#orb of vaulting

[hyperroguewiki]

There are 3 kinds of frogs you will meet in Frog Park, each corresponding to a leaping orb which they use to travel through the land. Killing one grants you 5 charges of their orb.

Giant Frogs, which can leap over empty cells and water, and grants the Orb of the Frog.

Blue Frogs, which can vault over monsters and shrubs, destroying them in the process (except for other frogs), and grants the Orb of Vaulting.

Last but not least the Yellow Frogs, which can phase through solid walls and monsters, and grants the Orb of Phasing.

[evilrat-sabre]

Look at the creatures

[dndtreasury]

Arcane Prism

[incorporeal-entity]

Should have turned on the magical shields

@quotidianish @who-is-this-weirdo @limepoes @galezellybelly @salveofthesandwonks @bi-pan-whiteout @liquidjuice @bloomyspring

THEY HIT THE SPIRES

[cookiekissers]

Ok hear me out hear me out, cutie patootie male reader x Longan dragon but like it’s in the part when Longan is making everyone rocks and reader is the exception pls pls pls

ohohoh being the exception, you have excellent taste anon. right away sir o7

Inevitability

[Longan Dragon x Male Reader]

With bright flashes of light, your friends, and your family cried out as their dough was transformed into cold grey stone. Floating orbs that looked like eyes flew about throughout the village, chasing down Cookies, and wherever they gazed all that was left behind was a new statue. You scrambled behind an overturned cart, still trying to process the whirlwind of horror and panic around you. Peeking above the wagon you see another Cookie, a mother and her baby, fleeing from one of the floating orbs, only to be swiftly cornered against a wall of a building.

Without thinking, you grab the first thing closest to you and vault over the wooden wagon, your legs sprinting toward the ivory eye. It was distracted by its current prey, giving you just enough time to surprise it. The orb turned its gaze to you, and you swung your hefty makeshift club as hard as you could, striking it like a baseball. The eye-like orb was launched a few feet, but not far enough. It quickly recovered and shook itself slightly after the impact, fixing its unfeeling glare on you next. You backed away nervously tightly gripping your pitiful weapon as it slowly pursued you. The eye followed as if it wasn't in any rush like your fate was inevitable.

You saved the mother and her child, if only for a moment. The orbs threatened to petrify everyone in the village without mercy. Were you just delaying the inevitable end?

The eye had you cornered now. But for some reason, it hadn't struck yet. It had frozen your fellow Cookies without hesitation, but with you, it seemed to be examining you for far longer.

A loud shout split the tense air, and a spiky yam mace collided violently with the side of the orb, sending it flying into the distance like it was nothing. Two Cookie warriors appeared as if from nowhere, fighting off the floating eyes with ease. One of the knights ran up to you, lifting you from the ground to set you on your feet again. He dusted you off while you stared in amazement at his, and his friend's, heroics. His dough was pale and he wielded a light blue and white milk mace and a white milk shield.

"Are you alright?" The knight asked in concern.

"Y-Yeah… But who are you? What's going on!?" You exclaim. The knight patted your shoulder to calm you, his smile was gentle and held no worry.

"I'm Milk Cookie, and that's my friend Purple Yam Cookie." Milk Cookie introduced. You glance past Milk Cookie to see Purple Yam Cookie swinging his spiked mace around wildly, chasing off the eyes with glee. Like Milk Cookie, he seemed unfazed by the situation and even appeared to be enjoying himself, if his hearty laughter was any indication.

"Don't worry, everything will be ok. I'll protect you!" Milk Cookie said cheerfully.

As quickly as they came, the eyes retreated to where ever they had come from. You emerged from your shelter with a few other Cookies and looked around at the carnage that had been left behind. In the streets dozens of Cookies stood frozen in stone. Your eyes became misty at the sight of your friends, and Cookies who had once been your neighbors, turned into statues. Stuck with expressions of fear and agony etched into their faces from their final moments.

You saw Milk Cookie and Purple Yam Cookie standing by, examining a stone statue and discussing something.

"UGH! The dragon eye orbs are getting away! Milk Cookie, let's get out of here and FOLLOW them!" Purple Yam Cookie grumbled.

"We can't leave just yet! We must stay to make sure everyone is alright." Milk Cookie replied calmly. Once you heard the knights who saved you were about to leave, you ran up to Milk Cookie and tugged his muscular arm.

"Wait, are you leaving?" You said. Purple Yam Cookie looked you over for a moment before huffing in annoyance.

"What do you want!?" He demanded.

"Please, if you're leaving, you have to take me with you!" you begged. The two cookies looked at you in surprise. Purple Yam Cookie then smirked a bit, apparently pleased with your boldness.

Milk and Purple Yam Cookie clearly knew who had done this to your village, and they would lead you right to them. You were going to find them and avenge your friends.

Though Milk Cookie tried to object to you tagging along because he was worried for your safety, Purple Yam Cookie encouraged it. Though you weren't as strong as him, you were feisty. He had seen you fight against the dragon eyes despite still being so weak, so he elected to let you come. Maybe you could learn a few things from him, and of course, he wanted to fight you once you got stronger. You pouted slightly. Sure, you were just a regular Cookie and weren't very strong, but you were determined to find a way to save your village and reverse the curse.

As you were on your way, you met some of Milk Cookie and Purple Yam Cookie's friends. They all wore armour made up of blue dragon scales and caught you up on what had been happening. That is when you found out the culprit that had attacked your village was an ancient dragon. Longan Dragon Cookie.

You've always assumed dragon stories were nothing but legends until the Ivory Dragon threatened your peaceful village. And now you were thrust into the middle of a brutal conflict and the world was on the brink of destruction. This was serious. Your stomach tied itself in knots at finding yourself in what was essentially a war. Milk Cookie had seen your anxious expression and comforted you, even offering to take you back home. But now that you knew what was going on, how could you just turn your back on the Cookies everywhere who had suffered like your village had and run back home?

You had no fighting experience and weren't a warrior like Purple Yam Cookie or Milk Cookie. Your life has been very ordinary until now. However, you were determined to do everything in your power to help defeat Longan Dragon Cookie.

Like a whirlwind carrying you away, you suddenly found yourself on the Tropical Soda Islands alongside Milk Cookie, Purple Yam Cookie, Gingerbrave, and their friends. You have never ventured this far from your village, but you were mesmerized by the beauty of Pineapple Isle. The land had transformed, merging with the surrounding islands and was thrust into the past, reviving long-extinct creatures.

The massive island that had merged was teeming with dragon eye orbs. The blue dragon scale armour you received helped conceal you from the Ivory Dragon's sight, but you still had to remain in hiding while the other dragons that had joined your side recovered from their encounter with Longan Dragon Cookie. You sat outside your hideout deep in the jungle and sighed to yourself. You were advised not to wander off alone, but you needed some time by yourself to process everything that had happened. Taking a little walk through the forest ended up being a mistake.

As you were walking, lost in deep thought, you were suddenly snapped to reality by the sound of the underbrush shaking. You froze, until a Cookie you didn't recognize emerged from under the big fan-like leaves. They were dressed in elegant white robes, their long white hair tied back into a ponytail. The Cookie carried a staff, and a large hat obscured their face. You blinked, somewhat hesitant. Was this Cookie a friend of Gingerbrave's, or maybe they were from the Stock Tribe?

"Um… who are you?" You ask. The mysterious Cookie didn't reply, but they seemed to be inspecting you closely.

Before you could question them further, with a wave of their staff, the Cookie began to glow with an eerie purple light, and from a swirling vortex of magic, a fierce choco cream wyvern burst forth from the Cookie's form. You shouted in alarm as the wyvern pounced on you, pining you to the ground and trapping you under its sharp talons. You were lifted off the ground and into the air, being carried off to who knows where. From the last glimpses of the ground you caught, you saw Milk Cookie staring up at you in panic.

"Y/N Cookie!!"

You thought your life was over, that you would for sure be eaten by the wyvern that had caught you. Instead, it took you across the archipelago to a white opulent palace floating above the waves. It made its way into the palace, into a refined throne room. Strangely, the choco cream wyvern was careful not to damage you. But it still tossed you to the ground at the foot of the throne. You quickly picked yourself up and saw a majestic Cookie sitting on the throne, dressed in white robes and adorned with golden armour. You stared in disbelief as you came face to face with the Ivory Dragon themself, Longan Dragon Cookie.

"So, you've finally come." Longan Dragon said. "You are an intriguing one." They commented dryly. Four dragon eye orbs floating by their side zipped up to you, gazing at you from all angles. You scrambled to your feet, but the choco cream wyvern prevented you from backing away further, cutting off the only escape route.

"What do you want with me?" You said, trying to keep your voice from shaking. There was a tiniest hint of a smile on Longan Dragon's face.

"I have been watching you. And I have decided to show you mercy and bring you to my palace so that your weak, pitiful life may be spared." They explained.

You were stunned into silence. What about your friends, your village, and all the other Cookies?

"You should be grateful I didn't turn you into stone along with your village. Come here, now." Longan Dragon Cookie rumbled. It wasn't a request. It was an order. Not knowing what to do, the only thing you could do was comply. You prayed that your friends would be able to rescue you.

You approached the throne nervously, awaiting the Ivory Dragon's next command. You gasped suddenly as Longan Dragon Cookie grabbed you by the wrist and effortlessly picked you up and placed you on their lap.

