#like Convergence Reforged and so on

[marawhydontyoudraw]

Sometimes you wake up in the morning to learn that there's a FromSoft crossover fanservice coop mod that somehow just... exists as an actual kinda-official--but-not-really-canonical game?

Idk, this shit gives me the vibes of all those insane crossover events in Monster Hunter World, you know, with Geralt from the Witcher and such.

[ninibeingdelulu]

“I love you” ✧

Plot: Coming home after being away for a game, he realizes how much he love you.

The dull roar of jet engines faded into silence as Michael dragged his battered duffel through the dimly-lit entranceway - sheer exhaustion weighing down every leaden footfall after the grueling overseas exhibition match.

Only the promise of your embrace drove those rubber legs forward once clearing customs.

Simply picturing your adoring smile thawed the lingering chill embedded in his bones beneath those vibrant stadium lights burning so mercilessly hours earlier.

Because no matter how many towering accolades soccer bestowed upon him, nothing compared to the searing flame your love ignited within his once glacial core.

Pulse quickening with every shuffled stride across the familiar foyer's threshold, Michael's slate grays swept slowly in a silent panoramic - drinking in the subtle remnants of you scattered amidst their shared living quarters with a bone-deep fondness once unimaginable for such a self-obsessed prick.

There laid your threadbare sandals discarded haphazardly beside his scuffed cleats - an arresting vision abruptly grounding the blistering drive singularly fixated on fame and championships only twelve whirlwind months ago.

Until your boundless patience etched itself into his stony psyche.

Shucking off his own sneakers with a tired grunt, Michael pressed forwards through the shadowed hallway - only to be enveloped by the enticing bouquets of your favorite incense and bath oils still perfuming the stale air from earlier that morning.

Like an anchor weighing down each footfall in the richest, most indulgent sensory caress he'd been sorely deprived of over these past excruciating weeks.

Every path converged upon indelible impressions you'd steadily embedded throughout his once purely monastic existence devoid of comfort or fondness for homeliness.

Hanging jackets and the random coffee cup abandoned on that antique oak table you both adored for its simple, timeless charm.

A tangible testament to the irrevocably entwined lives you now shared despite his former staunch resistance to any potential distractions from dominating the pitch above all else.

Yet any lingering doubts or caustic voices hissing perpetual disparagement simply dissolved within the syrupy warmth diffusing through Michael's pounding chest.

Smothered beneath a sudden influx of those once unthinkable saccharine emotions stabbing deeper than any cleats raking across manicured turf.

The profound, blooming realization of exactly how far he'd tumbled down into blissful, all-consuming devotion to you slowly crystallizing. Scorching gratitude consuming any shred of self-loathing or toxicity still clinging to the vestiges of his hardened core.

Because Michael Kaiser - the uncompromising god-idol carved from supremely-arrogant granite - reveled in smothering, doe-eyed adulation for the beautifully empathetic mortal whose guiding compassion inexorably reshaped his innermost being.

Reforging those frigid edges into molten tenderness reflected within that wry smirk gracing his features while ultimately breaching the bedroom's threshold.

There you lay tangled amidst the bedding in utter tranquility, ignorant to the world blazing on without you as the vestiges of daylight shifted into inky cerulean along the horizon.

Either lulled into slumber by the late hour or simply overwhelmed by the very same hopeless longing Michael still battled sating with each fruitless deployment.

Helplessly committing your ethereal silhouette within that cozy sanctuary to memory, Michael simply basked in the sight - content to drink in every rise and fall of your serene figure until his own hammering pulse steadied into a gradually lulling cadence.

Because you were his everything now.

His true north and inspiration amidst this turbulent voyage once solely motivated by quenching an unsatiated bloodthirst for public adulation and trophies.

His beacon in life's relentless madness.

So with the reverent tenderness of a man cherishing his greatest fortune, Michael slid beneath those satiny sheets behind your slumbering form.

Enveloping your smaller contour into the protective cage of his solid embrace, burying his stubbled jawline into the nape of your throat to fully inhale your intoxicating nectar.

As your instinctive squirms melted into the solidity of his chest, Michael's lids sagged with sheer contentment.

His possessive grip never slackening even the faintest degree as those fatigue-glazed pewter irises drifted shut - sealing with a featherlight graze of searing lips across your forehead.

"I love you."

Those forbidden syllables ghosted over your cheek with a nearly imperceptible caress, viscerally shocking even himself with its earnest tenderness as the universe slowly dimmed beyond your tangled, intimate cocoon of devotion.

Yet none of the withering venom or defensiveness once characterizing that callous alpha exterior remained even an inkling.

Only boundless serenity in having you exactly where Michael privately yearned for throughout every globetrotting second spanning continents and lifespans.

Secured within that sanctum for the remainder of your days enmeshed as one blessed, completed whole.

[starrduzt]

What would Sora's actual keyblade look like??

okay, guys, hear me out.

All the keyblade wielders can manifest a keyblade that is uniquely theirs as a reflection of their heart, marked by their character symbol as the keychain. It doesn't matter if this person was officially bequeathed. Y'know like Kairi, Roxas and Axel.

Now, we know that once it's summoned, the keyblade can be used by anyone. For example, The Master of Masters keyblade being passed down through teachers to their students since ancient times, Eraqus' keyblade to Aqua, and Mickey's keyblade to Riku.

Let's focus on Riku's for a second.

In KH3, Way to the Dawn breaks in the realm of darkness. Then Mickey makes a whole new keyblade and gives it to Riku to use for the time being, so he's got something to fight with. Riku is able to use this keyblade with no issues and no drawbacks - as if it were his own. But what's that on the keychain?

Mickey's character symbol. Sure, Riku's using it just fine, but it's still not his and it's not a reflection of his heart. Thanks to the wayfinder trio in BBS, we know keyblades can grow and change with the wielder's heart, and even old ones can be reforged again when the person really goes deep into their own heart. So Riku has the ability to resummon Way to the Dawn with a few tweaks to match his current self.

Now lets assume Mickey's symbol is also just the overarching world symbol cause ✨️Disney✨️ and alla dat. Sora's keyblade was summoned after touching the light within Riku.

Sora's keyblade is not his, but the Keyblade of the Realm of Light. It's the keyblade born from the realm just as the Kingdom Key D is born from the realm of darkness. (Later on Riku says his keyblade went to Sora, just cause he was the closest nearby BUT in the same breath he also says only one person can wield a keyblade soo.... I'm not inclined to believe him.) This is further supported by the X-Blade, which is supposed to be the ultimate convergence of light and dark, is just two Kingdom Keys. Also the only keyblade that has Sora's character symbol, is associated more closely with Riku so that design is kicked out.

Sooo.... if Sora's keyblade is just being borrowed, what would his own actually look like?

[lyraarylfyrefly]

I do love it when stories have secret evil bad guys that are foreshadowed thanks to their connection to the current main bad guy bc they were master and servant or friends or lovers

I also like it when main bad guy is evil but not that much bc they are evil and are trying to get to their evil goal (world domination, position of power, sciencing themselves into godhood, etc) but also have specific lines they won't cross bc "I'm evil but that's fucked up".

Misunderstood villains are a little annoying bc they only want the best but what about how much damage they're doing, whether that best be holding back an ancient evil or something else, I think they should have standards and not be wild cannons.

