#or the librarian and the executioner

[boyybites]

There may be a stream tomorrow we shall see

[thecrowinggriffon]

Haven't been painting a lot this last week. However, I have been printing and converting thes Grey Knight reinforcements for my game next week. Made a repulsor into an executioner by adding a lasgun on the turret as well as a double barrel psycannon. Don't thinkit's legal, but it follows the rule of cool.

[astrojulia]

Tarot Cards as Professions

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Major Arcanas:

The Fool: Work with abroad, connections with imports, language teacher, multinationals, entrepreneur, intern, college student, art major.

The Magician: Entrepreneur, job that needs skill with the hands (acupuncture, hairdresser, artisan), actor, salesperson, influencer.

The High Priestess: Education, especially children, nutrition, psychology, cook, housewife, food engineering, toy factory, fortuneteller, spiritual advisor, librarian.

The Empress: Management, business administration, foreign trade, secretariat, translation, decoration, stay-at-home mom, model, cook, farmer.

The Emperor: Business administration, work related to areas of technological innovation, the military or sportsmen, CEO, tycoon.

The Hierophant: Philanthropic areas, ONGs, religious work, social work, diplomacy, and a degree, journalism, writer, editor, priest, spiritual guru, politician.

The Lovers: Sales area in any sector, tourism, theater, advertising, the arts in general, porn star, stripper, masseuse.

The Chariot: Activities related to transport, cars, the latest technology, chauffeur, mechanic, athlete.

Strength: Aesthetics, physical education and various body therapies, medicine, zoologist.

The Hermit: Teacher, writer, doctor, antique dealer, restorer, librarian, gardener.

Wheel of Fortune: Financial market, exchange offices, casinos, lottery houses, stock exchanges, and areas related to public relations, hospitality, game show host.

Justice: Public jobs, won through competitions, politics, police, with government positions, in the diplomatic area, law, insurance company worker.

The Hanged Man: Nurse, auditor, inspector, porter, secretariat, general assistants, yoga instructor, prison guard, philanthropist.

Death: Doctor, farmer, geologist, business administrator, gardener, accountant, assassin, death row executioner, surgeon.

Temperance: Working with liquids in general or with what is transported in liquid form such as alcoholic beverages, medicines, juices. chemist, chef, food critic, regional or even international traffic.

The Devil: Does not limit the individual to a professional wing, so he can also go to extremes for the desire he has, such as landlord, drug lord, sex trafficker.

The Tower: Social assistance, humanitarian aid, medicine, firefighter, police officer, construction worker.

The Star: Music, painting, sculpture, poetry, cinema, makeup artist, dressmaker, beautician, agent, promoter, sound artist, astronomer, harpist, dealer, meteorologist.

The Moon: Oceanographers, sailors, fishermen, owners of bars and restaurants or nightclubs, artists in general, medium, hypnotist, psychiatrist.

The Sun: Motivational speaker, entertainer, comedian, social relationships, work with the public, artist in general, member of society.

Judgment: Work done at home, connection with the law, lawyer, judge, work with disabled or people excluded from society, social assistance, board member, executive producer, director.

The World: Pharmacist, massage therapist, scientist, teacher, community leader, religious leader or priest, fashion designer, makeup artist, interior decorator.

Wands:

Creative industries such as advertising, marketing, and graphic design.

Entrepreneurship and starting your own business.

Athletics, sports coaching, or physical training.

Outdoor jobs like park ranger or tour guide.

Event planning or organizing.

Firefighters or rescue workers.

Ace of Wands: Entrepreneur, startup founder, motivational speaker, fitness coach, personal trainer.

Two of Wands: Business strategist, project manager, travel agent, international consultant, import/export specialist.

Three of Wands: Sales representative, marketing manager, e-commerce entrepreneur, market researcher, international trade coordinator.

Four of Wands: Event planner, wedding coordinator, party organizer, festival manager, hospitality industry professional.

Five of Wands: Conflict resolution specialist, mediator, lawyer, debate coach, competitive sports coach.

Six of Wands: Public relations manager, spokesperson, social media influencer, motivational speaker, winning athlete.

Seven of Wands: Defense attorney, human rights activist, political campaigner, advocate, civil liberties lawyer.

Eight of Wands: Courier, delivery driver, airline pilot, travel blogger, expedition guide.

Nine of Wands: Security guard, bodyguard, soldier, endurance athlete, self-defense instructor.

Ten of Wands: Overworked entrepreneur, project manager, event organizer, professional organizer, heavy equipment operator.

Page of Wands: Assistant in a creative field, aspiring artist, intern in a startup, social media coordinator, apprentice.

Knight of Wands: Travel journalist, adventure tour guide, professional athlete, race car driver, stunt performer.

Queen of Wands: CEO, business owner, charismatic leader, life coach, influential speaker.

King of Wands: Executive manager, entrepreneur, leadership coach, consultant, director of a creative agency.

Cups:

Counseling, therapy, or social work.

Hospitality industry, including restaurant management and bartending.

Wedding planner or event coordinator.

Artistic fields like poetry, writing, or acting.

Healing professions such as nursing or holistic therapy.

Psychologist or counselor specializing in emotions and relationships.

Ace of Cups: Therapist, counselor, social worker, holistic healer, emotional support specialist.

Two of Cups: Marriage counselor, matchmaker, relationship coach, wedding planner, love psychic.

Three of Cups: Event organizer, party planner, celebratory event coordinator, community organizer.

Four of Cups: Meditation teacher, mindfulness coach, spiritual counselor, psychologist, therapist.

Five of Cups: Grief counselor, trauma therapist, hospice worker, emotional healing practitioner, bereavement support.

Six of Cups: Child psychologist, teacher, daycare worker, children's book author, pediatric nurse.

Seven of Cups: Creative writer, fantasy novelist, imaginative artist, dream analyst, visionary.

Eight of Cups: Travel blogger, adventure seeker, spiritual pilgrim, explorer, wanderlust photographer.

Nine of Cups: Life coach, happiness consultant, gratitude coach, self-help author, wellness retreat organizer.

Ten of Cups: Family therapist, marriage and family counselor, foster care advocate, wedding planner, family mediator.

Page of Cups: Creative writer, artist in training, intuitive healer, aspiring therapist, dream interpreter.

Knight of Cups: Actor, romantic poet, musician, art therapist, love and relationship coach.

Queen of Cups: Psychic reader, intuitive healer, counselor, compassionate caregiver, therapist.

King of Cups: Therapist, counselor, intuitive mentor, emotional intelligence trainer, psychologist.

