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noel-the-hagfish · 3 months ago

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I used AI to generate a story about a hagfish superhero

In the quiet, moonlit waters of the Pacific Ocean, a solitary creature stirred. It was a hagfish, ancient and ugly, with a slithering body and a pair of rasping teeth. Its eyes, small and beady, searched the darkness with an eerie focus. Most would find it grotesque, but tonight, it was anything but.

This particular hagfish had a secret. It wasn't like the others that scoured the ocean floor for carrion. No, it had a purpose that was far more noble than its fellows could ever imagine. When the ocean was in trouble, when creatures were in danger, it transformed into something else entirely. A hero, shrouded in a cloak of slime.

The hagfish felt a disturbance in the water, a ripple of fear that seemed to emanate from the very core of the ocean itself. It sensed that its unique abilities were needed. The creature began to swim with a newfound urgency, the rhythmic pulsations of its body propelling it through the water at a surprising speed. The darkness of the deep was no match for its heightened senses. It could feel the panic of the smaller fish, the desperate flailing of the trapped sea life, and it knew where to go.

As it approached the source of the disturbance, the hagfish felt its body change. The slime glands along its sides began to bulge, and a tingling sensation washed over it. With a flick of its tail, it released a thick cloud of slime, which surrounded it in an instant. The slime grew denser, wrapping around it like a cocoon, and in a flash of light that pierced the deep-sea gloom, it transformed. The creature emerged from the slime, no longer a simple hagfish but a being of pure, glistening heroism.

It was Slimehero, protector of the deep. Its body was now a sleek, muscular form that gleamed with an inner light. The slime that once coated it now served as a living armor, shifting and flowing as it moved, leaving a trail of bioluminescence in its wake. The teeth remained, but now they were sharp and gleaming, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene creature. Slimehero surveyed the area, its eyes now large and piercing, searching for the source of the trouble.

The ocean grew tense as the whispers of its presence spread. Schools of fish parted to let it pass, and even the fiercest predators held their breath. It was a beacon of hope in the otherwise unforgiving abyss. As it neared the disturbance, the water grew warmer and the pressure mounted. It was a volcanic vent, bubbling with superheated water and deadly gases.

A group of trapped dolphins, their sleek forms entangled in a mass of discarded fishing nets, sent out a desperate sonar cry for help. The nets had been thrown into the depths by careless humans, and now, they clung to the vent, ensnared by the unyielding mesh. The vent's eruptions threatened to boil them alive. Slimehero's heart raced as it honed in on the distress signal. The stakes were high, and the clock was ticking.

With a grace that belied its former life as a scavenger, Slimehero darted towards the vent. The slime armor protected it from the scalding water, allowing it to glide through the superheated currents with ease. The dolphins' eyes grew wide with astonishment as the gleaming figure approached. Their fear turned to hope as they recognized the hero that had come to their rescue before.

The nets were a tangled mess, but Slimehero's slime was more than just a defense mechanism. It was also a tool, versatile and powerful. The hero began to extrude long, slimy tendrils from its body, reaching out to the struggling dolphins. The slime adhered to the nets, its sticky embrace beginning to dissolve the synthetic fibers. The nets quivered and loosened, giving the trapped animals a chance to wiggle free.

The dolphins, sensing their impending rescue, began to work with Slimehero. They nudged and pushed against the slime-covered mesh, their powerful flukes helping to tear the material apart. The water around them grew murky with the mixing of slime and ash from the vent, but they didn't falter. The stakes were high, and they knew that Slimehero had their backs.

As the nets gave way, one by one, the dolphins managed to slip through the gaps, their bodies scarred but their spirits unbroken. They gathered around Slimehero, nuzzling it in gratitude. The hero's slime armor began to recede, the bioluminescence fading as the tension in the water dissipated. The creature looked around, ensuring that all were safe. The last dolphin, a young calf with a particularly tight snare, was still struggling.

The calf's mother hovered anxiously nearby, her eyes filled with fear and desperation. Slimehero approached gently, its body now back to its natural state. The mother trusted the hagfish implicitly, allowing it to come close to her precious offspring. The hagfish's slime glands pulsed once more, and a fresh blob of slime shot out, wrapping the calf's fin in a soothing embrace. It worked tirelessly, using its teeth to carefully cut through the rope without harming the delicate skin beneath.

The calf quivered with fear and pain, but it too knew that Slimehero was there to help. The slime began to work its magic, softening the rope until it was no more than a frayed piece of thread. With a final snip, the rope fell away, and the calf was free. The mother and calf swam in a tight circle around Slimehero, their clicks and squeaks a symphony of relief and gratitude. The hero felt a warmth spread through its cold, eel-like body, a feeling it had come to cherish during its many rescues.

But the danger was not over yet. The vent was growing more unstable by the second. The ground beneath them trembled, and the water churned violently. The dolphins knew that they had to move, and fast. Slimehero, its slime now depleted, transformed back into its hagfish form and led the way out of the perilous area. Its newfound friends followed closely, their sonar guiding them through the murky water.

As they swam away from the volcanic maw, the calf's mother nudged Slimehero in thanks. The hagfish felt a strange kinship with these intelligent mammals. It had always been an outcast among its own kind, but here, it was accepted and appreciated. The dolphins had no idea that their savior was once reviled, known only for its gruesome feeding habits. But Slimehero didn't care. It had found its purpose, and it was content.

The journey to safety was fraught with challenges. The ocean currents grew erratic, and the pressure from the vent was increasing. The water was a tumultuous mix of heat and cold, making it difficult to navigate. But Slimehero's instincts were sharp, honed by a lifetime of surviving in the deep. It knew every hidden crevice and dark corner of the abyssal plain.

The dolphins stuck close, their trust in the hagfish unwavering. As they swam, they communicated with one another in a series of clicks and whistles, sharing their fears and their hope. Slimehero understood none of their language, but it felt the urgency in their sounds, the bond of kinship in their movements. It was a strange and beautiful alliance, one that had formed in the face of danger.

Finally, they reached the safety of a nearby trench, the calming shadow of its steep walls providing a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. The mother dolphin nudged her calf towards Slimehero, who was already transforming back into its slimy hero form. The little one looked up at its savior with wide, curious eyes, and the hero leaned down, touching the calf's snout gently with its own. The mother watched, her fear replaced by a look of profound gratitude.

The tremors grew more intense, and the water around them began to boil. It was time to move, and fast. Slimehero took the lead, its bioluminescence casting a reassuring glow in the inky darkness. The dolphins swam in a V-formation around it, using their superior speed to guide the group away from the volatile vent. The calf stuck close to its mother's side, looking back frequently at its unlikely hero.

As they gained distance from the vent, the water grew cooler, and the pressure began to ease. The dolphins' sonar grew less frantic, their movements more fluid. The mother dolphin took a moment to inspect her calf, her eyes scanning its tiny body for injuries. Finding none, she let out a series of soft, relieved clicks. The calf responded with a high-pitched squeal, a sound that echoed through the trench and seemed to say, "Thank you."

The group swam for hours, following the steady glow of Slimehero's slime trail. The trench walls rose high above them, offering a stark reminder of the vastness of the ocean. The hagfish felt its energy waning, but it pushed on, driven by a fierce determination to ensure the dolphins' safety. They had come to rely on it, and it would not fail them.

As they reached the trench's exit, the water grew brighter. The distant glow of the ocean's surface hinted at a world above, a world of light and air. The dolphins grew more energetic, their spirits lifted by the promise of escape. The calf, now fully recovered, began to playfully leap and twirl in the water, mimicking Slimehero's graceful movements.

The trench opened up into a vast underwater canyon, teeming with life. The dolphins led the way through the maze of rock formations, their sonar painting a vivid picture of the world around them. Slimehero, still in its heroic form, marveled at the beauty of the coral reefs and the myriad of colors that danced in the water. It had never ventured so far from the abyssal plains before.

The canyon grew wider, and the water grew clearer. The group swam alongside a school of neon-lit fish, their scales shimmering in the faint light that filtered down from the surface. The dolphins played with the fish, their laughter-like calls bouncing off the canyon walls. The calf, feeling adventurous, swam up to Slimehero and mirrored its movements, weaving through the kaleidoscopic sea life.

As they ascended, the pressure on Slimehero's body began to lessen, and it felt its slime armor slowly dissolving into the water. The transformation was taking its toll, but the hagfish pushed through the weariness. It knew that it had to return to its true form before reaching the surface. The world above was not meant for heroes like it.

The dolphins sensed the change in their leader and slowed their pace, allowing Slimehero to keep up. They had come to trust the creature implicitly, their fear replaced by a deep respect. The hagfish felt a pang of sadness as the glow of its slime faded away, revealing its true, unassuming self once more. Yet, the bond formed in the depths remained unbroken.

As they approached the surface, the light grew brighter, and the water warmer. The dolphins grew more exuberant, leaping and spinning in joyous abandon. The calf, feeling the excitement of its first adventure, mimicked their graceful acrobatics. Slimehero, now just a simple hagfish, watched with a gentle smile, its beady eyes reflecting the joy of the moment.

The surface grew closer, and the waves above grew more distinct. The dolphins grew quiet, their sonar replaced by the rhythmic pulse of the ocean's heartbeat. They knew the danger of the world above, the world that had created the nets that had once ensnared them. Yet, they also knew that Slimehero had come from those very depths and had saved them from the abyss.

As they broke through the surface, the light was blinding. The calf's eyes squinted in the sudden brightness, and the mother dolphin's dorsal fin sliced through the water, creating a spray of droplets that shimmered like diamonds. Slimehero felt the warmth of the sun for the first time, a stark contrast to the cold embrace of the deep. The air was filled with the salty tang of the sea, mixed with the sweet scent of life above the waves.

The dolphins took one last look at their unlikely ally, the hagfish now just a shadowy form in the water below. They knew that this was where they had to part ways. The calf, feeling bold, leaped out of the water, landing with a splash that sent ripples across the calm surface. The mother nudged it gently, reminding it of the danger that lurked above. But the calf was undeterred, its newfound freedom a heady feeling that could not be contained.

Slimehero, now back to its unassuming self, felt the pull of the deep. The weight of the water above grew lighter, and the cold embrace of the abyss called to it. With a silent nod to the dolphins, it began to swim back down, its body undulating in the water like a serpent made of shadows. The dolphins watched it go, their eyes filled with a mix of admiration and curiosity.

As the hagfish descended, the light faded, and the pressure grew. It was home, a place where it understood the rules and the dangers. The trench walls closed in around it, and the neon lights of the deep-sea creatures grew more distant. The calf, feeling a strange kinship with the hero, watched it disappear into the blackness with a sense of awe.

The dolphins swam away, leaving the hagfish to its solitary life. But the calf often thought of Slimehero, the strange creature that had saved it from the abyss. It shared the tale with others in its pod, and the legend grew. Stories of a slimy guardian that could transform into a being of light were passed down through generations, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times.

Meanwhile, Slimehero continued its solitary vigil, patrolling the deep, waiting for the next call for help. Its life had become a cycle of scavenging and heroism, a dual existence that it cherished. The ocean was vast, but the hagfish had found its place within it, a silent sentinel that watched over the creatures that lived in its shadow.

#hagfish #superhero #short story #ai generated

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thebellekeys · 3 years ago

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parts of some classic lit that hit different for me

“Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.”

- the iconic piece on books and morality from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you, God forgive you!

- the “you are in every line I have ever read” tyrade in Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, an initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns.

- the whole opening of Lolita by Vladimir Nabakov

My great miseries in this world have been Heathcliff's miseries, and I watched and felt each from the beginning: my great thought in living is himself. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger: I should not seem a part of it. My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff! He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being.

- Catherine’s confession about Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.

- Darcy admitting the big truth to Lizzy in Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss. I see the lives for which I lay down my life, peaceful, useful, prosperous and happy. I see that I hold a sanctuary in their hearts, and in the hearts of their descendants, generations hence. It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.

- Sydney Carton’s last words (*crying*) in A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

You cling so tightly to your purity, my lad! How terrified you are of sullying your hands. Well, go ahead then, stay pure! What good will it do, and why even bother coming here among us? Purity is a concept of fakirs and friars. But you, the intellectuals, the bourgeois anarchists, you invoke purity as your rationalization for doing nothing. Do nothing, don’t move, wrap your arms tight around your body, put on your gloves. As for myself, my hands are dirty. I have plunged my arms up to the elbows in excrement and blood. And what else should one do? Do you suppose that it is possible to govern innocently?

- Hoederer being a realistic bad bitch, that’s what, in Les Mains Sales by Jean-Paul Sartre

I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.

The “they were careless people” realization in The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

‘Hateful day when I received life!' I exclaimed in agony. 'Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust? God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a filthy type of yours, more horrid even from the very resemlance. Satan had his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and abhorred.'

Frankenstein’s monster’s teenage angst in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, PHOEBE! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF SALOME.

Admin Rosey: This was incredibly difficult. Both applications were stunning and shined in the limelight - but there were these small details, Phoebe, that you included that had us absolutely captivated. Salome, I think, is a difficult character to encompass so wholly while not overlooking the details. But you managed to do that, to tie her all together while not putting her in a package. The application was such a joy to read from beginning to end - the way that you tied so many different characters into her, into her future. It was an absolute thrill to read because I was able to see so much while still being tantalized by possibilities. I can’t wait to see how Salome shines on the dash! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Phoebe

Age | 22

Personal Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | Pretty active (6/10?) due to a national lockdown, but I’m a postgrad student so some days are busier than others.

Timezone | GMT

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the group? | I check out the ‘new rpg’ tag a few times a year & your graphics and then everything drew me in

Current/Past RP Accounts | Masha Vetrova @ ProchnostRPG

IN CHARACTER

Character | SALOME

What drew you to this character? | Typically I tend to go for characters who have a fundamental moral alignment of ‘good’ (even if it’s been a bit corrupted) so at first I was really drawn to Gabriel/Abaddon/Isolde. I even brainstormed them a bit before moving onto the demon bios.

But then I read Salome’s bio, and I really couldn’t get her out of my mind. There is something so delicious about her, so dastardly poetic. In a way, she’s as pure of heart as many morally good characters - patient, steadfast, true to herself. It’s just that her heart is a blackened one. A nature so rotted that even eternal damnation in Hell’s Abyss was not enough. The only fitting destiny was a demonic one, and the wings tore out of her body as if they’d been there, dormant, all along.

I know the story of Salome (thanks Oscar Wilde) & I just adore the way in which the bio weaves the biblical story into this world and this character. Salome the Temptress, unflinching as she demands the head of John the Baptist and damns all around her to Hell. This one line in particular from Rosey really, really captured it all for me:

No, the minute her mortal heart stopped beating and she opened her eyes to the fires of Hell, there was only laughter to be heard – pouring from her lips as melodic as a lark’s song, a stark contrast to the wailing and grinding of teeth.

Salome feels young and charming and spoiled and light and warm and content and this image - her descending into Hell, disrupting it with her peals of laughter - sums it all up. She is arrogant and uninhibited with her sins plain for all to see. But she is also clever. She is a girl who dances with the dead; demon through and through. She lets them openly see it so that they do not think to look closer. For if they did, surely they would see Salome was more damned than they’d ever envisioned? See that the open delight she projects - the laughter and fevered dancing, - all distract from a mind capable of cold, calm strategy? See that her hands are beautiful because they are stained with the first blood of this new world?

…All of which is to say that Salome the Temptress has worked that tempting magic of hers on me too - hook, line and sinker.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | If it serves your guys’ plotting vision then absolutely! I’d just ask to write the death scene/have some say in the way it went down. (The person killing her off better be prepared for the fight of their lives).

FUTURE PLOT IDEAS

• (small) PLEASURES •

Grand plans and power grabs are all very well, but day to day (on the dash lol) Salome is ruled by small pleasures and indulgences. What was the point of forging this new world if not to luxuriate in it?

