#half catfolk

[xyliaxart]

Updated art of my dnd character, Yolotli Delacroix. There's supposed to be studs on her arm-bands but I forgot them. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just imagine they're there.

[stillstanding-e]

Mozart cat comfirmed(?)

[otterboiiarts]

A while back out Pathfinder party met the worst versions of ourselves 😭 It was very emotional but in the end we managed to get what we were looking for, along with some added trauma 🫠💕

[drearygenie]

EVERGANG SQUAD 2 ROLE CALL

the first 12 people who commented/reposted are on the first post! (squads are typically 8-12 people)

only comment if you made an oc you'd like you add, with race/class/pronouns! (I'l only accept ppl who comment on this post, i have no energy to find miscellaneous posts)

Aglet, Firbolg Sorcerer, they/he @finnbin

Hebe, High Elf Rogue, Any Pronouns @ask-my-aph-venezuela

Björn Boldak, Bugbear Fighter, he/him @skipitty-bop

Gubs, Gnome Rogue, @maxiduhfrog

Jade, Catfolk Bard/Fighter, they/it @beeware-of-lulu

Steve, Half Elf Paladin, he/him @pirateshippotato

Lennie, Owlin Sorcerer, he/him @mothusingtheinternet

Ashe, Elf Wizard, they/them @imaginethisisagoodname

Carter, Minotaur Barbarian, he/him @sliqtril

Agatha "Aggie," Tiefling Bard, she/her @doctorwyvern

Siren, Water Genasi Wizard, any prounouns @crimsonkat59

Malissa: Yuan-ti swashbuckler rogue, she/her @something-another

Rusty, Kenku Beastmaster Ranger, they/them @fielddogs

[frozenjokes]

convex talking to each other arc. not a good talk. not like the worst talk they could have managed though.

ao3 link

LOOP 16

Scar was.. he was fine. He was fine. Adjusting a little, but he was fine. It seemed like he never stopped adjusting, never stopped feeling utterly devoid. He wanted so much, but these days he just kept his claws buried in the sheets. Sometimes he’d groom the blankets. It wasn’t a nice thing. He had a better time pulling out tufts of his own fur. Cleo was kind enough not to say anything when she caught him at it.

The food situation was a big adjustment, one Scar couldn’t stop feeling terribly anxious about. It didn’t matter if they had enough, it didn’t matter if Scar ate half a day’s rations under the human standard, eating was a petrifying ordeal, one he worked himself up so much over that he was hardly hungry anymore. Anxiety made him sick, and desperately he wished he could starve instead, watch the humans and take comfort from their health. The longer the loop drew on, the more anxious Scar became, face to face with the possibility this would be the one that would last, the one where they could run out.

He tried. He tried so hard. This was one of Cub and Cleo’s terms, Scar had to eat, to leave them alone, but it was so much harder than he was certain he could manage. He only felt okay eating the leftovers, which he still could not allow them to throw away. That was normal. That was safe. It was a great relief they allowed him this at the very least.

Scar tried to avoid Cub for the most part. Partially an attempted gesture of respect; Scar really did want to let him have his space, but partially, much more so, Scar was just afraid. He found Cub impossibly difficult to read; humans in general were expressive in entirely different ways than catfolk were, but while Cleo at least emoted with their face, Cub didn’t seem to express anything in any way at all. With no ears, tail, or bristling fur, how was Scar supposed to tell if Cub was playing around or serious? Cleo could tell what he was feeling, apparently, but Scar was not her!

Though, some days Scar doubted if Cleo really could tell or not. The past few loops passed in relative quiet, days Scar would describe as more friendly than not, but as this loop started to find its bearings, both humans had gotten more and more irritated with each other. They had always been mean, always combative, and Scar had found himself desperately trying to keep some sort of peace in the past loops, biting one or the other when things went too far, but these days he was afraid to intervene, and if Scar didn’t make himself known, he was never paid any mind.

Scar hated it. He hated how they went out of their way to rile each other up, piss each other off, painfully trying to bait the other into snapping at their throat just so they could fire off the nasty comment they’d thought up while unable to fall asleep. There had yet to be a physical fight in this loop, and violence of that kind was a rarity in general, but after Cub had exploded on Scar, physically violent fights like that were all Scar could think about.

It was not uncommon for Scar to spend his nights worrying as well, fidgety and overgrooming when sleep failed to take him.

There was one night, just him and Cleo in bed, where Scar was horribly anxious, snuggled close, but it wasn’t enough. Everything was too quiet, too cold, not enough people, not enough bodies, they were going to starve, die, and no one would believe him. Cleo had been long asleep, not conscious enough to feel his shallow, panicked breaths.

Cub moved to sit and Scar jolted up so violently he was shocked Cleo wasn’t stirred awake. The two of them stared at each other for a while in the dark, quiet, near silent in that terrible sort of way.

“Are you fine?” Cub had a way of asking that made it clear he did not care. That was Scar’s impression, anyway. He moved to turn on his mic.

“Did I wake you?” Scar muttered, unwilling to shelve his bitterness tonight. He had a lot of reasons to be sad, and plenty more to be angry, but tonight he had little patience for enemies.

