#scorpion shards

[star-shard]

So Scorpion Shards is in production for something, I think? Either a movie or a series.

But fr, this is my Harry Potter. This is my book series I loved so fully, I love this writer, he's put out so much solid work, and I just need it out there for a larger audience like yesterday, ya know?

[codenamehazard]

.:In The Dark of the Night: Part 2:.

[TRIGGER WARNING FOR ARACHNOPHOBIA, OMMETAPHOBIA, TRYPOPHOBIA AND OTHER CREEPY CRAWLIES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!]

Chapter 25: In The Dark of the Night: Part 2

Hey guys, I hope you all had a Happy New Year and I hope I didn't make you all wait too long on a cliffhanger. Things got a little insane between the holidays and life things turning everything upside down for a little bit, but the wait is over and the helicopter has come to free you from the cliffhanger.

Without delay, let's jump in.

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Panic… Pure panic and pandemonium breaks out as Pangolin falls: screaming, writhing and powerless. A cold sweat mixes with the sparking rain-water on my skin as I see what a single sting did to the Brick Spartan. He’s defenseless to the oncoming swarm.

In his fear, Dove calls forth a massive wind gust to blow the menaces back, protecting his eldest brother from being eaten. Mako rushes over to help the fallen leader as Kestrel fights off more bugs. I can see Dove trying to take the lead, but with how freaked out he is and the fear making his voice crack and squeak, his commands fall upon deaf ears.

Time seems to slow as I watch the once well-oil machine fall to shambles. With Pangolin on the ground howling in pure agony and mutant hellish bedbugs scattering around, the team had no rudder. They were all clueless and damn near helpless.

As I thin the swarm, thoughts rush through my head. A headless team is a dead team. I remember the promise I made to myself as I ran from the army I had once led. Never again would I let shackles hold me back, including the shackles of leadership. If they can’t hack it without my help, then so be it. I could bail and leave them to their fate. Steal a jeep and let them be the distraction. Easy as that.

Then the logical part of my brain kicks that impulse sharply in the head. The Amp is still in shambles and needs to be fixed and the one who’s willing to do that is part of this team. There’s also the fact that… As much as I hate to admit this… I’m starting to grow quite fond of this motley crew of outcasts and it wouldn’t kill me to help them just this–

“ALRIGHT FUCKERS, LISTEN UP!!!” I turn my head sharply as a cross between a metallic boom and a barking command cuts through my thoughts, drawing my eyes to the source of the sound: Kestrel. “The situation’s gone FUBAR, fall back! Mako, get Pangolin into the Medi-Trailer! Dove, get a grip and head to the lead HEMTT, we need to book it and fast!!” I can’t help but to gawk for a split second, both in shock and relief. Well I’ll be damned; for once in my life I don’t have to play babysitter when things went to shit.

I shake my head to get back in the game before I get stung. Kestrel takes charge, getting Mako to focus on Pangolin as she clears a path. I make my way towards the panicking chicken of a Dove who’s still acting like he’s trying to take command, even though Kes gave him his marching orders. With how out of it he is, I’m not surprised he didn’t hear a word she said.

“Dove!” I boom as I grab his shoulders and shake him. Not the best way to handle a kid freaking out, but there’s no time for sensitivities. “Pull yourself together!” The bird stammers nonsense and I bonk him on the forehead with the meat of my palm. He yelps before staring at me with a look that said “what was that for?!” I look him in the eyes. “Good, now that I got your attention. Kestrel gave an order, get to the HEMTT and get ready to floor it. We’re falling back!”

“What about Thom-” He starts to question before I give him a red-eyed glare.

“Don’t worry about him!” I growl, my impatience starting to bleed through. “Mako’s got him covered, now do as you’re told and MOVE YOUR ASS!!!” I watch him stammer out an affirmative before scrambling off to the Convoy. I’m half tempted to give him a zap for good measure, but with the rain and the fact he’s the get-away, I decide against it.

The sound of grunting catches my ears as I turn to see Mako and Kestrel trying to move Pangolin while fending off the scittering hellish things. I quickly run over so I can help Mako.

“You taking over?” Kes questions, I nod in confirmation before we trade places. Oh Jesus Christ, he’s heavy and it doesn’t help he’s still flailing about. Thinking fast, I arc-restrain the writhing spartan. Mako gives me a questioning look, but when I explain it’s to make it easier to carry the giant of a man, she doesn’t argue. Kes provides cover fire before throwing what looks like a blast-shard wired to an explosive away from the convoy.

The shard seems to draw the attention of the giant Hell-Spider, getting her off the trailers and allowing us to get in safely. The sound of an explosion and screaming ring out as we shut the door.

As Mako gets Pangolin stabilized in a transport cot and I release the restraints, Kes gets on the comms and barks a single phrase.

“FLOOR IT!!!”

I can feel the trailer suddenly jerk as the HEMTT takes off, nearly taking all of us to the floor. The screech of the spider returns as she takes notice and gives chase.

The trailer rings out with the sounds of Warped and hellbabies being chucked onto the runaway caravan. A stark reminder that we’re not out of the woods yet. A Blink Scorpion almost slips in, but Kes is quick on the draw.

It's clear that without someone on the outside, the Convoy’s defenseless. With nothing but a quick glance and a nod exchanged between Kestrel and I, we know what needs to be done.

Though the emergency hatch on the top of the trailer, we climb out into the darkness to face the monsters.

The rain hisses and spits into steam on Kestrel’s skin as it makes black and red sparks arc off of mine. Bathing the hellish sight in a blood red hue. The scorpions scitter and screech as they charge towards us. Quick to react, we pop the bugs with slag and bolts, slashing them with blades and claws when they get too close.

As the air fills with soot, sparks and gore, I can see out of the corner of my eye something I hadn’t noticed before when the most that Big Momma would move was when she swung her stony arms around to swat at people who came near. Something that’s now plain as day with her running at ridiculous speeds for a creature her size.

Gaps in the armor where the joints connect.

“Hey Kes!” I call out as I punt one of the stinging cockroaches into another. “Check it! The big bitch actually does have weak spots!” I fire a missile at one of the knee-joints to point it out. The impact on the sinewy flesh causes the monster to scream in pain and slow down some, but with seven more legs moving, the hit only staggered.

“Good eye!” The Gunsmith calls back as she starts to focus fire on the exposed targets. We work together, but with the sheer number of babies the spider-bitch is spitting out, it’s near impossible to do both. These babies have got to go.

“Damnit!” I hiss out as I narrowly avoid getting tagged in the ankle. “There’s too many of these things!”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Kes snips back as she nails one that was leaping towards my head. “This is getting us nowhere and we don’t have the right equipment to kill the mother monster.”

“Got any bright ideas, birdie?” I growl. I see Kestrel look at the Rock-Spider-Thing and I can see the gears turning in her head.

“I might.” She replies. “One of us pops a charge while the other coverfires. It won’t kill her, but it should slow her down and thin out the herd enough to break free.”

“It’s a start, but who’s doing what?” I question. “Because if you haven’t noticed, my powers are as useful as a damn ashtray on a motorcycle against that thing.” I hear Kestrel groan before I pop a bug near her foot.

“I don’t know if mine will be of any use either, but I’ll do it. Cover my ass!” She shouts as she starts to shake her head, eyes glowing iron-hot. Probably trying to fire herself up. I position myself behind her, but give her space so I’m not touching her back.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I grunt as I launch a few shockwaves to send the horde flying.

The sound of rain sizzling off of her body cuts through the chaos as her body throws off heat, causing the air around her to ripple and warp into the familiar heat mirage. Thank God I gave her the space, I would have gotten burnt from the rapidly rising temperature of her body. Steam hisses and spits off of her skin as smoke bellows from her mouth and jets from her nose.

I watch as I keep the bugs off of her. The shimmering particulates in the smoke start to move and gather, merging to become an entire swarm of shards the size of razor sharp, white-hot hornets. Kestrel’s arms move back into an open position before swinging them forward, commanding the shards to fly off towards the enemy.

The shards almost seem to buzz as they cut through the air, burying into anything that’s in their way. The metal is hot enough to make the blink scorpions pop like ichor-filled balloons and cook the shamblers and runners that tried to climb up.

The metal-bees couldn’t penetrate the rock armor of the Momma Bitch, but to our relief, some of them hit their marks and bore into the exposed joints. The living boulder screams in agony as its joints seizes from the onslaught, causing it to stagger and tumble from the momentum. Anything unlucky enough to be under-foot gets turned into a glowing purple paste on the red dirt as HEMTT leaves the bastards in the dust.

“Take that, bitch.” The Gunsmith pants out with a snarl and a smirk before her eyes cool and her body starts to wobble. I move to catch her so she doesn’t fall off the HEMTT. Damn, the combination of expending a large burst of RFE and the rain rapidly cooling her must be sapping her strength like mad.

“Hey…” She pants out. “Thanks for the catch.” I grunt in acknowledgement as I let her use my body as a support. We watch the monster-mash of a road wreck grow smaller and smaller as we escape. Out of the corner of my eyes I can spot light starting to grow.

Turning my head to see the source of the light, I gawk at the sight that is rapidly approaching.

Bright spotlights, all forming a barrier that burned and scorched any Warped that dare stray too close. Within the safety of the perimeter lies a city that looked like the fucking carnival took it over. Rides made of metal and scrap tower like skyscrapers and roller coasters snake through any buildings in maddening twists and turns. The crowning jewel of the sight? A large red and yellow striped tent with three prominent points, the center its tallest.

I turn to Kestrel and I see her face relax into a smile, the smile of someone coming home.

“Cole, welcome to Tri-Point.”

[writer-by-the-sea]

I need to collaborate with a modder.

Wouldn't it be fun to have bizarre villager requests?

Looking for a Prismatic Shard. I don't know what it does, but it's pretty and I want to take photos of it next to the river on a Sunny day.

-Haley

Could someone bring me a scorpion carp? I have a feeling it's stinger would make a wonderful pen!

-Elliott

I need Spicy Eel ASAP! Sebastian and I made a bet, long story short; he lost! Now he has to eat it!

-Sam

Miss Penny told us dinosaurs were real. I don't believe it!! Can someone prove it?!

-Vincent

Requesting fresh Fiddle Fern! It has such a wonderful aroma when ground up and used...

-Emily

I need a void egg, looking to raise some hell. Or an omelette, whatever's easier.

-Sebastian

[shipperwolf1]

Emet-Selch narration be like: Mastering the art of this sophisticate manner of movement will ever be left to us who have known perfection. Stretching from limb to limb and putting the energies into grace and dexterity. In the Fifth Umbral Era, this style of movement became common form amongst the nobles of the great empire of Allag. And I was of no difference. In order to get close to the Archmage Amon amongst his esteemed peers. I had to dedicate myself to such practice. Child's play to someone like myself, the real trick was making it appear as though I struggled with such a feat at first. To appear run of the mill amongst the fellows also vying for the shard of Fandaniel's attention. For hour became day and day become week and week stretched ever longer unto years. Until finally, I stood among even the highest of ranks as the most graceful of my peers. When the Archmage finally deigned to grant me audience. I performed for him the magics of action for whence, I had feign a practice. I will not reiterate unto you, fare adventurer and translate each styling into verbal form so as to elucidate you as to the lengths, I have gone, for this star. I performed for him; the pizza toss, the tornado, the scorpion, the--OOPSIE DOODLE. Yes, quite so, I was hoola hooping to gain access to him. And the grandest part of my plan is no one will ever believe you should you tell them.

I read this in his voice and I hate you for it

[merchant-wizard-and-jerry]

“Hello, I’m the friendly wizard _____. My name got taken by a fey prince but it hasn’t really hampered my life. Anyways I am new to this wider wizard community and would like to get along. I have a magic book, a cart, and a friend. His name is Jerry, he is a fungus colony that has taken over my magic book and acts sort of as my patron. He…is a little weird but great fun.”

*sound of an explosion in the background, a book flys by being chased by goblin shamans casting fire ball*

“He is…”

“He is fine.”

