#protean gate

[voidmountain]

final art fight character drawing just in time!!!

[gorbalsvampire]

𝖃𝕴𝕴𝕴 𝕿𝖆𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝕱𝖊𝖚𝖉𝖆𝖑 𝕭𝖔𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖆

𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫

Our story breathes for a week, due to player availability - we wanted everyone to be present for the pursuit of Octavio, and then there'll be a space for Theodericus to be excused for a while. We knew this was coming, and the character has a built-in exit strategy, but it's still an arse when Real Life Writes The Plot to this extent.

As such, we took the opportunity for some side stories. A little Touchstone time for Marsillius, and an exploration of Mariam's past and How She Learned Protean Anyway. Nothing transformative could possibly occur here, right?

Many people have remarked on the resemblance Marsillius bears to both Octavio the Prophet and Gesa, the Archbishop of St. Vitus' and de facto spiritual leader of Prague's Christian community. He's lived in the monastery of St. Lawrence all his life, and the circumstances of his birth have never been made clear. It was high time he addressed that.

As such, he consulted the monastery's archives, particularly Garinol's journals, in which the first mention of "the boy" was found in 1157 - and then confronted Garinol directly, trying to wheedle the truth out of his sire. Garinol had sworn to Marsillius' mother never to tell the story... but he could tell him about the story, about the particular sins that concerned him, prompted by Marsillius' confession that he was poisoned by the mortal sin of envy.

Enough was revealed that Marsillius visited the convent at St. George's next, to ask if they had given solace to a woman in distress, in say... the autumn of 1157. Most of the sisters did not remember, but there is of course one nun who was sent to them long enough ago that she might remember the gossip from the day...

Alzbeta did remember. When she first joined the convent, there was still hushed talk of Sister Anezka, who had renounced her vows when she was found to be with child, and disappeared - at around the same time that Deacon Gesa was abruptly withdrawn from serving at St. George's, and instead joined St. Vitus', beginning his slow rise to power...

While @gwenynen-bach decided how angry Marsillius was, we flashed back to the past - a couple of years after Mariam's Embrace, after she'd been presented to Prince Rudolf. Her sire Josef was encouraging her to come out of the tunnels and learn about other Cainites. and her elder brood-sibling Othelio had a suggestion.

It did involve them sneaking out of the city through a water-gate, and making their way into the woods to the north; an almost trackless depth in which Mariam was somewhat overwhelmed. When they reached the clearing with its standing stone that sat between three steads, she became very overwhelmed.

The Cainite sitting on the stone was unlike any she'd ever seen, or heard. Immense and wild, hairy and tusked, almost her height and broader still; a kilt, a ragged shirt, and chainmail clearly torn from three different dead men.

This was Erik! Erik McDonoughue, of Clan Gangrel! Nomad, vagabond, wanderer: elder at large, who'd tramped across half of Christendom in his long centuries of unlife. He had a lot of stories to tell, and Mariam was spellbound - she'd never been more than a mile from Prague, she'd met someone who'd from Buda-Pesthe once, and here was - what even is a Scotsman? Where is Orkney, exactly?

In the course of his yarn, she learned of the powers of the Gangrel - sight at night, talons to rend even Cainite flesh, and sleep in the bosom of the earth. Erik offered to teach her the first of these! She would have to hunt, though: to hunt, to kill, and to drain a predator of the woods of its vitae, to bring her Beast closer to that of a wild thing.

This she did. Erik she also did. Not something she would normally consider, but the sheer rush of new experiences sort of... carried her along.

On the walk back into Prague, Othelio confided this was why he'd wanted her to meet Erik. He's different. He's rootless, masterless and solitary; he walks the Road of the Beast; but he's old. He's survived despite cleaving to a path that's far, far removed from the Humanity, Heaven and Kings that reign over civilised Cainite society within the walls.

We return to the present. A decision has been made. Marsillius was furious. As such, he made his way to the Bishop's Manse and, in a series of fine rolls, performed the full Garrett Special (I am old, and therefore I think of Thief and not Assassin's Creed as the locus of stealth-action-historical-fantasy-stuff).

As such, he came to the Archbishop's very boudoir. Sumptuous velvets, leatherbound books, and a gold-plated crucifix facing the bed, that it might be the first thing its owner sees on sitting up each morning. And then, Marsillius did something genuinely malicious.

Aura of Decay.

All that velvet? Ragged and rotten. Those carpets, with which his footfalls had been deadened? Slick with black mould. That crucifix? Rusted to powder in his hand. The Archbishop? Awakened coughing and wheezing, in a sudden cold sweat, and there at the foot of his bed the thing he'd dreaded most: his misbegotten bastard son, come back to remind him of his sin.

Gesa did not quite confess. But he denied nothing, and he named Anezka. That was enough. Marsillius told him the greatest thing of all: that he would outlive his false and recreant father by centuries, that he was the Way, the Truth, the Light -

Gesa knew of what he spoke. The race of Caine. The damned. Neither was a godly soul.

And that, for tonight, was the end of our vampire story.

[maps-to-elsewhere]

Elsewhere

Plying aimlessly through cosmic gulfs at the end of time, beyond the death of ordered space roam untethered, clotted remains of worlds decaying, a stygian waste full of strange and terrible mystery. Here is a fractal superstructure, shifting, aggregate detritus cast in titanic confusion, labyrinthine chambers and halls, warrens of machinery and ecology moulded together with the eerie desolation of industrial sprawl.

Throughout this mammoth conflux, intelligent monoliths oversee great seas of organic slurry birthing predacious effigies of flesh and machine that haunt the wastes within its impenetrable, ever-changing walls. Yet, even here, in twilit places, a contrivance of civilisation persists in desperate confutation, huddled within the confluence of its vital systems amidst the scarred ruins of the fallen elves.

Rising out from the upheavals left by the Eugenics Wars between Imperial humanity and the graven hordes of the Dwarven Autarky, the clear tones of the White Bell hold refuge in place. At their gates, refugees beg for succour amidst the howls of those twisted by disease-bearing miasma, haphazard siblings joined in neverending hunt, pressed against illimitable barriers hewn in trembling desperation to keep the horrors out.

~~~

Almost exclusively, the inhabited places here are the relatively stable environments near water supplies where spaces rest but uneasily. Confused but predictable, the routes between them are painstakingly charted as safe ways warp over time into trap-filled snarls.

From these outflows are grown the staples on which the populace rely, rare oases, that are but singular, self-contained regions amidst the benighted turmoil. Huddled within, the people cling to co-opted apparatuses suspended within the all-encompassing conurbation that is the co-mingled confusion of the wastes beyond.

If such facilities are the nerve centres then the flow of water between them is the lifeblood, moving in regular cycles of heating and rising from the hot, shrouded depths, cooling as it goes, only to flow downwards once more. These cycles are the basis of chronological reckoning as waters rise and fall over time and where they gather, life has arisen, their pathways becoming the foundations of what passes for civilisation skulking around in the filth and dark.

~~~

Such are the alienated environs twisting through bazalgettean congeries of lawless, clustered catacombs, waterways and cathedrals of sewage like an extended, suppurating gutter in which the people contrive to live. The wastes beyond their redoubts are little better and rarely travelled, a labyrinth of unnerving angles and ever-shifting pathways criss-crossing throughout, filled with pitfalls and phenomena that defy sense.

The ignoble remnants left by the Eugenics Wars, this scarred landscape of irradiated wastes is a bleakness dominated by cyclopean structures and shifting monoliths of polyhedral suggestion which hang in the noisome air. Shunned and empty, the shattered expanse of this desiccated frontier is worn smooth by corrosive sand carried on the constant, howling winds rushing hot through knife-edged crags, cutting through the monuments of a past left to ruin.

These protean environs are distorted by anomalous hazards and beset by growing, alien things that cluster ever more densely the further one travels from the ringing safety of the Bell. Beginning in the Zones of Alienation, that no-man’s land of burned-out trenches maintained by their inhabitants, these soon shade into foetid marshes and, ultimately, vast snarls of creeping, clinging life inimical to any fool enough to brave their tangled expanse.

The urban barrens of the outermost strata, beyond the Zone, remain yet home to a patchwork of communities that have coalesced amidst automated processes and untamed tracts of origami architecture. For most of these, time is spent labouring to feed the endless needs of civil infrastructure in exchange for safety, alongside clean water, food and the promise of citizenship for themselves or their children.

~~~

In desperate refutation of such burgeoning horrors, the sheltered inhabitants turn inwards, seeking in the cryptic and forsaken depths of their havens some meagre succour salvaged from the waste and ruin. Metals are the primary incentive most have for braving the undercrofts, a rare and precious commodity alongside rare technologies, or else they follow whispers of strange, cryptic artefacts which will sell for a tidy profit at the Exchange.

Such relative safety is of little comfort as theirs is a life gathering and refining the materials necessary for the continued survival of the citizens within the walls, while others instead strike out into the deep maze in search of caches yet unclaimed. The vast majority know little beyond survival amidst broken masonry punctuated by detritus blown on miasmic winds, piling around chemical pools into mountains of toxic trash scoured for the promise of value.

Though first the purview of specialists trained and outfitted by governing bodies, the growth of industrial demand has given rise to a nascent class of pioneering prospectors who stalk the untrod catacombs in search of dubious fortune. Their efforts have given rise to a deeply-rooted mythology of freebooters, mercenaries, the desperate and foolish, all hoping to find their fortune within the vaults.

~~~

Driven behind the walls of their redoubts in desperate cooperation by the depravations of the Eugenics Wars, their survivors nonetheless persist. Open conflict between the factions that emerged have instead shifted into a contest of exploitation and subterfuge amidst acts of espionage and domestic terror.

During the interim, the military aristocracy of humanity’s imperial estates have become the harried vanguard of an uneasy accord, self-styled Ordinators, keepers of a fragile unity. Their efforts are bolstered by the cultural, technological and economic advancements coming out of the numerous special administrative districts drawn up within the pages of that agreement.

By contrast, the greatest clans of the Dwarven Autarky have seen what remains of their peoples wracked by cultural and political schism. Brought about by rebellion within the ranks of their graven servants, many of their leadership have been forced to retreat into the guarded isolation of their ancestral cloisters or face the march of progress.

