#magic key cutting machine

[nikkilbook]

Sometimes, being multi-fandom and having niche inside jokes with your sibling is very frustratinf, because it means that even if I managed to share this with every person in the world, none of you will EVER understand just how utterly hilarious I am being when I say “Wizard Merritt is Akihiko Kaiyaba.”

[thisisnotthenerd]

a list of things we learned from the matron of ravens in this episode of bell's hells:

for her:

she has a greater awareness as a god, but can't tell what's going to happen in the future. the threads are tangled, and whatever cuts the gordian knot will guide the way to the future.

she and the arch heart are preventing calamity 2: electric boogaloo by refusing to knock down the divine gate and act.

some threads are beyond her reach, especially those who are tied to different realms or those who have artificially extended their lifespans.

in this moment of moments, after proving themselves capable of doing what must be done, bell's hells have seen the original face of the lady of death and lived to tell the tale. the face of a woman who believed in the impossible.

she has granted her aid in the form of her mask, which will call for all that she can muster.

for the people:

opal is on the ground at the hellcatch, serving as the hand of the spider queen there, likely alongside fy'ra rai.

chetney is soon to die, but not quite yet.

vax suffers in the orb, but can be taken out if the beacon is removed and the key destroyed. he was the last thing to surprise her in recent history. take me instead, you raven bitch.

laudna fell out of her realm via the machinations of delilah, but through love, through faith in imogen, in bell's hells, in herself, she is returning to the matron's realm of fate. whether she will be alive again is up to time and the decisions she makes.

she believes that love and faith will be what enables the ruidusborn to contain predathos as vessels. love and faith bolstering will.

the ritual:

the ritual of seeding took the aid of the previous god of death.

she first reached for a taste of divinity and met him.

she became a disciple and learned from him the magics of death.

they became friends, seeking the secrets of the universe and what lies beyond the coil both mortal and divine.

she performed the ritual as an act of love, of taking on the burden that fell to him as the one who looked to the void as what the gods were left from tengar.

in that moment, she who was a mortal wizard, a loving being who sought the impossible both for its own sake and its role in extending her love and faith

became the matron of ravens, she who presides over fate and death, who stewards souls to the beyond and weaves the tapestry of time with ever-changing threads.

[mesetacadre]

this might be a silly question, but. ive recently learned more about the devastating effects of sanctions on countries like cuba, dprk, or venezuela, and how much unnecessary suffering they cause among the population, especially when it comes to food or medicine shortages. but then bds also calls for sanctions against israel, and im wondering, is there any meaningful difference between that and the sanctions already imposed by the US on other countries? i feel a bit hypocritical when i argue against sanctions while at the same time supporting bds, i feel like they are very different situations with different outcomes but i lack the understanding to really grasp how they are different, if that makes any sense

Sanctions are the systematic blockade of all or certain sectors of trade under military or economic threat by the sanctioner (mostly just the USA in recent history) to any potential agents who might try to ignore the sanction. These sanctions typically include things like medical supplies, food if the country is dependent on imports (like most countries who get sanctioned), electricity, fuel, both light and heavy industry, agricultural products and machines, the global financial system, and other such key sectors. These sanctions, overwhelmingly, only serve to impoverish the country, create undue suffering and political strife. This political strife/instability is usually the main goal of sanctions, to destabilize the target government. However, this political instability more often than not does not result in a magical restoration of "democracy" or "human rights", it usually leads the country down a path of further isolationism and political violence that only worsens its general situation. It also makes it much easier for factions like ISIS to gain popularity and support, since people are desperate. Sanctions are inhumane measures which only makes a country suffer for no good reason. The sanctioners know this, they don't care, and I'd wager that suffering is often the actual point of these sanctions. What has the 60 year old blockade achieved in Cuba? It has only caused pointless poverty, and the stated goal of the sanctions, which is to ultimately remove the communist government, has failed, is failing, and Cuba is managing to make due with what they have.

BDS call for sanctions mostly in regards to military equipment and related products/services, for NATO to stop aiding the genocide, or the banning of Israel from international events such as the olympics. No Israeli will ever go hungry because they no longer get European-made ordinance or because they don't get to participate in Eurovision. This is what BDS says in their Sanctions and governments campaign (which is behind two menus, this is also not the main focus of BDS, by far):

The BDS movement calls for sanctions against Israel, similar to the sanctions that were imposed against apartheid South Africa. These sanctions could include a military embargo, an end to economic links and the cutting of diplomatic ties. In the meantime, the BDS movement is calling for states to take steps to meet their legal obligations not to be complicit in the commission of particular Israeli crimes and not to provide recognition, aid or assistance that help Israel maintain its regime of settler colonialism, apartheid.. This includes, for example, the obligation for states to immediately end to all trade that sustains illegal Israeli settlements in the Occupied Palestinian Territory and the suspension of free trade agreements and other bilateral agreements with Israel.

Notice the greater emphasis on military and diplomatic ties, and how economic/trade sanctions are only called for when it «sustains illegal Israeli settlements in the Occupied Palestinian Territory». Sure, this will (if it is ever adopted by Israel's significant trade partners) cause some suffering for the poor illegal settlers who had just moved into their shiny new apartment blocks built atop acres of land that sustained the surrounding Palestinian villages. The mere existence of these settlements cause more suffering than any sanction could ever cause.

Calling for these sanctions against Israel, which again, don't even come from comparable agents, are both less harmful towards the total population of Israel, and occur in a completely different context. I'm not going to pretend I care about the wellbeing of settlers whose houses didn't even exist 10 years ago. If these sanctions ever do occur in a significant enough scale (dubious), and those settlers don't want to find themselves in a food desert because Carrefour closed all their stores in the west bank, they shouldn't have moved into land stolen from a people facing genocide in the first place. We're also wagering hypothetical and non-global suffering against the now more than 100,000 dead Palestinians in Gaza in the past year, not even counting those who died ever since the first Nakba.

Like BDS points out, these types of grassroots and targeted boycotts/sanctions worked in South Africa, and the white South Africans didn't even suffer that much. Wager these short-lived and targeted sanctions against these other half-century long sanctions sustained by the US' strongarm policy that have prevented basically anything from getting into Cuba or the DPRK.

While those two things are both called sanctions, they have radically different objectives, methods, range, timescale, and character. I can't reiterate this enough, the North Korean collective farmer and the Israeli settler in the west bank have nothing in common when it comes to their position. Only one of them is complicit in genocide through their own actions, only one of them has any degree of blame, and only one of their governments is actually doing anything that warrants any kind of international action. And again, the BDS strategy focuses much more on military sanctions. Let's also be practical for a second, and acknowledge that the US is never going to withdraw their support for Israel, and especially will never sanction Israel. Israel is simply never going to face the same kind of sanctions that Venezuela or Cuba are facing, nor with the same severity, nor with the same restrictions on products essential for life.

[monstersdownthepath]

Homebrew Horror: Galroscul, Nascent Lord of Gluttony and Cannibalism

(Art done by the incredible @crankyteapot!)

First mentioned here, Galroscul is a fierce and powerful fiend who once coveted the throne of King of Demons, wishing to feed from Lamashtu's flesh to achieve his apotheosis... but before Lamashtu even registered his existence as a threat, he was beset by the combined forces of both Zura and Xoveron, who saw him as a challenger to their dominions over consumptive destruction and rampant gluttony. He was powerful, but not so much so that he could overcome such a fierce and coordinated assault from two Demon Lords and their armies, and yet his opponents could not simply kill him or he would rejuvenate and attack them while they were weakened, leaving them all back at square one... so they imprisoned him instead.

On a far-off world under the lock and key of a cadre of hedonistic Zurans and Urgathoans, Galroscul is imprisoned in a great and terrible machine that draws from his demonic power, infusing cuts of meat with fiendishly addictive energy that assures a steady trickle of profits for the meatmongers as customers become unable to stop themselves from buying more. This also serves the purpose of providing tantalizing food for the man-eating demons and undead among their ranks, and all the while the would-be Demon King is slowly being driven insane by the pain of the machine sapping his power and the pain of his empty stomach seeing countless tons of meat pass him by while he has no mouth to eat them.

And yet, wracked with pain and hunger, Galroscul is far more clever than he appears to be, and his fierce desperation will drive him to enact a plan no sane being would ever consider. Able to still wield sparks of his demonic magic even while imprisoned, Galroscul will slowly but surely do the unthinkable, cutting pieces away from his body and shearing his own divine power out of himself bit by bit. Every piece of meat and drop of blood that he cuts away falls onto the procession of meat below, contaminating them with a far more potent form of demonic corruption that his captors intended. Soon after he begins this process, demonic tieflings bearing the features of fiendish boars will start popping up all over the planet as new, bizarre religious groups begin to form around demagogues bearing traces of the Demon Lord's might, contacted in their dreams by the Hunger Sealed in Steel and guided towards the effort to free him.

The statblock below does not represent Galroscul as he was or as he is; in the current time, he is still imprisoned on a far-off world in the torturous meat machine. Despite his imprisonment, his influence still grows in strange parts of the cosmos from both the lingering cultists he possessed when he was vying for the throne of Demon King, and where covert deliveries of demon-tainted meat are served, whether it be the prison world he is held on or another world that his cultists have managed to smuggle products to. As the years tick excruciatingly by, he will cut enough away from himself to slip the machine's shackles and put out a rallying call to all his corrupted sycophants and wicked "children" at once. The factory in which he is held will be destroyed in a single night, after which Galroscul will rampage across this distant world's surface for a hundred days, devouring everything he comes across in both gluttonous fury and rapturous joy at his freedom. For now, though, he simply dreams of the times to come.

Thus, these stats represents Galroscul shortly after his freedom. He is greatly withered both physically and mentally, but this is merely in comparison to his previous power at CR 29, and he still maintains a grip on vast portions of of his old might. As the picture above alludes to, he still has pieces of the imprisoning machine fused to his body. These are now welded to his very essence, and regenerate from damage just as his flesh and bone, serving as eternal reminders of his failure... and reminders to never let it happen again.

Galroscul, the Hunger Sealed in Steel CR 24 Chaotic Evil Huge Outsider (stuff) Init: +8; Senses: Darkvision 120ft, Detect Good, Detect Law, True Seeing, scent (60ft); Perception +35 Aura: Frightful Presence (120ft, DC 29), Unholy Aura (DC 24)

------ Defense ------

AC 40, touch 20, flat-footed 32 (+4 deflection, +8 Dex, +20 natural armor, -2 size) HP 515 (27d10+351); Regeneration 15 (Good) Fort +32 Ref +20 Will +24 Defensive abilities Ferocity, Hog Wild; DR 15/Cold iron and Good; Immune Charm and compulsion effects, death effects, disease, Electricity, poison; Resist Acid 30, Cold 30, Fire 30; SR 34

------ Offense ------

Speed 80ft, burrow 30ft, climb 80ft Melee Bite +45 (2d6+19/19-20 plus grab), 2 claws +37 (1d8+7 plus grab), gore +44 (2d6+19/19-20 plus Dispelling Gore), sting +37 (1d8+7) Space 15ft; Reach 15ft Special Attacks Dispelling Gore, Down in One, Fast Swallow, Gruesome Gullet, Merciless Assault, Overhead Flip (DC 37), Swallow Whole (6d8+22 bludgeoning and piercing plus 5d6 energy plus Consume Essence (DC 29), 30 AC, 51 HP), Spell-like Abilities (CL 20th; Concentration +26)

Constant--Air Walk, Detect Good, Detect Law, Greater Magic Fang (bite, gore), Unholy Aura (DC 24) At-Will-- Dragon's Breath (any option) (DC 20), Greater Dispel Magic, Greater Teleport (self plus 50lbs only), Hunger for Flesh (DC 20), Slow (DC 19) Telekinesis (DC 21) 3/day--Bountiful Banquet, Dimensional Anchor, Hungry Pit (DC 21), Mass Reduce Person (DC 20) 1/day--Delectable Flesh (DC 22), Dimensional Lock, Freedom of Movement, Time Stop

------ Statistics ------

Str 39 Dex 26 Con 37 Int 22 Wis 20 Cha 23 Base Atk: +27; CMB +43 (+4 grapple); CMD 61 (+4 vs grapple)

Feats Cleave, Cleaving Finish, Combat Reflexes (B), Consume Essence, Dazzling Display, Dramatic Slam, Great Cleave, Greater Grapple, Improved Grapple (B), Improved Unarmed Strike (B), Intimidating Prowess, Multiattack, Overhead Flip, Power Attack, Savage Leap, Savage Slam, Weapon Focus (Bite)

Skills Bluff +29, Climb +42, Diplomacy +26, Disable Device +28, Escape Artist +38, Intimidate +50, Knowledge (Arcana) +16, Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +16, Knowledge (Engineering) +20, Knowledge (Nature) +16, Knowledge (Planes) +19, Knowledge (Religion) +16, Linguistics +12, Perception +35, Profession (Chef) +23, Sense Motive +28, Spellcraft +16, Survival +25, Swim +23, Use Magic Device +29

Languages Abyssal, Aklo, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Giant, Goblin, Gnoll, Necril, Orcish, Polyglot, Terran, Undercommon; Telepathy 300ft

SQ Nascent Demon Lord traits

------ Ecology ------ Environment Any Organization Unique Treasure Triple ------

Combat: From afar, Galroscul will buffet his foes with Slow and Dragon's Breath to soften them up, Hunger for Flesh and Delectable Flesh, to disrupt their ability to cooperate, and will set up Hungry Pits for future maneuvers. Against Outsiders or creatures whom he has seen use teleportation magic, he focuses his Dimensional Anchor and Lock to prevent them from fleeing. Against humanoids, he will prioritize Mass Reduce Person to shrink them down, allowing him to swiftly devour them with Down in One. After a very short setup, he rushes into combat and focuses his gore attacks on enemies with numerous magic effects on them to rip them asunder. Once in melee, he is not an especially complex creature: He seeks to devour as many enemies as he can at once, utilizing Great Cleave, Cleaving Finish, and Down in One to do so. Against meals that refuse to go down easily, he will utilize his Savage Slam feat line to pulverize his target (or hurl them into Hungry Pits) while Dramatic Slam allows him to continue terrorizing the rest of their allies.

