#fnipper folkor zookenheimersteinbergbaum

[flo-machina]

We are Rootin', we are Tootin'

And by God, I pray we are not Shooting

Starting the new house campaign tonight as a Fnipper AU, let's fuckin Gnooooooooome!!!!!

[fence-macabre]

Limited Edition Fence Macabre Hearthstone Cards! Collect them all!!

Part 2 of ?

(( @rimeshard, @glitchphil, @doctor-staton ))

[luminess-brightcoil]

Plans for Shadowlands!

You’ll find Lumi gravitating towards the light, no doubt about it! As for anyone else who might get some Actual Screen Time, well, here they will be!

((Template by @kottkrig​, material for other characters can be found at @glitchphil​))

[embersoot]

Her End of the Bargain

"Cesta,

The time has come sooner than expected. I have been called away from the one whose name I never told you, the one to whom I owe my own power.

Once again, I have been drawn away to the Legion's realm. I do not know when I shall return.

You have access to my home, Bruunom holds the key. It is absolutely imperative that you protect that house and everything in it. Secure it further, if you can. I would prefer it if you stayed there for the duration as well. Yes, you're allowed to have guests. No, you're not allowed to drink my whiskey.

I will die, or I will return. I do not know. But it is time for you to hold up your end of our bargain:

Live by my example, practice my teachings, and be a beacon of common sense in our eternal ocean of megalomaniacal morons. Show the other Netherlords (the real ones) this letter, and let them know I have charged you with stewardship of my affairs. Don't let Ritssyn give you any guff about it, and give Lulu my regards.

If I die, my affairs are yours until you die. Take that for what you will. I will probably survive, though, I have far too many things to do, you know.

Take care. Stay in control. Survive whatever comes... And know that I am proud of you.

- Professor Fnipper Folkor Zookenheimersteinbergbaum"

The letter played out audibly in her mind as her blind eyes stared forward. The warlock-engineer wrung her grip around the head of her cane. Fnip held his end of the deal. Now, it was time for Cesta's.

She chuckled. Her old self would've made off and ran. But her present self? She was no longer a coward, afraid to uphold her end of the bargain.

Over the months, or even years, time was always strange in the Rift, Cesta died over and over in her training: Incinerated, her soul ripped out, feasted on by felhounds, crushed by an angry felguard, cleaved in half by her mo'arg, a mechanical mishap by the Voz squad, and more. But soulstones were abundant. During her training, she was functionally immortal. Each time, each death, she grew in power.

The ren'dorei had grown into her role: demonologist, a bearer of a felfire torch. But still, Cesta felt a yearning, her companion throughout all those deaths, her teacher, gone. For now.

Tears didn't befit a warlock. Emotion was a vulnerability she couldn't afford to show in the Rift.

"Voz," her tone was slow and deliberate. "Get my shit."

"Right away, mistress!" The wyrmtongue gulped, scurrying off upstairs to the bedroom to gather his master's sundries.

Downstairs, the warlock stepped into a profane runic circle. Cesta chanted in a rasping, discordant demonic. Felfire flared at the circle's perimeter, snaking its way toward the center like a flame chasing gasoline.

As the flame ignited the center, the floor under the warlock's feet crumbled. Cesta plunged downward, through the horrific wormhole that was the Twisting Nether.

Burnt sulfur. Cesta knew this smell well as her feet met the fel-scorched rock below. Dreadscar Rift. Here, she needed no cane. Everything was as bright as fireworks, odd-shifting shapes, and silhouettes she could easily make out given the sensitivity training she underwent here.

The ren'dorei slipped by the various other warlocks. In-fighting was forbidden here. Any rule-breakers were fed to the felhounds or worse: An eternity churning in the digestive acids of the impmother's stomach.

There weren't many fights in the Rift.

Vozraal arrived like a paratrooper, a large footlocker of his master's belongings gently fluttering down beside him by parachute. He waddled beside Cesta, dragging the container behind.

