#factory gate woods | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

larvasmoon · 18 days ago

Text

Starry Nights - Chapter 1: The naughty list

Summary : Maven is an outcast, a clumsy Christmas elf, who lives high up in the North Pole's fir forest. She dwells in the shadow, shunned by all of her peers. Yet, when the Christmas preparations turn into a disaster, she has no choice but to partner up with her sworn enemy: Santa's secretary, Astarion Ancunín. Only the two of them seem to be able to see the mysterious creature that lurks near the factory, wreaking havoc in its wake. Pariting: Astarion/Original female character Rating: Explicit Content: Christmas AU, angst and fluff and smut, moody elf stuck in an endless party, Astarion as Santa's insufferable secretary, enemies to lovers

Read on Ao3

Like every morning, Maven is running late. She bursts out of her cottage home — hair still wet from her bath, pointy hat askew, green uniform crinkled and unbuttoned. She runs down the steps of her porch in a hurry, but the thin layer of frost on them sends her flying up in the air. The world spins, the content of her pockets with it, and she plummets into an ocean of smooth white snow.

“Damn this perpetual winter,” she groans, choking on a handful of little snowflakes, “Damn this nightmare of a job!”

She angrily secures her tool belt around her hips, buckles the straps of her backpack, and strides towards her enchanted sledge. The knot of the rope tied around it is stubborn, unyielding, and she wonders if the entire universe is conspiring to ruin her day. Well, to be fair, this day in particular is not worse than the last, and certainly not worse than the next. Most days begin and end the same way, with Maven either breaking something, offending someone, or hurting herself. The latter is indisputably the best out of the three options; it’s far easier to tend to a wound than it is to regain someone’s trust and affection.

Everybody knows about her, about the bad-tempered and unlucky elf who lives high up in the pine forest. She’s a local celebrity, if you will. Nothing ever goes her way, everything she does eventually turns into a disaster, and wherever she goes chaos follows. This is her curse — or at least, this is what all the christmas elves have decided to call it.

‘Butterfingered Maven,’‘Doomed daughter of the Aelfric family,’ ‘Krampus kin’: people have all sorts of horrible ways of calling her, and she has grown used to most of them.

Maven straddles the sledge with an exasperated sigh, tugging as hard as she can on the cable. After what feels like an eternity, the rope breaks with a snap, and the old heap of wood finally starts its spectacular descent towards the North Pole village.

“Damn Christmas and damn Santa!” she screams, holding on for dear life as it dangerously slaloms between the trunks. Everything is a blur of shimmering white around her, the cold wind lashes her face, and from time to time a red pixie pops out of a hollow log to shout at her.

“Stupid girl! Roadhog!” they shriek in a cloud of shimmering dust, “Slow down your darn toboggan, some people are trying to sleep here!”

For a few glorious minutes, she almost forgets who she is and where she’s headed. For a few seconds, she is just Maven Aelfric, a happy little girl once more, with nothing to apologize for and no forgiveness to earn.

But just as quickly, the dream fades and disappears.

The trees of the forest change; they grow taller, thicker, sparks of colors glimmering in the leaves and in the pine needles. Their foliage eerily twinkle in the dark undergrowth, like the blinking eyes of a maddened beast. Iridescent glass baubles dangle from branches, glittering candy canes swing on twigs, and dawn’s pale hues dull in the distance.

She takes a sharp turn to the right, silently riding along the first opulent houses of the village. North Pole’s Gate is a violent flash of neon red and green, a whirlwind of bright fairy lights that burn her eyes. Music echoes through the streets, day and night, night and day, and Maven doesn’t know how the people living there haven’t already lost their minds. That morning, it’s the same awful tune as the one they always play at work.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year — With the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer!” a voice croons in the crisp morning air, and she tightens her hold on the leather straps, pouring more magic in the wood below.

She slips past the road on which most of her coworkers are still walking towards the toy factory, grinning when she realises that she might actually make it on time. But the Christmas carol follows her still; the trees bend low to sing it in her ear.

“There'll be parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting, and caroling out in the snow!” The spruces hum and the sledge races, gliding at a terrific speed, almost lifting off the ground.

Far beyond, Santa Klaus corp. is a glorious stain of white, red and green in the blue hour. The tall gingerbread house is already open; smoke slowly curls out of its chimney.

It’s time to work, she has no choice. She’s bound by a contract to good old Santa, after all.

Maven is about to leave the wood behind her when she sees something in the corner of her vision.

Something that seems to be running after her.

A tall shadow leaping through the forest with unnatural speed.

A wolf? A bear? she thinks, taking her eyes off the road, probably not, it wouldn’t be that big.

Fear grips her heart when the glowing light of the factory illuminates the creature’s face. She sees horns, red piercing eyes, a long forked tongue, and a small imp perched on a massive shoulder.

In the panic, she lets go of the reins. The monster smiles at her and the sledge hits a rock, breaking in two.

And soon, she’s falling again, but it’s nothing like her little morning dive in the snow.

This one will actually hurt, she can already tell it will.

“There'll be scary ghost stories, and tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago!” The voices continue to sing, muffled and strange.

This time, amongst them, she can hear another melody.

A warped call, a crowd endlessly chanting her name.

Maven, Maven, Maven, Maven, Maven —

When she wakes up, Maven is lying at the foot of a tall tree, splinters of wood scattered around her.

The cold scraps her lungs clean; she tastes iron on her tongue.

But the sky above is the color of a glass of strawberry milk — it’s still dawn, she’s still on time, she can still make it right.

She lifts herself up with a huff, ignoring the throbbing pain on the side of her head. Behind her, countless elves are already lining up in front of the entrance. There is no time to lose, so she leaves it all behind, nicely hidden beneath a pile of snow.

She doesn’t want to think about what happened, and about what it means.

Not yet.

Blood trickles down her temple while she waits with all the others, and she discreetly wipes it off with her sleeve. There’s a familiar shame in the pit of her stomach, the certainty that if someone stares at her for too long they’ll see through her lies and know the awful truth about her.

The one she’s not even sure of knowing.

Were they right all along? Has Maven always been cursed? A black sheep in a white flock — or worse, a wolf in disguise.

“Bah! Aelfric!” a harsh voice cuts through her thoughts, “Stop wasting my time, I don’t have all day, show me your arm.”

Maven jumps and blinks, quickly realising that she’s now at the front of the line, standing next to the doors of the factory like an idiot. Laezel glares at her, regal and intimidating in her red velvet uniform, golden buttons and officer’s epaulettes catching the light of the glittering garland above her head. Maven takes a clumsy step towards the guard; the githyanki’s hand visibly tightens around the hilt of the longsword resting at her hip.

“Ah yes, yes of course, sorry, here you go —” she mumbles, showing her the badge permanently tattooed on the thin skin of her forearm.

“Chk!” is the guard's only answer before she lowers the level beside her. Maven’s contract number appears above the gate, amidst a rain of bright stardust.

N° 261214

A number. That is all she is once she steps into her workplace, and sometimes, it’s almost comforting.

Maven heads towards the toy workshop without so much as a glance for the tall Christmas trees, the socks hanging near the blazing fire in the hearth, or the big pots of simmering hot chocolate. The fragrant fir wreaths on the walls are adorned with all sorts of juniper branches, pinecones, and berry spray. Each time she looks at them, she’s reminded of cold winter days with her mother, of long afternoons spent in the forest gathering branches and small red fruits in a wicker basket.

Shadowheart is already sitting in front of her workbench, pliers in hand as she works on the wheels of a small wooden car. She’s in a sour mood — that much is obvious — her brows are furrowed and her lips are but a thin discontent line. Maven dares not disturb her, she simply slides in her assigned corner to start working on the thirty presents she has to make before the end of the day.

She’s already completely engrossed in her task when she hears Shadowheart stand up, her stool crashing on the floor, her tool box clattering at her feet. “I’ve had enough! If they play another one of those songs, I’m blasting the entire place and ourselves with it!”

A few elves gasp in horror, wide-eyed and confused. Of course they’d be shocked, this is their entire world, the sole universe they’ve ever known. Their entire lives revolve around candy canes, decorated trees, and insufferable christmas carols! The only elf who hates Christmas just as much as Maven does is Shadowheart. She has never been bold enough to ask her why she does though; she has every reason to believe it is not a joyous story.

You’re not like the others, she thought the first time she saw her, with her long black hair and her angry steel blue eyes, you hate it here, don’t you?

“That’s fine by me,” Maven chuckles, sewing a pair of fragile translucent wings on the back of a fairy doll, “You’d do us all a favor.”

Shadowheart looks down at her, chest heaving, braid coming undone.

“But in the meantime,”—she bends over to place a little wooden box in front of her — “use this.”

“What is that?”

“Earplugs. I have a spare pair, no need to thank me.”

“No,” she says, motioning towards Maven’s brow, right above the old scars on her left cheek, “I meant this, on your forehead.”

Maven blushes, hastily covering the bruise under her choppy dark green bangs. She almost forgot about the incident in the forest, about the monster, and about the wound…

“It’s nothing, you know me, clumsy as ever! I slipped on the steps of the porch this morning,” she blurts out, trying to hide the fear in her voice behind a small laugh.

But Shadowheart doesn’t believe her, she knows Maven a little too well. It’s a blessing and a curse, because she has a few secrets she’d like to keep to herself.

“What happened, Mav?” she asks, laying a gloved hand on her arm.

She looks at her in silence, and something in Maven almost breaks. A door that has long been closed, a keyless lock that she doesn’t trust anyone else to open — not even her friend.

Before she can answer, a familiar chime echoes through the entire building.

Shit… Is it already that time of the month again?

“Dear Christmas elves, please gather in the foyer. The names of the best employees of the month are about to be revealed!”

An ocean of ecstatic elves rushes through the narrow corridors; they squeal and they laugh as they run towards the grand hall. They celebrate Christmas Eve every year in this wide room — dancing and eating under the tall chandeliers, gifting each other little trinkets at the feet of the tallest tree of the entire realm, kissing under the mistletoe….

But once a month, it’s also the place in which Santa simultaneously rewards a handful of his workers and punishes the rest of them.

The most hardworking of the elves are given new uniforms, as well as a big golden snowflake medal to wear on the front of their pristine coats. They are admired amongst their peers, earning a respect that never quite fades no matter how many years go by.

Those who fail to produce enough toys, however, face a far less alluring fate… The entirety of North Pole shuns them, they are encouraged to work some extra hours at night by the management, and — to add insult to injury — they are kindly asked to take a considerable wage cut.

Maven has been part of the latter group for the past years, and this Christmas is no different. Shadowheart sighs in relief somewhere behind her. She’s in neither of the two, she’s right in the middle, in the comfortable middle ground of ‘normality.’

“If my salary gets any lower than this, I’ll be working for free,” Maven grumbles, eyes fixed on Beatrix Birchborn and Rue Littebell, Santa’s new favorite employees. The girls’ long red hair glimmer like two crowns of fire when they bend down to receive their prizes, and Maven can’t help but envy them a little.

“Oh my… Are you on the naughty list again, darling?” someone whispers in her ear and her entire body grows tense as a bow.

Astarion Ancunín, Santa’s insufferable secretary, is standing right beside her.

In the soft glow of the candles, he looks as if he was molded out of clay by Santa himself. White curls sculpted out of morning’s first snow, skin smooth like polished spruce wood, red eyes crafted out of the same glass as the bulbs in the vast tree behind him — he is Christmas incarnate, and this place’s finest creation.

But everything that is beautiful is also dangerous, poisonous like the Amanita mushrooms that grow at the feet of the white firs.

And for that reason, Astarion is the most dangerous out of all the elves of the Christmas realm, and the one Maven should be the most wary of.

Tonight, he looks especially magnificent. He is wearing a perfectly tailored red velvet two piece suit, lined with bright green silk. The bow of his white lavallière shirt cascades down his chest like a river of melting snow, and on his collar shines a little snowflake brooch. He must have won it many years ago, on a night like this one, or so Maven imagines. It’s her first time seeing him wear glasses though, and she wonders if he walked straight out of his office when the announcement rang through the factory. They’re small and round, delicately perched on top of his Grecian nose. She rather likes them, they make him look a little more… stern.

Maven hates to admit it, but her heart always races a little when she’s around him. It’s a daily inconvenience, something that happens far more often than she’d like… She’s eating lunch at the refectory, or taking a short break in the fir plantations, and all of a sudden, he’s here! And each time, she can’t really tell why he ventured out of the factory’s headquarters to find her in the first place. Maven might be too much of a bungle to be crowned ‘employee of the month,’ but she has observed Astarion for long enough to know a thing or two about him — things he probably wouldn’t like her to know. He’s calculating, ambitious, and each of his actions always serves a purpose…So naturally, it didn’t take her long for her to figure out that he wants something from her.

But what could she possibly give him? Her, North Pole’s favorite outcast.

“Don’t act like this comes as a surprise to you; you’re the one who wrote that list,” she says, a little more bitterly than intended.

“You’re sweet darling, but there are thousands of elves in this factory, do you truly think I would know all of that by heart?” he huffs, straightening his jacket, “Perhaps, I ought to remind you that I’m just the hand that holds the quill, nothing more.”