Swords:

Legal professions like lawyers, judges, or law enforcement officers.

Journalists, reporters, or investigators.

IT specialists, computer programmers, or hackers.

Teachers or professors specializing in critical thinking or philosophy.

Military or defense-related careers.

Strategic planners or analysts.

Ace of Swords: Lawyer, judge, legal consultant, investigative journalist, strategic planner.

Two of Swords: Mediator, conflict resolution specialist, negotiator, diplomat, relationship counselor.

Three of Swords: Divorce lawyer, grief counselor, trauma therapist, emotional healer, heart surgeon.

Four of Swords: Rest and relaxation specialist, meditation teacher, spiritual retreat organizer, yoga instructor.

Five of Swords: Military strategist, competitive sports coach, lawyer specializing in litigation, debate coach.

Six of Swords: Travel agent, relocation consultant, therapist specializing in transitions, boat captain.

Seven of Swords: Private investigator, spy, intelligence analyst, cybersecurity expert, undercover agent.

Eight of Swords: Social justice lawyer, human rights advocate, disability rights activist, therapist specializing in limiting beliefs.

Nine of Swords: Insomnia specialist, anxiety therapist, nightmare counselor, sleep coach, mental health counselor.

Ten of Swords: Surgeon, coroner, forensic scientist, mortician, grief counselor.

Page of Swords: Researcher, journalist, fact-checker, apprentice in a legal field, investigative reporter.

Knight of Swords: Military officer, police officer, attorney, competitive fencer, conflict resolution specialist.

Queen of Swords: Judge, lawyer, critic, journalist, literary agent.

King of Swords: Judge, attorney, CEO, strategist, military general.

Pentacles:

Financial advisors or investment bankers.

Real estate agents or property developers.

Agriculture, farming, or gardening.

Architects, builders, or construction workers.

Conservationists or environmentalists.

Accountants or bookkeepers.

Ace of Pentacles: Financial advisor, investment banker, wealth manager, entrepreneur, luxury goods retailer.

Two of Pentacles: Financial analyst, accountant, bookkeeper, event planner, stock trader.

Three of Pentacles: Architect, contractor, project manager, teamwork facilitator, craftsman.

Four of Pentacles: Wealth manager, investor, financial planner, asset protection specialist, treasurer.

Five of Pentacles: Social worker, philanthropist, charity organizer, financial counselor, volunteer.

Six of Pentacles: Philanthropist, humanitarian worker, non-profit manager, social worker, charitable fundraiser.

Seven of Pentacles: Gardener, farmer, agricultural consultant, sustainability expert, botanist.

Eight of Pentacles: Craftsperson, artisan, apprentice, skilled tradesperson, technical trainer.

Nine of Pentacles: Luxury brand manager, independent business owner, successful entrepreneur, vineyard owner, art collector.

Ten of Pentacles: Real estate developer, property investor, family business owner, generational wealth manager, financial advisor.

Page of Pentacles: Intern, student, apprentice in a practical field, aspiring entrepreneur, entry-level employee.

Knight of Pentacles: Accountant, financial planner, farmer, skilled tradesperson, meticulous worker.

Queen of Pentacles: CEO, business owner, property developer, hospitality industry entrepreneur, financial advisor.

King of Pentacles: CEO, business mogul, successful investor, high-level executive, financial consultant.

(CC) AstroJulia Some Rights Reserved

[johannestevans]

Thinking about cultures wherein executioners are considered Unclean and are made to live outside of the city walls or otherwise Apart, but that if they weren't born to the position they might be appointed to it, without a choice in the matter

Imagine that but with magic

As in, in the same way that death dealers have been treated as unclean - executioners, gravediggers - that magic itself is treated as similarly unclean

And instead of a butcher's apprentice or soldier being appointed to the role, it's a scholar or librarian or clerk

Overnight being appointed to this position, not only given the books to study, keys to those forbidden and cordoned off parts of the library, but given power over magic itself, and it's... Uncomfortable. Painful energy crackling under his skin, a static charge that never releases

And at the same time, dealing with this painful transformation, this new and lingering discomfort, this responsibility to learn the magic to serve his monarch and his people - dealing with everyone's fear and disgust.

He can no longer so much as enter a tavern.

Just the balance of extreme power, especially in its nascent stages, and at the same time awful and unbearable isolation, and not just loneliness but like... Ostracisation.

Thinking, desperately, helplessly, "No wonder so many mages turn bad."

[tvsoftboi]

Alrighty, time to suck it up and share some headcanons for Cultist Sim and (to a lesser degree) Book of Hours! Warning, this might be kinda on the long side, heh, even if I don't have much to share...

For context, these aren't like, interpretations of the Cultist/Legacies or the Librarian as how they're shown in game. I've seen much better readings on the quality of the character of the, well, player character, heh. I wouldn't really consider this all "AU" stuff either? It's more just, the stories or interpretations I came up with during my own playthroughs! (With that in mind, there are a few Legacies I haven't finished, and I've barely begun scraping the surface of BoH, but I promise to try and get around to things when/where I can!)

Feel free to ask questions either here or through Asks, I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on things, give me a chance to expand on my own stories/whatever!

Base Legacies:

I don't really have too much for the base game's legacies, it's mostly because I haven't played them in so long, I might need a refresher to actually come up with anything more than how I Ascended them and a bare-bones "why?" Sorry they don't have much in the ways of solid stories...

- The Aspirant: I decided he would Ascend through Forge, as one of the only Legacies that doesn't stumble his way into occultism, instead purposefully searching it out, it feels like this little wretch would be perfectly comfortable with a "might makes right" approach, and a justification for any sacrifices that might need to be made.

- Bright Young Thing: For me, the BYT's rich/lavish lifestyle felt right at home for falling prey to Grail. She already indulges her impulses, living life on a whim, so why not take it to an extreme? If life's already practically been handed to her on a silver platter, it felt only right that she'd eventually find comfort engaging in the stranger vices.

- The Physician: This one felt like they'd fit in pursuing a Lantern path. Someone scholarly, (I'd imagine) often involved the endings and beginnings of life, who couldn't help but record the ramblings of one of their final patients. Driven by curiosity's sake, and the tug of the call of "invisible lights," he'd explore and study and learn as much about this invisible new world as they could, taking it as far as they can.