“Anyways, I am here to sell goods and make a small profit. If you need something I’ll see what I can do : ) ”

“Also apparently I helped smuggle an amnesiac @fattocatto-wizard out of the city in my wagon. That was a shock, though he was just a cat.

Character Cheat sheet

( 3 currency to 16 silver crowns and 2 copper crowns)

(3 skulls to a coin)

(2 currency to 1 gold)

(100 currency to a 1000 grams gold bar)

(1 currency per 10 grams of gold)

(Current balance 89,359.250,001 currency, one penny, 23 meat pucks, 14 pounds, 2 gold coins one with Julius Cesar on it, 3 naturally-grown mana stones, 2 highly enchant able metal pieces, and one bar, 1 special bug corpse, 1576.5 gold, silver 18, 70 aus, 5kg silver, magic dirt house size. 24 counterfeit currency. Moss/lichen-coded bio stone. An inverse cold torch. 99 BG silver. EMERALD LINCOLN, GOLDEN CARROT, 200 SALTED MEAT DISKS, 200 POLISHED ROCKS, 82 FIGET SPINNERS!, A FULLY EQUIPPED LICH'S DUNGEON, and a cardboard box (magic black marble).” Invisibility stone, a bundle of drake feathers, quantum locked rock, raw gold. 9 Gold coming from the green goblin empire, 50 mushrooms, 92 secret society emblem. 5 trans enchanted gold coins, 2 skull coin, ancient lost civilization fragment, 5 glistening green metallic coin, 31 writhing bugs of gold, jade coin. Pile of gold coins and gold coin bugs, pile of shines from harpy, dust, quantum glass shards, bag of tooth shaped candy, 6720 candies from the festival, bag of holding money bag, 68 money bags, 500 flat Foxen, double sided dollar coin, 3 floppies, a Brahman horn, a medkit, a few candy bars, and an umbrella, 130 goblins eggs (goblin cooked chicken eggs.), 17 bars of pure gold, 1 crate of guns, temp singularity potion. 762 grasshoppers glow in the dark.Book on the formation patterns of natural portals - @serious-tabaxi. Edward Evandrian’s expired library card. Gems and frenicx mother gem and a junkarian leap amethyst. white mithril sapling. Timeseed, infinite note book, time tunnel. A nice gold bag. bag full of candied scorpions 💰, large gem stone. 💰 💰 💰, gems = 70currency. 1/3rd a gold bar. Compass map, it's keyed to the Island of Silence. N=10^7 menger sponge. 2416 shadow cloaks, 52 shiny stones. 20$, 3 gold coins 100 grams. Gummy worms. 100 journals of Ventus Asamuran, Last Peacekeeper of Har Aminas. car keys, box of a 27 rusted necklaces with warding spells. an amulet made of stone, with blue rectangular crystals growing out of it. 48 shiny stones, 30 currency worth of silver. 3 sets of custom made chips @crickled-thorn-thug. Gold potion It opens a portal to the realm of metals! It causes any land within 20 feet to be transmuted, temporarily, into a variety of metals. If left untouched, the land reverts after a day. If harvested, the stuff stays metal and can be used. It also causes uhh 20 gold peices to spawn, and anyone within the radius to get a bit of vertigo. Causes slight iron deficiency, for some reason. 23 bouquets of metalic flowers. They're grown beneath volcanic chambers, uses the heat of magma as a supplement for sunlight. Given their environment, they grow petals sharper than claws and harder than steel. They can be used for creating armours and weapons. one box of nightmare inducing Mac and cheese)

(Currently holding baby dire bunnies. A ring of mana (covers energy into mana. Only suitable if you don’t have mana)

(Jerry’s balance 13 gold, a fancy rock, 1 coin, flower petals (snacks for later), harpy eyes, feathers, vocal cords, and talons, a coin with @informis-the-many-faced on it, it is locked away for emergencies. bottle of magic mold rejuvenation powder, wooden key @crickled-thorn-thug)

(Warlocks of Jerry @fungal-boy-witch-yay @ignisuadaroleplay @life-is-okay-rn2 I think that is who it was…)

(Possessions - wealth stone, Antidote stone)

Owner of membership cards

——————————

@the-final-knight-2

@confused-sorcerer

@bi-gender-sorcerer (+ 10% off for employee discount)

@the-mighty-dalob

@detectivewizzard

@goblin-wizard-in-the-making

@serious-tabaxi

@weltreths-wanderings

@ignisuadaroleplay (will)

@shittest-wizard-ever

@wizard-wylin-wylerian

@akronus-and-associates (the primordials)

—————————————

@hallowed-the-silver-gun

@jormungand-seas-champion

@crow-natures-wrath

@antros-ember-of-fear

@akronus-the-redeemed

@clockwork-time-watcher

@aldira-born-anew

——————————

@wizard-ghost

@yeast-wizard

@crickled-thorn-thug

@sorcererest-sorcerer

@damnable-druid (+ 10% off for employee discount)

@informis-the-many-faced

@kittycatwizard

@gun-sorcerer

@crime-wizard-conglomerate

———

Perks

———

5% off all purchases

Special requested items

More favorable bartering

———

[ourtearsofrain]

Chapter 16- A World Apart with Just One Heart Is Bound to Keel and Fade Away

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Sam Kiszka

Genre: angst, hurt(literal)/comfort

Word Count: just over 2.8k

Warnings: AU typical events/threats/violence, scorpion, slightly graphic fighting, sort of seizure

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Danny

Saturday, July 16th

“Samuel.” Danny nudges his leg gently, trying not to startle him too much. When that doesn’t work, he moves to crouch in front of him, bringing his hand to Samuel’s bicep to shake him. “Samuel. Sam, wake up.”

“Hm?” Sam shoots upright, his eyes wide and scanning the area around them. “I’m up. What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Danny tries to keep his thoughts away from how Sam was still clutching his arm even after he had regained full consciousness. “It’s just morning, figured we should get a move on or plan what we’re doing next.”

“Oh, yeah, good idea. You wake Hazel yet?” Glancing over to her, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, seeing that she was still fast asleep across the cavern.

“No, she still has that machete. Didn’t want to risk her taking a swing at me.”

“That’s probably for the best, I got it don’t worry.” As Sam makes his way over to Hazel, Danny tries to keep his eyes to himself, fearing how it would look if he was caught staring. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, the entire time that Sam had been asleep, his eyes had been on him. He felt calmer watching the way his chest rose and fell with every breath, his lips slightly parted in his sleep as he cradled something only he could see in his dreams. Even though it made him feel like a creep.

“Sleep well princess?”

“Fuck off.”

“I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Or- cave.” Danny listens in on their interaction with a smile, knowing he should stay out of it but finding Sam’s annoyed sass from dealing with Hazel amusing nonetheless. “So, what are we doing today? Any ideas? Daniel? Hazel?” Sam plops back down onto the ground next to Danny, closer than he would have expected as their knees brush.

“I think I saw some obsidian shards out there yesterday, we could go out and collect some to make weapons.”

“Do we really need more weapons?” Neither Danny nor Sam miss Hazel’s frustrated huff at Sam’s question, not stopping him from continuing as he counts their inventory out on his fingers. “We have my sword, the machete, the bow and arrow, Daniel’s axe, and an assortment of knives. I think we’re good.”

“Either way, getting out of this goddamn cave is better than being stuck in here with you two the whole day.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Sam’s voice raises at her comment, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion and anger.

“Take it how you want, let’s get ready to go.” The air between them becomes uncomfortably silent as they all pack up their supplies, doing a once-over to make sure nothing had been missed or forgotten before Danny and Sam follow Hazel out of the cave. “Keep your eyes sharp, we don’t know who else is here.”

For once, Danny isn’t immediately annoyed by her words, somewhat thankful that she had said what he had been thinking. The cliffs surrounding them slowly shorten as they walk, until they emerge at the other side of the canyon onto a vast, blackened landscape. With the ground uneven and even leaking lava in some places, Danny calculates each step so as not to fall or trip, worry growing in the pit of his stomach as Sam saunters onwards, narrowly avoiding large holes in the ground as he walks. It isn’t long before Danny’s attention is captured by a large pool of water set into the molten rock, the water bubbling a clear blue.

“Hey, I think I found some obsidian for you.” Danny barely glances over his shoulder to see Sam reaching into a small hole, his gut screaming at him that something was wrong.

“Sam, I really don’t think you should reach in there.”

“It’ll be fine, almost got it.” Just as the words leave his mouth, he cries out in pain, ripping his right hand back towards himself as a large, pitch-black scorpion scurries out of it. The crunch of its exoskeleton under Sam’s boot sickens Danny, and he tries to distract himself from the sound by turning his attention to Sam’s hand as he finds his side. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

What the fuck. Fear seizes Danny’s heart as he holds Sam’s hand in his own, a large, black welt on his skin forming as black tendrils snake their way across the surrounding skin. “This isn’t fine, Sam. Fuck, what do we do? How do you feel?” Danny tears his eyes to Sam’s face, relieved to see that he looked normal.

“I feel fine, I promise. It just stung me, which hurt, but other than that, I’m alright.”

Catching the way his voice broke ever so slightly, Danny narrows his eyes at him, hoping he would crack and admit he wasn’t ok as he claimed he was. Unfortunately for him, Sam holds strong under his gaze, his expression unfaltering until Danny finally gives up. “Fine, but we’re keeping an eye on you.” He finally realizes that Hazel was 20 feet ahead of them, unfazed as she hadn’t stopped to wait for them. Danny stays true to his word as they walk towards her, watching Sam carefully out of the corner of his eye for even one misstep or falter.

“What were you guys lollygagging on?” With that bitchy tone, either she doesn’t know or doesn’t care.

“Sam got stung by a scorpion.”

Instead of being concerned, Hazel only rolls her eyes as she looks at him. “Idiot. You better not slow us down.”

“That was uncalled for, I was only trying to get you some obsidian. And it won’t, I’m fine.” All three go silent as they continue on, only stopping each time they find shards of the volcanic glass as Hazel collects them.

Coming across another small pool of bubbling water, Danny stops near it, bending to observe. Feeling Sam’s presence next to him, he turns towards him slightly. “What do you think these are?” His words fall on deaf ears as Sam’s eyes lock on the distance, and Danny follows his gaze to see nothing there. Standing, his hands find Sam’s biceps, trying to snap his attention back to him with a light shake. “Sam?”

“Hm?” Although he locks eyes with Danny, his were distant and far-away, as if his mind had clouded over. His skin looks pale, too pale. What the fuck-? Danny’s gaze is ripped to Sam’s neck, where black lines had been snaking their way up his skin, starting to work up and over his jaw.

“Sam, are you ok?”

“Mhm, fine. I’m fine.” He mumbles the words out before collapsing without another word, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as Danny scrambles to catch him. Terror overtakes his mind as the other man starts spasming in his arms, trying to keep his head from hitting a rock as he holds him, both having fallen to the ground directly beside the water.

“HAZEL!” The words rip at Danny’s throat, but he doesn’t feel the burn as he desperately looks over to see her looking back with an annoyed glare. That is until she sees the state that Sam was in. She rushes over to their side with wide eyes, kneeling next to them as she looks from Sam to Danny.

“What the fuck happened?!”

“I don’t know! He just- he just collapsed!”

“Fuck! Shit! What do we do?!”

“I don’t fucking know!” Tears threaten to spill from his eyes as he clutches Sam’s convulsing, unconscious body, his stomach turning as he sees black foam seeping from the corners of his lips.

“We need to kill him.”

“WHAT?! ARE YOU JOKING RIGHT NOW?!”

“OF COURSE I’M NOT FUCKING JOKING! We need to put him out of his misery!” Hazel’s arm holding her machete twitches, as if she were preparing to strike.

“Stay the fuck away from him I swear to god!”

“Do you have a better idea?!”

“I-” Danny doesn’t even notice Sam’s right-hand flop into the bubbling pool beside them in his panic, his mind darting between solutions faster than he can process. Before he can come up with an answer, Sam’s movements stop completely, his eyes wide open and still slightly rolled back, the small veins of his eyes stark black against the whites. “Sam?” Danny can feel his frantic heartbeat pounding in his skull as he’s met with no response, realizing that the familiar, comforting rise and fall of his chest had ceased. “Sam!? Please!”