Maven doesn’t answer, she simply stares at the bottom of the list plastered on the wall. There’s something even more humiliating about the fact that Astarion put her badge number there himself — knowingly or unknowingly. She’s drowning in an ocean of dark thoughts when she feels his fingers pushing her hair away from her brow, feeling the bruise on her temple. And she flinches, like some kind of wild animal that is not used to being touched so gently.

Astarion doesn’t ask her how she hurt herself, he simply stares at it with a strange look in his eyes. It’s not a kind or a soft expression though, and soon, a familiar smirk forms on his face.

“Don’t look so defeated. I think I prefer you naughty anyway, it suits you better.”

Is that a compliment or an insult? Her stupid body doesn’t wait for her mind to settle on either before blushing.

“Don’t you have something else to do? Somewhere else to be? I hear you’re pretty busy this time of year,” she says as she starts walking away, quickly heading back towards the toy workshop. “I myself have no time to spare, so if you’ll excuse me…”

His voice follows her through the long corridors, stubborn and haunting. “Nothing that demands my immediate attention, no.”

“How unfortunate.”

She bursts inside of the atelier with Astarion on her heels, and her heart sinks when she realises that Shadowheart is not there. It was a bad idea to leave the hall, this is even worse. The last thing she wants at the moment is to have a little tête à tête with Santa’s secretary…

Maven has no choice but to pretend he is not there. She puts her gloves on, sits down and throws the fairy doll she finished earlier in the jute bag by her feet. Persistent as ever, Astarion draws close again. He takes a few graceful steps and leans on her workbench, looming over her with bright ruby eyes.

“You need to dream big, dear,” he sighs, carefully inspecting one of her little screwdrivers. “Do you want to spend your entire life crafting silly gifts? Don’t you want to be the one opening up presents? I started out like you, you know — at the very bottom of the ladder, in that very workshop — but I managed to climb my way up to the top.”

“Why do you care? None of my dreams include anything that could be placed under the christmas tree anyway, nothing that could be wrapped in a red little bow.”

He moves to stand in front of the tall windows of the workshop, the ones that face the reindeers’ enclosure. Night is already falling and the fairy lights on the fences light up, one by one, like stars in the black skies.

“I’m sure Halsin over there would gladly step into a big box and wait for you to unwrap him on Christmas Eve,” he chuckles, and Maven turns red as a beetroot.

Halsin Silverbough, Santa’s hostler, has always been kind to her. She likes that he smells like the forest and the warm fur of the reindeers he takes care of, not like the heady mixture of cinnamon and cloves that constantly floats around the other elves. Last year, during the Christmas party, he’s the only one who talked and danced with her. But Maven doesn’t seen him as anything more than a friend — a shoulder to lean on and a sympathetic ear, at best.

“You know he fancies you, right?” Astarion says, but it’s almost like he’s asking her a question, waiting for her to either confirm or deny, “He’s always had a taste for the singular and the untamed.”

A ridiculous and incongruous thought crosses her mind.

Is he jealous? a small incredulous voice asks in her head, No, no, it cannot be. People like him are not jealous, they have all they could ever ask for and… I couldn’t possibly be what he wants.

“Tempting but no, thank you.”

“Don’t be so picky, darling,” — he slumps down a leather armchair near the fireplace, crossed legs elegantly slung over one of the armrests — “One has to seize the opportunities when they arise! Maybe this is the reason why your name is never at the top of that cursed list. That little head of yours is always so full of unnecessary thoughts. Unwinding would help to boost your production rate.”

Astarion certainly ‘unwinds’ a lot in his free time. Over the years, she has watched him leave the factory with an endless parade of lovers. It’s never the same face or the same name, but his paramours are always pretty. And on some nights, before entering the forest, Maven turns around to look at him and at the elf who gets to walk him home, foolishly hoping that he will choose her one day.

You don’t belong there, she finds herself thinking each time it happens, beasts lay on the soft moss of woodlands, not in townhouses’ plush beds.

“I don’t need any of that, what I need is to work in peace, Mister Ancunín,” she finally answers, stitching a pair of glassy eyes on the small face of a stuffed bear. “Would you please leave me alone now? I have much to do.”

For a little while, he remains uncharacteristically silent, quietly poised over the cushions like a sleepy cat. The leather creaks beneath him when he finally rises to his feet, and Maven is almost sure she hears him retreat towards the door. But, when she looks away from her handiwork, he’s right beside her stool again, looking down at her with an odd glint in his red eyes.

“If Halsin is not to your liking, maybe I could help you instead,” he whispers, voice low and suave like the wind blowing through the trees of the pine forest that surrounds her home. “In fact, I think we could help each other, in more ways than one, darling.”

At first, she isn’t sure she heard him right; it’s the type of thing she should only hear him say in dreams. The needle slips from her fingers, and her body freezes. She knows it’s not right, she knows it can’t be true— she’s Maven Aelfric, good things never come her way.

So, what’s the catch? What kind of ugly trick is the universe playing on her?

Right then and there, Shadowheart barges into the atelier, coming back from the foyer with two small apple turnovers in hand. She’s with Karlach, one of the mechanics in charge of taking care of Santa’s sleigh, and she can vaguely hear them arguing about the type of polish she’ll need to use on its footboards before Christmas Eve.

“Mav! I got you something sweet to eat, I thought it would cheer you up—” she calls out before stopping in her tracks, almost dropping the little viennoiseries to the ground.

“Oh gods, look at the time! I’m awfully late!” Astarion giggles, straightening up to fetch a sparkly pocket watch from his jacket. “I must go now, my dear! I’d love to stay but I have a tedious evening ahead of me. Countless letters to open and Santa’s sacks to prepare, you know how it gets! But what a pleasant little conversation this was…”

Shadowheart is still petrified, pale as a ghost, when he walks past her and swiftly exits the room. Karlach on the other hand, seems very amused by the whole situation, barely managing to contain her laugh. It must be both funny and dreadful to see someone like Astarion Ancunín close to a girl like Maven. In fact, the whole endeavor has the potential of becoming the ‘joke of the year’ if anyone in the factory gets wind of what happened.

“And darling?” Astarion says with his back to her, his hand idly waving goodbye as he walks down the corridor, “Smile, will you? You know what the song says, it’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

There’s a few seconds of silence before the tiefling wheezes, laughing so hard that she struggles to catch her breath. “Did you see his face? I haven’t seen him so panicked since the day he fell on his ass in front of everyone at the village’s skating rink.”

“Pretentious arsehole,” Maven mumbles under her breath, eyes still fixed on his back at the other end of the hallway.

“At least, stop ogling him while you say that, soldier,” Karlach says, putting a muscular arm around her shoulders, “I know his bum looks glorious in his fancy clothes, but come on!”

The tips of Maven’s ears burn, probably as red as the rest of her. “I have done no such thing!”

“Yes yes, I’ve caught you with your hand in the cookie jar more than once,” the tiefling laughs, wiping the corner of her amber eyes, “I don’t blame you though. That man is a prick, but he’s gorgeous.”

“What was he doing here?” Shadowheart finally asks, slightly disgusted, as she hands her one of the little cakes.

But once again, Maven doesn’t know the answer to that question. She still hasn’t figured out what sort of game he is playing and why he is playing it—

“I’m not sure, some kind of problem with Halsin and the reindeers’ enclosure,” she lies, not looking either of them in the eyes.

Tag list : @obsessedwhyyes @zozoparsnips @karinamay

Don't hesitate to send me a message if you'd like to be added on the tag list! ❤️

Happy holidays everyone and see you soon for the next one!

#christmas au #christmas fic #bg3 #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female oc #astarion ancunin #astarion fic #astarion fanfiction #Astarion is santa's secretary

45 notes · View notes

lostinthe-void-666 · 6 days ago

Text

Fic recommendations!

Before we start I would like to say that all the summaries I post here are pulled directly from my own brain, also may contain spoilers (if so I apologize.) Please check the fics themselves for the tags/actual summaries, and just generally more information. Also let me know if any of the fic links are wrong and I’ll replace them! Thank you :)

Also give the authors all the love. They’ve made us all some amazing fanworks <3

Starbound: Scavenge for Survivors - a humans are space orcs fic in the form of Xisuma picks up some aliens and goes running through the cosmos. Also in this series is Starbound: Savage (Forgotten Conquest) although if you plan to read the first, I would recommend not reading it until you get to a certain point in the other fic!

TAXI! [Totally and Xisumally Insane] - college dropout Xisuma runs a taxi service to stay afloat, but some odd people inadvertently become regulars of his.

Well, Well, Look Who’s Inside Again - Ex is unbanned from the Void in a really bad state. Oh and can’t remember anything. A lot of angst ensues :)

Love Me Like I’m Dead - Xisuma whump. There’s more to it and it’s extremely good I love it so much, but that’s the most basic summary.

Skin and Bones - febwhump from the same author as love me like I’m dead! Have to have an acc to view but a lot of the same themes and it’s really good ^^

proverbs uttered by utter fools (i’ll do anything it takes!) - I’m awful at a summary for this one. Ai Xisuma is a mascot for the company that Grian works for. A lot of stuff ensues.

Curiosity and their Consequences. - Cub realizes that the admin has never shared things about his own past. So what happens when he goes digging?

Potion of Forget This - After Tango bans the saturated soups and honey bottles from the lobby of his decked out game, a few of the Hermits start mixing soups and potions! Xisuma mixes a soup for one of his experiments. This time, it wasn’t just some funny effect.

cosmology - a series! Really love their world building and admin headcannons! The first one is post season 8, the second is set in season 10

i of the storm // salvation - Wels puts himself in a dangerous situation, to follow the call of salvation

quality entertainment - The Watchers are the audience, and they have to be satisfied.

Detecting and Other Gerunds - Xisuma finds something in the woods. Little does he know, that sort of creates a person.

The Devil’s Casino (and it’s not-so-devilish people) - Ex runs a casino in the city, Xisuma lives in a town near the city, and they’re forced to move out and go to work at the casino for a little while

get 360ed, bitch (EX + Xisuma) - a lot of really great fics, I can’t list them all out, but the devil’s casino is part of it and it’s so cool :)

Gates of Evolution - Xisuma is transported back in time to Evo. An elaboration on something that happens in another of the authors fics, Hermitcraft Chaotic Group Chat

stumbling in the dark (please come find me) - GIGS and ghostie Mumbo!!

The Orb Factory - Servers are orbs manufactured by the watchers and each admin gets one when they reach 18 yes, new addition, shh. I think it’s a really cool concept ^-^

The Major is walking on general ice - I haven’t personally finished this one yet, unfortunately, but it’s super good. Xisuma angst and the writing is so good

Well I Would Give You My Whole World - 5+ 1, Xisuma keeps getting so absorbed with helping others he keeps forgetting about himself

The art of taking care of others (and the unconventional methods that come with it) - (taken directly from the fic summary) 5 times Xisuma was a hypocrite while also being a worried dad, and one where people finally caught up on what was happening.

The Cloned Series - not much of it is out yet but is seems angsty. Very fun.

Hermitcraft brainrot (mainly Xisuma or EX) - self explanatory

Secret admins are a really bad idea - series! The first is an 8 +1 of the hermits not knowing who their admin is, the second is a pre-fic oneshot explaining something in the other fic

i can be the one you call - THE hurt/comfort Hermitcraft series.

I Can Be the One You Call AU Stories - self-explanatory. A series :)

Ex’s Quest to get a Single Night of Rest - Ex gets brought back onto the Hermitcraft server. The Hermits are annoying.

Iron Bleeds Green - a Hermitcraft/bionicle crossover, no idea what bionicle is but this fic is great, Xisuma and Ex find a demon of their past is following them.

the fracture - …just yeah. Xisuma and ex are pitted against each other, they were never meant to be close. Xisuma tries anyway.

Parasites aren’t the only thing you need to heal from. - (taken from the series summary) This is an Au where E.X was a parasite that practically used Xisuma's body to hurt the hermits then framed him till the point that the hermits did something that they will continue to regret.

Nobody will notice. - the hermits are inadvertently awful to xisuma and he finally ends up breaking down. I need more xisuma whump like this.

Void Medic EX - series, first one is an explanation kinda, the second, ex keeps finding their own sibling in the void..

it gets a little lonely here - series!! About an experiment facility, first one is Xisuma-centric

Void Siblings AU - trans ex, a rocky sibling relationship, and also their awful parents.

From the Archives - MAGNUS ARCHIVES BUT MAKE IT HERMITCRAFT!!! Hard to explain. Spooky and silly :)

your destiny is yours to write (or play) - xisuma-centric band au!!

AniMCYT - I understand that this one is really niche, but if you were ever a fan of animorphs, ever, that’s what this is :)

Oneshots/shorter 2/3 chapter fics:

xisuma and the void - a snapshot of what it’s like to be an admin

A Creaking Heart - Shapeshifter EX and Xisuma!! Creaking!EX!!! Angst!

Xisuma Oneshots - a series of random Xisuma oneshots.

When You’re Down Let Me Run To Your Aid - post season 8, and Xisuma isn’t responding to any of the Hermits. They’re worried.

