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rowaning · 4 years ago

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The Complete Fiction of HP Lovecraft rated by me, someone who read them all* but has a terrible memory

The Beast in The Cave: uh a guy goes on a cave tour and finds a creature that was like a human that got lost and adapted to its surroundings. 0/10 just because im pretty sure there was another one with this exact premise and neither of them were memorable at all.

The Alchemist: dude achieves immortality and lives in the narrators basement and has pledged to murder his entire lineage or something. 4/10 the alchemy stuff was actually kind of interesting

The Tomb: im pretty sure this is the one where a guy starts hanging out in a tomb and like travels back in time/becomes one of his ancestors? 5/10 if its the one im thinking of i did enjoy reading it

Dagon: guy lands on a mysterious island with signs of a long dead civilization. 1/10 i do not remember what happened in it

A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson: 0/10 i have no memory of this

Polaris: also 0/10 i forgot all about it

Beyond the Wall of Sleep: could be any of the dream focused ones. if its the one about the dude sailing into the void or whatever than 4/10 not too bad

Memory: ironically, i dont remember it. 0/10

Old Bugs: 1/10 for the title god i wish i remembered this one

The Transition of Juan Romero: i got nothing. 0/10

The White Ship: this might also be the one about the dude sailing into the void? i liked that one he lived in a lighthouse and boarded a dream ship and just fucking left it was fun. 4/10

The Street: uh i think really steep street that didnt actually exist. 3/10

The Doom that Came to Sarnath: i wanna say another one of the dream centered ones where a town discovers some old relics and blatantly disrespects them and gets exactly whats coming to it. 5/10 they deserved what they got

The Statement of Randolph Carter: ok this dude shows up several times. i think this one is about how he returns to his childhood home then travels back in time and creates a time loop paradox thing. 1/10 meh

The Terrible Old Man: uh some thieves harrass a weird old guy and get got. 5/10

The Cats of Ulthar: someone is mean to a cat in a dream city, all of the rest of the cats get revenge and are revered for the rest of time. 2/10 (-3 because lovecraft has a specific name he gives to apparently every fictional and real cat he encounters and wow i wish he hadn't)

The Tree: i feel like this is something to do with a person becoming a tree but i cant actually remember. 0/10

Celephais: yeah no i got nothing 0/10

The Picture in the House: also nothing 0/10

The Temple: nope 0/10

Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and his Family: is this the one where the dude's great grandfather married an ape? i dont think so but im not sure. 0/10, -5/10 if it is that one cause that one was especially shitty

From Beyond: nope 0/10

Nyarlathotep: charismatic dude shows up and is like get in bitches we're going to the void. i love nyarlathotep cause hes the one who directly interacts with humanity and like wears a human suit or whatever so hes just some dude whos like hey im gonna feed you to azathoth 5/0

The Quest of Iranon: got nothing 0/10

The Music of Erich Zann: narrator makes friends with an old musician whos being hunted by supernatural forces. 2/10 because i remember it but it was just ok

Ex Oblivione: 1/10 for the title but i have no clue what it was about

Sweet Ermengarde: lovecraft's sole attempt at comedy. not to my taste like at all 0/10

The Nameless city: nope 0/10

The Outsider: also nope 0/10

The Moon-Bog: sounds cool, dont remember it. 0/10

The Other Gods: dude tries to find the gods of humanity where they live on a big mountain, actually finds them, is immediately smited by the Other Gods who protect the gods of humanity. 3/10 he deserved it

Azathoth: dont recall, 0/10

Herbert West- Reanimator: Arkham man Herbert West and his assistant ressurect the dead with little thought to the consequences, then get murdered by a band of said resurrected dead. 5/10

Hypnos: nope 0/10

What the Moon Brings: also nope 0/10

The Hound: still nope 0/10

The Lurking Fear: again, nope 0/10

The Rats in the Walls: dude returns to his ancestral home, hears rats, excavates the basement and finds out that his ancestors ate human flesh, eats his friend. 1/10 it was an interesting read but can lovecraft please stop calling cats that.

The Unnameable: no clue 0/10

The Festival: nope 0/10

*Under the Pyramids: ok im pretty sure this is the one with houdini which is the only one i could not read. i went into this mentally prepared for lovecraft's bigotry but i was not mentally prepared for him dropping harry houdini, avid skeptic who absolutely would have beat the shit out of him for this, into the middle of his super racist paranormal horror. -1000/10

The Shunned House: nope 0/10

The Horror at Red Hook: also nope 0/10

He: cool title, no memory of the story. 0/10

In the Vault: wow im bad at this. 0/10

Cool Air: still no 0/10

The Call of Cthulhu: kind of all over the place, there was a thing about artists and then a thing about a cop investigating a cult. 3/10 meh but ill give it a bonus for being a staple of horror fiction.

Pickman's Model: uh artist sees some wild shit and draws it and then it eats him. 2/10 i forget the details

The Strange High House in the Mist: if this is the one im thinking of, dude does a dangerous climb to find a mysterious house and meet the inhabitant who is kind of interdimensional and also being hunted by interdimensional things. also maybe the house eats people? 2/10

The Silver Key: another Randolph Carter one, and i think this is actually the one about him travelling back in time so idk what the other one was. 3/10

The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath: randolph carter goes on a quest in the dream world to find the gods of humanity and ask why they wont let him check out this cool city he can see from his window. lots of action and very wordy and went a lot of different places. 4/10 good read but extremely xenophobic

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: guy investigates his ancestor who looks disturbingly like him, ancestor comes back to life and kills him and takes his place and a bunch of other stuff happens. mostly a dramatized genealogical study. 3/10 not bad, very suspenseful

The Colour Out Of Space: meteor lands on a farm, scientists get weirded out by it, everything in the area gets weird then dead, alien thing gets enough power from draining nearby life-forms to escape earth. fun twist ending. 4/10 bonus for being one of the better ones, detraction for writing out a 'rural accent'

The Descendant: nope, 0/10

The Very Old Folk: nope again, 0/10

History of the Necronomicon: very dry. fake history of lovecraft's fake book thats super important to a lot of the stories. 0/10

The Dunwich Horror: isolated witchy family has a kid who no one likes that grows up real fast. graphic descriptions of renovation. a horror gets unleashed on the area and the local folklore scholars have to deal with it. 1/10 nothing good enough to counter the xenophobia

Ibid: i remember this one. no idea what it's deal was. pseudo-bibliography? it was weird. 0/10

The Whisperer in Darkness: guy has a correspondance with another guy about local folk legends based on evil crab things. other guy gets straight up replaced by an evil crab thing and first guy doesnt even notice. imagine if you followed up on a scam email and didnt realize anything was up until you saw that the face of the dude you were talking to in person was a mask. 4/10 for the comedy this guy would not last in the internet age at all

At The Mountains of Madness: guy whines about penguins and how awful it would be if there were civilizations that predated humanity. also commits grave desecration. i get hit by the realization that if lovecraft was less of a racist coward he wouldve made a great speculative sci fi author. 3/10 i would love to watch that old asshole get absolutely torn to shreds by the monster fucker community

The Shadow over Innsmouth: Fish People! Leave Them Alone! Or Else! 5/10 the protagonist gets to live the dream by escaping human society and becoming an immortal fish person

The Dreams in the Witch House: dude rents an objectively haunted room, doesnt listen to people trying to help him, gets murdered by a weird rat. later they find a shit ton of bones in the attic. 2/10 meh

Through The Gates of the Silver Key: Randolph Carter transcends time and space, then de-transcends time and space and immediately gets stuck on another planet in the distant past, makes a long and difficult journey back to earth to find that his estate is being divided amongst his heirs. the comedy potential of a man stuck in an alien body dealing with a legal system that has declared him dead is not examined. 2/10

The Thing on the Doorstep: narrator's good friend marries a fish person witch who steals his body. thats basically it. 3/10. at this point im like wow these narrators really refuse to believe the heavily foreshadowed supernatural explanations that turn out to be correct huh.

The Evil Clergyman: dude is in a room. some ghosts (?) show up. dude has a UV light for some reason. Gets his face stolen i guess and just has to live with it. 5/10 for being absolutely buck wild and refusing to explain anything

The Book: nope 0/10

The Shadow Out Of Time: dude gets his body stolen by ancient scholar species. agonizes about it for a while. finds archaeological evidence of said species. finds a book he wrote while living with said species. almost gets eaten by something. 3/10 more cool speculative sci fi but lame protagonist

The Haunter of the Dark: you'd think id remember it bc this was the last one and i read it last night. oh wait, nvm i do remember it. dude finds an old box in a run down culty church and unleashes a horror that then comes and fucks him up. 1/10 meh.

#tw lovecraft #i have forgotten more than i can remember #which is on par for me

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erazonpo3 · 4 years ago

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Intro to my infodump on Alphecca but also I’m getting more and more shameless about it so I’ll probably dump a lot of other shit too later but back to the point: I never tend to stop mutating characters in my head but for all intents and purposes Alphecca is at a point where I’m satisfied with how fleshed out she is in my mind, so I figured I’d write it down.

SO basically a rundown:

Alphecca’s main purpose is to be the “Season 1” villain, in which her part in the story can be expanded but mostly wraps up in a self-contained plotline, and has relatively low stakes so that there’s room for the narrative to escalate. That doesn’t mean that she doesn’t pose a threat as an antagonist- because she absolutely does- but simply that her behaviour of terrorising people and raising bodies is already the status quo, and she has no grand design or plan of action. Cassandra steps in to change that status quo for the better, but her failing to do so won’t leave anyone any worse off than they already are. Yet with that being said, Alphecca is also built to be Cassandra’s antagonist specifically, so of course there has to be a resolution there.

Alphecca as Cassandra’s antagonist

Alphecca exists to be a foil to Cassandra, so that when you put them together their differences shine brighter. Where Ilione is a foil to Cass in that she’s largely her polar opposite: extraverted, very emotionally sensitive, inexperienced etc, Alphecca is a foil to Cass by being very similar to her but for a few glaring differences. It’s worth noting that while their personalities are pretty different, they share a same jaded perspective on life and struggles with mental health that stem from an ugly ZT origin story.

Both women were approached by Zhan Tiri during a time they felt powerless, and sided with her over loved ones in an attempt to regain control over their life. They were encouraged to embrace malice and sadism, had their faith in their loved ones undermined and had those insecurities stoked, and all this instability created the perfect storm for them to be easily manipulated and betrayed. Zhan Tiri operates as a cult leader does, seeking out vulnerable people and cutting them off from their remaining support networks until they have nowhere left to run, even if they want to.

It’s not to say Cassandra wasn’t making her own choices, but this kind of gaslighting shouldn’t be dismissed either. Some people will forever lack sympathy for her, but that’s exactly the point of Zhan Tiri’s manipulation- if nobody’s willing to help you out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself you’re going to be stuck there to rot, so you may as well keep digging in the hope that you might hit gold eventually.

Alphecca and Cassandra are both victims to Zhan Tiri’s super fun form of control, but the major difference between them was that Rapunzel remained willing to help Cassandra out of that hole. Alphecca didn’t have a Rapunzel, or a Varian, or a Eugene, and instead over time she became twisted and warped into a menace who doesn’t need Zhan Tiri’s encouragement to do terrible things anymore. And that’s what makes these two foils to each other; Alphecca is the monster Cassandra never was but could have easily become if she was never shown compassion.

Thus the only person who can stop Alphecca is someone who can empathise with her, at least to some degree. In fighting terms, Alphecca has a bottomless bag of tricks up her sleeve and the nature of her undeath makes her essentially immortal. She cannot be conquered, only slowed down, and the more pissed off she gets with you the more volatile and dangerous she becomes.

Cassandra initially sees Alphecca as a chance to prove herself, both as a force for good and as someone who can rid the world of Zhan Tiri’s legacy. However, it quickly becomes apparent that Alphecca cannot be defeated through conventional means, because otherwise warriors like Adira (who has encountered Alphecca before) would have been able to deal with the problem. Considering that Alphecca herself has sought out her phylactery to destroy it- with an extra thousand years of hunting up her sleeve- but failed to do so, makes it apparent that she can only be stopped by being reasoned with. But for a lich who hardly remembers the human experience, that’s pretty difficult.

It ultimately means the only person who can stop her is Cassandra, because the only person who can reason with her is someone who can empathise with her from a place of camaraderie rather than condescension, and recognises that the cycle of violence needs to be broken by compassion and not just violence but harder.

The Storyline

Basic plotline goes like this:

Early on into her journey Cassandra learns about the bone witch that roams the wilderness and terrorises innocent villagers, desecrates the dead, is probably a cryptid because legends have existed about her for generations, et cetera and so on. When evidence appears that this witch is real Cassandra and decides to investigate, because this is a pretty straightforward “good guy stops the bad guy” situation for her to jump into. (By this point Ilione is also tagging along).

Their first encounter with Alphecca is pretty tame. They intercept her at a mausoleum, she does a fancy music number/generally has a good time fucking around with them, but ultimately skulks back into the shadows at the end. It’s sort of all in good spirits and Alphecca isn’t ‘defeated’ by any means but still bows out as a show of good sportsmanship.

Their future encounters are a lot less nice.