You fidgeted as Longan Dragon Cookie's arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, your face suddenly grew hot.

"You will be staying by my side until I inevitably reduce all the weak, crunchy beings into crumbs, weak one. I will be needing a mate in the future." They growled softly in your ear as they stroked your hair. Longan Dragon Cookie's clawed fingers lingered on your neck and then trailed downward to your chest. You shivered and swallowed nervously.

You really hoped your friends got here soon.

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Hearts Entangled

Summary: With the declining rate of omegas, alphas have become desperate, and betas are fighting back. In the midst of war, Y/N and her brother get separated and Y/N finds herself in trouble.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Alpha Bucky x Omega Reader x Alpha Steve

Warnings: Violence mentioned, Blood

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Not beta’d. First time writing in the first person, but it suits the storytelling better this time around. What POV do you guys like best? Should I change the POV? Do I know where this is going? Absolutely not but let's go! Enjoy this from the vault.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

The world slows when you’re dying. The mind struggles to grasp anything tangible. Staring up at the blur of blue and white, I knew I was slipping away, fading into nothing, just like my mother. Bitten by an alpha, she changed, presented as an alpha herself. My father put her down before she could turn feral. That sent Basil into a frenzy. He nearly killed our father. He would have if I wasn’t in the room. It didn’t matter if alphas and betas were at war. It didn’t matter if our mother was the enemy; to us, she was just mom.

Basil might have aided the humans in the war if it hadn’t been for our mother’s murder. His need for vengeance was too great. Omegas are a rarity nowadays. The news is a montage of horror, always reporting on how many alphas turned humans. Omegas were already a dying species, but with the war, so were the alphas. My brother feared if I was bitten, that our father would murder me as well. Basil always joked that I was like mom, stubborn.  Maybe I should have listened to him when he told me to stay home. Maybe if I hadn’t gone searching for him when he didn’t come home last night, my hand wouldn’t be sticky with my own blood.

A hiss followed by a low whine escaped my lips as my hand pressed into the wound on my side. I had to get home. What if Basil returned after I left? He would never know what happened to me; no one would. Well, no one except the guy who shot me.

SNAP.

My head rolled to the side, peering through the trees. Details were a blur, but I was able to make out blotches of color. I squinted my eyes, dirt and rocks stabbing my cheek, reminding me I wasn’t dead yet. My chest heaved as the trees danced before me.

SNAP.

This time the noise was closer. Whatever was coming to finish me off didn’t care about being caught. It wasn’t like I could defend myself if I tried. I hoped it was just an animal or somehow my brother had magically found me; the sane part of my brain screamed that it was the person who shot me.

It was none of the above.

A warm hand settled on my shoulder. I could feel the heat seep through the sleeve of my crimson-stained t-shirt. Blinking slowly at the person crouched beside me, I wanted to speak, but my lips weren't moving. His were. Whatever he was saying, I couldn't make out. I was too stunned to attempt to read his lips, but I knew he was non-threatening. If he wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t-

A shrill scream reverberated through the woods.

My chest burned from the inside out, and I knew that scream came from me. With slow movements, I gazed down at my stomach. One of the stranger’s hands sealed over my own. The other held my chin, blood coating both of his hands. I tried to follow the pink of his lips, to make sense of anything he was saying. I strained to focus on the yellow of his hair or the blue orbs observing my every move. In the end, my eyes flapped shut.

Searing pain dashed up my right arm drowning out any other pain. Just as quickly as it emerged, it evaporated. Suddenly my lungs were flooded with oxygen, my breath livelier than before. Fresh linen suffocated my nostrils. Had I died? The lids of my eyes tremored before springing open. For the first time, I could see him clearly. His slicked-back yellow hair paled into champagne. His slightly overgrown beard was several shades darker. His nostrils flared.

“Omega,” the man purred.

My eyes latched on his piercing stare. Amid his blue eyes were flecks of green. He was gorgeous. I was the first to break eye contact, my focus glued to my arm. Teeth marks tattooed on the inside of my wrist. Panic invaded all of my senses. Basil’s worst fears were coming true right before my eyes.

“You were dying-” the man trailed off. “It won't scar.”

“You expect me to thank you?” I snarled.

He shook his head, running his dry, blood-stained fingers through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to turn you. I was trying to lure the betas away. You got mixed in the crossfire.”

I wanted to ask if he had been the one to shoot me, but from what I could tell, he wasn’t carrying a gun. His back straightened as he scanned the trees. I didn’t see anything, but his body language turned alert. Danger was approaching.

“What’s your name?”

He stared down at me for a moment before responding, “Steve. Steve Rogers. You?”

I stretched my scarlet hand towards him. “Y/N L/N. Thank you.”

Steve paused with a raised eyebrow, gently shaking my hand. “We have to go. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” He didn’t wait for an answer; Steve thrust my hands back against the hole in my side. “Keep pressure on the wound.” Then he was hoisting me up. Once again, my world was spinning. My head relaxed against his collarbone. The scent of fresh linen was more prominent but far from unpleasant. My muscles went limp, too relaxed to hold onto the man carrying me. Steve tensed, his grip tightening around my back and legs. A deep rumble ricocheted beneath my head, but I couldn’t make out what Steve said. How much blood did I lose? A drop of liquid sprinted from my scalp to the collar of my t-shirt. With a shaky hand, I wiped the fluid from my forehead. It was clear. Was I sweating? My palm lazily rested against Steve’s chest in an attempt to ground myself. I would have retracted my hand had I been stronger. The heat radiating from his chest was scorching. It was then that I realized I was burning up. His name was on the tip of my tongue. I wasn’t sure what I would say, but I hoped he would somehow understand. I never got to find out. His name never left my lips. My eyelids grew heavy, welcoming the darkness.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was blinded. A string of recessed lights hovered above me. Harsh blue lights beat down on my skin, reminding me of how my skin burned. I felt drenched, but this time, I was cool. Sinking my palms into the surface beneath me, I realized I was lying on a mattress. Sitting upright, something slipped from my arms. Reaching over the side of the bed, I hissed, pain radiating from my side.

“Take it easy,” a thick Russian accent uttered. “You don't want to tear stitches.”

With a hand over my stitches, I scanned the room for the voice. When I came up empty, I panted, rolling myself onto my back.

“Where am I?”

I jumped as a raven-haired woman suddenly appeared crouched beside the bed. Her piercing blue eyes were cold, unlike the man who saved me. Steve. Where was Steve?

“Medical wing,” the woman answered, plucking a damp cloth from the floor and dropping it on my arm. “Keep this on. It will stop fever.”

I blinked at the woman as she examined my wrist. She was tall and slender. Her jaw was as sharp as a razor, a stark contrast to her soft plump lips. Taking a deep breath, I was met with lavender. It was soothing yet sweet.

“You’re an omega?”

She hummed, dropping my hand a bit harsher than necessary.

“Who are you? Where’s Steve?” I croaked.

Her sharp eyes stared down at me with a lifted brow. She didn’t seem to want to be here anymore than I did.

“You talk a lot, no?”

Fuck this. I have to go home. I need to find Basil. Sitting up ignoring my groans of pain, I began yanking all of the damp rags from my skin. It’s not like they could keep me here. The corners of the woman's lips twitched as she folded her arms across her chest and stepped back. She wasn’t going to stop me. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet hit the black tile. A cramp shot through my abdomen, strong enough to bring me to my knees had I not been holding onto the bed. Sweat began to bead along my forehead. I was lightheaded. Not again.

Before I could faint, an arm swooped around my back, guiding me onto the bed. Once again, I was draped in rags.

“You’re a stubborn little omega.” I would have snapped had it not been for the smile in the woman's tone. It reminded me of every time my brother had called me stubborn. In a way, it was soothing. “I’m Carla.” She paused, eyeing the shut door. “You don’t want to see that mutt right now. You’re in heat. Happens when you present.”

“But Steve-”

“Is mutt like rest of alphas around an omega, especially one in heat.” There was a bite in Carla’s tone. “If you want to leave, I won't stop you but trust me when I say you are better off here. Omegas are difficult to come by and you are already weak from gunshot. You’ll be claimed second you step out that door.”

My head reeled from all of the information. I wasn’t oblivious to the alpha and omega lifestyles, but I never intended to partake in it. My eyes flickered to the mating gland along her neck. Sensing my stare, she flipped her long hair over her shoulder, concealing her gland. It was too late.

“You haven’t been claimed.”

The look in Carla’s eyes was murderous, her words a warning, “Mind your business, omega. You are patient, not me. I am helping you, not other way around. Remember that.”

I did. For the next week, while I was trapped in a delirious state, I relied on Carla. She was the only person to visit me in the medical room. It had been her delivering food or redressing my bandages. I began to crave her presence, but we rarely spoke. The observation I had made had struck a chord, a weak spot. Every time Carla entered the room, she appeared more on edge than the day before. I contemplated apologizing for bringing up what appeared to be a sore subject for her, but she didn’t seem like the type to dwell on something like that.

When my heat was finally over, Carla left the door unlocked. Her speechless way of allowing visitors or letting me wander. I opted for the latter. After several twists and turns, I discovered a door leading outside. Careful not to pull my stitches, I sprinted out the door. After being trapped in a room for a week, I was desperate to feel the sun on my skin again. Standing in an open field, I spun around taking in everything. A few feet away was a forest. Was it the one I had been dying in? How far was I from home?

“Hey, you’re up.” A shoulder bumped into my own. “How are you feeling?”

