#fantasy elements

[assassin1513]

🌸🌷Roses Fantasy🌷🌸

[corruptive-sinner]

I walk into the church and see him, the priest standing up, giving an empassioned sermon to a small crowd. As he scans the people there he pauses on me, stumbling his words ever so slightly.

I take a seat in the back behind everyone, so they can't see me. I never break eye contact and he attempts to ignore me unsuccessfully. I lick my lips dlowly once in a while whenever he looks in my dorection, flashing a fang here and there and maybe the split in my tongue. The Father attempts to continue as normally but it's obvious he's distracted as he forgets lines he just read, loses his train of thoughts and ends on a much timider note than his previous vigor.

The crowd disperses as he quickly exits his podium, scurrying with his eyes down to the confessjon booth. I walk over and take a seat inside.

"What is it you wish to confess my child." His voice calmer now, thinking a normal deciple is sitting next to him, one of his flock.

"I think you have some confessing, Father."

Even through the small openings I can tell he is struck slack jawed. Scared. Cornered.

"You saw me in the crowd, my presence scared you and yet, you ran here. As if you want me to-"

"Shut up, foul demon."

"Ah ah ah," I scold, "thats not very holy Father. Lying in a confessiom booth." I make a tutting sound with my mouth. His breathing is slow but deeper than before.

"You came in as well."

"Yes, but you know what I am. This is your little box, and instead of running, you brought me here."

He stays silent this time,

"Father, what have you been up to. Touching yourself again? Thinking of a demon ravishing you in your place of worship?"

"Nonsense," his breathing is labored now.

"What could a mouth as wet and warm do to you, how you wish to drop to your knees for me instead, beg me for forgiveness in the form of lustful sins." The Father lets out a small groan,

"Touch yourself Father, I know you wish to." And with that surprisingly he obeyed, usually it took more pushing than that. But I hear him unzip his pants and the muffled moans of the first few delicate touches of his neglected cock.

"Wow Father, you're such a whore. Giving yourself over so quickly? Did you even bother taking off your cross?"

"No, I won't, He will protect me," he gasps out quietly.

"You think you're defiant, but you commit more sins with it on." The small moans and cries are to much to take, I want to touch him myself. So I slip out of my side and slither into his.

His eyes are glossy with tears of shame but he looks at me with pleading eyes. His cock dribbles precum as I kneel down.

"Out of all the people who kneel in front of you, how many do you imagine are me?"

"N-none,"

"Yes, oh yes, I have," he pants. "Someone came in, they smelled of smoke, like you. I couldn't stand anywhere near him without your sinful voice in my head."

"Liar," I take his cock and his hands drop to grip the seat with such intensity as if it would buck him off. "now now, tell me the truth. You caved so easily so I know I've been on your filthy mind." I start slowly pumping his cock and spreading his precum around as lubrication. He makes a pathetic noise and leans his head back, one hand coming up to desperately cover his mouth.

That made me instantly electrified. I leaned in to lick the base of his cock to the head. Fangs exposed, forked tongue wrapping around as much as I could make it.

He muffles his cry as best he can, stiff all over and tears leaking from his eyes. His lust barley contained by restraint as I break it more and more.

I let out a small laugh at the pathetic man in front of me. A holy man so easily coerced into sinful acts, splayed out and panting as a demon licks his cock. And he wants this so bad, I'll just have to get him to admit it.

I pull away. "What do you want Father?"

He stays silent, only letting a small groan at the lack of contact.

"Use those gorgeous lips of yours like you do when you read the good book." I goad him on, hes so turned on if he doesn't cum it will be worse than Hell, and I plan on taking full advantage.

"Please," he barley mumbles out between his fingers.

I stand up, take his hand away from his mouth and repeat "Use." I trace my other hands pointer finger up his torso, "Your." I stop under his chin, "Words." I tilt his chin up so he looks me in the eyes.

"Please, do something, touch me, suck me off, ride me, let me touch you, I want you so bad. Please," the Father pleads, his voice shaky and barley above a whisper.

"That's my good boy." I purr leaning into his ear. He shakes and lets out another stiffled moan.

Pulling his collar out to get better acess, I graze my open mouth across his neck, barley letting my fangs make any contact. Licking softly when I find my sweet spot that makes him jump and biting there softly.

I whisper in his ear, "touch me Father, take what you want so badly." And he does, like a scared animal he slides his hands across my body. First starting at my back, stiff, nervous, then moving to hold my sides as I start sucking on his neck, I know I've hit a good spot when his grip tightens and I feel his perfectly manicured nails press into me.

He is full of surprises as he starts feeling my pants and fumbles with my belt. Rushed and desperate. I did say take what you want after all.

He pauses suddenly.

"Whats the matter Father? Scared?"

"No, may I please fuck you?" He looks up at me. Meets my eyes all om his own.

"Oh Father, you want to commit this sin? To fuck a demon and give into lust?"

"Yes, oh yes, please." He begs, rubbing circles into my hips with his anxious thumbs. He's nothing but endearing even when faced with me.

I lean down to kiss him, slipling my pants doen and straddling his lap, erection twitching beneath me. He kisses poorly, hands frozen partly mid air.

I laugh, "you have no clue what you're doing don't you? Here let me."

I slowly guide the kiss, he follows my lead, whenever my fangs snag on his lips or tongue he moans. Purposely going out of his way to lick my fangs until one too hard makes him bleed just barley. The pervert moans at that too. He's obsessed with my tongue as well, sliding in between it with his own.