Morale: Galroscul's morale is a fickle thing. His loss of power leaves him vulnerable to death, something he fears immensely while his cult is fractured and weak, but he gets lost in the thrill of combat and the taste of blood to the point he often does not realize how hurt he has become until he reaches a specific hitpoint threshold which forces him to go Hog Wild. Once Hog Wild, his frenzied state sees him acting like a desperate predator alternating wildly between fight and flight depending on how often his attacks connect with their intended targets and how many of his enemies are still standing. Because Hog Wild prevents him from teleporting away, he will fight to the death if he cannot instantly spot an escape route.

------ Special Abilities ------

Dispelling Gore (Su/Sp): The runes carved across Galroscul's tusks grants his bite and gore incredible power while having a ruinous effect on all other magic. Each time he strikes a creature with his gore attack, that creature is affected by a targeted Dispel Magic. If he confirms a critical hit with his gore, the creature is affected by a targeted Greater Dispel Magic instead.

Down In One (Ex): Galroscul's jaws can briefly unhinge to quickly snap down morsels before they can even react. Once per round when reducing a creature of any size to 0 HP with his bite attack OR when confirming a critical hit against a Small or smaller creature or object with his bite attack, he may immediately swallow that creature whole without needing to make any grapple checks.

Gruesome Gullet (Ex): While his crushing and gnawing innards are usually enough to kill most foes, Galroscul has numerous stomachs he can move meals into, each capable of digesting a wide variety of material. Creatures swallowed by Galroscul take an additional 5d8 points of Acid, Cold, Fire, or Electricity each round, chosen by him; he can divide the damage types as he desires between each swallowed creature by shunting each of them into different stomachs as a free action once per round. His multitude of stomachs allow him to continue swallowing victims even after some have previously cut their way out, and their reinforced tissues benefit from his full natural AC bonus, rather than half.

Hog Wild (Ex): Galroscul has been defeated once before, and refuses to ever lose again for fear of going through the same tortures. If he begins his turn below 150 HP, as a free action he enters a frenzied state in which he cannot use any of his spell-like abilities, but he gains the Dual Initiative extraordinary ability, with his second turn immediately added to the current initiative order. When he goes Hog Wild, all creatures within 300ft must immediately save against his Frightful Presence with a -4 penalty to the saving throw, even if they had succeeded the save previously that day. While going Hog Wild, Galroscul is immune to the staggered, fatigued, and exhausted conditions, and cannot be put to sleep through any means. He remains Hog Wild for 1 minute or until the current combat ends, whichever comes first, and cannot go Hog Wild again until 24 hours pass.

Merciless Assault (Ex): Once per round, if a creature within Galroscul's reach is knocked prone or becomes shaken, frightened, or panicked, he may make an attack of opportunity against that creature. In addition, when damaging a creature with his Savage Slam feat, the damage dealt is instead equal to the natural attack he established the initial grapple with.

Nascent Demon Lord Traits: Galroscul has lost enough of his power to have been reduced to a Nascent Lord instead of a full one, and as such he has the following traits:

Immunity to charm and compulsion effects, death effects, Electricity, and poison.

Resistance to Acid 30, Cold 30, and Fire 30.

Summon (Sp): Once per day, Galroscul can summon any demon or combination of demons whose total combined CR is 20 or lower. This ability always works, and is equivalent to a 9th-level spell.

Telepathy 300 feet.

Galroscul's natural weapons, as well as any weapon he wields, are treated as Chaotic, Epic, and Evil for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.

Galroscul can grant spells to his worshipers, which requires no actions on his part. He grants access to the domains of Animal, Chaos, Destruction, and Evil, with the subdomains Fur, Demon, Rage, and Cannibalism. His favored 'weapon' is bite attacks.

[deadfrog-and-friends]

Rag Doll washes the tea things when the party is over because otherwise they won't get cleaned. the old Scullery Doll was much better and quicker at it but there were so many tea parties that she broke. one day when they stuck the key in her back it just wouldn't turn anymore and no one knew how to fix it. she just waits in her chair by the fireplace, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. we give her tea every day so she doesn't feel left out but it just grows cold in her lap.

we all have our duties. Rag doll's duty was to tuck everyone into bed at night. that's what she was made for. she was made so a young witch, frightened of the dark, would not be alone. she was made to say "are you comfortable? close your eyes. this one will tell you a story," and such things. the young witch is grown and gone away, and none of the dolls here seem to need that, so Rag stands at the sink with a teacup in one hand and a soapy sponge in another, late into the night. the soapy damp smell has become a part of her. she never feels fully dry. there is only so long she can stand being tumbled in the machine. so every night, instead of crawling into bed with the other dolls, she hangs herself from the clothesline with the fan blowing on her. someday Scullery will be fixed, and this duty will be lifted from her, and the smell will fade, but for now she hardly feels fit to present herself at the tea table.

Mabel helps by bringing all of the tea things to the kitchen, which is wonderful of it, because Rag can't handle the tray and would have to make individual trips for each piece. Mabel Doll has suggested that Rag wear some kind of rubber gloves, there are some that the witch used to use for magical purposes of some kind, but Rag has no fingers. the gloves are too big and the fingers get in the way. Baker Doll who happens to be passing by looks at Rag's cloth stumps and chuckling starts to suggest condoms before Mabel cuts it off. but Rag Doll has tried washing teacups with condoms. they're weirdly greasy. "this one is fine," Rag insists.

"that one is starting to get moldy," Mabel points out.

"a witch will come," says Rag, "and Scullery will be fixed."

~🧽~

years pass. the witch who finally comes can not fix Scullery. "Ro just left you guys here to your own devices," she observes, shaking her head. "Pity."

"miss Ro has many responsibilities," ventures Mable.

"not *that* many," says the new witch. "Scullery here, for example, a beautifully well-made piece of machinery. the silicone coating is lifelike, flexible, and durable. i've never seen its like. it apologizes, by the way, for neglecting the dishes all these years. what a waste, letting it rot out here."

"it needn't worry," ventures Mable. "Rags has taken over its duties."

at this, a giant gear within Scullery cranks into action, clicking over once. some of us jump, some scream, as this is the first we've seen it move in years and our memories are not very long. Scullery's hand jerks, toppling the cup of tea placed in its lap. luckily, its heat resistant silicone will seal out the hot liquid, preventing it from any harm. its skirt will have to be laundered. (we will probably just spot clean it.)

Scullery falls back into permanent stillness. "it's very upset," the new witch remarks. "it said 'that rag doll is least suitable to perform this one's duties."

"well, it's doing its best," says Mabel. "but we hope miss Ro will come back and give it some new body. that one is starting to be like a sponge that is ready to be thrown out."

"we did suggest gloves," says Sweetie. "this one thinks it just enjoys the feeling of decay. not every doll is capable of it, you know. this one will never decay. in a thousand years its parts will still be littering the planet." Sweetie's eyes get a faraway look.

"did it not occur to any of you," the witch says, the misery of the situation beginning to soak in, "that maybe one of the dolls who's not made out of absorbent, um, cloth, would be a better choice for washing the dishes?"

blank stares. finally "these ones' witch is gone."

"but Rag Doll offered to do it. Rag Doll said it was fine."

"we have our duties. this one sweeps the floor and dusts, for example."

"this one is also made of cloth! this one thinks that one is insane for taking on such a task."

"Rag got mad when this one tried to help. Rag screamed at this one."

"no." none of us had given it that much thought.

so the new witch goes into the kitchen to see Rag Doll. "oh, you poor thing," comes out of her mouth before she can stop herself. Rag, startled, falls off the back of the chair it's standing on. it had slunk back into the kitchen, defeated, the moment it had heard the new witch say she could do nothing for Scullery.

the new witch skips over and turns off the faucet. "what is it you were actually made for, little one?" she holds out her hand to help Rag Doll to its feet.

it struggles to remember. "this one... was made to tell bedtime stories and snuggle in bed." the years have not been kind to it. at least it's freshly laundered, having gone through the washing machine and tumbled in the dryer just a few nights ago.

"my name is Zo. may I pick you up?"

not believing what it's hearing, the doll nods, and suddenly it's being lifted into the air! levitated by a magical supportive pair of arms, and pressed into the chest of a Witch. it would take that one's breath away, if that one could breathe. it was like a purpose, long forgotten, was starting to reawaken. "a good weight, a good squish," the witch was muttering. "plenty of latent magic, plenty of spells to decrease the smell of dishes over time. little one, i might just steal you!"

"wha-?"

but before it could object, miss Zo, with Rag Doll in her arms, was hopping on Elizabeta's broom and zooming out through an open window. when Baker stopped in a moment later, all it observed was a sink full of half-washed teacups and the curtains swaying in the wind.

those half-washed teacups stayed in the sink like that for a few more days, and then Baker and Mabel agreed to share the job.

[iamthecomet]

what if what if slice of life aether in the infirmary. what does he get up to all day? what are his little quirks? what does he do when there arent any sick siblings to help? does he have to shoo away (nicely) the ones that come in pretending to be sick just to spend time with him? does he actually like when they do that???

thoughts comet, pls give them ♡♡

Oh ABSOLUTELY I can share some thoughts! Not quite a ficlet, not quite headcanons, about Aether and his infirmary "job" under the cut.

Aether likes the infirmary best in the middle of the night. When he first got summoned he ended up on night shifts--better for training according to Omega. A good way to be eased in.

Aether knows it can get chaotic any time of day. And that he's lucky that this infirmary is relatively low key. They're not juggling trauma after trauma. Instead it's a lot of flu outbreaks and broken bones and stitches. The occasional childbirth. The rare devestating injury. But for the most part, it's quiet. Especially at night. Aether feels at ease on a night shift. Espeically now that so much of his pack is off on tour and he's back here--he doesn't have to think about his empty bed if he's here. The part of him that hasn't gotten used to it yet can just pretend everyone else is still here--asleep. It's sad he knows, but he's doing what he can. He makes his rounds. Smiling warmly at the siblings who also work nights. He's the only quint ghoul on duty. It makes the infirmary feel like his. It's not something he ever though he'd want--but now...now it's good. Feels right. He goes from room to room, peeking his head in. Checking vitals of sleeping patients, smiling easily at the ones who are still awake. Slipping into their rooms and talking to them. Doctor questions and regular questions. Where they grew up. What brought them to the Abbey. What they do and who they are, all while he digs into himself to lessen their pain, or their fear, or their insomnia. Allowing them sleep. When everything is quiet, and there is no drama, no chaos, no blood. Aether sits at the nurses station and reads a book. Scrolls on his phone. Texts his packmates. Shooting Dew and Mountain messages asking about their show tonight, what the crowd was like, where they went to eat after. Are they sleeping on the bus? In an hotel? Mountain responds with words, answers to his questions. Dew just sends him pictures. One of the crowd just before he walked on stage. Another of his burger and beer after the show. And then him in his bunk, dimly lit, sticking his tongue out at Aether from hundreds of miles away. The time differences make it easier, the further they get from him the more he talks. Aurora sends him pictures of every strange attraction she begs to stop and see. Swiss complains about Dew. Rain complains about Swiss. Dew complains about Aeon. Cirrus swears she's going to strangle Mountain. It makes him feel like he's with them. It makes him miss them less. Sometimes Sunshine comes and sits with him. Either at the beginning of his shift--or the end. Sitting down in the chair next to him and resting her head on his shoulder and taking in the quiet sounds of the infirmary. Machines whiring. Soft snores and sleepy breathing. A muted cry of a very new baby from down the hall. Aether is grateful for her. For the company, and because without fail, whenever Sunny shows up, so does someone else.