- The Detective: My headcanon for the Detective isn't too exciting, but I think it's a little sweet. Personally, I'd like to believe it and its mundane/minor victory (Ambition's Tide) follow the actions of our (or at least my) boy Douglas (aka the Weary Detective). We're going to absolutely ignore that he is the first/default Hunter, one that you can technically even get as the Detective, if you produce any reputation cards. I like to place this after the first three Legacies and their corresponding Apostle runs. Imagining that the cults probably disbanded with their leader(s) in the Mansus and the Apostle(s) also having gone off and done their things (depending on the actions of the Cultist, the number of followers may have dwindled a bit too, due to sacrifices or "necessary casualties." So, because of all that, Douglas is essentially just finally able to nab a ne'er-do-well, and get the promotion/retirement he deserves. Maybe he finally has a chance to spend time with the spouse and kids (if he has any) ^-^

- The Apostles: I'm grouping these three together, because I haven't actually played them yet, so I don't know their stories, and because of that, I don't have anything to really expand on…

DLC Legacies:

- The Priest: Like the Apostles, I haven't played them either... All I've really got is that scars are associated with certain Aspects (Edge, Knock, and Winter) so... Transmasc Priest with two of his/their Lock-Scars being top surgery scars? Idk, it's really not much...

- The Exile: We'll get back to him once I finish playing the Exile Legacy and Book of Hours as the Executioner. It'll make sense, I promise! ;)

Now, these next two get special attention because I love them so much, for no good reason lmao. Firstly, I've decided these two are siblings (maybe twins? I like it thematically but also I think it'd maybe make more sense for the Dancer to be the older sibling? I'm not sure!) who were separated at a young age.

- The Dancer: She (Lyra, in my game, heh) is absolutely trans, in my mind! The themes of change and shedding your old form really has trans undertones to me, heh. In my mind, the Dancer has been running from her old self and life for years now. A trans youth, rejected by their parents, forced to eke out an existence as best they can, I could see it making sense that she finds her way towards dancing for clubs. Stuck in an unpleasant/unfulfilling life, she'd be intrigued by Sulochana's tempting offer of change. Follow along down the balance ending, falling into service of the Meniscate by being too balanced between change and eternity. (I still need to work on why she specifically goes down balance, rather than pure Moth or Heart...)

- The Medium: The Dancer's sister on the other hand, is Elise, the Painter, the Medium, and the Ghoul. Now, I know that "painter," isn't technically one of her titles, but with how the route ends, and the personal challenge I set for myself, I think it's fitting! (context: I went to the trouble of painting every masterpiece, and only ever summoned spirits by using paintings, since I thought it was cool if she painted these otherworldly beings into the world.) Now, Elise's motivation for falling into occult trappings is two fold: she wants to find her sibling and she's a disaster lesbian. Starting with the queerness first, I think the Medium is an absolutely silly, pathetic, wet cat lesbian. Her interactions with Miss Naenia, especially when sharing a joyful memory, just feels so very gay lol. And I think this does lead into her other reason, whether there's any truth to it when she says it, Miss Naenia promises she can, in a way, help the siblings reunite. The Medium remembers her sibling, but not well. She remembers their parents anger, driving her sibling to run away, but not why. She can barely remember their face, they were so young and the details blur... She wants to remember. To find them. It's an itch at the back of her mind, a want to not be herself alone. Unrelated to her motivation, but I think my Medium specifically was very prone to illness as a child. Sickly, and pale in the way of one who has not or chooses not to see the Sun, she was probably kept confined to her room for most of her childhood, meaning she wouldn't have known exactly what her parents were angry about, or why she can't remember whether she had a brother or sister. For occult stuffs, the Tower of Doves cult felt fitting, being dedicated to "what is lost and may yet return." Maybe the Medium hopes to paint her sibling back to her? I'd also like to imagine she avoids sending her strange and creepy women "who are silent" to murder anybody, (because I had that as another challenge, and) Elise/my Medium didn't feel like a malicious soul. She doesn't want to have to eat the dead unless she absolutely has to, and there are graveyards and ruin scraps for that. (I've got nothing for eating a Decrepitude or King Crucible though, vore I guess lol) By the end of the run she will wander the Mansus, remembering the forgotten Hours, and she will not end before her time. And perhaps, one day, she will find her sibling.

Now, I realize there's maybe some unintentional parallels to the Witch-and-the-Sister and the Sister-and-the-Witch. I didn't intend for the siblings to be one soul as two/two who are one, or anything like that, but I don't hate the idea either? (Also, very sorry if these aren't actually all that interesting, or if this clutters/takes away from actual posts more relevant to the game...)

[cxpperhead]

If you were a deity, what would you be the god of?

Balance and Revenge

Another seemingly intimidating figure. Some only know you for revenge and fear you. However, you’re fair and provide justice and balance to your worshippers. You are regarded as the judge, jury, and executioner and no one can escape.

Stolen from: @red-hemlock and @the-rorschach-mask (♡) Tagging: @arkhmlcst, @babydxhl, @celerem, @defectivexfragmented (for Matt?), @question-marked, @the-arkham-librarian, @umbrellamedic and anybody else who'd like to do this?

[lurantis1]

YOU FOUND THEM

Their names are Tony and Xavier (Tony’s the mafia guy and Xavier’s the other guy)

Tony was in the mob back when he was alive and Xavier was a librarian. They knew each other while they were alive because Xavier was hired to be an assassin/executioner for the mafia (for like, moles and stuff like that) They don’t start dating till after they die (Tony died from getting shot by police and Xavier drowned while disposing one of the bodies)

Oh neat!!!!!!

I’m guessing they are part of a OC universe right? :D

[hush-house-yard-sale]

(May I ask, which Librarian did you get at the start? Executioner, Twice Born, Artist? Personally I got Twice Born)

//I got Archeologist, actually! I still haven’t finished a playthrough, though, and have other librarians I want to try out. The other mod on this blog (mostly finds posts and helps me categorize them bc I’m new to the lore and don’t know much, doesn’t do much posting or interacting) got Artist.

//I’d like to avoid naming a canonical backstory for the Yard Sale Librarian for the time being, so please don’t take either of these as canonical info!

[polyhexian]

Martlet Hunter is friends with Gus. Perry Porter presumably has an 'author copy' of Jasper's biography. Hunter steals borrows it from Gus' house.

Oh yeah that's it. Everyone, even people who don't particularly like jasper are trying to keep hunter from reading that thing. He tries to get it from the library and the librarian is like ohhhh no. Oh buddy. Oh absolutely not. He tries to buy one at a used bookstore and the salesman incinerates it before he can open it to the first page. People are charming that thing to look like any other book. Absolutely no one wants hunter to read his dad's biography about how he spent the first twelve years as a slave and fascist executioner being tortured regularly or how he nearly put a knife in his chest to save Hunter's life. Nobody wants him to read that.

