#lizardpeople

[deepdreamnights]

[artistassinideas]

Mobile village:

Why leave your home when you can bring it with you?

........................

Aldea móvil:

¿Por qué dejar tu hogar cuando puedes traerlo contigo?

[zydthelizard]

Zyd and Kerai at the Carolina Renaissance Festival. 

Masks by Composite Effects. 

[subconsciousmysteries]

thats it yall. lizardpeople control the earth theory confirmed.

[wtheadcanon]

Anyone else close their eyes for two seconds and end up 50 years into the future?

At least I aged well…

[chaoticsentienttoaster]

Shoutout to all the witches and gays and salamanders and whores out there. Y'all keep being you.

[disastergay]

not me writing jewish satire inspired by neonazi “starseed” theory

[flightdescending]

the new lizardpeople beastclan is incredible

[mintmatcha]

@saphhonic my tumblr messed up so I couldn't respond directly to your ask! here's a very goofy little drabble just for you!!!

"Why are you making that god awful sound?"

Kiri slams her book closed, shooting a glare across the table towards Obsidian, who takes no notice. He's took busy fussing with her breakfast, spreading a rather thick layer of jam over his butter toast. He hums a bit of a song until you elbow him and draw his attention to Kiri.

"Me?" he blinks, "What am I doing?"

"That stupid-" Kiri sticks her tongue out and sucks in a dramatic breath, then exhales even louder. Obi's eyes flicker to you and narrow slightly, matching the upward tilt of his smile. By now, you're all used to Kiri's less than charismatic ways. Tonight, he will sneak into your room and complain, but for now, he handles it gracefully.

You smile back: a joke shared by only the two of you.

"I'm panting," Obsidian says. "It's hot."

"Dragonborns overheat easy," you add. Kiri scrunches her mouth tight, but nods, accepting this answer. Obsidian exhales and brings his breakfast to his lips, only for Tig to speak up.

"I thought lizards were cold-blooded?" the other elf says.

"I'm not a lizardperson."

"What's the difference?"

"More than I can count." A real edge of annoyance hits his voice. "I can speak, my blood isn't green, I don't eat meat."

"Lizardpeople are cold-blooded, but Dragonborns usually prefer colder climates. That's why they are not as common here. They usually live up North." The whole table stares at Kiri as she speaks. Tig's mouth has fallen open, their brow knitted in confusion. "Don't look at me like that. I read. I know things."

"Then why did you ask why I was panting?"

"To point out that you were being annoying!"

"Kiri, you're being annoying." You place your cup of coffee on the table a bit too harshly. The group centers itself with a stern glance, so you decide to redirect the energy. "Obi, do you miss winter?"

Neither Kiri nor you have ever seen snow. Tig is also from the north, but their hatred of the cold is well documented.

"Greatly." Obsidian finally gets a bite of food into his mouth. He chews wistfully, glancing over at you every moment or so.

"Gag," Tig chimes in.

"There's a romance to winter!" he objects. "Long nights where you eat warm food in the arms of a lover-"

"Ah." Kiri has opened her book again. "Is that why dragonborns are born in the spring?"

[sigmaleph]

would be fun to live in one of those worlds where you can kill people and eat their souls to gain their powers and this has absolutely zero relevance bc you need to eat a lot of souls before your metaphysical powers compete with like, a handgun, and also the eerie glow in your eyes betrays you so like, even if you have committed murder for some reason it's a terrible idea to eat their soul, it just means you get captured real quick on account on who the fuck eats souls it's the 21st century.

so it's just an entirely ordinary world exactly like our own except that when conspiracy theorists post screenshots of politicians with video compression artifacts around their eyes and they talk about the cloaking technology failing it's not a lizardpeople thing it's a souleater thing. the antisemitic implications are probably the same.

also wearing sunglasses to high-security events is illegal i guess

[ivane-embraces-the-weirdness]

Guys! Guys! A few days ago I had an idea on the background story of this picture:

And since you’re still reading, you’re now doomed to read something that’s written like the B–plot of an episode from my favorite childhood series, enjoy!

