#fine art trade guild

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Things Enver does as a Father:

When their oldest was four, he started to understand what explosives were, so Enver spent three days teaching him how to make fire powder because, "What's the harm? He can't reach the shelf with the ingredients. So he'll never make them without my supervision." He may not have been able to reach the shelf, but that cunning toddler learned how to climb into chairs really fast after that.

When their children started being interested in tea parties, Enver gifted their children a sturdy but beautiful silver tea set. They couldn't brew the tea themselves, nor could they bake their own pastries to go with it, but Enver instructed their servants to fill the teapot with a caffeine free tea anytime the children asked. The trays of croissants and cookies were, of course, also provided.

When Enver joined those tea parties, he used it as a time to test his children's leadership abilities. He asked them how they planned on handling fake issues in the kingdom. Often, he assigned names to fake groups of people, inventing far off countries that sent either banes or boons to their doorstep. "What shall we do about all these refugees?" "The crops from the west fields have failed. Shall we attempt to grow more before harvest, or should we depend upon our reserves?" "Two different political factions are at each other's throats. One is the farmer's guild, and one is the merchant's guild. Who should we side with?" "There's only room in this year's budget to donate to the orphanages, or the trade school programs in the Lower City. Who do we support?" His children sometimes waved his questions off, wanting only to eat the snacks and play games, but sometimes they paid attention. Sometimes they even gave insightful solutions to these problems that were simultaneously fake and yet very real. Enver was always careful to nurture any of his children that showed promise in these matters

Of course, some of his children simply weren't suited for positions of higher leadership, which was fine. He loved his children all dearly, and loving them meant meeting them where they were and accepting who they were. His children that weren't leadership material had other talents. Archery, swordsmanship, art, dance, and more. His youngest daughter, the middle child of the family, actually had a knack for making friends and organizing events. While it wasn't something most would consider a highly prized skill, in her teenage years she turned it into a passion for charity work, especially with orphans and refugees. Something that he made sure the newspapers always reported on. Why not make sure the public viewed him and his family in a favorable light with the candle of his child's charity cases?

One of his children showed a knack for archery at a young age, and Enver wasted no time in designing moving targets for her to sharpen her skills with. His wife introduced their little prodigy to that vampire friend of hers, and soon his daughter was sneaking around the castle with a bow and quiver full of enchanted arrows. The servants only complained a little.

His brood grew in number until he was often walking around the city with a gaggle of eight children at his heels, looking every bit like a proud father goose. His youngest was almost always in his arms, a young boy with chubby cheeks and his father's grin. The public went wild with love for the sight of his hoard of children, calling them the Pride of the Gate. His wife insisted nicknames didn't count if he ordered the press to call them that, but Enver disagreed.

Enver was a firm believer in raising his children with an iron fist. Not in anyway did that mean physical punishment, of course. He detested the thought. But his children had a busy routine of tutors, governesses, coaches, and many extra curriculars from very young ages. His wife was often worried they were expecting too much from them, but Enver was always quick to remind her that they lived in a cruel world, and their children needed to be ready for that. His children were loved, but not coddled.

And as Enver grew older, he felt comfortable delegating more and more tasks to his children. Until finally, at the age of fifty seven with the entire sword coast under his iron fist, he named his heir, split up responsibilities among his other children to ensure there would be no infighting, and retired with his wife to a nice little castle in the upper city. Somewhere close enough to help should his clan require it, but far enough that he and his lovely wife could relax in their old age. He loved spending his mornings sitting on the balcony and having breakfast with her while he read the paper. His middle child, the charity worker, had taken over propaganda, and she was quite skilled at it. He would chuckle with his wife over humorous tidbits from his children's accomplishments.

And of course, then there came grandchildren. Little heathens running around his home, always so happy to visit "Grandma's House". Enver often rolled his eyes at the title of his castle. "I bought the damned thing." He complained to his eldest son one day. His son laughed at him, "Father, don't pout. They may call it her house, but they're always talking about wanting to see your inventions, play with your magic items, and um... Steal your shoes." Enver sighed at that. "None of you ever inherited my glorious fashion sense, and I regret that every day... Maybe one more child-" his wife interrupted them, "No."

[fauxmystique]

Dungeoneer's Guide to Monstrous Races

Chapter 2: Gnolls Now I must admit, dear readers, that I am biased here. Gnolls are a particular fascination of mine, and though I seek to omit any biases from these entries, my inherent glee in their existence may peek through every once in a while. Gnolls are a tall (7 ft average) bipedal/quadrupedal species closely related to awakened hyenas. Typically each gnoll is as strong as two standard humans, though much less creative. They are brutish, crude, and throw fantastic parties. As long as you don't mind the ensuing orgy and possible cannibalism.

Gnoll packs are typically found to the south of great deserts upon the savannas and plains of the world. Unlike goblins, gnoll birth genders are more statistically distributed, including intersex members.

Aside from the inherent danger in having a 7 foot tall hyena-man that can punch through a tree trunk, every gnoll is capable of SOME basic magic. Though most cannot cast spells, they each have the aptitude to craft HEXES and CHARMS. Adventuring Guilds usually attempt to clear out gnoll nests before they can become too entrenched, as after a few months the areas they inhabit are so full of minor negative effects that any who set foot in them become almost immediately lost, ensnared, and used for sport.

Gnolls are a playful people, for the most part. They take great delight in games and napping, as well as the eating of "fine meals". Oftentimes they trade with lizardmen who dwell in swamps nearby for various kinds of meats to use, as both species are carnivorous by nature.

Gnolls revere the natural world to a fetishistic degree. They willingly allow themselves to be charmed by Fey creatures, as they share a delight for games and recreation (as well as being fantastic in the art of bestial lovemaking which some Fey enjoy).

It is recommended that no less than 3 rank 2 adventurers attempt to kill a gnoll, for as soon as you kill one you will have to contend with the rest of the pack. They are fiercely loyal to one another, and do not forgive ANY grievance, no matter how slight. Fortunately, they take payment immediately and in kind, meaning that they will usually take one of the adventurers as recompense for the packmate they lost.

Being captured by a gnoll clan is not a pleasant experience, by any stretch of the imagination, and usually involves several months of unintentional psychological warfare. The HEXES they frequently make for fun (which do not affect them) turns the mind to mush and the legs to jelly, until all you can do is beg for more. Eventually this culminates in the unfortunate begging to be turned into a gnoll themselves, thus gaining the pack a new and powerful member. It is recommended that, should a party member need to be sacrificed, the order of operation is thus:

Elves first, then the healer, then the tank, then the mage. Under no circumstances should a Necromancer be allowed to be captured by a gnoll pack.

Ah, I have digressed. The social structure of a gnoll pack is a loose hierarchy wherein the most magically gifted typically "rule". The Gnoll Shaman advises the Gnoll Pack Leader (who may very well be MORE powerful than the Shaman themselves). There is also usually a roughshod council of sorts, consisting of the "best" gnolls in the tribe. I have my own names for these roles, but to use gnoll terminology: The Big, The Bad, and The Soft. Hilarious, I know.

"The Big" refers to the largest, most physically powerful gnoll in the pack. A Gnoll Big can typically take 5 human foot soldiers in combat.

"The Bad" refers to the most playful member of the pack. Likely a trickster, this one is always getting into trouble and making a mess of things. Their input is usually used to decide what NOT to do.

"The Soft" is the most dangerous of the three. Gifted in black alchemy and trained by both the Pack Leader and the Shaman, the Gnoll Soft is both the stealthiest and the most cunning of the group. A Gnoll Soft is almost always a female rogue adventurer who has been turned, though sometimes a normal gnoll can manifest these tendencies as well.

[justavulcan]

Backgrounds With Class: Golgari Agent

I'll be honest: Ravnica has always fascinated me. I was a high schooler when the first set came out, and I was immediately consumed creating characters for the setting. Now that we've actually received my long-awaited crossover, I thought it would be nice to write a love letter to the setting in the form of another Backgrounds with Class series. After all: some guilds have natural class choices tied in, from a conceptual standpoint. Boros and Fighter, Izzet and Wizard, Selesnya and Druid. But guilds aren’t class-restricted, and so I wonder what it would look like if you paired every class with every guild background, even the ones that seem at odds, like Izzet and Barbarian, or Gruul and Artificer.  So I thought about it, and this is what I came up with.  Some character concepts for each class, and each Guildmaster's Guide to Ravnica background for each class.

