#necromancer tos

[keisonism]

since im prob not posting full art so soon heres some sketch dump while i find strength to draw!!

[lesbian-roguefort]

bakht/necromancer redesign because god it’s sorely needed

[ariniekat]

More Coven broommates, this time it's the "always late to the cookout" squad. In a more casual setting, i like to think of them as roomies and the Coven leader hosts a cookout or barbeque every week for their meetups. They are never on time. Usually because Necromancer is trying to make jinx take a bath. They all take 5 hours to have a bath. And yes Refrigerators exist in this nondescript vaguely Victorian time period of a little town of magic, first working one was invented in 1834 (but the methods seem to date back even to the 1740s, so yippee for me, home ones were in 1913, but shh, we're not here to be entirely historically accurate.) The only one of these lil guys I'm entirely certain on the name on is Necromancer. Haha. I actually have lore for him, but the other's have fun facts too. ~~~ Neil Morgans - Necromancer

He's an aristocrat, his family had been part of the royal court for a few generations and he even inherited the part of joining the council and served as an advisor to the king, along with being a court physician. He's very knowledgeable in a medical field, though some people find some of his methods go beyond what other's would consider... sane. During the Reign of the Mad king, he was exiled from the council along with two of the other magical advisors, (one of which was executed and the other was left unknown), they moved to the town shortly after as their reputation was surely dampened. Despite the fact Neil rather enjoys the high life of luxury and expenses, avoids talking to people they deem low class outside of work and prefers to have other people do tasks like housekeeping for them, they don't slack when it comes to work and have became respected as a physician in the town. The fun fact is his main ghoul is named frank, there is not reason for this but frank is best ghoul, does the maid and butler work for him, it's far cheaper to employ the dead anyway.

Jinx - Jinx Honestly, I guess Tabby could work? haha but why not, name as her role. This little mischief gets up to all sorts of trouble, she mostly leeches of Neil in his manor and despite a few instances (her waking him up at 3am by biting his ass to get breakfast.) they get along pretty well, they have some common interests in their fascination of the dead and she tends to bring home her kills to show off and Neil undoubtedly does praise her for it. (no one else seems to enjoy having a bleeding bodyguard thrown onto their bed at 1am though.) Kleptomaniac who has a variety of little cat-toys on her belt. The towns iffy on magic, thanks to the mad kings reign, so she often doesn't go to the town square and shops often or at least not while people can see her. She can disguise herself quite well but she prefers not to. She cannot write and can hardly read, despite others (mostly Neil) trying to teach her. Enn - Enchanter

Not sure for her full name, Enn is selective mute, she often communicates through the art of her work, her origami and writing, or in sign, i like to think her clothes are almost paperlike and flowy so she can bend them like origami too for her words, a graceful swan dance if you will. She is talented at calligraphy and can copy the handwriting of anyone to near perfection. Enn owns a lot of scented candles and always lines the bath with them and petals before she draws it. She and Neil often do facials and long skin care routines together. She also sometimes does illustrations for Ritualist. She is typically the one cleaning up after the other two stowaway dead bodies. :P More silly blorbos.

[adamwooo]

I'm sorry i just can draw man nothing more, god i'm so gay...

[locking-the-tomb]

Third Read Notes & Soundtrack

I wallowed for about 14 hours after finishing my Nona reread and decided to start over again and write myself some summaries during The Wait.

Gideon the Ninth Chapter 1

In which we learn Gideon is a goob but we love her.

Gideon is escaping. She stole a security cuff key but left the cuff on until the morning of. She's taking her sword, her "shoes" - later called steel toed boots- , and her smut mags. Her clothes are all synthetics. She has enough hair to brush. She knows about chocolates and fancy hotels, somehow ... from mags? From Wake/mom's niche is 22 flights of stairs up to the landing field, which is still at the bottom of a deep tunnel. There are lamps on but they're low. She's kicking apart lumps of "rubble" but that's not further described. She eats porridge from a plastic bag then throws the bag over a rail somewhere. There's a balcony area. Skeletons with red eyes go to pick snow leeks.

There are white castle doors at the bottom, "three bodies wide and six bodies tall". She talks about the figures carved into the area above the doors and remembers screaming as a kid about them creeping her out. I wonder what they are, maybe related to the killed generation? How much trauma from a two year old survivor of all the kids dying?

Muster call (20 Bells) calls back the skeletons.

