#radiant magick

[dumbass-fae]

✨️🪞Glamour Magick🪞✨️

Glamour magick is a spell that you cast on yourself to change how others perceive you. 

The key to this working is to manifest your intent. It's a placebo effect. If you believe it is real, it will become real (in a sense). 

Normally glamour magick is preformed while getting ready for the day, night, or an event (school, date, outing exc. exc.) Which means it blends into the mundane. 

You can create oils and blends anything your heart desires, even magickly infused foods and drinks, or you can use what you already have: shampoo, hair brush, makeup, moisturizer, toothpaste exc exc.

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A good place to start is with:

color magick/correspondences

♡Red- confidence, romantic love, strength 

♡Pink- self love, kindness, platonic love, softness 

♡Orange- creativity, energy, sucess

♡Yellow- happiness, joy, positivity 

♡Green- luck, healing, money manifestation 

♡Blue- peace, calm, clairity, communication 

♡Purple- imagination, intuition, peace

♡Brown- friendship, security, stability 

♡Black- protection, banishing

♡White- clensing, peace, truth

♡Silver- healing 

♡Gold- sucess, wealth

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Moving on, we will get into more correspondences/enchantments in glamour magick. 

Bath/Body 🛁

• Shampoo- clenses negativity 

• Conditioner- restores positivity 

• Body scrub- removes negative energy

• Lotion- (varies by scent), softness

• Hair oil/ leave in conditioner- protection 

• Deep conditioner- restores positive energy 

Skincare 🪞

• Facial cleanser- removes negative energy 

• Facial scrub- clenses negativity 

• Moisturizer- protection, restores positive energy 

• Serums- (varies by ingredient), locks in good energy 

• Spot treatments- conceals what you do not wish to be seen 

• Eye masks- clairity

• Lip masks- sweetens your words 

• Suncreen- protection 

Makeup 💄

• Mascara/eyeliner- see through lies, enhance your eyes beauty 

• Lip products- people will listen when you speak, sweeten your words/influence

• Eyeshadow- (varies by color)

• Concealer- to hide what others should not know 

• Highlighter- to apear more radiant/glowing 

• Blush- to appear innocent and soft 

Other 🐚

• Toothpaste/Toothbrush- clense negativity

• Hairbrush- remove negative energy 

• Nail polish- (varies by color) 

• Glasses- to see what others cannot 

• Hair- Braid your hair with your intentions 

• Perfume- (varies by scent) 

• Clothing- (varies by color) 

• Jewelry- (varies by intent) 

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Remember, affirmations and enchantments are key to glamours 

• say or think corresponding affirmations while doing your skincare or makup 

• enchant everything you use with intentions, you could even put sigils on them 

• enchant your jewelry for a specific purpose

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This is from my personal grimoire, thus my own opinions on glamours.

you can reblog with other glamour related tips and tricks 💕

[voraciouskingdom]

As we step into the Golden Age, a time of radiant transformation and boundless possibilities, I invite you to awaken the mystic within you.

Breathe in the cosmic energy that dances in the universe, and let the light of love guide your journey. We are all stardust, luminous and eternal.

Let compassion be your compass, and kindness your currency. Together, in this age of enlightenment, we shall create a symphony of souls, elevating the collective consciousness to new heights.

Are you ready to embrace this divine adventure? Let's hold hands in spirit, transcend limits, and illuminate the world with our shared magick.

🔥❤️‍🔥

[storyofmychoices]

Tuneless Wonders

[Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle Masterlist] 

Pairing: Beckett Harrington x Emma Carlyle (F!MC) Book: The Elementalists Word Count: >600 Rating/Warnings: general, no warnings, all the fluff Prompts: @choicesjanuary2024 aurora (borealis); @choicesficwriterscreations

Synopsis: Emma shows Beckett that the tuneless world has magic of its own.

It has been FAR too long since I've commissioned art of these two. So I am very excited to have been able to commission this piece by the ever talented ArtByAinna (IG) to kick off our TE @choicesbookclub

The vibrant hues of the aurora borealis painted the sky in a mesmerizing dance of celestial colors. Beckett and Emma found themselves at a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of their friends. The ethereal lights shimmered overhead, casting a magical glow upon the landscape.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Emma teased, lacing her fingers with his as she rested her head on his shoulder. “The tuneless world has its own magic.”

Beckett couldn’t help but be captivated by the enchanting display painting the sky. “Wow,” the only word he could manage slipped quietly from his lips, his gaze fixed on the celestial wonder above.

Emma’s eyes sparkled with a blend of awe and admiration. “Nature's magic is unparalleled. Earth has her own set of spells that she blesses us with."

A surge of appreciation for a magic he had never considered before washed over him. Beckett had read of this natural event in books, of course, but he never imagined them quite like this. In his readings, it was simple. It was science, just a bit of chemistry—an interaction of particles, solar wind, and the Earth’s magnetic field—nothing special. Yet, the reality of what he thought nothing of, now, left him breathless.

Emma’s words continued to resonate with him as he stood entranced. He couldn’t deny the magnificent enchantment surrounding them. He slowly breathed in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs, the moment overwhelming him in the best way. As he exhaled, Beckett attempted to let go of the complexities of magical academia he had spent his life mastering, allowing room for this new appreciation for the tuneless wonders he never would have understood without her.

“It’s breathtaking,” he whispered, his words of reverence drifting from his lips in wisps of warmth against the cold air.

Emma’s gaze met his cool, grey eyes, which shimmered with the colors of the heavens. “Perhaps nature’s magic is the truest form. No spells, no textbooks—just the raw, untamed beauty of the world. Maybe that’s where it all started. Maybe this and other examples of Earth’s magic is the origin of all other magick we know.”

“Thank you.” His fingers brushed tenderly across her cheek as he cradled her face.

“For what?” She smiled softly.

“For sharing this with me—” he began, his gaze drifting once more to the beautiful dance above them. "—for convincing me that there are wonders and magic I still don't understand—" His words were quieter now, “—and... for being smarter than me.”

“What was that?” Emma’s brow quirked with mischief. "I couldn’t quite hear you—"

“You heard me well enough.”

She considered it for a moment. “I think I heard you say I was smarter than you—the one and only, Beckett Harrington. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” She rested the back of her hand against his forehead.

He shook his head. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Well, if you want me to stop, you know what you have to do.” She grabbed the lapel of his navy peacoat, pulling him closer, their noses brushing together.

His freckled cheeks flushed at her gesture. “You’re impossible.” Beckett’s words were lost as he closed the gap between them. As their lips met, the warmth of her kiss seeped deep into him, a radiant glow that warmed him inside and out, like the gentle embrace of the soothing sun on a cold winters day.

The celestial lights above bore witness to their kiss, a moment of pure magic that rivaled the magic of this world and the magick of their studies.

I haven't written Beckett in... I honestly don't know how long 2, maybe 3??? years!?! I hope that our Book Club replay of TE will inspire some more Beckett and Emma stories. So far, I really only ever wrote them in my Detention Series.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

[salmonsandypants]

This fully breaks from cannon, but after seeing another post about The Man in Black somehow forming from the combined essence of Aiden and the Crowned Panther, I think a little divergence would have offered a cool interpretation.