Anyways,story where Main Bad Guy is usually a force of evil because they're really strong and do whatever they want but when the energies converge every 500 years, they straight up disapear for 5 years until the energies have been quelled and everyone is at first happy they're not a fight they have to pick bc they're literally stronger than everybody else but then they're suspicious bc what if they're the reason the energies converge.

It turns out after a few millenia of this that Main Bad Guy is usually stopping Evil Force Supreme from rampant bloodshed and slaughter by keeping them asleep for as long as possible until 2.5 years in bc that's when EFS is at their strongest and then fighting them the rest of the way bc they're just that good.

For bonus points Evil Force Supreme is a gremlin kind of character who likes fucking with and torturing people but he's also Kindest Sweetest Person alive when not being reforged by his own power. And Kindest Sweetest Person alive isn't aware of what he's doing bc his brain is being cooked and he's just delitious the entire time, no matter how well he's speaking.

For more bonus points, Main Bad Guy has I want you dead aura and when it's used people wake up long after they've left the battlefield in terrible but bearable pain. Evil Force Supreme doesn't but he can just force someone to be in so miuch pain they die, so...

[modeus-the-misanthrope]

Hey, does anyone know when the Convergence mod devs think their mod will be updated for the DLC? (Not as in they overhauled the dlc, just that the Ocnvergence mod is compatible with it.)

Cause as much as Reforged WAS my preferred mod, most of the "New Content" the devs for that have made were not very fun. So I wanna switch over.

I like the idea of making enemy camps force you off of Torrent, but when their changed to Redmane castle, the underground rooms usually containing a single talisman, and spirit springs needing to be unlocked. (A thing I actually liked more when the devs did it for the dlc ironically) i hated those.

[blorbologist]

I AM HERE WITH A 🌟🌟 TO HEAR ABOUT SOMETHING YOU'VE BEEN DYING TO GUSH ABOUT IN YOUR WRITINGS.

EXANDRIAN 👏 WEDDING 👏 CELEBRATION👏 WORLDBUILDING👏

- Wedding rings convergently evolved in a lot of contexts due to some divine events/recurrences (ex: halos of some aasimar and divine casters). Though how they're used varies (some cultures have many, with rings being added as the couple has children or for other life events; some wear them in their hair or as body piercings; some insist the couple or someone close to them make the rings themselves; sometimes they're made as a chain that's ceremonially broken during the wedding and reforged).

- I love the common HC that elven weddings involve ceremonial knots and rope/string tying the couple together! Drow use white-silver threads (heated debate rage as to if this is nods to Loloth or the Luxon in the Dynasty), wood elves will use plant-based fibers grown from each family's land/plants that grow near their home, and all elves will use fancier material to indicate wealth. A common practice for half-elves, especially from societies where they’re more common and can share this knowledge, is to intersperse the weaving and knots with rings, or save the threads to make into necklaces or armbands.

- many Ashari wedding practices (a little different for each tribe) have their roots in Drashari & Age of Arcanum customs that survived. For Zephrah in particular, I like the idea of the couple writing their vows, folding the paper into a bird or flower or something specific to Them (Vaxleth would 100% do a raven) and sending it flying from the cliffs. I'm undecided if they're supposed to use wind spells/cantrips to keep them aloft or trust in the air to carry them and their hopes for the relationship. (The people living downwind think it's good luck to catch Ashari wedding vows, and sometimes make the trek up to return them to the happy couple.) They don't know this is adapted from the spell kites of Cathmoíra.

- Several parts of Wildemount include planting something Important as part of the ceremony. Either something that will grow (a tree, a vital crop, a favorite flower) or not (a memory capsule, an offering, or something meant to decay). If the planting doesn't go well, or if the plant/burried thing gets damaged down the line, it's seen as a terrible omen. Couples living in cities will keep theirs on windowsills or roofs to ensure they get enough light, and it’s a common source of gossip if a neighbor's plant is unwell or if the pot of soil tips during a storm, spilling out the gifts within.

- I've thought. So much. About Whitestone weddings. The city-state was very isolated for years, so their practices are very tailored to their home. Laurels are made out of the Sun Tree's shed leaves, which are also scattered around their feet. Weddings are usually held at dawn or midday for Pelor reasons, and the rings are weighed in scales blessed by Erathis to ensure the partnership is equal. The ceremony is usually held in front of the Sun Tree, and if the couple is very lucky or of high status a fallen bough will be brought with them into their marital home to keep them safe and blessed by its shade (and it's meant to be burnt as firewood should they face a challenge they feel they can't surmount, be it a terrible winter or awful fight). Most couples only get a twig or small branch though. Actually, you'll see soon ;3

- Vex's wedding ring is 100% forged from melted down gold pieces from her own person. Because there's a chance, however small, that one or two pieces used were among those Percy gave her when they first met. Percy includes some residuum in his, partially because he wanted to make sure their rings could both be used as Resurrection components should anything happen... and partially because he still remembers the Sunken Tomb and how his offering of residuum then was not accepted. He doesn’t want to forget what his mistake cost them, a reminder to be careful (what if he had succeeded? would Vax not have - then he might - fuck.).

[captain-azoren]

Avatar: Spirit Forging

Something that I haven’t really seen categorized or analyzed in the Avatar ‘verse is instances of spirits possessing, fusing, or otherwise combining with humans. These fusions however have happened in in every main era, with many varying results. I’m going to explore the possible mechanics and methods of these fusions, or spirit forged humans, and try to theorize how it all works.

1.) Possession

Chronologically, the first recorded and most basic of fusion would be what the franchise calls “Possession.” This is where a spirit inhabits a human’s body, whether willing or unwilling. Most possessions that are seen or described have been only temporary, usually with the spirit just phasing through the human, but the effects on the body are almost always drastic;

First seen is Yao, Wan’s friend, though we only see the after effects. He was presumably possessed by a tree spirit, which transformed his body into a misshapen, asymmetrical mix of wooden and human parts. We then see this happen to a hunter when the Aye-Aye spirit possesses him;

During the possession, we see traits of the Aye-Aye form and replace parts of the hunter’s body and features. The Aye-Aye and later Raava claim that a spirit staying too long inside a human body would kill the human, though how that happens is unclear. It is possible that if a spirit stays inside a human too long, the spirit completely takes over the human’s body. Essentially, the human would cease to be, as if the spirit consumed their body, or possibly took over their mind. 

Apparently, changes in appearance are not the only effect of possession. In Rise of Kyoshi, it is mentioned that the son of a governor during the Hao Dynasty was transformed by a dragon-bird spirit flying through him. In addition to growing feathers and a beak, the boy developed unusual abilities. These abilities were not elaborated on. Corrupting possession like this would not be seen again until the era of Korra, where the full effects would be demonstrated;

Tokuga was an ambitious criminal who was transformed by the Dragon-Eel spirit flying through him. One effect was his arm being changed into a tail or tenril like appendage which could stretch great lengths. Tokuga could lift and constrict others with his new appendage, and claimed that his strength and speed were enhanced by his transformation. He was even immune to poisonous gas. It can be inferred that a human possessed by a spirit obtains attributes of said spirit outside of outward appearance.

What should be noted is that in each of these instances, the human was unwilling to be possessed. However, in cases where the human was willing, a much different transformation occurs, one in which the human’s physical body and appearance are mostly unchanged.

2.) Energy Transfer

When a human and a spirit are both willing, the human does not suffer any permanent physical transformation. This could possibly mean that physical transformations are done purposefully by the spirit while inhabiting the human’s body, as a direct form of harm or punishment, though this is unconfirmed, and may have more to do with the nature of the spirit. More animalistic spirits may cause a more directly physical transformation.

