Ravka who had hired them was the same pirate who had saved them from ending up in Hellgate. That’s why Tolya referred to her as <<Kaz Bekker’s shadow>> because he worked for him. Part of her told her to stay away from the prince. He was Ravka’s royal family. They had sent the grishas to kill her mother. She had to get away from him. But on the other hand, Kaz and her people were there. Their job was to save Ravka, and to do that they had to save the prince.

Her stream of thoughts was cut off when they saw the whirlwind of water generated by the grisha on the other side of the trenches. Under the watchful eye of Nikolai, who kept looking at her, Vixen fixed her attention on Kaz, took her hand to her neck and ran her fingers up her throat, towards her chin. His boss nodded. Vixen took a deep breath and before Nikolai could stop her, comprehending what she wanted to do, the girl stepped out of the safety of the trench and took two steps to get in the middle.

She put her hands together on her chest and focused all her attention on the other Tidemaker. From what she could see, she had an amplifier, but Vixen didn’t care. It didn’t affect what she wanted to do. When the other grisha looked into her eyes, Vixen separated her fingers and used her power to make the whirlwind of water spin in the other direction. She couldn’t help the smile on her lips as the other grisha lost focus in surprise. She might have grown up learning all about her power, but Vixen had learned to use her power and distract her preys to steal their wallet.

As her concentration had diminished quite a bit, Vixen controlled the water so that it pushed the other man and threw him a couple of meters back. Jesper took advantage of that moment to leave behind the trench and shoot at the enemy. But the other tidemaker froze his shooters. Vixen looked at her in surprise. That was new. She couldn’t do that. Jesper didn’t seem too upset, because he used his buttons as projectiles. Vixen, on the other hand, was blocked. All her life she had thought her grisha condition was a curse. Her parents had fled Ravka before the testers discovered her. Her mother had died because she was grisha. She had had to learn to control it when it became impossible for her to hide it —her mother had taught her to—, but she had never seen her power as positive. And now she was back in Ravka, surrounded by grishas that used their powers without fear, like a sixth sense, something completely natural.

“Vixen!“ she heard someone screaming, just before a body crashed into her and threw her to the ground just as a lightning bolt struck the ground where she had been. When she came back to reality the first thing she noticed were the blue eyes that looked at her very closely. They were certainly brighter than she remembered, and blue like the ocean. Though at that distance she could pitpoint little golden specks, as if his royal blood had affected his irises as well. Then she noticed his body, which was on top of hers, holding her to the ground. Vixen hated feeling cornered, but on that occasion all she could think about was the warmth of the body above her and how pleasant the feeling was. She didn’t feel cornered, rather protected. And only her father had made her feel that way before.

The sound of the electricity ended up bringing her back to reality. She squirmed to shake him off her. He was Nikolai Lantsov, the royalty of Ravka. She could not forget that again.

Nikolai had almost forgotten the enemy. Vixen’s lost and desolate gaze had made him wonder what had made her feel that way. She seemed paralyzed by the power of Kirigan’s grisha, but Nikolai wondered why, considering that she herself was a tidemaker. That’s why he had not hesitated to take her away from the path of the lightning bolt when he had noticed that she had not seen the man prepared to attack her.

“Are you okay?” he asked after getting up awkwardly because of his injured leg. Then he offered his hand to help her up. Vixen looked back at him, but this time she frown at him again, as she had the last time they had met. Nikolai wondered if it was his own appearance that caused the girl’s anger. Now she knew who he really was, but she kept looking at him the same way, as if his own person was what insulted her.

Vixen did not reply. Instead she rose without accepting his help and, without taking another look at him, separated from Nikolai and approached Kaz to stand by his side and face the enemy. Kaz looked at her and nodded. After three years, they were able to communicate without words or signs. Vixen crossed her hands over her chest again and focused her attention on the man who had tried to fry her with a lightning bolt.

The trick she was about to do was the only one her mother hadn’t taught her. The woman had always considered that the power of a grisha should be used for good, and never to harm another person. That’s why she always used water as a help or for protection. But at the time, Vixen knew she had to use it differently. She focused on the water running through the man’s body and spread her fingers. She felt how the man’s blood was losing moisture and all the water in his system accumulated in his throat. There was still not enough to drown him, but just enough to make him lose his concentration and the ability to continue using his power.

“Wylan. The poison,” Kaz said to her left, but Vixen did not see what was happening around her because all her attention was on the man. Then a cloud of poison floated towards him and Vixen noticed how it slowed his blood even more. Her power was cut off when Tamar stood in front of the man, preventing her from maintaining eye contact with her target. But she knew it was no longer necessary when Tamar threw her ax at the grisha’s head, without him doing anything to prevent it.

Everyone’s attention turned to the other tidemaker and Vixen saw on her face that she didn’t have many options. She tried to use her grisha power on them, but she couldn’t do it because all her fingers were missing. Vixen assumed it was Jesper’s work. It all ended with a bullet from Nikolai’s pistol.

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov imagine #sturmhond #shadow and bone #grishaverse #grisha netflix #six of crows #Kaz Brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #nina zenik #zoya #tolya #tamar #alina starvok #genya #the darkling

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jgmartin · 2 years ago

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THE DEAD WORLD

It happened late. I suppose these things always do. The end of the world isn’t exactly a rise and shine affair, you know?

It’s a big decision, nuclear war. You think you’re ready to drop the bombs, but then you figure it’s probably best to sleep on it. Then you wake up and think maybe, just maybe, we’ll first see how the day plays out. Maybe somebody convinces you not to press the button. Maybe the world gives you a reason it shouldn’t go up in smoke like the stock market, like the riots in the streets, like the futures of an entire generation.

Or maybe there are no reasons. Maybe starting fresh is all that’s left, and cleaning humanity off of this rock is the only truly moral choice left to make.

I don’t know.

All I know is it’s been a week since the blast. A week since I ran to the bunker, alone, forced to leave my family behind. If that sounds callous, then just know it wasn’t me who abandoned them. They abandoned me.

They were disbelievers. All of them.

They called me crazy for building the bunker. Called me insane for stockpiling canned rations ten feet under the dirt. I tried to explain to them that we were running out of time, that if they cared enough to open their eyes, there were signs that the end was coming. But to them, that was just noise. More chatter from a lunatic.

They stuck their noses up at me all the way to the end. When the air-raid sirens sounded, my wife grabbed my son and daughter and screamed at me to leave the house. To never come back.

So I did.

I left them there. There simply wasn’t any time to fight her for the kids, to fight the kids who were wholesale convinced I was a fraud. A liar. The bombs were coming and the bunker was a hundred feet away, buried beneath the forest behind our farm.

I didn’t have a choice, you understand? No choice but to run, so that’s just what I did. I ran and ran, with tears in my eyes for my family, and just as I closed the heavy steel door of the bunker I felt the low rumble of the first explosion. Then the next.

Like I said, it’s been a week. I figure the worst of the fallout has dissipated by now. It’ll be just the fires that are left, the fires that there’s nobody left to put out. Soon though, once the flames have exhausted their supply of wooden homes and fuel-laden vehicles, they’ll die too, and then the new world will emerge.

The Dead World.

The dark truth is that the nightmare of nuclear armageddon takes place in three stages. The first is what people often assume to be the worst. The bombs. The explosions. The mushroom clouds and the screaming and the running and the sirens. Truthfully though, that’s the easy part. At that stage you’re just afraid or dead. That’s all.

After that comes the flames and radiation. They do some damage, maybe more than the bombs when you consider the pain inflicted, but even they pale in comparison to the third stage. The Dead World.

In the Dead World, the strings that tie us together are burned away. There are no rules. There are no customs. There is no humanity. It’s chaos, unbridled and hopeless. Raiders roam smouldering city streets, pillaging and raping and torturing for scraps of food. People are rounded up like cattle, butchered and eaten.

That, I think, is the stage we’re beginning to enter. The stage of desperation. Even now, I hear a band of raiders above me. I’ve made certain my bunker is well-hidden, but it’s possible that the blasts have swept away the dirt camouflaging my hatch. It’s possible I could be found.

In moments like these, I’m almost glad my family perished in the blast. I shudder to think what the monsters above would do to them, to my wife and my daughter. Still, I’ve covered my bases. The raiders likely arrived to see if there were any animals left alive on the farm, or crops left to reap. They wouldn’t be here looking for underground bunkers.

BANG BANG BANG

The sound echoes around my bunker like a heart attack. I freeze. Through inches of steel I hear the muffled chorus of human’s shouting. Moving.

BANG BANG BANG

There’s more shouting. I slink to the wall of my bunker, pick up my rifle and load a round into the chamber. I’m panicking for no reason, I tell myself. I’m making much ado about nothing. Even with a band of raiders there’s simply no way they could break the reinforced steel hatch. Not with a pair of bolt cutters. Not even with a welding torch.

KERCHUNK

There’s the sound of something clanking on metal. Like a carabiner. A hook. Did they attach something to the handle? Above me an engine roars to life, something powerful. A truck, maybe. It screams as its wheels tear into the dirt and my pulse races. I grip my rifle, raising it toward the hatch. Toward the intruders.

The hatch shudders. It shudders like it’s going to bend, warp, but instead it snaps clean off. I’m blinded by the afternoon sun. I shield my eyes as best I can, but there’s no shielding my lungs from the fallout in the air. “I’m armed!” I scream, hacking a cough. “I’ll blow the heads off of any of you fucks that wants to try me!”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Mr. Falton,” a voice blares over a megaphone. “You’re under arrest. Come out with your hands up.”

“You think you’re going to fool me with that spew?” I snarl. I cock the rifle and let off a warning shot through the open hatch. Birds scatter from the trees above. “Come any closer and the next bullet’s going straight through your heads!”

Something drops from the hatch. It’s small, oval-shaped, and it bounces on the steel floor once, twice, before rolling to a stop. It’s a metal canister.

Smoke hisses out of it.

_____________________________________________________________________

I open my eyes and realize I’ve been abducted. Stolen away. The familiar steel walls of my bunker are gone, replaced with cream wallpaper and drab lighting. It’s an office building– or at least it was one before the world went tits up.

“Where am I?” I ask, groggily. My head is throbbing, vision still blurry from the gas.

“You’re at the precinct. I’m Detective Vaneer and I’ll be conducting your interview.”

“Interview?” The room around me is sparsely furnished. There’s nothing between me and the liar but a wooden table, a cup of coffee and some empty creamer. It’s a nice set, but it isn’t fooling me. “I don’t have anything more than what was in that bunker, you hear? So you can call your raiding party back and let me go.”

“Why did you do it?”

I don’t reply. He’s fishing for answers, fishing for details he can use to find my backup rations buried out back behind the barn. I won’t say a word, though. No matter how much I’m gaslit.

“What’s the matter?” the liar says, standing up and adjusting his tie. “Was a week not enough time to dream up an alibi?” It occurs to me that he’s gone through a lot of effort to put up this ruse. To pretend society isn’t a fractured, crumbling memory. He’s even dressed the part.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“The bombs,” he snaps. “You don’t know about the bombs?”

My mouth twitches. What the hell was his angle? To throw so many competing stories at me that I started questioning my own reality? “Of course I know about the bombs,” I spit. “I’ve known about the bombs for a long time, anybody could have seen this coming.”

His fist hits the table. There’s anger in his eyes, rage like I’ve never seen before. His facade is slipping. “How long?”

“Long enough to build a bunker and survive the blast.”

“And your family?”

My voice dies in my throat. “How…” I say, hoarsely. “What the hell gives you the right to talk about my family?”

“Where are they?”

He’s looking for a reaction. He’s trying his best to get me emotional, to get me to let down my guard long enough to spill my secrets and tell him about the cache behind the barn. “They’re dead,” I tell him. “They died in the blast.”

The liar masquerading as a detective leans over the prop table. He taps his finger on the surface. “What blast?” he says.

My jaw clenches. My hands ball into fists. I want to leap across the table and slug the motherfucker for invoking my loved ones, for cursing me with the pain of their memory. But then he wins. Then he knows he can get me talking with the proper stimulation. “I’m not talking,” I tell him.

“No,” he says. “What blast?”

“I don’t know!” I snap. “I wasn’t standing around to count how many bombs fell– to point out which one killed my family.”

“But you were standing around when we opened your bunker, weren’t you? You saw the trees. The birds. How many nukes hit your farm, do you think? Must be pretty sturdy bird nests.”

I open my mouth to speak, but the words aren’t there. The liar doesn’t seem to mind– in fact, it seems he realizes he’s found my weak point. He knows I’m breakable now. Fuck. He walks around the table, sizes me up, then stalks over to the blinds covering the windows. He gives them a tug.

More sunlight. It’s blinding, again. I hear the sound of a window sliding open, and suddenly my ears are assaulted with lies. A symphony of deception. Cars honking. People yelling in the street. Music. Then the world comes into focus, and I see just how deep this act goes. They’ve set up a projector on the wall. It’s a film reel from the old world, with its tall buildings, its people walking to and from work, and its cars spitting methane into the air.

“It took me a week to find your bunker,” the liar says, coming back around to his chair. He slips a laptop from a bag beneath the table. “I had to comb through your online activity. Match up receipts. Call the company that installed your tin can. It took some work, but we figured out where you were hiding eventually.”

I don’t speak. Their operation is more sophisticated than I expected, much more and I can't risk making a misstep.

“Let me tell you what happened, Mr. Falton. You fell down a rabbit hole, a deep one of online conspiracy. You convinced yourself the world was ending, that there were psychic vampires living among us, infecting our every level of society. You convinced yourself that the only way to stop them was to start from scratch, and that our world leaders knew this and planned a global nuclear strike for New Year's Day, 2022.”

My body is shaking. As much as I try to pretend his lies aren’t affecting me, they are. It’s poison to my ears. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? A psychic vampire. Bitter too, I bet since there won’t be enough food for you to sustain yourselves on– not now that humanity is halfway to extinction.”

The liar gives me a hard look, then opens his laptop. He clicks around some, types a bit on the keyboard, then turns the screen around to face me. It’s a picture of my house. It’s blown to pieces. There’s barely anything left but wooden splinters and smouldering ashes from the blast.

“See this?” He taps something in the bottom corner of the image. It’s a mess of colours. Of pixels. It’s red, pinkish and scattered in several pieces. “That’s your daughter,” he says.

My jaw drops. A sinking feeling grows in the pit of my stomach, unshakeable and awful. Still, I knew there would be horror in the aftermath of nuclear war. I knew. I also knew it would be a necessary price to pay.

He taps another section of the screen. The picture zooms in. “Over here, we think this might be a piece of your wife’s skull, though it could also be your son’s. Their corpses are in so many pieces it’s hard to say which hock of flesh belongs to who.”

“I don’t want to look at this. Put it away.”

“Wait,” he tells me. “You haven’t seen the best part.” More tapping. More zooming in. This time the pixels are dark. They’re something thirty feet away from the rubble of the house, something grey and familiar.