What if the Panther's concentration had failed, and all of the mushroom/lantern spirits and a bunch of the mist spirits hadn't gotten out of the glade. Every spirit and the remnants of Puffs and Bevan were all trapped when the bomb went off. Whatever pieces of all of these multitudes of spirits of the natural world, spirits of the manufactured world, and the mortal man were all amalgamated and reconstituted into the Man in Black.

It captures his aesthetic to some degree, his domain to another, and it also builds upon his known mythology. He has a hidden name, of course, but how has he managed to accumulate so many monikers and titles? How is he known to be so powerful? How is he so singly aligned with the spirit world, so against the machinations of humanity, but tied and attuned to a symbol of mortal civilization—the road?

So, what if he wasn't really a single spirit, but the union of thousands of spirits.

[Also, mechanically, any one of the "ghosts" was able to kill a creature with just a look, and even the mist spirits could do 1 radiant damage apiece per attack, and the Crowned Panther had some considerable array of magical and physical abilities—although apparently a bit lacking in HP. Aiden had a pretty solid low-to-mid CR stat-block, too.]

All of these forces, all aware that their forest was dying, all facing the immediate threat of interlopers, all being sundered by powerful magicks, and finally poured into a container available to hold their essence. The mortal chalice near to hand.

The Clearing didn't go this way at all, but why not have a bit of fun with some wild alternate takes?

[wanderingwitchspeaks]

Energy Work... What is it?

As you progress in your exploration of witchcraft, you will fall upon many conclusions and notice various resemblances in energy from individual to individual. You will begin to recognize the unique significance you attribute to various correspondences. You may begin to fall upon the conclusion different colors represent different states of being to you as opposed to your colleague within the craft. For instance, the color red may not always symbolize passion or anger for you, yellow might be symbolic of psychic power, and purple could convey a sense of caution. While, yes, there are charts that live amongst literature instructing you as to what hues and textures represent what emotions and mental states, these connections are wholly subjective. Energy is often perceived as a spectrum of colors and materials that could mean something entirely different to you compared to someone else. It primarily revolves around individual viewpoints arriving at the same result or inference. 

I tend to visualize energy as a radiant mist exuding various shades. However, in extreme cases, one's energy may reshape the texture of the energy I sense. Moreover, these hues help portray the emotions I sense from the mist or substance. For instance, to interpret a friend's energy, I could describe the sensation as such: "Your energy mirrors that of an innocent child, filled with curiosity, optimism about the future, and abundant love for the world. Nonetheless, it feels somewhat empty, perhaps due to a recent deep wound inflicted upon you by someone close. It appears you may be seeking solace and support from others who may not be equipped to meet your needs, which in turn intensifies your feelings of desertion." Alternatively, I could interpret it simply as: "Your energy feels a mix of yellow and blue, and slightly melancholic. Do you want to discuss it?

In essence, energy sensing refers to the capacity to perceive the external energies in your surroundings. This involves detecting energies from plants, objects, stones, and people. Why is this important? For those who practice magick, energy sensing is utilized to recognize and perceive energies outside their own that they might want to engage with. This is evident when you ask a plant for permission before taking something from it, or when you try to understand what a crystal can provide you. Conversely, it can be employed in vampiric rituals. Energy sensing finds its use in divination or spirit work, and can also be utilized by energy healers to support medication and identify energy obstructions and toxins, thus allowing a more effective mental and physical healing process.

Energy sensing can let you work with spirits, nature, deities, energy healing, tarot reading, and anything outside of the self. 

We as people and everything around us are made of energy. We can work with this energy in various methods, some people are going to be naturally better at energy sensing than others. This is seen in empaths, vampires, and sensitive people in general. 

In short, energy sensing is essentially advanced empathy. This empathy extends to those who have closed themselves off, those who are unsure of their own energetic current, plants and even inanimate objects. I hope this somewhat clears the way for your personal practice in energy work. 

Farewell!  <3

[abysswalkersknight]

I was listening to elden ring's soundtrack and somehow that lead to this.

Granted I'm still not sure about the shading in particular but let me know what you think

Once more, info and probably baby sized story below...

"As his song fades into the air, his sky returns to it's clear state, wind and radiant sunbeams ruffling his feathers. Afterwards, the fog emerged, gathering and weaving magic only he could sense and feel. Although he had the power disperse the fog with a mere flick of a talon, it meant little to him either way. Quite some time later, the tiny mortals began to gather the old stray feathers Isol would shed and pluck at certain times. What odd behaviour indeed..."

This is Solum Isol, a dragon born to a long ancient breed called the Primordials that were once revered as gods. Known to civilisations as the dream weaver the sky dragons worshipped him as their guardian and protector, securing his territory with a fog that deterred any trespassers and keeping their dreams free of nightmares. He was also known for his love for needlework and music, weaving intricate dreams together like fabric whilst playing the most beautiful melodies, dressmakers, bards and mages all claim him as their patron deity.

Although it was not known that unlike his kin, Isol had cared little for the mortals who worshipped him, too shy to interact with anyone he preferred to keep to himself and his music, at least until one day he finds a little bard at his favourite haunt practicing a song. Intrigued, he corners the bard, wondering why they were there "what an interesting tune. Do tell me little mortal, what brings you to such a place? Do you not fear the storm?"

For Isol only ventured out on the days when storms were on the horizon. Years later he would come to befriend this little bard named "Opèra" visiting every time a storm would begin near their spot, sharing songs, stories and dances for hours until the first drops landed, until one day Opèra never showed up, or the next, or the next after that. Concerned for his only friend Isol would venture out to the mortal's village for the first time, flinching and shying from the revering gazes and cries of awe until he was stopped by the village elder claiming that Isol must have been so pleased with their offering that he deigned to grace them with his presence, later Isol would discover that the village had found out about his and Opèra's outings they thought his little bard would make the perfect sacrifice to him as they have done for many years to ensure his "protection"

Isol would soon become so enraged that the winds howled and rains flashed as he morned his friend. Flooding the lands into an isle, mountains were wretched from the ground to forever hover in the skies, a testament to the wayward magicks frothing in the air. In his grief Isol was driven to madness, he wished that he had never met his little bard, that these pathetic mortals never knew of his existence, that they never existed. So as punishment he turns the fog that once protected the dragons against them, connecting it to a world where dreams touched the waking and releasing monstrous creatures that preyed on those who slept.

Only decades later, would a mysterious knight come to reclaim the ravished lands from the maddened Isol, finally putting him to rest as their sword tears through his weary chest. Saving the land from his grief.

Or did they...

[liminal-zone]

courage, dear heart

i wrote a thing! 

AO3 fic link: atomic blonde

fandom: Narnia/LOTR crossover | ship: Susan Pevensie/Éowyn, background Haladriel

rated: mature | tagged: crossover, canon compliant, pining, Gender Politics with Clive Staples and John Ronald Reuel, post The Horse and His Boy, bittersweet

Summary: It’s not the first time a power beyond understanding ripped Susan away from her home to fight in another world’s war. And in this strange country, she will find her courage.

Set as Frodo becomes the ringbearer, set after Susan returns from Tashbaan and the Battle of Anvard is won.

a/n: Written for @thenarniaficexchange 2023 for @syrena-of-the-lake. Is this fic just a string of references from all seven narnia books, at least five lotr books, various narnia and lotr films, a lotr tv show, Churchill’s “we shall fight on the beaches”, and Shakespeare? Maybe so.

