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quaddmgd · 6 months ago

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GIRLS AND THEIR [SURVIVAL] HORRORS

Over the last year and a half survival horror has become one of the most interesting genres to me (no reason at all :>). Now that I just finished the original Resident Evil 2, the brainrot is very much active. I figured it would be interesting to see how my Cyberpunk OCs would look as survival horror protagonists.

Before even trying I realized that it would be very hard to make survival horror outfits out of vanilla clothing. Still, I wanted to try it on console, so I went a step further and decided to make cover art for the games my OCs would star in. That way I could ease up a bit on outfit side and dress them just appropriately for their respective types of horror, and put most of my efforts into setting the atmosphere through shots and editing, rather than scrolling through hundreds of clothing items.

Evie - Tapeworm

"Stuck with a damaged relic inside her head, Evie is dying as her consciousness is being slowly overwritten with an engram of a dead rockerboy. Now she's a ticking time bomb, desperately trying to find the cure, while fighting gradually increasing seizures and Johnny himself."

Evie was the first OC I had the concept ready for. Since she's my V and shares many personality traits/experiences with the player character, I went for what happened to be the easiest route for me - taking V's condition and relic malfunctions, and turning them into a source of horror.

Ever since my initial playthrough, V's condition and the effect it has on their mental state were (and still are) some of the most interesting aspects of the story. While never being the focus, a lot about it is certainly hinted through V's actions and dialogue choices and I couldn't help but add my own made-up lore to that.

Bearing all that in mind, I had the concept for her cover art ready almost instantly and while I ended up enhancing the vision a bit, it's still mostly how I initially envisioned it - the close up of Evie wearing Johnny's tank top, her face shattered into a few fragments, each one showing a different glitchy facial expression.

Thalia - Hard Reboot

"Thalia's last venture into cyberspace did not end well. She wakes up in an abandoned facility, suffering from cyber-seizures and visions of her long lost soulmate - Crystal. Amidst isolation and hopelessness, ghosts of the past end up being her only comfort, when it turns out that the facility was never truly abandoned."

Thalia caused me little to none issue as well. I instantly knew she'll be wearing a damaged netrunning suit, showing off its details and damage by having her back turned to the camera. Even as a concept it felt very Dead Space-esque and Dead Space was my main inspiration for the atmosphere and the feeling of loneliness.

It fits her very well too. Sully lost her nomad family after choosing to sacrifice herself to save them. Assumed deceased, she wouldn't stand a chance to survive if she wasn't found half-dead by the third party that decided to take her in. In a way she died that day and got a second chance, this time as a powerful netrunner designated to take down a big corporation.

Despite the support and not being really alone, she couldn't help but feel isolation and longing for her old family. She knew she has to find Crystal, not only as an actual requirement to complete her assignment, but especially for herself.

Putting her seemingly alone in a big industrial complex after the netdive gone wrong and giving her a glitchy ghost of Crystal as the only entity to talk to turned out to be a great way to touch on what she was feeling during their time of separation - illness, isolation and hopelessness.

Crystal - Crystal Palace

"What was supposed to be an easy gig turned into a nightmare as Crystal got trapped in Megabuilding H4. With the way of entry sealed off and her cyberdeck damaged, her only option is to dive deep into a compound full of hostiles, learn the truth behind the building-wide quarantine and, most importantly, survive."

Reading about Evie and Thalia, you probably got the idea that I love psychological horror. That's very true and it's partially the reason why Crystal caused me so many issues. She went through her own personal hell too, but it's a bit similar to Thalia's, and anything I came up with would end up being a rehash of Thalia's.

I decided to take a different approach. How about making her look like a stylish ps1/ps2 survival horror protagonist and putting her in a less of a personal situation - just drop the psychological horror aspect altogether. How about trapping her in a desolate building full of psychos, Condemned-style? What's a better place to do that than the abandoned building V was supposed to take Hanako to for Takemura? Well, Megabuilding H4, because there's no way I'm working with vanilla lighting inside or outside of the former! (at least not today)

She's a merc, so it felt natural for an unsuccessful gig to be the reason she got trapped in the building. Add a conspiracy and countless numbers of rooms to search through and it's beginning to feel like a PS2 Resident Evil clone!

Since settling on the less personal and more classic survival horror experience I couldn't get that one Parasite Eve render out of my head. I knew I had to replicate the vibe. Parasite Eve is a weird one though - it's as much of a JRPG as it is a survival horror - it's experimental and even its sequel didn't replicate its gameplay, choosing a safer, Resident Evil-clone approach instead. I went for that exact mix of 90s atmospheric video game renders and experimental japanese games to set the right mood for the cover.

Luckily the pic I shot already kinda looked like a PS1 render, so aside from the color temperature I didn't have to change anything. The lighting on concrete and overall vibe remind me of Final Fantasy VII's one specific promo render (even the character placement looks kinda similar) and its pre-rendered environments (specifically the industrial ones). I'm very proud of the logo, using a Wipeout/JSRF-style Y2K-futuristic font with a japanese caption above that reads "Futuristic Survival Horror Action" reminiscing of Metal Gear's "Tactical Espionage Action" slogan, and it's placing, leaving as much attention as it can to the background.

Conclusion

While initially I intended to focus on the PS1/PS2 survival horror vibe, after considering my limitations I had to divert from that a bit. Still, I had so much fun coming up with cover ideas for my girls and thinking about what places would their respective stories take them. Kinda makes me wish these games actually existed. And looking back on it, it seems ironic that the part I struggled with the most (Crystal), turned out to most accurately capture my original vision.

I'm really glad I was able to get it done using only the console photo mode and GIMP. Sure, it's not without its limitations, but it's still one of the more flexible photo modes I used and with a bit of tinkering with sliders, lighting and pose exploitation, and you can go a long way, arguably even on the last-gen consoles, since they didn't bother to add new photo mode and character editor features since the last old-gen update.

That being said, two years in it's much harder coming up with something that's remotely interesting and isn't just a rehash of pose + angle combo I probably already used at some point. At the same time I do most of my exploration on console, sitting comfortably on my couch, so modded photo mode poses are out of equation for the most part.

Now projects like this is what makes me wanna boot up Cyberpunk 2077 again, spend an entire evening on shooting pictures and continue thinking about it for the next week - it's what rekindles my love for it and virtual photography in general. What I mean is that I'm starving for inspiration and I can't wait to come up another cool idea (or get inspired by someone else) to play around with photo mode, post something cool and maybe even talk a bit more about my inspirations, and the things I like in general.

You are about to use your last SHARD. Do you want to proceed with saving your data?