The more Cassandra continues to pursue her, the more pissed off Alphecca gets, and when Alphecca gets pissed off she begins to embrace her sadism and her outbursts become more violent and cause more collateral damage. She lowers herself to underhanded tactics like throwing Cass into a nightmare reality a la Tromus and becomes increasingly sinister. The ��tentpole’ of this plotline probably marks the shift from Alphecca as a trickster figure into a more dangerous one as Cass and Lio learn that she was also a disciple of Zhan Tiri.

The situation ultimately comes to a head by the finale, by which point Alphecca is very much unhinged and out for blood. She becomes fixated on Cassandra and does her best to hit below the belt, sniffing out her insecurities about her past with the moonstone and bludgeoning them with a metaphorical sledgehammer, and basically tries to goad her into a complete spiral.

This is the emotional climax, and the underpinning of Cassandra’s character development in becoming emotionally sound enough to shake it off. It’s at this point she understands what Alphecca is doing; Alphecca is caught in her own eternal maelstrom of emotional torture and latches onto anyone she can drag down with her for the small amount of pleasure it brings. She’s able to recognise those feelings because she can empathise with them and knows exactly what she needs to hear in that moment.

There’s probably some extended backstory revealed by this point too, going into a little more detail about the way in which Alphecca was caught in Zhan Tiri’s web down to becoming a lich, but of course what’s more important is the resolution.

With Cassandra getting through to her, Alphecca is able to pull herself together long enough to ease the situation back down again and have a more honest conversation about hope and humanity and compassion and all those good things. Cassandra admits that she can’t do much to ‘fix’ her, but starts by continuing Rapunzel’s legacy and showing forgiveness and compassion to someone who doesn’t think they deserve it. (Alphecca isn’t entirely regretful of all her actions, but does acknowledge that she ought not project her pain onto others anymore.)

Alphecca Post-S1

Alphecca doesn’t really get a ‘redemption arc’ because honestly I don’t want her to be redeemed. It’s not really a moral stance so much as I believe she’s genuinely disinterested in being a better person, she just has the selfish desire to be able to live happily again. And that’s kind of all she needs. She doesn’t care much about other people, but she’s working on herself and that means squashing the sadism.

I think it also continues to make a good parallel to Cass: Cassandra is trying to do better not only for herself but by others because she sees it as her own social responsibility, whereas Alphecca just wants to do better for herself and if other people benefit from that, that’s just a bonus.

Alphecca doesn’t join Cassandra on her travels either, although she does make appearances as a reoccurring character. Cassandra is upfront about the fact that while she wants to help Alphecca, she needs to help herself first, and the damage Al inflicted on her is slow to heal. They’re both in danger of dragging each other down in their own spirals so it’s best that they give each other space, but it’s also very important that they’re able to share their experiences. It’s a minor struggle between Cassandra and Ilione that Lio doesn’t really understand a lot of Cass’ struggles, although she does try to be sensitive about it. Alphecca provides that alternate perspective: Lio can provide support but little empathy, while Alphecca can provide empathy but little support.

I’ve also got more Alphecca stuff living in my brain regarding her origins, her own foray with Death and her association with lesser and greater deities, her relationships to other ZT cultists, et cetera et cetera but I’ll probably stop here to keep it succinct.

But basically over the course of this plotline Alphecca goes from wacky evil villain to really tragic but still evil villain to not really evil villain but still kind of a jerk neighbour that shows up at your house asking for your wifi password acquaintance.

#basically my build-a-bear guide to making an antagonist #it's fun #of course there's so much more to making characters and villains than just this but basically foils good #alphecca #cta au #my art #cassandra #female villains can have little a homoeroticism as a treat

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grimmseye · 4 years ago

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A Bird in the Hand: Chapter Seven

Read on Ao3 here!

Rating: M

Fandom: Critical Role

Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast (eventual)

Chapter Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Essek Thelyss, The Mighty Nein

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Molly Rez, Amnesiac Mollymauk, Oh My God They Were Roommates, Essek’s Ex-Catholic tendencies, Non-explicit sexual content and discussion, (Sexual content is not between main characters sorry)

— — —

Messages from the Nein — more specifically, from Jester — always brought with them a sense of dread. Any amount of joy or amusement or frustration he felt at her jabbering in his mind could always be accompanied by the undercurrent of foreboding as he remembered exactly what he had done. Sometimes he grew convinced they'd found out, a spiral of paranoia leaving him sick and shaking and running through contingencies as madly as a demon's thrall —

Counterspell for Caleb, though maybe Jester would earn it first. They would be the ones to harm him with magic. Caduceus would have to be put down swiftly, an illusion might be enough to hold him in place but then he wouldn't be able to handle the rest — Yasha would fall easily to control, he didn't know her as well and wouldn't suffocate on his guilt if he pried her mind apart and made her into a puppet one more time, trained that sword upon the rest — though again, maybe that was best reserved for Caleb, even if he was likely to shrug it off with the same teachings Essek had faced to turn that fire against his friends had nearly been the end of them before —

No, running would be his best option. Running, hiding. A spell to hold them still or stunned to grant him his escape. Alone, Essek could maybe pick a few of them off, but at the end of the fight he would be dead on the ground. It was best if he just ran.

And now he had someone to take with him just in case they tracked him down.

But every time it was just Jester's voice, overly-friendly as she always was, and the panic calmed into confusion or mirth or exasperation, all depending on the day. Today the dread remained, as he slipped down the stairs to where Mollymauk was lounging across the floor, scratching images onto paper with his tongue half poked out between his teeth. His gaze lifted to Essek's approach, tail curling up into the air. It was a hello, he'd determined, remembering how Jester's did the same.

"The Nein are going to be returning," Essek told him.

It was a curious range of emotions that darted across Mollymauk's face, and none of them looked good. When Mollymauk did not fill the silence, Essek continued, "I am going to be teleporting them to their next destination. It is a visit, not an extended stay."

The silence continued, Mollymauk sitting upright but not speaking, his tail coiling over the floor. Essek hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Do you want me to tell them you're here?"

It was enough to get Molly's gaze to refocus. "That's an option?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Not forever," Essek gave a wan smile. "But for now, if you do not feel ready to meet them again, you do not have to."

"Huh." He puffed out a breath, laying back down in time with the exhale, until he was splayed out across the rug and staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe. Yeah, you know what? Let's call that the plan until I say otherwise."

"Just be sure to tell them you wanted this when they do find out," Essek said, with dry humor. "I do not want them to think I've lied to them." And certainly not to know.

Time was running low. The exchange approached, and then it would be over. The mystery could fade, never to be solved. The Nein didn't need to know, and would never find out. Eventually the guilt would fade. There was hope on the horizon, but he had expected the feeling to be much warmer than he found it.

"They will be here soon," Essek added, after a beat. "It will take a while to complete the circle and travel across the city, but —"

"You won't even know I'm there." Mollymauk rolled over to get to his hooves, gathering up his supplies — they'd made a run to an art store to get more materials for his cards.

With Mollymauk gone, it left Essek in pensive silence as he waited on the Nein. Once upon a time, he'd planned to call in a favor or three, send them in a few separate directions to throw them and anyone else off his trail, use the idiots who'd thrown a wrench in his plan to put the pieces back into place. It would be smart, to cover his tracks, to let them believe the trail had gone cold. Now, he couldn't bear to further his own deception. He made empty threats, promising some dreadful task with no intention of following through. At this point the farce was embarrassing to keep up.

It would be over soon. He only needed to wait for the Peace Talks to conclude. Ideally, whatever they were doing now would eat up the time left over, let them trudge back home to where Essek could finally breathe in the same room as them, to where he had their friend safe and sound, to a brand new day where the past could be left to rot and Essek could —

— what? Sever himself from the Assembly? Impossible. He'd already done too much to break ties now. If he turned his back on their research, then what was the point of any of this? And if he couldn't turn his back, then the deceptions would continue. He would betray the Nein, again and again and again, each new falsehood tightening the noose he'd placed around his own neck.

Ice-cold dread splashed down his back. He clasped a hand to his mouth, wheezing through his shaking fingers. Then what, his mind demanded. Then what?

When the Nein arrived, Essek had cleaned himself up, his guilt and his panic sealed behind a cool facade. They came in their usual whirlwind of chaos, and he wondered if Mollymauk was listening in as they chattered among themselves, talking over each other and at him as always, a trait that had gone from infuriating to only a mild annoyance. Any time their jabbering grew to be too much, spiked anger in his chest, some part of his heart reminded him that he liked these people, and the resentment couldn't take hold.

"Hey. Hey." It was Beauregard's abrasive voice that broke him from his thoughts. She lifted a quizzical eyebrow. If there was anyone to be wary of, aside from Caduceus, it was her. Her eyes were dangerously sharp. "You get stuck up there?" She asked, pointing upwards.

Essek looked up, pausing for a long moment. He knew he was wrong even as he asked, "Upstairs?"

"No the — the sky, the clouds, you know." She waved a hand. When Essek didn't grant her an inch, she blustered, "Head in the clouds? Stuck with your head in — never mind." She deflated with a sigh. Rubbing her temples, Beau said, "You're being weird, what's up with that?"

And that was exactly why he was wary of her.

It would be safest to just brush it off. He could blame it on a project, on stress, on other responsibilities. That would be safe, that would be smart, but curiosity, as always, was present to drag him down.

"Something you asked a while ago stuck with me, that's all," Essek told her. He brushed his hair up and back, out of his face. "Nott asked me about a — Lucien? Molly?" He struggled not to tack the mauk onto the end. It had been Jester who gave that name, hadn't it? Molly had a cult.

He should probably ask Mollymauk about said cult.

It took Essek a moment to notice the others had gone quiet. A few of them looked to Yasha, whose fingers were squeezed tight around her own arms.

Of course. He instantly realized how idiotic he'd been — they still thought Mollymauk was dead.

"Yeah," Beau said, with the kind of casual tone that was audibly forced. He didn't know the details of Mollymauk's death, not even how long ago it had been, but the Nein had arrived without him quite some time ago. They'd likely grown used to the sting, even if the tension in Beau's body was unmistakeable. "He used to travel with us, and then one day he died. Was killed. He — yeah. You know something?" She glared, defensive in the same manner as a dog that bared its teeth when it was hurt.

Essek ignored the question. "I just wondered who he was," he murmured, voice soft. "I... apologize if I've stumbled onto a sore subject."

If anything, it was just tense. They hadn't seemed to mind the conversation much when they brought it up, but it seemed that from an outsider, the question was ill received.

"He was..." Veth piped up with some hesitance. "Kind of a dick, honestly?" , It sent a ripple through the Nein. Yasha tensed, the rest looking torn between amusement and discomfort. "He'd make people squirm on purpose and had a lot of sex when he was rooming with Fjord." Her voice took on a hesitant laugh. "Like. A whole lot —"

"Yes, yes, but let's not speak ill of the... departed." Fjord's interjection petered into something soft. "He was a friend, you know."

"Of course!" Veth gave him a halfhearted glare. "I know that, obviously! I loved him as much as the rest of you. He was an — an asshole, and the fact he's dead makes us all act like that isn't true. But I loved him." Her shoulders sagged. "He danced with me, remember? That was fun."

The silence stretched. It was, of course, Jester who broke it in the end, with a bright, "Molly knew things!" Even through her cheer, there was a watery quality to her smile, while Beau winced. "When we first met, he told my fortune. Look!" She whisked a hand into her back, pulling out a deck of cards. She fanned them out for Essek to see, revealing that they were incomplete, most of them still blank. Several held a different art style from the rest, and the imagery presented made it easy for Essek to guess she'd picked up the legacy. Her art was actually quite impressive when she wasn't desecrating holy sites. "He made these himself!" She beamed. "He was — he was still making them — he —"

Essek's heart jumped. Her smile was broad, but tears were welling up in her eyes as she spoke, her voice starting to crack. He floundered, a hand lifting and hesitating in the air. Beauregard was already sweeping forward, putting an arm around her shoulders to pull her close.

"He was full of shit and every other word out of his mouth was a fucking lie," Beau bit out. "But he made people happy. And then he died." She clenched her jaw. "And I'm sure he's lording it over us somewhere."

The truth had become a jagged thing. It wasn't such an easy secret to hold onto now, barbed with thorns and drawing blood. Not his own, but theirs, it wrapped tight around their throats and threatened to slice. So Essek held his tongue, watching as the Nein recovered from the hurt he'd returned to them. Yasha turned and left, Jester breaking away from Beau to give chase. The rest remained in place, and Essek's gaze panned past Caduceus and to the other one of them who hadn't said a thing — to find Caleb with his eyes shut as he ground his thumb against his forehead.

There was the impulse to question again, wanting Caleb's opinion. What did he think of the tiefling, as ostentatious as he was, far too bright and too loud and yet...

The question would be out of place. And it was inane, regardless. The Nein clearly loved him. There was no reason to question their deeper bonds. But gods if he didn't want to know what the two of them had looked like side by side.

A flush rose to his cheeks, half embarrassment and half outright shame. Whatever depraved curiosity had seized him, this was not the time for it, when he'd just reawakened his friends' grief. It was wrong. And gods help him, Essek wanted to be better for them.

But he couldn't be. Not yet, and maybe not ever. That was something to calculate later. For now, it was just another feeble tally in paying back his debt to them all, as he gathered them up to whisk them away. Whatever he earned was nullified at once, with Jester spending paints of magic beyond even the best conjuration caster, just to make him a parasol. She could use those to open holes in reality, and she had wasted her paint to shield his eyes from the light.

Essek returned home with a burning in his eyes, and he wished it was thanks to the sun.