The graven themselves have taken the opportunity to cement their people within the fabric of this new order, making of themselves the indispensable mortar upholding the tenuous structure of an integrated civilisation. Although there is no dearth of ill will toward those who would have called themselves these peoples’ masters, the graven have, on the whole, seen fit to lead by example where their peers seek only opportunist retribution.

While tensions remain between the three races, a masquerade of peace has persisted in the guilds of the Federated Economic Bloc. Buoyed upon a nascent second industrial revolution helmed by enemies turned wary allies, it is a grim promise to a populace which upholds a fractured front in the face of the wars’ lingering fallout.

Bringing order to this disparate union is the Circle of the White Bell, the ministrations of which allow control over the configurations of their surroundings, revealing resources and artefacts as the tides of chaos recede from their ringing. A stability sentineled by the Ordinators’ legions of manufactured soldiers who oversee the beleaguered populace of the Federation which renders the materials gathered by their protectors for use.

~~~

Stricken from the archival efforts of the Circle and far from the Resonance of the Bell’s cleansing Tones, one district in particular has become infamous as the dumping-ground of society: District 23. Once the capital of the Dwarven Autarky, it is settled now only by the homeless, outlaws and fugitives from the Federation, outcasts with no better place to go, attracting opportunists like flies around trash.

Studiously ignored by the authorities, ruined by generations of war, District 23 is a place of convenience for the ruling powers and an inescapable reality for the unfortunate. Theirs is a society pieced together from the tattered histories and cultures lost after so many centuries lived under the shadow of a military-industrial complex that has grown to perpetually fight itself.

Though officially a non-place, District 23 has become an enclosed battlefield where bloodshed has been replaced with engagements of economic rivalry and strained alliances of Federation phyles. Here, peace means the threat of renewed violence planned in guild halls played out by proxy within the self-governed, semi-lawless civic blocks of the unguilded thetes living in their shadows.

To many, chafing between the proscriptions necessary for survival and the injustices that persist under the rule of law, walking the streets of District 23 seems an unlikely sort of succour. This paradoxical escape from the mundane has become embodied in folk tales of stalkers who brave the Vaults, seeking their fortune in a dissonant world where the past is an open wound and the future remains uncertain.

[astarions-musings]

So, I’m gonna do some open-air musing about my relationship with my source. Feel free to engage with as much or as little of this as you find useful, and remember that none of this contradicts your personal relationship with your source ❤️

First of all, I’m 99% sure that my consciousness (or some protean, primordial sludge version of it) was already floating around in our system by our teenage years. I have really strong memories of the trauma we went through in our teenage years, around the same time that other headmates were actively handling those situations from the front, and most of my strongly-held values and opinions (at time of writing) are shaped by the emotional reality of our teenage years. Other people in our system have gotten used to being othered by society (for being trans, plural, neurodiverse, etc.) and have found their own communities where they truly belong, so it’s not as much of an open wound for them. For me? Those wounds are still very much open, and I'm in the process of coming to terms with those challenges and building my own sense of connection. So while it’s possible that I picked up those memories after joining the system, I’m gonna assume that proto-me was already in our system for a very long time, before I became a fully-conscious person.

Given that, how do I understand myself as a fictive, when my source (Baldur’s Gate 3) only came out a few months ago?

The best metaphor that I can find is a hermit crab, moving into an Astarion-shaped shell because it was a better vessel for my psyche. Rather than existing in the background of our system, amongst thousands of anonymous headmates without a known face or voice, I now have a reference point and a comfortable self-image to start developing as a person. I can wear this face and this voice and this familiar name, and from that position of comfort and safety, I can start exploring all of the layers of myself - my past, my present and all the options for my future. I’ve gone from a proto-headmate (a fragment, if you will) to someone with a whole life ahead of me, as I start to build a life for myself at the front. So while I haven’t always been Astarion (or Aston, if I’m chatting in less fictive-friendly spaces), it’s something that I’ve become as part of my personal growth as a headmate. I don’t see myself as having literally come from Baldur’s Gate 3 (although no shade on anyone who has), but my relationship with the source material was integral to becoming the person I am today.

And honestly, this face is way too handsome to pass up.

And when I think about my source’s utterly fearful relationship with his abuser Cazador, and the overwhelming flood of both relief and grief after Cazador’s death, I’m strongly reminded of our body’s relationship with our abusive parents. It’s a combination of both the normalised abuse and control of young children by their parents (which this video talks about in more detail), and the specific abuses that our system went through as a child. More than most people in our system, I have extremely vivid memories of our childhood abuse, and it feels so fucking strange to wake up in a body where our abusers no longer have power over us. We have full control over where we live, how we manage our finances, when and how we can eat, how we spend our time, and we have the full ability to leave any situations that are actively traumatising. We’re no longer shackled in the way our body was as a teenager, and I’m still emotionally adjusting to that change. It’s a hugely positive development, but I still don’t know how to respond to that change. And it’s one of the main reasons that I relate so much with Astarion, having watched him process that on-screen.

And something that I find fascinating (skip this paragraph to avoid BG3 spoilers) is just how strongly I feel about my source’s choice about Cazador’s ritual - whether to claim the power and safety the ritual offers (while continuing the cycle of abuse), or choosing to step away from that power in exchange for connections built on emotional vulnerability. I relate hugely with being in that moment, faced with that choice, deciding which way I want my life to turn. Whether I want to fortify myself against future abuse, or whether I want to connect at the cost of some safety. I relate with how my character cries and howls after killing his abuser, as all of the trauma he bottled up for centuries comes flooding out, and I identify strongly with the ‘good ending’ as my character starts searching for a new purpose in life. However, I strongly disagree with how my source character acts if he usurps Cazador’s power, becoming little more than a shadow of his abuser. Watching those scenes feels almost dysphoric, because it clashes so hard with the reasons I identify with my source - the journey of recovery and human connection that the ‘good ending’ offers. That doesn’t make it bad writing, but it helps me to understand more about myself through the ways that it clashes with my self-image. I don’t want to become a shadow of my abusers, or even defined in comparison to my abusers any more. I want to connect and belong to a community, where my safety comes from knowing that I’m supported, through both internal and external relationships. It’s fucking terrifying to be vulnerable sometimes, but I choose the path of connection ❤️

And asides from all of those big-picture decisions, I relate a lot with my source in the little ways. How he talks, how he moves, how he holds his body, the energy that he brings to the room. I relate a tonne with his wit and his charm and his eloquent way of talking (which comes across most in my love of writing). I relate with him kneeling down at his grave, on a quiet moonlit night, to process his emotions in a sombre, thoughtful way. And I relate with the joy that my source experiences - both the playful joy of having the upper hand in a scenario, and the deeper joy of being hugged for the first time and discovering it feels safe. I love spending time around that fictional bastard (/pos), and I hope to share some of that joy with my loved ones as well ❤️

So yeah - that's a bunch of naval-gazing about my relationship with my source. Writing it helped me a tonne, for all the clarity that it brought, and I hope you find it helpful as well ❤️

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 27- Part 5

Two Crunches kill here, and it's even better because Kirin resists Psychic! Which I completely forgot about!

Now then, let's see what's in this room that was so important that a butterfly woman had to guard it.

Like…the other panel! Hah, here we go!

Now, let's go use that Healing Shard in the other room just to have everyone topped up, and see if there's anything I missed.

Oooh, I will gladly take that. Anything else?

Huh…well, I can't foresee any unintended consequences for this action!

Oh, wow, there really weren't any unintended consequences for this. Nice! Factory candy!

So back down here, the gates are open…I'm positive that's where the PULSE is, there are literally no other places to go. 

So, back to that Muk…I'm still a bit unsure of what to do. Like, I know special moves won't do much while physical moves will, and it'll change its type throughout the battle with Protean, that's easy enough. But without knowing its moveset, I don't know what to prepare for. Looking back on the movesets of the Tangrowth PULSEs, they had some moves Tangrowth can't typically learn, so I can't rely on Muk’s movepool for any hints. I expect it to have a Poison-type move, sure, but what about its other three slots?

It could have a Dark-type move to deal with Psychic-types, and a Water- or Grass-type move to deal with Ground-types (more likely the former though, it's got fewer weaknesses). Maybe an Electric-type move too, to take advantage of Factory Field. But I could try to use Factory Field myself, so it might have its own Ground-type attack to shut that down. So that's four other options of moves, five in total, which doesn't fit with Muk’s four move slots.

I could pivot around my party to get it to use all of its moves, but I might lose too much HP on everyone that way. There's also the question of who I send out on the Muk. Do I start with Glare, to paralyze it and use Screech to make its already bad Defense and Speed even worse (and to provide the chance for it to be immobilized for a turn)? Or do I start with Kirin, to deal big damage with Zen Headbutt immediately while it's still a Poison-type? And what about Kirin's item? The Odd Incense gives her an immediate boost to Psychic damage, sure, but the Amplified Rock would let Kirin use Psychic Terrain and have it last longer, cutting off any possible Electric boost Muk could get from Factory Field, if it even knows any Electric-type moves at all. So which is more important? Interference, raw damage, or changing the Field? 

Not to mention half my team are special attackers (Bloom, Prong, Crater), which won't do much against Muk’s massive Sp. Defense. But I don't know if I want to swap anyone out for another physical attacker because…I'm probably not just gonna be battling Muk! I'm battling Muk as a part of a Meteor Admin’s team, I'm gonna have other Pokémon to defeat before Muk comes out! And I don't know which Admin it's gonna be! Is Ace gonna show back up? Will ZEL make a return? Maybe it'll even be Taka, who the heck knows!