Fresh linen.

A smile crept onto my lips, my neck craning up to Steve. “Well, I’m alive.”

Steve nodded. “I can see that.”

“Thank you again, for saving me. I would have died out there if you hadn’t found me.”

Steve shook his head, his thumbs peeking from the pockets of his slacks. “You almost died because of me. That bullet was meant for me.”

Turning back to the line of trees, I shrugged off his last statement. I needed to focus on the positive. I was alive. It didn’t stop my curiosity from slipping into the front of my brain. “When you found me, you said you were drawing humans away.”

The man nodded, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. “A friend of mine, Bucky, went missing. I was out searching for him when I came across you.”

Steve stood there with a far-off look in his eyes. I hadn't missed the sadness that crossed his face. His eyes searched the horizon with a sense of urgency as if the person or object he was searching for was the most important thing in the world.

“Your friend,” I paused, side-eyeing him, “did you find him?”

Steve shook his head, his eyes still trained on the forest. “Your arrival hasn’t exactly permitted me to travel.” The tips of his ears dusted a shade of pink.

I blushed at the idea of sending a man like Steve Rogers into a rut. Surely, he was mated.

“Sorry for leaving you with Carla. We don't have many omegas here. I can't imagine she was cordial the entire time.”

Remembering Carla’s comment, I gently rested a hand on Steve’s bicep. My hand dwarfed in comparison to the muscle beneath my hand. Steve’s head snapped in my direction.

“Omegas are rare, but she isn’t mated,” I pointed out.

Peaking over his shoulder toward the door, Steve released a deep exhale. “Her true mate rejected their bond. By the time she had found him, he already had a family. Didn’t want to break up the only family his pups knew.”

My hand slipped from his bicep as guilt washed over me. My head drooped to stare at the ground. Had I known, I wouldn’t have said anything to her about being unclaimed. It was a personal topic. Suddenly, a feather-light touch seized my chin, dragging my head upwards. My eyes locked on Steve’s deep blue orbs instantly.

“Don’t worry, she found another mate. One who wants her. My friend Bucky.”

“The one who is missing,” I asked, but I already knew the answer. No wonder Carla was on edge. Her mate was missing. Yet, I couldn’t help but think back to her smooth mating gland. Her mate had yet to claim her.

Steve nodded.

Subconsciously, I ran a hand along my mating gland. “And where is your mate?”

Steve released my chin as if I had burned him. His gaze returned to the trees. I should have learned my lesson from Carla. I should have minded my business, but I needed to know.

“My true mate,” Steve began, surprising me. I didn’t think he would answer. I followed his line of sight, giving him a sense of privacy, but my ears remained open. Steve continued, “was Peggy. She tried to put an end to the war. She’s dead now.”

There it was. I had once again managed to put my foot in my mouth. “I'm sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say. I hadn’t known the pain of losing a true mate, but I knew love and I knew loss. It couldn’t be much different.

The atmosphere grew still as Steve lapsed into a prolonged silence. The only sound was the rustling of the leaves in the light breeze. His face turned skyward, allowing his long eyelashes to kiss his high cheekbones for a split second. Then his hand intertwined with mine, pulling me down to sit beside him in the grass.

“What were you doing in the woods when I found you?”

I had to bite my tongue from saying I was dying. It wasn’t appropriate after he opened up about his true mate. He was trying to change the subject, so I was honest. I pressed my chin to my chest, plucking at the grass beside me. “I was looking for my brother. I have to find him.”

A painful smile graced Steve’s lips. “I guess we're both looking for someone.”

While the statement was innocent, there was a longing in the way he said it. We both needed a mate.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” I whispered.

Next Chapter

[aboxofcereales]

Currently trying to collect all the information about our companies’ life before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Mainly, about their family and age. Any suggestions/editing will be very much welcome.

Huge thanks to everyone who aiding the cause in comments and reblogs.

Last update - 10 April 2024.

Wyll Ravengard: is about 24, has left the city when he was 17, in origin introduction states that he’s been exiled for 7 years. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's in fact 24 & Neutral Good. Apparently his dad, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, raised him by himself, Wyll’s mother, Francesca, passed away in childbirth, when Wyll was born, as stated by Ulder’s longsword description, Wyll mentions her during a romance scene in Act 3, also calls himself “a single son to a single father”. According to Murder in Baldur's Gate: Ravenguard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters, moreover the said sword description calls Wyll's mother Ulder's love, not wife, which makes me think that Wyll was born out of wedlock. Supposed to have 3 uncles. I’ve seen a note about Wyll diving to see a mermaid as kid, written by his dad, in the high security vault. Florrick seen him grow up, had a crush on Stelmane as a kid, also during his childhood enjoined fishing with his dad, but sucked at it. Also, Ravengard's Scourger states that "Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.", that strange gravity might be Francesca's death in childbirth(?). Generally, I strongly advise to take him around the city in act 3, as he tells plenty stories of his boyhood.

Gale Dekarios: still not sure if there any information about how old he might be, but I estimated around mid-to-late 30s, though it doesn’t really sit well with him meeting Mystra as a kid (btw there’s an absolutely wonderful post on this topic by @lairofsentinel, check it out), still I’d like Gale to be on the older side, alternatively, he may be around 28-30 due Mystra's return year. Personal headcanon - he's 37. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 35 & True Neutral. He casted his first spell as a babe - a score of rabbits in the panty. Apparently lives separately from his parents in his tower, at least as kid had them both (mentioned when he first tells about his friend-tressym, Tara), thou in his origin (at least as much as heard and played myself but @vitanithepure confirmed it) only his mother gets mentions, the state of the other parent is unknown. Has a very tender relationship with her, but didn’t inform her about the orbe for her own safety, her name may be Morena (godsblessdataminers), Mrs Dekarios really wants him to find someone to settle down with. Also, Tara hates his beard.

Shadowheart (Jenevelle Hallowleaf): is about 50, comments that Viconia documented about 40 years worth of her life at the hands of Shar, in the same note she writes that Shadowheart was able to keep her heart true to her child self, and was hard learning Shar lessons. As I understood when she was kidnapped, she was about 10-13, kidnapping was directly by the Shar command.According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she' 48 & Lawful Neutral. Personal headcanon - she's 51. After her abduction made friends with tiefling named Nocturne (they might have be more than friends?), had a pet mouse for sometime called Nibbles. There’s a grafiti somewhere behind Jaheira house which she has drawn. Shares a questionable taste of romance literature with Wyll and his father. Her parents’ fate, Emmeline and Arnell Hallowleaf: is up to you decisions. Her mother mentions that they wanted Jen to have siblings.

Karlach Cliffgate: early 30s I think, the way she speaks about Gortash makes me thinks she was practically a teenager when she started working for him and spend 10 year serving Zariel. Personal headcanon - she's 29. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's 30 & Chaotic Good. Her parents, Pluck and Caerlack, she moved them from Outer City to a nicer place. Her mom died due to fewer when she was a teen, dad a couple years later due to road accident. Both died before she met Gortash. Her mom seems to be behind her love for Minsc, Jaheira etc. You can meet her friend near Baldur’s statue.

Lae’zel of K’liir: seems to be barely 20. Githianky reach adulthood in their late teen, and as Lae’zel was yet to present a mindlflaer’s head, I think she’s the youngest in the party. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's exactly 22 & Lawful Evil. Personal headcanon - she's in fact 20. She hates owls due to their necks, Karlach agrees.

Astarion Ancunin: according to translation of his grave he only lived for 40 years before becoming spawn, spend 200 year as such. Safe guess - there's definitely smt wrong with his grave stone or/and translation as it messes the current year - from 220 to 250. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 263, which doesnt seem right, & Neutral Evil. According the artbook he was a corrupted magistrate, which seem to be true atleast to pre-release version.

Halsin is 350, his family is from the High Forest, thou they are all gone. Spend 3 years captured by drow, loves honey and curving ducks. Jahiera is about 150-160, as she was a child in 1347. Has atleat five foster children: half-elf Rion, half-orc druid Jord, three humans - Jhessem, Fig, and Tate. Minsc was a statue from 1409 to 1480s.

[bitethedevil]

I think that Raphael could be able to take over the Nine Hells.

“Raphael is biting over more than he can chew with his plans to take over the Nine Hells.”

“If the Crown of Karsus was so powerful why wouldn’t Mephistopheles have already used it?”

*Puts on my tinfoil hat* shhhh, come here…hear me out.

If you’ve read the Annals of Karsus, we know that there are three artifacts that are known as “The Regalia of Karsus”. There is the Crown, the Orb, and the Scepter and they are ‘the physical embodiments of Karsus’s wizardry’. Each of the three artifacts have their own power and purpose (this is directly quoted from the Annals of Karsus):

“The Crown of Karsus: to attract and absorb magical knowledge and give the wearer dominion over himself so that he remains his own entity apart from the Weave.

The Orb of Karsus: a storage device or battery that condenses mystic power, ever-gathering so that it must be syphoned at intervals of its excess.

The Sceptre of Karsus: an instrument of projection, a focusing utensil for the precise wielding of unimaginably vast forces.”

We know where the Crown has been: In Mephistopheles archive and later stolen by the Chosen Three.

The Orb?: Sounds a lot like what Gale deals with, but from what I can read, people disagree about whether that is the Orb of Karsus.