Working with the Cerberus Assembly did not mean Essek liked them. In return, he knew all too well they did not like him.

They needed each other, however. Mutually assured destruction was an excellent motivator. So as scheduled, Essek strode to the full length mirror in his bedroom. He'd locked and warded the room, so that no sound could pass beyond that door, no nosy tieflings could stick a hairpin in the lock. What Mollymauk was even doing wasn't of much concern right now, not when he'd spent the day scrambling through his reports to make sure he had all the right details in place, what to offer and what to withhold, what questions to ask as well.

The stern form of Ludinus Da'leth shimmered into view. As usual, Essek's gaze was drawn to his eyebrows, elaborately shaped caterpillars that they were. He missed the man's greeting entirely, but offered one of his own, coolly polite.

It was little more than the usual exchange of information. "I will be meeting you as usual, in the guise of Dezran Thain," Essek said, as they'd already established half a dozen times before.

"Yes, yes," Ludinus sighed. "We are all quite aware of the plan by this point. Do not mess it up, Thelyss."

Essek's gaze was cold. "Thus far my pieces of the operation have run perfectly. I've had no annexes gallivanting with demon cults thus far."

Ludinus' face pinched, to his gratification. "I'm sure there is much you could tell me about demon cults," he returned, and Essek hated to feel his lips peel back in a snarl. He schooled his expression, fingers curling into fists beneath his robe.

"After all," Ludinus continued, "you reported attacks by gnolls within the city."

Essek paused, then frowned. "How did you know that?

"Previously, we had seen similar activity in the Empire," Ludinus reported, "though not nearly so dramatic. We have good reason to believe they may be followers of Yeenoghu."

It wasn't really an answer, Essek noted, but let it slide. Yeenoghu was the demon prince of hunger, worshiped primarily by gnolls. Some even believed that gnolls were all demons sent by him to the Material Plane, but some also believed drow all worshiped Lloth. It would, unfortunately, explain the near-feral behavior of Xhorhasian citizens. The Nein had been dealing with demons — or at least fiends — for a long time, after all.

"Regardless, it's being handled," was all Essek said, getting a grunt in return. "If that is all?"

"It is. Farewell."

The mirror blurred an instant later, before returning to a reflective surface. Essek stared at himself, stiff and clean and not a hair out of place, and let out a long groan as he rested his forehead against the glass.

And then what.

He couldn't cut ties with the Assembly. He couldn't admit his sins to the Nein. So then what. One side was going to go up in flames and burn the other with it, and where did that leave Essek except as a wretched creature, sobbing that he'd been burned after reaching into the fire.

Returning Mollymauk was not going to relieve his guilt. He knew that. The lie had been a pleasant fantasy while it lasted.

Essek stepped away, taking a glance at the clock. The entire day had slipped by in a blink, and he hadn't eaten a thing. Nor had he heard from Mollymauk. Perhaps they could find a place to sit down and eat dinner, with Essek too tired to cook and too hungry to wait.

Mollymauk was not in the house. The suspicion settled in when he checked the tiefling's bedroom and the living room, and then the kitchen for good measure, and didn't find so much as a spaded tail. It was when he'd trekked around the house calling for him that Essek felt dreaded confidence take hold: Mollymauk had left.

A string of curses followed Essek out the door. He grabbed a lock of fur out of his bag, burning it to ash as he cast his senses out for Mollymauk's presence. The ley lines that twined through the air reverberated in response, empty of his target.

The cabbie he hired was more than a little confused at Essek's request, but happy to comply for the pay it would earn him. They marched up and down the streets of Xhorhas, combing through that web strand by strand. The spell ran out and he cast it again, irritation building at the sheer waste of magic. It only spiked when the spell reacted to its target.

The spell picked up on Mollymauk within a crowded bar. Essek grimaced as he handed over a handful of coin, waiting for the cabbie to trot away before he burned yet another spell. A drow who did not look nor dress like Essek Thelyss walked inside with a sour look on his face, eyes cast about the bar in search of the easiest person to find.

Mollymauk stuck out, but the tones of his skin actually gave him a vague chance at blending in. Searching for tails wouldn't do him much good, as some elves did have them, tufted instead of spaded at their tips, so it was horns Essek looked for instead.

He found the tiefling at a booth of the bar, seated in the lap of an elf with a hand rested on his cheek. There was a woman at his side, leaning against the first elf to murmur something in his ear, the two speaking conspiratorially as Mollymauk's smile grew broader, leaning away from the man to catch the female elf's lips.

It was a filthy kiss. Essek could see their tongues, an outraged blush rising on his cheeks. He twirled a wire tight around his forefinger, hissing, "Mollymauk, what in the hells are you doing?"

Molly's head twitched. Essek voice was a growl as he added "You can respond in a whisper."

The tiefling relaxed back into the lap of the male elf, tipping his head back on his shoulder and toying with his hair. "I'm having fun. You're free to join." By the movement of his head, Essek knew he was searching the bar. His eyes slid over Essek, not recognizing the disguise. "Where are you?"

"Looking directly at you."

It took a beat for their eyes to lock. Molly smiled, murmured something to his companions, and gave them each a kiss on the lips before sauntering his way across the bar and towards Essek. "I didn't think you were the type!" He grinned. "If I'd known, I would have invited you."

"I'm not," Essek said, voice terse. "I was looking for you because you left without saying a word."

"And you can just track me down?" He looked alarmed at first, then just sighed. "Fucking wizards. Well, apologies for the scare, Mister Thelyss, I'll be sure to at least leave a note next time, yeah?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"You should not be here at all," Essek hissed. Mollymauk's brow furrowed. "Aside from the blatant danger of a tiefling wandering around the city, it's depraved."

Molly blinked at him. "Huh," he said. "You're full of surprises today, Mister Thelyss. It's a little depraved, sure, but it's not bad."

"That —" Essek drew a breath and let it out with a huff. He'd been taught to be careful with such contact. Representing Den Thelyss meant having all eyes on him. Any amount of childish irresponsibility would be seen and remembered. "That is fair," Essek admitted, before his voice sharpened again. "I misspoke, but I still will not have you bringing some..." He waved a hand, "venereal disease back to my home. I am not paying a cleric because you played with the wrong person."

"Fucked," Mollymauk corrected. "Had sex with. Let's use our adult words." He gave a smirk, and in that moment Essek rather disliked Mollymauk Tealeaf. His glower must have translated, because the tiefling put up his hands a moment later, "But, alright. I'll be safe about it, pinky swear."

He dropped one hand, sticking the little finger out on the other. Essek just stared at him until Mollymauk gave a, "Oh for the love of — seriously?" Then he grabbed Essek's hand, bending his pinky up to hook them together. "Pinky swear! Like this! I didn't even have a childhood and I know what this is!"

"I didn't have much of one, either," Essek frowned. "I know what it is, but it seems... inane."

"Gods, you're so sad," Mollymauk breathed, looking aghast. "Are you sure you don't want to come back with me? You need to relax, and they like group stuff —"

"I am fine," Essek hastily interjected. "Thank you, Mollymauk, but I am quite fine."

"What if it was just me, then?"

The offer was stunningly sincere. It was blunt and honest, a genuine question, Mollymauk meeting his gaze with his head tipped to the side.

Essek swallowed.

Did he want to kiss Mollymauk Tealeaf? Yes, far too much. He wanted more than he should, and not just from Mollymauk himself. But it would be wrong, wouldn't it, when Mollymauk's mind was still piecing itself together, when everything Essek presented of himself was deception.

So he said, "No." And Mollymauk just shrugged, seeming perfectly unbothered. "But —" He sighed. He knew his irritation was born of jealousy, and now that he'd just turned down exactly what he wanted, he had no leg to stand on. "Just keep it subtle along with safe, please. I have a reputation, and you are beginning to extend to it. If the Shadowhand is seen with a tiefling with a reputation for being..." He grasped for a word.

"Slutty?" Molly suggested.

"Promiscuous," Essek said. "It will reflect badly."

Mollymauk stretched his arms over his head, and Essek decidedly did not look at how his muscles flexed with the motion. "Alright," he shrugged, going lax again. "That's a tall order, Mister Thelyss, but I'll see what I can do."

"You will?" He blinked.

Molly gave him a bemused look. "Yeah? You asked, so, sure."

"Fjord said you were a terrible roommate," Essek said. "You would invite people into your shared room without his input."

"Hey, he never asked me to stop! I think." Molly pondered it for a moment before seeming to give it up. "Ah, whatever. At the very least I'm respecting your wishes this time."

Essek shook his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I suppose that will have to do."

"So if we're done...?" Mollymauk looked expectantly, and Essek sighed as he waved his dismissal. He watched the tiefling rejoin his partners, sinking back into the booth, and turned away before he could witness anything unsavory.

His life had become a stack of contradictions. The Nein were his friends, and yet he betrayed them at every turn. He wanted nothing to do with the Assembly and yet couldn't sever his ties. He wanted... something from Mollymauk Tealeaf, and refused it when it was offered. Essek's heart was heavy as he made his way home, the house quiet and empty and yawning.

Today, he was jealous of the other peoples of Exandria. Humans and halflings and tieflings, nearly anyone who wasn't an elf, they got the luxury of sleep at the end of the day. At least they could escape their thoughts when they rested.

#shadowmauk #mollymauk tealeaf #mollymauk #essek thelyss #essek #the mighty nein #cr #cr fic #my writing

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orthodoxydaily · 4 years ago

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Saints&Reading: Sat., Sept. 26, 2020

Commemorated on September 13_” Old” Julian Calendar

The Commemoration of the Renewal of the Temple of the Resurrection of Christ at Jerusalem (335)

The Commemoration of the Renewal of the Temple of the Resurrection of Christ at Jerusalem celebrates the solemnity on the occasion of the consecration of the Church of the Resurrection of Christ, built by the Equal-to-the-Apostles Constantine the Great and his mother Equal-to-the-Apostles the empress Helen. This feastday is still called among the people by its unique title "having reputation from the Resurrection" ("Voskresenie slovuschee") and it means that it reputes to or pertains to the Resurrection, in distinction from the Feast of the Luminous Resurrection of Christ, and refers particularly to the consecration of the Church in honour of the Resurrection of Christ. The history of the construction of this temple is thus. After the voluntary Passion and Death on the Cross of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, the holy place of His suffering was long trampled on by pagans. When the Roman emperor Titus in the year 70 conquered Jerusalem, he razed the city and destroyed the Temple of Solomon on Mount Moriah, leaving there not a stone upon a stone, as even the Saviour had foretold about in conversation with the disciples (Mt. 13: 1-2). Later on the zealous pagan emperor Adrian (117-138) built on the place of the Jerusalem destroyed by Titus a new city, which was named after his name – Aelia Adriani (Aelia Capitolina) and made it forbidden to call the city by its former name. The Holy Sepulchre of the Lord he gave orders to cover over with ground and stones and on that spot to set up an idol; and on Golgotha where the Saviour was crucified, in 119 he constructed a pagan-temple dedicated to the goddess Venus. In front of the statues they offered sacrifice to demons and performed pagan rites, accompanied by wanton acts. In Bethlehem, at the place the Saviour was born of the AllPure Virgin, the impious emperor set up an idol of Adonis. He did all this intentionally, so that people would forget completely about Christ the Saviour and that they would no more remember the places where He lived, taught, suffered and arose in glory. When there began the reign of Equal-to-the-Apostles Constantine the Great (306‑337), the first of the Roman emperors to recognise the Christian religion, he together with his pious mother the empress Helen decided to rebuild the city of Jerusalem and on the place of the suffering and Resurrection of the Lord to erect a new temple, to purify from the foul pagan cults the places connected with memory of the Saviour, and again to consecrate them. The nobleborn empress Helen journeyed to Jerusalem with a large quantity of gold, and Equal-to-the-Apostles Constantine the Great wrote a letter to Patriarch Makarios I (313-335), in which he requested him to assist in every possible way for the task of the renewal of the Christian holy places. Having arrived in Jerusalem, the holy empress Helen destroyed all the idolous pagan temples and had the desecrated places re-consecrated. She was ardent with the desire to find the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ and she gave orders to dig up the place, where stood the temple of Venus. There they discovered the covered over Sepulchre of the Lord and the place of the Skull, not far from where they found three crosses and nails. In order to determine, upon which of the three crosses lay the Saviour, Patriarch Makarios gave orders to touch alternately against a dead person, whom they happened to be carrying by towards a place of burial. Just as the Cross of Christ touched the dead person, he immediately came alive. With the greatest of joy the nobleborn empress Helen and Patriarch Makarios raised up high the Life-Creating Cross and displayed it to all the people standing about. The holy empress quickly set about the construction of a large church, which enclosed in its walls the place of the Crucifixion of the Saviour – Golgotha, and the Sepulchre of the Lord, located a not large distance from each other, and as the holy Apostle and Evangelist John wrote about this: "At that place, where He was crucified, was a garden and in the garden a new tomb, in which still no one had been put; there they did place Jesus because of the Jewish Friday, since that the tomb was nearby" (Jn. 19: 41-42). The Church of the Resurrection was 10 years in building, and the holy empress Helen did not survive to the completion of construction. Having returned to Constantinople, she reposed in the year 327. After the time of her arrival in Jerusalem the holy empress built churches in Bethlehem, on the Mount of Olives, at Gethsemane and in many other places, connected with the life of the Saviour and events in the New Testament. The completion of construction of the New Testament temple of the Resurrection of Christ, called "Martyrion", in memory of the sufferings of the Cross of the Saviour, co‑incided with the passage of the First Council of Tyre, and with it the thirty year reign of the Equal-to-the-Apostles Constantine the Great. Wherefore at the assemblage of 13 September 335 the consecration of the temple was particularly solemn. At the consecration of the church participated hierarchy of the Christian Churches from many lands: Bythnia, Thrace, Cilicia, Cappadocia, Syria, Mesopotamia, Phoenicia, Arabia, Palestine and Egypt. To the solemnity of the renewal were invited only the fathers that concluded the Tyre Council. On this day was consecrated all the city of Jerusalem. The commemoration of this remarkable event by the fathers of the Church was established as 13 September.