Golgari Agent

The Golgari Agent Artificer is one of the kraul, a wingless merchant who recently took over the family business.  Poling a narrow raft through the undercity’s sewer network isn’t glamorous work, but it does afford her a fine selection of various fungi and other ingredients for her elixirs and salves.  If push comes to shove, her alchemical expertise is for more than just brewing potions; many an undercity predator has tasted her home-made deathspore bombs and opted for easier prey elsewhere.

The Golgari Agent Barbarian has been a member of his neighborhood’s hunting party since he became of age.  Eschewing moodmark paint in favor of a hunter’s mottled camouflage pigments, he knows how to track and run down prey with the pack coordination of a wolf.  This talent’s not hyperbole, either; his last encounter with one of the Selesnya’s ledev guardians supplied him with a fine wolf-pelt cowl he wears proudly over his hunter’s paint.  Sometimes he even thinks the spirit of the wolf takes over on the hunt; it would account for the times he’s come to after a kill with blood on his face.

The Golgari Agent Bard knows better than most how things of import can turn up anywhere.  A findbroker by trade, her ability to discover the history behind any gewgaw or trinket she scrounges up has more than doubled her profit on occasion.  Gifted with a turn of phrase and the eerie, low-pitch ocarina she cares for like a child, her ambitions don’t stop at finding lost art- she yearns to be the first to rediscover some buried vault or basement thought long lost.

The Golgari Agent Cleric, in accordance with the Swarm’s care for the cycle of life and death, has been responsible for dozens of acts of euthanasia in her life.  It doesn’t take an expert to recognize when a hunter’s been taken by zombie fungus, or when a red reaver bloom’s explosive dispersal drives a whole apartment block mad with aggression.  It just takes care and respect for the final solace of death to ease people’s suffering.  That her focus also comes in handy fending off territorial disputes is icing.

The Golgari Agent Druid is, technically, a drudge, one of the zombified dead that the Swarm relies on for muscle, both on the farm and the battlefield.  However, unknown processes allowed the fungal parasite to seize full control of the host, and arrive at a consciousness of their own.  Now, they’re busy determining the meaning of their new existence.  While they work it out, they shamble about the Undercity, working odd jobs tending livestock and helping farmers with their natural understanding of other fungi.

The Golgari Agent Fighter is militant, a troll-blooded human with the strength of arm and heart to testify to his lineage.  While for the moment just one of the many toughs that lurk around the Undercity looking for easy prey, his true goal is far less provincial: to climb the Swarm’s political ladder and become one of Jarad’s closest advisors or even his bodyguard.  To this end, he’s quick to speak out in aggression against surface- dwellers intruding on his domain, or take the initiative and lead a raiding party himself.

The Golgari Agent Monk was always gifted with swiftness of arm and wit; as a nymph he scrapped with his siblings more days than not, and has since taken to far more dangerous partners to improve her skills.  He mostly works as a guide for the rare surface-dweller to travel below the sunlit streets, and even distills his own moonshine from fermenting fruit and the ample yeast colonies on his travels.  He’s become quite the alcoholic aficionado, and claims he fights even better when he’s had a few drinks.

The Golgari Agent Paladin was, like many of his Ordruun kin, originally slated to join the Boros Legion as a cadet when he came of age.  He did, but when a raid went bad and he was left for dead in the Undercity by a sergeant he knew to be corrupt, he swore he wouldn’t leave the darkened streets and buried closes of Ravnica until the man lay dead before him.  A childhood roaming the near-surface reaches and a minotaur’s innate sense of direction have served him well, and his new guild feeds the cold core of his desire for vengeance happily so long as it’s pointed at their mutual enemies.

The Golgari Agent Ranger always liked bugs.  Wasn’t much of a choice, really, living in one of the many tenement buildings sunk below the sunlit streets of upper Ravnica- you learned to deal with the scurrying things of the world young.  Cultivating a unique magical bond with them was the work of many long nights, but the result has been beyond reproach- his many tiny friends are stronger than they look, and complement his hunting well as they ensure that his prey can never truly escape.

The Golgari Agent Rogue has aspired to become one of the Ochran ever since one killed his abusive parents in front of him.  Starry-eyed about becoming one of the Swarm’s most famous killers, he moved to the Undercity the next week, escaping the home of his blood family to find new kin.  He had a rough time of it, begging and sweeping out chimneys, but he picked up the poisons quickly, and has always been slight enough to slip down sewer pipes and chimneys to find the target.

The Golgari Agent Sorcerer was a washout before he was anything of real use- literally.  Originally an experimental attempt at forming a drake-human krasis for the Guardian Project, he was mistaken by a careless lab assistant for a failure and flushed out of his transformation tank before his scales, wing flaps, and poison glands fully developed.  Recovered by a rot farmer accustomed to handling the runoff from the Simic lab in question, he’s grown to appreciate his new environment- and has already misdirected or slain the first attempts of the lab’s owner to track him down for retrieval.

The Golgari Agent Warlock always made a point of delving deeper and into tighter environs than his contemporaries.  Never a good fit with hunter or shaman, he explored the depths of the Undercity all on his own before stumbling one day into an as-yet undiscovered chamber.  The figure sitting on the throne there was enormous in size and patched together from all different creatures, but when it stirred to see the boy before it, all it did was offer him a set of knucklebones on string.  Taking them was the beginning of something, and now the man treasures the talisman that forms the link to his patron.

The Golgari Agent Wizard has been a rot farmer for decades.  It’s only now, lately, that he’s set out to travel and study magic in the hopes of winning his farm back.  It was taken from him by a devkarin lich, an objective lesson in might making right within the Swarm, and he hopes to master enough of the necromancer’s art to bend the new owner’s undead farmhands to his will.  He’s quickly finding that things are very big outside his secluded cavern home, and even that he likes it- perhaps enough to keep him from going back.

[theseavoices]

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[hplrules]

Neverwinter's Protector's Enclave, a place of law and order compared to the docks or river district: our story begins with a local Mob All player, the monk Zen Cobain, strolling to his morning meditation at the beach the day after his Golden Griffins won the tournament.

Zen Cobain thinks back to his winning play at this season's Mob All tournament as he travels the quiet morning streets to the dock. He always enjoys peace, wishing well upon all folks, but playing and winning for the Golden Griffins has make him unpopular with their rival, the Sea Wyverns. The new local competition is a civilized move away from arena fighting, but moving an oblong leather ball between goals turned out to be as violent as any other sport, and that's just during the game.

Zen travels through the Dock district, Sea Wyvern territory. His own team is made up of the city's crafters, and his woodworking trade puts him solidly in their company. His rivals are the dockworkers, sailors, and salty rogues of the harbor. There are some military and a few other trades that take up with them, but none of those are fine folks. Being a hero is always a matter of perspective, and to this angry rummy lout, the monk isn't at all welcome.

Zen drops his pulse with slow breaths, listening to the quiet dawn at the Broken Anchor Inn, which was almost silent but for this mugger. The rough man steps up with bravado and sneers, "A Griffin in the Wyvern docks", he taunts as recognition comes to his blazing eyes, "Are ye mad? That's yer last mistake, Sonny Jim!"

Zen bows his head and salutes, slowly lowering his staff out of sight, "I wish you peace." It was the only response to aggression that his sect, the Sun Temple, allowed to be spoken. He actually meant it, but this blighter paid no mind to this chance to walk away. With the threat still heavy in his voice, he chides, "You're a monk, eh? What's the style you'll be losing with today?"

After a moment of silence, the Griffin champion answers with a hint of good humor, "It's the art of fighting without fighting." The Wyvern player cackles derisively, "ah ha ha haaa...that just sounds like yer afraid t' fight meee!