He IS friends with Gus tho. He's getting that thing eventually. Nobody could stop him from reading it forever.

[smogteeth]

Jarrett King Don't laugh at his name, I was having a hard time. XD I've had this guy for so long, but I love him so much. He's definitely a comfort character. Embodies physical strength, but also emotional safety, and comfort. (Also a prude and himbo) He's part of an organization called the "Groundskeepers" or also known as the Keepers. They deal with the supernatural, and not just hunting. They do research and rehabilitation as well. Jarrett used to be a part of their more aggressive department called the "Threat Termination Unit". Often referred to the otherkin as "hunters". Each unit has at least three members; Chaser- They research and locate the threat Trapper- Set the coordination, and plan the containment/attack Gunner- Essentially the executioner. Jarrett was a gunner. His story led him to becoming the protector, friend, end eventually end of life care giver for a Librarian named Kurt. The Keeper Librarians are the research devision, and keep all records of all the creatures, and magics they come into contact with. Kurt was essentially an animal lover, started as a cryptozoologist, and when he learned they were real, immediately joined the Keepers to learn more. Kurt's outlook on life infected Jarrett after Kurt's death, and Jarrett eventually opened up the Conservation Unit. You can see how much he's enjoying looking after some Chupacabra pups.

[borderland-ranger]

Because I'm that person that goes absolutely overboard on everything I do, in addition to my Ranger kit and camping gear, I've also created a collection of paperwork notes, maps and this "Commission from the Crown." 

In the world of Adrasil, the fictional land the Weekend Warrior event takes place, Rangers of Olaran undergo training as an apprentice to an experienced Ranger before essentially "graduating," upon which they receive a legal document that appoints them as a 'warden' of a region or location to uphold the law and protect the people of the kingdom. This paper appoints me as a warden to a region known as the Borderlands to the north, my homeland. The document is on laid paper, and is based on surviving historical medieval documents, correct rambling grammar with a long preface of religion before getting to the point (using the setting's religion of the Holy Light of Luminos). In essence, it's the equivalence of a 'badge' while at my appointed location of the Borderlands. The paper reads: 

------------------

Commission from the Crown-By the Grace of the Holy Light of Luminos, I, King Osric the Wise, son of Queen Ayn the Gentle, High King of Olaran, Commander of all the United Forces, Head of the House O’Reyne, Ruler of all lands from the Inner Sea to the Keldaran River, to all faithful citizens of our Kingdom and noble members of Olaran, may the Light of Luminos be with you. Those who carry within themselves the spirit of the Holy Light are its true and beloved children, as Priestess Merellar, a mighty warrior, received leave from her liege to travel the land and spread the word of the Holy Light, so will I, as a beloved and humble servant of the Holy Light, King Osric of Olaran, follow in these noble footsteps, to better serve the Holy Light and the needs of its faithful.

And so, Ranger Brynn Edgerton, a stalwart servant of Olaran who has performed great services for the Kingdom under the tutelage of his master, has been granted completion of his Ranger training and so is bestowed his official Commission of the Crown, noting that Brynn Edgerton has been approved for title of Warden as a Scout of his northern home of The Borderlands Region, granting upon him legal jurisdiction to act as Law and Order, as judge and executioner in lack of otherwise present authorities. As spoken in the Ranger Creed, Brynn Edgerton is to serve as the King’s eyes in the woods, protector of his realm, herald of dangers, beacon of hope to those in need, and to be an arrow of the Crown and all it is meant to protect. Brynn Edgerton has sworn an oath to defend this land, defending the creeds of the kingdom and lay of the land, to listen and obey without question to those appointed above him, and has vowed to give his life to the defense of the Kingdom, so help him God of Light. Whosoever of The Borderlands who impedes the legal duties of Brynn Edgerton shall share the fate of all traitors to the Kingdom of Olaran, for to act against the King’s warriors is to act against the King himself, and they shall be punished according to the lawful decrees. This act was witnessed by: King Osric the Wise, Count Rallen Ridgewell, Baron Aldous Lescar, Emissary Taluun, Ranger Captains Rook Calloway, and Captain Arquus. It is sealed by the Royal Seal, and that of the Rangers. It was written by I, Milton Sheaf, Librarian of the Royal Library of Olaran, in the month of Básteach and 20 days, of the year 1117 YL   at the Royal Palace, Capitol City of Olaran. In the name of the God of Light. 

Signed and sealed by: 

Osric O’Reyne the Wise, Lord Ruler of Olaran Count Rallen Ridgewell

Captain ArquusCaptain Rook Calloway ----------------------

Photography by @dosalmasmedia, who can be followed at:https://www.facebook.com/Dos-Almas-Media-1

[bewarethewolfarmy]

Rain In A Lost Heart

(Tonight on Erik's Crazy Life: He gets advice from someone he didn't ask the opinion of, realizes something, and gets told to take off his clothes. There's a cliffhanger which I apologize for but didn't want this getting too much longer

Masterlist

Chapter Ten: Music and Secrets )

It was cold and raining and dismal, a cloud of some darkness that covered the city that never sleeps and dug deep into the bones. Down below people walked the streets and sidewalks, aware of something inside that felt unsteady and cold but without a sense of what it could mean. For them it was just a day in New York, another day in which life went on and suffering was prolonged.

Up above a figure huddled in the rain, it's body barely protected from the freeze of the drops from the sky yet it made no move to try to get to shelter. It simply stayed crouched there, hood pulled down, heart heavy, and wished for the thousandth time in it's life for the release of death. The dream of something more, of love, of acceptance, of sunlight, felt far too unrealistic for it now.

Erik normally hated getting the messages about missions; he loathed Darius and his blackmail, and he loathed being made to be someone else's executioner again. But the missive offered a perfect opportunity when his world had crashed down around him to run, as far, as fast as he could; it gave him a way to get away when he didn't want to be seen or heard any longer, when he felt he could never face those two beautiful souls again. What he planned on doing after the mission he did not know, but that was a problem for future Erik and he was not future Erik; he was present Erik and he was full of pain and sadness and desperation. So the man opened his window and had escaped into the cold, dark afternoon, to the place he normally met up with the enigmatic Seer so that he could be made into a tool once more for someone's destruction.

But Seer was not there yet, as often was the case, and Erik's emotions were far too heavy for him to take standing. The rain felt familiar, a memory of even darker days before filling his mind as he curled up and let his own tears and pain melt into it.