“Yes.” A short silence followed the word, distinctly awkward, like Cub was not used to carrying a conversation unless he was playing the role of Insufferable Prick. “Not the mic this time,” Cub amended, as if Scar did not know his two hour panic attack was the source of the disruption. “Thanks for turning it off.” Scar let the quiet linger, decidedly uncaring about how awkward this was for Cub. If he didn’t want to be treated like a child, fine. Scar would take him as he was; foul. Cleo was mean, but at least she had a soul.

Cub was quiet, but Scar’s refusal was more suffocating, so Cub was forced to speak. “Are you upset with me?”

“I feel quite a lot about you, and none of it is good.”

“Hm,” Cub said, nodding, like this made complete sense. “Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright.”

“Mhm.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I do. I’m unpleasant most days.” Before Scar could refute him, he continued, “More than unpleasant more days than most. I know it. Cleo knows it. You stopped pretending you didn’t know it, so here we are.”

“I wasn’t-“ Scar cut himself off with a small growl, not wanting to wake Cleo.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Cub cut in before Scar could continue his denial, also quieter, like he too was reminded of their sleeping companion. “I mean it literally. You called me a child so you could stand to like me, isn’t that true?”

Scar lowered his head, resigned. “Easier to forgive children.”

“I can sympathize with that. To a point. You found that line.”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Why?”

Scar’s whiskers twitched, somewhat incredulous, “What do you mean, why? I hurt you. I did it until you felt trapped enough to attack me, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Cub said, dumbly, “I’m not very nice.”

“You’re not.” Scar huffed, irritation building.

Quiet found the both of them once more, though Scar was not grasping for anything to say. He had nothing for Cub. If Cub had anything for him, he didn’t want it. That didn’t stop Cub from speaking regardless.

“You don’t have to be sorry. I won’t be sorry to you, and I won’t be good, either, so it’s a waste of energy to care.”

“Con grat- ulations. I’m glad your feelings are so easily suppressed, but it doesn’t matter how much of a dick you are, I’ll still feel bad for hurting you, and I’ll still feel sorry. I know you and Cleo have given up niceties, but I can’t. I can’t just be fine with it. Fighting and yelling and shooting each other. I can’t live like that.” Scar ended his sentiment with a snort, burying his chin back on Cleo’s stomach. Her breathing was a small comfort. He was ready to go to sleep now, and was drifting by the time Cub finally responded, pulling him back.

“I am very tired a lot of the time. It takes a certain amount of effort to be civil, an effort I haven’t put forward in a long, long time, and after I got sick.. forget it. It matters very little what I do, Scar. I can be nice, but they know what I am. They know I’m different, it’s unsettling, just little things that set people off, that catch their eye, and whether or not I put forth the effort, I will not find community. I’ve lived enough life to know it, and I would like to tell you that it does not bother me, but I would not be telling the truth. So I stop caring. I take my life into my own hands. I control myself, and what people choose to do with that man is their own business. But people can’t hurt you if you don’t put yourself out there in the first place, only you can hurt you, and that’s how I ended up here, sick and more tired than I was before. I’ve forgotten how to try in the first place, and I am not motivated enough to relearn it. I only have five more years to live. Very little point. Cleo feels similarly.”

“That’s not what she told me.”

Cub’s world seemed to stop spinning.

He straightened, at full attention, eyes fuller than Scar had ever seen on him. “What? What did they say to you?” Scar considered Cub, considered the attention, the emotion in his voice that he couldn’t quite place. ‘So I stop caring.’ If that was really a human ability, Scar did not think Cub possessed it.

“Some loops ago, a while by now. She shot you for something you’d said and regretted it. She thinks she’s worse to you than you are to her-“

“She’s not.”

“It doesn’t matter who is or isn’t more of an asshole,” Scar cut back in, tail thumping against the bed, “I told them I don’t like when you guys get like that. I don’t. I really don’t like it. They told me they don’t like it either. They don’t like acting that way, being mad at you, and I don’t have to guess to know they don’t like all the flack you throw at every opportunity that presents itself. I doubt you like it when she does the same to you, no matter what you say about not caring. And I hate it!”

“Quiet,” Cub hissed, in panic more than anger, “You’re going to wake her.”

“Maybe I should. They can tell you themself.”

“No.” The breath was short, terrified. Then slowly, solemnly, Cub’s stiff posture slackened, and he laid back down, resigned. He was quiet a long many moments, and maybe Cub sensed Scar was staring him down in the dark, because he shifted positions, turning away. “Nothing to be done,” he mumbled.

Scar could have killed him for that. Again, he found himself shaking, overcome by his previous anxieties, new anger, and an all encompassing, crushing homesickness.

“I hate you. I hate you. I hate it here, I hate it, I can’t do this- I can’t live like this, I just want to go home. I don’t- I won’t have anything to bring back with me, I’ll have to face them with nothing, and still it’s better than being here.” Scar turned off his mic. Cub didn’t need to hear his sniffling in high definition, he didn’t care afterall, there was nothing to be done. He wanted Cleo. He wanted Mumbo. He wanted his mom, what he’d give to be held by her one last time, to never take that touch for granted, that love, deep and unconditional in a world where the conditions everywhere else were impossibly high, where he’d never be enough to Try for.

He had to get up. He had to get out of here. He had to find the place he and Mumbo had blown a hole in the side of the ship, Mumbo was still there, Mumbo was waiting for him, and Scar had to get back before it was too late.

“Scar, where are you going?”