Holding his salute in place, Zen Cobain affirms his blessing, "Peace to you."

Mohag the Wanderer, a solitary barbarian, feasts at the Broken Anchor Inn on Neverwinter's Dock District. On this fine morn, his plans are to sign on for work at the Porthaven Adventurer's Guild for a wagon escort job supplying Phandelver, a modest mining town forty miles south and east down the High Road to Leilon. While stronger than most, and faster than many, and tough as a bag of hammers, Mohag is a troubled soul driven mad with the loathing of his racial enemies, which are many and varied, but chiefly gobs, orcs, and frost giants. He attacks with the abandon and fury of a madman, and his strength matches it. Mohag is a Battle Rager, the rare type of battle crazed wildling that only dwarves are capable of. This tavern is the last in all of Neverwinter that serves him, his last chance to not use the furnishings as weapons, and he's gotten extremely primal of it as late. He just needs an excuse to go, and he'll go big enough for all of the Jotunn that leveled his village while he was delivering ore for his forge, dooming him to a lost life of mayhem and lust.

Mohag notices the mugging outside his window at the Broken Anchor, and picks a champion in it. He grumbles to himself, "That skinny lad is gonna get 'is arse handed to 'im by that rummy mobber. He might shoulda slept in t'day, or stayed in bed altogether. Either way, I get a match wit' me meal, so it's lookin' a fine day." But even as he says as much against the wimp, there's something about him that compels Mohag to back him, a compelling coolness that he's never witnessed, and he doesn't understand.

Nyx Ningle and Vanear Larium are nightowl adventurers at the Broken Anchor Inn, closing down a long night of celebration of red wine and dark ale, a half-eaten spiced goose and harvest yams on the platter between them. They're keeping tabs on the burly dwarf near the entrance who's made to sit apart from others for his rowdiness. This gnome rogue and half-elf ranger/cleric have travelled together for a few seasons, and their team is about to expand.

Nyx casts her Mage Hand cantrip and left it visible, a "Mad Science" green, to get Vanaer's attention. Taking the cue, he quickly removes his cowl before she started goofing with it. She admits in the influence of her cups, "My mentor left me last night when I told him about your Umbral Vision ability. Now he's off to be a Gloom Stalker and become unseen in darkness, and to gain Dark Vision himself." She took a last bit of dark meat and fed herself with the hand before raising it high.

Vanaer lifts his holy symbol as Nyx tests her balance without regret, and heartily exclaims "Selune's mystic glow, that's amazing! Aye, being a halfling, Hatchwork doesn't have that naturally, and there's very few creatures in the world that can see us by other means... Say, have you considered branching out to something a little more academic? You'd be a fine mage, and then we'd have it all covered: my bow and healing, your skills and arcane! The half-elf knew his plan was the only one for his brilliant friend, as Nyx was unstoppable with the arcane gifts she'd been manifesting since he'd met her.

"Aye," Nyx answers candidly, "it's something I've always been drawn to, and I certainly need more than Arcane Trickster cantrips to play with. No better time than now, while I'm still young and beautiful." She watched her partner blush at her closing, knowing that her uncommonly sylvan features had captured his interest.

Vanear relaxed as her mischievous spell cancelled, then wondered how dangerous she'll become with a full spellbook in hand. It had been a wild theatre of card cheating and cheap killers sent after them these last couple moons, and he'd enjoyed the chance to protect her each night, his darling fey muse.

[dreams-and-drabbles]

I feel like I'm gonna be that person but more voice lines 👀👀 maybe liyue this time? I found them sooooo cuteeeee!! ⊂(•‿•⊂ )*.✧

Hehe bet bet

You’re carrying my entire tumblr <3333 I appreciate it, hehe! Σ੧(❛〜❛✿) ♪ ((I’ll post a part II —- Apparently, there’s a limit on photos smh. As for why some characters have more lines than others, it’s because their relationship isn’t as close. [F/N] is kinda like any other Genshin character in this, as in they have their own connections. Some being stronger than others. <333 Tysm for the askkkkk!!! I’ll publish part II this evening or sometime tomorrow .

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ZHONGLI

About [F/N] (Interest) : Ah, [F/N]? That adventurer? They’re likely one of the few serious adventurers associated with the Liyue Branch of the Adventurer’s Guild. It’s curious to me that they chose to live that life, instead of one of comfort. I feel as though, I could learn something from them. Pursuing one’s passions like that… It’s an admirable thing.

About [F/N] (Sharing Knowledge) : [F/N] is incredibly well versed in Liyue’s environment. Given their status as an adventurer, I am hardly surprised. Oftentimes, I find myself discussing the history of Liyue’s surroundings with them. It’s fascinating hearing what things are like now, as opposed to how they were when I first founded Liyue. [F/N] is someone I enjoy spending time with. They’re very polite, as well. They pay attention when I share things with them. Oh? Did you think I hadn’t noticed? Haah, that is fine. You’re forgiven. If you run into them, please send my regards…

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SHENHE

About [F/N] ( Observation) : I’ve seen them pass through the mountains a few times, and I have decided they mean no harm. Usually, they clear out a few Hilichurls or monsters that wander too close to settlements. From my understanding that’s their job, which in that case I can’t really fault them. They’re a decent fighter, as well… I wonder how they’d react if I joined them in clearing out any potential threats…

About [F/N] ( Kindred Spirits) : Surprisingly, they do not mind my company in the slightest. They were more than willing to turn a blind eye when I joined them in battle. Afterwards, they offered to tend to any wounds I may have. As if I would be wounded in such a fight, yet the offer was a kind one. After that, they offered me their thanks and invited me to lunch of all things… It was surprising, but I think I rather like them. I look forward to fighting with them again soon…

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XINGQIU

About [F/N] ( Similarities ) : Oh… You want to know about them? Well, where should I begin? Ah, yes… They’re nearly impossible to get a rise out of, they always seem to be busy with something, and they almost always have some sort of interesting book on them… Sounds familiar? Exactly, my liege!!! [F/N] is indeed very similar to me in some manner, which I fear, is why our personalities clash so much.

About [F/N] ( Trading Books) : Despite our clashing personalities, [F/N] is the only one I trust to trade books with. We meet once a week to swap the latest editions. If it weren’t for the fact we always seem to argue, I’d call us friends. Ah? Frenemies? What on earth are those? Oh, I see… Someone who is friends, yet they often battle verbally? I suppose that fits, then. Ah, speaking of… I need to figure out a good comeback for this week’s book trade.

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YUN JIN

About [F/N] (The Arts ) : Ah? [F/N]! Mm, they’re a very interesting person. They’re rather good at writing scripts and lyrics, though they’d never admit to it. Oh? Heh. In that case, you didn’t hear it from me! I first met them when they were doing a Commision for the guild, they had to gather inspiration for an upcoming play, I believe… When they reported back, their words were rather poetic. That’s how I discovered that they enjoyed writing, after a bit of conversation… After all, only artists use such descriptive words when reporting something simple, like pigeons…

About [F/N] (Tea) : Their taste in tea is spectacular, and I’ve found more than a few diamonds in the rough because of them. Apparently, one of their hobbies is visiting various tea houses. According to them, the environment is good for their writing, which I believe fully. A certain degree of calmness is required to allow your imagination to run…

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CHONGYUN

About [F/N] ( Martial Arts) : [F/N]? They’re an incredible martial artist!!! I’ve asked them to train with me a few times. Surprisingly, whenever we train Xingqiu refuses to tag along. I’ve never seen him so shy before. I should ask them for some advice. Maybe there’s some sort of secret to dealing with his teasing…?

About [F/N] ( Cuisine ) Recently, they’ve introduced me to a few new dishes. They’re all cold dishes, and my favorite is likely either the chilled cucumber soup, or this thing they called Ice Cream. I have no clue how they come up with these, but I truly appreciate their consideration for my condition. [F/N] is a very thoughtful person and one that I cherish…

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QIQI

About [F/N] : [F/N]…? That name… sounds familiar… Oh… They’re the fairy that brings me my cocogoat milk… I hope they come soon… Cocogoat milk is tasty…

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BAIZHU

About [F/N] ( Explanations ) : Ah, yes… Ever since I hired them Qiqi has gone on and on about the cocogoat fairy… I have explained several times that they are not a fairy, but an adventurer under my employee. Qiqi refuses to believe that, however. She’s insistent that only a fairy could get milk from a legendary adepti beast… I would explain that it’s just coconut milk, however she’s been livelier lately. I’m sure she’ll find out the truth soon, regardless.. Haha, you’re awfully inquisitive today.