01. I’m very curious to see how her relations with all the other demons play out. Salome is by and large a solitary creature - the natural result of her arrogance - but I think there are some demons she favours more than others. I could see a potential friendship (or the lesser version of that bond) with ORIAS, for one. There were those who saw something akin to witchcraft in Salome too. There had been envy, when Orias was hailed the Original Witch, but even Salome has come to recognise the ungodly power that resides in them. They are one of the only creatures that Salome has any real respect for. She understands that there is value to learn in what Orias can teach.They call them the false prophet - it seems poetic that Salome is drawn to her. (So ! Much ! Potential ! Witchy ! Power !)

02. So too can I imagine Salome having a particular curiosity towards MAMMON. Hungry and dark and empty, Mammon is probably Salome’s demonic ideal. With mortal origins herself, they represent a different kind of demon – one she thinks is utterly beautiful. Their future ambitions could align, both with a deep, aching appetites, but I can also see her purely enjoying the unique company of them. Salome does not treat her ability with any real respect or caution; she sees the dead as a game. think she’d genuinely delight in Mammon mimicking her gift and the amusements that could follow. (Ok not to say I’m suggesting deal body party games but it’s very that)

03. Salome gets equal pleasure (if not a great deal more) from less-than-friendly relations. She pushes purely because other people’s irritation amuses her. I think her relationship with AZAZEL in particular could be very, very fun. Of all the demons, I can see Salome having a particularly petty dislike / jealousy of Azazel for a few many reasons.. A) they are both products of indulgence, daughters of parents (literally and figuratively) who spoiled them rotten. Similarities repel and all that. B) Azazel is part of the de facto royal family, favoured by JUDAS.. and DAMIEN .. and ABADDON .. and Salome has not ever handled that well. She watched on as they, along with the rest of hell, fell for her and thus a time-old grudge was born. C) Azazel forms part of the Holy Land’s rulership. A land that was won because of Salome (in her mind) and one she feels has rights of ownership too. I imagine that Salome genuinely despises that the role was given to Azazel of all demons. I - I just sense so many great opportunities for both bickering and battling.

04. Salome draws great pleasure from her own magnetism. Devotion has followed her throughout the stages of her life, but it too has come to wax and wane. It is there in BASTIEN though, and it’s one of the connections I’m most excited for. He satisfies her addiction, and in return she is both doting and cruel. There is some value in him politically, bu it’i more of a .. personal connection. That could change though. Or, perhaps a genuine fondness might develop, in the same way that other celestial beings seem to be fond of their animal companions. A muted form of possessiveness over his gaze and his wonderment (which may well manifest in Salome having a particular resentment towards EVANGELINE) . If he were to share out his devotion, or if it was curtailed by any harm coming to Bastien himself, Salome would not be happy. Perhaps his attentions have come to somewhat satiate her appetite and tentatively restrains her darkest needs - a fact that neither of them have realised. (!!!!!)

• (medium) OPPORTUNITIES •

05. There are some things she keeps to herself - at least for now. There’s a lot of potential for self-paras or connections with the wider RP plot. To me, Salome has something akin to true addiction inside of her. It was there from the moment of her mortal birth, and it worsened with each hit. Essentially, I think an inescapable plot point is that Salome is a lil’ bit bloodthirsty. I think this would largely be developed through my own musings and mortals who are just ‘extras’ to this RP, but I’d love to deal with the intricacies of Salome having to cover this habit. Maybe she continues to use others as scapegoats; maybe she chooses her victims with careful attention so that they go unnoticed; maybe she does it in such a way that implies the presence of a beast or daemonium.

( In fact, the concept of the DAEMONIUM is verrrrrrrrrry intriguing. Creates who inhabit corpses and do nothing but feed their hunger? Sounds like a character I know. This is a potential plot point that relies on your guys’ vision and some collaborative world-building, but I think there is definitely exciting potential to explore these creatures through Salome. Imagine the carnage of her trying (successfully or unsuccessfully) to out-possess them.)

06. I think Salome would take any opportunity to poison Infernum’s highest-ranking. This isn’t so much be her political ‘end-goal’, but an opportunity for some real entertainment. It would be a game, try and crack the kinship that exists among AZAZEL, JUDAS, DAMIEN and ABADDON; injecting a few words here, a few doubts there, and see if their loyalty lasts.. She knows Judas from a past life and has watched him oh so carefully overtheir many entwined centuries - I imagine she is a gnat to him, pushing all the right (and thus wrong) buttons. It would a sport to try and make his familial dynasty crumble. Perhaps she might attempt this by throwing doubt on to Abaddon in particular, whose aura contains a flatness that Salome cannot read. Salome doesn’t know of the goodness that lies in her, but perhaps she might find out. Regardless, I think Salome’s worst imaginable fate would be being locked in the Black Cells, unable to dance and revel in the world, so she harbours dislike for Abaddon anyway…

07. EPHEMERA is an opportunity that Salome had not anticipated. And let me tell you, boy do I adore this connection. It strikes me as a true clashing of teeth and spirits, but not as simple as one born from pure malice or hatred. Salome feels many things towards Ephemera, but she certainly doesn’t hate her - even if the ferocity between them implies otherwise sometimes. There’s a thin line between love and hate, as they say, though perhaps neither of those terms sum up Salome an Ephemera. It seems to be pure passion and temptation. I can’t say where this could lead without the thoughts of a possible Ephemera writer, but I’m sure it will be nothing short of explosive. I think this connection is the most Salome has ever felt towards another being, and that in itself is curious to her.

• (great) AMBITIONS •

The possible destinies of Salome. The following are all ways in which her story could play out, and all of them are quite dramatic. Who’s afraid of the big, bad plots….

08. Infernum technically has no throne. In order to thus claim it, perhaps one first has to be built? Salome would have no qualms choosing a side in another demonic cvil war. Why, if DAMIEN were to stake the claim of his birthright against JUDAS, he could count on Salome for support. If Judas were to live up to his title and betray the antichrist, he could count on Salome for support - if he got there before the other. Salome will happily help them consolidate a throne through bloodshed and betrayal. In fact, it will be her pleasure.

For through it all, Salome will be the demon who has thought to use MICHAEL. They are insufferable and righteous and (quite literally) archangel incarnate - really, if she had the chance, she knows that their blood would be the most utterly divine to spill - but they are useful. Undeniably powerful. Salome knows she must be careful here, but she enjoys the undisguised exasperation on their face. As if they have not yet thought to recognise the ambition that lies in both of them. If they helped her ascend to the throne of Infurnem, she would be a far more acquiescent to Caelum’s interests than the current leadership. Why? Because Salome would not act - would not even pretend to act - on behalf of demonic interests. If the best chance of her claiming ownership of the world depended on sharing it with Michael, then perhaps she would be willing.

09. But power can manifest in more than one way. She could follow such dreams, or she could become the world’s nightmares. And wouldn’t that be more indulgent? Where others hold power or peace as their prime ambition, Salome would get equal pleasure from the simple decay of all things. The world could rot and she would laugh - the dead are often better company than the living. Ultimately Salome would start another war without hesitation; she would sacrifice everything and everyone for the beautiful carnage of utter destruction. It had been so easy with the War of the Last Rites, but she had been disappointed when it ended in peace. That will not happen again; she will be ready next time. When all factions are suitably engaged, she will raise her own force and strike them all down together. — Such are her thoughts anyway. Thoughts that started developing when she met RYUK. To her, the power Ryuk holds is breathtaking. There is no other ability she desires quite as much. For if she were to contain both of their powers within herself, she would have dominion over a force so great that no living creature - mortal or immortal - could ever hope to defeat. The dead. It is a delicate strategy, but she has the patience for it. And if there was any who would spill the blood of a horseman just to see what happened, then it would surely be Salome.

10. Where there are mortals, there is faith. The relationship between Salome and the faith of the HUNDRED-EYED GOD intrigues me. In her mortal life, faith was an amusement. Its believers has been her playthings - perhaps they are again in this world. ISOLDE is as all prophets are; tempting. I think that Salome could potentially decide to join the faith – or give the impression to do so. Such a deceit would be fun and far from difficult - already she joins in on their rituals, her feet unable to stay away from any form of rhythmic movement, even ones more gentle than her usual tastes. A demon of relative influence, perhaps her faith would be welcomed amongst those most holy, perceived as a positive development in the faith’s recruitment. Perhaps she finds a currently unknown fellowship in the form of ESTIENNE, whose manipulation of the shadows surely speaks of some rot in his heart.

And all for one simple reason. Where there is faith, there are the faithful. Where there is the faithful, there is the potential for bloodshed so rich - so intoxicating - that she would play this long, patient game just to taste a singular drop. She has never been able to recreate the electrification of that first diabolical deed, when she claimed a saint’s head as her prize. She had danced and damned and thirsted ever since; the blood of an ALL-SEEING PRIESTESS might just quench such a need.

• (potential) DOWNFALLS •

Ah, but all of the above are just potential ideas. It is just as likely that Salome would be subject to some downfalls and some .. rude awakenings. I adore the fact that both MICHAEL and RYUK have such different perceptions of their connections. They are both far smarter than she gives credit. Michael is, ultimately, more powerful than Salome on more ways than one - they will surely outplay her as they have everyone, though she might be of some use to them too. In Ryuk, Salome has started a war she might live to regret - one she hasn’t even realised she’s fighting. She has perhaps been a little naive here, and it will be quite something when she realises.

There are other possible connections that could prove Salome’s downfall – or at least a be a hindrance. In my mind, it is GABRIEL, ZADKIEL and CAPHRIEL that she is most weary of. They each have a light to them that she does not care for, along with the arrogance present in all angels. I say in the following section that Salome has no fears; they represent the closest thing she has to possible concerns. I don’t think she yet knows any of them particularly well outside of the War, but she has thought of their powers. The latter two in particular harbour gifts that could, potentially, expose Salome, and thus she has developed a specific distaste for them. And of course, she probably finds them particularly fun to antagonise.

IN DEPTH

Driving Character Motivation | [TW: Implied suicide in section I ]

I think a large part of my attraction to Salome is that she isn’t really driven by an external force. Partly she is driven by the deep appetite within her (which I’ve mentioned more in other parts of this application) but I also think her motivations stem from her own intrinsic nature; she is pushed by her own heart towards ambitions that are mere extensions of her character. I think there are three central aspects of her character that best explain her motivations and actions: a complete lack of fear, an overwhelming self-adoration and a deep, petulant intolerance of monotony. Together, they’ve created a woman - a demon - amply motivated to do any of the above listed plot ideas.. One who simply does as she wants for no reason other than want itself. Below I’ve given three early examples (set in BP) of these traits taking root (and rot):

I • For what use is fear to those who are damned?

It was said that Jesus’ tomb lay empty. Through the wind Salome heard whispers of women who’d gone to mourn and found nothing - only stone and airwhere a pierced and bloodied body should have lain. It seemed the proclaimed child of God had evaded corporeal death yet again; that the words of the old, tiresome preacher whose head she once cradled had proved true. Their claims and their preachings were not false as her father had accused - but really, had not Salome always known that? Was it not she who had delivered John’s salvation, cast him up to his venerated Heaven? And as it happened - as both the head and the soul of John his body - had not she felt her own moment of pure, divine bliss?

It brought clarity; there was no hesitation in her now. She stood alone, looking out upon the depths of the Galilee Sea with an unconfined grin spread wide upon her face. She had known, always known, that the boredom of this life was only temporary. The adoration she received on earth had grown dull, she sought new, greater opportunities for her talents. There had existed a deep craving inside for as long as she could remember, one that had become increasingly difficult to satiate. It told her that her destiny lay outside of Heaven, that both the prophet and her father the king had been right to look upon her with fear. For if John and Jesus had ascended upwards, could she not leap down into her own descent? The idea of it felt so simple, so natural, so potentially powerful. Neither death nor the the promise of damnation brought her anything but intrigue. She thought of the wicked and the cruel, of the infernal depths to which she was bound, and felt only satisfied.

Mortal though she was, Salome was not afraid. Why should she fear her own destiny? Why should she fear for those she left behind? Fear had no place in a heart without hope. With a simple step, she threw herself into the icy water and waited to reach the blackest depths below.

II • For what use is love to those who are satisfied?

Where there was Salome there was laughter - her own, that was - sharp, loud and melodic. When she first opened her mouth it had sliced through Hell and turned all of its eyes onto her. Rightly so, for she she had laughed as she’d evaded Abaddon’s grasp, clawing herself out of the Abyss of mortal souls and claiming a rightful place in the depths of Hell. The Morningstar, sat above all, had not yet even spoken when Salome had started to dance.

She could feel Hell’s eyes on her, and what better way to greet such attentions than with that she did best. She had reaped rich rewards for it before, and she would do so again. A fleeting glance at her naked body showed her this realm had not dulled her beauty but made magnified it, her skin aglow with the fiery light of hellfire. And so Salome danced, feverishly but deliberately, losing herself in the spirit of the moment. What could anyone do but simply bask in the splendor of her new existence? As she raised her arms above her head, a pair of wings cut through her flesh and slowly tore out of her. Iridescent, they unfurled as if they too had felt the call of her movement.

A feast of celebration had followed. Salome could only laugh in delight as she looked upon demonic faces of adoration, gazes more alike than different to those she had received on earth. Seated at the left-hand of Lucifer himself, she had slotted into the natural order of Hell as if it had been her descent that had been prophesied on earth. How many in Hell, with all its angelic origins, had the blood of a true holy man on their hands? Perhaps just herself – and, she supposed, the man sat to the right of the Prince. Judas Iscariot. The Great Betrayer. A man she had known of in her mortality, a follower who’d wrought a downfall more entertaining than any Salome had otherwise witnessed. He looked on at her with a hard glint in his eyes and she merely smiled back - for Salome understood why. Here she was, a fellow mortal in Hell with infernal wings protruding from her back where Judas had none. It all made such perfect sense; Salome was truly different. Truly transcendent. Made and marked by forces darker then most of Hell could stand. In that moment (and all moments thereafter), Salome was acutely aware of the true power that resided within her, spilling out through her beauty, allure and wretched talents. Why, she was utterly glorious.

III • For what use is peace to those who are bored?

Eternity stretched out in front of her; memories of the wouldn’t fade. Of all the differences between immortal and mortal existence, it was only the nature of time that had ever frustrated her. To Salome, the centuries had passed by in both unfathomable speed and agonising monotony, the linearity of earth dead and gone. It seemed that in the face of an infinite future, even Hell could drag. It operated in a stasis that had begun to suffocate her and, gradually, had awakened once again an appetite that had only been temporally satiated. Lucifer dictated balance and moderation where Salome saw no reason for restraint. He had given her duties like none earth had ever dared, and she didn’t care to fulfil them. She had even grown tired of her puppetry, tired of dancing amongst such frustratingly passive bodies. There was, in a place of corruption, nobody left to actually corrupt; no opportunity to taste innocent or holy blood.

Over time she came to sense the quiet seeds of unrest in Hell, and she was gladdened by them. Once again a wicked smile graced her face, once again she twirled around the pits of Hell in anticipation. There was no better cure for boredom than chaos, and once she’d caught the scent of it her hunt could not be stopped. It had proven easy to have the whispers diverted and delivered to her ears - so many were under her spell, either terrified or infatuated. So Salome came to learn of plans of razing Hell against its master, ripping through worldly divides and claiming the earth she once lived on. At last - she could have wept from delight. And most entertaining of all, Salome had snatched the dice into her her hands.

How easy it would be to join the dissenters, to war with them against the order of Hell that had shackled her. How tempting it was, to dash their plans by raising her own blade to the Morningstar and plunging the world into carnage without warning. How fun, the thought of taking all she knew to Lucifer and laughing as he rained down revenge on the demons he had been foolish enough to trust. Impatient with monotony; patient in the face of action. Salome did not yet know what she would do, and she found utter delight in the potential of it all.