A bleeding sibling. A sick cardinal. Sister Imperator herself with a headache so bad it could wake lucifer himself. And sometimes, a sibling who just wants to sit with Aether. To know him. Who claims a belly ache, or a sore throat, just to feel the touch of his quintessence. He's not sure why. Doesn't think his magic does anything special to humans, but Aether isn't stupid. He knows a fake illness when he sees one. And if he was Dew he'd tell them to shove off. He'd scold them. But he isn't Dew and he doesn't. Aether likes people--humanity especially. So even though he can smell the lie on them, he helps. Always.

[dragonsoftheeast]

no time for fear or blame (inside, we are the same)

Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Title: no time for fear or blame (inside, we are the same)

Ship: Aemond x Helaena

WC: 5,621

Rating: Teen

Summary: The Targaryens may have escaped the Doom, but the consequences of Valyria's sins aren't done with them. Monsters come from the waters now, to attack Westeros, all bearing purple eyes. But the Targaryens are willing to do anything to defend their new homeland. With the last dregs of their sorcery, they create great machines to even the odds of the fight. The Dragons.

Or: the Pacific Rim AU

Art by: @emilykaldwen

read on Ao3

Valyria paid for its transgressions with the Doom. The destruction of the entire peninsula, the elimination of its people and the magics they held so dear. A cataclysm never seen before or since. By fire and blood, they had lived and ruled, by fire and blood they died.

And even then, they were not punished enough. 

For a family of dragonlords managed to survive, saved by the power of prophecy. They fled across the sea to the island of Dragonstone, off the coast of the continent of Westeros, and lived in peace for a time.

But they could not escape the Doom. Not entirely.

The monsters that crossed the Narrow Sea were myriad in form. Some swam, their tails thrashing the water to foam. Others walked the sea floor, each step an earthquake. Still others flew from the ruins of Valyria, smoke still trailing from their wings. They had any number of horns or teeth or claws, all sharp, all deadly. They had four legs or a dozen, four dozen eyes or none.

But they were all pale, near glowing. They all attacked indiscriminately, hatefully, without reason or purpose.

And always, always, they peered at the world with glowing purple eyes.

The first of these monsters rampaged the lands of the Blackwater for ten days. Only the sacrifice of five thousand men, firing ballista at it day and night, shooting out its eyes, managed to bring it down.

The second rose up in Gulltown three moons later and smashed its towers down, turning the thriving harbor town to rubble. It took another five thousand sailors with it, as they dragged it down with nets and stabbed it with spears.

The third, when it emerged in Crackclaw Point, lasted for ten breaths.

For the Targaryens would not run from their new home again. Not when they faced an enemy they could fight.

Troubled by the news of the destruction wrought by these creatures, the children of Aerion Targaryen pooled all of their resources, all of the magic left to them by their Valyrian ancestors, all of their own blood and will, and created a monster of their own.

This time, the monster faced the three-headed dragon.

A machine, standing as tall as palace walls, made of shining Valyrian steel and glowing purple eyes of its own. Wielding a great glowing sword as long as a bell tower was tall, in a heartbeat, it cut the monster's snarling tongue out at the root. Another beat, and its claws were cut away. Another, and its head splashed into the waters.

When the three pilots emerged from their machine, monster carcass at their feet, the smallfolk crowned them on the spot.

Because there was the key, to take on the burden of their massive machine: three pilots, perfectly synchronized, of one mind and one purpose.

Aegon and Rhaenys and Visenya, joined in the Drift, united in blood and memory.

It went beyond efficiency, to see them fight together in that machine, Hartos Bartossi. It was art. A dance.

People began to forget the danger the monsters had been. Year after year, they came, and each time the Targaryens struck them down. The smallfolk began to gather on the shoreline when they heard of one approaching. Nobles brought out their ships and came as close to the battle as they dared. When the bells rang, no one fled, and fanciful nicknames for the creatures were bandied about to keep track of them all.

Until Dorne.

The smallfolk called this one the Scorpion, for its long, barbed tail, though that did not last long in the battle. No one knew what exactly had gone wrong- it could have been as mundane as a missed step in the water, or perhaps exhaustion- but the next thing anyone knew, a claw had grasped the machine's left side, where Queen Rhaenys stood, and tore it away.

The Targaryens fought for two more days to avenge their fallen sister. It was the longest battle they ever undertook, but under the burden of their grief and the loss of a third of their fighting force, they struggled. But their rage won out. The Three-Headed Dragon collapsed on the shores of Ghost Hill, its two remaining pilots in tatters, but alive.

Aegon and Visenya never drifted together again.

In their stead they built new machines.

Blackfyre, they built, hoping to create a new trio from Aegon and his two sons, then Dark Sister, with Visenya in the king’s place, but none of their attempts worked. They were not drift compatible. So, they tore those apart and built a pair, smaller, and Aegon and Visenya now piloted with their heirs: Aegon with Aenys in Balerion, Visenya with Maegor in Vhagar.

Perhaps the role of king would have divided them, in a different world. Questions of inheritance and the divine right of rule would be foremost in their minds. However, in the face of an existential threat, one can either choose to join or die. Maegor Targaryen made his choice.

For still the monsters came. 

New Targaryens were born and took their places in their Dragons, if they turned out to be drift compatible. Three generations, and the most they could manage was a team of two. Perfectly matched, compatible, powerful, but not the three-headed dragon. 

And now they came to try again.

Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Children of Alicent Hightower.

Testing drift compatibility was more art than science, Father would remind them. But it was imperative to be honest about it. To lie and attempt to appease their parents, to say they had felt compatibility when there was none, was to risk their very lives. Trying to force a drift could kill them, as it had done Aerea.

A Targaryen did not fear death, but they did fear a waste.

Yet still, they died. Aemon and Alyssa, off the coast of Tarth. Alysanne and Gael, a mere mile from Dragonstone. Viserra, in White Harbor, sending her co-pilot Saera running off into the unknown. Baelon and the Old King Jaehaerys, after thirty years defending the Crownlands together.

Now was the time to regroup. Now was the time for the three-headed dragon to bring hope. Perhaps, even to take the fight to the monsters themselves, and cut them off at the source, wherever that was. The long-held dream.

Their armor shone, untested, carved with a thousand glyphs, each plate joined seamlessly and almost molded to their bodies, shining dragonglass dotting their limbs and their backs, where arcane energy would flow. Each winged helm was fitted with a Valyrian steel crown studded with rubies, drakarys written on their foreheads in blood.

Hartos Bartossi was kept gleaming, in pride of place in the Dragonpit and always ready to take up the fight again, though the interior had been kept as it was. The leather was worn; once dyed blood red, there were pink notches where each of the Defenders had locked themselves in. The style of its cockpit was old, threadbare: since this first machine, made in a great rush at great need, the Targaryens had made it much more comfortable to pilot.

Still, it was with awe that the three of them took their places. Aegon in the seat of his namesake. Helaena on his left, where Rhaenys once stood and was torn away. And Aemond on his right, where Visenya had fought a score of battles.

“Are you sure?” Rhaenys said. She readjusted the straps, a furrow in her brow, and drew a dagger of dragonglass. “This could destroy you all. None, not even Aegon and Visenya, have succeeded here. I will stop this, if I see that you are not well matched. I will cut you out of your seats myself.”

She had once attempted this herself, with their father Viserys and uncle Daemon. She’d emerged partnered with Viserys, piloting Balerion until he had fallen ill ten years before. She’d supervised their sister Rhaenyra’s attempt with Laena and Laenor. Currently, she had not partnered with a new co-pilot, but among their family it was rumored she could Drift with anyone.

“Why shouldn’t it be done?” Aegon said, because this was a purpose, and if it wasn’t his, then why bother?

“It must be done,” Aemond said, ever so serious, ever so eager for battle.

“It will be done,” Helaena said, with that strange serene surety of hers.

Rhaenys stepped back away from them onto the platform. No sign of doubt crossed her regal brow, even when the curtain of glass fell between them, smudging her face in their view.

“Mērys iōrilēt bē ēdruro bēvumbātās,” she said, the incantation warped by the enchanted material.

*Drift in a dream of unity.

And then her face was gone, the world awash in red and heat and pressure. The light of magic scalded their vision.

Here is what it meant to Drift- aptly named, for in it, one’s mind drifted between those two consciousnesses as if there were no border between them-

It meant that sensation was heightened. That they saw the world not from their own eyes, but from giants’, further and sharper than eagles’. It meant that memory was shared. The childhood seen through another’s eyes, watching oneself grow through someone else’s eyes. Anger, pain, joy, felt twice over. It meant a singularity of purpose, a profound need to act, made all the more potent by a partner to do it with, here in this storm of a machine.

Here is what it meant to be out of alignment-

Pain.

Even as Aemond and Helaena wondered in their newfound power, their brother burned, the light of magic not revealing but blinding. Not a power but a burden, and one too heavy to bear.

The furnace that made up the Dragon’s heart blazed. With a song of fire and steel and blood magic, the twin swords rose, but the shield remained limp, and the Hartos Bartossi took a lopsided step.

“Kelīs, kelīs!” Rhaenys roared over Aegon’s screams. “Kirātās! Hāros iōrātās!”

*Stop, stop! Wake and be three!

The three of them went limp in their straps, Rhaenys charged forward, leaping off the platform into the Dragon’s head, past the glass curtain, past Helaena and Aemond, still coming down from the euphoria of their new bond. To Aegon, and the smoke curling up from his armor, and his tears of blood.

“No.”

Hartos Bartossi would remain unpiloted. But the day was not a waste: a new Jaeger team was born.

-----

Aemond and Helaena, without sharing a look, gave identical sighs. Even now, without stepping foot in another Dragon, they were feeling the effects of the Drift.

Of course they had known they would be refused: not through any power of foresight, but simply through familiarity with their sire. Yet they had still sought an audience with the king their father, as was the custom.

This was meant to be an exultant moment. The knighting of the two pilots, and the bestowing of a great Dragon, that machine that Targaryens had made their duty. Never had a king denied a pairs’ choice, but the court could not fault Viserys his caution.

Aemond and Helaena had chosen as their mount, weapon, and vessel no less than Vhagar, who had carried Visenya to victory in a hundred battles. It had sat untouched since their cousin Laena had died, for Rhaenys could not bear to be inside it, but neither could she let it rust to ruin. But ever since Aerea had died, and Viserys himself fallen ill after her, there were whispers that these old Dragons were cursed, the magic twisted. Better to scrap them and rebuild them anew.

“Your Majesty,” Aemond said, “The monsters are growing stronger, the period between their arrivals smaller. We must meet them in Dragons strong enough to match them!”

King Viserys remained unswayed. His fingers drummed against the arms of the Iron Throne, wrought from the charred-black bones of the first monster Aegon had slain.

“Targaryen pilots are too dear a resource to waste on vanity,” he said. “Vhagar is a mighty machine, to be sure, but it is old, and seen too many riders, too much death. Ask for any other, and I will grant it to you.”

“Your Majesty,” Aemond started, and explained himself once more, but Helaena had sunk into a dream.

She had had this dream before, she knew it well. She dreamed of a dark sky above a roiling ocean, great rains falling so thick it felt like drowning, and tower rising over it all. Lightning flashed, and a white stag emerged from the waters, fanged. She pulled an arrow back to her ear and let it fly. The stag fell, and she felt blood on her cheeks.

“Father,” Helaena said, and though she had not raised her voice, the court fell silent. “Give us the night to decide. Our weapons are our lives, not something to be chosen lightly.”

“Yes, of course.” The King’s fingers drummed again, the rings clacking against bone. “The pair of you have had your heart set on Vhagar for so long, I cannot imagine you had an alternative.”

She bowed low, and after a beat, Aemond followed.

Their mother kept a watchful eye on the court as they left, whispering among themselves. She was always so concerned with what the court thought of them. At least one of the family should.