Scar did not answer him. Dutifully, he exited the safe room through the right door, the one that would lead him back to the destroyed wall. They called it ‘Scar’s room’ now, the humans did. His room. The place he’d broken in, the place he fell flat on his face after every reset. Funny, that was. Ironic, almost. He was always falling short, wasn’t he.

Scar found the place where the hole should have been; it was easy to find, perfectly easy, this was exactly where he stood on each reset afterall. Pathetically, he collapsed against the wall, sliding to sit as close to home as he could ever be in this place. He cried to it, like a kitten to a closed door. It was closed, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t open for him again, and still he sat, head thunked against the unyielding cold. He just wanted to go home.

The left door opened, and Scar did not hear it. Something approached, and with his face pressed against the wall, Scar did not see it. A hand touched his shoulder, and as he’d always responded: fight, he whirled around in adrenaline fueled terror, claws raking through the stomach and legs of his attacker.

Cub stumbled back with a yelp and fell on his ass, arms shaking slightly with the effort of holding himself up at an awkward angle. For a moment Cub stared dumbly, shirt, pants, and skin newly torn, and Scar fixed him with a snarling glare before pushing his muzzle back into the wall. If Cub wanted to watch him cry, then let him. If Cub felt bad, then Scar hoped he’d feel worse.

Cub did not speak, so it was easy to pretend he was not there. Moderately easy at least. Occasionally Cub would shuffle around, Scar’s ear would swivel toward the noise, and Cub would cease, stilling for as many minutes as he deemed necessary for it to be safe to move again. This cycle repeated several times until Scar’s fur prickled at the sense of closeness, not good or bad, just there, and again Cub stilled, like even a deep enough breath would shatter Scar, or more likely, set him off, leaving one dead and very maimed Cub behind. The more Scar thought about it, the more he was sure it was the latter, Cub seeing just how far he could push it before Scar gave in to Cub and Cleo’s game of scream, fight, kill.

Something wet touched the back of Scar’s neck, so unexpected and utterly disconcerting that all the hair at his shoulders stood on end as the Dampness was drawn upward, along with the presence of a face. It withdrew.

Stiffly, Scar turned around, horror fighting with confusion and the residual sadness. He sniffled, struggling to turn his microphone back on.

“Did- Did you-“ Scar broke off, grappling with his hoarse throat, “-fucking- just lick me?”

Cub stared back blankly, tongue poking through his lips. “I thought. That was what I had to do. I had to do it.” Equally deadpan, he continued, “Are you better now.”

Scar gaped at him, and when the wires in his brain reconnected, he threw up his arms, “No!”

“Why not.”

“Why- It’s so- Yours is so wet!”

“Is your mouth not wet. I can answer that. It is wet. I know because you used to lick me constantly. Why do you have such a problem, this is how cats fix each other. I did it.”

“You haven’t done anything.”

“I did. I licked you.”

Scar huffed, deflating. “I guess you did, huh.”

“I did.” Cub preened, Scar snorting a short growl in turn, pushing back into the wall. Briefly, he nibbled on one of his paws, ruffling the area behind his neck where he had been violated.

“Don’t do it again.” Cub did not, but he didn’t move, either, he just sat there, close enough for Scar to feel his presence, to feel his eyes boring into the back of Scar’s head. His ear pinned, but still Cub did not move. “Don’t you have everywhere else you could be right now?” Scar hissed, but as far as he could tell, Cub did not react.

“Would you rather be scratched?”

…

………

“..yes.”

Scar did not say anything else, nor did he need to, Cub starting with the heavy hitters; reaching over his head to get at his forehead, gentle at first near the bridge of his nose, then hard near the top of his head, fucking hell, it was just right, scratching like he was trying to pull Scar’s skin right off, the only way to do it. Scar just about died when Cub worked behind his ear, it was so unfair how effortlessly good he was at this, forget dying, Scar was going straight to heaven when Cub began to massage his scruff.

“I still. Don’t like you.” Scar had to reiterate, just to make sure.

Cub shrugged. “I’ve never been particularly fond of cats. I guess you’re alright.” Scar didn’t bother responding, but apparently Cub wasn’t done, the quiet only lingering a short while before he broke it. “Did you get sick when you were alone? After you ate me.”

Scar was momentarily pulled from his Good Scritches induced daze, confusion twitching his whiskers. “I.. Got sick. Not from you though. Cleo.”

Cub stopped for a moment; speaking, scratching, all of it. “You ate Cleo?” he sounded genuinely stunned, maybe even hurt if the idea wasn’t completely ridiculous.

“A little bit. I stopped after I got sick.”

“Did you throw up?”

Scar’s ear pinned, nose wrinkling distastefully, “At the beginning, yes.”

“What color?”

“I don’t know,” Scar snorted, shaking out his fur, “Dark. I wasn’t studying it. Probably looked a lot like raw meat and other disgusting shit, what’s your problem?”

“Did it look like stars?”

Scar had to turn around to stare, judgment written in every crease of his sour expression. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“I was just wondering.”

“Does your puke have stars in it?”

“Not literally, but yeah, kinda. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten sick like that, but if I did it would have stars. I bet it’d look a lot worse than yours.” Cub paused, seeming to reconsider. “No, actually raw human meat puke is about as bad as it gets.”

“I hate humans. You guys are terrible.”