So, thinking on it a bit more…here's what I'll do for Muk. I'll lead with Glare, paralyze it, and if she lives, Screech it down. And from there, I'll send in whichever Pokémon would be best based on what type it is at that moment. Hopefully, it'll be one of my physical attackers- Riptide, Glare herself, or Kirin. 

We're good on items, good on HP and PP…so, let's get this started.

Oh, hey ZEL, hey Mr. Meteor. I wasn't expecting to see both of them here, especially Mr. Meteor himself. Gosh, I hope this isn't gonna be some kinda Double Battle thing…

You think you're the one being disrespected? Take a look at some of the RNG I've gotten throughout this Let's Play so far, and you'll see who's really lacking any respect around here!

Admins in Team Meteor really like their wordplay, noted.

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[thelatexshapeshifter]

so ive been working on that first time using Protean sequence for my Vamp OC Sabrina, and this is my first time drawing a bat that wasn't just a black shape in the background for scale on a landscape. and i blame all the bat Astarion art for why shes so cute, i haven't even played Baldur's Gate III but fan art of him is everywhere and he's perfect

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Bowen's Daily Meditations

by Rev. George Bowen

"And he that overcometh and keepeth my works unto the end, to him will I give power over the nations." - Revelation 2:26

One of the resolutions made by that eminently devoted and successful combatant for Christ, President Edwards, was to the following effect: " Resolved, so to live and strive as I would do if I knew that only one man of this generation were to be saved, and I were fully determined to be that man."

This seems to be much the same spirit that breathed in the words of Paul: " Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. I therefore so run; so fight I." The principle of emulation is abundantly appealed to in the Bible; but there is no selfishness in the emulation that is evoked by its magnificent promises. The Christian is assured that his gain, so far from being the loss of others, will be their gain also; and the greater his gain, the more will his path be strewn with blessings for others. What he is called to overcome is self; he is to wage war with this hydra-headed monster, this protean enemy who is no sooner defeated under one form than he appears under another; and the promises of God are all that they need to be in order that the soldier of Christ may have the utmost possible incitements and encouragements in the prosecution of this strife.

The prize that animates the conquering Christian to undertake new conquests, is in kind like that which animated our Lord himself, namely, the power to bless a sin-cursed world. The highest attainments to be made by any servant of Christ here below, are to be made under the constraining influence of an intense desire to glorify Christ in the salvation of men. It is as we have this spirit, that we have the spirit of Christ. We are to be stimulated in our hungering and thirsting after righteousness, not only by the weariness of our own unrighteousness, but by the thought of the unrighteousness of others; not only by the desire for peace and joy and conscious purity, but by an ardent and sustained aspiration to do our utmost (Christ’s utmost in us) for the recovery of a fallen world.

There are two errors that follow even the few Christians that go furthest in the divine life. One is this: - They are very eager to bring men to Christ, but neglect to obtain for themselves experience of a higher and more thorough work of sanctification. That love of Christ which they know, they abundantly proclaim, and are rewarded in so doing; but there are depths in Christ’s love which they are neglecting to explore. In exploring these it would not follow that some of their use fulness would be sacrificed. The contrary would be the result.

The second error is that of those who give themselves too exclusively to the cultivation of the interior life. They ardently desire personal holiness. Their soul is a watered garden; and they propose, when all the plants shall be fruitful and beauteous, to open the gates that others may come in and participate in their treasures’; but in the meantime they almost forget the world without. They are in danger of falling under the power of an insidious form of spiritual selfishness. In the Lord Jesus, see the most uninterrupted communion with God, and the most unrestrained communion with men. He was holy, harmless, undefiled and separate from sinners, at the same time that he was going about doing good. To be like him, is the highest of all prizes. We seek to be holy as he is holy, that we may be useful as he was.

[herooakgarcia]

hi. welcome to an ap podcast sideblog! the dndads brainrot is real

call me mar/emma (they/she/he)! i’m 20. i follow from @airshipvalentine. if you wanna talk ttrpgs, find me at @piercethemask!

i make posts. i make art. feel free to send me asks!

here's some podcasts you'll see me talk about

dungeons and daddies (d&d(...?))

dndads: odyssey & dndads: quest

protean city comics (masks)

the unexplored places

tup: deliverance, OH (motw)

tup: tango sector (scum and villainy)

tup: east haven heights (masks)

tup: ruin's gate (fistful of darkness)

and some others i talk about less often:

taz balance (d&d)

taz amnesty (motw)

critical role (d&d)

my url is a reference to holly pang/striped eagle from protean city comics, my icon is normal oak from dndads :)

[al-muna-tools]

Tools Galore Navigating the Aisles of Your Original Hardware Store

Home enhancement suckers and DIY suckers likewise know that the heart of any successful design lies in the tools at your disposal. Your original tackle store, frequently a haven for creativity and imagination, is a treasure trove filled with an array of tools staying to be discovered. In this disquisition, we’ll navigate the aisles of the tackle store, uncovering the essential tools that can turn your fancies into reality.

The Symphony of the Hardware Store Aisles Alive with Possibilities  Stepping into a tackle store is like entering a symphony of construction and creativity. The air is filled with the scent of lately cut timber, and the neatly organized shelves are adorned with tools of all shapes and sizes. The trip begins, as you navigate through the aisles, each one holding the pledge of a new design or the result of a patient ménage challenge.

The Foundation- Power Tools  At the heart of any DIY design lies the power tool section, where the hum of electric sayings and the hum of drills produce an air of eventuality. From protean power drills that can pierce through colourful accoutrements to electric sayings that make perfection cuts a breath, this section is the foundation of any serious DIYer’s toolkit. We will explore the must-have- plutocrats, furnishing perceptivity into their uses and tips for opting for the right tool for the job.

Colours of Creativity- The Paint Aisle  One of the most transformative sections of any tackle store is the makeup aisle. Then, a diapason of colours awaits, promising to breathe new life into tired walls or worn-out cabinetwork. We will claw into the psychology of colour, offering tips on opting for the perfect palette for your space. From trendy neutrals to bold statement tinges, the makeup aisle is an oil for your creative expression.

Tools for Precision- Measurement and Leveling  No design is complete without precise measures and position shells. The dimension and levelling aisle is home to a multifariousness of tools designed to ensure delicacy in every cut and placement. From classic tape recording measures to ultramodern ray situations, we’ll guide you through the tools that guarantee your design stands straight and true.

Sustainable results-Eco-Friendly Options  In a period where sustainability is a top precedence, the tackle store has evolved to include eco-friendly options. From energy-effective light bulbs to low-VOC maquillages, we’ll explore how the tackle store is getting a mecca for environmentally conscious choices. Discover how small changes can make a big impact on the earth while enhancing the aesthetics of your home.

Expert Advice- Tapping into the Knowledge Base Beyond the products on the shelves, the original tackle store is a mecca of knowledge. Endured staff members, frequently with times of hands-on experience, are ready to give guidance on everything from fixing a dense gate to diving a major addition. We will partake in stories of the wisdom set up in unanticipated places and punctuate the significance of tapping into this inestimable resource.

Casting Your Space Bodying with DIY Alleviation  The tackle store is not just a place for acquiring tools it’s a wellspring of alleviation for your coming design. We will explore how platforms like Pinterest have revolutionized the way we approach home enhancement systems. From trending design ideas to innovative hacks, we’ll guide you on navigating the digital geography to find alleviation that suits your taste and style.

Project Planning- From Design to Reality No home enhancement trip is complete without a well-allowed-out plan. We will guide you through the pivotal way of design planning, from setting a realistic budget to creating a timeline that ensures a smooth workflow. With the right strategy, your tackle store purchases will seamlessly align with your vision, making the entire process both pleasurable and satisfying.

The Joy of Completion Celebrating Your Achievements As the last fleece of makeup dries and the final nail is pounded in, there is a unique sense of accomplishment that comes with completing a DIY design. We will bandy the satisfaction that arises from transubstantiating a space with your own hands and the pride that comes from knowing you turned a vision into reality.

Greening Your Space Sustainable results in the Hardware Store In a period where sustainability is at the vans of numerous minds, the tackle store has evolved to include an array of eco-friendly options. From energy-effective light bulbs to low-VOC maquillages, we’ll explore how the tackle store is getting a mecca for environmentally conscious choices. Discover how small changes can make a big impact on the earth while still enhancing the aesthetics of your home

Casting Outdoor Oasis- Tools for Landscaping

The tackle store is not just about what is inside your home; it’s also a haven for out-of-door systems and landscaping. From erecting a sundeck to creating a lush theatre oasis, we’ll bandy the tools and accoutrements that can turn your out-of-door space into an extension of your living area. Explore the possibilities of casting an inviting terrain that reflects your personality and life.

Conclusion

The tackle store isn’t just a retail space; it’s a mecca of alleviation, moxie, and endless possibilities. Whether you are a seasoned DIY sucker or a first-time homeowner, the aisles of your original tackle store are staying to be explored, offering tools, ideas, and support for every step of your home enhancement trip. So, slip your tropical tool belt, snare a shopping wain, and let the metamorphosis begin. Your dream home is just an aisle down.

[fow2022]

Plastic Injection Mould Tooling

https://www.key-plast.com/plastic-mold-making/

Plastic molds are tools that are matched with plastic mold making machines in the plastic processing industry to give plastic products a complete configuration and precise dimensions. Due to the wide variety of plastics and processing methods, and the complex and simple structures of plastic injection mold making machines and plastic products, the types and structures of plastic molds are also diverse.

 What Is A Plastic Mould Tooling ？

Injection molding tooling is at the heart of plastic injection mold making. Whether it’s a complex operation or simple part, plastic mould tooling – more specifically, tooling design – determines the quality of the injection molding process and the parts produced.    