“Helaena,” Aemond said, confused, as they entered the royal chambers. “What did you mean? You agreed-”

“Vhagar, hm?” Their uncle Daemon whistled, clapping him on the shoulder. “You had to have known he would deny you, but I am impressed by your gall.”

“We have much to discuss,” Aemond admitted. “But we will join you in battle soon enough.”

“Golden Shepherd and Sea Ghost remain unpiloted,” he listed on his fingers. “And the dragonsmiths have yet enough scrap from Balerion to fashion two more Dragons, if you can wait for them.”

“Warrior’s Day approaches.” He pointed out. “We would not leave you to defend Dragonstone alone.”

For some strange reason, the monsters always attacked the island on that day.

“We’ve done well enough these past two years.” Daemon shrugged. “I would not like to rush you into making a decision. A Dragon is more than a weapon, it is the extension of your being. The housing for your soul and the place where you have the best and truest understanding.”

“I never took you for a poet, uncle.”

“I cannot take the credit.” He half-smiled. “It’s something my father once told us.”

“Come,” their father called to them. “Your mother has prepared a feast for you.”

“I’m afraid I must retire for the night, Father,” Helaena said, smiling brightly. “I will feast again when we take our first steps in a Dragon.”

The king chuckled.

“How dutiful my daughters are,” he mused. “Brother, you will join me?”

“Of course.” The Rogue Prince unfolded himself to join the celebrations, giving the pair of them a meaningful look.

Helaena waited until the brothers had left them, before she grabbed her brother by the arm.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Storm’s End.”

With those two words the bond fell back in place. Hooded and cloaked, they rode to the Dragonpit.

“Mīsvossi jomīsagon īlōn baelātās.” He said, helping Helaena from the saddle.

*Put us in armor.

“Dārilaros Aemos, rhakitioty daor-”

*Prince Aemond, we don’t understand-

“Rhakitegon ajorrāelāt daor. Mīsvos.”

*You don’t need to. Armor.

Unable to disobey their prince, the Dragonsmiths hurried to prepare them.

First their breastplates, the dragonglass thrumming with energy, lined against their spines. The pauldrons and the greaves, joined seamlessly, nearly weaving themselves together, fitting snugly against the joints. The gauntlets and the sabatons, flexing, the dragonglass embedded there a conduit for the Dragon. The blood, cut from a smith’s hand, blessing them with dragonfire. Finally, the helms, enclosing them in the suit and filling them with the strength to pilot a giant.

The Dragons stood at the end of the platforms below the great dome of the Dragonpit, as spokes on a wheel. At the head in pride of place was Hartos Bartossi, settled back into a neutral pose since their last test. To its left was their prize.

Vhagar.

Far from Hartos Bartossi’s shining whorls of Valyrian steel, or Great Syrax’s elaborate red and gold paint, Vhagar was grey green and a hulk, its head nearly buried in its massive shoulders.

They were lowered inside, and the Dragonsmiths began to strap them in, as they had once done for Rhaenys and Laena. More than any of the Dragons, they knew Vhagar. Aemond on the right, and Helaena on the left, as they had been inside Hartos Bartossi.

“Itetas,” they said, stepping back onto the platform, watching nervously.

*Done.

“Ready,” Aemond said, for he knew they were strong.

“Ready,” Helaena said, for she knew they would succeed.

“Mērys iōrilēt bē ēdruro bēvumbātās,” they said together, and plunged into the Drift.

*Drift in a dream of unity.

The Drift was a wash of blood over them, not just red but heat, but vitality, the rush to protect. The memory was there, the connection. The understanding, not just of the co-pilot, but of Vhagar, this ancient machine. They had studied it, the weapons, the speed, the limits, but this went beyond anything a manual could provide. Everywhere the dragonglass had been embedded into the army, magic flowed urging them forward.

Their Drift in Hartos Bartossi was dull in comparison, the bare beginnings of connection, only with each other. Now, with Vhagar, they were one with the machine, one with the power that flowed through it, capable of anything.

She saw, he saw, they saw. She dreamed, he dreamed, they dreamed.

And they knew where to go.

As the court of King Viserys feasted to celebrate what they thought was a potential new protector of the east, King’s Landing saw Vhagar walk again, down Rhaenys’ Hill and into the Blackwater, disappearing past the Rush.

It was dawn, when they arrived at Storm’s End, but one could hardly tell by the look of it. It was dark, and the rain came down in sheets, a frantic drumbeat against the Dragon. Faint lights marked a few windowsills in the tower on the cliffs above them, but the true light was Vhagar’s furnace, blazing from its chest and leaking through its massive shoulders. At the sight of it, the candles were snuffed out. They knew what Vhagar’s presence meant.

The monster had not yet appeared.

“It will arrive before the storm fades,” Helaena insisted.

“Then we wait,” Aemond said, at last understanding the surety that the dreams instilled in his sister. It went beyond seeing the future- the dreams, they were being in the future. They were strange and disjointed, as dreams tended to be, but they were truth.

They crouched in the water on the northern side of the cliffs, allowing the dark waves to at least partially dim the light enough for stealth. The monsters were greedy- it would attack the tower first, to try and wreak the most destruction.

Still it rained, and when lightning struck the thunder roared loud enough to rattle them in their armor.

The glow of purple eyes pierced through the dark. The lightning flashed again, and the glint of antlers like axes shone with sharpness. Spindly legs held its lithe body up above the water, the knees bending every which way. When it snarled, poison dripped from sharp teeth.

They watched it with an odd curiosity. They had seen a monster before, of course- Rhaenyra and Laenor had fought one in the Blackwater once in their childhood, piloting Sea Ghost- but from the ground, they were forces of nature, massive beyond any natural being. From here, from the eyes of giants, they were equals.

No, not equals. Prey.

The stag monster charged the tower, its slender legs sloshing through the water, bellowing far too low for a creature that looked so delicate.

Before a single tine touched Storm’s End, Vhagar met the beast, the Dragon’s massive body crushing into the creature’s. It screamed, tines snapping and scraping against them, sending flying shards of bone splashing into the water.

Aemond lifted their arm, and the plate unfolded like wings, metal screeching as the claws raked across them. The monster threw its head again, trying to ram them.

Like Ser Criston with his morningstar, Helaena thought, but that was not her, facing her mother’s sworn shield and his whirling weapon, it was Aemond, it was Aemond who lunged once, twisting past and pressing leverage-

“Dark Sister!” Aemond shouted, and together, they held out their right hand, grasping.

Vhagar’s arm flattened and sharpened, the whole of its forearm becoming a sword. The creature, braced against their shield, flailed as they stabbed it, once, twice, spraying bright blue blood into Shipbreaker Bay.

It screamed again, a soundless thing that drove a spike into the bone, and thrashed. Cliffs crumbled as they stumbled, machine and beast breaking apart. They could not lower their left arm. A broken tine had lodged there and kept the plates from closing again. They ducked, missing a kick by a hair.

“Drakarys!” Helaena snarled, raising a fist.

Vhagar did the same, and white fire appeared there, burning, blinding.

They let the spear of flame fly.

It struck through the creature’s body, pinning it to the cliff wall, a cleansing fire to remove the blight of their ancestors. They raised Dark Sister and struck again, and the stag’s head went flying.

The storm broke, sunlight shone on Shipbreaker Bay, and Vhagar stood victorious.

On Warrior’s Day, the light that first hit the shores of Dragonstone was not the dawn’s, but the blazing glow of three Dragons’ furnaces.

It was the closest thing they had to sharing the same skin.

------

For the Dragons had come to Dragonstone, as they always did, to patrol the island.

It was only on this day that the monsters came in a group. Normally, they arrived one by one, striking no place in particular. Thus, the Dragons patrolled the coast, making sure that wherever a monster emerged, there was someone there to kill it.

But ever since the days of the Defenders, the monsters flocked to Dragonstone on Warrior’s Day, smashing themselves against the island with reckless abandon from sunup ‘til sundown. Despite the distance they must have travelled, they never emerged until they reached the Gullet. So it made sense that the Dragons should make it there first.

Great Syrax led them, a smattering of scratches marring the red and gold paint. They had recently been in battle and had not yet painted her over. Sinuous and aerodynamic, it cut through the waves, while Vhagar lumbered behind, flanking it. Golden Shepherd made up the rear of the formation, the most protected of the trio, and the most human in shape among the Dragons.

It had taken three years for Aegon to find a true partner, in the form of his nephew Jacaerys, all of six-and-ten years of age. Even then, his mother Princess Rhaenyra had forbidden them from facing a monster in their resplendent Golden Shepherd, reserving them to patrols of the Blackwater.

Meanwhile, his siblings had taken to their ancestral fight with vigor, bringing all of Aemond's unrelenting ferocity and Helaena's unflappable focus to bear in Vhagar, a monster all her own. Since they had joined the fight, the sole burden of Westeros’s protection had been taken off of Daemon and Rhaenyra’s shoulders, but once again, the monsters had bolstered their strength to match theirs. They could not turn down an ally, as much as Rhaenyra wanted to protect her son.

They made three turns around the island, eyes sweeping the horizon, before the first monster made its appearance.

It was never certain how concerted these attacks were, but this certainly made the case for their mindlessness: the first to arrive was roughly wyrm-shaped, fins shaped for cutting through the water. Twisting through the water, it was barely visible despite its massive size, until it had burst through the surface, snaked around Golden Shepherd’s leg.

“Jace!” Rhaenyra screamed, echoing around the head of all three Dragons.

Vhagar pivoted, a huge hand plunging into the water.

The wyrm snarled, spraying flame up at Golden Shepherd’s peaked helmet. But they had found its tail, and tugged, stretching it all the way out of the water. In response, the wyrm coiled tighter, anchoring onto the peak of its greaves, still spraying flames. The Dragon, with its slender legs, was knocked off balance.

To fall into the water was death to a Dragon. Great Syrax lunged forward, dipping a shoulder to catch the other Dragon.

“Cut it!” Daemon ordered, even as the flames turned on them.

Golden Shepherd managed to right itself, its longsword, Vējes, emerging from its right forearm.

“Another on the horizon,” Helaena reported. “From the northeast.”

They could hear Aegon and Jace’s grunts of effort as if they were all in the same room. They hacked away at the wyrm’s neck as it flailed uselessly, trapped between the two Dragons, and Great Syrax moved to stand between them, drawing its slender sword. A warhammer unfolded from Vhagar’s thigh, and Aemond pulled it free, planting their Dragon in the ocean as if a pillar.

The last piece of sinew holding the wyrm together came free, and they rushed to free their leg from its remains. Bright blue blood sprayed over them, steaming over the gold.

Just in time, too: the newest monster had broken through, a silver-golden mane blinding in the morning sun. Aegon responded by flashing their own gauntlets at it, sending it back, squinting.

It recovered quickly, though. Its lithe body charged, diverting from the path of its compatriot, it made for land, for the lava fields.

“Another,” Helaena reported. “From the south, now.”

In the Drift, Aemond knew her dream. In her hand, she held three rubies. Five drops of blue blood fell on her cheeks like tears, burning, corrosive. When she cried out in pain, she dropped them, and one shattered.

They were all prepared to make the sacrifice. It wasn’t a question of who would fall, it was a question of whether they could protect Dragonstone in the process.

Great Syrax ran to put themselves between the monster and the island, but heedless, it leapt over them.

All six watched, astonished, as its powerful legs sailed over the Dragon, itself taller than Maegor’s Holdfast.

Powerful paws slammed into the lava field, and the ground crumbled beneath it. The monster roared as it sank into the tunnels below, and when it ran, it sent molten rock flying.

Great Syrax gave chase, dragonglass crunching under its feet.

“Join them,” Aemond told Golden Shepherd. “Keep them from the castle. We’ll take the other.”

Vhagar slunk into the deeper waters, preparing for the new arrival.

This monster was glistening white, a horse’s head poking through the water, chest frothed with sea foam.

As it passed, they swung, landing a solid blow on its jaw.

Helaena let out a rare gasp as lightning sprung from its mane, crackling. Shocked back, she shook out her hand, blinking back the spots in her eyes.

Distance. They had to keep their distance.

“Drakarys,” Aemond growled, and the fiery spear took shape in their hands. They stabbed once, twice, testing, but the creature proved too agile, dancing out of the way. Flashes of a scaled tail broke the surface.

“Perzys ānogār,” Helaena called, and from Vhagar’s shoulders a turret opened. Firebolts flew and swarmed the creature, like a flock of birds. The creature shrieked and dove to avoid them, though they could still make out its ghostly white body.

