#higher positions within the cult have different robes

[dirtsoilmulch]

i assume the cultists worshipped the old man/clothier before he’s freed from his curse (he acts as the embodiment of cthulhu being possessed by bros skeleton ?.?)

so here’s some concept shit

[mariniacipher]

Gone In Sparks And Light

My gift for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange - this was written for @genderqueer-turtle. I really hope you had a merry Christmas and that you will enjoy this gift! 

Summary:  Looking at an artefact he's stolen from the archaeology lab, Remus finds a way to travel back in time, to a place where he might belong- to the people who could be meant for him.

WC: 3,830

Ships: Remus/Virgil/Logan, ment. Roman/Janus 

Warnings: mentions of resurrecting dead animals 

ao3 

~

Remus leaned over the examining table and fiddled with his microscope to examine the shard of periwinkle glass. There had been runes carved into them, and the archaeology lab was being so possessive over it. Something about him destroying the delicate work. As if he’d ever be so careless with something so delightfully strange!  

He scoffed and let his scalpel run over the glass without leaving even the hint of a mark. “No, I wouldn’t,” he muttered, looking back through the lens of the microscope. He’d stolen it after hearing about the commotion they’d all made- he just had to take a look at it! 

Remus startled as he finally recognized the marks on the glass. Fiddled with the microscope’s lens. Examined the piece of glass again. Cursed. 

His scalpel traced over the last rune in a sequence of antiquated letters and numbers and signs that could’ve come from his own lab, if it wasn’t for the fact that whoever had carved this had gone even farther in the convergence of spatial displacement with interplanar conjuring than he ever did. And he’d already revolutionized the field with his out of the box ideas. 

His hands started shaking where they still traced over a small mark in the glass. A small mistake had been made there that set the equation off, a single line missing to turn it into the very formula he’d dedicated his life to discovering after he got his doctorate. 

And now he was just one line away from finishing it, thanks to whoever it was that had carved the periwinkle glass. A laugh escaped him, hysterical and hopeful and disbelieving, shaking his body and- the noise of this scalpel scratching the glass was almost inaudible, but to Remus’ ears it sounded deafening. 

He’d perfected the formula, he realized a moment later. He’d perfected it! He’d finished his life’s work at 27, all thanks to that mysterious soul, that mysterious carver of periwinkle glass whose body must’ve left a trace of DNA on this glass. Who had to be replicable and revivable. They had to be! 

Remus was ready to take apart the glass and grind it into molecular pieces to enlarge and search through, looking for any trace of DNA he could give the necromancy department and bring them back to life, or get the spectral summoning folks on the case- anything! 

This person, this carver-of-periwinkle-glass, they were the only one who could be his match, in a field filled with industrious dimwits and lazy, narrow-minded geniuses. And this shard of glass could lead him to a person with whom he could share his lab. A person who was actually his match, who knew what they were doing just like he did. 

He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment and murmuring the formula to himself, recognizing the inherent rhythm in it- a spell’s melody. Wrapping his arms around himself, he rocked back in his chair, almost hearing the symphony of magic meeting its capturing, of strings weeping and rejoicing. 

Without noticing, he raised his left hand in the air, as if conducting the magical energy with the scalpel he still held. The tight bracelet around his wrist started to glow, indicating magic to be near him. Remus didn’t notice that though, too focused on repeating the discovery- their shared discovery! After so many years of solitary work, he’d found a worthy partner, perhaps even a potential friend. No matter that time and space had tried to separate them.

He couldn’t imagine what their life had been like, what they had lived like- if they’d been just as lonely, just as severed from the world around them- if they’d wished for a companion just as much as he did. 

His wish, his desire, sent the magic innate to him outward, and the formula gave it a direction. They twisted together and converged to create a beautiful braid of light and sparks, green and dark blue and purple combining with silver thread to hold it all together. It circled in the air, being woven into a circular tapestry that flickered between aether and reality. The silver sparks reflected the light like mirrors, before showing- everything. 

Worlds and universes and planes he’d never imagine before and some he had, so different and bright Remus’ breath stopped as he saw it. 

But he kept repeating the formula, kept thinking of how its creator must’ve lived, and he saw how the silver mirrors showing the growing portal’s destination shifted, narrowing down their focus: First to only showing images of their plane, then to running back in time, then to finally showing him a small village from hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. Remus could almost see himself there, could almost taste the air and feel the breeze and hear the rain that was pattering down from the sky. 

And just as his yearning reached its zenith, the silver sparks started to migrate into the centre of the circular tapestry, moulding and growing it. The portal turned into a single image of the small village, each raindrop glittering silver, framed by a braid of blue, green and purple that bled together at the edges. Remus stopped for a moment to admire it, the breath stolen from his lungs. 

Then he took a running start and jumped through it. 

~ 

Virgil rightened the wool cape over their shoulders and fidgeted with the broad scarf they’d wrapped around their shoulders and head. They were still drenched to the bone, the rain not giving them any hint of reprieve. The wool weighed heavily, damp and disgusting against their skin. Why did the market have to be so far away? They’d left their village when dawn had still been streaking the night sky with pink and purple stripes, to find the parts that Logan claimed he needed. 

Now, hours later, they were weighed down with a heavy bag filled with scrap metal, it was almost dusk and they were more than ready to let their husband hang up the woollen layers they were wearing and detangle their hair to braid it out of their face with warm, calloused hands afterwards. Their tired muscles ached for Logan’s familiar touch, to kiss and hold-

Why was Roman outside?

The rain and the darkness would usually drive him inside, to work on his costumes or his lines, and besides that Roman had been glued to Janus’ side ever since they confessed. And the snake was nothing if not consistent in their distaste for anything that went against their hedonistic desires. Virgil would know, they loved to watch them pout as they were dragged out of their comfort zone by Roman, pretending not to enjoy it, just like Roman pretended to dislike it when Janus forced him to take a break. If it didn’t devolve into them making out half the time, they would’ve even called the couple cute.  

But Roman seemed to be alone out here, and in what had to be a new costume- it was a stark white robe that shone against the drab houses the storm had turned their village into. It went down to their shins, with a similar white shirt underneath, and Virgil cursed under his breath. Light fabric was expensive, and if his friend had gotten in over his head for his creative vision again- 

“Hey, whatcha watchin’ for, hot stuff? You wanna get a piece of this?” The person- not Roman, not at all Roman- grinned, so wide it looked almost painful, shaking his hips in a way that was probably supposed to be suggestive but just let Virgil worry about his thin figure. There was a weird tension in his frame that Virgil couldn’t name. 

They frowned, hauling their bag higher up their arm to cross them before their chest. “I’ve never seen you here before, are you passing through?”  The white robe wasn’t protecting him from the rain at all and Virgil hoped he had friends in town to take him in. 

But the man shook his head. “Yeah, you could say that…,” he paused, before perking up with sudden enthusiasm. “Would you happen to know any scientists?”  

Virgil mouthed the strange word to himself before shaking their head. “No, I’ve never heard of that- what language even is that? I never… you’re not part of a cult, right?” They changed their grip around their bag again, this time to have a sharp piece of metal in arm’s reach. 