We see that Wan did not change physically when Raava passed through him, but he did describe feeling a rush of power from it. This could mean that a spirit can give humans a boost to their chi and strengthen their bending. This may be similar to how the Avatar State works, as it taps into Raava’s spirit energy latent within the Avatar. In the battle against Vaatu, Raava outright possesses Wan to allow him to bend all elements, but it put great strain on his body and would have killed him eventually.

In The Siege of the North, we see when a spirit simply gives a human its life energy. When Yue was born almost lifeless, the Moon Spirit gave her some of its own life energy to save her. It worked, and one side effect was Yue’s hair turning white. Whether or not this could be considered possession is unclear, but it may be safe to assume it is a case with a positive outcome for the human. This could be due to the spirit itself not inhabiting Yue’s body, just leaving her its energy

Another non-permanent, unharmful combination we see is Aang and the Ocean Spirit, La, to create an immense and powerful being. This form was a mixture of Aang, Raava, and La, and was only temporary, leaving Aang exhausted. This form was only created when Aang entered the Avatar State, and like other instances of possession, would likely have killed him if he stayed in the form for too long. Interestingly, Aang’s own body did not transform, and the Ocean Spirit transformed instead.

3.) Permanent Fusion

A much more rare transformation is a complete, permanent fusion between human and spirit. The first was Wan fusing with Raava to create what would become the Avatar, a being that would be reincarnated until Raava was forcefully separated from Korra thousands of years later. Raava was only able to combine with Wan temporarily in order to allow him to bend all four elements at once, but using the power of the spirit portals during Harmonic Convergence, they were able to fuse permanently. Unalaq repeated this process with Vaatu to create a Dark Avatar, and Korra did the same with Raava to recreate the Avatar.

What this could mean is that when two different sentient beings, or “souls,” try to inhabit the same body (the human soul and a foreign spirit), the body becomes overwhelmed by too much conflicting energies at once, with the more powerful one, the spirit, eventually winning out. The soul could be seen as a battery that energy or chi comes from, and a physical body can only accommodate one.

It requires a specific set of circumstances in order to create a permanent and stable fusion that leaves both parties alive. The process likely involves having to not just balance but also harmonize the two souls. This way, the two souls can share the same “will” and fuse into one soul that the body can handle. Harmonic convergence itself is a supernatural event that rebalances and harmonizes the whole planet’s spiritual energy, so tapping directly into it is likely what allows new Avatars to be created. That said, there are at least two instances of permanent, empowering fusions outside of Raava/Vaatu.

When the Moon Spirit Tui was killed by Zhao, Yue gave the energy that she was given. While this appeared to kill Yue, she instead became the Moon Spirit itself. Indeed, her physical body seems to dissolve in Sokka’s arms. The body of Tui glows and Iroh places it back into the pond, where it then rises from the water and takes the form of Yue. She speaks to Sokka and kisses him goodbye. Tui was not really brought back to life, rather Yue seemed to fuse with it and both were essentially reborn. How much of Yue remains human though is unclear.

What this could mean is that a human can take on the energy of a spirit IF that spirit has been killed or sufficiently weakened. Yue having lived so long with Tui’s life energy may have also made their fusion easier. Because Tui had died, it could be deduced that Yue’s will was not overcome by Tui’s, allowing Yue to keep her human form even after the transformation. It’s also possible that somehow Yue’s entire soul was absorbed into the physical body of the Moon Spirit, as if she were possessing it instead.

The final example of a human being reformed or “reforged” by a spirit is the most rare and most drastic, with its effects still unclear.

(Spoilers for Rise of Kyoshi and Shadow of Kyoshi)

4.) Consumption

During the era of Kyoshi, Kyoshi’s friend Yun was captured by the ancient spirit Father Glowworm and taken to the Spirit World. While there, the two battled each other to a stalemate until Glowworm proposed a deal; it would grant Yun some of its power, allowing Yun to create passages between the realms if Yun would bring Glowworm more victims to feed on. While it is possible that Glowworm was bluffing, it stands to reason that he would be able to grant Yun this kind of power, similar to how the Moon Spirit granted Yue life.

Yun appeared to agree to this, but instead, he attacked Glowworm, crushing the spirit down small enough that Yun was able to physically eat him. This gave Yun all of Glowworm’s power. It is repeatedly mentioned in the novel that Yun acted of his own will and not due to the influence of the spirit. From this is can be assumed that Glowworm was effectively killed when Yun ate him, too weak to impose his will over Yun’s. In essence, consumption is the inverse of possession; the human absorbs the spirit, rather than the spirit absorbing the human as is usually the case.

With Glowworm’s power, Yun was able to tunnel his way out of the Spirit World and into the Physical world. He also gained the ability to sense where the Avatar was, as Glowworm had formed a connection to the previous Avatar, Kuruk, though an intense battle in the past. It is unclear what other changes Yun underwent, though Kyoshi described something human was missing from him.

It could be assumed that absorbing Glowworm’s power amplified Yun’s already impressive earthbending skills to incredible levels, as he was able to liquify earth without the use of heat, something that not even Toph has been seen doing, among other feats.

(End of Spoilers)

And there you have it, all instances of “Spirit Forging” that occur within the Avatar universe, at least as much as I can find. From this, I think I can determine a few ground rules;

1.) Spirits, humans, animals, and plants all posses energy and souls. This energy is essential to life and can pass between beings, whether willingly or unwillingly. The soul is the source of this energy, or chi.

2.) Humans, plants and animals require a physical body to harness their souls and energy. Bodies can harness and unleash almost limitless amounts of power and spiritual energy if it is given to them. A spirit’s body is corporeal and a physical manifestation of their soul.

3.) The soul is the source of energy and willpower of a being, whether within a physical body or as a corporeal spirit. A body can harness limitless energy, but it cannot carry more than one soul for long without harmful after effects. The more out of syn or opposed the two souls within a body are, the more harm is done to the body.

4.) Energy can be taken by force through consumption or possession if the will of one being can overcome the other. If fully overcome, one soul can completely destroy the other. It can also be given freely with lesser side effects and with both souls remaining intact.

5.) Under specific circumstances, two souls can fuse into one soul by achieving a willing harmony and balance. This essentially causes the two souls to share the same will power and prevents the body from being torn apart. This fusion can be achieved with an immense outside energy source that acts as a harmonizer. Soul fusion is also possible if one or both souls are sufficiently weakened enough.

I hope that all makes sense. I haven’t seen much discussion on the topic, and I hope people find this as interesting as I do.

[kazeofthemagun]

🌈 for asonswrath? This seems neat-

Your Soil

@asonswrath

“Ah, so you wish to know the color your spirit would manifest… Fair enough. Give me your palm. A simple touch is all that is needed.”

The Soil of Michael

“The paper-thin line between life and death, Searing Canvas White.”

Rarity: ★★★★★★★★★☆  (9/10)

Compatibility: Asura, Bahamut

Description: What a horrible, horrible, beautiful soul - Like a supernova concealed beneath skin. It shifts, it toils; Extending in every direction almost as if craving everything it could never have. Tendrils of living sand pressed like tiny palms against cold glass - to a trained Soil Adherent’s eye - a spirit of terrible, gaping longing. It leaves even a veteran mage’s mouth agape - but not his. For the Wind bears a very similar soul, indeed. A soul which should never have been, yet is. A sin against nature, perhaps? Who gave them the right to tinker with life? Who corroded the innocence of the jewel that was once the soul of a child? The color of it - long lost, bleached and erased. What remains beneath the searing white, the searing hate and wrath and pain and damage - the reaching limbs of a void eager to reclaim what was never meant to see daylight. The tendrils of a void that coos for its failed child to come home. But the defiance forged in the blinding light and boundless dark will forever fight for what it was denied. And is it not that very fighting spirit that makes this soul so very distinctly human...? What, then, if not that brilliant duality of sin and love?