The Holy GreatMartyr Ketvana (1624)

The Holy GreatMartyr Ketvana was descended from the imperial Bagration lineage and was a great-grandchild of the emperor Constantine of Kartalin (1469-1505). Having become the spouse of David, successor to the emperor Alexander II of Khaketin (1577-1605), she herself governed the empire. The deep piety of the empress was manifest in a particular attention to the needs of the Gruzian (Georgian) Church, – in the building of churches, shelters and vagrants homes. After the death of her husband Saint Ketvana settled into solitude. The brother of her husband, Constantine (called Okayan), accepted Mahometanism and on the instructions of the shah Abbas I sent assassins to his dying father, the emperor Alexander II, and his brother George. Having committed the crime, Constantine gave orders to place the bodies of the murdered on camels and take them to the empress Ketvana. Horrified at the wicked deed, the empress bewailed the innocent sufferers and buried them at the Alaverdsk cathedral. The impious one, however, enroached upon her honourable widowhood and demanded her hand, threatening force in case of refusal. The empress Ketvana gathered the people of Kakhetin and marched against Constantine, defeating the impious apostate. He met an inglorious death together with many in the Persian army. Under the wise rule of the empress Ketvana, peace and justice were re-established in Kakhetia. Shah Abbas I returned her son Teimuraz, who although he had lived several years in court in the guise of an hostage, preserved his Orthodox faith in purity. Afterwards the shah Abbas, threatening Gruzia with destruction, coerced the Kakhetin feudal authorities into handing over illustrious hostages. In that number voluntarily was the empress Ketvana. Wanting to avert disaster for the Gruzian nation and Holy Church, she arrived in Ispahan. Shah Abbas urged the nobleborn empress to accept Mahometanism, but he received decisive refusal. Thereupon the empress Ketvana was thrown into prison, where she spent ten years, filled with the sufferings of martyrdom. Neither vileness from Persian courtiers, nor cunning offers by the shah to elevate her to empress of the Persian realm, nor offers to her of great treasure, nor the implorings and entreaties of the courtiers and Persian nobles, – nothing was able to budge her, not even to uttering a single blasphemous word against Christ, nothing was able to move the sufferer for Christ. They tortured her with red-hot tongs hung cross-wise in wood. On the head of the holy martyress they touched a red-hot iron kettle. The dense smoke from her burning hair and head rose upwards, and the blessed martyress gave up her soul to God on 13 September 1624. Three bright pillars, having come down upon the body of Saint Ketvana, signified her spiritual victory. The relics of the holy empress were taken to Rome, to the cathedral of the holy Apostle Peter, by monks of the Augustinian order who had been witnesses to her deed of confessor. Part of the relics (the venerable head and right hand of the martyress) was given by the Augustinian monks to emperor Teimuraz I and placed beneathe the altar-table (prestol') of the Alaverdi cathedral of the holy GreatMartyr George in Kakhetia. The Catholikos-Patriarch Zakharia (1613-1630) enumerated the great-martyress to the rank of the saints and established her memory on 13 September.

Matthew 16:13-18

13When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi, He asked His disciples, saying, "Who do men say that I, the Son of Man, am?"14 So they said, "Some say John the Baptist, some Elijah, and others Jeremiah orone of the prophets." 15 He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?"16 Simon Peter answered and said, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. 17 Jesus answered and said to him, "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven.18 And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.

Hebrews 3:1-4

1Therefore, holy brethren, partakers of the heavenly calling, consider the Apostle and High Priest of our confession, Christ Jesus,2 who was faithful to Him who appointed Him, as Moses also was faithful in all His house.3 For this One has been counted worthy of more glory than Moses, inasmuch as He who built the house has more honor than the house.4 For every house is built by someone, but He who built all things is God.

Hebrews 3:1-4

#orthdoxy #orthodoxchristianity #ancient christianity #firstchristian #spirituality #holyscripture #gospel #sacredtexts #wisdom

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thecreaturecodex · 6 years ago

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Great Old One, Kyuss

“Dungeon 135 Cover” by Wayne Reynolds, © Paizo Publishing.

[Kyuss here is a milestone in a number of ways. He’s the last of my Age of Worms conversions. He’s my first CR 30 monster, which is as high as CRs get in Pathfinder RPG. And he’s my 650th unique entry in the Creature Codex!

These statistics are based primarily on the Dungeon Magazine version of Kyuss, but toned down. Kyuss didn’t need four different spell lists. The spell stowaway ability is a feat from the 3.0 Epic Level handbook, which I gave to Kyuss since in my game, one of the PCs loved to abuse time stop. The resultant battle, in which a PC soloed the Wormgod for 4 rounds and survived, is still talked about around my table more than a decade later.]

Great Old One, Kyuss CR 30 NE Aberration This immense giant is composed of thousands of writhing worms woven together in a mockery of the humanoid form. It cloaks its form in a ragged gray robe, and immense orange eyes glow hatefully under its hood. It carries a bladed mace in its hands.

Kyuss The Wormgod, the Worm that Walks, the Parasite Divine NE male Great Old One of decay, undeath and apocalypse Domains Death, Destruction, Evil, Magic Subdomains Catastrophe, Decay*, Divine, Undead Worshipers avolakias, nihilists, the duped Minions wormtouched undead, overworms, Kyuss wormswarms Unholy Symbol A human skull with green worms pouring from the eyes and mouth Favored Weapon executioner’s mace *Clerics of Kyuss can use the Decay subdomain to modify the Death domain

Kyuss, the Wormgod, is the architect of apocalypse and the creator of a panoply of undead. His ultimate goals are to usher in the Age of Worms, an era in which all mortals are converted into undead and the world is a writhing nightmare. He has very nearly succeeded in these goals, but was thwarted by great heroes and cast once more into imprisonment. But Kyuss stirs in his tomb, and the Age of Worms may begin in a far-away planet or plane.

Kyuss is perhaps unique among the Great Old Ones in that he was once a mortal. An executioner of a jungle city in a cruel theocracy, he clawed his way to the role of high priest and then priest-king. Obsessed with immortality and despising the frailties of flesh, he experimented with spell weaver magic and the green worms which now bear his name. In a mythic ritual, he stripped the life force of an entire empire and poured it into his own body, hoping to achieve godhood. Kyuss failed by inches, achieving eternal life but becoming a writhing thing instead of an ascendant deity, trapped in a shard of indestructible black stone. It is this shard that is both Kyuss’ sanctuary and prison, and from which he emerges to wreak ruin on the world.

In his millennia of study and plotting, the Parasite Divine has discovered a pernicious way of increasing his power. Rather than gain worship directly, he does so mostly through fear and deception. A number of cults founded by his monstrous minions or his few true humanoid believers shroud Kyuss’ true nature in layers of lies, allowing him to sip from the power of belief provided by the unknowing. Even knowing Kyuss’ true nature and that of his plots is not enough, for Kyuss draws energy from creatures fearing him as surely as he does from those worshiping him. If Kyuss were to achieve his goals and achieve true divinity, he would be a powerful and dangerous god indeed.

In combat, Kyuss is nothing short of ruinous. He combines a variety of necromantic spells with blows from an immense black mace. Even if disarmed, his physical attacks are horrific—he can engulf a foe and strip the flesh from them in seconds, returning them to a hideous parody of life as one of his scions. Kyuss rarely fights alone, calling on broodfiends, wormdrakes and powerful undead of many kinds to serve as distractions and cannon fodder.

Kyuss CR 30 XP 9,830,400 NE Huge aberration (Great Old One) Init +22; Senses blindsight 300 ft., darkvision 120 ft., Perception +53, true seeing Aura unspeakable presence (300 ft, DC 42), zone of desecration (120 ft.) Defense AC 45, touch 45, flat-footed 23 (-2 size, +12 Dex, +25 insight) hp 752 (35d8+595); fast healing 30 Fort +28, Ref +25, Will +34 DR 20/-; Immune ability damage, ability drain, acid, aging, cold, critical hits, death effects, disease, energy drain, mind-affecting effects, paralysis, petrification, single-target spells, sneak attack, stunning; SR 41; 46 vs. divinations Defensive Abilities amorphous, immortality, insanity (DC 42), negative energy affinity, spell stowaway Offense Speed 50 ft., burrow 50 ft., climb 50 ft., swim 50 ft. Melee Mace of Kyuss +43/+38/+33/+28 (4d6+27/19-20x3) or 2 slams +40 (2d8+16 plus grab) Space 15 ft; Reach 15 ft. Special Abilities channel negative energy (25/day, 10d6, DC 42), create spawn, devastation beam, engulf, mythic power (10/day, surge +1d12), thanatoic nightmares Spell-like Abilities CL 30th, concentration +45 (+49 casting defensively) Constant—freedom of movement, nondetection, tongues, true seeing At will— create undead, create greater undead, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, harm M (DC 31), nightmare M (DC 30) 3/day— control undead (DC 31), disintegrate M (DC 31), finger of death M (DC 32), quickened greater dispel magic, quickened harm M (DC 31), empowered horrid wilting (DC 33) 1/day—mage’s disjunction (DC 34), power word kill M, summon (level 9th, 2d4 broodfiends or wormdrakes, 100%), wail of the banshee (DC 34), wish M Spells CL 20th, concentration +35 (+39 casting defensively) 9th—astral projection, energy drain (DC 36), gate, miracle, overwhelming presence (DC 34), quickened slay living (DC 32) 8th—antimagic field M, quickened divine power, fire storm M (DC 33), greater spell immunity, quickened inflict critical wounds M (DC 31, x2) 7th—blasphemy M (DC 32), destruction (DC 34), ethereal jaunt, mass inflict serious wounds (DC 34), quickened prayer, quickened protection from energy, repulsion 6th—blade barrier M (DC 31), forbiddance (DC 31), harm M (DC 33), mass eagle’s splendor, plague storm (DC 33), quickened spiritual weapon M, word of recall 5th—dispel good (DC 30), flame strike (DC 30), greater command (DC 30), scrying (DC 30), quickened shield of faith, slay living (DC 32), unhallow 4th—air walk (x2), dimensional anchor, inflict critical wounds M (DC 31), sending, terrible remorse, unholy blight M (DC 29) 3rd—bestow curse (DC 30), blindness/deafness (DC 30), contagion (DC 30), inflict serious wounds (DC 32), invisibility purge, magic circle vs. good (DC 30), prayer M, speak with dead (DC 32) 2nd—bull’s strength, darkness, death knell (DC 31), hold person (DC 29), make whole, resist energy, silence (DC 29), spiritual weapon M 1st—bane (DC 30), deathwatch, detect undead, divine favor, entropic shield, protection from good (DC 28), sanctuary (DC 28), shield of faith M 0th—bleed (DC 29), detect magic, guidance, read magic Statistics Str 42, Dex 34, Con 45, Int 38, Wis 41, Cha 41 Base Atk +26; CMB +44 (+48 grappling); CMD 76 Feats Combat Casting, Command Undead, Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Wondrous Item, Empower SLA (horrid wilting), Greater Spell Focus (necromancy), Greater Vital Strike, Improved Critical (executioner’s mace), Improved Vital Strike, Lightning Reflexes, Mythic Spell Power, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic, heal) Quicken Spell, Spell Focus (necromancy), Spell Penetration, Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +50, Bluff +50, Climb +62, Diplomacy +50, Escape Artist +50, Intimidate +53, Knowledge (arcana) +52, Knowledge (dungeoneering, nature, planes, religion) +49, Perception +53, Sense Motive +53, Spellcraft +52, Stealth +42, Survival +53, Swim +62, Use Magic Device +50 Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Avolakia, Draconic, Infernal, telepathy 300 ft. SQ compression, otherworldly insight Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization unique Treasure double standard (Mace of Kyuss [+3 unholy vorpal executioner’s mace], other treasure) Special Abilities Channel Negative Energy (Su) Kyuss can channel negative energy as per a 20th level cleric. Create Spawn (Su) Any creature reduced to 0 Int by Kyuss rises as a scion of Kyuss under Kyuss’ control immediately. Devastation Beam (Su) As a standard action, Kyuss can fire destructive energy in a 600 foot line. All creatures and objects in the line take 17d12 points of damage that ignore all hardness, damage reduction or energy resistance (Reflex DC 42 half). A creature reduced to 0 hit points by this blast is destroyed utterly and can only be returned to life with a miracle, true resurrection or wish spell. The save DC is Charisma based. Engulf (Ex) If Kyuss grapples a foe, as a swift action, it can cause a swarm of worms to squirm over the grappled creature. These worms deal 5d6+24 points of damage and 3d6 points of Intelligence drain and the creature is nauseated for 1 round. A successful DC 44 Fortitude save negates the nausea and halves the Intelligence drain. Kyuss can only have one embraced target at a time, but it does not have to continue grappling in order to maintain the embrace. If Kyuss moves more than 5 feet from the swarm or dismisses the swarm (a free action), the swarm dies. Any area attack that damages the swarm or any severe or stronger wind effect that affects the swarm's target kills it. Immortality (Ex) If Kyuss is slain, he explodes in a fountain of worms—all creatures within 30 feet take damage as if exposed to his engulf ability (Fort DC 44 halves). Any scions of Kyuss created by this effect are free willed. Kyuss then reforms on another planet or plane over the course of 1000 years, trapped in a monolith of black stone until the time is right to reemerge. Spells Kyuss casts spells as a 20th level cleric. He does not gain access to domain spells or domain abilities. Spell Stowaway (Su) Whenever a creature within 60 feet of Kyuss uses time stop, he can act normally within the duration of the time stop, as if he had cast it himself. As neither he nor the caster are frozen in time with respect to each other, each can target and affect the other with attacks, spells, or other effects they create, though they cannot affect other creatures within the duration of the time stop. This ability functions even if Kyuss is flat-footed or unaware of his opponent. Thanatoic Nightmares (Su) Kyuss can use his nightmare spell-like ability on any creature that has ever taken ability damage or drain from an undead creature, or been infected with a disease by an undead. In addition to the effects of the nightmare, the target must succeed a DC 42 Will save or become infected with the seed of undeath. It takes a -4 penalty to all saves against necromancy spells, negative energy effects or the special attacks of the undead. If slain by an undead creature with the create spawn ability, it rises as a scion of Kyuss instead. This effect is permanent unless removed by remove curse or a similar effect. The save DC is Charisma based. Unspeakable Presence (Su) Failing a DC 42 Will save against Kyuss’ unspeakable presence causes the victim to be overwhelmed by a sense of doom—it takes a -4 penalty to all attack rolls, saving throws, skill and ability checks and weapon damage rolls while it remains in the area. Zone of Desecration (Su) Kyuss emits a 120 foot aura that duplicates the effects of a desecrate spell. He counts as a shrine to an evil religion for the purposes of the spell.

