#random npcs

[rorah]

FE warriors 3 hopes is undervalued, It gave us DANCER BYLETH 💃 (and I think it gets a pass solely for it, lol ok kidding but still undervalued, but that's another post)

The king won't admit he has a crush on the skillful mercenary, of course he doesn't know he's capable of such things. Fortunately, he has someone like Sylvain on his team 😊...

Love illustrated stories where you don't need words to know what's happening and it's free to interpretation 🫶

[randomtable]

“Do I Know Someone Who Can Help Us With ____?” (2d6)

2. No; the person you thought could help refuses and adds another complication to the situation. (Example complications: they demand payment for a past debt, they are with someone you wanted to avoid, or they call the authorities regarding your illegal activities.) 3. The person you know who could help has gone missing, you’d have to find them first. 4. Yes, but they demand a steeper price than you would expect. Furthermore, if you refuse they will be offended. 5. Yes, but things are awkward between you. The price they ask will be generous, but only after an uncomfortable conversation. 6. Yes, but the help they can offer is sub-par, or only half of what you need. 7. Yes, but they need you to do a small favor for them right now before they help you. 8. Yes, but you’ll owe them one. Could be a future favor they call on, or a cut of whatever money you’re after, or something else. 9. Yes; they’ll give you a good price but it’s not free. 10. Yes, but they don’t seem too happy about it - you’ll have to look for help somewhere else next time. 11. Yes, there’s someone who owes you one and you can cash in that favor. 12. Yes, and that person also gives you an unrelated piece of helpful information.

[inafieldofdaisies]

Far Cry 5 (2018) | Replay in 2023 | Random moments (vol. 2) | Observing NPCs encounters

Okay, sadly I was too far away to capture audible dialogue between the two Peggies and the civilian and I just knew if I move I'd mess it all up. I'd like to imagine they're doing road stops and questioning people about Dep, would explain the what seems like a polaroid picture to me being waved around by the Chosen Skier 🤣 What my PS4 for some reason didn't record is the Peggies then letting the civilian drive off freely. Quite interesting.

[the-goofball]

I think I'm disturbing a moment(TM) here.

[diekaduwee]

Does anyone ever think of the background NPC's? Boo doesn't.

Man: I am so excited I have waited six months to see the consort.

Asari: Yeah, sorry we just gave your appointment away to a more interesting human.

[corpothievesmustdie]

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

[oxalisvtesblog]

Since no real necromancer would stand around on a plaza proclaiming to everyone that he is indeed a necromancer (generally hinders a smooth enterprise), my headcanon is that Dedaenc is just a poser who tries to appear mysterious and edgy.

[underfiends]

Behind Closed Doors

Hi, I'm back. This is another addition to the Killing Time series, set in a hypothetical world where the lovely librarian Mandus ends up...not so lovely. This is more of an origin story, but I intend to write more for this because it has invaded my brain. Mandus belongs to @hannrenn. I've added tags for the trigger warnings in this, so please heed those. I don't know is this is the heaviest short story I've posted, but it's certainly not my lightest. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

I turn my head as a raised voice snaps through the air. Gazing across a wooden fence, my eyes travel over to my neighbours’ house. In the mud of the street before a crooked, unpainted door, a man and woman bear down upon someone far smaller.

“-you useless thing! I should have thrown you into the well as a babe! Our lives would have been better for it.” The man marches forward and grabs onto a small arm. Olive skin bulges and whitens around thick fingers; no doubt it will redden before long. “Get up! You will learn what happens when you cross me. Mark my words, you won’t dare do it again.”

The woman watches with a smooth brow as her husband drags the child through that crooked, unpainted door. Her gaze drifts to mine. Her cheeks alight, hurried steps splashing through the mud as she scurries to the fence.

“Many apologies for the disturbance. Our son, he is well prone to mischief.” She looks back at the house, brows smoothing again when she catches glimpse of the small shape being dragged deeper in.