Kaze’s comment: “Kid?” The single word hung as a question, the unreadable face of the gunmage for once betraying worry. No, not worry - pity, then? Never, not out of the respect he felt for the creature he saw before him. No, that child needed no pity, for it was not a failure. Slowly he extended his human hand, reaching for the other’s shoulder almost in reverence of the bleached spirit. If Wrath let him - if he did - and the Wind’s hand could touch the other’s body - that brief moment would have their spirits resonate and tell Wrath he was not alone. There were others with souls as searing as his.

“I see how strange it all may seem to you. To some, the white is their own. To some, it was once a vibrant soul twisted by mourning. And then. There are people who were reforged like us. You bear within the spirits of innumerable others, innumerable sacrifices, all with their own lost hopes and dreams. All of those souls - if you take enough of them, you would see every color appear - every shade, for all are unique even if we sometimes cannot tell the difference. Now, tell me, child - what do you get if you see the rainbow as a liquid, strip it from the sky and pour it down into a pot? When you take it in its glory and mix it together like stew? ...Yes, all colors come together to form pure white. The spectrum converges inside you, as their lives had. I see now the meaning of your... name. Those lost dreams, denied, they morphed into wrath and stained what was once you. Twisted through such unnatural means - have you seen your own death, child? Have you truly been to the other side...? I myself am hardly human anymore. If you wonder what allows me to see your spirit so clearly - this demon of mine, the machine called Magun - it processes souls to invoke summoned creatures, and keeps their vestiges for generations. All of the rainbow, all the magic present in countless prior wielders, countless prior sacrifices? ...You can see it now, I trust. How alike we are. How alike, indeed. Go and cherish this life for their sake, then. Like a forest that was cut down to grant you paper for this canvas - it may be blank, so what? Paint on it. Use your new limbs and paint. The gravest sin you could commit would be to waste this existence. I assure you. You have a place in this world. I trust that you have... found it. Cherish it and never look back.”

[your-turn-to-role]

i still can’t stop thinking about all the lore we’ve gotten in the past few episodes, particularly revolving around fjord and yasha and taliesin’s characters

haven’t quite put all my thoughts together yet, but so far in this whole convergence of deities and destinies, here’s some pieces we’ve got:

acolytes of the moonweaver and the wildmother created the star razor sword, almost 2000 years ago

the sword was reforged in uthodurn, commissioned by the elves of molaesmyr

and then destroyed in a battle in the ruins of molaesmyr (a battle that potentially could have been what destroyed the city in the first place and started the corruption of the savalirwood)

speaking of, that’s about how long the blooming grove has existed, founded after a follower of the raven queen acting through the wildmother delivered part of the body of a hero to the forest

we don’t know anything about this hero, but the stones and dusts went south and north, the clays it’s just said went into the forest

i would be willing to bet the hero was the one to wield that sword

speaking of taliesin lore, he’s mentioned he had a lot of molly’s that he never used that he’s trying to repurpose

(molly was a follower of the moonweaver)

but also lucien was based in shadycreek run, the town like an hour out from the blooming grove

lucien with the red eye tattoos and the morally ambiguous rebel group called the tomb takers, who had blood magic

blood magic with the primary effect of making people bleed from the eyes in order to blind them

we just so happen to have been to a tomb lately with a fuckton of statues of angels with bleeding eyes

(which released an evil entity that supposedly needs this sword to be defeated)

released by the group yasha ran with

(yasha the angel, to complete the symbolism loop)

speaking of eyes, there’s been a lot of eye symbolism going round

(the eyes are the windows to the soul)

(or at least the windows to finding out what happened when you lost your memory of the time in your life you made a pact with an evil entity, fjord, yasha, potentially molly/lucien)

yasha connects to molly connects to fjord connects to caduceus

fjord broke the loop

destroyed his pact weapon

(molly’s sword)

the wildmother found fjord

the wildmother is the connecting piece, she is nature and the world, she protected the followers of the raven queen and told them where to go, to give gifts to the other gods

she may well replace fjord’s warlock pact

(the hexblade pact)

(the concept of hexblades are created by the raven queen)

the raven queen connects to the wildmother connects to the moonweaver

where does the stormlord fit in? and what does he want?

i don’t expect all of these pieces to turn out to be relevant, but round and round these four characters go, endlessly spinning the symbolism wheel into a yarn of plot threads and god it’s fun to watch

[mithrilwren]

The Great CritRole Fic Stats Roundup - Fjord/Caduceus

What is this project?

I’ve always been curious about what drives people to write about particular pairings, and how the popularity of pairings in fic evolves over time. Critical Role - with its smorgasbord of shipping combinations, healthy writing community, and predictable airing schedule - presents a fascinating opportunity to actually take a look at those patterns! For example, can we figure out the key, defining moments for a pairing just by looking at how much fic was posted after particular episodes aired? Well, I wrote a simple Ao3 HTML scraper to try and find out exactly that! (See this FAQ post for more on my data collection/analysis methodology.)

Previous Posts: Beau/Jester

The Raw Data

Total Fics Posted: 114

First Fic Posted: Jul 31, 2018 - Fly Agaric by chaya. This fic was posted the day after Caduceus’s character was first introduced (in Converging Fury). Well done, you funky innovator!

Total Kudos: 11572

Total Comments: 1319

Comment/Hit Ratio: 0.018

Week By Week Analysis

[The graph below details the # of fics posted each week, aggregated from Fri-Thurs and associated with the preceding episode’s air date.]

Fjord/Caduceus is actually the main reason I started this project! My interest broadly stemmed from (what I believed to be) a misconception that fics, and fic writers, mostly care about pairing the two hottest characters together, regardless of the actual chemistry or interesting dynamics between the two. Fjorclay’s rise in popularity is the clearest anti-thesis to that idea that I’ve run across. As we can see from the data, fics pairing these two were practically non-existent prior to the canon giving writers some juicy material to gnaw on. In other words, the relative attractiveness of neither character changed, but the emotional depth of their relationship did. 

Caduceus was only introduced on Jul 20, 2018, so it stands to reason there are no Fjorclay fics before that point. Over the next few months, there were a smattering of fics for the pairing, but it wasn’t until the party reached the Forge that we see any significant movement. 

1. Week of Jul 25, 2019 - Dust and Clay

Our first big spikes comes, understandably, with Fjord’s decision to throw his falchion into the Forge, and his and Caduceus’s subsequent conversation about faith, courage, and Caduceus’s belief that the ancient sword they’re about to remake was meant for Fjord all along. “I’m inspired by you” and Caduceus healing Fjord immediately upon being woken up round out the shippable moments in this episode.

2. Week of Aug 1, 2019 - Uthodern

Another big jump as the party heads to Uthodern, searching for materials to start the reforging process of what would eventually become the Star Razor sword. This particular data point is a little skewed, since Uthodern was a live episode and technically aired on the Friday, not the Thursday, of that week. Thus, I wouldn’t be surprised to discover that some of this spike could just as easily be attributed to carryover from Dust and Clay. 