Two canons in a blender, my favorite scene in this is when the Dark Lord Sauron comes to Queen Susan in her dreams to take her apart and finds something he didn’t expect. And my heart aches to answer an unanswered question in the fic about magicked memory loss and the Problem of Susan, perhaps in a sequel. 

Excerpt:

Her hands are dirty from drawing the circle, fingers burned from the blue fire.

The bright magic ring she wears is cold, very cold; cold as the bottom of the sea. And it sings of power, not of the flesh, but over flesh. The power of the Unseen World.

In her mouth is the language spoken before the dawn of time. Before the Deep Magic was written. Before the Sun and the Moon were made. “Call her up.”

*

It’s quite sudden – the searing sound in her ears and then a great pop – and she’s no longer riding alongside her sister in the wilds of Galma but in a strange, alien land.

She stills her horse, and is surprised to find it not the dumb Galman beast who was a pleasure to ride along the sands of the ocean, but a great stallion fit for a warrior of renown. The shabby islander saddle is now richly ornate, covered in symbols she does not recognize. The windswept sea of grass smells sweet; rich earth beneath and a warm yellow sun in the endless blue sky above. Massive forests and towering mountains in the distance, and far off to the south, clouds of smoke. No recognizable landmark of any kind.

This curious little girl from Finchley has experienced travel between worlds before, but she does not quite remember the first time. Something about a mother who loved her and a great stairwell and the numbing horror of nonstop destruction; all faded in memory and deemed unimportant, lost. She is now queen of a great country; taller than her brother, the High King, and a remarkable beauty sought by highborns across the known world. Her raven-colored hair and red lips, haunting the dreams of many. Her gracious kindness, a balm to her loving subjects once subjugated by winter and a witch.

More importantly, she still remains curious.

For she is Susan, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, Queen over Narnia under the High King Peter, the Lady of Cair Paravel and Protector of the River Rush, Blessed by the Radiant Southern Sun, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Daughter of Eve, the Gentle.

And this strange country, unknown to her, is Middle Earth.

*

Her magical horn came with her, tied to her belt. There is no hesitation as she raises it to her lips. Father Christmas had said “–wherever you are–,” so she blows it, calling for help in this alien place.

The full velvety sound rings out across the grassy plains, ringing up through the nearby mountains and reaching forests unknown and reaching foreign ears in their towers of stone. (Perhaps even reaching the power that brought her here.)

A rider appears in the distance. Susan narrows her eyes, considering if this is friend or foe. She only has a dagger and her wits, which may be enough.

It is a warrior with a shield on his arm. He rides a white steed and golden horse hair flows out of his helmet. He shines bright like the famed white stag and Susan feels an intense urge to chase this rider at once, to put an arrow in his heart and drag him to the ground.

To demand wishes? Perhaps. The urge is unknowable.

But no: this is no white stag, nor a magical creature of any sort.

And Susan does not yet know that this is no man.

Susan called for help, and help has arrived in the form of Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan.

*

It is a cautious meeting and neither dismount.

The rider’s gaze is appraising, obviously noting Susan’s foreign dress. There’s the uncommon length of her raven hair, adorned with the lush island flowers of Galma. The dagger and white horn at her side, and the ease in which Susan is managing a stallion. The queenly posture; a regal confidence undoubted. (This is learned behavior. Pevensies can trace their lineage to poor fishermen in East Sussex and poorer soldiers from Normandy.)

Susan’s assessment is this: the young rider is a dangerous warrior, lithe and well-knit in frame, made all the more queer with his open courtesy to a stranger.

“What country, friend, is this?” Susan asks.

The rider tilts his head. “This is Rohan, my lady.” His voice ringing out clear.

And what shall I do in Rohan? Susan thinks, miserably.

“Are you in need some assistance, my lady?” the rider continues, a look of concern in his gray eyes. A pause. “I am Dernhelm, at your service.”

*

Dernhelm listens to her tale and “strange sorcery” is his response. He thinks a moment before: “Have you experience with witches?”

Susan gives a smile, but it is a bitter one. She knows more than some about witches.

After Susan explains, Dernhelm nods. “The way I see it is this: you have appeared here through magic, for what reason, I cannot say. And you have appeared in Rohan, for what reason, I cannot say. You are no servant of the Dark Lord, there is something true and honorable about you.” He stops there for a moment before a continuing in a most peculiar tone. “The wizards have no interest in queens; what is a woman to the affairs of air and earth? So, the Lady of the Golden Wood, she must be behind this and her reasons could have promise in them.”

“The Lady?” Susan echoes quietly. There are hags that called Her “the White Lady.”

“She is a great sorceress. An elf-witch of terrible power who dwells in Dwimordene.” Dernhelm looks grave. “It is said that all who look upon her shall fall under her spell and are never seen again.”

Susan shivers, thinking of the horror of Jadis’ castle. Of Tumnus’ look of terror, frozen in stone.

Dernhelm continues. “My brother believes she is a myth, and–” he pauses as if pained by a memory unspoken. “My king’s advisor says webs of deceit were ever woven in Dwimordene.” He raises his chin, and his eyes are shining bright. “But I believe differently. There is an old, old tale of this elf-witch helping my annointed forebear, the first of our kings. I choose to believe that tale. I choose to believe that in our time of need, the Lady came to our aid. High honor to protect the king and his men, and dread magic too. And perhaps, perhaps if she is behind this, she can be reasoned with and you can return home. Should you have the courage, you seek her out.”

“Then I shall go to find this Lady of the Golden Wood,” Susan says. “If you will take me there, sir. For I do not know the way.”

The man sucks in air and holds it a moment before: “For this journey, you have my sword, your grace.”

[levodoom]

The Verd - World Map

"For Queen, for Empire, for Radiance.

Nightmarish Devils and Dark Strangers walk beside us and hide in magicked shadows. Many lands remain forever cast under night and darkness, as Eternal Storms rage on without end or regret, while Minutes and Hours themselves cease to obey their own Laws.

Murderous Princesses, drunk on brilliant Lustre, compete for scraps and birthright, as Radiant Empress looks down upon them and their Game, knowing that one day hers will end too. And in-between it all; the low yet loud whispers of an ancient, long-forgotten being, shrouded in void, cold malice, and twisted madness, corrupt the minds of the frail and strong alike.

But still, Mankind has endured these new realities. New technologies and discoveries found through perseverance and talent, has led the Modern World into an era of electrical industry, to supernatural revelations obtained from study and new philosophies, and to the rise of the Candle Faith and its promised Radiance; which seeks to grant commoners and high-born alike safety from the Darkest Nights, and even still some small comfort from the whispers in the dark depths of Mankind's broken mind."

[sovaghoul]

I wrote this many years ago, prose to convey the Beltane myth. It's sensual and erotic but not explicit, implied het!sex. Please enjoy.

💝 Joyous Beltane 💝

The Maid waited anxiously in the Grove, knowing soon that Her Love would emerge from the trees. Although She knew exactly what was to happen this night, She was no less excited. To be reunited with the Lord She loves above all others after His death in the Fall, the cold lonely Winter, and the teasings of Spring, this first day of Summer was remarkable indeed.

When She at last heard the approaching footsteps, She dropped Her shift to the ground, Her pale skin radiant in the rising Moonlight. The Magick of the Full Moon sparked, sizzled, and cracked around Her as Her Love drew ever closer. Finally, after seemingly endless moments, a form silhouetted against the setting Sun at the edge of the trees.