About [F/N] ( Work Ethic) : They’re always on time with the delivery, and I’ll admit that their work ethic is top tier. However, sometimes… Sometimes they get carried away. It’s appreciated, of course, but bringing in 200 qingxin flowers on top of the milk… I may as well be breaking labor laws, even if it’s a display of goodwill. As such, I have told them I’ll treat any injuries they get for free. It’s precautionary, of course. I am by no means growing attached…

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XINYAN

About [F/N] : Oh!! I know them!! Yeah! They’re the greatest! Sometimes, I’ll get them to help out a lil’ in writin’ lyrics for my songs! I heard about em’ from Yun Jin!!! They were reaaaal embarrassed when I first asked em’ for help, though! Went as red as a Jueyun chili!!!

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XIAO

About [F/N] : They’re skilled… Surprisingly adept for a mortal. Their patience is commendable… Is that all? Hmph. Fine then. How I feel about them? They’re a good worker…and person. Now, let me be.

[ofdragonsdeep]

5: Stamp

To provide with a distinctive character

Riennaut takes up the lance.

(mentions of general Gridanian racism)

Moving through Gridania was, in a word, exhausting.

Not that Riennaut was a stranger to moving through Gridania. Indeed, he had lived most of his life within the embrace of the Shroud, even if he claimed Gelmorra as his heritage before he would Gridania. He was more than used to the typical attitude.

This was different.

It had been some days since he had last heard from any of his Adventurer's Guild contacts, and longer still since they had heard from him. He had not anticipated becoming an honest-to-gods White Mage, complete with the capital letters, when he had last spoken to them, but he did not imagine they would be all that concerned so long as his healing still functioned fine enough. But Gridania at large did not approve.

He was a duskwight. Even the padjal were only tolerated as users of white magic, the idea that a duskwight might take up the staff was nonsensical. He had been accused of a great many crimes, since he had walked among the public. Theft, primarily. Blasphemy against the Elementals, which included theft. Lying, although that one wasn't new. Typical duskwight behaviour.

What was not typical was the assurances of the Padjal. Your average thief was not protected by all three Seedseers, and certainly not tolerated by the Elementals. E-Sumi-Yan had also spoken out on his behalf, though that, at least, did not surprise Riennaut.

It irked him that it was necessary at all. But it was more effort to hide the horns, and he was tired of humouring the thoughts of terrified reactionaries.

Life moved on, no matter what they thought.

---

His newfound position, as it turned out, was far from the least of his problems.

It had been a distressingly long time since he had last heard word from Ar'telan. He had, of course, heard the news of Titan's defeat, and had thus assumed that he was fine - it would have been at least mentioned if their hero had died in the act. But there was nothing. Not a word.

He was not concerned that he would need to stop adventuring, or whatever passed for helping Ar'telan with the many chores a variety of ungrateful heads of state threw at his feet, despite his status as a newly-minted padjal. A-Towa-Cant had been famous as the only travelling Padjal, and while he could not quite understand the whispers of the Elementals, they did not seem to be binding him to forest service like the more regular Padjali. What he did know, however, was that Ar'telan had been involved in research that had led to the healing arts of Nym. Indeed, Ar'telan had spoken to Riennaut a great deal about conjury, and even learned from E-Sumi-Yan in the hopes of deepening his arts. It was not, therefore, a poor plan for Riennaut to diversify his own portfolio.

As tempting as it was to leave the city to learn another trade, he did not much fancy the idea of being stranded somewhere like Thanalan should there be a development, either with his own powers or the situation that had led him to having them. The archer's guild did not much interest him, and that left him with but one option: the lance.

He received no fewer than ten suspicious glances on his walk from Stillglade Fen to the Lancer's Guild, and upon his arrival, a group of lancers were shouting down a harrowed-looking duskwight. It was not a good omen, but he doubted the archers would fare any better, so he strode past behind them and into the building.

---

He was greeted at the door by an incredibly puzzled receptionist, who was clearly unsure if he should even have been there, and was only saved from having to leave with naught for his efforts by the timely arrival of the Guildmaster.

"Ah, I've heard the stories. An adventurer, aren't you?" he greeted. "I'm Ywain, the guildmaster here."

"Charmed," Riennaut responded, and did not reach out to shake his hand. To his credit, the man seemed unperturbed by the snub. "I am an adventurer by trade, yes. You may call me Riennaut."

"An adventurer? But…" the receptionist began, but stopped when Ywain held up a hand.

"That's all the credentials he needs. Sign him up," he said. "If that is, in fact, what you're here for?"

"Yes," Riennaut replied, keeping 'against my better judgement' behind his teeth. They both heard it, though, and the receptionist looked nervous as she took his details.

An auspicious beginning, and not of the fortuitous kind, but he had weathered worse.

---

The first clash was, perhaps, inevitable.

It had been but a sennight at the guild when it happened. He was doing the same drills as all the others, despite the glances they shot his way, and the same trials that many of them undertook. It was on one such trial, a fairly by the books test of nerve in the central Shroud, that they first met.

Foulques was an angry man. Many duskwights were, if they spent too long near the heart of Gridania, but Foulques had turned it into an art form. Not a particularly engaging one, but there were points to be had for intensity.

"They'll sell you out," he growled. "Those horns don't make you special. They'll have done with you, and the Elementals-" He spat as he said the name "-will use you up and hang you to dry."

"A fascinating theory," Riennaut remarked. "I have some critiques." Foulques growled.

"You can critique the end of my lance," he snarled, lips turning up like a riled dog. "Keep your staff when I can see it and use a real weapon." Riennaut raised an eyebrow at the tirade, and drew his lance as requested.

"If you insist."

---

Foulques was dogged. He dragged recruits into helpless situations, and Riennaut dragged them out. It was clear there was something driving the man - some source to his rage beyond the background tarring brush all duskwights dealt with, something that led to him baiting Riennaut over and over again. Riennaut did not have time for childish shouting matches, and even less for endangering the lives of others, no matter how distasteful he found the other recruits.

Foulques was many things, but he was not, Riennaut thought, a murderer. Certainly his reckless behaviour could make one of him, but it would not be him that dealt the blow. He ranted about the treatment of their people, and acted just like everyone expected him to.

Wild. Uncivilised. Brutish. A danger to the good folks of Gridania.

He did not see the irony.

Trying to get the man to sit still for long enough did not produce results, however. Riennaut played by his rules only enough to make sure he didn't do anything stupid, but even outwardly respecting the rules o fhis ridiculous engagement did not give him opportunities for anything other than listening to a lecture. He had enough of those from the Padjals, and more coherant besides.

He went to Ywain. Stated his thoughts, and his case. That Foulques was a danger, and mostly to himself. That he wanted to prevent the inecitable self-destruction his path was taking him down. Ywain listened, to his credit. It was more than most of those at the guild did.

"…Foulques is angry, yes," he said, which was quite the understatement, but it made the point fine enough. "It is not… entirely without reason, however." Riennaut folded his arms and waited. There was a story, and Ywain knew it - Foulques was clearly a lancer with guild training. He was not leaving until he heard it. "Though you may not like the history."

"With respect, Guildmaster, every time I walk into this hall I have stepped past at least three people convinced I stole the crystal that gave me these horns, and one other convinced the Elementals are but days from striking me down for my heresy. There is little you could say that would surprise me."

Ywain sighed at that, his face falling. He was a tired man at the best of times, but the lines in his face seemed haggard now.

"There was a theft from the Guild," he said. Riennaut thought he did not need to hear the rest of the story. "Foulques was involved, aye, but so too were some other men. Not that I learned that until too late." He folded his arms. "They'd made an agreement to confess to the crime. Foulques was first. The others did not follow."