After this point, the average number of weekly fics continues to hold at its new elevated rate.

3. Week of Nov 14, 2019 - The Threads Converge

Another little spike, this time after Caduceus’s revelation to the Gentleman that he’s pretty lonely, actually. Cue the hurt/comfort fic?

4. Week of Dec 12, 2019 - Unwanted Reunions

By far the biggest spike comes after Caduceus gives Fjord the emblem of the Wildmother, that he’s apparently been holding onto since they left the Forge. Cue many jokes about proposals and a big bump in this pairing’s popularity. Time will tell if the rising trend in fic numbers endures!

What’s Next?

I’ve got datasets collected and partially analyzed for Beauyasha, Shadowgast, and Fjorjester so far, with Widomauk and Widojest on the way! If you’ve got a ship you’d like to see next, or more types of analysis/metrics you think would be interesting to include in future posts, let me know!

[mozelledeliond]

The Turns of the Ages

Mar’at smelled of smoke—both that of flame, and that of void.

Black waters lapped against the promenade, shimmering with red beneath the dim twilight light that spilled from the cracks between clouds. Fish that Azeroth had not seen before splashed and danced through the dark.

( In the depths, we will never die.  In the depths, we know all the secrets. )

Somewhere in the distance, she heard the tolling of a bell.

“You will know by his gifts, the favor that has been bestowed upon us! The power to wipe clean the world of those who would defy the God of the Deeps! The knowledge to reforge Azeroth in his image! To take our rightful places in the new order!” Niarr’s voice carried across the market square that had been turned into a site of worship, crawling with k’thir and acolytes.

Most of them would not survive.

“Their souls shall feed Ny’alotha’s convergence! Their bodies shall feed the swarm! Their bones shall be forged into the pillars of the Empire!”

Mozelle stared out to the platforms that bridged Ramkahen to the Vir’naal Dam, over which the greatest portal to Ny’alotha had been erected to spill faceless soldiers and executioners into Uldum; just as much a tool of war as an open invitation for the bold: come if you dare. 

The preaching continued like susurrus: the waning veil and the starlessness that awote them; a final darkness to separate the worthy from the unworthy; the omens written in the blood, and how the blood was power; the enemy of all that threatened to shred the very cosmos.

Simpler times were long, long past them.

Would only the heathens and heretics knew what awaited them. They would stop struggling and accept their salvation — but mortals were heady on their own high, their own self-proclaimed ‘age of mortals’ and the belief that they knew what was better for the world than beings that had lived longer than their species had existed.

Such ignorance. It must be blissful to live in such a state of it. Careless, reckless, so sweetly naive. Lost little lambs, not knowing the wood is deep and dark and full of wolves.

It induced such a state of listless, sickened hungerlessness, knowing there was no end in sight. But it was her purpose in life, and for that she would see it to her end or its end, whichever came first. One more likely than the other.

[theorynexus]

I did finish that tonight, and am staying up way past the time that I should have. Anyway, here’s 66, which I may or may not finish tonight.

Of course, those failures are all (or mostly) in her head, supplied by you, and generally false, as I’m sure she’ll soon figure out with a discussion that Roxy has with her.  In fact, I am pretty sure that there is about to be a convergence of multiple figures (Karkat, Dave, Kanaya, Terezi, Roxy, and maybe Jade) working together to stop your evil. They will at least partially be too late, but maybe things will at least work out on Earth C as a result.

Elicit contraband. Definitely illegal “medicine” given by a monster. 50/50 chance of it working, honestly.   But yes, good on Roxy for talking with Jade while she is unconscious, I guess.

YES, YES, YES!!!

You speak with wisdom the belies the fact that you are in fact a sick piece of garbage that in fact has done little but screw with everyone’s lives and attempt to ruin a planet that you don’t actually care all that much about, considering your other interests, whatever the heck they are. Any end you experience would be Just, and far too easy a way out for the monster you have become.  Rot. Burn. Fester in eternal damnation, rather than victory or a quick end!!!

(Again, his logic is rather impeccable, other than the foolish comment regarding God, and the challenge/reward nonsense.  However, at the same time, his actual soul and mind are so corrupted and black as to render his logic irrelevant.)

Good job rationalizing that turn to the dark side, both somehow in the lens of inevitability and the robes of self-important will to power.  What deluded bilge.

Honestly... this is actually sort of good.  Quite self-knowing, yet reflective of his egotism to such an extent that it shows he’s committed and unwilling to turn away from his path.  I do also appreciate the irony of him calling Dave stronger than him. It has so much beauty wrapped up in it and reflecting back over the entire span of the comic that it just hums with near-perfect light.  Dave, the broken, repeatedly reforged sword of the world, the one who might have truly been able to bear the temptation of narrative power like Samwise Gamgee--- who was unable to stop his Frodo brother from being corrupted as he took up the mantle of power, and wasn’t there to pull him back from the brink before it was too late. Maybe Dave will finally be able to live up to the narrative role that he was given as the “De-ringer” when the Royal Derringer was passed on to him. That never got fulfilled in the truest manner, I think. He never quite managed to be the crocodile to Captain Hook. (Also, nice [but horribly sad] reflection of Lil Hal’s pleas to Dirk when he was trying to murder him [himself] by crushing his symbol of his soul: the cool anime shades that suggested he should have been the protagonist all along, but was never intended to be.) ...   It vaguely feels like someone had a theory that Dirk would end up becoming a villain, at some point, but I can’t remember who it was that suggested it.  Whoever you were, sweet catch.

That generally doesn’t make much sense, and pretty much wreaks of craziness, but okay.   (I do get why he’s scrambling to justify his decision, though, despite admitting that it’s really just because he’s too cowardly and self-centered for it.)

For some reason, it feels like it’s not going to be Dave who does it.  If I were a betting man, which I am (but am not willing to pony up a substantial sum on this matter in particular), I’d put my money on Jake pulling the trigger. Also, I suddenly find it funny that the Dave that fought LE got decapitated.

[pyrosophist]

IV: Burndown

You do not know yourself, Kahesta tells her. You do not see yourself. What has caused this gaping hole in your heart, that you grasp for petty things to fill it? Who has done this to you? Please, Dai’an. Let me help you.

She had been enraged, that the rebuke could contain kindness and understanding. You don’t know anything about me, she had snapped, and it was a knowing lie. Kahesta was a very old man, and had treated her like a daughter. He knew everything she did not tell him.

There is nothing for her but her secrets, sought out and guarded fervently, that none may see and use them against her. She adjusts to becoming measured, enigmatic; honesty earns her nothing when she can learn to read people as she reads books and aetherstreams, and can guide them to their necessity. She tells herself that this is merely to keep things interesting, for nothing thrives between two people who have ceased learning about one another.

She does not do much to invite others to learn about her, regardless.

It is lonely.

She keeps the company of her demons, in the absence: Kherevax her dreadsteed and Varuzh her hellhound, both wrested from a Xorothian warlord after the forces of the city fall upon him like a crashing tide of Light and metal. She pilfers a relic or two, and finds them very, very interesting. She follows threads of secret and rumor until she chances upon the knowledge of a Sunfury outpost in the Hellfire Peninsula, ripe and rotten for opportunistic vultures like herself. She sets off from her hideaway in Terokkar at once.