The Scepter of Karsus, though, is heavily hinted at to be owned by Raphael. I don’t have the exact quotes, but if someone does feel free to share them. The archivist says something about a scepter that is like the crown being in the collection and I believe Helsik talks about Raphael collecting Karsite artifacts.

If Raphael DOES own the Scepter of Karsus, it makes even more sense why he is so pissed at papa Meph. He owns an incredibly powerful magical artifact of ‘unimaginably vast forces’, but he isn’t able to actually use it and wield it because Mystra would stop him in a heartbeat. He needs the Crown to separate himself from the Weave to actually use it.

Let’s quickly talk about another Scepter from Netheril: “The Scepter of the Sorcerer Kings”. Its purpose was to strip the power of gods and banishing their influence from Netheril, but the guy (not Karsus, some other really powerful wizard) never completed it because the Netherese gods stopped him. The scepter, however, could not harm deities that had magic within their control (such as Mystra). But we can all agree that this all sounds very similar to the exact same thing that Karsus would attempt years later? The Scepter of Karsus and the rest of the Regalia of Karsus was even more powerful than The Scepter of the Sorcerer Kings since it could not only steal the power of Mystryl but also transfer it to the wielder.

Let’s go back to the Hells. Mephistopheles keeps the Crown in his vault and doesn’t use it for a millennium. Why? We have established that the Crown absorbs and attracts magical knowledge, and it also separates the wielder from the Weave. The Crown in itself seems powerful, but as many have also said about Raphael, it hardly seems enough to take down Asmodeus in itself.

What if…*adjusts my tinfoil hat* What if the Netherese truly learned nothing and history repeats itself as always, and it is in fact these mentioned ‘unimaginably vast forces’ of the Scepter that is the key to overthrow gods and steal their powers, and not the only Crown. The Crown simply assures that the wearer’s magic is out of reach from Mystra so they can do whatever they want, and it grants knowledge. Meaning, if Raphael has at least both the Scepter and the Crown, he could steal Asmodeus’s powers and go through with what his father could not achieve because his mischievous little son has been holding onto Scepter that is necessary to even wield and project those powers. He would become be the ruler of the Nine and gods know what else. It's not entirely out of the question that he might even have the Orb as well, seeing as we aren't really sure if Gale's Orb is the Orb.

Again, the Crown absorbs and attracts magical knowledge and it’s the key too using all of this naughty magic that Mystra doesn’t want you to mess with, but it does not seem like it actually gives you a whole lot of powers. It essentially just makes you know about it. What if the truly nasty stuff lies in the Scepter? It seems at the very least that the Scepter is necessary to truly harness and project the powers of the rest of the Regalia with any sort of precision.

(If you have any additions or corrections to my insane ramblings, feel absolutely free to add them and I’d love to read them)

[dutifullylazybread]

A kiss against a wall for Rolan x Tav please?

Absolutely! :D

Here ya go!

Tav tore down the tower’s staircase, Rolan coming up close behind her. Wood splintered as the door behind them was blown off of its hinges and the narrow stairwell was awash with blinding light.

Rolan lobbed three magic missiles at their pursuer, cursing loudly. Tav couldn’t see if he had been injured or if his attack had proved ineffective—she couldn’t turn to look or she’d lose her footing. They couldn’t fight this creature in close quarters.

And they couldn’t pause to throw up a wall of stone or to encase themselves in a protective orb—not without the space between them and their attacker drastically closing.

So they ran instead.

Tav tore down the corkscrewing staircase, her lungs straining, burning. A sharp discharge of magic, emitting a sound akin to fabric tearing, ripped through the air.

The stairs plateaued into a landing—the one just outside of the study. Tav reached out for the door handle—

And Rolan cried out in anguish.

She turned in time to see him barreling towards her.

“Tav!” The fever-pitch panic in Rolan’s voice cut through her focus.

His hands clamped down on her shoulders, and just as a jagged bolt of lightning careened towards her, Rolan shoved her up against the hard stone wall, the blast of magic scorching the empty space over his horns and searing the tips of Rolan’s hair.

The study’s door—where Tav stood moments before—was blackened to a char.

Rolan slumped against her. A line of smoke, thick with the acrid stink of burnt flesh, rose off of his shoulder.

And the stairway was blanched in white light as the creature descended.

The quasi-elemental was so bright that Tav had to resist the urge to shield her eyes.

Nothing had worked against it. Not fire, not ice—and Tav didn’t have time to test a spell that may prove impotent.

She needed a surefire way to destroy this elemental…

…and she had one.

Tav wrapped her left arm around Rolan’s center and drew him into her embrace. She brandished her staff with her right, its head burning a ghastly, pale green as she snagged at threads of the Weave with its decorative barbs.

The braiding scents of burnt hair and crackling electricity were replaced with the cloying stink of roses and spun sugar… muddled with graveyard soil and rot. It was as if she'd pried open the lid of a moldering casket, freeing the stench of trapped decay.

She tasted stale rainwater as she shaped the words to the spell, the Weave straining against her staff…

…and the quasi-elemental’s shape warped and buckled around the edges.

“What… what magic is this?” Rolan asked, drawing away to look at Tav.

Tav spoke the incantation, its phrasing like wisps of funeral incense and its words as abrupt as the flash of a dagger.

She wrenched her staff towards her, stripping the threads of Weave from its grander tapestry.

The quasi-elemental’s shape, already as inconstant as a jagged bolt of lightning, went rigid.

And then its form lengthened and swelled.

The creature strained and railed for but a moment before its very essence was shredded to pieces.

The elemental expired with an anguished shriek, and the stairway dimmed as its light blinked out.

Tav’s staff fell to the ground with her clatter. Her hands, numbed from shaping the Weave into rot, were chilled to the touch.

Rolan stared at her. “That spell…”

“I… found it in the Vaults,” Tav said. She shivered. “That was unpleasant to cast.”

He looked her over, pressing the back of his hand to her brow. “You’re freezing,” he murmured.

Her body, gripped in chills, shuddered. Her ribs may as well have been carved from a block of ice.

“You need to rest,” Rolan said. He reached for her, only for Tav to embrace him and lay her palm flat against the burn on his back.

“In a moment,” she said, emptying her mind and drawing upon her remaining stores of energy.

“Tav—“

The very warmth of her blood was sapped from her veins; it trailed up her arm, before unspooling into Rolan’s wound, knitting the flesh and soothing the burn under her fingertips. She was gripped by a sudden, deep-set fatigue.

A shudder ran through her body and her legs buckled.

Rolan caught her beneath the arms, bracing her between him and the wall.

“Why the hells would you do that?” he demanded. “We could have used a potion or called on a cleric. You didn’t have to—hells, your lips are turning blue.” As she stumbled forward, Rolan held her aloft.

“You’re so warm.” Her words were beginning to slur together. “Can we stay like this?”

With a sigh of exasperation, he pulled her close. Tav’s body easily moulded against his—her face rested in the crook of his neck, their chests were flush together, and his tail looped around her left ankle. She had always savored the heat that he put off, but now that she had none of her own, she loved it all the more.

“We’ll need to run you a bath,” he said aloud. “I’ll get a fire started and I’ll find some more blankets… Gods damn it all. How can you be this cold?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“Of course I am,” he snapped. “Did you expect that I’d be pleased with you reducing yourself to a state of near exhaustion? What would have happened if you had cast another spell similar to the other two?”

Tav didn’t care to entertain the idea.

“Don’t do that again,” Rolan said, the command reduced to a plea when he added a desperate, “please.”

“I…” She didn’t want to make that promise—not when she might need to break it in the future. “I can’t let you die.”

“And you think I’d be happy if you died instead?” He exhaled loudly. “We can talk about this later. I’m more concerned with warming you up right now.”

“You would pass up the opportunity to argue?”

“Hush, you.” He kissed her brow, his lips lingering there, his breath warm. “I’m… I’m relieved that you’re alive. More than you can possibly imagine.”

“I think I have an idea.” She kissed the column of his throat, felt the rumbles of his building moan against her mouth. She darted the tip of her tongue out to taste him, humming in quiet appreciation.

Rolan nudged her head back. The tips of his ears were a wine-dark red. “You are in no condition to be coming onto me,” he said firmly. “Though… you have a little more color to you now.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Perhaps our… ministrations have helped then?”

He rolled his eyes. “You are infuriating.”

“And?”

“That’s all,” he said. “Just… infuriating.”

His mouth found hers. What started as a soft peck turned heady when she nipped his lower lip, lightly tugging at it, inviting him to continue… should he wish.

Rolan cupped her face in his hands, stroked his thumbs down her jawline, and pressed his body against hers as he kissed her. Tav tangled her fingers into his hair and teased her tongue against the seam of his lips. He swallowed his moan, melting fully into her and tasting her breathy sighs.

She lost herself in him, in the moment. The warmth of his body, mingling with the heat that he stirred in her chest and her core, was enough to draw more life into Tav. Her pulse quickened; her veins thawed.

And then, reluctantly, Rolan pulled away. “Well,” he said with a small cough. “You don’t quite look like death warmed over now.”

Tav cracked a smile. She couldn’t help but notice that Rolan’s lips were swollen from the press of her mouth.

“Let’s run you a bath,” he said. “Can you walk?” He offered her his arm.

She nodded, accepting his invitation and looping her arm about his.

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten how reckless you were,” he added. “We will talk more about this. Later.”

She smirked. “You? Forget? I wouldn’t dare to assume that.”

Rolan snorted. "See that you don't."

