#sabbat crusade

[thegodemperorsmycopilot]

ArtStation - Gaunt's Ghosts

[lewdcookies]

00111110 01100101 01111000 01100101 01100011 00100000 01000110 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 01101101 00100000 01010101 01110000 00101110 01100101 01111000 01100101 -Binharic transmission from Delisia van der Laulk, Cybernetica Datasmith of Forge world Hethgamon to Kastelan Maniple Gamma Dash 2 during the battle of Aspira fields.

*** With an AdMech colour scheme established I decided to knock off the other one I had on my backlog. But this time I decided to add some splash of white for the armor, so it didn't go overboard with the metal.

Decided to swap out the head as I don't like any of the original Datasmith heads. A bit of a tight fit but I don't think a domed helmet would've worked as well in this case. This one was originally meant to be a sidekick for the Magos I painted years ago, but decided otherwise as the scheme I went for back then wasn't all that great. Almost want to repaint the Magos, but it's been varnished and probably too much of a hassle to do. Also, the first three wafers are colour coded after the Doom keys. Just because.

[wh40kgallery]

Anakwanar Sek

by Dave Kendall

[whencyclopedia]

Interview: Dithmarschen Republic

Located in what is the present-day German province of Schleswig-Holstein, the Dithmarschen Republic (1227-1559) was a republic by commoners who developed quasi-democratic institutions, including their own written constitution. Fiercely independent and freedom-loving, these peasants successfully defended their political independence against the forces of Holstein and the Scandinavian Kalmar Union as the Middle Ages came to a close.

House in Burg, Dithmarschen

Z thomas (CC BY-SA)

James Blake Wiener speaks to Dr. William L. Urban, a medievalist and the author of Dithmarschen: A Medieval Peasant Republic, to learn more about the Dithmarschers in this interview.

JBW: Dr. William L. Urban, many thanks for speaking with me. As your main research interest is that of the Teutonic Knights and the Northern Crusades, I am curious to know how you first became interested in the history of the Dithmarschers. What was it that led you to Dithmarschen?

WLU: In a very real sense, this book began at the University of Hamburg in 1964-1965 when I met a retired school teacher named Maria Krüger. Of Dithmarscher extraction, she often entertained my wife and me for tea, with cookies and tales of her native land. At her suggestion, I later read some of the local color novelists in the library of the University of Kansas. Thereafter, I went to the works of serious historians where I discovered that the novelists’ descriptions of Dithmarschen and its people were not exaggerations.

I was lucky enough to be able to travel to the countries north of the Elbe. After cycling across Germany three times, I lived in Hamburg and the neighboring town of Ahrensburg for almost a year. This gave me the confidence I needed to write a very rough draft of this manuscript before turning to the revision and completion of my dissertation, which appeared in 1975 as The Baltic Crusade. In the same year, I received a Fulbright-Hayes research grant for supplementary studies at the Johann Gottfried Herder Institute and the Philipps University in Marburg/Lahn. The opportunity arose for me to visit Dithmarschen twice that summer and again in 1976. In 1976-77, the University of Chicago awarded me a part-time faculty research grant in its main library, the Regenstein Library, to further develop my manuscript in discussion with Prof. Karl Morrison.

In the fall of 1982, Monmouth College provided me with a student assistant, Janet Fox, who typed the manuscript into the computer for editing. In the summer and fall of 1983, I was back in Marburg/Lahn with the help of a scholarship from the German Academic Exchange Service and a sabbatical from Monmouth College. At that time, Professor Walther Lammers was kind enough to read the manuscript and discuss it with me at his home. I really appreciated his support and friendship. In January 1988, with the help of my wife and a new student typist, Kris Wang, I began a two-year editing process. Hardly a sentence remained unchanged. Eventually, after being tutored to use PageMaker by Daryl Carr and Marta Tucker, I prepared the manuscript for publication during my spring semester sabbatical. In June 1990, my wife and I took a car tour of Dithmarschen to visit places I had previously missed. In the fall of 1990, Monmouth College provided another small grant to cover the cost of preparing the manuscript for publication, and Erik Midelfort (with whom I had discussed the Dithmarscher project on several occasions in the past) responded to my request for a final reading with several helpful comments on the text.

JBW: It is true that there was a notable absence of feudalism and serfdom in nearby Frisia during the Middle Ages. Were the political traditions in Dithmarschen similar to what many historians would term as 'Frisian freedoms'? If so, how 'free' were the Dithmarschers?

WLU: There were many similarities, but the Dithmarschers had a more strongly developed clan system. This communal spirit made it possible to build dikes and canals, to develop a legal system capable of dealing with crime, land disputes, and inheritances; it also made it easier to raise a fighting force of men who could stand up to feudal cavalry and neighboring militias.

16-century Map of Dithmarshen

Abraham Ortelius (Public Domain)

This evolved over time so that local communities (Kirchspiele) became more important, and then the more prosperous farmers became a quasi-aristocracy that dominated the 48 representatives of the final government.

JBW: Many of the characteristics of Dithmarschen – the presence of clannish families, a militia, and a fiercely independent populace – strike me as similar to other medieval peasant republics, like that of the Old Swiss Confederation or the Icelandic Commonwealth. Are such comparisons worthwhile or even valid?

WLU: In my book, I tried to analyze why most peasant republics failed. The Swiss survived because they had geography and poverty on their side. That is, the mountain cantons were difficult to attack and hardly worth the effort, while the other members of the Swiss Confederation managed to negotiate the complex political and military challenges by raising a well-drilled military force large enough to defeat the regional powers, then providing mercenaries to more powerful neighbors who became allies.

What Dithmarschen lacked was numbers, and both the Dithmarschers and the Hanseatic League failed to see the advantages of allying against their common enemies as the Swiss had done.