Dragon’s Whumptober 2024 - a bunch of really fun oneshots, I could never list them all separately

Never Make a Contingency Plan Based on an Assumption - Xisuma gets caught in a death loop :D

Mis-take - (this summary taken directly out of the summary of the fic itself) The Watchers’s declaration of war against mortals, among all the grandstanding, also boasted the capture of Xisumavoid, the Admin Voidwalker.

Shouldn’t you know better? You opened the door for an apex predator - VAMPIRE MUMBO GOING FERAL YES!!!

The Workers Have Left Their Stations - Joe and Xisuma have a chat

Don’t let X and his friends cook - Xisuma and some off-server friends engage in shenanigans

Make a mercy out of me - MORE VAMPIRE MUMBO GOING FERAL!

Not Ready? - Xisuma leans something about EX

Worldeater - an admin headcannon, very cool :)

A knock at the window - Xisuma’s locked outside late at night again.

Rouge’s Gallery - an explanation of the hermits (and why they’re terrifying-)

Flowers. - Xisuma angst

i am a phony - what if xisuma and ex were in third life?

Lean On Me, Let It Out - only Doc knows about Xisuma’s previous server and what horrible things happened there

Honeycomb - Voidwalkers have some weird instincts… love this one :D

Withering Pains - (actual fic summary) Xisuma was just heading out to the nether to fix a glitch. He did not sign up to traumatically die to the almost extinct Wither effect.

Just a Day - Ex doesn’t have a good birthday.

Violet Mistique - Ex’s blindfold gets ripped off…

it’s a hollow play - Inspo of quality entertainment!!! Mumbo breaks something, and Xisuma really doesn’t want to punish him.

I’ve Seen Your Face Before - shapeshifting SCP Ex

The Tale of Suma - Xisuma and Ex are kept by the listeners while they’re growing up I can’t do this justice it’s so amazing

Ancient Secrets, Come To Light - …just yeah. Read the summary. Different timeline and watcher Wels

squishy or not, we all still love you - JEVIN FLUFF RAHHHH

Breaking and Entering - Ex tries to escape the void

bee - (actual fic summary) Xisuma gets a little more than he originally wished for with his 'Beesuma' persona.

Soulmarks AU “Hermitcraft” - everyone has a mark representing friendships they form, Xisuma reveals his

naps and high places don’t mix - Xisuma falls asleep in a high place. Instant regret.

Night Night Little God - about the sleeping glitch from the beginning of season 7

Flesh & Diamond - what if Xisuma actually used to be the doomslayer before he came to Hermitcraft?

Doppelgänger - (taken from fic summary) Xisuma confronts his double

when you were flyin’ your white flag, who never gave up on you? - Wels and Xisuma at the end of the world, in the End

You can’t Heal if you Hide - (taken from fic summary) Keralis helps Xisuma after the aftermath of a respawn

Welsknight’s Hoarding Problem - Wels hoards things :)

It’s Inadvisable to Attempt to Fight God as Any Mortal - paladin X!! His god starts to say things, though, and he starts to slip

And the World Stops Turning Just for Me - Xisuma’s tired. So tired, but he can’t give up just yet.

Exhels oneshots!

i love you like the ashes in my cigarette box

If you want a hyphen last name, I guess I don’t mind the cadence

Patterns in Petals

your honor, he’s a cornball

why the fuck are you using tilt controls

43 notes · View notes

rinwellisathing · 21 days ago

Text

Domain Of Dread: The Obsidian Gauntlet

Hey all! Here's the info for my Gortash themed Domain of Dread and more info about it! This is for the campaign I'm currently running, so it includes my own Durge, but you could plug in your own Durge instead if you wanted to run it, make up another NPC in place, or use the stats I provided! I hope you enjoy it!

The Obsidian Gauntlet

Domain of Clockwork Wonders

Dark Lord: Lord Enver Gortash

Genre: Mad Science, Gothic Horror

Hallmarks: Charismatic tyrant, tragic romance, clockwork horrors, vigilant tyranny

Mist Talismans: A pendant of Ilmater, A golden gauntlet, A clockwork tadpole

Noteworthy Features:

The Obsidian Gauntlet is a Domain based upon an idealized version of The City of Baldur's Gate according to the mind of Lord Enver Gortash. People who dwell In Obsidian Gauntlet know that:

The city is patrolled by The Steel Watch and its commander, The Golden Sentry.

The Watch and all the rest of the city's clockwork wonders were invented by the domain's Dark Lord, Enver Gortash. Most view him as a savior and a genius, but those who don't view him as a tyrant and a conqueror.

Lord Gortash has a beloved daughter who is supposed to be a prodigy who helps her father with his inventions, but no one has ever seen her. The only glimpse of her presence is donations to the less fortunate of the city marked with a seal in the form of a clockwork raccoon.

There is a museum chronicling Lord Gortash's rise to power and storied life at his birth place, Flymm Cobblers. This is the only original building left in the city that has not been updated and instead is kept as aforementioned museum. Sally and Dravo Flymm, the proprietors, are relentlessly cheery, almost to an unsettling degree, and dress in old timey fashions.

There is a strange wicker creature that haunts the woods and fields outside civilization, a behemoth of thorns and flame.

A powerful vampire lord lurks in the mountains, but his apparent fear of Lord Gortash keeps him from attacking the main city.

Settlements and Sites:

The Black City: The Black City is a perfect one to one replica of Baldur's Gate from the world of Toril, but the buildings and features have all been reinforced in steel and infernal metal. Everything in the city is advanced and up to date with street lamps and clockwork soldiers. There are scrying eyes created by Enver and his elite artificers as well as magic mirrors which can project images and recordings across them. The city's visible population appears to be well off and cosmopolitan, dressed in finery and the latest up to date accessories and clockwork technology. But the slums tell a different story as do the factories and work houses near the docks. The city is constantly under complete surveillance and crime, real or imagined, is very swiftly punished by Lord Gortash's upgraded Steel Watch. Patrols from his Golden Sentry are also common, especially when there is talk of dissention.

The Town of Mourn: The Town of Mourn is a small settlement about a day's journey from The Black City. It used to be home to a pious lord and his family, but a circle of mad druids destroyed the town and slaughtered his family. The town has begun a small resurgence, however its people dress strangely, covering up as much of their skin and faces as they can.

San Ojeda: a small, pious town right outside of the gates of the city. A temple to the Faerunian God, Ilmater, is located there run by a kindly old priest and paladin as well as one of their adopted children, a kind and handsome young Paladin who is rumored to be the brother of the original Golden Sentry. The city is considered sacred as the birth place of the hero who inspired The Golden Sentry.

Flymmstown: a slum outside the city, placed where Little Calimshan was located in the proper city of Baldur's Gate back on Toril. Many of the city's poor and Destitute live here out of the public eye to avoid tarnishing Lord Gortash's perfect image.

Martyr's Field: a massive necropolis not far from The Town of Mourn. Great heroes and important political figures are buried here and it is said to be incredibly haunted. There are rumors of a small, clockwork creature collecting treasure and hoarding it in a small mausoleum. Rumors also persist of a haunting by the ghost of a slender teenage tiefling in a long cloak who tends the graves, though no one has seen her up close.

The Junk Heap: a trash Heap outside the city where defunct Watchers, old tech, and other such things that don't fit Lord Gortash's vision of a perfect World are dumped and abandoned. Mad artificers cast out from the city congregate there and build strange monstrosities with the refuse.

The Foundry: an enormous factory located where Candlekeep would be in the proper world of Toril. It is where Lord Gortash's greatest creations are built and sent out into the world. The domain's finest minds are recruited to work there and engage with the DarkLords's greatest secrets.

Lord Enver Gortash:

Enver's Powers and Dominion:

The Golden Sentry: Enver Gortash has a clockwork replica of his lover, Sentry Ojeda, a tiefling Oathbreaker paladin. The being is a specialized custom steel watcher that appears as a handsome male tiefling in his thirties with golden horns and armor, silver hair, and gold tinged skin. While he is physically a perfect replica of Enver's lover, he can only follow direct orders and cannot love Enver on his own or express/form opinions or thoughts of his own.

The Steel Watch: Enver's impressive clockwork army, controlled with altered Illithid tadpoles within the preserved brains of his political enemies and condemned prisoners. The watchers are tall and imposing and his design and their abilities have improved greatly since his first batch back in Baldur's Gate. Enver can summon two Steel Watchers to him as an action once per day in personal combat. Out on the streets of The Black City, an alarm can sound when a crime is observed to summon a company of these clockwork soldiers.

Choking Smog: Once per day, Enver can open and close the borders of his domain by either increasing or decreasing production at The Foundry, raising a polluting smog which acts as this domain's mist.

Enver's Torment:

Enver longs to be seen as a benevolent, all powerful leader who is loved and feared in equal parts, however there will always be people within the domain who view him in either a wholly negative or wholly positive light, never in perfect balance.

Enver cannot be happy with his power and wealth if Sentry and Teela are not there by his side. No matter what he tries, he cannot find and reunite with their souls and his replicas of them are never exactly right.

Although Bane cannot reach Enver within the Domain of Dread, he can still feel the tyrant's breath down his neck as though he is only a few steps behind and ready to close his iron fingers around his soul once again.

Roleplaying Enver:

Lord Enver Gortash, since his failure in the Absolute plot, has been resurrected as A lich by his lover, Sentry Ojeda, Bhaal's son and former chosen. He bears the scars of his torture for failing Bane in the form of elegant but cruel golden scars across his body. He appears handsome and well preserved, but constant pain still racks him from Banes's punishments. When he was brought back, he found himself face to face with his daughter, the child Sentry had given birth to before his unfortunate fall from grace at the hands of Orin.

Enver attempted to connect with his child and earn her trust and love as well as rekindle his connection with Sentry, but right as he seemed on the cusp of achieving this, Bane schemed to regain his hold on Enver's soul and many other beings with interest in tyranny were drawn to Enver as well.

Sentry became the means to which these beings could gain control of Enver ans many sought to capture him or endanger him. Ultimately, Sentry was taken and Enver fought to gain power to get him back, committing atrocities which his daughter, Teela, opposed intensely. Ultimately, Enver and Teela came to blows over his methods and in a fit of rage he accidentally killed her.

Consumed with grief, Enver's atrocities mounted and he was consumed by a thick smog of mist reeking of engine oil and ash.

Enver is outright affable and diplomatic, putting on a winning smile and a friendly face, but underneath lies despair and frustration, for no matter how much he builds and how hard he works, the city is never to his standards and the replicas of Sentry and Teela only do as he commands, never showing the spirit and spark that made his beloved family his only equals.

He is more than willing to treat player characters with similar interests or goals that align with his as potential allies and his first course of action is always diplomacy or subterfuge if confrontation can be avoided.

Adventures in The Obsidian Gauntlet:

A young up and coming artificer hopes to catch Lord Gortash's attention for a job at The Foundry they hired the party to help them give a demonstration of their creations.

A young man from the Ilmatari clergy in San Ojeda feels strangely drawn to The Golden Sentry, almost as if there was a kinship with it. Lord Gortash takes note and hires the party to arrange an introduction.

The ghost in Martyr's Field raises a fuss to gain the party's attention, when they arrive, either to put her down or find out what's wrong, she introduces herself as Teela Gortash and asks for help reaching her father.

Sally and Dravo Flymm task the party with recovering an important item from Enver's childhood for their museum, unfortunately it has made its way to The Junk Heap.

Construction is beginning on a fabulous new section of town, but the feral druids out in the woodlands are vehemently opposed to this, the party is tasked with protecting the workers.

A bounty is placed on the wicker monstrosity that roams the countryside at night, the party accepts a quest to destroy it.

The party receives an invitation from the local vampire lord wishing to discuss an important matter.

The temple of Ilmater is experiencing a strange occurrence at its basement shrine, if there is a cleric or paladin in the party, they may be called to examine it.

More hauntings are being reported at Martyr's Field. When the players investigate, they find renegade artificers from The Junk Heap are stealing body parts and siphoning spirits for their macabre products.

The party are hired either as apprentices or guards at The Foundry and are able to investigate its secrets.

Where Is Sentry?

Sentry's location can be decided by either a roll of the dice or DM’S discretion depending on what works within your world. The only constant is that he has been killed or abducted by a tyrannical power that intends to use him to get to Enver.

Sentry is being held in Bane's domain and tortured, his soul trapped there.

Sentry is the unwilling consort of the demon lord Grazz't , who not only realized he could get to Enver through Sentry but also realized he could breed powerful demons with a Bhaalspawn.

Sentry is frozen in one of Mephistopheles dungeons in Mephistar as vengeance for his and Enver's past transgressions as well as a way to force Enver into an infernal contract.

Sentry is dead, his soul is awaiting its judgment or could even have made it's way to Martyrdom where Ilmater and his adoptive family await him.

Sentry is alive and well at the home he and Halsin share outside of Reithwin on the material plane or the modest manor he and Astarion share in Baldur's Gate.

Sentry's soul has followed Enver to the domain of Dread in the hopes of saving him, he is reincarnated as a local NPC.

Where is Teela?