I look over. A small head turns, and pale brown hair turns into an even paler face. Small, wide eyes catch mine. I can see the liquid sheen from here, red already puffing lower eyelids, cheeks ruddy in anticipation.

I look away. A shard of ice pricks my chest as a door slams closed.

“I understand, truly. Children can be such fickle things, especially those with…deformities. I wish you luck in teaching those pesky tendencies away.”

The woman droops, hands clasping before her, breathing out a relieved sigh. “Yes, thank you so much. It has been such a hardship, as I am sure you have witnessed, living close as you do.”

I ignore the painful lump in my throat. I think of a child crouched in the dirt, hands pulling at tiny, fuzzy horns, completely ignoring the darkening skin of his cheek. My chest constricts as I recall muffled sobs drifting from a window crack, interspersed with pained whimpers. 

I shake my head to dislodge the images, smile now strained. “It has been no hardship. Please do ask for assistance should you ever need it. A friend of mine is a priest; perhaps he could cure your child of his affliction.”

“If only it were so easy. A church was the first place we went after he was born. Though I thank you again for your kindness. I must be going; dinner will not prepare itself!” She gives a small wave, then turns back to that crooked, unpainted door.

I do not watch her leave. My skirt flutters around my ankles, steps so hurried that I nearly expose myself. The moment I press my palm against rough wood, the creak of a door behind me lets chilling cries pierce the air.

I throw myself into my home, slamming the door shut behind me. The sun-worn wood does not block out the aching scream torn from tiny lungs. A salty trail cuts through the dirt on my cheek.

Oh how I wish I could help that poor child. With parents such as that, who would find every fault simply for the way he was born, he truly never stood a chance. Perhaps the world will be kind and allow him to be taken away to the gods. They have interfered in mortal affairs before; I pray they will again.

I shuffle into my kitchen and set about cutting potatoes. I too have a dinner to prepare, no matter how my hands shake.

Later, when the cries stop, I let myself believe that everything is now right. Nothing has happened. I am sure that small child was only throwing a tantrum at being sent to his room. There is no reason for the sharp inhale and rush of dizziness that passes over me when I see the child exit his prison that evening. I am relieved only that he has stayed out of trouble long enough to be once again allowed to play.

When night falls, I climb in bed next to my husband. He has been so sweet to me this evening. Perhaps he could sense the guilt that clung to my bones, or perhaps he simply had a long day and was pleased to see me again. A bloom of warmth spreads over my chest at the thought. My eyes drift closed, content now to sleep and allow today’s events to fall from my mind as they always do.

Screams are what I awaken to. I shoot up in bed, my husband already on his feet and rushing across the room.

It is dark; the moon’s light barely penetrates the thin curtains over our bedroom’s window. I pull the sheet from the bed, clutching it to my chest in a tight grip as I shuffle in the direction my husband went. I peek out into the front room. The door is open, letting in the cool night air; the hinges creak as the door moves in the wind.

I can hear the crunch of dirt under boots. No doubt my husband has gone outside to investigate those awful noises. As his steps fade, my mind drifts.

I had heard screams already earlier today; the screams of a small child, surely accompanied by the sound of fists hitting flesh, though I could not hear it at the time. These screams had not sounded like those ones. They were… I shudder when the night air finally reaches me, cooling my skin with ease despite the bedsheet around my shoulders. My nightgown is not meant for the outside air; it is only for sleeping in, next to a warm body.

A scream rips through the air.

I race to the door, heart in my throat. That had sounded so familiar, but never before have I heard this voice sound that way. It is meant to be soft and sweet, rumbling deep and low in gentle tones as it tells me of its owner’s day. This sound was raw, high and terrified. Like a pig squealing as its belly is cut open.

My bare feet touch cold mud. The filth is quick to cover my skin and the hem of my nightgown. I stare across the wooden fence surrounding my house, to the next one over.

That crooked, unpainted door hangs open. The opening is dark. I have not heard another scream since the one that ran my blood cold.