Using my hands to move his I place one at my hips and his dominant hand I guide down to my cock and opening.

"Feel my cock and how wet I am, play with me and you'll be rewarded."

"You're already a reward." He says suddenly, ducking his head when he realizes he said that outloud. But he doesn't pull his hands away.

He feels my cock's head carefully, inquisitivly. I rock my hips to help him along, making sure he knows when he's hit good spots with moans and harder breaths. He becomes bolder and picks up quickly, testing further to fingering me. Sliping one in and letting out a truly desperate noise as he feels how warm, soft, and wet I am. Adding a few more encouraged by my moans of pleasure.

"Please, please let me fuck you Daddy." He's completely under my control now.

"Good boy," I huff out, and lower myself to rub his cock on my opening. Teasing him by sliding across and barley putting pressure.

"Please please please please," he begs into my shoulder, gripping me so tightly it may bruise.

I line him up and sink down in one clean go. He sobs a moan into my shoulder, pressing hard to muffle himself.

"Shhhh it's ok baby," I coo into his ear petting his hair, he relaxes from the initial wave and I start sliding up and down.

He pulls back and we continue kissing as the speed and intensity of my thrusts builds. Hitting his lap harder to get as much in as possible and pushing my tongue into his mouth. Hes a moaning mess scrambling his hands across my body, one landing on my dick to rub causing me to moan into our kiss. The other comes onto my back and holds on for dear life. He can't last much longer at this rate.

"D-addy, oh please, can I cum in you?" He is delirious with pleasure and the impending climax he hasn't felt in a long time.

"Cum in me Father, you perverted sinner." I slam my hips down.

And with that he explodes inside me. Moaning and rocking his hips. The warm cum filling me up deep inside. I cum as well, milking his cock for all he can give. His pathetic rutting mixed with whimpers fill the booth. All decency abandoned for a climax in his holy place.

Panting and shaking, he comes down from the high. Unable to even meet my eyes I see the shame set in.

"Oh Father, having regrets so soon?" I slide off his softening cock, slipping my pants back on and buckling my belt. He stays there barley moving.

"Will you leave now." Is all he managed to say as he shoves himself back into his pants, fixing his removed collar, and attempting to look like he didnt just fuck someone.

"You'll want me back dear," i turn to leave when he grabs my arm. Not an ounce of aggresion.

He pulls me into a soft kiss before letting me go. I walk out of the booth, no one was remotley paying attention either already left or to far away. I slip out the front door, casting one last look to our very own corrupted priest. He is looking at me, but swiftly turns away and walks to his office. I'll be visiting this church again very soon~

End.

[ghostofnuggetspast]

Not Yet

Nightmare has a regular drop At Watson's house she lands atop Her gifts of bad dreams Always lead him to screams She knows her duty and won't stop

Check it out on ao3!

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @weeesi @friday411

[joncronshawauthor]

Why Disney’s Moana is a Treasure for Fantasy Lovers

In the vast ocean of fantasy cinema, where tales of adventure and magic crash upon us like relentless waves, there sails a film that has captured the hearts of fantasy aficionados. Disney’s “Moana” isn’t just a pleasant watch; it’s a veritable treasure chest brimming with elements that resonate deeply with lovers of fantasy literature. Let’s embark on a voyage to uncover why “Moana” is the…

[pippinoftheshire]

Yes, It's me again teasing yet ANOTHER fic... They arrive in my brain faster than I can write them down!

SEND HELP! lol

[lotusflowerbreakingthesurface]

[𝐏𝐗 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜 𝟔𝟎] 强制惩罚游戏！𝐛𝐲 阿池

✧ 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: Forced Punishment Game!

✧ 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: Zhang Qiling/Wu Xie, slight Hei Xiazi/Xie Yuchen

✧ 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞: PingXie Only

✧ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: Complete

✧ 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞: Chinese

✧ 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 3 Chapters

✧ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Canon Setting—Post-Ten Years, Humor/Comedy, it's a joke coming from a manga

✧ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜: Wu Xie's First Person POV, Fantasy Elements

✧ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Side/Background Relationship(s) on the second chapter

✧ 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜:

Wu Xie woke up with two transparent options floating in front of him.

✧ 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧:

Another funny fic from the same author. I like her writing style, it's sweet, funny, and sometimes spicy XD I really need this kind of fic after reading so much angst.

✧ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝: Lofter (Chapter 1) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (End)

[alexandr-az]

[rennsdeaddoves]

Hellsing lore expansion

So I am going to expand on hellsing’s lore. Mainly folklore. Buckle up cause this may be a long one lmao

Let’s start simple and gradually get more complex;

Ghouls

Ghouls as the blood sucked humans turned undead (brain dead) soldiers for the vamps who drained em. But in my story they are a bit more than that.

Vampires use only the blood-dry corpse of a human and control them from there to do their bidding but there are other beings who drink the blood of humans and turn them into ghouls. The oldest example is a dark fae known as a Baobhan Sith, they seduce, drink the blood of, and then use the ghouls in ways you wouldn’t really think. Sometimes they will set the ghouls out to hunt down their next meal, other times they will use them to clear out settlements.

Over all ghouls are still brainless zombie esc things that thirst for blood and hunger for flesh. They are just not limited to vampires creating them.

Witches

ok so these guys can be complex when you dive into all the variations of magic that can be used/practiced but if we don't go into that then Witches are much more simple.

Witches are not limited to one species, they can be vampier, human, fae, siren, anything really. magic is not limited. how each species practices magic is different though, but all throughout history witches have existed to aid, or hinder. create or cause chaos.