"Where are we going, mistress?"

"To fulfill our end of the contract."

( mentions: @glitchphil )

[flo-machina]

"Ah, Bruunom. The only one of my Demons that came willingly. I might even say it was his idea."

[flo-machina]

Spiral Out, Keep Going

Looking to the sky, granted sight beyond sight with his several, void-addled eyes, the Master Demonologist stood in silence as he observed the efforts of Azeroth's Champions at the Argent Tournament grounds... 

Scourge after Scourge unearthed itself from the blighted, frozen soil or descended from the sky as the Heroes slayed them all on the spot, one after another. It was as laughable as it was futile, a stone pushed uphill over and over forever… Or until the individual feels themselves satisfied. 

The denizens of the Lich King That Was stirred and stumbled and stampeded through those frozen wastes. One by one they fell, only to rise again or be replaced, harvested for whatever meager resources the Argent Crusade deemed worthy of collection. 

Madness, he thought to himself. And as he did so his Hideous Hatmouth slavered in anticipation, growling along with the sentiment. He watched as the sky flaked away, chip by chip and fragment by fragment as this apparently fragile Veil between this life and the next continued to hemorrhage for whatever purpose the Banshee Queen served now. Was it getting worse? How could one even tell?

The Master Demonologist grimaced, his quavering mass of moustache-tentacles curling on themselves, curdling in displeasure. Though this was a deep concern of his, having spent no small amount of his time with the Alliance in Icecrown during the Northrend Campaign. But whatever was going on, it would soon no longer be any of his concern. Or anyone’s, for that matter. 

And so, he returned to overseeing these Final Labors. His shoulders were heavy, weary from the stress of week after week of sleepless efforts of watching, waiting, biding his time. As his minions clanged and klanked away at an Infernal Machine, he sauntered down from the dais which housed a simple-seeming hourglass-like talisman at the center of a great and horrible tower of technology, and he looked upon it all. There it stood, monolithic in its size, maddening in its intricacy, cobbled together in ways that no self-respecting engineer would endorse, spliced with the technology of the now-dominated Burning Legion, salvaged together from all the Time Machinery that was left behind, neglected by a Clown.

One Last Chance at Victory.

He shook his head as he considered the Bronze Dragon more. What tremendous power and brilliant intellect she possessed… How did it fail? Her machinations so advanced, so far-reaching, that without it the efforts of the Old Gods would never have even been possible… But though he relentlessly tormented himself in tossing and turning over the would-not-have-beens and could-have-hads, he knew the answer. 

And because he knew, he set to work: He learned how to assemble Clown's machinery from her back then, before it all started, before it was known for what it was, long before anyone had even the slightest inkling of what would transpire at the hands of the Old Ones and their mighty Speakers. 

Clown had these Heroes and their hubris at her beck and call, hungry for any seemingly friendly face to offer them a Quest. Through their naivety borne of a desire to Do Good, she had them install her devices in every Silithid hive and clutch of import across the southern reaches of Kalimdor. How ironic to think that the groundwork for everything to come was laid then and there, by his own hands amongst others, unwittingly building the foundations of the Old Gods' designs... 

And that was it, wasn't it? That's not just where it began, but that's where it all went wrong, too. Wasn’t it?

Fools, he thought to himself, again, the Hideous Hatmouth's low growl raising in agreement. They're ALL fools. Literally everyone is a Damned fool!! 

Around him, a dozen Imps Imploded on the spot, unconsciously commanded by their Master's rage… But a trivial number compared to the throngs of Imps working around the clock, a teeming mass of servants continuing to piece together the Master Demonologist's Gnomega Device, a mammoth machine towering over the sands and promising Threatening, Unavoidable Change. 

I'll show them, he silently swore. By the time they find me here, it will be too late. Their attention remains occupied by that Titans-Bedamned crack in the sky, and the irony… Oh, the unbearably crushing irony of it all!