“Oh, it’s not a human thing. It’s a sculk thing. That’s why I was wondering. I can’t think eating Cleo is much better than eating me, at least, I probably wouldn’t want to eat Cleo with the whole being dead thing. I mean. I guess she wasn’t dead for very long. But depending on whether or not you think she’s really alive or just an animated corpse, it’s.. questionable. I wouldn’t eat them. Objectively though, eating me just isn’t a good idea. I’d bet a lot of money I was probably the one that made you sick unless you got food poisoning, which, still could have been me. I guess I don’t really know anything besides the fact that you threw up.”

“You- You think I got infected?”

Cub stared blankly. “Yep. Well. Maybe. Most likely. I mean, you ate me. That would do it. Sculk’s not very motivated to go anywhere right now, but if you let it in.. I mean, Cleo’s gotten sick once or twice also, it’s not a big deal. I was just curious.”

“Cleo- Cleo ate you?”

Cub pursed his lips, looking no less mild. “..No.”

“But I- I don’t understand. I didn’t- If I see anything sketchy I don’t eat it-”

Cub snorted. “Doesn’t matter for me, bud. I’m sick all over. Don’t let that stop you though. Well. Maybe you should refrain for this loop, this layout is looking pretty good. But otherwise, it takes a couple days to actually get you sick. If you’re looking for a good time with me, these next years are the best hypothetical times to do it. I know we won’t be seeing each other after this, but I guess I just mean you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m sure you’ll be pumped full of every weed killer Earth has at its disposal and won’t be let go until they’re 100% sure you’re clean, so no need to be concerned about bringing anything home.”

Scar had not been all too concerned about bringing sculk home before this, but he certainly was now. Cleo had told him the infection could spread through consumption as well; how had this never occurred to him? He’d known he hadn’t gotten food poisoning.. He stopped eating Cleo just to be safe, but getting sick from food was far more unpleasant, he’d figured he just caught some human disease.

But he’d gotten better, hadn’t he? He wasn’t seriously ill for more than a week. Cleo had said it was pretty obvious if you had sculk sickness; you could see it in your skin, but Scar hadn’t really noticed anything.. then again, he had a coat of fur to hide it. He didn’t remember anything wrong with his waste, but he didn’t spend a lot of time staring at his piss and shit, maybe humans did!

“I don’t think I got your sickness.”

“No?” Cub looked amused, which Scar responded to with a show of teeth and a growl.

“No. I didn’t stay sick. Just got a human bug, then I was fine for weeks.” Scar let his sneer fall when Cub’s sly smile fell to something more attentive.

“Really? Often you become ill for a bit while your body tries to kill the external threat, then things calm down. For a little bit at least, but again, the sculk knows it’s trapped up here, it isn’t in any rush.” Scar valiantly ignored the implications of that, easier when Cub continued, “No symptoms of any kind of sickness afterward? Weakness, aching, a kinda odd internal tingling? Almost like your blood itches, did you feel any of that?”

Scar shrugged, though he was uncertain more than anything. “I don’t think so. Health wise, I don’t think I’ve ever been better. Might’ve been the first time in my whole life I haven’t felt weak and kinda- achey, as you put it.”

“Really?” Cub said, like he’d never heard anything more fascinating. “Well the sculk didn’t do that to you, that’s for certain.”

“I know it wasn’t the sculk.” Scar snapped, but Cub didn’t flinch, still thoughtful.

“Life’s not so easy back home, is it.”

Scar frowned, ear curving back. No, it wasn’t. He didn’t want to talk about it, he never wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t really have the energy to refute it anymore either. He didn’t have to say it outright for the humans to know. His behavior painted a clear enough picture of his past. Cub did not push. He did not have to, Scar spoke freely.

“You do what you can for the kids. They do what they can for their kids if they can even bear to have them. I’m not bringing anyone into the world, that’s for certain. I don’t think- How could you ask a little one to eat when they know you won’t? Kids aren’t stupid, you know. They go and cannibalize each other to cope with it. I have bad genes. I can’t subject anyone else to that.”

Cub stared so blankly at him that Scar was certain he wasn’t going to say anything at all. “That’s fucked.”

“It’s how it is.”

“You really think if you have a kid the other toddlers will eat him? That’s crazy. Do you guys just eat each other all the time?”

“Wh- What- No, you- Where did you- No!”

Cub raised his hands meekly. “I misunderstood. Catfolk do not eat each other.”

“Well- No, we eat the dead. But not anyone still alive, for goodness’ sakes! I have to hope humans aren’t eating each other alive, either!”

“You eat your dead? God damn.”

“You don’t? What- What do you do with them!?”

“Uh, bury them, usually. Well, actually most people get cremated. Loved ones spread the ashes in their favorite places, rituals like that. Cannibalism is very frowned upon, we do not eat each other. Big social taboo.”

“That’s- What a waste!”

Cub laughed, “That’s what I’m saying! I’m not saying that.”

“Clearly you’re not all that fussed about it.”

“I am not considered normal by most human standards. Normal, likable, pleasant in any capacity; they hate me because I’m a threat to the system, Scar. And the crime. They also hate me for the crime, which is fair, I think that’s fair. But so what if I’m a little bit of a freak, that’s my own business.” The way Cub said it suggested he reveled in the idea of making it everyone else’s business, but Scar wasn’t about to say that.