Sirens

Sirens were once human beings, girls who were taken to sea and either their ship sunk of they were thrown overboard, the only sure thing is that these girls and women drowned but just before they could die the sea itself took pity on them and made them its people, giving them gills to breath, and tails to swim with.

with their voices of silk, they lure the men who left them for dead. they are often in the most turbulent of waters, or the foggiest of lands. rocky shores, stone beaches, and places where you wouldn't normally go.

merfolk fall into the same category, but if you are a merfolk you were likely born to the sea and don't thirst for the blood of men.

Dhampir

"the unholy offspring of a vampire and human" honestly, these guys get the best of both worlds. Dhampirs can eat normal food while still drinking blood (if they chose, but they don't need it to survive). they're good in both sunlight and moonlight (so they have the option of being nocturnal but they don't have to be) and while they have sharp teeth + pale skin its not enough for someone to look at them and go "oh yeah, that's vampire spawn" nah.

the last bonus of the Dhampir is that they age super slow, there not (technically) immortal like thier vampier parent, but they can live up to 200 years of age if they play their cards right.

now being one of these isn't all perks, Dhampirs are the absolute rejects of society. vampires scoff at them, and humans fear them. often times Dhampiers will be hunted by other races for sport.

Vampires

Created from a ritual gone wrong (alucard and Aireth) Vampires came about as a cross between dark fae and half dead humans. They are creatures who drink blood to sustain their own life, and because of their fae origin they will sometimes (depending of who turned them or gave birth to them) will be able to access abilities that the fae have (ex. Summoning families, manipulating their body, shadow travel, etc).

Because of the half dead human thing, a vampires nerves are slightly numbed thus they have higher pain tolerances and can handle much more than the average human. Tie that into their crazy regeneration factor and you get vampires who down right won’t feel pain.

They are still capable of reproducing by sexual means (either with another vampire or with humans) or they can reproduce by drinking all the blood of a virgin of the opposite sex.

Now the burning in sun light thing is incorrect. Even in hellsing ultimate we see alucard in the daylight and he’s fine, same with Seras. The truth to the myth is that the sun weakens them slightly and makes them very groggy as well as tired (like that nap that you take for 14 hours wake up with your mouth dry, sweating, and are even more tired than when you went to take the nap in the first place) but at night they are at their peak. Dark fae thrive in the night and since vampires are part dark fae the same can be said for them.

The wooden stake through the heart also has some merit, but it can’t be just any type of wood. There is a specific tree that grows in the fae wilds, it’s bark is made from pure light and that’s what does the vampire in. Though putting a regular stake through their heart will greatly hinder their regeneration.

Werewolves

now these beings are ancient, they came about around the same time as the fae, maybe a bit after, but they have been walking on their earth for a long ass time, and there are a few ways that a werwolf can come to exist.

you are born of a human and a wolf god. (yes the wolf god would be a shapeshifter, as fucked up as i am in the head i will never think of writing bestiality bullshit)

you are cursed by the fae with lycanthropy

you are blessed by a wolf god

you are cursed by a werewolf through their bite (aka the only normal way in modern times lol)

if you are cursed / get bitten by the cursed you develope what we would think of as normal lycanthropy. (monster under the full moon)

if you are blessed / a child of a wolf god then its hella different, for one the child would not appear as a normal wolf, there would be some other aspect to them (maybe they are mistier in their transformations) also they would be so much bigger than a normal werewolf has any business being, and finally they can control their transformations, anywhere, anytime.

Fae

ok, so the fae have been around for-fucking-ever. there are two main categories and within those two are the smaller sub-categories. the two main ones are; light and dark (Seelie and Unseelie)

the Seelie court has a queen, the Mother of Life, and the Unseelie court has a king, the Father of Darkness. these two tolerate one another and rule side by side (as roommates there is no romance) because they thought this arrangement was better than eternal war.

so within the two (courts? realms? factions? species????) there are several types of fae;

banshee - Unseelie who were more than likely drowning victims, or spirits of turbulent waters. they will use their water-logged, rough voices to scream and whale at all those they come across because their sorrows and regrets are as deep as the ocean

Boggart - Unseelie, malevolent shapeshifters that often like to play mean tricks on unsuspecting people

Brownie - Seelie, they are very helpful little spirits that don't like to be seen but love to do little tasks.

dryads - Seelie, caretakers of the woods they call home

Nymphs - depending on the type of nymph they can be either Seelie or Unseelie. often tied to nature (a specific tree, plant, spot) they are caretakers and guardians of nature.

Elves - again either Seelie or Unseelie in nature, are tall, pale, and have pointed ears. these fae make up most of the high courts

gnomes - seelie or unseelie, they are kinda like the nymphs but they are much more curious than most others and will try to get closer to humans. often they live underground and protect buried treasures and secrets

Pixies - mostly Unseelie (sometimes seelie) pixies are mischievous and will often take things from humans, first it will be small, something un-noticeable and then they will work their way up to things you cannot live without. pixies are small, and have insect-like wings on their backs

Trolls - massive, ugly, protective earth spirits

Will O' the Wisp - guiding spirits that will help travellers leave the fae lands

those are only some, others (because im too lazy to explain what all of them are) are; centaurs, kelpies, selkies, phoenix, kitsune, manticore, Nixie, pooka, satyr, goblin, gremlin, Undine, harpy, sprities, salamander, dyad, Vodnik, ballybog, devas, kobald, and many, many more.

fae come from all over the world in many forms and shapes, they take shelter in patches of woods that are hidden from humans. eventually (because humans keep cutting down their forests) they had to move their lands to a separate kind of realm (it took a lot of magic and some couldn't make the transition) so now these lands are called "Fae wilds"

the fae wilds entrances are deep within the forests usually if you don't know where your going but the forest recognizes you as fae the trees will begin to guide you. within the wilds there are whole cities

exactly like this image.

the last thing I want to cover is the Fae-Born.