The Hideous Hatmouth cackled with the joy that can only come from the suffering of others as its wearer looked over its shoulder once again, back to Northrend… To Icecrown. 

We could have prevented this, he thought with a rueful gaze. We could have prevented ALL of this… 

And then, finally, the tentacles that were once a moustache curled playfully as he grinned. A wave of calm subsumed him as he breathed it all in deep. Soon, it would be ready. Soon, he would be ready. 

Would anyone else be?

Fear not, Azeroth: I, Professor Fnipper Folkor Zookenheimersteinbergbaum, Master Demonologist, Netherlord of the Black Harvest, Protector of Gnomeregan, Veteran of the Third and Fourth Wars, Guardian of the Timestream, and Servant of N'Zoth… will save you. 

Again.

[fence-macabre]

Nightmare Before Winter’s Veil

❄️ Welcome to Nightmare Before Winters Veil ❄️

The winds are howling and temperature dropping, soon it will be Azeroth's most wonderful time of the year. Fence Macabre is not just ready to say goodbye to the spooky season, however and presents: Nightmare Before Winter's Veil! Come in your spookiest interpretations of holiday costumes to enjoy the evening's entertainments. Join our discord today!

🐧 The Basics  🐧

Date: Saturday December 19th 

Time: 4:00-7:00PM (WRA/PST); 6:00PM-9:00PM (MG/CST) 

Location: Kamagua, Howling Fjord. (25, 59)

 Anchors: Loira-WyrmrestAccord (Horde)  Oceanid-WyrmrestAccord (Alliance)

💀 Schedule 💀

4:00 WRA (6:00 MG) - Event Start, Refreshments Open 

4:15 WRA (6:15 MG) - Opening Ceremony; Activities Open Immediately After 5:00 WRA (7:00 MG) - Polar Bear Plunge

5:45 WRA (7:45 MG) - Performances/Storytelling 

6:30 WRA (8:30 MG) - Activities Final Call 

6:50 WRA (8:50 MG) - Activities Close, Closing Ceremonies Announcement

7:00 WRA (9:00 MG) - Closing Ceremonies, Fireworks

⛸️  Activities ⛸️   

🐻‍❄️ Polar Bear Plunge Zori will be leading a no-competition jump into icy waters before encouraging everyone to wrap up in warm blankets by the fire! 5pm.

📜 Storytelling Ryeolan is back at it again, hosting a spooky session with stories from some of Fence's favourite in-house storytellers including Remington Thornbolt and Captain Fiona Tarwood! 5:45pm.

🕯️ Candle Making Workshop Miss Loira Winford will be leading this workshop all night, allowing guests to make a mason jar candle. A perfect gift for the season. 

🎁 Great Father Winter Varad Fence's own Great Father Winter will be out and about, offering gifts for the season with his helper, Aerolenar! [Note: Insults come free, and will likely be included. Varad's giving you gifts, you can't expect him to also be nice!]

🌲Spin the Gneidel Professor Fnipper Folkor Zookenheimersteinbergbaum will be sharing this Gnomish favourite alongside his assistant, Calria! Nothing to lose besides chocolate coins.   

☕ Hot Cocoa Cable Ride Enjoy a warm cup of cocoa with ghostly marshmallows as you take a breather with this relaxing gondola ride. 

🍬 Refreshments Food and drink for the Undead and Living alike! A special menu of seasonal treats will be sure to delight all of our guests.

🌟 Fiona’s Tonics, Trinkets and Treasures Captain Fiona Tarwood is opening her crew’s treasures chest for the first time ever, tonight! Come see what you can find, there’s certain to be something of interest.

☃️ Map ☃️

@wowrpevents @the-royal-courier @wracentral

[embersoot]

The Rule of Two

Do not attempt to master these magics alone. There is only one dark lord in this universe, and he will crush you underfoot. Do not fall victim to your arrogance. Combat it with education.

