#random cultist or someone in charge

[veilkeeper]

Narrator: *You stare into the eye. Your reflection stares back.* Narrator: Wisdom (Insight): *The longer you stare, the more uneasy you feel. There is a presence. You are seen.* Roz: Reach out to the presence. Narrator: *Your consciousness surges into the orb. First there is blackness - then a pair of unblinking, red eyes. Pain grips your skull as the eyes stare into you - then look away. The connection is broken.*

kicking my feet and giggling. who's looking at me? are we flirting? cmon let me talk. i know you recognize me from the goblin camp, we had a moment there too before i destroyed that eye.

[disciplesofthelamb]

"Greetings, fellow loyal cultists, as many of you already know, our great leader, The Lamb, has been very busy. But do not fret, I, Silas, have been left in charge as their loyal disciple-"

"Correction, WE were left in charge."

"Have some manners Briar, I am speaking."

"No, because you always do this! Why are you acting like you're better than us?!"

"AHEM, anyway... Like our dear friend Silas was saying, we were left in charge in the case of our leader being unavailable, so we will be happy to answer any queries you may have!"

"Thank you all for your attention, have a blessed day. Remember to praise The Lamb!"

Art I was gifted (Thank you!)

Silas and Dotty by @bididoodles: here.

Briar, Dotty and Silas by anonymous artist: here

WARNINGS

⸸ This blog may depict sensitive topics that may be triggering to some, and although I do try to put content warnings when needed, I often forget.

⸸ This blog is a work in progress, things are subject to change.

⸸ NO NSFW, suggestive asks are fine.

⸸ English is not my first language, please forgive any mistakes. 💔

⸸ Not all asks are answered.

⸸ Specify which character your ask is meant for, otherwise I will choose at random.

[About the characters under the cut!]

ABOUT THE CHARACTERS

[Silas, Briar and Dotty are my own cult of the lamb ocs! Here are a few things about them:

Briar is diligent and good at keeping things in order, but she struggles with properly communicating and sympathizing with others, so she can often come off as blunt and insensitive. Due to this, she has learned to mostly keep to herself. Despite that, having a strong sense of justice and not a lot of patience means that she often gets into arguments with other cultists (Something she is trying to work on.)

☾ Briar (She/Her) : A rescue from Anura, she was found by the lamb along with Dotty in the ruins of their old village. She became a disciple becase she complimented the lamb when they were having a bad day and just happened to be level X.

She enjoys working in the lumberyards.

Likes: Painting, Anything pumpkin-flavored, Rain, Napping, Woodcarving, Watching the sunrise, Stuffed animals, Jewelry, Carpentry, Dotty.

Misc info: Tries to avoid conflict (fails). Prefers to stay indoors. She just wants some peace and quiet frfr. I lied before, she probably would yell at you tbh. Has a terrible case of RBF. Perfectionist?? kinda. She doesn't actually hate Silas, she's just overly critical of everything he does because he's an asshole + she likes making fun of him.

Voice claim: Lady Redundant Woman/Beatrice from Wordgirl

Follower traits: Zealous, Ascetic, Hot Tempered

Pinterest board:

✭ Dotty (Any pronouns) : A rescue from Anura, she was found by the lamb along with Briar in the ruins of their old village. She became a disciple because she refused to work without Briar.

Dotty is cheerful and energetic, she can be a bit of a pushover since she doesn't like seeing others upset or holding grudges. She always tries to see the best in people, which can sometimes make her seem gullible as she has a hard time believing people may have ill intentions. Some may say that they have seen her sneaking around in the dead of night, but there's no way someone as sweet as her would have anything to hide!

She does a little bit of everything around the cult, but farming is where she's most comfortable.

Likes: Walks in the forest, Bugs, Berries, Arts and crafts, Foraging, Sewing, Strawberry jam, Diced apples, Stuffed animals, Briar, Puzzles.

Misc info: She has like a billion hobbies and she loves all of them. Very fidgety for seemingly no reason. Collects rocks. She will make you a friendship bracelet a day after meeting you. Addresses people by pet names when she can't remember their name. Prolly ate a lot of dirt and sand as a child. Veryyy clumsy. Dotty is just a nickname, her real name is Dorothy, but she never tells anyone that.

Voice claim: Raggedy Ann from Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure

Follower traits: Unrepentant, Strong Constitution

Pinterest board:

✦ Silas (He/him) : A rescue from Darkwood, he was found as he was about to be sacrificed in Leshy's name. After his rescue he swore to devote himself to the lamb for the rest of his days, yet he was the first to dissent when faith got too low. He became a disciple because the lamb "Thought he was cute."

Silas can often be unpleasant and uncooperative, and after his brother's passing he isolated himself completely, refusing to give anyone he wasn't particularly interested in the time of day.

Silas does not enjoy working. After becoming a disciple he completely gave up on doing most of the tasks around the cult. When he does decide to work, it's either cooking, praying, or refining materials. He was banned from working at the drinkhouse because he kept taking the drinks for himself.

Likes: Formal clothing, Journaling, "Research" (reading YA romance novels), Tea, Writing, Scented candles, Silver jewelry, Fountain pens, Red wine, Overpriced cigarettes.

Misc info: Manwhore, terrified of commitment. Chronically jealous. Calls himself a "hopeless romantic" but his standards are too high to actually date anyone. He'll tell you that he likes old literature but if you ask for recommendations he won't have any. Acts confident but is actually rlly insecure. Thinks that writing shitty love poems is peak romance. Knows how to play chess, but he sucks at it. Cares a lot about his appearance. Lazy, refuses to do manual labor (he might chip a nail :C). Had a younger brother named Mylo (which he asked the lamb to rescue not long after joining himself) they drifted apart soon after he became a disciple.

Voice claim: Ashton Fox from Fantastic Mr. Fox (placeholder)

Follower traits: Lustful, Materialistic, Poet

Pinterest board:

⸸ Playlists for all three can be found here

⸸ Additional info: Briar is a snowshoe hare, Silas is a striped hyena, and Dotty is a raccoon.

Silas is the oldest of the group, he joined the cult before the other two.

Silas is 6'1 (185 cm), Dotty is 5'4 (162 cm) and Briar is 5'2 (157 cm). I have no idea if those measurements are accurate idk how feet work.

Briar and Dotty are dating, they have been since before The Lamb indoctrinated them.]

"Briar speaks like this."

ROLEPLAY INFO

"Dotty speaks like this."

"Silas speaks like this."

Actions look like this.

[Moderator speaks like this.]

Others

@askacultleader (My other blog!) and @no-less-than-a-lambgod As our glorious leader

@ask-theredcrown As our Lord, The One Who Waits

@ask-thegreencrown and @he-ofhavoc As Leshy

@askthe-yellowcrown As Heket

@ask-thebluecrown As Kallamar

@ask-thepurplecrown As Shamura

@ask-thepurplecrownbearer As The Goat

Mortals/Miscellaneous entities

@askthe-littlepoet As... Who's this one again?

@the-sleepydragon As Imora

@tomb-the-god As Tomb

@keni-the-moth As Keni & Candy

@askdennycotl As Denny

@the-followers-of-them As other cultists!

@helob-the-spider As Helob

@terrorofthetarots As Clauneck

@ask-kudaai-the-weaponsmith As Kudaai

@ask-thefox As The Fox

[Hello everyoneeeee it's me Zip again, I made another blog :3

@follower-of-the-old-faith As Ratau

This is purely to indulge myself because these guys have been infecting my brain for a while now.

If I forgot to add you in my pinned post or if you would like to be removed please tell me!!]

[ravel-puzzlewell]

like, narrative about good person selling their soul to protect people bc they had no other option doesn't work when that person is in position of power or at least has credible access to it. there IS a game where it was done and it worked.

in neverwinter nights 2 ammon jerro was a nobody, a random farmer whos into history research and who stumbled unto information about ancient evil returning. he tried to tell neverwinter, but one of the game themes is bureaucracy and corruption of neverwinter's governing systems, so he's laughed out of the castle. and the supposed ancient evil is gonna awaken in some backwater village. neverwinter is not gonna exert themselves over that. only years when later the threat moves to neverwinter itself, lord nasher starts acting. in this position, ammon jerro really had no access to resources and became a warlock as he saw this as the only option to save the kingdom.

in contrast, wyll is the known actor in baldurs gates, he was left in charge of the fists. he knows competent adults who can take over the situation. he's not a random kid from the streets, at the very least fists would be alarmed that someone is beaming shit directly into a head of their's duke son and want to investigate. to argue that they would not listen to wyll at all is unrealistic, to argue that baldurs gate guards could not handle 15 cultists is to argue for their complete incompetence, which is a separate thing entirely and was not explored in the game in the same way as neverwinter's inadequacy was in nwn2.

[megalynnan]

Someone stole my credit card and used it to donate to Donald Trump. So great news random Maga cultist, you cemented my disdain of the cultists and your icon.

The charges are already reported as fraud. Very annoyed that I'm going to have to update all my autopays.

Does this count as campaign finance fraud?

[agntkennedy]

dead by daylight killer au:  ------  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐄.

after a failure of retrieving the president’s daughter from a mission sent from the united states, leon scott kennedy is infected with a dominant parasite regarded as ‘las plagas’ from the spanish cultist organization ‘los iluminados’. he remembers giving into the parasite, becoming enlightened by los iluminados, and then suddenly the fog took him. 

there he learns that the control he has, how to use it, and how to make sure that he never fails a mission again; even one sent by the entity, themselves. 

the parasite’s realm is located in the mountainous region of Spain. there are three maps that come along with this killer: PUEBLO, THE ISLAND, & SALAZAR CASTLE. ( map locations to be expanded upon later on )

the parasite looks like this.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍 ------ military grade tactical knife. 

every united states agent comes fully equipped, ready to handle hand to hand combat. this knife, however, seems to have small parasites climbing all over it.   you probably don’t want to get hit by it.  

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 ------ tormento de las plagas.

upon mele hits from the parasite, survivors are infected with las plagas. the parasite has three stages of life. first stage, after 30 seconds, survivors will have haste, feeling overwhelmed by their new and strange ‘power’. these will create skillchecks to be 30% faster when appearing, and skill success zones to be 10% smaller. 60 seconds after this phase, survivors are afflicted with the ability to infect other survivors, once touching them. skill checks, regardless of if they are on generators or otherwise, are 40% faster with 20% smaller success zones. at the final stage, 90 seconds after the second stage begins, survivors are afflicted with the ‘broken’ status effect. their skill checks are 50% faster with a 30% smaller success zone. final stage survivors take 50% of a generator’s power to fully heal.

𝐏𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐒  ------ mesas de radioterapia

attached to five random generators around the map, there will be tables that need to be powered up. in order to heal yourself of the parasite’s affliction, you must have a generator at least 25% powered. each table will drain 25% of a generator’s progress. once used, a table is unable to be used for the next 45 seconds. a fully powered generator cannot be used to cure affliction of las plagas. 

once healed, survivors have 120 seconds of immunity from the parasite’s infection. however, this is null and void if a second, or final stage survivor has touched them. 

𝐒𝐔𝐁 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘  ------ aguijón asesino

attached to the blonde agent’s body is a large stinger, much like the tail of a scorpion, venom able to paralyze it’s enemies. though it is not used specifically for just venomous purposes, ‘the parasite’ is able to attack pressure points with a charged m1 attack which renders the arms of a survivor useless for 25 seconds, the survivor is unable to utilize pallets, vault, or get into lockers, as long as they remain in the terror radius of the parasite. 

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐊𝐒 ------ the base kit.

𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑟 𝑒𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑟 : upon every hook stage of a survivor, the parasite gains one token. for the first token, survivors are afflicted with hemorrhage and the mangled status effects upon rescuing another survivor off of hook. for two tokens, survivors are afflicted with the deep wound status effect upon rescuing *an infected survivor off of hook. three tokens, all survivors are afflicted with the blindness status effect. at four tokens, all survivors are afflicted with the deep wound effect *and infected with the parasite, regardless if they have saved someone off of hook or not. the power stacks at five tokens, having all remaining survivors, *regardless of infection, now infected and permanently exposed. 

for every token gained, the killer’s attack cooldown is reduced by 10%/15%/20%.

*all italicized presumes you are playing as ‘the parasite’.

" 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦."

------

𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑘: 𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑦'𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 : at the start of the trial, three random hooks are changed into Scourge Hooks. the aura of the scourge hooks are revealed to you in white.

each time a survivor is unhooked from a scourge hook, they scream out and are affected with the hindered status effect (-20%) for the next 30 seconds. all survivors in a 32 metres radius are affected by the oblivious status effect for the next 20 seconds.

" 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩! 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞, 𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧! " -- 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦

------

𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑜𝑟 : if there are two generators left and the killer has only one or less hooks, all pallets and vaults are blocked off from use until another survivor is hooked. 

" 𝐔𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡. "

[apolloloki97]

“Gay Judas” Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

Summary: When Mickey hears about Ian’s Gay Jesus bullshit, he decides it’s time to intervene.

Word Count: 2235

Warning: Swearing, Bipolar Disorder

Song I Wrote To: “Heat Waves Stripped-Version” by Glass Animals

Note: I really needed Mick to show up and shut this shit down and so I wrote this.

--------

Mickey Milkovich had uprooted his life for Ian Gallagher and he was happy to do it.

That is until it involved Ian being a complete moron. 

Mickey had been at a random bar somewhere outside the main city he was staying in while in Mexico when he had caught a shot of his ex-boyfriend’s face on someone’s phone nearby. All it said was Chicago’s Gay Jesus and Mickey knew something was very wrong. It didn’t take him long to find the articles about Ian’s new crusade and that was when he had risked a call to Svetlana.

Hearing that Ian had become some kind of gay symbol was one thing, but the way he was doing it told Mickey another: Ian was in a manic stage and nobody was helping him. That was how he found himself back on the streets of the Southside with an angry Russian hooker by his side. “This one,” Svetlana said as she pointed to a church on the corner. 