The Fae-Born are humans who were taken by the fae and re-born again as enchanted beings. they are the perfect mix of flesh, magic, and mysticism. most of the Fae-born can practice any magic type they so desire, and they are immortal as well.

out of the many humans that the fae have tried to turn into fae-born, only two were successful; The Crimson Witch of the Moon (Aireth) and the Sun of the Golden Meadows. these two are complete begins, fae, but not fae, they wield the most powerful magic possible and can tilt on the edge of light and dark.

fae-born are capable of performing rituals that normal fae cannot, the tole not nearly as much as it would be for the normal fae. often times, if they are not killed in childhood for being failures Fae-born will go through a coming of age ceremony where they have to spend 100-200 years out in the mortal world and see how humanity acts towards -not just them- but the world that they surround themselves by.

[ponds-of-ink]

Quick sequel to Pinkie Pie but Snow-Themed.

By request of this fantasy elements generator..

Rainbow Dash but Acidic.

Think she only has acidic immunity rather than acidic powers. Must’ve been from growing up around all that neon green sludge. Don’t think the purple gunk is related, though.

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

Afraid, my lady?

"I shouldn't be here.." Lavender muttered as she took a step back. The fae king simply chuckled as he emerged from the dark forest.

"Why is that, her majesty?" The Fae king raised an eyebrow at Lavender.

"My father forbid me..."Lavender replied as she nervously glanced back at the field behind them. "Let alone let me get close to.."

"To whom? The evil King Nephelius himself?" The Fae king chuckled before kneeling down bowing to kiss Lavender's hand. "Because as I, the so swore enemy of your father, have no intentions to harm you."

Lavender gently began to retrieve her hand. "I have reasons to doubt..."

"Afraid, my lady?" Nephelius joke as he released Lavender's hand.He slowly rose up. "Because I can sense your fear."

"I'll be fine, King Nephelius..." Lavender muttered as she took a step back. "I'll...I'll return to my father's kingdom."

"I suppose your father will get worried." Nephelius scowled before fixing his cape. He darted his eyes back at Lavender before shifting his lips to a sly smile. "Before you go, my I know your name?

She tensed. She knew exactly what would happen if she were to ever give up her name. Knowing the rules and what her friend Poplar advised her, Lavender decided to use the nickname her goblin friend gave her. "It's...it's Buttercup."

Nephelius smile faded as he gave her a slight, but yet polite sneer. "Very well, Buttercup…" He placed emphasis on the name.

He knew she had purposely lied to him, but strangely chose not to press further.

I got a bit bored and did a color sketched of my OCs and prop a story that I may or may not write in the future called "Poplar and the fair Princess" (everyone is an adult)

Nephelius is the main antagonist and villain. Faes are at war with the humans (who thanks to Lavender's father are not in good terms with magical creatures), but they are not Evil. Nephelius is just a villain that happens to be a Fae FYI

[tmctales]

Banner of Eternity

Once upon a time, in a land where the stars were so close they seemed like you could pluck them from the night sky, there lay a small kingdom surrounded by a vast, enchanted forest. This kingdom, known as Lumora, was unlike any other, for it was home to the wisest of scholars, the bravest of knights, and the most intricate of flags. Each flag told a story, stitched carefully by artisans who believed every thread carried a fragment of the kingdom’s soul.

But the most remarkable flag of all was the Banner of Eternity. It was said to have been woven by the kingdom’s founders using strands of starlight and bound with the breath of a dragon. The banner was stored in the Great Hall of Symbols, where it inspired the people of Lumora with its intricate patterns: a golden sun for hope, a silver crescent moon for wisdom, and a red phoenix rising from the ashes, symbolizing eternal rebirth.

The Banner of Eternity had protected Lumora for centuries, glowing faintly whenever danger approached. But as time passed, the people grew complacent, and the banner’s magic dimmed. The tales of its power became myths told only to children.

One cold winter night, when snow blanketed the kingdom in silence, an ominous shadow spread across the sky. It was a monstrous wyvern, its scales blacker than the depths of the night, with eyes that burned like molten gold. The beast, known as Kalvorr the Boundless, had long slumbered in the depths of the forest. Now, it sought to claim the Banner of Eternity and extinguish the hope of Lumora forever.

The banner flickered weakly in its glass case as the wyvern roared, shaking the Great Hall to its foundations. The people of Lumora turned to their king, a wise and battle-hardened ruler named Alden, for guidance. “We must find the Weaver of Stars,” he declared, his voice steady despite the chaos.

The Weaver of Stars was a mythical figure said to reside in the heart of the enchanted forest. She alone could restore the banner's power. Many dismissed the king's words as folly, for none who entered the forest had ever returned. But one young knight, Ser Caelum, stepped forward.

“Your Majesty,” he said, kneeling, “I will find the Weaver and bring her to Lumora.”

Caelum was no ordinary knight. He was a dreamer, often found gazing at the stars and sketching new designs for the kingdom’s flags. His heart was brave, and his mind sharp, but what set him apart was his unwavering belief in the power of symbols and stories.