Pure fel--It smelled like sulfur and choking smoke. While Cesta Rosewood touted her ability to endure a variety of environments, she couldn’t help but cough every time she came back here.

She loathed coming to Dreadscar Rift, but she knew she was at least safe. There was no killing on these grounds. Anyone who broke this rule was promptly strapped to a post, incinerated, and their soul thrust into a gem where it would serve as the defecating grounds of the nearest imp swarm for all shitty eternity.

Her surroundings were bright. No need to use her imitated echolocation and no need to see through Voz’s eyes. She stepped confidently and briskly through the charred grounds and into the center of an intricate-looking runic circle. Only one display of power was needed to activate it. The elf snapped her fingers, green fire sparking from the fingertips. The ground disappeared beneath her, sucking her in. And a mere fraction of a second later, she was spit out straight onto her feet on one of the adjacent rocky islands.

“Fnipper Folkor Zookenheimersteinbergbaum. I have a request.”

[ @glitchphil ]

[flo-machina]

I love writing endings. I dare you to prompt me on this.

Vikki, Fnip, Billy, and E-Merl are all on the table. HAVE AT ‘EM.

Send a muse + an ending

GOOD END- The ideal end to my muse’s story where everything is resolved and they can live a good life.

BAD END- The bad guys win. Everything that can go wrong for my muse had gone wrong.

TRUE END- Bittersweet ending. Some things go right, other things go wrong. Some sacrifices have to be made, but most people are happy in the end.

EVERYONE LIVES- No one has to die in my muse’s story, be it for Better or for worse.

WE ALL FALL DOWN- No one is safe in the end of my muse’s story. Everyone important to the story has perished. This can include your muse or not.

WENT DOWN IN HISTORY- Your muse’s story is passed down through the ages, sometimes being stretched or exaggerated in places until it becomes a legend told in storybooks and campfires as poems, tall tales, etc.

SECRET END- Crack. Come up with the silliest end to your muse’s story as possible.

[flo-machina]

God AU: Fnipper

The Keeper of Secrets

DEITY OF: Scholars. Warlocks. Cultists. Diviners. Spies. Hermits. Children.

ASSOCIATED WITH: Secrets. Knowledge. The Forbidden. Mystery. The Eldritch. 

SACRED PLANTS: Mount Diablo Buckwheat (Eriogonum truncatum)

SACRED STONES/GEMS: Moonstone.

SACRED ANIMALS: Owls.

COLORS: Black, Purple, Gray.

FOOD: Wine or Spirits, Candy or Confections.

SCENTS: Parchment & Vellum, Mold & Must, Rain Upon Stone.

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral

ACCEPTED OFFERINGS/WAYS TO HONOR:

It is said that The Keeper of Secrets is an ally and enemy to no one and everyone. This demigod has no known agenda but to hoard exclusive knowledge, and to be the ultimate arbiter of its access. The Keeper of Secrets is fickle and loyal only to Himself. To worship is to pray for his favor, that He may confide in you that which only He knows and will give to no one else. 

Times in history where great troves of knowledge were destroyed or lost have been attributed to Fnipper, the Keeper of Secrets, claiming them as his own. Times of great revelation and discovery have been attributed to his generosity. There are even some who say that it was Fnipper, Keeper of Secrets, who taught Man how to create fire, often regarded as the first true Discovery in history.

Scholars, Researchers, and those who search for knowledge within the stacks can earn favor by pouring an additional glass of whatever Wine or Spirit accompanies their studies. Some have been known to burn candles inscribed with His name and sigils, and to take no respite in their labors until it reaches its end. Should He approve of their selection and/or dedication, it is said that He will gift a simple gesture, a slight nudge in the direction they wish to go in the form of Divine Inspiration, said to be “Whispering Hints In Your Ear.” 

