#only one of them is an ancient undead genocidal sort-of-god and the other one is an anxiety ridden mostly-dead maybe-reborn twenty year old

[ehlnofay]

Summerfest Day 2 - GOLDEN

“You’re not supposed to ask that,” says the Nerevarine, somewhere deep in the hollow heart of Red Mountain.

It feels, ze thinks vaguely, like one of the dreams. The dusty cavern, almost blurred at the edges, the hot, heady press of stagnant air, sweatingly warm and scented sweet with rot. Braziers burn with something that is not fire. The meandering, shockingly empty path ze took to get this far, through all the proper corridors, with their rusted corners and scraps of rugs – no furniture, not even stacked up in the inexplicable way ze’s come to expect; almost nothing at all, like a house unfinished, like all its denizens have only just arrived. Like they’ve spent all their centuries prone on the floor. Ze kicked up so much dust as ze walked, like no-one had ever trod there before. There’s so much dust in here now. It’s all so very barren-bare, like the dreams; so lonely. Just zem, in all this great sprawling subterranean building, and the figure – statue-still in front of zem, a safe distance away, watching from behind the lucent gold of its mask. The bejewelled hollows of its eyes glimmer, unblinking, three points of an untraced triangle; the face is sculpted with fretted care.

It all feels, ze thinks, like a dream; like the months on months on months leading up to this moment have been compressed, pushed down and packed tight, until it seems like Caelestis Vitellius stepped off that horribly rocking boat directly into this chamber, clad in warped bonemold, jewels pressed down the line of zir sternum and against the joints of zir elbows, conjured blade in ungloved hand. Ze has held the knife for hours, but ze does not hold it ready; the dead skin of zir thumb presses against the guard as ze shifts it loosely in zir grip, arms down, weight placed squarely on zir back foot. The devil is standing in the flesh in front of them, sharper-edged and more tangible than in the dream-messages but otherwise so eerily much the same, and ze thinks ze should feel afraid but ze can’t seem to dredge it up. Maybe it’s the sickly air, setting zir head spinning; maybe it’s the stop-starting rhythm of the conversation they’ve been attempting instead of the fighting ze expected. It’s something of a relief for there to be honesty at the end of it all; not even the opportunity for more deceit or espionage or complicated chess-board moving. Just questions, and promises of answers. Caelestis feels very small, in the dust-coated hollow of the cavern, and as new as ze was the day ze stepped onto Seyda Neen soil, but not afraid. There’s no room for it. It’s all so close to the end, one way or another; everything so very nearly makes sense.

So very, very nearly.

But then the Sharmat asked that question and broke the languid pause before it all begins-to-end to bits.

“You’re not supposed to ask that,” says Caelestis, again, not-fire lambent in the braziers, light liquid against the sculpted gold of Dagoth Ur’s face. Ze tastes the air thick on zir half-a-tongue, cloying, unwell. “What do you mean, am I truly – you called me –” ze realises that ze is gesturing at him with zir knife, shining crystalline in the not-firelight, and ze drops zir arm. (Ze has held the blade all this time, though it hasn’t been needed, not yet; the most use it has been of is scraping Red Mountain’s bitter, caking ash from the soles of zir shoes. Earlier, in one of the quiet stretches of their surreal half-conversation, ze held the humming hilt between zir teeth so ze could fix zir hair.)

It's so silent, in the belly of the mountain; not even an echo. The Sharmat, in front of zem, does not move even to breathe. Ze feels very small. Ze feels very new. Ze feels like ze’s breathing Vvardenfell air for the first time and trying to figure out how to account for it all.

Ze says, “I thought you knew,” and there is more in zir voice than there has been before. Ze doesn’t know what there is more of, just that there is more.

Dagoth Ur tips his head, considering, to one side. He moves in fits and starts, like smoke, deliberate as a rockslide despite it all. “Oh,” he says in his too-ordinary voice, and then, “A pity.”

And it’s all so horribly like one of the dreams; breathing the rancid air of a strange, empty place, conjured blade useless in zir hand, earth drifting out from under zem. The devil stands before zem, impossibly close, impossibly far, and Caelestis is confused, and alone; so very dreadfully alone, maybe forever. And ze doesn’t know what to do.

(In the dream, he called zem Nerevar.)

(Ze wonders, vaguely, how many people got that dream.)