Teela was accidentally killed by her father in a confrontation over his actions after Sentry's abduction. Her restless spirit haunts the necropolis with her clockwork companion, Trash Can the Raccoon. She hopes to redeem her father or at least put him to rest and end the domain's nightmare, but she lacks the power to do so. Stats:The Golden Sentry: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/138208049/nG8JNG Teela Gortash: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/138209185/VzRCcl(Remember to include ghost traits such as incorporeal)

Lord Enver Gortash: https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/138209584/4GUqNF (Include Lich Traits as well)

21 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

Text

This is interesting. It's The Earthquake House, a 1990 earthquake-safe construction via revolutionary, (at the time), technology that makes it resistant to seismic tremors. It's a landmark in Los Angeles, California. Looks like a factory, doesn't it? 3bds, 3.5ba, $2.8M.

The floor plan is easy to adapt to multiple uses, and can be a home/business, or just a business and even a restaurant. It was architect, artist & educator David Ming Li Lowe's own home.

Note the springs so it can absorb impact. I bet those cement stairs would crack during a strong quake, though.

Closeup of the springs. Looks like the cement has cracked already.

Here's the living room when it was featured in a magazine article.

The house is empty, so it's hard to figure out, but here's a door that looks like it's an entrance by the garage.

You can see the steel going to the corners of the wall. I wonder why he used glass, though. Maybe it's shatterproof.

He used a lot of steel. Look at the rods in the wood beamed ceiling.

Industrial style kitchen.

This looks like a primary bedroom.

Most of the rooms look alike with the yellow crisscross support beams on every wall.

One of the baths.

This looks like another bedroom and bath. Look at the flexible hose attached to the sink. There must be a reason for the deep pitches in the ceilings.

It was part workspace and part residence, so this looks like it may have been the office space.

Unless it's a bedroom, b/c it has a laundry closet.

Looking down from the top floor. It's 3 levels high.

This bath has some nice built-in cabinetry. Now, this sink has a regular pipe coming down, not a flexible hose. Are those light bulbs coming out of the ceiling?

I think that this is an entrance gate to the driveway and garage.

2 car garage has an industrial door.

This just looks like a little, non-earthquake-proof covered patio in the yard.

#earthquake proof house #unusual homes #unique houses #houses #house tours #home tour

77 notes · View notes

bestfictionalplant · 11 months ago

Text

Bracket reveal

Text version under cut!

The tourney is split into 4 32 brackets, and the winners of each will go to the semi finals! I'll make a different post about HOW the tourney will run, and this will serve as a pinned post for round 1 :)

Bracket 1, Side 1

Peppino (Vampire Survivors) vs Winged Strawberry (Celeste)

Herb (Monster Hunter) vs Triffids (Day of the Triffids)

Gigi (Xiaolin Showdown) vs Silent Princess (The Legend of Zelda)

Breath of Evil (Wings of Fire) vs Thorn Thallid (Magic the Gathering)

Audrey II (Little Shop of Horrors) vs Farewell Flower (Mistborn)

Togemon (Digimon) vs Silverwood Tree (Witch Hat Atelier)

Golden Apple Tree (Greek Mythology) vs Potbelly (My Singing Monsters)

Sculk (Minecraft) vs MocDonald (One Piece)

Bracket 1, Side 2

Vida (The Promised Neverland) vs Glaze Lily (Genshin Impact)

Dr Brewer's Clone (Goosebumps) vs The Spring (Friends at the Table)

Kite Eating Tree (Peanuts) vs Zotoh Zhaan (Farscape)

Wheel Tree (His Dark Materials) vs Mushtree (I Was a Teenage Exocolonist)

Medusoid Mycelium (A Series of Unfortunate Events) vs Radial (Ooblets)

Chikorita (Pokemon) vs Blast Cone (League of Legends)

Gooloog (AAAHH!!! Real Monsters) vs Venus (Bug Fables)

The Thorian (Mass Effect) vs Yggdrasil (Norse Mythology)

Bracket 2, Side 1

Deku Tree (The Legend of Zelda) vs Blood Blossoms (Danny Phantom)

Hotblonde37159 (Angel: The Series) vs Vash the Stampede (Trigun)

Kinoko (Don't Hurt Me, My Healer) vs Wolfsbane (The Vampire Diaries)

Plant (Monster Rancher) vs Flower of Life (Mesopotamian Mythology)

Truffula Tree (The Lorax) vs Slurperon Enchantress (Internet Scam)

The Brain Tree (Neopets) vs Ginseng Baby (Scarlet Hollow)

Chompy (Bug Fables) vs Whispy Woods (Kirby)

Clavu (Overlord) vs Ivern (League of Legends)

Bracket 2, Side 2

Bulbasaur (Pokemon) vs The Trees of Valinor (Lord of the Rings)

Leslie (The Amazing World of Gumball) vs Hayzee Dayzee (Paper Mario)

Piranha Plant (Mario) vs Specimen 34/The Blessed Eternal (Wolf 359)

Potted Plant (Wander Over Yonder) vs Morbuzakh (Bionicle)

Jabe & the Trees of Cheem (Doctor Who) vs Black Mercy (DC)

Mr Plant (The World of Mr Plant) vs Feculant Gnarlmaw (Warhammer 40k)

Tree Rex (Skylanders) vs Flowey (Undertale)

Sundrop Flower (Tangled) vs Venus McFlytrap (Monster High)

Bracket 3, Side 1

Pinchley (Long Gone Gulch) vs Frank the Plant (Harley Quinn: the Animated Series)

The Venus (Hello From the Hallowoods) vs Nirnroot (The Elder Scrolls)

Food Fight (Skylanders) vs Paopu Fruit (Kingdom Hearts)

Phillogenous esk Piemondum (Rod Albright Alien Adventures) vs Plant (Wall E)

Tannot Root (Farscape) vs The Broccoloids (The Powerpuff Girls)

Rockbud (The Stormlight Archive) vs Sylvan Hound (Guild Wars 2)

Eldridge Johnson-Mayer (The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy) vs Hyacinth/Hyacinthus (Greek Mythology)

Selas Flower (Kingkiller Chronicle) vs Treant (Disgaea)

Bracket 3, Side 2

Dragonflame Cacti (Wings of Fire) vs Sunflower (Plants vs Zombies)

The Bioplant (The Rising of the Shield Hero) vs Turnip Boy (Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion)

Shambling Mound (Dungeons and Dragons) vs Mandrake (Shin Megami Tensei/Persona)

Cowplant (The Sims) vs Ebony Queen's Apple (Limbus Company)

Devil Fruits (One Piece) vs Donkey-Cabbage (Enchanted Forest Chronicles)

Oaktopus (My Singing Monsters) vs Field Dungeon (Rune Factory 4)

Mushroom Tree (Stardew Valley) vs Jumpkin (Cassette Beasts)

Undergrowth (Danny Phantom) vs Karzahni (Bionicle)

Bracket 4, Side 1

Dreamstalk (Kirby) vs Myconid (Balders Gate 3)

Stingbulb (Fablehaven) vs Treebeard (Lord of the Rings)

Stray Cat (Jojo's Bizarre Adventure) vs Peashooter (Plants vs Zombies)

Giant Turnip (Codename: Kids Next Door) vs Treasure Mushroom (Guild Wars 2)

Tree of Wisdom (Sonic the Hedgehog) vs Fire Flower (Mario)

Stump (The Angry Beavers) vs Groot (Marvel)

Maise (Oneshot) vs Konohana Tree (Okami)

Red Weed (War of the Worlds) vs Pod Plant (Fortnite)

Bracket 4, Side 2

Plantera (Terraria) vs The Grass Snake (Friends at the Table)

Breathweed (Warhammer 40k) vs Campestri (Dungeons and Dragons)

Neo Alraune (Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle) vs Kringlefucker (Homestuck)

Slimefoot the Stowaway (Magic: The Gathering) vs Gatfruit Tree (Space Station 13/14)

Sex Pollen Plant (Fanfiction) vs The Rumor Weed (VeggieTales: Larry-Boy and the Rumor Weed)

Dr Madley Radish (Papa Louie) vs Vervain (The Vampire Diaries)

Yatevon (OCTAHEDRON: Transfixed Edition) vs Echo Flower (Undertale)

Wither Rose (Minecraft) vs Hydramon (Digimon)

#poll bracket

42 notes · View notes

whisperthatruns · 9 months ago

Text

Gate

Do you love words as a shy magician loves the moment of quiet after he’s left the stage, alone in a dressing room where a yellow candle burns with its greasy, pitch-black flame? What yearning will encourage you to push the heavy gate, to sense once more the odor of that wood and the rusty taste of water from an ancient well, to see again the tall pear tree, the proud matron who presented us aristocratically with its perfectly formed fruit each fall, and then fell into mute anticipation of the winter’s ills? Next door a factory’s stolid chimney smoked and the ugly town kept still, but the indefatigable earth worked on beneath the bricks in gardens, our black memory and the vast pantry of the dead, the good earth. What courage does it take to budge the heavy gate, what courage to catch sight of us again, gathered in the little room beneath a Gothic lamp – mother skims the paper, moths bump the windowpanes, nothing happens, nothing, only evening, prayer; we wait . . . We lived only once.

Adam Zagajewski, tr. Clare Cavanagh (text found here)

#adam zagajewski #clare cavanagh #gate #poetry #translation

12 notes · View notes

antaxzantax · 3 months ago

Text

Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 58

Summary:

Alfred Ashford and Auguste Campbell continue in the abandoned factory. Confrontation between Alexia Ashford and William Birkin.

Neglect had cracked the walls and soiled the floors to the point of merging the dust with the mould that seeped through the dampness of the ceiling. A horror vacui of graffiti covered the frame of the building and much of its skeleton.

Alfred unlocked a rusty gate to access the lower floor of what was once a factory for the production of glyphosates. He climbed down metal stairs to a catwalk that led to one of the synthesis chambers. There he built his temple to Leviathan, where Auguste and Peter awaited him.

At the temple to Leviathan, he was greeted by an intense stench of disinfectant that clogged his nostrils. Auguste was waiting for him seated in one of the two armchairs placed at the end of the room to contemplate the spectacle offered by Peter. Peter was lying on the floor between the two pools of corpses.

Alfred did not announce his return, but directly sat down on the free armchair and lit up a cigarette, refusing the joint Auguste offered him.

Peter got up from the floor.

A sacrifice was being tossed around inside a burlap sack hanging from the ceiling.

Auguste leaned back in his seat. Alfred poured himself a glass of wine.

The god of Flesh was thirsty for blood.

“Ben Bertolucci.”

“What?”

“Ben Bertolucci!”

The receptionist wrote his name on a piece of paper. Ben showed her his credentials as a freelance journalist.

“What are you doing here? Are you here to sell an exclusive?” The secretary stapled together a document, ignoring Ben.

“I'm on my way to get that exclusive. Could I speak to the editor-in-chief?”

The secretary turned in her chair and dialled an internal number. She spoke loudly to her interlocutor and then hung up.

“First floor on the right. Hurry up.”

“Thank you.”

Ben slung his rucksack over his shoulder and trotted to the first floor. M. Wood. Editor-in-chief of the Raccoon Times. He knocked on the door.

“Hello? I'm Ben Bertolucci.”

“Come in!”

“Ben stepped into the disorganised office. The editor-in-chief greeted him with a cup of coffee in one hand and a freshly baked newspaper in the other.”

“What do you want from us, Mr. Bertolucci?”

“An exclusive: the mysterious disappearances taking place in the slums of Raccoon City.”

“Do you really consider it an exclusive?”

“Yes, and for a very simple reason: there is a pattern. A perfectly clear pattern. There have been a total of 10 disappearances. All 10 disappearances share the same homeless men from the same slums, and they all have a family member who is a university student, specifically a family member who is studying at Raccoon City University.”

The editor-in-chief took off her newspaper and coffee cup to light up a cigarette.

“You mean a serial killer?”

“No. Not at all! It is something else. A very powerful thing. Before coming here I did a little preliminary research. It turns out that the university relatives of the 10 deceased agree that they met a blond man and a red-haired man in the days before their relatives disappeared. The blond man introduced himself as a doctoral student studying poverty and lifestyle in industrialised Midwestern cities. How about that?”

“So what?”

“A high-impact story about a disappearance plot involving Raccoon City University and a couple of suspects?”

The editor-in-chief raised her eyebrows.

“Do what you want. But we will review the material before publication. We have a good relationship with the university and we are a very small newspaper. Don't screw it up.”

“Of course I won't screw it up. Trust me!”

“Go away.”

Ben Bertolucci left the newsroom with the promise of future high-impact reporting.

Alfred brought a typewriter with him to the factory. His slip-up with the police and the subsequent conversation with his sister and father had inspired him to change his perspective on the development of his doctoral thesis. He did not want it to be a standard academic analysis, but a more personal and original work.

The subject of the thesis was the socio-political transition that took place in Northern England between the end of feudalism and the beginning of capitalism, and according to the thesis of biopower proposed by Michel Foucault. A theme that fitted in perfectly with what he was doing in the factory. A question of biopower, that was the god of Flesh; of control of bodies and their wills.

On the other hand, he stopped taking drugs. Apart from the risk, the new perspective deserved the full attention of his senses, as he devoted himself to narrating the emotions and feelings he experienced during the rituals and then relating them to the rest of the study. He did not think that this particular part would make it into the final version, but he could reuse it to publish a self-illustrated novel or as part of a larger independent research project.