Both Svetlana and Mickey paused as they stared up at the banners that hung on the outside of the church. “Fucking hell, Ian,” Mickey swore as he saw the ridiculous illustrations of the ginger on banners and even t-shirts. 

“What’s the plan? Punch moron till he stop?” Svetlana asked. 

“Depends on if his little cultists swing first,” Mickey said as he scratched at his nose with his thumb before taking a deep breath. “Alright, Svet, take me to church.” 

Ian was in the middle of a sermon, sort of, when Mickey burst into the room, Svetlana following right behind him. “Alright rainbow warriors, take a fucking seat!” Mickey yelled, announcing himself. Ian stared at the man in front of him, unable to think clearly. Trevor, who had begrudgingly gone to this specific meeting was looking between the two in confusion. 

“What the shit!” Ian exclaimed, unsure of what else to say. 

“Svet, grab him,” Mickey ordered and then all five-foot-seven of pure Russian confidence was charging down the aisle towards a surprised Ian. Mickey watched as Svetlana grabbed Ian and nearly tackled him to overpower him. Ian was strong, always had been, but Svet was just as pissed at him as Mickey was.

“You idiot,” Svetlana said as she grabbed Ian by the back of his neck and took his arm, dragging him off the dais. Ian stumbled after her, still trying to get the right words out. 

“Hey! Let him go!” one of Ian’s disciples said as they moved to follow them. Svetlana pulled her knife and leveled it at the girl. Trevor stood then, ready to intervene. 

“Fucking hell, Svet! Put the damn knife away, we’re in a fucking church,” Mickey said as she lowered the blade and continued to push Ian towards the door, but Gallagher was starting to resist.

“Come, Orange Boy, we need to talk,” Svetlana said, hooking her arms around Ian’s biceps. 

“No! Ian! You can’t just take him!” Another girl said as she cried out for her "savior". 

“Ah, don’t worry your little gay heads about it, I’ll bring your pariah back in one peace,” Mickey said, flipping her off before going to follow Ian and Svetlana. 

“Who the hell are you?” a younger man said, trying to step into Mickey’s path. Mickey just grinned at him before punching him in the face. The guy fell amongst the pews and Mickey turned to the rest of the room, splaying his arms wide. 

“Just call me Gay Judas,” Mickey said with a wink.

“Mickey!” Ian screamed, causing Mickey to roll his eyes. Trevor began to move toward as Mickey’s name fell from Ian’s lips. He knew immediately that this was the Mickey and Trevor was not about to let the convict take Ian away from him. 

“Svet, get the bag!” Mickey said as he ran off after them. Trevor followed, bursting through the front doors just to see Svetlana throwing Ian into the back of an SUV with a black bag over his head. Mickey slid into the front seat and started up the engine. He gave a salute to Trevor as he hit the gas and sped off.

Ian swore from the backseat as Svetlana kept him contained, holding down his arms. “You fuckers!” Ian yelled. “Let me go! What the fuck ever happened to Mexico!” Mickey ignored him, not wanting to answer any questions just yet. Not until they were alone. Mickey didn’t have a lot of time and he needed to make the best of it before his deadline. 

They arrived at the Alibi soon after and Svetlana helped Mickey drag Ian into the basement that Kev usually used to store weed for his and Lip’s “ice cream truck”. Now it was mainly used for interrogations or in Ian and Mickey’s case, interventions. 

Svetlana and Mickey threw Ian down onto a chair and then tore the bag from his face. “Again with the fucking bag!” Ian shouted, nearly growling at Mickey. 

“Shut up, Red,” Mickey said with a warning look. Ian looked around and began to settle down as he realized where he was. Still, it didn’t comfort him to know that his ex had essentially kidnapped him.

Again.

“Thanks, Svet, I owe you,” Mickey said. Svetlana leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before sending another glare at Ian as she turned to leave. As soon as the door closed and locked behind them, Mickey walked forward and landed a punch to Ian’s jaw. 

“Fuck!” Ian yelled. 

“You’re lucky that’s all I did, you fucking idiot,” Mickey said. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ian asked. 

“I’m here, you moron, to shut this shit down,” Mickey said, grabbing at Ian’s Gay Jesus t-shirt. “Do you know how many fucking busses and trains I had to take to get back here? Fuck, Gallagher… what the fuck are you doing, man?” Mickey said, lowering his voice a bit more as Ian also began to settle. 

“I’m helping,” Ian said, still trying to grasp the fact that Mickey was in front of him, that Mickey was home. 

“Helping who, Ian? The fucking loons who want to lick your boots? What about being an EMT?” Mickey asked. 

“It wasn’t enough,” Ian argued. 

“Says who?” Mickey countered, but Ian just remained quiet. Mickey swore again, rubbing at his temples as he began to pace in front of Ian. He had planned out this whole speech he was going to say, but now he could barely get the words out. He couldn’t look at Ian without thinking about how the man had left him at the border, alone and heartbroken. However, he knew that Ian was always going to be dealing with bullshit like this. “You’re off your meds, aren’t you?” Mickey asked though he didn’t really need an answer. He knew what it looked like when Ian was manic. 

“Fuck you,” Ian said. 

“Uh, no,” Mickey said, crossing his arms. “I didn’t get back across the border for this shit or for you to be all dismissive when I ask about your fucking well-being. Nobody has fucking noticed have they?” Mickey asked, knowing damn well the Gallaghers forgot Ian existed half the time. Ian didn’t respond, but that was an answer in itself. “Fucking Gallaghers,” Mickey swore causing Ian to look at him with recognition, seeing his Mickey again was making his heart ache. “Get it together, Ian,” Mickey said. 

“Right,” Ian scoffed and Mickey began to lose it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? And don’t give me all this 'woe is me bullshit', you’re smarter than this.” 

“These kids need my help!” 

“There are other ways to help them, Ian! Social workers, cops, hell a fucking walk-a-thon, but not this! This is unrecognizable.” 

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” Ian challenged.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit and we both know it,” Mickey said. “I know you inside and out. I know your soul like the back of my fucking hand. Don’t you tell me that I don’t know you, Ian Gallagher. Don’t you say that shit to me.” Ian was quiet then, trying to keep it together. “You want to mean something? Start by setting a decent example for these kids that are following you like a bunch of gay ugly ducklings.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Ian said. 

“Stop,” Mickey said, approaching Ian. He leaned over and braced his hands on either side of the man below him, his hands digging into the armrests. “You mean something to this world, Ian, but you don’t need to go off the rails to prove it,” Mickey said with a desperate tone to his voice. 

“Why do you care?” Ian asked, staring up into Mickey’s eyes. 

“Why do I care?” Mickey echoed. “Did you forget everything that fucking happened at the border?” he asked as he pushed back from Ian. “I fucking love you, you idiot and I’m worried about you.” Ian was quiet for a moment before he finally sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 

“It got out of hand,” Ian admitted. 

“Yeah, no shit,” said Mickey. “Fuck, where the hell is your family?” 

“Busy,” Ian said with a shrug. That also didn’t surprise Mickey. The time Ian left to join the military, Fiona had barely looked for him. In fact, Mickey couldn’t remember anyone actively looking for Ian until the Army came looking for Lip. That had pissed off Mickey to no end, even if he never told the Gallaghers that. 

“And what about that boyfriend of yours?” Mickey asked, remembering Ian talking about his relationship when Mickey had escaped. 

“He saw me losing it,” Ian divulged with another shrug. 

“And he didn't do anything like drag your ass to the clinic?” 

“No,” Ian said. 

“Fucking hell, Gallagher, you need better friends,” Mickey said, running his hands over his face. His stubble was growing out again and he desperately needed a shave. “This shit stops now, okay?” Mickey urged and Ian nodded, trying to keep it together. Mickey kneeled in front of him and from his jacket, produced the familiar orange bottles that held Ian’s meds. “I picked these up on my way.” 

Ian stared at the pills with disdain but didn’t shove them out of Mickey’s hands to the latter’s relief. “You broke into my house…” Ian said. 

“I still have a key, moron,” Mickey said and then softer, “Come on, baby.” Ian stopped at the use of the pet name. Mickey never tended to use anything but the more insulting nicknames, but there were times when they just slipped out and the gentler side of Mickey was revealed. A side that Ian loved the most.

Ian opened his hand and Mickey doled out his dosage before grabbing a bottle of water from the storage crate and handing it to Ian. With a deep sigh, Ian took all his stabilizers and antidepressants in one go, following up with a few swigs of water. Mickey relaxed as soon as the meds were in Ian’s system, feeling exhaustion weighing on him from all the days he had spent worrying about the love of his life. “Stop trying to fuck up this life you have, Ian,” Mickey said, reaching out to hold Ian’s face in his hand. “You’re so much better than this.” Ian leaned into his palm, savoring the small moment. 

“I missed you,” Ian said, closing his eyes. 

“Missed you, too,” Mickey whispered. Leaning in, Mickey rested his forehead against Ian’s and tried not to let the tears that threatened to spill cascade down his cheek. He didn’t need to get emotional now, he didn’t have much time left. 

“You better get back to Mexico,” Ian whispered. 

“I ain’t going back,” Mickey admitted. Ian pulled back just enough to see Mickey’s face. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“I made a deal,” Mickey said with a sad smile. “I rolled on a cartel back in Mexico. Told the Feds I’d finish my sentence here as long as they gave me the afternoon to finish something up. I took down some pretty fucked up dudes so they agreed. I gotta turn myself in in about twenty minutes.” Ian seemed to deflate then as realization set in.

Mickey was going back to jail because he came to save him. Again. 

“I’m sorry, Mick,” Ian said. Mickey was shaking his head already as he ran his hands over Ian’s shoulders and up to his neck, relishing in the feel. 

“Don’t apologize,” Mickey said, “but fucking visit me this time, will you?” 

“Every week,” Ian promised without hesitation. 

“Soft,” Mickey teased, and that caused Ian to laugh finally. He then turned serious. 

“Thanks, Mick,” Ian said. "Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I always will,” Mickey promised. “Especially when you’re going all psycho-ginger on me.” Ian laughed again and then surged forward to kiss Mickey, crushing their lips together. Mickey savored every taste and feel of Ian’s lips on him, knowing it was going to be a while before they had another moment like this. He didn’t think Beckman would offer conjugal visits anytime soon. When they separated, Ian smiled again. 

“Stop kidnapping me, Milkovich,” Ian said as he kissed Mickey quickly again. 

“What can I say?” Mickey said. “I’m a whore for the dramatics, Gay Jesus.”

“Oh, shut up, you fucking convict,” Ian said as he grabbed him again.

Regardless of what the future held, they still have twenty minutes. 

[tiktaaliker]

i think about "history offers preservation" a lot and one of the things that occurred to me is that in a lot of fics the adults are going "how DARE Arceus put a fifteen-year-old in charge of fighting dangerous Pokemon and saving the world!!" but like in this fic it's just a wild Pokemon that Arceus abducted, not an actual kid (tho idk how old rei is in human years, i know they took the form of a teen but for all i know that's just bc a small child would be noticed and commented on + an adult would be expected to be able to read/have a job/know a Lot about human society), so technically reactions to the situation might be different when ppl find out about rei? And Arceus IS Pokemon God with authority over all Pokemon, so it's like. Pokemon (under a human) got hisui into this situation, so another Pokemon (w other Pokemon) can solve the problem?

oh yeah for sure, I've been thinking it would be a bit of a mixed bag in terms of how people react? like, someone who's gotten close to rei/who knows them more personally is gonna be taking the reveal a LOT differently than like. some random construction corps member they never spoke to or even the pokemon league trainers in the future. but even then when people ARE concerned about the situation post reveal I think it would be a lot less "this teenager was given too much responsibility for one kid" and more "holy shit why is arceus tormenting this ditto in particular." and also a bit of the responsibility thing but to a lesser extent. OR one other thing I've been thinking about is that... in the Pokemon universe it almost feels normalized for kids to get into some PRETTY dangerous situations. like in every game a kid ends up fistfighting a mob boss or cultist leader or something like that??? kinda wack but would make sense if age isn't like... considered as much in terms of risk factor for kids on their pokemon journeys as long as they have a strong party with them. of course it would probably be different in hisui since practically NOBODY has a full competitive team but in the modern day it's just... not QUITE as unheard of for younger teens to get involved in world saving.

also yeah I honestly haven't decided what I want ditto rei's actual age equivalent to be but I've been writing history offers under the assumption that rei disguising as a teen would make it WAY easier for them to slip by the radar. like for one, there are kids probably just passing thru jubilife for their journeys and then moving on- so the locals won't be able to tell the difference if rei transforms into them. people are also prob gonna be WAY more likely to accept that rei is just some weird kid on their journey if they're a teen and do something strange, while like you said a very young kid would raise questions and an adult would draw too much attention if rei can't fit in well

[skellizo]

MOON KNIGHT EP 2 LIVE BLOGGING

Spoilers below read more

CAN STEVEN PLEASE GET A BREAK

SECURITY GUY I FOR SURE HOPE YOU CAN KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DELETE THOSE TAPES

OH DAMN YUP THAT IS MARC

Eyyyyy no charges for our boy we love when something good happens for once

A struggle…you can certainly describe it that way

Doctors huh, I know that won’t go well

LET HIM KEEP HIS GOD DAMN NAME TAG

DAMN IT

Hey Crawley good to see you back thanks for being thee supportive shoulder Steven needs rn

….oh wow that went better than expected

IT’S THAT CORRIDOR FROM THE TRAILERS

Eyyy new qr code :)

HE LIVED IN A STORAGE UNIT?!

Yup that’s a gun

Love how Steven picks it up like a dead animal

PASSPORT :D

Scarab….HOLY SHIT IT CAN FLY

Well hello there Marc

Yeah Marc did you really think he would just go to sleep

Thanks Marc for looking sorry

Steven pretty sure you can’t get hallucinations from eating a piece of steak as a vegan though I’m no expert so what do I know

Panic attack??