"I'm surprised he was fool enough to give them the chance," Riennaut remarked. Ywain shook his head.

"Before the incident, things were… not good, but they were better. In the wake of it, it feels like the recruits have only doubled down on the blame, despite my best efforts." There was a saddened look on his face at that, though Riennaut doubted it had ever been good enough to be notable. "I only found out after Foulques had been disciplined and ejected from the Guild, and the Wood Wailers considered the matter closed. If I'd known it would lead to this…"

"No man is perfect," Riennaut replied. "While I understand the… concern this must have caused him, and the hurt, it does not excuse his actions now." He shrugged. "I will attempt to talk him down, though I think him deaf to most reason. We shall see."

"I can only hope you are successful," Ywain said, and his tone did not bespeak confidence.

---

Their final encounter, too, seemed inevitable.

It was a foggy day in the North Shroud as Riennaut answered his challenge - his walk through the woods to the location of what Foulques doubtless intended to be a final challenge blessedly unmolested. The Elementals whispered in his mind, as they always did, and though the words were incomprehensible, there was a notable undercurrent of concern.

Foulques was angry. Seething. More rage than man, like the beasts driven to madness by the spirits. Riennaut would not have been surprised if he began frothing at the mouth.

"What makes you so special?" he demanded. "Why do you get to-"

"Get to?" Riennaut cut him off. "Do you not have eyes in your skull?" That made Foulques pause.

"They wouldn't just let-"

"I did not ask for this," Riennaut snapped. "Indeed, when I got it none where more surprised than I was. E-Sumi-Yan had to assure me three times that I would not be executed on the spot for providing the assistance he requested of me, and he has had to earn that promise since. Do you think they trust me?" He scoffed at the idea. "I am a blasphemer. A heretic. A thief and a blemish. I cannot walk two steps in the city without some slur being screamed after me, and I am chosen by the Elementals. It changes nothing, Foulques. I am not specieal."

"Then why the hell are you allowed to-"

"Because I am not stupid enough to keep friends," Riennaut said, curling his nose in distaste. "Because I have been taught the hard way that the only one I can rely on is myself. And your desperate grasping for revenge has not helped with that, by the way."

Foulques paused. Put his lance up. Scowled like the devil had crawled out of a void fissure in front of him.

"They deserve it."

"Yes, I'm sure those helpless recruits you tried to feed to raptors were personally involved in your struggles."

"They were all complicit. All of them! Even the Guildmaster teaches of courage, and he didn't even have the stones to-"

"Foulques." Riennaut held up his hand. "You have treated me with nothing less than disdain, but I will offer you this regardless. Gridania is a poor fit for you - yes, you were guilty of the crime, but not alone. There is no work for you here, and no redemption, and so you have flung yourself into this mess in some vain hope of feeling… what, fulfilment? Reparation? It matters not." He shrugged. "I may have a Padjal's horns, but I am an adventurer by trade. For reasons that may be obvious to you, I prefer to spend my time outside of Gridania. So. My terms. I will duel you, and I will win, and you will join my adventuring party."

"And what if I win, you arrogant sack of bird shite?" Foulques replied, which was incredibly rich coming from him. Another shrug.

"Then you can do whatever it is you were planning to doKill me, and add murder to your growing list of felonies? Stage a righteous assault on the lancer's guild?" He took his lance from his back. "I do not intend to lose, so I had not paid it much thought." Foulques growled.

"Then you can shove it up your elemental-blessed backside," he said. Riennaut rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure."

It was not a quick fight, and it was not pretty.

Rage made of Foulques a man far stronger than most would be. He was rash, and reckless, and threw everything he had into the fray - and he would pay for it in the aftermath, though Riennaut had no time to think of it. The fog had made the ground slippery, and it soon churned into mud under their feet. But Riennaut had not spent the month training to lose to an angry whelp of a man.

Foulques hit the floor, lance clattering from his hands. He slid through the mud, up against the face of the cliff, and spat out a tooth.

"I will remind you of my terms," Riennaut said, the tip of his lance against Foulques' throat. "Come with me, or prove them right. The choice is yours."

"Fuck your choices," Foulques said, and kicked him in the shins. Riennaut saw him stagger backwards, scrabbling in the dirt for his lance - and the cliff rise to meet him.

"No!" he exclaimed, lurching forward, but he was but a second too late.

He would not even be given a grave. Marked a remorseless criminal, vilified by the Gridanians with nothing to stand against it, another notch on the tally chart of useless, criminal duskwights.

The earth moved.

There was a sound like cracking, snapping twigs, and the trees bent to meet Foulques' fall. The edge he had fallen from collapsed beneath him, and the earth reformed to shield him from the chasm below. With a yelp, the duskwight found himself enmeshed - a leafy net to catch him, and not the cold, unfeeling ground.

"What in the hells?" he managed. There was terror on his face, a hypocritical mask of the bravado-led villain he had tried so hard to play. He knew he had made a mistake. He knew death would have, should have been the answer. But it was not.

There were whispers in Riennaut's head. Soft, insensible, gentle. The spirit of A-Towa, resting inside the crystal that hung from his staff, seemed to chuckle.

Your worry. They felt it. Sometimes they answer.

Riennaut huffed, walking fowards towards his downed opponent.

"My terms," he repeated, holding out a hand. "Though if you wish to traipse home through the mud on your own, you are welcome to refuse me a third time."

"Fuck you," Foulques spat. "I thought you didn't have friends?" Riennaut shrugged.

"I have associates," he responded, "and acquaintances. You are welcome to pick which."

Foulques hesitated just long enough to hear the branch of the tree crack beneath his weight. He threw out his hand, not in thoughtful acceptance but in desperation, and let Riennaut pull him back onto solid ground.

"I shall consider that a yes," Riennaut remarked. Foulques glowered in response. "Now, if you don't mind, I've an appointment in Coerthas. You are welcome to come along."

Surely he couldn't meet worse, after all.

[rivenantiqnerd]

OC Interview

Thanks for the tag @drchenquill

For this I will do Courlin at the end of The Grove of Kings and Killers (possible minor spoilers).

Are you named after anyone?  “Do I look like I was named after anybody famous? No. There’s probably some artist or somethin’ named Courlin, but I’m not them nor was I named for them.”

When was the last time you cried?  “There was one assassination recently that really freaked me out. I don’t know why, but once I got out of there I just started bawling. Really unprofessional of me, I’m glad HQ didn’t find out.”

Do you have kids?  “No, but I am helping Rosanna with Tepi, so I guess that counts? Theoretically, I would like to have a child of my own someday, but when I think about it too much, it’s a little terrifying.”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?  “Oh, I’d say I use it an average amount. Definitely more than I used to, from being around Rosanna all the time. She literally uses so much sarcasm. It’s fine, though.”

What's the first thing you notice about people? “Whether or not they pose any threat to me. If they are carrying weapons or how strong they look. If they could beat me in a fight. It comes with the trade.”

What's your eye colour?  “A lot of people say they look like clouds before it rains, so a sort of bluish gray.”

Scary movies or happy endings?  “Don’t mind scary movies, but seeing something end nicely is always pleasant. Scary movies. Happy endings … give me a lot of emotions. I just don’t feel like one is possible for me.”

Any special talents?  “I am surprisingly good at killing people. Well, not surprisingly, since I do it for a living, but I picked up on the skills used for it really quickly, so I could say I’m a quick learner. Not one to brag, but I am one of the best young assassins in The Guild.”

Where were you born?  “Oh, some backcountry town. Middle of nowhere. Not important.”

Do you have any pets?  “No.”

What sort of sports do you play?  “I don’t really play sports, but I do a lot of physical activity. I do a lot of combat training and exercise in my spare time.”

How tall are you?  “A bit shorter than Rosanna. Second shortest of the four of us. Probably about average for a girl, though.”

What was your favourite subject in school?  “I was pretty good at most of my classes. Not really art. Didn’t like PE that much, but I was good at it. I’d say my favorite would be LL - Literature and Language. I liked what we did in that class.”