My stomach twists.

“What’s the matter? You set that speaker up, didn’t you? Put it right there in the yard?”

I don’t want to be here. This isn’t real. It’s a lie– all of this is a lie. A sophisticated psy op designed to trick me into emotional vulnerability, staged by psychic vampires to feed off of my pain. Yes, that much is clear to me now. This is too sophisticated for the average raider.

“Since reality seems to confuse you, Mr. Falton, let me tell you what happened.” The vampire leans back, a smug smirk on his weasel face. “You rigged your own house with enough explosives to sink a battleship. Bombs planted everywhere from the under the couch to inside the walls. You set it to blow the day the nukes were supposed to fly. Why? That’s simple. You didn’t want anybody finding any hints about where your bunker was– just in case the ICBMs missed your rural slice of buttfuck nowhere. You didn’t want your family above ground, freely able to give away your location to psychic vampires.”

This is textbook emotional manipulation, a specialty of his breed. I won’t let him have his way with me though. I won’t let him feed off of me.

He reaches into his bag and pulls out an old book. My journal. “Picked this up in your bunker, Falton.” He flips through the pages. “Reading through it, you’d almost think you gave a damn about your family. After all, the sirens were for them, weren’t they? You set them up to play hoping it’d convince them at long last that nuclear war was well-and-truly underway. You hoped it’d convince them to follow you into the bunker. To bury them underground so their thoughts were safe from attack from… uh, psychic vampires.”

“Yeah. Things like you,” I spit.

“You gave them one last test of faith. One last chance to follow you into your rabbit hole of madness, and they refused. For that, you killed them.”

“Fuck you,” I say, and my voice is quivering. “You’re nothing but a lying sack of psychic shit! You think I can’t feel you probing my thoughts? Gaslighting me?”

“I wish I was lying, Mr. Falton. I really do.” The vampire sighs, and rises from the table. “I feel bad for you, truthfully. Sooner or later you’re going to realize you were wrong. I don’t know if it’s going to happen when I leave this room, or when you get to prison, but it will happen and when it does, it’s going to break you.”

He heads for the door, grabs the handle and then stops. “For what it’s worth, I looked into those conspiracies of yours. Some were pretty convincing. They laid it out in easy to understand terms, made sensible links between the vampires, the pyramids and the moon landing.”

He chuckles to himself. “I guess the only problem I had was that at the end of the day, none of their shit stood up to reality. It only made sense in a vacuum. As soon as you looked outside the conspiracy community, as soon as you realized how many little lies you needed to be fed to make the big lies seem palatable, well, that’s when the whole facade broke for me.” He grips the door frame, shakes his head and laughs. “It’s more exciting than reality though, I’ll give you that.”

He exits the room, leaving me alone in his elaborate set. I take a moment to admire the detail in the projector screen, the crispness of the sound system and the smell of fresh coffee. It’s impressive. He went to great lengths to pull the wool over my eyes, but unfortunately for him I’m not a sheep.

My eyes find his laptop on the table and I pull it toward me, surprised to find that the internet is still functional. Good. I just need it to update my blog one last time-- to let the world know that no matter what insane story the vampire's weave, they never fooled me. Never fed on me.

I know the nukes fell. I know we beat back the psychic assholes and I know human civilization is in ashes. I also know it's for the best. My family, if they were still here, would be proud of me for doing what was right.

The only thing I can’t quite explain are the blinds. There’s something about the way they dance up and down in front of the projection of the open window, the way I can feel the coolness of a breeze that’s hard to explain. Part of me wants to get up and check, just to make sure they’re fake. But then I think about how pointless that’d be.

After all, I already know the truth.

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dailycharacteroption · 1 year ago

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Forester (Hunter Archetype)

(art by Aleksander Karcz on Artstation)

The hunter class is, as we have established in past entries, a class that very much revolves around the animal companion and synergizing with both. It definitely makes you take a second look whenever an archetype gets rid of the companion in favor of other gimmicks and abilities, which a handful of them do.

Today’s subject is one such archetype, being a hunter that is more in tune with nature and their surroundings than they are with the creatures that live within, though of course they still place high value upon such natural creatures.

Despite the name, a “forester” is not limited to forest terrain. More accurately, they are hunters devoted to the various terrains they watch over. In other words, this archetype is all about the ranger favored terrains plus a few other abilities to replace those normally associated with animal companions and such.

The natural world itself is full of many wonders, so I imagine that these hunters in particular have a deep appreciation for aspects both amazing and mundane within the regions they make their home. Regardless, in their home element, few can match them.

Since they don’t have a companion, these hunters keep all of their animal foci powers for themselves, gaining multiple at once.

Their primarily ability, however, is to train to work and fight in their favored terrains with ease, growing their list as they master each.

They also put the training they would normally use to fight alongside their companion towards more flexible forms of combat training.

Additionally, they put their teamwork training towards aiding those they fight with rather than their companion.

Going solo means taking care of yourself, so these hunters train their agility to help avoid dangerous blasts. Later on, this improves further.

That focus on survivability also means they master the art of camouflage to hide from foes and prey, blending in with their favored terrains.

Additionally, in an emergency they can quickly bring a recently slain ally back to life using the same energies they would normally use to revive a companion.

Finally, they become so good at hiding in their favored terrains that they can disappear even when being watched.

This archetype is a fun way to do a companion-less hunter, with favored terrains are a natural replacement. Definitely pick your spells to complement a solo fighting style, especially when they are thematic to your choice of favored terrains, but also prepare for the eventuality of having to fight outside of it.

You might have noticed that many of their replacement abilities are literally modified versions of abilities the hunter normally gets, but geared towards helping other party members. Some might disdain and archetypes like it for the implication that classes are a “part of the world” in the same way, showing the seams of this being a “game”. Others might not be bothered, so your mileage may vary.

Fleeing execution decades ago, the renegade hobgoblin Ozhan has lived the life of a hermit ever since, becoming one with the mountain above and the forest below. He shows no mercy to hobgoblins wearing military colors, but might be convinced to aid those who need a guide.

Many do not think of the underground, be it natural caverns, a dungeon, or even a sewer system beneath the city as an ecosystem, but they are in their own way. As such, certain “Deepers” train themselves to understand that environment, befriending creatures such as otyughs that most would consider monstrous.

A war under the moon is coming for two werewolf clans, the Bloody Moons, who embrace their bestial nature, and the Ghost Wolves, who temper their monstrous side into a weapon against evil, have come to blows. Ilmac and his family are caught in the middle as a forest caretaker from the Moons who married a Ghost Wolf warrior during more peaceful times.

#pathfinder #archetype #hunter #forester #hobgoblin #otyugh #Ultimate Wilderness

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workersolidarity · 1 year ago

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[Photo source]

🇺🇦🇷🇺 🚨 UKRANIAN AUTHORITIES TO CLOSE THE "ANCIENT CHERNIGOV" ORTHODOX CHURCH AFTER TRANSFER TO STATE OWNERSHIP

The canonical Ukrainian Orthodox Church (UOC) announced the closure of the "Ancient Chernigov" Church located in Chernikov city in the northeast of Ukraine Wednesday.

According to the UOC, the ancient churches of the National Architectural and Historical Reserve, the "Ancient Chernigov" church is to be closed after transfer to State-ownership, and only churches that are part of the "Orthodox Church of Ukraine" (OCU), an entity invented by Ukrainian authorities in response to Russia's Special Military Operation launched in February 2022, are to remain accessible.

Just one day earlier, on Tuesday November 14th, a commission as part of the Ministry of Culture of Ukraine completed the work of transferring to state-ownership the objects of the National Architectural and Historical Reserve "Ancient Chernigov", including the churches and cathedrals used by the canonical Ukrainian Orthodox Church (UOC), as reported by the department.

According to the report, the UOC states that some monuments are in "unsatisfactory condition" and recommended the agency carry out restoration and conservation work.

According to the website for the UOC, “From the very beginning of the commission’s review, the churches of the UOC were closed to the public, access to them was blocked by people in camouflage uniforms. As for the published conclusions about the state of architectural monuments, for believers in the Chernihiv region they will mean that the Trinity, Spassky and Assumption churches, along with the relics Saints Theodosius and Philaret and Saint Lawrence of Chernigov will be taken away from the UOC and closed to visitors. Churches of the OCU remain freely accessible."

The Ukrainian authorities, over the last year, have launched successive waves of persecution against the Ukrainian Orthodox Church for its supposed connections with Russia. This comes at a time when simply praising something considered Russian can lead to suspicions, oppression and even imprisonment as Russia's Special Military Operation closes in on the end of its second year.

Local authorities in various regions of Ukraine have banned the activities of the UOC, while the Ukrainian Parliament passed in its first reading, a bill to ban the UOC and its activities throughout the country.

In some cases, sanctions have been imposed on certain representatives of UOC Clergy; while the Ukrainian Intelligence Services (SBU) has opened investigations into members of the clergy, conducting "counterintelligence activities" against clergy members, including conducting searches of churches and monasteries, as well as Bishops and priests.

According to the report, the Ukrainian Ministry of Culture examined 18 objects, including the building complexes of the Yelets and Trinity monasteries, the Transfiguration Cathedral, Pyatnitskaya and the Catherine churches.

#source

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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andronicmusicblog · 8 months ago

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Making a game trailer is like making music: you have to decide what kind of piece you want to write. Is it a ballad? A punk track? How will you play with tempo? What emotions do you want to evoke?

This all depends on the game, of course. Some trailers are so good they stick in your brain forever. They create the feeling of the game itself.

Take the cinematic trailer for the original Assassin’s Creed: what makes it so memorable 18 years later? Immediately the protagonist reveals to us what the game is about with how he hides in plain sight, his hooded, stealthy appearance, the gruesome reveal of his now-iconic hidden blade, and how he times his escape by camouflaging with white-robed priests. We the audience don’t need to be told anything, nor have we seen any gameplay; we know what the game is about, and we want to play it now.

Or consider the ‘Mad World’ Gears of War trailer, directed by Joseph Kosinski, who went on to direct Top Gun: Maverick. Widely regarded as an all-time-great game trailer, it captures the desolation of Sera post-Emergence Day, when underground ‘Locust’ sprang to the surface and stomped humanity to near-extinction. It doesn’t show the events of E-Day—it doesn’t need to. It tells you everything you need to know, without speaking a word, through the journey of Marcus Fenix, who is alone in a dark world, chainsaw-rifle in hand, fighting tooth and nail to survive the creatures he encounters, all to the backdrop of Gary Jules’ heart-wrenching Tears for Fears cover.

Both examples—Assassin’s Creed and Gears of War—were inaugural games of franchises that went on to have huge cultural impact. On the flipside, when you work with IP that has already made such an impact in a previous life—say, a popular film or comic book—the rules of the game change.

In many ways it gets simpler: you can give long-time fans what they want to see, whether that’s a scene, a line of dialogue, or even just a shot. But in such cases, you’re working with fragile china. One oversight, and BANG!, catastrophe. You’ve just shown your pig-headed ignorance to the die-hards. Good luck getting them back onside after that.

At Heroic by Room 8 Group, we had the pleasure—and the responsibility—of making the launch trailer for RoboCop: Rogue City. We knew all along we’d hit certain notes: RoboCop’s metal boot meeting the tarmac as he steps out of his police car; the shot of his car climbing the station-house ramp; and of course that line: ”Dead or alive, you are coming with me!”

A new game based on an old franchise is an extension of a cultural institution loved by millions. It has to be handled with care. It’s important to give those millions of fans what they want, and truthfully, we didn’t try to hide our fan-service. But it’s important not to go too far, or to get bogged down in it. The trailer should excite newcomers, too.

It isn’t just iconic movie IP that can do this kind of fan-service. Remember when Battlefield 2042 put this in its reveal trailer? Almost 10 years prior, a Battlefield content creator invented a move called the RendeZook, where the player, mid-dogfight, ejects from their jet, fires a handheld rocket launcher, downs an enemy plane, lands back in their jet and returns to flight. This immortalized the creator, and in so doing, sent the Battlefield community into a (positive) frenzy.

When working with cult-favorite franchises like RoboCop, a trailer is more than a way to build hype for a game: it’s an important part of a franchise and its community, because it is the first touchpoint of a new chapter. Delicate subject matter? Yes—but so rewarding when you get it right.

Bringing RoboCop to life

So how did we do it for RoboCop: Rogue City?

All visual elements, down to the way light reflected off of RoboCop’s armor, are dictated by the films’ aesthetic:

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And to reiterate, the best trailers feel like the games they preview. We had to make our cinematic feel like RoboCop on a technical level.

The cyborg himself is mechanical, calculated. Because he’s the protagonist of the game, we felt the trailer—which, importantly, was 85% gameplay and 15% CG cinematic—had to recreate this feeling.

We did this with camera movement. The artists who shot the gameplay footage for the trailer recorded movement as if they, too, were RoboCops: jerky yet deliberate, like a bot scanning for lifeforms. A good example: 1:12 of the trailer. Pay attention to the camerawork as RoboCop enters the shot with the news anchor. Catch the subtle zoom-in when he speaks?

On narrative: We used Mediabreak anchor Casey Wong, who featured in the original movie in 1987, and his colleague Cindy as a narrative device to introduce RoboCop. We see thugs smash a shop window—a reference to another movie scene—where a TV is showing Wong’s live broadcast. This allows RoboCop to arrive at the scene and get out of his car in the manner that fans recognized right away. Later in the trailer we gave another nod to the original film with the line: “It seems there will be … trouble.”

If you’re a RoboCop fan, there are several moments in the trailer that will catch your eye. The most graphic of these is the “groin” shot (at 1:02). We understood that we had to fully convey the brutality with which RoboCop deals with the enemies, but the trailer still needed to be acceptable for most age groups. It took some time and effort, but after recording 47 versions of the shot, we got the perfect one.

Trailers as storytelling

But a fantasy world isn’t essential to make a good trailer.

Take chess—hundreds of years old and very simple in premise. Neither its age nor its simplicity prevent the chess match in Harry Potter, or the one in Star Wars (albeit Holochess), or Sherlock Holmes, from engaging us as viewers. It’s always about the people playing the game.

If you have a strong narrative and compelling characters, you can make a great trailer, because trailers are stories. An even simpler, even older game than chess is The Royal Game of Ur. And what better advert for a 4,500-year-old game than a part-match, part-history-lesson between YouTuber Tom Scott and British Museum curator Irving Finkel, the man who reconstructed the game’s rules?

As storytellers, it’s our job to find the hook. For RoboCop, the touchpoints are kind of obvious. Iconic characters, set-pieces, dialogue—it was all oven-ready; we just had to orchestrate. We felt fortunate to work with a cult favorite, and we had a great game to work with, which helps! But ultimately, trailers are stories—and stories are how you get people excited. Reposted from gamedeveloper.com Whether you're a game developer seeking immersive sound effects and interactive music or a TV producer looking to refine your show's audio, don't underestimate the power of post-production. For professional services in music, sound design, audio restoration, and mixing, Andronic Music can take your project to the next level.