PARA SAMPLE

The Holy Land was not suited to revelry. It lacked the vitalityand decadent excessthat a true celebration required. And really, wasn’t this her domain? Nobody got more unadulterated pleasure from a celebration than Salome - she doubted that even the festivities of the Stygian Moon would be of renown without her inputs. This particular affair was proving even more tiresome than she’d foreseen. Every year she stands under the Triune Moon and watches as solemn vows are sworn; every year she wonders why they could not just be done so in private, sparing them all this tedium. She had said as much to Damien before as they had departed the comforts of the Black Palace, and had received little more than a scowl in response. But she knows her point has more merit than they’d care to admit. How long before these promises of harmony are exposed as a farce? At least that year promises some true entertainment.

Salome thinks all this as she watches the stage in front of her, eyes lazily switching between the three figures who stand upon it. The Sun, the Moon, the Stars; every pair of eyes in the sweeping crowd are trained on them. Salome can feel them. Or rather, she can’t feel the usual warmth of infatuated gazes on her own skin. Here she stood amongst hoards of mortals and beings more lowly than herself, and none were paying her their usual bouts of attention. The only thing that prevented a quiet tantrum was the knowledge that she was far from alone in feeling this agitation. Her stare flickered from the stage towards the figures of both Michael and Judas, and she could not help but smile. To eyes that had repeatedly examined them over centuries, the rigidity of their bodies betrayed them. She was far from the only one who felt the absence of centrality, and that, at least, brought her some pleasure.

Still, she only has so much patience for ceremonies not directed at her. Yet no sooner did she shift to exit the crowd than did words delivered on the stage give her pause. Azazel’s voice, suitably haughty, repeating the typical sentiments of the Holy Land. This was the ‘Age of Peace’, Salome hears her say. Only the ‘cooperation of all factions and the formation of the tridium’ had rendered them ‘triumphant against the heretics who would cast all into darkness.’ This time she cannot hold in the delicate laugh that ripples through her. If only the annual repetition of such statements made them true. If only they knew of the true origins of the War that brought this so-called peace, of where the credit should rightfully lie. Though she knows it would be foolish - more than foolish - Salome can think of nothing but how simple it would be to stand above all and confess. She’d let them savour the details of her sins and her glories. She would laugh as they wilted under the weight of her revelations.

‘I’ve never seen you look so engrossed off of the battlefield.’

Her imaginings are cut off by quiet words from behind her. She needs not turn to identify the voice of Ephemera, familiar as it has come to be. Salome had, of course, seen her across the crowd - when did her eyes start to automatically seek her out so? - but marked her presence as an occupation for later. That Ephemera sought her out first is not necessarily unexpected, but certainly thrilling. There is no other presence that can so easily bring Salome out of a petulant mood, just as there is no other who can so easily put her in one. But she has found that where there is Ephemera, there is entertainment to be had.

“You have not seen me do many things,” she replies easily, as if they had long been having this conversation, “though I do believe I’ve offered.” And she has, more than once, tried to entice her with offers of dancing and hunting and enjoying all the vices of the world they fought for. She turns her head slowly to meet the watchful gaze of her once fighting-partner, a smirk on her lips as she widens her eyes in faux-innocence. They are two alike; mortals once but mortals no more, the first of their kinds. She knows Ephemera will not rise to her bait within the presence of other Angels, which only heightens her simpering expression. Salome has no such qualms about the thoughts of her own kin; their talk excites her, their gossip only confirms how many pay her heed. She has found no simpler joy than that of walking into the Black Palace and leaving excited whispers in her wake.

“I’m sure you’ll agree that celebrating won wars is less fun than waging them’, she continues, amusement ringing clear through her voice as she returned her gage purposefully to the stage. “I asked Azazel if she might add some zeal - perhapsmake those hounds do some tricks - but she seems to have ignored my good wishes”. Salome can feel the rolling of Angelic eyes next to her without even looking. It was so easy, so predictable, and yet anything but boring. That was the real curiosity of Ephemera, so easy to reel in and yet so resistant to truly jumping off the edge. She seemed halfway caught between accepting Salome’s allure and running from it, and the resistance only increased her desire. “Though your one is the more dull, I believe. So earnest - it’s quite exhausting.”

It is clear that Ephemera is acting advisor and strategist rather than - what? Friend? Enemy? Something in between? - whichraised the question as to why she had approached her in the first place. She thinks to ask, but when she opens her mouth to do so the crowd erupts in an applause more loud than she thinks the show was worthy of. Still, she brings her own hands together for the sheer relief that it is finally over. Her feet ache from standing bored for so long, her wings want to stretch open and wide. She wonders if a large enough quantity of alcohol might loosen Ephemera a little, but when she turns to declare this she finds that her companion has disappeared in the movement of so many people. A pity, but no real matter. She has never needed the company of others to create her own sport.

EXTRAS

[ My (WIP) pinterest for Salome can be found here. ]

Salome keeps no animal companion, for she has never felt much love for the nature of the earth. She finds it amusing that some Angels and Demons belittle themselves by keeping one. However, it is not an uncommon sight to see Salome walking with crows flying above her. Only on closer inspection would one realise those animals are but corpses, a puppetry Salome (alone) finds humorous.

Like all parts of herself, she harbours great love for her wings, and not only for the damnation that they represent. They are formed of what resembles a netting of fine, golden spider’s web. They seem to constantly change in the light, appearing to be more transparent than they are solid. Regal and beautiful, they are as Salome sees herself.

She is a fierce fighter and a connoisseur of bloodshed. Her weapon of choice is a trailing point blade, forged on the day of her arrival in Hell. She uses it exclusively for more.. intimate situations, and favours instead a simple longsword on the battlefield. She is however, proficient with most weaponry, as the corpses she can make fight use the same weapons they died wielding against her.

Though Infernum is the home she helped carve out, Salome spends a great deal of time in Sanctus Terra and travels to Caelum whenever the opportunity presents itself. Both locations amplify an itch deep within her soul, worsening her desire and thereby bringing greater satisfaction when she finally acts on the urge. She has not spilled any angelic blood in Caelum, though the temptation is strong, for she knows Michael has become astute to her presence. She has left a fair few victims in Sanctus Terra, a pursuit which has become less satisfying overtime. Still, Salome is careful. For all their talk of kinship, she is not sure that her fellow demons would refrain from locking her in the Black Cells if they had just cause.

[ aaaaaaand I leave you with the last verse of ‘Salome’, a poem by Mary Lamb. I honestly can’t describe it as anything over then *chef’s kiss*. I don’t know if Rosey read this when she was writing Salome’s bio, but I thought the writing style and tone and vibe and all beautifully mirrored each other?? Stunning. On that note, regardless of whether of not you think I’m right for Salome, thank you for the obvious amount of time/thought you’ve all put into this because it’s been really (really) fun to explore. ]

When painters would by art express Beauty in unloveliness, Thee, Herodias’ daughter, thee, They fittest subject take to be. They give thy form and features grace; But ever in they beauteous face They shew a steadfast cruel gaze, An eye unpitying; and amaze In all beholders deep they mark, That thou betrayest not one spark Of feeling for the ruthless deed, That did thy praiseful dance succeed. For on the head they make you look, As if a sullen joy you took, A cruel triumph, wicked pride, That for your sport a saint had died.

#accepted #accepted: salome

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thecreaturecodex · 5 years ago

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Slaad, White

Image presumably © Wizards of the Coast, presumably by Rudy Siswanto

[I hate the modern internet sometimes. I was looking for the original 3.0 image of the white slaad, because it isn’t in the Epic Level Handbook Art Gallery for some reason. And I came upon this image, which is an excellent white slaad that matches the 5e style for their Monster Manual slaadi. But it’s on pinterest, with no source. I assume it appeared, as well as a matching black slaad, in some preview article, because I can find no evidence to suggest that the white and black slaadi have gotten an official publication yet. If someone out there knows a proper source for this image, let me know.

The original white slaad appeared, like I said, in the 3.0 Epic Level Handbook. Like many monsters in that book, it had pretty much no flavor text to speak of, and suffered from a nasty case of stat inflation. @thecreaturechronicle dropped it down to a CR 18, which seemed like a good call to me. It appeared in 4e as having time-based powers, and the Creature Chronicle version stuck to that route. My version takes a different tack.]

Slaad, White CR 18 CN Aberration This pale, hazy apparition appears to be something like a humanoid frog, its body opalescent and its arms dragging down nearly to the ground.

A white slaad is created when a grey slaad travels to the Ethereal Plane and slowly becomes saturated with that realm’s energy. These rare, occult creatures are rarely seen unless they want to be, as they are masters of stealth and disguise. Most white slaad travel between realms to gather information, spy on secretive creatures, and perform pranks that are seemingly impossible. Some locked room mysteries are the result of white slaadi feeling violent or puckish, and a white slaad enter impenetrable fortresses simply to prove it can.

In combat, a white slaad rarely stands still, trusting to its impeccable flight to carry it around the battlefield to strike with claw, fang or spell. Most white slaadi have let their weapon skills go fallow since their days as a gray slaad. A white slaad secretes a powerful acid that is especially devastating to lawful targets, and they can phase their natural weapons through armor and hide to lethal effect. Many white slaad are arrogant and fight until the death out of sheer stubborn disbelief that they could be bested.

Few white slaadi have much patience for their lesser kin, and they tend to see each other as competitors and threats. They are fascinated, however, with humanoid societies, perhaps as a result of being surrounded by ghosts and ruins in their home plane. Many white slaadi spend years or decades in humanoid guise, altering the shape of societies to amuse themselves and experiment with how people will react to bizarre situations. In these forms, a white slaad may even be an ally or patron to adventurers—although it may attack them after building them up, as a “test of character” or simply for the fun of combat.

White Slaad CR 18 XP 153,600 CN Medium aberration (extraplanar, shapechanger, slaad) Init +12; Senses darkvision 60 ft., detect magic, Perception +26, true seeing Aura cloak of chaos (DC 25) Defense AC 33, touch 22, flat-footed 25 (+8 Dex, +4 deflection, +11 natural) hp 287 (23d8+184); fast healing 15 Fort +19, Ref +21, Will +21 Immune sonic; Resist acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 29 Defensive Abilities blur Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (good) Melee 2 claws +25 (2d6+9), bite +25 (2d8+9 plus 4d6 acid plus stun) Ranged acid spit +24 touch (16d6 acid) Special Attacks anarchic acid, ether strike Spell-like Abilities CL 18th, concentration +25 (+29 casting defensively) Constant—blur, detect magic, cloak of chaos (self only, DC 25), true seeing At will—chain lightning (DC 23), detect law, dispel law (DC 22), etheric shards (DC 22), greater dispel magic, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. objects only), telekinesis (DC 22) 3/day—ectoplasmic eruption (DC 24), improved invisibility, finger of death (DC 24), quickened mirror image, word of chaos (DC 24) 1/day—implosion (DC 26), plane shift (DC 24), telekinetic storm (DC 26) Statistics Str 29, Dex 27, Con 26, Int 22, Wis 18, Cha 25 Base Atk +17; CMB +26; CMD 49 Feats Combat Casting, Craft Wondrous Item, Dodge, Flyby Attack, Greater Vital Strike, Improved Initiative, Improved Vital Strike, Lightning Reflexes, Mobility, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (mirror image), Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +30 (+34 when jumping), Bluff +26, Disguise +26, Fly +34, Intimidate +29, Knowledge (arcana) +21, Knolwedge (planes) +24, Knowledge (religion) +16, Perception +26, Sense Motive +26, Spellcraft +28, Stealth +38, Use Magic Device +26; Racial Modifiers +8 Stealth Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Infernal, Slaad, telepathy 100 ft. SQ change shape (Small, to Huge humanoid, alter self or giant shape II), ethereal jaunt, spirit touch Ecology Environment any land or underground (Ethereal Plane) Organization solitary or pair Treasure double standard Special Abilities Acid Spit (Ex) A white slaad can spit acid as a ranged touch attack as a standard action. Treat this as a ranged attack with a range of 60 feet and no range increment. A creature struck takes 16d6 points of acid damage and is exposed to the slaad’s anarchic acid. Anarchic Acid (Su) A white slaad’s acid damage deals 150% damage to lawful creatures. A creature that takes acid damage from a white slaad’s bite or acid spit takes damage equal to half the dice it originally took (2d6 acid for bite, 8d6 acid for spit) every round on its turn for the next 1d4 rounds. This additional damage cannot be prevented by washing away the acid, but can be removed with a dispel chaos effect, and does not affect creatures protected by protection from chaos or a similar effect. Ether Strike (Su) As a swift action three times per day, a white slaad can treat all of its natural weapons as touch attacks for 1 round. Ethereal Jaunt (Su) A white slaad can shift from the Ethereal Plane to the Material Plane as a free action, and shift back again as a move action (or as part of a move action). The ability is otherwise identical to ethereal jaunt (CL 18th). Flight (Su) The fly speed of a white slaad is a supernatural effect. Spirit Touch (Ex) A white slaad’s natural weapons, as well as any weapons the creature wields, are treated as though they had the ghost touch weapon property. Stun (Ex) A creature bitten by a white slaad must succeed a DC 30 Fortitude save or be stunned for 1 round. The saving throw is Constitution based.

#slaad #white slaad #citation needed #D&D #pathfinder 1e

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aaetherius · 4 years ago

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@vulpesse

"In the wrong light anyone can look like a darkness."

Unprompted || Always accepting (feel free to turn into threads)!

★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ―☼ ― ★ ☆ ✮ ✯

Heavy eyelids flutter shut to shelter the exhaustion that seems ever distantly present in azure irises that shimmer with every shade the sky possesses. Worn from countless battles and a solitary war that he spoke so rarely about even the skies themselves seemed to be unaware of the bloodbath that so often tainted her horizon. In the crimson abyss that lurked at the bottom of those skies, the otherworldly monsters he fought - beasts of indescribable horror that only he was capable of picturing vividly when he allowed his mind to wander to their ghastly faces and countless limbs - more closely resembled the horrors painted in portraits by mortals who would never once lay their eyes upon them. Warped beyond all belief despite how unsightly they were to begin with. Nightmarish beneath the scarlet glow of the dying sun - maws parted to reveal gangly teeth and tendrils of flesh protruding from their rotting backs as they clawed their way towards the soft, wispy clouds that rolled lazily by, blissfully unaware of the creatures that wished to tear every last one asunder. And he, the only shield that stood between darkened nails and scale-plated skin, he imagined, might have looked just as terrifying as they were. With pearly, white wings that stretched out behind him stained a deep, unsettlingly rose and ebony armor so worn from millions of fights that the scars left within it would be unimaginable to the mortals he guarded.

But it was never the twisted visages of the monsters he brought to ruin that haunted him when these hallow halls - the same ones that bathed him, now, in a golden glow cast by the sun that loomed overhead - shifted from white to silver in the cold embrace of the moon when it settled in for the night. This shrine, empty as it has been for thousands of years, was still the only home he had ever harbored. And, even calling it that much might have been giving it too much credit. But, yet, when he allowed his eyes to close - to mull over her words. Those monsters were absent from his mind. Even when they were bathed in the holy light of his own power, they were still ugly and perilous. No, when he closed his eyes while keeping her words in mind, the face that stared back at him was one much closer to his own. Perhaps a bit more jaded. Full of knowledge that would have made even the bravest of men flinch. One with eyes just slightly darker than his own. One that, in these very halls, he had looked at with nothing but fondness for countless years until the light shifted. And in the long shadows that had been cast upon marble walls and immaculate, white stone floors, that face that had once looked so pleasant to him began to change into something dreadful. Something full of anger and hate he had ignored because, when the light reflected off of his creator’s carefully molded features, he had still looked so very tired and confused to him.