“No! I just- wait, let me think how you’d call it… maybe I should have studied history a bit, before- well, too late now.” The stranger hummed to himself. “I’m looking for a person who’s researching magic! Trying to understand and tame it, all that!” 

Virgil sighed. Of course, the maybe-cultist would look for someone of Logan’s profession; they ignored the curiosity the stranger had piqued within themself. “Then come along.” They led the way up their village’s main street and discarded the potential weapon in their bag. “My husband and I’s house is on the edge of town, and I don’t want you to freeze to death because the others think you’re possessed or something.” 

The stranger followed him, an obvious bounce in his step. “Does that happen often? I heard about possession, but never managed to get it right! I called on so many serial killers, you wouldn’t believe- the whole ritual is so disgusting, imagine how it’d look if it actually worked!” The smile on his face was positively gleeful. “Everything I read sounds positively horrid, absolutely gruesome and-” Virgil bit back a grin at the other’s open excitement. It’d been a while since they’d let themself be so excited about the more macabre side of magic. 

“Oh, you should’ve seen the reception at our wedding. I had gotten a bunch of emus and charmed them to come alive again, to carry some drinks. You should’ve seen the faces of the guests, man, it was great. And they were way better at serving the drinks than the chickens Logan wanted-” Virgil cleared their throat, suddenly growing aware of what they’d said. “Just so you know,” they added, grumbling, shoulders hitching up. 

Remus’ grin didn’t soften, but they perked up, finding the other to mirror his own interest in the dirty parts of magic and science. He leaned forward as he caught up to them with an expectant smile. “I do know now,” they said, “but you didn’t mention what spell you used at all! How am I supposed to reanimate my own flock of emus? Let alone my own flock of geese!” The scientist cackled at the idea of unleashing a flock of geese onto the archaeology department. It would be glorious and he had to get back to the present to do it at least once!

Virgil snorted, imagining their own friends’ reaction if they had to cope with a pack of wild geese. “I think you’d be run out of town for that one,” they muttered, but they were unable to hide their smile, small as it might’ve been. 

“Oh, like that hasn’t happened before! Do you know I’ve been banned from a different mall on each of my birthdays since I turned 13?” Remus bounced on his feet, rubbing his hands together as if he were a supervillain about to explain his devious plan, just to do something with them. 

“I’m Remus,” he added, a moment later, “and I’m pretty sure you’ve no idea what a mall is.” 

Virgil shook their head, but they were smiling. “Nah, but like, they can’t be that good, if they’d throw you out.” 

Remus froze, turning distinctly pink. “Okay. If you say so.” It wasn’t like he didn’t know what flirting was; in the monster romance books he secretly read there was a lot of flirting! He just. Hadn’t really ever been on the receiving end of it. But… looking at the stranger and their smile, their eyes shimmering with mirth, he’d really like to learn. 

Virgil cleared their throat, blushing too. The darkness thankfully did its best to hide it. “I’m Virgil,” they said and hoped they could convince Remus to stay a while. “And my husband’s name is Logan- you’ll love him, he’s great. As long as he’s not forcing me into a storm for his experiments, at least.” They chuckled, more fond than bitter. 

Remus nodded eagerly at the reminder of what had brought him here. “You mind telling me about those?” He leaned forward, “I’d love to hear about it.” 

Virgil laughed, “don’t tell me you’re another one of those logicians- I’ve already got enough with Logan and his attempts to anger the spirits.” 

Remus sputtered. “I don’t want to anger them! Just… get to the bottom of them. Are you honestly telling me that you’re happy with just accepting the ways they work? Just like that?” 

“No, I just- c’mon, we’re almost home, talk to Logan about your attempt to get struck by lightning.” But their smile belied the disinterest of Virgil’s words. Just what they needed, really, another person to anger the ones above and below. 

The two of them had arrived at the top of the hill the village stood on and could look below: the cliff coast, steep and jagged, the grey sea crashing against it, with a small cottage standing at its edge. The thatched roof was dark with rain and the garden around it seemed to be filled with herbs and flowers, some of which Remus had only seen in archaeological texts. 

The scientist ran forward as he spotted those, gasping as he cradled the bloom of a dark blue lily that had supposedly been used to dye clothes with its blooms and season potions with the dried leaves. Remus was almost cackling with glee as he imagined what the people at the archaeological department would say if they heard about missing out on this. 

He turned around from where he’d crouched down on the ground to face Virgil, not paying attention to the house. “What’re these?” 

“My mother always called them gunny’s blossoms,” came the reply from behind him, and Remus could see Virgil roll their eyes before turning around and standing up to face the other man- Virgil’s husband, most likely. 

The man was short- shorter than Remus and definitely shorter than his spouse, wearing a too-big woollen coat that probably belonged to Virgil, under which Remus could spot embroidered robes. He could’ve sworn he recognized some of them from either his textbooks or the designs still so popular in churches and temples, but they were covered up by the man’s crossed arms. “And what should I call you?” 

“Remus!” he introduced himself with a bow, exaggerated and clumsy, but he carried it with confidence. “I cannot say how happy I am to meet you- is it right that you are working with making magic make sense? Your spouse mentioned, but- I’ve got to be sure.” 

Logan looked over at Virgil, face creased with confusion. His spouse merely shrugged. “I am working on capturing the powers that be into clear, replicable form, yes. Are you in the field as well?” 

Remus laughed at the question. “In the field, yes- pioneered a good deal, back in-'' he looked around himself as if fearing to be struck by lightning when speaking his breaking of the laws of time and space aloud. “Can I come in? I’d love to talk to you- you both.” He rocked back and forth on his heels; this was the furthest he’d come in making new frien- acquaintances, right now, he reminded himself, even though it hurt- and he was weirdly jittery. Nerves firing and pores excreting sweat. He would’ve been delighted at the grossness had it been any other time. 

But Logan nodded, his curiosity seeming piqued as he exchanged a look with his spouse. There was a new light in his eyes and even though this was the first time Remus saw it, he wanted to keep it there for as long as possible. Judging by the softness that gentled Virgil’s expression, he wasn’t the only one. 

“Of course,” Logan finally said, turning back to the door. “You’re free to pick some gunny’s blossoms if you’d like. We have more than enough.” 

Remus made a high-pitched noise at the back of his throat, grabbing a handful of them and holding them to his nose. It coloured his face blue and Virgil snorted, not as derisive as they’d wanted to. 

“It tingles!” Remus rubbed at the pollen and colour on his face. 

“Yeah, that’ll be the rash you’re about to get,” Virgil smiled, as though they weren’t already reaching for one of the vials attached to their belt. “Lo, do you-” 

“Yes.” Logan already stood next to them with a rag, wetting it with the tincture Virgil had brewed for their husband less than a week before. They both led Remus inside with ease and the scientist would’ve looked around himself if he hadn’t been so focused on the couple now sitting him down on a chair that had to be freed of fabric- “Virgil, you said you’d clear another chair- and what if someone sat here? The magic you embroidered into this would be completely corrupted!” 