#GAME DEV #MUSIC TECHNOLOGY #MUSIC PRODUCER #MUSIC PRODUCTION #MUSIC COMPOSER

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shadow-logan · 10 months ago

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the end of the beginning... or the beginning of the end?

here's everything that i've compiled into shadow's backstory so far! a lot of this is stream of consciousness and hasn't been edited/pared down. enjoy!

(i'll eventually format this for tumblr lol)

SHADOW-LOGAN

Motive & Minor Goals

Wants to learn more about himself and feel whole/complete; wants to learn what it means to be alive and why he was given a second chance.

Would love to learn to cook and make a meal for the party

Wants to turn his monster parts into wearable jewelry (stim toys, too, maybe?)

Definitely wants to learn more spells! His current special interest is magic & all things arcane

Backstory to Shadow’s Backstory

“I am a Shadow of past lives”

The name “Shadow” was chosen by him; he officially adopted it when he met the party in the Underdark and they asked what his name was. Shadow rose from the dead one day and realized he was a shadow of past lives, memories and experiences. He joined the Black Network/Zhentarim in the hopes of finding a connection to these memories he knew didn’t belong to him; he’s trying to decipher the code that is his own mind and, now, lived experience.

Beginning of His Story (kind of doesn’t align w/ a later story but wtv lol)

"By the light of the moon, I confide in you"

Selûne, goddess of the moon

Knowledge & Life

Pair of eyes surrounded by seven stars

On the 15th of Uktar (November in Faerûn), just after midnight, Shadow awoke in the Mere of Dead Men. The night was dimly lit by a full moon; he rose from the gently lapping waves with a gasp and wearing nothing but plainclothes and various piercings.

Disoriented and panicked, he felt a reassuring warm presence envelop him. The presence cleared his mind; he noticed the light of the moon shining brightly on the nearest section of road and began to wade over. Shadow climbed onto the solid ground and continued to search for clues as to where—and who—he was. The presence made Itself known as Selune—he didn’t see or hear her, but felt a certain warmth being cast on to him by the light of the full moon, a direct juxtaposition to the frigid Uktar night. He felt Her presence again, just before arriving in Waterdeep. While looking around for landmarks, Shadow saw a small merchant caravan in the distance coming towards him. Hiding in the nearest foliage to camouflage himself, he eavesdropped. He overheard them squabbling over which direction to take; one person mentioned they just left Waterdeep and gestured to where Shadow assumed the city was. Since this was his only hint towards where he would find substantial, established civilization, he decided to follow it.

By this time, dawn was beginning to peek over the horizon and it had started raining, though the last trickles of warm light from the moon blanketed the entrance archway/sign/generic entrance of Waterdeep; Shadow felt a small, invisible nudge towards it. When he entered the town, Shadow was overwhelmed with how busy it was! Logic dictated he ask for help, so he did, but was ignored by any people that were awake (mostly caravans & merchant stalls unpacking for the day); people shot him quizzical and angry stares. This apathy towards him was due to his overall appearance (only plainclothes, oddly coloured hair and skin, and covered in muddy residue), but Shadow didn’t understand why these strangers would display only reluctance towards assisting him.

That night, he stalked the alleys of Waterdeep, seeking some sort of shelter from the elements. The inn was closed for the night, so he kept to the shadows and unseen corners of town. The next morning, Shadow kept a low profile but decided to explore the city. He found the Church again, but this time saw a small parchment poster on a wooden signboard pertaining to Selune; this is how he knew he was being protected—the feeling of warmth returned when he read this poster promoting Her teachings. Once he thanked Her with what semblance of prayer he could muster, Shadow once again felt the same warmth he did when he first awoke. During his quiet patrol, Shadow crossed paths with his future Zhentarim mentor. Our newly-reborn wolf-man was anxiously stalking the shadows of the streets, which Jamna Gleamsilver immediately noticed.

Jamna Gleamsilver, Shadow’s future mentor, was on a low-profile mission in Waterdeep when she saw Shadow trying to hide from the cityfolk and, empathizing with him, offered to help him. She asked for more information but he was both unwilling and unable to give any. Jamna promised him gold, a dagger and a place to stay for the night on the condition that he helped her with a mission; the mission being to steal gold from a local nobleman. Not knowing where else to turn, and not having yet formed a conscience to guide him, Shadow set off to pickpocket this man.

He was successful and returned the gold to Jamna, much to her delight. She let him keep his new loot, gave him one of her daggers and paid for a night at the local inn. Jamna visited him the next morning and complimented how nimble he was with his hands when pickpocketing the nobleman. She then proceeded to invite him to join the Zhentarim. Being completely unknowing of the world he was “birthed” into, and curious as to who these “Zhentarim” folks were, Shadow agreed. He thought this would be the perfect way to find out more about himself; he would be making connections and traveling, so surely he would learn more.

Jamna trained him on how to use basic weapons, some magic and in the art of stealth. Using the money he stole from others and earned from missions, Shadow bought himself new clothes, a backpack, pouches, and a couple of other weapons and supplies. Jamna took Shadow in as not only an apprentice, but as her son… or as close to it as her abilities as a parent would allow (Shadow would end up being more of a father to her than she was a mom to him). The last time he saw his mentor was before his mission to infiltrate the Web in The Underdark.

Personality & Favourite Things

Though Shadow knows he doesn't need material necessities like food, or those of the intangible variety like sleep, he appreciates them nonetheless, if not more than his comrades. To him, food is a luxury that he can indulge in and is a catalyst for a quiet moment with the party that allows them to connect. He sees meals as an avenue which he can use to create memories with people he has allowed himself to feel close to.

His favourite foods and beverages are jam-filled biscuits, rabbit stew, any kind of tea (would love to learn to make and brew his own blends) and any meal shared with the party, really. Shadow appreciates food and was surprised when the party was not more excited about Reidoth’s stews. Shadow equates their reaction to them just eating out of necessity and not having the luxury of choosing what they consume. He also assumed that they must have eaten a lot of stew before leaving home and embarking on their adventure.

Shadow absolutely loves the world’s flora and fauna, regardless of what the rest of team SASACOD (now Team RollCALL) thinks. He will jump at every opportunity to collect plants and monster parts; not only do these trinkets represent moments spent with the party, but they—the plants, especially— remind him that he is alive.

Shadow will always find a way to get his hands on anything shiny; if it twinkles— figuratively or literally—he’ll take it. A prime example would include the mirror that Lily and Caim tried to hide when they were in the Underdark. His friends had desperately attempted to hide the mirror from him out of fear. Shadow had previously climbed a statue, noticed the eyes he was eyeing (ayy lmao) weren’t real gems, but still removed them… the ceiling collapsed on his friends, almost killing Lily. Yet, he was the only one who could find out more information on the mirror (Identify). His curiosity for shiny new knowledge and shiny new physical objects has almost literally killed him and his comrades.

*he thinks vylet is shiny uwu*

A Rose by Any Other Name

“You live in the dark, boy, I cannot pretend; I'm not fazed, only here to sin”

Prior to meeting SASACOD, Shadow bore the name “Logan” in informal contexts. He sensed something different about the ragtag misfit group, though; he unconsciously saw them as an opportunity to improve and a chance for freedom. Shadow only felt any semblance of connection to the name “Logan” because it was the first thing, besides a new life, that belonged to him. Even so, he never had the opportunity to love or grow with the name, as it was chosen on a whim and

When asked for his name by the party, Shadow replied with “Shadow… because I always stalk the shadows”. It was—he believed—a tactful deflection. Not only did this name and response assist in cloaking his past persona, but contribute to the one he was currently presenting to the party: an emotionally distant and troubled criminal. Though merely a way to not draw suspicion to the Zhentarim, and his then-current mission, the Reborn felt as though he truly was reborn; now he had a new life with a new family (he didn’t think of them that highly at that point).

Shadow has grown to love his new alias as he’s realized he’s a shadow of past lives. While he doesn’t know who, or what, he was previously, Shadow finds solace in the connection to life and vitality that his name carries.

June 28th (2021? 22?) edit: While “Logan” never held much value to him, a recent flashback in the form of a dream might convince Shadow to reconsider his stance. In the dream, a mentor/friend figure referred to him as “Logan”. This name now bears some weight, if only because it serves as a catalyst for another puzzle-solving journey; he is always seeking an excuse to learn (also following that dopamine yeehaw). He furiously recorded the events of the dream—something he rarely experiences—in Glasstaff’s notebook (with regular ink) so he would never forget something that actually belonged to him: a memory of himself.

Logan’s (Shadow’s) Room

LOGAN’S ROOM

The Zhentarim

“Everything—and everyone—has a price.”

Feelings on the Zhentarim

Shadow is a part of the Zhentarim and has a dragon tattoo (Zhent crest) on his back, which is his identifier. Though he believes it’s not necessarily the worst mercenary group to be a part of, he recognizes their manipulative and toxic tendencies. The organization gave Shadow his first taste of home and freedom, but now he’s unlearning everything they taught him; their way isn’t the only way.

He’s happier now that he’s not restricted by their ideologies, but is still bound to them in a sense: he still has to complete a mission (update: mission complete). Though they still have that control over him, he’s considered leaving, or somehow pretending to stay, but will always have that figurative and literal dragon on his back, reminding him that he is their property.

While excited to leave the Underdark to visit the Mere of Dead Men, Shadow is also rather anxious about it as well. Once he resurfaces, he fears he’ll have to face the Zhentarim again and feign being a loyal member. He wants to continue his work with the Zhents because he feels validated when completing missions, but he knows that the organization as a whole is not “true family”, as they would claim. Shadow has spoken with Vylet about this on occasion, which worries him even more.

Vylet was previously involved with the Xanathar’s Guild and understands Shadow’s perspective on the topic of Guild involvement. However, he fears that the Zhents may target and use her as leverage, should he leave. Lillian Carbin has already seen Shadow’s party members, including Vylet; he doesn’t know how much Carbin already knows about her.

Shadow was nervous before, but now he’s incredibly anxious. After almost murdering Sutcha the Butcha, she punched him square in the jaw in front of all of Glasstaff’s prisoners—including Carbin. Prior to this event, he was carrying the then-unconscious Sutcha (he had cast Sleep on her) on his back and had walked into his worst nightmare: a brightly-lit, round room, with Lillian and Vylet conversing & playing poker. After the events of The Mirror occurred, Carbin witnessed a deranged and burned Shadow being carried out of the Underdark entrance by Caim. Shadow is debating whether to cut off all connections to the Zhentarim by way of killing her, or if he should somehow bargain with his fellow assassin—something he worries may come back to haunt him.

Zhent Jobs

Though he prefers to work under the guise of night, Shadow has been tasked with face-to-face meetings during light hours. In his words:

Something that works out in my favour during these face-to-face meetings is that I named myself after I got my Web infiltration gig and wore a disguise every time. The Zhentarim just gave me a new codename for every job and presented that as truth to our partners. I’ve gone by “Axioche Riverdawn”, “Elduin Equinox” and “Mavilius Thornblood”. Nobody can track me or my superiors; on the very rare occasion that anyone asks about “me”, they feign ignorance, which is absolutely hilarious to witness when these confrontations happen in the Zhent Mansion, our headquarters. I’ll be casually walking to submit a report and an angry client will start complaining about how “MaViLiUs ThOrNbLoOd SwInDlEd [Me]”, not knowing that “Mavilius” literally just walked by them, haha.

His current Zhentarim Mission - UPDATE: FINISHED (~27TH OF ELEASIS)

Shadow was tasked with going to Leilon, rendez-vousing with Lillian Carbin, and getting a report about what's been going on in Leilon, because she hasn't reported back in a while. He is to send the info back to Jamna Gleamsilver in Waterdeep.

He doesn’t necessarily have to go back down to Waterdeep and deliver the report himself; he could send a coded letter by caravan or courier, or even just give a written report/letter to another Zhentarim agent when he next arrives in a city with a Zhent presence. Shadow could just save Lillian Carbin and let her do the rest on her own.

This mission was his first mission after being promoted; he had killed a local nobleman that was a thorn in the Zhent’s side.

Another Update: he found her in a room in the Underdark, along with other captives.

Update 2: She’s now in her home in Leilon & the mission is complete (he had also sent off a letter when in Neverwinter)

Silent Night (told from shadow’s pov)

The target was a local minor nobleman in Waterdeep the Zhents didn’t like [looks down and clasps his hands]. His name was Novus Goldenfoot--he was an elf man. It was the mission that promoted me, actually [chuckles sardonically].

But yeah, um, he was trying to grow his own private merchant’s guild. It was a small business, but he had access to luxury goods—like some spices—that the Zhents didn’t. They saw him as a threat—a threat that could and should be easily disposed of. I had already completed a bunch of low-profile underground trade missions, so they trusted me with information and completing secret jobs. I remember my mentor, Jamna Gleamsilver, giving me a slip of parchment and saying, “Dispose of him and you’ll be promoted. They’ll start giving you higher-profile missions and favouring you. They need this done by the end of the week, and you need to do it alone.” I didn’t think much of it, but I nodded and did as I was told. I was given the mission on a…. Monday?, I think.

Until Friday, I scouted the area, learned my target’s patterns and who he communicated with regularly. I also made sure to source information by way of eavesdropping and any local news that was spread (word of mouth or newspaper???). Novus had two guards who took shifts patrolling his estate; one during the day and one at night. The night guard circled the mansion while the day guard stayed in one place. Night was my best option, though, since Novus came home at the same time everyday and stayed in what I assumed was his study. He had a wife and a… um… [clears throat] a child. They usually kept to the parlour?... The main room. They spent time together after a couple of hours, for a couple of hours.

I took out the guard, first. Before I was in his line of sight, I cast Disguise Self to look like Goldenfoot, then went straight for the throat. He was a lot easier to knock out than expected—pressure points are always fun to target, haha. I also just kept him standing up so he wouldn’t look unconscious. I climbed up to the roof, quickly entered through Novus’ study window when I knew he would be leaving his desk, and hid behind a bookshelf. As soon as he turned off his lamp, but before he opened the door, I made my move. In one swift motion, I put a sack over his head, tied it as tightly as possible, then slowly lowered him to the floor. Though I love a good stabbing, there would be too much blood left behind, meaning too much evidence. I tied a knot around his neck, heaved him over my shoulder, and made my way out the window.

Thankfully the drop wasn’t that far, and all the townsfolk were asleep, because I literally just let his body fall to the ground on the grass, which I knew would dampen the sound. Closing the window quietly, I started my descent, picked up my target and returned to base. They didn’t expect me to return the body, but they were impressed; I completed my mission cleanly, in a timely manner… and brought proof.

Stories from the Zhentarim (told from shadow’s perspective)

Never on the same page; he is unwritten

Formal Gala

February 6th (3:14am) 2022 edit: wow so Momna covered for him, knowing full well that Shadow killed Xav's dad. She's a true homie.