He wonders, now, if the monsters he killed - the ones that painted the tips of his blades red with their blood; whose cries echoed through even the stormiest of nights within his own head - viewed him in the same way. To them, was he spitting image of his old friend and wayward creator? The one who had wanted to burn this world and everything in it. Perhaps he was, but that would never erase the love he felt for this world and all its people. The compassion contained within his core that made him fight this endless, thankless war. Silver lashes flutter upwards once more, and the light that streams in through old columns that have crumbled with age is almost blinding against the interior of the shrine - everything contained within it white, save for the dark color of his armor, its golden trim, and the red ribbon that hung loosely from his neck. The smile he wears is serene. Unyieldingly gentle. And the air around him is warm and peaceful. There is something ethereal about him, and yet, despite that, kindness still radiates from the very core of his being.

“Your logic is sound.” His voice is soft and pleasant to the ears. An unsung melody upon the wind that struggles to filter through these normally empty walls. “And, yet, in the right light even the most menacing of monsters can appear endlessly bright.” The possible implications of his own words aren’t lost on him, but he cannot convince someone he means no harm through something as shallow as appearance alone to begin with. “It is impossible to to tell if someone is friend or foe at a glance. And, so, we take risks, hoping the ones we leave ourselves open to will not turn out to be a beast.” His expression falls for a moment, the shimmering feathers of his wings seem to drop ever so slightly as he gazes down a ruined hall branching off to the right of the shrine he sits upon in the center of the room. “Yet, I would rather take a chance, and be burned by that darkness than to push away someone I may be able to aid. I imagine, to some, my opinion may seem foolish, but I do not mind. I have failed too many I could have reached out to before to allow myself to be selective now.”

#vulpesse #| ☩ Cradled within the gentle breeze ☩ (ask) |#| ☩ And I will leave this light on to warm you in the dark ☩ (queue) |#| ☩ And once again the sky rises; sincere and melancholic ☩ (IC) |#| ☩ Supreme Primarch ☩ (verse :Canon) |#{ Thank you for sending this! }

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turquoisedays · 4 years ago

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Grimscribe Aesthetic Meme

REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG AND DO NOT DELETE THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION.

The following quotes and phrases are taken from the stories in Thomas Ligotti’s anthology Grimscribe. Some of these quotes were slightly tweaked for the sake of this meme. If you enjoy the imagery or writing in this meme, please support the author by purchasing his work. Content warnings for horror in general and brief mentions of blood, gore, nihilism, unreality, body horror, clowns, and insects.

Bold what applies to your muse.

Tagged by: Me, myself and I, because I’m ALWAYS A SLUG FOR THOMAS LIGOTTI.

Tagging: @choujin @mothersins @flowerytruth (You decide which muse! >:3c) @givealls (For Kazuma mayhap?) annnnnnnd my other blog.

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The Last Feast of Harlequin

A place behind the clownish mask / an enthusiastic urgency / sunny fields and farms / steeply roofed houses / a weird distortion of perspective / an album of old snapshots / a pointed hat jauntily askew / a billboard displaying a group of grinning vegetables / a neutral, bureaucratic voice / blue-green ink / a brilliant and profound circus of learning / a quotation from Poe’s “The Conqueror Worm” / a feeling of frigid numbness / dull, earth-colored scenery / the snowfalls of late autumn / black, ragged clumps of abandoned nests / the thin light of a winter afternoon / poles raveled with evergreen / holly wreaths / green lights / green streamers / peacock green floodlights / an eerie emerald haze / chthonic divinities / miniature candy canes / colored lights that bloom out of flower-shaped sockets / a chilling brilliance of manner and expression / sea-green lights / the face of an adept clown / a heart bathed in green / another coldness within the cold / warmly wrapped bodies and green-scarved necks / worried and guilt ridden glances / a wormy mass / the black void of winter / the brightness of an artificial spring / a great green rainbow / green gleaming streets / the dark immensity of a winter night / an effect of stricken horror and despair / an inhuman likeness more proper to something under the earth than above it / a festival within a festival / depressingly pallid clowns / the particular kind of hatred of resulting from some powerful and irrational memory / optimistic greenery in a period of gray dormancy / a kind of obnoxious intelligence / freezing atop an icy throne / commitment to a meaningful mania / bodiless invisibility / seeing without being seen / a sea of zigging and zagging celebrants / the darkness of narrow country roads / innocent normalcy / icy wind / trembling with cold / lanterns that beam with dazzling and frosty light / cadaverous clowns / the apex of darkness / a long snowy robe / moody malignancy / pure unlived lives / all the many shapes of death and dissolution / a dirge for existence / a sea of thin, bloodless faces / icy beauty / a moment of frozen trance / the death known to those whom the gods have first made mad / the welcoming glow of green / slow and silent and entrancing / a velvety white abyss / the paradise of the unborn

The Spectacles in the Drawer

A double-handled dagger with a single blade of polished stone / tall cabinets / ceiling-high shelves / tantalizing arcana / glistening fog / a tedious clarity / a cyclone of strange patterns and colors / spasms of sardonic hilarity / a pale-blue blade / stiff, crackling pages / a seeker of recondite knowledge / undying hope / a gutful of shame and regret / a small and silvery knife / a razor-sharp letter opener / a pair of old-fashioned wire-rimmed spectacles / everything that fascinates / the wish to look away / an infinite and overwhelming scene / the dazzling diffusion of all known universes / landscapes without end / landscapes that are themselves alive / a life unknown to mortal eyes / form and motion / design and dimension / cilia wriggling / mammoth shapes lurching in outline / an obscure oceanic niche / a mere fragment of all that there is to see and to know / labyrinthine astronomies / constant transformations of both appearance and essence / a witness to the most cryptic phenomena that exist or could ever exist / the ultimate thing waiting to be born / still greater visions / a cataclysm which will be both the beginning and the end / unbearable anticipation / ecstasy and dread / the ultimate source of all manifestation / the absolute and the wholly unknown / a revolution of all matter and energy / the visions remaining active inside you, deep in your blood / to be dazzled in the worst way / the total substance of things / an occultist auction / a disreputable quarter of a foreign city / a student of the Gnostics / artificial eyes / a malicious aim to undermine / a child’s awkward embrace / rusty scales / cockeyed bookcases / broken toys / standing ashtrays / desolate bazaars / the charm of disenchantment / a tilting mirror / a climate of dull horror / sinister whispers that make no sense yet seem filled with meaning / sensations of infinite expansiveness and ineffable meaning / astronomical emotions / a mutilated carcass / something of terrible rawness / a torn and flayed thing / microscopic precision / twitching and quivering like a gory heart / hellish giggling / a haunting, lifelong memory / unfathomable depths of feeling / to suffer over and over / a way to kill a dream / the sheltering shadows of one’s home / sobering shadows / a cold and stagnant peace / esoteric ecstasy / vulgar pain / a broad expanse of empty field / a mosaic of mirrors / a shocking galaxy / redundant reflections / dark stars on a silvery firmament / to see with countless eyes / a body ripped raw / a gallery of glass and gore

Flowers of the Abyss

The first rank scent of autumn / a glass of water / a thirsty walker of the woods / a pale flower amongst the dark summer trees / a ghostly flower of autumn / grayish planks / a pallid lily / a pulpy toadstool / a roof of rippling shingles shaped like scales from some great fish / sea-green and sparkling / attic gables with paned windows / the tip of a tear / hundreds of raindrops / light rain / an icy autumn storm / a fragrance damp and decayed / walking ahead of the clouds / the echo of hollow words / a long crooked arm / malodorous gardens of misshapen growths / an oval mirror in an ornate frame / cobwebbed corners / tilting books / something shapeless and nameless / something dampish and submerged / something swampy and abysmal / the pure cold of an autumn storm / a dusty green bottle / a sparkling glass / a world of frozen light / cool and limpid water / the hardness of a jewel / a small music box / stars of sound / twilight shadows and silence / infinitesimal flakes of light / barren decor of dead days / yellowish haze / silvery tones / a tenebrous expanse / unknown exploits / the madness of things / a vagabond of the universe / a drifter among spaces / a mess of hacked pieces / dark horizon meeting dark horizon / a universe of darkness / a convulsing tangle of shapes / the radiant entrails of hell / rain-softened soil / parted waters rushing to remerge / corrupt waters / sticky and pumping veins / slimy tendrils / aberrations of the abyss / a night-gowned figure / a crowd carrying lights / lamps and lanterns bobbing in darkness / clusters of flames / buried like a forgotten dream

Nethescurial

Delicate, crinkly script / greenish-black discoloration / dark waters / moonlit skies / earth mounds / mountain peaks / northern leaf and southern flower / each star and the voids between them / blood and bone / watchful winds / murky waters below / contorted rock formations / pointed pines and spruces of gigantic stature / sea-facing cliffs / stagnant fog / an omnipresent evil / a sleeping sense of doom awakened into full vigour / evil, beloved and menacing evil / sunshine and flowers / darkness and dead leaves / some shaping force of demonic temperament / wartlike hills / tumorous trees / oil lamps scattered about / a sacral glow / a degree of mutual ease / the verdigris of centuries / decomposing jade / pandemonism / cold gray waters / a mere mask for the foulest evil / an absolute evil whose reality is mitigated only by our blindness to it / the universe as a dream / the feverish nightmare of a demonic demiurge / an abstract monster of metaphysics / an altar of coarse stone / skinny shadows / to be actually bound in blackness / white-faced shadows / luminous smoke / glowing, ectoplasmic haze / something thick and oily and strangely colored / an ancient anonymity / spirits beyond all hope or consolation except in the evil to which they would abandon themselves / a ceremony of the chosen / an ancient, darkened mould / petrified lichen / wrought iron tracery / great overgrown gardens of writhing coral / a chaos of little carvings / a world of demonic faces and forms / oneiric visions / inkish waters / an infinitely extensive body of evil / the gods of the ordinary world / dream-induced illusions / visionary intrusions / a banquet of fear / what is squirming beneath every surface / penetrating the usual armor of objects / dark and greenish / garbled whisperings / an island of grass and trees in the middle of the city / globes of light balanced on slim metal poles / a glowing orb / set in the great blackness above / trees swishing overhead / muddied green / walking some indefinite time along some indefinite route / strings of colored lights / a tall, illuminated booth / clownish creatures / expressionless faces and dead puppet eyes / slow, monotonous phrases mingling like the sequences of a fugue / the faces of the living and the dead / wind-blown trees / the greenish darkness of the night / mold-colored smoke / a squirming, creeping, smearing shape / a great deformed crab / the black oceans of infinity / the island of the moon / the cancerous totality of all creatures / oozing ichor / dying in a nightmare

The Dreaming in Nortown

A solitary perdition / a mind to remember the stages of their downfall / a mirror to multiply their abject glory / a memoir of dreams / peculiar powers of sympathy / a decaying and spacious apartment / an ill-mapped world of dreams / a slightly infernal aroma / an acrid combination of tobacco and autumn nights / a small red glow / a long threadbare overcoat / many pungent Octobers / the remote heights or depths of an artificial paradise / the stumbling words of a returning explorer / a stuporous and awed voice / midnight assemblies / in the grip of strange mystical ecstasies / long red hair / esoteric development / a general tenor of chaos / a quality which may or may not make for good company but which always offers promise of the extraordinary / a contrived noisiness / a strange catalogue of sounds / low moans emanating from the most shadowy chasms of dream / sudden intakes of breath / the suction of a startled gasp / abrupt snarls and snorts of a bestial timbre / expressions of unknown turmoil / the calm darkness of the night / staccato groans / the entire audible spectrum of nightmare-inspired terror / mingling overtones of awe and ecstasy / a willing submission to some unknown ordeal / the deeper registers of somnolence / the smell of a freshly lit cigar / the dun colors of dawn / a flood of eidetic horrors / fleeting scenes of nightmare / a reverberating slam / a note scrawled upon a slip of paper / a disproportionate anxiety / the imagined threat of a reprimand / the frayed end of a disciplinary whip / colors twisting in blackness / a tentacled abyss / bone-colored stars / a dream-distorted voice / a spiral notebook with a cover of mock marble / mystical masochism / feats of occult daredevilry / glimpsing the inferno with eyes of ice / a doomed determinism / the striving for horrific dominion over horror itself / wobbling glitter / a field of venomous colors / the glistening inner skin of deadliest nightshade / the entrancing fragrance of fear / the city’s lurid glamor / cryptic badges whose significance is known only to the initiated / comic colors from an electric spectrum / a chilly autumn evening / engraved brass / dingy neon / a black autumn sky / scattering sparks across the sidewalk / flea-market antiquities / calling feline-voiced / colorful chaos / neon signs streaming across the night / clothed in flashing colors / a many-hued phantasmagoria / a flickering and disorderly rainbow of dreams / a multitude of indecisive thoughts and impulses / a brick and neon landscape / a frigid and fragrant October night / darkness and a voice / a coarse scream / a pulsing opalescent aura / a delirious blend of images derived from nightmare / an ominous sunrise over a dark horizon / a field of fear / a painfully lush iridescence / a burnt-out patch of earth / newspapers mutilated by time / two fresh cigars / a thin book-like box / a scene from some Boschian hell / a hideous series of transfigurations / the screaming mass of a damned soul / an abyss of nightmares / explorations in a hell of one’s own choosing

The Mystics of Muelenburg

Trees made of poster board / houses built of colored foam / mud and dust and ashes / a nightmare of nonsense / fantasy, that misty domain of pure meaning / dim and empty storage space / an ancient armchair / reposing far beneath crumbling rafters / surveying remote worlds / a burst of fireworks / buzzing like flies in the blackness / glow worms flitting in the blinding sun / to keep the sun in the sky / to keep the dead in the earth / a universal vice / a parasite of chaos / a maggot of vice / the prospect of absolute terror / men in the mouths of demons / withholding heaven’s light / the pointed shadows of peaked roofs and jutting gables / faded artifacts of a dead town / high castle turrets / grayness undisturbed / ashen twilight / the yellow light of lamps / sumptuous chambers / humble rooms / the lost luxury of shadows / an infinite vault of glowing dust / a deception by demons / old deities formerly driven from the earth / shadows streaming horribly / the twitching light of a thousand candles / prismatic jewels / a greyish whirlpool / indefinite twilight / the blackness which is the domain of death / necromantic learning / drunken dialogues / unparalleled credulity / fluidity, always fluidity / an ornamented void / the stars and moon / the legions of the dead

In the Shadow of Another World

Walking down streets at twilight / watered lawns / the edges of leaves / pale specters within a fog / the infinite sky itself / gently stirring trees / old silent houses / strange cities disguised as clouds / the depths of a vast, echoing abyss / a blurry little window with a crack in it / a tree-lined street / a pale sky at dusk / peaks and porches / worn wooden steps / dreams and vapor posing as solid matter / a fabulous overlap of properties / petrified flesh / gigantic bones from great beasts of old / chimneys and shingles / a shadow on the horizon / a thing of nightmarish beauty / impossible hopes / a kind of ceremonious desolation / translucent festivals / the faraway sounds of mad carnivals / an instinct for mystification / dubious spectacles / trumped-up histrionics / immaculate to the point of being suspect / a plush and well-tended mausoleum / where the dead are truly at rest / oppressive awareness of other times / secret conspiracies with departed spirits / the unnatural mood of twilight / sinister echoes / dark, polished floors / lofty, uncobwebbed ceilings / a malign presence in the cellar / an insane shadow in the attic / thaumaturgic curios / a hermetic chant of the heavens / no hint of hauntedness / an innocent ambiance / a spiritual wasteland / spiritually antiseptic surroundings / a twisting and tenuous stairway / shattered panes of glass / misshapen glyphs / the shadowy nuances of clouds / a twisted kaleidoscope of colors / the aura of stained-glass cathedral / some obscure desecration / prismatic lenses / that of the dead or the demonic / an eclipse of this world’s vision / a quivering translucence / iridescent sterility / the aftermath of a strange exorcism / neither hallowed nor unholy / a pristine laboratory / a science of nightmares / a small, lamplit library / night’s darkness / a voice that’s accustomed to speaking of miracles / mystical freakshows / a grave sincerity / dissonant overtones of fear / the shadows of another world / forms of specter or demon / the eyes of the flesh / a luminous hell / psychic survival / hopelessly dreaming / terror recollected in tranquility / mazy trauma / the sensations of the soul / a monstrous mystery / a theoretician of nightmares / crude and cryptic designs / a remote and shadowy stage / an adept of pasteboard visions / mucilage and gauze / pulling the strings of light and shadow / shadows gathering / a strange radiance / phosphorescent panes / superlunary light / some cosmic tapestry / a haunted world / the marriage of insanity and metaphysics / a spectral ontogeny / a pageant of nightmares / sunlit bazaars in exotic cities / transparent masks / insectoid countenances / moonlit streets in antique towns / a strange-eyed slithering / dim galleries of empty museums / a ghostly mold / the sullen hues of old paintings / sticky luxuriance / pulpy warmth / an uncanny flux of sounds / cadaverous generations / sculptures of human coral / bodies heaped and unwhole / limbs projecting without order / eyes scattered and searching the darkness / a monument to Terror / a maze of interconnecting doors / spectral monstrosities / the cover of masks / the concealment of stones / feverish properties and intentions / a framed phantasmagoria / grotesque transfigurations / a systemless cosmogony / the caprice of the immaterial / weirdly lucent rooms / chaotic fantasies / narrow, spiraling stairs / the gazing eye of some god / a pyrotechnic craze of colors / a vibrating echo of vocal utterance / swirling sights / a vacuum and a void / doubtful strategies / unknown and extravagant possibilities / occult theories / arcane analyses / the irreducible certainty of nightmare / great shadows in the stars / an infinite catastrophe / protective sigils / the full glare of starlight / stars and shadows / privileged arcana / the enchantments of hell / cold sunlight / the visionary time of twilight