Marc…this went really bad I just

OH THAT’S KHONSHU BABY

Yeah screaming and crying same

LAYLA HEY MY GIRL

Kidnapped again??

WIFE?!?

WIFE

WIFE?!

GUS 2.0 HE IS STILL ALIVE :D

NOOO THEIR MUM IS ALIVE BUT SHE WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM GOD DAMN IT

Oh Stevens falling

OH WAIT THEY WERE ABOUT TO DIVORCE

(Hey Layla I’m free on saturday)

Someone needs to make this shot into a “Live Marc reaction” image

Marc is trying his best right now but failing miserably

THE SCARAB WHAT??

OH MAN STEVEN YOU ARE REALLY IN IT NOW

NOW THE POLICE?? SECURITY DUDE DID YOU SNITCH?

LAYLA GOOD JOB

NOT THE PASSPORT

SAY IT’S YOUR LONG LOST TWIN BROTHER

WELL THIS IS GOING HORRIBLY

This is just the continuation of Steven Grants very bad no good week

FAKE COPS

ARTHUR HARROW COULD YOU NOT SNEAK AROUND

UGH the glass sounds…

….Harrow, he doesn’t need help

He doesn’t hear/see his god anymore?? This sounds like he betrayed Ammit but…

Well this just seems lovely huh

KHONSHU IF YOU WANT STEVENS SUPPORTYOU NEED TO AT LEAST ACCEPT HIM

Temper tantrums and no respect from the other gods and banished huh

HE WAS HIS FORMER AVATAR??

WHAT

EXCUSE ME

HE WANTS TO RESURRECT AMMIT

YOU KNOW WHAT STEVEN MAYBE WE SHOULD TRY AND LEAVE

You know what all those dudes are probably just normal ass guys who know nothing about fighting

STEVEN THIS IS THE WRONG MOMENT TO TALK OUT LOUD

Steven you are kinda surrounded by a neighborhood of cultists this is the wrong moment to speak up

“I don’t want to use it” “Then don’t?”

LAYLA RUN

OH NO

MY DUDE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO LAYLA

Nah same random extra I also wouldn’t know what the fuck to do if a dude was running my way and just went the other way suddenly

Panic attack??

Thanks for using his actual name Layla

Aww she’s apologizing

OH ONLY HE CAN SEE IT

YOOO HE DID IT

MARC WE HAVE TO FIGHT A JACKYL WE DON’T HAVE TIME TO COMPLAIN ABOUT A SUIT

JACKET OFF

sleeves up

HOLY SHIT STEVEN YOU DID IT

Nevermind you did your best

Thanks Marc

THE TRANSFORMATION THOUGH

THERE HE IS

Disney plus logo shot :)

MOON SHOTS

HOLY SHIT IT’S IMPALED

MOON KNIGHTS THEME

GOD DAMN IT HARROW HAS IT

HARROW WHAT THE HELL DUDE WAS SEEMINGLY JUST HOMELESS

Marc….

Khonshu could we maybe not use his wife (soon to be ex wife?) against him??

Wait was that Steven or maybe just maybe my boy Jake in the mirrror

Oh hell yeah I’m vibin to the credits

THAT’S WHY KHONSHU STANDS BEHIND HARROW IN THE CREDITS

[bansheeoftheforest]

Henry one day walking into the cult headquarters drunk because he got into a fight with the lodgers and he drank to forget. The cultists see him lead him into his room trying to be as gentle as possible. Leaving probably one of the nicer high priestess and zosi with Henry. While the rest go to the society because how dare the lodgers hurt Henry this much. Especially since the higher ups know how much Henry cares about them

-🕐

I love the thought of, while Henry still is worshiped as a god, is still very much human and acts human with his cultists. He trusts them and he trusts them enough to try to get to the headquarters while being incredibly drunk and barely being able to stand. And the thing is, the cultists don't think any less of him; perhaps they dignify it that it's a divine thing that he is drunk and hurt and angry and sad, like you'd dignify/worship paintings of crying gods or just, gods showing any kind of weakness or normally ugly human trait, i dont know, I don't know the word for that however I do hope that my point is coming across. Anyways. Henry stumbling into the cultists' headquarters and he immediately falls into the arms of the first priest(ess) that gets to him. I'd like to imagine the cultists all just gently guiding him towards a bedroom or a common room area, just somewhere where he can have a bed or a couch to lay on, and puts one of the higher-higher ups in charge of watching over him while the others storm the society. I'd love to imagine the priest(ess) that is with Henry just... Sitting down next to him and lets him ramble if he so wishes, is just there to support him, and Henry is just happy that he has someone that is wiling to listen. Or maybe they'd just sit in silence and the priest(ess) would just watch over Henry's figure, observe him, while Henry is just staring up at the ceiling thinking ddhdhd.

At the same time... I really do wonder what the cultists would do to the Lodgers. I doubt they are the "sending a strongly worded letter" kinda people, even better if the Lodgers don't even know about the cult or that Henry is the god they worship so for them it probably seems like Henry went out, got drunk, spilled all of his problems to a random cult member, and now they have an entire cult after them. Just... Hggngng...

Oh my god wait. Would the Cultists turn into niceguys? Would they be like "Why does [Insert random awfully long and badass title] favor you who hurt him instead of us? What makes you so special when you just hurt him??"

Just hddhhdhd

[imaybeleith]

In less than 72 hours I have

- already made it to level 10

- Discovered 40+ parts of Skyrim

- Got lost to all fuck

- Found picturesque areas of which I screenshotted solely bc I’m 100% sure I’ll *Never* Find Them Ever Again™️

- Found lots of spinny stones

- Stolen so much shit and gotten away with it

- Cleared 3 dungeons

- Scoured the catacombs and survived

- Defeated a Frost Spider twice (long story)

- Killed 100+ Draugr

- Cleared the fuck outta Bleak Falls Barrow

- Beheld the Golden Claw *and* the Dragonstone

- After 3 hours I finally managed to find the exit and went outside only to find kind silent giants

- Then proceeded to find unkind silent giants who tried to kill me instead (vv unexpected)

- Tried to kill and then realized they had mammoths

- Ran for my dear life

- Returned the Dragonstone to Whiterun

- Appointed as Thane of Whiterun by the Jarl

- Given Lydia as my Housecarl and servant

- Given access to housing in Breezehome

- Stole a horse from the Whiterun stables and got away with it solely because I’m Thane

- Lost Lydia in a random field halfway across the mountainous range and found her again

- Looted 2000 worth of gold from kills amongst other things laying around

- Killed a dragon with one-handed combat in like,, 2 strikes total

- Absorbed the dragon’s soul and found out I was Dragonborn, the first found one in thousands of years

- Everyone else found out I was “rumoured” to be Dragonborn and realized that the dragons are back because of me🥴always gotta be starting drama, y’know?

- Defeated another dragon and successfully made it to Ivarstead without sleep

- Got told I looked sickly by 3 entire townships in one day (this was when it occurred to me that I actually have to eat drink and sleep in the game)

- Climbed the 7000 steps three times bc I kept forgetting to save by the time Lydia and I got to the Frost Troll part

- Got killed 7 times by said Frost Troll bc I didn’t realize you *aren’t supposed to kill it*

- Made it to High Hrothgar

- Learned the second half to my first shout

- Learned another shout for speed

- Was told to finish my first Thu’um and receive my official title I had to find some horn thing in a dangerous temple *on the other side of Skyrim*

- Fast travelled to a township near the temple

- Got discovered by unavoidable cultists

- They killed Lydia

- I had to restart that part to an earlier save

- Tried to avoid the cultists for a while

- Failed

- After like 8 tries the cultists were killed and Lydia was alive and I could Leave™️

- Got attacked by some Nord Thugs sent by whoever wants me dead (could be a lot of people at this point tbh I’m in pretty big trouble for being rumoured as Dragonborn)

- Attacked by an assassin

- Then another Frost Spider

- Wolves. Just- just lots and lots of wolves

- Went so far looking for the temple which I had accidentally found when swimming as far away as I could to avoid being charged and killed for murder of a guard when I accidentally opened a door into someone’s house and unintentionally broke in in which I had to just restart at an earlier point where I wasn’t convicted of murder by everyone within a 100 mile radius (also long story don’t ask)

- Realized the whole time I was walking the wrong way

- Finally made it to what I *thought* was the right temple

- Went into the wrong temple and almost died immediately

- Found the right temple a ways behind it and successfully cleared that one

- Enchanted a dress but the game said no❤️

- Dress did not successfully enchant and I lost a Mage’s robe bc of it

- The temple in question was *supposed* to have a horn in it for the Graybeards of High Hrothgar but it Was Not™️

- Almost died to instead be met with a vague note left for me in place of the horn

- Cried about that a little bit

- Then I found a pretty tiara that I could wear and stopped crying

- Went to the Sleeping Giant Inn

- Met an innkeeper who was rude to me

- Found out that was only for show and she actually gave me the horn

- She wanted me to kill this dragon that was “just down the road” (like a million miles away, actually dELPHINE) bc I was the only one who could kill it forever bc ✨magical dragon soul absorption powers✨

- I understood what the dragon was saying

- I killed it with the help of Delphine and Lydia

- I absorbed it’s soul

- Delphine told me to meet her back in Riverwood but then I remembered that I hadn’t successfully delivered Klimmek’s satchel of things to the Graybeards of High Hrothgar

- Travelled all the way back to Ivarstead

- Climbed the 7000 steps again

- Realized I could have just fast travelled to High Hrothgar castle

- Fast travelled to High Hrothgar castle

- Dropped off supplies

- Finished learning my first Thu’um and was granted the official formal title of Dragonborn

- Fast travelled to Riverwood

- Re-entered the Sleeping Giant Inn

- Stepped back into Delphine’s “closet” of which is actually a secret passageway to her underground study

- Apparently I have ✨connections✨ now

- Told I gotta sneak into a party unnoticed for reasons of which will be disclosed to me shortly before I get thrown back into kicking some medieval ass

and I haven’t moved since

[fourteendoors]

The Queen of Akzetha and the King of Crete

Image credit to Denys Tsiperko on artstation. Most modern stories about the Minotaur suck. I’m allowed to say this because I’m an Artist, and therefore objectively correct about everything. These stories suck because they focus on Theseus, a boring prettyboy whose only real talent is murder, instead of the much more interesting blend of divine retribution, personal tragedy, and general horniness that underlies the creation myth of the Minotaur. So, before we go any further, let’s have a quick refresher of the story, and then a dissection as to why I like it so much.

The Minotaur is a creature entirely born from the fuck-up of King Minos of the Isle of Crete. Upon ascending to the throne of Crete, Minos was having trouble consolidating power, and as such asked the sea-god Posideon to send him a snow-white bull to show that the gods favored him for leadership. Posideon asked Minos to sacrifice the bull to honor him, but Minos valued the bull so much that he instead sacrified another instead. Angry at this, Posideon caused Minos’ wife, Pasiphae, to become incredibly attracted to the bull, at which point she begged the inventor Daedalus to build her a bull-shaped armature so that she could have sex with it. Upon doing so, she became pregnant with the half-man, half-beast Minotaur, who, being divided between two species had no natural source of food, and so (logically) was only able to subsist off devouring human flesh. Although Pasiphae attempted to take care of it for a time, eventually Minos imprisoned it in his Labyrinth, constructed by Daedalus. There’s a ton of interesting things here. Firstly, that the Minotaur was entirely born out of hubris and spite. He’s not a monster because he was made by an evil god, he’s a monster because he was made by an incredibly petty one. The detail about the wooden cow is incredibly choice, but not really gameable (although I am begging someone to prove me wrong.) It’s interesting that Minos chose to imprison the beast, rather than kill it. If you can contain something enough to trap it in a giant maze you had your inventor friend build, surely just straight-out murdering it wouldn’t be impossible? I like to imagine that Minos felt some guilt about what he’d done to his son, and couldn’t bear to have it killed on his own orders until Theseus arrived. Anyway. Here’s a Minotaur-variant you can stick in your own games. ------ The Queen of Akzetha The Kingdom of Akzetha is a small city-state on the Sea of Silk. It’s not a Kingdom anymore- it hasn’t been for the past few decades- but the Council currently in charge of the city is absolutely resolute that Akzetha is a kingdom, and will be known as such. (They tried to issue an official motion to transition the city into the Republic of Akzetha. They had to suspend the vote because of the nightmares.) For its size, Akzetha is fairly wealthy. This is mostly due to the exploits of its founder, Vrantearn the Serpent, a legendary Yncol pirate who terrorized the Sea of Silk for nearly a century. Upon his retirement, he took the hand of a legendary songstress in marriage, and bought the island where he would found his Kingdom. Vrantearn’s hoard funded the fleets of trade ships that now ply the Sea of Silk, making the early years of the kingdom very profitable for The Serpent and his loyal crew. There is a story about his death, and the story goes like this. Vrantearn and his lover had a daughter after Azketha’s founding- a clever and bright-eyed girl named Xurah. Vrantearn truly loved his child, and spoilt her with exotic trinkets from across the known world. One night, while Xurah was being tutored in poetry by a Cvess philosopher, a bedraggled man approached Vrantearn’s throne. He claimed to be a priest of Rhulenkaath, the goddess of blood and birds and contracts, and asked after a certain artifact that had come into the Pirate King’s possession. The artifact was of grave importance to the priesthood, and if Vrantearn would turn it over they would consecrate a new temple in his honor. The Serpent simply laughed, saying he had no need for the assistance of a goddess who could not protect her own subjects, and turned the man away. Ill omens followed. Traders at port found that the touch of gold opened cuts on the skin of their palms. Vrantearn’s prized monkey died, bleeding black ink from its eyes. And Xurah grew strange and distant, keeping odd hours and odder habits. The people whispered of the wrath of the goddess, of the folly of the Pirate King. One day, Xurah entered the royal bedchambers and devoured both her parents whole. The girl hungered for blood, and although the guards fought valiantly they found that she healed from any wound they could give her. It was only through the wit of the King’s advisor that they were able to Xurah beneath the palace, in a network of secret passageways that had been built if an escape was ever needed. The entrances were sealed, but for a single accessway, watched day and night by guards to ensure the monstrous child would never escape. This is what the story tells. It less often discusses what happens next. Although Xurah is monstrous (guards report glimpses of feathers and talons and wide, dark eyes), she is intensely intelligent, charismatic, and persuasive. The art of statecraft seems like an intriguing game to her, and it is one she is very, very good at. And although the Council would never admit it, in matters of politics they still often answer to her. It goes like this. The most heinous criminals in Akzetha are sentenced to the worst fate imaginable: to be devoured by Xurah. They will not go willingly, of course, and so they’re often given a soporific beforehand. Under the soporific, a question may be tattooed on their back- ‘should we go to war,’ perhaps, or ‘how do we cure the blight.’ They are cast down into the dark, and they are not seen again. The answer will usually appear by the next morning, either in a dream, whispered on the wind, or (in one particularly unpleasant case) spelled out in animal viscera on the floor of a Councilman’s estate. This is the price for the questions of state. For questions of one’s own life- the Councilmen’s aspirations, their relationships, their future- Xurah demands flesh from one’s own body. In recent days, a change has occurred in Xurah’s behavior that terrifies the members of the Council. It’s not that she’s began to try to escape- far from it. Xurah’s entire life has been marked by escape attempts, each more elaborate and unpredictable than the last. (The Council has spent a fortune hiring wizards and engineers to try and keep up.) Rather, it’s the fact that in the past year, Xurah has not tried to break free once. The more optimistic members of the Council speculate that her will is broken, that she is now utterly resigned to her fate. The more pessimistic members say that she’s only biding her time, or even perhaps that she’s realized that staying trapped beneath the earth can inflict more cruelty upon them than her release ever could. And in the dockside inns and on the cold beaches at night, you will sometimes hear the commoners speak of a queen that speaks in dreams, a queen whose crown is wind and blood... ------ How To Use Xurah In Your Games: Xurah will take an interest in your PCs, because your PCs are likely interesting. What this interest will actually mean is entirely up to you. Perhaps she’ll want to eat them (if that’s what she’s doing), and will convince the Council to frame them for something heinous and cast them down into her lair. Perhaps they’ll end up serving her, knowingly or unknowingly, following the cryptic words on the wind and the voice in their dreams. (She can pay them well- there are caches of pirate treasure all over the island, and she knows each and every one.) Maybe she’s not even interested in escaping anymore, and is instead looking for the PCs to assist her in her newest scheme- perhaps killing the old rivals of her father, or serving the interests of the god who made her. I wrote Xurah’s followers as acting on her behalf, but I actually like it better if they’re not, instead misinterpreting random dreams as signs of divine prophecy. Of course, when Xurah tries to drive them away with nightmares, that’s just more signs that the prophecy is fulfilled. This gives Xurah, the Council, and the cultists a push-and-pull aspect, each ostensibly allied with the other, but secretly working on their own agenda.