That's when the Marshall/Crux stomps in to accuse her. Gideon says, "say my shuttle exploded, I died and it was such a shame". 😳 (Crux thinks great idea, will do) Introduces Frontline Titties of the Fifth. He calls her chattel. He wears a big knife over a shoulder.

He gives an impressive number of threats. Gideon wasn't bothered by Crux's threats. But then he invoked Harrow and her "palms prickled". He leaves and Aiglamene enters. Gideon says she's tried to enlist 33 times. Aiglamene has a badly repaired missing leg and a scarred face.

Gideon lists what's happened when she's tried to leave before: jammed in lift, turned off heat frostbite in three toes, poisoned. She clarifies that she's indentured not a slave and claims she's not of fiscal use there. She says she will "you can quote me 'do my duty to the ninth' ". Gideon goes on a rant about "your lady" with a host of great insults, then gets slapped.

"Nobody had ever loved her in the ninth". Aiglamene was the reason she got to have a sword and training. "I'm naturally demeaning". Aiglamene walks away and Gideon falters a bit but sticks.

"Nav was a Niner name". Mentions the prison as a bubble halfway up in the atmosphere. At the end of the chapter we get the limited story of day-old Gideon being in a bio container plugged into the suit of a braindead woman who had fallen in a suit down the shaft 18 years ago. None of the Ninth necromancers could get her ghost to do more than scream Gideon three times then she fled.

"They chipped her, surnamed her, and put her in the nursery". I don't think they mention the chips again, interesting. She was kid #201. Where did the kids come from? Had they been harvesting gametes and growing them? Because the "old" people going into the doors were heavily outnumbered by skeletons. Then two years later it was just her, Harrow (who still hasn't been directly introduced as other then Lady), and Ortus. By 10 she "knew too much and that she could never be allowed to go". Of course. Because that's when Harrow had opened the tomb and her parents had died. She had started trying to escape when she was 4.

Thoughts. What's up with all the plastic? Isn't plastic from petroleum? How would Pluto have petroleum?

[froznwater]

more tos ideas:

illusionist cody

illusionist makes your coven appear as innocent when investigated

wildling zeek

You can track who your target visits. You can see who visits your target. You can overhear other players whispers.

this is also the picture for it and im so tempted:

medusa justin/lindsay

If a player you Stone Gaze dies, their role and last will won't be shown to non-Coven members

necromancer izzy

Create zombies from a dead player. You may reanimate a dead player and use their ability on another player.

enchanter and voodoo master are also both soooo alejandro coded, but ultimately could go to any villian

dreamweaver just sounds more fun, even if these two roles fit him a tiny bit better

[deathsplaything]

It's Time for Tea || Alistair & Rhett

LOCATION: High Tea TIMING: Before What If PARTIES: Alistair (@deathsplaything) and Rhett (@ironcladrhett) SUMMARY: Rhett and Alistair decide to go to a high tea to cause some chaos. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

As far as Alistair McKenzie was concerned, gender was a social construct. As soon as the opportunity had presented itself in the form of a fellow unhinged blind man terrorizing fancy old women trying to enjoy a tea party, the necromancer had jumped at the opportunity, dressed in brown corduroy pants and a dark green buttoned shirt with a leaf pattern on it, as well as a pair of heeled ankle boots with dragonflies embroidered on them. Upon his head was a large, black, floppy hat with a dragonfly broach stuck through it. His shoulder-length red hair was half tied up and curled. Clearly, they’d taken a lot of care into their appearance today. In one hand was Brutus’s harness, who was dressed with a navy bowtie on his collar, and in the other was a smaller floppy hat with flowers attached to it. If he and this new friend of his were going to irritate the old women who frequented this establishment, they would do so as stylishly as possible.

The two had agreed to meet at the side of the fancy tea house before going in together. As the necromancer heard approaching footsteps, they raised a brow and gave a lopsided grin. “I hope you’re who I think you are and not the staff.” Alistair called out. “Otherwise I have a long uber drive home.” He handed the hat out in front of him. “For you, good sir, as discussed.” He gave a low bow, as if getting into character. “Shall we show these old ladies what a good time looks like? Drink some tea and maybe start a mini sandwich fight?” 

They grinned, exposing their teeth at the idea. Alistair’s round sunglasses were the only thing concealing the mischief that was shining in their eyes. “The name’s Alistair McKenzie.” They introduced with a flourish. “Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, fellow creature of chaos.”