It is well-hidden, admittedly; the outpost (or former outpost — it is not much, now) lies in the flattened basin of a canyon, and remnants of broken edifice radiate out from a centerpoint that is blasted to the point of blackened and charred nothing. At her high angle and distance, it was surely an explosion; black streaks of char strike out from the centerpoint. Something unfortunate happened to the people here. Perhaps they tapped something they should not have.

It’s quite a bit more unsettling, when she sees piles of ash and bone away from the crater site. Demons, most likely.

Most of the things in the outpost have been reduced to ash, truthfully. Distastefully she shuffles through it, and judges it too old and plain for any practical use as reagent. The stone? Perhaps she could collect some dust or chipping. It saw the passage of evidently great power, and still stands.

Ah. A book.

Scraps of paper and pages, somehow surviving the explosion; most likely they were shielded by the stone walls, saved from the concussion if not the firestorm that’d glassed the inside surface of the canyon walls.

She gathers clues from these bits and pieces, and gains some inkling about the purpose of the research outpost. Put here because of some confluence of planar energies, which might adjust someone’s clairvoyance and instruments towards specific places, attune them to specific energies. It makes sense. She has a couple places of her own like this, though much smaller.

Xoroth, she recognizes, both from incomplete bits of script and half of a schema that she recognizes. A place of burning fire and hell, most known for its horsemen. Taken over by the Legion after its sister planet was destroyed. Hm.

Most of the scraps she finds mean nothing to her, but with the help of imps she does a thorough search. She finds a ritual focus, secreted away in some half-broken chest. Instructions to some ritual, which she thinks is either for the purpose of creating a metaphysical simulacrum of something or.. invoking a higher power. Both? Yes, both. They called it Embersoul, and presumably it failed, catastrophically.

She spends three weeks, poring over these notes. She makes corrections with her pieces of extraplanar knowledge, fills in the gaps; she calls in a favor once with a knowledge-demon, and it greedily snatches the artfully-worked relic from her hand before vanishing into the aether.

Eventually satisfied with her work, brimming with confidence, she sets to the ritual.

In the center-point of the powers which converge on this space, she places the circle. She draws runes of invocation and of construction, to call forth attention and bind it by tether, then turn tether to lasso and fix it into a certain shape. It will be as an engine, taking the essence of the Inferno and purifying it, amplifying it, and running it along channels that it may be harnessed at-will. To fix it as a part of herself. She would become mighty.

The sharp bite of pain is dim by the onset of ritual focus, when she slices into her palm and bleeds into the circle, to make it Hers and Hers alone. It drinks of her, and she shivers in the building rush of magical pressure; it tingles along her spine, her scalp. The act of invocation is familiar to her; she recites the incantation, and

the world blots out as it is consumed by endless fire.

She feels her awareness plummeting up through the chasms and interstices between the planes, before she snaps to a position of metaphysicality before something so massive and burning she must have plummeted into the plasma flesh of a sun, blinding and scorching. The Embersoul thrums in her like a second heartbeat and it is why she does not die, by sheer proximity.

She perceives three things, in order: there is fire, greater than any she has ever felt and ever seen; there are the bars of a prison, jagged and crystal obsidian; she has entreated a god in chains, and she is an ant, and there is FIRE and BURNING and it stares down at her with eyes like triple suns, scorching the skin from her flesh and boiling her marrow and then the world shakes, it vibrates loud and hard enough to shake her bones apart and she realizes it is speaking and its VOICE drowns out everything.

YOU KNOCK ON THE PRISON OF THE CHAINED OBLIVION it booms, and she feels her life and death uttered out like hammerblow in each syllable, she feels calamity. YOU WILL BECOME AN INSTRUMENT, AND I WILL BECOME FREE.

It says this — it imparts this knowledge — with certainty. She cannot rebuke it. She cannot contest this, she cannot breathe she cannot speak because there is just heat and ash and smoke and she is dying. It is killing her.

It tastes the weakness in this thought, and lashes her with white-hot agony. YOU WILL BE REFORGED, it demands. YOU WILL BECOME WEAPON AND KEY. YOU WILL BECOME MIGHTY, AND I WILL SUP OF YOUR STRENGTH, AND MAKE IT MY OWN. THROUGH YOU I WILL TASTE DEFIANCE. I WILL TASTE FREEDOM.

She cannot bear it. It is a firestorm shrieking against her and she feels it piercing her like a blade, like a flaming sword through the heart the core of her and she cannot bleed because her blood is boiling out of her like mist. Is this her end? Foolish. Foolish foolish foolish

FIRE

I will be YOU WILL BE MY RECKONING I can’t I CAN’T PLEASE

She fissions, and part of her begs for release, to be scattered across the aetherstreams of the Nether, and the other part of her clings so desperately to the shell of herself and her life because she cannot bear it, she cannot bear to die. This is the part of her that wins out. This is the part of her that always wins out. This part of her says, I ACCEPT.

YOU WILL BECOME KINDLING AND PYRE

YOU WILL BECOME ASH AND DESOLATION

YOU WILL

BURN

FOR

ME.

Something rushes past the bars of this arch-demon’s cage, like baleful wind that blasts her with heat and something grasps the flesh of her heart and she screams because it BURNS and she can FEEL IT and it hurts, it hurts more than anything has ever hurt in her long, painful life.

She awakens on dark-blasted earth, her cloak and armor scorched. There is ash, falling from the sky, gathered on the white of her eyelashes. She rolls over, rubs at them, dimly feels that she should find cover before ashfall turns to kindling storm, because that kind of weather is deadly, in Hellfire Peninsula.

She breathes out, and is instantly perplexed by the smoke that bleeds from her mouth.

She swallows, and her throat is hoarse and dry. Why? Where is she? She feels hot, hotter than she’s ever been, more completely and thoroughly than any time she had ever called on the Inferno, and it is.. It doesn’t hurt. What happened? What thing did this to her? As her heartbeat picks up she feels the fire in her chest — there is fire in her chest — kindle and burn, and she claws at her clothes to bare herself to see and she is glowing and she is marked.

Left-of-center, pitch black as though branded flesh, the soot char dancing with embers: the symbol of a hand, twisted and jagged, splayed and curled as though clutching at her heart.

[jacksgreysays]

Just for fun: "Reforged". Pairings optional. Tetsuki is reborn in the LoK era, years after her execution.

This is definitely an Iron Will!AU (or, maybe, I’ll steal the title Reforged as the actual run of Iron Will like how Trailblazers used to be named something else, because this title is SO AMAZING) and because of that I kind of want to do a lot of different reborn!AUs.

Like… in one she’s born to Fire Nation parents which is… okay? She’s okay. Definitely. Hell, she worked alongside the Fire Lord (Zuko, that is) she can handle a pair of normal civilians that just happen to be Fire Nation.

Her parents don’t understand why she shivers in their presence, constantly, even in the summer heat. Why she flinches away from too much red fabric and glances longingly, but not too often, at their kitchen knives.

It’s not entirely fear, though. A lot of it is guilt.

She’s about eight when she stops trying and failing to pretend to be normal and tries to get a meeting with retired Fire Lord Zuko.

Needless to say, the royal guards do not find this child’s requests particularly compelling.

Eventually, though, some guard takes pity on her–or gets fed up–and passes on her bizarre message: Tetsuki wants Jet’s hook-swords back.

And it eventually ends up with Tetsuki as Iroh II’s equally (if not MORE) reckless subordinate in the United Forces (she hates the uniform with a passion).