As Danny shakes him roughly, his tears spill over his lash line before he feels Sam’s hand hit his back, his body limp in his arms. Realizing what had happened, Danny rips his eyes to his hand, expecting to see the skin raw and burned from the water. Instead, he finds his skin unmarked, the sting almost completely gone as the black lines recede. Could it-? No, they wouldn’t be that merciful. It could be though… I have to try. I can’t- I can’t let him die like I did the others.

Danny wastes no time as he sheds his bag and rips Sam’s off before dragging him into the water with him, holding his back to his chest as his head lolls onto his shoulder. Please, please work like I think it will. Please dear God. Hazel says nothing as she watches, the ghost of defeat passing over her face as she accepts that Sam wasn’t waking up again. It has to work, it has to. Danny’s face finds the crook of Sam’s neck as his hopes slowly dwindle, his tears falling onto the other man’s skin as they become sobs. “Please, Sam. Please.” He doesn’t even realize that his lips were brushing against the soft skin of his neck as he whispers the words out like a prayer, begging Sam and anyone that would listen to bring him back.

Just as he begins to accept defeat, Sam gasps for air, his hands clawing at Danny’s still wrapped tight across his chest as he fights against him. “Sam! Calm down, calm down. It’s ok, I’ve got you. You’re ok.” Danny’s sobs become tears of happiness as he feels the other man’s breaths evening out, his body slowly relaxing in his arms as his head falls back to rest on Danny’s shoulder once more. “You’re ok.”

“What- what the fuck happened.”

“The sting, it must have been venomous. You collapsed and were- you looked like you were having a seizure.”

“Yeah, it was really fucking disturbing. Your eyes were all black and you were foaming at the mouth.”

Danny shoots Hazel the deadliest glare he can muster, rage filling him at her words. He casts them aside momentarily to continue his explanation for Sam, knowing he must be beyond confused and lost at what had occurred. “Your hand fell into the water and then it healed the sting, so I thought that maybe it was healing water or something, so I dragged you into it and now- uh then you woke up.” Danny finishes his ramble, feeling his cheeks tint as Sam looks up at him, still looking as if he was in a daze but understanding his words.

“Oh- thank you, Daniel.”

“Yeah… no problem.” Danny realizes immediately that they were still in the water, with Sam still pressed directly to his front. “Hazel, help him out, will you?”

Snapping out of her own daze, she grasps Sam’s forearm as she uses her entire body weight to yank him out of the water while Danny climbs out. Sam collapses to the ground immediately, seemingly uncaring at how the rock below him must have dug into his back. Danny finds a spot next to him, crouching as the once warm water soaking his clothes becomes colder in the air, the chill seeping into his bones. He pushes the feeling aside as he focuses on Sam, watching for any sign that the water hadn’t fully healed him. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just need a minute.” Sam closes his eyes as his breaths continue to even out, not seeing the way Hazel refused to look at him. Danny waits patiently, allowing Sam all the time he needed to recover as he gently rubs comforting circles into his shoulder with the pad of his thumb.

“We need to get going.” Is she actually fucking serious right now? Danny rips his eyes to Hazel as rage fills him, her blank expression only further angering him.

“Are you kidding?! Sam almost fucking died, you suggested we kill him, and now you’re in a rush to leave again?!”

“Wait what?!” Sam’s eyes fly open at his words, trying to sit up to look at Hazel as betrayal twists his features. “You were going to kill me?!”

“I thought there was nothing we could do for you! I thought it would be better to kill you quickly than to let you suffer! Don’t act all offended, you would have done the same if it were me.”

“No, I fucking wouldn’t have, Hazel! You want to know why? Because we’re allies. We’re supposed to look out for each other. As much as I fucking hate you, I would have tried to save you before resorting to that.”

“Let’s just go.” Hazel rolls her eyes as she stands, already making a move to walk away from them.

“No, Hazel, I think you should go.” Sam’s voice is firm as he glares at Hazel, accepting Danny’s hand to help him to his feet as they stand.

“What?”

“You need to go. I don’t- I can’t trust you at all anymore, and I can’t be allies with someone I can’t trust.” She’s gonna snap, she’s gonna try to fight, I can feel it. Danny bends to retrieve his axe, the handle sticking out of his bag as slow as he can so Hazel wouldn’t focus on his actions as she huffs out an exasperated breath.

“Are you joking right now?” His hand finds the handle as he pulls it from the bag, thankful that her attention was still on Sam.

“No. I’ve never been more serious. Leave now or we kill you.”

“I can’t believe you right now! You’re just gonna ditch me the second you get your little boy toy on your side? Is that what this is? You just wanted to be allies with him and were only keeping me around until you got that?!”

Boy toy? What is she saying?

“You have five fucking seconds to get out of my sight, I swear to god.” Rage tints Sam’s tone as Danny looks between the two, hoping that if she tried to attack, he could get Sam to safety in time. He’s weak right now, I don’t know how long he’d last in combat, even with me helping.

“LIKE FUCKING HELL I DO!” Danny blocks her strike with the handle of his axe as she arcs the machete towards Sam, pushing him behind himself as she recovers from his block.

“You don’t have to do this, Hazel.” He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible as he meets her eyes, a wild, crazed look behind them as she stares back unblinking.

“Oh yes I fucking do. I can’t wait to make Sammy boy watch you bleed out. Then, I’ll fucking kill him. Slowly, painfully.” She grins wide as she speaks, turning Danny’s fear into fury as he anticipates another attack. She’s not touching a hair on his goddamn head.

Hazel lunges at him, her blade directed towards him specifically this time. Danny has no trouble blocking it but doesn’t expect her brisk sidestep as she sends a punch to his liver, sending him to the ground and gasping for air. Fuck. I may be stronger and bigger, but she’s faster. Instead of attacking him again, Hazel’s attention turns to Sam, who stood weaponless behind Danny.

“Run!” The word earns him a slash to the face as his vision cuts out momentarily, pain beginning to pulse above and below his left eye as he hears boots scuffling across the rock. Blinking through the blood clouding his vision, he can barely make out two forms sprinting away from him, with Sam in the lead only by about 10 feet. Grabbing his and Sam’s bags, he forces himself to his feet as he stumbles after them, praying that he wouldn’t be too late to protect Sam from her.

Catching up to them, he watches in terror as Hazel chases Sam up a small cliff, the edge of it growing closer and closer as Sam realizes he had nowhere left to run. No. No. NO. Sam turns towards her as he reaches the edge, squaring up as if he were preparing to fight her. Just as Danny reaches the bottom of the cliff, he sees Hazel swing her blade at Sam, catching his cheek as he jumps backwards. Before Danny can process it, he loses his footing, falling backwards off the edge and disappearing from his sight as Hazel stands triumphantly above him.

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[starswritewhispers]

Dragons & Denial- 3

A03

Chapter 2.5

Lucy’s father had an uncanny ability to ruin any semblance of happiness she dared wrap her fingers around.  She had received word earlier that week that he forbade any of her ladies in waiting to travel to Dragnoff so they may accompany her in her new life. Lucky, she had also received word this morning that her best friend was on her way anyway. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered Levy’s rant, scrawled mindlessly on parchment paper that held tears from being gripped too tightly. 

“You lost in your head, blondie?” Gajeel’s gruff voice broke her out of her thoughts and she huffed out a long sigh, turning her head to face the young lord.  His long hair was tied up in a makeshift bun with a strap of leather, making the odd piercings in his face that more eye catching.  She hadn’t even known people could pierce their face, much less that they’d want to. “Just excited for Levy’s arrival,” she admitted, eyes flicking back towards the sky. “Nervous, as well, I suppose. Zeref’s demons seem to only grow in numbers and size and I–” Lucy cut herself off, reaching to pluck a flower by her thigh. “I just hope she arrives safely.” “Of course she will,” Natsu snorted, as if the idea of worrying was frivolous, “She’s being accompanied by Dragnoff’s finest knight personally.” He waved a hand idly as he plopped down next to Lucy, his grin spreading over his face. “I almost pity the beasts they may run into.”

“I do pity them,” Gajeel grumbled. “And envy them, they no longer have to fear Erza’s blade once vanquished,” A snort of agreement sounded from Natsu and Lucy blinked. “Is this Erza really that terrifying?” She asked, looking between the two dragons. “Surely, one knight can’t–” “She’s a menace,”

“I still have nightmares about the last time I upset her.” The two answered at the same time, a matching shudder running through both of their bodies.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a blood curdling scream that sent ice rushing through her veins.  She leapt to her feet, eyes scanning the surrounding area as the two males beside her began to sniff the air. “Coming this way,” Gajeel murmured at the same time Natsu let out a string of curses under his breath. “One of Zeref’s,” he confirmed, flames dancing off the edges of his fingertips. “Hunting a–” he paused, sniffing again. “Mother and child.” “Fucking hell,” Lucy could only watch in slight awe as the sword sheathed on Gajeel’s side lifted itself out of the scabbard and broke apart, the shattered pieces floating in the air around him.   Her moment of amazement quickly ended as a woman staggered into the clearing, a bleeding girl clutched tightly in her arms.

“Help him!” She pleaded, stumbling towards the trio. “Bring him back, please.”   Lucy took a step forward, only to hit Natsu’s outstretched arm, holding her back from moving any closer to the scene. She glanced up at him, an insult ready on her lips before she froze. His expression was steely but not the kind she’d seen on soldiers readying for war.  

No, Natsu looked pained as he stared at the woman, eyes moving over her to the fields behind her. His expression of pity darkened into rage as they finally caught sight of the demon hunting her, a foul thing that reeked of so much blood even Lucy could smell it. The creature was a whirlwind of nightmares– shadowy spider-like legs tumbling out of a scorpion’s belly, its mace-like tail coiled to strike the nearest living creature that dared move in its presence– but its eyes were so undeniably human that Lucy felt herself stumbling backwards in horror. Shards of the sword lunged forward at the same time Natsu swung his arm out, a wall of fire separating the woman from the beast. The demon hissed, nimbly moving out of the way of the broken shards, while its tail deflected the few that made contact.  “Shit,” Gajeel breathed, reaching for a dagger as Lucy finally pulled herself out of her stupor and ran to the woman. She stumbled to a stop in front of her, taking the sobbing girl out of her arms and beginning to check over her injuries. “Please,” the woman begged over a broken sob. “Don’t kill him, it wasn’t his fault.”  Lucy’s fingers froze from where they were wrapping the child’s scraps with pieces of her dress– a new feeling coiling in her gut as she realized the woman was begging for the demon’s life. “What?”  She whispered, unsure if her question could even be heard over the crackling flame and sounds of the battle beside them. “You–you know that thing?” She looked back down to the bleeding girl, the woman’s daughter, who had been injured by the monster. “He–” another sob and Lucy turned her focus back to patching up the young girl. “Our Vidia was sick and we couldn’t afford the medicine.” Lucy looked down at the young girl in her arms, shaking and clearly terrified, but other than a few scrapes, seemingly healthy. “A young man made a deal with my husband for the medicine.” The woman was practically wailing now and despite Vidia being sufficiently patched up, Lucy couldn’t bring herself to meet the woman’s gaze. “He promised that my husband would be fine but when he returned he was–” A loud snarl cut the woman off and she fell into another fit of sobs, her body shaking from the force of them.  Despite being next to a burning fire, a chill ran up Lucy’s spine as the weight of the woman’s words sank in. She began to lift her head to answer, to offer something, when her eyes landed on the frost lining the grass in front of her. Frost. 

In the middle of summer.

The fire was diminished in moments from a gust of ice and snow and Lucy looked up in time to catch spears of ice shooting for the creature. The creature turned to run, only to be met with a wall of water in its path, a garbled shriek escaping its lips as the spears found home in the cracks of its shell.  Lucy quickly covered the girl’s eyes, trying to swallow her guilt at the pain in the mother’s. 