“I don’t want your pity,” Caelestis says, pressing zir thumb against the guard of zir blade until ze can feel its quiet murmur through the long-dead flesh of zir hand. What ze does want – ze doesn’t know. Ze didn’t think about it. Ze should have, clearly, but again, to zir detriment, ze’s assumed that other people will act with honesty, that they won’t bluff and lie where ze wouldn’t think to; he talked as if he knew, so ze believed he did. Ze thought he knew. He was supposed to know.

(The ring shining quiet on its chain is some kind of confirmation. The fact that ze’s here, burrowed like a tick into the belly of the mountain despite its attempts to rebuff zem, is some kind of confirmation. But that’s not the same thing as an answer. A yes isn’t worth much when ze doesn’t have the how or why or even, quite, the what.)

(Ze thought ze’d get that here.)

Caelestis arrived in Morrowind sometime between a century ago and today – it is hard, in the flicker-red-gold of the braziers, to pin down anything more specific – and ze’s spent the entire time grasping for anything that might make it make sense, that might illuminate some kind of reasoning behind it all. Planted because ze might be a myth, or close enough that no-one could tell the difference; put here to do something impossible, and to be unmissed if ze died trying. And the whole time – the whole bloody time – ze’s been looking, and watching everyone else looking, too, from Caius at the very beginning to Nibani to Vivec – looking and looking and looking with varying degrees of hope, and never finding. Ze’s been looking for answers since ze first stepped onto Vvardenfell soil, trying to solve a mystery that wouldn’t be given shape for months, dogging zir steps through city streets and wilderness pathways and on boats and through caves and up mountains and into rivers, lurking indistinct as the cavern shadows in bone-patterned shrines and the burnished-brassy masks of the Ordinators, until ze arrived here, half-dead at the end of the world, staring the devil in its golden face and waiting for it to find what no-one else, agent or priest or god, has been able to.

And he doesn’t see anything, either.

Caelestis takes a deep breath, sour air moving barely noticed through zir misshapen lungs, and lets it sit there.

(There are no answers here. There is only zem.)

(Perhaps there never will be. Perhaps that will have to be enough.)

The Sharmat shifts again, lurchingly fluid. “Then I do not pity you,” he says – his voice still so eerily close to ordinary – “but yet I have compassion, and I will weep for your death. If you have questions, ask them.”

Caelestis exhales.

Ze shifts zir grip on the hilt of zir summoned knife – lifeless skin pressing smoothly against its shape – and ze says, “There was nothing else I wanted from you.”

“Then to you goes the courtesy of the first blow,” says Dagoth Ur; his mask, liquid as it looks in the light, cannot move, but Caelestis gets the strong impression of a smile somewhere in the dark, all the same. The Sharmat inclines his head, gracious as a bow. “I’m waiting, Nerevar.”

[killthebxy]

          this verse is based on the idea that Jon was brought back from the dead by the Night King, rather than Melisandre, and it was inspired by this fanart: CLICK. it is a mix of book and show canon, with some points of divergence from both. as it is my only verse where i explicitly write Jon as a villain/antagonist, a disclaimer is in order before anything else:

while not present in this background, the threads and plots within this verse may contain references or explicit mentions of topics such as violence and cruelty, murder and genocide, humiliation and degradation, manipulation and abuse --- among others of similar nature;

i am not my muse, which is unfortunate because i would love to be Jon Snow; out of jokes, though, mun =/= muse and i am the first one clearly stating that i do not condone and will try my best to never romanticize any of the topics mentioned above. this verse exists for creative writing purposes only, as it allows me to explore ideas and scenarios that i could never do in any of my other verses --- considering that Jon is inherently a good and kind character.

          with this taken care of, let us get started. in this verse, the mutiny still happened but it took place beyond the Wall rather than at Castle Black --- more precisely, at the weirwood grove where the brothers who keep the old gods say their vows. as all attention was captured by the mutiny unfolding, they failed to notice the approaching of wights and the Others, which non-surprisingly did not end well for them. only one of the mutineers managed to escaped among the chaos that ensued, climbing on a horse to return to the Watch with the news. while everyone else was immediately turned into wights, Jon’s corpse was brought back to the Night King --- who, recognizing him from the events at Hardhome (this point will always follow show canon, even in book-based threads, as it is relevant for this verse’s background that the NK is aware that Jon has the power to destroy Others with his sword), decided he would be of more use if he retained his awareness, rather than becoming a mindless wandering corpse. therefore, the NK himself turned Jon into an Other named Snow --- symbolism of the cold and eternal winter, but as well of the stigma of being bastard-born, which is Snow’s ultimate drive for action and the grudge he constantly upholds (as will be explored in the next paragraphs).