Scientific molding is crucial. It provides largely accurate process of plastic injection mould making that lead to top- quality corridor with constantly tight forbearance and unremarkable confines.

 Injection molders and toolmakers experienced in the application and use of scientific molding help clients steer away from arbitrary injection molding tooling design decisions in favor of data-based precision. It sounds elementary, but the factors that could skew injection mould tooling design, engineering, and outcomes are numerous. Engineers specially trained in scientific plastic injection mold making can readily identify and help prevent potential missteps.

 Plastic Mould Tooling Capabilities

Plastic injection molds are used when there is a requirement for male or female threads on a plastic component.

 An assembly of heated components used to inject molten plastic into the cavities of the injection molding mold.

 Includes mechanical action incorporated into the design when a hole, slot, undercut or thread is needed that is not perpendicular to the parting line.

 Provides one parting line and the plastic injection moulds splits into two halves; the sprue, runners, gates and cavities are all on the same side.

  Plastic Mould Tooling Protection Investment

Preventative：Once a injection molding mould has run a set number of cycles, examinations, conservation and cleaning should be performed. Different types of mold in injection molding age at different rates, so scheduling conservation needs to be proved precisely. Our knowledge and experience gives us the capability to determine the stylish mold conservation schedule specific to each injection moulding mold.                        

 Maintenance：Injection molding tool repairs can be costly. This means it is critically important for injection molds to receive regular maintenance; this is simply the best way to protect your investment and maintain consistent production of quality plastic components. With our on-site plastic injection mould tooling facility we provide quick and efficient mold repairs or revisions.            

  How To Make Injection Molds？

 Injection molding is by far the most protean of all injection molding ways. The presses used in this process vary in size and are rated grounded on pressure or heftiness. Larger machines can injection earth auto corridor. Lower machines can produce veritably precise plastic corridor for surgical operations. In addition, there are types of injection moulds that can be used in the plastic molding and manufacturing process, adding its inflexibility for contrivers and masterminds.The process itself is fairly straightforward; still, there are numerous advancements and customization ways that can be used to produce the asked finish and structure. Plastic injection molds, which are generally made from sword, contain depressions that will form the corridor. Melted plastic is fitted into the earth, filling the depressions. The mold is cooled, and the corridor are ejected by legs. Injection moulding raw material list can be varied.

   This process is analogous to a jello mold which is filled also cooled to produce the final product.The mold making costs in this system are fairly high; still, the cost per part is veritably provident. Low part cost along with resin and finish options have all contributed to injection molding’s fashionability in moment’s manufacturing geography.                                    

 Mold Making

As a professional injection molding supplier, we complete all plastic injection mould making, from cutting materials to cavity carving, and then to the final assembly. We have advanced high-speed milling machines, electric discharge machines, wire cutting machines, and engraving machines to ensure that the machining accuracy can meet the requirements.

 Mold Making

Mold Trial

Generally, the mold is not directly regarded as the final product when it is designed, because it will have such or other defects after it is produced. However, this type of defect There is no guarantee that they will be completely avoided before manufacturing. During the manufacturing process, there may be phenomena that cannot be stored and processed. Therefore, it is necessary to go through the trial model, and then analyze, evaluate and optimize the samples produced by the trial model to meet the requirements. High quality requirements. However, most of the defects of plastic mould tooling products are caused during the plasticization and injection molding stages, and may also be caused by improper manufacturing of plastic molds. Therefore, in order to avoid product defects caused by mold design in injection molding process steps, it is necessary to analyze when making molds. Mold design and process parameters.

 Mold Trial

Sample Confirmation

The acceptance of the part shall be carried out at least 16 hours after the completion of the molding of the plastic part or the required post-treatment.

 1. Inspection of product matching size

 The matching dimensions of injection molding mold products refer to the matching dimensions between products or between injection moulding products and related components, including partial matching dimensions and overall relative position dimensions.

 2. Trial assembly inspection

 When the inspections of basic dimensions, external dimensions, and matching dimensions are completed and the design requirements are basically met, trial assembly inspection can be carried out. This is a very important means in product inspection. It can verify the matching dimensions and verify the space surface.

 3. Injection molding quality inspection

 When the pre-installation meets the requirements, the apparent quality of the part needs to be comprehensively inspected. At this time, the apparent quality refers to whether the apparent quality meets the requirements under the condition that there are no common defects.

[huntunderironskies]

Bloodline Foundational Myths

So I worked on Bloodlines: the Ageless, for three separate Bloodlines (all of whom have Protean, funny enough.) I'd like to talk some about my design process tomorrow, but first....it is Mythology Monday so let's have a look at one (of three, I had a good time coming up with nine separate myths!) of the foundational myths of one of them. Which one...well, that's a surprise. I did change this particular one quite a bit to feel more connected to their origin point but I think there are definitely some implications which one it might be in these myths. Answers on a postcard, please. ;>

Kidding. It'll be beneath the cut. Guess based on the themes or spoil yourself, whichever you prefer!

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

The scorpion-men were the guardians of the land of darkness, where the sun god Shamash went each night and returned each morning. It fell upon these creatures to open the gates for Shamash, for they were the only ones who could. One day, a priestess fell in love with one of the scorpion-men, as did he with her, and on the night it was her paramour's turn to open the gates for Shamash, he was in the bed of his priestess, leaving the god trapped for three nights.

The sun god was enraged at this transgression, and when the scorpion-man returned, Shamash slew him. The god claimed his tail, and when the priestess returned to see her dead lover, Shamash used the scorpion-man's own venom to strike her down.

But her torment was not at an end, and she rose again beneath the moon's baleful gaze for Shamash had cursed her so she could never look upon the sun's face again. Her anger was immeasurable, and she swore to use it against her enemies forever more.

So, with all that Sumerian mythology, the endless hatred, and the connection to assorted venomous creatures...yep, it's the Iltani! The scorpion-men are one of my favorite elements from mythology that I never see used (though Sumerian mythology is generally underused except for Gilgamesh) so I couldn't resist dragging them into one of the three stories I wrote.

[voidmountain]

Getting ready for art fight!

[thecreaturecodex]

Slaad Lord, Chourst

Image © @tredlocity​

[And we’re back! With a bit of a bang, as I am going to be posting the four slaad lords from 2e over the next couple of weeks. Ssendam and Ygorl are as old as the slaadi are, having first appeared in the 1e Fiend Folio, but Chourst and Rennbuu were introduced in Dragon Magazine in 1995. Between them, Chourst has only one canonical illustration and Rennbuu two, so there was a lot of room to work with. One thing that I hope to accomplish with these slaad lords is to make them feel appropriately chaotic, but not evil. Slaadi have always had that issue.

The biggest mechanical change between the 2e Chourst and my version has to do with the shift in cosmology. In Planescape, the plane of Limbo is filled with random assortment of all four elements and can be shaped by a strong will. Chourst causes that to all fall apart into chaos with their mere presence. Since the Maelstrom of Pathfinder doesn’t work that way, I changed it to a thematically similar aura of wild magic.]

Slaad Lord, Chourst CR 22 CN Aberration This gangly giant is a humanoid frog more than three times as tall as a man. Its skin is a yellowish white, shot through with mottled silver veins. It has blank staring eyes, long fingers and toes, and a triangular head. Strangely, it is dressed in a dapper traveler’s fashion, with cane, hat and cape.

Chourst, the Whimsical, Lord of Randomness CN agender slaad lord of randomness, exploration and antisocial behavior Domains Chaos, Destruction, Liberation, Travel Subdomains Freedom, Exploration, Slaad, Whimsy Worshipers anarchists, free-thinkers, wanderers Minions chaos beasts, grey slaadi, shoggoths Holy Symbol a triangular face looking down, with circular staring eyes Favored Weapon greatclub Obedience For one hour, do as thou will. Gain a +4 sacred bonus to saves against compulsion effects Boons: 1: hideous laughter 2/day; 2: freedom of movement 2/day; 3: wind walk 2/day

Chourst the Whimsical is a force of nature, moving like a hurricane and creating devastation in their wake. Not all of this destruction is intentional, as Chourst is as likely to pick flowers as fights. But magic warps and twists in their presence, and spells can fire out of control easily wherever they go. Chourst spends most of their existence navigating the cerulean seas of the Maelstrom, but can and does transverse the planes to go a-wandering as the whim suits them. The Lord of Randomness has many admirers among free-thinkers and the more philosophical hedonists, but they tend to admire the slaad lord at a distance.

It can be difficult to keep Chourst’s attentions long enough to engage them in prolonged combat. When traveling long distances, Chourst can and does appear in a great explosion, as much to announce their presence and gain attention as to cause damage. Their signature weapon is a cane tipped with a likeness of his own face, but their claws and fangs are deadly weapons as well. Creatures bitten by Chourst lose their ability to maintain a constant shape, and eventually collapse into chaos beasts. Chourst tends to save their bite attack for those that truly offend or annoy them.

Among the slaad lords, Chourst and Ygorl have a tenuous alliance. Ygorl approves of Chourst’s more destructive moods, and encourages them to create more chaos beasts and transport slaadi across planar boundaries. But Chourst’s attention frequently wanders from any kind of mission. Chourst is not stupid despite their lack of focus, and has impressed some protean choirs with their defense of random action as a manifestation of philosophical chaos. The only things Chourst seems to genuinely dislike are inevitables and other lawful outsiders, which they often polymorph into humiliating forms or simply kill.

Chourst is among the largest of the slaad lords, standing 22 feet tall.