There were Zhent social events higher-ups would organize—to flaunt and remind us of their status, I assume. I was a bodyguard-slash-plus one for Jamna at some of those events and I hated it. People complimented me. Why? I was the only person with animal ears and a tail there, so I stuck out like a sore thumb. Why would they go out of their way to be nice to me? The answer is they weren’t. It was all for show and I knew it. Jamna was just there for the moonshine and seeing her drunk was entertainment enough, so that was compensation for my uncomfortability.

I also hate getting dressed up. Why do I have to look a certain way to be included? If they’re my family, as they claim, they would accept me as I am. Jamna says these events are supposed to be “fun”, “make you feel special” and “to present yourself positively to employers and potential ‘partners’”. She tried to set me up with a couple girls and guys at one event, and I’ll admit some people were aesthetically pleasing, but that’s where our connection started and ended.

There was this one half-elf guy named Xavlith whom Jamna formally introduced me to (she promised he was “my type”.... I should’ve asked what that meant). I panicked a bit, as he was the one who gave me my crescent moon tattoo, and we had already gone on a “date” Jamna didn’t know about… meaning he knew something about me most people didn't. Also, he touched my fucking face. I never let anyone get that close, unless my blade is closer to their throat than they are to me. He approached me nonchalantly and said he had wanted to “take me out again” and I immediately grabbed my dagger. He explained that he was asking me on another “date”.

I don’t understand people. Just tell them how you feel and don’t beat around the bush, right? If he thought I was attractive, he literally could’ve just told me. I would’ve assumed he was lying or trying to make me vulnerable to some form of torture, but it might’ve been nice to hear, especially from someone who was actually attractive.

Later that night, there was this one cute—and probably a little tipsy—elf girl named Elincia who wanted to get me a drink and I straight-up declined. Our proceeding conversation went like this:

Her: Oh, but don’t you drink?

Me: I only trust what I make myself, sorry

Her: You can trust the Zhents, though… you can definitely trust me

She touched my arm and I was severely uncomfortable. Having someone unexpectedly touch my arm doesn’t make me trust them more.

Me: I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re implying.

Her: Then I’ll stop implying. I’ll show you exactly what I mean back at my place tonight.

Why are people like this? I just came to appease a drunken Jamna. I didn’t come to have people speak in code. I hated this.

Me: I’d rather not. I don’t know where you live, and I think that’s a good thing. That proves you’re a good merc who knows how to cover their trail.

Elincia whispered the next statement in my ear… Well, she gestured for me to lean over since I kind of towered over her, and I reluctantly obliged.

Her: I think you’re hot and want to get to know you and your body better.

I wanted to cry. She literally just met me—could we even call it “meeting”? I found out her name—she didn’t even ask for mine—and then she wanted to rail me. Aside from seeming drunk, I couldn’t think of a logical explanation for her advances. I searched everywhere for Jamna, but it was evident I had lost her. I started dissociating and stuttering. I mean… It was nice to be complimented, but this just proved how superficial people are.

Me: M-my ment-mentor is drunk-k-k. I nee-eed to h-help he-her.��

I immediately turned around, walked a bit, and found Jamna at the barrel of booze on the other side of the room and dragged her out by the scruff of her collar—thankfully she’s small. I dropped Jamna off at our place; she was essentially fostering me, except I was more of a dad to her than she was a mom, or parent, to me. After tucking her into bed—yes, in whatever she was wearing that night—, I ran away for two days. I mean, Jamna didn’t seem to notice, or did a good job of pretending she didn’t, which I appreciated.

I literally just took whatever I could fit into a backpack, jumped out my window, and ran into the woods outside of Waterdeep. I just needed to be away from people. During my sweet escape, I observed plants. The first thing I did, though, was hurl. Gross… I know. Then I cried (even more gross)... and clawed at some trees. I guess this part of the story is about how a tree saved my life.

Just Give me a Treeson

Just a leafle bit’s enough

Alrighty, now that we have a subtitle after that segue, here’s the full story: I don’t need to eat, though I enjoy eating with my current… friends… ya, I guess they’re friends. Anyway, it turns out that my body doesn’t appreciate that sometimes; I think it’s a past life, or something, coming to haunt me. After I made sure Jamna was safe, and my stuff was packed, I ran for… Selune knows how long! I was so anxious and had been running forever and my body just shut down. When my insides decided to be outsides, I dropped to the ground. My knees hit the ground so hard they were bruised for a week afterwards. Once my stomach decided it had enough, I started crying.

I hate crying. Tears are coarse, rough, irritating and get everywhere. I was far enough away from civilization that I knew nobody would hear me, not that they would want to stick around if they did hear. I screamed, I shouted and just let it all out. That feeling was something I could do without. My eyes were swollen and red—a stark contrast from my permanent sleep-deprived visage—and my throat hurt from all the yelling. Once my body felt like it had officially surrendered to the emotional pain, I hit a tree trunk with the butt of my fist.

This was when it hit me—not the tree, but a realization!: I’ve never actually touched a tree before. This tree was here before me and will probably still be here after me, or the next incarnation of me, I guess. That night I stayed up feeling the bark, the leaves, and the roots of this tree.

Once dawn kissed dusk good morning, I started observing the rest of the plants around me. I like plants. They’re pretty magical; like, did you know that some leaves change colour depending on the season?! I didn’t. All of that day was spent wandering and wondering; wandering the forest and wondering what everything was. I wish I had a notebook to record everything, or something to capture what I saw, so I could’ve shared it with Jamna.

On the other hand, I’m glad it was just me and the trees. I got to learn about them and the other living things. What did I learn? That nature is rad and running away solves your problems about fifty percent of the time. No, seriously… ish. I also learned that feelings make me vulnerable. I was so immobilized because of my social anxiety that I froze and then fled. This experience also taught me that, sometimes, the best strategy in combat can be to simply immobilize your target.

Let’s take the fight with Glasstaff for example. I wanted nothing more than to watch him bleed dry by my own hands. However, other experiences have taught me that selfishness can immobilize your team (the statue incident, for example). Instead of simply stabbing him, I stole his staff: the one thing that he needed to cast magic. Once you learn of a target’s weak point(s), abuse it (/them). My proven weak points include my ADHD, social anxiety and feelings towards Vylet. Only two of those three things are within my control, though. Equipped with this knowledge, I’ve learned to use my ADHD as my armour.

I’m the only one on our team who can hyperfocus, and be interested in gaining knowledge about enemies through reading materials, for example. While Lily was disinterested in the Shadow Ink notes I had found, I was and still am invested. I also like being alone because it lets me focus on the task at hand. This is part of the reason why I love becoming invisible! I can complete a task without anyone noticing and I don’t get overstimulated, since nobody bothers me! I’m working on the other two major vulnerabilities I have, but at least I’ve Identified (lol) them, thanks to the tree.

The tree stopped me from hurting myself physically and emotionally by grounding me in the present. I don’t even remember where the tree was because I was too distracted by my own thoughts and then guided back to Jamna’s place by the moon the next night.

So, ya, that’s how a tree saved my life. The End?

Sea-zing the Opportunity

→ Shadow was sent to report in with a Zhentarim operative named The Snail, who then tasked him with meeting with Catvia, the secretary of Duchess Morwen Daggerford, ruler of Daggerford and representative of the city to the Lord's Alliance

→ The Zhentarim had already been in communication with Catvia for a little bit, identifying her as corrupt and easily manipulated, and wanted Shadow to be the first real operative to meet with her in person and establish a connection in order to try and get her to add Zhent requests in to the duchess' LA council meeting info and stuff

→ Known to his associates as "The Snail" because of his slow, deliberate way of talking

Though I’ve had some pretty negative encounters with people trying to make passes at me, I’ve, unfortunately, had to do the same to others. Those prior experiences prepared me, though. When trying to get information out of people, you have to play to their emotions and tell them exactly what they want to hear. The difficult part is believability; I prefer deception because you don’t need to tell the truth, can craft your own, and don’t really need to insert true emotion anywhere.

I once had a gig in Daggerford that involved the Mariners’ Alliance. My contact was a human woman named Catvia. I was tasked with collaborating with her to organize another trade route that would be profitable to the Zhentarim. We already worked with them; we just wanted to have access to more of their ships, and possibly connect with other towns, using the Mariners’ ship space to transport our goods. Anyway, Catvia knew I’d be arriving and was aware that I was a new, young recruit. She’s only a couple of years older than me, but has been in business with the Mariners’ and the Zhents longer than I’ve been alive, haha.

We met at the docks and moved to the local tavern to talk. She tried to put on a tough front, but I could sense a familiar energy; this was how I behaved around Xavlith during… our first time. She was nervous and was overcompensating. I took advantage of that vulnerability, learning from my prior mistakes with Xavlith. I started flirting with her, even though that went against my values and every fibre of my being was uncomfortable. She’s shorter than me, which worked to my advantage; I leaned in and “I [told] that broke bitch ‘if you wanna get in tune, better change your whole pitch’” (bro idek how long it’s been since i wrote this but i’m still laughing. August 4th 2021 edit: wtf i’m hilarious lmao. Aug 26th edit: WHY IS THIS STILL FUNNY LMAO). I even did the whole lip-biting-smoulder-brushing-my-chin-with-my thumb-eyebrow movement-thing (IT’S OCTOBER 12TH WHY AM I STILL TEARING UP FROM LAUGHTER) (BRO IT IS JANUARY 15TH 2022 AND I’M STILL CRYING FROM LAUGHTER LMAO). Apparently people love tall dudes with piercings, so I check off a lot of people's boxes, haha. I know it’s not right, and I don’t enjoy doing it, but that’s showbiz, baby.

I broke down her barrier and I could see it; I hit the jackpot. She had difficulty keeping eye contact, but I never stopped looking at her, or morerather, the space between her eyebrows. I hate eye contact because, one: you feel a connection to the person and vice-versa and, two: they’ll remember your face. Anyway, she started brushing her hair behind her ear, her voice raised in pitch and she was smiling a lot more now. I hated it. I felt so gross because I didn’t have romantic feelings for this woman, but was deceiving her… huh… I like deceiving, so I guess that instance was at least somewhat justifiable.

Regardless, I pretended to be absolutely enthralled with her every word and even threw in a couple of laughs when I could tell she was trying to crack jokes. Before asking about the Zhents, I asked about her, in an attempt to continue my facade. I [gulps] brushed the back of her hand with my index finger, the same way Xavlith brushed mine during our first "date". She was severely blushing—disgusting. She answered my questions, then I pretended to just so happen to remember what the goal of the meeting was.

[fade to black]

Needless to say, we got extra ships and cargo real estate.

Also, I hate people.

Relationships

Jamna Gleamsilver

“They're gonna clean up your looks; With all the lies in the books; To make a citizen out of you”

“This is what you’ll think of me; It’s going down like I told you”

Jamna, the gnome wizard-assassin, was the closest person Shadow had to a parent. Though the stout woman seemed to love alcohol more than any living being, she held a soft spot for the wolf-boy orphaned by the world.

She first found Shadow on the 20th of Uktar—just five days after his revival—when he had been keeping to the unseen corners of Waterdeep. The assassin was on a low-profile mission to lighten the pockets of a local nobleman who had been slowly monopolizing a prime Zhentarim customer demographic. Jamna was about to round a corner and cut through an alleyway to her destination, when she spotted Shadow. The boy was sitting huddled on the cobblestone ground behind a large crate, bright yellow cat eyes returning a glare at the sound of her footsteps nearing.

Wary of the unexpected and unfamiliar presence, Jamna approached with caution.

“Who are you?”, Shadow snarled, “Come to hunt me like the rest of them?”, solidifying his stare. She had been reaching for her dagger, but her hand froze over the sheath at the question. “ … No. I should be more worried about who you are, kid. Where are your parents?”, Jamna retorted, with her slight drawl. “None of your business… but I don’t have any?”, Shadow responded confusedly. Eyes slowly growing wide and stance relaxing, she responded, “The streets aren’t any place for a kid. You don’t enjoy it, do you?”.

The Reborn’s eyes slowly transitioned to their normal state of pale yellow. “Why are you bothering with me?”, he deflected. Jamna climbed onto the brown crate Shadow was resting against, in an attempt to be closer to eye level. “I haven’t told anyone this, but you’re an exception—I feel like you’ll understand. I ran away from home… not a great place… not the worst, but definitely not good. I found a family with my current employers”, she continued with her drawl, “I want to extend the same opportunity to you”; a smirk grew across her face and a glint reflected in her eye.

Excited at the prospect of finding others like him, and others who would likely welcome him in, Shadow’s ears perked up to attention and twitched forward, his brows furrowing slightly. “What makes you think I trust you? You haven’t even introduced yourself and you’re already trying to recruit me into something you’ve given me no information on”, he rasped. The gnome’s eyes grew wide once again, this time at the perception of the stranger she underestimated.

“Hmph. You’re perceptive—I like you. I also think you’ll fit in just fine with the Zhentarim, kid”, she offered. “That’s who we are. By the way, I’m Jamna. I’m the person who’s gonna give you a better life. Now tell me about how you got here—literally here. And what’s your name, kid?”. “I…”, Shadow trailed off, unable and unwilling to share his story; this was his first taste of connection to another person, but he wasn’t yet able to place his full trust in this woman. “ … I’m Logan and… I don’t know. I just… walked here in the rain one night”, he admitted, only revealing bits of truth. He crafted and adopted a false identity for himself, one that he didn’t feel attached to, so he could abandon it at any moment; he felt similarly about his potential past life(ves) and current one. Jamna continued, “That’s fair, kid. But are you in or not?”.

Shadow’s face immediately responded with shock and fear at the ultimatum. He had only been alive for a few days, yet people were already seeking his aid. On the other hand, he was intrigued by her offer, and saw it as an opportunity to gain more insight into his existence. Finding the resolve needed to respond, Shadow proclaimed, “I’m in.”

THE BOY WITH THE CRESCENT MOON TATTOO: The Boy With the Crescent Moon Tattoo (A Shadow POV Short Story)

Vylet

“Suddenly I couldn't speak, it's like an angel walked into me”

“I lose my voice when I look at you, can’t find my voice, but I’m trying to”

Feb 6th 2022 @ 3:32am: boi literally exposed his burn scars during the double-date and all he got from her was an interrogation about Logan 😩🤌

Shadow isn’t sure where exactly he stands with Vylet; he knows he has romantic feelings for her, but this uncertainty is a cause of anxiety for him. He will do almost anything to protect Vylet and ensure her safety.

He first developed feelings for Vylet when they were fighting together in the Underdark and she used her Necrotic Shroud. Shadow was immediately drawn to her decaying, skeletal wings; for once, another being understood what it meant to have died, or have part of you die. He was drawn to her unconventional beauty, but was still wary of her.