—

He’d barely needed to explain the plan to his daughter before she was clapping her hands together excitedly and announcing that they were going thrifting. He didn’t know what that meant until he was in it, climbing down off the bus after Ophelia with his metal leg and his cane, letting her hold on to his arm as they moved down the line of storefronts, until… ah. 

It’d been an all-day affair, but the two had managed to find him something suitably flashy and obnoxious to wear, and Rhett actually found himself smiling, forgetting for a few hours all that he’d endured that’d brought him to this point, this state of infuriating uselessness. For a few hours, he was just having a good time with his kid, trying on ridiculous secondhand clothes and making her laugh. Ophelia, in turn, was just glad her dad had made plans with a new friend and that those plans weren’t going to be dangerous, just ridiculous. It was a breath of fresh air in what had otherwise been a pretty miserable few weeks for them. 

When the day arrived, Rhett donned his blue plaid slacks and solid blue vest over a white button-up, honestly probably looking nicer than he had in quite a while. Ophelia pulled his curly gray hair into a flattering up-do, and carefully tucked a silk square into his breast pocket, then accented it with a fresh sprig of rosemary. You’ll look nice and smell nice, she’d insisted. Who was he to argue? His one shoe was a stylish boot, the other foot, well… some sort of three-toed, metal claw contraption he’d forged for himself. It was for balance, not aesthetics, after all.

Limping up to the agreed meeting spot, his companion was hard to miss. A smirk settled on his grizzled features as he approached, seeing the hat extended to him and taking it gratefully. “Aye, m’ the one here fer mischief,” he concurred, giving the hat a quick inspection before plopping it on his head. Wouldn’t you know it, the color of the blooms actually went well with his shade of blue!

Watching Alistair bow, Rhett snorted. “Hell yeah. Ain’t been in a proper food fight since I was three. ‘Bout time, eh?” An introduction was made, and the warden straightened himself up (even though Alistair couldn’t see it), clearing his throat slightly before speaking. “Rhett Tangaroa. Nice to… meet you, et cetera.” He wasn’t great with fancy verbiage, clearly. Tapping his cane on the ground, he looked in the direction of the entrance. “Right, well, best get on with it. Don’t wanna keep this captive audience watin’ any longer!”

—

Unable to stop the snicker from escaping past their lips. “Three? Well, maybe there will be time to stop at a restaurant afterward, as finger foods will barely do anything for you.” Alistair made a face, thinking of the little triangle cucumber sandwiches that will inevitably be served. “And by afterward, I mean when we’re kicked out so fast our heads spin.” 

The spellcaster had almost forgone Brutus and chose to use a white mobility cane but decided if they were going to get kicked out for being unruly, they might as well teach the old bats something along the way. “Hopefully, I won’t be given a hard time for Brutus,” Alistair murmured as they approached the entrance. “Follow my lead,” they spoke before pushing the door open and walking into the building.

“Welcome to L'heure du thé.” The hostess said with a bright smile, looking between the two. She glanced down at the dog, noticed his bowtie, then smiled. “Just the two of you today?” She asked, which earned a nod from Alistair in turn. “Great, follow me.” She spoke, gesturing to the man who seemed to have some sight. Alistair gave a soft command to Brutus in Gaelic, which caused the big dog to follow the woman with his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. 

The woman was kind, taking the time to help Alistair navigate toward the seat. She said nothing about Brutus, which they were very grateful for. After the girl walked away, a man in a tailcoat walked up to the table and gave a polite smile. “Welcome! I am Jacque, your waiter for this afternoon.” Alistair tilted their head to the side then looked over in the direction of their waiter’s voice. “Could you read out the teas for me? I’m blind.” They explained with a polite but tight smile. If they were going to cause a bit of mayhem, might as well start off on the right foot as opposed to being trouble right off the bat. 

“Of course, sir.” The waiter listed off the teas. “We have Earl Grey, chai, peppermint, camomile, fruit, herbal, and, of course, English breakfast.” Jacques clapped his hands together, that same air of superiority about him. “I’ll take Earl Grey.” Alistair spoke with a smile. “And give us the spread.” They quickly added. “My friend here has never experienced the fun that is high tea.” The spellcaster moved his head over in Rhett’s direction and gave the man a wink. “Very good, sir. And what tea will you have?” Jacques asked Rhett. Alistair, who figured the man knew very little about tea, smirked. “He’ll have chai.” Alistair answered for him, and the man went on his way. 