#cyberpunk 2077 #fem v #oc: EV #oc: thalia sullivan #oc: crystal hartley #vanilla photo mode #text.qd #edit.qd #screen.qd

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louis--wifey · 2 months ago

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New York's Daughter

Headcanon(?) I guess that's what it should be called?

TW: Death, angst

New York had a daughter. Her name was Evelyn, her mom died while giving birth to her. When she was 5 New York was taking her to Central Park, to the exact place that he met her mom. She took off out of the apartment building while New York was locking their door. He took off after her, he shouted to Evelyn to stop but she ran into the road. That was six years ago, now he has a tattoo of a teddy bear with a bow on its head and "Evelyn" written in cursive under it on his forearm.

New York used to dance with her all the time, she would stand on his feet.

He called her Evie.

She liked to take his beanie and run around wearing it.

She loved her uncles. Mass was always her favorite. She called him Uncle Massie.

Other than the Northeast and Florida none of the states knew about Evelyn.

Her mom's name was Natasha, New York always thought that was ironic because she looked like Walmart Natasha Romanoff.

New York would sing Evie to sleep, he would sing Landslide by Fleetwood Mac.

He used to take her to the observation deck in the One World Trade Center to watch the sunset.

She found a teddy bear in a shop downtown and of course New York got it for her. She named it Juliet. To this day New York sleeps with it because it reminds him of his lost daughter.

Her birthday is May 7th. On May 7th he refuses to leave his room.

New York took her to Coney Island, she loved the carousel, ferris wheel, and bumper cars. They both loved watching the Friday Night Fireworks.

Evelyn loved to cuddle with her dad. She usually refused to sleep in her own bed. She would always sleep with New York.

Once New York took her to Disney World and she loved it.

They had tickle wars all the time.

New York would kiss her forehead a lot.

Every night before they went to bed they would share a muffin and that turned into their thing, a muffin before bed. After she died New York never ate a muffin again.

#ben brainard #welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #wttt #wttt new york #angst #Spotify

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onepiece-oc-archives · 1 year ago

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Oda-approved questions to help build your OC

If you head to the One Piece Wiki page of the Straw Hats and take a look at the Miscellaneous section, you'll find a lot of trivia questions about the Straw Hats that Eiichiro Oda, the creator of One Piece, has answered in the Q&A portion attached to some manga chapters, called an SBS. I like to call those answers "Straw Hat Fun Facts" and I love them, because they work really well if you want to flesh out your OC and give them a bit more life and depth.

So, even if you're not planning on making your OC a Straw Hat, these questions might still be helpful for you to think about.

The way I'm gonna structure this post for the sake of avoiding spoilers is I'm gonna list all current LA Straw Hats with their facts and all future confirmed Straw Hats will have their facts mentioned without their name, if it makes sense to mention them. That way you can avoid duplicates within the crew if you want to do that and still have no clue about who's gonna join. I'm also gonna comment on how the various fun facts apply to the live action adaptation wherever applicable.

If you're looking for people's birthdays, I'm gonna make another post about them, don't you worry. But you won't find them here.

Animal Resemblances

Luffy: Monkey

Zoro: Shark/Tiger

Nami: Cat

Usopp: Armadillo/Chameleon

Sanji: Duck/Bighorn Sheep

Others: Reindeer, Red Panda, Crane, Falcon, Bull, Rhinoceros, Horse, Giraffe, Whale Shark, Bear

I don't think any of them were mentioned or referenced just yet in the live action, aside from Luffy's name having the word Monkey in it, but that doesn't count. I'm pretty sure we'll get some hints in the future though since these just have such great potential for easter eggs.

Specific Numbers

Now, this is a category that's a bit more complicated because each Straw Hat has at least two signature numbers, for very different reasons. Everyone has a main number based on when they joined, with Luffy being number 1. The second number is the same but it skips Luffy, making Zoro number 1, but this version is rarely used, if ever at all. Then there's the possibility of a Straw Hat getting a number assigned to them based on a pun, whether that be based on their name, their devil fruit, or something entirely different. I'll explain pun numbers in a bracket.

Luffy: 01, 56 (go-mu)

Zoro: 02/01

Nami: 03/02, 73 (na-mi)

Usopp: 04/03

Sani: 05/04, 32 (san-ji), 59 (ko-kku = cook)

Others: 06/05 - 10/09, 110, 87, 26, 43

Now, you may ask: "Evie, I wanna have a pun number for my OC, how do they work?" I got you, buddy. You can make your own pun numbers using a technique called goroawase, using this handy chart I made based on a Wikipedia chart. Everything I added is in (brackets) and consists of variants that would technically be possible due to my own understanding of goroawase, but might not be commonly used.

On a very basic level, all you have to do to create your pun number is to grab the readings from this table and glue them together. I took some work off your shoulders by adding the phonetic changes you can use, indicated by the arrows. You can also only use the first syllable of a reading or add or remove an n at the end of readings that end in vowels or n's. As you can see whith Sanji's ko-kku, you can duplicate consonants, and you can also turn short vowels into long vowels (tsu -> tsū, for example), both for spelling reasons. If you need to transcribe a c, either use an s or a k (or whatever else fits), depending on the pronunciation.

Here are some examples with my OCs:

Cora: 96 (ko-ra) or 25510 (a-ka-i-to - would be very unusual due to its number of digits, but I think I'll use this as a plot device in a future fic!)

Luna: 67 (lu-na/ru-na)

Inari: 576 (i-na-ri) or 53 (ka-mi)

Create away!

Specific Colors

This was in the live action! And I think we'll definitely see something similar again later.

You can't really see it that well but here are Luffy, Nami and Zoro lit up in their respective colors - red, orange and green respectively! I tried to take a better screenshot but, alas, Netflix will not let me.

Luffy: red (aka)

Zoro: green (midori)

Nami: orange (orenjī)

Usopp: yellow (kiiro)

Sanji: blue (ao)

Others: pink (pinku), purple (murasaki), light blue (mizuiro), white (shiro), black (kuro), ochre (ōdoiro)

As you can see, we pretty much have the whole rainbow here, which makes picking a unique color for your OC pretty hard, BUT it's completely allowed to use different shades of the same color (see: blue vs light blue), which is why I listed the Japanese color names for you. I did some digging and it turns out that these are the names of some of Japan's traditional colors. Those traditional colors don’t always match up with what my impression of the character's color is, BUT I made this handy little graphic for you:

In case there are any animal-related characters around and for those of you who like describing smells in their fanfic (me too, me too), this might be very useful!