In conclusion, it had been proposed to complete the PhD by the end of next year. For this reason, the number of total sacrifices was agreed at 15.

15 and end.

Annette made her way to the changing room to get out of her uniform and change into nice, comfortable clothes. She would meet William outside the building to drive home. It was two o'clock in the morning.

Her salary had been raised. She as a lab technician and William as chief researcher. Without warning or explanation, it had simply happened. They were also paid double overtime. In this way, they had promised to pay the last installments on the car and part of the mortgage, although they had both increased their bank credit by enrolling Sherry in the best private school in the county. But their financial affairs didn't worry them. Their biggest source of stress came from Alexia Ashford.

William was back on his antidepressants. Annette tried to talk him out of starting the medication again, but William gave in to temptation and popped the prescribed pills for a full day. Alexia had beaten him at his own work and under his own nose. William had failed; he was a failure and he couldn't stand himself.

Apathy settled back into the Birkin household, and it was becoming unbearable. When the incident in the laboratory occurred, she fought for William because she really loved him. They met by chance at Arklay and she decided to stay by his side because she believed in his ambition and good character. It was also a radical departure from her previous partners and a chance to redirect her own aspirations. She was never attracted to the life of a housewife with a dog and child, so she chose to fulfil her own American dream by pursuing a career in biochemistry, a career she studied hard for after abandoning her vocation for philology.

Sherry's birth was unexpected, but they had no regrets. On the contrary, William proved to be quite a competent father despite his social awkwardness and workaholism. But despite the difficulties, they managed to build a happy little family, or so they thought. Be that as it may, the incident with Alexia threw everything into disarray. Annette fought for William in the hospital and during his convalescence. She fought for him in his worst moments and until he himself bounced back. She hated Alexia for what happened, but she had to swallow her pride when William made it clear that he would not leave Umbrella.

William returned to Umbrella, and now they were worse off than before. In her rare moments alone, Annette pondered the possibility of divorce. She loved William, but his behaviour was beginning to be excessively erratic, and she feared for Sherry and for her own life. If William didn't realise the damage he was doing, Annette would have to take steps of her own; even if it was a separation without divorce.

Annette entered the changing room.

“How long are we going to be locked up here? It's like a prison.”

A shower tap turned on. Annette did not recognise the voice, but it seemed to belong to a very young woman of British origin. Annette quietly approached the shower space. Hidden behind the corner of the wall, Annette spotted two naked women. Alexia and a stranger. The stranger was leaning against the wall opposite Alexia, who was washing her hair without paying much attention to the other woman.

“It's your fault. Couldn't you behave like a normal fucking person for a couple of hours?! Because of you my father is going to be lynched!”

The unknown woman was arguing with Alexia, but the latter seemed more focused on taking a shower.

“What now? Are we going to live here forever? I slept terribly tonight. Those weren't mattresses, they were mats. I want to go home. To my bedroom. I want to get my life together. I need to talk to my boyfriend.”

“Talk to him.”

“Oh, right. I'll tell Daniel that I'm locked up in a fucking clandestine lab because my dear cousin Alexia came up with the brilliant idea of bumping off the asshole who harassed her during the party I threw with my father's friends' kids. Great! Amazing story!”

Alexia turned off the tap. Annette hid in one of the cubicles.

“Ogie is also busy.”

“Ogie is an asshole. If they put him in jail with Alf for what he's doing at the factory, he deserves it. But I don't deserve to go to jail. I didn't do anything! Do you hear me, Alexia?! I didn't do anything wrong! You're the bad guy! You're the one who killed John!”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps? Perhaps?! My God, there are stones with more sensitivity than you. Why the hell are you like that?!”

“Because I'm a crazy punk.”

“Alexia, don't start. Just because your childhood sucked doesn't excuse you killing John.”

Silence.

“No,” said Alexia.

“Alexia... Seriously, it doesn't make sense. It's absurd, and you've never been stupid.”

“I don't want to talk about this any more.”

“Why, are you going to isolate yourself in your room and ignore everyone like you always do? Is that how a genius like you solves problems?”

Annette nearly had a heart attack with the tremendous punch Alexia threw at the locker.

“You don't scare me at all, Alexia,” said the unknown woman. “You're angry because you hate the world you live in and you hate yourself, and the hatred you feel is eating you up inside. That's why you're bitching at that employee, Birkin, because you want to destroy him. Because you want to destroy everything!!!!” The unknown woman slapped Alexia's face. “Stop victimising yourself and react!”

Alexia and the unknown woman left the changing room shortly afterwards. Annette emerged from the cubicle, her nerves raw. She hurriedly got dressed and ran to the entrance to tell William what she had heard.

“William, please don't go!” Annette pleaded.

William went to the laboratory's secretariat.

“Where is Alexia?!”

The secretary was reluctant to respond.

“Call her, damn it!”

The clerk called Alexia Ashford's office.

“William Birkin wants to speak to you. I understand. She is in her office.”

William ran to the office. He knocked on the door three times and went through.

Nobody was there.

The door closed behind him and someone bolted it.

Alexia faced him. William was hyperventilating. She pushed a strand of hair out of her face. He gritted his teeth with all his might.

“I killed a man,” said Alexia.

William swallowed hard.

“Electrocution. He had a cardiac arrest. I felt no regret.”

Alexia made her way to her desk, where she sat down, leaning on the edge of the table.

“If you had killed me that time, would you have regretted it?” she continued.

William did not move from his spot, focused as he was on Alexia's speech.

“What the hell do you want from me?” William asked, his jaw aching.

“Your first reaction to the loss was attempted murder.”

“Because I was furious! Who the fuck do you think you are!”

“My reaction to the loss was similar.”

William hesitated.

“I saw myself reflected in your anger. Strange.”

“What?”

“My father wanted to fire you and ruin your life. I interceded on your behalf and proposed your promotion to chief researcher. I want us to work together.”

William put his hands to his head, completely confused.

“Wait, wait. Start from the beginning. You destroyed my virus and now you want to work together, and after what happened? Are you crazy?”

“Would you have regretted it?”

William smiled.

“I would have regretted ending up in jail... but not your death. Fuck.” William had definitely earned his dismissal.

“Would you try again?”

William relaxed his hands so as not to succumb to temptation. He did not answer. Alexia smiled subtly. A gloomy silence hung between the two of them. William thought for a split second about both possibilities, what if he killed her, while another voice inside reminded him of Annette's and Sherry's names.

“What do you want from me?”

Alexia walked around the table and sat down in the armchair.

“We will meet again at 17:00, or 5 p.m.”

William unlocked the door and walked out of the office. That she had seen herself reflected in him. Was she testing him? And why was she testing him by destroying the G-virus? What did it mean that she felt the same anger? The unknowns were piling up, as the answers were trickling down the drain.

What was Alexia Ashford's intention?

Dear blank page:

My name is Amelia Campbell. I was born into a Scottish family descended from the Stuarts. I spent my childhood in our castle in Glasgow and my teenage years at boarding school. Two months ago I turned 19. I have been living in a laboratory for a month because my cousin Alexia killed a human being.

I am a good Christian. I am not like my big brother. I am good. I am not like the rest of my family, like my father and my mother. I am good. I am not like the Ashfords. I am good. My heart is kind, in spite of the trials that fate puts me through. I am good and I will prove that I am good and that I am not like Alexia, but God has tested me again.

Alexia has begun to sympathise with William. That man who once tried to kill her over something as stupid as a test tube. Why does God always make it difficult for me? If Alexia is able to show sympathy for a stranger, it means that I will have to show a higher morality in order not to fall into evil. But what if it's a ploy? Alexia could kill William or stop sympathising with him at any time, so I would have passed the test. I pray to God it's the second option.

Amelia Campbell

Dear paper:

Alexia and William continue to socialise. I have seen them chatting on the sly and for several hours. They keep talking. I am disturbed by their suddenly good relationship. I know Alexia has a plan. I can feel it. Annette seems just as disturbed as I am.

Amelia Campbell

Dear crumpled paper:

And there was light. Back to Scotland. To my home. Sasha has arranged everything. Thank God, freedom. But an unexpected event has occurred. Alexia has invited William to Ashford Hall. Yes, crumpled paper, as you read: Alexia has invited William to Ashford Hall for a few days to, she says, continue research into the Progenitor virus. I don't know what happened and I don't care. BACK TO SCOTLAND.

PS: Ogie sucks. He is still fucking around in the factory with Alfred. Idiots.

Amelia Campbell

His brain was throbbing. His wrists and ankles ached from the locking restraints. Strapped to a gurney, William had become a mass of flesh that existed to breathe and withstand the thrust of the drugs seeping into his nervous system.

He didn't know where he was. All he remembered was a man Alexander called Ward. It was this Ward who started talking to William. Ward convinced him that he had broken the Ashford's trust when he tried to escape from their mansion, but that Alexander was willing to forgive him. William did not want to return to Ashford Hall. At Ashford Hall he had discovered horror.

For a week he was alone in that house. De Vermis Mysteriis. The book led him to a dungeon filled with esoteric superciliousness, and to an altar of sacrifice. Stanley Ashford's voice echoed pristine through the loudspeaker: Ïa! Aa! Azathoth! He went mad as, in the kitchen, he read Thomas Ashford's recipe book for flaying a human body and eating it. He vomited when he went into one of the guest rooms and discovered the tools Arthur Ashford had used to perform lobotomies and trepanations. Photographs showed how they worked: children with their skulls pierced and maps with racial hierarchies. In the basement he also saw her. Resting in her tomb, the mummy of Veronica Ashford lay at the heart of the pyramid. But the worst came when he finished listening to Edward Ashford's autobiographical recordings. He created the Progenitor virus as a replacement for the atomic bomb.

William broke through one of the doors and fled. Nowhere. Everywhere. But they stopped him in his stampede through the Cheviot Hills. They tied him up and put a bag over his head. He woke up tied to a steel chair and in a straitjacket.

Alexander Ashford.

Alexander spoke to him as if he were his father. He told him that Alexia protected him and that he would survive. But that protection had not been given to him in exchange for anything. William would have to repay Alexia. William would have to prove to the Ashfords that he was worthy of their trust. There would be no second chances. Loyalty or death.

William chose loyalty. He sacrificed himself for his wife and for his daughter.

Alexander disappeared.

William was thrown into a padded cell. His mind was blank. Stupid, William, I warned you, Albert would have said. You were never very mature, his parents would have said. Indeed, I was never very mature and he had failed, anger being the only thing driving his body's mechanisms.

That was the end of him. The end of a life devoted to zero ambition. Really, he should have devoted himself to astrophysics.

The door to his cell opened.

Alexia.

Her existence was fragmentary.

First of all, there was an Alexia who was happy. A naïve and curious Alexia, unaware that she was conceived as the by-product of a transitory selfishness. Elizabeth missed that Alexia. But she had disappeared.

Secondly, there was an Alexia who was thrown into an adult world that both admired and repudiated her. An Alexia who learned to behave according to the taste of adults. An Alexia who learned to override her emotions in order to survive her feelings. An Alexia who never felt understood because adults, including her father, had erected an imaginary wall separating her, the exception, from the common, the experience of the common being what should determine the exception. An Alexia who focused on books so as not to let herself drown in anguish; so as not to let herself be suffocated by the strange thoughts that assailed her. What if she disappeared? But that Alexia did not disappear, she was transformed.

Thirdly, there was an Alexia who, confined in a laboratory, imagined herself as the queen of a fairy tale. An Alexia who wanted to create her own utopia. A utopia without suffering, without anguish, without adults, without emotions or feelings. A utopia tailored to her will. But the will disappeared. The queen died.

Fourthly, there was an absent Alexia. An Alexia who secluded herself in the safety of her room to escape the outside world. Between the ages of 12 and 16, this absent Alexia took refuge in the shelter of her broken dreams. An Alexia who, despite getting her doctorate and continuing to fulfil the dreams of adults, existed for and because of her fantasies. Melancholic fantasies about the loss of will and of what could have been and never was.

Fifthly, there was a lost Alexia. An Alexia who left the room because of the only person who really loved her. Alfred. But his love was never enough to defeat the monster that germinated inside her. A monster that fed on her despair, her helplessness and her anger at not being able to decide who she was. A monster that was throwing her past happiness in her face, that was tempting her with the memory of T-Veronica, that was convincing her to sink into seclusion, that was whispering in her ear to commit suicide. A lost Alexia who only felt the anger born of her helplessness at being unable to know who she was; the naïve Alexia, the queen Alexia, the absent Alexia or the lost Alexia.

Alfred could not help her. Alexander never knew how to be her father. Elizabeth never knew how to love her. And her lineage, the Ashfords, and her dynasty, the Stuarts, chained her to carry on the tradition of those who were dead.

But she wanted to live. Not to live according to the dictates of adults, but to live according to her will. The adults tried to tame her with therapy and medication, but they never succeeded. Because there was something in her, an Alexia, that always rebelled. An indomitable force in her being that kept her alive because it never died out. And this being had one thing to do. A test. A confirmation. A verdict. A question to which it must now answer. However, the questioner was not supposed to be her. It had to be an outsider who was also capable of understanding the monster that was roaring inside her.

A desperate measure. A blind shot. A miscalculation. But I couldn't waste any more time. It had to be now.