(This is btw the first time Lady Kryptina meets Wyrm up close)

It’s a rather busy night sometime in October, Wyrm was totally in the mood for Halloween and her bar is in full swing. It’s mostly lizardpeople from some neighboring grottos and Count Alarich.

At some point the group of lizardmen start to engage with the count and would you know it– as the group pressure of a bunch of horny reptoids infront of a female half–reptoid they all try to impress sets in, Ivané notices Al getting a bit tipsy… tipsier than usual… too tipsy… past the legal percentage to fly by himself! To the point that she is giving them water and applejuice instead of actual shots and they don’t even notice… a LOT of unfortunate things are said and done that evening and she has to half–live with that… because at some point she has a hard time understanding their slurred accents.

When it is finally time to close up (an hour before closing time, actually but that stays between her and the reader🤫) the lizards just crawl to the ceiling of the grotto to sleep it off but the count is still sitting hunched over at the bar, snoozing. Before she starts sweeping and whipping the bar she tells him that she’ll check on him again when she’s done.

She is done.

So she tries to wake him up, but beneath that mop of hair he just lays there, mouth open, drooling like pickled roadkill. And smelling a bit like it! „Alright, Al! I‘ll take my Make–up off, then I‘ll check back on you again, okay?“ the answer to that is a weak snorr. She’s seriously surprised that he handles the drinks so poorly. Especially since half of it was water! She suspects that someone must’ve spiked his drink!

And her Make–up is taken off.

As she reapproaches the eeping vampire she decides that if his supernatural, immortal, stronger, more powerful than though,– body isn’t somewhat sober enough to make it home on a cup of coffee, she’ll bring him. It’s not that he can’t sleep at her place for the day (again), it’s because it’s a weeknight that night and tomorrow and that battle had the German inside her just instinctively won.

So she lifts his head to be on her eyelevel and starts gently slapping his face gently while calling his name and asking him politely to turn into bat–Mode for her but her highscore on that attempt is him opening his eyes for five seconds.

„AL, WAKE UP!!! WE‘RE SUROUNDED BY VAMPIREHUNTERS!!!!“ does eventually work: He gets on his stumbling feet, turns into a fruitbat, flies a looping and lands on his face with a *splat*.

She gently picks him up, gives him some pets, a kiss between the ears (because he won’t let her when sober) and some more pets and finally gently lowers him into the hood of her jacket where she hopes, he doesn’t casually hurl into. While she tells her cats that they don’t have to wait on her for bedtime, she doesn’t notice that Pippiss sneaks into her hood by jumping up her skirt, climbing it and her jacket like it was an extreme sport and finally snuggles up to the drunken Count by making as many biscuits as possible.

*atmospheric montage of her leaving the grotto and taking the bus to the station closest to the castle and walking the rest*

After finding a way past the drawbridge she’s finally being greeted by Lenny at the entrance and gives him the drunk Count in bat form. Though as her tired last braincell failed at an attempt to explain her out of suspiciosness, her neurodivergent nature causes her to immediately overshare. „Hi, I‘m the bartender and owner of the establishment he visits regularly, inclusively tonight. He ended up passing out at the bar, since he usually handles alcohol much better– and when I noticed him getting too much, I only gave him decoy–drinks– I suspect his drink was spiked, so I decided to bring him home myself. Don’t worry, I know that you guys are vampires and I assure you, that it’s no problem with me and I definitely won’t tell anyone!“ are words that totally overwhelm Lenny, who has to her luck no time to process anything because the count turns vampire exactly two seconds after she stopped talking and burries the poor guy beneath himself.