And they proceeded down the stairs together.

[pomegraphy]

Lady Selene,

Goddess of

The Lunar Month

The Greek months start with the new moon and were then divided into three ten day periods. The first ten days were presided over by the waxing moon, the next ten were the near full and full moon, and the last ten was the waning moon. Festivals including the lucky and unlucky days of the month were measured in the cycles of the moon.

Evelyn-White. "Long-winged Meme... at eventime in the mid-month: then her great orbit is full and then her beams shine brightest as she increases. So she is sure token and a sign to mortal men" (Homeric Hymn, 32 to Selene: C7th- 4th B.C.)

Childbirth

Pregnancies were commonly measured in lunar months, so Lady Selene had a natural association with childbirth.

Timotheus. "Through the blue-black vault of the starts and of Selana who gives swift childbirth." (Campbell Vol. Greek Lyric V, Frag 803: C5th B.C.)

Dew

The moon was believed to nourish plants and animals with her dew. Lady Selene was associated with Ariadne, wife of Dionysus as the goddess of nourishing.

Cicero. "Luna the Moon's course also has a sort of winter and summer solstice; and she emits many streams of influence, which supply animal creatures with nourishment and stimulate their growth and which cause plants to flourish and attain maturity." (De Natura Deorum, 2.14: 45 B.C.)

and the Moon

Tryphiodorus. "When Mene (the Moon) [Selene], full with grey fire, gilds with her face the gleaming heaven: not when, sharpening her pointed horns, she first shines, rising in the shadowless dusk of the month, but when, orbing the round radiance of her eye, she draws to herself the reflected rays of the sun." (The Taking of Ilias, 514:C6th A.D.)

Who is Selene?

The titan goddess of the moon. She was depicted as a woman riding a sidesaddle on a horse. Her lunar crescent was set upon her head as a crown. She was said to sometimes drive a team of oxen and her lunar crescent was likened to a pair of bull's horns.

Symbolisms of Selene

Crystal: Moonstone

Colors: Silver, Grey-white, and white

Day of the week: Monday

Scents/Flowers: Myrtle, willow, white poppy, white rose, and wall flower.

Animals: Bulls and horses

Offerings

Silver jewelry, curved crescent knives, silver/white coins, silver/white candles, cups of (salt) water, seed pods, mirrors, white flowers, any sea/tide related offerings, mooncakes, writing hymns.

Ways to worship

Wearing silver jewelry

Wearing moon colored clothing

New Moon: banishing and undoing things.

Waxing Moon: offerings that relate to things you want more of. Great time for offerings

Full Moon: Harvest what you've been working on

Waning Moon: leave offerings that you want less of.

Taking items from your altar outside or on a windowsill during a full moon.

Cleansing the altar and offering items with water charged with moonlight during a new moon.

Going for a walk under the moonlight(with safety precautions)

Talking to the moon

Learning astrology

Stargazing

Meditation at night.

[xenith-eats-stars]

me and my buddy @cartoon-leafe came up with a ton of those “she [X] on my [X] till i [X]” memes, so here’s all of them

under the cut bc it’s a pretty long list

she 5 on my nights till im at freddy’s

she asriel on my photoshop till i flowey

he old on my man till i yaoi

she megalo on my vania till im stronger than you

she W. on my D. till i gaster

she tomo on my dachi till i life

she spring on my lock till i failure

she insane on my clown till i posse

she scott on my pilgrim till i defeat her 7 evil exes

she team on my fortress till i 2

she nagito on my komaeda till her rhinestone eyes are like factories far away

she tally on my hall till im hidden in the sand

she I/ on my Me/ till i Myself

she cicada on my days till i pack my stuff

she ink on my machine till i bendy

she X on my men till i mutate

she dwell in my vault till i fallout

she W on my M1 till i believe in magic

she Jack on my Skellington till im the pumpkin king

she amazing on my digital till i circus

she Honda on my Odyssey till i get chills, theyre multiplying

she Hazbin on my Hotel till i get redeemed

she Monty on my Gator till i wanna rock and roll

she pound my head till im against the kitchen floor

she hammer on my car till i explode

she pyramid on my head till im silent

she dungeon on my dragon till i roll a nat 20

she 9 on my 11 till i never forget

she laplace on my angel till i hurt people? hurt people!

she poké on my balls till i catch ‘em all

she rock and roll on me all night till i party every day

she lady on my bug till im miraculous, simply the best

she Miles on my Morales till im like what’s up danger

she ink on my splat zone till i splashdown

she calamari my inkantation till i stay fresh

she ebb on my flow till i dont get cooked

she anarchy my rainbow till i catch her later

she [[HYPERLINK BLOCKED]] on my [[KEYGEN]] till i become a [[BIG SHOT]]

she birds are singing on my flowers are blooming till kids like you burn in hell

she autism on my spectrum till i disorder

she obsessive on my compulsive till i disorder

she golden on my freddy till it’s me

she appreciate my skeleton till i can feel my mind unweave again

she animation on my meme till i headbop

she Chappell on my Roan till im hot to go

she azumanga on my daioh till i america ya!

she project on my diva till i mega mix

she little on my shop of horrors till i feed her to a plant

she watt on my pad till i lemon

she pop on my team till im epic

she fire on my paw till i alone will save our clan

she legends on my arceus till i make the first pokédex

she ponder my orb till i ruminate

she migrate my coconut till i swallow

she stardew on my valley till i farm

she visit my friend till im the visiterrrr

she my on my little till i pony

she swipe left on character ai till i ask her a question

she Mandela my Catalogue till i will know her greatest fear

she scarlet on my violet till i time travel

she star on my platinum till i the world

she hatsune on my miku till im the #1 princess in the world

she miracle on my musical till im alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

she harpy on my hare till i bury all her children

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie only took the job because it was supposed to be fast, in and out in twenty minutes or so. He's glad that the Lord and his family are out for the evening, because the handle he'd discovered inside the vault and the secret door it triggered was far too interesting for him to not investigate. 

The half-elf is careful as he enters the room, checking for traps or alarms along the entryway, thankful that his magical heritage gives him the ability to see in the absence of light. The place seems to be full of magical items, with bookshelves and displays packed to the brim with books and artifacts. 

And on the far side of the room away from the collection, sitting on a bed and bound to the wall by a chain, is a young man who looks fucking terrified.

"It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt you," Eddie says as he holds up his hands to show that they're empty, though he realizes that the other may not be able to see the way Eddie can. With a snap of his fingers several softly glowing orbs appear around the room, and the fear changes to surprise at the action. 

Eddie takes the chance to look at the boy as he blinks against the light suddenly filling the space, and woah. His heart skips a beat, because this must be the most beautiful person Eddie has ever seen in his life. 

He's around Eddie's age and clearly of Infernal descent, if the horns curling from his forehead and the tail Eddie can just see flicking behind him are any indication. But instead of the red-tone skin and near-black hair Eddie has seen on other tieflings, the young man has navy hair and powder blue skin dotted with deep blue beauty marks. He's wearing simple, loose clothing, and his eyes shine like gold coins in the light of Eddie's dancing lights, and the half-elf is instantly smitten. 

“My name is Eddie,” he says as he carefully steps closer. "Any chance you could tell me why Lord Harrington has a tiefling sealed away in a secret room?"

Golden eyes snap from the lights back to Eddie's face, and the other seems to study him for a moment before responding with a scratchy, unused voice. "Something about me being the 'physical evidence of our family's greatest shame.' Or something like that."

Eddie blinks, because- "Your family? You're… Lord Harrington's son?" 

The tiefling nods, and Eddie is absolutely bewildered. He’s lived in this town for years, and has never once heard of Lord Harrington having a son, only a daughter who is significantly younger than this person. Looking around the room, Eddie can see that it’s no better than a prison cell. 

The manacle attached to the boy’s wrist is bolted to the wall between the bed and the desk, and on the nearby surface are a pitcher and shallow basin, along with a drinking glass. A chamber pot sits on the floor, just within reach, and must either be cleaned often or enchanted because no smell comes from it.

Eddie can’t help the soft “How long have you been kept in here?” that escapes him, and the boy seems surprised by the concern in his voice. He watches as the tiefling pulls his knees to his chest, hears the chain rattle as he wraps his arms around them. A few locks of navy hair fall down into his face but he makes no move to fix it.

“Since my mother passed away. She was the one who convinced my father to let me at least roam the house, even though I wasn’t allowed outside. She died when I was twelve, and ever since, my father has kept me here.” He looks up then, gold eyes once again focusing on Eddie. “My mother called me Stephen.”

Eddie goes soft at the new information, and he moves over to stand next to the bed. “Stephen. Mind if I call you Steve?”

Stephen, Steve, shakes his head. “I don’t mind. Could you- Why are you here, Eddie?” 

And Eddie sighs. “Well, someone hired me to steal something from your father. I wasn’t expecting to find all of this,” he says, gesturing to the collection around him, then looks back at the other. “Or you.”

Steve's cheeks shift to a darker shade of blue, and Eddie is delighted to realize that the other is blushing. Steve waves his unchained hand around, motioning to the artifacts surrounding them. "Well, I’m sure the stuff in this room is valuable, father wouldn’t keep it hidden otherwise. Feel free to steal any of it as well.”

Eddie feels bold, can't help but ask “And what if I want to steal you?”

Steve's mouth opens in surprise, that blue blush going darker as he gives a soft “What?”