These are all of the Straw Hats' specific colors (top row) according to the overview of Japanese traditional colors I linked for you above, their color names underlined with my perception of what color Oda might actually have been referring to, in modern terms. As for the grey names beneath orange and pink, those are the traditional colors from the overview that I used to replace the romanized English colors, based on what the first translation that popped up was. The columns directly underneath are a selection of different shades of the same color, also with their names. It just goes to show that you have a huge variety of colors to choose from for your OC - Japan's traditional colors alone are about 1,000 different colors and you can definitely play with hex codes some more. So, go wild!

Specific Smells

Luffy: meat

Zoro: steel (and probably blood, let’s be honest)

Nami: mikan (tangerines, essentially) and money

Usopp: gunpowder

I'd say everyone smells of the sea at least a little bit, realistically speaking, since they are pirates.

Sanji: cigarettes and seafood (and I'm willing to bet he wears some type of cologne or aftershave or something)

Favourite Type of Island and Season

Luffy: summer but he also loves snow, basically everywhere with meat

Zoro: autumn on an autumn island

Nami: summer on a spring island

Usopp: summer on an autumn island

Favourite Food

Sanji: a spoilery gag, so get creative!

We either directly see some of these in the live action or can easily guess.

Luffy: any kind of meat

Zoro: white rice (specifically in the shape of onigiri aka rice balls), sea beast meat, any food that compliments sake (though he's also pretty fond of beer, at least in the live action)

Nami: mikans (tangerines) and most other fruits

Usopp: pike from an autumn island and other fish of the season

Sanji: spicy sea food pasta, food that compliments black tea

Others: not really relevant but maybe interesting; cotton candy, chocolate, sweet stuff in general, sandwiches, not-too-sweet cakes, food that compliments coffee, basically anything that you can find at McDonald's, curry, mozoku seaweed with vinegar and fruits

Basically, Sanji gets to juggle around a whole lot of different flavours and cultural influences - and he does it really well and finds a way to make everything special, by the way! He generally favors the ladies in his cooking though.

Least Favourite Food

Even Sanji can't make them like everything. Their reasons for not liking something are very different, so they probably still eat it, especially if it's used in something Sanji prepared because he's their cook

Luffy: Cherry pie

Zoro: Chocolate (yes, chocolate! Adds a lot more depth to the scene of him eating Rika's rice balls, doesn't it?) - it's too sweet

Nami: orangette (candied orange peels) - she prefers actual fruit

Usopp: mushrooms - he got sick once

Sanji: konjac (Japanese konjac gel is usually made by mixing flour from the konjac plant with seaweed; it pretty much tastes like nothing and is used mainly for its texture) - it's not nutritious

Others: anything spicy, chewing gum, marshmallows, lemons, parfait

As a Family

This is part of the reason why Oda said there would be no romances within the crew in canon - but this is fandom, he has no power here. Feel free to ignore any of these roles and substitute canon with your own

Luffy: fourth son

Zoro: first son

Nami: daughter

Usopp: third son

Sanji: second son

Others: another child, parents and grandparents

Real-world Nationalities

Now, this is interesting, because these played a part in how the Straw Hats were cast for the live action!

Luffy: Brazilian (Mexican in the live action)

Zoro: Japanese

Nami: Swedish (her actress is American, but she was kept as white)

Usopp: unspecified African (his actor is Jamaican-American, so it sort of checks out)

Sanji: French (Sanji's actor is very international, but he's not French - I do believe Sanji is still supposed to be at least part French in the live action though, at least he still has an affinity for the language and he may very well have grown up multilingual)

Others: Canadian, Russian, American, Austrian, Indian

Inner Brain

Basically: What are the five words their brain/subconscious circles around?

Luffy: meat, meat, meat, meat, pirate king

Zoro: sword, sword, strength, train, sleep

Nami: money, money, money, money, beauty

Usopp: warrior, lies, lies, run, run

Suited Flower

Sanji: You guessed it, it's a spoiler-y gag. But, to summarize, he thinks about cooking and women

These were actually answered by one of the voice actresses for the anime (except for Luffy and Zoro's alternates) but they're Oda-approved! I know fanfic writers love flower language, so rejoice!

Luffy: cosmos, sunflower

Zoro: thistle, wisteria

Nami: sunflower

Usopp: daisy

Sanji: delphinium

Others: tulip, casablanca, anemone, rose, peony

Blood Type

-> this is a topic for another post since it's more of a life fact than a fun fact, isn't it? Maybe, I'll put the blood types in with the birthdays and make a sort of Straw Hat info post?

How often do they bathe?

Bathe, not shower, I would assume. Zoro showers after training... right?

Luffy: once a week

Zoro: once a week

Nami: every day

Usopp: once every three days

Sanji: every day

Typical Hours of Sleep

The only reference to this we have in the live action is Zoro's habit of napping. An interesting thing to note is that the Straw Hats' sleep schedules largely coincide in just such a way that someone is always awake - except for during one hour. Maybe this really is a coincidence or maybe this is a habit they built while travelling together. They do still have night watches though, I believe. But that means there's usually always someone to keep the night watch company :)

Luffy: no set time, but usually sleeps around 5 hours

Zoro: 4am to 7am (3 hours) + naps

Nami: 11pm to 7am (8 hours)

Usopp: 1am to 8am (7 hours)

Sanji: 12am to 5am (5 hours)

In conclusion, more than half of the crew has no idea what a healthy sleep schedule is. This is a pattern that's gonna continue, by the way...

Suitable Careers

Basically what careers they would have if they weren't pirates. Their actual careers in-universe also don't count.

Luffy: firefighter

Zoro: police officer (I will not accept this slander)

Nami: childcare worker

Usopp: graphic designer

Sanji: beauty salon worker

Others: elementary school teacher, cabin attendant, pilot, detective, train station attendant

Cooking Specialities

What are they best at cooking? According to Usopp in the live action, none of the guys besides Sanji can even boil water, so I'm willing to assume Sanji may have taught them a little. A lot. Not Luffy though. He's still a disaster.

Luffy: raw meat on a plate

Zoro: sashimi - a dish consisting of variously cut raw fish and meat

Nami: roasted duck with mikan sauce

Usopp: fish and chips

Sanji: literally anything, but he prefers seafood

Who would win a 50m sprint?

Only the current Straw Hats count here.

Fifth: Nami

Fourth: Usopp (he's already fairly fast, mind you)

Third: Zoro, slowed down because he got lost (but I still don’t think he could beat the people ranked higher than him, I'm sorry, Oda)

Second: Luffy

First: Sanji

Alcohol Tolerance

Another very useful one for fanfics! Tolerance doesn't equal how much they like drinking, by the way. I'd be willing to bet that the Straw Hats' alcohol tolerances got toned down in the live action, or at least Zoro's, judging by him stating how he woke up under a table once. With his manga-level tolerance, he would have had to drink gallons worth of alcoholic beverages before that happened. Still, I think the ranking holds up.