After Jacques had walked away, Alistair tipped his sunglasses below his eyes, his almost amber eyes twinkling with delight. “I can smell fish and eggs. Seems like you will be eating fancy today.” 

—

God, what an affair this already was. Unable to stop himself thinking that French really was a dumb-sounding language, Rhett was quiet while Alistair interacted with the hostess and waiter in turn, doing little more than raising an eyebrow at the coattails. The brutish part of him was annoyed the Alistair had ordered for him, but whatever remained of his logical brain realized and understood that it was for the best, so he was able to stifle the flare of vexation in favor of being grateful that he had yet to be put on the spot when it came to… speaking. He was not very good at speaking.

The glance over the top of Alistair’s glasses did bring a small smile to his face, but of course he remembered only after a beat that his companion couldn’t see it. Fuck’s sake, he was bad at this, despite being damn nearly mostly blind himself. Figured that he’d take what he still had for granted, that’s just the kind of person he was. So, for good measure, he added a soft, uncertain chuckle. 

“Oh aye? Fish n’ eggs? What makes that so fancy? Posh folk like the stinky food, eh?” Stinkier the better, he thought. More fun to fuck around with. Not that he could really judge their taste in food… it wasn’t like he ate well. Hell, some of the things he ate weren’t even supposed to be eaten. Fish and eggs was probably a huge step up from whatever he’d been putting in himself the last week.  

—

Alistair ran a hand through their hair after Rhett questioned the food choice, to which the redhead gave a shrug. “I can’t say I was let around the upper crust of society,” they responded as they put their chin in their hand. “And for good reason.” They added with a smirk. “I was sixteen when I first got into a fight with some rich bloke ‘round my age.” They remembered with a fondness, tilting their head to the side. “Went running back to their rich daddy who threatened to ruin me. Ruin what? I was sixteen.” They rolled their eyes. “Since then, I understood there was a very us versus them mentality when it came to rich folk.” 

Alistair turned his focus to the women gossiping behind him, whispering loudly to each other about “How could they let a dog in here? Don’t they know that’s unsanitary?” One whispered to the other. “Not to mention the redhead looks positively ridiculous.” This earned raised brows from Alistair, who was about to turn around and give them a piece of their mind when they remembered the mission. 

Turning their attention back to Rhett, hoping that he had heard what they had, Alistair grumbled something unintelligible under their breath, followed by “They’re my target. Someone deserves a face full of eggs.” 

—

“Mmm… there’s a sentiment I can agree with,” Rhett responded. “Only thing a rich man’s good for is trickin’ him outta his cash.” He’d done plenty of that alongside his sister when they were children, before their father had sold them off and instead had them grifting in every town and city they wound up in. “Money makes ya stupid. Dependant.” 

His attention slid to the two women, hearing their remarks as Alistair did. The warden snorted, leaning over to address Brutus, reaching out to pat his head. “Oi, don’t suppose you got a few rounds in the chamber, eh, lad? Those slags could use a little surprise under their table, I reckon.” Laughing to himself, Rhett straightened up and looked at Alistair again. “What you thinkin’, mate? Want me to huck it? I got damn good aim.”

—

Breaking out in a grin, Alistair nodded their head. There was an idea, maybe they should have thought of robbing all these idiots blind instead of throwing food into their hair. “Ngck. Next time we’re robbing them.” They decided with a smirk on their face. “What’s that saying the young folk have been using these days?” They thought for a moment, then raised a finger. “Money makes the world go ‘round, unfortunately.” They added as they leaned back in their seat, crossing one leg over the other. 

Brutus began wagging his tail at the sudden attention from Rhett, tilting his head back and forth as he was spoke to. Alistair took a moment to look through his familiar’s eyes to see Rhett with mischief written all over his face. “While I can’t say my dog shits on command, I will take you up on the offer.” Alisair motioned with their head towards the gossiping women who were still none the wiser. “Go for it.” They spoke with a wicked grin on their face. 

—

Their food was arriving as the go-ahead was given, and Rhett smirked to himself. “Aye aye,” he agreed, nodding in thanks to the waiter. With one hand, he got a serving spoon loaded up with whatever eggy dish this was supposed to be between them, holding it by the end of its handle and aiming the scoop in the women’s direction. His other hand reached for his tea, lifting the cup to his face. If they wanted this to last more than three seconds, he had to look preoccupied, after all. 