“Well, you didn’t notice until now, did you?” Virgil shook their head, “I’ll bet you didn’t eat lunch either. Besides, my magic isn’t so fragile-” 

“-It is nonetheless worthy of protection!”  

Virgil grumbled in reply to that, but Remus could swear there was a redness to their cheeks that couldn’t be attributed to the cold outside. They crossed the room, folding the piece of fabric as they went. 

Remus tried to catch a look at what was painted onto it- were those runes pre-roman?- but Logan stepped into his line of sight, holding the same rag as before, but now it was covered with some kind of liquid. It was kind of sizzling the wool but didn’t seem to burn it. 

“Do not worry, Virgil’s version is only so bubbly because it is more fitted to human skin- I’d know, I’ve got it on me at least twice a week.” Logan smiled, fond and soft and so close. Remus watched him, for the first time in his life completely stunned, as the other man gently wiped off the colour from the flowers. He didn’t even notice how his grip on those still in his hands slackened until a few hit the floor. But the wood was already so stained- from potion accidents, runic accidents and cooking gone wrong- that it didn’t make a real difference. 

“You, ah-” Remus caught his breath, looking Logan straight in the eyes. They were light brown- a mundane colour, but, for the first time, it reminded Remus of amber, of acorns in the summer, of wilderness in a seemingly calm form. But only seemingly, as the house around him proved. “What’re you working on?” 

Logan’s smile grew at that, his eyes shining. “Oh, it’s fascinating- I’m trying my hand at abstraction! You might’ve heard of some magicians in the cities doing it, and I’ll admit their research gave me the base idea, but, looking at their works I’d noticed how contained they all were by only using the written word-” 

“-as they should,” Virgil interrupted, but it bore no heat and only caused Logan to continue, louder and decidedly looking away from his spouse. 

“BUT by applying some runes and numbers to it I started to get much further ahead- I’m just trying some thought experiments now.” 

Remus nodded. “Yes! Are you by any chance working on travelling spells? Because I found some, in-” he rocked back and forth in his chair, fiddling with the flowers’ stems in his hands- “some glass with inscriptions of it, and it led me here when I wished for its creator- I’m from the future, y’see, and I,” he smiled, looking around the house again. Looking at the work desk covered in glass and gems and fragile tools, the corner covered in heaps of fabrics, and thread and needles alongside paints and brushes. Looking at an easel leaning against the construction of glass and metal that looked like a telescope, the tapestries hanging from some walls with painted and embroidered runes, words and old spells. He could spy into another room that was filled with vials and kettles, a chemist’s lab from a long time ago, and he wondered if Virgil’s paints were magic in themselves. 

“You?” Logan asked as Remus was captured by the house around him, curious in a gentle way. Remus melted at it, leaning into the hand still cradling his head, despite the blue from the flowers already being gone. 

“I’m from the future,” he replied, and something crashed in the background as Virgil turned around quicker than light. 

“You’re what?” Their eyes were wide with wonder and they stalked over to them as fast as their legs would take them. 

“You have to tell us everything- you said you were working on abstracting magic too?” Logan started flapping his hands as he thought, and the obvious stim made Remus rock again, elated to find the other man was like him. “Oh, would you work alongside me? I’ve been simply stuck at trying to find a way to define a natural element and-” 

“-oh, the Gregorian Dilemma? I solved that just a few weeks ago, but you, you figured out how to travel through time and space- you have to explain your process!”

“How do you- I was just about to finish my fine-tuned carving of it-” 

Remus nodded- “on periwinkle glass?” 

“Yes, how did you-” 

“- I found it! It’s what led me here in the first place.” 

Logan laughed, stunned and delighted and Remus joined him easily. 

Virgil snorted fondly at the display. “But, Lo, you didn’t hear the most important thing yet- he never summoned a thing- they lost it, apparently, in the future. I have to show you how we do it, you would love it-” 

“-Yes!” Logan exclaimed. “And you’d get to use-” 

“- The new tapestry of luminous elation? I’d thought so too-” 

“- “what, like the spirit,” Remus interrupted, and the spouses easily slid into explaining and inviting, just as Remus started explaining and accepting. The three of them didn’t even notice how the time went by until the food Logan had prepared before started boiling over, and they all hurried to the kitchen to clean up the mess and Remus ate slightly-burnt stew with them like it was normal, the three of them making space on the dinner table. 

Remus put away the periwinkle glass, enlarged thanks to the cloth it’d been placed on, the formula he’d see through a microscope just hours before now easily legible. It was a magic he had never heard of before, and as he asked Virgil explained, interrupted by additions by Logan and Remus alike but always listened to. 

And Remus found himself fitting right in. 

[darkelfshadow]

Session Summary - 98

AKA “The Fallen”

Adventures in Taggriell

Session 98  (Date: 13th November 2020)

Players Present:

- Rob (Known as “Varis”) Elf Male.

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor) Dwarf Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Trenchant”) Human Male.

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male.

- John (Known as “Ragnar”) Dwarf Male.

Absent Players

- Nil

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by Travis>

Summary

- Moonday, 15th Desnus in the year 815 (Second Era). Summer.

- The party begin this session, having just arrived at Kranun’s Crater, observing a small group of Orcs seated around a campfire and a large group of Dragon Cultists.

- The five Orcs appeared relaxed and unconcerned. The Cultists however appeared alert and focused. A purple robed female officer, sits atop a muscular looking Wyvern.

- This must be Ixusaxa Terrorsong that the party were informed of. The rest of the Cultists are lead by a Dragonsoul, two Dragonfangs, and twelve Dragonwings. Two Guard Drakes are pulling a cart with a large barrel on it.

- Trenchant uses magic to change the appearance of the party to that of a group of Orcs and their Direwolves. They approach the Orcs on “guard” around the camp fire and demand to be let in to join. The Orcs refuse and unsure of what to do at this situation, send one of them away to get further help.

- This unusual occurrence, the squabbling by two different Orc Tribes, the Burning Banner and the Red Fangs (the Tribal name chosen by Trenchant) intrigues Ixusaxa. To her knowledge the Burning Banner lead by the Orog Narle Shieldbiter, is the only Tribe around these parts. Ixusaxa’s suspicions grow when thinking what she knows about the Red Fangs of Shargaas. Worshippers of Shargaas, the Orc God of darkness, stealthiness, thievery and the necromancy.

- A group such as this, appearing now, fells wrong to Ixusaxa. She flies her faithful Wyvern closer to observe the disturbance. She attempts to cast a Detect Magic spell, but then one of the new Orcs starts jumping about and screaming. Her spell is countered! Furious, knowing no mere Orc could do this, she flies her Wyvern closer still, landing on one the larger rock formations closet to these new Orcs. Trenchant eyes her carefully, as it was his disguised and hidden performance, that countered her spell.

- The party, all still disguised as Red Fang Orcs, move closer to the camp and Orcs, whilst another group of Orcs appears from an unseen hole in the ground. Now ten Orcs stand and challeng the disguised party. Trenchant, is now engaged in a one on one heated exchange, versus one of the new Orcs, a large commander.