Alexia opened the door of the cell where her father had imprisoned William Birkin.

“William.”

William's eyes narrowed, but he was conscious.

“What...”

“I need your help.”

“What for...”

“To conclude our conversation.”

“We've talked about many things....”

“About what we talked about that time in the sewer.”

William opened his eyes wide.

“The world sucks,” he said.

“We need to conclude the conversation.”

William closed his eyes.

“Get me out of here,” he said.

“We fly to Canada. There we will decide what to do next.”

“Annette. Sherry. I'm sorry.”

Alexia unstrapped William from the stretcher. They both ran to the exit.

Police search a factory with 14 mutilated bodies inside.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on, dad, pick up the fucking phone.”

“Yes? Who's calling?”

“Dad, it's Alfred. Dad, please, you have to help me.”

“What happened?”

“The factory, dad, they've discovered the factory.”

“Where are you?”

“At home, with Auguste and Peter.”

“God... Go to the airport. Go to Rockfort. Quickly!”

#resident evil #resident evil code veronica #alexia ashford #alfred ashford #alexander ashford #william birkin #annette birkin

3 notes · View notes

shapeshiftersvt · 9 months ago

Text

Cryptid Collection Spotlight: Mothman

Welcome to our first cryptid spotlight! Over the course of this week we're going to infodump about the six cryptids we chose to feature in our Cryptid Collection! We'll be posting about the lore and origins, our thoughts, experiences, and relationships with all of these cryptids, and we encourage folks to share their own!

First up is Mothman!

👣The Cryptid Collection 🗺️Cryptid Travel Posters 🦋Mothman Binders & Sportsbras 🧵Mothman fabric designs

On November 15, 1966, two young couples were out for a joyride along the backroads around Point Pleasant, West Virginia. Around midnight, they made it to the decommissioned munitions factory the locals called The TNT Area (now the McClintic Wildlife Management Area) where they encountered the creature we now know as Mothman.

Those two couples (Linda and Roger Scarberry, and Mary and Steve Mallette) weren't the first to see it. In fact there'd been enough sightings before that of the creature lurking in the woods by The TNT Area, that it had gained a local nickname — The Bird. But their story was so detailed and harrowing that it was reported on in the local newspapers the very next day, making it the very first published sighting of the Mothman.

According to the Scarberries' and Mallettes' accounts of the incident, when they arrived at The TNT Area, the first thing they saw of the creature was its eyes, glowing red in the headlights of their car. It didn't chase them, not yet. Instead they watched it turn and disappear around the corner of the building, which gave them a better view of the rest of the creature.

All four eye witnesses — and at least one of the earlier eye witnesses — described the creature as a humanoid with wings. According to the original police reports about the November 15th incident, the Mothman was grey in color, around 6-7 feet tall, with muscular legs. The wings on its back, also grey, when fully unfurled, had a wingspan of around 10 feet. The only color on the entire creature were the circular eyes, about 2 inches wide and 6 inches apart, which glowed "a fiery red" in the car's headlights. But despite seeing its legs and eyes clearly enough to give those detailed descriptions, Linda Scarberry and Mary Mallette both reported being unable to see any arms or even a head.

When the creature disappeared around the building — wobbling as if it were unsteady on its feet — Roger Mallette, who was driving the car, floored it, heading back towards town with his passengers yelling at him to hurry. They were not home free yet, though, because they saw the creature again, perched on a hill as if waiting for them as they turned a bend in the road. As they watched, the creature spread its wings and launched straight into the air. The terrified passengers amped up their shouting for Roger to get them out of there.

As they pulled out onto a straight stretch of road, Roger was able to really open it up, speeding down the road at around 100 miles per hour. But it wasn't fast enough. The creature kept pace with the car, the passengers reporting not only being able to see it and its shadow through the rear windshield and back passenger windows, they could hear its wings flapping as it kept up to speed, could hear them brushing and scratching against the roof of the car. They weren't able to shake it off until they reached the gates of a local farmer's home, theorizing that it was the bright lights that had scared it off.

They drove the rest of the way into town, stopping near the lights of a local business to process what had just happened and figure out what to do next. Linda insisted on calling the police, but Roger and Steve were worried that the police would just laugh at them and, against both Linda and Mary's protests, decided to drive back out to the road. They only got as far as the farm before they lost their nerve and decided to turn back. But, just as Roger was turning the car back towards town, something leapt out from behind an animal carcass beside the road, climbed over the back of their car, and disappeared into the field on the other side of the road. The couples didn't know for sure if it was the Mothman or something else entirely, but it scared them enough to convince Roger and Steve to finally go to the police.

After telling their story and insisting that they hadn't been drinking that night, a policeman and another local, Gary, who'd placed the call for them from a drive-in diner, decided to follow them back up the road to The TNT Area to look for the creature again. The couples saw it first, walking in a pasture as they crested a hill. It flew into the air directly towards them, but veered off and disappeared when it was hit by the headlights of Gary's car coming up over the hill. They drove up and down road for a bit, but didn't see it again and the whole caravan headed back towards town where they met up with Deputy Sheriff Millard Halstead.

The Deputy Sheriff drove back up to The TNT Area with the couples and Gary once more. The drive, this time, was uneventful, and once they'd parked, Halstead turned on the spotlight on his car to search the tree line. While Roger only reported seeing seeing some "dust or smoke" coming from the nearby coalyard, both Linda and Mary reported more. Strange shadows on the building, an odd noise like the squeaking of a mouse "only a lot stronger", and eventually the eyes. Linda and Mary both recalled telling Halstead that they could see the eyes and that he then turned his spotlight directly on them without even asking them to point them out, implying that he could see the eyes too.

They didn't say what happened after the Deputy Sheriff turned his light on the eyes, but after sitting out there for about 15-20 minutes with no other major incident, the group piled back into their respective cars, drove back into town, and went their separate ways. Too scared to be alone after the experience, the Mallettes stayed that night at the Scarberries' home, though none of them were able to fall asleep.

The next day, the couples were interviewed by the local paper, who sent a reporter to go back out to The TNT Area with them, where they saw the creature again. A few days later three of the four witnesses gave their official police report describing the creature and the incident in detail. They also went into some detail about the harassment and mocking they'd been experiencing in the days since the encounter. Accusations of excessive drinking were common; Linda and Mary both complained about not being able to go out in public without hearing people laughing at them; speculations about what they "really" saw out in the woods were plentiful and insistent that the couples simply couldn't have seen what they knew they'd seen; Linda even described a local minister making light of their experience.

But even as the Scarberries and Mallettes were being ostracized by many of their neighbors, the sightings continued. The two couples have, over the years, individually reported seeing Mothman again several times. Linda, in particular, has claimed that Mothman was an occasional visitor to the Scarberry home's roof. Of course after the newspaper article about their encounter was published, not only did previous reports start coming to light, more people made pilgrimages to The TNT Area either seeking out their own encounter or trying to prove one of the many debunking theories people have posed. With so many people visiting the site, it was inevitable that the reports of encounters with Mothman would only continue.

Since that Fall night in 1966, speculation about who, what, and why Mothman is have spread through both the believers and nonbelievers. The most common theories among the debunkers are that Mothman is simply a bird. Some speculate that it's an owl. The Huntington Herald-Dispatch reported a mere four days after the incident that West Virginia University professor, Dr. Robert L. Smith, was certain that Mothman was just a sandhill crane that had taken a detour during its normal migration (though he admitted that not all the details fit the crane, nor was he aware of any confirmed sightings in the area around that time, even though the occasional sandhill crane had been spotted in the area before).

On the other side of the speculation, some folks believe that Mothman is some kind of demon. Others believe it's simply a creature we previously didn't know existed. Still others have chosen to believe that Mothman is not only not an evil or malicious entity, but that it came to Point Pleasant, WV to help.

On December 15, 1967, Point Pleasant's Silver Bridge collapsed into the Ohio River under the weight of heavy rush hour traffic. It was, at the time, the worst bridge accident in American history, thrusting Point Pleasant into a national spotlight and triggering a rehaul in regulations for both the inspection of existing bridges, and the building of new ones.

The fact that the tragedy happened exactly thirteen months to the day after the Scarberry and Mallette sighting; the fact that, leading up to the collapse, many locals reported having nightmares about an upcoming disaster, some even specifically seeing people drowning in the Ohio River; the fact that reported sightings of Mothman suddenly dropped off immediately following the disaster, have led some to believe that the Mothman was simply there to try to warn the people of Point Pleasant about the upcoming tragedy.

This theory, popularized by the 2002 Richard Gere film, The Mothman Prophecies, was proposed originally by writer, journalist, and ufologist, John Keel in his book of the same name that loosely inspired the 2002 film.

It's hard to fully grasp Mothman's influence on the greater US culture. While it doesn't have the mainstream name recognition that Bigfoot or Nessie do, it's impossible to deny that it's become more well-known outside of its territory than almost any other regional cryptid. The 2002 film, largely met with a resounding "meh" by audiences and critics alike, may have been Mothman's most mainstream appearance besides also been name-dropped in the hugely popular '90s series, The X-Files. But where Mothman really finds popularity is in lesser known, more niche media with passionate fans — original comics, video games, prematurely canceled genre sitcoms, made-for-TV movies, and actual play TTRPG podcasts.

There's no mistaking that Mothman has become a symbol, icon, and darling of weirdos, queerdos, nerds, geeks, and freaks. The folks who know that there's more to life than just accepting the world as society presents it to you.

#mothman #cryptids #point pleasant #west virginia #the cryptid collection

8 notes · View notes

mad-hare · 1 year ago

Note

So in PalWorld, could I theoretically just make a passive little animal farm like I could in ark? Like I don’t HAVE to run around making guns and fighting?

Cause if so 👀

they work by themselves at any tasks they can do in your base you don't have to physically steer them like in ark

you don't have to run around and gather stone and wood you just place stone/wood farms at your base and they gather. stuff like metal i think you have to gather but you can build base somewhere where it spawns in on its own and they'll farm it. and you can build factory assembly lines and force them to mass produce shit for you. I KNOW you hate crafting games cuz material gathering so you might like it if you can master how to pilot and manipulate the lil guys (each species has specific tasks its able to do so you gotta make sure you have ones that do the work you need on your base). also like ark it lets you set up sliders so you can probably just set like double harvest if you REALLY hate gathering ajondsjankdsl

i'm 13 hours in and haven't even beaten the first boss. it's part of the "tutorial" but she's fucking strong and annihilated me the first time i went (THANKFULLY your shit drops outside the dungeon gate if you die in the dungeon so you can get your shit back)

#you can also probably pirate it i know people have

11 notes · View notes

valentinablackhand · 10 months ago

Text

So hey I finally finished that story, I hope people enjoy it. Be mindful that I am NOT a writer but I'm proud of this story. THIS CONTENT IS MATURE, CONTAINS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, DEATH, CHILD LOSS, AND GORE

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Background information on the future reading material

Hello! This is going to be some background on why I’m writing this, what inspired me, and how this is going to be portrayed. For starters, this is going to be a sort of fan fiction/character origin story prior to the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, a game inspired by D&D with roleplaying aspects and turn-based fighting. The character I am writing about is Theresa “Onyx'' Blackhand. Onyx hails from the colder northern region, Icewind Dale. She lived in a small rural area called Aneira with her adoptive brother, Tanith, and her mother, Eulalie. The year is 1490, two years before the events of Baulder’s Gate 3, and it is set in the height of winter, a rather awful blizzard is running its course through the town and our adventurer is going to see the apex of nature's wrath. This story is going to be told in the eyes of our main character, of course.

Some background on me, the writer (who isn’t the best at writing). My name is Ava but I go by Valentina online and I am an artist and dungeon master! D&D has inspired a lot of what I do and the media/games I play, and in general, has changed my life for the betterment of my creativity. The Baldur’s Gate community has given me so many amazing artists, writers, and players to be inspired by, not to mention the writers and actors who are in the game itself. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the inspiration of others, friends, and partners who encouraged me to pursue my passions of the fantasy and D&D worlds I’ve created. This is a test and dedication to the many more worlds, characters, and friends I’ll make along the way through shared interests. I thank you, dear reader, for taking the time to read my rambling and indulge in one of my favorite characters I have come up with, background, gameplay, and story wise.

Winter, 1490; A Warm Welcome

Howling, freezing wind cuts through me like a blade, cutting right through the layers of wool and hide I wear out in this tundra. My face is burning, hair covered in a thick coating of ice, sticking to my scalp and face like tree sap.

“Is this the clearing Tanith was talking about? This is awfully deep in these woods…” I said to myself, wondering how he could navigate through this storm. This winter has been worse than in seventy years, he shouldn’t be outside now anyways. Mother is getting worried sick about him. This is the third time this week I’ve had to dig him out of trouble, little wriggly worm he is. “Tanith? Tanith! Where are you? It’s too late to be outside, the storm gets worse at night!” I yelled out into the clearing, but my words were quickly snuffed out by the wind once again. Just as I was about to give up and find help, torch light shines through the clearing, Tanith standing there with that slimy grin on his face.