Adventurers who seek forgotten relics, ancient tomes, or hidden truths often credit The Keeper of Secrets with both their successes and their setbacks. If you find what you are looking for, the Keeper of Secrets has given you a boon. If you do not, He has deemed you unworthy of the privilege. They have been known to pay Him tribute by leaving behind a memento of their past, a secret of themselves... the more Damning, the more of his favor you may earn (it is said).

Children, famously reverent of the sanctity of the Secret, have been known to recite rhymes that invoke Fnipper, Keeper of Secrets, in lieu of prayer when they wish to taunt one of their fellows for keeping (or not keeping) a secret. Similarly, Children may invoke Fnipper if they wish to learn something kept from them due to their youth, or if they wish to protect their own secrets from being discovered by others. The colloquially accepted Tribute amongst children is candy or confections which conceal their insides, such as sweet bean buns, jelly donuts, chocolate-covered variety assortments, and so on.

Approval from the Keeper of Secrets, and therefore access to His wealth of information, is otherwise earned largely through Determination. Your motives require no ethical or moral purity, the Keeper of Secrets determines whether you are fit to receive that which you seek based on whether or not he views you as having Earned It in the pursuit. There is no known metric or method for the means of this approval. It, too, is secret... but one thing is agreed upon by all of His followers or observers:

Suffer not the Indiscreet.

Tagged By: @thornbolts​​ (This one ruled, tbh)

Tagging: @yeehawelf​, @manclamps​, @ms-winford​, @hinahinagray​ (Floe), @alastren​

[flo-machina]

Classic D&D Traits... for Fnipper!

((Art by @kottkrig​!))

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙸𝙰𝙽   » toothy grins, stories around the campfire, clothes covered in pet hair, hot temper,  old jeans, heartbeat in head, potatoes  and steak, beaded jewelry, bruises like galaxies,  mementos, backpack stuffed full, craigslist furniture, spontaneous road trips, air ripped from  lungs

𝙱𝙰𝚁𝙳   » homemade  bread, white lies, easily  excited, trying on hats, band  geek, pep talks, no impulse control,  sunsets, vintage fashion, long showers,  selfies, following dreams, rosy cheeks, song  mash-ups, pink lemonade with tequila, loves easily, animated  storyteller, full of comebacks

𝙲𝙻𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲   » list of wishes,  biting their tongue, band-aids  and neosporin, shoulder to cry on,  morning sun, necklaces, trial and error,  homemade quilts, formal clothing, astrology  fan, messages in bottles, pleated braids, speaking  up for friends, feathers, motivational quotes, vivid dreams

𝙳𝚁𝚄𝙸𝙳   » bird watching, shy  kid, wind chimes, trying  to whistle, summer camp, apple  orchards, lost in their head, glow-in-the-dark  stars on the ceiling, hoodies, thrift shopping,  saving worms off the sidewalk, pig latin, bare feet, thunderstorms, numb  fingers, braided hair, naming potted plants

𝙵𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃𝙴𝚁   » goosebumps, leather  jackets, adventure, chewing  nails, cares deeply but can’t  show it, bronze locks, no sleep,  taste of iron, netflix binges, never  forgets, combat boots, stories behind scars,  table for one, official soundtracks, sore calves, trusts  themselves the most

𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙺   » always trying  to be better, wanderlust,  meditation, sweat pants, old   photographs, yoga, sleeping in  hammocks, nostalgia, minimalist design,  a breath of fresh air, baby animals, volunteering,  perfectionist, doesn’t care about fashion, healthy snacks,  noticing the little things

𝙿𝙰𝙻𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽   » school uniforms, thick  jackets, sleeping with the windows open, logical  advice, scrapbooking, compasses, i fight for my friends,  sculpture gardens, cold morning air, big soul, likes routine, secret  romantic, last to get jokes, sunflowers, practical presents, misty weather

𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁   » herbal tea, smell  of rain, blinking away  tears, camping trips, collecting  bones, swiss army knives, first impressions,  anxious thoughts, bobby pins, burnt marshmallows,  too competitive, clothes lines, messenger bags, holding  grudges, gets along better with animals than people