#kyuss #age of worms #D&D #pathfinder rpg #milestones

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author-morgan · 5 years ago

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Phobia ☤ Alexios

eighteen - and the streets run red

masterlist

“Be strong, saith my heart; I am a soldier; I have seen worse sights than this.”

Fate decrees two kindred souls from two different empires will find one another, and the spear shall be made whole again.

PLAGUE RAVISHES ATHENS. Threatening to tear apart everything Perikles has worked for. The air is heavy with a foul stench –burning flesh, bile, and other excrements. A haze lingers over the city, blocking much of the sunlight from reaching the streets. A once vibrant city is laid low by disease and looks more like the underworld.

Hippokrates is burning the diseased corpses in hopes to prevent the spread, and radicals threaten him for the perceived desecration. He assures Irene there is nothing she can do to help –this plague is the result of the gods' wrath; he is sure of it.

As they near Perikles' villa, the throng of people grows thicker and at their head is Kleon the Everyman. "Kleon," Irene hisses, hands balling into fists at her side. It only takes a second of deliberation for her to begin marching toward the demagogue spurring on the disgruntled rabble of Athenian citizens. Alexios reaches out –seizing her wrist before she does anything rash. Now is not the time to pick a fight with Perikles' adversary, especially when he heads a mob. The fire in her eyes does not die down and the Eagle Bearer begins to wonder what had transpired between the two for such vivid hatred to linger in the princess' stormy gaze.

"Alexios, you're back!" A small voice calls. They both turn to find Phoibe running toward them –she stops, bouncing on her feet with a smile. "Got to run! See you at Aspasia's!"

"Wait!" Alexios calls, but Phoibe is already gone. Irene frowns. Athens is not safe for children to run about anymore. She glances up at the Eagle Bearer and can tell he worries for the girl, too –even if he tries hiding it. Irene's hand brushes over his arm –when he shifts his attention to her, she nods toward the Athenian leader's home. They would be able to find answers there.

Sentries allow them passage into the villa, no longer wary about the misthios accompanying the princess. Alkibiades is pacing outside the home's entrance –for the most part, he's always able to keep a blithe outlook, but the city's gloom and sickness weigh heavily on him. "Allie?" He turns, surprised to see Irene. By now he figured she and Alexios would be halfway across the Aegean –he'd hoped that's where'd they be– far away from a foundering city.

"You've returned, sweetling," he says, though his voice doesn't hold the same charm it usually does. Alkibiades steps aside and motions them both inside. "Aspasia will want to speak with you." It troubles Irene to see him in such a despairing mood, but she nods and follows Alexios into the villa.

The villa has turned into a safe harbor –Aristophanes, Euripides, and Protagoras are among those present. "Oh, Irene," Aspasia cries and the two women embrace. The hetaera had nearly given up hope that she and the Eagle Bearer would return after her letters had gone unanswered. Irene glances around at those gathered within the courtyard and solar, but Athens' leader is not among them. She had hoped to speak with him about the war and the Cult. "Perikles?" The princess questions softly.

"Is dying," Aspasia chokes –suddenly Alkibiades grim guise made sense too. "He won't see me or Hippokrates." Perikles avoids her, as to spare himself from listening to her worry about his wellbeing. He refuses visits from Hippokrates too –claiming the physician's skills are better served helping the people of Athens than a dying old man. The hetaera turns to the Eagle Bearer. "Alexios, he respects you. Would you see he receives his medicine?" She asks, holding out a small vial filled with a thin brown liquid.

Alexios takes the tonic and nods before leaving to seek out the leader. Irene steps into the courtyard and looks up at the dusky air –she's never seen Athens in this state before. By the look of it, the city will still be suffering for many months to come. "How long has it been like this?"

"Since the last full moon," Aspasia answers. In the first days, it was only a mild sickness, though that was all it took for the plague to tighten its grip. People from the countryside flocked to the city when the Spartan army advanced, but now not even the Spartans dare get too close. They view it as the gods' punishment for the Athenians and a sure sign they will emerge from this war victorious.

New plumes of dark smoke begin to fill the air, followed by the acrid smell of burning flesh and hair. Some days they could not burn the bodies quick enough and resorted to having the sick dig their own mass graves outside the city walls. Aspasia lays her hand on Irene's shoulder –she knows the princess is a fighter, but before she'd ever gone searching for blood, she was a healer, albeit a novice one. "There is nothing you can do," the hetaera tells her.

"Hippokrates said the same." Irene knows it is a lie, though. Medicine is in your blood. She'd helped people on the precipice of death before –from sickness or injury. Their souls meant for Hades, but Irene kept them alive. She doesn't understand why she can help others in such a way, but couldn't even save her own brother in the forest from bandits. Look what I've become, Zephyr.

Aspasia leaves the courtyard and goes to the adjoining solar. She's amassed several scrolls about Irene's father and the Order since the last time the princess was in Athens. She lays them on the altar and tells the princess what they are. Irene unrolls one of the smaller pieces of papyrus and frowns. She evaded us in Argos the scroll reads in hurriedly written script and now she has the Eagle Bearer as a companion. Irene picks another scroll from the pile. We've come to an agreement then? Do as you will with Deimos and the brother, but the exiled princess is our claim. "How did you come by these?" She inquires, it seems odd that Aspasia is always the one to have news of the Cult and Order.

"Thucydides came across Persian scouts in Boeotia," Aspasia explains, "the ones regarding your father were sent from Kos." Alexios has not returned from delivering Perikles' medicine, and the hetaera begins pacing the perimeter of the courtyard, overwrought by something. Irene lays down another scroll and turns her attention to Perikles' partner. "What is it?"

"I expected Phoibe back by now-" Aspasia admits, turning back to Irene "-I sent her to Anastasios to see about a ferry."

It's at that moment the Eagle Bearer joins them. "You sent her out alone?" Alexios asks anger lacing his question. He would've stopped the girl before she'd run off if he'd known what she was meant to do. "I'm going to find her," he says, glancing between the two women before turning to leave.

"Why would you send a child out alone when the city is like this?" Irene demands. Aspasia blanches when as she recalls who else is within the city.

PERIKLES TAKES IT upon himself to leave his villa to pray at the Parthenon, telling no one of his intentions. When Aspasia realizes he is missing, she asks Sokrates and Hippokrates to find Alexios. Irene will escort her to the Acropolis.

From the steps of the Acropolis, the extent of the plague can truly be assessed. Pyres and columns of blackened smoke pock the city. Athens is but a shadow of what it had once been. Irene turns from Aspasia upon hearing someone approach –her grip on the broken spear loosens when she sees who it is. "Alexios," she sighs, relieved, but his eyes are red, cheeks streaked with dried tears, and his hands stained with blood. Her heart sinks. "No," she whispers. Phoibe.

"Quickly, Alexios," the hetaera says, motioning toward the temple's entrance. He stays rooted in place, gaze downcast. The grief is still too fresh. Irene lays her hand on his cheek and feels her own lip start to tremble. "What's gotten into you?" Aspasia inquires –the question sounds harsher than she'd intended.

"Phoibe is dead," Alexios chokes, pulling away from Irene's gentle touch. His brow furrows, hands clenching into tight fists. "She's dead because you sent her to do your work," he exclaims.

Aspasia takes a step back at the accusation. "No...I," she stumbles over the words, disbelieving, "it's not true. Phoibe wanted to go. She told me she would be all right." The words are hollow to Alexios and only serve to ease the hetaera's guilt.

"And you believed a child," he spits. Irene rests her hand over the scars wrapping around his arm, trying to bring him out of the trance of grief and rage.

"You know Phoibe! She wouldn't have taken no for an answer. It was out of my hands," Aspasia says.

"Out of your hands?" Alexios shouts with the tears in his eyes renewed. "You sent her away! You could have protected her!"

"What I asked of her was needed to protect Perikles," Aspasia explains. "She lived to help others, Alexios. She lived to help you."

The statement makes him go quiet for a moment and he finally notices the soft grip Irene has on his arm. "She should be here," he says, voice strangled with emotion.

"Of course, she should," Aspasia replies, her voice going soft. "You know the cost of living this life."

Alexios' gaze darts to Irene. "I do," he replies, "but did Phoibe?"

Hippokrates and Sokrates arrive on the verge of panting –they'd come as quickly as they could, but the streets were turning to madness. A low wailing comes from inside the temple. Alexios moves to the head of the group and shoves both of doors open and drawing his spear.

"Perikles!" Aspasia screams and both she and Irene move toward where Athens' leader is at the feet of Athena's likeness. Sokrates and Hippokrates restrain Aspasia. Alexios holds back Irene. A woman clad in gold and dark steel armor is leaning over Perikles. She holds Perikles' bloodied face and forces the leader to look upon his friends, her dark gaze following. Irene sees the resemblance immediately and knows who she is. Deimos.

Alexios' grip on Irene's bicep tightens when his sister raises her blade to the leader's throat with a flourish. Deimos drags the full length of her sword across Perikles' neck and lets the leader collapse onto the tiled floor before rising –covered in blood. "Stay out of my stay," Deimos rasps and three cult guards take her place as she disappears behind the statue of Athena. The Eagle Bearer releases Irene and unsheathes his sword –she does the same.

The hair on the back of Irene's neck rises and she sidesteps the cultist guard before he can even start the forward motion of his blade. Irene steps up onto a terra cotta vase and leaps onto the guard's shoulders, plunging the spear deep into the area of exposed flesh where shoulder meets neck. She twists the spear -something snaps and cracks then the man is falling forward into the shallow reflecting pool. The other guards' attention is focused on Alexios. He blocks both advances, sword behind his back –spear pushing forward.

Irene approaches the guard at his hindmost and kicks the cultist guard's knee inward –quick to drive her broken spear into the back of his neck as he falls. The man gurgles blood for only a moment before she pulls the blade free. Alexios turns looking down at the corpse lying before his feet and to where another lies in the shallow pool –the water now tainted. His gaze shifts to Irene. Her hands and spear are coated in blood, her eyes ringed with the same golden light he'd seen in the forge on Andros.

The princess drops her spear and kneels next to Aspasia where Perikles' body lies. The hetaera turns toward Irene, leaning against her shoulder. "You cannot stay here, Aspasia," she tells her. Athens will be too dangerous for her in the wake of Perikles's death, and Kleon is unlikely to offer sanctuary.

"We need to get back to the Adrestia," Alexios announces. Irene nods and helps Aspasia to her feet. She looks over her shoulder at the corpse of her partner for a final time before exiting the Temple of Athena. The Eagle Bearer moves ahead of the small group, scouting out guards and empty alleyways to pass through. Hippokrates, Sokrates, and Aspasia follow the princess, the former armed with a shovel and rake.

Several steps ahead, Irene watches as Alexios steps up behind a soldier and clamps his hand over the man's mouth. The flailing is over in an instant after a quick twist and the soldier slumps forward, unmoving. There'd been no sound, no blood. He looks back and motions toward one of the warehouses south of the Temple of Asklepius.

The docks are desolate –no one is entering or leaving the plague-ridden city– but the Adrestia is waiting for them –lit braziers like a beacon in the night. Alexios and Irene share a quick look before stepping out into the open. The others follow. "Stop!" A voice shouts, and the five of them halt -turning to face those who dare try to hinder their escape. "Kleon has ordered no one to leave Athens." The Athenian strategos glances between the two women, recognizing them. "He wants Aspasia and Irene brought to him."