“I knew you would find me! Now c’mon, there’s something I want to show you!” he shouts as he darts off into the tundra again. I chase after him despite my skeleton shaking in this cold. Why is winter so brutal this year? Mother and Tanith have been acting strangely as of late. My heart is racing, where is he leading me? We finally stop running as we reach the top of a cliff, surprisingly high above the city below. The lights are mesmerizing, staring down into the flurry of snow and ice almost seems magical beneath the tons of houses and factories brimming with life.

“You know, I’m glad you dragged me out here. This is a wonderful sight to see” saying as I grab him into a side hug, holding him tightly for warmth and security.

“You really need to stop going out at odd hours of the night, Mother is getting worried sick about your habits as of late”

“I know she is but I’m restless! Being inside all day is no fun, and I can’t see friends through all of this snow! I can’t wait for winter to end” Tanith says in an unhappy huff, burying his face into my coat. There’s a certain unease in the air tonight when the wind stops blowing, it slowly wraps my heart in black tendrils and brings sweat to my brow.

“I know, I can’t either. Say, how about we go back home now? There’s still some sweet rolls left over.”

“There are? You didn’t eat them all?”

“Not yet!” I say, darting off in the direction we came, Tanith close behind. He passes me in just a few strides, the speedy bastard. He has always been fast, no matter if he’s carrying heavy wood or our mountain of a dog. We finally reach the back door of our cabin and burst in, letting out a sigh of relief as we feel the warmth of the fire seeping throughout the house. Mother is sitting by the fire, we startled her by bursting into the door unannounced.

“There you two are, I was getting worried sick! You look positively dreadful Theresa, sit by the fire.” Mother says, wrapping a wool shawl over my shoulders and gesturing towards the large wooden chair. Tanith joins me shortly, bringing a tray of sweet rolls with him. His eyes are glistening but something is missing, his usual spark of joy is no longer there. There’s something he isn’t telling me.

A dreadful proposal

We all retired for the night but I can’t sleep, my head is spinning and my heart is racing. Were the sweet rolls bad? Was I out in the cold too long? I can’t be sure, but time is at a standstill and I am tossing like mad. Minutes felt like hours but before I knew it, our front door swung open. Mother and Tanith weren’t awake, so it must have been the wind. I got up in a dizzying state and stumbled out of my room to close the door when I saw this man standing in the door frame, almost filling it out, the light from the fire making his features positively grim. His stature was sunken although he was built to the nines, his face looked like a husk of a man, his arms, big and dead, like a once mighty oak tree taken by rot and decay. Is this man undead?

He stood in pure silence as he took a step into my home, halfway to me already with his long stride, and stopped mere inches from me. I can see the whites of his eyes, or what would be white if they weren’t bloodshot and glassy. Finally seeing his face in the light, he was covered in blood. I tried to gain my composure quickly and grab something, anything, to hit him with, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and knocked me out cold. The next few hours I would fade in and out of consciousness, seeing snow pass underneath me, then cobble, finally back to snow. I have no idea where I’m going. I’m worried about my family. What has he done to them? Are they even alive? My head is pulsing with pain and heat, a roaring heat as if I were in the depths of Avernus. We were going uphill on rocky terrain, the dense wood of a carriage underneath me hits my bones with each bump like stone.

After almost a day had passed, I awoke in a chair, bound at my wrists and my ankles tied to each leg. Why am I receiving this punishment? Did I see something I wasn’t supposed to see looking over that cliff? I let the memory flood my mind and I couldn’t see anything but snow blowing across my vision and the twinkling of the lanterns below. Looking around the room, it’s more like a cell. A singular bed roll laid in a dark corner, a wash basin, and an old door, about to fall off its hinges if it took a single blow. The air is rather humid, thick with the smell of iron and wet stone. I look at my restraints and they seem simple to break out of, too simple, in fact. Just as I try to move towards a wall, someone walks into the cell. It’s the same man as before, but now I can see his face. Dirty brown hair, gray eyes that hold no glint of light in them, and a rather large nose, badly patched up after a break. His face screams a hard, tortured life.

Before I know it, he strides over and unties my restraints, grabs my arm tightly, and makes me stand. I tried to land a blow with my other arm, but he grabbed my fist in an instant.

“Who are you?! What have you done with my family?” I shouted, looking over this shell of a man. His body ached and creaked like an old house, and I can see the outline of his muscle and bone on every part of exposed skin.

“Mustn't talk, the Lord is waiting” he said with a deep voice, almost vibrating the air around him. There was something otherworldly about him. Is this the work of a necromancer? “He needs to see you. Your family is waiting.” he leans in, and whispers ever so softly “I don’t want to have to hurt you again, the Lord is making me hunt others for his game of cat and mouse.” His eyes finally have life to them, wet pearls of sadness and regret. His breath smelled of rot, his hair was as stiff as straw. How many others did he bring to this “Lord” he spoke of? What is going to happen to me?

With my arm still held by this undead husk, we walked a short distance to an audience hall. Decorated lavishly with gold and marble, red carpets, dark wooden chairs and tables, and statues of hardly clothed men and women, all eyeing a chair in the center of the room. I see them, my family, finally after what felt like an eternity. The stranger lets my arm free and I rush over to where they stand, clinging onto both my brother and mother so tight.

“Tanith… Aneira, I never thought I would see you again, where are we?” I glance above Mother’s head and see the snow building up through an unreasonably large window. The day is bright, almost blinding against the snow. I’m in familiar territory, thankfully.

“Theresa I hadn’t a clue where you were! I awoke to such an awful sound when those men came in and grabbed Tanith and I. My heart felt like it was leaping out of my chest. At least we have you now, my love.” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Just as this sweet moment couldn’t get any better, the double doors at the end of the audience room open, creaking and moaning with every movement.

“Ahh, these are our most esteemed guests then, hm? I was expecting more… hardened looking people for being a family of lumberjacks, afterall. My name is Lord Ransley, it is a pleasure to meet you." The man spoke, confident, dominant, and radiant. He was eyeing me curiously, looking for something within my appearance that I hadn’t a clue what he wanted to see. He carried a tome on his hip, lined in gold and the cover had a yawning mouth with a purple gem shoved into the center. This has to be the necromancer of the house, and apparently the Lord as well. Looking around again, the unseen halves of the statues were all bone and muscle remnants, real muscle and bone. The room stunk of decay and humid bodies. “You are rather extraordinary, you know? A half-elf with such muscle definition, tall stature, and eyes that hold the world within them…” Ransley says again, walking around me like a curious dog, grazing his hand over my biceps and back. I shift away from his touch, feeling a rush of cold go down my spine. He grabs a lock of my hair and shudders, as if he’s enjoying himself, pleasuring himself to my physique.

“What exactly are you looking for in me, your lordship,” I said harshly “and why knock out and kidnap my family, bring them to an unknown house, and gawk at them? Is this for your own sick pleasure?” I spat, locking eyes with this short statured freak.

“Ohh, feisty are we? Fret not, my large friend, I will answer your questions after you answer one of mine. Then you and your family will be able to go back home and live your lives as they were.”

He paces around me, studying my figure until he gets right in front of me and asks “Your father had something of mine that he stole, and gave it to you. That large steel amulet you wear, it belongs to me. I know what power it contains, and I know that you can’t live without it. How does having cold lungs feel, little love? If you give me back that necklace, I may just help you with your affliction, but if not… Well, your family is not going anywhere.” Little Love. The nickname dad gave to me. Hearing the words was like a sharp puncture in my diaphragm.

How does he know about my lungs? I’ve had this affliction ever since I was young, I caught a cold and since then I have had an icy cold breath that can freeze anything it touches. This amulet is the one thing that keeps me able to keep breathing without freezing the world around me. I can’t risk letting this go, even if it is Ransley’s. I have to figure out a way out of this house with my family. Ransley slips a hand to my neck and pulls the necklace out from under my collar, eyeing it lovingly. His breath is hot on my skin as he puts his lips to my ear and whispers “We can accomplish so much together, little love.”

“You want me to give up the thing that makes me able to breathe normally? Do you want your house to be in icy ruin?” I say, my anger rising with each touch and word he says.

“No, my dear, it would be a shame to see my lovely home go down. Are you really not going to give me back my possessions?” he says, taking a stride towards my family “Pity… I thought you would be smarter than this.” He walks up to Tanith, who is as white as snow, and puts a hand under his chin, studying his features.

“If you have a quarrel with me, then keep me here. My family doesn’t need to be a part of this. They never were in the first place.”

Aneira and Tanith are humans, they have lived only a fraction of the life I have lived. They deserve to live their lives to the fullest, I fear that Ransley is planning something drastic.

“Fine, if you will not give me that amulet, I will take it off of your corpse. You will make a fine addition to the many beautiful faces I have in my war room” he says, as he turns away to grab a sword displayed on a plaque behind a large chair. He touches the blade, running his fingers along the edge in ecstacy, as if he’s going to enjoy hurting me. Looking around the room, there are two guards. Easy targets, they aren’t as strong as me and they can barely hold the hammers they’re equipped with I think to myself. How are Aneira and Tanith going to escape? The double doors Ransley had previously pranced through is the only way out. I give each of them a shove. “Aneira, Tanith, run!!” I shout at them, darting for the hammer a guard is equipped with, knocking him on the floor with one shoulder charge. He falls to the floor, the flesh under his armor breaks off in chunks and his bones shatter once they hit the ground. More undead. Turning to face Ransley, he is running towards me, sword pointed towards me. I thrust my hammer and knock his sword off its course, and take a swing at him. I hear bones crack, it hits, by the Gods it hits.

After he gets his footing again, he steadies his gaze towards me, preparing for a swing. I brace and block his first blow, his arm going limp at his side. From his other sleeve, he pulls out a dagger and slices across my shoulder, a deep cut that would take a while to heal. I wince out in pain and his eyes light up like a fire. What a sick, twisted freak. With a one armed swing, I knock the dagger out of his hand and strike another blow quickly with my hammer. Something is welling up in my chest. It’s warm and radiant, I feel strength ebbing out of me.

“Listen to me, Lord, I have no clue why my father stole this amulet from you, but you aren’t getting it back. You threatened my family and my life, you have no right to hurt my family. I will end you swiftly and painfully, for you have no say in my fate!” I say, and as the words roll off my tongue, the hammer I wield is basked in a radiant light. Power. I feel power flowing through me, a divine power. Who granted me this power matters not, at this moment I have my opponent under my grip. Ransley’s arm is limp at his side, he still wields his sword in the other. He lunges at me, swinging his sword from above, I block with the handle of my hammer. Even with one arm, he is still rather strong. Taking a good look at his physique, he himself is partially undead, he has great strength but each blow he takes, he weakens. I fling him off with a side swipe and take a swing at his back, hitting his tailbone and knocking him on the floor. With one hand, I sit him forward and drop my hammer. Taking swings at him, my fists get coated in crimson. His breathing is shallow and slow, I drop him back on the floor with a loud thud and pick up the hammer. My breaths are short and icy, the coldness in my lungs is unbearable. Looking down at Ransley, I broke his nose and jaw pretty good. He won’t be standing up any time soon. His breathing is gargled and mashed, his windpipe must be broken. I need to let him suffer a slow death, choking on his blood and bile until his last breath exits his lips.

After leaving the audience hall and taking a look around, I find Lord Ransley’s room. In my search, I found his personal journal which reads “Barnes stole the Amulet of Curse Binding from me and gave it to his sick, weak daughter. Pathetic. If she is too weak to shake an illness, she is too weak to live. I will find him one way or another, our deal isn’t finished.” Deal? What deal had my father made? Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t suspect that Ransley will recover from a crushed windpipe. Flipping through the journal, another entry catches my attention. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand, my bones are brittle and weak. My flesh is starting to fall off of me. Myrkul needs to hear his servant, to provide his blessing unto me.”I shudder at the thought of being an undead, having no control of the decay of your physical form while you remain conscious sounds like the ninth circle of Avernus. As I put the journal in my pack, that blinding light illuminates my vision again. A woman in white robes, with even whiter hair, stands before me.

“Child of light, I am the spirit Evangeline. You show great power in judgment and vengeance. I have imbued you with the divine power I once had. I propose an oath to you, an Oath of Vengeance, avenge those who have fallen to dark powers and dark people, cast out evil from this world in my name and spirit, oh divine vessel. Your hammer is your oath, and your divine being is my spirit. This is my word.”

She disappeared as soon as the last word was uttered from her mouth. Was this my purpose now? To purge the blights of evil from this world? I bolted out of the room and my head started spinning. I was too enthralled in a fight and forgot where my family had gone. Rushing through the seemingly endless halls of this house, I found more guards and the mysterious man who kidnapped us all waiting for me at the exit, my family lying on the floor. They peered up at me with glossy eyes, pleading for me to go and leave them to the guards. The mystery man tilted his head up and gave me a nod and after, he whips a sword out of his coat and stabs the guard on his left until he collapses to the ground. I take a stride and aim at the next guard rushing towards me, striking true to his jaw. It snaps in an awful, bone chilling sound and he kneels, screaming in blood coated words. With one hand, I take Tanith and the man takes Aneira.

We rush through the doors and the wind chill strikes all of us, a familiar and welcome feeling to that of the house of Ransley. Outside was still bone chilling, but it wasn’t the uneasy feeling inside that overly decorated audience hall.