Fifth: Luffy

Fourth: Usopp

Third: Sanji

Second: Nami

First: Zoro

And finally one last bit that doesn't really fit anywhere else:

Sanji is currently the most qualified to give the crew a haircut. This makes sense if you read about his alternative career choice earlier and due to him generally putting a lot of thought into appearances.

So, that's it! Hope these help you!

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece oc #opla oc #no spoilers #topic: basics

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lizzisimss · 2 years ago

Photo

Phoenix and Michael’s Home

CC used (list below) Crick Cabana in Willow Creek 20 x 15 2 bed, 1 bath $109,504

This build is part of the Lizzisimss Save File.

Aira - https://www.patreon.com/airacc

· 2 Piece Painting

· Bear & Mountain candles

· Daisy vase

· Dogi Pot

· Mini easel

· Mirror with stickers

· Vanilla dish rack

· Vanilla egg tray

· Vanilla flower candle

· Vanilla toaster

· Vanilla utensil holder

ATS4 - https://sims4.aroundthesims3.com/index.shtml

· Canisters basic

· Kitchen rack condiments

· Kitchen rack washing up

Brazen lotus - https://www.brazenlotus.com/objects-d... :

· BG Coffee bag

· SP13 Laundry made essentials

charly pancakes - https://www.patreon.com/charlypancakes

· The Lighthouse Collection

· Lavish Merged

· Miscellanea Merged

· Modish Merged

· Selection One merged

· Smol Merged

· The candle

Evi - https://www.thesimsresource.com/artists/evi/

· Hellenic wall E

felixandre - https://www.patreon.com/felixandre

· Georgian Set

house of harlix - https://www.houseofharlix.com

· Orjanic Merged

· Bafroom Merged

· Baysic Merged

· Livin’Rum Merged

· The Kichen Merged

harrie - https://www.patreon.com/heyharrie

· Brownstone Collection

· Country Collection

· Halcyon Kitchen

· Octave

· Shop the look

· Spoons

Kiwisim - https://www.patreon.com/Kiwisim4

· Block House

· Piha

· Surrey

leaf motif - https://leaf-motif.tumblr.com

· 2202 Magnolia Bathroom

· Aubrey Office

· Botanic Boudoir

· Calliope Bathroom

· Devon Kitchen

· Ivy Hallway

· Rory Bedroom

· Simblreen 2021

· Starlight Crystals

· Stellan Dining

· Patron gift 1

· Patron gift 2

· Patron gift 4

· Sunbeam Study

· Sunny Corner

· Twee Tableware

· Vintage Crockery

lilis-palace - https://www.patreon.com/lilis_palace

· Intarsia Biedermeier set

littledica - https://www.patreon.com/littledica

· Rise & Grind Café

· Sleek Slumber stuff pack

· Deligracy cottage living update

· Deligracy Delicato stuff pack

· Roman holiday

Madlen - https://www.patreon.com/madlen

· Nuri Rug

max 20 - https://www.patreon.com/Max20

· Cozy Backyard pack

· Master bedroom pack

Maxsus – https://maxsus.tumblr.com/post/640662541333348352/download

· Poolside lounge pack

Mechtasims - https://www.patreon.com/mechtasims

· Bathroom set wall mirror

· Aphrodite Set

· Back to school

· Cyber girl

· Essential clutter

· Groovy baby

my cup of cc -https://www.patreon.com/mycupofcc

· Maple Manor The Modernist Collection Living Room

· August 2021

· Colour Talk Dining Stuff

· Colour Talk Kitchen

· Colour Talk Living Rm

myshunosun - https://www.patreon.com/myshunosun

· Elle Office

· The art room

· Uma living

· Dawn living

· Gale dining

· Lottie

Networksims - https://networksims.tumblr.com/

· Giosue Tile Wall

NolanSims - https://nolan-sims.com/downloads

· Strawberry Planters

Novvvas - http://ts4novvvas.blogspot.com/

· Vintage floor

oni - https://www.patreon.com/oni28

· Bakery Clutter

· Cottage kitchen

· Vintage living room

peacemaker - https://peacemaker-ic.tumblr.com/TS4O...

· Atwood living

· Bayside bedroom set

· Creta kitchen

· Futura

· Hudson bathroom

· Kingston dining

· Kitayama dining

· Kitayama living

· Mid-century eclectic

· Mina kitchen

· Province

· Urbane kitchen

· Bowed

pierisim - https://www.patreon.com/pierisim

· Calderone bedroom

· MCM All

· Oakhouse all

· Living room mini kit

· Tidying Up

· Coldbrew Coffeeshop

· Winter Garden

· Domaine du Clos

renorasims - https://www.renorasims.com

· xtreme shower

RVSN – https://ravasheen.com/

· cup of cozy

· smarts content

simplisticsims - http://simplisticsims4.com

· Cottage roman curtain

· Loloi Pink Rugs

· RHckbreadbox

sixiamcc - https://imfromsixam.tumblr.com/

· Breeze of Greece

· Oak & concrete kit

· Charming Chalet

· Home Basics

· Home Improvement

· Home Office

· Retro Vibes

· Teen room

SYB – https://www.patreon.com/Syboubou

· Bonbon

· Galileo

· Julie

· Laundry

· Nathalie

SurelySims - https://www.patreon.com/surelysims

· Electronic citrus clock

Clutter Cat - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thec...

· Busy Bee

· Cat milk no 1 reloaded

· Cat milk no 2 reloaded

Torque - https://www.thesimsresource.com/members/Torque3/

· Aged wood floor

TUDS -https://www.patreon.com/TudTuds

· Beam Parte 2 V01 Merged

· Wave merged

awingedllama - https://www.patreon.com/awingedllama

· Apartment therapy inspired stuff v2 Merged

· Paranormal plants

· Blooming rooms plants

MXIMS – https://mxims.tumblr.com/

· Ikea Barso Wall Grid B

Warmthlu - https://warmthlu.tumblr.com/tagged/s4cc

Mini wallpaper set

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evita-shelby · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Juli! I just have a feeling that #8 of Smuffmas needs to be the Nelsons in FL!! I hope you agree, darling 💕

Your wish is my command lol

12 Days of Smuff: Day 5

Sunrise/sunset + orgasam control

Eva x Jack a prequel of sorts of A Nelson Christmas

Cw: smut, edging, female dom/male sub, some bdsm, bondage, casual thoughts of murder and some francophobia

If anyone saw him like this, he’d lose all the fear and respect he had earned.