- During this exchange, Ixusaxa once again casts Detect Magic and sees to her alarm and surprise the bright glow of multiple magic sources covering these new “Orcs”, and in particular a extremely bright glow coming from the head of one “Orc”. Unknown to Ixusaxa this glow is coming from the powerful artefact of the Black Dragon Mask worn by Sir Krondor.

- Ixusaxa immediately launches her Wyvern into the air shouting, “A trap! Kill them all ….”

- But before she can finish her command, a single expertly aimed arrow plunges into her heart. Her lifeless body then falls to the ground, as a satisfied looking Varis slightly loweres his bow, admiring his shot.

- Mayhem brakes out. Quickly Trenchant casts a Mass Suggestion spell on all the Orcs and luckily or by the grace of the gods, all the Orcs succumb to the Spell. The party, still disguised as Orcs, now have all the real Orcs under their control to fight for them against the Cult. The Cult now just sees a large group of Orcs all turn on them, and start to attack.

- The battle is now on. Dragonwing Enforcers leap from rocky boulder to rocky boulder, keeping cover, until they can get into position to attack. The Dragonsoul and Dragonfangs, leap forward and immediately start throwing Orbs of Acid at the Orcs, real Orcs and disguised party alike.

- The Guard Drakes bite off the leather harness attaching them to the cart and then begin to race around the side of the combat and towards the far side.

- The enraged Wyvern begins attacking indiscriminately, its poisonous stinger proving deadly and killing Orc after Orc.

- The party move forward, engaging the Dragon Enforcers one by one. Blade, arrow and spell dropping foe after foe whilst the party ignore any injuries received.

- The air around the battle changes, the sound dimming, almost as in fear. A form emerges from the hole in the ground, slowly and without any care of the enemies or battle around it. Shrouded in a full plate armour, with a purple cloak flowing behind it, as if moving from unseen winds. The head of the figure is fully covered in a metal helm, but two red glowing points of light emerge where the eyes should be.

- A deep voice, filled with anger and vengeance, and a confidence born of absolute devotion and power sounds from the helm, “My faith is my armour.” Glowing sigils appear all over the armour, and the air around the figure appears to bend and warp, affecting light itself.

- The figure holds out its right hand, black mist appearing from its hand as the mist begins condensing into a large great sword. The deep voice speaks again, “My sword cuts down the unfaithful.”

- With a slow assured gait, moving onwards, like a river that pushes aside all in its path, the figure moves towards Gim. The red glowing eyes lock onto Gim, the figure raising its great sword up as if in a mock salute to Gim who is disguised as an Orc, and the voice speaks one final time, “By the will of Tiamat. I serve.” The red eyes seem to stare directly at Gim, seeing him for true, past the illusion.

- Sweat starts to pour down Gim’s face, looking at this thing approach him.

- Those words, somehow the words are familiar to others in the party. Trenchant, Labarett and Sir Krondor look over to at the new figure, terror at the sight of it but also something about those words sends shivers down their spines. All three have heard words spoken before, long ago, similar words but different. The memory eludes them yet it scares them to their core.

- Fear extends from the new figure, affecting those around it.

- Gim raises his great sword up but before he can even think to block, the figure moves, faster than it seems possible. The dark great sword held in the figure’s hand, black mist swirling around it, moves with a blur. The blade strikes again and again, cutting into Gim, and with each strike a flash of purple light erupted from the Divine Smite.

- Gim’s head reels as he is brought down to his knees from the force of the blows. Regaining his senses, he leapes up and swings his enchanted great sword Narhethi at the figure in plate mail but the blade is turned aside at the last second by some arcane shielding surrounding the figure. With more determination, Gim pushes on, his great sword swinging into the figure with all his might. This time the blade strikes true and hits the helmet of foe with full force. Gim watches with satisfaction as the helmet cracks and then shatters into purple light and mist, exposing the “head” within. A dark mist, formed into the shape of head, with two red pulses orbs for the eyes, stares back at Gim.

- Ragnar’s skin crawls as he realises what stands before them. He shouts out a warning to Gim, “That’s a Fallen Paladin! A vessel for a God! A Champion Of Tiamat!”

- Gim, stepping slightly back, shouts back in anger, “His armour is stopping my sword’s power!”

- Trenchant moving closer, shouts, “The armour glows with sigils whenever you strike it! It must be warded from magic.”

- Sir Krondor, climbing over some rocks to get to his cousin, shouts, “Then we do this the old fashioned way!”

- The battle continues. Chaos and destruction rages. Trenchant calls upon his most powerful magics, creating a Stinking Cloud upon the battle to keep a large portion of the Dragonwing Enforcers out of the battle, and animating to life a number of rocks and boulders to smash into their foes.

- Gim bravely stands his ground versus the Champion Of Tiamat but he can not match the power inflicted by the Fallen Paladin. He is soon knocked to the ground, bleeding to death. Sir Krondor, enraged by the sight of his cousin laying on the ground, rushes up to the Champion and fights the foe. Labarett too has joined the battle, climbing into a higher position on the rocks and attacks the Champion. The Champion turns his attention to Labarett next and begins inflicting serious injury upon the raging Barbarian.

- Varis rains arrows into the battle, each expertly placed, his assassin training kicking in. Naillae, staying back, rushes forward, throws a well placed and well need dagger, before quickly retreating back to safety near Varis.

- Ragnar too is casting spells, inflicting damage upon the enemies and creating a swathe of destruction and death on the battlefield.

- Just as Sir Krondor and Labarett think they have gotten the upper hand on the Champion, their concentrated attacks having dealt enormous damage on the Champion, their hope turns to despair when they see the Champion heal himself when he places one of his hands onto his chest, and use the divine power of Lay On Hands.

- Sir Krondor, sweat and blood pouring down his scared faced and into his beard, looks at the dying unconscious body of his cousin Gim. He swings his battle axe in a threatening manner at the Champion, speaking in a deadly voice, “Labarett, get to Gim and spare his life. This son of bitch is mine!” and then the Dwarf Knight leaps into ferocious battle.

- The Wyvern, having flown over to the abandoned cart and having taken a firm hold of the barrel, is now flying away from the battle in the direction of Phlan. Trenchant launches himself into the air, enchanted with the power of Flight, and starts to head towards the Wyvern until he hears a shout from Varis.

- “Leave the Wyvern to me, Trenchant. Do something about that dam Champion before he kills everyone!” shouts Varis.

- Trenchant watches the Wyvern fly away as Varis aims his bow at the creature. Trenchant flies straight down towards the Champion his arms outstretched.

- Naillae, crouched down behind a small boulder, sees what Trenchant is doing and stands up in shock, “What is he doing? Is he trying to lift that armoured warrior into the sky!”

- Trenchant reaches the Champion and then attempts to grab onto the foe.

- Varis quickly rushes over to Naillae, “Don’t worry about that idiot, worry about us!” As he says this, two Guard Drakes leap towards Naillae and Varis, and force the pair into close combat.