The girls saw his face, the beautifully perfect goddess, the wonderfully kind librarian, the people who gave him a home, a safe haven, that for which he was willing to kill once again. But surely he could never go home to after what they saw; surely they would not want a hideous monster in their home, a inhuman abomination so ugly that even the most angelic of souls could not accept it. He wanted to of course, he desperately wanted to go home, back to the Library, back to the days before this one...no, the moments, because as terrifying as it had been, he had loved the sound of Nel playing the harp and had been looking forward to playing alongside her, playing with Tsuki with them, together the three of them making music. Even more of a home, even better of a place, but no, never again he was sure. Because they had seen the monster below the hood, no mask or wig to hide the true horrors, and it killed him inside.

“Specter what are you doing out in the rain?” That voice bashed against the wall of thoughts, insecurities and pain that surrounded Erik's mind and though he was aware of it, could hear it, it did very little to actually get through to him. Just made the man curl up more and think of how much he wished he'd been more aware, kept his hood from falling, kept himself from indulging too much. He'd never see Tsuki's sweet smile again, hear Nel's warm voice again, them calling out his name and reaching to take his hand and comfort him, give him a home, give him a place he could feel safe....

“Specter!” Oh that voice was insistent and this time was spoken with a strange sort of power that did drill through the wall to hit him.

Erik turned his head; Seer was standing a few feet away under an umbrella, their eyebrow raised in something similar but not quite a look of concern. He was not sure if he was happy or not to see them he realized, the dread of doing what he was there for finally and slowly creeping back into place from among all other emotions.

They had asked a question; he frowned and answered, turning away. “I did not have shelter to hide under up here.”

“And an umbrella was somehow out of the question?” Erik would not explain his situation to Seer, he would not allow this entity of the darker side of his new life to invade the good he had. Or had had perhaps; he remembered again vividly the girls looking at him, seeing what he truly was, and his running away. This may end up being the only part of his new life now; a small part reminded him he did this because Darius had effectively threatened Tsuki's life, and if he didn't go home, if he didn't involve himself with her any more, then did he truly need to worry about that anymore? Darius wouldn't go after her or the Library if he wasn't there anymore, if he acted like it wasn't a part of him anymore. If he acted like the ghost he was and just killed his feelings too.

So instead of an answer Erik gave silence, wrapping his arms tighter around him. The cold was starting to seep in and he was certain if he continued like this he would get sick, maybe die. Wouldn't that be a better way to go than continue to suffer like this?

From behind him came a sigh and footsteps and Erik was aware of the rain no longer hitting him though his body was still cold and shivering under his wet clothes. Seer's voice was strangely soft and insistent. “Let's go downstairs where it's dry. No point in having you do anything while like this.”

“I do not-” Erik started but a surprisingly strong hand gripped his arm and hoisted him up with what seemed to be little actual effort; he turned once more to stare at Seer, to try to figure out what just happened. The ever strange figure just looked back at him and started to drag them both inside.

An access way and a short trip down some stairs, the two were inside a quiet and dark building, standing in a hallway covered in carpeting and smelling faintly of disinfectant and cleaning supplies. Even here Erik felt the need to shiver and a sneeze shook his body, causing him to shake. Some voice in his head told him to take off his wet clothes, at least the soaked through hooded jacket but he refused; for all that had happened, everything painful inside him, the thought of removing that was impossible to him. Tsuki had gotten it to him, she had gifted it to him to make him comfortable, he would not willfully give it up even if he froze to death under it.

“I know we barely know each other, and we have only worked together a few times now,” Seer said, “But it seems to me that something is definitely wrong with you today; what's going on?”

“Nothing you need concern yourself with.” Erik pulled himself free of the figure, having no interest or care in leaning on someone he did not trust; Seer was perhaps the danger that Darius was but they were not a friend, they were not someone Erik could confide in. They were not Nel and they were not Tsuki and it weighed on him when he thought of how he had no one else; the Persian was not there and there were no Girys to act as his hand. In this moment he was truly alone and he felt the tears well up from within him, a deep dark sensation of loneliness unlike any other he'd felt. Not in the carnival, not in the labyrinths he had built for the Shah, not in the darkness of the house by the lake, nowhere had he ever felt so absolutely empty and alone as he did in that moment.

He wrapped his arms around himself again and fell to his knees, what did he care that Seer was there and watching? How many times could the horror of his birth, of the monster he was, take away every shred of happiness and warmth he could collect?

“Specter,” spoke Seer and it only drove it home.

That damned codename, a joke based on what he'd been before: the Phantom, the Opera Ghost, now even more of one. He had so loved the way Erik, the name he choose for himself, had sounded rolling off the girl's tongues and he thought of the way Nel had smiled and teased him over the harp, the way Tsuki laughed, how the girls made him feel so at home. And spoke his name, like he had a right to have one, to be human.

He felt someone try to touch him but he ripped himself away quickly, a shudder going through him at the mere thought of it. He didn't wish to be touched, he didn't want to be approached, unless it was somehow back before his hood had fallen and it was the girls. Not even Christine who for all his pain of that time he still loved so deeply and strongly, but the memories of a gentle touch from her were so few in comparison to the warmth of Nel hugging him the other day during the storm, or Tsuki touching his face so many years ago.

Oh god, what if this reminded her? What if she remembered? He was certain she didn't, couldn't possibly, but what if she remembered now and he felt new panic within him growing. Surely she'd be disgusted, that she had touched a monster so many times....

“Specter, say something.” He really hated that codename; he curled up more, trying to cover his ears but refusing to let his hood fall again. Couldn't this idiot leave him alone for once? Yes, he knew he was supposed to be on a mission but still all he wanted right now was to be left alone. And what did the Seer know or care anyway, were they not just supposed to work together to kill people, because as they had told him before they were the only one right now who could help him?

There was the sound of a deep sigh, filled with frustration that reminded him of the man who used to help him before, his old friend the Daroga; how often had he frustrated and irritated that long suffering man? Not that he regretted his actions in the least but still he remembered it and let him mind dwell on that for just a bit; better that than the things going on in his life now.

“I know you have no reason or probably any wish to trust me; I'm a part of something holding you down inside darkness which you never asked for after all. I'm not really telling you you have to trust me or anything, because I know that would be pointless, but I figure whatever you are agonizing over so much that you can't even get yourself together long enough for the mission, that should be allowed to come out before it rips you apart from inside.”

Erik frowned. “You say that as if it isn't already...”