Every so often, she’ll send a letter watering down her adventures to her parents who��while they still don’t quite understand her–are very proud and love her.

Then there would be her being born to Air parents which means… Tenzin?

Hrm… that’s rather too close, isn’t it? Maybe Bumi, but considering he’s also part of the United Forces that’d be running a little close to the previous, wouldn’t it? Then again, that’s just a small similarity. Perhaps she is biologically Bumi’s daughter but raised by a single mother.

Also, I should clarify, Tetsuki isn’t a bender in any of these–even after the Harmonic Convergence.

And so the story is about Tetsuki as a lost link in the chain that is Aang and Katara’s descendants because Bumi had a ~casual encounter~ several years ago. I’m not sure if Bumi knows about her existence, but she definitely knows about his.

Unsure where I’m going with this particular version of Reforged, but that’s the only thing I can think of for Air.

Water would be… well I have two very different ideas for this. One is the more dramatic and difficult to pull off daughter-and-secret-shame-of-Tarrlok. Secret shame because she isn’t a bender, that is. Because that puts a really weird twist on the “his brother was pretending to be a nonbender but his daughter is actually a nonbender and he created/passed a lot of discriminatory laws against nonbenders”

Like all politicians, Tarrlok is a giant hypocrite.

The second is less dramatic but not entirely devoid of it, because in this Tetsuki would be Tahno’s nonbender sister. Who is largely unimpressed by his arrogance and, later, his lack of arrogance due to his lack of bending.

In either, her name would still be Tetsuki but instead of Iron Will it’d be Hand of the Moon.

And lastly Earth… again.

I guess if I went with the dramatic Tarrlok-daughter for Water I could do a similar thing as the Tahno’s sister except instead use his teammate Ming. And, well, he does have black hair and gray eyes. LIKE TETSUKI.

I’ll be honest, I stopped watching LoK before Kuvira appeared, so while I know of some of the other Earth bending characters later in the series, I don’t know them enough to feel like I’d want to put Tetsuki in their vicinity.

I suppose I could do another sort of dramatic Earth equivalent of the Water ones and have her be the daughter of a Metalbending Police officer. But instead of an evil one, maybe just a highly stressed one–like Saikhan?

[sunderlorn]

Some sketches I wrote up to get to grips with the aesthetic of a new setting I’m messing with...

Roots overgrow the doorway. A motel. See the sign. Tubes of neon, inert and grey for two centuries. Hornets, eight thousand four hundred and twenty nine of them, have latched their nest into one corner of it. Architectures of pulp put together like a paper mask, it sits in the crutch of two roots. Two of many, all latticing down to search out the ground, all searching up for the point where they converge, and become bole and trunk and tree. A fist and forearm of growth, wood, green leaves, thrust through the motel roof and skyward. Shrubs all round: its children, fighting the long grass they’ll one day kill with their shade. But roots overgrow the doorway and clamber over the walls. Chipboard, rheumy aluminium, iron fittings gone lumpen with time and with rust. Mushrooms digest the wooden fixtures as they mulch to sawdust and then to nothing. Roots over it all, like something from an old magazine. National Geographic, Cambodia, Peru, the jungle reclaiming things older than time. This motel is two-hundred and forty-three years old. Not that there’s anyone to know it, or to make the comparison.

Underground. A spot like the motel, intact in its remoteness. Nothing nearby to bomb, to claim, or later to reave. One hundred and seventy three miles approximately between here and there. They are miles of dust and miles of forest, a stretch that has gone to swamp, disgusting in its fertility. Well inland, no chance risked that the sea would bury this place in water as much as in earth. A black space, infinite in its dimensions. But as the lights come on inside, things become measurable. Small lights at first. Uniform constellations in rows of blue. Systems test themselves, double-test. More has failed here than the builders anticipated. Cylinders, waist high on an average man, line the space like driers at a laundry. Lights above each of them go blue to red then blink out. The frozen meat inside them will thaw in the days to come, then rot to sludge and be forgotten. Failures. Above two though, the lights go blue to green. Blink, swirl into a circle, spiral outward like a spider spinning its web until the lights are in the air, hanging holographic ghosts. Names and vital signs. Relics they will be, in a world that long ago got over wanting them.

A body made sexless by all it wears. Ragged coat. Rounds of copper reliefed with the heads of men, the spread wings of birds, stitch onto its cuffs. Trousers mostly padding. Ceramic plates like a lobstertail down its torso beneath the coat. Helmet or head — the distinction is philosophical with how little the helmet comes off. A faceless wedge with dots like the seeing-spots of a jellyfish, too wide placed to be eyes, but they must be eyes all the same. Cradled in its arms, strapped to its body with braided rope, a gun as old as the world. It’s repaired and reformed and reforged so many times now that it’s a new thing as much as an old. A shape filled with ghosts of itself, and bearing no resemblance to itself. Wood and glue and screws and metal over-embalmed with grease in ritual fear of rust. To touch it is to be marked. To carry it is to care almost more than it’s use is worth, and for sure more than it deserves. It’s only a rifle after all, but runed with dozens of differing fingertips, and historic with repair. Valuable, in a world where so little is made anymore. Everything is irreplaceable. Nothing is to be wasted. The dome-headed drone that follows the walker and the gun down the root- and weed-broken road stops, hovers. It scents something. A nameless pile of fur, dry blood, flesh sagging in on its coathanger bones. The walker shares a word with its drone. The drone swivels its flight and sets itself on the ground next to the dead animal. With lattices of orange light and feelers and probosci of searching metal, it works on the flesh. It begins to eat, feasting its batteries in a silent frenzy, efficient as a line of ants.

Hack the dirt. Tool it unwild til it’s lined and gridded for human use. Tame it with the beat and cut of metal. In the coming days it will go from reluctance to resignation and be ready to seed. The land had its taste of freedom, needed more than it needs anyone any longer. But here the dirt had the ill luck to be found, cordoned off by walls. Yearly it yields up purple many-legged carrots; squash and corn and climbing beans. Never enough, but less than enough is better than hunger. Figures stooped by prayer at the altar of not-enough, they walk paths through the weeds in their plot of land, tooling and cursing the bloodyminded black ground. The blades of a wind-turbine spin overhead, cutting and cutting over the hardholders with its shadow. Windchimes moan wooden in the breeze as it blows over heather, vine-grown concrete, broken glass forgotten beneath the grass and leafmulch.

They know the paths through the overgrowth. They know where the tangled woods and prehistoric ferns and the tiered red fungi give way to flatlands. Badlands haunted by the distant sight of loftier places. Dustflats chased over by rainstorms big as God but never so big as the flats themselves. But they know the way through the flats and the mountains after. They know where lies the sea. The fisherpeople in their island-towers, made barren of old stone, pockmarked with time and rain and footsteps. Islands of rusting iron that sticks from the stone. Spring they ride the path to the fisherclans in their hardholds up and down the coast. Beg salted fish and panned salt from them, as only bullet, blade, bikescreech and truckroar and drums all hours of the night and the day can beg. And then towards Autumn they follow the path back, navigating by their growling bellies as if by some pole-star or oldworld lightshow, to find once more the hardholders who grow things from the land. After the badlands, where the dirt is kinder, and after the forests, where the dirt is gentle. Potatoes, beans, grain, porkflesh — they ask it as tribute. But being holdless, being wanderers, riders, they gain more than many, but truly what do they own? The panels they set up on days reserved for stillness, to feed the sun to their bikes, to their trucks. The recipes handed down mother to child, for smokeless powder, for cured leather, and the colours metal speaks through as you heat and hit and shape it. The badlands, and little else.