Gigglestick Aura strong enchantment and evocation; CL 17th Slot none; Price 181,250 gp; Weight 40 lbs Gigglestick is Chourst’s signature weapon, a wooden cane tipped with a representation of the slaad lord’s own head. In combat, Gigglestick functions as a Huge+3 anarchic greatclub that changes size with its wielder. It also functions as a rod of wonder, except that the save DCs to avoid particular effects are DC 25, and a wielder can use its function as a rod of wonder as a swift action three times per day. Construction Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Rod, Quicken Spell, creator must be chaotic, chaos hammer, confusion; Cost 90,625 gp.

Chourst                CR 22 XP 615,000 CN Huge aberration (chaos, extraplanar, slaad, slaad lord) Init +5; Senses darkvision 120 ft., detect law, detect magic, Perception +24 Aura cloak of chaos (Will DC 27), wild magic (300 ft.) Defense AC 38, touch 18, flat-footed 32 (-2 size, +5 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 deflection, +20 natural) hp 434 (28d8+308); fast healing 20 Fort +24, Ref +18, Will +26 DR 20/epic and lawful; Immune charm and compulsion effects, sonic; Resist acid 20, cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20; SR 33 Defensive Abilities fortification (50%), freedom of movement Offense Speed 40 ft., air walk Melee Gigglestick +35/+30/+25/+20 (3d8+22 plus 2d6 against non-chaotic opponents), bite +30 (2d12+6 plus corporeal instability) or 2 claws +32 (3d8+13), bite +32 (2d12+13 plus corporeal instability) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks explosive entrance Spell-like Abilities CL 20th, concentration +29 Constant—air walk, cloak of chaos (self only, DC 27), detect law, detect magic, freedom of movement At will—astral projection, cloudkill (DC 24), confusion (DC 23), greater dispel magic, solid fog, wind walk 3/day—quickened displacement, earthquake, fire storm (DC 27), empowered greater shout (DC 27), polymorph any object (DC 27), symbol of insanity (DC 26) 1/day—gate (DC 28), implosion (DC 28), summon slaad (CR 20 or less, 100%, 9th level), symbol of strife (DC 28) Statistics Str 36, Dex 21, Con 33, Int 19, Wis 22, Cha 28 Base Atk +21; CMB +36 (+40 disarm or trip); CMD 55 (57 vs. disarm, trip) Feats Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, Empower SLA (greater shout), Greater Disarm, Greater Trip, Improved Disarm, Improved Trip, Mobility, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (displacement), Spring Attack, Whirlwind Attack Skills Acrobatics +26 (+30 jumping), Bluff +19, Diplomacy +19, Disguise +19, Intimidate +22, Knowledge (arcana, geography, nature, religion) +22, Knowledge (planes) +25, Perception +24, Spellcraft +25, Stealth +18, Survival +24 Languages Aklo, Common, Protean, Slaad, telepathy 100 ft. SQ change shape (animal, dragon, giant, humanoid, magical beast, shapechange), no breath, slaad lord traits Ecology Environment any land or underground (Maelstrom) Organization unique Treasure double standard (Gigglestick, other treasure) Special Abilities Corporeal Instability (Su) Claw—contact (curse); save Fort DC 35; effect amorphous body and 1d4 Wisdom drain per round (see below); cure 3 consecutive saves. The save DC is Con-based. A creature cursed with an amorphous body becomes a spongy, shapeless mass. Unless the victim manages to control the effect (see below), its shape constantly melts, flows, writhes, and boils. An affected creature is unable to hold or use any item. Clothing, armor, helmets, and rings become useless. Large items worn or carried—armor, backpacks, even shirts—hamper more than help, reducing the victim's Dexterity score by 4. Speed is reduced to 10 feet or one-quarter normal, whichever is less. The victim gains the amorphous quality, but cannot cast spells or use magic items, and it attacks blindly, unable to distinguish friend from foe (–4 penalty on attack rolls and a 50% miss chance, regardless of the attack roll). A victim can temporarily regain its own shape by taking a standard action to attempt a DC 20 Will save. A success reestablishes the creature's normal form for 1 minute. Spells that change the victim's shape (such as alter self, beast shape, elemental body, and polymorph) do not remove the curse, but hold the creature in a stable form (which might not be its own form, depending on the spell) and prevent additional Wisdom drain for the duration of the spell; shapechange and stoneskin have a similar effect. The victim takes 1d4 point of Wisdom drain from mental shock every round that it ends its turn in an amorphous shape—upon being drained to 1 Wisdom, further Wisdom drain ceases and the creature is transformed permanently into a chaos beast (no further number of saving throws can cure the condition at this time). A creature transformed into a chaos beast can only be recovered using a miracle or wish spell. Explosive Entrance (Su) Chourst can dismiss wind walk on themselves as a standard action. When they do so, they appear in an explosion, dealing 10d6 each of fire, force and sonic damage in a 40 foot radius (Reflex DC 33 half). The save DC is Charisma based. Slaad Lord Traits (Ex/Su/Sp) Chourst is a slaad lord, a powerful slaad that has assumed quasi-divine traits. A slaad lord has the following abilities:

DR 20/lawful and epic

Resist acid 20, cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20

Immune to two of the following: charm effects, compulsion effects, death effects, energy drain, fear effects, poison, petrifaction

Summon Slaadi (Sp) As a standard action once per day, a slaad lord can summon one or more slaadi constituting a CR 20 encounter. This is     the equivalent of a 9th level spell

Immortal (Ex) A slaad lord does not need to eat or drink, and cannot age.

Capable of granting followers spells, as per their cult entry above

Wild Magic Aura (Su) Any creature attempting to cast a spell or use a spell-like ability within 300 feet of Chourst must succeed a DC 33 Will save or the spell is effected by a wild magic surge. Creatures with the chaos subtype are immune to this effect. The save DC is Charisma based.

[askbohemiancompany]

The Guest

It had been a few hours since the two mercenaries escorted Brittany back to her apartment that was set up by Mariah as a vulpix-hole for hiding people from anyone’s potential enemies. Lenox was relieved the roserade was no longer in her old apartment where she would have been a sitting duck for anyone who would want to kill her. The Urami incident really made the hawlucha push for better security.

“Hey Lenox. When we get back to the base, do you mind if we talk? Just the two of us.” Gwen said, still seeming depressed finally lit the cigarette she was holding back earlier. Irony was Lenox was relieved to see her smoking for a change. Seeing her like this was uncomfortable. 

“Yeah sure. What did you want to talk about?” For both women this was one of the few times they were not either arguing or dealing with eachother’s, but mostly Gwen's antics.

“You know what. Let’s just start talking now.” The gothitelle blew her cigarette smoke away from Lenox. “I’m worried about Grohl. He’s been acting more and more erratic lately.”

So Gwen noticed it too. This was a relief to the hawlucha as she was not the only one who noticed. “Yeah I noticed from the water park he is getting worse. I thought him being overly chipper was odd, but I could accept that due to Grohl’s previous lack of confidence. But the way he acted at the park was like he was out of his mind.” 

While his enthusiasm would have been fine, he did nothing to try and defuse the situation plus he did not even bother to tell Lenox what the cluster he gave her would even do. Made worse by his own confirmation admitting his form is explosive which could really hurt someone.

“Yeah I’m with you there. I was happy he was feeling confident in himself but he’s been acting erratic on base. Muttering to himself, eating more and disappearing for long stretches of time. I think him maintaining his security system 24/7 has done a number on his sanity. I think we should talk with him on it.” Gwen finished smoking her cigarette tossing the butt on the ground.

“Agreed. If we go together maybe he will hear us out,” Lenox and Gwen both nodded at that idea. “Once we get a moment to get ourselves situated we should do it. We both have had long weeks.” Long for different reasons, but both women could use a break from the weeks of head and heart aches.

Approaching the gate, both buzz themselves in and enter the secure base. What they saw in there was going to spit in the face of their attempt to calm down after a hectic set of weeks.

In the main foyer Freddy and Mariah were standing there with a third person in tow.

Nigel.

What was he doing here? Last anyone heard from him he skipped the city. Both mons just stared in disbelief. Nigel, in turn, was shocked Gwen evolved since the last time he saw her.

“Hello ladies. You have impeccable timing.” Mariah sauntered towards them with a casual smug flair she usually had. “I can fill you all in at once.”

With rage in her eyes, Lenox stormed towards Nigel causing the clefable to recoil.

At this point Lenox could not move, she wondered why but when looking down she saw shadow sneak tendrils running up her legs and reaching her arms. In retaliation, Gwen prepared an energy attack only for the greninja to shoot her a look.

Don’t even think about it. I will not need to crush you physically. Guifei.

The moment Gwen heard Mariah’s voice in her head, the gothitelle’s face turned to horror, which was rare for anyone to get that kind of reaction from her. Mariah knew.

Nigel, whose arms were covering his face, removed his arms to give a sigh of relief and a composed smile.

“Mariah I told you this would happen.” Freddy commented in a way that sounded defiant but very muted. “You need to get him the hell away from here.”

All of the words Freddy said just bounced off Mariah, coldly turning to face Lenox. “Alright. Let me explain what you and your coworkers are required to do. Nigel here is going to testify before court regarding two different pokemon trafficking rings he is involved with. This is a big operation for me and you know what’s riding on this. So. You will stop.”

Hearing the reason for Nigel being there did not make her any less mad, but she would cease her attack. Still, she wanted to send Mariah a message. With a single motion Lenox broke out of Mariah’s hold, which stunned all present, even Mariah. 

“You can’t do this!” The hawlucha now turned her attention towards Mariah, getting right in her face. Most people that have worked for the agent have seldom seen her break her smug, cool persona. This was a moment where the agent’s collected mask would crack. “Nigel was an accessory to my girlfriend being nearly killed by a corrupt cop. He tried to burn her alive!”

The hawlucha’s boldness was to be admired. It was also to be quelled in Mariah’s view. The greninja prepared an extrasensory to activate the pain receptors in Lenox’s brain. Only to have one shocking revelation, it was not working on her. The moment Lenox saw Mariah’s eyes glow with that pink energy, she knew the greninja was trying a psychic attack. 

Retaliating Lenox struck Mariah with an assurance attack. Normally this would barely hurt any greninja. What Lenox knew was Mariah’s ability was protean and she just did a psychic attack. So the pain this caused was immense.

“Don’t ever try to do that again. Got that?” The hawlucha picked the greninja from her flesh, which hurt like hell. What this also did was it gave Mariah a view of Lenox’s mouth, to which she noticed tiny needle-like teeth retracting in her mouth.

“Need I remind you, who is currently watching over Brittany?” Like a key phrase on an electronic lock, this caused Lenox’s grip to tighten, her claws digging deeper in Mariah’s flesh.

“And you do anything to her Nigel will be first to go.”

What was going on? Brittany was usually Lenox’s achilles heel. Mariah did not want to admit it, but she was actually terrified. Peeking over at Freddy, his reaction he had a nervous smile on his face. He was getting off of this.

Suddenly, Nigel’s laugh echoed in the room. Which turned everyone’s attention to him. 

“This is great! Oh man I needed this!” His laugh turned into a hysterical cackle. “Lenox I gotta thank you for giving me this epiphany.”