“That’s great,” he said instead, turning back around to let his head thunk back against the wall. As weird and not-quite-unpleasant as this little conversation was, Scar was ready to go back to moping. Astutely, Cub seemed to understand the conversation was over, though he didn’t leave like Scar wished he would. Instead, Cub returned to scratching around his head and shoulders, which Scar begrudgingly accepted. If Cub insisted on being here, he may as well make himself useful. Scar made sure not to look too pleased about it.

“You know,” Cub started speaking, which was a significant downgrade to the silence, though Scar had not yet decided if the unpleasantness of Cub talking to him outweighed the scritchy scratches, “I am learning things about myself tonight, which I hate doing. I’m pretty good at convincing myself I’m all figured out, that there’s never any reason to change, right? But I’m starting to think I might be a bit of a pussy baby. Like a little bit. Not 100% pussy baby status, but y’know. Not as justified as I’d like to be.”

Scar snorted, saying nothing else. Cub didn’t seem to mind.

“I did not come here to apologize to you, I don’t really care about you. I didn’t like upsetting you, not because I’m particularly invested in your well-being, but because it was annoying that you were saying things to me that I didn’t like, and doubling down on those things that I didn’t like kinda pissed me off, so I had to come settle this, come over and tell you why you’re wrong. Because I’m tired. I’m sick, my skin itches under the surface and my organs are cannibalizing themselves, my eyes don’t work, and all the things that are wrong with me will always be wrong with me until I die, so I lot of the time I feel like I’ve earned the right to act however I want to, because no one really gets it, right? No one gets it, no one wants to get it in the name of my own wellbeing, and no one will respect my life for the months I have left when this is over, which, like, fine, that’s fine, I haven’t decided whether or not I’m deserving of any sort of respect.”

Maybe Cub was waiting for a reaction, but Scar didn’t care to give him one, especially because he’d stopped scratching, which was his main concern and the most annoying thing about Cub’s senseless raving.

“I thought I’d get you to understand what it’s like for me. Not so you’d pity me, fuck, but just so you would leave me alone, don’t bring up Cleo or anything else anymore, but then I told you that you’d gotten sculk sickness and you said to me you didn’t notice-”

“I did not catch your stupid alien disease!”

“There is literally no way you did not have it. Anyway, even if my chronic issues are multiplied by a hundred from the symptoms someone would experience in the beginnings of sculk sickness, it is a little unfathomable to me that you just didn’t notice. And then it occurred to me you’ve been on the verge of starving to death your entire life, and on top of that no one back home respects you, but you’re still kinda working on being a good guy, and I was like wow Cub, you’re kind of a pussy baby for throwing a fit over being asked to stop being a dick every time you breathe words-”

“I- That is not true! I am very respected! I’m a hero back home!”

“Didn’t look that way to me. Anyway-”

“Not ‘anyway’! I don’t know about you, but I am perfectly adored on my planet!”

Cub raised an eyebrow, more expressive in his doubt than Scar had ever seen from him, then continued like Scar hadn’t spoken, “Anyway. For the sake of my own self-image, a little bit for Cleo, and not at all for you, I’m willing to give Not Being A Dick All The Time a shot, but I probably won’t do a very good job, and I will not be held accountable for hurting any feelings because I don’t care. I think I can manage to bring the Prick-O-Meter down to.. 80%. That’s probably the best you’re gonna get out of me, and it might be a stretch. I don’t need to tell you I’m a natural born piece of shit, which is to say, severely emotionally stunted. That’s what Cleo says anyway. I’d tell you she’s got some emotional stunt-age going on herself, and honestly, I’ll probably tell her that too if it comes up, but now there’s a 20% chance I won’t. Unless they deserve it. Which they often do. But I can play nice. Lie, that’s a lie, I can not do that, but I can try to do that.”

“That’s.” Scar didn’t really know where to go from there, and honestly, he wasn’t sure he processed 95% of what Cub had even said to him, but. Well. Maybe it was something. Maybe Scar was too tired to comprehend it all right now. “Sure. Great. Keep scratching.”

“Yes, sir.”

Scar closed his eyes under the weight of Cub’s nails, drifting as the touch softened, soon, falling entirely to darkness. It had been a while since he’d fallen asleep like this, sitting up, nowhere near comfortable, but his eyes were so dry and his mind was entirely shot, and moving back to the safe room had not even occurred to him. Apparently it had not occurred to Cub either, the both of them draped over each other when Scar woke later, who knows when, back on fire and limbs stiff, but Cub was still asleep, and Scar did not want to rouse him. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe this reminded him of home.

[soulmuppet]

Brave Zenith

Brave Zenith is a post-fantasy tabletop RPG, set in a world inspired by Brazilian culture and long summer nights playing JRPGs on a pirated PS1. With a set of simple interpretative rules, that focus on player creativity and imagination, explore the ruined world of pastpresent, meet colourful (and deadly) creatures, see the sights of the Second City, partake in delicious Monkey Oil and become an adventurer: ambitious, indebted, BRAVE.  

Choose from 3 unique origins:

Humans - lovers of ideology, probably depressed (and responsible for ending the world). 

Catfolk - cats that walk and talk, lovers of food and hospitality. 

Jellies - wobbly and goofy, unburdened by tradition, possibly delicious.  

Pick one of 6 exciting vocations:

Freelancer - Hit stuff, be strong, wear a cool jacket.

Mixologist - Make up your very own special grog,  get drunk, make friends.

Thief  - Steal stuff, create disguises, leave no locked door behind. 

Magic User - Create spells, manipulate the mists, wear a cool hat! 