JBW: Relations between Dithmarschen and the medieval Hanseatic towns, like Lübeck, were close. Was this so that they could protect their common interests in commerce while maintaining a degree of political independence?

WLU: Yes, but their common interests were limited. There were Dithmarscher fishermen, just as there were in Lübeck, Hamburg, and Bremen, but no international network of trading partners for selling their catch. There were also too many tensions, especially Dithmarschen traditions that bordered on freebooting (and sometimes crossed over it)! Dithmarschers defended their citizens even when they were in the wrong, which was not always the case with the Hansa.

JBW: John I of Denmark (r. 1481-1513) and his brother, Duke Frederick of Holstein, attempted to subdue the peasantry of Dithmarschen in the 1490s. At the Battle of Hemmingstedt in 1500, Danes and Holsteiners were soundly defeated by the Dithmarscher peasants. What ensured their victory of what was seemingly a more powerful and better organized military force?

WLU: First, the invaders did not have the money to pay their mercenaries and allies for a long war, so they needed a quick victory.

Second, dumb luck. The king sent his army north from Meldorf toward Heide along a narrow road on a dike, expecting that the good weather would last. Instead, a winter storm blew into the invaders’ faces, making it difficult to see until they finally blundered into fortifications the Dithmarschers had hurriedly thrown up across the road. When they trained their artillery on the redoubt, the wind, snow, and rain doused the wicks and ruined the power.

Battle of Hemmingstedt

Max Friedrich Koch (Public Domain)

Lastly, Dithmarscher fighting skills were more appropriate to this battlefield – they opened the dikes, waded barefoot and half-naked through the freezing water to get at the foe, and then pursued the panicked enemy relentlessly.

JBW: What became of the Dithmarschers following the Protestant Reformation? Moreover, how did they ultimately lose their cherished freedoms?

WLU: The Dithmarschers were very pious, but because they had always been suspicious of clergymen, they had limited their authority. Since they had long managed their local religious affairs themselves and used the churches for schools and political assemblies, they found the change to Protestantism easy, which is quite something.

JBW: Are there any unique characteristics of the medieval Dithmarschen Republic that merit further consideration and study? If so, what are they?

WLU: First, we should not think of every European society as an inferior reflection of England and France, but of each possessing characteristics that are still important today. Second, these characteristics can be good or bad, or both at the same time. People are complicated. Third, not everyone can be moved by what they see in others.

Dithmarschers admire Britons; Americans are liable to see in the Dithmarschers what they once were, and everyone can remember that freedom is not free but must be earned and defended by patriot blood.

JBW: Finally, if there is one thing that we ought to remember about the Dithmarschen Republic, what is it in your opinion?

WLU: Someone inscribed a motto on the organ in Hemme, Germany: "Dithmarsia libera fuit." The implication was that it could be again, and today it has become so again.

JBW: Dr. William Urban, many thanks for lending your time and expertise!

Professor William L. Urban was educated at Baylor University, the University of Texas at Austin, and the Universität Hamburg. He received a Ph.D. 1967 at the University of Texas, taught at the University of Kansas and Monmouth College, Monmouth, Illinois, at Knox College, Fort Hays Kansas State College, the Estonian Institute for the Humanities, and the Eastern Michigan University Cultural History Tour in Europe. He was Director of the Arts of Florence, then the Yugoslav and Czech programs of Associated Colleges of the Midwest. He received a senior Fulbright grant for research at the Herder Institut in Marburg/Lahn, Germany; several DAAD grants, NEH grants for summer study, and a United States Military Academy Military History Workshop. He is a corresponding member of the Historische Kommission für ost- und westpreußische Landesforschung and the Baltische Historische Kommission. He has published The Baltic Crusade, The Prussian Crusade, The Livonian Crusade, The Samogitian Crusade, Tannenberg and After, Lithuania, Poland, and the Teutonic Order in Search of Immortality, The Teutonic Knights: a military history, Medieval Mercenaries, Bayonets for Hire: the Business of War, 1550-1763, Matchlocks to Flintlock, Mercenaries in Europe and Beyond, 1500-1700, Bayonets and Scimitars, Arms, Armies and Mercenaries, 1700-1789, and Small Wars, and their influence on the Nation State. With Jerry Smith, he translated The Livonian Rhymed Chronicle, The Chronicle of Balthasar Russow, and Johannes Renner's Chronicle.

Continue reading...

[salixsociety]

The Problem of the 'Witch's Sabbat'

Why we should stop calling our non-jewish holidays 'Sabbats': a (hopefully) definitive guide.

It is the year of our Gods 2024, and to this day I still enter communities and see the word 'sabbat' as one of the first. It is common practice to refer to any holiday, but especially those as featured in the Wheel of the Year, as sabbat(h)s, and frankly, I am sick of it. So I hope that I can use this post to convince some people on why it is time to remove that word from our vocabulary.

Where Does the Word 'Sabbat' Come From?

The very root of this word is the Hebrew ש־ב־ת (sh-b-t). It is the root word for many words pertaining to rest and not working (or more broadly: 'cessation'). This word evolved into שַׁבָּת (shabát), which translates to Saturday or weekly rest-day, normally. This word, also often spelled Shabbos from Ashkenazi Hebrew, travelled through various antique languages (Ancient Greek -> Latin -> Old French) directly to Middle English, where it became 'Sabat', and later Sabbath. While this word, in its travel through Europe, has influenced some words, you'll notice that it has also stayed one unique word, with a unique meaning: the Jewish Rest Day. The Sabbath, Shabbos, Sabbat, Shabat, et cetera, will always and has for most of its history been the word uniquely reserved for Saturday in Judaism. To those not very well read on Judaism, it may be helpful to know that Judaism is what is considered a closed practice. It is only permissible to practice Jewish religious tradition, and to a large extent, Jewish culture, if you are a Jewish convert. By extension, that should clue you in on the nature of the word and holiday of Shabbat.