What is your dream job? “I don’t know. No one would ever say being an assassin would be their dream job, but … I like it. It’s nice. Messed up, for sure. But fun.”

Blanks: Are you named after anyone?  When was the last time you cried?  Do you have kids?  Do you use sarcasm a lot?  What's the first thing you notice about people?  What's your eye colour?  Scary movies or happy endings?  Any special talents?  Where were you born?  Do you have any pets?  What sort of sports do you play?  How tall are you?  What was your favourite subject in school?  What is your dream job?

tagging @sleepywriter00 @thebouda @charlesjosephwrites @noveldivergence @litany-writes + open tag!

[chris-carpes-thediem]

Daggerport, a city shrouded in mystery and brimming with intrigue, stands as a testament to the dark underbelly of Faerun. Once an island city overrun with crime, Daggerport was transformed into a prison city where the worst criminals from all kingdoms were sent to work off their debts to society. Enclosed by high walls and guarded by relentless forces, Daggerport has gained a reputation as a place where escape is but a distant dream.

The city's secret origins lie in a desperate attempt to contain an ancient evil—a divine being known as Baphomet. A powerful magic circle traps this malevolent entity deep beneath the earth, forcing it into an eternal slumber. Unbeknownst to most, the city's arcane wristbands, worn by the prisoners, are merely tools of debt management. They do not play a crucial role in maintaining the captivity of all within the city's walls, as the prisoners have been led to believe. The truth is that the magical ward that originally trapped the vicious Baphomet now permanently ensares any living thing that steps foot on the island.

The economy of Daggerport thrives on the mining and trade of magical crystals infused with the power of Baphomet's breath. Unaware of their origins, prisoners toil endlessly, extracting these crystals, which are then sold to fund the city's operations. The guards and administrators capitalize on the prisoners' debt, imposing exorbitant interest rates and fines, effectively perpetuating a cycle of servitude.

Within Daggerport, several factions vie for power and influence. The Mage Guild, led by the enigmatic Kethryllia Valtoria, thrives on enchantments and the sale of wands imbued with specific spell charges. The Werewolf Faction, led by the ambitious Deukalion Perrini, seeks to expand their pack's dominance, while the Vampire Coven engages in an eternal struggle against their rivals, the Werewolves and Witches.

Daggerport, a city teeming with diverse influences and vibrant energy, has cultivated a thriving culture of music and the arts, reminiscent of the renowned city of New Orleans. In the heart of Daggerport's bustling streets, the melodies of jazz, blues, and folk music intertwine, creating a rich tapestry of sound that fills the air. Talented bards, musicians, and performers from all walks of life find solace and expression in their craft, infusing the city with their soul-stirring performances. The taverns and music halls become sanctuaries of rhythm and harmony, where locals and visitors alike gather to immerse themselves in the captivating melodies. Dancing becomes an art form, an unspoken language of joy and resilience, as the city's inhabitants find solace and unity through the power of music. The streets themselves become stages, where impromptu performances and jam sessions ignite spontaneous bursts of creativity. Daggerport's music and arts scene pulsates with an authenticity and rawness that reflect the spirit of the city, echoing the vibrant culture and lively atmosphere that has come to define this enchanting place. But what does all of this noise stir?

In the shadows, two secret societies operate. The Cult of the Horned One seeks to awaken Baphomet, while the Quintessential Guard is dedicated to preventing this, as well as an unclear prophecy from coming to pass. Both groups recognize the significance of a group of five individuals connected by a unique bond, but their objectives remain at odds.

Meanwhile, the city's justice system, intertwined with its economy, operates under the watchful eye of Warden Magos and his loyal guards. Fines and debts are incessantly imposed on prisoners, ensuring their indefinite stay within Daggerport's confines. The guards, ranging from upstanding enforcers of the law to corrupt individuals, enforce this system with varying degrees of diligence and malevolence.

Yet, beneath the city's surface, the slumbering Baphomet stirs, its breath permeating the earth, causing the crystals to flourish. The fate of Daggerport and all who reside within its walls teeters on a precarious edge, as the lines between captivity, power struggles, and the presence of a dormant god converge.

[dstudiouk]

A Refreshed Certificate of Authenticity

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[goatpaste]

will you ever draw more content of your loz AU?

ough i really did mean to go back to i t sooner, but oh ow my adhd so ouch on my focus

but here! as a treat

some more art filling out this world

straight up im walking on the fine line of just changing all the zelda names to something else and just making this my own ocs because this has become kinda unrecognizable as zelda lol

dZelda, daughter of a family of merchants that sells and trades good with the House of Poe. They sell them all their bottles and other ghost trapping gear and have a decent amount of knowledge on the ghost hunting business but only provide the goods to the hunters themselves.

Zelda herself does have an interest in being a ghost hunter but is set to one day inherited her families business.

Ganon is a spirit that long ago was defeated in an long forgotten battle and shred into nothing but a shred of ghostly energy. Many years he gained enough power for a still very weak but now noticeable form, only to his luck he was immediately scooped up by Zelda.

Using one of her families more expensive bottles to trap him in as she wanted to try and see if she could catch a ghost or at least had the skills to be a hunter one day. Her family was furious of her wasting one of their most expensive bottles meant for bigger spirits, but it was simple too much of a pain to take the beast out and reseal it into a different bottle. The issue was set to the side and forgiven for now, and now Zelda has a little bottle pet she keeps in her room.

At first furious to be trapped Ganon was an angry spirit in a bottle, but after some time in the bottle he came to accept life as is and mostly just naps in the bottle waiting to one day be free.

the first time Zelda and Link meet, Link accept a job from a shady individual after their older brother turned it down because Link felt bad for them.

Link was told that Zelda's family who sold them their goods a few years ago had traded for a spirit the guild captured, and that it was a friend of her that she wished to get back and help pass on. That Zelda's family had refused to give the spirit to her.

So Link would break into Zelda home to her bedroom to find the bottle with the spirit.

As they find it and try to sneak out of the room back into the rainy dark night they are stopped by zelda who stands in the middle of her room with a fireplace poker in her shaking hands demanding this stranger better put back what he stole.

Link would run and get away from her, and return to the stranger only to find he had been tricked and she only wanted the spirit of ganon to use his power to fufill her evil deeds.

Ganon is now being used to power an old weapon of his that only he could use. Angry to be moved from one prison to the other and now used to do evil for this woman.

Link after realizing they had been tricked sets out to find the stranger and fix what he caused.

Zelda joins Link to not only help fix his mistake but to get her ghost back.

and also this lil bonus doodle of a reunion of Link to their siblings from the guild Demoan and Rue who after Zelda's parents informed the guild what happend the two began to trail after Link to find them and keep them safe.

And a TOTAL melt down when they finally find them safe and sound.

[hunxi-after-hours]

But hunxi, hunxi!! I gotta know moreeee. When they’re raising their daughter, how does it work? Does she stay a few weeks between the two sects? How often does she meet the other dad? Does she exclusively stay at Xuandu Shan and train with one father? How often do YanShen meet post canon? I’m burning to know!! :))

okay okay so here's the thing, based on the fanwai/general post-canon snippets that Meng Xishi has given us, Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi don't exactly live together after the end of the book? which makes sense because both of them are still very much running their own sects, so like, my understanding of post-canon yanshen is that they meet up several times a year (Shen Qiao has to visit Chang'an semi-regularly to liaise with the emperor), and they're definitely together for the major holidays (there's a fanwai where Yan Wushi bemoans the fact that he didn't make it back in time for 七夕). and occasionally, they go on roadtrips together, which is all sorts of adorable

but like, the reason why Yan Wushi brings Ling'er to Xuandu Shan in the first place is because between the two of them, Shen Qiao's lifestyle is much more stable--Yan Wushi does a lot more travelling, and subjecting a toddler to the risks he would otherwise take with impunity is probably a bad idea, so Ling'er definitely starts out spending most of her time with Shen Qiao and steadily winning over the allegiance of every single person on the mountain