They’ve recently shared many tender moments, including a kiss (uwu), but Shadow doesn’t know what his next steps with her should be. He displays love by actively protecting, yet Vylet is the first to charge into battle, with no regard for her personal safety; he feels useless in these scenarios. Further, she tends to erupt sporadically; he doesn’t want to always have to shoulder her anger.

She’s recently displayed more romantic behaviours, which makes Shadow rather nervous. He gets flustered because he doesn’t know how to respond to authentic love, or any kind, being shown towards him. He appreciates that she offered to let him read through Glasstaff’s spellbook (and also gave him a cool blue rock) because he honours/appreciates/puts knowledge on a pedestal.

They’ve recently shared their feelings for each other! Shadow wants to throw more of his love at Vylet, but he knows Lilian Carbin is likely watching him. He’s keeping his distance until he knows it’s safe to be physically affectionate with her again, and he hopes this doesn’t push her further away. During their time alone (when they shared their feelings for one another), Vylet had said that she’d go to the Mere of Dead Men with him, which broke Shadow in the best way possible. He had been tearing up prior, but immediately started crying when she told him this. Nobody had cared this much, or this deeply, about the Reborn until then.

After this conversation, and rescuing the prisoners from the Underdark, the pair had returned to the mine to retrieve The Mirror. Glasstaff’s dead body, along with Shadow’s dagger (stabbed in throat), fell out. Further, a shadowy figure spoke to them from The Mirror; it shattered afterwards. Seeing his arch nemesis again triggered deep-seated trauma for Shadow, to which he responded by repeatedly stabbing Glasstaff’s body. Though hyperfixated, he heard Vylet’s suggestion of burning the body; he repeatedly cast Greed Flame-Blade, severely burning himself in the process. During this event, Vylet used Glasstaff’s blood to write on the cave walls.

Once Shadow had come to, he soaked his arms in the pool of water he was next to, then vomited into the small body of water next to him. He questioned why Vylet didn’t stop him and an argument ensued. Wrapping one arm in his now-bloodsoaked hoodie (G’s blood), Shadow walked away in a mildly catatonic daze. The two shared some more choice words with each other as they arrived closer to the surface and Vylet’s necrotic wings unintentionally sprouted.

Shadow isn’t ready to forgive Vylet for hurting him, especially after she declined to be his girlfriend (though, admittedly, he asked at an inappropriate time). Now he’s angry with himself and Vylet; he allowed himself to give her Glasstaff’s glass staff: something extremely precious to him. At this point he’s considering ignoring her for the foreseeable future.

After spending some time apart while aiding Leilon in rebuilding efforts, and supporting each other through more battles, they’ve reconciled in Zephyros’ Tower. Shadow’s learned of the self-conscious side she’s developed as a result of her relationship with her family and now feels more love and empathy for Vylet. Learning more about her also gave Shadow enough bravery to open up a bit more about past experiences and people (mentioned Xavlith and their FWB relationship, plus how he killed Novus; apparently he had already shared the Novus story previously lol). Just before drifting into unconsciousness for the night in each other’s arms, they shared their true feelings for each other, and Shadow promised to eventually return the gold bracelet Vylet gave back to him (he bought it for her a while ago).

→ he's kind of done with feeling like her lapdog

→ he enjoys their time alone together, but he still feels that his love isn't being reciprocated

→ Vylet's general unpredictability is source of anxiety for Shadow (feelings for Xavlith are slowly resurfacing; he finds solace and comfort in Xav's predictability)

Caim

While Shadow knows he gets along with Caim, he also feels as though Caim is hiding something from the rest of the party.

Caim has shown him what it means to be well-rounded; someone who is capable of following what is generally considered “morally right”, as well as what is “morally wrong”. Having someone that can act as a guide for his conscience has been immensely helpful on his journey to figuratively navigating the world.

Shadow never feels judged by Caim, which is rather surprising, as he feels judged by literally everyone (whether they truly are or not). This is something he has only recently realized; the realization came after their encounter in Neverwinter. When in Neverwinter, Shadow learned of the racism Caim experienced. After that moment, it dawned on Shadow: people dislike my friend simply because he exists… he likely understands that I’ve been a victim of similar behaviour, as well.

Shadow has noticed that, while Caim has been a moral guide for him, he also has some questionable values and behaviours. For example, Caim still seems to side with Sildar (an alliteration lol). Shadow doesn’t appreciate this as Sildar had aggressively wedged his way into the group.

Though he doesn’t know much about Caim, he knows he’s a friend. Caim single-handedly rescued Shadow after the Underdark Incident with Vylet. Even as Shadow was screaming in terror from seeing the campfire on the surface, Caim managed to calm him down and carry him to a safe space. Further, the Tiefling went so far as to heal Shadow’s burns and let the Reborn sleep/meditate on his shoulder. For this, Shadow is eternally grateful.

After their battles at the Tower of Storms, Caim shared a bit of his backstory, which piqued Shadow’s interest. Not only did he have the opportunity to learn, but learn about his friend. Further, his respect for Caim has since doubled, as he agreed to considering attuning to the Eye of Dendallen, in exchange for Javelin of Lightning (found under Moesko’s altar).

Caim has since attuned to the Eye, an act Shadow deeply appreciates. Not only will Caim be able to see invisible enemies, but see Shadow when he casts Invisibility. The whole team was present for the gruesome and painful attunement process, but Shadow ensured that he was right next to Caim (I’m pretty sure Shadow actually held Caim’s Tiefling eye once Caim removed it).

→ Shadow would literally die for Caim

→ He only wants the best for the man that saved his life in the Underdark, as well as covered for him on multiple occasions

→ Will kill Narth if he so much as lays a finger on Caim; Shadow doesn't want him to hurt Caim

Lili’uokalani (Lily)

Shadow doesn’t understand Lily just yet and sees her as a bit of an enigma. He’s recently had a couple of opportunities to speak with her alone and feels as though he’s finally learning more about his new friend.

Recently, he’s connected with Lily on a deeper emotional level, something even he was surprised he was capable of doing. For someone who doesn’t like talking about feelings, Shadow opens up a lot around Lily. She tends to be really anxious, feeling as though she needs to shoulder everyone’s burdens, and be her version of perfect. Shadow wants her to see that he is actually inspired by her and is in awe of her magical abilities—especially Wildshaping!

Even though he gets himself, and the rest of the party, into trouble, she hasn’t given up on him. Shadow appreciates that there is someone he can rely on to literally have his back in battle, knowing that he’ll do the same for her.

Currently, they have a very neutral symbiotic relation that consists of them telling each other that they’re good people and healing each other in combat.

Shadow gave Lily a note that said “thank you for being a friend” on it; her reaction (smiling while reading and fixating on it) was enough to satisfy Shadow. Though he knows of the power his other 2 friends hold, he fears Lily’s the most, as she can take on terrifying beast forms. Her reaction was confirmation and validation that Lily doesn’t hate and wants to continue working alongside him.

The party has been helping restore Leilon after a Giant attack. After completing his patrol for the day, Shadow saw Lily walking by. This was the night of a full moon, meaning that his tattoo was glowing. After a long conversation in a tree, including him opening up about Xavlith and murdering his father, Lily opened up to him. He asked if Lily ever had to leave family behind (in Shadow’s case, the Zhents), to which she told him that her family left her. Shadow was shocked by this response, but is now even more curious about his friend. He respects and appreciates the wisdom that his Sea Elf companion brings and feels even closer to her.

Further, he came out as bisexual to her, and learned that she has romantic feelings for women, implied by her not responding to his question and answer (“what kinds of people do you like?”; “I like both guys and girls”), then visiting the Sun Elf.

Lily has consistently been a mentor, friend and shoulder to cry on. After the Underdark Incident, Shadow developed an intense pyrophobia. However, with Lily’s assistance, Shadow was able to cast Green Flame-Blade again; it sapped his strength to focus on casting, but he still accomplished what he believed to be the impossible. They now have the code words “Wela” and “Ae”, which mean “Heat” and “Yes” in Aquan; Shadow will shout “Wela”, while looking at Lily, when he wants to cast GFB, and Lily will look back (if possible) and respond with “Ae”. Knowing that someone is literally and figuratively looking out for Shadow reminds him he’s not alone in any fight, even one against himself.

Glasstaff

Feb 6th 2022 @ 3:40am: bruh, I've really gotta write about how Shadow was captured by this dick rag of a human (he totally wasn't a halfling or shifter back then haha)

Wants nothing more than to seek revenge by torturing him; also wants to avenge others hurt by Glasstaff. Through whatever means necessary, Shadow wants to extract as much information out of him as possible. He would love nothing more than to watch Glasstaff bleed dry in front of him, by his own hand.

Shadow technically killed Glasstaff, and felt good about it for a moment, until he realized what he had done. He felt so powerful taking the man’s life with his own staff, but seeing his friends’ reactions, and realizing that the build-up to this moment was over, broke him mentally. He went into a mildly catatonic state, lingering depression with him wherever he went.

Though disconnected from the world, he still slowly and quietly explored Glasstaff’s hideout room & ended up finding a Scroll of Remove Curse for Vylet (though he didn’t know what it was at the time).

After all survivors were accounted for, Shadow and Vylet returned to the Underdark to retrieve The Mirror. When they found The Mirror, Glasstaff’s dead body, complete with Shadow’s dagger, fell out. Shadow’s deep-seated trauma resurfaced at this sight and he began stabbing the corpse repeatedly. Being in a hyperfixated state he didn’t see or hear Vylet, but only made out her saying “burn”. He responded by casting Green Flame-Blade as he stabbed, severely burning himself in the process. Shadow still lives in shame, his scarred forearms serving as a reminder to learn to control his own mind.

Zephyros

Shadow has the utmost respect for Zephyros and considers him an ally. The Cloud Giant was transparent about information Shadow requested and has offered the group a safe place to rest. However, he is still weary of the Giant, as nobody the Reborn has met has ever been this friendly upon initially meeting.

MISC INFO (October 12/21)

Secretly a really skilled and talented traditional artist

Probably really good at breakdancing

Can dance other established dance styles (i.e Waltz & Foxtrot), but only because he's studied people & their movement, and is aware of how his own body movements

He lacks technique, but his overall form, rhythm and style are passable (established dance styles)

Will literally drop everything if offered a jam-filled biscuit (or anything with jam lmfao) or mint tea

Secretly misses Jamna… but only a little bit. Wants to send her a letter and visit when he can

Wants more tattoos, but is worried they'll become identifiers

Wants to make his Zhent tat invisible. He's scared of removing it completely, though he knows he shouldn't continue his Zhent involvement

Would spend literal days (and suffer a point/level of exhaustion) in a library, just to read and learn

God forbid someone introduce him to iced coffee because he'd probably get addicted lmao

Loves Vylet, but still has lingering feelings for Xavlith. He knows their relationship was purely superficial, but a part of Shadow feels that Xavlith will love him more deeply

Quite literally would rather cut off his toes than be forced to attend a Gala/dance/ritzy social event

Idk. He's bi, he's shy, he's hot. It's 4am. I just laughed bc a random song on Spotify came on and said "sex and the tiddies". I'm also tearing up bc my boi has so much Trauma™ (but also??? I gave that to him??)

I'm gonna sleep lol bye

#dndoc #dnd character #dnd #backstory

1 note · View note

harrison-abbott · 1 year ago

Text

[A Trip to Paris. Part I.]

Spill upwards and out into the air,

Span across the length of the nation.

Clouds ease by in brilliant white cotton shapes,

Making you wish you were a giant and could touch them,

The way there’s that urge to burst a

Bubble you see flying near you, or that

Instinct to catch a floating feather.

Mind that it’s only just morning – with that

Fresh colour in the sky like waters of remote streams …

And it is quite a stunning thing to be alive

And such moments as these make you feel a

Different person, or rather

You tend to forget the woe that often bothers you.

Is that London! To see the metropolis from such

A height, and the Thames so tiny, the skyscrapers

These little dominoes or like pieces

In a Monopoly game; and you

Imagine or recall how cramped and manic

That city is with its nine million inhabitants

And from this range it’s a mini boardgame.

And then the plane goes onwards to the very

South of the UK and you know the map,

The shape of the country

Having seen it on paper or screens so often, but,

Here you can see that final triangle in

Brazen array, and the sea chasing the ivory cliffs.

In not too long a time we’re over the fields of

Europe.

A special kind of grace … to observe the green and

Brown squares and their fringes of verdigris trees.

The plane descends and goes into the clouds

And there is nothing but rushing mist beyond the windows.

These open up into the stark mechanical buildings

Outside of the city; and when the plane arrives

There’s a thumping satisfying jolt on the runway.

Then the bustle and confusion of the airport with two

Thousand other people mostly all feeling

Befuddled as well.

But you get the train tickets to take you

Unto the citadel

And it really wasn’t that tricky

And the airport workers who help you

Out probably think you ditsy and so they should.

Anyway, let’s bounce.

The announcer on the speakers proclaims

Each name of the station as you prevail;

You always thought that the sound of the

French language was half balletic and half rash.

And yet the English language would be totally

Different if it weren’t for the French.

There’s a stop nearer to your hotel but you

Decide to get off further down in the most-famous

Part of town, as to your introduction to France.

That uber cathedral that springs up in international

Knowledge very oft’: and, oh, there it is – after

Heading up the tunnels of the Metro and out into

The hot windy sunny space.

Siene, there is the Siene, hurtling in camouflage-green

Arteries all bashing together, and the open topped

Boats with the folks on board snapping shots of the

Lofty alabaster buildings lining the river.

Downriver you venture; your hotel not being open

For check-in yet and so you may as well wander.

Plush restaurants each place you glance.

With flowery decorations on their signs; and as

We weave further, the cafes with their maroon canopies

Beholding TABAC, with little pools of men and women

(mostly ladies) smoking on their chairs,

With those short violent gusts of tobacco smoke

That you don’t normally like back home but

You seem to get a kick out of when travelling.

The ladies wear tights and they often have thick eyebrows,

Or differently shaped jaw structures from what you’re used to.

There are policemen standing in pockets with their hands on

Their hips and they talk and laugh in loud volume,

And by the by a group of workie men in orange fluorescence

That you catch a few words of as you pass.

More police chaps whizz by on flashing motorcycles;

And several times there are ambulances that whoosh by

With their sirens screeching neehnaww in manic echoes.

You get to a certain part of the city. That second-most iconic name

(one could argue) of Paris; the bit where the first revolution

Exploded over two hundred and thirty years back.

There’s a monument, nowadays, a long column, alit,

Engraved and inscribed. And, do you know, it’s sealed

Off with fences taller than three men. But somebody

Has climbed over them and graffitied the monument,

With the words, ‘STOP GENOCIDE’ in red spray paint.

You often found the history of the French revolutions scary

And gory, and, well, that’s what they were like.

Guillotines, mass public mayhem, rife public hatred.

It was ironic that they had made this monument as an

Ode to all of that uber destruction; and not passing any judgement:

It only seemed a weird thing to celebrate violence.