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴   » flirtatious  sarcasm, candid photos, lost  phone chargers, adrenaline rush, picking  dirt out from beneath their nails, social  chameleon, clashing clothes, self-deprecating jokes,  claw machines, sits in chairs wrong, smudged eyeliner,  has too many sunglasses, eats nothing or everything

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙲𝙴𝚁𝙴𝚁   » infectious laugh,  family trees, shivers down  their spine, lipstick and roses,  mood swings, clumsy, believing in destiny,  high expectations, sleeping in darkness, collection  of nail polish, passionate, good grades but never studies,  poetry books, blowing kisses, not knowing their own strength

𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺   » knowing everyone’s  secrets, backpack covered  in pins, envy, being in walmart  late at night, earl grey, selective  memory, conspiracy theories and cryptids, key smashing, need  to know basis, can’t cook, bags under eyes, experimental art,  flickering bulbs, black clothing all year long

𝚆𝙸𝚉𝙰𝚁𝙳   » piles of textbooks,  cat in lap, keeping a diary, indecision, scented  candles, studying alone in a café, lingering touches,  museum dates, unanswered questions, taking on too much responsibility, collections , chalk  dust, comfy robes, unnecessary apologies, coming home after a long day

Tagged by: @domainoffelixe​!

Tagging: @thornbolts​, @manclamps​, @yeehawelf, @hinahinagray​ (Eoselle)

[flo-machina]

SETTING PROMPT: A CROWDED MARKET ON A HUMID NIGHT WHERE YOU KEEP GETTING TURNED AROUND - HAVEN’T YOU PASSED THAT STALL FIVE TIMES NOW?

If Yazmir were at all a particularly loyal or useful sort of servant, he might have said something to his Master to warn him.

But he was not! Once the Master Demonologist's most utilized agent, he has entered the heyday of his semi-retirement as a ringer in Pet Battling, earning income for his Master, and therefore luxury for himself. Yes, he had a very fine vest, and a loincloth made from actual cloth. His belly protruded proudly, full of snacks and treats granted both by his Master for his Ongoing Complacence and raided from the Fel Hammer's wares... or even given freely by few Illidari there that would rather stuff him full of cookies than devour his heart. He did not Smell as the other Imps do, and his tufts of hair were soft and pleasant to the touch, even his own.

As such, this demon was no fool. He knew that if anything happened to his Master, his cushy lifestyle was over, and he would end up re-bound to someone much less gracious in ownership... or worse, return to work for the actual Legion. Though, like most imps, Yazmir was certainly a craven and selfish creature, he knew that cowardice was no worthy exchange for a reliable meal and a genuine non-Fel leather bed.

And so: Yazmir would never stand idly by while the life of his Meal TicketMaster was on the line, even as they examined the extended aftereffects of N’Zoth’s invasions upon territories in their proximity. No, this Imp had seen exactly as much combat and won exactly as many battles as his Master, an Alliance Veteran of both the Third and Fourth Wars... and so did not fear battle. Were any other disgusting creep besides he to lay a single untoward finger upon a single hair on his Master's face, he would waste no time in immolating their foe with a near-infinite flurry of fire-bolts, reducing the offending adversary to naught but smoking-hot ash!!

Yet he stirred not an inch as he lazily watched the ground retreat away beneath his Master's robes... the same ground, over and over again, clearly indicating that they were walking in circles through these back alleys of Gadgetzan, caught in some sort of illusion, or time loop, or whatever the Fel else dared to threaten their peace and quiet... He only watched as the dripping, sickly tendril extended towards them from the sleeve of a robed figure that had been following them. He remained silent as this stranger reached out towards the back of the Master's neck to strangle it just then, just there, right on the spot...