“Yes well maybe if you let it out, it will feel better-”

“Don't talk as if you understand or care!” Fear and pain turned to anger so easily, especially in a broken heart. Erik's body still felt cold and shivered but he stood up, turning on Seer, his eyes blazing with rage, with pain, with sorrow so deep it made Seer step back a little from the blast of it. “You and I are merely unfortunate acquaintances in the depravity of the dark side, murderers and villains who must work together because it is required and because that monster you call Darius demands my cooperation! You are not my salvation, you are not my friend, you are nothing to me! Let my follies rip me apart, let me die the monster's death I deserve, slow and painful, because that is all a beast such as I deserve! The only lights in my poor existence, the very thing I accepted this evil fate in order to protect, will never again look upon me with the care and faith they did before because now they know my evil and sin that is sketched upon my face!”

Dramatic as ever, filled with emotion and hatred but a deep wish that Seer would leave, Erik tore the hood from his head, letting his face be seen, his horrible monsterous deformity. The skull exposed, the bit of barely protected brain, the wisps that were all he could ever truly have of hair, ruined skin, ruined lips, the cracks and crevices and rawness; an appearance a mother could never love, a face that had cursed him to darkness and hatred for decades. He hated to be seen, he hated to be known and he expected Seer to jump, to wince, to do something.

But there was...something in their eyes as they looked directly at him, unflinching, unblinking, that then turned to pity and that hurt Erik all the more. What was worse than hate was pity and regaining his composure from his second of madness he quickly pulled his hood back up, pulling it further down to cover his eyes as they welled up with tears. His voice was small but no less angry. “I am not destined for happiness or light, I deluded myself to ever think otherwise. Being a monster, being hated and reviled, having blood on my hands, that is all I am worthy of. But...please...allow me this chance to mourn for even a demon of the darkness can feel sorrow when they taste the light only to lose it.”

“It really is remarkable.” Erik winced. Remarkable huh, that certainly was a way to describe his face. Remarkably ugly he supposed, remarkably monstrous, remarkably disgusting. Remarkable he had lived this long when he should have had so many health issues to kill him but spite was a terrible thing and a powerful force to keep ones body going when he shouldn't.

“Remarkable,” Erik repeated under his breath and he was aware of Seer still looking at him, nodding in response.

“I was aware that there was magic upon the jacket but I didn't expect it to be so powerful when it seemed to be so quickly done,” Seer spoke and Erik felt confusion seep in; there was a light chuckle and the man looked up to see a tiny smile upon the figure's face, hand to their mouth, “Truly talented indeed.”

“What are you going on about?” Erik asked.

“The hood is enchanted to hide your presence...well, I suppose hide isn't the right word; it's really extraordinarily subtle. Rather it allows you to be seen by others but not really be seen, very much like a ghost that you can look at while not really noticing all the details of. I can look at you, I know you're there and everything but nothing about you really properly registers in my head beyond that you exist and some details about you. But your face is certainly not one of them; actually I find it a bit hard to focus on your face, as if some part of my brain says I shouldn't as long as you are wearing that hood up.”

Erik's eyes widened and he touched the hood. It seemed incredible, and certainly had to be such, a lie as to make him feel better but what point would Seer have to do that? Seer had no connection to him outside of these missions, and no reason to want to comfort him, no reason to lie to him. But if not a lie what? The jacket was enchanted, the hood was enchanted? He was tempted to wonder who but he knew who, he very much knew who; it could only be the same person who gave it to him, the person who always smiled at him. Seer said they couldn't look at him really but he knew that there were two people who always did, straight in the eye, without flinching, without fear.

“That's,” he said but was unsure what else to say, what could possibly be said; tears started to well up again and his lip quivered. What did it mean, what could it mean.

“For it to be so delicately woven into the fabric the person who cast the spell must have really wanted to protect you,” Seer said with some level of gentleness and a tiny bit of amusement strangely, “They must have known about your worries and anxieties about being seen.”

Known. The caster knew. They knew about his worries. They knew about...him. It struck him that she was the one who had said he'd been chasing the Phantom, she'd followed that line and it had given him peace in that moment because of how terrified he was of the truth coming out. But what if...what if...

He stood up straight, his heart starting to pound in his chest. She'd commented how it was okay how emotion could cause mistakes when they had been teaching him magic, she'd somehow knew the music room, the piano, would be of interest to him. There were little things, tiny things, that added up, things she'd done and said, things Nel had done and said, and in the moments he'd been so overwhelmed with his own emotions, his own thought and feelings, that never, never did it occur to him the truth, the fact in each of them. Of how they would know to do certain things, say certain things. And he, blind as he could be to the world around him, by choice and by fear, never put the pieces together. But his fingers brushed over the jacket and the words Seer had spoken filled his head. Because it was enchanted in a way that could only really be to help someone who had a reason to want to hide so surely, surely, she'd known. And Nel, who saw all truth, knew all truth, Nel had to have been able to see it all anyway.

“I must go,” he said his voice shaking though the emotion that rattled it was not fear or pain but something else.

“You know what I don't much feel like doing anything tonight actually; I'm drained from doing...stuff. Probably best we put off the mission for now; I don't want to do it anyway,” Seer spoke and Erik turned to look at them, seeing them stretch and yawn and crack their neck, “I mean seriously, who wants to do anything anyway on such a dismal night.”

The mission, right. Erik supposed that worked out if Seer didn't actually want to do the mission either; he nodded and hurried from the place, leaving the strange acquiantance to watch after him. Seer sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Oh sweet child, I do wonder why it took you so long to realize that Nelly and her cute little human have always known the truth. I guess what can I expect of the songbird whose never really been truly out of his cage; Artemis though will definitely laugh when she hears about this...”

Erik's head was full and it felt like it was trying to weigh him down but he ran as fast as he could nevertheless. The rain poured, the world drenched in darkness and coldness as deep as his own, but some shard of warmth kept the phantom's body going forward still. The truth, he needed the truth; the longer he thought on it the more his mind went back and forth; they knew, they had to know. There was no way they knew. The hood proved it, they had to know, but they never told him and why? Because he was sensitive and scared and he didn't really know but his mind without proper explanation was full of a thousand and one things that it could or couldn't be and an anxiety so deep and vast that he felt drowned more by it than even the ever pounding rain upon his body. Answers though would be found at home, he was sure of this, knew it in his heart pounding as it was and he continued, moving ever faster.