“Ours is forcing us to give chase,” Daemon said to them. “We’re running south. Golden Shepherd herding another towards you. Keep to the castle.”

“Understood,” they said, peering into the water.

Now!

They stabbed, and a plume of steam rose in the air as the spear plunged into the sea, but the water had distorted their sight. The stab clipped the tail, and the monster continued to drive forward, trailing blood.

Blinded by steam, they charged through it, conjuring another spear.

“We need a net,” Helaena grumbled. The sun was setting, and they did not want to fight this creature in the dark.

“We see you!” Aegon called. An answering roar followed.

“This one releases lightning, don’t get too close,” Aemond warned him.

There! A glimpse of iridescent scales- they let the spear fly again, and another round of firebolts after it. Crippled, the monster lurched forward, giving them time to recover.

They looked up and saw Golden Shepherd charging towards them. Their own quarry bellowed as they gave chase, but it was clearly tired, its breath coming in pants and its tongue lolling out of its mouth. Its haunches dripped blood from a dozen cuts, but it seemed impervious to the pain.

If it meant to bowl them over, Vhagar would not oblige. They met the charge, catching its head wrestling it, pushing it upwards.

It bellowed again as they forced it onto its hind legs. It tried to slam itself back down again, force them into the ground, but they shoved back up, bracing it against their forearm. Dark Sister formed, and they stabbed, again and again, into the creature’s soft underbelly. It reared back, and they stabbed again, this time up through the bottom of the head, through its face.

“We’ve got it!” Jace called, and they stood, letting the body slide off the blade.

Golden Shepherd had produced a set of chains, and was swinging it above their heads, searching for the creature. They hadn’t been able to use this particular weapon yet.

At the first throw, it fell harmlessly into the water, and they reeled it back in, cursing.

“Where is it?”

“On your left!” Aemond warned. The monster burst from the water, maw gaping-

They threw the net.

The weight of it caught its front legs, and its mane crackled with lightning, glowing across the chain and across the shell of the Dragon. The thunderclap came not long after.

“Kill it, kill it now!” Aegon screamed through teeth forced shut.

“Drakarys!” They screamed again, and the fiery spear plunged into the net, into the writhing beast. It screamed again, a death throe, and then it moved no more.

“Do you see any others?” Aegon asked, breathless.

“No,” Helaena replied. But there were meant to be five. Had Rhaenyra and Daemon seen the last of them? They had not alerted them to it.

Golden Shepherd leaned down and untangled the net, reeling it back into its hip. Vhagar kept watch, until the last of the sun’s light had disappeared into the west.

Warrior’s day was over.

“We’re done, then,” Jace said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Mother, we’re safe and well. Not so bad, hmm?”

“We’re in sore need of feasting,” Aegon said. “So the sooner we can return to the castle, the better.”

They chuckled weakly, but there was no motherly admonishment in response.

“Mother?”

“Let’s head south and find her then,” Aemond said. But the memory of Helaena’s dream throbbed in the Drift. The shattered ruby. The tears like blood.

They found the body of the lion-monster, its throat crushed and cut. Its paws were cut and studded with shards of dragonglass. Another kill, on the western shore, a winged creature with a shattered beak and shredded belly. But no Dragon.

“Great Syrax,” Aemond called, “Where are you?”

No response came.

“Mother!” Jace called. “Please answer us!”

“Daemon!” Aegon demanded.

They made three turns around the island, searching by the light of their furnaces. When the morning came, there was no sign of them. Not a body or a scrap of Valyrian steel, only the pools of glowing blue blood their battles had left around the island. There was another week of increasingly panicked searching, before they were forced to admit that Rhaenyra and Daemon were gone, and they dragged themselves back to their regular patrols, fueled by renewed rage and bitterness.

Targaryens did not fear death, but that did not mean they did not mourn.

A year passed.

In order to make up for the loss of Great Syrax, two more Dragons were needed: Rhaenys came out of retirement to join Baela in Crimson Moon, while Rhaena and Daeron piloted the newest Dragon, Harvest Dawn.

They had lost hope of ever seeing Daemon and Rhaenyra again, or even retrieving the Dragon they rode. All they could do was continue in their duties on continue to protect Westeros.

But on the eve of Warrior’s Day, while the pilots supped on Dragonstone, a great cry went up among the people: Great Syrax had been seen on the horizon.

The Targaryens rushed down to the beach.

The Dragon took stilted steps through the water. Its head was dented, the sword at its side chipped, and the red and gold paint had been stripped from the metal in patches, leaving whorls of Valyrian steel peeking through.

It took far too long for it to reach them, for it to kneel down. When one was up in a Dragon, one never truly appreciated how massive it was, how slow it truly was, how much effort it took to move so much metal.

The pilots staggered onto the beach, Daemon supporting a limping Rhaenyra. Far from conquering heroes, they were disheveled, dried sweat matting their hair, blood dripping from their noses, bruises in various stages of recovery on every inch of their skin. But despite their wear and tear, Rhaenyra smiled, undaunted, victorious.

“Mother,” Jace whispered, tears streaming down his face, “Where have you been?”

“We’ve found it,” she said. “The Origin. We can destroy them at the source.”

[jinlizz-dragondrama]

The Rise of a Demon

"Thank you for this amazing turnout!" The mayor says

"Woohoo!" I shout

"Let's hear it for Monkie Kid! Hero of the city!" Mei exclaims while excitedly destroying furniture in the restaurant

The mayor hands MK the key and explains that it is a key that can open anything. As soon as MK touches it the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I get the slight sense of danger. It doesn't help that the mayor laughs like a maniac and quickly says something some ancient artifacts then poofs out of existence.

"Wow, a key that can open anything," MK says

We immediately go out and try the key on different things. We hit the arcade, helped set free some puppies, bought shoes, partied up at a DJ booth, went swimming in the weather room, raced our vehicles, got all the toys out of the claw machines, ate a bunch of ice cream and so much more.

*Gasps* "Mei! Nuwa! OK hear me out! We knew the key could magically unlock anything. But maybe...it can also magically lock anything too!"

"You described all keys... " Mei says And I nod in agreement

We end up locking Pigsy's restaurant and we laugh watching Pigsy trying to break into his restaurant.

"I've never missed a day of work, since I was 13... *fourth wall break* "No guys this isn't child labor stuff I like sweeping and helping make the noodles. I took my job very seriously back then....and still do...moving on. *End of the fourth wall break*

As we are too distracted laughing, we get pushed over the edge of MK's fire escape porch. I land on top of some boxes with a grunt and pained moan I look up to see what or who did this.

"Noodle Boy finally" Red Son sneers

"Ugh it's you, why are you so obsessed with us? Get a hobby!" I say while angrily shaking my fist at him

"What are you doing in MK's house?" Mei asks

"Your house is depressing, I almost feel bad for stealing stuff from you. But I'm gonna need that magic key....oh and you girl your apartment is trashed too" Red Son says nonchalantly

"You big ole....wait...how did you know I lived above MK? You better not have touched my stuff!"

Red Son uses his powers to nab the key and he zooms into his Bull Tank. Mei whistles for her bike and goes after him on her bike. I get into my quad and follow suit. We end up leaving MK behind...oops. Mei and I catch up with Red Son rather quickly.

"Can't you little Peasants let me plot in peace? Just one time!" Red Son shouts as he explodes into flames

"Easy there hothead don't want you to break anything, I think you need to cool off!" I pull out a fire extinguisher and spray the foamy mixture at him.

He disengages from the main tank and descends into his race car. Catapulting the tank at us we scramble to get out of the way.

"Not cool man!" I growl

"So long 'Dragon Horse Girl' and 'weak little nobody'! Here's a tip! Next time, pick one animal, -and...." Red Son gets cut off by the huge Monkie King staff and gets flung a few feet down the raceway.

MK grabs the key and looks at Red Son.

"What do you want with this key anyway?" He asks

"Why spoil the surprise? Now hand that key over and quit wasting my time" PIF coos

"Not a chance," I say as I pull out two hairpins from my hair that elongate to the length of a small dagger and we jump to attack her.

She knocks us away with her magic fan, knocking us into a wall and MK ends up dropping the key which Red Son quickly grabs.

"Come, Red Son. We have things to do" PIF says

"Thanks for the key losers!" Red Son teases and they both vanish.

"What could they want with that key?" I ask

"Whatever the reason is, we have to keep our guard up" Mei states

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up once more and the feeling of danger comes back again. But this time it's harder to shake off the feeling.

A disembodied voice whispers in my ear "Freedom"

Mk and I pile onto my quad and Mei rides her bike back to Pigsy's.

A few days go by and MK and I are in Monkey King's cave.

"You know when I found I was going to be trained by The Monkey King, Great Sage, equal to heaven. I had no idea...that I'd be stuck here hammering walls 12 hours a day!" MK shouts while throwing the hammer

"Or that I'd be helping!" I shout as I pick up heavy rocks that had fallen onto the ground while MK hammered away.

"That's what happens when you go snoring around in places where you don't belong," Monkey King says while he relaxes on his cloud.

I groan and wipe swear from my brow

*Flashback*

"Monkey King, where are you?" MK? Where are those two?" I sigh as I shout for them.

I shrug my shoulders and go looking for that shrine again. I find it once again, pushing the vines out of the way, I make my way down to it, fresh offerings and incense are lit once more. I kneel before it and sigh.

"Ugh next time Monkey King asks me to come train I'm gonna say no" I fold my arms with a hmph

But I can't get Red Son's voice out of my head "Weak little nobody"

"Am I a weak nobody?" I say quietly while clenching my fists

"Hey, what are you doing down her kid?"

I jump and turn around awkwardly laughing

"Hey Wukong, um you see...I was..uh...you know...exploring....since you guys were nowhere to be found and I stumbled upon this shrine....." I shift from side to side

Wukong lifts a brow at me not convinced by my lie.

"Woah what's this Monkey King? Who's she?" MK asks while pointing at the picture

"No one, let's go it's training time," Wukong says

*End of Flashback*

"Was she your girlfriend?" I ask teasingly

Wukong sputters, blushes, and falls off his cloud.

"No, and it's none of your business!"

"Yeah that's not convincing at all, give us the deets!" MK says

"You're supposed to be training, Now get back to it" He summons the cloud again and hops back on.

"Ugh, how am I supposed to do the hero stuff if I don't know the fighting stuff? Mk whines

"Yeah, and I can't protect anyone by lifting rocks. I'll get more muscles but not get better at fighting" I say while flexing my nonexistent arm muscles

"Ooohoooh. So you want to know the 'fighting stuff, huh?' Like this?" Wukong throws the staff at the wall that MK was hammering at, both of us ducking out of the way and it leaves a giant hole.

We both have star eyes and we shout together "YES!"

"Exactly like that! I am ready for some awesome!" MK says determined

Wukong laughs at us and tells MK he needs practice and then points at me

"And you, you just..." wukong gets cut off by MK's phone ringing

"MK we really need your help!" Mei says on the FaceTime call.

Looking at the monster causes me to have a memory flash, but it causes me to have a slight headache thinking about it. I'm soon dragged out of the cave screeching while MK wildly runs out of it.

Making it to the city we see how big it is. A sweat drop rolls down the side of my face.

"Uh MK I think we should...and there he goes" I sigh

"Yep," Mei says

"Here comes Monkey-" MK shouts

He's thrown back down to the ground creating a crater next to Pigsy and Sandy.

"Yeah we already tried that MK" Mei says embarrassed

"Wait is that?" I squint at the figure that comes zooming towards the creature and easily defeats it.

"Is that Monkie King?" MK asks and rushes off to see if it is him.

Groaning and chasing after him, I get to where I saw him run off and see it isn't Monkie King but an unknown monkey.

"Um, I'm sorry who are you?"

"Macaque. Actually 'The uh...Siz-Eared Macaque' is, you know, my full name. Well.. see you around, MK"

Mk starts to fan girl so hard and I roll my eyes a bit but also had to admit that it was pretty cool what he did. So many questions start to pop into my head.

Why is this guy showing up now? Is he just as powerful as Wukong? Why is he so hot? Um, forget that last bit. But it is odd, the again Monkie King was hiding away til he found a successor so maybe the same kind of thing was happening with this guy. Something seems a bit off about him.

It was decided that against my better judgment would take Macaque as a new mentor. He practiced long and hard with this Six-Eared Macaque until he finally proved what he learned by doing the same move Wukong did to another part of the wall.

"Woah....How'd you learn to do that?" He gasps "Have you been running around with other mentors?" He questions 

While they argue I'm just being nosy and sweeping the air, moping the walls you know how it is. Mk storms off and I see Wukong's expression to one of concern.