Yes, Yazmir would react if this were a danger. But he knew: It was not. The tendril is grabbed by a gloved hand, and squeezed until pitch black ichor drip out of its pores. It is severed by a glowing ultra-violet blade. A wet splatter reverberates against the walls, the ground. The raw sensation of pain, just pure, sharp unerring pain screams against the insides of the Master Demonologist’s temples and any passerby who now wonder why they must suffer a sudden, instantaneous migraine. A pool of black seeps beneath the aberration’s feet, and the hooded creature sinks into it, promising revenge in words unintelligible to most, before it and its hollow, empty threats have disappeared from whence they came.  The tendril wriggled and writhed in Master Demonologist’s hand. He said nothing to remark the occasion, nor did he seem to react in any especial way, except... to discreetly tuck the tendril away under his trademark hat, squeezing it through the brim carefully, making sure it does not leave the top of his nigh-omnipotent cranium. This is where Yazmir turned over his shoulder and tightly gripped his seating-spot on his Master’s pauldron. As the hat wobbled and rattled atop the Master’s head, the sound of wet smacking, crunching... slurping emanated from underneath. Yazmir knew deep down in whatever he has that even remotely constitutes as a soul... that this was Dangerous. And as such, he warned his Master. Once.

Fnipper’s only reply was a simple and terse “I know.”

And so: Yazmir has given up warning his Master of this dangerous new behaviour. Instead, he focused only on living his luxurious lifestyle day-to-day... 

For however much longer he still has it.

[flo-machina]

5 Things You Might Have Known About Fnipper!!

1) Gambling Man

Like most Warlocks, Fnipper does not have a “day job” and yet somehow has no want for money. Typically, material riches just come with a Demonic Pact as a standard feature, but this was not included in Fnipper’s contract as a means of affording less Control over him. Instead, he receives a meager passive income from his published academic papers and the rest of it comes from just straight gambling! Cards, Dice, Dominoes, Roulette, whatever is clever, Fnipper is a master of playing the odds in his favor... especially in Hearthstone.

2) Fated Accomplice

Fnipper holds no bond with any of his demons outside of that which is strictly laid out in his contracts... save for Yazmir. Whether it is out of pity or genuine attachment, Yazmir the Lethargic Imp has been Fnipper’s most constant companion in all walks. After the Northrend Campaign, he decided to retire the pathetic little bastard from Actual Combat and has moved him into a new career as a Pet Battler, which has been surprisingly successful, all said. Lots of money to be won over Pet Battling...

3) Signature Hat

Second only to Yazmir in longevity of companionship is his trademark chapeau: The Skywitch Hat. A now-forgotten rite of passage for apprentice Warlocks, crafting an item imbued with tremendous power to conceal and protect you forever on. He is never seen without it, and during his younger years, his hat was so renown that it was common amongst his circles to greet one another by merely saying “Hat.” ((100% True Story, both IC and OOC))

4) PhD(emonology)

Unlike most Warlocks, Professor Fnipper Folkor Zookenheimersteinbergbaum was taught from a young age to approach the Fel Arts with an academic mind, one of a scientist and a scholar. He earned his honors with his seminal work, A Field Guide to Demonology, a painstakingly carefully crafted collection of observational notes, experiences, sketches, photos, and volumes upon volumes of comprehensive data on demons in their natural habitat. This work was instrumental to legitimizing the Fel Arts to the point of convincing the High Tinker (now King) Mekkatorque to allow its practice... with heavily enforced legal regulations. This move would prove to pave the way for the normalization of Warlocks in society, causing their numbers to practically explode over the years to follow, both in total population and variety of participants.

5) Retired Reveler

In his younger and more vulnerable years, Fnipper possessed a true zest for life, working hard and playing hard in equal measure, never afraid to turn a night of drinking into a night of drinking songs, a fancy dancer and quick with the quips. Life, as they say, comes at one fast, and he went on to grow into a quiet, reclusive, reticent and reserved near-hermit, living a quiet life in the Dreadscar Rift, tending only to his personal interests and those of his duties to the Black Harvest. Though lately, he seems to be coming out of his shell a bit more, perhaps thanks to a certain Party Animal Apprentice of his.