The half-elf moves closer and sits on the bed, just barely resisting the urge to touch the other. “You don’t deserve to be locked away, Steve. Your father is wrong to keep you here, you should be out in the world, living your life.”

He holds out a hand between them, an offering to this gorgeous stranger. "I'm a pretty good lockpick. I could have you out of that chain and this house in no time. Just say the word."

Steve takes a shaky inhale, he seems scared but curious as he asks a quiet "Where would I even go?"

Eddie shrugs a shoulder. "You can come with me, if you want. It's just me and my brother, Dustin, right now, but there's always room for one more."

Steve glances away, seeming to contemplate the offer, and Eddie would give anything to know exactly what he's thinking in this moment. He hopes that Steve says yes, that he lets Eddie take him away from this place, because Steve deserves to be free. He deserves to be in the outside world, to see the wonders of it, and more than anything, Eddie wants to be the one to show it to him.

It's not long before golden eyes snap back to chocolate brown, and Eddie's heart soars as Steve places his chained hand in Eddie's outstretched one. He aches when he sees the chafed skin of Steve's wrist, rough and raw from what's likely years of contact with the harsh metal. 

But Steve seems determined and ecstatic, his hand squeezing Eddie's as he says "Do it. Steal me, Eddie." 

And Eddie beams as he pulls out his lockpick kit. 

"With pleasure, Steve."

[wizardislandisland-news]

The Daily Orb

Recently, about six adventurers have embarked to plunder a vault in the boiling hills, a boiling hot desert. The expedition ended in a battle with a… thing. Eyewitnesses say “terrifying” and “it was awesome”.

The loot includes a fortune in an as-of-yet unidentified currency, and a reddish-black metal with seemingly a conscious of its own.

Pollution blob roams island

@pollution-wizard’s Blob of pure pollution is currently roaming the island. You are advised to avoid this creature, as it is extremely dangerous.

Weather

Sunny with mild firebursts all around wizard island due to hatchlings. Light ashfall expected. Keep flammable items secure, as heat levels will rise significantly.

Local cat waged war with Mariah Carey

The local menace, @fattocatto-wizard , has waged war with Mariah Carey. After a hard-fought battle, they claim, quote:

We lost…

:,(

She was too strong for us…

She will plague this world for years to come…

Many have attempted to cheer the cat up, saying “there’s always next year” and “the songs aren’t that bad, anyways” to no avail.

Local mastermind makes work of art

Some of you may remember the marble imp. For those who have not seen it, @sorcererest-sorcerer has been working to create a beautiful replica on paper!

Island flipped

You may have slept through it if you use magicalfox’s sleep-tites, but the entire island was flipped over last night! The culprit: @magical-fox.

Strange figure loose

A strange figure has been roaming the island, claiming to be a sorcerer. As of yet, we don’t have enough information to know exactly what their intentions are, but stay safe out there.

What’s on the next page?

[prythianpages]

Give 'Em Hell | Part One

beron's daughter OC x eventually Azriel

Masterlist

Summary: Beron is celebrating his son's first name day when he learns about a threat to his desired line of succession. His true firstborn.

Warnings: mentions of child loss

A/N: This is the villain origin story of Beron's daughter. I plan for this to be a short series but I also don't really have this planned out well like my other series lol, I'm kind of just going with vibes for this one. After listening to The Buttress's 'Brutus' this came to mind so it will be inspired by Julius Caesar's story and revolve mainly around Saoirse and Eris, who are siblings. Azriel will join later on in the series as the first 2-3 parts will focus on reader and the Vanserras.

In the heart of the Autumn Court’s grand palace, the air hummed with vibrant festivities. It was a day of great joy, a celebration for the name day of the High Lord’s firstborn son and heir. The halls were adorned with tapestries of blazing amber and crimson leaves, their intricate designs catching the radiance of the fiery torches that lined the corridor.

Flickering candles and enchanting crystal orbs dangled from the vaulted ceilings, casting a warm, golden glow upon the gathering below. The joyful chatter of courtiers and nobles mingled with the melodic tunes of minstrels performing lively songs. Excitement surged through the crowd as they anticipated the official naming of the new prince, the air crackling with a promise of a prosperous future for the court and its people.

The grand doors opened and the High Lord of Autumn, Beron Vanserra, was the first to emerge. His wife and Lady of the Autumn Court, Aurelia, followed behind him. In her arm, was the autumn court’s new bundle of joy. A beautiful and healthy baby boy with hair as red as hers and amber eyes as bright and earthly as hers.

As they walked forward, the crowd dispersed, bowing their heads in respect. They curiously sneaked a peak at the boy, filled with anxious excitement to catch a glimpse. Lady Aurelia tightened her hold on her babe protectively. It had been a year since the announcement of his arrival and she had feared losing this babe as she had with her first. Her firstborn had befallen to a strange illness and she sadly did not survive past her first week into the world.

But this time, things were different. The child was born a male and healthy. He was fiercely monitored and protected. The securing of an heir to a High Lord of Prythian was one of great matters.

High Lord Beron sat himself on the throne, his dark brown eyes cold and fierce as Lady Aurelia stood beside him, her amber eyes were timid and wary. They were husband and wife but not equals. Never equals.

“I give thanks to all.” Beron’s voice was deep and powerful, echoing throughout the grand hall. “For gathering to celebrate my first born son. My heir. Eris.”

“Eris,” a murmur swept through the crowd like a breeze, the name mingling with the crackling excitement of the gathered court.

With a graceful motion of his hand, the lively melody swelled, encouraging some to sway and twirl to the music. High Lord Beron gestured for his son and Lady Aurelia hesitantly passed the small child into his arms.  He placed Eris on his lap, embracing the young heir, and together they observed the vibrant dance of the Autumn court from his throne.

A cloaked figure approached the throne, bowing his head as he reached the foot of the steps.

“Soothsayer.” High Lord Beron acknowledged with a solemn nod, allowing the figure to rise back up. He never bothered to learn his name, despite the Soothsayer being a part of his court for decades. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’ve come to enlighten you, my lord.” The Soothsayer replied, his voice possessing an air of icy calm. Lady Aurelia, who remained by her husband’s side, tensed.

High Lord Beron’s brow furrowed, a scowl etched onto his face. He did not believe in prophecies. They were nothing but nonsense to him. But something in him prodded him to entertain the man’s presence. The Soothsayer had, afterall, predicted the accurate arrival of his son.

The Soothsayer’s gaze fixed upon the child on his High Lord’s lap and a smile graced his face. “Eris shall grow to wield unparalleled strength.”

Beron gave a disgruntled hum, finding little amusement in the Soothsayer’s words. The notion that his son would grow strong seemed more a matter of course than a profound prophecy. Eris, as the heir to the Autumn Court, was destined for greatness. 

The Soothsayer’s demeanor shifted dramatically. His eyes rolled back, their irises disappearing into a haunting white void as he surrendered to the profundity of the prophecy. 

“The Vanserra line will be fruitful and flourishing as Autumn’s greatest harvest, for they are born with the greatest fire in their veins. But it will not last. Not all will thrive as some will die. Two will soon become three until there are finally eight but one will not be true to you and only one shall come to be. It is the one that possesses the phoenix's heart that the Mother will favor. She shall reign, the true firstborn.”

Beron’s eyes widened for a faltering moment before he rose sharply to his feet, handing the child that had begun to grow restless back to his wife. His gaze blazed with fury, taking the Soothsayer’s words as a threat. Tendrils of flame escaped from his finger tips, rushing to wrap around the Soothsayer’s neck to silence him.

But the Soothsayer did not falter, despite the burning ring around his neck.

“She will emerge from the ashes that aim to entomb her, ever lingering near. A course that cannot be averted. Beware… the ides of March.”

Beron’s eyes continued to rage, the fire in them burning ardently, as the fire around the Soothsayer’s neck tightened. It tightened and tightened, suffocating the male and burned through his flesh. He didn’t stop until the Soothsayer’s head dropped to the floor in a sickening thump, his body following along shortly.

Lady Aurelia let out a cry in shock, her hand flying to her son’s head, shielding him from the grotesque scene. The couples that had been dancing and swaying to the music came to an abrupt halt, eyes widening at the dead body before the throne to the Autumn Court but the music continued to play.

High Lord Beron finally peeled his heated gaze from the dead male, eyes darting around the room. “Did I say to stop?”

Not wanting to meet the Soothsayer’s fate, the crowd began to dance again, compelled by fear. Beron then turned to his guards as the Soothsayer’s words repeated themselves in his head and sunk in, bringing forth a familiar ache in his chest. One he had thought he had destroyed years ago.

His mind was consumed by memories from his past as he gave hushed and urgent orders to his most trusted men. 

For the rest of the night, the High Lord of the Autumn court maintained a scowl and an air of fierce composure. The flames that danced restlessly from his fingertips betrayed the inner turmoil he harbored. He did not rest, until days later, when his men finally returned.

High Lord Beron was sharing a quiet breakfast with his wife and son when he turned to address his men.  “Is it done?”

“Yes, my High Lord.” One of his men replied with a bow. The men behind followed.  “Not a single survivor left.”

Beron’s lips curled into a wicked smirk that sent chills up Lady Aurerlia’s spine while little Eris shifted in her lap.

“Good.”

**

Grief is the price one pays for love. It’s more than missing someone. It’s an overwhelming sensation, one that often takes a piece of you with it, leaving one with a gaping hole in their chest.