“About fucking time, Fullbuster,” Natsu’s loud voice rang out through the clearing, cheerful despite the battle they had just raged. “Where’ve you been?” “Juvia,”  Gajeel’s voice, for once, seemed decrepit of rage. Softer, the way an older brother may greet a beloved sibling. “Icebrain free you yet?” “What’d you call me?” An unfamiliar voice demanded, but Lucy was willing to wager she knew the owner either way. Gray Fullbuster, Lord of the Fullbuster clan, the most powerful family of ice mages on the continent. “And no but I’m–” “Gray’s trying,” another voice cut in, soft and melodic in nature. “He isn’t evil, Gajeel,” Lucy looked up at the note of exasperation in the woman’s voice and froze. The woman was beautiful.

She had milky white skin, waves of dark blue hair, and–

Pointed ears.  A fae.

Most likely, the last of her kind.  “Who are you people?” Lucy demanded, still holding onto the shaking child in her hands. “And have some decency this family just lost their father!”

“They lost him long before we killed him,” Lord Fullbuster–Gray– commented dryly, arching a brow. “And you must be Natsu’s girl, Lucy?”

“I’m not Natsu’s girl, I am Lucy,” she snapped back, straightening her spine slightly.  “Princess of–”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the spiel,” he waved her away and Lucy spluttered, pink rising quickly to her cheeks. “I’m Gray, that’s Juvia.”  A smirk curved over his lips. “Hopefully, you’re not too big on formalities, we don’t do that here.”

The blue haired girl waved at Lucy.

Lucy needed a drink.

[maverick-werewolf]

Daily Werewolf Thoughts - Days 24-30 (includes HUGE posts on berserkers and Peter Stubbe)

img: illustration for my upcoming huge novel release (Knightfall), by Saber-Scorpion

Day 24- So I just talked about how much I enjoy the werewolf concealing the curse, something that may or may not always go with that is having no memory of what the monster form did-- or, sometimes, not even remembering turning into a werewolf at all. It is, again, another fun layer of drama, character exploration, and meaning that comes with the wonderfully robust tale of the werewolf.

I really cannot emphasize enough how much I love this kind of stuff. Everything about it. But on the subject at hand, the scene of a man (or woman, as the case may be, since we do have those too) awakens in the morning and finds just a few things off - or has literal blood on his hands. Has no memory of what happened. Does he know? Does he figure it out? Or is he left in total confusion? How do things play out from there? What -did- he do last night, and how bad was it? Will anyone else find out? There are so many endless possibilities. It's something else that I, obviously, love exploring in my own fiction*.

I always address whether or not such a concept existed in folklore, and in this case, the answer is pretty much no. This is yet another thing we can thank The Wolf Man (1941) and writer Curt Siodmak for. So, thank you yet again, Curt Siodmak, for adding another layer onto such a fantastically tragic story.

*: shameless plug for my book coming later this year, Wulfgard: Knightfall, so please stay tuned and check that out when it releases; I am currently dying during the editing process and every copy contains a small shard of my soul

Under the cut are some BIG POSTS on berserkers (and how they are not "bear warriors") as well as Peter Stubbe (who was not a werewolf), other thoughts, me freaking out about how cool werewolves are, and more!

Day 25- A hill I have chosen to die upon is that portrayals of berserkers as "bear warriors" are wholly inaccurate, preposterous, and baseless. This is considered a sweeping statement in the academic community (because they are the ones who first proposed this utter nonsense, in search of a "new argument" for "the conversation" in the 19th century; before this, everyone accepted that "berserker" means "bare of shirt"), and yet, when I made it, I received support and even a stamp of approval from a lifelong Old Norse and Icelandic scholar and professor. Let me tell you why…

Snorri Sturluson, the historian to whom we owe knowing about almost any of these legends and the preservation or creation of many Sagas and the Eddas, who lived from 1179-1241 AD, has always been the foremost source for all things Norse. It is he to whom we owe a great deal of, and likely even the majority of, our knowledge of Norse mythology. And yet, today, scholars love to disrespect Snorri and claim he was wrong about nearly everything. It's absolutely absurd.

Snorri said that "berserker" means "bare of shirt," and I've heard many native Icelandic speakers reinforce this theory and other scholars agreeing as well. It refers to throwing off their armor in battle upon entering their rages, or perhaps even fighting shirtless; there are arguments about that too. Many scholars still refute this idea of berserkers being bear warriors (there are numerous examples, such as Anatoly Liberman), and some don't even bother acknowledging it; you can find some things today that, thankfully, don't touch this bear concept at all, especially outside of America. Huge props to Robert Eggers for his incredible research for The Northman film and an execution that resulted in the coolest portrayals of a berserker that we have ever gotten, and that feels accurate to the sagas. Modern scholars like to say that Snorri was very wrong and that "berserker" means "bear shirt." They refute Snorri for saying that his theory has been abandoned because of "lack of supporting evidence," which is so rich because they have no supporting evidence for their "bear warrior" etymology, either.

Long story short, I will not stand for Snorri disrespect. We love Snorri in this house.

Now, on to berserkers themselves. Why do I insist, then, that they are wolf warriors? We have many examples of what are sometimes called the ulfheðnir, or "wolf-shirts." Note that you recognize the Old Norse form of wolf in "ulf," same as you generally would recognize "bjarn" or "bjorn" for bear*. An ancient Roman account describes them thusly: “Their eyes glared as though a flame burned in their sockets, they ground their teeth, and frothed at the mouth; they gnawed at their shield rims, and are said to have sometimes bitten them through, and as they rushed into conflict they … howled as wolves.”

Berserkers were described variably as "strong as bulls," "howled like wolves," and other animal comparisons. But, more often than not, we see berserkers associated with wolves across the sagas. They were said to enter mad rages, their berserk state, during which they endured impossible amounts of pain, were unharmed by fire or iron, and performed superhuman feats of strength and bravery. They were sometimes called hamrammr, or shape-strong, and it is implied they are stronger than an ordinary man no matter what shape they currently took. Some were associated with shapechanging, such as Kveldulf the evening-wolf, a highly intelligent man sought for his wisdom - but, around dusk each day, "he became so savage that few dared exchange a word with him … People said that he was much give nto changing form, so he was called the evening-wolf, kveldúlfr." Kveldulf appears in multiple sources, such as Egils saga and more. Other ulfhednir appear in the Vatnsdæla Saga and the Holmverja Saga, among others, with several being cited as capable of changing forms and "wolf-shaped."

Also, not only is there a suspicious lack of named bears in Norse myth as a whole (though we have many named wolves, a named boar, named goats, ravens, and even named roosters, squirrels, and more) to claim they are so important to their culture historically, but again, we are notably lacking in direct evidence of this "bear warrior" concept. Some love to cite Bodvar Bjarki from Hrólfs saga kraka - a warrior who could assume the shape of a bear - but he specifically was NOT a berserker, and in fact he frequently came in contention with berserkers and talked down about them.

As you can see, I could go on about this for quite some time, and I plan to at some point. There's a lot more to say and discuss, but I'll leave it off here for now.

More on this in a huge article sometime next year, probably. Way too much work left in this year. I do have this one, however, that I wrote many years ago now and have expanded upon some since, though it requires far more expansion and specificity (some of which I did here instead): https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-facts/berserkers/

And this is also discussed in my book, The Werewolf: Past and Future, which I will always shamelessly plug as a great way to get started with the werewolf legends throughout the march of history: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1949227022 And also my own edition of Sabine Baring-Gould's fantastic work from the 1800s about werewolves, includes footnotes, translations, etc by yours truly; he discusses the sagas quite a bit: https://www.amazon.com/Book-Werewolves-Superstition-Annotated-Translated-ebook/dp/B0CK4YY16Z

*: why aren't they called "bjarnskins," then? Why would berserker begin with a Proto-Germanic "bero" for bear when "berr" is Old Norse FOR BARE, like "bare of shirt"?? A form of "berr" meaning "bear" did not exist in Old Norse. Why does anyone even believe this bear warrior berserker crap?

image: helmet plate from the Vendel period (540–790 AD) depicting Odin and a wolf-cowled or wolf-headed berserker

Day 26- A huge pet peeve of mine is werewolves that turn utterly brainless when they assume their monster form. You see this a lot in media, like a werewolf that becomes so angry after transforming that it will bash its brains out against a wall trying to reach a person. I'm all for uncontrollable and furious werewolves, but they shouldn't just be idiots. How do they even still feel threatening when they're so earthshatteringly stupid?

Creating a sense of threat with a werewolf is incredibly important to conveying a good, serious, and earnest werewolf story. If the werewolf is that braindead, it will never feel like a real threat. In folklore, as well, werewolves retain their human intelligence (whether they are capable of speech or neutral/good-aligned or not), and this is very much a mark of what makes them so dangerous and terrifying. I can't think of any justification for making the primary monster and/or primary threat in your story so dumb that it will accidentally kill itself against a solid object or run headlong into a mirror or not understand doors and trees. It's plain old bad storytelling.

image: William Corvinus from Underworld again - I know that some Underworld comic or another suffered from the extremely stupid werewolves trope, because at one point Selene perches on a building and watches the "lycans" kill themselves bashing against a wall trying to reach her. Just typical Underworld things.

Day 27- Alright, remember how I'd die on that berserker hill? This is my other hill. "The Werewolf of Bedburg," Peter Stubbe or Peter Stump or Stumpp, is considered one of the most famous werewolf legends. Problem is, it is not a werewolf legend. Let me tell you why.

Firstly, let's begin with the legend itself. I will be pulling quotes from The Werewolf in Lore and Legend by Montague Summers. It's a good werewolf book, but Summers sometimes contradicts himself in his ramblings and sources, so you have to study it carefully. Overall, though, it's a very good work and very good for cross-referencing. His account of Peter Stubbe is one of the best elements of the book.

Peter Stubbe was a man who used satanic magic ("Damnable desire of magick … and sorcery") to assume the shape of a wolf and commit terrible crimes. The works specifically say that the devil may grant followers "the shape of some beast" (it was not always a wolf; witches took the forms of many, many animals) inorder to "live without dread or danger of life, and unknown to be the executor of any bloody enterprise." Stubbe asks for the shape of "some beast," not a "wolf" specifically. However, the devil gives him a girdle that allows him to "transform into the likeness of a greedy devouring wolf, strong and mighty, with eyes great and large, which in the night sparkled like unto brands of fire," among other description. Should he remove the girdle, he would become human once more.

This separates him from other werewolf accounts and tales of his era in that he asks for no specific animal and the court ruled him a "sorcerer," not a "werewolf," unlike - for example - Jean Grenier, whose tragic tale took place in 1603. Stubbe would "ravish" children and women and devour them, as well, something never before associated with werewolves. And not since, either, until these wonderful modern scholars latched onto Stubbe and decided his trial was a werewolf trial, even though it wasn't. So we have even more quotes about how he committed "devilish sorcerie [sorcery]," no reference to lycanthropy or werewolfery or anything else as such, while he went about performing atrocities like killing, devouring, and violating women and children, including Stubbe's own sister. And no matter how many times he is referred to as a "wolf," he is never called a "werewolf" even once.

Tales of "witch-creatures" exist that are apart from werewolf legends and other sorts of monster legends due to the fact that witches and/or sorcerers were very unique and important entities during their time. Stubbe's account concludes,

"Thus Gentle Reader haue I set down the true discourse of this wicked man Stub Peeter, which I desire to be a warning to all Sorcerers and Witches, which vnlawfully followe their owne diuelish imagination to the vtter ruine and destruction of their soules eternally, from which wicked and damnable practice, I beseech God keepe all good men, and from the crueltye of their wicked hartes. Amen." Note: sorcerers and witches again. No mention of werewolves.

Stubbe was executed in Bedburg, near Cologne, on the 31 of March 1590. He has a pamphlet from the time period, as his case and execution created quite the stir…

"A true Discourse. Declaring the damnable life and death of one Stubbe Peeter, a most wicked Sorcerer, who in the likenes of a Woolfe, committed many murders, continuing this diuelish [devilish] practise 25. yeeres [years], killing and de- uouring [devouring] Men, Woomen, and Children. Who for the same fact was ta- ken and executed on the 31. of October last past in the Towne of Bedbur neer the Cittie of Collin in Germany."