Her breath caught as He stepped forward, His beauty far greater than She remembered (as seemingly happened every year). She took in His defined, lean muscles, the grace in His stride, the passion in His eyes. The ends of His dark tousled hair barely brushed the ruddy flesh of His shoulders, His budding antlers peeking through the mass above His forehead. His desire for Her was obvious as He continued His advance, and the Maid let loose a peal of joyous, inviting laughter.

Seeing Her, the young buck of a God broke into a run, His hunger now barely contained. Her silken hair fell in delicate waves to the middle of Her back, a fawn-colored waterfall from the crown of Her head. Her eyes glowed at Him even from a distance, and the rapid rise and fall of Her bosom only excited Him all the more. Within moments He was in arms’ reach of the Maid, and His hands nearly itched with the anticipation of caressing the soft, supple curves of Her body. A flittering déjà vu flickered in His mind, a faint memory of another tryst not unlike this one. He shook it from His thoughts though as He stopped, leaving little more than a hair’s breadth between Him and His Love.

His panting breath was warm and bore the lush scent of the woods as it met the Maid’s face, His eyes flashing and His heart pounding from more than just the sprint. She remembered His face, of course, even though the last time She saw Him as Her Consort, He had been old and weathered. She knew that only His Divine Soul remembered Her, not His young conscious mind; He always lost His powers of recollection on His yearly sacred journey to the Underworld. She, however, is eternal, and so while Her age cycles as well, She never leaves as He does. The Dark of the Moon obscures Her face, and the Winter months take their toll, but She still remains. It didn’t matter though that the memory was gone from His mind, He still knew and understood His destiny, and tonight would be the first of many milestones as this Once and Future King traversed His path in this incarnation.

For a moment, both were still, each drinking in the naked form of the other. She drew Her breath, He licked His lips. She smiled, and He spoke;

“My Lady, will You come dance with Us?” His deep, gentle voice carried all the raw power and promise of fulfillment proven by years past, stretching back to the beginning of time. It shot sensuous lightning bolts through the Maid’s thighs, as this hallowed ritual exchange did each year.

“With joy, My Lord,” She answered, Her words chiming like silver bells, Her breath sweet and cool as honeyed wine. The God smiled, showing His white teeth, and grasped the Maid at Her waist, lifting Her and spinning about. He laughed full in His throat, a sound like the harmonious choir of the forest creatures. When He set Her on the ground again, She still smiled, and He held Her close to Him, His lust evident against Her bare hip.

Her eyes, bright with seduction, gazed up at Him through Her lashes, and She whispered, “My Lord, will You come love with Us?”

His blood boiling and His need spilling over, the God growled His answer, “With joy, My Lady.”

Before the final word left His lips, They had tumbled, limbs entangled, to the soft grass of the meadow.

[charlottedabookworm]

#17 - Sally

feat Nadir

look yda and papalymo are my fav scions okay it's my 'og started in gridania' bias but they're great and i love them and i'm right

also papalymo is totally the sort of bloke who would say sally forth

“I am afraid that we must sally forth.”

Nadir looks to Yda.

Yda stares back at him, shrugging her shoulders.

“Children,” Papalymo sighs, shaking his head and tutting at them. It does not hide the smile upon his lips. “We must hurry; the sylphs are known to avoid the South Shroud and with good reason. There is little that would have compelled Elder Frixio to come here and finding him is our foremost priority.”

“Why couldn’t you just say that, Papalymo,” Yda whines.

He is in agreement with her. If they are in such a hurry, surely it is better to use clear, simple words?

Papalymo laughs as he walks into the tavern. “I am aiding the both of you in expanding your vocabulary.”

He looks at Yda.

She stares back. “Sorry,” she mouths, not looking sorry in the slightest.

“He is your mentor, not mine” he hisses back. Nadir does not need a mentor, for all that Papalymo is a good example of one, and a man who he is happy to debate magicks and aetheric manipulation with. He is only here in Eorzea to speak with Master Midgardsormr and he is a fully trained mage and member of the Radiant Host beside, he has no need for a mentor.

Yda simply grins at him. Reaching up, she claps a hand against his shoulder and whispers, “Good luck,” as she moves past him.

Nadir sighs.

[homebrewsno1asked4]

Lloigor

Another Call of Cthulhu monster!

~

Lloigor

 Art by Christopher Burdett!

Your foe –unseen until now – warps space and bends light as a horrible form appears. At a glance, you could mistake it for a dragon. But it has too many eyes and limbs, and its mouth distends like its body is a sheath of reptilian skin. 

In its most common form, a lloigor is invisible to conventional senses. Lloigors must alter their geometry to manipulate physical objects; in our visual spectrum, this condensed form resembles a grotesque pastiche of a dragon. Besides a similar shape, comparable strength, and humanoid-enslaving tendencies, these interstellar horrors have nothing in common with dragons.

Upon outgrowing (read: dominating and desiccating) their distant home sphere, the lloigors’ creator-god (also named Lloigor) taught its children the secrets of space travel. Since leaving home, the lloigors spread violent atrocities, empires based on fear and sacrifice, and countless people reshaped as wretched works of flesh-based art. A few great mages – of races that far predate modern humanoids – managed to craft symbols that drive away the lloigor scourge, symbols transmuted and cheapened over time into common glyph-based spells.

However, the lloigors did not realize their folly until they enjoyed several millennia of colonizing other planets. A connection to their deity and homeland was the source of their terrifying psychic prowess; ever since spreading across the universe, the lloigors’ powers were weakening. Only by consuming intelligent minds can lloigors recapture a fraction of their terrible power. After numerous rebellions, the humiliated lloigors retreated to the shadows and caverns of various worlds.

Lloigor

Small (vortex form)/large (reptilian form) Aberration, Lawful Evil

Armor Class 16 (many-angled)

Hit Points 161 (17d10 + 68)

Speed 30 ft. (reptilian form only), hover 30 ft. (vortex form only)

Vortex Form: STR 1(-5) DEX 16(+3) CON 19(+4) INT 21(+5) WIS 18(+4) CHA 18(+4)

Reptilian Form: STR 23(+6) DEX 16(+3) CON 19(+4) INT 21(+5) WIS 18(+4) CHA 18(+4)

Saving Throws Cha +8, Con +8

Skills Deception +8, Intimidation +8, Perception +8

Damage Resistances fire, nonmagic (Reptilian form), psychic (Reptilian form)

Damage Vulnerabilities radiant

Damage Immunities cold, force (Vortex form), nonmagic (Vortex form), psychic (Vortex form)

Condition Immunities charmed, frightened, frozen

Additional Immunities for Vortex Form blinded, deafened, grappled, poisoned, prone, restrained

Senses Darkvision 150 ft., passive Perception 18, truesight 120 ft.

Languages Common, Deep Speech, Draconic, Infernal, Undercommon

Challenge 11 (7,200 XP)

Proficiency Bonus +4

-

Innate Spellcasting. The lloigor's innate spellcasting ability is Intelligence (spell save DC 17, +9 to hit with spell attacks). It can innately cast the following spells, requiring no components. However, it does need to expend Leeched Mental Energy (LME, from here on). Assume any lloigor has 4d6 stored LME at the start of an encounter.