          appearance wise, Snow looks like Jon but with the typical Other traits: deathly pale skin, hair mostly changed to grey and white, piercing blue eyes, cold black hands. while not visible, he retains the scars resulting from the stab wounds during the mutiny. his usual attire consists of armor also similar to what the Others carry, but his is entirely black --- and he continues wearing his lord commander cloak, as symbol of the role that brought him to his current state of existence. personality wise, and as a quick sum-up, Snow is everything that Jon was not: he’s cunning and deceitful where Jon was honest and honorable, heartless where Jon was merciful, ambitious where Jon was humble, selfish and egotistical where Jon was selfless. whereas he is aware of his origins and retains all of his memories as a human, Snow refers to Jon as “the boy” and as though they are two entirely separate entities; and, whereas he often refers to Jon as stupid and naive and gullible, he’s fiercely protective of Jon’s memory and his main goal is, exactly, to bring revenge upon every single person who once wronged Jon and caused him to suffer one way or the other. the main object of his hatred is, non-surprisingly, the Night’s Watch.

          Ghost was also caught up in the mutiny and, after being reborn, Snow himself brought him back as an undead direwolf whom he named Life --- a word play on his previous name and his current nature, but also symbolism for the very thing Snow wishes to eradicate from this world. Life looks similar to Ghost in everything, except he’s got blue eyes, and he’s as loyal to Snow as Ghost was to Jon. further along this verse, and after that one mutineer brought the news to Castle Black, they sent ravens both to the Iron Throne and to Daenerys --- seeing as how a lord commander turned to the armies of the dead isn’t as simple to ignore anymore, given his knowledge about the Night’s Watch and the Wall and, thus, the capacity to strike in all the right spots to bring them over to the realm. realizing this, an expedition was organized like in the show’s s07 (but far better organized lbr), and Danerys herself brought her dragons beyond the Wall to either somehow retrieve “Jon” or be rid of him for good. in this verse, it was Snow who tossed the ice lance that resulted in Viserion’s death and, as reward for his actions, the NK also allowed him to be the one to bring the dragon back to life. Snow named him Noiresiv --- it’s Viserion spelled backwards, as symbolism for his turning from fire to ice. based on the events that i’ll describe next, Snow eventually becomes the undead dragon’s rider and the one to have him bring down the Wall. all of the facts concerning Viserion/Noiresiv are also part of @qeldliie‘s own verse and headcanons.

          as i mentioned above, Snow is extremely ambitious and power-hungry and, from the moment of his revival, he was not satisfied with simply acting under the NK’s orders --- he actually wanted that role for himself, and to become the supreme ruler of every living and undead being in Westeros (and eventually beyond). therefore, while overtly acting dutiful and obedient, Snow conspired at every step to overthrow the NK and eventually succeeded --- this event may be susceptible to changes according to threads and plots, but the default will follow ideas i have discussed with @cerbinwen. with this goal accomplished and the Wall destroyed, all that’s left is to bring the Long Night to the realms of men. based on what what i just mentioned, plus everything else above, it’s easy to see that Snow is thoroughly narcissistic and demands unconditional and unfailing worship --- to the point of referring to himself as God. he considers humans as infinitely inferior beings and has no love nor mercy to offer to them, though he may be open to keeping a few of them around --- either for recognizing some usefulness to them, or simply for his own amusement and sadism.