I tailed MK to the location of the "demon".

"So many stairs..." *inhales deeply and chugs water* "Oh my God, I'm outta shape. MK imma comin'"

I reach the top just in time for Monkie King to appear, I see Wukong stare down at MK and turn his attention back to Macaque.

"Hey so Monkie King it would have been nice if you had given me a ride up here you jerk, ugh I need to lie down," I say while breathing heavily and falling to the ground.

Macaque and Wukong start an epic battle, while Macaque is distracted I go over to MK and try to pull the staff off of him.

"This is stuck on good I can't get it!" I grunt and try using all my strength to pull it

"Sorry guys nothing personal," Macaque says while summoning the shadow demon

We both scream and I use my body to protect him

"Kid, Nuwa I'm coming" Wukong yells

When the pain from the punch doesn't come, I turn around to see that he came just in time to block a punch from the Shadow Demon.

"Kid we're definitely gonna have words later, but it's time for the hero stuff!" Monkey King grunts

MK and I get the staff off him, I step back and let him swing the staff.

"Patience. Focus. Step into the strike" We all shout

The staff hits the shadow demon which causes an explosion. Wukong rushes to protectively block the rock debris from hurting us. It felt oddly familiar and I smiled to myself. Later on, we are back in the cave, and MK is busy cleaning up a storm. I'm busy meditating and balancing books on my outstretched arms and my leg up in the air.

"This is totally gonna be a do the boring chores and learn awesome Kung fu...right?" MK says

"Ummm, sure," Wukong says hesitantly

After several days of training, we return to the city and it's a lot more blue than usual. All of a sudden some bull clones surround us and their eyes and mouths glow a very bright icy blue color. We start to panic, I start running but I realize my legs are moving but my body is not going anywhere, they start to ounce on us but Pigsy's food truck plows through them.

Out steps the gang in full apocalyptic gear.

"Guys! You look so awesome!" Mk says

"Yeah. So, uh...some stuff happened while you two were away and got kind of intense." Mei says awkwardly

"But I left you with one of my boys!" Mk says

"Oh he's been super useful," Tang says

The clone shrugs his shoulders and poofs out of existence

"Tang!" I shout while rushing over to hug him

"So what happened?" Mk asks

Tang puts a hand out which makes contact with my head, I still try to plow through to hug him but the hand isn't budging. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses close to his face.

"Well after you left, the bull clones attacked. But they were different, more powerful than before. We believe it's all tied back to the Demon Bull King himself. MK....Nuwa...He's conquered everything." Tang finishes solemnly.

I groan and Sandy points to the mountain where they hear a strange noise. We pile into the food truck and head straight for it.

"All right, what's the plan?" Sandy asks

"Uh, I don't know. I was just gonna wing it" MK says unsure

"Sounds great let's go," Sandy says all hyped up

Pigsy revs the engine of the food truck and we all give MK a thumbs-up signaling that we will help him no matter what. Pigsy hits the gas and we start zooming toward to entrance of the town room, Sandy tosses MK, Mei, and me to the giant hole in the ground. We fall a good distance until Mei pulls out her sword and jams it into the wall slowing our descent down to a halt.

"Now what?" MK asks

"Uh guys," I say while looking around us and we spot Bull clones all over the walls like bats seemingly in a resting state. But it didn't last long Mei's phone began to ring and soon woke up the clones.

She scrambles to grab it and accidentally lets go of her sword, MK quickly grabs onto the sword, but I lose my grip and start to fall.

"Nuwa!" They both shout panicked

I close my eyes feeling the wind rush against my face then it stops, I slowly open my eyes and see I'm floating.

"No way!" MK says shocked

"What, what WHAT!?" I shout

"You've got wings," Mei says excitedly with star eyes

"Huh?" I say confused and look at my back and sure enough black leathery wings protrude from my back and are flapping.

"Geez I ruined my favorite hoodie.....but I can fly" I start to zoom around and giggle.

Mei's phone continues to ring as it was an update for Monkey Mech. They both look at each other and grin.

"Here comes Monkie Kid" we all shout while MK jams the staff into the nearby wall and creates the Monkie Kid Mech.

"You hold off the zombie bull clones. I'll get down and finish this" MK tells Mei from inside the Mech.

I'm flying around the outside of it and notice the bull clones are plummeting towards us, I then hear MK being thrown from the Mech and screaming his way down. I start flying after him, catching him and not being able to stop, wrapping my wings around us and crashing into the ground. While above us Mei is holding her own fighting the bull clones like the boss she is.

We crashed and landed in between DBK, Red Son, and PIF.

"Noodle boy and...?" Red Son says surprised

"Littke thieves," DBK says annoyed

Standing up, stretching our backs, and groaning

"Yeah I totally saved us" I shout

"You?!" Red Son shouts as he points at me and his eyes look at my wings

Following his line of sight I blush out of embarrassment

"One crisis at a time Red Son!" I sigh

Red Son still has the surprised Pikachu face and DBK starts charging after us. We dodge out of the way of every throw he makes until PIF uses her fans to move us out of the range of his attacks and directs us to the canisters on DBK's back.

"OK, time for round two" MK exclaims

I stretch my wings out and get into a fighting position.

"No! This time, we fight with you." Red Son says while sprinting off

"You two will have one shot. Make it count" PIF says darting after her son.

Both mother and son attack together, but they are pushed back by DBK's immense newfound power. DBK storms menacingly towards his family. I fly in front of DBK's view of the two and MK throws rocks to distract him. But DBK smashed his hand onto MK and pinned him to the rock wall. Thankfully while I was in DBK's view for a brief few seconds MK made a copy of himself and sent clones of himself to attack at once.

"Here comes Monkey Kid!" MK shouts as I fly to him grabbing him, spinning and tossing him towards DBK for the finishing blows.

The canister is knocked off of him and it explodes sending icy blue energy dispersing everywhere. The DBK family throne room starts to collapse. They make their quick escape and I make one last eye contact with Red Son before he disappears.

"You can't just! Ugh again" MK shouts and dodges rocks that are falling. I grab him and start flying and dodging the rocks. But a huge rock starts its descent toward us and I can't move out of the way in time thankfully Mei comes to the rescue with the Monkie Mech and stops the rock.

"Let's get out of here you Monkie Kids," she says.

After all was said and done, we sat on the Mech's shoulder and ate celebratory noodles.

"You did it guys, you defeated DBK again!" Sandy says

"I don't know if we did, whatever was powering him up it made him...different.

"On another note...where did those wings come from?!" Tang says while pointing at them

I flap them a few times and shrug

"I don't know they just appeared when I was in danger. I kind of don't want to think too hard about it...." I say a bit awkwardly while swirling my noodles around

*sigh* "Who would have thought that adopting these two little orphans would cause our lives to be so adventure-filled" Pigsy says while ruffling my hair

We all share a laugh, finishing our noodles and putting a pin on the "wings" conversation. I decide to go for a walk, I walk past an alleyway and see a little girl reaching for her kitty. I tuck my wings into my hoodie and walk over to her.

"Here let me help you," I say startling her

"Oh thank you," she says gratefully

Handing her the kitty and smiling at her, I see a puff of blue smoke bouncing its way toward us, pushing her out of the way. Before I know it my line of vision blurs, and I feel ice-cold, my head is swimming with unintelligible voices, and pain courses through my body as I become pospassed. I open my eyes to see myself floating in pitch-blackness and a blue skull floating in front of me. Then my consciousness was pushed forward, I could see my surroundings but I couldn't move my body. My mouth moves but I hear an evil laugh that wasn't my own.

"Oh no..."

[the-insomniac-emporium]

SWORDTEMBER '24, DAY 1: UPGRADE

Quick disclaimer: Since I managed to injure my wrist/hand right before the event started, I won't be able to do quite as much as I had originally planned for, at least not for the first week or so. Mainly that means no art (although I do hope to revisit at least a few of these!), but it also means shorter bits of writing. Chances are each day will be a bit longer than the last until I get back into the swing of things. As a note, I am using the prompt list made by @regal-bones (go check out her stuff!!!). ----- Today's entry, UPGRADE, is inspired by an old tumblr post (if I can find it I'll add a link) that talked about item descriptions in a game getting longer/more detailed the more you upgrade the item, gradually revealing story in a fun subtle sort of way. Originally I was going to try to do a longer writing to go with this, but my wrist is already very tired and the full thing was starting to feel too long, so... maybe we'll see this little world revisited at some point (I know there are definitely elements that don't shine through in just the descriptions)

-----

ITEM NAME: Tomb Guardian’s Sword DESCRIPTION: A sword of carved stone, taken from a statue outside the deserted tomb from which you emerged. Weighs more than the guilt that should come alongside it. Worthless for cutting, but the shape is too familiar for you to let go just yet. Cracks begin to form across the blade the more you use it. You can only hope it will last long enough (for what, you don’t yet know).

ITEM NAME: Mechanical Guardian’s Sword DESCRIPTION: A real blade, forged in the same image as your last, plucked from the hands of a robotic amalgamation. Lighter, faster, with an edge perfect for slicing through the wires of your machine enemies. Added coils gather electricity from fallen foes, to be unleashed on your command, or absorbed to replenish your energy. Don’t think too hard on how that works.

ITEM NAME: The Guardian’s Sword DESCRIPTION: The blade that inspired all the others, a legendary artifact belonging to a hero of the last age, once locked away as a key piece of history. Guarded fiercely by haywire robots… until you retrieved it. No machine can replicate the ancient magic flowing through the blade. It answers your call, surging around you as you fight, calling forth to storm down upon the mechanical tide. Yet even with all this power, you know it holds back. There is more to this blade… but only for the one who first held it. They only need to ask to access that last expanse of energy.

ITEM NAME: Your Sword DESCRIPTION: Welcome back, Guardian. May the return of your memories mark the turning of the tide.

[open-hearth-rpg]

The TTRPG Year So Far

I’ve been away from the blog for a couple of weeks, mostly because I’ve actually had a burst of productive energy. This week I released Danger! Unexploded Spell, a series playset for Girl By Moonlight: “Unacceptable mages drafted by the authorities protect their city from damage wrought by arcane air raids and bombings while trying to survive and create a community.”

Before that I finally cracked down and finished writing up Numberless Secrets, my Hearts of Wulin sourcebook for running mysteries. That came in at about 110 pages, and includes six sample mysteries. I’m really happy with the end results. Of course leading up to that I posted the draft of the new Celestial playbook for HoW on the blog and a tweaked version of the Villain playbook. 

Then in early April ago I put out Veil: Iterations, my version 1.5 rules for The Veil. I’ve had some feedback, but it is a pretty niche release (like all of my stuff). I have to make a couple of tweaks to that. 

Assuming I get this next GBM playtest written up, I have several other things in the queue: a couple new cases for Apocalypse Keys, my fantasy/samurai hack of Free from the Yoke, Hearts of Yokai (PbtA inspired by Changeling the Lost), and maybe more campaign frames for Hearts of Wulin. I’m sure there’s a couple of other things I’m forgetting. 

ACTUAL GAMING

All of that has been in parallel to all of the games which I’ve been running online and locally. Here’s what I’ve done so far this year, 87 sessions total with nine as a player. I have links to actual plays where they’re available. You can also listen to these in podcast format on our Open Hearth site:

Before the Sith: My hack of Before the Storm for the Star Wars minicon. I’d run another hack of this for superheroes before and realized that a four hour block just didn’t work. So I ran this as two three-hour blocks with an hour break in the middle. That helped and gave us room to let the scenes breathe. Even with that, we still ended up cutting out one of the rounds to make sure we had enough time for the ending. 

My Star Wars framing worked, but I think particularly because we had three Jedi and one non-Jedi character. That created a really solid set of tensions and questions. In the end two of the four characters had tragic/heroic deaths in the final battle. The core game’s mechanic for the cards works really well and would be worth adapting for other games. (one session)

Bounty of the Week: We just started this as a stand-in for the Veil: Iterations game I’ve been running on alt-Sundays. I managed to over pack my schedule so I asked if someone else could step in to run something. We did our session zero and I’m looking forward to playing. I’ve played vanilla MotW a couple of times in both editions and dug it. However I found it tough going when I ran it, I think because I have a different approach to structuring mysteries. (not recorded, one session)

Dreams and Machines: Oof. I ran a couple of sessions of D&M from the starter set last year, and even wrote up my impressions. I picked up the physical boxed set afterwards. So when someone asked for a series to see how 2d20 worked, I volunteered to run the full game complete with character creation. It crashed and burned.