[feitanswife]

That southern gothic post got me thinking and here’s my guide to writing books about Washington State since SOMEONE ruined it...

We’ll start at Western Washington

Cults. Not shitting you. Everything is a cult.

Churches with weird names right in the middle of a suburban neighborhood. On the way home from school a long long driveway back into a parking lot of an unassuming plain building, you never see anyone parked in the parking lot, the lights are never on.

Everyone in my neighborhood had a special knock, or you announced yourself by shouting your name as you knocked. Cause the only people that ever rang the doorbells were the cult recruiters that made daily rounds.

Everything is football. Everything. Is. Football. You are sincerely more likely to see a Seahawks flag on a flag pole than an American one. Everyone likes football. Schools have Seahawk Spirit Days more often than they have normal ones.

We’re notoriously unfriendly and that’s intentional. Don’t trust a smiling stranger, don’t eat the food they bring. Don’t listen to their honeyed words for a snake lies underneath. Re: cultists but also racist sleeper agents who don’t even realize they’re racist.

Everywhere you go there’s just trees. Random forests in the middle of towns, snaking between developed areas. You could go from decadent three story houses with crystal chandeliers to back woods farmland within two miles. All the kids from all these houses all go to the same public school.

Calling the cops is largely a useless measure, half the time they don’t even show up unless someone’s dead. If your new (cultist) neighbors entered the neighborhood by gifting everyone homemade pizzas that made everyone ill enough to go to urgent care? And made active threats against the people across the street? Just... deal with it I guess. Tell the kids to not play near their yard. Hope they move out or die. Yes this is a true story.

Everyone’s house is haunted. Or possesed, or inhabited by other non-reality beings. I don’t care if you built it yesterday and it’s on the water not even on land! Your house is haunted! There’s nothing you can do about it and frankly it’s more of a minor annoyance than anything. Most of the time. Unless you give it a reason to be more.

Everyone knows someone with a horse. Or who used to have horses. Or comes from a long line of show horse breeders or champion riders.

Everyone knows a Car Family, or comes from a Car Family. Whether it’s hand-building army jeeps from just a frame to go rock-crawling in the mountains, or lovingly restore classic cars that hang out in Walmart parking lots on Friday nights, everyone knows Car People.

You either ski, cross-country ski, snowboard, or snowmobile. Or do sled dog racing if you’re really cool. You know someone who knows someone who has an old cabin on Snoqualmie pass, or Stampede, or somewhere, cause only tourists go to the lodge.

Seeing liscence plates from out of state gets weirder reactions the father out of state you come from. Idaho? Oh well that’s kinda odd. Arizona? Must be a...family event I guess. Georgia? What the fuck are you doing here? Whatever it is get it done fast and fuck off.

Clothes are the most important thing about a person. Everyone here dresses to send a message, and allegiance, to let you know why they are and who they definetly are NOT. Don’t come around in a pain short sleeve button up and belted slacks if you aren’t looking to be grouped in with the damn cultists.

Everybody knows a witch or three. It’s just a fact of life at this point.

Easy book plot: character just moved from out of state, befriends a shy but polite boy who seems perfectly normal. One of the haughty, popular girls takes her aside and warns her against hanging out with him, but gives no specifics as to why, acting like it should be obvious. Character thinks that this is just normal high school bullying and forges on, but as she starts to get closer to the boy she starts to notice that his family isn’t what they seem. They keep odd hours and act strangely, but surely it’s just a cultural difference! But then she’s invited to come to church with them........

Eastern Washington

Mostly just like the west side but 300% more forests in the central-area and way fewer cults but a lot more racists. Also there’s nobody out there aside from small pockets of civilization.

In Central Washington there are like... 4 towns. And a couple villages. Ellensburg, Cle Elum, Roslyn, and Ronald. Ellensburg is the only one of those big enough to have a Fred Meyer. Outside of those you technically have Thorp, Liberty, and Easton. But I don’t know if those qualify as towns. They’re more like villages.

The forests go on FOREVER. Everyone has a quad (that’s a four-wheeler for normal people) or an old hand-restored Jeep that they take out in the hills and ride the trains with for hours because what else are you going to do?

Everyone knows someone who seems to have an unnaturally good memory of the trails. All their names, and the names of everyone who rides them.

Again with the horse thing, everyone has horses it’s weird.

Anything post-Ellensburg is a WASTELAND. DRY HOT BULLSHIT. INHOSPITABLE. YOU WILL DIE.

There’s certain places with life, such as tri-cities, Yakima, Spokane, uhhh Lake Chelan... and various itty bitty towns in the middle of nowhere that I can’t in good conscious reccomend for a visit. I can’t reccomend most of eastern Washington. It’s scary out there.

It’s actually a lot like the traditional Southern Gothic setting, except take all the southern-ness out of it. Rather than old-money families with fake smiles and Murder on their minds it’s new-money, upstart wineries with cool hipster themes, “oh we hard-restored this old silo and made a tasting room and we had our daughters wedding here!” 50-something couples with four kids and three dogs, they seem so genuinely nice and down to earth but the situation just feels so odd I mean they just don’t ever want to disclose anything of note about the vineyards.... even their niece from the west side who they practically raised knows nothing....

Easy book plot: group of city kids decides to go camping at a random lakeshore on the edge of Wine Country, with an itty-bitty town next to it, middle of nowhere type with nothing but dry farmland for miles and miles. There’s maybe 100 people in the whole place, and the kids happen upon the extended family of one of the nearby vineyard owners, including a girl around their age who shows all the signs of being a normal person with coherent thought: dyed hair, edgy clothes, denim jacket with politically charged patches and pins, etc. and she offers—no, begs the group to come down to the vineyard the next morning, for the big family brunch and grape picking party! The group wonders why she was so insistent, but once they got there it was fairy obvious, things weren’t normal at this vineyard and she clearly needed backup.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 15: Burn the Temple, Topple the Thorns

We may have stretched the bounds of simple country hospitality too far.

Underground, Valeria and Clem consider a pressing question: are there any doors they can go through where they DON’T have to talk to the smug hobbit man? Good cave walls make good neighbors.

Investigating around can’t hurt, right? Clem picks a door at random - maybe all the cheesecaves are connected, like one big Cheesecave Factory - and peers in with her darkvision.

Not the next one over, but the one after that, since. Maybe they’re connected. Clem peers into the gloom of the cave with her darkvision, and can make out some lumpy outlines. As she creeps in, the ground under her feet feels disturbingly soft.

“Should I get the light?” asks Valeria. Clem nods. Valeria lights up A-Luxor. As the little floating beetle fills the cave with light, they see there is a carpet of fungus on the ground. Up against one wall, half-formed, a large, vaguely humanoid figure is growing out of this patch of fungus.

Valeria is like, “That’s horrifying. I was gonna just leave and shut the door? But we have to do something about that.” Clem agrees. Maybe they should set it on fire. As the half-formed creature stirs in the sudden light, she glimpses a small barrel someone has wedged into a nearby pillar. Oh, huh, there’s a length of fuse coming out of it. What on earth could this be?

We could sit here and wonder why this thing is rigged to explode, but the fungus creature is moving and growing in the light. The misshapen lump where a head would be pulls free and turns toward the two adventurers. With a massive effort, a big clublike arm tears away from the wall and slugs Valeria. 

The other arm and legs don’t look fully formed, and Clem wastes no time hacking at the weak points with her sword. The body is soft and incomplete; there’s something fleshy underneath, but if there was ever a person in there, it’s long gone. It’s almost dead – this thing would have been a real monster if it had finished growing, but as it is it’s weak and unprepared. Valeria chops its bulbous head off, and it slops to the ground with a sickening flop. The thing lurches over and falls. 

As it does so, a red splotch appears in the mottled green blanket of fungus over the walls, spreading rapidly outward. 

Clem doesn’t like the look of that. “…should we run?”

Valeria shrugs. “We probably shouldn’t stay overnight. Maybe we just leave and close the door?”

The spreading red patch reaches a bulbous puffball mushroom bulging out of the corner, which turns a pulsing red and begins to emit an earsplitting, high pitched scream.

Oops.

-

Gral and Shoshana are skedaddling, because the temple worshippers have started gathering up torches and particularly sharp farm implements - you know, good old-fashioned angry mob stuff. Luckily, Gral and Shosha have enough warning to get well away before they come pouring out, making a beeline for the inn, so the spellcasters scoot back to the meeting place without detection. Rebecca’s hiding in the bushes right where she said she’d be.

“I got your friends to the safehouse, they’re fine,” she reassures them, with full dramatic irony.

They head a ways through the valley, but it’s not long before the torches in the distance make a sudden sharp turn and start heading down road we’ve been going down.

“Rebecca, they don’t know where the safehouse is, right?”

“No!”

“Because they’re coming right for us. They couldn’t have seen us, could they?”

The mob hasn’t even gotten to the inn yet; they can’t have already discovered we’re gone.

They hear a rustling from the wheat field. 

They fuckin’ book it.

-

The awful sound echoes through the room. As similar screaming starts to emerge from the adjacent caves as well, the door that Rebecca had originally indicated flies open, and a bunch of figures hurry out, pulling on bags and cloaks.

“What the hell happened?” someone shouts. “Are those the people Rebecca was bringing?!”

“Quickly! Zis place is burned. Set off ze charges.” A Demish voice begins snapping orders. Torches light up as figures of all shapes and sizes start running toward cave doors.

A short silhouette glares up at the tanks. “Oh. I see. Bonjour.”

Clem audibly sighs.

Henri has no time for this. “You have no idea what you’ve done here, do you?” he hisses. “Before you begin with ze noble indignant speech, now is not ze time. Run! Stay out of ze fields!”

They don’t need telling twice. Valeria and Clem charge back down the path to meet up with the spellcasters.

Gral and Shoshana hear screaming, and see their allies abandoning all stealth and clattering towards them. 

Behind them, the hills explode in cascading showers of soil and flame.

Rebecca’s aghast. “They’ve been using them for months now! What happened!”

Clem humphs. “I guess this is what happens when you build a safehouse among FUNGAL ALARMS.”

“But there was a system! They had a thingthat let them turn one off every night! There was a system!”

Clem wisely chooses to omit some details. “…seems like a flawed system.”

Rebecca does not have time to unpack this right now. “What did Henri say to do?”

“Run.”

“Where?”

“THAT WAS NOT INDICATED.”

She swears. “The cultists are coming this way – we don’t have a lot of time. I know some places we could try to hide. My dad, though - he’s back at the inn, I don’t know if he’s safe-”

There are too many of the cultists between us and the inn, though, so she leads us away from the awakening wheat fields to the thicker, less-tamed trees by the river. We find the densest brush we can, Minor Image up some extra shrubbery, and hunker down.

We can clearly see the cultists’ movements by the burning lights of their torches. They reach the destroyed caves and start to fan out, breaking into 2- or 3-person search parties, soon joined by silhouettes that emerge from the wheat fields. For the time being, our hiding place seems to go unnoticed.

What’s our plan now? Hunker and wait out the night? Now that the search parties are more scattered, we could make moves back to town, Trollsburg, or even Sturmhearst, or to cross the river.