          Snow is as skilled with a sword in hand as Jon was, but he’s ruthless in combat and, therefore, very difficult to overcome. on the other hand, he’s considerably less agile than Jon, considering the weight of his armor and also his weapon of choice. because, obviously, an Other cannot wield Valyrian steel without risking to accidentally destroy himself at each move, Snow has discarded Longclaw and instead kept an ancient weapon he unearthed at Hardhome. i headcanon that it is similar to Pyramid Head’s Great Knife (CLICK) --- a huge, heavy, rusty sword that grates and shreds rather than actually slicing. its size makes it sluggish and relatively easy to dodge for somebody who’s fast --- though, if the blow is not stopped right at the start, then it becomes impossible to parry or block against. because the thing is huge and Snow isn’t exactly tall (as Jon wasn’t), he’s got the habit of simply dragging it after himself; which he does very casually and like it’s the most natural thing, often provoking that characteristic, nerve-wrecking noise as the blade grates over the ground. Snow is impervious to wounds made by any sort of common weapon, no matter how sharp or powerful, which also explains his choice of sword and how reckless he is in combat. as with all the Others, his only weaknesses are fire, Valyrian steel/dragonsteel, and dragonglass/obsidian. Snow is effectively a dead being, having no blood circulation and no beating heart. whereas it is unnecessary to him, he usually continues breathing out of habit. and, due to the death of his human nature, he’s incapable of feeling positive emotions for the most part --- he completely ignores the meaning of empathy or mercy, and the joy he feels is solely derived of twisted motives and actions. as a final curiosity, he’s actually thoroughly confused and/or entranced by anything that is innocent and chaste, such as a child’s toy for example --- as he has lost the capacity to understand anything of that nature, or its use and usefulness.

          ONE IMPORTANT FINAL NOTE: please be aware that Snow is a terrible, wretched creature in every aspect and he’s not to be approached lightly and much less disrespectfully. unless your muse is of similar power (e.g., a deity, a supernatural being), if you get to him with a cocky attitude, you will get stabbed right through the throat and that thread will be over as soon as it starts. as well, don’t expect to be able to “change him back” or make him “good” again --- it’s not going to happen. the only person who is able to make Snow feel a semblance of human emotions is Arya, considering she’s the only one who was ever unconditionally on Jon’s side. Snow actually is afraid of/very uncomfortable around Arya, and avoids her presence as much as he can --- because she’s the living memory that he once had a heart. towards persons like Ned or Robb, Snow is indifferent for the most part but also a bit ambiguous --- because, while they were dear to Jon, they didn’t actively go out of their way to stand up for him like Arya did. towards anyone who ever wronged Jon in any way (like Sansa or Catelyn), Snow will be downright hostile at the very least. Snow is inherently cruel, manipulative, vengeful, heartless --- and i will not tame him nor tone him down. so, if you ever want to plot/write anything in this verse, please always keep his nature in mind.

[creativerogues]

100 “Epic” Adventure Ideas...

Here are one hundred adventure seeds you can use to generate ideas for your adventures and campaigns.

A ancient and evil balor sorcerer imprisons old friends of the player characters, holding them hostage in return for a service. 

A band of several death slaadi rogues and sorcerers begins to waylay all planar travelers who chance through their recently claimed turf on the Astral Plane.

A ranger hero recognized around the world begins to organize a group of explorers for reasons unknown...

A bardic college develops a style of music that charms and dominates any that listen to it too long.

A beholder cluster, made up of many beholders driven mad, begins to war with lesser beholder communities, apparently all seeking a beholder artifact. 

A prominent deity grows sick and will die if the cause of its divine ill is not discovered. 

A beloved prophecy long accepted as true fails to occur because of the characters’ meddling, and the world turns against them...

A blinding, yellow haze seeps down from the sky, covering the world...

A celestial tree hundreds of miles long reaches its roots down and begins to grow on the world’s surface. Creatures from other worlds live in the heights of the tree. 

A child is born who prophecy indicates will one day ascend to godhood. 

A black disease blights the forest, killing all vegetation as it continues to expand without limit at an ever-accelerating rate. 

A clan of psionic militants breaks away from the kingdom — literally. A huge chunk of land hundreds of acres wide floats up and away (taking with it many terrified non-psionic people). 

A conjunction of parallel planes somehow energizes a lowly peasant to the power of a greater deity — but only until the conjunction ends. 

A cross-time catastrophe has cut off the Material Plane from all others. 

A dragon kills the ruler of the largest nation and takes over, calling itself the Dragon King.

A flaw in a true resurrection spell leaves one player character undead by night and alive by day. 

A floating city arrives from across the sea, apparently fleeing the depredations of the Warlord, a barbarian of an epic caliber.

A flock of angelic avengers and celestials is ravaging across the continent. 