With the king’s blessing, Caelum set out into the forest, armed with nothing but his sword, his wits, and a small flag he had stitched himself. It bore the image of a lantern, symbolizing his hope to guide Lumora through its darkest hour.

The forest was a maze of towering trees and whispering shadows. Each step seemed to lead him further into an endless night. But Caelum remembered the stories of the Weaver: she could be found where the light danced like fireflies, and the air hummed with a song older than time.

After days of wandering, he stumbled upon a clearing bathed in an ethereal glow. At its center stood a woman draped in a cloak that shimmered like the cosmos. Her hair flowed like silver rivers, and her eyes held the wisdom of ages.

“You seek the Weaver of Stars,” she said, her voice like the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. “But why should I help you, young knight?”

Caelum unfurled his lantern flag and knelt. “Because my kingdom needs hope,” he said. “Without the banner, we will lose more than a symbol. We will lose ourselves.”

The Weaver studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. But to restore the Banner of Eternity, you must face three trials. Each will test your courage, your wisdom, and your heart.”

The first trial led Caelum to the Valley of Echoes, where his deepest fears came to life. He was surrounded by visions of failure: his people in chains, the wyvern reigning over Lumora, and himself, powerless to save them. But he raised his lantern flag high, its light piercing the illusions. “I am more than my fears,” he declared. “I am the hope of my kingdom.”

The illusions vanished, and he moved on to the second trial: the Pool of Truths, where he had to answer three questions from his reflection. Each question probed the core of his being, but Caelum’s honesty and humility guided him through.

The final trial was the hardest. In the Garden of Sacrifice, he found a radiant flower that held the power to restore the banner. But the flower’s magic came at a cost: his most cherished dream would fade from his heart forever.

Caelum hesitated, for his dream of creating the greatest flag Lumora had ever seen had always driven him. But then he thought of his people, their faces lit with hope under the Banner of Eternity. “Some dreams must be sacrificed for the greater good,” he whispered, plucking the flower.

The Weaver reappeared, her gaze soft with approval. “You have proven yourself worthy, Caelum. Take this flower and return to your kingdom.”

With the flower in hand, Caelum raced back to Lumora. The wyvern had begun its attack, but as 

Caelum approached the Great Hall, the Banner of Eternity flared to life. Its glow drove Kalvorr back into the forest, its magic renewed by Caelum’s courage, wisdom, and sacrifice.

The people of Lumora hailed Caelum as a hero, but he shook his head. “I am no hero. The banner is not just a symbol; it is all of us, united by hope.”

From that day on, Lumora thrived, its people forever inspired by the young knight who believed in the power of stories and symbols. And though Caelum never stitched another flag, the lantern flag he carried became a treasured relic, a reminder that even the smallest light can guide the way through the darkest night.

And so, under a sky filled with stars, Lumora stood as a beacon of hope for all who dared to dream.

The End.

[beeboos-creativecorner]

THE GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO PURSUING MONSTERS, DEMONS AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL ENTITIES

Day what now ? 8 ? Anyway, I present to you, the party of Victorian queers, members of a monster hunting cult. This was written as part of another English assessment in 2022, based off a D&D-esque campaign that we got to play in class for this task !! The basis of this piece is following my favourite, hopeless twinks, Alaric (my character) and Alistar/Sparky (friend's character) on an investigation through London. There's loads of silliness, romantic gay tension, elusive tragic backstories and even an in-party spat. All good fun. I love these silly guys. I wish I wrote more than 2-3 pieces about these characters/this world :(

Read under the cut x

TW references to assault

THE GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO PURSUING MONSTERS, DEMONS AND OTHER SUPERNATURAL ENTITIES

Session Log #4 — She, So Shaken and Sullen

After consulting our fellow — and I try not to write the word with such a foul taste in my mouth — lodge members, we established our next course of action. The only reasonable solution was to divide ourselves into two groups and set off to pin-point the locations of the victims of these irregular attacks. The separation was made with an unnatural amount of ease — Ethel and Slasher were to pursue any leads the police could provide, whilst Sparky and myself took to the streets. 

It was a fitting setting; Alistar thrived in the hustle and bustle of London’s streets. It was his ‘natural element’. And though I was invested in the investigation and eager to participate, I was purely along for the ride. Sparky navigated the city as if he’d traversed every path before, like it was engraved into memory. I trusted his knowledge and instincts, considering we had no better leads on our hands.

Engaging in conversation was neither of our forte, so asking around for any eyewitnesses on the account was a challenge. Setting aside the awkward encounters, tumbling requests for information, reluctant subjects of questioning and other countless complications, we approached a barman at a pub who expressed his concern quite vehemently about his younger sister, a victim of a frightful attack that left her ‘shaken and sullen’. Against all of Alistar’s communication incapabilities, he managed to acquire this information with next to no effort. Perhaps he who tended the pub saw no threat in us asking for victim accounts. Thankful as ever, we headed for the said woman’s residence without a second to spare for thought.

Yet again, Sparky proved to me his aptitude for navigation, landing ourselves on the doorstep of a potential witness. Looking at one another with an air of hesitation, I edged closer to the entrance, about to rap my knuckles on the door, when Alistar decided then was the time for caution.