I like to think that once Ling'er gets old enough, Shen Qiao starts insisting that Yan Wushi take her on some of his trips--她也该见见世面了, Shen Qiao says, and Yan Wushi demurs, doesn't think it's a good idea for a young girl to accompany him while he continues to offend half the jianghu, and Shen Qiao digs his heels in because a-Ling needs to spend time with both of her fathers and in Yan Wushi's moment of hesitation adds if you're really worried, you can bring Yu Shengyan along to help

turns out, both Huanyue disciples are quite good with kids (every other child in Chang'an calls Bian Yanmei 边叔 so you literally cannot change my mind), so Ling'er has an absolute blast hanging out in Huanyue Zong (I assume everyone in Huanyue Zong goes full Diana Prince "baby" at the sight of her)

look, just because the demonic sects are full of hardened killers and devious liars who wouldn't think twice before stabbing you in the back doesn't mean that they also wouldn't immediately turn into soft putty in her hands. Ling'er has been training in the martial arts for two whole years now but she's been training in the Art of Babie all her life

also I think Yan Wushi would lowkey love the subtle power move of bringing his smol daughter to various meetings. just like. he rolls up to a negotiation holding Ling'er's hand and stares down everyone one-by-one, daring them to comment

(he'll also ask her for her thoughts, and once Ling'er gets over her shyness, she'll very seriously and thoughtfully make her childish comment, and Yan Wushi will often take those suggestions on the spot, just like, a-die I think this deal is unfair, they make the goods but you take fifty percent of the profit? and Yan Wushi says this is what a good deal looks like, a-Ling and Ling'er doesn't pout, just frowns with that adorable little forehead crease that she must have picked up from Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi relents, says fine, a-Ling, just for you Huanyue Zong will take only thirty percent of the profits, so long as you promise to trade exclusively with us and the poor guild representative on the other side of the table nearly falls over in relief)

so I guess in that sense it's definitely a good thing that Ling'er spends her younger, more malleable years in the environment of Xuandu Shan--Shen Qiao makes sure to lay down a good foundation of basic morality before Yan Wushi swings by to corrupt her ("just a little, a-Qiao, so she knows how to live a little" / "Yan-zongzhu, is this a comment on my lifestyle?" / "怎么，我说错了吗？" / "沈峤：..............")

[halbermenschenaa]

A (CURRENT) LIST OF PIERROIX’S CANON JOBS:

THAUMATURGE/BLACK MAGE: His primary and forever job, chosen in part due to his interest in the magical arts, in part due to Nald’thal being his patron (and it subsequently seeming fitting to study it), in part due to the Alchemist’s guild being located in the same city, and in part due to the fact that traveling to Limsa to take up the study of arcanism would involve having to take a boat and he gets terribly seasick (he will never admit to this). Since he’s been practicing it for so long, it’s by far the one he’s best at.

ARCANIST/SUMMONER: He picks this one up once he gets permission to use the airship routes (he’s fine with those). When he hears of a summoner soul crystal from ancient Allag being found, he jumps at the chance to try it out. He does have a bit of a hang-up around summoning Ifrit, at first (his first time fighting the primal was... not particularly pleasant), but he gets over it with time.

DARK KNIGHT: This one was actually sort of an accident? His intent when he first found the soul crystal was to hand it over to anyone who may have known the unfortunate former owner, but then Fray appeared before him, and things... got interesting. He doesn’t regret taking up the sword, though. Speaking of swords, since Pierroix isn’t particularly... built for heavy lifting, he fights with a one-handed sword and no shield, instead of the two-handed sword that most wield.

LANCER: Pierroix was trained in the lance by his parents as a teenager. They were hunters by trade, and wanted to teach their son a method of self defense as well as a form of self-sufficiency. (They also attempted to teach him archery, but he didn’t take particularly well to it.) His bond with Midgardsormr and (albeit temporary) contact with Hraesvelgr’s eye has enhanced his potential as a dragoon– though it’s not a job he’s decided to explore yet. Maybe in the future?

ALCHEMIST: The other reason he decided to travel to Ul’dah. He mainly took up alchemy in order to make money– but he’s found it to be helpful in a pinch (as an adventurer, knowing how to make your own potions is very handy).

BOTANIST: Another skill he learned back in the village he came from. His education there was mainly focused on practical learning, and identifying plants was a part of that. It comes in handy whenever he needs to gather materials for whatever alchemical concoction he’s working on, that’s for sure.

[scotianostra]

On July 1st 1505 a seal was granted by Edinburgh Town Council to the Incorporation of Barbers and Surgeons to practise their craft.

During early 16th century, barbers were more commonly associated with modern day GP’s, in addition to the more common practice of the “short back and sides”.

The name barber derives from a Richard le Barber who was the first to hold the office of “Master” within the Worshipful Company of Barbers as established at the beginning of the 14th century.  The then barbers learned medicine and surgery under the teachings of Monks and were eventually granted the power to oversee surgical practices by a rival factions known as the Guild of Surgeons.   Through their associations with the monasteries and the studious monks within, the barbers were also taught the art of distillation, a skill which granted them access to produce herbal remedies as tinctures, elixirs. Their ancient given right to "brew aqua vitae" under the terms of the Seal of Cause has long since ceased to be exercised.

During the 1600s, the Incorporation met in rooms in Dickson's Close, in St Giles and in other places. In 1697, their first purpose-built Surgeons' Hall was completed, by the architect James Smith. Their fine building contained a 'Great Hall', a library, a laboratory and an anatomy theatre (for which they were granted additional cadavers for teaching purposes). Public dissections were held there once a year.

By 1722 the Surgeons had completely separated from the Society of Barbers, and they  undertook the task of education and did much to establish Edinburgh's reputation as a centre of surgical teaching.

By the beginning of the 19th Century, the 1697 Surgeon's Hall had become inadequate, partly due to the need to provide suitable accommodation for a large collection of pathological specimens being presented to them by anatomist John Barclay. A site was acquired by the purchase of a riding school (The Royal Academy for Teaching Exercise) in Nicolson Street. William Henry Playfair, who designed the Dugald Stewart monument in my post earlier, he was the foremost Scottish architect of that era, was commissioned to design a building containing a Meeting Hall, Barclayan Hall, for the specimens (which included a full size elephant and rider), Lecture Room and Library. The College's new home was formally opened in July 1832 and in 1851 Queen Victoria granted a further charter giving the College its present title and establishing its independence from the City. This was the century of important initiatives in anesthesia and in antisepsis, through James Young Simpson and Joseph Lister, notable figures in the College's rich history.

In July 1905, the College marked its Quatercentenary by conferring Honorary Fellowship upon 36 of the world's most distinguished surgeons. These included Lord Lister, who famously initiated the antiseptic era, influenced profoundly by the work of Pasteur. Lister had become a Fellow of this College in 1855. 

The Society of Surgeons is still based at Surgeons Hall in Edinburgh 

As for the Barbers, they continued on their own but  The Society of Barbers was wound up in 1922 when the Archive came to the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh. The collection provides good coverage of the activities of the Society and the work of barbers operating in Edinburgh. Of particular interest are records relating not only to the role the Society played as charity givers, through the likes of The Trades Maiden Hospital Schools.

[jenniferrpovey]

ABC Test Explained

Okay, so apparently there are a lot of people who love the PRO Act.

For the most part, I love the PRO Act too. Unions are good. I’m not in a union (I’m in a guild, which is a different thing), but I could join two if I wanted to. In my specific situation, unions don’t benefit me.

But I want other people who DO need them to join them.

Unfortunately, something has been slipped into the PRO Act that is terrible in the same way SESTA/FOSTA was, except it’s not just for sex workers this time (not to diminish the impact on sex workers).

It’s called the ABC Test and there’s a move to make it the national standard for who is considered an independent contractor, across all industries.

It’s very simple. To pass the test, you have to meet all THREE of these criteria:

A. The worker is free from the employer’s control or direction in performing the work.

B. The work takes place outside the usual course of business of the company.

C. The worker is customarily engaged in an independent trade, occupation, profession, or business.

A. is pretty easy.

C. is mostly easy, but causes issues for publishing that I’ll explain later.

B. outlaws 90% of freelance work with NO workaround that I know of. (I have yet to consult a lawyer on this. Lawyers are expensive).