Without thinking he started to hum, a familiar tune, one that filled him both with sadness of things he'd done and lost, and a memory. Of rain before, of coldness and darkness and loneliness, and a girl reaching out to him in it. Did she remember it, that night so long ago? Did she remember it when she had found him in the cellar? That too he was unsure of; possibly but why not just say, why not just tell him the truth, that she knew what he looked like, she remembered meeting him, she remembered touching his face and the way she'd looked at him, the way their voices had mixed then. How could anyone forget a face such as his? Simple he told himself; as easily as he had forgotten eyes like hers, by dismissing it as a dream. And she'd been seeming to be dying then so maybe, maybe, she would have forgotten it all and just now come to think she met him. He wasn't sure what was easier on him, or what to believe or think. His mind was racing and screaming and all he could think of was how desperately he wanted to be home. Not the operahouse, not the house by the lake, but that strange beautiful magical place called the Library. He wanted to be home.

His window was still open and the room he realized for what felt like the first time smelled of warmth and care. There was silence, deep and penetrating, and his door was still locked from the inside; it occurred to him that they never once tried to invade his privacy, never tried to force what they wanted upon him. He was safe there, he had always been safe there, so how had he have never noticed before how safe he'd been? Because fear and the past clouded his mind; he remembered hugging Tsuki once, when she'd given him the room to stay in, and kissed her hand and the panic he'd felt. He'd wondered then how he had believed he had the right to that; he now wondered how he had the right to any of this and what it all really meant. Kindness, consideration, lies, secrets, everything and anything and he felt himself stuck staring into space and around the room as if to try to learn the truth if he only looked hard enough.

“Erik?” That sweet voice flowed from the other side of the door, followed closely by a small uncertain knock.

His feet moved quicker than even they had to bring him there and he unlocked and flung the door open to look down upon her, upon the young woman with the vibrant scarlet eyes that searched his face with all the worry and concern in the world. She always worried for him, she always was concerned for him, and she was always so gentle to him.

“Erik, why are you wet?” Her tone became even more concerned and he wasn't sure if he wanted to bundle her up in a hug, demand answers, cry or just continue to stare. Everything at once, every little thing, and his mind was unable to make any particular decision he realized because they all seemed equally as reasonable and acceptable as a choice.

Even words felt that they were failing him in the moment and Tsuki took the opportunity to press him, gently, back, finding him as easy to move as if he was made of nothing. He was wet, very wet, soaked to the bone actually; maybe the shivering of his body was indeed as much the parts of him that were cold and wet and as it was all the emotions roiling inside his frame.

“You need to get out of these clothes immediately; go take a warm bath, not hot that would just shock your system too much; did you go out into that rain? It's storming outside, you could catch your death out there.” So much worry, so much kindness, so much for him. He had no idea how to respond to it all but he started to cry nevertheless which only made her more worried. “Erik! Oh no, please don't cry, Erik. Is this about before? It's okay, I promise it's okay; please, just go warm up, get into dry clothes and then we can talk about it, you and I and Nel. You don't need to feel so panicked, I promise; I'm sorry.”

“Did you know?” The words came out small and scared, something he knew, he had to know; everything made sense if that did but nothing made sense if it didn't. But she needed to say it he realized, aloud and to him, for him to feel the tightness inside him to ever be able to unravel like he needed it to. She stared at him with a small frown. “What?”

“Did you know? About me, about my face? Do you know who I am? Do you know...do you know what...” He was shaking so much and he wasn't sure what else to do.

“Erik, you really need to-” “Just tell me the truth Tsuki!” That came out in an explosion, of emotion, of anxiety, of things he wasn't sure how else to express when he felt like he was going to explode at any moment.

“Go changed,” she said so gently but insistent and those eyes, those mesmerizing scarlet eyes, looked through him, to him, and held him in place for a second, “Take off these wet clothes, take a warm shower, get changed. Then we'll talk alright?”

“Please, I need an answer, just one small answer,” he whimpered, furrowing his brow, crying so quietly, “Please, did you know?”

She was silent for a second, her expression hard to read. Sad? Concerned? Upset? Scared? Tsuki bit her lip then nodded silently. He wasn't sure what to make of his own emotions; it felt like a mix, a collection he couldn't begin to unwravel. But he was so cold and he turned from her, rushing to do as she said. He did not want her to leave, he did not wish her to escape; he wanted to know, to get more answers, to start to understand what it was he felt that didn't feel like pain or relief or anything and yet all of those things all at once within his chest.

He was not ready to face both at once so one would do; grabbing whatever clothes he could before entering the bathroom and locking the door behind him, he did his best to get himself warm, dry, safe before what felt like it would be a far more draining event.

But he knew, deep down, he needed this. He needed to do this. And find out for once the truth.

[caranelguild]

The day spreads before our adventurers. They stop by the opening ceremony of the Grand Melee and are intrigued by curious flying vessels with wing-like sails (or sail-like wings) which zip overhead at incredible speeds, drawing lines of colourful smoke through the skies, but decide to follow up with the thief Ethan and head into the tournament town to find him.

The little man is found in the upstairs watering hole where they met with him the day previous. Davdak experiments with a drug which seems to sharpen his perception while fading him out of others'. Ethan tells them that an armoured wagon will be arriving before dawn the next day, but tells them to come back in the evening for an official planning committee meeting - he is trying to keep the information contained and isolated to prevent it from getting out. He tells our adventurers to meet him in the attic, and gives them the password for entrance.

Our adventurers, then, have the day ahead of them. Their business begins in the tournament town, where they look out for any unusual activity that might suggest where the wagon will be depositing its precious contents. They find what they are looking for in a nondescript townhouse in a row of similar buildings; they watch a tradeswoman deliver iron bars inside, and spot incognito sentries scattered along the block - a sign painter in this alley, a houseless man against that stoop, a casual smoker on that balcony.

On the way back to the Gontalus for lunch, Quagoon hires a masseuse to prepare Thomas for his upcoming bout. Funny enough, the elf is pointed to the services of a certain half dragon, known for the therapeutic strength of her mighty fingers. It is, indeed, the half dragon hired by Ethan to look tough at their first meeting with him; the half dragon suspected of not being that sort of mercenary, but one of another stripe.

The quality of her services are not exaggerated; Thomas is extraordinarily loose as he strides into the ring that afternoon - too loose, for he is immediately upon the back foot against an opponent who proves more than a match for the librarian-turned-pirate, a biracial orc-gnome known as Vexander the Executioner. More than a match for a librarian-turned-pirate, perhaps, but not for a feral orangutan! Vexander slams Thomas into the boards, but it is not Thomas who rises, bloodied and bruised, but a wild ape.

A few dirty blows are exchanged before the referee has had enough, and steps in to split up the wrestlers - but the orangutan has respect for neither referee nor rules, and lunges past the official to grab its opponents face, which is then used as a fulcrum to slam Vexander into the boards. Then the referee finally gets in his way, and Quagoon is quick to pull the orangutan back.