“Fuck, Eva!” Jack finds himself pleading with his wife for release.

He is tied to the bed with a silk scarf and not allowed to cum until the birthday girl tells him he can.

She’s a tyrant, but fucking hell does he love her and love fucking her.

For her birthday, Eva’s 27th birthday to be exact, Jack had taken her to bars and clubs he knew in Florida and shown her off like she deserved.

They’d danced, they drunk enough booze to kill an elephant and when he conducted business she sat on his lap and shown why she was deserving of the entire fucking world.

A good way to remind his associates down here that Jack Nelson still ran the place even if he’s building an empire over the one underneath.

It was well past midnight when they came to the hotel room and he, being the good and generous husband he is, let his witch do as she pleased with him.

I’m your slave for the night, sweetheart, he had said thinking Eva didn’t have it in her to dominate him.

Hours later his eyes are wet with tears or sweat from the constant torture of her refusing to let him cum.

He could last all night and she’d taken that as a challenge.

At first it had been things they hadn’t done in a while, then things began escalating as the night turned to dusk and now dusk turned to dawn.

“Use your words, honey.” The witch had cooed as she squeezed the head of his cock hard enough to keep him from cumming. He was allowed to cum, allowed to call it quits by saying the word ‘Red’, but he wasn’t allowed to touch her.

“Please, goddess, put me out of my fucking misery.” The gangster cries for his witch, no his goddess, to have some fucking mercy.

It had been a ridiculous thing to say, and because of that she’d punished him. Punished him by edging him all night long.

She’d licked him, stroked him and even rubbed her slick pussy against his cock. By the time the sun began to rise, John Fitzgerald Nelson was his wife’s bitch.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it, Jackie?” the goddess sank down on his aching prick and had him snapping like a metaphorical rubber band inside her as she untied him.

“Don’t call me Jackie, Evie.” It comes off as a whimper as he comes down from an orgasm that had him blacking out for a few heartbeats.

“Sorry, got carried away.” The witch lies on her side and massages his wrists to make up for the scene they just played out, kissed them too to remind him how much she loves him.

Usually, he’s the one showering her in affection after, Jack’s need to be the one calling all the shots had him being a little too rough in bed sometimes. But it feels pleasant to be coddled by his pretty wife who’s apologizing for being so harsh with him.

“Haven’t had one like that in years.” He says so she knows he did enjoy the fucking even if he hated the vulnerability it brought out in him.

“Why do you think the French call it the little death?” the witch pointed out as she snuggled up to him as he gathered his bearings.

“Don’t you hate the French?” he asked pulling her in to cuddle with her. He likes holding her, despite being on the tall side, she looked and felt small with him. Maybe once he’s recovered from this religious experience, he could coax her into making love all morning.

Her eyes look so good in the sunlight and her face looks even better when he’s fucking her.

“My grandparents hate the French, I just think they’re overrated.” The witch clarifies. “But if you want to take me to Paris for our anniversary next year, I won’t say no. I'd love nothing more than to show you off to some old friends of mine.”

The tone of hers tells him all he needs to know. He knows the girl who tried to kill her lives in Paris with the rest of the exiles.

Jack could do more than just take her to Paris for their next anniversary.

If his witch is game, Oneida Villareal could have an unfortunate accident while they are there.

Maybe a car driving way too fast as revenge for throwing Eva in front of one when they were sixteen.

“Jack, darling, we’re not killing her.”

#evacore #jack nelson imagine #jack nelson smut #jack nelson x eva smith #jack nelson x oc #12 days of smuff

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thetalesofno-one · 8 months ago

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Curse of Strahd, Act I: Pt. 2, Ch. I -Blood On The Vine-

D&D Campaign Retelling Part 2/6 Chapter 1/5 ~4.6k words Content Warnings: Curse of Strahd typical content, Read at own risk

Summary The cobbled and ruined streets of a village have been reached, but the place our unfortunate souls soon learn is called Barovia is far from a safe haven. And every sought answer steals away their hopes like a clever thief playing a cruel trick. There is no relief for weary travelers so far from home and far worse things stalk the dark in these lands. Read Previous Chapters also available on AO3

Notes Welcome to Part 2 of Act 1! So glad you came back with us into the mists! Or if you've stumbled onto our tale for the first time, we're glad to have you. This story is a long one, but you'll be a bit lost if you start here. Best to read the previous chapters in "Part 1 -Into The Mists-" before carrying on I suppose I should spell it out here now that we've reached a rhythm of sorts. This story is broken down into Acts, Parts, then Chapters. Each Act will roughly be a book's length and each Part like a scene holding its Chapters nestled within. Breaking up the stories like this gives me the time needed to actually be a player in this campaign before translating it all into this one day magnificent campaign retelling. Every Chapter is posted biweekly Every Part has a short month or so long break at its end before the next one starts. We're still early in the game to be worrying about Acts, but for now, we hope you'll enjoy journeying along beside us with every step we take into the misty lands of Barovia. It is a long and winding tale, so bring a good pair of walking shoes and watch out for things with sharp teeth.

Faint light stretches long golden fingers out into the darkness through a prison of planked windows. Thin cracks of golden thread along darkened wood. A shallow pool of warmth spills out beneath the tightly closed doors of the Blood on the Vine in a quiet promise of shelter from the world of shadow.

It is a wonder they did not miss it. Perhaps they would have if the lovely raven with the blue-tipped wings had not danced upon the sign. Roshan turns toward the silent ruins knelt around them in broken defeat, eyes traveling swift as sparrows, seeking the signs of life where it may hide now that he knows it lingers.

From the vantage of the town’s heart, a few more buildings bear the faint golden thread of carefully concealed light. The town is broken and bent low beneath the darkness of the land, but it is not abandoned nor dead. Roshan takes gladness in the sight, a warm sun upon the stone of his heart. Though it hides, the light prevails. And one day, the sun will shine bright upon these lands. It is a promise. When the light of his god broke through the storm, he knew it.

He is meant to be here.

“We can start in this tavern,” Roshan smiles, “But I wish to ask questions of the locals as well.”

Evie trudges past him, her voice weary, “Your funeral, old man.”

“We should know what has happened here, no?”

“We don’t have to do anything, that’s just what they want you to think.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

The young woman sighs loudly, “They, old man. Like…” it takes her a moment to find the words, her hand sweeping out as though the empty streets will hold her answers, “Like them, you know? Patriarchy, big governments, the royal they.”