"I'm not going," Irene spits, tone acerbic. Aspasia steps up next to the princess, head held high despite how her world was crumbling. "Nor am I," she echoes.

"Don't let them leave," the strategos commands his men and they all draw swords.

"Stay behind me," Alexios tells them. Irene steps up at his side, sparing him a quick disproving glance –sword and spear drawn. "Stay behind us," she amends. They move in sync with one another. A storm of grace and fury. She blocks an overhand blow, twists, and swings backward -opening her attacker's throat. A spear is thrust towards her, but Alexios deflects it with his sword and catches the wooden shaft. He wrenches the spear from his opponent's hands and hacks his blade down into the man's skull, splitting open both metal and bone.

Only the Athenian strategos is left and both Irene and Alexios turn their attention to him at the same time -stalking forward. None of the gods can save him from the princess and Eagle Bearer. He sweeps his spear in a wide arc. They step back then move forward. Irene slips to her knees and drives her broken spear deep into the man's leg. His howl of pain is cut short by a quick slice to the throat.

The philosopher and physician agree to stay in the city. They will do what they can for the people and try to reign in Kleon's control. Irene does not wish for them to stay, for as soon as Perikles' body is found she knows riots will erupt in the streets. She does not protest their decision, though. "Stay safe," the princess whispers, placing a chaste kiss on Hippokrates cheek. "Stay alive," she utters, reciprocating the gesture with Sokrates. "And please, give Phoibe's body the proper rites," she all but whispers. Both men bow their heads as she steps back and boards the Adrestia.

ALEXIOS SITS NEXT to Irene at the stern of the Adrestia -Athens is already behind them on the horizon. Even after all this time, the Persian princess is still a mystery to him. She glances at him and then to the dried blood under her fingernails. "Why do you hate Kleon so much?" He hadn't really thought Irene was capable of harboring such odium. She has a gentle heart, and he knows something must have happened for a black streak to form.

Aspasia overhears the question and turns abruptly. "She hasn't told you?" She seems surprised that Irene has not voiced the reasons behind her hatred to the misthios, especially given that they seem so fond of one another.

Irene crosses her arms, face twisting in anger and disgust. She's never longed to shed blood needlessly, but given half the chance she'd mount Kleon's head on a pike outside the gates of Athens for the world to see. "He has hounded me since I became a woman." In truth, the moment her chest was no longer flat marked the beginning of his unrelenting and unwanted attention. He'd even went so far as to try poisoning her brother to force her into a union.

"One time he paid-off common street criminals to carry her off, strip her and leave her in the woods for him to rescue," Aspasia recounts.

The misthios' expression contorts to outrage. "What happened?" He asks.

"I killed them before they could lay a hand on me," Irene answers, uncrossing her arms, "and found the scroll written in Kleon's hand promising them drachmae for their cooperation." Perikles had been wroth after learning of his adversary's scheme, even Zephyr had been on the verge of taking up arms. Alkibiades had even tried hiring a mercenary to do away with the then captain until Perikles found out about his plan.

Tired, Irene rises from the bench –her hand briefly moving to Alexios' shoulder before taking leave to the bow where she's amassed a small collection of pillows and pelts during their travels. He watches her go –resisting the urge to reach out and take her hand to pull her back.

Barnabas inspects the ship deck, as is his nightly routine and comes to stand next to Alexios at the helm of the Adrestia. The captain looks between the commander and Irene at the bow of the ship with his good eye. The Eagle Bearer can hide his exhaustion and worry, but he's failed to hide his feelings toward the princess –or at least Barnabas can see it plainly. "You should get some rest, commander," he says, clasping him on the shoulder. Alexios follows Barnabas's gaze and lets out a heavy sigh, knowing the captain's intentions. "What?" He shrugs. "You two are good for each other."

Alexios shakes his head and turns, leaning against the railing. "She's a princess, Barnabas-" he crosses his arms wearing a look of defeat. The old sailor has never seen such a quailing expression on the misthios's face before. "-I'm just a mercenary." Yet he's never felt the same kind of connection with another being that was so strong and consuming. He'd felt it ever since coming across her on the beaches of Samos. After years, he'd finally found the girl that haunted his dreams and she was perfect.

"I don't think she cares about that," Barnabas replies. If Irene cared about titles and status, she would have never agreed to sail with them on the Adrestia.

"Barnabas is right," Herodotus chimes, appearing to his right. "Go to her."

He listens to the historian and captain and kneels at her side, unsure of what to say or do. Frustrated, he begins to rise but a delicate hand seizes his wrist before he can stand. "Alexios," Irene breathes, pulling him back to his knees. "Stay," she says and he does, laying at her side, gazing up at a starless night sky. "I'm sorry about Phoibe," Irene whispers. She hadn't known the girl for very long, but in a short span of time, she'd come to admire her. A headstrong girl with a penchant for trouble that reminded Irene too much of herself.

"She-" Alexios bites down on the inside of his cheek to stay the tears that surface when he recalls Phoibe calling out his name, afraid "-she'll go to the Fields of Elysium," he tells her, voice heavy with grief. Irene rolls onto her side and tentatively lays her hand on his cheek. Seeing him fighting to restrain such dolor and pain makes her heart ache. You don't have to be the face of strength all the time she wants to tell him, but the words are stuck in her throat. Alexios covers her hand with his own and gently slides it toward his lips –he kisses the center of her palm and releases her hand.

Irene moves her head to rest on his chest. He stiffens and she quickly distances herself, face burning red. Alexios shakes his head and draws her back toward him, arms wrapping around her waist. "Stay," he breathes, pressing his cheek into the crown of her head. He hadn't been able to protect Phoibe, and it is a mistake he will not make again. Alexios makes a silent vow that he will always protect Irene as he begins humming a hauntingly familiar lullaby.

#Alexios #Alexios x OC #Alexios Imagine #Alexios Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Imagine #Assassin's Creed Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Odyssey #story: Phobia #my writing

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armsdealing · 5 years ago

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/ NUEVA RELIGIÓN.

there is always something left to love. when people ask, that is what they say. there’s always something left to love, and it’s because of that love that they do the things they do. what makes them kill. what makes them punish and desecrate the holy alongside the mundane. it is not hatred, not revulsion, not fear, but something else, much purer than all those things combined, what turns the gears of this barbarity: a conviction that cuts through diamond. a deeper knowledge about the world and the beings that live in it, than could be found anywhere else. a willingness, stripped of all pride, to use this knowledge crucially against transgressors, against liars, against evil itself -- without any kind of differentiation between men and gods.

***

nueva religión is a verse subservient to elements already established in the otherworld verse and the nulliverse. it’s basically an au of an au with strong magical realism and urban fantasy influences, as well as a background in mythopoeia and crime. theology and mythology are central themes of the verse, so talks about religion are bound to show up frequently. naturally, there will be general, verse-wise trigger and content warnings regarding: blasphemy, sacrilege, and violence. there will be mentions of unsavory topics in this post like gang violence/crime, abuse and drugs, so it is best to stop reading from this point onward if mere mentions of these topics trigger you. mental health comes first, always. of course, all specific disturbances will be tagged in a post by post basis.

continue if you wish to read more about this verse, and the characters involved in it.

FUNDAMENTALS.

as prev. mentioned, this is an au of an au. it centers around the well-known (as far as my blog is concerned, at least) reyes family and their efforts running a gang that also happens to have unorthodox religious beliefs. in this verse, the reyes never went to new york between 1970 and 1990. instead, they decided to settle completely in florida in a neighborhood of miami-dade county called carrion. there, they would gain a foothold by waging war on neighborhood gangs until they achieved complete control of carrion. now the area is the base of operations for everything they do.

the characterizations in this verse are drastically different due to: 1. the different setting 2. the different background 3. the different tone -- and while characters like marcelo still retain several core characteristics, it’s best to assume the characters will not behave in the exact same way as they do in their canon verses, and they will not respond the same. it might be jarring. it’s meant to be jarring, as this verse intends to explore a ‘what if’ type of scenario for the reyes family if they still decided to be active in the criminal world.

as it’s been hinted, the reyes have an alternative religion, complete with a central deity and minor gods. this religion is completely fictional, as are their ritual practices, and they are not meant to be similar to any real life religion or belief system.

the neighborhood of carrion is fictional too, and while certain historical elements might be taken directly from real life, i don’t mean to make accurate depictions of them (this especially concerns the cocaine boom of the 80s and colombia’s la violencia between the 40s and 50s). i also don’t plan to use any real life gangs/criminals in this verse, and i won’t acknowledge their existence.

the verse sways between urban fantasy and magical realism. while the magic is very much real, the extent of it will be unfamiliar to most people, and a lot of things will be deliberately vague. things in carrion work a particular way, people work a certain way, and it’s not the same for other parts of miami.

LOS DISCÍPULOS.

known by a variety of names (los dorados, los reales, la justicia, la realeza, or the kings of miami) los discipulos de la nueva religión is the gang the reyes run. consisting primarily of werecats and humans of magical predisposition, they’re infamous in miami for their extremely violent ways and their vicious grip on carrion.

though during the first decade they were focused on drug distribution (and were, for several years, in full control of the colombia-caribbean islands-usa cocaine pipeline), over time they have downsized their drug operation.

nowadays, the kings manage protection rackets for businesses outside of carrion, simultaneously protecting their home neighborhood from the influence of other gangs -- completely for free. they also perform armed robbery and theft outside of miami and hijack trucks.

perhaps the thing they are most known for, however, is their vigilantism. notably anti-cop, the kings have taken it upon themselves to impart justice in their neighborhood and surrounding areas. this effort, unlike the protection rackets, is completely free of cost. essentially, they will go after those they consider to have evaded justice: murderers, abusers, p*dophiles, and rapists. they will also make a point to go after corrupted authority figures in particular: police officers, priests, and the occasional politician. as a result, they have been linked to various assassinations, but nothing has ever been proven as of right now.

the kings also pump a lot of money into carrion and surrounding areas. their businesses include, but are not limited to: a tattoo parlor, a hair salon, a barbershop, and a bar. they also run a private shelter and organize many activities for the benefit of carrion’s citizens. because of this, they’re pretty beloved within their community and outside of it. the popular consensus seems to be that if you need help and ask the kings for it, you’re guaranteed to receive it.

EL CULTO / THE BELIEFS.

though the gang came to be around the 80s officially, el culto has been going on for much longer, evolving steadily into what it is today. originally started in colombia, it centers around one main figure: la Justicia, a goddess thought to be responsible for keeping balance in the universe by killing what needs to be killed and subsequently consuming it -- something for which she was given the title of Divine Devorer (or Divina Devoradora).

la justicia is the guiding figure of their lives, and believers kill for her (human sacrifices and offering dead bodies being quite common). she’s considered the agent of retribution, above all other gods and above all other things.

the worship maintains that all other gods might as well exist, but they too have to follow the laws of the universe, and if they break them, then they too will be consumed by la Justicia. in that way, the goddess acts as a check/balance for other pantheons. and they don’t necessarily have to like that (many, in fact, hate her) but there’s nothing they can do about it.

the culto is notably anti-catholic/anti-christian god, and in a certain way started as a direct response to the forced christianization of south america that happened during colonial times. missionaries were often killed around this time, and many churches were destroyed. because of this tightly knit history with catholicism, it’s not rare to see worshippers of La Justicia “appropiating” catholic imagery in blatant and mocking ways.

el culto’s other deities are La Muerte and La Locura, representing respectively the two other laws of the universe. if la Justicia is the agent of order, La Locura is the agent of disorder, and La Muerte (death) is the only certainty in the whole universe. despite their massive power, the are considered minor in the cult -- they’re seen as two natural influences that prefer not to directly involve themselves in the world, unlike La Justicia, which must be constantly pursued and taken care of.

CARRION, MIAMI.

bordered with allapattah to the west, wynwood to the east, and liberty city to the north, carrion is a neighborhood in miami with a large latino population that represents about 70% of its makeup. predominated by dominicans, puerto ricans and cubans as well as colombians and venezuelans, it’s primarily a low to working class neighborhood with a big textiles market. it’s also well known for it’s food distribution centers and mercados, which a wide variety of tropical fruits.

apart from all this, it happens to be the homebase of the kings, and where much of the action takes place. carrion has a reputation for being a strange neighborhood, where weird things often take place and “nobody notices”. despite being somewhat quiet, it boasts an alarmingly high number of unsolved disappearance cases, only rivalled by the number of unsolved murder cases. it was pretty active during the cocaine boon of the 80s and it’s rumored there’s 20 tons of cocaine hidden somewhere from those times in the neighborhood. as far fetched as that sounds, in 2016 someone found 100k worth of jewelry hidden inside their kitchen wall during a house renovation, so -- let’s just say nothing is out of the question when it comes to carrion.

CHARACTERS INVOLVED WITH THE VERSE.