- Trenchant slips behind the unaware Champion and places both his arms around the torso of the foe and then immediately flies upwards into the air. The Champion, taken completely unaware, tries to free himself but can not. Once Trenchant has gained some height, he tries to let go of his cargo, and the Champion realises too late the danger he is in. He slips from Trenchant’s grasp and falls to the ground, to smash into the ground with a sickening crash of broken metal. The Champion falls directly into the Stinking Cloud that Trenchant summoned before, and is unable to raise, the enchanted area affecting him.

- Within the Cloud is now the Champion and a handful of Dragonwing Enforcers. Ragnar hurls a Fireball into the Cloud, indiscriminately burning everything within. Trenchant too directs his animated rocks and boulders to smash into everything within the Cloud. Dragonwing Enforcers are blasted away by fire and rocks and the Champion too, already badly wounded, is finally destroyed. With a blast of force, the Champion explodes in a purple flash, his armour and weapon dissolving back into mist. The wave of force dissolves the Stinking Cloud.

- The party now mop up the remaining enemy forces. The fleeing Wyvern is killed by Varis’s arrows, but in the process the barrel it was carrying was dropped to the ground, smashing it open and losing all it’s silvery liquid to the dirt.

- The party pause and catch their breath, regrouping. Gim is brought back to unconscious with some of his wounds healed thanks to a healing spell by Labarett. Slowly, the party walk past the scene of devastation, past the dozens of dead bodies, and make their way to the edge of the crater to look down.

- The massive crater descends about two hundred feet below, a set of stone steps spiralling around the inside wall the entire way down. Two ledges can be seen set into the wall, one close to the top and one half way down. A massive open entrance can be seen near the bottom of the crater, with a wide stone ladder leading to it. A stone building is visible on the floor of the crater, set within small shrubs and the broken ground. A series of stone pillars form circle on the crater floor but it appears that a recent impact has destroyed one of the pillars and formed a small indentation within the crater. This indentation has a small quantity of silvery liquid still visible, but it would appear from the discoloured earth that at some stage the entire indentation had been filled with the liquid.

<And as the badly injured party contemplate how to proceed, whether through the dark hole that the enemy forces came from, or to descend into the crater, that is the end of the session.>

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- “Stolen Radiance” - Recover the barrel safely from the Cult = FAIL

Creatures Overcome

- Orcs = 500 XP

- Orc Berserkers = 600 XP

- Orc Commanders = 2200 XP

- Ixusaxa Terrorsong (Cult Officer) = 2300 XP

- Wyvern = 2300 XP

- Guard Drakes = 900 XP

- Dragonsoul (4th Rank Enforcer) = 2900 XP

- Dragonfangs (3rd rank Enforcer) = 3600 XP

- Dragonwings (2nd rank Enforcer) = 5400 XP

- Champion Of Tiamat (Fallen Paladin) = 3900 XP

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

Nil

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start +  Received = Total  (Notes)

Rob : 127249 + 3186 = 130435

Arthur : 101707 + 3186 = 104893

John : 97276 + 3186 = 100462 (Level up to Level 12)

Travis : 116899 + 3186 = 120085 (Level up to Level 13)

Paul : 106382 + 3186 = 109568

Bob : 117540 + 3186 = 120726 (Level up to Level 13)

NPC (Naillae) : + (1593)

[twisted-leader-of-something]

Background Information - The Cult of Mana/Blot

So, basically these guys are villians in two of my OC's Personal Stories, most notably for Das Mana-Alvah and Quentin Nighy-Sallow, that later bleeds into the main story. And, my god, I didn't realize how much I had in my head about this cult til I actually wrote it down. So, here, have a whole page of information on this cult.

Base credit because my stupid ass deleted my original photos and I honestly had no energy to re-draw it so I used a base: https://www.deviantart.com/dogplss/art/Female-Outfit-Design-Base-F2U-442331266 

https://www.deviantart.com/dogplss/art/Male-Outfit-Design-Base-F2U-442323426

Edit: My stupid ass forgot to put a cut. Sorry guys.

Offical Logo:

Common Symbol Used to Represent the Cult (The Unofficial Symbol): 

Offical Name: The Gathering of the Glourious One (official name by the group), the Faith of Mana (more general name used by outsiders, mandated by the group), Manaism (offical name for scholars) 

Other Names it is Known As: The Cult of Mana, The Cult of Blot, Mana's Sect, Those Creepy Guys in Black Robes, The Dark Religion [as in, it's the religion you shouldn't mess with] (mostly used by the older people), The Worst Religion (according to some people). 

Status: Active

Type: Destructive Apocalyptic 

Structure: Meetings conducted by a member of or mandated by the Blot-XXX family that teach the doctrine of the cult that are mostly in private places. 

Class System: The Blot-XXX family also known as the Speakers of Mana (the leaders of the Cult) - the people mandated by the Blot-XXX family also known as the Apostles of the Speakers (these are often locals mandated by the head family in an area or people really close to the Blot-XXX family) - the Record Keepers of an certain area also known as the Scribes of Mana - the Treasurers and Donatiors of an certain area also known as the Creditors of Mana - The Cult's Police Force also known as Mana's Protectors - and the average person called a Follower of Mana (this is the majority of people who aren't in the leadership roles)

Main Headquarters: Remote parts of the Delightful Harbor 

Founder: Corentin Blot-XXX (Deceased)

Notable Members: The Blot-XXX and the Alvah Family 

History: Scholars don't have an exact time when the Cult was founded as according to several sources it is possible they've been around for as long as magic has been, while others say this cult is a recent development in Twisted Wonderland's history. But most agree that the cult is pretty old. The Cult's official statement is that it came about by a man named Corentin Blot-XXX, who lived about the time magic became popularized and received a divine revelation that Blot or Mana was meant to save Twisted Wonderland from its' doom. [Now, what that means is up to interpretation as Corentin did not ever elaborate on what he meant by 'save Twisted Wonderland' and the Blot-XXX family seems to not care about answering that question either.] so he created a religious organization that was meant to save the people of Twisted Wonderland by doing crazy stuff to your magical abilities without Overblotting. Which, was considered okay by most governments despite the really crazy and dangerous shit they did to themselves like magic rituals to get as much Blot as possible and keep it, using Blot for really stupid and dangerous reasons, and the list goes on. Most governments let the cult be in the open because well, the group wasn't doing anything illegal and they had religious reasons for their crazy shit. As, it was a religion. And religion does really crazy shit in the name of their gods. Eventually though, an undercover anonymous medical team managed to get into the cult and gained a lot of insight into the minds of the leaders of the cult, the damage it was doing to the people in the religion, and the conditions to live in that religion and released to the public the cult's body count of people who had died of their exposure to lots of Mana, people being kept prisoners as the cult's 'scientists and researchers' who were assumed dead, and the terrible living conditions a person had to put up with unless you where an Aposlte or Speaker. And almost hours after the pages and pages of gruesome information was leaked, the governments of Twisted Wonderland banned the Cult for these activities, and would try to arrest any and all members of the leadership of the cult. Which got of good portion of the leadership at the time before they where forced into hiding in order to continue their mission. After the dust settled, the Cult had to competely change their tactic of getting people into the cult, so they made the World Blot Research Society, a more public and scholarly setting that was meant to lure people into the cult but eventually became it's own thing because of so many none members joining in. 