Further reading on this topic: Etymology, Jewish Sabbath.

When Did it Become Relevant to Witches?

The first time the words 'sabbat(h)' and 'witch' were uttered in the same breath would likely be around the late Medieval period. The reason why this is, is something not nearly enough people are familiar with: the incredibly deep link between antisemitism and witch-hunting. Before the early Church turned its hateful eye to the concept of 'witches,' it was firmly on Jews. Jews, alongside other heretics and oppressed minorities like the Rroma, were considered utterly worthy of damnation. They were seen as antagonistic to the Church, going against everything the Church stood for, and furthermore as misanthropic, greedy, unreliable enemies. They were the scapegoats for many disasters and indeed frequently accused of practicing magic or poisoncrafting to invoke these disasters on the 'Good Christian Folk'. Furthermore, and this may sound familiar to you, jews were accused of 'consorting with the devil' and murdering children in order to consume their blood to mock the Eucharist, often referred to as blood libel. It was often claimed that this (nonexistent!) practice was done on the Shabbat, alongside other practices twisting and mocking those done in Church on Sunday. The persecution of Jews in Medieval Europe was horrific and seemingly endless, having origins in antiquity and reaching a peak during the Crusades, and another when the Plague ran rampant. Jews were banished, forced to convert to Christianity or brutally murdered, not infrequently by burning or strangulation.

What all of this is meant to illustrate is that the witch stereotype, or the wish to persecute witches in the early modern period, didn't come out of nowhere. There is a reason that caricatures and cartoons of witches feature a short and stocky body, a big and 'ugly' nose, green skin, red or dark hair, buckled shoes, and a conical hat (which before it became associated with witches, was often called a judenhut or jew hat). The roots of the witch stereotype in antisemitic caricatures and stereotypes are well-recorded and easy to see. And, indeed, the crimes most witches were accused of and burned for, directly mirrored the crimes jews were accused of before them. Consuming 'pure' Christian blood, mocking the Eucharist, fornicating with the devil, and all of this at the 'witch's sabbat', a made up gathering that witches would supposedly fly to on their broomsticks.

The idea that witches existed and the wish to eradicate them didn't purely come from antisemitism, of course. Misogyny, xenophobia, religious idealism from the Church, and other factors played incredibly large roles. But let us remain forever aware that the people burned were not in fact people flying on brooms, having sex with the devil and drinking the blood of Christian children. They were jews, they were Romani, they were people of color, they were women accused of stealing milk, they were victims.

So, the word 'sabbat(h)' wasn't just appropriated because somebody else wanted it or didn't understand it, like in many other cases of (mis)appropriation. It was appropriated explicitly to harm and eradicate several already fragile and oppressed, and in the case of Judaism, culturally exclusionary, communities.

The Role of Western Esotericism and Wicca

One could have expected the concept of the witches' sabbath to die out alongside the trials, but there is a secondary evil in this story, and it is Wicca.

In the late 19th century, English anthropologist and folklorist Margaret Alice Murray, one of the few women in her field, was halted in her research about Egypt, and was forced to find a new field of interest. She developed a hypothesis, based in mostly fantasy, that certain 'witch-cults' had survived the "Burning Times" in Europe. They were, according to her, secret societies upholding prehistoric fertility cults. Though most of her work was based in fantasy and speculation, her theory had one passionate follower: Gerald Gardner. But we will get back to him in a moment, because there is someone else pivotal to Gerald Gardner's beliefs: Aleister Crowley. Crowley is perhaps one of the most famous sexual predators, racists, antisemites, and cultural appropriators in the history of western magic. But, he was 'intelligent', well-travelled, privileged, and obsessed with occultism. He joined the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn when Gardner was already there. Both during his time in the Hermetic Order and after, he studied many religious traditions across the continents and wildly appropriated from all of them, most notably for this story, from Kabbalah (Jewish Mysticism). I will not go in depth about him, but he, and his fixation on Kabbalah, were extremely important to Gardner's views. Gardner, amateur anthropologist (with two fake PhDs!) and former devout Christian, used the works of Margaret Murray and Aleister Crowley to justify his claim that an old witch named Dorothy Clutterbuck had initiated him into one of these prehistoric fertility cults, one that survived the witch hunts. This is where Wicca started, and that makes the formation of Wicca entirely impossible to separate from antisemitism - and that is reflected by their language and rituals. From appropriation directly from Kabbalah, a closed practice, to calling their (mis)appropriated holidays 'sabbats', the origins of Wicca and their views on the trials are abundantly clear.

The Harm

I think we are now at the point in this blog where I should no longer have to explain that taking the word 'Sabbath' (or any other spelling of it) outside of its cultural and religious context, and applying it to practitioners of magic, is outrageously antisemitic. It is the propagation and preservation of notions and habits that got thousands of people, jews and not, brutally murdered, displaced, and forcefully converted, and it continues to conflate jews and witches - something that we've had to agree is antisemitic quite a few times, after quite a few genocides.

Another major evil in calling pagan/witchy holidays 'sabbats' is that it misconstrues what the witch trials actually were - it was the persecution of heretics. Witches are heretics, heretics are non-christian, jews are non-christian, therefore jews are heretics, therefore jews must be witches! In both the Old and the New World it was always the different, the other, the unfamiliar that were murdered. Again: people of color, Romani, jews, muslims, scary and ugly women, thieves, disliked women, the disabled, the mentally ill. It was not, and it will never be, privileged white women. In fact, it was generally them assisting in the eradication! I mean this with quite some distaste: if you are one of those people that says 'we are the daughters of the witches you couldn't burn', I know what you are. You are either uneducated or hateful, and I hope you fix that sooner rather than later.