Rebecca wants to check on her father, but she’s gonna follow our lead. We’re worried that even her tentative safety has been compromised; after this, the cultists might not bother hiding during the day anymore. 

As we bicker, Shoshana surveys the area. Pretty much the only place the cultists aren’t searching is the temple itself.

...hey.

Temple’s empty.

What if we burned down the temple while everyone was out?

It’s alarming how quickly the group agrees to arson.

(In deference to previous campaigns: If we find any big fancy chairs, we will knock them over, as well.)

Rebecca does not want to be there while we burn down the temple, understandably. We direct her to Trollsburg, which the townsfolk should leave alone – tell Dr. Kjeller we sent her. She slips off into the night, and we shift from defense to offense.

As we roll stealth, Shoshana crits and everyone can see the change come over her. She now has a target, and the part of her that belongs to the Hunt…goes on the hunt. Her posture changes, ever so subtly. The way she peers into the darkness makes her eyes seem even more inhuman, gleaming in the darkness. And the shadows curl around her just a little bit more.

We sneak back to the temple, the predator’s instinct guiding us deftly around our pursuers.

It appears that the temple is not wholly unguarded. There’s three people Gral can see backlit against the windows, and none of them are Zelig. Hans and Franz still have bits of the floorboard peeled up. They’ve revealed more of the fungal carpet underneath, and they’re examining it and discussing what they see in hushed tones. The fungus is a riot of shifting colors; it’s almost like they’re reading it. There’s a third man there, a farmer, and soon enough Hans and Frans tell the third guy something and he immediately runs off.

“All the plants are informants for them,” Gral realizes aloud. “They’re getting info here. They know where everyone in the valley is.”

“Oh, good thing we’re gonna burn it then.”

Valeria goes ahead and casts Aid, because this is likely to get hairy, and Shoshana turns back to the party and grins a fanged grin.

“Firesong taught me this one,” she says, and hucks a Fireball through the window.

Subtle? No. Satisfying? Oh, yes.

Hans and Franz, coughing in the smoke, pick themselves off the ground and dive for weapons. It’s obvious the blast has done some heavy damage to them. (And to their clothes. Scantily clad buff men, hell yeah.)

Hans bursts out of the door, swinging a heavy fencepost with nails pounded through it, clobbering the first Clem he sees. We thought he was buff this morning, but he’s grown impossibly more swole. A button pops off his overalls as his inflated muscles bulge out of them.

The temple begins to fill with smoke as the fire catches. We hear that awful alarm-mushroom screaming again.

Shoshana cackles and Fireballs the place again.

Valeria pulls out her trident with a flourish and forks Hans right in his big unnaturally round pectoral, Rack’s vines curling around him. We’ve leveled up and she gets two attacks now, so she pops him again, and Hans crumples to the ground – we’re not sure he’s DEAD dead, but he’s out of the fight.

Franz levels his big-ass crossbow at the madly cackling witch in the window. HAHAHAHHAAHAHA-oh shit. She gets blown out the window, along with 2/3 of her HP in one shot.

Clem takes a cue from Shoshana and gets WAY too into this, cackling and swinging in with her big ol’ sword. These fellas have ogre stats, but she’s a veteran badass and cleaves Franz right in two. An on-the-spot medicine check from the medic reveals that…those are definitely not fully human insides. Ew. 

She flexes over his corpse in a final show of superiority. She got these muscles WITHOUT juicin’, thank you very much.

The two halves of Franz fall heavily, crashing through the weakening floorboards and revealing a cavernous space underneath the burning temple structure. The fungal carpet is very on fire. (In Shoshana’s opinion it could stand to be MORE on fire, though.)

Alarms are coming from both the temple and the carpet. Gral listens for anything else, but he can’t hear whether the townsfolk are coming over the roar of the growing blaze. Maybe we jump down there and investigate? Or do we dip out?

Screw it. There’s a tempting hole, full of danger.

Clem rips off both her sleeves and uses one as a smoke facemask.

We gotta make sure this thing burns for good. We jump in the curse hole, because of course we do. It’s more of a basement than a cave, really. The flames from the floor above illuminate some crates and shelves and boxes – normal basement stuff. (Shoshana rolls a nat 1 perception, and so is too busy cackling at fire like a terrible arson goblin.)

One side looks like the shrine to Guile, hidden as shrines to Guile always are. There’s also an empty throne for Oberok, per tradition. It falls over.

On the other side, though, there’s storage - tables stacked up for banquets, picnic tables, chairs. One big chair has been dragged out, and an imposing figure sits, staring at us impassively. Rose vines have grown out from the chair, wrapping around his heavily armored limbs. 

His armor gleams with polish, though leaves poke through the seams, and his closed helmet is sculpted to fit the face of a dragonborn. It clangs as he jerkily stands to his full height.

“Marius?” Valeria gasps.

The rose-bound knight draws a trident and turns to us. The vines behind him start to wriggle and writhe as he moves.

His purple cloak of office is missing. Valeria feels it hang heavy about her shoulders.

His mouth moves as if he’s about to speak, and silent rose petals fall softly out.

Shoshana doesn’t trust this. She casts Mirror Image, the flickering fire-shadow playing games with her figure. Marius’ head tilts as he focuses in on her, the thrower of the fireballs, so the squishy sorceress dives behind her bulkier friends for extra cover. Gral follows suit and dashes the other way, spreading out the party. The knight that might be Kyr Marius hefts a mighty trident and hurls it, nailing Clem. Vines burst forth from his gauntlet and snatch the trident as it hits true, snapping it back to his hand.

Marius had a magic gauntlet that did that, but he would do it with Rack’s glowing ethereal rose vines, not these squirming physical ones. Valeria, hesitating, hopes that if he’s using his same fighting style, there might be something left of her beloved mentor inside this growth-encrusted enemy.

Clem second winds, in preparation for Doing Something Stupid, and charges Marius directly. Bracing himself against her blow, Marius reaches out to one side and fires a blast of vines at Gral, who finds himself bound in foliage but manages to resist being dragged into sword range.

As Valeria and Clem rush to engage, the knight’s faceplate opens to reveal a familiar silver face, webbed over by the delicate tendrils of roots and sprouts. He breathes not a cloud of cold, as Valeria would expect, but a barrage of toxic spores and razor-sharp seeds. Rose vines climb through the cellar floor at Valeria’s feet, tangling and impeding her movements, but only seeming to aid the knight’s passage as he glides effortlessly to where Gral is held in place by vines.

Valeria had hoped to be able to cut the vines away to disconnect Marius from the Growth’s control, but as he moves away from his makeshift throne we can see most of the plants under his armor are untethered, growing out of his body. As she moves to tear Gral free with her claws, bits of charred ceiling begin to rain down around us.

Oh, right, the building’s on fire.

Shoshana pew-pews over a few spare pews, but her spells bounce off his armor, and Gral’s fear effects are just as ineffective. 

Kyr Marius draws his sword, long-thorned vines growing from out of his gauntlet to wrap around it, a warped mirror-image of how Valeria’s smites manifest. He moves swiftly, pinning Gral with his trident and plunging in his sword for the killing blow - luckily only destroying Gral’s illusory duplicate, but brutally efficient nonetheless. Whatever this knight is, it’s certainly retained the veteran paladin’s skill.

Valeria bites the bullet and abandons her hesitation, imposing herself like a protective wall between her mentor and her friend. Nose-to-nose with him, his faceplate hanging open, she can see just how much the Growth has infested the once-mighty paladin. Tiny sprouts creep out from under his silver scales, thorns nesting side-by-side with his fangs and a riot of green plant matter all down his snarling throat. His eyes are gone, vibrant roses blooming in the empty sockets.

This...this is not a living dragonborn knight, by any metric. Kyr Marius is gone, and has been for a long time.

Turns out the Growth can’t really corrupt paladins much, but it can certainly make use of them.

Another chunk of the ceiling falls in, narrowly missing Shoshana. She lobs another Chromatic Orb at Marius, but again it breaks harmlessly on his armor.

The vines across the floor continue to expand around the party, blooming into roses with long, deadly thorns.

Marius swings in at Valeria. She catches it on the Eyegis, which blinks back at him. Marius does not blink back at it, his flower eyes entirely impassive.

Gral throws a Faerie Fire. Marius cannot get out of the way, but he crosses his arms in a defensive stance as vines cocoon him, absorbing the Faerie Fire, and he bursts free unmarked. He focuses in on Gral, raining blows down, an implacable, inevitable executioner.

Valeria interposes herself again, forcing Marius to take his attention off the bard. His sickly green vines wrestle with her glowing, translucent ones as her mighty Smite meets his swinging blade.

It’s eerie how little he reacts to Valeria’s sword tearing into him, an unstoppable automaton of plant.

One more Chromatic Orb fails. Shoshana, in frustration and fear at seeing her friends get clobbered, dashes forwards toward the melee.

Marius raises a wall of thorns around himself, finally acting in defense even as his face shows no pain. He looks like he might be preparing to heal himself.

Luckily, Gral’s got a way of dealing with walls. He strikes a minor key and passes through the thorn wall, zipping behind Marius and nocking one of his Heart-Seeking Bolts. The advantage granted allows Gral to bury it into a crack in the silver armor for a whopping 20 damage. Marius retaliates, whirling to hurl his trident, but it barely damages the half-solid orc.

Clementine tires of this fight. She charges through the wall of thorns – damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead – and swings in brutally for three hits, three maneuvers. 43 damage on a SINGLE TURN. Frickin’ Battlemasters!

Just as the vine-encrusted knight is distracted by Gral, Clem drives her greatsword straight into his chest, and SUPLEXES HIM INTO THE GROUND. He crashes to the ground, Clem’s full weight driving the blade in to the hilt.

Marius briefly tries to move. We can see through his damaged armor that it’s more like the vines are moving him than he is moving himself. But there’s just not enough knight left for the vines. He slumps with a spore-heavy gasp, his weapons clattering to the ground.

Kyr Marius of the Order of the Rose is dead. But we suspect he has been for a very, very long time.

We look to Valeria. She kneels by the body, solemnly collecting his weapons and his magic gauntlet, but laying his engraved dagger upon his chest, the one Flynn found in the hands of a fungus creature far down the river.

As Valeria kneels and offers a prayer to Rack, giving Marius what last rites she can, the rest of us take our last chance to case the basement before we flee the blaze. 

We find mushrooms and fire. Whatever symbols and tools the cultists had were either made of ephemeral plants or upstairs and on fire. We kick over the rose-entwined chair, though. Fuck that chair.

Valeria stands, finishing her achingly brief farewell. There’s nothing left for us here, and the fire is threatening to overwhelm the temple.

The plants’ screeching has stopped; the puffball mushroom alarms seem to have burned. The room is full of thick, choking smoke and leaping flames, but it’s a small room and we’re PCs. We charge at top speed out through the collapsing walls, escaping with only moderate burns seconds before the roof falls in and the temple collapses entirely.

As we cough the smoke out of our lungs, we’re immediately on the defense - surely the villagers will have noticed their temple going up in flames, and we’re gonna need to dodge pitchforks.

Or...are we? The torchlights are still speckled across the valley. There are villagers on the road up to the temple, but they’ve collapsed to the ground, their torches flickering where they’ve fallen in the dirt. We cautiously approach and realize they are writhing and moaning in awful pain, as if they’re experiencing the fire firsthand.

“Good,” Valeria whispers viciously. It’s hard to tell whether there’s a trace of Hunt in her voice or simply raw, bitter grief.

Clem does a quick medical once-over of the nearest fallen farmer. Judging by this guy, the cultists aren’t quite fully human - there’s fungal growth under the skin, though not to the bulging extent of Hans and Franz. The feel of the growths isn’t quite like human muscles; they’re lumpy, like clay slapped onto a human figure by clumsy hands, tumors rather than integrated, natural growth.

Other than that there’s nothing physically wrong with them to be causing such pain, though they seem absolutely furious - Clem’s patient spits and tries to claw at Clem’s throat, but is too weak to do much more than twitch.

Valeria’s heard stories about this kind of thing. In her lessons about demonic cults, she’s heard of groups that form a pseudo-hive mind with their dark master. When the paladins would strike down the creature, the followers are struck down with sympathetic psychic pain. In especially entangled cases, usually the cults’ high priests, the mental blow is enough to kill them. Most followers just suffer incredible pain as the link to is severed, but physically will recover fully.

We don’t know if they’ll still be cultists when they wake up. The entity’s control will be severed, but they’ll still be the same people who willingly joined up in the first place.

If they won’t be down for good, we gotta get the hell out of here, stat. We book it to the inn to see what’s become of our guide Rebecca and her dad Aaron. At the inn, a battered-looking Aaron is pulling himself together as Rebecca helps him to his feet. Surrounding them are a few of the cultists, knocked out by the psychic feedback.

As Valeria rushes to Lay on Hands, Rebecca frets. “You’re back - what the hell did you do tonight?!” The, the temple’s on fire, and they were hurting my dad-”

“Oh, I did most of this to myself,” Aaron interrupts. “It was my cover story, I was gonna tell ‘em the four of you had broken out, grabbed Rebecca and run across the river. But they weren’t especially interested in listening.”

Valeria nods as she heals him, but doesn’t trust herself to talk. Gral takes over instead. “They’re disabled for now, no time to talk. Let’s get to Trollsburg.”

“Trollsburg? That thing Zelig was building?”

“Yeah. For now, it should be safe - nobody’s gonna try attacking a whole settlement of trolls. We’ll see how much damage the cult actually took in the morning.”

We hustle down to the river. Behind us, slowly, the lights from the search parties begin to move again, disorganized and scattered. Most head directly for the temple, the fire still blazing starkly against the night sky. 

At the bridge, the massive overgrown troll Kjell is shouting in pain on the bank. “Ugh, what’s...happening...” he moans, clutching at his side. He doesn’t seem to be knocked for as much of a loop as the cultists, but something’s definitely not right.