Note that he is referred to as a "Sorcerer," and again, another discourse about the case from the period refers to him as "Stubbe, Peeter, being a most / wicked Sorcerer." Works from Stubbe's time period and covering Stubbe's trial never once refer to him as a "werewolf" or reference "werewolfery" (a term seeing relatively frequent use in this era). He is repeatedly referred to as a sorcerer and using sorcery, and he is even once called a "hellhound," but he is never directly called a "werewolf."

Here's where the issues start. Peter Stubbe lived during a time period when people were, in fact, still using the term "werewolf" (and/or "loup garou" and other terms) in a fashion almost as categorical as what we use today. This is in opposition to older time periods that didn't collect and classify legends and monsters and declare they're all madmen and rationalize them in the face of scientific thought. This was entering the Early Modern Period, when werewolves became seen as madmen and belief in them justified via diseases and insanity. Many other werewolf trials occurred before, after, and during the time of Peter Stubbe, and they were specifically called "werewolves" in their trials. For example, a decree issued by the parliament of Franche-Comte in 1573 - years before Stubbe's trial - specifically orders that people "chase and pursue the said were-wolf in every place where they may find or seize him" (after properly arming themselves with "pikes, halberds, arquebuses, and sticks" of course).

Peter Stubbe, however, was not. He was only ever referred to as a "sorcerer." If you've read the Malleus Maleficarum and other, similar works of these eras, you would know how important classification of such things was during the time period, and why it is important to recognize the differences among witches, "witch-animals," werewolves, and other beings ranged from cursed to satanic to insane to everything else. His case also lacks integral elements to werewolf trials of the time period, such as the lack of self-control and declared insanity (remember, werewolves were associated with madmen at this time).

Scholars only started referring to Peter Stubbe as this "Werewolf of Bedburg" in later time periods. Calling him a werewolf at all is very much a machination of modern scholarship and academia and a distortion of werewolf legends that has in turn led to some misconceptions about werewolf legends as a whole.

And if you think I'm just being pedantic, I'm a scholar and historian. It's what I do. Preserving things as they were actually believed in during their own time periods is important. Calling this a werewolf legend and/or account is simply inaccurate, and it never should have happened. Peter Stubbe's trial was not a werewolf trial. It was a sorcerer trial.

There is a very large Werewolf Fact for this. I go into laborious detail here, with many quotes, citations, and further discussion of this entire concept and its lasting importance: https://maverickwerewolf.com/werewolf-of-bedburg-peter-stubbe/

This is, again, also something I discuss in my work, The Werewolf: Past and Future: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1949227022

img: woodcut depicting "The Life and Death of Peter Stubbe," 1589

Day 28- I have all too often seen assertions that "werewolves don't have tails," as if there are facts to be had about a mythical creature at all and as if this is a certainty. If we could theoretically have any facts about werewolves (as is my nonfiction branding), we would turn to folklore - which explicitly states that yes, werewolves have tails. What's more, having a tail is what separates a werewolf from other mythical beasts.

This begins not only in the fact that werewolves in folklore are often described as being wolves, often very big ones, without mention of lacking a tail, but more specifically in that the Early Modern Period, a differentiating factor between werewolves and witch-creatures was a tail.

In 1590, Henry Boguet in his treatise "Of the Metamorphosis of Men into Beasts" says specifically that the difference between a werewolf and a witch that has turned into a wolf is that witch-animals have "no tails." This is in fact true of every witch animal, apparently. And yes, in this time period, again, they did in fact differentiate between a werewolf and a witch who turned into a wolf. This specificity persists in the Malleus Maleficarum, specifically question X of part I, "Whether Witches can by some Glamour Change Men into Beasts," which states, "the devil can deceive the human fancy so that a man really seems to be an animal." This is a deception, not a transformation, as we generally get with a werewolf. Furthermore, "no creature can be made by the power of the devil, this is manifestly true if Made is understood to mean Created. But if the word Made is taken to refer to natural production, it is certain that devils can make some imperfect creatures."

Bear in mind that there were some works in this time period that considered werewolves to be related to witchcraft but not entirely equal to it. Generally, a werewolf becomes a werewolf and is out of his or her own control, unlike a witch, who undertakes such practices willingly. The idea of witches being "imperfect" animals persists in many works of this time.

Not saying this to rip on the tailless werewolves of popular culture, though. Just providing context. I actually fully understand not wanting your werewolf to have a tail. While I don't think having a tail inherently makes a werewolf "cute," and I personally will always battle tooth and nail against that, I also understand that having a tail could insinuate "cuteness" to certain modern audiences in particular. Perceptions change over time, and this is definitely one that has. I also realize that tails are frequently left off of film werewolves because they're very hard to create in a convincing way, and then regardless of anything someone might be capable of creating today, the design concept kind of stuck in film.

I also often hear excuses that "people will be attracted to the monster" (to put it in more socially acceptable terms, but I'm sure you know what I mean) and that's supposedly a justification for making werewolves look like naked mole rats with scabies and mule faces and bulging eyes and arms longer than their legs, but honestly, someone's going to want to screw even that thing. And tail or no tail, regardless of design, this definitely still applies. I don't think such a discussion has ever been held in the boardroom of a major film project (no one cares), but I've seen it discussed on the internet, and I don't think those internet people should let other internet people dictate monster design or perception to them.

I also still think a tail as a sign of inhumanity can still hold frightening power, as long as it is presented properly. A tail is something humans do not have - only beasts have tails. To grow a tail is a sign that one has truly become something other than human - a werewolf turning into a monster.

I will continue the fight. My terrifying werewolves have tails… mostly just because I think it looks better as a design choice instead of a tailless human rear like a donkey without a pinned tail, as pictured here on The Howling werewolf.

Day 29- It's almost Halloween! Honestly, my very favorite kind of werewolf could essentially be summarized as "the Halloween werewolf," which is of course very inspired by The Wolf Man (1941). I love the spookiness, the classic horror, even the way they're generally lit. I love the dead black trees, haunting graveyards, the full moon, the tattered clothing, the bite that can make you share in its curse… and the promise that behind that terrible wolf-beast is an innocent man.

Even just seeing werewolves like the classic Halloween kind inspire me to an incredible degree. They fill me with joy and set my imagination aflame. They always have. I love their motifs and how they're portrayed, everything from scary old horror movie werewolves to spooky Halloween setups with fog machines to silly cartoon Halloween werewolves. I've adored them since day one, and really, the werewolves that come out at Halloween are the ones that made me fall in love with the concept and legend of the werewolf.

I've always used these classic motifs to inspire my own fiction (and Halloween monsters and atmosphere is like my entire thing) because they do make me so happy and give me so many thoughts and ideas and put so many stories into my head. Did you know, too, that the idea of a werewolf stalking a graveyard (as Halloween werewolves often do) also comes from folklore? Werewolves were often associated with sites of the dead - like many other wolf entities - and could be found in graveyards digging up graves and devouring the corpses, in many stories.

So, although I have so many thoughts and rants and raves and research and countless stories to write and folklore to preserve, I'll always be inspired the most by the simplest werewolf concept: the ones that come out at Halloween.

Day 30- This one might seem like it's coming out of the left field, but I overthink every single aspect of werewolves and also their designs, so naturally I have thought long and hard about what ears look coolest on a werewolf. I've come to the conclusion that a werewolf needs big, scary ears. They're just badass and really emphasize the wolf aspect.

No, I'm not talking about cute ones or the silly ones or the big lynx-bunny ones (sorry, The Howling, but you went seriously overboard). I'm talking about horror werewolf style emphatic beast ears. If your werewolf has short, squat, or rounded ears, it ends up looking more like a bear. I'm talking much more like Anubis. Man, those werewolves look so awesome. But, obviously, the usual wolf ears are great, too. I also have gained a considerable fondness for the Underworld like William Corvinus style side-of-the-head ears, as long as they're sufficiently long and pointed.

But these werewolves that have really small and de-emphasized, rounded ears? Yeah, they mostly just look like bears or something. Ears are so important. Even on wolf-men, I think bigger, pointed ears help emphasize the inhumanity and the wolfishness. It makes them scarier.

img: some werewolf from a thing called Horror Legends? I actually have no idea what it is, but I've seen this image going around and I just really love this design

[rubykgrant]

A friend asked for some spooky books so they can give their brain something chew on while waiting for the next part of The Magnus Protocol; I collect copies of books so I can always give them to people as gifts, but I thought I'd share the ones I suggested here too! These are just from my personal collection, not a complete list of everything spooky that might have similar vibes to all the various Magnussings. Maybe you've read some of these before, but it might be fun to have a reminder. Maybe some of these will be very new, and hopefully, enjoyable! They range from being for younger teens, to YA, to more mature, but all feature different creepy subjects and scary situations, occasionally with humor mixed in (some have happy resolutions, but there are ones with bitter-sweet, or just plain sad endings... good, well-written, but sad. some are also part of a series, but can be read as stand-alone stories)-

"Bunnicula" by James and Deborah Howe

"Stonewords; a Ghost Story" by Pam Conrad

“Well Witched” (AKA “Verdigris Deep”) by Francis Hardinge

“Doll Bones” by Holly Black

“A Wrinkle in Time” by Madeleine L'Engle

“The Dark Pond” by Joseph Bruchac

“Deep and Dark and Dangerous” by Mary Downing Hahn

“Malice” and "Havoc" (series) by Chris Wooding

"Poison" by Chris Wooding

“Scorpion Shards” (Star Shards Chronicles) by Neal Shusterman

“Feed” by Matthew Tobin Anderson

"The Lives of Christopher Chant" and "Charmed Life" (Chrestomanci series) by Diana Wynne Jones

“Frozen Charlotte” by Alex Bell

"Practical Magic" by Alice Hoffman

“The Kind Folk” Ramsey Campbell

[dimension20npcofalltime]

Round 1A - Bracket One [Dimension 20 NPC of All Time]

Swifty vs Wretchrot/Baby

Propaganda Under the Cut (Contains major spoilers for A Crown of Candy)

Swifty - he/him

Campaign: A Crown of Candy

Who is he?

Swifty is a little gingerbread man with a little Peter Pan cap. Other than that, he's pretty much naked. He has the classic buttons and is almost two-dimensional. He wields a lollipop shard knife. He's a pretty fucked up little guy that has a penchant for stabbing everyone he sees.

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

What's there to say? He's absolutely perfect. No one has a the clear and intense first impression that he does (stabbing everyone all the time). It's a clear character, and it really works.

He’s 43. He’s twice divorce-widowed. He’s deep down bad and he recognizes that.

The violence of this little gingerbread man with his stupid voice brings joy to my heart.

He's a fucked up little gingerbread man that is a 43-year-old twice divorced little gremlin. Whats not to love?

Wretchrot/Baby - he/it

Campaign: Fantasy High Sophmore and Junior Year

Who is he?

Wretchrot is blood red, has a scorpion tail, little wings, and no erogenous zones. He is a very low status devil, being formed of the blood of a half-mortal, but still looks down on the Hangman for being a hell hound. He is made up of blood and eats blood as well. He is weird and has a eccentric behavior which makes him bad at making friends, but a great dancer.

He is not a class feature at time of posting but if Fig takes another level of warlock it is implied he will become her familiar.

Mod Comment - I implore you all to look at Baby's wiki page because some of it is so funny

Why is he the NPC of All Time?

He's baby

He's a little guy who likes whispering and screaming :)

Baby is just a little guy who wants to whisper and scream. He’s creepy and bloody but he’s ultimately hilarious and he is always down for (trying to) steal stuff.

[thygoddessouijathicc]

Ok ok I’ve probably posted too much on this today however…

Major spoilers for Ugly oh yeah also warnings for discussion of dark themes and suicide.

So I was looking at the achievements for the game and I noticed a few things. First of all that almost all of the achievements names are statements most being presumably said by Scorpion or about him for example “I will make you a REAL prince.” “Not my son!” And the ever classic “Put on the mask!” “PUT ON THE MASK!” “PUT ON THE F******* MASK!”