MARCELO REYES

ALBA REYES

SAUL BAUTISTA

ELIÁN VALENCIANO

CAMILA VALENCIANO

JOAQUÍN

LEON ROMERO

#worldbuilding.#( nueva religión. )#* nueva religion.#vb.#get ready for many posts like this :V jk they'll take a while #this took a while #but it was fun!#i can't stop thinking about this verse

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3d10fire-damage · 4 years ago

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red sun summary (10/15/2020)

the party swam into the underwater cave, finding the area rather beautiful, finally given a calm, still, and quiet moment after a long series of battles. the tunnel leading out of the cave was a bit rough and large enough for the King to have walked through. there were four exits from this tunnel, two on the left and two on the right. zoroe, wringing her hair out, asked where the party should go, eventually settling on the right side. they proceeded through one of the right doors and into a large hemispherical chamber, where the air was thick with power. the walls were dotted with alcoves, some of which were empty and some of which contained a bewildering assortment of things, namely statuettes. there was a raised area near the back of the room with a one foot tall statue of a woman floating off the ground, dressed in white robes, her hands held out as if offering a platinum coin.

zoroe was unable to recall what these statuettes were depicting, and she wondered if this is where the stolen Melu goddess had been taken. she took the big statue and made sure to tuck it into her belongings as securely as possible. calypso asked about storing the statue in the Bag of Holding, but zoroe declined, since there had been a point during combat where the party hadn’t been able to get to some potions in the Bag of Holding because calypso was keeping it (and she was unconscious or unreachable, i’m assuming). calypso joked that zoroe’s tent was getting lonely, being the only in the bag. zoroe was like “maybe we should send you in there with it,” and calypso was actually into the idea. phosphorra, the party’s other authority on religious figures, was also unable to recognize anything in particular within these statuettes. zoroe looked around for any Hvare Khshaeta artifacts, finding a couple tiny objects intended for village shrines. but then she spotted the object from the desecrated temple near Susanbal, and tucked it into her bags as well.

heading for the left side of doors (turns out the other door on the right also led to the statuette room), there was some banter about how that room had been a bit boring according to calypso. “it didn’t even have any shiny, i want some shiny.” luckily, the room on the left was brimming with gold and jewels and treasures. at the side there were also some alcoves with the freshly dead bodies of two guards, along with two cultist foot soldiers dressed in plain gray robes. concerned about this, zoroe said she would stand back and keep watch on the doors. calypso immediately began looting, khaela not far behind her. zoroe tossed calypso her coin purse, saying to grab some gold for her. ultimately the party found 10,000 gold pieces, 2,300 platinum pieces, some gold-embroidered silk robes, necklaces and pendants, and several alexandrites and peridots. hot damn.

along with all that money, there were a number of magical items as well. this haul included Beads of Force, a Potion of Mind Reading, a Potion of Stone Giant Strength, a Necklace of Fireballs, Potions of Superior Healing, Sling Bullets +2, a Necklace of Prayer Beads, a +1 Suit of Plate Armor, and Bracers of Defense. calypso dropped her current pile of coins and went for the bracers, calling dibs, but Hex stopped her. phosphorra pointed out that they had agreed to give Hex first pick of magic items, though zoroe wondered how someone could tell calypso no, especially when she was grinning like that (like an idiot). calypso argued Hex wouldn’t need the bracers as much as she would, since Hex doesn’t normally get into combat. after some banter, Hex offered an exchange; calypso could keep the bracers if Hex was given four of the gems and the Necklace of Fireballs. calypso was fine with this, and once she handed over Hex’s share of the loot, the naga cast Dimension Door and disappeared. calypso was a bit annoyed Hex didn’t even say goodbye to phosphorra, but phosphorra seemed unsurprised and content.

the party went about splitting up the loot at this point. Ku-aya, being a ghost, didn’t take of the treasure, while Mistral seemed to be dazzled by all the shiny, rolling coins in her hands. in the meantime, phosphorra and zoroe investigated the dead bodies in the room. zoroe determined that one of the guards had been taken by surprise, and the second guard had fought back against the cultists but had been overwhelmed, being stabbed from multiple directions. so while there were only two cultists left here, there had been others, and they had taken some of the King’s treasure, judging from the lopsided nature of the piles of gold and the empty alcoves in the other room. and this had all happened within the past hour... as if the cultists had taken advantage of the distraction within the arena at the time. and there was still the issue of the ash-choked sky, possibly the corrupted sun? there’s something shifty afoot and the party would need more information to go about handling it.

once the treasure had been divided up, the party started following the trail of blood leading to the left wall where a hole had been carved roughly into the stone. this tunnel was hand cart sized, and the party followed this path for about four hours, presumably leading them toward Misitu’s exit rather than deeper into the mountains. calypso marveled at her bracers on the way, zoroe saying they looked nice on her. the party spotted another dead cultist on the muddy trail marked by cart wheels and footprints. Mistral asked if anyone was going to search the body. zoroe seemed a little disturbed by the question, and calypso said she was going to, “but be my guest.” Mistral, it turned out, was very good at looting bodies, but she only found a single gold piece and an object within the robes. it was a small stone sundial with gold leafing. Mistral inspected this sundial for a moment before saying “you’d be interested in this, my dears.”

on this sundial was some kind of inscription, and Mistral suggested zoroe in particular might like to read it. “i’d be willing to part with it for... 100 gold.” zoroe gaped at her and crossed her arms. “i am incredibly disappointed in you, Mistral.” calypso glanced between the two of them. “just pay her, we’re rich as balls now!” khaela cut in, haggling the price down to 60 gold. zoroe continued to be disappointed, and eventually calypso just handed 60 gold to Mistral. satisfied, Mistral handed over the sundial. khaela patted zoroe’s shoulder apologetically, but zoroe told her not to touch her. Mistral said that it was “lovely doing business with you, dears” as zoroe began reading the inscription. it said “To chaos and the end of the world. May our partnership prove fruitful.” and it was signed by A. phosphorra commented that that sounded good, and zoroe said that there seemed to be many A’s in the area. “maybe it’s the same one?” the plot thickens.

after another three hours of travel, phosphorra unhappy about the amount of walking, the party emerged from the tunnel. they found themselves within the hills outside Misitu with no one else in sight, the cart tracks they had been following disappearing into the bushland. even at night, the sky is still visibly clouded over with ash, and the air was a little hard to breathe. zoroe suggested the party collapse the tunnel’s entrance, so khaela started sizing up the structural integrity of the tunnel. but her roll wasn’t very good, so she didn’t really conclude anything useful about it. zoroe just used Shatter on the entrance to collapse it at least somewhat. and with that, the party settled down for the night, taking a well-earned rest. (also we leveled up!!!!)

so concludes the campaign’s act 1. the party will have a couple weeks of downtime before heading into adventure once again. there’s a few options available to them, such as hunting down the cult, taking jobs from wherever they’re offered, maybe joining with Abban Serru or Melu and working for them, and setting up Misitu as a home base. for now though, we’re on hiatus until november. aaaaaaaaaaaa

#red sun #dnd #long post

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princess--cynthia · 7 years ago

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The Future

3 Years of Cynthia Reward Drabble for @invisibleimpossibilities, who asked for Bad Future worldbuilding.

Length: 2,000 words

A series of excerpts from Forgotten History Vol. 3: Logistics, a handbook about the future by Laurent Milistin

INTRODUCTION

Much has been said about the wars, both in my own accounts and the perhaps more flamboyant ones by my contemporary Cynthia Ylisse. However, as 'glorious' as the conflict was either in hindsight or the moment, perhaps the true terror and struggle came from trying to live in the world as that happened. I understand not everyone wishes to read about supply issues and finding shelter, hence why I kept this information out of Forgotten History volumes One & Two, but it is just as important to creating a true understanding of the scenario we were in.

CH. 1 [Civilization]

Shortly after the fall of Ylisstol (see Forgotten History Vol 1), Ylissean society collapsed almost entirely. With no central government we scattered, most of the major population centers deciding to flee to the countryside in their droves - returning to relatives on farms or smaller villages. The resulting overpopulation of areas never intended to hold so many people caused illness and famine to run rampant, and a lack of strong leadership or organized legal system (see: Chapter 5) resulted in the further deaths of thousands. Of course, due to a lack of manpower and time they were placed in shallow graves - which as Grima's influence spread to these more remote reasons, caused the newly created Risen to claw their way from the ground with little to no aid at all.

Civilization in other regions of the world fared better - Plegia was mostly intact until three years in, when Grima apparently decided he no longer needed the Grimleal anymore and used his puppet Validar to organize what we believe was a mass ritual suicide among members of the cult. Ferox was used to having individual settlements become self-sufficient due to the nation's sheer size and harsh winters making it a necessity, and life continued in relative normalcy in each of these regions until they were eventually swallowed by the Risen hordes in their own time.

Across the ocean in Valm, Walhart completed his conquest unimpeded. Grima struck far too quickly, however, and his army was weak from two years of campaigning and the constant guerrilla attempts at rebellion from Chon'sin and Roseanne among others. When Valm fell, the only surviving 'civilizations' were roaming groups of people like ourselves, a mix of military and civilians. When someone died, we stripped them of any supplies we would find necessary and burned the bodies before burying the skeleton in two different graves, to try and save them the desecration of becoming a Risen - and ourselves the trauma of having to fight any more resurrected friends.

[...]

Groups would form intense bonds, forming their own symbols to identify themselves. We mostly remained as one, only splitting up when we absolutely had to - hearing about artifacts we could recover to perhaps turn the tide, but also to find more survivors. Sadly some survivor groups simply couldn't believe that such a large group could have survived, or even worse, were driven to anger by the mere sight of Lucina and the others of royal descent - believing that the royal family had failed them. More than once, groups would come to blows, fighting over supplies or even simply a difference in belief. This resulted in similarities to tribal society, an apt comparison considering the quasi-nomadic lifestyle we were forced to adopt.

As far as identification went, our group continued to identify as ‘Ylisse’. Other groups would refer to themselves by village, or the last name of a leader character.

CH. 2 [Supplies]

Fresh fruit and vegetables came into short supply, with most of the farms actively destroyed by Grimleal at first and later risen. Grima's doctrine was very much salted earth, and as the world decayed so did sources of nourishment. Fish became a mainstay for the first few years, until he poisoned the rivers. Occasionally we managed to set out to sea and recover some, but never for long - boats risked being spotted by Grima's flying scouts far too easily considering the fact that no shipping fleets remained.

I understand this next segment may disgust some readers, but understand we had little choice. We had to live off the land from what we could find - our diets, towards the end, mostly consisted of root vegetables found in the wild, a smattering of berries, and any non-poisonous or venomous creature we could safely catch. Bear was a luxury, for example, being one of the few creatures that could survive a few roaming risen but still be killed safely by a well-prepared hunting team. Ultimately most of our protein came from insects - locusts and crickets, mostly. Whenever we were along the coast we harvested as much seaweed as possible, storing it in barrels of brine. We mostly drank hot water, boiled and blessed to purify it of any natural or magical poisons - lacking the time to ferment alcohol, and not having access to any fresh springs. The last two winters were harsh, as we had rode out previous ones by smoking and salting meat we caught through the rest of the year, but such preventative measures simply didn't work with insects. Eventually we realized that we had to stay near the coast in winter if we wanted to survive, the dangerous-to-catch fish the only source of food we had. Thankfully it seemed that the risen were also susceptible to the cold, and patrols were far less common, reducing the risk fo these harvests.

I would be quite happy to never see seaweed on my plate again after that second winter.

[...]

Treats were carefully created to help keep morale up. When we stumbled on bee hives, we would carefully take as much honey from it as possible, and boil it with the water ration. With time and effort we could turn it into taffy, which we would keep in a sealed container and given out sparingly - as rewards, mostly. A single batch could last us almost six months regulated properly. Sweet berries would be turned into preserves, jams to be eaten with a spoon from a cup, or topping crushed ice during winter or when near a peak.

[...]

Military supplies were hard to come by. Armor was almost non-existent, not having the time to properly craft it for the individual. Surviving pegasus knights or cavaliers protected theirs religiously, sleeping in them to make sure they never lost a piece and hardly ever letting it out of their sight. Protection was shields - often of rough, uneven metal, since he had no forges - and at best boiled leather. Weapons we would take from the dead, friend or foe, as required - spellbooks were used sparingly, as only Grimleal mages had any more tomes we could recover. Thankfully our own group had an ordained minister with us, who knew how to create rough healing staves from branches and prayer, so we never ran out of those - but we have heard other groups had to resort to traditional medicine, frequently including amputation to prevent the corruption from a Risen's claws spreading and killing the man.

Arrows and javelins would be made from stone heads, enough to kill a basic Risen but nothing else. [...] Other primitive weapons were used for these lower-tier opponents, as metal swords and axes were too important to waste on footsoldiers.

[...]

Medical supplies - bandages, vulneraries, and so on - were made by civilians during downtime, from home remedies and whatever material we could find. Poultices were based off of folk remedies, as we simply lacked the refinement to rely on the scientific ones - thankfully, several of them worked. As time went on and the supplies to make these grew rarer, we grew ever more dependent on magical healing, which simply could not deal with everything.

[...]

Ultimately, these supply issues resulted in an average attrition rate of 50-60% of a group per year, either from a lack of nutrition or infection.

CH. 3 [Shelter and Transport]

Buildings were death traps, even if they were still standing. Often the people who lived there were still around as Risen, and they were too easily spotted from the sky. We would move from cave to cave, or at the very least sufficiently dense forests to hang up sheets without exposing ourselves. Winter was hard, our movement limited - if it was not for the winter also weakening the Risen, we would have been found almost immediately.

[...]