Free Spells: gust, mage hand (hand is invisible), mind sliver (3d6) 2-point Spells: catapult 3-point Spells: detect thoughts, dissonant whispers (level 2), gust of wind, mind spike, misty step 5-point Spells: fireball, sending, slow, wind wall 6-point Spells: confusion, dimension door, polymorph, Raulothim's psychic lance 7-point Spells: Bigby’s hand (hand is invisible), control winds, create spelljamming helm, telekinesis

Bound by the Signs. Certain timeless sigils can repel the lloigor and its depraved magicks.

If a lloigor damages any creature protected by warding bond, the lloigor takes the caster’s share of the damage.

The lloigor takes maximum damage from glyph of warding.

Death ward heals all effects (except damage) from the lloigor’s fleshwarping – even regenerating severed limbs.

A lloigor can’t even attempt to enter any area protected by guards and wards, even by teleportation.

Deadly Pessimism. Lloigors’ minds are endless wells of hatred and pessimism – too much for even the most spiteful mortal mind-reader to bear. Any creature that tries to read a lloigor’s thoughts is subject to a DC 17 Wisdom saving throw.

Success: The mind-reader escapes the abyss of the lloigor’s thoughts with nothing but a searing headache. For 1 minute, the mind-reader rolls Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma checks with disadvantage since it hurts to concentrate.

Failure: The mind-reader is afflicted with short-term madness.

Failure by 10 or More: The mind-reader is afflicted with long-term madness.

Critical Failure: The mind-reader dies.

Legendary Resistance (3/Day). If the lloigor fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead.

Star-Treader. The lloigor doesn’t need to breathe, and it can shrug off extreme cold (included in stat block). 

Actions

Multiattack. In its reptilian form, the lloigor makes one Bite attack and two Claw attacks. The lloigor has no physical attack options in vortex form.

Bite (Reptilian Form only). Melee Attack: +10 to hit, reach 5 ft., 1 target. Hit: 12 (1d12 + 6) piercing damage. 

Claw (Reptilian Form only). Melee Attack: +10 to hit, reach 5 ft., 1 target. Hit: 10 (1d8 + 6) slashing damage.

Fleshwarp (Recharge 5-6). In reptilian form, the lloigor must touch its target. A lloigor in vortex form can attempt to warp any target within 60 ft. Targets make a DC 16 Constitution save as their own bodies twist and rebel. On a failure, the target takes 8d10 necrotic damage, and one of their features are bent to the lloigor’s whims – a limb, torso, neck, head shape, or facial feature. On a success, the target takes half damage, and no transformation occurs. On a critical failure, the lloigor gains enough control over the flesh to exact one of their favorite punishments: shriveling limbs. The target loses the use of an arm or leg (DM’s choice).

Reversing the lloigor’s fleshwarping requires casting remove curse or greater restoration at level 6 – or, curiously, a regular 4th-level casting of death ward. 

Bonus Actions

Condense/Refract. The lloigor changes between Vortex and Reptilian form. If a lloigor changes into its reptilian form thirty feet or more off the ground, it is subject to fall damage.

Reactions

Feed on Anguish. When a lloigor deals damage to another creature, the lloigor can use its reaction to regain 1d4 LME.

Legendary Actions

The lloigor can take 3 legendary actions, choosing from the options below. Only one legendary action can be used at a time and only at the end of another creature's turn. The lloigor regains spent legendary actions at the start of its turn.

Attack. The lloigor makes one Bite or two Claw attacks.

Cast a Spell (Costs 3 Actions). The lloigor casts one of its spells, using the normal amount of LME. 

Recalculate. The lloigor attempts to recharge its Fleshwarp ability.

Lair Actions

On initiative count 20 (losing initiative ties), the lloigor can take one of the following lair actions; the lloigor can't take the same lair action two rounds in a row:

Psychic Vampirism. The lloigor targets a random sleeping humanoid within 6 miles of its lair. The target loses 1d4 Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma (lloigor’s choice), and the lloigor gains an equal amount of LME. The target suffers a level of exhaustion all the next day, but another long rest will cure both the exhaustion and the ability loss. The target only dies if the ability damage reduces that ability to 0.

Summon Prey. The lloigor chooses any living mortal creature in the universe. The target makes a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw. On a success, the target is summoned to a random point within 1 mile of the lloigor. On a failure, the prey is teleported within 100 feet of the lloigor. 

Warp Time. The lloigor must also spend the rest of its stored LME to use this lair action. Every creature in the lair must reroll initiative. The lloigor can choose not to reroll.

Regional Effects

The region surrounding a lloigor's lair is altered by the lloigor's magic, creating one or more of the following effects:

For 6 miles around the lloigor’s lair, people tend to act uncharacteristically dour and negative.

Long-term exposure to the lloigor’s presence stains water and stone a jade tint. This jade stain is only visible if the lloigor’s been around for over a year, and the unnatural color is more noticeable as you approach the lair. Although a gorgeous color, looking at these lloigor-changed features instills nausea, as if the earth itself is warning you to turn back.

The lloigor practices its fleshwarping on local wildlife. Many beasts within 6 miles of the lair bear grotesque mutations. 

If the lloigor dies, the mood-altering effect vanishes immediately. The other effects are, unfortunately, permanent. 

~

DESIGN NOTES        

I know in RAW you can’t cast remove curse or greater restoration at higher levels – but why not? I don’t think you should be able to remove a high-level monster’s debilitating curse with a level 3 spell in every healer’s back pocket.

[sugaryewscythe]

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall forever revoke consent for any malicious, hateful, or envious spirits or stalkers to ever trespass unto my circle. even if i must enact the consequences of doing so for countless moons until ragnarök itself. i shall revoke consent.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall reclaim all that was selfishly stolen from me until each fractal of my authentic spirit is returned. even if i must rip my very essence out of the hands of greedy leeches themselves. i shall reclaim it all.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall unbind my tongue of the mangled lies others attempted to silence me with and speak my authentic story unapologetically. even if i must bleed with raw vulnerability and shake the earth with my truth. i shall unbind.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall validate my own emotions and righteous rage. even if i must combat years of gaslighting, abuse, and slander and stay loud about the mistreatment i endured that they fought so hard to conceal. i shall validate.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall exorcise all envy and venomous spells cast unto my spirit by filthy people until every slither of my essence is cleansed. even if i must take up my scythe and smear my skin in my enemies' blood. i shall exorcise it all.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall purge my heavy trauma until my spirit is radiant, sacred, and cleansed once again. even if i must shed all my current skin to rid of the unworthy, filthy hands which touched me and violated my trust. i shall purge.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall protect my unique, authentic spirit and boundaries from leeches and jealous stalkers without hesitation. even if i must once again take up my scythe and stain the fertile earth to defend my sacred circle and spirit. i shall protect.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall unleash my creative, beautiful, and magickal self without shame or fear. even if i must offend and frighten those who have yet to step into their own authentic power or fear me stepping into mine. i shall unleash.

on my own sacred name, i swear i shall complete and end all cycles like ouroboros which are decaying my vibrant spirit. such cycles of cruelty and hatred are ended and i freely reclaim my truth, autonomy, and magick. i am empowered and whole. so be it.🐉

[waelkyrja]

✧ ₊⁺ @waelahst :    Presses the corpse-cold of his lips to her war-worn hand, taking the Valkyrie's gaze in his own, for his own. Wordlessly, like spilt, dark blood, his smile spreads -- and it is deathly clear what he wants. (for Lenneth)

perhaps , if she were a human , 𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 might have danced along fair maiden cheeks , demure surprise or a dismayed cry escaping the lovelorn lips . . .  instead , the sorcerer’s unabashed display of affection is met with the cold indifference of a goddess-born .  ————— he would use the lost magicks for something so outrageous ! ?  the valkyrie would have cause to allow her fist to exact 𝙹𝚄𝙳𝙶𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 upon his face , were she was not more 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙶𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 by the thought of prolonging further physical contact .  removing herself from his clutches as one would akin to a poisonous snake , radiant light envelopes the divine , purifying her ethereal being and threatening to burn he who 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐎 𝐂��𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 .