Dancer - Feel the secret rhythm of the world, turn your body into a weapon. 

Hunter - Become one with nature, use your poisonous tongue, get a cool pet. 

And face over 10 unique creatures in your adventures:

Capymera - Half capybara, half jabberwocky, 100% monstrous.

Observer - Eldritch sea urchins with laser eyes. Behold their glory.

Mermaids - Kids turned into 4 armed sea creatures, ready to steal your stuff.

Written by Giuliano Roverato. Layout by Tatyane Frankalino. Art by Alex Damaceno and Silva João. Editing by Maik Malik.

[vulcan-moon]

naming all of your dnd/pathfinder characters after crime is a very fun naming scheme btw ahshdjd

dbhdf theyre all catfolk too 😔

it started w felony and misdemeanour, who i named based on a petfinder pic and it just continued from there fjdj im too committed to the bit to ever stop

felony and misdemeanour, my dnd characters, felony is the one i play and misdemeanour is her sister. felony is a cleric, meanie is a paladin. they have,, a lot of family drama going on

then there's perjury for my current pathfinder game, she's a cleric who died during the campaign, came back wrong and absolutely is not processing it. her and another character just went on a road trip and semi left the game for a bit

and my current character forgery (real name identity theft, but dont let anyone know). they're a changeling bard and theyre so so goofy. i got to play them last night and my god. they're one half of a double act with a goblin paladin and theyre so funny

[didyoutrydynamite]

So, is Paladin Jaune similar to the "Short Stack Paladin" from Baal Comics? Also, other than Goblin Reese and Changeling Neo, who else is in his party? Is Neon a Tabaxi, May a Halfling, and Cinder a Tieflin?

Jaune would never! It's not his fault when party members cling to him so they don't have to walk long distances!

As for the full party roster we have:

Jaune Arc: Human Oath of Redemption Paladin

Reese Chloris: Goblin Artillerist Artificer

Neon Katt: Tabaxi Catfolk Kensei Monk

May Zedong: Dark Heritage Half-Elf Gloomstalker Ranger

Cinder Fall: Tiefling Fiend Patron Warlock

Neo Politan: Changeling Arcane Trickster Rogue

Adam Taurus: Minotaur Champion Fighter

Name for the party is still a work in progress, if you have suggestions go for it.

[saintverse]

fernándo and mária espinosa [picrew]

(note: this description will probably not make sense without the knowledge that these two are the parents of a beloved homebrew ttrpg character who lives in a post-apocalyptic alternate earth.)

a bit about these two:

in the starreachers, polyamory is very encouraged, and let's just say these two are quite coveted in that sense, lol. they're in their 40s, which this picrew doesn't demonstrate very well, but i like using it because it's very simplistic, so when i eventually draw them, i can add the detailed features myself. shiloh, their daughter, has lots of parental figures.

notably, i think their three most recurring and relevant partners were a very small incandescent woman named ophelia, a nonbinary catfolk named leto, and a bashful carcinian named mipp.

around the time the apocalypse hit, both of their groups of ancestors were in venezuela, and eventually migrated to the area of the glowing city (hence why they actually survived the apocalypse).

fernándo's side is largely venezuelan, colombian, and panamanian. mária's side is largely venezuelan and méxican american (half of her family lived in the california area a few hundred years ago). random, but her grandmother is black. that's all i've thought up in that area.

on the outside, fernándo seems pretty chill. but if you were to ask him what's on his mind, he would proceed to ramble excessively about his various anxieties. his wife is the only one who can calm his worries and help him relax. he's very devoted to his work.

mária has a very strong personality. she's very outwardly affectionate and emotional, especially in regards to her daughter. she's always fawning over shiloh and pestering her with love. mária is an excellent organizer and has a kind but commanding presence, a presence that has made her an asset to the starreachers, especially socially.

while neither of them have an official high-ranking position, they are loved.

@littlegermanboy - for you!

[xyliaxart]

Ready for Halloween!

My DnD character, Yolotli. I thought it would be hilarious to put her in a tiger halloween costume. Because she’s a weretiger. She could literally just turn into a real tiger.

[spectrechosts]

Necrosis

Oh boy, a new series with all new characters, this is surely not just more of the same- hey what's that series tag?

I'm kidding it is actually about and from the point of view of new characters.

But they're there.

Full Series

Lagakh sighed and rubbed her eyes, returning to the barracks she had set up a command post in. She'd barely slept since they arrived, just in time to protect the city from the undead siege they currently found themselves under.

She took a hefty swig of her coffee, the burning bitterness sharpening her senses.

And then she entered her command post to see Ryse lounging on a bench she had moved into the window's light, and sighed and rubbed her eyes again.

"Ryse, why aren't you defending the gates?" She said, careful not to sound accusatory.

Ryse was of the beastfolk, the cat variety, which led to certain assumptions about her behavior.

Considering they domesticated them, a baffling number of people seemed to think cats were secretly plotting their downfall. Dogs are man's best friend, but cats? If you die your pet cat will eat your body! Isn't that nefarious, and not something that a dog would also do when faced with starvation and the inability to unlatch your door.

So when through some wizardly experiment a bunch of animals were given varying degrees of elevated intelligence and humanoid form but still acted like the animals they had just recently been, people were… wary of the catfolk. The dogs were obviously trustworthy; just look at them running around, tails wagging, happy to do anything you ask. The catfolk weren't doing that, and so clearly were up to something.