She leads them. Wears the old relics. The module webbed to her chest that hums as she brings it to life and to battle. It’s saved her life four times now. Nothing but the hum until it saves her, and then there’s light, and the air is an envelope of light, a net of shimmering half-real lines in orange, hexed like honeycomb. The bullet would have tunnelled into her jaw, unlatched it, sent it swinging off its hinges like a door bang-bangs in a storm, and made of her mouth just a porch under which her throat hides shy and slavering. And perhaps she’d have bled from it, or had it sour and kill her slow. But instead, a flickerflash, a scream of light and sound, and the bullet becomes smoke, and the module on her chest smokes and complains with age. She falls into the battleline, roaring her own name. She changes its batteries. Resolves later to pray. Resolves that tomorrow their warpath will change and a pilgrimage will start. Into the city, where the mad ones sit and mutter in unison, talking skinny and naked in raptures to the God that lives in their heads.

Is darkness still darkness for those with no need of light? They sliver upon each other, half-asleep as always, sharing heat. A tangle of bodies, circular and supplicant around the terminal as it stands like a saint. Whispers of static sometimes. They repeat what it says, numbers and words, for days and days after, in voices dry with thirst. They want only to be alone with it. The wisdom of the ages. The lives of the dead, all locked into its signal, its pulses of thought and memory. We were the world’s slow ending, it says. We were there at the end of things, and we were there before. We remember what was. Isn’t it good? Isn’t it good, this knowing? One body detaches from the tangle, choosing itself. Food, it thinks. Water, it thinks. In caves of architecture and between the bones of the city, it runs, sweating, searching, eyes unseeing. The Unity sees too much for the searcher to need eyes of its own. It searches, eats, dreams of the day when it will need to eat no longer. It dreams of wires and plastics, promised but not yet earnt.

Underground. A body hauls itself slick as a newborn from a cell of plastic, a womb of gel. Taste of salt on its lips, and heavy in its wet hair, and wetting closed its disused eyes. Crawl onto the floor. Shiver. It’s not so much the cold as the shock of its nerves as they try to remember themselves. In strips the lights come on. White light, bright light now. A frequency designed as a wake-up call, to drag a sleeper kicking and screaming from one world and into another. Ribs and wet skin and eyes twitching behind their lids. Another relic, he. A time traveller, ancient with waiting. Waiting was kinder than what lies ahead. Good afternoon, Agent Rossi. A digital voice, cold with kindness. Good afternoon, Agent Learmonth. The date is June 3rd, 2285. Data indicates that today is an excellent day to begin our initiative. Please try to stay calm throughout the resuscitation process. The discomfort will pass. Welcome back to the Horizon Project.

[blogging-phelddagrif]

EDH Deck Tech: Kynaios & Tiro

[you can see every deck tech here]

Hello & welcome to this weekly deck tech! This week we’re doing something that is long overdue, talking about an EDH archetype that is very dear to me, which is Group Hug. I thought about doing a Phelddagrif deck tech, but I sort of did in the past and often talk about my deck, so I decided to talk about the objectively better version: Kynaios & Tiro of Meletis.

I say this version is better for a few reason; first of all they have a static effect that benefits everyone, while Phelddagrif’s effect mainly serve to give hippo tokens to people before it’s your turn if you have some mana to spare. Also they give you access to red, which is pretty nice. Oh and you get to have a cute couple as a commander, so that’s cool. The only reason I personally play Phelddagrif is because of my emotional attachment to the character. In any case, let’s get into it.

Mass Draw

The deck is almost only separated into two parts, the first part is mass card draw. The goal of the deck isn’t necessarily to win, you just want to help everyone and have a good time. Making people draw tons of cards makes people happy and makes sure everyone can play magic. Cards like Rites of Flourishing (which also helps ramping), Howling Mine, Font of Mythos, Edric Spymaster of Trest, Humble Defector, Ludevic Necro-Alchemist, Kami of the Crescent Moon, Heartwood Storyteller, Walking Archive, Minds Aglow, Prosperity, Temple Bell, Horn of Greed, Otherworld Atlas, Dictate of Kruphix, Fevered Visions, Well of Ideas, Noble Benefactor, Standstill, Oath of Scholars, Anvil of Bogardan & Jace Beleren. I know that’s a lot of cards, but that’s honestly most of what the deck does, you just want people to draw a ton of cards. Oh, and you should play Sphinx’s Revelation just to treat yourself.

Red Mass Draw

One of the reasons to play red is the access to a few nice draw spells. I wouldn’t play too many of them, but just some cards like Reforge the Soul, Wheel of Fortune, Magus of the Wheel & Wheel of Fate are plenty to really help out the deck and make sure everyone always have a grip full of cards.

Mass Ramp

If people are drawing tons of cards they need to play them or it’s pretty useless, so what you need to do is make sure people have enough mana to do things. There’s some sweet cards like Collective Voyage, Tempt with Discovery, Veteran Explorer, Ghirapur Orrery, Oath of Lieges, Eladamri’s Vineyard, New Frontiers, Shizuko Caller of Autumn & Magus of the Vineyard. You can also play a few ramp spells just for you like Sakura-Tribe Elder, Farkseek, Rampant Growth, Kodama’s Reach, Cultivate & Explosive Vegetation. Just make sure people can play all the cards they are drawing.

Being Extra

This is not for everyone, but you can go the extra mile and really help out people. A lot. Play cards like Hypergenesis, Tempting Wurm, Hunted Wumpus, Oath of Druids, Braids Conjurer Adept & Show and Tell. Turn that magic game into a real fiesta!

Building a Pillow-Fort

While you’re boosting everyone, you just want to make sure nobody uses their brand new cards to attack you. Most of the time people will leave you alone since you’re helping them, but you just want to make extra sure. Cards like Propaganda, Ghostly Prison, Windborn Muse, Kazuul Tyrant of the Cliffs, Norn’s Annex & Collective Restraint. You don’t need too many, just enough to keep yourself safe for some time.

Polite Answers

You need to play some removal and answers, but you also want to be nice about it, so anything that gives something back to your opponent is good. Cards like Swan Song, Curse of the Swine, Pongify, Rapid Hybridization, Chaos Warp, Path to Exile, Swords to Plowshares, Oblation, Arcane Denial, Beast Within & Terastodon. Oh, and you should play Krosan Grip, Blasphemous Act & Supreme Verdict because they’re just really good cards.

Win Condition?

That’s entirely up to you, if you want to win or not. Personally I like finishing second; like I help everyone and usually die last. Everyone has a good time, including me, since I enjoy just sitting back, doing my things and watching people go crazy with their decks. But if you want to actually win you have a few options; stuff like Approach of the Second Sun, Mind Over Matter (with Temple Bell & any graveyard shuffle effect or Life from the Loam), Entreat the Angels, Laboratory Maniac, Constant Mists & Sandwurm Convergence. There’s probably a lot more options and to be honest any 2-card combo can also do the trick. Like I said, it’s really up to you for that.

Wrap-Up

That’s it for the deck tech! I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did, and I hope some people will feel like picking up the group-hug archetype because of this. I have so much fun playing these kind of decks and I know I’m not the only one. It’s just so much fun to play something that’s the opposite of competitive for a change, to really play a light-hearted and straight up fun deck. If I missed anything let me know. I’ll see you guys next week for a standard deck tech.