「 how dare you . . .  you truly have no shame .

[yzeltia]

❤️ first kiss / realization

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

💛 reunion kiss / relief

💚 true love’s kiss / magic kiss / healed

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

(your choices of ships)

❤️ First Kiss/Realization

[Maybe canon for them? 6.4]

Fuyu'li took off running as soon he passed through Meghaduta's aetheryte. It had been too long since he last left Radz-at-Han. He'd heard word that his young savior had not been seen in some time and had not a single ounce of rationality about it.

The Garlean researcher panted as he hit the top of the steps, hurrying to the pillar where he'd oft meet with Varshan. Though many were gathered at the steps of the Radiant Host's dwelling, none were his lord. Tail thrashing, he ran up to a guard, ignoring the instant yet expected look of discomfort.

"Master Varshahn! I hear he is missing! Has something happened to him!? Has he been injured!? I have been detained for this past year through the near Calamity!"

"Calm yourself, Garlean. He has taken off to Mehryde's Meyhane on a walk to acquaint himself better with his new legs."

Fuyu'li staggered at the other's words. "New legs," he repeated, visceral images of the boy walking upon magitek appendages.

Not waiting for clarification, he returned to the aetheryte, aethericly vaulting himself across Radz-at-Han to his next destination. Rounding a corner, he crashed into the firm chest of an Au Ra, sending bouncing back on his tail.

"Apologies," the Keeper breathed out, getting his senses together before looking up.

His eyes went wide as they met a familiar red gaze, though a good three/four fulms higher than it should have been.

"No, the fault lies with me. I was in my head," the Auri man answered before his expression widened in recognition, "Fuyuki?"

The Garlean froze, hearing the nickname curiously leave the man's lips. He covered his mouth then turned his head in embarrassment.

"That name…did your little brother tell it to you," he asked, taking Au Ra's hand as it was offered, electricity moving through him as fingers met palm.

"Little brother? I am the youngest of my…siblings. I thought you knew this? Ah, you are confused by my appearance. I am Varshahn."

Fuyu'li shook his head, "Impossible. I am seeing the impossible. I could not have been away longer than a year. I will say Au Ra physiology alludes me; however, you going from a boy to man in such a short amount of time. Was this the result of more research into the void or magicks gone awry!?"

Varshahn blinked then put his knuckle to his lips, thinking for a moment. "Perhaps it is time I should tell you everything…come with me. I shall treat you to a meal and tell you my story.

Fuyu'li listened quietly, happy for the privacy of a far off table. What he heard sounded like something out of a story tail, but the pieces he'd been missing in his search for the boy's no, dragon's sister came together in a clearer light. Upon being appraised of the most recent events regarding the trip to the void, the Miqo'te was left with his appetite ruined, picking at the remnants of his naan and curry with his fork.

"So you found others more suited to help you in your search of Azdaja," he said softly.

"Yes. My new friends have made far more progress than I had dared to dream. Though, I fear now my hope is precariously held by the Warriors of Light victory over Golbez's Zeromus…That aside…I am surprised the truth of who I am was more of a point of interest for you."

"It matters not who you are, only that my life is yours. I swore fealty to you. I should have been here and yet I was trying so hard to find you someone who could have saved your sister. I met with many who possessed the Echo. Those who gifts manifested in a special manner I sought to use to find Azdaja…But I ended up being manipulated to serve another's purpose believing it to be your own. Pray, do not make me expand upon their method. I was their unwitting puppet and though I had them in my grasp, in the end I could not ask them to help me after what I almost had done. I would…I would have imperiled many for your sake, but I knew no matter how much you wished to unite with your beloved sister, you would not have anyone else pay the price."

"Your dearest one."

Y'zel Tia's voice tumbled around in his mind as he touched his chest. His Master had appeared to him then. He struggled with accepting it though he understood the logic. His life was saved and given a new purpose. A love based on honor and gratitude. It has never made his heart quake, and yet, that his savior was this immortal being housed now in a man. It shook him.

"I have caused you to suffer on my behalf. I apologize," Varshahn cut through, large scaled hand coming to rest on Fuyu'li's shoulder.

The Keeper swallowed, looking from the hand up to the still gaze of his Master. He shook his head, "I would gladly take any pain from you if it meant your prosperity, though, I now find myself even more useless to you than before," he started, looking at his hand before curling it into a fist, "I was too weak to be your sword and shield, though apparently you needn't one. Too weak to protect the home you love. Too weak to have seen through the fog of my devotion to have found you useful tools to find your beloved sister. Any suffering has been of my own inferiority. But I will not stop until I see all your dreams fulfilled. My life, as small as it is, is yours."

"You have gifts and you sought to use them for myself. Despite your self doubt you persevere. That in itself shows your strength. Many have served me in the past and yet now I find some many people who care for me and a being they've not met, because I care for them. I'm sure there is room for you and your strength among them.

It is funny. I had a thought earlier that one of my new friends finds themselves a stranger in a strange land and at times does not know what to do as they encounter new feelings and then it occured to me…That I am as like you. I suppose I do not like feeling so otherwise.I've long felt love for my people here…but it had not occurred to me how much that love has come from being able to walk at their sides and learn to empathize in ways that are not inherent to my kind. It is embarrassing to think of myself as I really am.

And now I'm feeling a bittersweet wave of emotion. Joy that you see and speak of your failing as if Azdaja was your own sister. That you care for me so much. But there's sadness too. Not that it proves fruitless in, but because I can sense how hard you've tried just for me and to have returned finding me changed and an explanation that begs mosts' belief."

"Do not spare a single thought on that. It was your character that has taken hold of my heart. Your shroud clearly has served a great purpose.

Varshahn put his hand to his cheek, rubbing it lightly, "I do not like how easily this homunculus reacts to flights of emotion. It must be exhausting to have such things show and be able to do little to mask it."

"Have I done something to offend," Fuyu'li asked.

"No. Not at all. It was just a fleeting thought. Another mortal impulsion I don't quite understand. Perhaps, as you might say, I should go change. And yet I'm curious to see if I'm indeed reflecting that which you have suddenly set upon me."

"You should be comfortable young master, no…m lordship," Fuyu'li said, quickly getting up to give the Au Ra a salute before continuing,"If my presence has becoming taxing please retire and I shall make myself available to you when you call. Until then I shall speak with your retainers to find ways to be useful by your next tribe through to the void."

Varshahn stared then stood, nodded, moving to pass by the other only to stop.

"Fuyuki."