Right as they fall out of frame, Lady Kryptina , who has overheard Wyrms Braincell struggling, spawns behind them and stares Wyrm down, who‘s nervous eyes switch between staring at Lenny struggling to finish his most intimate experience of the day and Kryptina who might have a rather cold/neutral expression but really communicates that the half–harpy is cooked just with her aura alone.

After a few awkward moments of one party staring and the the other party cuddle–struggling, Lenny finally manages to support the count on his shoulders and drag him away. The still very intoxicated count blows a kiss to Wyrm, who blushes and sweats in emberassement while her body temperature drops and sinks at the same time and her glands spitting out enough adrenaline to Parcour her ass outta there like Sportacus with a metal theme. The very suspicious Lady gives him a massive criminal sideeye then looks back with an innocent, murderous smile at Wyrm who was living the ultimate terror in her soul behind her awkward face.

„WOW! I‘m really asking myself what they poured in his drink that he’s SO out of it!“ Wyrm said with a nonchalant performance worthy of a golden Turkey „Anyways!… I should go now, so take care!“ „Oh, no! I just can’t let you go like that, after you went all the way up here, just to bring the Count home! Could I interest you in a cup of tea?“ „Aw, nah! That’s really sweet of you, but tomorrow is a workday–„ „I insist!“

Cut to them sitting on a sofa near a fireplace, both holding a cup of tea in awkward silence.

„So, how long is the count frequenting your establishment, my dear?“ Kryptina asks right before taking a sip „For the past month or so… I think… not sure…“ Wyrm says with an awkward grin and unfocused, void eyes „And what would you say, is your relationship to him? Are you two ever talking?“ with it being obvious, where this round of conversation–chess was leading, Wyrm knew, she‘d only win, if she ate the pieces „Yes, but really just in a platonical sence!“ „But he did trust you with the sensitive information on where he lives?“ „I mean I told him where I live too!“ „And that he’s a vampire?“ „Yeah, but that’s okay, because that bar is also visited by lizardpeople and I’ve told nobody about them either!“ turns out, that stress causes her to loose appetite to the the point that she can’t even get down a few metaphorical chess pieces! „I see… well wouldn’t you look at the sky! We‘ve got a fullmoon tonight!“ and with that Wyrms last braincell realized that it doesn’t get paid for working overtime and leaves as well. She turns away from Kryptina and looks out of a window, at the moon „Really?? I‘d say it’s more of a waning moon!“ The Lady’s hands start drawing closer to the closure of her spiked collar and the only one who notices is the owner of the green eyes that emerge from Wyrms hood. Pippiss starts slapping the Ladies hands away, giving her his most evil stare he can muster. „Or is it more of a waxing moon? I‘m not sure!“ The Lady starts getting annoyed with the slapping, so she grabs the tiny cat and attempts to throw him away, but he crawls up her arm and starts attacking her headpiece.

„Here, hold this!“ „Sure– wait, WHAT?!“

Wyrm stares first at her collar then at the Lady, who had her teeth stuck in Wyrms neck.

Sind she didn’t let go, before the sting of the dragons cold blood reached her brain causing her to spit out the literal blue blood in disgust and pain. Wyrm rushed away from her immediately before fainting from the bloodloss…

[missmette]

I really miss the days when "12 million americans believe that lizardpeople exist" was the stupidest thing about the states

[soulofamy]

i like the idea of zaterrans being like a civilized society with a functioning government because the idea of lizardpeople sitting at a desk with a pen in their lizard hands doing paperwork is really funny to me

[roenya]

(this is the only account that isnt strictly SFW) scalies, how do lizardpeople suck dick??? 😭

[dndhistory]

170. Dave J. Browne, Don Turnbull - U2: Danger at Dunwater (1982)

The continuation of the U series of modules coming out of the UK branch of TSR, this is a direct follow up to U1: The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh, which ended with the party discovering that a smuggling ring was arming a community of Lizardmen not that far from the village of Saltmarsh. 