“Alright. Now lean just a touch to yer left, my friend,” Rhett instructed Alistair, taking a more precise aim with his spoon. A glance around them told him that no one was watching, and once Alistair was clear of the line of fire, he took a sip of tea and flicked the spoon forward. Eggy mess soared through the air, and before it’d even made impact the warden had set the spoon back down. The food collided with the side of the woman’s head and she shrieked loudly in response. Rhett did his best to look surprised, but there was a bit of laughter that was hidden in his cup of tea before he set it back down, trying to appear just as confused as everyone else. “Ohh, no, what happened?” he falsely sympathized, pouting his best pout and shaking his head. “The nerve of some people, am I right?”

—

Upon receiving the instruction to do so, Alistair casually leaned to their left, feeling the wooshing of the egg soaring through the air. Then Alistair leaned themselves back to the previous position. “Why the nerve!” The women shouted as Alistair picked up their cup and snickered into it. It was nice to meet someone who shared a sense of mischief. The old woman’s eyes narrowed at Rhett as he attempted to sympathize with the woman. “Why, I…” she snarled, hurriedly searching around for a waiter, who was already rushing over. “Ma’am, if you’re going to cause a disturbance like this, I will have to ask you to leave.” He explained in a hushed tone, which only fueled her ire. “I did nothing!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table as she shot up and pointed a finger towards Rhett. “The pair shouldn’t be here in the first place!” 

Alistair pressed a hand to their chest at the woman's declaration, carefully practiced shock plastered to their features. “My dear, the two of us are simply enjoying a good afternoon outing. If we wanted to cause problems, we would’ve gone to a dive bar.” He spoke in an even tone. The manager was getting involved with the women at this point, and before they knew it, the women were being escorted out and not allowed to return. As soon as they were all gone, Alistair turned their attention to Rhett with a grin breaking out on their face. “You, my friend, are amazing.”

—

What a joy it was to see someone so full of herself get her comeuppance. Or at least that's what Rhett had to assume, given her remarks about the odd pair. He watched with neatly hidden delight as she and her companion were escorted off the premises, their shouting dying down as the front door was closed to them forever. “I dunno what they're all in a huff over,” Rhett laughed. “Who'd wanna frequent this place?” It was fun as a first time experience, though… well, probably only because Alistair was like-minded when it came to getting into trouble. They'd probably make a good friend, he thought, if he was still capable of such things. Time would tell. 

“Amazing? Why, yes, it's about damn time someone noticed!” The warden gave a snort, earning him a glare from a different nearby table. He raised a brow, picking up his eggy spoon again and pointing it in their direction. They took the hint, hiding in their cup of tea and refusing to make eye contact again. he'd turn these types right around, given enough time. 

Leaning back into their chair, Alistair shrugged. “It’s their little slice of existence they’ve carefully carved out for themselves, and God forbid that someone up and changes that status quo.” They responded, taking a sip of the tea, then made a face. “This is… watery.” They spoke with distaste dripping from their words. Without any decorum, they swiftly dropped the act. Old ladies could insult them all they wanted, but messing with their tea? That was unforgivable. “Let’s give them hell.” His tone was dark and unyielding as they picked up the teacup and turned it upside-down.

Then, the game was on. They couldn’t see Rhett’s excitement but could feel it radiating from him in droves. “Put that amazing skill of yours to work. Go for between the eyes.” They proclaimed before picking up a piece of fish and throwing it with wild abandon, for once not caring how they appeared. For once, they were having a good time with a complete stranger that maybe, for once, they could see as a friend. 

Shrieks called out as the fish plopped somewhere, and Alistair grinned. This was going to be fun.

[bace-jeleren]

Since you mentioned it (last week but procrastination), I am curious about what happened to your fanwalkers in the past couple years of events eventing, but to narrow it down a bit more, let's start with the family of Wren, Kuro and Megumi!

Ah, yes, of course, everyone's favorite little family! It's so difficult to juggle my fanwalker canon, since a lot of plot stuff happens like ten+ years in the future, so every time a major canon event takes place I have to male sweeping addendums to their lore.