“What are we to tell her?” he exclaimed, a little too breathless to remain dignified. “We cannot simply rush in and press the woman about her attacker! She’s likely still in shock and I guarantee she will be suspicious of our intentions! We need ourselves an alibi or some kind of ruse—”

“Is public concern not sufficient enough?” I countered. I played back the tone of voice in my head, the way a phonograph would. I was beginning to understand why the likes of Eliphalet found me so repulsive. Alistar glared at me in the same manner they did: like I was a wooden spoon. Yet, it also held the ferocity that reminded me of my father, before he put me over his knee for misbehaving. The one that clearly stated: you should know better, Alaric.

“That’s neither true nor believable. Whatever we do, we must keep her wariness of us to a minimum. I suggest we tell her we’re part of a secret organisation; we’re hunting Jack because it is our responsibility to do so.” I removed my hat and placed a palm to my burning forehead. It’s ineffable how, in all circumstances, I’m the foolish one?

“Listen to yourself, man! If my excuse is too far from the truth, yours is bang-on. It’s best not to divulge the true nature of our work to strangers, victim or not. Let’s meet halfway, what other options do we have?” 

“We could pose as brothers, hunting this creature out of revenge. Perhaps Jack assaulted a fictitious sister of ours? We could be… vigilantes of some sort,” Sparky proposed, his fingers tapping on the knuckles of the opposite hand — his brain was better engaged in creating a fake story. A cue recognisable with time spent around Alistar.

“All right,” I admitted, “that’s not the worst card on the playing table. And if she asks for a name for our so-called ‘sister?’”

“Eveline,” he said if he had that name stowed away for a special occasion such as this. “But we hold her so dearly in our hearts that we shall refer to her as Evie.” I nodded, replacing my hat upon my head, requesting,

“May I?”

“Onwards, then.”

I knocked on the door. Twice. Thrice. For a heartbeat I was certain no one was home, or we were at the wrong address. Sparky and I exchanged another glance, one wracked with insecurity. The door opened a moment later to a young lady with dark, sunken eyes and a complexion that could have misread her for the dead. The first impression explained everything: there was no mistake on our front.

“Yes?” she said in an accent directly associated with the poorer districts of London. Except it was hoarse. Croaky. Drained. Lethargy was unforgiving on even the most youthful of people. I began,

“You may not know us but—”

“May we come inside? We have a few questions to ask you, madam. Your brother informed us that you were attacked recently, would you mind elaborating for us?” Alistar hadn’t yet mastered the art of subtlety, though I dare say we were short on time.

“What? Who are ya? Leave me alone!” Just like that, she was quick to shut the door on us. Jamming the door with my shoe put a roadblock in her avoidance tactic.

“Please, miss, I apologise for my brother’s behaviour. He may come across as insensitive, but I assure you, he means well.” Her dark brows furrowed. She was quite adamant about requesting our departure from her doorstep.

“Go away.”

“I beg you, please allow us to speak with you. Your brother���s story appealed to us; we want to be rid of this creature as much as yourself.” Only then did her abhorrent expression soften. With caution, she eased open the door, permitting us to enter. Sparky scoffed, it sounded like bemusement. I believe the feeling was indeed mutual. For two men who were socially inept, this was somewhat short of a miracle.

She got us seated and offered what meagre sustenance she had stored (the latter we politely declined), before saying,

“You know… him. That thing. Sirs, if you please, who are ya? If there’s anything I can do to help this monster be gone from London—” Tears welled in her eyes, distressed over the terrible memory, I could only assume it was so. The change in demeanour made this destitute woman noble in giving up what she knew about Jack’s activity. I bowed my head and introduced myself with the pseudonym I’d give anyone undeserving of my confidence and trust.

“Evander Kane, at your service, milady.”

“Alistar, very much in accordance with my brother here.”

“Emma,” she replied, feigning a warm smile. To my notice, she failed such an act, her gesture was devoid of comfort or happiness; tragic and empty, further proving the toll the attack had taken on poor Emma. “What can I do, gentlemen? How do you know that… winged bastard?” Alistar was right on one thing, she was suspicious of our motives. As genuine as she was, the caution displayed in her posture said much. Claiming the opportunity to speak, Sparky abided by our plan agreed prior, telling her,

“We have a sister of our own, you see. Eveline was attacked one evening by what she could only describe to us as ‘a penny dreadful in the flesh.’ We were hoping that we could speak with other witnesses to ascertain what this creature is, and how we may take it down. It’s our duty… in honour of our sister.”

“She… hasn’t been the same since,” I followed up, reopening a wound of my past in order to sound the most sympathetic and convincing. When I spoke of ‘Evie’, I thought of my niece, Sybilla, and how she was in her downtime: dejected, hollow. “Your appearance reminds me of her, quite frankly. Like shells… shells of your former selves. Not the people you used to be. The coppers have done nothing to bring Evie justice, which is why we’re here. And a little desperate, might I add. I, again, apologise for the intrusion, neither of us mean any harm by it. If you could tell us anything useful, anything at all, we’d be forever in your debt.” Somehow, like some divine figure was guarding us, Emma permanently relented. Somehow, we had made a phenomenal success of it.

“All right, I’ll tell you what I can.

“It was after dark and I was walking home. I was alone, my brother was still busy tending to his establishment and he suggested I would be safer at home than with the rowdy patrons that pass through. It seemed like sound advice, I was already feeling a little fatigued. I often walk home unescorted, it’s frowned upon — like all things we lower classes do — but I had no other choice. There’s… backroads, alleyways, shortcuts — I always arrive home earlier, so I assumed it was efficient to do the same that night.”