Current State: The Cult currently makes up a decent number of the population of Twisted Wonderland and is mostly found in the Land of Pyroxene or the Delightful Harbor in small, secluded areas that often look like tightly-woven Christian towns that most people say have really creepy vibes coming from them. The Blot-XXX family is located in a high class area of the Delightful Harbor, and are ruling the cult with an iron grip, or the least the Main family does.

Ways to Spot one of the Cult Members: These cult members often wear the eye in their logo somewhere on their body, it can be tattooed or a piece of jewelry, but more often than not it is on their clothes in some shape or form. The people are mostly keep in hidden places, since the group has been banned in most if not all countries for kidnappings and bad living conditions. 

The Eye:

- Cult Outfits/Roles - 

Followers: These are most of the population of the cult, as it is hard to move up in ranks due to competition and because the systems of moving up is very strict and hard to actually pull off. These people can have normal jobs such as being a doctor or a janitor, but the normal jobs are considered lower in their society due to it being an theocracy. But, these people seem pretty cheerful overall despite a range of diseases and strange happenings.

Outfits are not customizable unless you are a beastman, and are cheaply made. Often with cheap cotton.

Protectors: These are basically the police of the society. While this is a normal job most societies need, this is the equivalent of the religious police as well as being the normal police as well. Decently regrended job because of how much control they have over people despite being so low on the hierarchy, and often really mistreated by the upper classes due to how much power the group has.  

The Alvah family is in this category. 

Outfits are customizable depending on species and area and ranking within the police force, which follows military personnel ranks.

Creditors: These are basically the once rich people of the society. While they live the same as the Followers, they wear clothes that stand out as looking similar to those in higher ranks, which they are allowed to do because they donate huge amounts of money to the cult. Other than a change in clothing and attitude, not much is different between this group and the followers.

Outfit can be customized very little, and are often made by the Creditors themselves to imidate the Speakers.

Treasurers: These are the secretaries of the Record Keepers, Apostles and Speakers. It used to be just people who where truly Treasurers, but the role has evolved into just a high rank member's secertaries. These people often have better living conditions than those below due to the higher ranks giving them better conditions in exchange for their hard work.

These are customizable to show who to the person serves as a secertary, and often are really well made compared to the lower classes, and are custom made by this class as well. 

Record Keepers: These are the people who are considered the scribes or record keepers of an area. These people often are also scholars, and highly regarded by society for their knowledge despite more often than not these people heavily depend on the Apostles and Speakers for their knowledge, as they can only get it from those two groups. This is the highest possible rank the average person in the cult can get. Have good living conditions, noticeably better than the Creditors, Protectors, and Followers and somewhat better than the Treasurers. 

Outfits are of really good quality and can be sold on a normal market for scraps. 

Apostles: These are mostly families and people who have been in the Cult for a long time, and are considered the closest thing the society has to the nobleman class. These are the people closest to the Blot-XXX family, or are in the social circle. They have leadership roles in the area they are in, and are well respected for their religious duties, despite this class often looking down upon the lower classes. 

These outfits are often the ones assicated with the cult, as the medical team caught mostly pictures of this group of people. Hugely customizable based on area and rank in the social circle, which depend how close you are to the Blot-XXX family. 

Speakers: These are exclusively for members of the Blot-XXX family. As, the family is considered the closest to Mana, despite the family not really believing in what their ancestor preached. Most members use their positions of authority for getting money or favors from the people free, and some don't do their job at all. Despite the family's lack of care for their duty, the members of the cult are really brainwashed so they will do anything this family says.

These outfit are very customizable. They really vary from individual to individual, but usually that makes it easier to identify the person. 

Other Things to Note: 

- Matriarchal society

- Super Transphobic, which is actually how lots of people leave the cult

- The rankings of the Apostles go by closeness to the Blot-XXX family, and while it is more or less something that the classes, it's still really present and important with the Apostle class. It's an unspoken thing. 

[theowlandthekey]

We Don’t Need Covens: In This Essay I Will...

I'm a big fan of Sarah Anne Lawless. I never got the opportunity to speak with her personally, but for those of you who've been around long enough, you likely know about her blog discussing traditional witchcraft and her shop. I often found her posts to be inspirational, providing a unique clarity on subjects that most books skip over. To this day her belladonna ointment is one of the few things that can make my wife's back spasms stop.

Unfortunately both her blog and her shop have closed up. All I can find are interviews with her. In a very broad sense, Lawless came out about abuse and manipulation within the pagan community. She named names and instead of addressing the problems and having an open discussion about it, she was harassed until she backed off.

It upset me at the time in a very distant sense. As I said I never knew her, but I admired her passion and the certainty with which she practiced her craft. Though it's now long after the fact, I finally think I have the ability to put my thoughts into words.

We don't need covens. We never did.

I've been practicing off and on for about fifteen years or so. I've played around with different methods of witchcraft, wicca, and pagan worship. I've been the member of a druid grove, a loose coven association, and even a few on-line groups that claim to do all their spell casting via chat. In the end, I've found them all to be much the same. They promise a great deal and frankly fall short of everything from education to community.

I'm likely going to upset quite a few people with this statement. That's fine. You shouldn't trust anybody who thinks they can tell you your business. But for what it's worth, take a moment to read this over. If something here strikes you as familiar, it might be time to consider another path.

IQuick Note: I know there is a lot of grey area as to what could be considered a witch. You have pagans, heathens, wiccans and the like. Some are comfortable being called witches while others are not. But the connotation changes depending upon each individuals definition. So let's look at witches as people who, for whatever reason, have decided to intentionally avoid Christianity in favor of practicing a personal path of self-realization and independence involving magic, spells, enchantments and the like.

Cult Mentality

First thing you ought to consider is the potential for manipulation and control that exists in any group. This is especially true whenever matters of religion and faith are concerned. It's a touchy subject, no doubt. People are particular about religious practices. For my part, I maintain that witchcraft isn't a religion or a faith. It's a craft. But that doesn't change the fact that people will use religion as a method for controlling others. Especially others who are hungry to fit in with a group that they feel represents them. For this very reason, I firmly believe that witches should avoid becoming a congregation of any kind. Too many of us think of witchcraft as a religion, and while you can play pretend all you like most of us were raised Christian and still have difficulty shaking off the mimicry of organized religion. Our power is in our independence and our ability to think for ourselves, and it becomes much more difficult to do this when you form yourselves into a coven.

Respect My Authority

On that note, you can't form a group without some kind of a hierarchy making itself apparent. I have a strong distaste for covens who create arbitrary titles. They're largely meaningless. You don't really need a high priestess or an archdruid to go around wearing robes with more trim than everybody else. It's just an excuse for someone to hold themselves higher and make decisions without consulting anyone. You'll often find that people who hold these kinds of titles become very upset when someone disagrees with them and find ways to flex their authority in a 'funny' or 'joking' way. Basically telling others that if you disagree with them then you don't need to be there. This comes off especially hard on people who may be new to the craft and are still seeking approval.