For the uninitiated: Wren is a vampire from Innistrad who made a name for herself on Kylem in Valor's Reach. She doesn't have any standout qualities that aren't just "vampire traits, but juiced up", but she is especially charismatic and uses that to her advantage. In order to feed, without stooping to murder, Wren hosts orgies with her army of devoted fans, and drinks only small portions of participant's blood. Wten is genderfluid.

Kuro is a soratami necromancer from Kamigawa who met Wren shortly after the events of WAR, and the two of them immediately became entangled in a whirlwind romance. Kuro raises the dead by way of touching corpses, so she can actually use her necromancy unintentionally if she isn't careful. When she raises the dead, she is treated to the memories of their death, and sometimes even other details.

Megumi is their daughter, a soratami dhampir who winds up getting into trouble of her own much later down the line.

By the time the Phyrexian invasion was taking place, Megumi was an infant, which forced Wren and Kuro to remain on Kylem instead of going to the aid of their friends.

Kuro attempted to make use of Phyrexian corpses at her disposal, but getting treated to the memories of what they experienced during compleation made utilizing them impossible. Trying even once exposed her to the Phyrexian brainwashing that it nearly consumed her.

Due to "I already planned out their story way ahead of canon, so they have to keep their sparks" reasons, neither of them were victims to the Great Pruning, but they became automatic go-tos when it came to working with multiplanar travelers when the Omenpaths started opening up.

[keisonism]

more coven sketches! i drew them all. also sorry abt wildling looking a bit weird im still trying to figure out how i want to draw them. tags in order

[tictac-murder-spaghetti]

Strychnine OC Intro

Okay this took me longer then I meant to to post but the boy is here!! The gooey little guy :) Strychnine is a criminal necromancer working in Edornoldn, one of the few cities where necromancy is actually legal but hey, who wants to have to deal with all that regulation to reanimate corpses? He's the self proclaimed supervillain of Edornoldn, with Ambrose being his rival, also declared by him and not reciprocated by Ambrose. They’re really just a silly little guy. Name: Strychnine, also known as #07 by his "mother" Pronouns: He/they (physically male but they're made of goo so gender isn't... really there for them fully.) Age: 27 Sexuality: Gay In Whump: He can really do it all! He's typically whumpee or caretaker, especially given his bad past, but you know... he is a mad scientist. They’re not a sadist at all but if you got them angry enough... you could end up on the autopsy table. Personality: Oh he's a menace. He genuinely wants to be a cartoon supervillain, half of his persona is ripped straight from the large collection of comics he keeps in his lab. They’re very eccentric and a little childish, and extremely persistent in their friendships. If you befriend him he will NOT leave you alone. He's very cartoonishly "evil", prone to bouts of maniacal laughter and monologuing about his "totally evil plan" to Ambrose. They’re extremely intelligent and competent, they know exactly what they’re doing and how to do it, and they’re charismatic enough to get lots of clients and be somewhat popular as a necromancer in the criminal world. Despite his fairly non intimidating appearance, he does not take well to people trying to push him around or intimidate him into doing things he doesn't want to, and the threats of horrific violence with a smile like :D on his face usually do a good job at getting people to not try that again. Beyond their persona, they’ve actually got a lot of issues with their perception of self and their "evil" is often a coping mechanism to ignore his past. People with gooey murder hands were never supposed to be good people, right? Physical appearance: Strychnine is a very small and lean guy, he's only 5'2 with a fairly small body type in general. Due to their body composition, they don't build muscles or fat well, so they look quite scrawny, but hey, they do have enough strength to drag bodies around and saw through bones, so appearances aren't everything. He's got a fairly dark skin tone with freckles across the bridge of his nose and downturned eyes with yellow sclera and red and grey ringed pupils. They constantly look slightly teary/drippy. He's got a bright cyan mullet of hair, and while it appears to be locks, it actually has a texture more akin to putty. They've got cyan stitches tattooed around their neck and shoulders, with ribs tattooed over where their actual ribs are. He's also got large vivisection scars across his chest. His typical attire is a dark grey labcoat over a slightly transparent black undershirt, long pants with actual caution tape safety pinned around one leg, a leaded apron, safety goggles, and large steel toed platform boots for the height boost haha. He always wears a pair of thick rubber gloves, due to the fact that his hands constantly drip a corrosive black goo. Fun facts! - Due to his radioactive composition, he glows. His hair and eyes glow constantly, and his blood has a "glowstick" effect - They’ve got an extremely high pain tolerance, mostly because of their past. They’re sort of hard to physically whump because of it, he'll probably just be annoying instead - Again because he's full of goo and acid, he can and will, eat ANYTHING. He's vegetarian but also often likes eating totally inedible things like extra screws and bits of glass, mostly just to fuck with Ambrose. - Their hair also can burn things like their hands, but unlike their hands, it cannot burn through clothes or material, it can just cause 1st to 2nd degree chemical burns if you try to grab it His Toyhou.se is here if you want more information or to see more art

[iviarellereads]

Gideon the Ninth, Act One, Chapter 1

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

(Ninth House skull icon) In which Gideon attempts escape.