What was Nigel going on about? Both women were confused by the sentiment. Gwen on the other hand saw what was coming as the moment she was told why Nigel was here, and what Mariah’s situation was. Mariah is slim on options.

“You are really resource strapped. In your efforts to keep this under the table you had to put me somewhere that was as safe enough to protect me because you have your boy toy wrapped around your finger to do what he can to protect me.” The fairy type saying this actually agitated Freddy, who this whole confrontation was bouncing between horrified and low-key happy. 

“One beautiful thing about the internet is I can google the procedures for this type of thing, and you skipped a lot of steps. Namely you came to my nightclub with no warrant and you were supposed to give me an attorney. Which means if your superiors find out you breached procedure you could actually go to prison and have your civilian status revoked.” Mariah, who was now furious, clenched her fist and teeth and got on the balls of her feet.

“Although you should not be too worried. I mean if shit hits the fan and you get fired, at least your daddy can give you a loan, bail you out or a job at OPP-”

In the span of 15 seconds she got right in Nigel’s face readying a toxic imbued punch, but the clefable did not even flinch, looking at her dead in the eye then looking at her feet before looking back in her eyes. “Daddy is a sore point for you.”

“Uh.” Everyone present turned to see Yumi and Grohl both staring in confusion as they entered the lobby where this whole confrontation was happening. “All of his stuff is in his quarters now.” Yumi said, not wanting to touch what was happening. Grohl just looked blank in his face.

With that, Nigel turned and walked to his quarters. “I’d love to chat with you Gwen but I’m pooped and I need my rest. No one enters my room without my permission or knocking first. Also let me know when dinner is on.” Before he disappeared down the other end of the lobby to his room he turned to face everyone. “This feels great! I feel like I have my finger hovering over the nuclear bomb button.”

He began to cackle again as he walked towards his room, quickly shutting and locking the door.

Everyone else in the lobby was frustrated at this current situation. Not Mariah though. She was enraged to where she did not even address Lenox over that scuffle earlier, leading her to storm out of the building punching a wall. This act of desperation left a minor dent in the wall, but caused her left hand to bleed from the impact. 

Things were going to get more tense.

[ringwaldtworldbuilding]

Ringwaldt Deities Part 5

So lets hop around a bit and take a quick look at some fun friends.

Well technically not Deities, the Elemental Lords can and are worshiped enough that they can spare power to a small number.

Most of their flocks are warlocks granted arcane power though there are a few clerics and paladins.

There are additional elemental lords.

Ygn’ys : NG : Arson, Ash, Fire, Good, Redemption, Smoke

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of  Flames

Home;  Elemental Plane of Fire(The Whistling City)

Favored Weapon;  Flaming Weapons

Symbol;  A Blazing Hand

Sacred Animal;  Cardinals

Sacred Colours;  Red, Orange, and Black

(Art by; https://www.artstation.com/artwork/6aJVkx ).  An Angel serving under Ygn’ys

Ven’tuss : NE : Air, Cloud, Evil, Lightning, Plague, Wind

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Gales

Home;  Elemental Plane of Air(The Roaring Gale)

Favored Weapon;  Thrown Weapons

Symbol;  A Green Cyclone

Sacred Animal;  

Sacred Colours;  Green

Gla’cyes : LN : Flotsam, Flowing, Ice, Law, Loyalty, Oceans, River, Water

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Twisting Waters

Home;  Elemental  Plane of Water(The Frozen City)

Favored Weapon;  Freezing Weapons

Symbol;  A Snowflake with a blue ring  around it.

Sacred Animal;  Seals, Penguins, Bears

Sacred Colours;  Dark Blues and Crystalline Blues

(Art by; Unknown found no Pintrest without link to original).  How I imagine Glac’yes  prefers to appear

Terma : CN : Caves, Chaos, Earth, Entropy, Metal, Petrification, Radiation

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Earth

Home;  Elemental Plane of Earth(The Carved City)

Favored Weapon;  Two-Handed Weapons

Symbol;  A Mossy Cubic Stone

Sacred Animal;  Moles, and Badgers

Sacred Colours;  Heavy Tawny Browns and Light crisp Greens

Fompor : LG : Archon, Fire, Flowing,  Good, Kyton, Law, Smoke, Water

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Steam

Home;  The Whistling City

Favored Weapon;  Whistling Longsword

Symbol;  A Kettle red hot on the bottom with a sapphire on its side

Sacred Animal;  Frogs

Sacred Colours;  Cast Iron Grey and Red(Females) or Blue(Males)

(Art found; https://gnn.gamer.com.tw/6/179236.html ).  Fompor identifies as both genders.

Ince’dym : CG : Arson, Chaos, Earth, Fire, Good, Metal, Riot

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Magma

Home;  The Volcanic Tower

Favored Weapon;  Flaming Weapons

Symbol;  A Volcano about to Erupt

Sacred Animal;  Camels,  Sleeper Sharks

Sacred Colours;  Silver and Red

(Art by;  https://looceyloo.tumblr.com/image/177664250413 );  An elemental prince of Ince’dym

Tempest’atybus : LE : Air, Cloud, Evil, Fear, Ice, Law, Storms, Water, Weather

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Storms

Home;  The City of Perpetual Rain

Favored Weapon;  Shocking Weapons

Symbol;  An Ice Blue Lightning Bolt with a Worried Eye as the Background

Sacred Animal;  Albatross,  Leopard Seals, Orca

Sacred Colours;  Icey Blue and Bright Gold

(Art by; https://www.reddit.com/r/characterdrawing/comments/g6j82d/oc_commission_lazarith_ninar_elemental_elf/ ).  Clerics of the Lord of Storms tend to be overly dramatic

Verma : CE : Air, Caves, Chaos, Demon, Earth, Evil, Protean, Wind

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Dust

Home;  The City of Twisting Caverns

Favored Weapon;  Unarmed Strikes

Symbol;  A Cloak Clasp Holding  Carved stone.

Sacred Animal;  Antlions

Sacred Colours;  Dusty Brown and Dry Dull Greens

(Art found;  http://granbluefantasy.jp/theatre/detail.php?contents=monsters&id=16 ).  The earth summons of Verma are often odd.

Maarh :  TN : Earth, Inevitable, Memory, Rivers, Water

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Swamps

Home;  The City of Reeds

Favored Weapon;  Javelin, Longspear, Net

Symbol;  Reeds erupting from a Swampy Soil

Sacred Animal;  Alligator, Boar, Python, Turtle

Sacred Colours;  Deep Green and Soft Maroon

Cyn’dus : NG : Air, Ash, Fire, Good, Liberation, Revolution, Wind

Adjective;  Elemental Lord of Cinders

Home;  The City of Sweeping Winds

Favored Weapon;  Pistols

Symbol;  Two hands of Ash grasping a brilliant ball of flame

Sacred Animals;  Drops Bears, Sloths

Sacred Colours;  Ashen White and Green

(Art by; https://www.deviantart.com/art/Shadows-and-Ashes-724473786 )  One does not forget the face or shape of a herald of Cyn’dus.  But yeah change ouit the black for white and you got a good example of their heralds.

Myths of the Deity

-The Elemental Deities are noted for their unique traits as they are greater elementals whose mantles are powerful enough to stabilize and let them attain a sort of pseudo godhood.  This makes them closer towards, say Arch-Angels, Arch-Fay and Demon Lords.

-These are the 12 most prominent of said lords though it's hard to say if there are any others beyond them and as likely it is also equally unlikely which drives many researchers to search the Elemental Planes for knowledge of this.

-Under each Elemental Lord are great elemental princes powerful elementals of great capability under a particular lords dominion.  Each lord has half a dozen at least with the beings varying from being the children of the lord to being the empowered servants.  Elemental Princes often act as heralds and great agents for their particular lord.

Rituals, Holidays, Sacred Days

-Earth Priests celebrate the success in finding new materials and the crafting of new earthenware be it swords, jewelry, pots or more.  Earth holidays thus are one days that riches or caravans or on an annual date when a particular mine vein was found.

-Fire Priests celebrate the rise of the great flaming orb of the sun each dawn. As such their greatest celebration is on the solstice, the longest day of the year and also upon the shortest great bonfires are raised.  Fire Priests celebrate the construction of baths, bakeries, and smithies.

-Water Priests celebrate the first major snow of winter in areas with it or the coming of a monsoon season or the first spring showers in wonder.  Water Priests celebrate the construction of great waterways, aqueducts and baths.

-Air Priests celebrate changes in the weather so the most holy days for them are Autumn and they hold great celebrations over the course of Autumn to commemorate. Air priests celebrate the construction of ships, and large towers that strike high into the sky.

-All elemental priests hold eclipses as dark days of ill content and fear.

-Elemental Clerics have the Rite of Limb :  This involves immersing one’s arm in the element.  Earth Priests immerse their arm into a box full of coarse sand.  Water Priests immerse their limb in freezing cold water. Air Priests immerse their arm into a container filled with poisonous miasma. Fire Priests immerse their limb into a blazing bonfire.  When one draws the limb free should it be scared and or otherwise damaged but not destroyed that is blessed and if the limb suffers no damage that person is considered incredibly blessed.  Such blessed limbs are often magically tattooed to enhance and provide those who have undergone the ritual to empower themself.  Those who fail such a test are punished with their other arm being immersed if this limb also suffers the same fate then the cleric is healed but demoted for their failure.

-Elemental Clerics of two elements will undergo the Rite of Limb twice once for each element they hold to.

-The Rite of Gate : Clerics of an Elemental will create a small portal to one of the cities within the elemental plane they are aligned and enter into it they will live among those within the city for a full year and return to the portal to return to their fellows at the temple if they do so they have passed the test.  Clerics that do not return could be those that died, were enslaved or simply decided to stay instead of going back to their fellow clerics.

-Elemental Priests have very exclusive marriage rites based around the elements.  Fire Priests wear light near see through fabrics of red/orange.  Water Priests strip to nothing except minimalist greens and blues that are often accentuating rather than scandalous.  Earth Priests have their wedding clothing incorporate small plates or gemstones and often include thin chainwork.  Air Priests wear nothing or thin gossamer white or light green dresses.  A poly relationship and marriage between 1 Priest of every Element well rare is perfectly accepted by most Neutral Aligned Elemental Lords

-‘May the spirit of the element guide you’.  With Water Priests means to go with the flow.  With Earth Priests it means to stay resolute on a choice.  With Fire it means adapt rapidly but not to reverse course.  With Air it means go slow to build momentum.

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 10: CHILDREN OF MAH

QUEST SUMMARY:

The Mahjarrat are dying, and they want answers as to why. To get them, they must journey back to Freneskae at the behest of Zaros, who promises them freedom from their Rituals once and for all. When Zamorak gets wind of his intentions, it leads to the two deities meeting for the first time since the great betrayal…

CHAPTER 3 - SHATTERED WORLDS

Freneskae. The whole world would roll away before you, made all the more beautiful by its utter hostility. Caves big enough to fit a cathedral, rivers of glowing orange snaking along the floor like the arteries of some giant protean god… it was a crudely carved nightmare of a realm.