The Cocoons

A gloved hand twitching / a rather unapologetic tone / egg-shaped pills / a half-glass of water / a soft grinding noise / a quietly urgent voice / blotched vapors / a growl of exasperation / unpeopled avenues / a mass of shadows / a landscape without pattern or substance / the moon shining / a doubtful glance / a devastated plain / an open field heaped with debris / bits of glass and scraps of metal / lunar spaciousness / a skeletal structure with all markings of identity scraped off its bones / a densely tangled nest of houses / the dull light of the moon / a yellowish swatch of illumination / high wooden fences / a ruined turret grazed by moonlight / a minor mania / a cobwebbed corner / a blank battered wall / warped floor moldings / a watery light / the quivering light of candles / an old-fashioned film projector / the whirring of a projector / a visual record of a scientific experiment / dark wiry appendages / a pair of slender snapping pincers / tiny translucent wings / glistening but useless / malicious eyes / a dubious look / candles flickering like fire-flies / a cold swamp of shadows / a collection of bones / dazed silence / a clockwork world / sunrise schedules / lunar routines / a pandemonium of forces / a phantasmagoria of possibilities / the shadow of a laugh / a curious hedonism that can’t be controlled / the vagaries of omnipotence / breeder of indulgence / languorous exhaustion / a psychic matter / unheard of habits / a clown’s oversized grin / bliss on the brink of apotheosis / a universal process of transfiguration / restless skittering / a pitiful delight / giddy pride / demoniac undercurrents / the grotesque ultimatums of creation

The Night School

A high, full moon shining among the spreading clouds / shadows singing with the clouds / a slowly flowing mass of mottled shapes / a kind of unclean outpouring / the black sewers of space / the wall of night / smoke, dense and dirty, rising up to the sky / the spastic flames of a small fire / a slender gentleman / a dark suit / broken bones / the process of degeneration / the mulchy rot of autumn or early spring / yellowish light / dark scabby bricks / ruined factories / ravaged mausoleums / abandoned orphanages / a blossom of the cemetery or the cesspool / guttering candles / blurred remnants of past lessons / cloacal forces / time as a flow of sewage / drowning in the pools of night / a thousand molting autumns / the melting soil of spring / a pair of yellowish eyes / undiluted darkness / a darkness far greater than the night itself / consolidated darkness / the science of a spectral pathology / a philosophy of absolute disease / the metaphysics of things sinking into a common disintegration or rising together / dark rottenness / filthy smoke from some smoldering source of expansive corruption / the scent of corruption / the nostalgic perfume of autumn decay / the feculent muskiness of a spring thaw / smoky blackness / the offal of worlds in decline / the dark compost of those about to be born / the primeval impurity In which all things are founded / native putridity / pieces of paper with strange symbols on them / the very face of a plague—pustulant, scabbed, and stinking terribly / a black fog / many voices crying and calling from total blackness / tightly packed earth in a grave / the disease of the night / bright flames / the noise of a fire and the wind / a full moon / shining bright and blurry / a luminous mold / the great sewers of night

The Glamour

A fine aura of fantasy / both blurred and brightened / a starless evening / diamonds of plate glass / old buildings of dark brick / the display window of a toy store / a chaotic tableau of preposterous excitation / mechanized monkeys / fated antics / tiny cymbals / the destined pirouettes of a music-box ballerina / a newly sprung jack-in-the-box / strangely picturesque / dreamily illuminated / sculptured frosting / a winter landscape of swirling, drifting whiteness / snowy rosettes / layers of icy glitter / a glacial kingdom / a brilliant arctic scene / a vitality of enterprise / a glossy light / the placidly enigmatic expressions of a different time / faded lighting / an old photograph / the kind of acute anticipation that a child might experience at a carnival / a possessing impulse without object / wretchedly aglow / a long, narrow corridor with a single light set far into its depths / a strange shade of purple, like that of a freshly exposed heart / a purple lamp / arterial light / a deep pink / a richly blooded brain / a beating heart / wispy shrouds / sparse hairs sticking to the scalp of an old corpse / purple-tinted glass / the darkness of a theater / a swarm of filaments / an elaborate chandelier / a sickly, liverish shade / an operating room where a torso lies open on the table / a palette of pinks and reds and purples / diseased viscera imitating all of the shades of sunset / headstones in a graveyard / endless filthy alleys / long desolate corridors in an old asylum / the dripping passages of a sewer / a dust-blinded window / a dark unvisited cellar / a mirror gone rheumy with age / facets of murky crystal / cobwebs / long pale threads / hazy purple light / the slow curling of thin smoke / a great rectangular web / the ever-mutating images of clouds / a surge of dark elation / a sudden chill announcing bad weather / a vibrant presence / an expression of avid malignance / inner webbings / swirling fibers / wild shocks of twisting hair / a portrait of atrocity / lust for sites and ceremonies of mayhem / writhing cobwebs / reaching tendrils / graveyards and alleyways / a joyous hysteria / a pale purple / sinister and seamy regions / spectral ambiance / all pervasive purple coloration / the labyrinth of a living anatomy / palest pink / a purple light / putrid chambers and cloisters / an infernal land / fleshy, gelatinous integuments / translucent tissue / the theater of a mad surgery / hair-thin sutures / unseen hands designing unnatural shapes and systems / weaving a nest in which possession would take place / the weaver and web-maker / an old puppet-master / setting a helpless creature with new strings / through eyes unknown / purple shadows / a type of degraded rapture / a seizure of debauched panic / webs of hair / great evil / an appeal for deliverance / eyes that would see what should not be seen / stray threads pulled from a sleeve or pocket / a paralytic silence / eyes gazing fierce and malignant / a purple glow / two shafts of the purest purple light / an old woman with glowing eyes

Father Sevich’s Visit

A manner at first vaguely troublesome and afterward rather attractive / the arrival of a priest / the very echoes of the air / mellow afternoon sunlight / dark wooden floors / pale contortions of ancient wall paper / invisible games / abstract dread and a bizarre sort of indebtedness / a thick maze of propositions / a well-made bed / a relentless failure / cloistral tunnels / vaulted penetralia / a single column-clutching hand / the necessary features of fear / a maddening task / a series of completely irrelevant expressions / misty-eyed wonder / cretinous bafflement / smiling in an almost amiable way at one one’s impending doom / the trap of expectation / a sleepy whisper / the sound of soft conversation / the world of good manners and polite talk / a look of incompleteness / some unfinished effigy in a toy maker’s workshop / something vital to expression / the purple-robed mysteries of priesthood / animated eyes / withered things reeking of medicine and prayer / a painfully delicate subject / varnished wood / salvation through suffering / sacred horrors / the divine destiny toward which the paths of anguish have always led / volumes of blessed agony / an attitude of prayerful pleading / torturing demons / a single squatted devil / bristling lashes that sprout like weeds / an explosion of miniature grotesquerie / a brief and calculated absence / a modest fund of moral energy / a macabre icon / profane lessons / a countenance of true terror / a ridiculously empty slate / an off-stage atrocity / a cycle of mute, incredible lore / anthropomorphic mist / an eerie lividity / unconscious hours of darkness / a chronicle of truly unspeakable things / the light of every constellation in the visible universe / the oppressive mysteries of the autumn season / thick orange crayons / black cats / black paper / a hopeless urge for innovation / a tiny white collar / dripping with fever / hat and cloak and walking stick / narrow, nocturnal streets / a fairy-tale vision / serpentine lanes / the distorted glow of street lamps / the thinnest blade of moon / a narrow niche / an unpaved lane / a small courtyard surrounded by high walls / the stars above / jaundiced lamplight / a stairway of cut stone / the earth and absolute blackness / tiny lights glimmering like stars / clouds of shadows / some golden metal / a caricature of serenity / a hand as white as the whitest glove / chaotic rays / underworld starlight / a certain expression of rarefied scorn or disgust / indignant shadows / black, ankle-high shoes / the natural nightlight of the moon / an infernal aura or an angelic halo / a planet revolving its unspeakable tonnage in the blackness of space / a small bottle of holy water / secret denial and privilege / a smile of deep contentment

Miss Plarr

Misty, drizzling days / sharp, urgent rappings at the front door / a world of darkening mist / mist-covered locks / listening with intense expectancy / the world’s chaos of faces / a seething luxuriance / dark battlements of clouds / a mute and sullen twilight / a stone-gray sky / those days all shackled in gloom / a fugue of noise / the livid radiance of moonlight / the wild shape of some night-blossom / some strange and cruel kingdom / an intimate dungeon cell reserved for the most exclusive captivity / constant, noisy marauding / sedentary or stealthy rituals / an abyss of unspoken reproaches and suspicions / some ancient seagoing vessel / an old oil lamp / a series of quite fascinating lectures / a kind of brutality and an air of exile / deliriums of earth and sky / fog-bound islands in polar seas / shadowed realms littered with dead cities / peaks lacerated by unceasing winds / a bluish slime / the proper way to behave / the great mists of spring / murky sheets of ice / a world of shadows bound in place / the sound of something that stings the air / the hissing of rainy afternoons / immense blades sweeping over vast spaces / expansive wings cutting through cold winds / long whips lashing in darkness / intangible sympathies / a dark mesh of nightmares / a foul nest in which one’s own suspicions are swarming / links to a strictly mundane order / a briskness that seems to be an effort / a heavy spring dampness / lost to the world of wholesome practicalities / a hypnotic and fateful determination / a child’s weakness for prospects of misadventure / a fog-smothered landscape / a pale, floating web / an immense and awful kingdom / a patternless conglomerate of crystals / a misty graveyard / angular and many-faced monuments / the mountainous and murky thunderheads of a rainy season / the very essence of a storm / a matter of suspicion and conjecture / atrocious potential / fogs and mists and gray heaping skies / a conspicuous stridency / a dour mystique / a gray mist / skies of hissing rain

The Shadow At the Bottom of the World

Some feverish intent / sheaves of cornstalks standing brownish and brittle in a newly harvested field / a sky of empty light / fiery leafage / something dark, something abysmal / small shadowy voices / sweet wine turning to vinegar / a hysteric brilliance / displays of thorn apple, sumac, and towering sunflowers / crooked roadside fences / a moonlit field / a bright round moon / nocturnal solitude / patched-up overalls / worn flannel / the withered leaves of cornstalks / moonlight spread across a dead field / a great idol in shabby disguise / a sacred avatar out of season / fidgeting bemusement / a leaden vault of clouds / pure sunlight / misty dreams of the past night / a vine-twisted stone wall / dormant vines / a strange network of dead veins / calculated grayness / radiant leaves / legions of local cicadas / a dark fungus / of the blackest earth / a rich loam / a bog of shadows / an abyss in the outline of a man / the feel of wind and water / a few shifting flames / flames of only the slightest warmth / black flames / the molten texture of spoiled fruit / a shriveled scarecrow / an armory of axes, shovels, and other implements / an eccentricity of the harvest / a viscous mire / innumerable insects laughing / sprouting blackness / a perverse reluctance / the great shadow of a moonless night / the dark rustling depths of the season / the glass globes of streetlamps / the dense leaves of elms and oaks and maples / blazing auras / the frigid aurora of dawn / frost-powdered earth / shadows and corn shocks / countless insects chattering unseen / the feverish life of the earth / the wrinkled grimace of decay / corrupted by vile impulses / a mound of soft dirt / the darkish grooves of ancient bark / the mottled complexion of old flesh / a multitude of crooked smiles / a freakish mask painted with russet, rashy colors / a virulent intensity / an autumn night when fields lay ragged in moonlight / moist and fertile shadows / a hollow-eyed howling malignity / the cold emptiness of space / the pale gaze of the moon / the depths of an extraordinary harvest / insecure hints and delvings / the luxuriant shadow of trees / the mocking plumage of a strange season / an array of whims and suspicions / scraps of lush color / gold and crimson hieroglyphs / deathless leaves / an ill-formed village / a hideous impersonation of a face / leprous masks / knotty shadows / a subterranean craze of roots and tendrils / an underworld riot of branching convolutions / gnarled ornamentations / autumnal decay / knives and axes and curving scythes / countless colored leaves / pronouncements of dire or delightful curiosity / a dull trance / a wild luminousness / a diamond-bright fever burning within / perennial strangeness / tenacious foliage / softly glowing against a black sky / an untimely nocturnal rainbow / a harvest of hues / peach gold / pumpkin orange / honey yellow / winy amber / apple red / plum violet / the pyrotechnics of a new autumn / a thousand glittering dreams / a rigid scarecrow / a patchwork of shadows / a quivering glow / a premature craving / an expertly whetted blade / a betrayal or deception on the part of creation itself / something buried deep within appearances / something that wears a mask to hide itself / holding a spatula like a weapon / moldering shadows / a dreamless sleep / a sudden rage of mortification / the remains of a dismantled scarecrow / an ashen autumn morning / the feeling of blood / a bottomless grave

#meme response #this took a bit but >:0 i enjoyed it #gore tw just to be safe?#blood tw also to be safe #horror cw #nihilism tw #unreality tw #clowns tw ////

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brokenchinadolly-blog · 6 years ago

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Have you been re-introduced to DOLORES “DOLLY” UMBRIDGE? last we heard, the HALFBLOOD was most familiar with TIMELINE THREE. I don’t recall if they were always a SLYTHERIN, but I’ve heard the SEVENTH YEAR is still DRIVEN, ANALYTICAL, ENGAGING and HIGH-STRUNG, MANIPULATIVE, AND DECEPTIVE, so that’s familiar. at least SHE remembers their way around the castle.

Personality Expanded

[ + ]: Analytical: Every line of every conversation and every action she sees another person take is broken down into its minutiae and studied for hidden intent and insight into the picture of the person. It’s measured against what is already known and applied to planning future interaction and assessing strengths, weaknesses, the likelihood that the other party will become a problem or an asset, and how to handle them if they manifest as one or other—leaving room for if they turn out to be one then the other.

Engaging: There is nobody short of Gilderoy Lockhart that can weave a more dramatic or entertaining tale when they desire then Dolores. The believability could be questioned and increasingly so considering the frequency with which Dolores raises a fuss and turns a small event into a public spectacle, but the added spice of moans, groans, shouted accusations, passionate denials, and the occasional forced tear or fainting spell create impressions that are not soon forgotten all the same.