Our story opens in the ten thousandth year of "our Lord"(1) on Gideon Nav, indentured servant to the Ninth House, who is trying to escape the Ninth House with only her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines. She cleans her cell, unlocks her security cuff, and leaves the stolen key to it on her pillow "like a chocolate in a fancy hotel".(2)

She passes her mother's catacomb niche, which has been unoccupied since she was little,(3) and heads up to the pit where the shuttle will arrive in two hours. She scouts out the pit, walking the perimeter, then kicking every loose bit of dirt, looking for... something unnamed. She even tries to dig her steel-toed boot into the floor, but is satisfied that it's improbable anything's been hidden in it. Then she checks it all again when the lights come up for the day.(4)

Eventually, the skeletons in the planter fields get to work, and Gideon can hear the clicking. Then the first bell calling the residents to prayer sounds, and she sees activity in the lower tiers of Drearburh. The first bell sounds again, a muster call pattern. Very unusual.

Gideon picks up her sword and a polishing cloth and continues to wait. She doesn't even look up when Crux, the marshal of Drearburh, an ancient man in rusting armour, comes and starts accusing her of exactly what she did to get this far. She reminds him that he hates her as much as she hates him, so can't he just let her go? But no, Gideon has wronged the Ninth House.

Crux starts to fight, Gideon evading him not entirely easily, but without ever drawing her sword. She quips, and he says she talks too much for chattel. She belongs to the Ninth, and after he knocks her dead, "the Lady has said that you will come to her." Gideon says his Lady can go to hell. He offers many threats of what he'll do with Gideon's bits one day, and Gideon tells him he can go to muster and tell "her" that Gideon's already gone.

Crux leaves, grumping, without another word. This doesn't make Gideon nervous at all.

With fifteen minutes to go, a voice from the entry to the pit says Crux is decrying Gideon to all who will listen. Aiglamene, the captain of the House guard, is almost as old as Crux, and has many scars, but is still quite lively. Gideon recounts some of the thirty-three times she's attempted escape before, trying to join the Cohort. This time, this time it's going to work. Gideon is allowed to apply for the military, even as an indentured servant. And she's of no other use to the Ninth. Nevertheless, Aiglamene continues, there's House business and Gideon's presence is requested. Gideon suggests that it's a lie, and the Lady of the House would do anything to stop Gideon from having any joy.

Aiglamene slaps Gideon and asks if Gideon will disgrace her by not answering the summons today. Gideon thinks about how Aiglamene was the closest anyone had ever come to loving Gideon in the House of the Ninth,(5) and she'd done many things to avoid disgracing her in the past... but enough is enough, and the shuttle is almost here. It'll have to be disgrace. Aiglamene expresses her disappointment, her failure to teach Gideon properly that the Ninth House holds stronger the more you struggle against it. She leaves, with eleven minutes to shuttle landing.

An aside, now, where Gideon ponders how she doesn't know where she was born.(6) The planet where she lives is home to the Ninth House stronghold and the tiny prison for the worst criminals of the entire Dominicus system. Eighteen years ago, Gideon's mother had tumbled down the main shaft of Drearburh in a spacesuit with a parachute, and her life support diverted to the day-old Gideon. None of the most experienced necromancers could restore her mother's spirit to explain herself. She only cried, "Gideon!" three times, and her spirit fled again.