Something else rather distasteful to me is how casually people are willing to dismiss the arguments against the use of 'sabbat' by the pagan/witch community. Antisemitism is not considered as serious, as severe, as relevant, as important, as worth considering. Not as much as other issues. I have had days-long arguments with people providing source on source on source and been met with: "I just don't see the harm." And I hear what you are truly saying. What you are truly saying is: "it's only antisemitism." When it is the appropriation of white sage, when it is the appropriation of Papa Legba, when it is the appropriation of something you don't want all that much, you are willing to stand up. But when it is antisemitism, when it is a word you've used for years, when it seems small and like it would be more convenient to just keep it, you are willing to stand by. And that is performative activism, and that is perpetuating the casual willingness to appropriate from Judaism. And it will be the reason that you and the people in your circle will also feel confident casually appropriating from other cultures.

Intersectionality

Despite the fact that the antisemitic nature of this usage should be enough, there is so much more harm to be done. After all, as was mentioned, it wasn't just jews that died. It was everybody who was not a white, wealthy, able-bodied, heteronormative, Christian man. It was women, so many women. It was schizophrenics. It was slaves, freed and not. It was natives. It was everybody who was different. When you stand by when people call their holidays 'sabbats', you are not just saying yes to antisemitism. You are saying yes to racism. You are saying yes to homophobia. You are saying yes to indigenous hate. You are saying yes to misogyny. You are saying yes to ableism. You are saying yes to ageism. You are saying yes to xenophobia. You are saying yes to hate.

After all, even when it starts with one group being persecuted, the persecution will go on after the extinction of the first group. And when the persecution finally reaches your group, and you have let every other group before you gone extinct, there will be nobody but you to fight for you.

Further Reading

OTHER BLOGS: The Witch Hunts & Antisemitism: An Often Overlooked History Why I Don't Call Them Sabbats, Why You Should Stop, and Other Thoughts on Problematic Aspects of Western Witchcraft The Antisemitic History of Witches Jews and the Witchcraze Can You Be a Jew and a Witch? Why Do Witches Wear Pointy Hats?

BOOKS and PAPERS: The Saturnine History of Jews and Witches - Yvonne Owens Heal the Witch Wound - Celeste Larsen “Persecution Perpetuated: The Medieval Origins of Anti-Semitic Violence in Nazi Germany,” The Quarterly Journal of Economics 127, iss. 3 (2012) - Nico Voigtländer and Hans-Joachim Voth "The Malleus Maleficarum of Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, translated with Introduction, Bibliography, and Notes by Montague Summers Do What Thou Wilt - Lawrence Sutin Witchcraze - Dr. Anne L. Barstow Imagining the Witch: A Comparison between Fifteenth-Century Witches within Medieval Christian Thought and the Persecution of Jews and Heretics in the Middle Ages Male witches in early modern Europe - Lara Apps, Andrew Gow

[gehennagone]

Finished portrait of my malkavian Elias Freelove. A lil backstory under the cut.

(Tw: Cults, implied child abuse, arson, child death, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse, and self harm, depiction of suicide.)

Elias was born into a cult around 1980 near Lafayette, LA. Their father led the cult, and his father before him led it. From the outside looking in, the cult seemed like your run of the mill fire and brimstone fundamentalist Christian branch, but its true nature was far darker than even that. Known only to The Father and the Church Elders, the cult served as a bootcamp of sorts to provide the Sabbat with well-trained, pre-indoctrinated soldiers for the Gehenna Wars. The Noddist scripture was simply dressed up as more traditional Armageddon doctrine to be more digestible to kine. From the age of 13, it was Elias' duty to raise and educate the cult's children, to shape them into holy crusaders.

Periodically, the cult's homestead was visited by "holy men" who came to deliver word on the impending end of days to The Father and oversee the cult's most important of rituals in which all members cleansed their souls through fire, released the sin from their blood, and became one. Essentially mortal mockups of the Fire Dance and Vaulderie ritae. At the end of the visits, the holy men would select a handful of worthy soldiers to join the Crusade. The soldiers would never be heard from again.

As the years went by, it seemed as if The Father's endless youth and health began to wane, and the holy men visited more often to take away more and more soldiers. On one such visit, Elias eavesdropped on a meeting between the men and their father in which they heard their father, in his desperation for vitae, agree to let the holy men take away young soldiers 12 and up.

Horrified, Elias searched for some way to prevent the children from surely being sent to their deaths. With no electricity on the homestead, they couldn't call for help, and they couldn't drive even if they could get ahold of one of the cult's trucks. Who's to say anyone would believe them anyway? They needed someone from the outside to come into the homestead to see proof of the cult's ways. Firefighters often entered burning buildings to save people...

So they lit a fire outside the living quarters. They'd started fires a hundred times before, they've put them out just as easily. Just build up enough smoke to notify the nearby town. But the fire found a discarded kerosene lamp and before they new it, the inferno was out of control. Too afraid of the punishment they'd receive if they woke the other adults up, they tried to put the fire out themselves, but by the time they came back from the well, the fire had spread to the youths' bunk, and the screaming from inside began.

And it never stopped. Even after they ran away, away from the homestead, through the woods, into the night, and even years down the line, the screaming followed them. But something else came with them that night as well. An unseen presence invaded their life, lurking, waiting. For what? They didn't know. Not until 12 years of drinking, tripping, fucking, cutting, anything to dull the pain later did they find out.

On September 2nd, 2010, Elias resigned to finally end their life at the edge of a swamp. They sliced their wrists with a broken beer bottle and fell into the dark water. At the very last second, they were pulled from the swamp and embraced by that shrouded stalker. Their sire held them to his chest and murmured incoherently to them for hours, over and over, until they understood and entered a deathly sleep. When they came to the next night, they were alone in their hotel room, and self pity was replaced with a searing rage. They were truly damned, so they might as well take some motherfuckers down with them. Over the next 14 years, they've been systematically tracking down the Church Elders, now scattered to the wind, to locate The Father and enact castigation upon him.