Thomas' opponent lies insensible upon the ground, but because the knockout blow came after the whistle blew, it will not stand - unless Vexander the Executioner cannot be revived to consciousness. Quagoon restores Thomas' sentience with some gentle words as they watch Vexander's coach attempt to revive him - but nothing is successful, and not by knockout but by default, no longer having an opponent to wrestle (magic being disallowed within the rings of this competition), Thomas advances to the next round.

Evening comes and our adventurers are the first to arrive in the attic above the strange drinking house. They are served a basket of intelligence-enhancing biscuits, which Quagoon hoards. Slowly, a handful of ne'er-do-wells filter into the room - one of whom, to Davdak's delight, is a limping amphibian.

Ethan arrives and introduces everyone's role, but withholds names for security reasons. Beyond our party and the amphibian, there are two twin dwarves, an orc, and a human (as muscle) as well as a goblin-tiefling wizard.

The details are these:

An armoured wagon bearing at least the tournament prizes (the magic circlet, etc.) is leaving the royal city at nightfall and is travelling east through the night to arrive at the tournament town before dawn. The armoured wagon is locked, but the key will not be carried by any of its guards - someone at the safe house in the tourney grounds (Ethan does not know where this is and our adventurers keep their knowledge to themselves) will have the key.

Ethan's best-case scenario involves finding this safe house and stealing the key tonight, so that one member of his gang (the amphibian) can stealth aboard the wagon while it is on the road, under cover of a nearby distraction and invisibility magic. A circlet is easy enough to pocket and slip away with.

Our adventurers, however, primarily want to steal a block of stone weighing over three hundred pounds, so suggest something more straightforward. The dwarf twins eagerly latch onto the idea of an ambush. It is decided that the criminal gang will split up following the meeting, with the majority heading to an ideal ambush location down the east-west road to prepare traps and sundry while our adventurers and the amphibian head to the safe house to steal the key.

Really, the plan is pretty slipshod, but so far so good for our friends. They slip off into the waning evening and arrive down the street from the safe house. They clock the sentries, now shifted into roles more suited to the nighttime. Davdak gives instructions to his clever mouse and Damaia sends her familiar in the form of an owl to study the townhouse in detail. Two promising entrances in the back lead our party to circle around to the alley, where a couple of goblins are having sex against a wall a stone's throw from the back of the safe house. Our gang sneaks through the shadows until they are near their target.

Promising entrance one is a snow-door on the second storey. Damaia casts a cantrip and discovers the door is unlocked - but her spell is rudimentary and only opens doors in one way: conspicuously and loudly. The door bangs open.

The goblins cease their simulated lovemaking and are immediately scouring the darkness nearby (luckily our gang remains hidden and unnoticed) and a window overlooking the alley opens to admit the head of a lizardfolk woman, who asks the goblins what they see.

Promising entrance two is a little culvert or exhaust grate near a corner of the ground storey. The wall nearby has been eroded, evidently by its being used as a repository for garbage. Irregardless of the searching sentries, Quagoon darts unseen into the little pocket by the grate, where he begins loosening the stones of the wall, finding the grate itself reinforced.

The goblins begin to throw marbles at a third-floor window, and a gruff hobgoblin pokes his head out to ask what is happening. He seems to be in charge, and instructs the goblins and the lizardfolk to be on the lookout. Also, "I'm sending Belly down to lock the door and join you back there."

Naturally, this is when the situation begins unravelling. Damaia and Davdak feel compelled to cover for their enterprising companion. The former weaves a disguise spell and appears from the darkness near Quagoon as an old, poor orc looking for somewhere to sleep.

The latter puts on a fake moustache and a big hat and starts throwing pebbles at the goblins as a corpulent dwarf miraculously exits a narrow servant's entrance in the back of the building.

"This old lady won't budge!" the goblins complain. Belly approaches the disguised Damaia and begins shoving her with his stomach, while Davdak continues to annoy everyone.

Meanwhile, Quagoon has been granted the necessary cover. He loosens one more rock and slips inside the safe house ...

[ordo-scriptus]

The Silent Judges act on the intelligence of their torturers, striking from their black-hulled transports against the treacherous Dark Angels known as the Order of the Lepidoptera. Onslaught on Search and Destroy, Dark Angels Serpent's Bane against the Sisters of Silence. The Silent Sisterhood took first turn, and struck out immediately with two of their three Acquitioner transports. Being Fast vehicles as well as being assault transports, they leapt straight over my forward-infiltrated front line of Indomitus Terminators, and one Squad of Executioner-sword wielding sisters smashed at speed into my Despoilers and their Librarian commander. On the other flank, Jenetia Crole and her Retinue leapt from their transport and fired into my unprotected Tactical Squad - but they turned around and fired right back. Though they were overrun in close combat, they killed every single member of the Retinuethrough their Reactions. Jenetia was alone, defenceless, with two Praetors within charge range. The mighty Guiding Hand, Cataphractii Praetor, lined up - and rolled a three. Satanus, the Swordsman, Keeper of the Keys prepared to charge - snake eyes. Double one. The Librarian Turmiel did his best, and it showed on the other flank. All of the other Executioners were cut down, and the Despoilers rushed forward. But as the turn ticked over, a great rumbling beneath the ground became impossible to ignore. Two squads of ten heavy-flamer-equipped squads came a-drilling from below, a Subterranean Assault in a pair of Siege drills. The Despoilers were killed outright. Elsewhere, gunfire exchanged, snipers taking shots of opportunity, a Plasma Repeater Squad turned an Acquisitor, then a Drill-tank, then a squad of Flamers to liquid metal and scorched meat. The Praetors and their Command Squads pushed up to claim the enemy objective. But one of the Serpent's Bane targets was still alive, and as she finally Deep Struck on Turn Four, it was too late to kill her. I had failed my mission. Final Scores: 9-7 to the Silent Sisterhood! #warhammercommunity #warhammer40k #tabletopsimulator #warhammerbattlereport #horusheresy #horusheresy2point0 #hobbystreak #hobbystreakday484 (at Wakefield) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp30heTIIUb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[deffdread]

Executioners Librarian in Terminator Armor #librarian #spacemarinelibrarian #terminator #terminatorlibrarian #executioners #spacemarines #warhammer #warhammer40k #40k #paintingwarhammer (at Lexington, Kentucky) https://www.instagram.com/p/CHEuRiino7n/?igshid=13ssx5xpaucza