But, then, you’d literally just left the UK, where

It was 5th of November, and people were still

Fizzing fireworks four hundred years after similar

Actions in London, which hardly anybody

In the modern age knew anything about:

They were only keen on colour and gunpowder these days.

The hotel is opening soon so let’s head over there.

The trees line the streets either side of the roads

In direct beneficial order and they’re all mature trees

And yet seem to fit exactly well into the urban zeal of

The arena

And this is one of your favourite features about

This continent,

From each sublime city you’ve adventured around.

Beside the trees are clogged missions of bicycles

In lime green and lemony yellow, and you have to be

Wary of the mobile cyclists that pop and zing by you

On the pavements, also stuffed with the fat vermillion

Bins and the pigeons that waddle prettily around your shoes.

You get to the hotel. Up to reception and there are two women

There, maybe a tad younger than you. You’d thought that

It would be more formal but they just give you the keys

And then that’s it and one of them smiles in that way that

Some people do well and other’s cant.

Up to the room where you’ll live for the next three days.

It is on the top floor. And when you get inside, and after

You’ve taken off your bags and coat, you open the window

And look down at the sheer deathworthy drop below you,

The expanse of noisy urbanity underneath;

And if you look to the left you can see a whole quarter mile

Streak of Paris, simmering in the mega moment.

#writeblr #creative writing #writers on tumblr #tumblr writers #poetry #travel writing #poets on tumblr #travel poetry #paris #france #europe #travelling

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621001000 · 1 year ago

Text

ₕₑᵣₘₑₜɪₛᵢₐ ₀

[ Connection entangled. Terminal successfully reported. Awaiting logs... ]

[ Logs loaded. Continuing decryption... ]

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Translating 0.005...

. . .

There were multiple iterations of this moment in time. In one, there was a live broadcast about the theories surrounding Pyrolysis and the mask cult that are supposed to be too dangerous to learn about. In another, there were credit logs of the Apeirophilia—Apeirophobia's sister ship, before it went out of the gates. The most interesting and rarest information I could find was the one regarding the frozen cabin from six years ago and the four consecutive missions that investigated the corpses inside it. In all of these iterations, there was one common point: the ship is always sent to Eihsta.

Just as in any prohibited place, I needed a ticket to get to Eihsta. I got a few cargo jobs as camouflage first, specifically targeting those for Eihsta. Albeit the photographs in the iterations' records about a certain place, cabin or city, in some untraceable part of the kingdom, I couldn't find anything even with my connections. Maybe I'm just not looking hard enough.

As usual, I made a tribute to the Human Being, promising them love and devotion. The Being guided me towards the path of the arid desert. Then, there was at the middle of it all, an iteration which I could be a part of. I set sail towards its origin, and found myself browsing through the Being's never ending library. I think the Perfection is slowly becoming aware of my presence. I hope they choose to find me.

At last, I have found a cabin resembling the photos in the inside one of the caverns. I enter it, and I come face to face with flames serving as a barrier not to go through. I sense their watchful eyes and take a step forward. My faith does not betray me. The flames neither burn blaze not melt. It doesn't reach me when I try to touch it. I walk on to finish my journey.

And for some reason, I found it. It was a joke, like some sort of alternate reality game that someone has been working on for decades.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[ Info discarded ]

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dbgdbw · 2 years ago

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232화

Hyung’s Here (1)

A doll that was the spitting image of Han Yoojin sat propped in a chair. Completely lax with its eyes closed, it seemed as though he were just fast asleep. Looking only at how the chest rose and fell in small motions, it really did seem like a real human. But neither the sound of breathing, nor of a heart pumping, could be heard.

Sigma gazed down at the doll before extending a hand. The unresisting manner in which it swayed to and fro was supremely dull. But that a decoy doll had been the only thing left there, wasn’t boring in the least.

“It appears I vastly underestimated him.”

A smile spread across his lips.

He hadn’t expected the C-rank to obediently stay in one place. But neither had he anticipated that, against all odds, he’d manage to pull off an escape this cleanly.

They’d made certain to verify that he didn’t possess any Skills that would disable the inventory locking collar. But even so, through some means, he’d managed to unlock the collar and substitute himself with a dummy while being surveilled by an A-rank Guard, before fleeing.

As his body had been thoroughly searched and his inventory sealed away, it wouldn’t have been an Item. But that being said, it wouldn’t have been a Skill, either. Nor would he have had outside help.

‘A dead end.’

With the knowledge he possessed, he was unable to locate an answer. At the very least, escaping wouldn’t have been possible with only the abilities the beings in this world possessed. His heart beat slightly faster from that fact.

A lowly C-rank, at most. How had he.

“These items are assumed to have been left behind by the C-rank.”

The belongings an S-rank Guard brought over were laid out on a table in order. A few sub A-rank Items, and a bed roll. Seeing that, Sigma’s eyes narrowed.

“Goodness, it would hardly do for him to catch cold from forced exposure to the elements.”

“...Sir?”

At Sigma’s words, which seemed to sound as though he were concerned for the runaway C-rank, the S-rank Guard floundered momentarily.

“Erm, the Items that disappeared from the S-rank use armory number seven in total. They were confirmed as being five S-ranks, and two SS-ranks.”

It was only when one of the S-rank Guards returning from patrol had gone into the armory for weapons maintenance, that it was revealed that something had happened to the Items within. Receiving a report log of the Items the C-rank had stolen, the corners of Sigma’s lips curled upwards.

In only the span of a few days, he’d industriously gnawed his way through a commendable share before successfully scurrying away.

“We’ll send out the arrest order once more. This time, since we have a photo as well–”

“No. He won’t be found, in any case.”

The first time hadn’t been any different from him walking in on his own two feet, too. An arrest order would be pointless. Moreover, there was a high probability that he had already left Solemnis City.

Sigma cast another glance over the report logging the C-rank’s prior movements.

The call-in that had happened immediately after the arrest orders had fallen had mentioned the C-rank had shown an interest in a Guard with pyromantic Skills, Achates City’s Alpha. And he’d asked after Achates City when he’d visited the barrier wall observation outpost, too. A two days’ worth journey by car, from Solemnis City to Achates City.

‘A scooter with a camouflaging Skill, and sustenance lasting two days.’

It had been part of the C-rank’s shopping agenda. When all of those things were viewed together, it wasn’t difficult to guess where the C-rank’s destination might be.

“He’d be outside the city, then.”

“Come again? But, isn’t he only in possession of C-rank stats, without an attack Skill no less. Even with the camouflaging Skill, a reserve tank of a C-rank that lacks a mana seal shouldn’t be able to go even a day.”

On top of that, it was apparently a camouflaging Skill that was estimated to be S-rank at minimum. As the higher the Skill level, the higher the amount of mana required, it was dubious whether an ordinary C-rank would be able to even make it a half-day, as an optimistic estimation. As the S-rank Guard mentioned that it would be tantamount to suicide, Sigma’s smile deepened.

“If he were ordinary, yes.”

“...you suspect that he had an accomplice?”

“No.”

“Then, why…….”

The S-rank Guard wore an expression that said they didn’t understand. If the C-rank Awakened had hopped the barrier wall on his lonesome, then there was no reason to go looking for him. Since, he would have perished before the time the night was over. But Sigma seemed to think differently. Right as he was about to open his mouth.

콰앙! 쾅!

From not far off, the sound of explosions was heard. It was followed by the groaning of a building caving in, with vibrations that reached all the way to where they were. Immediately afterwards, the door to the room opened to admit a Guard wearing an in-ear piece, who darted inside with a report.

“A bomb is said to have gone off in building B-2! There appears to have been around ten or so successive blasts… As they were all concentrated on one floor, at present, the building is……”

In the midst of collapsing. The Guard, who had been about to report as much, slacked their jaws in shock. Sigma was laughing audibly. A low, subdued laugh diffused into the air, threading between the rumble of concrete chunks raining down.

“Not bothering to hold back on his punches, I see. Quite the stinging blow.”

If it had been an S-rank, or even an A-rank, he probably wouldn’t have felt so entertained. But it was a C-rank, who hadn’t even been established as a Guard, who had managed to merrily frolic his way through and even make a clean escape.

“Contact Achates City. Tell them I’ve agreed to take on their request for aid in subduing Alpha.”

“Sir? Then, you’ll be traveling to Achates City in person?”

“Correct. See to the preparations.”

To tell the truth, he wanted to depart immediately, but leaving one’s home city was far from an easy endeavor. Most importantly, one could only recharge their mana via seal at their affiliate Mana Hole. As the mana itself remained one and the same, no matter which Mana Hole it originated from, it was possible to utilize outsourced fuel tanks–but the problem lay in the potential of being refused access to those reserves.

For this reason, they’d need to arrange for a retinue of fuel tanks in advance, as well as plan to go equipped with sufficient firepower. Especially for a place like Achates City, where Guards were met with an unfavorable reception, an even higher level of precaution became necessary.

“This will be the first time in a while that you’ll have left your post, sir. So long as an anomalous situation, like the one in Goldburg Park, does not emerge, there should be a respite of about a week or so.”

“Submit a backup request to Lanchaea’s Lambda. Inform them I’ll be personally visiting Achates.”

“...though, to tell the truth, I’m uncertain why you’re going to these lengths.”

Even while bemused, the S-rank Guard made to comply with their orders. Both Guards left the room. The other building seemed to have finished collapsing, in the meanwhile, as silence had returned to the area. Within the quietness of the moment, Sigma’s gaze drifted back towards the doll that sat in the chair. In faded eyes that had sunken into dullness, a light was beginning to glint once more.

***

- 삐이익!

I heard the sound of birds. From above where the breaking daylight dappled through the canopy of trees, the flurry of feathers as a flock of birds took off carried over through the air.

‘Would it have gone off, nowabouts.’

10 IEDs, at 20.000 points per unit. I’d made sure to hide each one well when I installed them in their respective locations. I’d set them to go off around sunrise or so, so they should’ve done a good job, right? Though the detonation power contained in each unit didn’t amount to a whole lot, since I’d gathered them all on one floor, with a bit of strategic positioning, they might’ve even managed to cave the building in altogether.

If having to deal with the situation bought me a bit more time, that would be nice.

Taking out a few cans of food from my pack, I popped them open. Using the fork that had come attached to the one that contained what looked similar to meatballs, I chewed on the food. The meat they ate here really did taste pretty alright, as far as I was concerned. Even without being reheated, it was still palatable.

‘Traveling during the day should definitely be safer than at night.’

Though I’d already resolved to stake a few lives if necessary, the world outside of the barrier wall had been surprisingly safe thus far. With my camouflaging Skill bumped up to S-rank through an Item buff, monsters hadn’t been able to find me, and the high-rank monsters were preoccupied with hunting down the mid- to low-ranked monsters as well.

The camouflaging Skill applied to the scooter had been B-rank, and so only came up to about A-rank even when supplemented with my own Skill, which had made me feel slightly concerned–but barely any of the monsters paid any attention to the scooter. Though I’d been on the receiving end of a few S-rank monsters’ gazes, they’d left to give chase to other lower-ranked monsters instead.

Thankfully, I hadn’t run into any SS-rank monsters.

‘During the daytime, the low-ranked monsters disappear, while the high-ranked monsters probably nod off after filling their stomachs. I wonder if a type of ecosystem’s taken hold.’

Finishing off the simple meal, I tossed the empty can and drink container along the road. Littering was bad, of course, but since this world wasn’t real.

Just then, a message window popped up.

[ ☆★ Hidden Quest Complete!! ☆★]

What, again. And after I’d already gotten a hidden quest achievement notification from successfully escaping from the Solemnis Defense Association stronghold and shaking down the armory, too. Was it a hidden quest related to the explosives I’d set off, this time.

‘...that Newcomer, is he observing my actions and adding these quests as I go, or something..’

It was suspicious. They’d mentioned that both the Skill names and descriptions were written up after the fact, too, right. At any rate, it seemed highly likely that the same would go for the hidden quests. Case in point, there were those Leopard Cat’s shoes that had dropped as part of the same set.

Well, though it was still better than getting nothing. With a heart of gratitude for the Newcomer’s hard work, I opened the quest complete window.

[ Brazen Bomber!

You’ve managed to topple one of the Solemnis Defense Administration’s buildings, teeming with high-ranked Guards. Truly a display of boldness that speaks of your clear disregard towards living to see tomorrow!!(1)

Reward: 100,000P, Dragon’s Breath Bomb(SS) x 3 ]

Dragon’s Breath bombs? And they were SS-rank Items, at that. Since they were bombs, they should be single-use only, but to hand over three of them to me, did they want me to blow something else up again or what. Even if this place might not be real, I’d been going about things maybe a bit too gung-ho–but weren’t they just fanning the flames like this.

[ Dragon’s Breath Bomb - SS-grade

An explosive containing the might of the highest grade Dragon’s Breath. Timer and remote control options available.

Single use ]

It felt too precious to use. So long as nothing came up, I should pack it to bring with me when I left. If they told me I couldn’t bring it with me because it was a game Item, I was going to cry.

Safely tucking away the bombs in my inventory, I revved up the scooter again. As I’d ended up staying up the night, a small yawn slipped out. Whether night or day, as resting peacefully was out of the question, running the next forty-eight hours nonstop was my only choice. It was fortunate that my stats were C-rank.

If I had remained an F-rank as before, I probably would’ve been forced to take breaks however I could, out of fear of falling asleep at the wheel. Because the road conditions were so rough, just driving the scooter took up a significant amount of stamina. I wished that, as soon as I arrived in Achates City, Yoohyunie would sweep me up in a welcome while telling me rest as much as you want, hyung.

‘I wish I could see the kids. I really, really miss them.’

It had been a long time since I’d been left alone like this. Since, after I’d regressed, there had always been someone left by my side. My only consolation was that, as everyone other than myself weren’t occupying their real bodies, they weren’t in any danger of actually dying. Otherwise, with my fear resistance rank having dropped as well, I would’ve been distressed by such a prospect.

…if only our world had been able to utilize the virtual reality system too, after all. As that kind of thought occurred to me, I unconsciously grit my teeth. Even if VR had its own set of risks, even then, so many things would’ve been different. Though it might just be a case of the grass appearing greener on the other side too.

‘...let’s concentrate on how to get as much as I can from here instead.’

I’d meet up with Yoohyunie, track down the others as well, then rack up a mountain of points. So that both Yoohyunie and Yerimie could obtain a new weapon each, before leaving. Skills would be nice, too.

Ah, I wanted to see the kids. Hyuna-ssi too, for certain, and it even felt like I might miss Sung Hyunjae. The loneliness felt bitter.

—

Much like Solemnis’ own, a towering boundary wall emerged in my field of vision. Not only the height of the wall, but the watchtowers placed at even intervals took on a similar format as well. Had the cities all been set up around the same time, I wondered. Without releasing the camouflaging Skill, I gazed at the barrier wall under the early morning sunlight.