Calling Ourselves Out

As sexual abuse allegations are on the rise, we have a duty to be aware of people within our community who put others in danger. We have heard it said that 'while not all priests are abusers, abusers tend to gravitate towards positions of authority'. This is no less true just because those leaders are witches and not priests. You don't get a Free Pass. Covens and groves all seem to want that central authority figure to which they can turn to. We tend to protect them because these people act as a spokesperson for us as a whole. But this does not mean they should be protected if they behave reprehensibly! They are not above the law and if we really want to present ourselves as being different from Christians, we should take a stance of pushing out people who are abusers and manipulators.

But here's the thing. We seem to have this self-righteous indignation that comes with being witches and pagans. Any questioning or perceived threats, especially ones that come from outside the community, are deemed as being biased because of Christian society. While this isn't entirely untrue, it also has a problematic effect on us wearing a permanent set of rose-tinted glasses whenever we look at the pagan community and it's 'stars'. Instead of seeing them as human beings with flaws, we view them as celebrities. We avoid using critical thinking skills when someone in the community comes up against criticism and it can end up damaging our reputation as a whole.

Witch n’ Bitch

While this is one of the most obvious issues with modern witchcraft groups, it is far from the bottom of the cauldron. While many groups come together promising to provide resources for education, help learning rituals and practices, and open discussions, I find that very few of them ever deliver on these promises. I've joined more than a few witchcraft 'study groups' only to have them disband after a few sessions for one reason or another. Others have sessions which quickly get derailed from methods and history into a bitching session about over covens, daily drama, or the like. Instead of helping interested parties by providing resources and discussion, it basically becomes a witches tea party. Brooms are snatched.

Exclusion By Design

Something else I want to bring up is the exclusion by design if not by intention concept that plagues covens. I have seen this manifest in more ways then I can count. Most typically it crops up in the form of “you're not experienced enough in our particular tradition”. However, I've noticed a lot of problems with most pagan groups being painfully white. The excuse is that this makes sense because most witchcraft traditions are European. However, that doesn't seem to stop most witches from liberally grabbing whatever non-European cultural paraphernalia they feel fits their witchy aesthetic. The most notable victims being the American Indians, the Voodoo/Santeria practitioners, and Mexican folk beliefs. I've been told by several people that this isn't on purpose. It's just how it ended up. But when you have to triple check everybody on a Norse Heathen group chat to be sure none of them have any racist ideology there is an inherent problem with the community which is long overdue for exposure.

Queer Craft

I’d like to bring up the patriarchal and hetero-normative slant that is heavily enforced in modern witchcraft and neopaganism. I want to preface this by saying that when I think of a witch, I think of a woman who lives apart from societal norms. She is autonomous. She is self-aware. She is unruffled by others perceptions of her. This is what makes her a force to be reckoned with. Yet much of wicca and neopaganism strives to enforce a very heteronormative perception of a woman's role in society by establishing the narrative of the Maiden/Mother/Crone archetype. While there is beauty in each of these phases of life and there is nothing wrong with a woman finding power in them for herself, enforcing them as a role model for what a woman should be has dangerous implications. A woman must be a virgin, reproductive, or too old to bother with. And it should come as no surprise that concepts have no real male counterpart.

This becomes an even bigger problem as we look forward to a more inclusive world where we are learning to recognize a larger spectrum of gender and sexuality. Where does the Queer witch fit in with these very narrow perceptions of the divine within the self? The pagan community loves to talk about itself as an accepting and open community that embraces all sexualities openly. But that isn't very well reflected in its liturgy and conception. I don't think this gets discussed much because people have heralded the God/Goddess, Horned God/Earth Goddess format for so long that we take it for granted despite these perceptions being relatively modern ones. While there are some traditions which put emphasis on the Queer spectrum and embracing it as a source of power and self-realization, they are few and far between.

Psudo Ethics

The final thing I want to bring up is the irritating moral high-ground that people in the pagan community are so willing to put forth any time we are questioned about our beliefs. It is just as irritating if not more so than listening to Christians proselytize. The Wiccan Rede has held a position for a long time as a general set of standards for what witches and wiccans should consider before acting or casting spells. However, I'm pleasantly surprised to see more of a discussion happening on morality in witchcraft. We don't exist to turn the other cheek. While I'm not a believer in the 'strike first' policy, I am a believer in defending myself when attacked.

I see a lot of judgment happening in the wiccan community, especially now that witchery is in the forefront of social media. People poking their noses into how others practice and deciding to take it upon themselves to 'correct' how another practitioner does their work. I understand why some people want to pursue a more positive and affirming lifestyle through wiccan practices. There is nothing wrong with that. But I confess myself irritated when I'm chided by other witches for casting a curse or have a discussion with a demon. My prerogatives are not your moral imperative, nor are any other witches. So long as my actions are not directed against you, it isn't any of your business what I get up to.

In Conclusion

Ironically, one of the biggest issue with discussing if not resolving many of these issues is that we, as witches/pagans and the like, are NOT a unified group. We are a loose collective. We don't have one central figure who decides doctrine. We don't have any of those things that make for dogma. The fact that we can choose to act independently of one another is a big part of our power. It emboldens us to think for ourselves, question tradition, and seek out new methods and practices which are better suited to our needs. Witchcraft does not begin and end with the anathema and the chalice. We can choose to both acknowledge the gods without permitting them too much influence over our lives. We can dance naked under the full moon while enticing a demon or just make a hot cup of tea while we listen to the rain and meditate. All of this is within our grasp.

But before we can practice together, we have to learn how to function together. And right now I don't' see a great deal of that happening. I believe that by learning how to be ourselves first, by practicing as solitary and independent witches before seeing out a group, we can be more confident overall. After fifteen years of practicing, I can tell you truthfully that I haven't learned anything in a group that I couldn't have learned by studying and practicing on my own. Mostly because 90% of the groups out there read the same damned books I do and are more into repetitive ritual than anything else. I would have loved to work with someone like Sarah Anne Lawless, even just to attend a few workshops led by her. Until we can learn to be better individuals as witches first, I don't know if our community can be better together.