Wahisietel had very few fond memories of this world. He wasn’t a strong voice back on Freneskae, not like Azzanadra or Zamorak, but he was fiercely in favour of leaving for Gielinor when the opportunity arose. Anything to leave the unforgiving and aggressive climate. There was no sanctuary - muspah raids were a constant threat, much like the storms and lava flows that often decimated their camps. Tribal politics could sometimes lead to more devastating results than the muspah; Wahisietel was never high on the totem pole, therefore he knew to keep his voice down and his head low, lest he be thrown to the Marker over some petty grievance.

Twice he was put forward for sacrifice. Both before Sliske was born, once by his own mother who wanted to rid herself of her underdeveloped offspring. Wahisietel had been far slower in learning magic as a child and was mute for many years. He had to resort to bludgeoning his rival half to death with a sharp rock before the dying Mahjarrat was dragged away to the Marker to be sacrificed.

At least when Sliske was born, he had someone to look out for, and someone to look out for him. Their shared mother never liked Sliske either, so the half-brothers had common ground.

Sliske learned magic fast, and became an adept shadow-walker at a very early age. He dealt with his first Ritual opponent with prowess and ease.

Wahisietel was envious, but he refused to let it get to him. After all, once Sliske was around, Wahisietel was never offered for sacrifice anymore. Sliske’s strength and usefulness to the tribe helped him rise up the ranks quickly, and his connection to Azzanadra certainly garnered him significant protection. It wasn’t until Gielinor that Wahisietel and Azzanadra were even on a first-name basis.

If it wasn’t for Sliske, Wahisietel doubted he would have even made it to Gielinor.

Wahisietel knew exactly where the World Gate had sent them - The Falls of Mah. It was acknowledged as the most dangerous part of the journey to the Ritual of Rejuvenation Site, the last obstacle at the end of their pilgrimage. Once at the Ritual Site, they could banish the muspah hoards, just like Mah had taught his elders. Wahisietel hadn’t been there when Mah appeared before the Mahjarrat to teach them their Rituals. Out of the hundreds that had been present, only two were still alive - Zamorak and Bilrach.

The blazing river was the most hazardous of all the challenges to overcome. It was a time of heightened seismic activity, so the rivers of lava bubbled and burped forth huge pillars of flame. Wahisietel had seen too many of his kin succumb to its fiery depths, and he was not looking forward to traversing it again.

Still, it was necessary, since teleportation was out of the question. Teleportation was never a viable option on Freneskae. Due to the seismic activity of the world and the constantly shifting ground, you could never be certain where you were going to land. What you once remembered as solid ground could have long since been turned into molten lava, dropping you straight into your smouldering demise. Even now, with their better understanding of teleportation magic, the Mahjarrat knew they would be soaring into the unknown if they tried to teleport themselves to the Ritual Site.

The rest of his kin had emerged through the World Gate by now, taking in the landscape of the life they had left behind. Except Khazard. Since he was born on Gielinor during the God Wars, he had never seen Freneskae before, and looked more than a little terrified.

Bilrach set his jaw, his tongue exploring the empty cavern of his hollow mouth. “Curious. The pull on our energy here seems even stronger than before.”

Akthanakos, taking in his companion, pointedly remarked, “Looks like I am not the only one to revert. Even you have assumed your skeletal form, Bilrach.”

“Assumed, yes. Reverted, no,” Bilrach corrected. “I have decreased my energy signature to be as low as possible, thus extending the little time I have left, hmm.”

If skeletons could blush, Akthanakos would have turned cherry. “Oh, well yes, of course. Following my example, obviously.”

Azzanadra was silent as he took in Freneskae. He may have described the world as beautiful, but even he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of returning to their birthplace.

“Come,” he ordered, gazing out at the falls before them. “The Ritual Site is not far from here, but we must tread carefully.”

“Can’t we just teleport there?” Khazard asked, naively.

“Not unless you want to boil,” Akthanakos rolled his eyes, then thought better of it. “No, wait, that’s a brilliant idea, Khazard. You lead the way.”

Khazard opened his mouth to reply, but Hazeel cut in, “Stay close, Khazard. Tread exactly where I tread.”

When Mah appeared to the Mahjarrat at The Beginning, she taught them many things. The two that stuck with them the most were the two Rituals - the Ritual of Rejuvenation and the Ritual of Enervation.

Mah told the various Dreams of Mah tribes - of which the Mahjarrat were a part of - that when the terrible muspah hoards rose from the ground and swarmed them, they had to journey to the Marker and sacrifice one of their own in the Ritual of Rejuvenation to vanish the foul beasts. She also told them that when ground trembled fearsomely, they were to divide into pairs and join their energies together to soothe the tremors in the earth. In doing so, they would also bring new life into the world. After each Ritual, the Mahjarrat enjoyed a serene peace that could last for years. Well, as much peace as Freneskae would allow. The ground would settle, and the muspah would cease to exist, but lightning strikes, rockfalls, volcanic eruptions, attacks from other tribes… the Mahjarrat were never out of danger. But the absence of two major threats thanks to the Rituals was a godsend, literally. Hence, they diligently performed the Rituals whenever necessary, and sometimes even when they weren’t, using them as a political power tool.

The Rituals were pillars of Mahjarrat culture, but they were a burden drawing them to the brink of extinction. But today, if Zaros was to be believed, they would undertake their final one.

It was a promise Zaros made centuries ago. When Icthlarin took Sliske’s wights from him, he made an enemy that day. An enemy that soon led the Mahjarrat into Zaros’ service.

Wahisietel remembered that day like it was yesterday, when the majority of his tribe first came to Zaros. It took a lot of assurances from Sliske that the deity’s proposal was above board, and Zamorak had helped bring the entire tribe around. Wahisietel wanted it to be real. He wanted a leader worth following. Icthlarin was not that leader.

Zaros was... he was everything and more. He was salvation incarnate. He and his men didn’t look at the Mahjarrat with fear or disgust. Zaros promised them power and authority, and a respectable place in the society he was building. But the most interesting thing was the way he observed the Ritual that took place.

A fierce debate broke out amongst the Mahjarrat in regards to whether or not a Ritual of Rejuvenation - which had ceased during the war -  should be performed in order to continue their tradition, although many thought it would be meaningless without the Marker or a volcano. After Azzanadra explained to Zaros what the Ritual of Rejuvenation was, he offered to create a replacement Ritual marker, and expressed a desire to watch the Ritual occur. With a marker, the Mahjarrat agreed to partake in the Ritual. After it was finished, Zaros explained that in the absence of Mah - whose existence he did not question - the energy intended to appease her was instead distributed amongst the present Mahjarrat. He claimed that on Gielinor, unless the Ritual of Rejuvenation was regularly performed, they would all gradually whither and die. But he also told the Mahjarrat that they needed to use them more sparingly. Every five hundred years, it was agreed upon.

Then he said that, in time, he could free the Mahjarrat from their Rituals entirely.

That was what won Wahisietel over.

It had taken centuries, but the end was in sight. If Zaros came through, the Mahjarrat would finally be free.

The elders always advised to not wander from the lava path, advice the handful of Mahjarrat dutifully followed on their way to the Ritual site. Already they could see the Marker piercing the murky clouds above. The only sparks of brightness on the desolate world were the Ritual Markers. The Marker was a beacon of pure elder energy that shot up into the skies, illuminating the lifeless landscape around it. Nearer towards the ground, rocks and debris orbited its core, trapped in its gravitational pull.

But as they carefully made their way along the precarious route to the Ritual Site, they saw something else invading the skies above them, something else that scratched and clawed its way into the heavens, looming over the Marker.

Wahisietel gasped, gazing up in awe at the looming figure of a sleeping Mah, towering over the present Mahjarrat like an anguished shadow. “It’s… it’s Mother Mah!”

Never in his life had he gazed upon the twisted and tormented face of his creator. Only those that were there at The Beginning had that honour. But she looked so… so different to what the legends described. And yet, he could feel their kinship, feel the gravitas of her presence calling out to him. The haunting figure embedded in the rocks above them was unmistakably Mah.

At the Ritual Site, another figure was bathed in Mah’s shadow - Zaros.

“Thank you for joining me here,” Zaros called out to them, his booming voice cutting through the groans and rumbles of Freneskae’s ambience. “I understand you all are skeptical, but it is time I put your worries to rest. I know what is draining you of your power. To solve this crisis, we must conduct one final Ritual.”

Enakhra’s teeth snapped together. “You brought us here for another Ritual? You said there would be no more sacrifices!”

“And I spoke the truth,” Zaros calmly replied.

Bilrach was not convinced, letting it be known by the low grumble of a “Hmm…”

“Then... you mean a Ritual of Enervation?” Hazeel hesitantly met the gaze of Enakhra, who opened her mouth to object, before Zaros cut her off.

“No. I will aid you in a Ritual of Rejuvenation, but we will draw energy directly from Mah.”

Akthanakos gulped. “F-From Mah? Our creator?”

“I have more information that you would benefit from hearing,” Zaros continued. “Mah is the drain on your power that you have all been feeling. It will not stop while she exists. She cares for you. It is my assessment that she dragged herself here to give you the last of her energy.”

Wahisietel clarified, “So your plan is to transfer Mah's power directly to us?”

“Yes, Wahisietel. You would gain more power than you have ever experienced, and with Mah gone there would no longer be a need for your Rituals. You would have her power - enough energy and strength to sustain yourselves indefinitely.”

Enakhra exhaled a deep breath, her narrow eyes closing in contemplative acceptance. “Alright. I may not trust you, but I cannot fault the logic of your plan, Zaros.”

Akthanakos rolled his eyes derisively. “Of course your tune completely changes at the first sniff of power.”

“There will be no more bickering,” Zaros declared, resolutely. “We must take advantage of Mah's peaceful slumber to begin the Ritual. I need all of your full concentration now. It is time. Focus your energy-”

“ZAROS!” The voice stormed across the horizon, reverberating around the Ritual site before its owner had even fully manifested into view.

Zamorak had arrived.

Turning his attention to the newly arrived god, Zaros said, “Zamorak. Right on time, and just as before.”

“That’s as close as you’ll get to a joke, so I’ll take it,” Zamorak strode into the centre of the gathered Mahjarrat, staring down the Empty Lord with prideful venom. “You’ve taken advantage of the Mahjarrat long enough. Not this time, you hollow prick.”

“Your insolence knows no bounds. Even when I offer salvation, you challenge me. Foolish child.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Zamorak warned. “I beat you once, don’t think I can’t do it again.”