A meeting is called by a storm giant blackguard. Powerful giants from around the world (and other worlds) begin to congregate. Though no one knows the meaning of this calling...

A glorious gemstone in which the first light of creation still lingers is purportedly languishing in an ancient, crumbling demi-plane. 

A great chase ensues through endless parallel dimensions as wizard researchers follow the faint trail of the long-vanished elder elves. 

A group of gargoyle paragons claims the Cathedral of Pelor as its own new home. 

A hero of renown (a quasi-deity, really) is to be wed to an elven prince, but the prince’s royal family claims the prince is under a spell. 

A hole is gouged in the veil separating life and death. As the tide of life pours out into the void, all creatures everywhere begin to die as they accumulate negative levels. The hole must be mended. 

A red dragon and two of its siblings emerge from a red-lit cavern in the earth. 

A lesser deity declares the PCs as its mortal enemies, enjoining all its worshipers and allies to find and slay them. 

A longstanding illusion is pierced, revealing that the king is nowhere to be found, and that all dictates of the kingdom have been actually flowing from the thieves’ guild. 

A new deity decides to leave the Outer Planes to set up its palace on the face of the Material Plane. Once it arrives, it demands worshipers and servitors. 

A mad chronomancer with a mastery of time, has determined how to destroy the past (and therefore the present). Unless it can be stopped, time itself will unravel. 

A planar conjunction will soon come to pass, allowing the legions of hell (or worse) direct access to a selected part of the Material Plane for 24 hours. It can’t be stopped, but some famous characters may attempt to defend key cities or strongholds from the onslaught. 

A player character’s heart is stolen and replaced with a magical gem or a strange alchemical creation. Who knows how long the replacement will last? 

A powerful wizards’ guild enters all-out war with the dominant religious order of the world. 

A quasi-deity wants an escort as it ventures into the Abyss to release a companion quasi-deity from bondage. 

A rogue moon threatens to crash down upon the world, ending all life. 

A sentient spell-virus is raging out of control among spellcasters. All who fall victim to it become part of one unified mind controlled by a malign intelligence. 

A species of “fish” introduced from another plane has provided good eating and relief from famine over the last year. Now, thousands (possibly millions?) of the fish-like creatures begin a sudden growth spurt, transforming en masse into terribly powerful and bloodthirsty predators. 

A splinter community of humans evolves into a sub-race sporting strange and variant powers. 

A syndicate of assassins dramatically expands its membership by introducing a mind-control potion into a city’s water supply. 

A team of nightmares draws a chariot driven by a powerful fighter into the city. 

A titan seeks those brave enough to release it from its age-long bondage; its rescuers may face the wrath of higher deities. 

A vampire scion from another plane begins to conquer world after world with the help of a reforged artifact of legend, Midnight’s Heart. 

A volcano erupts. In the aftermath, a portal to the City of Brass on the Elemental Plane of Fire remains open permanently.

A well-known wizards’ guild’s magical dumping ground of failed experiments and stale spell components becomes sentient.

A wizard attempting to summon a powerful devil slips up and somehow summons an abomination instead: an infernal lord of the hells. 

A wizard claims to have developed an epic spell ritual that, if cast, will slay a deity.

All magic items crafted from a particular city begin to bestow negative effects on their owners with each use. 

All who fall asleep on a selected world cannot be awakened and eventually die in their sleep. Exhaustion is beginning to take a hold on even the greatest heroes of its realm...

An adventuring party stumbles upon the tomb prison of an long dead half-god and releases it. 

An anti-magic plague is released by an unknown agency, causing sickness and eventually death to any who prepare or cast arcane spells. 

An artifact belonging to one of the characters must be destroyed, lest some great catastrophe, which has secretly been gathering, come to pass. 

An artifact capable of forever dominating all red dragons everywhere is discovered.

An enclave of gnomes customizes an iron colossus into a walking war platform.

A group of NPCs known for good deeds suddenly embarks on a death spree, murdering merchants and their envoys...

A group of NPCs decides to destroy the PC adventurers, for reasons that are initially obscure. 

A sentient, free roaming, self-casting disintegrate spell breaks loose from a wizard’s laboratory. 

A legendary paladin leads a crusade to hell. 

An inter-dimensional caravan must float on the River Styx through the dangers of several lower planes. 