In this module the story continues as the nervous town of Saltmarsh wants the party to investigate what is going on with the Lizards. However, this module is also a trap for the "murder hobo" type of adventuring party, and if you are DM one of those this would be a great lesson for them, as the Lizardmen has no intention of attacking Saltmarsh but want to defend themselves against a greater evil, an incoming Sahuagin invasion!

So, some players are likely to go to the Lizardmen colony guns (swords?) blazing, and this is be pretty much a horrible thing to do and by the time they realize the mistake they've made it might be too late and will probably have to pay compensation for all the lizardpeople you've killed as well as return the stolen loot, from what are essentially peaceful people. This story by itself would be enough to make this a memorable module, but if you add to this the neat way in which the module is set out, with a nice recap of events and a plot synopsis at the end of the module to keep the plotline straight, make this a pretty unique publication for the time that is still worth taking a look at today. 

[vh-rp]

House of the Salamander

Heraldry by Bad Ritual

Name • The House Of Salamander Scope • Regional - Free Marches, but known to travel continentally Headquarters • Kirkwall, The Free Marches Leader • Caro Byrne Values • Camaraderie, coin, and cajoling Goals • Mint gold, cause the good kinds of trouble, deck the worst kinds in the nose, and try not to die in the meantime.

Allies • Varied based on the current job. Enemies • Varied based on the current job. Rivals • Give ‘em a minute.

Requirements The House of Salamander’s a small outfit, meaning relationships amongst the members are just as personal as they are professional. Rarely if ever actively recruiting, prospective members typically have to happen upon the mercenaries either while they’re working or off on their own endeavors. If a rapport can be struck with one, then the task becomes striking a rapport with the rest until there’s a consensus. At that point, if you have some sort of skills to offer the band, have earned their trust, and can muster a unanimous vote, then you can bear the toasty lizard crest.

Duties

Salamanders stick together. Have your fellows’ back, and they’ll have yours.

Coin doesn’t trump basic decency. Don’t sell your morals down the river just for a job. If two members disagree about that, they’re obligated to talk it out.

Coin trumps most other things though. Gold is gold, life is hard, and food ain’t cheap.

Don’t go spilling blood for free. Don’t pick fights for free, that’s the job. Don’t be a dick, whipping out your junk when blades are out is never a good idea.

Traditions The House of Salamander only has one real tradition to speak of thusfar: they do not tell anyone outside of the group the truth about where their name came from. In all reality, it came from one of their first meetings, wherein a salamander came crawling out of their campfire. Amused by the immediate hyperbolic comparisons to the dragons of the age, and lacking a name at the time, it was decided that something as formal and mysterious as “House of Salamander” would do. But to retain both aspects of the mystique, the go-to move is to lie and invent a more impressive story on the spot; whoever asks is just as likely to be spun a yarn about a dragon shrunk to the size of a rat as they are a manor full of lizardpeople who the gang had to defeat in order to take their crest. In the event that one of them slips up and accidentally tells the truth, they owe the rest of the company a night’s worth of luxury and drinks.

Members

Caro Byrne

Esmé Lachance

Ceren Brynmor

Genthus

Horus

NPCs (Adoptable)

Luca, formerly of the Red Dogs. A human warrior that prefers light armor and a sword and shield.

Karvil, formerly of the Red Dogs. A dwarf warrior with two axes and plenty of tattoos.

Lelindin, formerly of the Red Dogs. A human mage with a crystalline staff and a quiet disposition.

Alred, formerly of the Red Dogs. A human warrior with rusty armor and a tarnished old greatsword. A surprisingly talented fixer.

Assets One horse-drawn covered wagon, a host of rations and provisions, first-aid equipment, and a variety of odds and ends.

Legacy Clause • Ownership of this organization defaults to Neology, Meira, Headwires, and Fromikeable. Should they all happen to be inactive, the faction should be considered to be disbanded, with the members parting amicably to go their separate ways.