Dedicated: Once she has set her mind to something there is no dissuading her. She may not be loyal to very many people, but she is unfailingly loyal to herself and her goals and no amount of hardship will make her forget what she is really working toward.

[ - ]: High Strung: All the people she has already wronged or wounded as well as the wounds already done to her, both real and imagined, have made Dolores paranoid. That, her innately nervous nature, her near solitary existence during school breaks, and her own budding propensity to lies she then worries about being found out at, and increasingly warped worldview about dangerous muggles and halfbreeds have joined together to keep Dolores consistently with one foot hanging over the abyss of a breakdown to the point where loud, unexpected noises and the like rattle her regularly.

Deceptive: Dolores’ current life is built on lies, from the pureblood parentage she began to profess, to her attempt to convince each side she harbors sympathy for their cause, and there will only be more lies as she now does something much similar with the visitors from different tiemlines. She lies near every time she breathes and with the same automatic response as well as frequency until even she believes what she says.

Manipulative: This is where the weaknesses and strengths Dolly assesses in friend and enemy alike come into play. The point of knowledge for her is exploitation and exploit she does. She is not above blackmail in the slightest, but it’s such an ugly concept and she prefers to fill her life with beauty, so her preferences are to play on sympathy, good will, charity, sense of duty-- the better natures of people--though she’s quick to move on when this tactic does not work, the person she is trying to move is much lower than her and assumed to have no reliable better nature to appeal to, or her target’s sense of what’s right differs from hers and refuses to be altered. Still before blackmail there is the harsher beauty of the very rewarding art of intimidation to get what you want.

Boggart: Used to be people milling around in clothes like they had just been to her funeral and talking about how she had never accomplished anything worthwhile in her life, but currently re-enacts her mother and brother leaving (albeit a version where they say things far more caustic than they did in real life about how she drove them away, how unloveable she is, and how glad they are to never have to see her again). She would muse that her boggart may have actually shifted again after witnessing that and fretting over how mortifying it would be for anyone to see that those dumb creatures the boggarts think she’s broken up over those stupid muggles she doesn’t miss at all.

Amortentia: Freshly bound books, sugar cookies, and cilantro

How she spent the summer: Interning at the Improper Use of Magic Office, a position her father got her by agreeing to do some private maintenance work for the department head who is hopeless at household spells, but Dolly thinks she got on her own merits. Since she still had the trace on her for much of the summer she was relegated to little more than fetching coffee and organizing files the muggle way, but in her mind and even more prominently in how she would spin the story for others, she was an invaluable asset to the department and the workers there learned to trust her instincts and take her advice until she was practically running the place by time the summer came to an end and the unfortunate incident at the Department of Mysteries occured.

Her Name: She hates her name. Dolores sounds like a sixty-year-old spinster. She used to like Dolly but lately it has seemed infantilizing and it is too much of a reminder of her muggle bitch mother who started the nickname before Dolly could even choose for herself whether she wanted to be anyone’s “sweet faced little china doll.” She would go by her middle name, but she can’t seem to train herself to answer to it, and she wouldn’t want to be mocked as “Plain Jane” either. She finally chose to transition from Dolly to Dolores over the summer, introducing herself as Dolores to her supervisors at the Ministry so they would take her seriously, though her stupid father ruined it the first day--ruined her day twice actually since she had forbade him from talking to her in front of other people. She planned to keep it going once she returned to school, though now everything is confused and it’s hard to know whether insisting on her full name marks her as belonging to this timeline, will make people think she’s from a different timeline, or whether they won’t care either way and it’s the perfect time to slip in one extra change

In Timeline One: Dolores is very similar to timeline three’s, excepting her sorting into Ravenclaw, but has learned to be much more subdued about her anti-muggle opinions and has, in fact, truly become much more moderate while faking it because there are less people who reinforce the idea that muggles and squibs are inferior and undeserving or at least are thought so by all “proper wizards”

In Timeline Two: Timeline two’s Dolly would be horrified by timeline three’s as will “Our” Dolly once she learns about her counterpart, a hufflepuff who is vocal about muggleborn and squib rights to the point of foolishness no matter what hardship or treatment she has to endure. Dolly’s alternate does have the close friend group and significant other “Our” Dolly craves, but they are hardly what she would call suitable people. You see, In timeline two, the increased urgency of the losing war, far more violently anti-muggle public opinion of those in power in mainstream wizard society existing for years, and the recent blood status registration instead of hastening the decline of Dolly’s parents’ marriage or preventing it from happening in the first place, drew Orford and Ellen much closer together. Orford clung to and protected his muggle wife instead of blaming her for his shortcomings and Ellen saw Orford as a knight out of storybook instead of a struggling failure. Dolly was taught family over self, everyone as a part of a loving whole that banded together all the more in adversity. They tried to hide that Ulysses, Dolly’s little brother, could not perform magic as long as they could. Dolly even offered to follow him around, faking spells for him, but when his Hogwarts letter never came, they couldn’t anymore. Dolly’s mother and brother still left when she was fifteen but they were sent away to a secret keeper guarded safe house run by family friends for their own protection. The vastly different home life created a vastly different Dolly who diverged even more during her Hogwarts years in Hufflepuff.

History Facts

Dolores likes sweets to the degree she does because sometimes she experiences a bitter taste flooding her mouth and clinging to her tongue even after she scrapes it against the roof of her mouth and either extremely sweet or almost too spicy to tolerate foods can cover it up--and she’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth naturally. The bitter taste now comes any time she trying to maintain a calm facade while feeling emotional, one day she feels it will linger all the time, though originally it only came every time she felt the urge to use particularly vulgar language. Her father used to wash out her mouth with soap when she was younger. Nobody ever knew when he was doing it either, not even her mother. Soap bubbles he could do wandlessly. A discreet wave of fingers inside his pocket and she would be struggling to not vomit frothy, bitter bubbles. She can never forget that taste. She’d swallow, her stomach would churn, and her father would ask her later if she’d learned her lesson. He didn’t like correcting her, he’d always make that clear, but naughty children must be punished. Naughty daddies who had other secrets too and were mean behind everyone’s back must be punished too—and one day he would be--but that was how the preference for having everything sweet enough to mask the flavor of lye (or coppery blood in her mouth as she bit her tongue to keep from calling after mother when she walked out the door for the last time, not because she wanted to say she made a mistake and beg to be taken with her. Not the way she remembered it now. The stupid muggle bitch had made her so mad and insulted her so gravely by suggesting she may want to go with her in the divorce that Dolores had to bite her tongue to avoid cursing her into oblivion, since she was the more evolved creature and couldn’t strike a dumb animal that way) began.

Dolly loved to garden when she was younger despite the risk of dirtying her clothes, but it certainly isn’t an option anymore ever since her father moved them to a small flat in London. Her cat Vesuvia, before Dolly had to get rid of her, would knock about pots and track through window boxes and make a frightful mess. Plus something so small and limited as a window box makes a room dimmer not more lively for the disappointed heart of someone who grew up used to a full garden to tinker about in. The smell of freshly turned soil also reminds her of her mother who taught her both how to tend a garden and how to sing (and how the two were meant to be mixed), which is every reason to avoid it. She does still sing, however, though her songs of choice are not the upbeat, silly muggle songs her mother raised her on until she spurned them, but lofty opera selections as she imagines herself one day not awing a packed auditorium as a star but entertaining a small but appreciative crowd who didn’t know their Minister of Magic possessed hidden talents.

Dolly never knew she was allergic to cats, through years with Vesuvia and adopting several strays that came and went, until her father revealed to her after she shouted in a moment of anger that he was so useless she might as well have left with her mother for all the good he ever was to her, that he had been charming away her cat allergies her whole life. It was one of the only times Dolly could remember ever hearing him say he loved her--that broken hearted, stunted man who had mistreated and lost everyone who he loved but her. She didn’t say it back. She got rid of Vesuvia the next day. She wouldn’t be beholden to anyone. Besides, cats are too messy and too fussy. She didn’t love them that much.

REACTION:

At first, she didn’t believe the story of those that claimed to remember a different version of history other than the “proper” one. It was some sort of large scale trick or publicity stunt that she didn’t approve of one bit. She could only thank her lucky stars that her father, as much as he failed in other areas, was not part of this mass hysteria. He was still very much himself as was she. Then, once the Ministry statements supported these outlandish claims, and she saw the chaos it was devolving into when she next went into her internship after a few days off, she quickly got over her suspicions and disbelief...and started to think of how she could twist events to further herself.

Her first though was to parlay the amount of workers who didn’t remember who they were into stepping into one of their positions, but those that remained in power at the department just saw her as a girl only just barely over seventeen that still had a year left of school and she saw quickly she would have to come up with an alternate plan. So she offered herself as a spy after convincing her department head one was needed. Who knew what really had happened in the Department of Mysteries or if these newcomers to the timeline had some nefarious purpose? There were official Ministry inquiries but who would share information willingly if they were actually on a sabotage mission to derail the natural world into one of their “dark timelines?” Veritaserum was known not to work on everyone and the Ministry couldn’t use torture so there was no way to trust even information given under interrogation--and they hadn’t even gotten that far, just trusting friendly interview and treating these timeline jumpers like victims. Honestly, Dolores wasn’t sure of she did think the timeline travelers did have ill will or that they had traveled willingly, but weaving a story of paranoia could only help her. She claimed someone as quick thinking and skilled at reading people, gleaning information, and winning trust as she claimed to be could easily get in with those that had been displaced from their timelines, pretend to be one of them--take on whatever personality each person expected of her and stop those that knew conflicting versions from talking to each other about her or come up with some excuse of why she was lying to others but not them--and find out more about not just where they came from but what their true purpose was in crossing over, details that would not be shared with anyone they knew was trying to get information from them. She would only have access to students and school staff, but once should never underestimate what such people could know or accomplish, and think of what would happen if there was evil-doers infiltrating Hogwarts? She would see it didn’t happen. She could report all findings back to the Ministry, her own special position. No need for pay, just the promise of a job once she graduated. The department head agreed to her proposal. Dolores wasn’t sure if it was because she had won him over or if he was just trying to humor her and get her out of his office, but, either way, she was now working for the Ministry while at Hogwarts. The timeline confusion may just be the best thing that ever happened to her.

#backgroundbits #about dolly

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newstechreviews · 5 years ago

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When Caitie Bossart returned to the U.S. from a weeklong trip to the U.K., her dating life ought to have been the least of her problems. A part-time nanny looking for full-time work, she found her inbox filled with messages from companies that had instituted hiring freezes and from families who no longer wanted to bring a babysitter into their homes in response to the spread of COVID-19. Her aunt, whom she had been living with, prevailed upon Bossart to isolate herself at an Airbnb for 14 days upon her return, even as Bossart’s economic future looked uncertain.

At least Bossart wouldn’t be alone: She had met a great guy on the dating app Hinge about a month before her trip and had gone on five dates with him. She liked him, more than anyone she’d ever dated. When their state issued stay-at-home orders, they decided to hole up together. They ordered takeout and watched movies. In lieu of visiting museums or restaurants, they took long walks. They built a bond that felt at once artificial—trying to keep things light, they avoided the grimmer coronavirus-related topics that might dim the honeymoon period of a relationship—and promising. Under no other circumstance would they have spent such uninterrupted time together, and over the course of their confinement, her feelings for him grew.

But six days into it, Bossart’s crush was ordered to self-isolate for 14 days so he could take up a six-month job posting abroad. On top of job anxiety, worries about her living situation and stress about her family’s health, Bossart faced the prospect of not seeing this man for the better part of a year.

“I’m 35, which is that ‘dreaded age’ for women, or whatever,” she says. “I don’t know if I should wait, if I can wait. It’s scary.”

Since COVID-19 swept across the U.S., much has been made—and rightly so—of the plights of families facing economic and social upheaval: how co-habitating couples are adapting to sharing a workspace at home, how parents are juggling work with teaching their children trigonometry while schools are closed, how people cannot visit their parents or older relatives, even on their deathbeds, for fear of spreading the virus.

The challenges faced by singles, though, particularly millennials and those of Gen Z, have often been fodder for comedy. Instagram users are creating accounts dedicated to screenshotting terrible dating app pickup lines like, “If the virus doesn’t take you out, can I?” Twitter users have jumped to compare the situation with the Netflix reality series Love Is Blind, in which contestants talk to each other in isolated pods, unable to see or touch their dates. But for singles who have yet to find partners much less start families, isolation means the loss of that portion of life most young adults count on to forge grown-up friendships and romantic relationships.

Katia RepinaA couple in Domino Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn on April 4th, 2020.

These digital natives, who through online apps have enjoyed a freedom to manage their social lives and romantic entanglements that previous generations lacked—swiping left or right, ghosting a bore, scheduling a late-night hookup—now find themselves unable to exercise that independence. And for those who graduated from college into the last great recession with heavy student debt, there is the added worry of staring into another financial abyss as everything from gig work to full-time employment evaporates. Just as they were on the cusp of full-on adulthood, their futures are more in doubt than ever.

A 28-year-old woman who works in fashion and lives alone in New York echoed Bossart’s sentiments about her life being derailed. “The loneliness has definitely started to hit. I have great friends and family, but a relationship is still missing, and who knows when that will be back up and running,” she says. “I would be lying if I said my biological clock hadn’t crossed my mind. I have plenty of time, but if this lasts 6 months—it just means that much longer before I can eventually have a baby.”

Keep up to date with our daily coronavirus newsletter by clicking here.

That sense of mild dread is legitimate and widely shared, if rarely spoken aloud, and will only become more common as orders to isolate spread across the country.

Dacher Keltner, a University of California, Berkeley sociologist who studies the impact of touch, worries about the long-term impact of social distancing on singles who live alone. He contends the fabric of society is held together by even the smallest physical contact. “Touch is as important a social condition as anything,” Keltner says. “It reduces stress. It makes people trust one another. It allows for cooperation. When you look at people in solitary confinement suffering from touch deprivation, you see that people lose a sense that someone’s got their back, that they’re part of a community and connected to others.”

Worse still, loneliness can affect an individual’s health. Studies have shown extreme loneliness is associated with the immune system increasing inflammation. “Under normal circumstances, when you feel lonely, you run the risk of a stressed, compromised health profile,” Keltner says. “Add to that the quarantine, and that really elevates the severity.”

Katia RepinaA couple in Domino Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn on April 4th, 2020.

And then there’s the obvious carnal problem. The New York Board of Health issued guidelines on sex in the time of coronavirus, encouraging New Yorkers to avoid hookups and gently suggesting substituting masturbation for intercourse: “You are your safest sex partner.” The hilariously blatant government warning quickly went viral on social networks, but as the reality of abstinence has set in for New Yorkers, people are starting to wonder how their comfort with physical intimacy may forever be changed. Anthony Fauci, the director of the National Institute of Allergies and Infectious Diseases and a key member of the White House’s coronavirus task force, has already said, “I don’t think we should ever shake hands ever again.” Keltner adds that singles might fundamentally alter how they interact with strangers on first dates: Even once there is a cure for the coronavirus or the pandemic passes, an entire generation will think twice before hugging a stranger on a first, second, even third date.

“Right now, sex feels like something I may never have again,” said the anonymous New Yorker working in fashion. “People are going to have to start getting creative in terms of contact with men. Skype sex may get really popular. But how long can that last?” How we date during coronavirus is already shifting, perhaps permanently.

We are social creatures and of course will find ways to continue to date—primarily via Skype, FaceTime, Zoom and other video call apps. “Romantic love will never die,” says Helen Fisher, a biological anthropologist at the Kinsey Institute who has conducted hundreds of MRI scans on smitten people to see love’s effect on our brains. She says that our brains treat romantic love as a central need, like thirst and hunger. “Thirst and hunger aren’t going to die, and neither are feelings of love and attachment that allow you to pass your DNA to the next generation,” she says. Plus, novel times trigger dopamine in the brain, and we are certainly living through novel times.