I don’t want to go too far into this here- it deserves a full write up. But I only remember canceling one other series in mid-run because the game itself just didn’t work for us (that would be Dangerous Times: Muckrakers and Magic in Old New York). I like 2d20– I have two other series using it on this list. But Dreams and Machines has some serious problems. After the second play session, the group talked about our frustrations. I switched over to a Hearts of Wulin series, to help cleanse my palate. (two sessions)

Dune (not recorded): This remains probably my favorite implementation of 2d20. It has its issues (move as an action, spatial duel set up, slow advancement) but I dig the presentation, resources, and the mechanics generally. We’ve gotten fairly deep in our story. The world our PC house has taken possession of has developed nicely– with interesting ideas about society and ecology. Plus we’ve had some fun interactions with rival houses. We will be hitting a stopping point for this soon. That’s because the group’s schedule can be uncertain and we want to do some short-run things we can likely finish. (six sessions)

Fearful Symmetries: The Second Aethyr: We did a full three-month campaign arc of this Trail of Cthulhu series at the beginning of 2023. I loved Fearful Symmetries' combination of magicians, folk horror, and a specific historical place. Towards the end of that series it became clear we could easily do another arc. 

We took up that story a year later real and in-game time, checking in with our characters and how they’d recovered from the conflict at the end of the last series. Despite the break, everyone fell right back in. We ended up with three “mysteries” (including a country house murder) plus some transitional sessions, and an action-packed coda. I loved it the whole way through. It has renewed my faith in simple, streamlined Gumshoe. 

We decided we would do a third and final arc, even talking in the final session about the framing for the start of the next campaign. We might do this later this year or at the beginning of next. I’ve done some pipelaying already for the campaign, and have been thinking about how to integrate the Bookhounds of London material with it. (twelve sessions)

Girl by Moonlight: On a Sea of Stars: Another one we started last year, though right at the end. It became one of my favorite series; I dig GBM’s approach and mechanics. The group enjoyed it, though I think one of the players significantly less so than the others. We decided to do a two-month series to finish out the campaign this year. I imagined it as a mid-season break for a prestige TV show. On Wednesday we hit our 14th session, playing out the final, world-breaking mission. Next session we will do role-play and epilogues to finish out these stories. 

I really like GbM. The mechanics drive an interactivity which feels right with the genre. Any action can be from the individual, but becomes stronger when you wrap in the other characters. It may be the rpg with the strongest support-class mechanics I’ve ever seen. (four sessions)

Godbound: Sundered Cycles:We finally ran the third and final quarterly arc of this series. I really enjoy Godbound. I love how the wild powers combined with an OSR adjacent system make people think carefully about how to solve problems. It has some wonky bits– and the problem of the flat OSR combat, but overall it works. 

I really enjoyed returning to this because we’d built up the characters and world so fully in the previous two quarterlies. Going back made me a little nervous but– as I mentioned in an earlier post– I’ve found it's much easier to go back to previous games when playing online. We also added a fifth, new player which added a great dimension to the play. They had a unique perspective on divinity and the characters’ role in that. 

Had a great set of epilogues and we tied the finale into events from the Mountain Home game. I like the world we’ve built and will probably go back there again. I used some of the Thousand Thousand Island bits early on, but there’s still a ton of that I could integrate.  (ten sessions)

Hearts of Wulin: Ageless Sin (not recorded): A solid four-part HoW series using the supernatural set up. I ran for three folks I hadn’t before which was great– and everyone really leaned into the genre. Big, hot tragic ending in the last session. (four sessions)

Hearts of Wulin: 3 Mountains, 1 Heart: A great series. This is what we transitioned into when Dreams and Machines collapsed. We used the fantastical materials, even doing an initial playtest of the Celestial playbook (which needs some proofing and tweaking). We had some great characters, including our Celestial. The Fox-spirit PC from Ageless Sin returned and I integrated several elements from that story into this one. We also had a really fun take on the Aware and a PC who used music in a unique way. I’ve had players run musician characters, but I don’t ever think I’ve seen someone lean into performance and musicality like they did. (five sessions)

The Hunted: I need to write up a review of this. It’s one of the best one-shot frameworks I’ve ever played. It uses Forged in the Dark to create an amazing, tense, and propulsive game of characters being hunted by something terrible. Great play structure, dynamite tools for collaboration, and just dripping with atmosphere. Highly recommended. (one session)

Imperium Maledictum: 3 Cycles from Retirement and Plausible Deniability: So I have been running this to justify buying the core book (and the GM screen as it turns out). This is a newish 40K game, clearly intended to be a kind of follow up to Rogue Trader– though it is both narrower and broader than that. It uses the same mechanics as the latest version of Warhammer Fantasy, creating some consistency between the games. 

I’ve enjoyed both series– despite the tradness of the system. There’s enough interesting flexible choices for success and combat to make it really interesting. But it's abstract in a lot of places (like zones for movement and influence as a resource). I originally planned to just run one series during the day, but I had enough interest that I put another on the calendar for the same day in the evening. I’d always planned to do different adventures for the two groups, but having one player in both confirmed that for me. I’ll admit I had some worries going in, but I’m having a great time running this and leaning into slightly-satirical grimdark combined with the 40K elements which attract me. (seven sessions)

Mecha Hack: The only rpg I played besides the newly starting Bounty of the Week campaign. I thoroughly enjoyed this OSR game which combined a dynamite GM with a great group. I had some of the most tense moments I think I ever have. The combat clicked, exploration merged tension with narrative, and the final fully role-play session tied everything together. Plus I learned about Owlbear Rodeo which I’ve been using in a couple of campaigns. (nine sessions)

Murder in the Jedi Temple: I ran this one shot for our Star Wars mini-con. I’d playtested the scenario with a group which helped me trim and fix a couple of things for play. While the playtest went OK (pretty clear one player hated it), the game went well at the table and we managed to get a full, rich story done in four hours. (two sessions)

Pressure: One of the two newish Osprey rpgs I did a two-shot of. I found it decidedly mid but I had a really good time with the two adventures I ran. In particular I dug my set up for the second session and how wild things got. You can check out my review of it here. (two sessions)

Pulp Cthulhu: I did a short series of this by way of justifying my purchase of the Humble Bundle for Call of Cthulhu 7e. I enjoyed the play which adapted and drastically changed an adventure from the book. Pulp Cthulhu is pretty much CoC 7e with a few talents and more ability to spend luck. It’s a minor adaptation. It reinforced for me that if I’m going to do trad-ish Cthulhu I’m pretty off running Trail. 

It’s probably the last time I run CoC, given that Chaosium decided that their best move was to hire an unapologetic shitheel who doxxed folks who were already subject to harassment. After this, despite my love for Glorantha, I’m done with their stuff. (three sessions)

Star Trek Adventures: We wrapped our multi-year 13th Age campaign in 2023– we’d started it well before the pandemic. I pitched out several concepts and this one tied for first. Since I’d already invested in the books I cast the tie-breaking vote. We have a big table (six players). I was worried about that originally but it has been fine. We’ve done four “episodes” so far, each split over two sessions. I’ve encouraged them to keep thinking of this as a TV show– with that kind of dramatic logic. 

One of the challenges has been that we have two people who really know Star Trek, two who know Star Trek, and two who don’t know Star Trek.

Of course shortly after I started (and picked up the last of the physical books) Modiphius announced Star Trek Adventures 2nd Edition. I don’t think I’ll switch over– in part because I spent a bunch of money buying sets of Effect Dice which the new edition doesn’t use. (face to face, ten sessions)

Tomb Raider: The Last Guardians: I ran a short playtest of this last year, but only a few sessions. This time I’m running in the Open Playtest with more room, trying out a new adventure and team playbook. I continue to dig the mechanics here– and the character interactions work throughout. I’m hoping that after the playtest period I’ll be able to post the videos. (three sessions)

Tomorrow City:The other Osprey RPG I ran. I did a two shot of this (you can see the review here). I liked the system and the setting’s solid. It’s not a bad start for something simple and dieselpunk. But it is one of those cases where you have to decide if the setting’s something you really want to lean into and learn. If not, then the evaluation’s really on the strength of the system. (two sessions)

Veil: Iterations: This is our every other Sunday game. I started this last year to playtest some of the new elements. However we had a bunch of bumps in 2024 and only got in a few sessions. Right now it is on hiatus until after our Bounty of the Week game, when my time frees up a little bit. (not recorded, three sessions)

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 8: No. 1 In Heaven (Beat The Clock)

Best album ever made?? I'm honestly very glad that this year has been a pretty big No. 1 In Heaven celebration, because even though I love this album to bits I used to have a bad habit of forgetting about it... And each time I come back to it I'm blown away some more. Despite its short length, this album is packed with amazingness and such personality and energy!! Or maybe its actually thanks to its length that there's no room left for any "filler" (not that Sparks have much of a problem with that otherwise, I'd say that's another of their big strengths: nothing feels extra on unnecessary) and so what we're left with is all top-tier and unique material. Once freaking again, Sparks have made something that's one of a kind and absolutely cannot be compared to anything else.

Of course it's a huge turning point in Sparks' career and a highly influential work too - can't forget to mention that. This whole time period also has a very strong image and identity that I really love: all those amazing music videos! And I think most of us will agree that this was THE #1 iconic Ron look. Can't forget the 21×21 show of it either: every song gains even more life and almost magical properties in this form, and that applies to later performances of them as well (Dee Vee Dee Tryouts performance, like, hello??? Also, Number One Song being home to one of the most iconic Sparks things - Ron shuffle!!!). Can't lie that I also really like this outfit on Russell... All in all, might even be my number 1 choice for if I had a time machine and could go back and experience one live show but in person this time.

And now, of course, while I still remember, The Season Association Of The Day: this album is very summery to me, but it's like a clear summer night with all constellations in the sky being visible. Most spacey and otherworldly of Sparks albums - it's really too good for this earth!!

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

As I've said, hard to cut it down to just a couple favourite songs and moments when everything here is so brilliant, so take this as more of an either very early or current (as in, this week or month at most) standouts, because seriously, everything here deserves a mention!! And my favs keep changing about every week.

Tryouts For The Human Race: such an important early fav of mine, I kept being blown away by all the different sections of it, and replaying it over and over all summer last year, an incredibly powerful album opener that's sure to leave a huge impact right away

La Dolce Vita: the instrumental bridge is soooo perfect, and when the vocals come back in, I don't know if there's some sort of key change or what but that right there is one of the most satisfying moments in all of music. Also, it wasn't until pretty recently that I've noticed how much I dig the bassline on this track in particular

Beat The Clock: the instrumental bridge is soooo perfect, once again, and this is funny because this was actually the song I liked the least at the very start... And now it might just be my favourite here really, this week at least I mean, the lyrics are also a real highlight, and the music video is so iconic and cool, my fav of the bunch

[toastedjeans]

Anyway, here's my new AU!

Dungeon of Pizza

The premise is basically the same as og Pizza Tower, but with elements of Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, and almost all characters have elemental magic. Imagine they use their magic sort of like pokemon moves. I don't have any of the designs ready, but they will be fantasy themed at least. Also some characters are in teams, some are alone, and some join an existing team later.

Now for the plot!

It begins like we expect, Pizzahead threatens Peppino with the destruction of his restaurant (he'll probably have a tavern), and then retreats to his tower. In order to get to the tower, Peppino and Gustavo have to traverse several dungeons, and at the end of each group of dungeons there is a boss fight. Peppino can recruit each boss after he defeats them, and they will then travel alongside him.

During their travels they meet Gerome, who is forced to work for Pizzahead. If he doesn't obey him, PH will kill his brother, John. Gerome helps the party gather all the treasures, as they are the key to free John. Oh and John has very strong magic, but he is trapped in a machine that absorbs all his magical power and feeds it to Pizzahead. If PH is defeated, but John isn't freed, he will gather his strength again and come back to torment Peppino once more.

At the final fight, it's revealed that the bosses followed Pep and Gus to ambush them, but uh. Idk lore dump makes them realize that PH is insane or they feel betrayed or something so then they turn on PH and fight against him with Peppino and Gustavo.

And now the characters (under the cut)!

Team #1

Peppino

Owner of a small tavern, works alongside Gustavo. He has electricity magic, so he can summon lightning bolts, shoot balls of lightning, or power up his body to deal more damage. Can also create an electric shield to tank a hit.