Roshan feels her words slip through his mind like sand through fingers and though he tries to grasp her meaning, it escapes and catches in the wind. Emet’s cold eyes slide over his skin like ice as he struggles. He does not think the man means anything by the look, it is simply what it feels like to be under his pale scrutiny. Perhaps that is why the very tall elf does not make friends so easily. Roshan wonders if Emet knows what the young woman is saying. If he knows what a ‘Pay-tree-arc-ee’ is. Roshan’s common is only so so and this is a word that he has never heard.

When he finally asks, Evie is more than happy to bring a coliseum’s worth of words and points, fully laid out as though she has spent a great deal of time arguing this subject in the high places of law. Roshan listens with interest and learns a lot more about the structures of power in the greater lands, the ones he could only dream of when his roots were still small in the sands of Calimshan.

Though he does not understand everything she says, Evie speaks with such passion it brings a smile to Roshan’s face. By his guess, Evie looks as though she may be in her mid-twenties, not much younger than him though their years have aged them quite differently. One as wine, the other as leather. Roshan enjoys her fire and some of her points are rather insightful, for he knows well that wisdom does not come with age, but knowledge and experience. And though her words hold crystals of wisdom, these same words betray that she has lived a life with little experience to age her.

A blessing, were this a kinder world.

Some of Evie’s points are more complaint without answer. That is no shame, for it is how every great rebellion starts. Injustice begins as unsatisfied murmurs without solution and as long as the flames are tended, answers will grow in the embers. She holds the fires of youth seeing injustice everywhere. Raging against it. Seeking fights to change a world she doesn’t yet feel she’s been allowed to take part in. Shouting in ears that do not hear and making arguments with the air. And only the drive of unfocused passion without answer. Not yet, at least. Answers will always grow the longer the passion is fueled.

Roshan remembers being the same once and hides a light smile so Evie does not think he is ‘patronizing’ her—a new word he now knows. Let her rage. Passion turns to knowledge and knowledge to wisdom. And if she manages to keep her flames until the end, maybe she’ll be able to change things after all. Someone has to. Why not her?

Though it seems not everyone is enjoying the young woman’s fiery speech as much as his weathered heart is. Evrrot rolls his eyes as Evie goes on and pushes through the tavern doors with a very rough shove. Someone should really teach devil boy some manners.

Though their entrance is one that would normally scare those within, the patrons likely heard them coming long before the doors swung open with Evie’s fiery words. Several sets of eyes meet theirs with the wariness of a people who have learned that strangeness breeds trouble and strangers carry it with them. If they had been any quieter outside the doors, Roshan expects they would have all jumped at the sight of this weary group stepping through their darkened doors. But a tiredness of the soul sits heavily on the patrons’ eyes. The hopelessness of people who would let a blade cut them down without a fight so long as it is done quickly.

Evie’s fired discussion of the patriarchy embers out on its own, silence begetting silence as though the atmosphere itself demands the hush. She withdraws, her head sinking into her rising shoulders like a tortoise trying to hide within its shell as she tugs her hood up, concealing the faint point of her half-elven ears.

All within are of human blood, like him. No dwarf seated among a wall of empty pints, no elf sipping her wine in appreciation, nor gnome, or half orc, or any other of the myriad races that make Faerûn a melting pot of culture and life. Roshan cannot help but feel for the others, their kind even further out of place in this land. Trespassers carried in by the fog.

Long worn finery fills the tavern, its decadence faded to a shade of shabby that can only come from heavy use and the neglect born of a place meant to be lived in and not admired. Handsome carved chairs with scraped legs sit around finely crafted tables, their surfaces worn almost entirely of polish in places. Tapestry like those Roshan has only ever seen the rich merchants buy hang like well worn rugs on the scarred wood and stone walls. The threads are faded and moth eaten, carrying the memory of its faded beauty. Further trinkets and trophies decorate the walls, all coated in a heavy hand of dust. An iron chandelier covered almost entirely in half melted wax flickers with a dozen candles above their heads and a dozen more melted to nothing, the blackened iron wheel beginning to rust beneath its waxy coat. A large stone fireplace fills the large open room with barely enough warmth to chase away the bitter cold, but it is enough.

The tavern sits half barren.

A barkeep with ragged dark hair and tanned skin almost as dark as Roshan’s looks up from his work as he sets a new bottle of spirits on the counter. His eyes seem to look past all of them rather than at them, as though they are little more than visiting spirits in the dark. At one of the tables, three colorful ladies dressed as vibrantly as desert flowers in their skirts and jewelry huddle a bit closer at their arrival. They whisper amongst themselves with mildly curious eyes, the cards in their hands all but forgotten.

A few more spare individuals are scattered about the place—all human. Many pick at a plate or bowl of food with the hollowness of someone who has lost their tongue. The careless shoveling of what is placed before them, so long as it fills their bellies. There is no savoring of flavor, or enjoyment of taste upon their grim faces. It is as though all they eat is ash.

Roshan keeps to Evie’s side behind Emet—the very tall elf makes for a good obstruction—stepping ahead of her to block the vision of the three colorful women still weaving their baskets of gossip. Their eyes are not filled with mischief or merriment, however. Rather the careful study of prey at the watering hole wondering if today the lion will eat them.

Emet ducks through the doors behind Evrrot, long silver hair spilling over his shoulder in a brilliant cascade. Roshan didn’t realize quite how tall the young elf was until this moment. When they were in the forest, it wasn’t quite so obvious standing among the indeterminate heights of trees and bushes. Seeing him now, however—towering among standard sized objects like tables and chairs, ducking through a door that Roshan’s head can touch only if he jumps beneath it—it is much harder to overlook. How does the man find anything to fit him?

They all linger back by the door in the waiting silence, both sides judging the intention of the other in that hesitancy. Emet scans the room before him carefully as though anyone here would be a threat to a giant like him. And Evrrot’s eyes go to the ceilings and walls like he is measuring the room before his gaze cuts sharply to the sad little blaze in the hearth. His eyes linger there a moment, whatever threat he seeks not found.

One individual catches Roshan’s eye.

All within the tavern either look through them with hollow gazes, lose interest and go back to their card games, or failed to notice their arrival entirely, lost wholly in a world all their own. Only one keeps his attention rapt on the newcomers with unhidden interest.

The man sits perched on the edge of his seat, one hand on the table as though about to stand though he doesn’t yet leave his seat. A field of faded golden hair spills over the man’s shoulders, those stained-wood eyes of his openly staring at them, wide with interest beneath a heavy brow. A squared face covered in light stubble and broad shoulders beneath a dark shirt, the hard edges of the man could be considered handsome.