Whether Zaros could smile was something of a mystery, but Zamorak could feel the cruel upturn in the diety’s lips. “And yet the fear in your voice betrays your words. There is doubt in your eyes, not fire. You lack the confidence and naivety you wielded the first time you challenged me.”

Perhaps there was doubt in his eyes, fear in his voice, but Zamorak made a show of hiding it. “I’m more powerful than I was back then, and don’t think you can manipulate me with your twisted words. I’m immune to your controlling aura.”

Zaros raised his chin. “Hmm, so you know about my curse.”

“Ha! Curse... bullshit,” Zamorak snarled. “It’s how you accomplished everything. I figured it out thousands of years ago.”

Khazard piped up, “What do you mean, ‘controlling aura’?”

“Anyone who gets too close to Zaros will gradually be compelled to follow him. It’s false devotion. Clearly it affects some more than others,” Zamorak explained, shooting a derisive glare at Azzanadra as he implied, “I believe the effect is stronger the weaker the individual is. But what do you say, Zaros?”

“Yes, I am flawed,” Zaros admitted, coldly. “Doomed never to know whether the loyalty I inspire is genuine unless I withdraw myself as I have done. It is no gift.”

Enakhra snorted a laugh. “Then Azzy and his sidekicks are just lovesick weaklings!”

“Wrong,” Zaros assured before Azzanadra could get his licks in. “Their loyalty has always been unwavering, despite my complete absence from this world.”

“Enough bullshit,” Zamorak snapped. “I know what you are doing, Zaros. Pulling the strings with your empty words and promises.”

Zaros’ voice was still calm and measured. “I know how to free them, Zamorak. I know how to free you.”

“Me? You think I need your help?”

“Your power is draining too, as is mine. We are all of the same composition, a family of sorts. I am in the same peril that all of you are.”

“For fuck’s sake, your plan is even more transparent than before,” Zamorak shook his head with indignation. “You’ve lured them here to drain them of their power. Are you truly so desperate to save yourself that you would sacrifice them all?”

“No, Zamorak. You are wrong. Always so blinded by hatred,” Zaros was growing exasperated now, and increasingly frustrated. Thinking an example might help his cause, for actions speak louder than words, Zaros said, “Here, let me show you how I can use the Ritual Marker to channel Mah's energy into Khazard-”

“DON’T TOUCH MY SON!” Zamorak roared, launching a bolt of dark energy towards Zaros. Instantly, the other deity caught it with a spell of his own, holding back Zamorak’s attack with ease. Zamorak was really having to force himself forwards just to hold Zaros’ attack at bay. The surrounding Mahjarrat daren’t get involved. Even the Zamorakians, who saw their god struggling, knew better than to interfere. Seeing two of Gielinor’s most powerful deities battling it out under the slumbering figure of Mah was terrifying.

Zaros twisted his hand and another smouldering jet of magic blasted towards Zamorak. It struck the Mahjarrat god’s wings, catching them alight and incinerating them within seconds.

“You will pay for your insolence with your life!” Zaros bellowed, watching with cruel satisfaction as Zamorak howled in agony, sinking to his knees as the spell started to overwhelm him. “Even now, it is a shame to end your life. You could have been so much more.”

With one hand on the ground, Zamorak resiliently continued to hold back Zaros’ attack, using all his strength and power to form a crackling energy shield around himself. Nevertheless, Zaros’ onslaught continued.

“I never asked for this burden,” Zamorak growled, panting through the exhaustion. “Everything I did, I did for the Mahjarrat. If I am to die… then the power YOU gave me will become theirs!”

Suddenly, Zamorak broke the shield, allowing Zaros’ full might to strike him. As he did so, he channelled a spell that connected himself to the Ritual Marker, attaching his entire life force, his entire being, to the Marker. When the connection was made, every Mahjarrat became enveloped in a green aura.

Wahisietel could feel his power being restored, he could feel himself being rejuvenated as Zamorak made himself the sacrifice.

It took Zaros a moment to realise what Zamorak was doing, his eyes wide with confusion and indignation. “What? No!”

Instantly, he broke the spell. Zamorak tumbled to the ground, weak and weary. Enakhra and Hazeel dared not move an inch, in horrified awe at the display of power they had just witnessed… but Khazard was not deterred. He rushed to Zamorak’s side, turning him over to see glazed eyes meet his own. The god was coughing and panting, gasping for tight lungfuls of air that struggled to come.

“K-Khazard…” he managed to whisper.

Khazard was still in shock. He thought his father had perished alongside his mother, in the battle of Uzer during the God Wars. Of all people he could claim kinship with...

“L-Lord Zamorak… my father?” he was mumbling, more to himself than Zamorak. Fortunately, Zamorak’s crystal had not been damaged in the battle. Whether any internal damage had been done was another matter, but considering Zamorak was at least trying to stand was a good sign. Khazard helped him to his feet. Zamorak was huddled over, clutching at his stomach, using most of his remaining strength to glower at Zaros. “Why didn’t- ah!... you finish me off?”

Zaros’ cold, measured voice returned, but with an underlying hiss of resentment. “Your self-sacrifice instills devotion in your kin... Somehow, in opposition to everything I try to build - everything I try to give - you stand against me. And it inspires others to do the same. I will not make you a martyr.”

Zamorak waved Khazard away, back towards Hazeel, in case Zaros decided to go for round two. “Then what will you do?”

“You have always had such potential, Zamorak. Even now, you are the embodiment of everything I preach. Such desire to overcome your limitations. I cannot let you go to waste. I am afraid we are far past the point of trust though. There must be precautions this time.”

Zamorak didn’t like where this was heading. “I’m not going to be your pawn. Not again.”

“It is a shame you cannot see the value of joining me. The things we could accomplish together…” Zaros sighed. “I see only one way we can mutually benefit from this predicament. I suggest we invoke Vinculum Juris, an ancient demonic pact that I am sure you are familiar with.”

Zamorak spat out a sharp laugh, but the pain in his chest was sharper. “You really are batshit crazy if you think I’ll let my fate be tied to yours.”

“You have no choice. If you wish to leave this place, I need to know you will not interfere with me again,” Zaros had a way of threatening without actually threatening, since the monotonous tone of his voice rarely changed.

Zamorak, however, knew the deity well enough to know what he was implying. “Argh, spit it out then. What terms would you have bind us?”

“Sliske has the Catalyst,” Zaros began, “He claims he will give it to the victor of his games once the eclipse is upon us. I know you are planning to obtain it. You will continue to do so, but within his final game you will perform one action at my request. You will know which request I intend for you to act upon, because I will refer to you as my Legatus Maximus when I address you. In return, I vow to deliver upon my promise. We will conduct one final Ritual. When it is complete, every one of you will have increased in power and the drain on your energy will be gone.”

Enakhra finally found the courage to call out, “The pact will bind him to his word, Lord Zamorak. He will have to free us!”

“I cannot give him what he wants, Enakhra,” Zamorak affirmed. “There is no telling what he would do with the Stone!”

Hazeel spoke up in a much softer tone, “Zamorak, brother, swallow your pride. We have no other option…”

Zamorak’s resolve was slightly weakened. He gulped. “Hazeel…”

Suddenly, the shadow of Mah began to creak into life, knocking a few stray rocks from their perch.

“Hmm, Mah stirs…” Bilrach commented, so matter-of-factly that one would think he wasn’t afraid of the vengeful elder god above them. “The clock is ticking faster. I see no other path to salvation, my lord.”

Exhaling heavily, Zamorak turned back to Zaros with narrowed eyes. “You know what happens if you break this vow, Zaros. Vinculum Juris is not forgiving.”

“Yes… I will be undone,” Zaros confirmed, bluntly. Vinculum Juris was one of the oldest pacts in the universe, instigated by demons that somehow managed to weave the fabric of fate to do their bidding. It was a simple contract, but deadly to break. You made a promise, you swore by Vinculum Juris, and if you did not hold up your end, the universe would unwrite you from existence. Nobody, not even Zaros, truly knew how or why they worked… but they did. One such contract was how Zaros scored his first army, twelve demonic legions, giving him the power and might to start challenging for territory on Gielinor.

He’d also seen what happened to those who broke their end of the contract, as had Zamorak. With that first hand knowledge, neither would dare go back on their word.

“Then it is no longer a matter of trust,” Zamorak raised his chin. “Keep your word, or cease to exist.”

“We are clear on the consequences. Do you accept my wording?”

“With one last Ritual you will end the need for any more, preventing any further energy drain, which will in turn empower us all. If you deliver on this promise, I must perform one action for you in Sliske's game.”

“And the request I intend for you to act upon will be denoted by...?” Zaros checked.

“You will address me as your Legatus Maximus,” Zamorak confirmed.

“Then it is settled,” Zaros declared. “All those who stand before bare witness. Let us begin.”

Simultaneously, the two deities began reciting the brief contract in Infernal. As they did, bright white energy began spilling out of their mouths, their eyes glowing possessively. “Animus contrahendi. Vinculum Juris!”

Both then fired a harmless spell at the other. When the spells met, the contract was sealed.

“It is done,” Zaros announced, solemnly. “We are bound.”

“Your turn, Zaros,” Zamorak wasted no time. “Hold up your end of the deal. Now.”

Zaros agreed, “Yes, it is about time. Mah will not sleep soundly for much longer.”

“What must we do, my lord?” Azzanadra eagerly asked, his heart in his throat.

“The Marker is acting as a conduit for Mah to siphon energy through. I will reverse this process,” Zaros explained. “This will allow you all to channel power through the Marker, as you would in a Ritual of Rejuvenation. The difference being that this time the Ritual will draw on Mah's power directly, infusing it into each of you. Permanently.”

Khazard was nervous, his eyes flitting between Zamorak, Zaros, and the slumbering Mah. To Zamorak, he asked, “Lord Zam-... F-Father… can we really trust this to work?”

“He is bound to his word by Vinculum Juris, Khazard,” Zamorak assured. “Either he keeps his promise, or he will be killed. It’s a win-win.”

“Then let us begin,” Zaros stepped forward, raising his hands aloft as he tried to tether himself not only to the Marker, but to Mah and the Mahjarrat simultaneously. Zaros was the conduit for this entire ritual; Mah’s energy would be pulled through the Marker by him, and then into the surrounding Mahjarrat. It wasn’t the standard way the Ritual was performed - it couldn’t be, not for what they were trying to achieve - but Zaros was confident that it would work, providing there were no interruptions.

But as the tenuous connection was made, Mah stirred again, and the skies above them darkened. With a death-rattle and a piercing shriek that could shatter the heavens, the Mahjarrat began to shiver. Not since they left Freneskae had they encountered such foul beasts as the ones that began to slither towards them now.

The muspah had spawned.

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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