Valeria approaches cautiously and gives him a Curing Disease worth of Lay on Hands. There’s a flash of anger in his eyes as if he’s about to unthinkingly strike her, but she calms him for long enough to take the cure, and it seems to soothe his pain.

The big troll rubs at his side exhaustedly. “Uh, thank you, shiny lady. That, that was – I dunno, that was somethin’ nasty. It started around the same time as the big fire. Woke me up! Woss goin’ on?”

Shoshana tries to give him a brief rundown. “I don’t want to alarm you, but the fungus we were talking about earlier, I think it might have started to infect you-”

“An infection?! I should wake up the phee-zee-ologist then!” Seems he’s already managed that; trolls do not suffer quietly, and three trolls are coming down the hill to see what all the yelling’s about. In the light of A-Luxor, we can see Dr. Kjeller in the lead, wielding the crude glaive he calls his amputatin’ stick.

“Hey, uh, woss goin’ on out here?! Did you folks have somethin’ to do with that there fire?”

“Uh, yyyyyes?” Gral admits, trying to figure out how to simplify the situation for trolls. “The danger was in the church. Many of the villagers were trying to trick you. Whatever Kjell got, they were trying to infect you all with it.”

Kjell sees the doctor and interrupts. “When the temple started burnin’ it hurt right here – “

“Where?”

He points to a spot on his abdomen, and Dr. Kjeller immediately swings his doctorin’ stick, expertly cutting out the bit pointed to. Man, troll regeneration makes surgery easy.

The Doc pulls out an extra-large jeweler’s loop and crams it into his eye as he pulls apart the hunk of flesh with his claws. “Yeup, that’s a fungus all right. This was growin’ inside you? Does it still hurt?”

“Uh, yes?” Kjell points to the bleeding hole in his stomach.

“That’ll pass, you’re a healthy troll. What happened in dat spot? I need yer medical history. Let me find your chart.” He listens to Kjell’s abdomen. “Arright, chartbeat sounds good.”

Clem, in all her medical knowledge, has no idea what  a “chart” is, but the Doc was damn sure not listening to the heart area. Dr. Kjeller cheerfully neglects to explain.

“Yep, that’ll grow back soon enough. Don’t worry about it,” he tells the larger troll, who seems to be recovering quickly. “What happened there?”

“I remember I got hurt at one point? A beastie from the wood attacked me. Hit me with some kinda acid, an’ it didn’t grow back like normal. But that nice lady  Zelig came by and healed me with magics. A real nice lady, she was.”

“So...Zelig is the one spreading the illness,” we tell the trolls. They’re pretty well convinced, given the hunk o’junkus in Kjell’s gut.

“All the villagers are behind this?”

“Some of them. Maybe most? It’s hard to tell. They can look like normal villagers,” Gral explains. “They’ve been infected a lot more than Kjell was; they can’t think straight. We’ve brought two who are okay.”

Kjell brightens at the sight of the innkeeper’s daughter. “Oh, I know Rebecca! She used ta bring me rabbits! Hiya, Aaron!”

“Hi, Kjell,” the innkeeper smiles tiredly.

“How’s the leg?”

He blinks. “That was 12 years ago?”

“...So, is it better, then? You humans don’t heal.”

“We do, just slower!”

“Dat sounds real inconvenient,” the troll says, his gaping wound already starting to close.

Dr. Kjeller clears his throat. “Well. I tink we are going to have a discussion. You folks are welcome to wait in my house. This is a very important business that must be discussed, but it is troll business.”

That seems reasonable. Shoshana raises a hand. “Can we pass out?”

“If you deem it medically necessary. Would you like me to carry you, so you may pass out earlier?”

“Um, no, that’s okay.”

He says something similar to “gather round” in a guttural language vaguely like Old Valdian, and the trolls gather and begin a heated discussion.

As all 12 trolls hurry over and join the discussion, Rebecca whispers, “Are we gonna be safe here?”

Gral gets Rebecca up to speed on what we know about the trolls, and how except for Kjell they all seem to be unaffected by the Growth. We’re as safe as we’re gonna get in this valley, at least for now.

“Great, I’m gonna fall asleep now,” she tells us. “It’s been a day.”

We start our rest but keep watches. About an hour or two later, Dr Kjeller returns to the house. “We have reached an accord,” he tells us solemnly.  “We intend to leave.

“There are still many villagers, and we can see ‘em massing on the other side of the river. We trolls do not wish war. Now, we are pretty mad - lotsa folks had some thoughts about waging war against these people who tried to trick us. We don’t appreciate dat. But we must consider the eyeballs.

“If a group of trolls is invited to a place, and then attacks dat place and wipes it out, that would be very bad eyeballs. Bad for public troll families. No, not eyeballs, what was the word dat guy used? Optics. Yes, the eyeballs would be very bad.

“In da morning, we intend to depart from this place. Without the town, the moot can’t happen. There’s just not enough food. Well, there is, but now we can’t trust it. I will keep an eye on poor Kjell, he’ll travel with me a bit. He has a good heart, and a good chart. His dart I’m a little worried about, sounds like dat lady might have made it extra big to impress all us other trolls. I wish to keep him under observation; dunno what other conditions may happen if dat lady isn’t boosting him with her evil magics. 

We will travel south in the morning. This area is dangerous...but we are twelve trolls. Once we are a ways from the valley, we will disperse. Kjell will stay with me and serve as my assistant and bodyguard. You see, sometimes I do an autopsy but lotsa creatures want to feed on the body so I need someone to stand there and guard it. Y’know, a body guard.”

The party considers our options. We’re missing one last plant for our spell, but the trolls will probably be willing to stop briefly for some flower-pickin’. It’s not like we’re gonna run into trouble with a frickin’ CR 25 encounter as our escort. Also, we need to stop by Sturmhearst - we should at least let Flynn and Fiona know what’s up. 

We go back to the trolls, and realize Kjell is crying. “I must demolish my bridge,” he explains. “We must stop them from following us.” He built that bridge with his own hands; it’s a sad occasion. As the crew of trolls help him break it down, he gathers a bunch of the stones into a backpack.

“There there, Kjell,” says the doctor. “Remember, a troll’s home is not da bridge they live under. Your home is where your hearts is. Or you can do what I do.” He pulls off his hat and reaches inside, pulling out a toy-sized stone bridge. “A troll may live under a bridge, but a bridge does not need to cross a river.”

It’s probably very touching, if you’re a troll. Anyway, we’re going the heck to bed, and awkwardly trying to be stoic as Valeria cries quietly during her evening prayers.

In the morning, we can see a group of enraged villagers standing guard on the other side of the river, fuming impotently. But they wisely choose not to pick a fight. 

We stay by the bank long enough to find a nice patch of Norbert’s Wort for our spell, and then make tracks to the annex. We enter the Sturmhearst camp around noon; trolls are hardly fast-moving. The trolls are wary of the annex proper; they’re well aware of what those flamethrowers can do. They’re just gonna go have a lovely picnic and we can catch up later.

Professor Ulmus greets us. “Welcome back! What’s that commotion out there, sounds like a pack of trolls stomping through.”

SO, ABOUT THAT.

We give her, Flynn, and Fiona a rundown and let them know the villagers are now incredibly hostile.

Flynn stands, reaching to buckle on his sword. “Sounds like we must set out immediately and defeat this evi!l”

“The...one we burned in the temple basement?”

“Aw, you’ve already defeated the evil? Is there any evil left to defeat? I’ve been off my game.”

Shoshana sighs. “So, I hesitate to tell you this, but I know your sister will pick you up and carry you in the opposite direction if you do anything stupid.” Fiona nods, and Shoshana explains that Zelig the evil ex-druid is still up and about, and she’ll be surrounded by cultists.

“Hmm. Well, I’m up for some heroics, but an entire town of cultists? I’m probably not up for quite that much heroics yet. Are you intending to stick around and hunt her down?”

“No, we were thinking we’d head for Mornheim and get our ritual done.”

“Yes, I’d rather this cult did not besiege my campus to get at you; it would be disruptive to our experiments,” Professor Ulmus snarks dryly. As we explain the trolls’ plans, though, a change comes over her and she interrupts us excitedly.

“Wait, Dr. Kjeller is here? I’ve been a fan of his work for quite some time. He wrote a paper – well, a sheepskin – on troll regenerative physiology – one of the best resources we have. His notes are succinct and, well, rudimentary, but there’s more insight there than anyone at Sturmhearst has ever provided! This could be key to my work!”

Uh, sure? We lead her over to trolls and she instantly begins an enthusiastic if baffling conversation with Dr Kjeller. As thet’re excitedly talking, Shoshana feels something tugging at her skirt. It is a squirrel, exhibiting troubling un-squirrel-like behavior. It chitters, tugs again pointedly, and runs into bushes. 

Sure, what the hell. She gives a quick heads up to the team and hustles into the woods after the squirrel. Predictably, it takes her right to our grumpy druid friend, perched on a tree stump. “What the hell did you kids get up to last night All my sources are going crazy! I’ve got reports from every bird in the valley, chittering my ear off saying explosions, the temple burned down - hell, half the sources I have are saying other half are compromised! Ya kicked up a hornets nest! And then burned it down!!”

Shoshana gives him the summary, and tells him she might have figured out where the Mother Tree’s last guardian went. He nods at her description of Zelig. “Yup, that’s her. Explains why she abandoned her post, I guess. That’s another one fallen. At least it was the shroomheads this time.”

“As opposed to?”

“I’ve heard some stories. The more sociable ones, the shroom heads get em. My kind are pretty susceptible to that, you can imagine. It’s a pretty lonely life, doin’ what we do, and that whole sense of bein’ part of something greater – that’s not too far from what we do normally. And we like helpin’ things grow. Doin’ our thing and getting to be with people, that’s a hard offer to resist. But ya don’t have to worry ‘bout me, I don’t like people.

“Other types go in with the wolf guys. They go all dark and weird. They get like - y’know, I’ve seen a wolf bring down a deer midstride, yada yada the circle of life, that’s how nature be. So it can be hard to tell how many are just acceptin’ that cycle, and how many are, uh, takin’ a more active role in it, if ya get my drift.

“Still. Knowing she was behind it – I wasn’t gonna speak ill of another druid till I had proof, but it’s somethin’ else to hear it for real.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, you burned the central colony right after they all re-upped their connection; that’s gonna hurt a lot. They deserved it, probably. Anyway, Zelig’s operation in this area’s blown to shit. Dunno if she’ll stick around, maybe she’ll decide it’s time to seek more fertile pastures, as it were. I gotta stick around and guard the Mother Tree, so I’ll keep an eye out.

Not gonna lie, this was a mess. But it was more their mess than my mess, so I do owe ya one. My name’s Zalman. You can reach out to me with a message spell or somethin’, and I won’t just tell you to go fuck yourself, I’ll see what I can do. I got a lot of work to do here – you’ve given me a chance to reclaim the place.”

Shoshana shrugs uncomfortably. “Eh, my talents seem to be more for destroying than for fixing.”

“Then destroy the right thing! It goes against everything us druids stand for, but maybe we need a little fire.”

“Well, after a forest fire things regrow, right?”

“No, WE do that! It’s like a druid convention! Anyway. If you see the old bastard or his wife, treat ‘em as respectfully as you can, but tell ‘em I’d like a word. Where have they been in all this?!” He walks away grumbling, turning into a badger mid-grumble. He’s still kind of grumbling in badger.

She gets back to the annex just as Drs. Ulmus and Kjeller are saying their goodbyes.

“Thank you, Doctor! I look forward to corresponding!”

“I, too, look forward to the core of our spondence.”

As Ulmus fruitlessly tries to find out a nomadic troll’s address, Shoshana sidles up to Valeria. “You okay? I dunno if you want us to leave it alone, or to say something...”

Valeria twists her claws into her cloak, fiddling with the fabric and not meeting the sorcerer’s eyes. “...Thanks.”

The paladin is retreating into Stoic Hero Is Not Allowed To Have Feelings mode, so she’s not gonna talk about it, but she will allow a shoulder bonk of solidarity, and maybe even a light side hug.

We roll against taint as we trek out of the Growth’s domain. We all scrape by, Valeria turning down a deal from the Growth as she does.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Girl Genius Liveblog #214

UPDATE 214: Cheyenne Wright’s Court of Revenants

Last time the party to celebrate adopted prince Hoffman’s wedding came to an unfortunate end when it was revealed a lot of the diplomats and varied influential people are revenants for the Other. How will the heroes get out of this predicament? Let’s see if that’s found out today!

The problem with people being, well, diplomats and influential people is that you can’t just shoot them and be done. Agatha and the rest will have to run away and harm them as little as possible, and then I’m sure Colette is going to spend a couple hours sending letters to everyone those diplomats work for, informing them their ambassadors are under Lucrezia’s influence. But yeah, first they’ll have to run.

As usual, Agatha has an idea. She has a device she wants to try! And for that, she’ll need to hammer it down onto the ground. Well, there’s a bear over there. If slamming the device with a hammer wouldn’t break it, I’m sure the bear would be able to do what Agatha wants and not break it.

Or they could do that, I guess. I’m sure Jagers have thicker bones and general endurance, but still, that must have hurt.

The current problems are interrupted to bring forth an image of winter in Mechanisburg, so far unseen.

Or at least what it’ll be like in winter once the time bubble is gone. I see poor Moloch is still stuck here, having to shovel the entire walkway. You’re the chief minion, Moloch! You should be able to get somebody else to do this for you, maybe many somebodies.

The device’s function is shown pretty quickly, it sends an electrical charge through the floor and knocks out anyone who is touching it. Pretty effective, and harmless to the public in general. I wonder if the revenants will remember any of this when they wake up.

Regardless, the king is coming! And...he’ll find the wedding celebration all ruined. Agatha better be ready to explain what happened, because if this ruins the relations between these two underground kingdoms, Hoffman’s grades will suffer.