My hands pull the bedsheet tighter around myself and slowly walk forward. Wet fabric brushes against my ankles. I will need to wash my gown and sheet before returning to bed. I am sure my husband will attempt to stay up with me, and I will need to send him to bed so that he is able to go to work in the morning.

Cold mud turns to cold wood under my feet as I pass the threshold of my neighbours’ doorway. Without the moonlight, my eyes are able to adjust to the darkness. There is a scent in the air. One I cannot place. It is so thick that my eyes begin to water; it clings to my tongue and pools in my lungs.

I nearly choke, then clap a hand over my mouth in an attempt to filter the stench. My breath comes quicker. I gasp and gag in the doorway, eyes drifting over the front room as I try to find the source of this smell.

My breath stops altogether when I see it. A pair of muddy boots, one turned to the side. White sleep pants extending past a wall; I do not need to see the sleep shirt to know that it is white as well, or the hair to know that it is shaggy and unkempt from sleep. There is a darkness spreading across the parts of the legs I can see. I am sure the source is from the pool on the ground.

The image before me blurs. I take a stumbling step forward. My heart is beating so loud I can feel it in my ears. A sob punches out of my throat and my knees slam into the wood floor. I care not for the ache of bruises forming, my only thought is of the man facedown before me. Numb fingers drop the bedsheet and instead grip onto still warm skin.

I press my face into the lower abdomen of the one I had been sleeping with not ten minutes before. I cannot fathom this, cannot understand how this could happen.

Screams.

We were woken by screams. My husband screamed.

My breath catches, eyes snapping open wide, freezing in place. I can still hear breathing.

Slowly, throat tightening and panic running like blood through me, I lift my head. I am kneeling in the opening to a living room. There are curtains halfway parted from the windows. Someone is standing in the middle of the room.

A step forward, and moonlight catches a face twisted in rage. There is a dark bruise covering half of his face. He has dark speckles on his cheeks and down his front, more of the same covering the hand clutching a splitting axe. I looked away from this face earlier today, and yet now I could not look away if I tried.

His arms raises, lips curling over sharp canines, eyes flashing the colour this room will be come morning. I recall the prayer I had made against my closed door. An axe strikes down.

The gods have finally interfered.

[hes-sunshine-im-midnight-rain]

where do y'all sit?

[metamatronic]

“It makes sense why ASGORE took so long to hire a new Royal Scientist. After all, the old one... Dr. Gaster. What an act to follow!” “One day, he vanished without a trace. They say he shattered across time and space.” “Well, I needn't gossip. After all, it's rude to talk about someone who's listening.”

it’s 2024 and i’m drawing undertale fanart of *checks notes* the gaster followers??? yeah sure alright.

((also i know goner kid is monster kid’s sprite but baby alphys intern has my heart))

[perpetual-fng]

day 5 of drawing roach until he spontaneously appears in a random warehouse in MW4

[randomtable]

1d12 NPC Secrets

1. Is immortal. 2. Used to date the big bad. 3. Is cursed to die at the hands of a member of their own family. 4. Is actually a pair of identical twins who switch off being this person. 5. Has been offered a reward to betray the party, but has not decided whether to take it. 6. Is pretty sure they remember one of the PCs from somewhere but can’t remember where. 7. Is a wanted criminal, introduced themself with a fake name. 8. Is a shapeshifter (and is also one or more other NPCs the party has already met). 9. Is a member of the royalty/nobility/ruling class in disguise. 10. Has been possessed by a demon or other entity and is constantly wrestling it for control. 11. Can’t read. 12. Is having an affair with one of the other NPCs the party has already met.

[inafieldofdaisies]

Far Cry 5 (2018) | Replay in 2023 | Funny moments (vol. 12) 

[x3nshit]

this is honestly most people on the internet

People on tumblr are so determined to misunderstand you like you can post something like “I love standing in the sun” and someone would be like “are you making fun of albinos??” Go touch some grass

[luchaaa]

working hard, hard at work, (hardly working)