Some seem not to be said by Scorpion but if put in the correct context probably are. “Hot dog” is a cruel fucking joke but I mean it’s not an… incorrect statement… (Scorpion I hate you). “Waiting for my prince.” Makes total sense in context and taking it as being said by Scorpion makes it kinda horrible because he says prince and not son or child or whatever because he only sees Butterfly as an heir and a continuation of himself rather than a child.

But one thing particularly stands out to me and it’s how the major story beat achievements progress. The first major story beat is the bandaged, its achievement is “Can’t be real”. Next is the covered “Painful image”. Then you get the mirror monster which gets way more interesting with “THIS IS NOT ME!”. Then the lock thing “I need to hide myself.”. Then the poisoned is next. Not sure why I remember that one’s name and not the last two but eh… it’s achievement is “Who am I?”. Finally we get to the mirror shard itself with the definitive statement “I’M UGLY!” And the fire boss “This is not me.”

Looking at these statements my interpretation is that these are all after the fire and are Scorpion’s thoughts at the time. They seem to portray largely denial but something a bit deeper in the character’s psyche. Scorpion doesn’t know who he is without his looks and finds the mere idea that they are bad to be painful. He can’t let himself be seen if he is ugly just like he couldn’t let his ugly son be seen, who we have established by now he sees as an extension of himself and not a child. He rejects his son being ugly with statements like “not my son” the same way he says things like “this is not me”. Because no part of him can be ugly that’s not possible he can’t reconcile that idea.

Going beyond this Scorpion seems to think his deformity is way worse than it is. When we see him in the ending of the game we will notice yeah he’s kinda let himself go maybe a little and he has what? One scar? I don’t think he was ever actually burned in the first place at least not that badly because we have seen Butterfly who is confirmed to have been burned and his scar is definitely much much worse. It’s likely if Scorpion was ever burned at all he has made a full recovery but again I doubt he ever was. It’s not that he’s actually become ugly it’s that he sees it that way because to Scorpion him having a small scar is just as bad as being hideously deformed or whatnot. Scorpion was never ugly he never needed to “hide himself” but he thought he was ugly and he thought he did because that’s how he responds to any ugly thing apparently. We spend the whole half of the game thinking this guy has been burned beyond recognition but no… he just has a cut on his face. But that’s enough for him.

Also side note I headcanon the thing that cut his face to be the mirror shard seen throughout the game. He was literally cut by his own reflection.

Continuing to the second half of the game the achievements get… different. They seem to be, unlike earlier ones, present thoughts mixed with past ones. Especially the items. “I deserve everything” “top secret” “play it again” “this is my son.” “You asked for it” (about that last one, that’s said about Spider’s eyepatch so… fuck you Scorpion, damn) “Are you beautiful?” “Crime and punishment” “precious collar.” “You have ruined it” “where is my heir?” And “dangerous spider”. These thoughts don’t seem exactly regretful of his actions though some can be read as regretful of his own situation. We get from this a few things.

One, he didn’t like his wife that’s for damn sure. And with the idea that he was a prince I kinda question if perhaps it was an arranged marriage which would explain it being so loveless seemingly from the start… though that doesn’t excuse his actions at fucking all. Still fuck you Scorpion.

As for what else is there… “I deserve everything” is a very weighted statement at this point in the game so is “are you beautiful” especially being said about one of Butterfly’s belongings because it does feel like he’s actually asking if his son was beautiful all along (even if in his own way) and possibly even “where is my heir” can be seen as weighted though that one can be seen as a memory given it is a rattle but it can also be him asking now that he’s alone where is his heir he wanted so badly to be perfect. Precious collar is also questionable because that’s the dogs collar. The one he killed. “This is my son” is one I’m very unsure of because it’s the wine glass from when his son wore the mask though it does imply he actually did present Butterfly as his son… when Butterfly was masked of course. It sounds almost proud maybe and part of me doesn’t doubt that it might actually be proud. But only proud when Butterfly can’t be seen and functions properly as an accessory to make Scorpion look good.

Finally there is the noose “the rope is the key”… self explanatory. It’s the key. We have been finding keys this whole game and this is the only one that leads out. Whether or not Scorpion actually regrets any of his actions it’s clear how he feels about his situation. We know from the final sequence if he wanted to he could just leave. He’s hardly trapped in a way that will actually stop him from leaving. Especially given he locked all the doors to be hidden meaning he probably does have access to the outside.

His death could be seen as an accident he seems to behave maybe like it was but also he definitely put the rope over the scaffolding he knows will collapse then got up there. And he also if we are in fact reading achievements as his words, just called the rope the key. So I’m going to go out on a limb and say he definitely meant to do that. We can also see in that final scene he’s actually seeing himself properly now so it can be well confirmed that he probably isn’t killing himself for being ugly… on the outside.

The noose is the only key for Scorpion to leave not because he physically can’t leave but because even if he did leave he can’t change anything about his situation and the things he’s done and he’s ugly inside, which is where it really matters. Suicide is a complicated topic and while I don’t particularly like Scorpion as a person he was pretty awful let’s be real here, I do feel like his suicide is still somewhat sad because in a sense… well in a few… he was at the end of his rope at this point and had nothing left. He realized the error of his ways finally seemingly but he also realized that it doesn’t matter. He can’t unkill his wife or kids or dog, or unburn his son’s face. Not to mention even if he wanted to go back to living how he used to it’s implied he’s been gone awhile and with that fire he caused everyone either thinks he’s dead or crazy or both. And maybe his peers are after all just as shallow as he is or was or whatever you think at this point in the game. And would actually think he’s hideous for having a small scar.

There really wasn’t anything Scorpion could have done in this situation but die. He created this mess do not get me wrong here he is at fault for all of this and while from the context of him being a prince I do think he may in fact be a product of his situation given the perfectionist mentality and deep insecurity and narcissistic tendencies could well have been intentionally fostered I mean he does lead a religion for fucks sake and who knows that shit could have been going on since he was like 9 which absolutely would destroy his ability to have a proper childhood development, we have nothing to go by on account of his own upbringing other than that he is in fact a royal. He’s not referred to as a king so maybe that’s something and implies he probably has siblings older than him. But really for all we know he’s just kinda like this? No reason no horrible upbringing that fostered narcissism to a clinical degree so bad it causes him to seeming panic at imperfection and try to cover it up, honestly he could just have woken up one day and chosen child abuse. We know very little about this guy he literally isn’t even named we just call him Scorpion. And again even if he did have a past to explain his actions they’re still on him and I still like to watch him faceplanting into glass.

But as much as I do blame him for everything that happened he is literally an abuser I still do take suicide seriously and respect that Scorpion killing himself was really the only thing he could have done in his situation (I say all this because I have seen people call it him wimping out and fucking hell I don’t vibe with calling suicide an easy way out no matter what the character has done). Sure maybe turn himself into the police (which wouldn’t he need evidence and statute of limitations and trial and shit?) or an asylum and live out the rest of his days imprisoned and for the latter case depending on the time period, lobotomized. Yeah it’s not like that was really an option even if he’d done terrible things and was now aware of the extent of that I don’t see anyone deciding they want to spend the rest of their life in a padded cell. There’s also a chance he may have been shipped off to an asylum if anyone found him because he did randomly go up to a mirror and throw a candle at it, presumably causing a fire that killed people, then disappear for years. It’s like he chose between death and slower and possibly more unpleasant and humiliating death.

Also beyond just the actual consequences of staying alive with statements like “I deserve everything” it seems like his psyche is also taking a serious beating. And yes Scorpion you do deserve this your son SHOULD by all means be no contact with your narcissistic arse. The flesh pits taunt you. But yeah yeah back to the point… I also interpret the flesh levels as being all in his head so his mind seems to be falling apart whether from guilt or isolation or what but Scorpion isn’t mentally stable at this moment in time. Honestly I debate if he ever was and if hallucinations like this are actually new but again we don’t know much about this guy. Though the mirror stuff probably also isn’t real unless maybe it is because the poison spiritually fucked him up??? Whatever the case may be I don’t think Scorpion finds himself beautiful at the end of the story and I don’t mean physically I mean it feels like he understands that he’s ugly where it matters and that’s inside and that his actions were disgusted and disgraceful. So I think the choice to… do that… wasn’t entirely to avoid consequence so much as it was “there’s nothing left for me and I’m a monster and the world is better off without me” which is kinda heavy shit right there.

At the end of the day Scorpion is a character with almost no dialogue save from what I affectionately call “random Scorpion noises” (which mostly consist of waking up panting and laughter in memories and smooching noises) so we don’t really understand his actual feelings towards his situation aside from in the ending song where he takes the stance everyone else takes and pretty much goes “yeah I kinda suck lmao” but I find him interesting to analyze since we know so little yet so much about him? We know he’s a prince, we know what he’s done, but as a person we know very very little.

My take is that Scorpion was probably the younger of a few princes and raised into his narcissistic tendencies and perfectionism to look good in court, because to me that makes the most sense to explain why he’s like this. He’s definitely not crown prince and to me even his *age* is up to debate because we have no idea of the time period as far as I know it could be modern it could be medieval. And he kinda looks pretty young let’s be real even at the end of the game with a full adult son who also seems to have a child he looks maybe late 20s early to mid 30s? I have no evidence for this but I’m not convinced he was a legal adult in some of the early on the timeline memories. Because no way this guy is a grandfather without a single wrinkle or grey hair if we are saying he was minimum 18 when he had his son because his son is in this case minimum also 20-30 something depending on how old you think the child is putting him at like 50-60. I also feel that his reoccurring desire to specifically *hide* anything imperfect is of note.

Oh yeah I also think spider is from elsewhere. I think she’s from a different kingdom and that the marriage was both arranged and political. Because for one that’s what you do with princesses and non crown princes you use them for political advantage. For two the Spider wing has a very unique aesthetic that feels kidna like it’s maybe reminiscent of an entirely different kingdom’s aesthetic given it’s all light glass where everywhere else is for lack of a better term… heavy

But these are only headcanons because we must remember… we don’t know their goddamn NAMES. Though I think it would be really funny if Scorpion, Spider, and Butterfly were in fact actually their names. Goddamn arthropods.

So anyway all I wanted to say was some stuff about achievements and it turned into Ouija going character analysis crazy

[anystalker707]

On the same side (2/2)

Pairing: Party Poison x [gender neutral] Reader Word count: ~ 1 200 Genre: Comfort Summary: Who knew Party Poison themself would fall in love with a former Scarecrow?

Requested by @j-restlessgeek

MASTERLIST

 part one

‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

          "I need you to do something," you told Kobra, removing your jacket.

"Twenty dollars."

You blinked and observed him for a solid moment before scoffing. "Fuck off, it's not that! Look..." You turned around, running a finger through a small bump on the back of your neck. Perhaps Kobra could take care of it—you'd seen him remove the glass shards from Ghoul's arm once and sew the cuts up, so he did have some knowledge. "There's a chip. A tracking chip."

"Why didn't you tell us about that before, you dumbass! You could've got us caught!" Kobra hit you upside the head before he ran off, still complaining, ignoring how you cursed him.

The diner was something you struggled a little to get used to. There were small animals sometimes—rats, spiders, or scorpions—that would occasionally make you rethink all of the choices that led to you agreeing on being part of that damned killjoy group. Still, it was either that or dying. Maybe even worse than death. Being condemned to being a droid with ghost memories of what you once were didn’t sound appealing.

Sand was everywhere in the diner despite how you would often see Ghoul walking around with a broom and sometimes obsessively cleaning stuff. Sometimes he would crack a proud grin even if the stuff were far from being actually clean.

Despite everything, this air of happiness always lingered among the group. Curious. Now, you were there to help with the technology they didn’t have a grasp of and spilling everything you could to affect that damn Industry. Maybe the killjoys could take it down and you could finally take the place of that damn director. Or just get her off there—that would work as well.