“And you did not think to take a cab?” Alistar inquired, pushing his boundaries further than I would have liked. We were guests in her home, not interrogators. Or we weren’t supposed to appear as such in these conditions.

“No,” she said, leaning forward in a way that suggested Sparky was senseless to ask such a question. “Cabs usually do not operate in the late hours, and if they do, they are few and far between — they do not travel in this area often. As I said, sir, I had no other choice.

“I almost made it home when—” Her voice cracked, an onslaught of fresh tears arriving as reinforcements. An emotion flushed away my controlled mask, leaving the resonance of trauma that was conceivably my own. Clearing my throat of an oncoming choke, I took Emma’s skeletal hands in my own, making eye contact to reassure her. I at least hope that’s what it looked like I was doing.

“Take your time, miss. We can wait if you need a moment,” I said, inclining my head, shooting a fleeting, comforting smile her way. In my peripherals, Sparky’s nose scrunched and it was as if I could read minds. His thoughts were too clear, one movement proving it. What do you mean ‘we can wait a moment’? We do not have a moment! Time is wasting away and we have no other leads! I understood this, of course. Alistar was an intellectual first; everything else was lower on the list of reactions. As Emma lowered her head to sob, I turned to angle my head towards Sparky to silently let him know that we must be patient, this investigation was not for nought. I was unsure whether he received the message, though I cared far less when Emma was ready to continue speaking.

“I wasn’t too far from home when… when I was sprung by— when this beast sprung me. It’s like he came from thin air, he did. He was no man, I tell you. Blue and red scales, breath like corpses… he was so close to— oh, sirs, it was a nightmare!”

“We won’t make you recall any more if it stirs too much fright, madam. If you could give us anything of use, appearances and such, it would mean a great deal to us,” Sparky said. Did I mistake it, or did I hear some sincerity in those words? Perhaps he was starting to catch onto the line I’d cast out.

“It was dark, mister, it was difficult to see…” I cut her off, something strange hung over her, like a grim shadow, subjugating her into silence. She knew a bit more than what she said she did. No, she wasn’t lying, abstaining information seemed more on the mark. She needed to be disarmed, or this lead would be no use to us. What she had experienced was beyond our repertoire of knowledge as men, and we had the audacity to dig up these awful memories for her? I felt despicable, no gentlemanly stranger would ever do such a thing. Except us… in these circumstances where more women’s lives could be at risk. I had time to regret and repent later, duty was priority.

“That’s all right, Emma. Any small detail you can give us will help.”

“Well, his feet were cloven, like the hooves of a goat or sorts. Wild hair, like lions you see in zoos. Vicious horns on his head; the spawn of the Devil Himself. Large wings… looked like the wings of a bat, yet much, much bigger. Clawed hands… gripping—” She gesticulated each feature with more and more intensity, with the waterworks to accompany it.

“Say no more, Miss Emma,” Alistar interjected. “We swear to you, justice will be served accordingly. Thank you for providing us with the information to help us on our way. You have done a great service, I assure you.” Emma waved a dismissive, erratic hand at this, giving the incentive it was time to leave. With a final squeeze of her hand, we did.

—

“Got all that down, Ricky-my-boy?”

“Cloven hooves, lion mane hair, horns…” I trailed off, pausing to try and remember every detail listed off by Alistar’s vivid memory. “Uh, line?”

“Claws, blue-red scales and the large wings?”

“Scales, claws aaand the wings. See, I was listening.”

“Yes, but you’re not looking,” he said, yanking me by the shirt collar, keeping me on the walkway and out of the line of an oncoming bus. My eyes widened as the horses whinnied as they trotted past, passengers darting disdainful glares to add to the embarrassment. My gaze shifted from the people to the words scrawled in the handheld book. There was something off. I couldn’t differentiate between whether it was personal or general. Revisiting the pain of my past and the threat of a women-molesting monster lurking about were both plausible factors for my unrest and distraction.

“These notes will mean nothing if we can’t back Miss Emma’s statement with hard evidence. How are we to be sure this is our Jack or something else entirely?” Sparky replied as he always did: in riddles.

“We can’t. This may be Jack, as twisted and irregular as it may be. Perhaps it is an impostor, saving themselves from public recognition, consequently suppressing their name. We’re not even certain that Emma’s description will match with whatever our friends Ethel and Slasher find out from the bobbies. We’ll know once we regroup, eh?” I made some close-mouthed grumble. On one side of the coin, I knew those who waited received the spoils, and on the other, I wanted immediate answers. Speculation had to wait until we were back at the lodge.

—

Laying in front of our party of four was my pocket book, various reports from the police and dainty porcelain cups full of tea (courtesy of Bethly Violet, who surprisingly made us feel welcome back into the lodge upon our arrival). Ethel’s hands rubbed together in a hypnotic circular motion as they explained what was found on their investigation.

“So, after reading these reports, we asked Constable Stephen Moores to take us to one of the victims, who we then consulted about what she witnessed on the night she was attacked.” I could not believe what I heard. Could it be…?

“Hold a moment. Stephen… Steve? Dearly detested Stevie brought you to the doorstep of a victim? Willingly? You do mean—”

“Permanent scowl, twitchy upper lip, overgrown handlebar moustache? And, why, yes, I do believe he did.” Ethel’s face was set, it was Steve. The same one who robbed me blind at cards seven times consecutively, the same one who initiated a brawl the day I didn’t feel quite high-spirited enough to challenge him. The very Steve whose nose I had certainly broken at least once. Vile drunkard. I prayed he never knew I was associated with Ethel and Slasher, or that’ll be the last time he’d ever help the Rippers.