...why is Cheyenne Wright the king? Goodness, what a curious state of matters. Phil Foglio is a traveling storyteller who suffers misfortune every once in a while, Kaja Foglio is...I remember she’s into opera, and now Cheyenne Wright is an underground civilization monarch. This is great.

Another new year, this time it is 2016. Almost four years of story left for me to read. Now that I think about it, I think I already passed the point Girl Genius was at when I started the liveblog. Somehow I’m catching up, I can’t believe this.

Since Cheyenne Wright here admitted to his allegiance to Lucrezia, he can’t let these witnesses get away, he sends his mooks to go deal with them. As usual, the minions are not prepared to fight impressive people such as Agatha and friends, including newlyfound friends such as Hoffman. As if the minions weren’t already having enough trouble, someone makes the wall explode and knocks Cheyenne Wright out, right when he was yelling something I’m guessing was ‘Stop them all!’ but he only managed to say ‘stop’

Hah! I like this, but at the same time I’m wondering if lately Agatha has been getting distracted by random stuff too often these days. It’s strange, I don’t remember her doing that before.

Anyway, the person who knocked out the king and saved them is none other than Boris! The four-armed assistant Wulfenbach has. Nice! Honestly I like Boris, if only because he seems interesting. It’s too bad the story doesn’t let him do much, really. He’s nothing more than a trusted secretary. Maybe he’ll get a chance to do more than that.

Getting away isn’t too difficult, I think. Caving the tunnel they used to get in was fine, and even if the king’s minions can dig, this should give Agatha and the rest enough time to put some distance. They’ll be fine, as long as Boris doesn’t try to drag Agatha to Castle Wulfenbach or something.

This whole thing may have been thanks to a lady named Larana, the princess of this kingdom, the one whose father just got unconscious and whose palace exploded. Well at least she seems to be fully on the side that isn’t Lucrezia’s, so that puts her miles above so many people in this place, haha.

Ah, yeah. Nothing says ‘embarrassing parent’ like your mother taking over your body and also trying to conquer Europa. Also, someone else’s father following her like a cultist. Parents, am I right?

Getting away should be easy, Larana will make the boats they’re not using explode so the minions will have trouble following them. In the middle of all this, Larana shows her obvious crush for Hoffman. Oh boy, Paris truly is the city of love – of clumsy love, hah!

Well this is a bit of short update, but I’ll have to end it here.

Next time: in two updates

[tabletopinfinities]

Seattle Random Encounters Table

Some bonus content for this week - an appendix to the campaign outline featuring random encounters for the city of Seattle (or adaptable for other urban fantasy games). Because I personally love a good random encounter table. Available below the cut and also added to the Seattle campaign outline.

APPENDIX: SEATTLE RANDOM ENCOUNTERS TABLE

For those times when you want a potential complication to throw at the party, or when you want to add some improvised flavor to a street or travel scene, either roll 1d100 or choose off the list below. Not all items will make sense for all neighborhoods or times of day; use your own discretion.

Tourists: A group of tourists taking pictures. They may or may not be American.

Police Officer: A police officer, either on foot or on a bicycle, doing a routine patrol. If the PCs “look suspicious,” they run the risk of being questioned.

Construction: The road or sidewalk is blocked by another luxury apartment building under construction.

Drunk Bros: A small gaggle of young drunk men are stumbling down the sidewalk towards the PCs. They may be nothing but a harmless nuisance, but could be dangerous to visibly marginalized people.

Large Event: A marathon, parade, festival, block party, open-air concert, or other event is taking place nearby - expect crowds, closed streets, police or security presence, and/or traffic.

Common Bird: One or a flock of pigeons, seagulls, crows, ducks, geese, sparrows, swallows, or similar birds are flying nearby. If it’s summer, the crows might caw at and dive-bomb anyone who gets too close to their nests.

Common Animal: A squirrel, rat, cat (stray, shy, or a friendly sidewalk cat), dog (with owner or otherwise), or other common urban animal crosses the PCs’ path.

Reporters: A TV news crew is on the scene, or possibly several covering a major event. If the PCs aren’t careful, they might find themselves on the 6 o'clock news.

Wraith: One of the unquiet dead is manifesting in the area, possibly unnoticed by the PCs. They could be observing a loved one, dealing with a fetter, or trying to help or hinder the PCs for reasons of their own.

Homeless Person: One or a small group of homeless people are on the street nearby, sleeping, begging for change, or otherwise doing their best to exist. They’re friendly if approached, and might even have information on recent events in the area, or come to the PCs’ aid if they’re in danger.

Accident: A traffic accident happened recently. Crashed cars are blocking the road and/or sidewalk, and if the police and fire department aren’t on the scene yet, they will be shortly.

Side Passage: The PCs notice an alley, hillside stairway, or path through nearby vegetation that they didn’t notice before. It might offer a shortcut or a way to lose pursuers, but it might also lead someplace strange and liminal.

Street Performer: Someone is on the sidewalk singing, dancing, freestyling, painting, reciting poetry, or otherwise making art. They’d probably be appreciative of a tip.

Evangelists: Mormon missionaries, Christian Scientists, Hare Krishnas, O.T.L. proselytizers, cultists, or other religious types are trying to spread their good word and giving out pamphlets.

Aquatic Animals: If the PCs are near a lake or river, they might see beavers, salmon, or even river otters. In the Sound, seals, sea lions, or, uncommonly, orcas.

Crime Scene: An area has been roped off with police tape, and the cops are on the scene investigating. Hopefully it has nothing to do with the PCs, but they might stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time and wind up getting questioned.

Vampire: One of the Kindred stalks the night nearby. The PCs might stumble upon them feeding, or even become their intended prey. It could also be one of the Kuei-Jin or Laibon instead.

Belligerent Man: A man, probably struggling with mental illness and homelessness, is wandering down the sidewalk and into the street shouting and throwing things around. While likely not harmful, he can be startling or unsettling. He might also serve as a convenient distraction.

Downed Tree: A tree has gone down in the area, due to storms, disease, or hillside erosion - or is in danger of falling on the PCs right now. It might smash cars, block streets, and take out power lines.

Oddity: Some strange phenomenon is happening nearby - mysterious lights, odd noises or music, or movement in the shadows. There could be a mundane explanation, but it might be something supernatural.

Nosy Rich People: The PCs are being watched with suspicion by someone very concerned about street crime, property values, and the quality of their neighborhood. If they appear suspicious, out-of-place, or just too weird, they risk getting confronted, having the cops called on them, and/or being posted about on Nextdoor.

Uncommon Bird: A hawk, owl, bald eagle, backyard chicken wandering the streets, great blue heron (if near water), hummingbird, Stellar’s jay, pileated woodpecker, or other not-commonly-seen bird is nearby. Passers-by may try and point it out to the PCs.

Uncommon Animal: A raccoon, coyote, group of goats grazing on weeds, deer, or other animals that make themselves scarce or aren’t often in the city are nearby. They likely aren’t dangerous, but may attack if provoked.

Manhunt: Police are out in force searching the area for someone, with patrol cars, helicopters, and canine units. Anything suspicious that the PCs are doing risks drawing their attention, but the noise and chaos also makes a good distraction.

Traffic: For whatever reason - rush hour, accident, sporting event, street closures, bridge up, just because - traffic is particularly snarled in the area. If the PCs aren’t traveling on foot, they can expect significant delays.

Convention: A comics/anime/gaming convention is in town this weekend, leaking cosplayers and other nerds onto the streets.

Bygone: A Bygone is roaming nearby, potentially causing a scene or endangering the public if it’s large and highly visible. Could Marauders have set it loose to cause havoc? Can it be rescued?

Power Outage: A downed power line or other incident has left the streets dark. It could be a couple blocks or even the whole neighborhood.

High Winds: A windstorm is moving in, bringing danger from sudden gusts, falling trees and branches, downed power lines, and torrential rain.

Ride the Ducks: One of the “Ride the Ducks” amphibious vehicles is passing through, blasting music and patter through its loudspeakers. It could also be another obnoxiously twee tourist vehicle, like a brewery tour tandem bicycle. Local PCs are appropriately disgusted.

Werewolf: One of the Garou, or perhaps another Changing Breed, is nearby. They are probably in homid form, so the PCs won’t recognize them as such unless they’re on the lookout. They may cross paths with the PCs as they search for a cairn/node or try to take down Wyrm minions/Nephandi, either as friend or rival.

Students: A large quantity of students are in the area - school just got out, college tours, frat parties, or foreign exchange students sightseeing.

Protest: A protest is happening nearby, anything from a small political or labor demonstration all the way up to a major walkout, strike, or May Day protest. Police and news teams will be on the scene accordingly.

Rare Animal: A bear, cougar, or other wild animal not usually found in the city is wandering around. Potentially very hazardous.

Snow: If it’s during the winter months, snow is falling. If it’s not during the winter months, something very strange is happening. Even if it doesn’t stick, it attracts delighted Seattleites to come outside and look at it. If it does stick, the PCs will have some serious issues getting around the city.

Friendly Tradition Mage: The PCs see a mage who will be friendly towards them - this could be someone already introduced in the campaign, a background character who hasn’t appeared, a random stranger who can lend a helping hand, or someone to be determined by one of the players.

Friendly Technocrat

Friendly Orphan

Friendly Disparate

Friendly Sleeper

Hostile Tradition Mage: One of the PC’s enemies is nearby - either plotting from the shadows, heading for a confrontation, or so far unaware and hopefully able to be avoided.

Hostile Technocrat

Hostile Orphan

Hostile Disparate

Hostile Sleeper

Marauder: A wild mage is nearby - they may be making a vulgar display of themselves, or their presence may only be felt by the PCs taking their backlash.

Nephandus: A Nephandus is nearby or magickally interfering with the PCs. They could even be walking the street on some mundane task and bump into the PCs without planning to.

Mummy: The Undying are rare in the world, but Seattle’s status as a major port means it sees more than most cities. One is nearby serving the divine balance or pursuing a personal goal.

Changeling: One of the half-human, half-fairy changelings is nearby. As unpredictable as the faerie tales say, they could be curious wanderers, tricksters, or outright monsters.

Hunter: One of the Imbued is nearby, a Sleeper aware of the supernatural terrors that lurk in the world and empowered to fight them. They could be out on an unrelated mission, or they could even be hunting the PCs as evil sorcerors.

Sunny Day: The skies are blue and clear. During the spring and summer, this means everyone will be out on the streets and soaking up the warmth in parks.

Drizzle: The stereotypical Seattle day. Light rain falls throughout the day, just barely enough to soak clothes, but relentless nevertheless.

Paradox: The marks of Paradox are nearby – a strange phenomenon, charged crackle in the air, or even a Paradox Spirit manifested. This could mean that a mage nearby has suffered backlash or it could be the result of a much older event.

Fire: A nearby building or area of brush has caught fire. Fire engines are either on scene or on their way, people are coming out of buildings to look, and the air is filling with smoke.

Shifting Earth: A mudslide has washed out a hill, a sinkhole has opened up, or underground construction has caused a building downtown to sink into infill.

Local Eccentric: A beloved (or disliked) neighborhood figure is out on the streets. Their eccentricity could come from dress, behavior, feeding birds, or something else entirely. They are likely a Sleeper, although they could be more than they seem.

Celebrity: The PCs see a celebrity they recognize – a local author or musician, an actor in town for a production, or someone else they idolize but don’t know personally.

Shooting: A drive-by shooting, gunplay on the streets, or a lone shooter. The PCs are hopefully not the ones being targeted, but they may end up in the crossfire.

Assault: Someone physically assaults the PCs on the streets or they witness an assault occurring. It could be a random encounter or it could be someone with a grudge against the PCs.

Mugging: Someone attacks one of the PCs and tries to steal their valuables, likely at gunpoint. Is it worth the risk of Paradox to fight back? What if they steal something with magic properties?

Spirit: A spirit is manifesting nearby, managing its affairs, or perhaps trying to contact the PCs to enlist their aid. Not all spirits communicate verbally, or are friendly for that matter.

Street Salesperson: Someone is trying to sell the PCs something – religious texts, flowers, their new mixtape. They’re remarkably persistent.

Vigilante: Someone is patrolling the streets dressed like a costumed superhero. If the PCs are acting suspiciously, they might be risking a faceful of pepper spray and a citizen’s arrest.

Free Money: The PCs find a wallet or some stray bills lying on the ground.

O.T.L. Initiate: The O.T.L. rarely go far from Queen Anne if they can avoid it. The sigils on their clothing clearly identify them as an initiate, and they attract some looks from passers-by. If outside the neighborhood it might be a dire errand, they could be tracking the PCs, or they could just be out shopping.

Shallowing: The Gauntlet is thin here, whether as a result of location, lunar conjunctions, mythic resonance, tampering, or something else. Magick is easier to perform and spirits and wraiths may try and cross over.

Hardened Gauntlet: The Gauntlet here is thicker than normal, even for a large city. This could be the result of a ward, Technocratic influence, or the machinations of the Weaver. Magick is harder to cast, if not almost impossible.

Bright Resonance: The resonance in this area is happy, loving, warm, or some other positive emotion. This is a place where good things have happened.

Dark Resonance: This is a place where bad things have happened. The atmosphere is fearful, cold, sad, or otherwise negative. Entities with sinister motives may try to take advantage of this.

Node: A powerful node is nearby, either one hitherto unknown to the PCs or one they just coincidentally happen to be in the neighborhood of. In a large city, it’s likely someone’s already claimed it, but they may be willing to share.

Tass: A stockpile of Quintessence has accumulated here, seemingly free for the PCs’ taking.

UFO: Something unknown flashes across the sky or hovers close before flitting away – or perhaps the PCs even have an encounter. How they interpret what they see and experience will depend on their frame of reference, from extraterrestrials to angelic visitation.

Drone: A drone is hovering above the PCs. It could be a mundane hobbyist, but can they take that risk? Is the Technocracy observing them through it anyway?

Heightened Surveillance: Security cameras, guards, or other magickal forms of surveillance – this area is being closely watched. If the PCs don’t go around they risk being captured on film and run through the Technocracy’s databases, but they might not be able to avoid it.