To be honest, that hurt. More than usual. Sometimes you'd go under the knife for BLI experiments since you were a Scarecrow, after all, but maybe those daily meds you took weren't just vitamins that controlled your brain. Perhaps, they numbed you a little.

On capturing you, the Fabulous Four also did the great achievement of getting your car as well. Thank fuck for Jet and his two brain cells—more than the other three would have together. Still, they were once again almost killing you for not having warned about the extra, hidden trackers in the car.

However, there was a great achievement. You could turn off the tracking and make the BLI technology work neutrally, unlike any other killjoy had been able to do. Tracking enemies would suddenly become so much easier.

          "You're telling me there's some sort of pattern?" Poison asked, clearly confused. They leaned forward on the seat, adjusting the sunglasses on their nose.

Both of you were sitting inside your car, which was parked near some boulder down Zone Two while watching some Scarecrows that were probably just scanning the area after noticing some sort of disturbance. Your car looked way better in something other than white, so easier to hide in the desert despite how colorful it was. White stood out too much, even more under the sun's bright light.

"They're not sending random Scarecrows to deal with every killjoy," you explained with a sigh. "For example, I was usually assigned to dealing with you guys and Super V's, something like that. It's because I generally knew how to do it, y'know? There were some tactics I had memorized. Since it's..." You leaned forward, narrowing your eyes as you observed the two pass by. You knew those tires. "It's probably Debbie... She usually deals with controlling small stuff around Zones One and Two since she can disperse them well."

"If we lure one Scarecrow, making them think it's just one small issue and then change the situation..."

"It's hard to manage, but you may have a chance." You completed, gripping a little onto the steering wheel as you lifted your sunglasses and leaned back against the seat.

Poison clicked their tongue, leaning back as well and letting out a breath in a huff. The Scarecrow squad was far away already.

"We can manage something better regarding this once Cherri prepares his radio stuff," you sighed, looking at the radio on the panel. "Whatever." You turned the car on already so you could head back to the Nest or maybe the market in Zone Five to grab something before going back to the diner.

It was silent for a long moment, only the sound of the engine humming under you or the sound of the sand and pebbles smashed under the tires whenever you drove off-road. Party was messing with their gun until getting tired and just holstering it again.

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?" You furrowed your eyebrows a little, taking a turn.

"Being a Scarecrow." They looked over by the corner of their eyes.

To be honest, you did miss it, sometimes. All the benefits that came with it. "It's not something worth missing. I know it won’t come back."

Poison hummed softly. "Do you feel lonely? Like, do you miss anyone?"

"We weren't allowed to have any sort of relationship," you sighed, looking around, "not every friendship, so there isn't anyone to miss."

Despite the silence that followed, Poison sounded like they wanted to say something. You kept glancing at them in the hope they wouldn't leave you in constant tension.

Finally, Poison let out a breath. "Is it better to be with us?"

You raised an eyebrow. Was it, really? Handling emotions and working in a team with people who weren't under you and also in a new background... It wasn't easy. You couldn't deny it. Either way, the four were very understanding. Poison was there one of the times you woke up from a nightmare. Surprisingly, they handled it all very well. There were no harsh punishments because of things like laughing too much or enjoying the sunset.

"(K/n)?" Poison called, and you had to reason for a second to remember it was your new name.

"Yes," you replied immediately. They didn’t need any explanation.

The market finally showed up in the distance and you parked the car, sighing softly as you finally let the tension wear off your shoulders, but your breath hitched in your throat when a gloved hand rested upon yours.

"We are here for you," Poison muttered quietly. "It might not be much, but we try to be a family as best as we can. We aren't the best, but we are the best we can be."

You sighed, looking ahead of yourself. The market was agitated, and messy, with more stuff than usual.

"I'm thankful for that." Your eyes were still fixed ahead of yourself, but you turned your hand over to hold Poison’s.

A hum came from Poison with an air of relief. They were silent for a long moment, but then you felt their warm lips on your cheek, lingering until you turned your head and let your lips meet theirs.

"You feel like home," you whispered against their lips. "I don't want to leave."

"You better," Poison whispered in return, pecking your lips again. "You're not just using me, right? Gonna turn me in to BLI when I lower my guard." They teased with a small smirk.

"Not in the way you think," you chuckled and pecked their lips. "Come on. Let's grab something."

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

[codenamehazard]

.:In The Dark of the Night:.

[TRIGGER WARNING FOR ARACHNOPHOBIA AND OTHER CREEPY CRAWLIES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!]

Chapter 24: In The Dark of the Night

Hey guys!

Holy Moly, I can't believe it has been almost an entire year since I started this journey with what was supposed to only be a simple one-shot of Cole saying "Fuck you" to the destiny thrusted upon him and running off into a Conduit Mad-Maxian playgound to have some fun. I even checked back on the creation date of "Breaking the Shackles" and it was back on the last day of March. March! That's insane!

And I have you all to thank for giving me the push to keep going on this story. So, thank you all from the bottom of my heart, I'm sending you all digital hugs.

The year is coming to a close and this will be my last chapter of the year. So with that, I wish you all a very Happy Holidays, whatever it is you celebrate, and here's to a safe and Happy New Year!

I've rambled on long enough, time to jump in! I hope it's a worthy chapter to close the year on!

--------

Everything hurts, everything. My muscles ache, my nerves burn, my brain reels and my heart constricts in fear. My entire world is nothing but fear, panic and pain, but I know I can’t stop, I won’t stop.

Not until Trish is safe in my arms.

My body begs for rest as I had been doing nothing but running, climbing and fighting non-stop for the better part of an hour. Even with the boost of being a Conduit, my body still produces lactic acid and it burns my muscles all the same. Yet I still climb, running on nothing but pure adrenaline and will-power. Pushing through the pain.

Every pull of my arms, every push of my legs brings me closer to her. The love of my life, the woman I would move mountains for, who I would scorch heaven, hell and Earth for.

I can hear his damned voice chastising me. Telling me how disappointed he is, how he expected more from me. How my selfishness is blinding me from whatever “big picture” he was rambling on about, but I don’t give a damn. As long as I have Trish, the whole world could go to hell and I wouldn’t care.

She’s the only light in this god-forsaken city I have left, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone snuff it out.

My heart soars when I crest the ledge and pull myself up with a flourishing flip, rushing over to the bomb and defusing it.

“Trish!” I call out, panic and relief mixing in my voice.

“Who the hell is Trish?!” The color drains my face and my blood runs cold as a stranger’s voice is what I hear. Who the hell is this bitch?! “Get me out of this!!”

“Looks like I was wrong.” That damn voice taunts over the radio as my blood freezes in my veins with the realization that I’ve been played for a fool. It was a trick, Trish is with the six and now I can’t get to her in time.

“COLE!!!” I can barely hear her voice over the sound of the bombs going off and the mounting static in my ears as I watch the six bodies fall.

“TRIIIIIIIIISH!!!!!!!”

—-----

The same word bellows out of my mouth as I scream myself awake. Black and red sparks arcing off of my body as I sit up with the start, objects fly off of me from my sudden movement. A woman’s scream only adds to the panic in my blood as Kestrel is startled awake and sent tumbling out of her hammock and onto the floor with a squishy crunch. 

I hyperventilate as my eyes dart wildly, trying to remember where I am and what’s going on, it’s only then I get a good look at what was flinged off of my body.

Scorpions… Giant, gnarled scorpions, the size of my head! Seeming to be blinking in and out of existence… They were everywhere.

A panicked squawk comes out of the bird’s mouth as she scrambles onto her feet and heats up her arms, I just let out a disgusted yell before turning these things into target practice. Though with their ability to just disappear into thin air, it’s easier said than done.

“Kestrel, what the hell are these things?!” I bellow out as I stomp my feet around like the most fucked up game of Dance Dance known to man. “Blink Scorpions!” Kestrel shouts back at me as she uses her slug bursts as opposed to her typical shots.

“Blink Scorpions?!” I repeat. What the fuck does that even mean?! I get the name, but it doesn’t mean anything. “A little more detail would be nice, Kestrel.” I snarl in irritation as I narrowly avoid getting tagged in the ankle.

“Big, nasty, carnivorous arachnids with a taste for Conduit flesh, a sting that can completely incapacitate one. They can turn invisible and can only be revealed by UV light.” I stare dumbfoundedly at the girl, and they never told me about these things until now?! I’ll grill her on that question later, right now I have a bigger question on my mind.

“Did whatever the hell made the Warped make this fuckers too?!” I roar in anger as I turn another bug into a purple splat on the floor.

“Yeah!” Kes confirms. Great, so it’s not just zombies and living tumors I have to worry about.

Memories flicker in my mind, back to Empire City. The absolute nightmares that were the damn Cloaking Conduits of the First Sons. These overgrown cockroaches reminded me of them, made my blood boil with white hot rage as I fry them when they show their ugly mugs. As I kill, I think to myself; I struggled with the Cloakers because of their tech, but these things don’t have any.

Could the Radar Pulse find these bastards? Only one way to find out.

A simple pulse and holy shit, they lit up like Christmas lights. Well, that makes my job and Kes’ jobs easier.

“Hey little birdie!” I call out to Kes, she turns her head towards me. “Creepy crawly at your six!” She turns around and blasts it, splatting glowing purple gore on the floor.

“Thanks Cole!” She calls back as she continues to blast at the bugs flickering in and out. “How did you-” “Less talking, more blasting!” I interrupt. “I’ll explain later, just keep blasting where I call!” She gives me an annoyed look, but nods before we get back to playing exterminator with Kestrel painting the air blue with cussing and bitching.

“What in God’s name are these things doing here anyways?!” I hear Kestrel shout out as she dodges a sting. “Blink Scorpions aren’t even supposed to be here!” I blink and stare before punting the bug against the wall.

“What do you mean they’re “not supposed to be here?!”” I balk as I zap another blinker. 

“I mean they’re not supposed to be here.” Kestrel snips back, firing off some slag shards to pin a bug that’s too close to my head. “These bastards are normally found near Arkansas, not here!” Arkansas?! That’s miles away!!

“Maybe they’re crawling south for the winter.” I snark a little and that nearly got me a slag-shot to the head.

“Very funny, MacGrath.” Kes shoots back as we finally clear enough room to get to the door of the trailer. We both grab the doors and swing them open, but before we could get outside, something sounding like a mix of nails on a chalk-board, a broken tornado siren and a human scream rings out. Kestrel and I cover our ears in pain.

The trailer jostles as whatever it is rams into it, making the two of us tumble out like the rug was pulled out from under us.

The freezing cold rain makes black and red spark jump and arc off of my body as I get back up on my feet, god-damn it, of all the times for a swarm of things to attack. I glare as I turn my head back to the trailer and…

Jesus fucking Christ…

What is crawling and attempting to flip the trailer over is… God, I thought the Summoner was bad… 8 creaking legs tipped with large claws, four giant eyes on its head with four smaller ones under the two on the front, fangs so big it could split a man in half and it’s body covered in stoney armor, so much so that if it stood still, you might mistake it for some random boulders in the middle of nowhere!

And the thing that makes this creepy crawly monstrosity all the more horrifying? Out of the nooks and crannies of that rocky armor crawl those blinking bastard scorpions that gave everyone the rude awakening.

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together, those things were that giant boulder-spider’s babies and we just pissed off the momma.

It’s only when the cacophony of shouting and screaming starts that I notice the rest of the Misfits, rushing around and panicking. Mako and Pangolin trying to set up spots to take cover under and Kestrel rushing towards the armory to get weapons. I’d facepalm if I weren’t busy trying to keep from getting stung as in her fear, Kestrel forgot Big Momma is on top of the trailer that houses the armory.

A loud metallic THUNK rings out when Big Momma swipes her leg at the dumbass bird and sends her flying.

The panic in the air thickens as we all come to realize that we were going to have to fight with our powers, if Warped Spikes are anything like using powers in the mines, then we were going to ring the dinner-bell while trying to stay alive.

I fire off a Hellfire Rocket at Big Momma, but to my horror the electric missiles bounce off the stone armor. Memories of the Devourer flash in my mind when I see that, but this time there is no bigass mouth to chuck grenades into. I curse loudly as I feel a pit of helplessness sink inside my stomach and by the fearful look of everyone else’s faces, they’re just as scared as me.