The Miqo'te swallowed as the name sounded out in the mature tone. His heart hastened as he felt a palm on his cheek gently guiding him to look at his Master before finding their faces gravitating toward one another. It was a brief embrace, and Fuyu'li committed every millisecond of it to memory. The slight pressure of Varshan's finger tips. The faint burn of curry. The stoic withdrawal, no tell as to what the intentions were behind

"Goodnight," was all the Au Ra offered in the wake before leaving him to his own thoughts.

Fuyu'li slumped down into chair in a daze while in the distance Varshahn stopped, touched his heart, then moved on to blip through to another aetheryte.

🧡 Lazy Kiss

The sun was high over the Amethyst Shallows. With the recent move, Ioh'juhn had found a means to dock a small dinghy behind the house, perfect for small getaways and lazy afternoon fishing trips.

His pole set fixed over the edge, bobber floating about waiting to be pulled under while he laid back in a nest of pillows and blankets, Y'zel on one side, a bucket of ice and "borrowed" champagne on the other.

"This is the life Kitter," he sighed, arms behind his head before rolling his head to kiss the top of the other's ear.

Y'zel rose, smiling softly as he strokes the other's cheek.

"Yes it is my sweet Catter. Do you know what would make this a perfect day," Y'zel cooed, walking his fingers down the Keeper's chest

Ioh'juhn beamed moved his hand to the waist and of his trunks, "Oh yes. I think I do!"

The other Miqo'te beamed then was suddenly stuffed upward by a magiteck claw as four nouliths came down, piercing the four corners of the boat. It capsized quickly, Ioh forced to scrambled out of the water and onto a few floating planks.

"What the fuck Kitter," he called out, watching Y'zel be carried up to the back of the house and let down next to Violet as she recalled her weapons and Nyx with a controller in her hands.

"Next time you'll pick me first," Y'zel shouted before leaving in a huff.

💛 Reunion Kiss/Relief

[6.4]

Leon grunted as he felt his leg ache. Still, his fear had gotten the best of him. In his old armor he clanged through Aporia, spear in hand, ready to join his employers in combat for Y'zel's sake.

As he approached the lift, the door opened, the party of eight spilling out with Claudien being supported by Y'zel as they moved along.

"You're safe," he the Elezen breathed out as he lifted his visor, rushing to help support the Hyur before seizing the back of Y'zel's head and kissing him hard, possessively even despite holding the other's primary up in his arms.

"Yes, we are," Y'zel breathed out, fluttering a bit as he put his ringed hand up against Leon's.

A shiver ran down the Elezen's spine. The worst of his fears assuaging slowly. Claudien seemed in tact which meant Y'zel would not be entertaining his reckless anxieties no longer. They could be family, a strange one that he didn't quite have his head around, but one none the less.

💚

Keith smiled as he tucked in G'khenna and Khloe into bed, happy to have a little relief from the constant fighting between them. He knew not how long the peace would last. Raha almost always seemed to have some sort of Scion business when the girls decided they could tolerate each other long enough to insist they were best friends and wanted a sleepover.

"Alright. Sleep tight little adventures," he sang before heading for the door.

"Wait! Tell us a story," G'khenna called out.

"Please Mr. Keith!"

Keith rubbed the back of his head. "Ah. I guess I've got one…" he started.

Upon an era long ago, a Miqo'te prince with ruby red eyes was imprisoned in a Crystal Tower by an evil wizard. Prince after Prince was sent to save him by the king of the realm, but each time the wizard would defeat them by using the darkness in their hearts to turn them into monsters. With the magic of the tower and the wizard's army, the prince and evil captor lived a long time until forgotten and the tower became hidden by a dark fog.

One day a simple, handsome Hyur was wondering through a forest and became lost in the fog. He felled monster after monster until, tired, he arrived at the tower. Seeing a window, he looked up and spotted the prince reading a high window.

"Please. May I have water," he begged.

"I cannot leave this place. You should go or the wizard here will turn you into a monster."

"Are you trapped?"

"Yes, I am cursed so that I cannot leave the tower. Many came to save me, but you will not find no glory or honor rescuing me from here. You will become a monster like the rest."

"Well. There must be a way to break the curse. I'm sure I'll be okay. Why don't you lower your tail and I'll climb up to you?"

The prince sighed and closed his book, letting the Hyur scale his tail and come into the window. He was surprised that the man remained unaltered.

"Can I have that glass of water now?"

The prince obliged and once the Hyur was satiated, helped him leave the way he came.

"I'll be back to check on you and look for a way to uncurse you," he called out.

The prince sighed, not believing him. Yet, the prince did return with all sorts of trinkets and potions that he was told would work. None did though. Still, the prince grew fond of the adventurer and looked forward

The wizard soon noticed his army dwindling and felt the prince's happiness start to radiate and kill the fog. Wanting the prince's despair to last forever, he poisoned his drink with a sleeping draught telling him the only way he'd ever be with his Hyur again is in his dreams. Realizing what was about to happen, he wrote, "I love you, wake me with a kiss" then fell asleep, trapping his tail in the window seal.

Upon the Hyur's return, he climbed the tail then found his friend asleep with his note. His heart beat fast as he looked at the prince, finding him beautiful even if he snored loudly and whipped his tail in his sleep. Kneeling over him, and with his clear expressed consent, he kissed him. An aetheric pulse burst from their lips, the curses lifted. The fog vanished and the monsters faded into nothing. The great wizard evaporated and screamed as the purity of their love washed over him.

The tower liberated and the prince free, they re-established the forgotten kingdom together, married, and lived happily ever after with their beautiful daughters. The end."

"That was awful daddy," G'khenna sighed.

"You didn't even tell Khloe and Khenna about the battles. Skipped over them to the mushy stuff! Khloe gets much better stories from adventurers' sticker books."

"Have papa Raha come tell us a better story! He has been on real adventurers'."

"Well I'm glad you two have united against a common cause, but it is bedtime," he pointed out, switching the light out and earning disappointed mewls and boos.

Outside the room, he sighed until struck several times by a tail.

"I don't snore Keith!" his husband hissed before stomping off.

💜 Surprise Kiss

Asa rubbed his brow after he finished his letter, requesting Y'zel return to work for a time so that he could focus on his coming wedding and to get in contact with the young girl claiming to be his niece.

Reclining in his chair, he let out a breath, scrunching his face as he tried to think of anything else but the work ahead and what he might come back to. As he tried to empty his mind, he felt his lap become heavy and lips upon his own. Startled upright, his hand went around his fiance's waist, instinctively preventing her from falling.

"Eliose…we're in my office."

"Really? I wondered why there was a desk in front of you and the other's were avoiding the gloom emanating from the door. Are we in Dravania too," she mocked, hand stroking through his hair, "I have locked the door so your image as a no-nonsense brutal tyrant of a leader can be maintained."

"Good," the man answered before sinking back into his chair, closing his eyes, a hint of a smile on his face.

[tired-space-politician]

(The vast majority of letters on your desk are, functionally, junk mail, written on low-quality, mass-produced parchment. One, however, stands out—both due to the high-quality paper and the half-sun seal. You choose to open it first.)

Brother,

I have... questions, let's say.

I'm sure you're aware that I haven't exactly been around for the last ten thousand years or so—the Rangdan Xenocides were the final straw for me, and I left shortly after. Obviously, I'm not exactly caught up on how the modern Imperium operates.