Abandoned Artifact: Someone has abandoned something magickal and the PCs stumble upon it. It could be the property of an Orphan mage living on the streets who had to pack up in a hurry. It might even be cursed.

Tent City: A homeless encampment takes up a nearby empty field or parking lot, either sanctioned or unsanctioned. If the PCs need allies in a hurry, a friendly Orphan or two are probably among the residents. Conversely, the Technocracy could be sweeping it for undesirables.

Steiner’s Robot: One of Steiner’s robotic creations is nearby scavenging for parts. If not around Magnuson Park, what’s brought it out so far?

Mystical Sigil: A piece of graffiti, sticker, poster, arrangement of twigs, etc., nearby, is clearly part of a spell. What purpose does it serve, and does the creator even know that they’re engaging in real magick?

Ward: Something is protecting the area from interference, from spirits, hostile mages, or others who might wish the ward’s creator harm. Who placed the ward or what is it protecting?

Good Omen: A four-leaf clover, a shooting star, a rainbow, a butterfly landing on your hand, having exact change – whatever it is, it’s a good sign.

Bad Omen: A black dog watching you, walking under a ladder, seeing your doppelganger, your watch stopping – bad luck is coming up.

Familiar: The PCs see a familiar roaming around – perhaps under orders from its master, perhaps separated from its master and seeking help.

Suspicious Lurker: Someone or something unknown is following the PCs, lurking in nearby shadows or underbrush, or perhaps something is simply setting off their magickal danger warnings.

Powerful Resonance: The air in this spot fairly crackles with dynamism – some great magick or important event has left a lasting impact on this place.

Convenient Coincidence: Something unexpectedly goes the PCs’ way – a friend appears when they need a hand, a passing bus cuts off their pursuers, the billboard overhead gives them the exact inspiration they need.

Misfortune: Something befalls the PCs – a twisted ankle, a flat tire, their cell phone is out of batteries, their wallet is missing.

Green Spot: The PCs have found one of the many small parks, overgrown lots, and other verdant areas that litter Seattle. It could offer a chance to take a break, a hiding spot, or a source of power for nature mages.

Farmer’s Market: The neighborhood’s weekly farmer’s market is going on, taking up the streets and sidewalks for a couple blocks or occupying a parking lot. A good opportunity to lose a pursuer in the stalls and bustling crowds, or just to buy some fresh seasonal produce.

Unseen Helper: Someone or something moves to help the PCs, either from the shadows or remotely, using magick or other powers. Their identity and motives are currently unknown.

Awakening: The PCs see someone acting erratically, and it soon becomes clear they’re having their magickal Awakening. Do they step in to help? Or stay out of the way?

Homeless Encampment: A small group of tents have been set up nearby in a small lot or precarious spots near the freeway. If the PCs need help, the inhabitants can likely come to their aid.

No Reception: The PCs’ cell phones and/or other electronic devices have lost their signal. Hopefully it wasn’t a bad time…

Thunderstorm: Torrential rain, thunder and lightning – Seattle thunderstorms are rare but dramatic. Calling down lightning in this weather will be easy for a trained mage.

Rainstorm: Far from the typical Seattle drizzle, water pours from the sky and the gutters turn into rivers. Traffic slows down as visibility is reduced and accidents occur.

Fog: A heavy fog has rolled in to settle down until the winds blow it away. It might even be a reprise of the infamous stink fog of January 2015.

Smoke: In summer, the smoke from wildfires in the surrounding countryside often blankets the city, covering it in a thin haze and irritating eyes and throats. Outside of the fire season, this might mean a building is on fire nearby.

Heat Wave: Seattle is in the grip of either unseasonably hot weather or a dangerous summer heat wave. Beaches and forest parks are crowded and fans run in windows all night as people try to cope in a city without widespread air conditioning.

Magic/k?: The PCs witness someone doing something strange with results that could just be coincidence – but could easily be magick.

Impossible Space: Something – perhaps Correspondence magick – has twisted space nearby in physically impossible ways. A car that carries too many people on the inside, streets that turn back around on themselves, a building where going in the front entrance just takes you immediately out the back.

Time Disjunction: Either the PCs are experiencing déjà vu or something has gone wrong with the timestream – it could just be a moment temporarily looping, or parts of the future or past comingling. It could be a vision or omen, a Time spell, or a nasty Paradox backlash.

[movedto-dazaipositive]

urban fantasy + jackparse

big thanks to @taggianto and @restfulinsomniac because they yelled at me when I asked them to I couldn’t have done it without you 💙 🌌brought to you by the parseposse 🌌

Bob was human before Alicia turned him

but she turned Bob only after Jack was conceived

so Jack is a halfie from the start

and in their real forms, vampires are unnerving. they have waxy, bloodless skin and sunken eyes but in artificial light they’re sparkling_heart

and Jack gets all his mom’s good looks and his dad’s love for hockey

but they know that putting him in hockey is unfair because humans just can’t compete

he never grows up with hockey as a burden on his shoulders. he’s allowed to be a geeky, chubby history nerd who loves taking photos of random stuff

Jack goes to samwell

the Samwell campus (since I can’t remember canon right now) is next to/in a lil town

right? and Kent is just this lonely sixteen y/o boy who has a little magic and he can talk to ghosts

and in Jack’s first year, this girl on campus and her boyfriend are found dead in the woods behind the Haus

and then weird shit starts going down near the Haus and their Captain, who is superstitious as fuck even by hockey player standards, is like. nope. we gotta do an exorcism

and he puts Shitty and Jack on the task because the frogs gotta be good for something, right? and so they ask around and someone gives them the game of someone who tells them about Kent

Kent lives alone. he got kicked out when he was 13 bc his dad was like, no fucking devils in my house. Kent finds this dilapidated cottage just a little bit into the woods on the other side and the ghosts there are friendly and kind and give him instructions on how to cook and which herbs to pick at what time for witchcraft and which herbs the florist will buy

and Kent survives and occasionally someone will ask him to do an exorcism and Kent will charge them to talk to some poor confused ghost who doesn’t know what’s going on

which is what Jack and shitty ask him to do, or so he thinks, so he shrugs and agrees. and I want it to keep in mind that this is Jack without hockey. he’s a slightly chubby, awkward history nerd who takes a camera everywhere and happens to be half-vampire by complete accident

he’s like, the last person you’d expect to have vampire parents

he’s adorable, okay? Kent can’t deal with this stupidly beautiful soft boy. he just can’t. he reacts in typical Kent fashion by being a jackass to Jack (ha!) who’s like ?? about it

(Kent is going to melt the first time Jack hugs him)

Kent is so going to melt, though. he’s been alone with nothing but ghosts for regular company since he was 13 and Jack is large and warm and he smells like maple syrup and almonds and he’s always wearing dorky sweaters and he’s got a slow, wonderfully calming heartbeat. Kent doesn’t stand a fucking chance

I think Jack doesn’t even need to be a vampire for this fic to work he just needs to not play hockey

anyway. Kent goes with Jack and Shitty to the woods behind the Haus and they a have a campout for 2 days where they toast marshmallows and wait for the ghosts to show up

Kent hears someone crying on the second night after Jack and shitty are asleep. he goes to investigate, like the entire dumbass that he is. who goes it turn out to be? the girl who was killed, ofc. and she’s all bloody and horrifying and shit and I won’t go into details bc I have to sleep in 15 minutes but she scary

but Kent is like, np. hey, can I help you out? what happened? starts talking to her in a normal person voice until she calms down somewhat. and she’s just getting somewhere when shitty pops up behind Kent with a really loud leaf cronch sound and the girl starts screaming again

Kent is like, good job, asshole. and they aren’t getting anywhere with the girl so they just go back to their tents, where Jack is taking photos of the fire and looking Hot As Fuck (ha!) and Kent is extremely flustered bc he is a smol teenagered boy. and they all go to bed.

Kent wakes up just before dawn, yelling. his nightmare is bad enough that he nearly strangles himself trying to get the fuck away from whatever it was and Jack and shitty don’t get what’s going on but Kent is terrified and won’t stop crying so they take him back to the Haus, where Drew, their manager, makes waffles for everyone but especially Kent

who is by this time wearing one of jack’s sweaters and also has their softest blanket draped over him like a cape

(interlude because I fell asleep)

so where I left off, Kent is sitting at the table, eating waffles courtesy of Drew, the SMH’s genderfluid manager and Lardo’s predecessor

Jack is hovering nervously bc Kent has been crying for half the night and vomiting for a quarter of it

but Kent insists he’s okay now, and Jack is hovering because he’s! worried! Kent is tiny and Jack doesn’t want anything to happen to him

Kent, between shoveling waffles into his mouth bc he’s only had them once before in his life, tells them briefly how the girl died

and the way she died is like, gruesome. it’s this horrible thing involving a high school cult and this girl was a witch with real power that got trapped in this thing and they tried to kill her but it didn’t work and it’s bad. let’s not go into too many details about it

and she told her boyfriend, who was a lax bro, and he was like, I’m gonna beat these people up, except there was a demon stuck somewhere that these stupid cultists set free and it killed her and her boyfriend

bad, long drawn out deaths

and once Kent is done eating waffles–which takes a while, because he eats a lot–he slams his fork down and says, grimly, “I’m going to kill them.” and Jack goes ummm? no? ur 16 u r a child?

they fight. loudly. there’s a lot of Jack yelling you are a child and Kent screaming, I’m the only one who can do this

Kent does not like Shouting he has a lot of bad memories of it.

shitty, walking in: we can,,,,,,all go,,,

Jack:

Kent:

and drew is like, the hell you guys are leaving me behind. I’m the only adult in this room and y'all all are kids

restful: (drew has adopted three children? somehow?? but they are all drew’s children and drew loves them)

restful: (one of them lives in the woods and needs more waffles in his life, another goes by the name ‘shitty’, and the third hangs around with the hockey team despite not playing hockey but they are all drew’s kids)

me: (the lax bro feud starts in jack’s sophomore year and it is 100% Drew’s fault. drew didn’t have to humiliate the entire team because zey were bored)

Drew uses zey/zer/zers

drew is a messy edgelord parent

so Kent and shitty and Jack and drew all go on an Investigation

(I feel like this fic should be written like an Enid Blyton novel)

so they around and ask people weird questions until Kent sees someone who has magic. people who have magic (and other supernaturals) show up in Kent’s vision with weird coloured auras.

and they go up to this dude, a Muslim guy in his third year who recognises drew, and this guy is like, yeah totally. I know about that cult of fucking weirdos that followed Allison around. I helped her get a restraining order on them

so they go track down the restraining order. the cop they meet first is this nasty cishet dude who refuses point blank to use Drew’s pronouns, casually calls Kent a slur, and won’t look at Ahmed and sideyes shitty suspiciously. this is where jack’s occasional vampire charm helps (or maybe it’s because Jack looks like a Fellow CisHet) and the cop agrees to dig up the file

Jack is not a Fellow CisHet and is very uncomfortable at being mistaken as such but he plays along because he Must

and everyone acknowledges the brave sacrifice that he’s making

restful: Jack, staring longingly at Kent’s every move. “Uh, yeah. Het. I can pretend to be that.”

me: [about Jack] me? heterosexual? yeah, uh, totally. I’m not. gay. or bisexual. *staring at Ahmed’s ass in those jeans * I’m Straight

Kent, also staring at Ahmed’s ass: I’m not

drew: you’re all dead to me except Ahmed, who can have my number whenever he wants

restful: Ahmed, wide-eyed and trying to decide which of them to stare at. “all of you can have my number, please use it.”

Ahmed: except you, Kenny. also, does anyone know to file for adoption?

the head of the (I had to google this) precinct is a butch Native American woman who shows up to ask them why they want records.

Captain: can someone explain?

Drew: please take me I’m gay

Kent explains the situation to her and she’s like, yeah totally. u can have the records. Allison’s restraining order was before i transferred here but totally

so they go thru the records and find the names of the people Allison restrained. and then they go track down those people

drew gets the captain’s number 'just in case we need some help’ but we all know zer True Motives

(Ahmed and Drew are gonna get together and work out a relationship where Drew gets to have as much sex as zey like and Ahmed gets to remain faithful to zer which is ideal for both of them, partly because Ahmed is just a lil grey ace? he’s uncomfortable calling himself that but he doesn’t like sex nearly as much as Drew does)

anyway, they have a showdown where Ahmed shows off his karate moves and Drew splits zer time between fighting (badly, needs to be rescued) and 😍@ahmed

drew is such a bad fighter because zer entire technique is to flail and screme

Ahmed loves his idiot person, okay? he’s made his peace with it

Kent meanwhile tries to exorcise a demon and he has no fucking clue what’s going on

or what he’s doing. but he cuts a deal with the demon that amounts to 'you can have the cultists but plz go from here, begone etc’. demon is okay with this, partly because Jack is being a threatening bloodsucker in the background and this demon isn’t that strong–demon boi might win. but he might not. boy ain’t chancing it

Jack and Kent become awkward friends who meet for dinner every week and they go trekking in the woods and pine horribly over each other. it’s gross. Kent is still living alone in a cottage in the woods and he still needs to be hugged about 6 times more than he is right now

but on the plus side, he has friends now! Jack and Drew and Ahmed (who’s teaching Kent magic !!) and *looks at smudged writing on hand * Skittles

and the entire hockey team.

and the Captain, who takes one look at this idiot boy and invites him home and feeds him and does it regularly enough that Kent is living there before he knows it

Kent goes back to school. he s t r u g g l e s to get grades good enough to get into samwell next year (he hasn’t been to school in 4 years ok) but he has Jack to help him study!

Jack kisses him at graduation

it’s just a quick little omg you made it kiss but Kent is! so happy! he feels like he’s bursting with it

he has everything he wants, he’s loved and hugged, he has a little kitten who’s his familiar, and even if he doesn’t get into Samwell he’ll still finds have magic and community college and he wants to become a teacher

the end