 It starts with denial, you pretend that the loss is not real until the pain that it carries becomes too much and anger floods in. The “what ifs” and “if only” nearly drown you as you bargain, wanting to postpone the sadness, the confusion. And then it’s peaceful in the deep and quiet depression. The arms of the ocean of grief’s depression carry you in until acceptance comes along like a bittersweet lullaby with a small sliver of hope–a life ring that may pull you out of grief’s cold depths.

But Saoirse’s mother never reached the final stage.

Instead, her mother slowly disappeared into the unrelenting depressing grip of grief. The depths of it were so deep no hand or life ring could reach. All for love.

Saoirse vowed to never fall in love. How could she when it was love that drove her mother so mad she lost her sanity?

Saoirse shuffled through the vast meadow. It was a canvas of autumnal hues, serene and enchanting, resplendent with vibrant flowers. Golden, russet and crimson blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, their petals swirling among the tall, amber grasses. Sunlight dappled through the tree branches, casting a warm golden glow. She picked out the prettiest of the flowers, making sure to grab her mother’s favorites–red chrysanthemums–before carefully wrapping them into a beautiful bouquet held together with a thin cloth and ivory ribbon.

When Saoirse entered the comforts of her small, humble home, she was greeted with the enticing scent of apple and cinnamon and the warmth of the roaring fireplace in the living space. She found her mother sitting in a rocking chair close to the fireplace, facing the window. A blanket had been gently draped over her lap, her fingers fidgeting over the warm fabric.

“Happy birthday, mother.” Saoirse greeted with a faint, fragile smile.

She approached her mother, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and the bouquet of flowers in her lap. Her mother’s shaky fingers clung onto the bouquet but her green eyes were distant.

“You took my heart when you left. Without your sweet kiss, my soul is lost…”

Saoirse’s smile fell and she felt her heart ache. She hated seeing her mother like this.

“She’s been like this all day.” A weathered voice chimed in solemnly.

“My city’s in ruins.”

Saoirse turned, her gaze landing on her sweet grandmother. The woman who had sacrificed everything to run to her daughter’s aid all those years ago. The woman who rose shortly after her high status fell, working hard to provide for her and her daughter. The woman, who when she found out her daughter was pregnant, delicately took care of her, raising Saoirse as if she were her own. Her eyes, usually warm and sweet, were green pools of sympathy as Saoirse’s mother’s voice faded into the background.

“Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”

“Dinner’s almost ready.” Her grandmother said, inkling her head toward the kitchen. “I made apple pie for dessert.”

**

They ate dinner in silence. With the help of her grandmother, Saoirse had guided her mother to the small dining table, just big enough for the three of them. Her mother continued to sing, green eyes still vacant as she was tormented by her memories. She had fallen into another bad episode, where the memories ran through an endless loop in her head. The song falling from her lips was her only solace.

“My city’s in ruins.”

Silver lined Saoirse’s eyes, making her dark brown eyes glisten. Eyes that she unfortunately inherited from her father, if she could even call him that. She was grateful it was the only trait they shared.

Saoirse hated the male that helped bring her to this cruel world with a burning passion. Everything was his fault. Why her sweet grandmother’s hands were calloused, roughened by the hard labor she was forced into. Why her mother was drowning in her depressive, almost vegetative state, refusing to heal from all the damage that had been done. All the damage he had done.

Saoirse had also fallen victim to the torturous depths of grief, mourning the loss of the mother she never got to know. Similar to her mother, she found herself stuck but it was not grief's depression that suffocated her. It was the ardent flames of anger. They ran so deep they flooded her veins, igniting her with a terrifying desire to burn everything to the ground.

“Sersh.”

Saoirse snapped out of her thoughts, eyes finding her grandmother, who glanced down at the table. “Shit, sorry.” She muttered.

 “Come on, rise up. Come on, rise up.”

As she drew back her heated hands, a shiver of discomfort ran through her. The scent of singed wood tickled her nostrils and the once pristine table bore the mark of her growing abilities, its surface marred by a thin layer of char.  Her grandmother’s soft chuckle met an abrupt halt. 

Their heads swiveled to Saoirse’s mother, whose voice had ceased mid-song. With a shared look of concern, both Saoirse and her grandmother called out to her simultaneously. 

“Margot?”

“Mother?”

Silence hung in the air after Saoirse’s call to her mother was met with no response. Her mother, Margot, remained wordless. Her emerald eyes widening in sheer disbelief and lips pressed into a taut line. She appeared as though she had seen a ghost.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. A scream that did not originate from within the house, a scream that elicited a tumult of more anguished sounds, echoing chaos.

Saoirse leaped to her feet in a panicked rush, rushing out the door in urgency. Her eyes scanned the landscape of their small village, her eyes widening with dread at the horrifying sight that unfolded before her.

The village, the place she had called home all her life, was engulfed in an all-consuming blaze, flames licking at everything in sight. More screams sent her heart racing. She didn’t know what to do, where to go, who to help first.

She found her neighbor, who desperately carried a bucket of water, and ran to him. “What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” He answered, his voice frantic. “They say it’s a wildfire from the drought but it started in the granaries. Get your grandmother and mother and run.”

Saoirse nodded as she turned around in haste, making her way back to her home. The flames danced freely in the village, their fierce, unwavering embrace swallowing everything in their path. The once-charming cottages, adorned with vibrant fall flower boxes, now stood cloaked in orange and red. She held her hands up toward the flames, beckoning her powers to ignite. Perhaps, she could manipulate the flames to turn away from the village.

Nothing happened and it was then that a terrifying realization dawned on her. This was no ordinary fire. It was fire sparked from magic. Saoirse willed her legs to run faster as plumes of smoke twisted upward, smudging the sky with a toxic charcoal hue.

The air grew thick with the smoke and somber chorus of crackling flames. Villagers, gripped by fear and despair, dashed frantically. Like her neighbor, they hauled buckets of water in a futile attempt to quell the unrelenting blaze.

She was almost home when she heard a sudden and loud sequence of snapping. A massive tree limb plunged directly in her path, sending her stumbling and crashing into the fallen leaves below. Panic surged as a terrified scream escaped from her lips, watching in horror as the tree she once climbed as a child splintered and fractured. It’s trunk plummeted, crashing over her house with a resounding, earth-shaking roar.

“Nana!” She cried, crawling to her burning house.

The smoke burned her lungs as she rose to her feet. She hurried to the door of her house but there was fire everywhere, keeping her from entering. Her hands extended once more, a desperate attempt to summon her powers. She could feel a trickle of blood run down from her nose at the exertion. Nothing.

With another desperate cry, she kicked at the door, not caring if the flames engulfed her. “Nana!”

She could hear the faint sound of coughing. “Saoirse!”

“Nana,” she almost cried in relief but no matter how much she kicked and threw herself against the door, it would not budge.

“It’s alright, my sweet Sersh.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. No. She refused to accept this.

“No, it’s not! I need to get you two out of there.”

She continued to kick and scratch at the door desperately. Blood trickled from her hands. "Please," she begged. To the Cauldron, to the Mother. Anyone. "Please."

But there was no answer. Only silence. A deathly stillness that enveloped around her, choking her just as the flames threatened to.

Her shoulders slumped and she collapsed against the door. Her vision blurred from all the smoke and tears. The fire’s glowing fingers reached out hungrily as it continued to sear over. More trees collapsed. The once tranquil village was now a chaotic scene of devastation. Saoirse let her eyes close as she gave up. Broken sobs wracked her body. 

She wanted the flames to swallow her whole.

**

Saoirse did not know how much time had passed but the sounds of the roaring fire gradually came to stop. She sharply sucked in a breath, regretting it as it burned her lungs and brought her into a coughing fit.  She had curled into herself and was no longer leaning against the door to her home.

When Saoirse finally opened her eyes, she realized it was because there was no longer a door. There was no longer a home. She was met with the devastated landscape of the village. Her home, it now held only desolation.

She was the only living body among the piles of ashes and splintered bones. They covered the ground like a blanket, a silent witness to the fire’s destruction. Her clothes had burnt off, leaving her skin to be tainted by the stains of ash and smoke. Tears were caked onto her face.

Despite the intense heat that had engulfed her entire village and burned through her clothes, she remained unscratched…untouched by the flames that ravaged everything around her ruthlessly.

The flames had flickered in a strange familiarity. This was no wildfire as she had confirmed earlier. This fire had burned and blazed through the village with a purpose. To destroy her.

She knew her existence would not be a welcomed one. It had never been a matter of if but when. This could not be a coincidence, not when the High Lord’s son recently celebrated his first name day and was christened as Autumn’s heir…

Her father had found her. This fire was meant for her, to burn her alive and silence her forever. But she did not burn. The fire inside her blazed brighter than the inferno that had been sent to her.

All she had wanted was to live her life in secrecy and peace with her grandmother and mother at her side but now...

The two people she cared and loved the most were dead, taken from her. She lost everything...because of him.

She felt a heat surge through her body. Her skin, her veins, her bones. A spark of light burst forth from her chest, right where her roaring heart was. There was a tiny, defiant glow there. A stark contrast amid the gray surroundings.  

Come on, rise up, the spark beckoned her and then her legs were moving before she could process the command.

She emerged from the ashes, standing tall amidst the lingering smoke. Her mouth held the taste of sorrow, intertwined with the metallic tang of blood. Her once dark brown eyes now burned a vibrant gold, flickering with an inner flame.