The heavy hitters get to work on the stone-spider-nightmare, trying to crack the shell, Mako blasting sharpened shards of bone,  Pangolins firing off shotgun like blasts of brick into the armor while trying to tank hits from the legs and Kestrel firing spears of Slag into areas that looked the thinnest, but the monster didn’t even seem bothered as she charges and swipes at the scrambling Misfits.

Dove and I are trying to do our part by keeping the tiny scorpions at bay so that the three wouldn’t need to worry about them. The little bugs were easy enough to kill, but there’s just so damn many of them and they seemed to be everywhere.

The pit in my stomach gnaws and scratches at me. I try to focus on my task at hand, but the feeling of helplessness and utter uselessness is suffocating and infuriating. I wanted to help take the big bitch down but knowing that my powers, all of them, are useless against her, causes the sparks on my arms to hiss and spit as I do the only thing I can do to help and take my emotions out on these tiny bastards.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see one of the scittering bugs slip by. I try to zap it, but it is a jittery thing, making it hard to track. It’s making a bee-line to Kestrel. I’m about to call out to the Gunsmith, but Pangolin beats me to it.

I watch as the Brick Spartan spots the creature charging at Kes, tail raised and ready to sting, before he barrels into the girl. Knocking the bird out of the way, Pangolin takes the hit, right in the leg. Purple liquid oozes from the injury as the man screams out in utter agony. The same purple glow starts to crawl through his veins slowly as he collapses to the ground, his pinecone armor crumbling to dust as he writhes, powerless.

The sounds of the world become static and wailing as I watch Kestrel and Dove scream out in terror as the swarm rushes towards their victim.

“THOMAS!!!!”

[To Be Continued]

[deathstench]

Formed ten years ago, DEATHSTENCH released three albums and many eps.. The "Massed in Black Shadow" album was a great obscure and dangerous one..The crown of their sacrifice was their collaboration with Bon Masters Phurpa. John Paul Whetzel and Darea Plantin spells behind this interview.

“Blood Moon Divination” was your latest release. It was released in a limited amount of copies and only in Tape format. Why this choice?

We have always preferred analog releases. We view physical copies as something that should be appreciated.. Let's face it, it's the 21st century, and people do most of their listening through some sort of streaming service. If they like it, they most likely pirate it. We understand this; Our physical releases are intentionally designed for coveting.

We put a great deal of energy into each release. In our past special editions, we have included ritual accouterments that correspond with each album, such as shards of human bone and incense we made specifically for the intent to conjure with the dead.

You have released three albums. Please tell us the concept behind each one and the process of the recordings…Each release turns out to more noisy and dark forms..

To be precise it's four albums, and numerous collaborations and splits. Our releases are not in any sort of chronological order, from conception to the final product takes its own time dependant upon the haste of that particular record label. We record basically the same for each album, building upon a structured theme. Our music is built on layers of sounds from instruments, traditional and otherwise, that we record with either handheld devices or microphones connected to an audio interface which we use to record our percussion and amps.

Each track on "Blood Moon Divination" is an audial ritual recorded and released during each specific Blood Moon in the tetrad cycle of blood moon eclipses of 2014-2015. Through that span of time, these celestial vibrations were available as they were being released on several streaming platforms, including Black Metal and Brews and Repartiseraren. A tetrad of lunar eclipses is extremely uncommon. This was only the eighth of such cycles in over two thousand years. We compiled them together for a physical album that we chose to release during the first exclusive total solar eclipse the United States had seen in over two hundred years. Eclipses, both solar and lunar, are considered to be very inauspicious events throughout the world. As an omen of war, the Talmud regards "If the face of the moon is as red as blood it is a sign that the sword is coming to the world."

"N.O.X." is a transcendent four track journey that starts out violently with the lo-fi black metal track OXEX DAZIS SIATRIS, Enochian for "Vomiting The Head of Scorpions" and slowly transforms itself into a less chaotic discord that concludes with the meditative piece "Mysterivm Tremendvm". N.O.X. or "The Night of Pan", is a mystical state that represents the stage of ego-death in the process of spiritual attainment. The Greek word Pan also translates as All, as he is a symbol of the Universal, a personification of Nature; both Pangenetor, "all-begetter," and Panphage, "all-devourer". Pan is both the giver and the taker of life, and his Night is that time of symbolic death where the adept experiences unification with the All through the ecstatic destruction of the ego-self. In a more general sense, it is the state where one transcends all limitations and experiences oneness with the universe.

"Nekro Blood Ritual", our second album, was designed specifically for its cassette release and is broken into two sections: Conjuration Rites and Burial Evocation. This album focuses on conjuring the dead and the desecration of human remains. This is by far our most atmospheric album; most of the tracks are rely heavily on field recordings and stygian synthesizers to evoke the abject darkness. These songs are reminiscent to the "Incantations in Dead Tongues" era of our work. There are only two conventional (for use of a better term) songs on this album, "Nekrobloodritual" and "Desecrating The Host" the latter being a harsh black funeral doom dirge for the departed.

In our debut album, "Massed in Black Shadow" we utilize all of our influences through the years. Incorporating elements of death industrial, dark ambient, doom, and black metal, and hideously transforming and conjoining them into a writhing mass of absolute filth, a sound truly all our own. The final track, titled “Bastards of the Black Flame” can be considered a motto to us, as it is exactly who we are. The byproducts of an unholy union between some of the most violent forms of music, in both sound and ideologies.

DEATHSTENCH collaborated with Phurpa. How did this Union take form? Are you interested in the theory of empiricism in Bon Religion?

In 2012 Alexei Tegin had discovered our music from our debut album and contacted us. Both Phurpa and ourselves operate with the same meditative qualities regarding our music. Although our sound derives from different spectrums, they coalesce quite vividly. "Evoking Shadows of Death" fuses our ultrasonic vibrations and harsh atmospheres with the harmonious chants and deep, droning reverberations of their tantric voice. These two tracks are designed to help the chod practitioner tap the power of fear. This transformation does not fall spontaneously, as grace, upon the listener: the practitioner must engage in the process. One must take steps to transmute through the aural plane and, through a process in which they must actively participate, requiring utmost concentration and mental stamina. This mystical experience is achieved, not bestowed.

Empirical reasoning has no place in esoteric practices and the occult. These objects are neither phenomena (empiricism) nor human constructs imposed upon the phenomena (idealism), but real structures which endure and operate independently of our knowledge, our experience and the conditions which allow us access to them. Some things cannot be reduced down to empirical measurements.

Thanatology and satanism are your basic influences. How do you define satanism and how death in your personal path?

Deathlore has always intrigued the both of us. There is absolutely nothing more final than Death. Every single one of us will die, as Death does not discriminate. Dying, death and how human beings respond to the inevitability of their mortality and cope with the reality of loss can be viewed from a wide range of perspectives. Our intent has never been to elaborate on our practices or rituals to any audience. Even the altars we allow you to see are set up specifically for public viewing. While they are still symbolic of what we would normally produce for our own rituals, the intent isn't there. It's merely superficial. Our personal altars and rituals will always remain clandestine, as all witchcraft should be.

“Those who know do not speak. Those who speak do not know.” ― Lao Tzu

I would like to hear your thoughts and if you are into the systems of O.N.A & Temple of the Black Light in theory and praxis as Traditional satanic approach you unveil through your works . Satanism is such an elaborate construct; Atheistic, LaVeyan, theistic, there are so many paths. Satan has always been symbolic with the quest for Knowledge, of opposition to arbitrary authority, forever defending personal sovereignty even in the face of insurmountable odds. Our path cannot be defined by one simple ideology.

We have absolutely no affiliation with these groups.

Does DEATHSTENCH ever perform live?

We are very selective in our live performances. The last show was in Portland, Oregon way back in 2015 when we opened up for MGLA, Weregoat, and Sempiternal Dusk. Alan Dubin (of Gnaw, Khanate) and Billy Anderson, whom we have long collaborated with, did a sort of dueling vocals approach to our fifteen-minute audial assault on an beyond-capacity crowd. This show was recorded by Mateo from Greysun Records who also released it on his label in 2018.

Necromancy is an Old Art Like Time.Ancient Greece had deep roots also in this Subject. Are you familiar with the Ancient Greek Mysteries?

Yes, we are familiar with some of the Chthonic mysteries highlighting mortality and the briefness of life, and the spirits of the blessed dead. Though, like most true paths of esoteric knowledge, not much is truly known about the intricacies of these rituals, having been sworn to secrecy and then lost to the Sands of Time. It has been suggested that communicants would drink Kykeon infused with the psychotropic fungus ergot which helped the initiate to reach a fuller understanding of their purpose in life and to shed their fear of death and this, then, heightened the experience and helped transform the initiate. The same can be said of the Huichol in Mexico, who eat peyote at the completion of long arduous pilgrimages in order that they may experience in the journey of the soul of the dead to the underworld. Death worship and eschatology are celebrated by all cultures throughout time, most with the use of hallucinogens.

I would like to hear your thoughts on these words: “This being true for the ordinary Universe, that all sense-impressions are dependent on changes in the brain we must include illusions, which are after all sense-impressions as much as “realities” are, in the class of “phenomena dependent on brain-changes.”  ― S.L. MacGregor Mathers, Goetia the Lesser Key of Solomon the King: Lemegeton, Book 1 Clavicula Salomonis Regis

In contemporary education, the emphasis has been on the psychomotor and the cognitive, namely reading, writing, and arithmetic, at the expense of the affective, namely, the emotions, the sensual, the intuitive, and the imaginative. Priority has been assigned to the verbal-intellectual skills. Anything else tends to be shelved or boxed and put away as ephemeral, esoteric, or mystical, each of these terms being used in a pejorative sense.

Consider for a moment the human sensory system. To the scientific mind, the senses are perceived to act as a kind of data-reduction system. The problem with this concept of the senses is that we do not respond to all that is potential sensory input. Perception is quite a selective process, attending to only a small fraction of so-called reality.

To some extent, scientist or artist, everything we perceive is "illusory," since to perceive anything at all we must use our imaginative capacity for fantasy.

What can we expect from DEATHSTENCH in the near future?

We have a few albums waiting in the shadows including collaborations with Sektor 304 and LINEKRAFT, as well as another full-length album incorporating both Billy Anderson and Alan Dubin. Time is relative, and there are no promises as to when any of these releases will see the light of day.

[go-go-devil]

I may not have the drawing skills to depict my Dark Souls OC in artwork, but I do feel confident enough to voice act her as if she were an NPC in the game!

This here consists of all the possible dialogue Leiurus the Scorpion can say to the player during their first encounter with her in the tunnel connecting the Valley of Drakes with Darkroot Basin, including attacked/aggro lines for flavor ⚔️

Further explanation of the encounter/dialogue below the cut:

This encounter is triggered at either entrance/exit to the tunnel when the player first ventures into it. Leiurus would essentially spawn in and begin speaking up behind them, stopping when the player turns around to speak to her. She will always stop following once she reaches the tunnel's bonfire.

If she is attacked before the player speaks to her, she plead with the player not to attack and automatically begin the conversation (with altered dialogue as well). Leiurus will only aggro if she has taken enough damage after this initial conversation.

Answering "Yes" or "No" to whether or not you think her hair is made of poison does not affect the rest of her quest line, but answering "Yes" will lock you out of hearing the remaining conversations, as she will no longer be in the mood to talk to you.

The bribe Leiurus gives varies depending on which path the player first takes into the tunnel. If the player enters from Darkroot Basin she'll give a standard titanite shard, but if they arrive via the elevator in the Valley of Drakes she will instead give a twinkling titanite.

If you'd like to learn more about Leiurus the Scorpion, I'm currently writing a novel length Dark Souls 1 fanfiction To The Accursed, to which she is the star of!

[ricky-croissant]

L+ratio+flame spear+godfreys icon+fire scorpion charm+alex jar shard+fire shroud crack tear + flame grant me strength+golden vow+ fire serpent helm