Home, alone and in some cases without a job, single people are spending more time swiping right on dating apps to find love, particularly in the cities hardest hit by the virus: Bumble reports a 21% increase in messages sent in Seattle, 23% increase in New York City and 26% increase in San Francisco since March 12, a day after the World Health Organization labeled the coronavirus a global pandemic. The use of in-app video chatting on Bumble, a feature many users didn’t even know existed before the coronavirus spread, increased 93% across the country between March 13—the day President Donald Trump declared a national emergency—and March 27, with in-app calls and video chats averaging 29 minutes. Hinge, similarly, saw a 30% increase in messaging on the app in March, compared to February, and has responded by launching an in-app “date from home” feature that, if both users agree, launches a video chat or phone call.

Even those resistant to dating online are open to changing their habits. “I told my parents if this is why I die alone, it will be truly tragic,” jokes Tina Chen, 28. Chen works for a professional volleyball league and travels the country for tournaments, a routine that is on hold while COVID-19 spreads. Chen’s temporary move to her parents’ home in Los Angeles feels increasingly permanent as stay-at-home orders drag on. Chen has never been into online dating but admits if the quarantine lasts several more months, that may change. “If my time were to go soon-ish,” she says, “I want to have had the experience of life-long love.”

Some singles are getting creative. Chelsea Mao and Anna Li, students at the Wharton Business School at the University of Pennsylvania, started a Love Is Blind experiment, inspired by the Netflix series, for business school students to meet and talk through emails. They floated the idea to classmates and received 2200 submissions from students at 21 schools across the U.S.

Mao and Li, who are also participating, have received long, thoughtful missives via email, far different from the pithy chats on dating apps that tend to focus on sorting out logistics for in-person meetings. “But without that as an option, the conversations have been longer and more meaningful,” says Li, who exchanged notes with a mystery date about their backgrounds and personal struggles.

Adds Mao: “I have learned more about some of these people from a few emails than I would have from months of dating them in the usual school setting.”

Still, in-person chemistry is hard to replicate. A charmer over text might turn out to be a dud in person without the time, thesaurus or roommate to aid in witty repartee. And texting conversations on apps can drag on for days, weeks or even months and never lead to an actual date.

That’s why Fisher used to offer one cardinal piece of advice to people on dating apps: Meet the person as soon as possible. And yet, in the age of COVID-19, she has become surprisingly bullish on dating at a distance. “Everybody thinks this is a bad time for dating. I think this is an extremely good time for dating,” she says. “Sex is off the table, so you actually have to sit down and really get to know someone. Because the most important thing to look for in a partner is having a good conversation.”

Katia RepinaA couple having a conversation in Prospect Park, Brooklyn on April 5th, 2020.

Stripped of the ambiance of a restaurant or the taste of food, the quality of the conversation on a date comes into focus. “People definitely have to improve their conversation skills. There’s more talking on video chat than there would be in a loud bar,” says David, a 25-year-old engineer in Philadelphia who did not want to be identified by his last name for work-related reasons. “It’s also definitely helped my wallet.” He usually pays for the first date but calculates he is saving hundreds by not going out, a factor no doubt high in the minds of many online daters as unemployment soars.

Across the country, Bumble is seeing more “quality chats”—based on the length of messages people exchange in the app and how long the conversations last. And studies show a longer courting period translates to a more stable marriage. Fisher is confident this quarantine period will lead to a boom in weddings.

In theory, everyone on dating apps shares something in common right now and thus has the perfect opening conversation. That can build a sense of solidarity and even empathy among strangers trying to navigate the same challenges together, but singles who spoke with TIME—mostly in their 20s and 30s but also a handful older than 50—complained it also feels impossible to transition to other topics. Trying to suss out someone’s politics? The conversation will likely focus on Trump’s handling of the outbreak. Like sports? Debates over whether LeBron James is the greatest of all time came to a halt when the NBA postponed the season. Want to talk movies? The discussion inevitably winds its way to the fact that Tom Hanks tested positive for COVID-19. Viruses do not make for light conversation.

That’s particularly true for people like Bossart, who are weighed down by financial concerns. “A guy messaged me on a dating app, ‘how are you doing?’” she says. “I didn’t even know what to say because I’m not feeling great about my job situation right now. So I just stopped responding.”

Assuming singles find a connection, video dates can only go so far. Zachary Wobensmith, a 50-year-old actor in New York City, has remained skeptical of video chatting. Not only does dating during the pandemic sound like more work—coming up with creative ways to maintain the spark even as the lockdown drags on—he wonders if he’s got the willpower to resist temptation and abide by the rules of social isolation. “This sounds terrible, but if I found someone I liked, at a certain point I would risk it and meet them in person,” he says. “Human contact is difficult to go without.”

Courtesy of Gretchen Wobensmith Zachary Wobensmith on his 50th birthday in New York.

The Wharton students conducting the Love Is Blind experiment have heard rumors of couples who connected through the program meeting up for long-distance walks together. “It feels like we live in such innocent times that we were scandalized by people going on walks, but we are,” says Li.

Fisher has her own view: “We are a touching animal, if this carries on, I think we’re going to see speakeasies emerge where people meet in clandestine fashion and hug or even have sex.”

Whether pop-up hugging speakeasies take off or not, we don’t yet know the long-term consequences of coronavirus on our day-to-day interactions. Several singles TIME interviewed speculated that even after social distancing rules are lifted, they would continue to use distance dating as a step in the courtship process, a way to screen people before they actually meet in person. Others suggested it would take months or even years before they are comfortable shaking hands with a stranger or hugging them on a first date.

Keltner, the touch expert at Berkeley, worries about the long-term mental health ramifications on a society in isolation. Statistics on solitary confinement are difficult to acquire because the prison system limits studies on prisoners, but data suggest that people deprived of social interactions for even just a few weeks are 30-40% more likely to suffer from depression and suicidal ideation. While social distancing in an apartment with virtual access to friends, family and coworkers is hardly the same as extreme isolation, public health experts are worried about spikes in anxiety and depression during the pandemic—feelings that will not automatically disappear when people go outside again.

“If you look at it from an evolutionary perspective, for millions of years we had tactile contact like hugs,” says Keltner. “Every relationship has been built and held together by complicated nonverbal language, beginning with parent and child. It’s part of our social fabric. I worry about what happens when as a society we lose those modes of communication for a time.”

Yet some of those searching online for their long-term partners are optimistic that COVID-19 might fundamentally change people’s behavior for the better.

Rebecca, a New York City doctor who asked that her last name be excluded for work-related reasons, says she has been able to learn plenty about her dates virtually—perhaps even more than if she met them on-line, since a glimpse into their apartments on video chat is a glimpse into their daily lives. She says she’s able to determine about “80%” of in-person chemistry on her virtual dates, and while it’s difficult to resist flouting the rules and meeting up, “if it is worth it, you will make it work,” she says. “It’s physical distancing, not social distancing. And I’m determined to continue to be social.”

Alex Muetzel, 29, who works in recruiting for New York University but is currently self-quarantining in his parents’ basement in Ohio, is spending less time on dating apps overall, but more time talking to the men he meets on them — a change from the days when he might quickly move on if there was not an immediate spark.

Courtesy of Florian KrischAlex Muetzel in Miami, Florida.

“I’ve met a lot of guys who I’m sure are great, but if you’re not really into it right away, you have so many other options on the apps, you don’t give them a second chance,” he says. Now, without the opportunity to meet someone for a quick coffee or drink, there’s time for conversation, even with people he might not have spent time with before.

“I wonder if people will change their priorities,” he says.

Rebecca already has. She’s found it easy to rule out an entire category of online suitors: those who reveal they’re not respecting quarantine rules. Clearly, such a reckless person is not boyfriend material.

#Blogger

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itsfinancethings · 5 years ago

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April 11, 2020 at 07:00AM

“I’m 35, which is that ‘dreaded age’ for women, or whatever,” she says. “I don’t know if I should wait, if I can wait. It’s scary.”

Katia RepinaA couple in Domino Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn on April 4th, 2020.

Keep up to date with our daily coronavirus newsletter by clicking here.

That sense of mild dread is legitimate and widely shared, if rarely spoken aloud, and will only become more common as orders to isolate spread across the country.

Katia RepinaA couple in Domino Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn on April 4th, 2020.

Adds Mao: “I have learned more about some of these people from a few emails than I would have from months of dating them in the usual school setting.”

Katia RepinaA couple having a conversation in Prospect Park, Brooklyn on April 5th, 2020.

Courtesy of Gretchen Wobensmith Zachary Wobensmith on his 50th birthday in New York.

Fisher has her own view: “We are a touching animal, if this carries on, I think we’re going to see speakeasies emerge where people meet in clandestine fashion and hug or even have sex.”

Yet some of those searching online for their long-term partners are optimistic that COVID-19 might fundamentally change people’s behavior for the better.

Courtesy of Florian KrischAlex Muetzel in Miami, Florida.

“I wonder if people will change their priorities,” he says.

#IFTTT #Blogger

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thecreaturecodex · 5 years ago

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Qlippoth, Solesik

[Commissioned by @thetygre, who asked for a conversion from The Book of Fiends, dealer’s choice. The Book of Fiends is a book I have strongly mixed feelings about. The parts I like I really like, but the parts I don’t I hate. The part that I hate the most is probably the mechanics--even the very interesting looking or flavorful monsters tend to have somewhat boring statistics. So I went for the solesik, because its garble field and language drain are mechanically creative. The aura seemed a fit for a horrific appearance of a qlippoth, even though this wasn’t a qlippoth in the original text.]

Qlippoth, Solesik CR 8 CE Outsider This writhing worm-like horror has pinkish-grey skin ringed with annulations and studded with nubs and other protrusions. Its head, if it can be called that, is composed of three fleshy arms, each covered in tube-feet, surrounding a circular, fanged maw.

Solesiks are qlippoth that resent and hate the ability of language to spread ideas and philosophies. As such, they attempt to subvert or destroy it whenever possible, ruining communication attempts and sucking the languages right out of their victims’ heads. Those that survive a solesik attack may become completely insensate, as they much prefer to leave their victims alive as a warning to others than kill them and risk their souls contaminating the Abyss. Although solesiks despise language, they are adept at using it, and often make raids on repositories of scrolls and spellbooks in search of obscure magic.

Most solesiks open combat with their spell-like abilities, hoping to leave their enemies scattered and cowering. Those that resist these attempts are often their first targets in melee. A solesik’s jaws are positioned awkwardly—it cannot bite creatures except for those already grabbed in its starfish-like arms. Solesiks often travel in loose conglomerates, called schools, but the members of these schools are not especially beholden to each other. Although they will coordinate attacks, if one individual is badly injured, the rest will flee to save their own lives, or even turn on the weaker if they feel they have something to gain.

A solesik is about seven feet long and weighs between two hundred and three hundred pounds.

Solesik CR 8 XP 4,800 CE Medium outsider (chaos, evil, extraplanar, qlippoth) Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +21, thoughtsense 30 ft. Defense AC 22, touch 13, flat-footed 19 (+3 Dex, +9 natural) hp 95 (10d10+40) Fort +11, Ref +6, Will +11 DR 10/lawful; Immune cold, mind-influencing effects, poison; Resist acid 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 19 Offense Speed 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (perfect) Melee 3 slams +14 (1d6+4 plus grab) Special Attacks gnaw (bite +14, 2d6+6 plus language drain), horrific appearance (DC 18) Spell-like Abilities CL 10th, concentration +13 (+17 casting defensively) At will—command (DC 16), detect magic, erase (DC 14), suggestion (DC 18) 3/day—dimension door, dispel magic, invisibility 1/day—greater command (DC 20), mass castigate (DC 20) Statistics Str 19, Dex 17, Con 18, Int 19, Wis 14, Cha 16 Base Atk +10; CMB +14 (+18 grapple); CMD 27 (cannot be tripped) Feats Alertness, Combat Casting, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Lunge Skills Bluff +16, Fly +24, Knowledge (arcana) +17, Knowledge (planes) +17, Linguistics +17, Perception +21, Sense Motive +21, Spellcraft +17, Stealth +16, Use Magic Device +13 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Protean, 7 others, telepathy 100 ft. SQ language mastery, sound mimicry (voices) Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization solitary, pair or school (3-8) Treasure double standard Special Abilities Flight (Su) The flight of a solesik is a supernatural ability. Gnaw (Ex) A solesik can make a bite attack against a grappled creature as a swift action. If it hits, the creature is subject to its language drain ability. Horrific Appearance (Su) A creature that fails its save against a solesik’s horrific appearance has its ability to speak scrambled. For one minute, it has a 50% chance to fail to communicate intelligibly, and all spells with a verbal component or command word items have a 50% spell failure chance. The save DC is Charisma based. Language Drain (Su) A creature bitten by a solesik must succeed a DC 18 Will save or permanently lose the ability to speak, read or write one language of the solesik’s choice. A creature under the effect of a tongues spell is first subject to a dispel attempt by the solesik (CL 10th) before its natural languages are affected. If this tongues effect is supernatural (such as the truespeech of an azata), it is suppressed for 1 day on a successful dispel attempt before the creature’s natural languages are affected. A creature that loses all of its languages is subject to a feeblemind spell (no save). This is a curse effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Language Mastery (Ex) A solesik adds +2 to the DCs of all of its spell-like abilities with a language-dependent component. In addition, it can use all scrolls as if the spells were on its spell list.

#solesik #qlippoth #the book of fiends #pathfinder 1e #commissions

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thecreaturecodex · 5 years ago

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Psychopomp, Lapinlé

[Commissioned by @justicegundam82. So, major trigger warning. This creature deals with the deaths of children. If that’s too much for you, feel free to skip this one. The basic shape comes from The Adventures of Pinocchio, and it’s a real short scene: you can read it here. The name references the Black Rabbit of Inlé from Watership Down, the Death of Rabbits. If you like the statistics, but think that child death is too much of a theme for your players (which is fair), might I suggest recasting this as a protector of animal souls? I didn’t want to make it seem as if children and animals are equivalent in the main text, but they both have that “innocent” aspect.]

Psychopomp, Lapinlé CR 3 N Outsider This small humanoid looks something like a finely attired black rabbit in black clothes.

All souls make their way to the Boneyard, even those of individuals who know nothing of death or the gods. Children make up most of these innocent souls, and their souls are the responsibility of the lapinlé. A lapinlé serves to comfort and ease the passing of an innocent, as well as to protect its soul from those that would seek to steal or exploit it. Some lapinlé even act as companions for lonely, doomed children, helping them accomplish a task or live out a fantasy.

Lapinlé do not relish combat, but will engage in it to protect their charges and the interests of the psychopomps as a whole. They carry small, fine swords as part of their attire, and know how to use them. They can make precise cuts to swiftly take down an enemy. A few have even been known to use this skill on an unsuspecting charge whose death is otherwise certain, to ensure that their passing is as quick and painless as possible.

Like the rabbits they resemble, lapinlé are social creatures, and when not on the job they dwell underground in homey dens packed shoulder to shoulder with others of their kind. They may work with other psychopomps, especially as pall bearers, messengers or scouts. If expecting combat, they may ride esoboks into battle.

A lapinlé stands about three feet tall and weighs around thirty pounds.