The distance from Solemnis to Achates was said to be two days by car; so, though the scooter was fairly high-performance, it was unsurprisingly slower than a four-wheeled vehicle. It had taken an additional half day on top of the baseline two, but having left during the night meant that I’d ended up staying up a consecutive three days. My eyelids felt weighted down, and sighs continually climbed up my throat.

‘Should I hop the wall, or go in through the door.’

During the day, the guard rotation for Solemnis’s barrier wall comprised primarily B-rank Guards. That was swapped for A-rank Guards at night, when the new batch of monsters would spawn. Since the monster spawning patterns seemed to be consistent across the board, wouldn’t Achates operate the same way.

‘And if it’s a B-rank, getting away won’t be a problem.’

Taking out the ID I’d kept safe up to this point, I ducked behind a tree before releasing my camoflauging Skill. In order to hide the fact that I didn’t have a seal, I took out a bandana from my pack and tied it around my neck.

It could be that Yoohyunie had already sent word to the Guards in charge of the city entrance in advance. That, if someone called Han Yoojin were to come looking, to welcome me in and bring me to him. He might’ve even ordered them to just notify him once it happened, so that he could come out to meet me himself.

Yoohyun-ah, hyung’s here. With a fluttering heart, I headed towards the comparatively smaller-looking entrance embedded within the larger barrier wall. The door was just big enough to allow passage for a vehicle to pass through.

“Pardon me, please open the door!”

I shouted towards the observation tower while waving an arm, and shortly afterwards, the door opened. An armed B-rank Guard approached me, without ever lowering their guard.

“I’m Han Yoojin, of Medsang City. Here–my ID, and transportation papers.”

“Ah, so you’ve arrived from Medsang.”

At my words, the B-rank Guard’s expression relaxed noticeably. Medsang seemed to produce mostly healers and support-type Guards, so perhaps the reception given by the other cities was easier. It seemed that the Newcomer had intentionally prepared the ID to facilitate the process.

Having verified both the ID and transportation pass with a machine, the Guard expressed a welcome and moved back to allow me through. Yoohyunie… didn’t seem to have sent word ahead. Then again, he might’ve refrained from mentioning anything with my safety in mind, too. Since if it was someone that was precious to an SS-rank Guard, they might end up being kidnapped as a hostage.

“The journey here was long and difficult, so being welcomed like this has been immensely heartening and gratifying. Thank you for the hard work you’re doing, defending the city.”

Wearing a personable smile, I offered them a drink taken from my pack. Expressing their thanks, the Guard took the proffered drink.

“Though you’re registered as a C-rank support, I’ll escort you to the city center nevertheless. The ghettos on the outskirts of the city are inevitably dangerous, you see. Riding a scooter instead of a car, there’s a high chance you may end up being ambushed.”

“Thank you. Then, apologies for the inconvenience, but I’ll be in your care.”

“As it so happens to be the time for a shift change, it’s no problem at all.”

How thoughtful of them. The Guard brought over a military-edition jeep that had a luggage compartment in the back. Putting the scooter away in the luggage compartment, I slid into the passenger seat.

“Seeing how you managed to make it here without incident, the scooter seems to have a fairly high level camouflaging Skill applied to it.”

“Yes, it did cost a pretty penny. Making it here without a camouflaging Skill, would’ve been nigh impossible.”

The amiability seemed to be because they'd caught the scent of money on me. So long as they served as a useful guide, then leaving a generous tip would be no problem at all. I might not’ve had currency, but I had plenty of items. The amount I could get from selling even one A-rank item was far from a pittance. And my dongsaeng was likely leaps and bounds better off than I was. If you managed a good performance, then I had no qualms about leaving a good word with him for you.

“About Achates’s Alpha-nim.”

After talking about frivolous matters for a while, I brought up the topic I was most interested in. Alpha. Almost immediately in response to the word being mentioned, the Guard’s expression stiffened.

“So it appears you’ve already heard the news, in that case.”

News? I hadn’t heard anything, but figured I should play along.

“Ah, yes. Of course I’ve heard. Though, as an outsider, I’m not clear on the details of the matter.”

“Since it was such a big incident, it’s unsurprising that some of the news might have leaked to the outside. But the compromised Alpha was safely subdued, and is being securely monitored by the Defense Association, so please do not worry too much.”

…’compromised’ and then ‘subdued’, what kind of dogshit was this.

-----

(1) 간을 배박에 내어놓은 듯한

#232화 #the s classes that i raised #tsctir #sctir

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kim-monsterlings · 4 years ago

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monster matchy👉👈? im 20 y/o enfp gay man who aspires to work in forensics or in ecology. i like monsters like nagas, merfolk, vampires, demons, fair folk (like the WEIRD ones) and driders. obvs big fan of nature but i also play the guitar and used to be a competitive figure skater. my love language is acts of service, no pref for him. BIG fan of there was only one bed, either sfw/nsft is good (a lil both? lol). hope thats enough info if theyre closed rn lmk ill drop you a kofi when they open

Keir - M Drider x M Human (Reader) // NSFW Monster Match

Anon monster match <3 I hope you love him!

Matches under the read more!

Content: NSFW/Lemon; colleagues to lovers, friends to lovers, flirting, teasing, hints of intimacy (hugging, massaging), only one bed (made of webbing), neck kissing (+ hints of marking), receiving handjob (+ release, not explicit), kissing, allusions to more (+ anal fingering)

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

By necessity some time long ago, the creature you adored now more than any hadn't made the best of first impressions. Creeping from the forest on eight legs trembling worse than leaves he ducked beneath, the drider hesitated several feet before you, pedipalps tucked tight to his abdomen.

Though not the only drider in your company, the camouflage patterns to his darker fur mesmerised you. For how terribly uneasy he was that day - his hand soft in yours, fingers slender and shaking in the briefest of introductions - he hadn't faltered since.

The grace and balance of maneuvering such a large frame enthralled you into admiring him at any opportunity - always endeavouring to without him noticing, though you were certain he had. When his four, glinting eyes crinkled with a smothered mirth, you hid your stares.

It was a curse and blessing that for many weeks, your relationship remained one constrained by professionalism. You worked together brilliantly in discussing plans for sharing land sought after by those in towns and cities, and those living in the woods. With input from those on either perspective, there were tensions.

Until Keir understood you sided with him, not wishing for anyone to be displaced. His proposal was one ensuring everyone retained a fair share, and when he turned to you during his presentation - an attempt to persuade you, his mandibles slackened.

"Really," you said, smothering your laugh as he only swallowed. "I support this. I do."

It felt like it was the first time he looked at you.

Come next morning, Keir brought a warm drink for you - your favourite, and from that day, free time passed together. Where you before enjoyed lunch amongst other colleagues, you preferred the peace of only eating with Keir.

Your working relationship became something more through a blurring of lines.

Before you needed to complain of your exhaustion, gentle touches would comfort you, easing the pain of stress between your temples. When Keir needed to rest his legs after supporting him all day, he would curl at your side, cheek resting against your shoulder.

Travelling together blurred boundaries impossibly more. He remained ever patient through your unsubtle staring, and on a long journey he smiled slightly.

"You can say what's on your mind," he murmured, eyelashes fluttering as he blinked away a light sleep. "You have questions."

Too many to speak of, and he indulged you in all. The journey became a learning experience for each of you; Keir demonstrated how to cradle the delicate webbing often pooling beneath him in sleep, and you helped him learn how to play guitar, an instrument he had a natural affinity for.

Sometimes, he pretended not to, seeking your help, and you would press your bodies tight together, arms against his in explaining the strings once more.

This trip was longer than any other and after the cramped travel, Keir retired sooner to your shared room, the hotel only having the one vacancy when booked.

"Keir?"

Soft humming greeted you. Surrounded by a great expanse of webbing glittering in the late sunlight, the drider was in his element, such a unique sight you were left speechless. It spanned from wall to wall - in place of any beds.

"Oh," he breathed. "I'm sorry. We never share, I... I forgot."

By the depth to the webbing, it was larger than any he had created for himself before, as though made for two. Keir looked down when you reached out, his mandibles chittering when the webbing pulled.

"Do you want to share with me?"

"On my web?"

This time, you didn't hide your smile. "In your arms, too."

Drabble

Times traveling apart were rarer with how important your work was. When Keir returned into the dark forest after parting goodbyes or you venturing into the city further than he was comfortable with, though it stung in the moment - watching your love fade from the sight, their face blurring, it never hurt long. No matter how distanced, knowing your boyfriend was waiting to reunite helped.

From sharing the night together, your relationship blossomed naturally. That night, you discovered how a drider's web reacted to the softer skin of a human, how it clung to your frame as you woke tucked close to Keir, bound tight. For such a new relationship, you spared no time before returning to that position - bodies entwined, Keir experimenting with spinning softer threads to have your body positioned to his liking.

Those memories remained with you so clearly when apart, as sweet as those made beyond a bed.

While you continued to help Keir with the guitar (though how much you helped over hindering was a mystery), he taught you how to hunt, how to scavenge.

Your initial appraisal held true - that of admiring his grace. It extended beyond the forest planes when you found an iced over lake, one frozen thick enough not to splinter beneath you. Webbing shone on his legs in his excitement.

Those dates, however sweet, paled against the thrill of reuniting. Keir always arrived first to prepare the room for your stay. With your bags resting in the doorway, your boyfriend pressed close, mandibles nipping at your sensitive nape. He coaxed you into his elaborately woven trap with gentle kisses.

"Missed you," he whispered, speaking softly as you shivered. "How long do we have?"

Little more than a fortnight before moving on, but you couldn't speak as you arched into the clinging webbing. Slender fingers peeled your clothes back until you were aching and warmed by soft fur to your back.

"Long enough," you said, "for us to have some fun."

The slick of his emerging length nudged against your back. "Fun, hey?"

Hand curled into your hip to steady you, Keir began to grind himself against your thighs. He stroked over your twitching cock and sighed when you managed to turn to steal a soft kiss, the first always the sweetest after so long apart.

Desperate for him and whatever he would give you, bucking into his flexing palm became a mindless reflex, seeking the high he was so quick to give you. Your bodies warmed against his webbing when you leaned into him, his touches turning lower.

Two weeks had barely begun, and you were aching already.

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years ago

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California Christmas, Pt 3

Lena is also friends with Michael, through their mothers, obviously, and all three of them are friendly enough. Michael expresses an interest in catching up with Kara before dashing off.

After the dinner, Kara expresses her surprise at seeing Lena’s party-girl ways. Lena apologizes, citing she doesn’t know what came over her-- she guesses she just got caught up in the energy of everyone else and just slipped into old camouflaging tactics that she used to fit in and make friends. Kara understands, assuaged that how Lena is at the farm isn’t just some act she puts on.

They end up in the Roosevelt Room, where Lena explains that it’s where they’ll share their first dance. She puts on some music, and the two of them sway gently to the song. Kara’s concerns melt away in Lena’s arms-- Lena is sure and solid and true. She has nothing to worry about.

Nothing except Andrea lurking, watching darkly from an enclave above.

The next morning, Kara finds an article online announcing the Christmas Eve wedding (and wondering who Kara is, as the article assumes that Lena is marrying Andrea). When she explores the city on her own, she wanders into a charity mission, where she finds a donkey as part of a manger scene for the holidays-- who’s not doing well being fed on frozen green beans. But the real shock is that Michael is there as well.

Michael runs the soup kitchen (and is responsible for both the nativity scene and the donkey-- Kara quickly explains the proper care and feeding). He shares that his organization just lost their funding, so it looks like this years nativity will be the last. Kara sticks around for the performance (in which Michael plays Joseph) but leaves soon after.

At Luthor Corp, Lena is finding that Andrea has not been managing the company at all since Lillian left. There are unsigned contracts resulting in potentially catastrophic loss, taxes haven’t been paid, and suppliers are dropping left and right. But Andrea claims that the focus is the gala-- once everyone is awed and amazed by the opulence and the considerable gifts to be levied, they’ll have new investors and all their worries will magically disappear.

Kara joins her in the office, and ends up in the middle of Lena and Andrea arguing about what to focus on. Andrea remains adamant that the gala will fix everything, but Lena believes that salvaging things with the suppliers is most important. Lillian was the face of the company, and with her gone the trust and loyalty of their network has disappeared. They need to regain that if the company is going to survive.

It’s Kara’s suggestion to get personal with the suppliers-- get some face time in, relying on some country charm to help set them apart from other big city companies. She suggests they call each of Luthor Corp’s suppliers to thank them for their business, wish them a happy holidays and that they’re looking forward to seeing them at the holiday gala, and to doing business with them for many years to come.

Andrea refuses to make any such calls. She’s not a receptionist after all. So Lena happily tells her that she’ll do it herself-- with Kara’s willing help, of course. Together they spend all day on the phone, charming their people and cementing their place in their suppliers’ minds. In the evening they relax on the patio of Lena’s hotel suite, looking out over the city. Kara can find a certain beauty of the city from up here. Even down on the streets, there’s a vibrancy, a rhythm like the beating of a human heart.

Part of her quietly wonders how Lena could ever have given it up.

#california christmas au #supercorp

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synric-silversong · 2 years ago

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Understanding Pride

Part 1- Limitations

Part 2- Challenges

Part 3- Faellyn’s Gift

Part 4- Understanding Pride

Two weeks passed and in that time, Synric managed to carve his teleportation rune, gave it a test run, and then was over the wall using the rest of his time getting himself lost. Walls were strangely taller, harder to see over and too climb. Passageways seemed to zig-zag and run up and down, broken in many sections requiring magic to jump or better equipment he simply did not have and could not get with the amount of coins he had.

Beyond those problems, he still had the ogres to attend too. Not only were they more numerous, many of them called some of these buildings homes, there were ones specialized in magic and others in armor. Synric ran into several patrols that chased him without question, and no matter what techniques he had picked up beforehand, he could never quite lose them. No matter how far away he got, or managed to slip back around, they always seemed to find him. He assumed magic had to be at play. When he finally did lose them, he was normally in a different section of the city that he had not seen before. Thus, he was lost once more. There were a few days he had to sleep in the old elf city. Luckily he never grew truly lost, the trees could always be seen when he climbed up, or as he learned the best way to navigate the city was when the sun was rising or setting.

Kal’sin eventually intervened. A magi ogre found them, and managed to rily up all the ogres around the area. Synric tried his normal means, not knowing what else to do as he navigated straight to his teleportation rune, but they seemed to know his path getting before him before he cross into the next section. Half a day of running and still there was no escape; it was at that point the little dragon threw up his own magic. The ogres never stepped into their path again that day.

It was at that point that Synric understood why the elder hunters of the village warned about going near the ruins. He understood the tone of uncertainty in Faellyn’s silent question of what he was doing out here. Then why was he so stupid beforehand to try and make this trek to the tower when he was a whole lot younger?