C primarily causes a problem for sensitivity readers. My last one was a college student who needed the extra money. Under this, I wouldn’t have been able to hire her. If you are looking for a very specific sensitivity reader, that will become illegal if this test is codified, because they will HAVE to be doing it regularly. That’s hard for if you want, say, an African-American asexual person. Multiple sensitivity readers probably won’t help. Also, if somebody has to be an employee, they also have to be a U.S. citizen or legal resident. So much for hiring a sensitivity reader in Finland to make sure your Finnish character acts like a Finn.

B. causes a problem for *everyone*. As an author-publisher, I would no longer be able to hire an editor or a cover artist. Which means I would no longer be able to produce quality books.

I would have to onboard my editor as an employee every time I needed her, pay her by the hour not by the word, then fire her when she was done.

I could get around cover art by purchasing pre-made art, which is buying IP.

It’s also possible that a court could rule that authors are employees of the publisher, which would be absolutely terrible because then the publisher owns the book. Publishers might have to get around this by not providing editing/feedback, and the author can’t hire an editor, and...

 Basically, this would absolutely destroy publishing. I can think of workarounds such as author’s cooperatives.

The point is that if you need somebody to run your business they must be an employee. Which makes absolute sense if that person is working for you 40 hours a week...or even 5 hours a week.

It’s an undue burden if they are working for you 30 hours a year. Or once ever for 5 hours.

The point is to make us hire people, but we can’t. Instead, the only option for me and other self publishers will be to let down our readers either by ceasing publication or by producing inferior work.

If you enjoy self published books, if you enjoy books by diverse authors, if you enjoy weird shit that the big publishers won’t take a risk on, then please contact your Representative and Senator.

Do not tell them to vote against the PRO Act unless there’s no other choice. Tell them to push for an amendment to either carve out exemptions to the ABC Test or replace it for a more sensible test.

Biden has already promised to sign this. (Consider contacting the White House too).

If you are an artist who ever does work for a publisher, if you are an author yourself, talk about how it will affect your business.

If you are a reader, talk about how it will affect publishing as a whole.

I realize this all sounds like a capitalist argument, but wouldn’t you rather have your favorite independent authors writing and not doing a ton of paperwork every time they release a new book...and wouldn’t you rather read books that had been edited by a person not the author?

To explain, if I have to onboard an editor as an employee, I have to:

1. Have them fill out a W-4 form.

2. Verify their immigration status.

3. Register them with the state. Brakes on! My editor is in a different state. I just got nexus in that state...which will last for years. Now I can’t sell books directly to people in that state without collecting sales tax. And I don’t even know HOW you do it when your employee is in a different state. This involves four different sets of paperwork.

4. Pay worker’s compensation, so if they get carpal tunnel working for me they’re covered. Given I can’t actually control their working conditions but am now liable for them.

5. Send them half a dozen OSHA and safety notices.

Then I have to have them track their time and bill me by the hour. Again, you can no longer charge by the word. I have to pay payroll taxes (which they normally do themselves for all of their projects at once).

Then when the project is DONE, I have to fire them, so I’m not paying worker’s comp until the next book is finished. Then do all of this AGAIN even if it’s the same editor.

This compares to one single tax form and a contract.

Then I have to do this all again for my cover artist.

Either my costs go up significantly, or I have to take workers’ comp out of the amount I’m paying them. So ONE of us loses a ton of money and BOTH of us waste a ton of time.

(My editor that I use will probably stop editing if this happens).

If I don’t do this, I could be fined $30,000...per violation...which would not just put me out of business but wipe out my savings.

If you value independent publishing, then please, again, tell your representative and senator how you feel about the ABC test.

Oh, and it also:

1. Destroys the owner-operator model of trucking. Prices on everything will go up and large companies that can employ their own drivers will benefit. I.e., straight into Bezos’ pocket.

2. May impact the ability of construction companies to hire subcontractors. It’s really murky at this point.

I’m going to have to consult a lawyer if this goes through and I may pay a few hundred dollars to find out I have to polish up my resume.

And how ridiculous this is has already been shown with AB5 in California. I want them to come up with a test which nails Uber, Door Dash, etc, but not entire industries.

[dailyadventureprompts]

You know I’m curious what you’d make of this, so recently my group of players named themselves after an artisans guild within the world they are in and have been pretending to be members of that guild. They are now heading to that same city that the guild is based in. Any thoughts for shenanigans?

Art source

(Artisan’s guild is a bit vague my friend, but hopefully this is flexible enough for your needs!) 

Villain: Cenodel, Guild Enforcer 

“Your Wares are very fine Mr.Danazar, I’d trust my life to such a blade, and I would be more than happy to buy one. There is a problem however, Mr. Danazar: Ms. Louvita here, her mother is part of the Forthright Company of Blademakers, and the Forthright Company pays me to enforce their monopoly over this town and its associated markets, not a claymore, shear, or even a tableknife is sold without their permission. The Problem is, Mr. Danazar, that you are not a member of the Forthright Company of Blademakers, meaning that you cannot sell these blades while I enforce the monopoly, and thus I cannot buy one. I would suggest you negotiate with Ms. Louvita, pay dues to the Forthright company, and allow me to buy one of your fine Blades Mr. Danazar, lest you be troubled with the additional problem of having to find another town to sell in, without any of your previous inventory to bring to market. Have I properly illustrated the Problem Mr. Danazar?“ 

Setup: It is one of invariable truths of power and trade, that any group that achieves transitory success will do all it can to control the conditions that brought about that success in the first place. In this way, free markets are frozen in amber, and the virtue of “entrepreneurial enterprise”  calcifies into protectionism and monopoly. 

Cenodel the Sullen is a means to that end, a towering, dour faced mercenary employed by various guilds to protect their interests and intimidate their competition. A veteran of some terrible war, Cenodel’s flat, excessively formal affect belies both his viciousness and his skill with a blade. Seemingly content to be cast in the role of intimidating legbreaker, Cenodel is a walking promise of violence agianst those who might interfere with the plans of the profit- motivated. 

Adventure Hooks: 

In addition to driving off legitimate competition, Cenodel is tasked with hunting down smugglers, obstructive duties officers, and those who otherwise interfere with guild business ( such as the asker’s group, who are likely damaging the reputation of the guild by their actions.) 

If the players are setting up their own commercial enterprise, Cenodel may be sent to intimidate them, attempting to persuade them to give up the venture, maybe spend their seed money on a drink, before their venture meets with vandalism, burglary, or some other kind of disaster. 

Tired of intimidation, a stonemason took a swing at Cenodel with his hammer, giving the towering thug a solid crack to the skull, but earning a gutted belly for his when the wound failed to slow him down. Folk whisper that Cenovel is in fact some easily bought demon, brought up by the guilds to harrass innocent folk, others believe has some sort of protection, and would gladly reward the party if they could reveal the truth. 

Further Adventures: 

Cenodel’s cold heart and inhuman tolerance for pain stem from the fact that he is a Dhampir, a half vampire, created when his mother succumbed to a terrible curse while he was still inside her belly. Each Dhampir is unique, inheriting a grabbag of their undead parent’s strengths and weaknesses. For the Sullen mercenary, it involved a resistance to unblessed weapons and an inability to form emotional connections with other people. 

Cenodel is infact the eldest son of the elderly local Baron, removed from the line of inheritance, due to a) his obvious predilection for monstrous and sadistic behavior early on in life b) the fact that his mother’s death complicates the laws of succession to no end. There is still privilege afforded to him, as the duke protects his half-dead son from the legal ramifications of his hardhanded activities. 

If slain, Cenodel’s mother will come looking for revenge. Driven quite mad by her dark resurrection, the dead baroness doted only a little on her sullen son unable to share her “gift” with him despite numerous gruesome attempts. Otherwise content to otherwise haunt the far of wilderness while he lives, the party may end up defeating a bully, only to find themselves the target of an undead maniac.