[y-rhywbeth2]

My trip to Baldur's Gate: Vampire the Masquerade AUs has haunted me all day.

-

The Dead Three aren't going to translate neatly and should probably be split into different characters covering different aspects of the originals. The Clan of Death is the neatest fit for them overall, but they don't all fit. The Giovanni fit Bhaal best (the Endless Night is basically his ideal, then there's the family money, the fucked up family shit). The scholarly bent of the Cappadocians with the aesthetic of the Harbingers of Skull is Myrkul and followers. Myrkul and Bhaal are too tied to death and undeath, if you take them out of here you lose something. Bane, frankly, is Ventrue with a splash of Lasombra; which does take us out of the box and the succession thing. Luckily their antediluvian is dead as hell as far as anyone can tell, so that's free real estate.

Withers is a fragment of Cappadocius; 'retired' and his one church/clan split in three (they might be pawns though god knows who of); mostly forgotten in the modern nights; seems benign on the surface and then you look closer and he's the world's least trustworthy motherfucker. Jergal has never schemed to eat Ao's soul as far as I know, but I sure wouldn't put anything past him.

Failing that he's the Capuchin... assuming those two are so unrelated, although I'm pretty sure the Capuchin is Lazarus.

-

Haarlep is hosting the succubus club. I will overlook how much it annoys be that 5e stopped the succubus being strictly tanar'ri for the bit.

-

Durge: Extremely low generation Giovanni neonate... or Baali, if you want to go ultimate edgelord. Enjoys the principle of Taboo in their necromancy work too much.

Gale: Has an Oblivion-tainted chunk of Mr 'I Can Totally Eat God's Soul and Replace Him' in his chest, so Cappadocian, I guess. Formerly awakened, but he ignored his avatar when it warned him not to touch The Thing and here we are.

Astarion: World's Worst Tremere Wants Dark Thaumaturgy. So he doesn't have to actually study hermetic mysticism to get the rewards of blood sorcery. And also to be free of the pyramid. Cazador should not be a regent, but alas, he won his certamen against Velioth. And also diablerised him. And made a pact with an Archduke of Hell.

Shadowheart: Setite by faith, Lasombra Abyss Mystic by lineage. Is actually kinfolk to the Children of Gaia, but she neither knows that nor would it help her to know that in any way.

Karlach: Abandoned Gangrel fledgling is taken in by Kind Older Vampire who is Going to Show Her the Ropes and Definitely Not Scheming; This is heart-warming and definitely not going to be tragic. (The horns and tail are permanent frenzy mutations).

Wyll: I got Toreador vibes over here. He's got an insanely high humanity rating, but Mizora's a diabolist and Wyll's caught in the net. Haven't decided whether Mizora or, if I stretch, Ulder is his sire. It's probably Mizora.

Lae'zel: Still thinking on that one, but I do get Sabbat crusader vibes. Ventrue antitribu? I think that fits. She's had heavy modification from a deceased Tzimisce pack mate.

[knight-parzival]

Are you still into Vtm? Sorry your crusader is so cool and epic that I have to ask you for lore

Hii! You mean Nuriel, the salubri-warrior with gray hair? I love him too! He was meant to be an npc for the campaign, but, as always with me, he got cooler than an actual character I had to play.

He was a templar knight in life, then he was embraced by salubri-warrior and got through the Blooding ritual, that gave him special powers, and was given a new name - Nuriel, the fire of God.

Nuriel was a good knight and a good warrior, but he often get too confident about himself, and had too much pride to accept his mistakes. Once he challenged a demon - and lost the battle nearly dying. He was saved by another salubri, a healer named Daniel. Nuriel sworn an oath to his saviour and became his protector in the journey.

But one day Nuriel failed his new duty and Dani was killed, and from that night his heart became cold and cruel. Nuriel brings retribution without mercy and justice without love. In our days he serves Adonai in Sabbat, but he don't really associate himself with the Saber of Caine.

A broken knight, blinded by his own pride and thirst for revenge.

Thanks for asking, I really want to draw him again now!

[possessedopossum]

Lasombra elder writes a letter to his newly embraced childe before joining the gehenna crusade on sabbat side

[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 6: Alone

Nenio my beloved, I adore her and wish she had been more than a gag character with a horribly annoying quest.

Nenio let out a long sigh as she finally crested the top of the hill she was walking along. From here she could see for miles across the rolling grasslands of Andoren. She found herself a nice rock and sat down to begin her notes on the local geography. As the kitsune flipped through her encyclopedia, her finger caught along a page. The last page of her section on the Worldwound and the Fifth Crusade, a sort of author’s note due to her close involvement with the events. She paused to read over her own words.

“I must confess to readers of this encyclopedia that some bias has found its way into my heart regarding this subject. I have witnessed this crusade from its beginning to its end and I possess an unrivaled expertise in its workings, successes, and failures. Its Knight Commander, Hilde Shatter-song, is a close personal friend of mine and assisted in several entries earlier in this chapter. It is not the purpose of this encyclopedia to divulge my personal feelings, but such disclosure is necessary.” Below was a sketch she had made of Hilde and her companions on the last day they had all been together. She trailed an affectionate claw over the sketch, feeling the paper crease slightly. Nenio wasn’t normally one for remembering names, but those twelve were an exception.

“Ha, look at that,” she said aloud with a smile to the silent afternoon, “I’m getting sentimental, assis-“ The smile vanished as she glanced to her side. “-tant…” Right. Hilde wasn’t here. She was alone. She was experiencing an unusual emotion. An ache, the distinct impression that something was missing, and profound nostalgia.