Two more weeks passed, and the routine was set with aggravation and stubborn pride. He tried new tricks and with a little focus, managed to draw some ogres away from their paths so he could slip by unnoticed.

Half-way through the fourth week, as he began to make his way back to the ruins, he found a set of ogre tracks no further than a rocks throw from his camp; they had gotten awfully close. If it hadn’t been for his protection runes camouflaging the place, his camp would have probably been destroyed. Yet, with that thought, he felt unsettled by how far they had traveled; he wasn’t that far from the village, about a half-day's walk.

He tried again that night, and had made little advance. At least, he wasn’t getting spotted anymore. Maybe once or twice a week. Still it took a while to move through the city.

Come the next morning, he watched a pair of ogres walk practically on top of his camp. They were grumbling and muttering in their language, and paying little attention to what was actually around them. And thanks to his runes, they couldn’t see him unless they were really looking.

The unease settled in him again, and that night he moved his camp across the river just to make certain they wouldn’t run across him while he slept.

The next night, Synric found himself sitting on top of one of the buildings on the other side of the wall. A new habit formed when he realized beating this city with brute strength wouldn’t be enough. He watched, as he normally did, to see how the patrols were working that night to avoid the magi ogres, when his ears twitched to ogre talk.

His eyes shifted behind as two ogres stepped over the wall. Blood caked their weapons and part of their legs and hands. They had the corpses of three elves and a worgen being carried like a sack of potatoes back to their home.

Synric felt sick at the sight. Even knowing the ogres' culture didn't help his mind from not seeing that it might have been him being carried in their arms.

The ogres passed by, leaving him feeling entirely unsettled, unnerved, and shaking. Kal’sin worried touch was enough to have him move back to his teleportation rune and back into the forest.

The walk back was filled with ogres in shadows, heavy feet snapping bushes, and the howling of a axe coming through the tree branches.

Synric rubbed at his eyes and forehead, using the water of the river to wake him up, to break him from his thoughts. The campfire was crackling and snapping and the runes were set up and ready.

What am I doing? He thought taking in the silverlight of the stars in the gentle river. This is pointless. If I had the skills to do this, it wouldn’t be taking this long. Synric gazed down at the bracelet that Faellyn had given him; it was warm on his hands, the heat of energy, subconscious as it was, from the walk back. What am I missing?

A faint noise from the tree’s snapping under weight spun Synric around and reaching for the dagger at his hip poised in ready to dodge more than strike. Yet, Kal’sin was stretched out by the fire, his tail twitching in easy comfort.

The firelight reflected off a shadowy figure further away. The purple hue of an elf followed by glowing silver eyes.

The elf stepped into better view with a hand raised and his sword easy to spot resting at his hip.

He spoke in elvish. “Good Evening.”

Synric’s short pause was hurried with a shorter return statement. “Good Evening.”

The elf gave a smirk of a smile. “You’re a hunter from one of the villages?”

Synric eyed the man, his sword, the way his dialect seemed off compared to those in the village where he was staying. “There is one nearby.”

The man nodded. “We got word earlier tonight our scouting party was ambushed by ogres, way off the road from their normal sightings.”

Synric felt his blood run cold, and this thought replayed the sights of the three bodies across the ogres shoulders. Stunned, he didn’t notice the elf had paused for him to replay. Thus the man continued, cautiously. “Your campfire is easy to spot through the trees.”

He meant no offense, Synric realized. The elf thought him a seasoned hunter and was offering protection between the oddities of his words.

Synric glanced at the fire, before turning to the elf. The elf didn’t know it was he that was causing the ruckus with the ogres. That the ogres had killed the band of elves because they were out looking for him.

The sudden realization set his blood colder.

I never thought…

“Yes...yes!” Synric quickly gathered himself as he threw dirt into the fire, and his morning breakfast.

He frowned afterwards.

The moment's silence stretched as they were plunged in darkness. Kal’sin chirped an sadden cry. Slowly the stars twinkled into light above and shapes began to take form, especially those glowing eyes.

The elf made a soft sound. “I’m not sure why you are out here, but I’d recommend making your way out of the jungle as soon as you can. Until we can figure out why the ogres are all stirred up.” He sounded frustrated in the way that old soldiers sounded.

I didn’t think…

“I apologize, t-thank you for the warning.” Synric dipped his head. “Perhaps, if you need any help?”

The elf shook his head. “We have scouts searching right now in case there are any survivors. Five men are missing from the group of eight.” He paused. “If you find any trace of them, you can find us over by Feathermoon.”

Feathermoon. Images of the small established settlement surrounded by water on a small island just off the coast came to mind. He had read it in his journals, it was at least a several day walk. They hadn’t come out here in passing.

Wait five are missing? “I’m sorry to hear about your loss. I will keep an eye out. Was it a hired escort for merchants?”

The man shook his head. “I wish it was just that. Unfortunately, this is the fourth attack this week. The men missing are trained men, which is the cause of worry. ” He paused, his ears twitching in the distance; it had to be a faraway sound for all Synric could hear were crickets and the gentle movement of water from the stream behind. “I must leave. Keep my warning to heart.” He said as he turned and dashed into the shadows of the forest, disappearing into the darkness within three strides.

Kal’sin poked his head over the logs and gave a quick tongue flick; he could feel the little dragon's judgement towards him saying exactly what he knew. This was his fault for rallying up the ogres. They were looking for the intruder making it into their camp each night. And now they were desperate enough to start killing anyone.

Synric sighed rubbing his face once more. “I suppose you're right,” he felt his heart sink deep into his chest. A promise broken with himself, shattering. “I don’t have the skills. I either need to know how to use magic or…” He stilled briefly as Mey’s clever use of moving around the house came to mind. How she seemingly disappeared and reappeared, and being seen only when she wanted to be seen. Even as alert as he was, that elf had managed to slip into his camp without any sound of warning. “...or know how to sneak around the streets.”

Kal’sin tongue flicked out again. A tad lull of concern washed over the little dragon, but not one that seemed to stem from danger, more, worry of what Synric was thinking.

Mey could teach him. If anything, perhaps, she could teach him how to use that shadow magic again.

He shivered at the thought.

Or another useful spell that doesn’t dwell in that art.

He gathered up his things and adjusted his knapsack over his shoulder as words from a letter slipped into his thoughts: “Faellyn knows how to contact me.”

Synric jogged his way through the forest canopy, brushing by plants and rocks with ease as he let his feet guide him back to the village.

#synric #writing #story

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synnthamonsugar · 4 years ago

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Savathun's Trip to the Last City

Now that we have a clearer picture of what’s going on with Savathun I decided to compile the last year’s worth of her POV lore pieces together.

This is super long, and has spoilers for Path of the Splicer VI / Beneath the Endless Night VII, so I’m putting it under a cut.

Credit to @xivuuarath for reading through this and adding some of their ideas! We talked about more beyond what’s posted here, but this is getting long, so maybe that would be better saved for a part two.

1. Traveler's Chosen (Season of Arrivals)

This piece is told from the POV of a narrator viewing the events through an "ossific den". Based on later lore pieces, I'm certain the narrator is Savathun. Given that ahamkara bones have been compromised by her, and that Shaxx has an ahamkara skull slung up in his station, it’s safe to assume this is Sav’s vantage point.

That said, I don't believe Savathun is observing Shaxx, but rather Zavala, struggling in the wake of the Darkness' encroachment on the system and his colleagues' refusals to evacuate to safety. She seems pleased to find Zavala in a desperate state, and watches as he has a silent conversation with the Traveler. Of note is that she's waiting for it to respond.

He waits for a response and I do as well, tense, curious. [ . . . ] It is no time at all for me, but for him, the hours creep by in silence.

I am ready to choke the voice of his Traveler if it answers him, but there is nothing.

2. Harbinger Mission (Season of the Hunt)

Thank you to @xivuuarath for pointing this out since I didn’t include it the first time around. During the Harbinger mission Savathun’s forces are attempting to secure a Shard of the Traveler in the EDZ. Of note is that they aren’t trying to destroy it, but rather siphon the Light from it.

Given that the Shard of the Traveler is what allowed our Guardian to jumpstart their Light when they lost it during the Red War, and is what allowed Uldren Sov to break into the Dreaming City during the events of Forsaken, we can assume it’s useful to lightbearers and mortals alike. Make note of this, because it becomes potentially relevant later on.

2.5. Hawkmoon (Season of the Hunt)

From an unknown vantage point, Savathun watches The Guardian and Crow celebrate their defeat of her Taken at the Shard of the Traveler. Unlike Zavala, she can find no weak points in Crow or the Guardian, only happiness. This awakens something in her.

What is this feeling? I did not ask for it. I do not understand it. I do not want it.

Which gets repeated throughout the lore piece. This is our first glimpse of Savathun having feelings that don't fall into the range of "malevolence" or "plotting". She yearns for her youth with her siblings and the warmth of her old life, and feels burgeoning regret for the people she betrayed.

There is a growing kinship here. Against better judgment.

This is ambiguous enough to be a comment on Crow’s and The Guardian’s relationship, or herself and The Guardian and/or Crow. She's called us her friend before but this might be the first time she's actually had friendly feelings for us.

3. Books of Sorrow: New Verse (Season of the Hunt)

This hasn't actually been posted on Ishtar Collective and I'm too lazy to track down a transcript online, so pardon the source. There's a lot to unpack here.

I walk in a city made of delicate hopes.

Savathun has moved beyond occupying ahamkara bones and is actually physically present.

I hear my name everywhere. [. . .] The sound is nourishment.

Imbaru machine on-line?

I am more than I ever was, and less than I will ever be.

Make note of this line.

I am many and none. I'm a man who sits alone in a cavernous office counting my failures. I'm a woman looking at a silent god. I'm a lost soul on a cold moon. I'm a broken mirror of a man who tries to steer the ship.

Comparing (?) herself to Zavala, Ikora, Eris, and back to Zavala again?

I'm a familiar stranger, flitting between them all, hiding my face.

Again, I think she's speaking literally here.

The people here are small krill dwarfed by the enormity of oblivion.

A neat little comparison of humanity with the krill, who we established in her last appearance she's beginning to feel regret for.

4. Retrofuturist (Season of the Chosen)

Savathun watches a Crucible match, and judges Guardians for being reckless with the gift of immortality. The tone of this piece reinforces the idea she is actually out and about in a corporeal form.

I'm mostly interested in her perspective on Ghosts here. She calls them "A perfect being", and describes their ability to revive the dead as miraculous. She isn't happy that the spectators don't appreciate the gravity of this. Weird sentiment for a hive but ok.

I look up into the blank white face. I feel its Light on my cheeks. It no longer burns me.

The Hive are repelled by the Light. Savathun has grown to tolerate it. Something has changed in her metaphysical composition.

@xivuuarath made the excellent observation that she might have been at least partially successful in the Harbinger mission - that she may have secured enough Light to build up an immunity, allowing her to be physically present in the City without being hurt by the Traveler.

Each revival is a choice. I know what to do.

Tuck this away for a moment.

5. Beneath the Endless Night: VII - Ripe (Season of the Splicer)

Okay this whole page is insane so excuse the massive infodump here.

I walk through the City on broken legs. I am conspicuous, but the people here grant me many affordances. I chose this form well.

Confirmation that our girl is actually bumping about in a human-form.

I open my eyes and search the faces of the people around me for familiarity. I did not mean to. I twist inwardly with disgust.

She's sympathizing with the humans of the City. She does not like this, but she is!

When they first reached for me, I reached back in acid mockery, and they opened themselves to me in stupid, naked innocence. I was giddy. My fingers raked their minds. I forced my will through them using only words and met no resistance.

Now I reach as often as they do, and when they reach back, I am thankful. I speak with them. I seek their company. Their companionship.

In case it wasn’t obvious already, Savathun has been running a psy-op on the residents of the Last City, which may explain some of the particularly erratic and troubling behavior from individuals / groups this season.

However the interesting thing is, while Sav used her powers of suggestion to manipulate, the humans unknowingly manipulated her in return. Not through any magic - simply through their kindness.

Savathun is doing more than observing the people of the Last City, she is living with them, getting to know them. Savathun is making friends and it’s literally changing her.

This is not pity, for I know pity. What is this—

A call back to the Hawkmoon lore with her trying to make sense of budding positive feelings.

I clench the gangling black mass that threatens to unspool recklessly from within this shell of flesh. My new arms are too thin, too weak. My new shell still bound with thick mucus. Not yet, I say.

I suspect that the “new shell” she talks about here is not her human-form, but rather something else growing inside it.

A man places his hands on me, on my shoulders, on my back. He asks if I am ill, and he sees my flat eyes, my teeth black with ripeness, and he prepares to scream. I let him keep his mind. I push breath up and through my ruined mouth and speak a simple lie. He stops, smiles, laughs. Shakes his head. He points a finger at me in mocking admonishment before walking away.

A few things to unpack here.

Savathun is physically deteriorating... badly. @xivuuarath pointed out that the body horror of this particular scene mirrors the Emissary’s description of a world with no darkness and creatures that are incapable of death even as they physically fall apart, and if you follow that line of thinking you may infer that she’s forcing herself to live through light alone.

She's approachable enough that some rando would see her in trouble and want to help her, reinforcing the point that she's been wandering about the City and vibing with its residents.

She could have done worse to the good samaritan but chooses not to. She does her mind trick and lets him go about his business. She’s showing mercy... which is something we know the hive absolutely must not do at the risk of being consumed by their worm.

Even here, basted in deception both ample and rich, the Worm cries ravenously. It has grown grotesque, skin taut, overfed, and still it howls for more. It commands me to keep it alive.

I look up, beyond the flickering net of darkness, and see what rests just beyond. Waiting for me. The Worm roars.

NOT DISCONCERTINGLY AMBIGUOUS AT ALL that we don't know if the worm is roaring in terror, pleading or triumph.

TL;DR of what I think is going on.

Savathun came to the City to destabilize it through manipulation, but could not be physically present until she hardened herself to the Light. Camouflaging herself in a human form, she spent time with the residents of the City, and found herself manipulated in return by their kindness. She's resisting the positive emotions, but they're there, which is something we've never seen between hive and humans before. You can't have a crisis of conscience if you don't have a conscience, and Savathun does.

I think Savathun is trying to shed her current form and be reborn in some capacity. I think she's going to try to use the Light to rid herself of the Worm and bootstrap herself into something new. If you'd asked me before reading this lore, I would have insisted that she wanted to become a thought-entity, but the cocoon-like imagery makes me second-guess this assumption.

There are outstanding questions at this point.

Why did she want to prevent Eris and/or The Guardian from communicating with the Darkness in Season of Arrivals? Is there a purpose to the Endless Night beyond eroding willpower and sowing division? Is she trying to save only herself, or attempt to undo the millennia-old injustice she inflicted on her people?

#destiny #destiny spoilers #savathun #hive #beneath the endless nightblogging #im glad ttp now has a challenger for lore pieces for me to obsess over.

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