From the glowing ember within her chest, wisps of fire snaked out, coiling around her shoulders and forming fiery wings, a vivid and brilliant display of life and rebirth. Each beat of them stirred the ashes around her in a magical whirlwind. 

She was a phoenix, a breathtaking manifestation of flame and ash, and she was burning with an insatiable thirst for revenge. 

A/N: the song reader's mother was singing was my city of ruins by bruce springsteen. I picked it bc I really liked the lyrics and while it's a worship song, I did find it was fitting to her mother's and beron's story. Adult Eris along with Lucien and the other brothers will make appearances in the next parts.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

8 Things to Know About NASA’s Mission to an Ocean Moon of Jupiter

The first NASA spacecraft dedicated to studying an ocean world beyond Earth, Europa Clipper aims to find out if the ice-encased moon Europa could be habitable.

NASA’s Europa Clipper spacecraft, the largest the agency has ever built for a planetary mission, will travel 1.8 billion miles (2.9 billion kilometers) from the agency’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida to Europa, an intriguing icy moon of Jupiter. The spacecraft’s launch period opens Thursday, Oct. 10.

Data from previous NASA missions has provided scientists with strong evidence that an enormous salty ocean lies underneath the frozen surface of the moon. Europa Clipper will orbit Jupiter and conduct 49 close flybys of the moon to gather data needed to determine whether there are places below its thick frozen crust that could support life.

Here are eight things to know about the mission:

1. Europa is one of the most promising places to look for currently habitable conditions beyond Earth.

There’s scientific evidence that the ingredients for life — water, the right chemistry, and energy — may exist at Europa right now. This mission will gather the information scientists need to find out for sure. The moon may hold an internal ocean with twice the water of Earth’s oceans combined, and it may also host organic compounds and energy sources under its surface. If the mission determines that Europa is habitable, it would mean there may be more habitable worlds in our solar system and beyond than we have imagined.

2. The spacecraft will fly through one of the most punishing radiation environments in our solar system — second only to the Sun’s.

Jupiter is surrounded by a gigantic magnetic field 20,000 times stronger than Earth’s. As the field spins, it captures and accelerates charged particles, creating radiation that can damage spacecraft. Mission engineers designed a spacecraft vault to shield sensitive electronics from radiation, and they plotted orbits that will limit the time Europa Clipper spends in most radiation-heavy areas around Jupiter.

3. Europa Clipper will orbit Jupiter, studying Europa while flying by the moon dozens of times.

The spacecraft will make looping orbits around Jupiter that bring it close to Europa for 49 science-dedicated flybys. On each orbit, the spacecraft will spend less than a day in Jupiter’s dangerous radiation zone near Europa before zipping back out. Two to three weeks later, it will repeat the process, making another flyby.

4. Europa Clipper features NASA’s most sophisticated suite of science instruments yet.

To determine if Europa is habitable, Europa Clipper must assess the moon’s interior, composition, and geology. The spacecraft carries nine science instruments and a gravity experiment that uses the telecommunications system. In order to obtain the best science during each flyby, all the science instruments will operate simultaneously on every pass. Scientists will then layer the data together to paint a full picture of the moon.

5. With antennas and solar arrays fully deployed, Europa Clipper is the largest spacecraft NASA has ever developed for a planetary mission.

The spacecraft extends 100 feet (30.5 meters) from one end to the other and about 58 feet (17.6 meters) across. That’s bigger than a basketball court, thanks in large part to the solar arrays, which need to be huge so they can collect enough sunlight while near Jupiter to power the instruments, electronics, and other subsystems.

6. It’s a long journey to Jupiter.

Jupiter is on average some 480 million miles (about 770 million kilometers) from Earth; both planets are in motion, and a spacecraft can carry only a limited amount of fuel. Mission planners are sending Europa Clipper past Mars and then Earth, using the planets’ gravity as a slingshot to add speed to the spacecraft’s trek. After journeying about 1.8 billion miles (2.9 billion kilometers) over 5½ years, the spacecraft will fire its engines to enter orbit around Jupiter in 2030.

7. Institutions across the U.S. and Europe have contributed to Europa Clipper.

Currently, about a thousand people work on the mission, including more than 220 scientists from both the U.S. and Europe. Since the mission was officially approved in 2015, more than 4,000 people have contributed to Europa Clipper, including teams who work for contractors and subcontractors.

8. More than 2.6 million of us are riding along with the spacecraft, bringing greetings from one water world to another.

As part of a mission campaign called “Message in a Bottle,” the spacecraft is carrying a poem by U.S. Poet Laureate Ada Limón, cosigned by millions of people from nearly every country in the world. Their names have been stenciled onto a microchip attached to a tantalum metal plate that seals the spacecraft’s electronics vault. The plate also features waveforms of people saying the word “water” in over 100 spoken languages.

More About Europa Clipper

Europa Clipper’s three main science objectives are to determine the thickness of the moon’s icy shell and its interactions with the ocean below, to investigate its composition, and to characterize its geology. The mission’s detailed exploration of Europa will help scientists better understand the astrobiological potential for habitable worlds beyond our planet.

Managed by Caltech in Pasadena, California, NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory leads the development of the Europa Clipper mission in partnership with the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory in Laurel, Maryland, for NASA’s Science Mission Directorate in Washington. The main spacecraft body was designed by APL in collaboration with JPL and NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland, NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville, Alabama, and NASA’s Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia. The Planetary Missions Program Office at Marshall executes program management of the Europa Clipper mission.

NASA’s Launch Services Program, based at Kennedy, manages the launch service for the Europa Clipper spacecraft, which will launch on a SpaceX Falcon Heavy rocket from Launch Complex 39A at Kennedy.

[red-dead-sakharine]

The less travelled paths through the House of Hope

Hyperfocus put to good use (I spent way too much time down here).

Staying on good terms

You can enter the HoH, loot the secret vault (with the staff and helmet), and leave again without angering Raphael.

I wondered, if one could play with Haarlep without stealing, and if there'd be an opportunity to talk - on friendly terms - with Raphael about the incubus.

But the moment you open the portal to the HoH, Raphael (and Korilla) vanish from Sharess' Caress.

So even if you don't touch anything inside, Raphael will be gone.

But wait! If you

don't kill Raphael

deny the emperor in the final astral prism scene

and manage to not acquire, or lose the orphic hammer (you can f.e. reverse-pickpocket it back into Raphael's pockets after making the deal (yes, enjoy the mental image of Tav shoving a giant hammer into Raphael's pants ...sneakily))

Raphael will show up for a chat, insult you for your idiocy (charmingly) and give you the hammer again / or force you (scarily) to sign the contract, if you haven't already

So I thought maaaaybeeee....

but no. You can not mention Haarlep to him there. :(

I suppose the end of the world is more important at that point (pfff!)

Note though, I have only tested the "visit Haarlep but don't steal" route without having signed the contract. But I imagine that there will still be no Haarlep talk option during the astral prism hammer scene. I'll try it out another time to be thorough though.

Alternative paths and rare dialogue

I will go out on a limb and guess the path through the HoH most players take most often is thus:

Decline deal / sign contract

Go to HoH

Talk to Archivist, get boudoir invite

Enjoy or kill Haarlep

Get Hammer / destroy contract

Free Hope

Fight Raphael

You will already notice a difference in available conversation paths with the archivist, depending on whether or not you signed the contract. If you did, instead of playing the role as inquisitor, you can tell him you have regrets and pass a charisma check for him to still give you the invite.

This is not the only path though.

Optional breadcrumb/rare dialogue:

If you already killed Gortash before you visit the HoH, go talk to the guy in the portal room. Once he mentions Gortash, you can tell him that you killed Gortash. Happy to hear that, he will tell you about the secret path from the balcony to the boudoir —

Note: I'm not sure if he was insinuating, that he visits Haarlep sometimes when the boss isn't watching. You could read that into it, if you want.

— whether or not you spoke to the gnome, you can skip the archivist talk and go straight to Haarlep via the outer balcony (there's also a path to the prison here).

Boudoir scene will happen as usual.

When you go to the archivist afterwards, Korilla is already gone. Archivist talk goes as usual, and he'll give you the boudoir invite if you chose the usual conversation path as well. Moot, of course, but I suppose he can't know that.

Korilla lives

If you manage to avoid Korrila's death - you can knock her out via non-lethal attacks, but beware Raphael's reckless aoe explosions - Hope will recognize this during her last dialogue. She'll tell you that she's glad Korilla survived, and that she still loves her.

Hope dies

If you confront Raphael without freeing Hope (f.e. because you shoved the orphic hammer back down Raphael's trousers), she dies with him.

Return to her prison after the fight, and you'll only find a burned corpse.

On a stray note, ik I'm not the first to point this out, but it fit the post:

If you click the orb in the Devil's Fee, before you enter the HoH, you see Raphael.

If you click it again, after killing Raphael, it describes him being devoured by Mephistopheles.

I realize he's just a bunch of pixels, but for some reason this really pains me. I already avoided killing him in most of my runs, but especially now with this in mind.

I tried to save his soul² but to no avail.

Neither knocking him out, nor picking up his corpse changes the message. It will still say he's being devoured. 😔

(² for those unaware, a fiend's body is their soul. Unlike mortals, whose body and soul are two separate things. Though there'sword out there that cambions might have a mortal soul as well.)

Alright, thanks for listening to my TED talk. BYE!