Tagged by: @kavtari​ (THIS WAS GREAT!!) 

Tagging: @hinahinagray (RATBIT), @ms-winford (VERCH), @star-spire (BETTIN), @embersoot (QORY), @valarin-sunstorm (VALARIN), @beekwarcraft (NEIL), @gnomercy (INTAMIN)

[flo-machina]

Tarot Card - Fnipper

Justice

What would you do to ensure justice? You know full well I don’t speak of lofty ideals and courts and magistrates, dearest. 

What would you do to those that hurt you? If I dropped them in your lap, what would you do? What kind of pain could you possibly inflict upon them? 

You are right to do so. You are right to want to do so. 

Ignore the screaming, dearest, you are the hand of justice now, and they hurt you. 

Do not look too closely at their faces, dearest. You are within your rights. You spell out your own rights, now. 

Are you happy about it? Are you certain that this is the right person you hold by the hair? 

Does your anger hurt less now?

[Quiz Here] 

[flo-machina]

Fnipper: "Gone forever, for good."

Vikki: "Lifting many young minds."

Billy: "Passing the family trade."

Tagged by: @the-real-arcanist-val

Tagging: @irielle-firine/@ms-winford, @hinahinagray, @dreamfoiled

Four word story prompt

The premise is simple, friends. Using only four words, write the happiest story you can think of. It can be IC or OOC. Past, present, future. The world is your oyster, on this.

Here’s mine:

“Then They Grew Trees.”

[flo-machina]

Pass the Gift!!

Rules: send a small gift to one of your RP buddies ICly. Then, they have to pick someone and send THEM a gift!

Let's see how far this goes!

((Tagged by wonderful @the-real-arcanist-val))

It was the Winter's Veil Eve and there are not yet means available for Smokeywood Pastures to reliably and safely deliver the Dread Scar its own Winter's Veil experience, no matter how deep the coffers of the Black Harvest ran. It was just as well: Most Warlocks remained unconcerned with the holiday, outright rejecting it or any semblance of adhering to the abject tyranny of a calendar.

A vocal minority of them, usually of the Destruction discipline, embrace the holiday with equal parts irony and aplomb. Their attempts to deck the Harvests' equivalent to halls were typically undermined by uncooperative Imps and idly aggressive Fel Hounds.

Cesta Embersoot would discover that her master dwells, as is typical, somewhere in the middle ground. Upon her next visit to House Zookenheimersteinbergbaum, she may notice the surprise delivery of a Winter's Veil Stocking made of Gnomish Quilt, the pieces of varying pattern shaped seemingly amorphously, but still forming a perfect tesselation througout. It hung modestly at the center above Fnipper’s hearth, all by its lonesome... But bulging to the brim with gifts for his trusted, possibly even appreciated apprentice:

One Tome Repair Kit, primarily featuring binding thread made from ultra durable Satyr Sinew.

Four Classic Candy Canes, hanging their crooks over the top of the stocking.

A gift card worth Twenty Five Gold at Curiosities & Moore in Dalaran.

A Greatfather Winter's Hearthstone (which are all the rage, Fnipper has heard).

One 4-ct Sleeve of Deep Fried Rhubarb topped with a Honey Glaze (a Gnomish Winter's Veil classic).

A luxury personal grooming travel kit in a softened Fel-Leather mini-case complete with comb, eyebrow-brush, nail clippers, scissors, toothbrush and tooth picker, floss, tooth paste (what is he, your uncle?).

Three gnome-sized handfuls of assorted foil-covered festive Smokeywood Pastures Winter's Veil Choco-Treats.

There is no note or card accompanied by this stocking. The giver is certain the recipient is smart enough to figure it out on their own.

(( Merry Christmas to my wonderful friend and GM, @embersoot aka @thornbolts, looking forward to a brand new year of adventures and comraderie💙💙 ))