However, unless I'm mistaken—I could've sworn that worshipping Father as divinity was Lorgar's idea? So why is it that when I ask to see Monarchia, all I get are confused looks?

Your erstwhile sister,

@tlatia-the-radiant

Roboute sighs heavily and rubs his face. Adding to the sibling counter that currently sat at 34. He would have to have the paper destroyed, he did not like compulsion paper quite apart from the fact it was extremely illegal to use and own.

"Forgive me dear sister, you may have fallen through to my mess of a galaxy. With regards to what you mentioned. If my mind and memory has not entirely failed me I was ordered by the Emperor to the raze Monarchia to ash. There is no small irony that Lorgar's preaching persisted despite our hypocritical maker's efforts. Unfortunately I cannot say much more as your existence alone might have you and whoever you are with executed. Remain as undercover and come visit if you can. The Macragge's Honour and the fleet should not be too difficult to find if you managed to send me this magicked letter. For your own safety, do not enchant anything or show any sign of psyker ability.

Roboute Guilliman,

Imperial Regent"

Off the letter disappeared by some unknown means. Roboute shuddered. Wiping his hands on a cloth like he'd touched sticky ash. He did not like the thought of such an easy infiltration occuring via letter. What if another used such a method to contaminate the vulnerable and easily influenced?

[adleryoung]

A fox tod, dressed too warmly for the weather in a heavy coat, muffler, and gloves, came bumbling out of the woods. He spotted Zandar, picked up a stick, and gingerly poked her with it. I could barely suppress a giggle.

However, when Zandar awoke and yelled "WHO DARES?" in badly accented Elvish, my amusement evaporated. Was she going to kill this hapless oaf just for mildly annoying her? I was not about to put such villainy past her, so I drew my bow and got ready to intervene if necessary.

The fox squatted down and spoke to Zandar. She replied, and didn't seem to be in a murderous rage, so I discreetly pooked to a nearby bush where I could hear their conversation.

"Last night I had a particularly vivid dream," the fox was saying, "In which Hastur appeared and told me to find you here."

"Do you mean HESTER?" Zandar asked.

"It is possible I mis-heard the name," the fox admitted.

Who in the Netherhells was Hastur or Hester? This was curious and mildly alarming. Whoever it was would necessarily have access to some potent magicks to be able to speak to someone in a dream and pinpoint Zandar's exact location! What would such a person be up to?

"Was she a tall slender rabbit with light tan fur and black ear tips?" Zandar inquired with slight urgency. If she was describing Hester, this sounded like someone I should confront at some point!

"Oh no," the fox replied. "This was more goatlike, and definitely male. He was dark as ebony, and massive with broad shoulders … bulging, rippling muscles … a long, thick …" the fox trailed off and seemed to be in a daze for a few seconds. Then he abruptly cleared his throat. "Forgive me - I haven't introduced myself! I am Sir Conrad Dugal: Poet, author, folklorist, and historian."

"Charmed," Zandar acknowledged politely. I felt pretty sure she wasn't going to kill him now.

"Here," Sir Conrad said, unbuttoning his coat. "Take my ulster to cover your nakedness. We should not tarry here. These woods belong to the White Elf."

"Who?" Zandar asked innocently, as if she hadn't just spent almost a year in the presence of the august personage just mentioned.

"Legends tell of a radiant, white-furred elf lord," Sir Conrad explained. I grinned with pleasure to know that my plans for spreading my legend had worked so successfully.

"Beautiful, but dangerously mad," Sir Conrad continued, and my smile faded. "He lives alone, isolated from the rest of his kind. Some say he was banished here for some horrible crime. Supposedly his lair deep in the forest can be sought by the bold … or the foolish. I thought these were mere tales, but after this morning I am prepared to believe anything. Stupid rabbits thought they could settle here, and their faith would protect them, but the old spirits are still strong in this place."

Well, I couldn't say that Sir Conrad's information was inaccurate, but I had hoped the story would have presented me in a slightly more favorable light. He and Zandar began to walk away, and I followed at a distance so I could continue listening without being seen.

"The White Elf's moods are unpredictable," Sir Conrad continued. "Twere best not to draw his attention. Misfortune is said to follow those he meets."

"I've met him!" Zandar declared.

"I had hoped that might be the case. Tell me, what was he like?"

"As you said," Zandar sighed. "He's beautiful but insane. He thinks of no-one but himself."

Bah! That was hardly fair coming from someone with HER history!

"First I was kidnapped by a pair of villains," Zandar continued. "A dog and a spider."

"In the tales, there are often mortals who do his bidding," Sir Conrad added.

"They took me through the woods to a circle of stones. In the center was a doorway into the earth."

"The gateway to his domain is an ancient fairy fort called Albric Tor," Sir Conrad explained. How did he know that?

"The White Elf emerged and introduced himself as Lord Randall," Zandar said.

"HE DID??" Sir Conrad exclaimed in surprise. "That can't be right. Lord Randall was poisoned by his mortal lover."

How did this nosy lowfolk person know THAT??

"I saw his tomb in Faerie," Zandar admitted. "When I asked His Lordship about it, he said that was a different Randall."

"There is no instance in the lore of two elves sharing the same name," Sir Conrad muttered. "Each name is unique, and is regarded almost as a part of the elf's soul. Knowing the name gives one a degree of power over him. They also have a strict magical code of honor which obliges them to avoid falsehood. Not even a criminal like him would dare utter a lie. So, considering all this, it seems strange for him to have told you his name was Randall."

I breathed a sigh of relief to hear some of the inaccuracies in that little speech. Sir Conrad had just explained, more succinctly than I had ever heard, the basis of the silly name game which lowfolk invented and which we continue to play with them when it amuses us.

"Now that I think of it," Zandar mused, "he strongly IMPLIED that his name was Randall, but he never actually said so."

"Classic elfish tricks!" Sir Conrad laughed. "Being unable to lie does not mean he must always tell the truth! His name is one of our great local mysteries. Most folk call him Lordship or Squire."

"The rabbits called him Squire Young," Zandar recalled.

"You mean he was HERE, and the rabbits KNEW him?" Sir Conrad demanded incredulously.

"That happened later."

"I'm sorry, please continue your story."

"He took me to his realm," Zandar continued. "He used me … sexually."

UNFAIR! She was a fully consenting participant in that! She was just playing for Sir Conrad's sympathy!

"He tricked me into giving him the crown of his dead brother, King Estmere."

All the slander spewing from Zandar's mouth was making me see red! I didn't "trick" her into giving me the crown! I was completely straightforward about it!

"King Estmere is dead?" Sir Conrad yelped in surprise. "Did he actually say he was the King's brother?"

"He definitely said that," Zandar confirmed.

"Great Auk!" Sir Conrad cackled excitedly. "If that's the case, then I know the White Elf's name!"

I couldn't allow him to divulge that information! I pooked quickly up into a nearby tree, apported a lute, and began to sing some enchanting Elfsong to distract the lowfolk. It worked like a charm (because it IS a charm, obviously) and Sir Conrad was completely captivated. However, I failed to take into account Zandar's remarkable throwing arm.

Zandar picked up a rock, and with unerring aim (not to mention blatant disregard for the fine arts and quality craftsmanship) she threw it, smashing my lute! Were there no depths to which she would not sink?!