Gustavo

Works at the tavern with Peppino. He has nature magic, plant manipulation, and maybe even minor control of the weather? Like, he can summon vines or tree roots to trap enemies, and can make rain appear to make Peppino's attacks stronger. He can talk to animals, and either already has Brick to ride on, or he'll befriend her during the course of the adventure, not sure yet. Him and Peppino are already in a relationship btw :)

Team #2

Mr Stick

Has wind/storm magic, and can fly via his propeller hat. He's physically not very strong (his magic isn't either), but he is very strategic. He explores dungeons mostly for the loot or rewards, or just straight up steals treasure he comes across (if Burton doesn't notice and makes him return it).

Burton

Burton has ground magic, he can make earthquakes and terraform as needed. He can't hurt Stick with his magic, and Stick can't really do much to Burton either (even if his magic was stronger). Also him and Stick are husbands. Because i said so.

Team #3

Noise

Can summon explosions, but also has sound based magic (high and low frequency stuff, demonic screeching, etc). Mostly uses his sound magic for distraction or immobilization, or if he wants to annoy someone.

Noisette

Hear me out. She has poison magic. Cause i think it's funny to have the sweet girl be poison. She can summon poison spikes that make others queasy, or distract with poisoned food. Only few are immune to her poison (Pizzahead, Fake Peppino, Burton). She'd like to cook something edible for once but everyone who tries her food gets nauseous.

Teamless

Pepperman

This guy has water magic, including other liquids (paint, oil, acid, blood...). He can't do the thing like in ATLA where he can bend other people's blood, but he can summon it. He also uses his magic abilities to experiment with different forms of art, or rather paints i guess. He hasn't painted with blood yet but who knows...... Develops a slight crush on Vigilante because yes.

Vigilante

He has fire magic, and can either shoot fireballs or use it like a flamethrower. His gloves are fire resistant. He can also do the same thing Peppino can, where he powers up his body (think like, he tackles or punches you, but he or his fist is on fire).

Fake Peppino

A shapeshifter whose magic depends on who he shapes into. So if he shapes into the form of Peppino, he'll have Peppino's powers. His true form is unknown, but mostly he's seen in the form of Peppino. However, no matter which form he takes on he's immune to poison, like he absorbs it, or because his body isn't stable it doesn't affect him. He becomes friends with Noisette because he's able to eat her food and she is so happy to finally have someone who can eat it without problems. He later joins any of the teams however he likes it, one time he'll go with Noise and Noisette, other times he'll go with Pep and Gus, etc.

Doise

Can summon rocks to throw, or make a wall around him, or lay traps (idk spiky rocks and stuff). His backstory is similar to how it is regularly (in my hc at least), he used to explore the dungeons together with Peddito, until they were defeated by some extremely powerful monster and needed to escape. Doise froze up when he wanted to go back to save Peddito, but he was too afraid and left him behind to die. Now Doise blames himself for Peddito's death, and falls into severe depression. He doesn't have anyone else, now that his best and only friend was dead. Sometimes Peddito's spirit haunts him when he's especially weak and vulnerable, almost like he's waiting for the perfect opportunity to get revenge. And because it's my latest obsession, he joins Peppino and Gustavo's team and starts crushing on both of them. Oh and when he's in a group setting he's like a smug bastard to hide his depression.

Maurice

He has no magic, and is secretly bitter about it. But he keeps saying stuff like "magic is just a cheap trick to make weaklings stronger". Yes, he's basically Jasper SU. He probably won't help Peppino with Pizzahead, but i thought I'd mention him anyway.

Pizzahead

Due to John's power being fed into him, he somehow has control over all magic. He can counter everything the gang throws at him, be it explosions, or fire, or lightning. He's almost invincible, HOWEVER, he is vulnerable to non magical physical attacks. Peppino needs to kick the crap out of him in order to defeat him, but he needs to figure that out first.

John

Has rock and ground magic. Obviously lol. He's one of the most powerful characters, but was somehow tricked by Pizzahead and is now trapped inside the tower. Him and Gerome used to be another team before being separated.

Gerome

He has rock and water magic, and was hired by Pizzahead, basically if he doesn't do what he says, John will suffer even more or he'll kill him. He helps guide the others to the treasures but doesn't let himself be seen. Looks like he doesn't care about anything, but just wants his brother back.

Yeah that's the new AU! I hope you enjoy, and if not. Uh. That's cool too i guess.

[thebandbis]

Sci-fi: Well, it's been nearly 3 weeks since our big birthday bash and we just want to give the biggest thanks to all of you who made it - especially those who travelled frankly ridiculous lengths to get there. It always blows my mind how this band has provoked such passionate support over the last 30 years. What we lack in numbers we more than make up for in fervour! Special thanks also of course to our stellar supporting cast, local heroes Lung Leg and The Yummy Fur - bands we grew up with and shared stolen riffs with - and mega thanks to Eddie and Art Brut for going out of their way to share our big day. Biggest thanks too to Lora Logic for making the trip up and sharing a unique moment with us on Germ Free Adolescents. I duffed at least three notes as I was holding back the tears a bit, apologies for that. Apologies also that in an attempt to preserve my voice, I ate a staggering amount of raw honey which messed up my blood pressure and made me bloat to a hilarious level. Those on the balcony may have suffered my temporary lumps and bumps creaking through my slightly too tight Ayr United top and for that, I can once again only apologise.

I went to see the utterly immense Arab Strap at the Barrowland last weekend. It was an excellent show but my professional jealousy meant that I couldn't stop thinking of how tremendous Eurodisco would sound in there and that bis are frankly MILES away from playing a show that size. The common factor of the excellence of both shows though was Richie Dempsey on sound duty. Even from the phone footage of the bis show, you can tell the sheer quality of the sound and we can't thank him enough. (We've known Richie so long that he actually signed our very first rehearsal receipt in (gulp) May 1990). I also went to see Lloyd Cole (more of this later) and first hand experience the cuddle of familiar material that has stood the test of time. Lloyd is maybe the only person I know who is more sarcastic than me. Well, I don't know him but you know what I mean.

A few more observations -

We have never spent SO LONG on set construction. Squeezing 30 years into an hour, missing out key tracks and putting in b-sides and deep cuts but still, based on feedback, NAILING IT.

YES - We absolutely should have recorded the show (audio AND video) and monetized the recording but we have been STUPID for 30 years now and totally missed this opportunity.

It was truly exhausting pushing social media trying to get to the magical ticket sales figure we got to. We have no machine behind us and never will again. It felt great to fill that big room but the crushing comedown reality of the aftermath is knowing that we can't come to YOUR TOWN and play to the same number of people. If we could, we would.

But yes, finally - just to reiterate how grateful we are. Playing that big room was a risk for us and it massively paid off. Apart from my taxi home failing to exist - WHAT A FUCKING NIGHT.

[iknowshocker]

lil wip wednesday from chap 14

Bonnie looks up when the door swings open, her eyes drawn to the suitcase in Kai’s hand. “Are you going somewhere after this?”

“I didn’t know how long it would take to find you,” he shrugs, dropping his bag beside the counter. 

She feels her mouth twitch with the urge to smile and turns away before he can see it, too. With her focus on chopping scallions, she misses the fact that Kai’s come closer until he lightly touches her wrist. 

“Did you cut yourself?”

“No,” she says, jerking back from him in surprise. “Why?”

“I smell blood,” he murmurs, the veins beneath his eyes rippling lightly. “Your blood.”

“Maybe because you’re standing too close,” she snaps, flicking her hand at him in hopes he'll move away. “Don’t get any ideas, that was a one time thing.”

Kai’s eyes narrow, before he draws in a long, slow breath. He vamps away from her, reappearing at the door to the laundry closet. She watches in horror as he pulls his jacket from the hamper waiting atop the machines, holding it up to her in question. 

“You left it at the hospital,” she explains. “Enzo grabbed it by mistake.”

If Kai hears the lie in her voice, he doesn’t call her out on it. He eyes the stains from her attack, his irises coating with a film of deep red. Bonnie knows she should probably be frightened of the sight, but she returns to her cooking without a second thought.

“Why’d you keep it?”

She jumps, unprepared for Kai to reappear at her back for the second time. “I was going to try and clean it,” she says, moving slowly as she turns to face him. “In case you wanted it back.”

“And the vial of my blood?” he asks, so keyed up that his hands shiver at his sides. “What’d you do with that?” 

Bonnie meets his eyes through the haze of his magic between them, lifting her chin. She has to swallow around a sudden lump in her throat, terrified to be the first to look away. 

“I drank it.”

Kai’s gaze drops, for the briefest of seconds, to rest on her mouth. 

He corrects himself so quickly Bonnie can almost pretend she imagined it. Gone is the red tint from moments before, though his pupils are glassy and wide. He nods, slightly, as though she’s just answered a very different question.

[morimementa]

I'm fully on board the "Mirabel gets her own room" train, but I've also got a ticket for the "Mirabel doesn't technically NEED a gift because she's special as she is" Express. We all want good things for Mirabel, but I don't want to downplay the idea that gift or no gift, she's still special.

With that in mind, I like the idea of her getting a room to replace the nursery, but with a few key differences from the other magic rooms:

Her door is an image of her with a needle and thread in hand and the candle above her head, representing how she stitched the family back together. In the background is either the mountain or Casita with a stitched up heart. It's a celebration of her accomplishment and all the work she put in and a symbol of how she is, in theory, the new candle and source of magic. Abuela doesn't have to keep carrying a torch-so to speak- for the past and the trauma that came with it. Mirabel is the future. It'd help explain why the house came back but the candle didn't. The candle is a symbol of the past and eventually Abuela needed to let go of it.

Her room is a lot like the nursery but much bigger and more personalized. It celebrates the talents she worked hard to cultivate. She's got her sewing machine back and tons of shelving for fabric and yarn. There's her own bed with a bedspread with embroidery featuring the symbols of her family. There's also a set up similar to a therapist's office where people can talk to her, or where she can talk to them. Casita doesn't expect her to do everyone's emotional labor all the time, after all.

The best part is that unlike the other rooms, Casita is fully connected to it. It can still communicate inside the room so Mirabel is never cut off from her dear friend.

I think something like this would really be the best of both worlds. Mirabel doesn't have a Gift per se, but she's no longer shunted to the side and left with less than the rest of her family.

(Yes, I know she's front and center on the front door but like. She's fifteen. Girl needs her space.)

[thetruearchmagos]

On 'Energy Crystals'

Copying this over from a worldbuilding write up I posted on Discord!

Tagging @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @moremysteriesthantragedies @avrablake @thatndginger

While Energy Crystals are a very modern innovation, the pursuit for a crystal based means of high density energy storage is probably as old as the use of crystals in any of their myriad forms.

To skip the deep dive, 'magic crystals' operate through the highly ordered nature of their composition, a structure which extends beyond the three dimensions of the physical plane and which allows them to warp and rend the very fabric of the Underlay, that little understood realm of energy which permeates existence. In order to 'activate' their properties, however, energy in some form or another has to be supplied, 'forcing' the crystal's internal structure into the needed to act against the oppressive forces of the Underlay; heat, in the past, and these days truly massive amounts of electricity for the most intense applications.

A long noted characteristic of these crystals, however, has been their 'lag'. This effect describes the tendency for crystals to retain a small, rapidly decreasing degree of their powered properties even after their external energy source has been removed. The various physical characteristics of the crystal itself influences the degree of this lag, sheer size chief among them, which has at times been both a blessing and a curse for those using crystals for technical applications.

Still, it is not too difficult to see how a crystal's potential to retain energy might be a useful quality in and of itself. Various bodies have long attempted to harness this characteristic, but to little avail: having spent so long making crystals which efficiently utilised every scrap of energy fed to them to the fullest, it was very hard indeed to make one that would use no energy at all. Most interested parties would thus quickly decide to cut their losses early.

It would take modern developments in the field of micro-crystals and electrical-gate crystals to crack the problem. In the former field, a greater understanding of the internal structures of crystals at the most minute scale gave crystal forgers insight into the causes of crystal lag, and how crystals converted their input energy into work. The latter field was the result of the ability for crystals to act as incredibly efficient electrical conductors, leading to their application in the still nascent electronics and computing machine sector. Here, of course, understanding the interaction between crystal structures and electricity was key, as was minimising the 'waste' of a crystal's energy to activate the sorts of properties that in the past were their reasons for existence.

With the rise in this general understanding of just how a magic crystal worked, the secret to energy storage in crystals would be cracked in the 160s A.S. As with many technological developments, it was the United Commonwealth which would own the invention, lavishly funded from the sizeable cheque book of the Defence Consolidated Technical Establishment, whose leadership foresaw the many electricity intensive technologies poised to enter military use.