She gave herself a quick checkup to make sure the ache wasn’t an injury, then searched through her bags to make sure she wasn’t missing anything. Everything was in order, but the feeling remained. Then an idea sprang to mind and she grabbed one of her many, many notebooks. “Categorization of Common Emotions.” Thanks to the volatility of her memory, she found it helpful to write some things down to easily relearn them if she forgot. She flipped open the book to the first page. “Hilde (assistant, aasimar, azata, commander of 5th crusade) has suggested writing down common emotions I experience to pinpoint unexplained feelings.” Looked normal. She started flipping through the pages, quickly skimming for her symptoms.

At last, she found it. “Loneliness: characterized by nostalgia and the feeling of something missing. Caused by prolonged isolation, or sudden isolation after long periods of being surrounded by friends. Hilde has expressed concern I may experience loneliness after leaving to continue my work. Remedy: spending time with friends.” Well, that explained it. Loneliness… It fit. Nenio didn’t like the feeling.

If time spent with friends was the remedy, that posed a problem. Nenio had moved on. She always moved on. She kept traveling, kept working on her encyclopedia, never stopping for long. She wasn’t even sure how long it had been since the Fifth Crusade. Would they remember her? Were they even alive? She could try to make new friends, but her attempts to do so after leaving Hilde and the others had all met with failure. Something she hadn’t yet determined made her off-putting and unappealing to most people she met. 

But somehow, Nenio felt that making new friends wouldn’t address this aching. Hilde, Arueshalae, and Seelah… It was them she missed. She had grown closer to the three than she thought possible, and was desperately lonely without them. With a heavy heart, Nenio decided this required a true sacrifice. She shut her draft of the Encyclopedia Golarionnica and slipped it in her bag. She was going to take a break from working on it. Just a little sabbatical! She didn’t know where those three were, but she did know where someone that might know was. She flipped through the notes she had made on her companions and started walking east.

Two days later, Nenio arrived at a small village centered around a vineyard. She motioned and waved at the first person she saw, a young boy of perhaps twelve years. “Hey! Hey, boy!” The child stopped and turned towards her. “Are you aware of the whereabouts of a cleric by the name of Sosiel Vaenic?” She was prepared to give him a more detailed description of Sosiel along with a sketch, but the boy nodded.

“You’re weird. Mr. Vaenic’s up by the temple. Bye, weird lady!” He waved as Nenio ran up a hill towards a humble temple to Shelyn, searching around until she found him. Sosiel was wearing a smock rather than armor, and was hard at work painting a mural depicting some of the heroes of the Fifth Crusade.

Nenio called out to him with a grin. “Cleric boy!”

Sosiel paused. “That voice, is that…” He turned around and a grin broke out on his face. “Nenio, it is you! I never thought I’d see you again!”

Nenio nodded. “Yes, it is I. Customary greetings to you as well. I require your assistance with something.”

“Oh, um, of course, happy to help. We can discuss it over tea?”

“Would it be a social faux pas to decline the tea?” Nenio was quite proud of how good she had gotten at socializing with people and avoiding offending them.

“N-no?”

“Then I will decline. I have a question. Are you aware of the current locations of Hilde, Seelah, and Arueshalae?”

Sosiel let out a soft, exasperated chuckle. “I’m not sure. I think Hilde and Arueshalae were going to stay in New Sarkoris. Daeran and Woljif are closer, they might know.”

“That would be… Aasimar boy and tiefling boy. Of course. Thank you, cleric boy!” Nenio grinned and started to walk off.

Sosiel cast a knowing smile at her. “Nenio. You remember Hilde, Arueshalae, and Seelah’s names, but not mine, Daeran, or Woljif? Are you just messing with us?”

“Dear cleric boy!” Nenio whirled around and smirked at Sosiel. “I have a reputation to uphold, is all! Goodbye!” She grinned and ran off towards the north.

Sosiel smiled and rolled his eyes. She hadn’t changed at all.

About a month later, Daeran rolled out of bed with a yawn, gently patting Woljif on the rear as the tiefling slept in next to him. He slipped his robe on and stumbled towards the door to address the manic knocking. He opened it a crack, then all the way as he spotted a familiar face. “Nenio, what a surprise. What are you doing here at this ungodsly hour?”

“Hello, aasimar boy!” Nenio looked Daeran up and down. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact he was wearing nothing but a robe. “I have a question. Do you know where Hilde, Arueshalae, or Seelah are?”

Daeran sighed and nodded. “Yeah, more or less. I was there when Hilde finished her house, not sure if she still lives there. It’s… You remember Pulura’s Fall, right? There’s a new lake there, and a ridge just north of that, they live around there, south of the forest.”

Nenio nodded, jotting down the instructions in case she forgot. “Alright, thank you! I am unsure if you were engaging in intercourse or if erections are a normal aspect of your mornings, but either way enjoy yourself aasimar boy!” 

Daeran was left stunned as she skipped off. He shrugged and glanced down. He needed a new robe, one that properly covered him. With that, he sighed and slunk back to bed to do as Nenio instructed.

Daeran’s advice wasn’t unhelpful, and it only took Nenio about a week of traveling to Drezen and wandering the newly healed Sarkoris Scar before she spotted a cabin in the distance. It seemed newly built, and had a large garden out in front. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door. Nenio kicked her feet idly as she waited for the door to open, and was soon met with a smiling Arueshalae. The former succubus was wearing lovely sundress that showed off her form, and she had let her hair grow down past her shoulders. “Nenio!” She grinned and pulled Nenio into a tight hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you! It’s been so long! Too long!”

“Succubus-girl-who-isn’t-a-succubus-anymore! Arueshalae!” Nenio grinned in the hug. “Your hair is longer!”

Arueshalae chuckled and led Nenio inside. “Hmm? Oh, um, yes, I think I like it longer. Now that I don’t have to try to avoid being attractive, I can make myself feel beautiful! Ah, come on in, please!”