Lapinlé CR 3 XP 800 N Small outsider (extraplanar, psychopomp) Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +9, spirit sense Defense AC 15, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+1 size, +2 Dex, +2 natural) hp 26 (4d10+8) Fort +5, Ref +3, Will +6 DR 5/adamantine; Immune death effects, disease, poison; Resist cold 10, electricity 10; SR 14 Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee short sword +7 (1d4+1/19-20) Special Attacks calming touch, sneak attack +1d6 Spell-like Abilities CL 3rd, concentration +5 (+9 defensively) At will—chill touch (DC 13), diagnose disease 3/day— delay pain, remove fear 1/day—delay poison, remove sickness Statistics Str 13, Dex 14, Con 13, Int 12, Wis 15. Cha 14 Base Atk +4; CMB +4; CMD 16 Feats Combat Casting, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +9 (+13 when jumping), Bluff +7, Diplomacy +7, Heal +6, Knowledge (planes) +8, Knowledge (religion) +8, Perception +9, Stealth +13; Racial Modifiers +4 Acrobatics made to jump Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Infernal SQ mighty leap, spirit touch Ecology Environment any land or underground (Purgatory) Organization solitary, pair or procession (3-12) Treasure standard (short sword, other treasure) Special Abilities Calming Touch (Su) As a standard action, a lapinlé may touch a living creature to affect it as per a calm emotions spell (CL 4th). An unwilling creature may resist this effect with a DC 14 Will save. A creature may not be affected by the calming touch of a lapinlé more than once per 24 hours. Mighty Leap (Ex) A lapinlé does not suffer a penalty to Acrobatics checks made to jump without a running start. If it does get a running start, it doubles the distance traveled.

#lapinle #psychopomp #tw child death #pathfinder rpg #pinocchio

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thecreaturecodex · 5 years ago

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Daemon, Eurekadaemon

[Commissioned by @wannabedemonlord, loosely based on the Falls City Flyer. This one has a lot of moving parts, with references to summoners, firearms, technology and my original daemons. I usually try to limit non-Core Rulebook material to one book, but I figure, it’s the post-edition era. If someone really wants to play PFRPG 1e, they probably are planning on looking some stuff up.]

Daemon, Eurekadaemon CR 11 NE Outsider This blocky metallic giant resembles a humanoid insect standing half again the height of a man, with visible joints on its limbs and wings. Its maw opens vertically, revealing a jagged mass of whirling teeth. Its eyes shine like searchlights.

A eurekadaemon represents death through technological failure, and they are among the most inventive and mechanically minded of the daemons. Although they are gifted artisans of their own right, they much prefer to ruin the devices of others, especially in dramatic and deadly fashion. They make for excellent saboteurs and sappers. Some more powerful daemons put them to work devising weapons of war and torture, but eurekadaemons usually get bored with making the same thing over and over again, and make better innovators than engineers. A eurekadaemon’s obsession with tinkering extends to its own body. No two eurekadaemons look the same, although all blend a humanoid frame with powerful wings, claws and fangs, and all bear luminous eyes. A eurekadaemon can even shift configurations on the fly, changing its body to meet its tactical needs or aesthetic preferences.

In combat, a eurekadaemon seeks out enemies it thinks will pose an interesting challenge. Those armed with technological tools, from siege engines to firearms to nanotechnology, are favored foes, as the daemon’s glitching aura makes such weapons unreliable. Eurekadaemons attack with powerful melee strikes, augmented by whatever modifications they have made to their own bodies. If a eurekadaemon feels it is in a position of strength, it will often disarm a foe of some technological toy and experiment with it in combat, or simply smash it out of spite.

The average eurekadaemon stands nine feet tall and has a wingspan of fifteen feet.

Eurekadaemon CR 11 XP 12,800 NE Large outsider (daemon, evil, extraplanar) Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +14 Aura glitching (30 ft.)Defense AC 26, touch 13, flat-footed 22 (-1 size, +4 Dex, +13 natural) hp 138 (12d10+72) Fort +10, Ref +12, Will +9; +4 vs. necromancy effects, paralysis, sleep and stunning DR 10/good; Immune acid, bleed, death effects, disease, poison; Resist cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10; SR 22 Defensive Abilities fortification (50%), mechanized Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee bite +19 (2d8+8 plus 1d6 electricity), 2 claws +19 (1d6+8 plus 1d6 electricity) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks breath weapon (1d4 rounds, 30 ft. cone, 12d6 fire, Reflex DC 22) Spell-like Abilities CL 12th, concentration +16 At will—dispel magic, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. objects only), technomancy 3/day—quickened heat metal (DC 16), magic circle vs. technology (DC 17), rusting grasp, unholy blight (DC 18) 1/day—major creation, summon (1 bagodaemon, 40%, level 6th), transmute metal to wood (DC 21) Statistics Str 26, Dex 18, Con 22, Int 17, Wis 13, Cha 19 Base Atk +12; CMB +21 (+23 disarm or sunder); CMD 35 (37 vs. disarm or sunder) Feats Combat Expertise, Improved Disarm, Improved Initiative, Improved Sunder, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (heat metal), Technologist (B) Skills Craft (any one) +22, Disable Device +22, Fly +17, Knowledge (arcana) +18, Knowledge (engineering) +18, Knowledge (planes) +18, Perception +14, Spellcraft +15, Stealth +15; Racial Modifiers +4 Craft, +4 Disable Device Languages Abyssal, Draconic, Infernal, telepathy 100 ft. SQ illuminating gaze, reconfigure (breath weapon, energy attacks), trapfinding Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abaddon) Organization solitary, pair or design (3-8) Treasure standard Special Abilities Glitching Aura (Su) Technological devices behave erratically within 30 feet of a eurekadaemon. Firearms have their misfire chance increased by 2, and a firearm without a misfire chance misfires on a roll of 1. Technological items that are not timeworn are subject to glitches as if they were timeworn, and timeworn items have a flat 20% chance of glitching every time they are used. Devices held by a creature with the evil descriptor are not affected by the glitching aura of a eurekadaemon. Illuminating Gaze (Su) A eurekadaemon emits a 60 foot cone of bright light from its eyes. All creatures in that area are affected as if by a faerie fire spell for as long as they remain in the area and for 1d4 rounds thereafter. A eurekadaemon can suppress or resume this effect as a move action. Mechanized (Ex) A eurekadaemon has replaced much of its own anatomy with mechanical parts. It gains a +4 racial bonus on all saves against necromancy effects, paralysis, sleep and stunning effects, and is immune to bleed damage. Reconfigure (Su) Three times per day as a standard action, a eurekadaemon can rebuild its body to suit its needs. It grants itself abilities as per the greater evolution surge spell, except that these changes have a duration of instantaneous and last until the eurekadaemon reconfigures itself again. This eurekadaemon has used its reconfigure to give itself a breath weapon and energy attacks, as reflected in its statistics above. Trapfinding (Ex) A eurekadaemon can detect and disable magical traps as a rogue.

#daemon #eurekadaemon #magic the gathering #paranormal #pathfinder 1e

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thecreaturecodex · 6 years ago

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Hordling

[This is why I needed a break. The hordlings are the single highest word count entry in the Codex so far, with sixteen random appearance tables and a table for special attacks and qualities. I also got somewhat distracted during this conversion. I had three versions I was drawing reference from--the original 1e version in Monster Manual II, the 3.5 conversion in Dungeon Magazine, and my own 3.5 conversion from my high school years. In going back over the MMII, I realized how many 1e monsters are relatively obscure. So I’m going to be converting some of those. Like, maybe 50 or so when I’m all said and done.

Also, I’d love to see what some of y’all make with randomly generated hordlings. Feel free to use this post as a generator.

Edit: In the interests of saving peoples’ dashboards, I’ve moved all of the random tables behind the cut. There’s a lot of them.]

Hordling CR 5 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This humanoid horror has a motley combination of mismatched traits.

In the distant past, the daemons infected the Abyss with mortal souls, creating the demons in the process. Perhaps the hordlings are the Abyss’ revenge. Whenever a chaotic outsider dies in Abaddon, parts of its essence merge with that plane, creating a vector point that spawns hordlings—sometimes merely a single one, sometimes hundreds. Some daemons view them as pests, and seek to exterminate hordlings and purge vectors of their chaotic influence. Others see hordlings as useful, expendable minions, and press them into service. Although hordlings are immune to charm or compulsion magic, they respond well to promises of murder and treasure, and value their own hides enough to be cowed by threats.

No two hordlings look identical, but all are vicious killers. They fight amongst themselves frequently for dominance, but are more than eager to turn their violence on other creatures. No matter their shape or size, all hordlings are surprisingly stealthy, and if they sense a possible victim coming, they seek to set up an ambush. A hordling’s abilities dictate its combat style, but they are generally melee combatants. Once combat is joined, most hordlings fight to the death.

There are many types of variant hordlings. The simplest variations can be made by using the degenerate, young, giant or advanced simple templates to make larger or smaller, stronger or weaker hordlings. But hordlings with additional Hit Dice are not unknown. A hordling has one hordling ability for every 2 HD it has, and has SR equal to its CR +11. A hordling with 11 or more HD has DR 10/lawful, and one with 16 or more HD has DR 15/lawful.

Hordling Appearance No two hordlings look alike, and the following tables can be used to customize the appearance of a hordling. None of these appearances have any mechanical effect, except where noted. Feel free to add, change or delete options as you desire. See below the cut for hordling traits both with and without mechanical affects, and for base hordling stats

Overall Aspect 1—gibbering, drooling 2—glaring, menacing 3—twitching, crawling 4—wrinkled, seamed 5—flaccid, drooping 6—rotting, tattered

Head Shape 1—wedge shaped 2—conical 3—discoid 4—cubical 5—spherical 6—ovoid

Head Adornment 1—bald 2—mane 3—frills 4—lumps 5—feathers 6—horns

Ears 1—large, pointed 2—small, pointed 3—oversized, drooping 4—large, fan-like 5—human-like 6—bare holes

Eye Color 1—black 2—purple 3—metallic 4—blank white 5—red 6—yellow

Eye Type 1—bulbous, protruding 2—small, on stalks 3—large, compound 4—small, sunken 5—small, cat-like 6—large, round

Nose 1—snout-like 2—nostrils only 3—short trunk 4—large, bulbous 5—covered in warts 6—none

Mouth 1—tusked 2—small, pointed teeth 3—prominent canines 4—beak 5—crushing molars 6—proboscis

Neck 1—ruffed, frilled 2—long and slender 3—short and muscular 4—crooked, bent 5—capable of full rotation 6—none

Back 1—many-humped 2—bristly 3—spines 4—greasy 5—maned 6—vestigial wings

Tail 1—prehensile 2—stumpy 3—fan-tailed 4—forked 5—knob-ended 6—none

Arms 1—multi-jointed 2—short, thick 3—feathered 4—large, muscular 5—spindly 6—tentacle-like

Legs 1—long, thin 2—short, bowed 3—multi-jointed 4—tripod (+2 CMD vs. trip) 5—centaur-like (+4 CMD vs. trip) 6—no legs; slug or snake-like (cannot be tripped)

Hands 1—single oversized claw 2—too many fingers 3—bird-like talons 4—pincers 5—webbed fingers 6—retractable claws

Feet 1—prehensile toes 2—hoofed 3—clawed 4—webbed 5—sucker-like 6—paw-like

Body coloration 1—dark and muted 2—pale 3—garish, clashing 4—counter-shading 5—stripes or spots 6—transparent skin

Skin covering 1—chitin-covered 2—rough and scaly 3—furred 4—feathered 5—slimy and dripping 6—warty

Hordling Traits All hordlings have multiple monstrous traits—the default has three traits, but many more are possible. Roll on the following table. Duplicate rolls do not stack with each other and should be rerolled, unless the trait has an asterisk next to it 1—additional arm* 2—all-around vision 3—amphibious 4—armored* 5—barbed defense 6—breath weapon 7—clutching grasp 8— elite ability* 9— enhanced senses 10— energy resistance* 11— fortification 12— functional wings 13—gore attack 14— quick footed 15— rapid healer 16— reach attack* 17—rending claws 18—sonic aura 19—spit 20—tripping tail Additional Arm (Ex) The hordling has one additional arm, and gains an additional claw attack All-Around Vision (Ex) The hordling has eyes on the back of its head or scattered around its body. It cannot be flanked and gains a +4 racial bonus to Perception checks Amphibious (Ex) The hordling gains the ability to breathe water and a swim speed equal to its land speed Armored (Ex) The hordling gains an additional +3 natural armor bonus Barbed Defense (Ex) Any creature striking the hordling with a natural weapon, touch spell, unarmed strike or manufactured melee weapon takes piercing damage equal to 1d4+ the hordling’s Strength modifier. Weapons with the reach property do not endanger their wielders in this way. Breath Weapon (Su) Once every 1d4 rounds, the hordling can breathe a cone of gas in a 15 foot cone. Creatures in the area must succeed a Fortitude save (Con based DC) or be nauseated for 1 round and take 1d6 points of Strength damage. On a successful save, they are sickened for 1 round and take no Strength damage. This is a poison effect. Clutching Grasp (Ex) The hordling gains the grab and constrict special attacks for its claws. Its constrict deals the same damage as its claws plus 1.5 times the hordling’s Strength modifier Elite Ability (Ex) The hordling gains a +4 bonus to one of its ability scores (chosen randomly) Enhanced Senses (Ex) The hordling gains blindsense 30 ft. Energy Resistance (Ex) The hordling gains resistance 10 to acid, cold, electricity, fire or sonic damage (selected randomly). This ability can be selected five times, once for each type of energy. Fortification (Ex) The hordling has a 50% chance to treat any critical hit or sneak attack as a normal hit Functional Wings (Ex) The hordling gains a fly speed equal to twice its land speed, with average maneuverability. Gaze (Su) The hordling gains a gaze attack with the following traits; range 10 ft., Will negates (Cha based DC), stun for 1 round. This is a mind-influencing effect. Gore Attack (Ex) The hordling gains a gore attack as a primary natural weapon that deals normal damage for its size. Quick Footed (Ex) The hordling gains a +10 foot bonus to its move speed Rapid Healer (Ex) The hordling gains fast healing 5 Reach Attack (Ex) The hordling’s reach increases by +5 ft. for one of its natural weapons. This ability can be selected once per natural weapon the hordling has. Rending Claws (Ex) The hordling gains the rend special attack, dealing additional damage equal to its normal claw damage plus 1.5x Str bonus when it hits with both claws Sonic Aura (Su) The hordling emits a 10 foot radius aura that causes all creatures within it to succeed a concentration check (DC 20+ spell level) to cast a spell. Any creature in the aura must succeed a Will save (Cha based DC) or be frightened for 1d4+1 rounds. A creature that succeeds this save is immune to the fear effect, but must still concentrate in the aura. This is a sonic, mind-influencing fear effect. Spit (Ex) The hordling can spit as a standard action. Treat this as a ranged touch attack with a range of 60 feet and no range increment. On a successful hit, it deals 1d6 points of acid, cold, electricity or fire damage (select randomly) per 3 HD. Tripping Tail (Ex) The hordling gains a tail attack as a secondary natural weapon that deals normal damage for a tail slap of its size. It also gains the trip special attack with this natural weapon.

Sample Hordling CR 5 XP 1,600 CE Medium outsider (chaos, evil, extraplanar) Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +7 Defense AC 19, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+3 Dex, +6 natural) hp 51 (6d10+18); fast healing 5 Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +5 DR 5/lawful; Immune mind-influencing abilities; SR 16 Offense Speed 40 ft. Melee 2 claws +10 (1d6+3), bite +10 (1d6+3) Special Attacks gaze, swarmfighting Statistics Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 7, Wis 11, Cha 13 Base Atk +6; CMB +8; CMD 20Feats Improved Initiative, Lightning Reflexes, Weapon Focus (claw) Skills Acrobatics +10 (+14 when jumping), Climb +10, Intimidate +8, Perception +7, Stealth +17, Swim +10; Racial Modifiers +8 Stealth Languages Abyssal SQ hordling traits (gaze, quick feet, rapid healing) Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abaddon) Organization solitary, pair, band (3-12) or horde (13-48) Treasure standard Special Abilities Gaze (Su) range 10 ft., Will DC 14 negates, stun for 1 round. This is a mind-influencing effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Hordling Traits (Ex/Su) All hordlings have a variety of different, monstrous traits. The basic hordling has three traits, rolled on the table above. Swarmfighting (Ex) Two hordlings of the same size can fit in the same square without penalty. If they both attack the same opponent, they are treated as if they were flanking that opponent.

#hordling #long post #pathfinder rpg #D&D #random generator

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