“Well I never,” I spouted, leaving it at that. I’d had enough background sharing for one day.

“And this woman, our contact, explained to us that she was attacked by something far from man. See here, I sketched a little of what she described. Beware, this may not be what we’re up against. She spoke of thick scales, wings, horns and claws; attributes known to be linked to Spring-Heeled Jack. Unfortunately, we can’t be sure if this is man or beast.” Ethel wrapped up, taking a long drag of a cigarette before taking a seat at the table.

“Brilliant,” Sparky piped up with his usual perky optimism. “Our victim, whose name shall be suppressed for privacy reasons, spoke similarly. Although, we have to add a couple crucial details: a mane like a lion’s as well as cloven hooves. Spring-Heeled Jack is known to have… well, spring heels. Another feature to add to the possible theory that this may indeed be his doing or one of an impostor.” A voice growled out from the natural pause, disrupting the peace.

“Jack or not, we need to kill it.” Slasher. His opinion wasn’t well-liked to put it modestly. He was a valuable companion when it came to combat, being our strongman, but his narrow mindset snuffed out the spark of enlightenment. Often. To stay in his good books, we vowed to consider his input, though rarely acted on it unless we were sure. At the stage we were at, we hadn’t a clear image of what we were up against, so the idea was merely an idea. A suggestion, hardly an option.

“Come now, man,” I said, hopefully in a nullifying tone. I had no desire to bear the brunt of his rage for giving my side of the argument. “If, and only if, this does turn out to be our Jack, do you not think he could be brought round to reason?”

“No.” He needn’t beat around the bush with that one. I huffed. I supposed some did not believe in redemption as much as I did. Ethel pitching in, agreed with Slasher by saying,

“Not really, if you count the amount of women he has used to dishonour himself as well as them. There’s one too many incidents for it to be a misunderstanding. Attacks like these are deliberate for certain. Negotiating with an abuser over a pint? A misinformed choice.”

“I see. You’ve made your point.” Unlike most, I wasn’t entangled in my own self-regard. Any others’ view was of equal measure to my own. Yet… some ends were loose. I was sure of it. I offered a new angle.

“And if this is a monster, truly? What then? This doesn’t seem like typical Jack behaviour. I’ve followed this case longer than any of you, if anyone knows, it is myself.”

“I say we kill it.” Slasher was a man of few words and even fewer viewpoints. A man thrilled over education and exploration. I regret to say I had to retract my last statement: Any others’ view was of equal measure to mine, except Slasher’s.

“For once, I agree with Slasher here. Killing Jack or his imitator could put a stop to further attacks. This action is a preventative. Safe people, safe community. Having another Jack that torments poor women? Not ideal for regular establishments,” Ethel noted, stubbing their cigarette out on the saucer in front of them, instead of the ashtray that was directly in the centre of the table. A switch in my attitude occurred. I had a hunch and I couldn’t possibly be wrong. Although I voiced nothing of it, I took my frustration out on Ethel, as they were the last to speak and the first to ever grant acceptance of Slasher’s standpoint so early on in an investigation. This indeed was a historical moment for the party, though I could not say it was a good one.

“I didn’t notice we were making alliances within the party! Oh, and of course you wouldn’t mind making this political, Ethel. I am so comforted to know which way you’re inclined.”

“Alliances don’t sound so bad, now, do they?” Ethel fired back, venom in every syllable. “You and brainbox over there are awfully close—” They leaned over the surface, closing the space between us, the tobacco on their breath unbearably suffocating. Deadlock.

“Perhaps,” raised Sparky, attempting to diffuse the impromptu spat. “I think we need to set a new objective. This isn’t getting us further than a basic depiction. None of us have encountered Jack personally, yes?” With no reply, Ethel and I seated ourselves begrudgingly. “I suggest we consult our superiors, they have already proven useful in giving us information about Jack. I dare say they may even have contacts who knew Jack personally. My money is on going to them. That’s where I’ll be headed. If you two are done being petty schoolchildren, you are free to follow along. If not, please yourselves, I haven’t time to waste on bickering.” Swiping his mere possessions, Alistar fled the room, scuttling off to return them to his quarters, no doubt.

Draining the last of my tea, I sighed into the cup. My behaviour was deplorable and I knew far better than to engage in verbal combat. I ignored the little person in my head called Reason, paying for it by tearing a rift in one of my few prized relationships. Ethel was fuming in front of me, nor did Alistar appear very pleased with how I acted either. So, perhaps I made two rifts that needed patching. I was ashamed, yes, but I refused to let go of my theory that was hanging on by a thread. Answers would give a resolution. Briefly apologising to Ethel, I followed Alistar to his next point of interest: the east wing.

[skullzanta]

Assuming single combat, could a Fantasy World's Adventurer retaining their magic alchemy and all, kill a real life Polar Bear?

I genuinely wonder if this is realistic or not, the question came to me when I thought about the monsterhunting exploits of fantasy sound extremely dangerous, and like a polarbear would die in minutes there, but then I remembered the bear advice:

"If it's brown, lay down. If it's black, fight back. If it's white, goodnight",

And was wondering how realistic it is for adventurers with their tools and abilities to ACTUALLY fight monsters like this, curious about how you feel about it.

I DO prefer a serious answer here, but I wouldnt mind some silly polar bear vs dragon art(less likely to show up than a diamond in a blizzard tho)

[gigivas]

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[oddarette]

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