It was still morning, and both Hilde and Seelah were sitting around a table enjoying some pastries. Both perked up and grinned as Nenio approached, and soon she was smothered between the three in a hug.

Seelah spoke up first, clapping Nenio on the back. “Ha, there you are! So good to see you again, sister!” She went in for a little kiss on the cheek that left Nenio blushing.

Hilde chuckled softly as they pulled away, pulling out a chair for Nenio. “What brings you to our neck of the woods? Researching New Sarkoris for your encyclopedia?”

“Actually, I… Am taking a break from the Encyclopedia Golarionnica. I am lonely, and missed you all. So I decided to come visit!”

Hilde grinned and flashed Arueshalae a look. “Well, we’re glad you came when you did because… We have something to ask you.”

Arueshalae grinned and leaned forward, unable to contain her excitement. “Will you be our maid of honor?!”

Nenio tilted her head quizzically.

Hilde chuckled and leaned against Arueshalae. “We, um… We’re getting married! With a proper ceremony and all that. And… No one’s been as important to us or as helpful in freeing ourselves of the Abyss as you and Seelah. So… We haven’t quite picked who’s whose maid of honor, but we’d like you two.”

Seelah grinned. “I haven’t accepted yet. Been holding off ‘till they could also ask you.”

Nenio quickly started flipping through one of her notebooks on relevant social constructs to check what this ‘maid of honor’ was. At last, she closed the book, grinned widely at the two, and nodded. “I would be honored to! Incidentally, how long has it been since I last saw you all?”

Hilde chuckled. “About two years. Thank you, Nenio. Thank you so much. Do you want to stay with us for a while?”

“I think I would like that.” Nenio smiled as Arueshalae got up to pour her some tea and fetch her a pastry. The three caught her up on old stories, she shared the progress her encyclopedia had made since she had left, and Nenio didn’t feel quite so alone anymore. For the first time in her life, she had friends and felt a calling to something other than her work.

[malicious-metal]

Another couple of NPCs coming soon (tm) to a Chronicle near you (take a wild guess which one). First off a trio of Anarchs swooping into town to serve as a rogue element to the current Anarch Movement's status quo (if one could even call it that). - Teàrlag Murray (she/her) - Chile of a local, infamous Gangrel Anarch legend, trying to use her late old man's rep to try and make a claim to Baron. - Louve Silver (she/they) - Ex Sabbat Gangrel, turned Ahrimane, trying to start shit with the local Camarilla since the Anarchs are playing *too* nice with 'em in her opinion. - Amaris (they/them/any) - Malkavian soothsayer who's seeing some mighty storm brewin' over the city in the near future.

Meanwhile, in the Sword of Caine, another trio makes its way into town, pursuing some nefarious Infernalists and trying to keep tabs on the local Sabbat's shenanigans. Surely there's no demon-worshipping going on here, no sir. - Invidia Fel (she/her) - Harbinger of Skulls Priscus with a mighty bone to pick with some rival necromancers. Judge Inquisitor to the Sabbat. - Aurelio Aristide Grimaldi (he/him) - Invidia's Templar and Knight Inquisitor to her Judge. Prim and proper Ventrue Crusader-type. - Kore Tartarus (she/they/it) - Black Hand Lasombra who's going to be beefing with her Bishop Sire and his most recent batch of childer. Elder sis going to be bullying her baby brothers.

[lewdcookies]

Xi 4-Phaym, Skitarii Ranger Alpha of 2nd Maniple, 1st Cohort, Macroclade Secundus of Hethgamon*, seen here after the battle of Aspira fields during the liberation of Czibor that saw the annihilation of two whole Blood Pact companies by joint Mechanicus and Guard forces during one ferocious battle.

*A minor, semi-aquatic Forge world located in the outer rim of the Sabbat Worlds. Liberated during Slaydo's Operation Newfound, it has provided supplies and combat troops to the Crusade efforts since then.

***

Another nice and uncomplicated project, figuring out the base took probably the most time. And I would like to add that I am incredibly proud of how well the spiked helmet came out, even during assembly.

Had to order a backpack from elsewhere, and that one turned out to be one of the special weapons ones too so I stuck a box on there to cover up the hole. The helmet is a Reaver jetbike one that I got real lucky finding at the LGS in town while hunting for other bits.

Also would've wanted to do more of them, but none of my other pair legs and torsos matched each other. That's what you get for buying skitarii pieces separately I guess. And couldn't find anyone to trade me for better ones either sadly. So adding a full team will have to wait.

[wh40kgallery]

Saint Sabbat

Artist Unknown

[wh40kartwork]

Sabbat Crusade

by Raymond Swanland

[thesixthplaneteer]

For Sir Godwynn

What are your character's opinion on scars?

What is something your character is proud to own?

What is your character's favorite kind of social event?

Who would your character say knows them best?

How does your character relax?

Does your character have any injury stories?

Hello and thank you for the ask! I would love to answer some questions about Sir Nastyman.

What are your character's opinions on scars?

It depends on the type of scars. As a mortal they show experience, mistakes and the ability to move past them, but since vampires don't really get scars, it's no longer a good messure of that. Ritual or aesthetic scarification he's neutral on. He personally wouldn't alter his body for appearances but he understands some people put their banner on a pole to be flown while others will put it on their skin. Overall pretty neutral to scars.

What is something your character is proud to own?

Godwynn collects trinkets and trophies from his hunts as a Sabbat Crusader. Mostly minor magical artifacts of the Tremere he's slain. The pride of his collection is his swords. He has kept every sword he has ever used. From the sword he held while being embraced to the one turned into slag by a recent Thinblood assassination attempt. He also has a handwritten and very detailed memoir he keeps locked away until he needs to add to it.

What is your character's favorite kind of social event?