Gideon was one of about two hundred children when she arrived and was "taken as a very small bondswoman". Less than two years later, there would be only Gideon, a teenaged boy, and the infant heir of the Ninth House. She knew early that she'd never be a necromancer or a proper nun of the House. She started trying to run away when she was four years old, and her attempts numbered eighty-six by the time she was eighteen.(7)

=====

(1) Really getting the Catholicism in from the first sentence, huh, Muir? You gotta respect it. (2) I highlight the fancy hotel chocolate line in particular because, given the context of Gideon living in a cell and being an indentured servant… how does she know about hotel pillow chocolate? Must be the dirty magazines… somehow. (3) Necromancers, amirite? Why let bones sit in a crypt when you can put them to use? (4) What do we think Gideon is looking for here? On a scale of one to ten, how wrong do you think she is about there being nothing? Incredible setup. (5) Gideon has had The Most Unhappy Childhood. This is a given, otherwise why would she be a protagonist? But nevertheless. HECK that's a gut-twister. Along with the disappointment Aiglamene feels shortly after the thought. (The old "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed." Classic.) (6) And yet more messed up childhood. (7) Presumably, those 86 include the 33 attempts to join the Cohort, but who's to say?

[ourbite-moved]

OURBITE ; a low activity & extremely private multimedia multimuse featuring canon and original characters from baldur's gate 3, the hobbit, and hades / mythos. please read the guidelines prior to following.

carrd. aesthetic sideblog. npcs. blogroll; karsite.

i. private, selective and mutuals only. I reserve the right to unfollow or soft/hard block at any point in time without disclosing why. to ease your mind it means I no longer see us being able to interact or there were far too many post not regarding your character. if I don't know your muse or you are a multi with a majority that I am unfamiliar with, I will not follow.

ii. if I am following it means I want to interact. I am a shy person but I value connection so I will try and make the effort to actually interact. I tend to send multiple memes so you can pick whichever to respond to, don't feel pressed to answer them all. I encourage you to do the same when I reblog memes, this is the best way to begin interactions.

iii. if we speak ooc, we have a higher chance of writing more smoothly together. if threads have the chance to grow longer or you have an idea please don't hesitate to reach out via IMs. if I have to dig on your blog to find any information or guidelines, if there is no pinned or obvious link, I won't follow you.

iv. I will be developing as I write. I do not adhere to canon instead use it more of an outline.

v. at the end of the day this is a hobby. I have a life outside this blog, a job and, go to university. I will write at my own leisure. I insist you do the same. there is no time limit or expiration on responses. take all the time you need.

vi. I personally have no triggers that need tagged but I will tag things as " WORD / " anything that is not safe for the timeline will be tagged simply nsft.

vii. any hate will not be tolerated nor entertained. anons, unless a legit question or coming from a sideblog, get deleted. please keep your drama to yourself. I only reblog call-outs with actual evidence.

viii. shipping: I will admit I love shipping however any and all shipping requires communication and chemistry. if we don't speak ooc the chances of me shipping with you are non-existent. I am a connoisseur of oc x canon ships btw.

muses: eres - lolthsworn drow. barbarian, berserker subclass. neutral evil. cornelius francois bevard - necromancer. human ( lich ). true neutral. ermes - half-drow. bard, college of swords. neutral good. ganon - durge, tiefling storm sorcerer - WILL UPDATE IF REDEEMED OR NOT SOON. achilles - ex-hero now tutor and mentor for zagreus, the son of hades. thorin oakenshield - leader of durin's people, proud dwarrow warrior. vampire oc tba. <3 [ original lore, able to fit into bg3 / fantasy. ] noctis lucis caelum - savior of our star, king of kings.

( secret roster - plot only. please message if interested !! ) sindri. kratos. boromir. spock[ tos ], patroclus.

[wellhappybirthdaytomeiguess]

I love the steel toed boots here for some reason. She is ready to kick ass for her hated necromancer.

Harrow Nova be like 💀

Sketch for a kofi! Thank you Muir for giving us kickass AUs along with canon

[kancyla]

{ Adoptable #1 ✦ Necromancer  }

✦ This is a preview, you will obtain the full hq artwork w/o the black sample square. ✦

First of all, thank you for being interested in my adoptables!

Before letting you buy and use them, I have to ask you to check and accept my TOS! ⋱──────────────────────────── ✦ ⋰

» For sale - 25€ (Real currency) AB this adoptable on ko-fi!

» Offers are open only for real currency | No trades rn;

» 3000x3000 - 300 dpi;

» Adoptable .png w/ & w/o "SAMPLE" + Preview + TOS.txt

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[ghostroyal]

█▒ℕ𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕣▒█

[jaedoesart]

If I could find the song i'd link it here but i'm having some trouble so bleh-