Evrrot seems not to notice the unblinking attention of the stranger. It is as if all the rest of the world has drifted away from him at the siren song of a warm meal and a good drink and the tiefling makes a beeline for the bar.

He sets a heavy hand on the counter, “Your largest ale and a plate of hot food for a weary traveler.”

The barkeep continues his listless scrubbing of an already clean glass with unfocused eyes. So withdrawn within himself the rest of the world may as well be a dream from which he cannot wake. The man barely registers the devil-horned man in front of him until Evrrot raps the counter with his knuckle a few times. This does not bring the dazed man back, nor snap him into focus, but there is a brief moment where the barkeep makes eye contact long enough to realize someone is placing an order. Even as he fetches the drink and begins to prepare the food, the man merely drifts about his business as though already a ghost in his own life. Nothing breaks the thousand yard stare.

Roshan wishes he did not recognize that hollowness, but he has seen it far too often in far too many eyes. Worn it himself. He has seen it in the old as they clutch their partner’s still body. He has seen it in daughters torn away from their homes with golden chains, wedding veils worn like funeral cloth. He has seen it in children rattling the bars of iron cages too small for their growing bones. Whatever happened here claimed this man’s soul and left his life to wither slowly.

A living death.

Loss.

A piece of yourself carved out and stolen with nothing left to fill the void. A beloved, a pet, a way of life, a dream, a home. Anything can be lost if enough heart is given to it. And the price of love is always loss. If one is lucky, they will reap many years of comfort and joy and love before loss takes its due. But there is no amount of wealth or riches or power in all the world that can pay the cost. The price of love can only be bought in sorrow.

Roshan wonders what mosaic of this man’s heart was stolen to leave him so shattered.

It is then the staring young man finally gathers his courage and stands to his feet. With an unsure hand raised, he speaks from across the tavern.

“Forgive me for presuming, but you must be new in town, yes? Please, let me buy your drinks.”

The man—likely in his late twenties—quickly moves to the bar to intercept payment of Evrrot’s drink.

An unfamiliar accent marks his voice, one that bears heavy as a dwarf’s hammer in certain places and rolls smoothly over others like a baker kneading dough. It is the same accent as the barkeep when he finally speaks to acknowledge the request and likely the same as everyone within this town.

Evrrot gives the young man an appraising look as he pays for the tiefling’s drink, one that Roshan is worried means he will abuse the generosity as greatly as he can. Roshan will have to keep an eye on that devil boy.

“Greetings, my name is Ismark,” he looks to each of them in turn, “I can see that you are visitors to this town. It it a pleasure to have you.”

“Not the Ismark from the statue?” Evie asks bluntly.

Ismark’s eyes fall slightly with a faint mirthless smile, “Ah, no…not the statue. That is my great grandfather.”

“Sorry about that, I have no idea what fucking year it is.”

Ismark blinks at the directness and Emet seems to wince at Evie’s churlish words and he puts half a step between them as if that would somehow disassociate him from them.

“You’ll think that makes no sense,” Evie continues.

Ismark shakes his head, “That tends to be the case for—I hate to presume, but outsiders, yes?”

“Is it that obvious?”

He looks them up and down with a kind smile, “It is rather obvious.”

Evrrot gives the man a cutting glance and Ismark gestures to the rest of the crowd.

“We do not get many people who look like you.”

It is not hard to see the exoticness of their arrival. Outsider is a good word for it. Where the locals are entirely human of pale complexion in a style of dress Roshan has never seen the likes of, the tiefling’s deep red skin and large black horns curling back over his head with his slicked hair—tail no longer swishing angrily like a waspish serpent now that a cold drink is in his hands and the scent of food is in the air—stands out greatly in the contrast.

Evrrot shrugs and goes back to his drink.

Evie pulls her cloak tighter, shifting her shoulder to make herself even smaller.

“Well, we don’t usually get many visitors at all…” Ismark adds sheepishly.

Despite the claimed rarity of guests, especially outsiders, most of the other patrons have returned to their sullen business. A few glances continue to find their way, though however rare the event of outsiders is, the spectacle is barely interesting enough to drag most out of their own solemn conversation or quiet descent into the bottom of another drink. Only the table of colorful ladies finish off their drinks, pack up their cards, and set out into the ever gloom beyond the cold doors.

Ismark gestures to the empty table he had haunted before rising to greet them, “Please, come sit down. Perhaps I can offer you some drinks and food.” He hesitates a moment as though unsure of his next words before steeling himself, “Perhaps I can enlighten you on what is going on…”

Emet studies the man with sharp narrowed eyes as though expecting some swindle or sly craft to be in play. Eager conmen have a terrible habit of flocking to newcomers unwisened to their tricks like flies drawn to honey. But Roshan only senses sympathy in those eyes. As if Ismark is looking at people meant to be pitied. Emet seems to sense the same and Roshan notes how the tired moon elf tenses with the realization, a second wind of alertness overpowering his exhaustion.

There is trouble here.

All the better then to learn of it.

“I will take a drink,” Roshan says as he heads for the bar, briefly brushing past Emet’s large frame in the cramped entryway. The moon elf flinches away from his touch as though it is a hot iron pressed into his skin. Cold violence briefly darkens his eyes before it flickers away as though never there. Roshan watches his broad back with great confusion as the man slinks away toward the table as though wanting to blend in, though his great height eliminates any chance of that. He supposes it must be a force of habit then. Dragging one of the end chairs out and away, Emet seats himself with a careful distance between his seat and the others, somehow managing to do so without it looking strange or deliberate.

“I’ll take one as well, but I want to get it myself,” Evie says as she moves past, her heavy platform boots sounding all the more heavy and loud as they pound across the wooden flooring in this quiet place.

The young woman gives Ismark a challenging look that threatens the use of knives should she attempt to drug her. Why are both of these elves so violent?

“That is well,” Ismark nods toward the lifeless barkeep. Roshan hopes that means he is picking up their tab and not some unspoken signal for future trouble.

“What might I offer you to eat?” Ismark asks.

“Whatever’s hot,” Evrrot barks.

“What are you offering?” Evie asks blandly.

“Whatever is your favourite,” Roshan smiles.

“My favorite?” Ismark repeats, clearly not having expected the question, “We don’t have much here. Rabbit stew perhaps?”

“That is perfect.”

“Done.” Evrrot adds.

Evie grimaces at the suggestion, “I’m not sure I can stomach meat right now. We saw a very dead horse earlier.”

Roshan shakes his head in disappointment, “You do not like the dead horse, but say nothing of the dead man.”

“I’ve seen dead people before, old man,” Evie bites back defensively, “That horse was something new.”