One were he has little to do other than lurk in a corner. He has been in a bodyguard role for a while and social events requiring him to do something other than his job are frustrating. He isn't much of a conversationalist.

Who would your character say knows them best?

Unfortunately, that would be Carver Delroux. The Bishop he was a sworn paladin of that is now a Prince and has dragged Godwynn with him. Carver knows Godwynn far too well and has used it to manipulate him since the moment Carver found him.

Second would be Lyubov. Although they are amicable and seem to have similar understandings to their "relationship" so it's not bothersome to him. Also she's a Temere, so if it becomes not amicable then he feels he could deal with her.

How does your character relax?

Maybe not the best post to go into detail but since he isn't allowed to hunt and eat the Tremere of the city.... it involves a Tremere woman, a dreamscape, and an unhealthy but consensual level of S&M.

Does your character have any injury stories?

There are two moments he received injuries he would consider noteworthy enough to be retold. The time he fell in final battle of The Wars of Roses, which led to him being sheltered by a noble who was a thrall to his soon to be sire. And the time during WW2 he took a stray artillery round with a werewolf after it had torn apart his pack. He often regrets surviving that night but he doesn't tell anyone that part.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

The Danegeld Axe

Part Four: Assets

First Installment: Here. Last Installment: Here. Current Installment: You are here! Next Installment: Here.

Author's note: Inspired by the 1950s short story "The Man Who Came Early" by Poul Anderson. This installment of the Viking-time-travel au sees government employees being stupid, Matthew Williams being less stupid and Arthur Kirkland finally snapping.

21st Century Washington DC Diplomatic Security Service

"Does the name Kirkland mean anything to you?"

"Costco brand home goods?" He grinned and slid a cup of shitty coffee to his executive branch counterpart. “Yeah, some aquaintance of my primary asset.”

“He’s your asset’s father, as far as anyone can tell.”

“Is that how they’re related? Huh. Good to know. The name has come up here and there.”

“Didn’t they tell you?”

“They don’t tell me shit. Everyone knows this is a cushy post. Keep the genius on board and try to keep his tinkering budget below world-ending for a couple of years. Do that, get one of the prestige posts overseas. Boom, career made. Jones hasn’t done anything but cooperate since I got here. What else did I need to know?”

“Yeah, well, he’s a well-connected genius. The father is old world money. And I mean old. The kind of money that's been bulking up interest since the crusades.”

"Jesus. Why do you ask?"

"He got wind you were looking for his other kid before he went missing."

“Matthew Williams was old European money? You’re not serious. He did grass with homeless guys in Stanley Park and drove a 78 Chevy. Everyone knows Alfred has got the brains and business sense.”

"As best anyone can tell, Alfred was probably conceived in Kirkland's navy days.”

Corcoran snorted. “Half of Boston is a Fleet Week baby.”

“Not an English fleet week, baby. No one knows. Williams was probably from Halifax or Arctic Command, maybe. No one knows their mother, if she's even the same one. They don’t live like old money, but the Kirklands spend way too much time around Downing Street to be nobodies, though.“

"There are more than one?”

“Three brothers at least. Unconfirmed but suspected sister somewhere in the mix.”

"So?"

"So tread carefully is all I'm saying. You’ve just lost his other kid on the ISS. And he’s bound to find out eventually.”

“I did what?”

British Embassy Washington D.C.

“What did you find?” Arthur sprang to his feet as soon as Matthew passed through the door. He hadn’t even gotten the fucking key out of the door before his father sprung on him.

“Nothing. Not a fucking thing. His place is in its usual state when he’s up there.” Complete chaos. Matt pressed his fingers into his temple, and the executive office and the state department were completely normal. Everything is normal. Nothing looks wrong. No one said anything. Nothing on the computers, nothing in the records.”

"Is your access still that high?”

“Of course not,” Matt snorted. “As far as the US government knows, I’ve been dead for about a year. I just use Alfred’s third set of back-ups.”

“How on earth—”

“Last time I took a northwoods sabbatical.”

“You mean the last time you had a mental breakdown and spent three months in the woods eating possum liver?"

“I prefer racoons thank you, and…” Matthew rubbed the back of his neck, preparing for the backlash. “Well, that was the second to last time.”

“What?” His father’s face was instantly furious and even more worrying, his father was concerned. “Matthew!”

He wasn’t having it. Not today. “I’m fine. I’m not the one missing from this mortal fucking plane. Point is, as far as the US government is concerned, I don’t exist.”

His father’s brain was working, his worry between Matthew standing before him and his firstborn clearly in conflict. Not on his face, never on his face, but Matthew knew what the slight flex of one hand meant. Alfred won. He always won. “And there’s no chance of them noticing? All that you’ve been doing?”

“What do you think?” Matthew snapped as he collapsed in a chair, and as fast as his temper had flared, it was gone. He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled, feeling sick where there’d been a fire a moment ago. “Sorry.”

Arthur approached gently. “You didn’t sense anything?”

“Nothing.” He pressed his palms into his eyes. “Not a fucking thing. I woke up two nights ago feeling like this and it hasn’t changed.” The sick, cold feeling was back. It was like missing organs, or his skin, or half of himself. Maybe more than half of himself.

“You should sleep. You haven’t since I arrived.”

“I can’t sleep! I need answers.”

“We can’t get answers if you collapse on me. And we will get answers.” Matt hadn’t cried so far, but Arthur pushed his hair off his face and tapped him under the jaw in that affectionate ‘chin up, lad’ sort of way, and he couldn’t stop himself. His eyes itched, but he would not cry. Instead, he buried his face in his father’s shoulder, pressing his forehead hard enough to hurt. It was pathetic. He was grown. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Alfred was lost, and his entire body felt so wrong, with only his frosted fields and forests and none of the blast of noise and life that was his brother.

“You know what? Fuck this. I brought your good knife. Let's get answers.”