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

Roy Rogers' Revival Could Thrust it Again into the Nationwide Highlight

http://tinyurl.com/yy48wb89 Whereas Burger King devises new methods to troll McDonald’s, Roy Rogers eating places are fortunately preaching “Household Values. Household Enterprise.” The short-service restaurant chain recognized for quarter-pound cheeseburgers, roast beef sandwiches, fried rooster, and an infinite “Fixin’s Bar” is on the comeback path. After years spent in a state of perpetual fast-food free fall, a model that after dominated the East Coast informal eating scene with over 600 areas is reminding America there’s energy in nostalgic eating experiences. With 48 areas and plans to return to beforehand vacated areas similar to Lengthy Island, N.Y., the timing for a resurgence couldn’t be higher. In October 2018, the Facilities for Illness Management and Prevention (CDC) launched a report from the Nationwide Well being and Vitamin Examination Survey that discovered throughout a three-year interval from 2013 to 2016, nearly 37% of U.S. adults—an estimated 84.eight million individuals—ate quick meals on any given day. Survey outcomes additionally revealed that the share of adults who consumed quick meals decreased with age, with 44.9% of adults ages 20 to 39 reporting they ate quick on any given day versus 37.7% amongst adults ages 40 to 59, and 24.1% amongst adults ages 60 and over. What’s Outdated Is New Once more With quick-service institutions firmly intertwined within the material of on a regular basis American life, and a technology of younger diners looking out for economical eating choices, a enterprise that celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2018 is poised to interrupt out of regional cult standing and again into the nationwide highlight. Nevertheless, for these whose childhood didn’t embody dipping Holster Fries into small paper cups stuffed with horseradish sauce, the sentimental enchantment of a fast-food chain could be misplaced till you notice how a loyal fan base saved a beloved home of nourishment from extinction. As an alternative of including stroopwafel shakes and meatless burgers to its menu, Roy Rogers Eating places stayed related by embracing traditional dishes. Followers affectionately consult with the menu of fried rooster, roast beef, and burgers because the “holy trio.” The restaurant’s capacity to make all three crowd favorites is one thing different chains have but to grasp. Baked beans, mashed potatoes, and creamed chipped beef and biscuits are a few of the sides and breakfast gadgets you’ll discover on this menu. Nevertheless, probably the most recognizable function and one that may trigger a riot if it have been ever eliminated, is Roy’s Fixin’s Bar. Put in within the 1970s, what began as a normal salad bar changed into one providing prospects an limitless quantity of toppings to decorate their sandwiches. On the time, the concept prospects might personalize meals by selecting their very own quantity of limitless pickles, onions, and different toppings was revolutionary. The daring transfer inspired the concept each member of the household might discover one thing she or he appreciated right here. The Roy Rogers Fixin’s Bar presents limitless toppings for sandwiches. Courtesy of C. Kurt Holter/Roy Rogers Now, in an age the place many fast-casual spots cost further for toppings or present a paltry quantity, the thought of limitless free toppings is much more interesting. “If trendy on-line search habits have taught us something, individuals seek for what they crave,” says David “Rev” Ciancio, a B2B hospitality marketer and burger fanatic whose credit embody launching New York Burger Week. Trying to find meals is one thing followers of Roy Rogers are acquainted with—primarily as a result of a very good portion of the chain’s areas are at roadside relaxation stops. “The Gold Rush Hen Sandwich is my go-to rest-stop meals,” says longtime buyer Mike Barlettano. Fueling up on meals throughout highway journeys at roadside meals courts could not all the time seem in Instagram pictures, however the willingness to embrace native tradition regardless of the place they’re positioned has all the time made Roy Rogers Eating places a real cowboy within the fast-food business. “Happily, many who noticed Roy Rogers disappear from their native communities have been reassured of its continued existence due to our long-standing presence in lots of journey plazas all through the Mid-Atlantic,” says Jim Plamondon, co-owner of the Roy Rogers Franchise Co. “Seeing the Roy Rogers emblem alongside highways and at these services and having the chance to proceed having fun with their favorites from our menu stored the fires burning within the hearts of our followers.” A Hero’s Origin Story Naturally, there’s an origin story that is smart of a western-themed restaurant chain changing into legendary within the Mid-Atlantic area. Whereas variations of the unique Colonel Harland Sanders have persistently made appearances in KFC commercials all through the years, discovering somebody who remembers an precise Roy Rogers Eating places commercial starring Roy Rogers could be harder. The late actor and singer, seeking to change into concerned in eating places, licensed his identify to the Marriott Corp. in 1968, as certainly one of Marriott’s board members had a connection to the star’s agent. Marriott was desirous about increasing its rising restaurant enterprise, however its acquisition of RoBee’s Home of Beef proved to incite an precise beef with Arby’s, who claimed trademark infringement. Marriott shortly adopted the Roy Rogers moniker to exchange RoBee’s with the intention to resolve the authorized dispute. Nevertheless, exterior of occasional commercials and private appearances, the actor didn’t have a direct impression on enterprise selections. These fell into the arms of people like Pete Plamondon Sr., whose sons Jim and Pete Jr. at the moment are main the model’s resurgence. “My household—together with myself, my brother, Pete Plamondon Jr., and our father, Pete Plamondon Sr.—has been affiliated with Roy Rogers from day one, again in 1968,” says Jim Plamondon. “At the moment, our dad was an government at Marriott Company, and he performed an integral position within the launch of the Roy Rogers model.” Robbie Willis, a check kitchen and coaching retailer supervisor on the Roy Rogers in Frederick, Md., slices roast beef. Courtesy of Roy Rogers In 1982, Roy Rogers expanded its presence all through the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic when Marriott acquired and transformed Nationwide Soccer League Corridor of Famer Gino Marchetti’s eating places, Gino’s. All through the last decade, the model continued to develop. Nevertheless, the identical ways that led to the restaurant’s enlargement finally led to its decline. In 1990, Marriott determined to exit the restaurant enterprise and sold Roy Rogers to Hardee’s for $365 million. All through the 1990s, many Roy Rogers areas have been changed into Hardee’s, whereas others have been offered to operators who turned them into McDonald’s and Wendy’s, amongst different fast-food operations. “The brand new homeowners’ plans for his or her acquisition, nonetheless, didn’t contain sustaining or strengthening the Roy Rogers model,” Jim Plamondon says. “Moderately, they supposed to transform all of them to Hardee’s eating places. However when that technique failed, they opted to dump or shut many areas, leaving a skeletal and poorly supported Roy Rogers chain within the wake.” An endangered species by the early 2000s, the corporate—below the steering of the Plamondon household—purchased out the Roy Rogers model and rights to franchise it from Hardee’s in 2002. The corporate spent the following decade specializing in build up its corporate-owned areas earlier than providing franchise alternatives a number of years in the past. Cal Ripken Jr. at Roy Rogers as a part of its 50th anniversary marketing campaign. Courtesy of Roy Rogers Whereas the menu could not have modified a lot, the model has been refreshed in different methods. The addition of Wi-Fi, communal tables, and upgraded decor at varied areas has helped deliver Roy Rogers Eating places in control with the expectations of at this time’s prospects. Because it did over 50 years in the past, the corporate partnered with one other nationwide icon—this time baseball legend Cal Ripken Jr.—to advertise its enterprise. Although the corporate is using a optimistic wave in the interim, it should proceed to innovate with the intention to maintain its loyal fan base appeased. “When customers uncover a enterprise by means of on-line search or suggestions, they then jump over to social media to see what the model is about and what the meals is like,” Ciancio says. “Whereas social media is a lagging indicator of curiosity, offering an superior expertise socially offers confidence that an superior expertise is available in shops.” Extra must-read tales from Fortune: —To fight meals waste, these Brooklyn companies teamed as much as brew bagel beer —Toronto is dwelling to a thriving Syrian food scene —Acclaimed chef Thomas Keller on fine dining and eating ‘local’ —Fauna in Mexico’s Valle de Guadalupe is serving classic dishes better than anywhere else —Hearken to our new audio briefing, Fortune 500 Daily Follow Fortune on Flipboard to remain up-to-date on the most recent information and evaluation. Source link