Horses were used to draw carts, and pegasi for scouting. Most of our travelling was on foot, although towards the end as our numbers grew smaller we either rode the horses or the carts.These carts would be stacked high with supplies, and guarded with our lives - the loss of a single cart could mean the loss of almost three week's rations, medical supplies, and arms & ammunition. These carts and the creatures who drew them were given higher priority for shelter than even us humans, for without them we would be dead. If we found a cave just big enough to store the carts and the horses and we slept outside under sheets and blankets, even if it was storming, that was what we did.

CH. 4 [Recreation]

[...]

Books and games were too heavy to carry with us, mostly. I know of several people who kept a few of the lighter, physically smaller works on them - stories of questionable quality, but any reading material was good. Oftentimes, we would scratch boards into the dirt when we made camp and use stones or chips of slate as markers for backgammon and checkers.

[...]

In a bout of creativity, some of us found ways to make training 'fun'. Spars would become aspects of a play, taking on characters in a competitive contest. Athletics training would feature elements of the absurd, lifting increasingly outrageous items to show off to our companions and provide some form of levity.

[...]

Crafting arrowheads from flint and other stones became an outlet as well, with many of us taking the opportunity to learn how to create different heads. Barbs, serrated, straight - it was a skill most of us mastered by the end. Similarly we learned how to engrave, leaving notches on leather armor to show who it belonged to and designs in the sides of wooden carts and barrels. This was indicative of most of our methods, where we turned chores into recreation to avoid going insane - by the time we finally went back to the past, our cart was an absolute mess, engravings of a dozen different styles absolutely covering it.

CH. 5 [Law]

[...]

We had to do away with the right to a jury and minor punishments. With supplies so thin, we were forced to resort to capital punishment for even the smallest of thefts - either execution, or banishment from the band and left behind for the Risen. Morale suffered for it, but we persevered. I believe that the intense belief in justice that some of my compatriots have come to hold comes from this rough legal framework, where we were forced to define every action into 'right' and 'wrong' and keep the ultimate punishment in mind. The one exception was when the victim would openly forgive the criminal, at which point his/her rations would be docked and we moved along.

[...]

The manner of execution was simple - beheading. It was preferred to use blessed weapons such as Falchion or other minor artifacts we retrieved on our journeys, for these seemed to prevent them from rising as Risen. I believe Princess Lucina was forced to carry out twenty-three of these executions before these days ended, from anything ranging between assault (physical or sexual) to theft to murder.

CONCLUSION

I understand this does not cast a very good light on those of us who survived. But I think it is necessary, to help establish a picture of exactly what we lived through - so that in the horrific event that Grima or some other mythical threat returns, we know what will happen should we fail to stop it. There can be no compromise, for I refuse to let the souls of anyone else become as marred as our own.

Naga have mercy on us for what we did.

#;(Diary - Drabbles)#invisibleimpossibilities #worldbuilding #fire emblem awakening

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punchywizard · 7 years ago

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A Word Building June Catchup post

“For eons magic beasts have plagued humanity, killing and feeding upon us much like we do livestock. At one point a group of mystics calling themselves Sculptors claiming to be emissaries of the old God's stepped forward. Using mutilated corpses or willing human sacrifices they created beings dubbed Titans by taking these parts and infusing them with the Ichor and essence of other powerful creatures. These newly created warriors became humanity's vanguard, using specially attuned weapons to protect us well into the modern age. Our story picks up with the creation of a new Titan who, like hundreds of her colleagues before her, craves to know who she was before her rebirth.”

Hiya everybody, I’m real late to the wbj party. What I bring to the table is a project I’ve worked on for a while off and on I’ve been calling Ichor. I’d like to turn it into a comic at some point but that’d take me putting enough effort into it haaaa. Anyway, its modern fantasy and the basic gist is its about functionally immortal monster hunters who use fancy weapons and basically al have amnesia cause theyre made from dead people.

Day2 Geography

Well the majority of the geography has stayed the same, the main characters live in saint louis smack dab in the middle of the country. I might retcon some major cataclysmic event to change a different area for story purposes but I don’t have plans to as of now.

Day3 Race

Again, most of todays races are pretty much the same as they would be in the story. Titans are considered their own race though because they’re constituted of smushed together dead people they exhibit features and traits of many races, though some do stick closer to some than others. They can’t be set apart at a glance because they appear as human as they once were. Signs are they usually wear some form of armor, reinforced leather or mail though it has a more modern appearance than most fantasy clothes. As an effect of being made purposefully they are stronger and faster than most humans, as well as a whole lot tougher. The biggest sign that someone is a titan is the exaggerated eye colors that seem to glow and a general feel of unease that most normal folk get from them.

They aren’t taller, they don’t have horns or wings or fangs, they’re just humans that have been rebuilt to be more powerful.

Because of how Titans are created those whose bodies are used always give them willingly, otherwise the resulting creature is considered an abomination as it refused to sculpt properly for it lacks the will to live. Whoever is used has to consent, their families have no say in the matter as once they have signed their bodies are collected upon death. Most governments work with conclaves to honor these contracts and impose serious fines and charges to those who have the persons remains cremated rather than given. As you might imagine, there are plenty of people in the world who morally object to the idea of titans and how they're created some consider it desecration.

Day4 history

Well, the history is mostly the same considerin its earth so I’ll just give a short occult timeline for Titanism that outlines it’s major events.

First reportings of their cult surface around 800 bc, though only as references among many young religions 0 A.D. jesus is killed, the cult recognizes this as the passing of a gift from their devines but not as the lost of the son of god, this earns them the ire of young christianity. Around 120ad the first titans are created, the sculptors actions are deemed blasphemous by most religious groups and they are condemned by most, though they keep from destruction through saving people without demanding cost. 1095 The first crusade is led, along with the battles fought for Jerusalem the conclave is sacked and most of its members killed, only a few sculptors escaped. 1300 As time progresses and humans continue fighting off beasts of all nature, many begin to recognize the actions of the conclave and the titans as good, they develope a major boost in following. 1600 While christianity is the most widespread religion, Titanism is close behind with several followings in several countries. 1916 The Conclave of Titanism officially lends its troops to the allied forces of world war 1, this is the first recorded time the conclave broke away from neutralism to aid countries at war. 1941 The conclave once again breaks its neutrality to aid in ww2, once again siding with the allied forces. this is the last time the conclave officially broke its neutral stance, although titans have been noted as participating in wars since as individuals.

After the second world war, the Conclave of Titanism officially begins demanding payment for their service with the belief that they are so essential as well as widespread that their Titans deserve individual payment. Thats all I’m going to post today, tomorrow I’ll try to get days 5-8 done at the least although i hope for more.

#world building june #Ichor #logan speaks #just a little project I've been working on over the years #havent put as much effort into it as i should be eh

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planarchaosproject · 8 years ago

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Planar Chaos: Chapter Twenty-Eight

Heart of Hearts

Marthel was right. The wurm constructs abandoned their pursuit after Maelstrom Wanderer cleared the perimeter of the crystal sun.

"That was close," Lisandra sighed.

"Yeah," Odom said, hanging off the side of Maelstrom Wanderer and tending to the elemental's wounds. He coated the area where his dear friend's wound had been with his own body's ooze. "A little too close. Vilhelm where were you back there?"

"What do you mean?" Lisandra said. "He was right next to me."

"I know he was there physically, but," Odom hauled himself up, allowing the extra arms to drip away into a pool of green ooze at his feet. "He wasn't exactly mentally present."

"Sometimes artifact creatures are harder to read, okay?" Vilhelm said defensively.

"It shouldn't be a problem," Sa'Raah said, striding forward. "I remember you. You came to us from Esper to try and convert the Cylian elves to whatever lifeless existence those people who replace their bodies with metal lead."

A shiver ran down Kyari's spine as she remembered the world she and her hydra had visited during her very first planeswalk. The mechanical chicken carcasses, a type of creature she had no name for and had never encountered on any other plane, came to the forefront of her mind whenever anyone mentioned Esper. She'd been there and knew that no such beings existed either before or after it merged with the rest of Alara, but the idea of a forced conversion from living being to metal husk terrified her to the core. She felt Brock's arm tighten around her shoulders but shrugged him off.

"That doesn't mean that it'll be easy overriding something's programming, especially if it was constructed pre-Mending like those might be." Vilhelm's eyes flicked to Rinok, who saw a quick flash of desperation.

"Guys," Rinok cut in, "we survived and nobody had any injuries. Everything should be fine. Let's just keep going."

"Well, there could be injuries if you want…" Rhyne winked suggestively at Sa'Raah and Lisandra. "Maybe even, dare I say it, a few little fatalities?"

"Ugh," Kyari groaned. "Can we not?"

"Seriously, Rhyne, it's getting a little… creepy," Brock said.

Through the entire exchange Marthel sat to the side, away from the core of the group. The set of his jaw kept the others away from him, except for Nadia and Sverre.

"Marthel, what's wrong?" Sverre said. From the outside, the chaotic planeswalker appeared to be meditating, except for his furrowed brow. His left eye twitched and he bared his teeth.

"Minutes ago we were working together in perfect harmony, fighting a common enemy and working towards a common goal in sweet synchronicity. Now it devolves into bickering."

Sverre sighed. "Sometimes people aren't meant to work together. I know you had this grand vision, Marthel, I do, but maybe it won't come together as seamlessly as you'd hoped."

"It doesn't seem to be coming together at all," Marthel snapped. "I know once we get to the center the fighting will start again. Brock wants to hide Urza's gift to us, Sa'Raah and Odom have entered into some bargain with Niv Mizzet, don't think for a second I don't know about that, Rinok's out for blood and I've never been a huge fan of weapons of mass destruction. They're far too impersonal."

"Yes," Nadia agreed. "You've been one to prefer blood on your hands literally as opposed to metaphorically. Several incidents come to mind after we returned to Tarkir to find it entirely changed."

"Surrak, my Khan, my friend, didn't even remember me. I had to start from scratch," Marthel chuckled darkly. "They took me before Atarka, you know, to see if I was good enough to stay in the clan. She didn't attack, didn't growl or anything. She just looked at me and actually spoke, a rare occurrence for something so ferocious. And more to the point, I understood her. I felt that ferocity deep inside of me and it resonated with her. I suppose that's a reason I consider her my mother."

"I doubt Oona would recognize Lorwyn if she went back," Sverre said. He delicately scooped his sleeping wife out of his hood and cradled her in his hands. "I doubt anyone would recognize me if I went back to my home either."

"You're from Dominaria, right? Like Vess?" Marthel asked.

"Yes, but I'm nothing compared to Her Ladyship. The countess has achieved permanent immortality through her own means. Mine is more conditional. Come to Helheim during a Ragnarok sometime and you'll see what I mean. That said, I know the old me died when I left. I was just a simple wizard with simple wizard powers, but in planeswalking I found something grand. I gained the ability to raise the dead, which is how Jormungandr is able to avoid the cycles of Helheim. I found something so rare and precious that I've committed countless acts of murder and desecration to keep her safe."

"A big softie is what you became," Marthel chuckled.

"Surely in all your travels you've found someone who makes you want to tear down empires and explode stars," Sverre retorted.

"Not really. There have been people, men, women, an aetherborn or two, which is an interesting sensation, let me tell you, but incredibly short-lived and resulted in a fair amount of heartbreak. I have this on-again-off-again thing with Exava sometimes, but it always ruffles Nadia's feathers when I bring her home."

Nadia gave Marthel a look that could have killed a man if she were still on Bant with the power of her sisters to draw on. "Do not take it as petty jealousy, Jace Marthel. You recall what happened to that warrior who crossed you."

"He said I didn't belong, I told him the Cult of Rakdos sent its regards." Marthel smiled maliciously, flicking his finger against his knife.

"Woah." Sverre felt himself start to lean away from the dark skinned walker, but stopped himself.

"As you know, Sverre, my magic tends to shift with my emotional state, and my emotional state is also influenced by the magic I use. If I get caught in a cycle, Nadia tends to be the one to snap me out of it."

The angel nodded. "If anything happens, I'm your last line of defense."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we're friends, aren't we?" Marthel asked.

"I suppose we are," Sverre replied.

Marthel sighed and looked off to the side. "Just look at them, how can they be so insane and so cute?"

Sverre followed his line of vision to where Odom lay with his head in Ashleigh's lap, their abomination of a child/pet curled up on his chest. Ashleigh was absentmindedly playing with Odom's hair as they talked about some topic or another.

"I guess," Sverre said, "that their insanity works together rather than against each other. We've all got our hangups and neuroses, Marthel. We just need to surround ourselves with people who complement them rather than clash."

"I wanted to learn more about planeswalkers. I guess I got my wish." Marthel looked at the darkening expanse of Xerex's pathways. The labyrinth sprawled away in every direction.

"Hey, what's that up there?" Sa'Raah peered into the distance. What appeared to be a simple pentagonal podium jutted up from the gray pathway, surrounded by five obelisks hewn from the same material as everything else around them. Each obelisk was marked with a different symbol, a fireball, a raindrop, a tree, a sun, and a skull.

Marthel jumped up, grabbed Lisandra by her hood, and towed her along behind him towards Maelstrom Wanderer's head.

"Is this it? Did we finally find it?" he frantically asked.

"I don't know," Lisandra replied. "Sverre, can you help translate?"

Without coming to the front of the elemental, without more than a glance away from the sleeping form of his fairy wife, Sverre answered their question. "We're here. This is the Heart of Hearts."

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