Roshan looks on the young half-elf with pity which only seems to infuriate her further. But he cannot help the worry in his eyes that such a young person sees no value in life and those who have lived it. Perhaps it is unkind or hypocritical, but it feels an even greater shame that of the deaths they have witnessed, it is the man who affects her the least. A man who must have been loved by someone Every part that defined him—the things he liked, the skills he learned, the people he made smile, the difference he made with his presence—now stripped away until he became little more than an object on their path. A leaf in the mud.

It is a great sorrow that Roshan did not do more to give him a respectful passing.

“Speaking of dead people,” Evrrot says callously as he leans against the counter, staring at the barkeep filling their drinks, “Barkeep over there looks like he’s seen a ghost. That what he’s always like?”

Ismark studies the hollow man to see if he’s heard—he’s certainly close enough to have—but the man is miles away.

“You must forgive him. He’s been through…a lot. We all have. I’m sure you have many question, please ask away and I will try to enlighten as best I can. But let us sit, first.” He gestures again to the table Emet now haunts, “I will get your drinks.”

“And I will help,” Roshan offers.

Ismark nods appreciably as Evie gives him a look that demands he better watch for any funny play with her drink. She leaves with Evrrot for the table and Roshan watches again the empty man behind the bar.

The barkeep continues to wipe down the same mug he’s been cleaning since their arrival, his gaze hollow and miles away. Ismark waits patiently, that same look of pity in his eyes—or perhaps it is guilt—before the empty man is drawn back to the now by Ismark’s gentle patience just long enough to take and begin fulfilling the orders. He goes about his business with a rhythmic efficiency as though every step is so well practiced and known, he does not need to be present to complete them. And somewhere along the path, he drifts away again. Even as drinks are served and the food set to cook, he never misses a step.

The barkeep’s hands tremble as Roshan’s glass is set down last.

Roshan marks the symbol of Lathander’s sun across the man’s chest when he hands him his drink, bowing his head in blessing, “May the Morning Lord bless you, my friend. Thank you for this drink.”

The barkeep stares blankly at him a moment, but the drowning man does not come to surface before he turns away and goes about fixing the meals atop the stove. Sorrow fills Roshan’s heart.

Ismark gives Roshan a curious look as he collect the other drinks, but says nothing. The two of them deliver the cold beverages to the table and the barkeep returns to cleaning the same pristine glass, staring off into a place only he can see.

The table is a communal affair, one of those makeshift accommodations for larger groups where the table itself is marginally larger than any of the others, but the quantity of chairs all squeezed tightly around it, arm to arm, make it a “group” setting. Once they all squeeze in, it is only Emet who has managed not to sit quite literally shoulder to shoulder with everyone else.

Roshan takes the seat beside him and throws up a hand, “Eh! Do you have boundary issues?”

He cuts his eyes over sharply, “Merely staying safe.”

“I respect that,” Evie comments as she wipes a trail of beer foam off her dark tinted lips. She takes the other seat beside Emet and wiggles herself comfortably in the space he’s created for himself. She drags her seat a little further from Evrrot on her other side, but she lacks the height advantage of Emet and so is forced to scoot back to the table in defeat. She sets her drink down protectively close and settles a hand over the brim whenever she is not taking a sip.

The holy man waves them both off, muttering to himself in his mother tongue about the strange elves and their emotional damage. The confused looks confirm the others do not understand him and he is glad of it. They should not hear such words from a holy man.

Evrrot does not seem to care one way or another about the proximity of the seating. It would seem four of the drinks in Ismark’s hands are his, the devil boy having taken full advantage of the man’s generosity. Both hands full, he hooks a foot around the chair between Ismark and Roshan and swings himself into it. The glasses clatter loudly on the table. It is a wonder how he did not spill any of the drink. Their host winces at the sound and casts an apologetic look to the oblivious barkeep.

Devil boy downs half a glass before wiping the foam from his mouth with a satisfied sigh.

“So how far away is this place from the nearest city or port? I wanna get out of here as soon as possible and get back to my business.”

“We were in Daggerford, if that helps,” Roshan offers.

“Daggerford?” Ismark shakes his head, “I do not know the name. And as for cities and ports…there, uh, are none. The closest thing you will find to a city is Vallaki which lies several hours west of here. But there are no ports in this land.”

“Huh…” Evrrot stares at the man over the rim of his next drink as if deciding if this is some strange joke.

Evie’s brows furrow, “How do people get anywhere then?”

“Well,” Ismark answers uncomfortably, “usually we walk or go on horseback. The land is rather small.”

“And if I want to go somewhere else not in this country?” Evie presses, her voice growing tense.

Ismark looks like a small willow that has been yelled at all its life and now bows eternally along the ground rather than reaching for the heavens.

“Forgive me, this is never easy,” he answers apologetically, “It’s always the hardest part. I will need to elaborate on the exact circumstances you find yourselves in. You see, this land isn’t quite like your own. You are in—”

The twin tavern doors burst open with a violent crack as the doors slam harshly against the walls, swallowing up Ismark’s next word. A rush of cold wind gusts in like an unseen wave, flickering every flame in the room. Evrrot’s eyes snap warily to the hearth. The bitter atmosphere grows all the colder and a huddled figure rushes through the door, barely stopping in time to keep from toppling over a table. Emet’s hand reaches for the haft of that strange broken glaive on his hip and the others too half stand from their seats, ready for trouble.

The middle aged woman dressed in little more than grey rags pants heavily as she catches herself with a shaking hand on the table nearest the door. The other tightly clutches the ends of a decorative scarf cowled over her head, wild unkempt dark hair spilling out from beneath the old scarf. Fretful widened eyes, blotchy and stained with tears, search the crowd with desperation before settling like a sigh on Ismark.

“Burgomaster Kolyanovich!” Her every word shakes and catches in her throat, “I apologize for interrupting you and your guests,” she takes a trembling step forward looking as though about to crumble, “But I need your help!”

“Mary!” Ismark, already half risen from his seat, abandons it entirely and takes her shaking withered hand. What little strength carried her this far gives out in that moment and Ismark swiftly catches her, settling her into the nearest seat where one of the ash eaters watches with some concern.

“I am not yet burgomaster,” Ismark chides gently, but the rest of what he is about to say dies in his throat as the matronly woman snatches his hands, knuckles white and trembling violently, and looks up at this burgomaster with a desperation that sets a chill along Roshan’s spine.

“What do you need?” Deadly seriousness fills Ismark’s voice as though whatever she asks, he will do all he can to give it.

Mary swallows hard and sways a moment as though about to faint, but not before she speaks her message.

“It’s Gertruda. I think she’s gone to the castle!”

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