Spirits begin to manifest from machines as complicated as simple steam-powered wheels — is it a warning from the gods of the forge to desist? 

Angry druids raise the beasts, animals, and dire animals of the wild, intent on beginning a new world order in which nature comes first. 

As the world ages, frequent earthquakes threaten to plunge the major nations under the sea. 

Blue-skinned merchants begin to sell enormously popular items composed of dreamstuff — “mined from the very dreams of a deity,” claim the merchants.

Deeper than the Underdark, the world is discovered to be hollow. Hanging in that vast opening is an unknown, uncharted inner world of strangeness.

Dwarf miners follow a vein of adamantine to a hinged valve sealed with divine magic of an age older than any of the current deities. 

A group of seemingly amateur rogues steal the magical scepter of the Dragon King. 

Evil opportunists slay the Guardian of the Flame of Destiny, hoping to remold the Law of Reality to their own liking. 

Ghosts of every sort begin to rise again, and they won’t recognize their own undead state. 

Mind flayers successfully gain control of a surface nation, plunging the region into permanent darkness. 

Jade pyramids of prodigious size rise from the earth. Sounds unlike any heard before echo faintly from within their stony cores. 

Construct-like creatures of insane complexity called “machines” move across the land, preparing the way for a larger invasion of automated entities. 

Magic begins to fail, supposedly because it is being “used up” faster than it naturally regenerates. 

Mercenary half-dragons who ride chromatic dragons as steeds sell their swords (and spells) to an evil empire. 

Newborns begin to be born without souls.

Off-plane raiders begin to steal people away for use as slaves and food. 

Once every ten years a small cave provides access into a magical, underground world where all living beings give off colorful light, ruled by mysterious fey lords with mysterious agendas. 

One of the player characters learns about his or her real mother or father — in fact, that parent was a demon, and that demon has come calling. 

Planetars and solars bring heaven’s war to the Material Plane, slaying any and all they deem evil or immoral. 

Chromatic dragons decide that their “species” is the only true draconic race, and they begin a campaign of genocide against all other dragon types. 

Several well-known cities and all their inhabitants suddenly disappear without a trace. More could follow...

Someone is breaking the Seven Seals that maintain the integrity of the multiverse...

The ancient Great Library has secret vaults where the Words Once Spoken are supposedly inscribed in the Book of Sleep. To speak them again would remake the universe. 

The Clock that Rules the Universe is under attack by insane gnome alchemists, who are raiding it for parts. 

The End Times threaten to begin. 

The gods of Law put all humanoid races on trial for their excesses.

The Lord High Priest of Pelor denounces her deity and faith. 

The most feared and reviled weapon of legend, an artifact sword that drains life energy with a touch, is lost by its owner. 

The Mother of Spiders emerges from her Cocoon of a Million Years to find a mate for her next spawning. 

A vast necropolis undergoes a mystical transformation. Now, each coffin, sarcophagus, and mausoleum leads to separate cemetery dimensions and realms of death. 

The PCs’ stronghold mysteriously gains new extra-dimensional halls and rooms of unknown origin, content, and extent.

The populace decides that they want one of the PCs as their new ruler, which doesn’t please the current ruler. 

The secret texts of a prominent religion, recently discovered, call into question the church’s real goal, its actual origin, and the agenda of its god. 

The souls of a good queen and her family are drawn into the Abyss by an unknown demonic agency. 

The spirits of the dead begin to possess the bodies of the living at an ever-accelerating rate. 

The sun is infested with moon-sized parasites, and may soon fail like so many other stars have fallen to this celestial infestation. 

The winter, which was overly cold, lasts too long — the goddess of winter, Auril, is suspected to be the cause...

The woods begin to grow without bound, invading field, plain, and city. 

The yuan-ti attempt to awaken the Slumbering Serpent, a little-known abomination born of their own race and a god of serpents.

Twenty percent of all astral travelers begin to disappear in mid-trip. Mid-travel diversion spells are suspected. 

Two parallel planes move too close to each other, and denizens and objects of one constantly slip onto the other, and vice versa. 

Unless stopped, an ancient demi-lich will inject itself onto the Negative Energy Plane, where it can possess any undead anywhere in the multiverse. 

When a friend or a respected associate is resurrected, the soul returned to the body has different memories from the original. Whence does this soul come?