Ryse fell more on the large breasted maid with cat ears side of the spectrum than the talking panther that will eat your children one, sporting fur across most of her body and some strange mannerisms but still having humanoid hands to hold a bow with, and this placed her firmly into the ever popular role of the brooding ranger in most people's eyes. Capable of heroism, but only reluctantly, and only for a price.

"Oh, you know me. Didn't feel like it." Ryse hummed.

Lagakh was not most people. Ryse had surely found a thousand little spots she could hole up in and not be found until they had broken the siege, and she had instead decided to place herself directly in the path of the one person who would tell her to get back to work. She wanted to help, she just also wanted to lounge around and have it look like she didn't care.

"Why didn't you feel like it, Ryse?" She asked, moving to pore over her maps. The city was walled, and there was only one gatehouse. Half their party (minus one ranger, now) was guarding it, it was the most vital part of their defense, and if Ryse didn't want to be there she had a reason.

"Too crowded for my tastes. You know I like to work alone." Ryse said, rolling onto her stomach and letting her tail swish about.

"I also know you're one of the most capable archers I've ever met, and that gate needs all the defending we can manage."

"Oh, it has it." She continued. "The wizard and barbarian are having great fun, knee deep in gore. Anything she doesn't blast he cleaves in twain, you'd be hard-pressed to find a duo more suited to turning a crowd into charred viscera."

"Don't sell yourself short, Ryse. I've seen you sink an arrow into the eye of a gryphon in flight, pry your blade between the plates of a suit of armor none of us could even dent to slay the warlord within, you-"

"Are very impressive, I know." The cat smiled, blinking at her slowly. "Against single, high-value targets. Not endless tides of dead."

There it was.

"You find it ill-suited to your talents, then?"

"I have only so many arrows, and no desire to clean corpse gunk from my fur." She shrugged.

"Would you like to help people barricade their homes?"

"Who, me? I'd steal anything not nailed down."

The orc gulped down more coffee. Ryse positively radiated smugness. Like pulling teeth with her, sometimes.

"Do you have a suggestion for what you might find worth your time?"

"Hmmmmm~"

Ryse stalked over to her, leaning over the various maps and plans with a steadying hand on Lagakh's back.

"I'm at least as capable as the paladin at healing. Have her help with the barricades and I'll replace her helping the cleric tend to wounded. She's big enough to make easy work of it, and paladins are trustworthy." She hummed.

"Unlike you?" Lagakh asked, crooking an eyebrow.

"See, you understand."

The cat slinked away, and Lagakh was entranced enough watching her leave to clink her mug off her tusk when she went to finish her coffee.

Ryse glanced back and rolled her eyes.

"Get some sleep, boss. You seem distracted."

[teamarine777]

Can you tell me a little more about Erin and how her being a Half-catfolk affects the storyline if it does at all.

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH MA GAWD

Ok, I have been waiting for someone to ask about shit like this!

Story time!

Tw: Disfigurement

Erin had a childhood similar to Vul's. Raised in poverty, and abandoned at a VERY young age, because her parents couldn't afford to take care of her. A shady government agency found her. Now, it's here I should mention that her demi-human ancestry granted her superior speed and agility to most people. Government agency saw opportunity. They lured her in with promises of food, and safety. So, they took half her face, and used the DNA from the skin cells obtained to clone her a few times. Now, luckily, Vul had a personal vendetta against one of the scientists. When someone takes your arm, you tend to be a little less than curious toward their allies. She didn't find the specific people she was looking for, but while she was ransacking the lab, she found a small girl in a containment chamber with a disfigured face. Vul, having a soft spot for kids in bad situations, took the kid in. A year later, she's been legally adopted, and has a much better life.

[boyakishantriage]

*You wake up disoriented and confused. Last thing you remember you were forced into a portal by a cult. There are 5 creatures next to you. Said creatures were a gnome, a catfolk, a half orc, a drow and a warforged. The gnome wakes up.*

Where am I?

Zeta looks at the group of them, briefcase still in hand as he gets up. "No idea." He summons a cig and lights it with his thumb, taking the smoke in. The British dude looking at them. "Oh fun."

[nightsmudge]

At The Demon Bar, all patrons are welcome as long as they follow the rules and don't cause any trouble. This does include criminals, but plenty of patrons with a good heart come in without fear of getting hurt or robbed due to the bar's strict neutral zone policy. These six are frequent visitors, some of them even lend a hand in enhancing the bar's community and atmosphere.

I cleaned up this page and I'm most of the way through cleaning up the next page, if I have time hopefully I'll be able to post the last two tomorrow

And of course, if you wanna know more about these characters you can read more down below

Rambunctious and chaotic, Felicia’s always up for downing a pint at the bar, beating the crap out of some jerk, or both at the same time (though she has been kicked out a few times for this). She’s a lovable energetic riot with a fierce rage within her thanks to her being half war demon. She's friends with Blain plus two of the members of the bar's staff Karsiffiks and Amaranth. When she's not at the bar or hanging out with friends, she's working at the local mechanic's shop putting her war demon strength to good use.

Blain is a lot more calm reserved than Felicia, mainly because of his night guard job at the town's shopping center. It's tedious and boring work, but it's the closest thing he was able to get for his dream job of being a police officer. Plus him being one quarter ice demon and one quarter shadow demon makes it easy for him to trip up and stop the occasional troublemaking trespasser. Besides coffee, Felicia is his best friend, the two of them being close ever since middle school.