“Onyx, what happened? Why does he want your amulet? What deal was that man talking about?” Tanith said, giving me a scared look. Something about his gaze is telling, like he knows what’s about to happen.

“I don’t know, but you remember why I wear it, right?”

“Yes, it keeps the cold away from you” he said, his face easing into a soft smile, but his eyes lack any reflection. What in the hells had they done to him in the time I wasn’t there to protect him? To protect Aneira?

I take a look at Aneira and she is as white as a sheet, her eyes fixated on me. I can’t see her breath in the air, is she breathing? I let go of Tanith and grabbed her, shaking her. “Aneira? Aneira! Listen to me! Are you alright, can you hear me?”I screamed, shaking her shoulders. Her eyes are still fixated where I was standing, she’s as cold as a corpse. I look at the undead man, and he looks just the same. Snapping back at Tanith, he is starting to freeze. “Tanith! Please, no! What is happening to everyone?!” I scream, looking back at the door to see a blood stained and cripled Ransley, holding a staff covered in arctic shards. Rage is overflowing again, seeing my family frozen to the ground, my second chance at raising a child has flown out the window. I won’t let him get away with killing what I love.

“You see, Onyx, this is what happens when you don’t give me what I’m rightfully owed!” he screams, waving the staff in a circular motion with his one good arm, bringing in more snow and cold. He is surrounded in an undead green light, the work of the God of Death. I should have broken both arms. I dart out of the blast radius before he unleashes a winter like I’ve never seen. One look back where my family stood and they were gone, frozen to the land they stood on. Aneira, Tanith, and this man who helped me without even knowing who I was. Gone. A rage like no other fills my senses as I take a look at the scrawny man in the doorway, ready to cast another spell. Hammer in hand, I run over screaming and jump, hammer overhead and ready to strike down on his head. As the hit lands, divine light shines and I see the whites of his eyes gleam one last time before his skull is split in two, mashed beyond recognition. I keep whaling on him, beating his skull in until it’s a mashed pile of bone, flesh, and blood.

I fall to the ground, crying so hard that I can’t see. My tears cling to my face as they freeze in this awful weather. How did this all happen so fast? How can I go home now, with so many memories of raising Tanith and aiding Aneira through her remaining years? The remaining hope I had for a family is now gone, frozen, and it hurts like no other pain I’ve felt before. I stare at Ransley’s corpse, wondering how he found me in the first place. The staff he wields even in death, it’s cold to the touch but brimming with the Weave. It’s a very powerful item, and I’m taking it as a reminder. A heirloom of a necromancer, the undead prick who stole my life in one day.

I’m coming home

I stayed at the Ransley estate for two days after the incident, seeking and searching for who he was and why he wanted this Amulet. I found out that Evangeline was his wife, who he murdered for his own sick and twisted pleasure. He logged his thoughts after he pleasured himself to her corpse, but he never turned her into one of his thralls. She was only, what seemed to be, in her early twenties from the pictures I found that weren’t torn to shreds. In the basement of this house was where she was kept, and still remains. Her hair as white as snow and she was dressed in white robes, as I saw her in my divine vision. The ground outside is too hard to dig for a grave, so I fashioned a small circle out of wood and carved a prayer into it. Wrapping her in a burlap cloth and laying her on her back, I placed the prayer on her and took a moment of silence. I did this for those outside as well, since I can’t give them a proper burial yet. These last two days have been rather gruesome and depressing, but I need to press on. I need to go home and set out on the quest Evangeline gave me to purge the world of evil.

I take what rations of food I can find, some clothing and furs as well, and set off back to the cabin. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too far away from this estate. I didn’t even need to make camp and I made it back by dusk. The door was still swung open from when the undead man opened it last, the common area full of snow. My mind still wanders, what was it that Tanith was hiding? Throughout the whole ordeal, he was a husk of his normal, happy self. I may never know now, now that Ransley and his guards took away that young boy who I almost considered my son. My son? He might as well have been, I was there from the moment he emerged into this world from his late mother, who I never learned of other than when she was in labor with him. Aneira, the lady of this cabin, a seamstress who took care of me when I had no place to go after father died, is a frozen corpse. She took me in and treated me like one of her own, even though her own had already gone and made lives for themselves. Oh gods, if I ever run into them, how can I tell them of her fate?

I shut the door, its hinges almost froze over in my absence. Heading to the upper portion of the cabin, I feel that grip in my chest that I felt before. This isn’t some bad dream where I’ll wake up and they will be downstairs, making a fire and telling stories. I peer into my old room, everything is just as I left it. The furs along my bed still shifted off, the small shelf filled with books and trinkets I collected out in the dense forest. I grab a few sentimental belongings, books, and more furs and stuff them into my pack. Was this the only reason I had come here? I walked my way over to Tanith’s room, his room is in pristine condition. He had always been very neat, so it’s no surprise to me. His clothes are in a neat pile on a dresser, so small. He was barely twelve years old. I searched his room, trying to keep things as they were when he left them. I found a note stashed away in a book on dreams and premonitions. When had he gotten this? He usually only read memoirs on nature and animals, he wasn’t spiritual. Well, at least I thought so. I unfold the note and it’s addressed to me. Me? How? I begin reading his sloppy handwriting, and I get my answer. He knew how he was going to end, Aneira, too. He knew I would have been given the gifts of a Paladin from Evangeline. He wrote an excerpt on how this amulet protects me from cold spells, curses of the winter, and the inability to slip on icy surfaces. “I don’t understand how, but the amulet that you wear is filled with magic from a lady with white hair who keeps me safe at night. She isn’t a goddess or a human, something in between? I think so. Well, Barnes had stolen the amulet from someone named Ransley when he found the lady with white hair stowed away in the basement. The amulet has some of her power stored in it and whoever wears it will have their sickness or weaknesses taken away. There was someone who took care of her, a tall man named Marcus. She doesn’t talk about him much, but he has gray eyes. If you’re worried about me, I’ll be with Evangeline, so I’ll still be around! I love you, Mom”

Mom. He called me mom. Fighting tears isn’t possible anymore, they stream down my face as I clutch the note in my hand. This amulet has been imbued with the power of a demigod, Evangeline. She was a demigod? Ransley had kidnapped her and made her his wife. The undead man finally has a name, Marcus. I wish I had known this sooner, or else I would have carved that into his prayer. Tanith had been visited by Evangeline many nights before we had been taken away, he told her about the events that unfolded two days ago, and that he wasn’t going to make it. No wonder he hadn’t been himself, he knew his time had come. Marcus had been a caretaker to Evangeline, and that’s why she was locked away until she perished. He had also stood up to Ransley and failed, he got turned into his own personal thrall. Ransley’s staff has the power to dominate minds in a simple flick of the wrist. I wish I had known sooner, I wish I had known what Tanith was told. I could have turned the tides in our favor, maybe even saved everyone and just killed Ransley. He was never deserving of the title of Lord anyhow, he had servants through mind control and a very strong essence of undead power through Myrkul.

I fold the letter closed and clutch it to my chest, trying to stifle back more tears. Things could have been different if I had been awake earlier, if I had heard Aneira and Tanith walk downstairs to investigate the noises of Marcus breaking in. All of his life, I told him I was his sister. I never wanted to form an attachment like I did to my child, although she never lived long enough to see the light of day. It seems that him and I both grew that attachment towards each other, but reading “mom” at the end of that letter let's me know that I did my best for him. What’s done is done now, I can no longer regret the past. I set down the book, and turn away from his room. Walking outside again after grabbing materials and rations, I take one last look at the cabin door, pressing my hand onto the jagged wood. As my fingertips leave the wood, I turn and make my way to Baldur’s Gate city. Neverwinter is closer, but there’s more promise for me in the great gate. This is it, this is my destiny. This is the thing I had been longing for my whole life. A purpose with true direction, no longer am I just riding the waves of fate.

Five months later

I’ve made it to Rivington, a small area just outside of the Lower City. I finally made it out of the cold and harsh winter I used to live in. The warmth of this area is unfamiliar, the many layers I wear are beginning to be too warm. I have to figure out a place to stay.

After venturing a bit outside of Rivington, I found an abandoned shed. I set my pack down and make preparations for the night, which rolls in quickly. There’s a ladder propped up on the side of the shed and I climb up it. The stars shine bright tonight. Taking a look around, I spot the area of the cursed Shadow Lands, which fell to be that way over one hundred years ago. It gives me chills to even think of what lies in the depths of those lands. Turning away, I lay down on the roof of the shed and drift off to sleep. The city is just ahead, all I have to do is make my way there before I have no strength to do so. I can start anew, a new life and a new purpose. May my dreams take me to where I belong.

Dawn is slow to come, the sunrise coats the land in a lush light. The green of the grass, the smell of fresh bread and fried fish is in the air already. I make my way to the pass into the Lower City and get a pass through the Flaming Fist guards, giant mechanical beings called Steel Watchers patrol the gate and surrounding streets. Everywhere is very heavily guarded, something I’m really not used to seeing. The loudness of people talking, merchants shouting, and businesses bustling with music and conversation alike was almost too overwhelming. Shifting through crowds and guards, I make my way into Wyrm’s Crossing’s tower. A man named Lord Enver Gortash resides in the upper levels apparently. The word “Lord” still doesn’t sit right with me.

After many hours of talking and bartering with guards, I gained a pass into the Lower City where I am appointed as a body to the courthouse judges during trials. Court hearings vary in length, but by night I try to catch criminals and assassins who stalk the streets, waiting for someone unarmed to strike at. I interrogated one of the assassins I captured and found out he was an assassin of Bhaal before I sent him into a coma and threw him into the sewer. There’s a Bhaal cult around here? If so, I will do my best to inform the Flaming Fists and the city watch alike. Over the next few months, I was a personal bodyguard to the courthouse during the day, gaining my own personal set of armor and a hammer with the symbol I chose for Evangeline, whose presence I can still feel around me like a warm hug. I am adorned with silver and black plate armor, paired with chainmail underneath. During my time in the Lower City, my heartache to be in nature grew. I missed the vast lushness of trees, seeing a pair of white foxes chase each other in the snow and pounce at one another. Finding a remote spot in the forest in spring time and taking a short swim in a lake nearby the cabin, the warm breeze flowing through my hair. The city lacked any sort of bucolic surroundings, maybe a bush here and there. It felt like a cage, but with open air and no bars. After some time, I was able to afford my own place. A small apartment near the courthouse, where I raised plants and kept small creatures who would wander into my home. I may just like this life I have, even if I don’t have what I once cherished. Something inside of me is saying that this is only the beginning of a long journey ahead.

A year from now

Things were as good as ever, a decent week at court thankfully and I found a new cat to take care of, who I named Apricot since she was the same color as one. I was cooking her a fish when I heard citizens screaming, and the thunderous roar of something in the sky. I rushed out of my balcony door to see a giant ship with tentacles and a shell hovering over the city. What in the gods name is this? I thought to myself. I put Apricot in a safe space under my bed and threw on my armor. I gave her some pets goodbye and ran out of my apartment. I was directing citizens to a safe house when another one of those living ships appeared right above the street I was standing on. The tentacles rained down and anyone who had been touched by them evaporated into them. I had to get more out of here, I had to save more citizens from an untimely death.

Just as the thought flew into my mind, I felt the slimy touch of the tentacle across my mouth. I blinked and I was on the ship. I had to be. So were so many Baldur’s Gate citizens. A strange looking woman with green skin was trying to break out of her binds when a large tentacled freak held up its hand and put her to sleep. Mind flayers. By the Gods, a mind flayer ship? I had only heard of them in books and tall tales, I had no idea they were actually real. The mind flayer levitated towards me and held out his hand, I had gone unconscious. In my dreams, I saw my old fireplace, crackling and filling the living room with warmth. Tanith and Aneira, sitting in their chairs, beckoning me to sit by the fire. I couldn’t move, I had no control over my body. As the sweet moment filled my senses, it quickly faded away. The room imploded and snow and ice shards swirled around the two people I adored. I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my aching lungs, only more ice and snow. I snapped my head upward to see Ransley’s face looming over me, his smug smile decaying like the rest of his features. His eyes pierced right through me, as if he was trying to intimidate my soul.

As soon as I was put to sleep, I was awake. Days had passed. No, weeks? I couldn’t tell. My stomach ached, I needed to eat, I was in a cold sweat. I looked around with what little room I had, the strange woman was still asleep in her pod across from me. The same mind flayer from before was looming over a large, fleshy basin full of an acidic smelling liquid. He pulled a worm-like thing from the basin and levitated over to the strange woman, holding his hand out so she would stare directly at the worm. It latched onto her face and snuck right into her eyeball. Oh Gods, is he going to put one in me next? Just as the thought occurs, he is back to fishing out another worm. Or maybe they were tadpoles? He picks out another one and locks eyes with me, its eyes orange and radiating malice. As he is floating towards me, I try to turn my head away, only to have it snap into place with the flick of its wrist. The tadpole screeched with a psionic power that hurt the innermost parts of my mind, and secured itself into my orbital socket. I slip into unconsciousness again. My new life, taken from me once again. Who was going to take care of Apricot? Who is going to keep the streets safe at night? I need to figure out how to get off this ship and go back to Baldur’s Gate.

13 notes · View notes