Moppet Felse is a quiet and timid catfolk who works as a tailor. She frequently visits the The Demon Bar to provide her talents on the violin to the bar's electro swing band. She also hosts a small weekly knitting cub during the day when business is slow. She has a very hard time standing up for herself if one of the more dubious patrons tries to mess with her, but just about everyone else agrees that you do not mess with sweet little Moppet.

Talisa is an odd case. She's a chaos demon but her magic can't be controlled directly, instead things tend to just... happen around her. For example every Tuesday poor Quirlos gets smacked by a door if she happens to be around. Besides that, she's a peppy part time worker at The Demon Bar who plays the saxophone in the bar's band if the bouncer Seltic can't play that night.

Rardoqu is a water and poison demon with some hella sick sound mixing skills who got himself a sweet gig in The Demon Bar's band. He loves the Shibuya Punk aesthetic and games from the late 90’s and early Y2K era (think Jet Set Radio, PaRappa the Rapper, or Vib-Ribbon). He mainly plays rhythm games, if there's a vs mode he likes to play against his little brother Kredin, though he usually ends up crushing the poor kid.

The last patron is known as Creepiness or Creepy. He has a real name but he always gets the worst stroke of luck whenever he tries to tell it to someone. It doesn't help that he has a common disorder amongst fear demons known as frozen face syndrome which renders him mute. He also lacks physical limbs, he's only able to pick stuff up or write by manipulating the sleeves of his coat. It really is a shame, he's actually a very nice and friendly guy despite his uncanny appearance.

[fingrmal]

Fingrmal Results

Main Party:

Human

Robot

Doll

f

Porcelain

Magickally animated.

Pony

Unicorn:

male

Royal Guard: Magic Knight that uses telekinesis to use melee weapons with alarming alacrity. This makes his melee attacks and shield blocks depend on INT instead of STR or AGL Unicorns automatically gain INT for half of their stats. Has lesser spells.

Minimal Sun magic, allowing him to do lesser healing and minor wards against evil.

Stronger affinity with Moon and Star.

Star allows him to cast Magic Missile, create a magic barrier, various telekinesis spells, (as opposed to his basic Unicorn telekinesis), along with limited gravity.

Moon allows him see the shadows of night and dreams, and can summon lesser shades. Has a magic spell to increase mental defence, that he always has cast upon himself.

Primary weapon is a Twilight Star. It's a staff with a round metal end, like a broken bring, with five spikes, (one is facing down the handle). The metal is an alloy with mythril and amethyst, making a fantastic magical conductor, while being far stronger than it's apparent flimsy size would allow.

He also carries a hand axe made of meteoric iron that saps the mana from the target. This can kill fey and weaken casters. This mana is channeled into a sunlight enchantment, to banish the darkness.

Has enchanted horseshoes for close combat.

Changeling:

f: Changelings gain half of their stats randomly, but these random stats are moved to a more appropriate place when shifting.

Can turn into other races, but since they are one of the Pony races, they must learn about cultures before they can learn to copy them.

They are much better at copying Pony races.

Mild mental (violet) magic, which includes the ability to abduct and replace, and copy or mimic.

Catfolk

f, Kemonomimi w/ Tail

Catgirls are frequently enslaved, and treated as pets. It has become so common that many of them have been domesticated, no longer wishing to be wild again. They prefer sleeping in lofts, or other vantage points, but will enjoy a bed if there is another warm body in it.

Multiclass Rogue/Oracle

Fungus

Because of a tie, we end up with two characters.

One with two limbs, based off a Goomba.

One Human-sized and shaped, with a wide but shallow crown.

Dragon

[soulmuppet]

Brave Zenith

[Print & PDF]

Brave Zenith is a post-fantasy tabletop RPG, set in a world inspired by Brazilian culture and long summer nights playing JRPGs on a pirated PS1. With a set of simple interpretative rules, that focus on player creativity and imagination, explore the ruined world of pastpresent, meet colourful (and deadly) creatures, see the sights of the Second City, partake in delicious Monkey Oil and become an adventurer: ambitious, indebted, BRAVE.  

Choose from 3 unique origins:

Humans - lovers of ideology, probably depressed (and responsible for ending the world). 

Catfolk - cats that walk and talk, lovers of food and hospitality. 

Jellies - wobbly and goofy, unburdened by tradition, possibly delicious.  

Pick one of 6 exciting vocations:

Freelancer - Hit stuff, be strong, wear a cool jacket.

Mixologist - Make up your very own special grog,  get drunk, make friends.

Thief  - Steal stuff, create disguises, leave no locked door behind. 

Magic User - Create spells, manipulate the mists, wear a cool hat! 

Dancer - Feel the secret rhythm of the world, turn your body into a weapon. 

Hunter - Become one with nature, use your poisonous tongue, get a cool pet. 

And face over 10 unique creatures in your adventures:

Capymera - Half capybara, half jabberwocky, 100% monstrous.

Observer - Eldritch sea urchins with laser eyes. Behold their glory.

Mermaids - Kids turned into 4 armed sea creatures, ready to steal your stuff.

Written by Giuliano Roverato. Layout by Tatyane Frankalino. Art by Alex Damaceno and Silva João. Editing by Maik Malik.