#secret highlander hunter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

studentinpursuitofclouds · 1 year ago

Note

How would the SVE adventurers and mages react to the fact that the Farmer gave peace to the shadow people by bringing the souls of their loved ones to them? We see Magnus and Marlon be very confused about why the shadow people are acting so weird (I.E not attacking anymore), so how would they and the others feel about getting the news that the Farmer just... casually brought peace between the shadow people and humans just because they could? (Also, sorry if I'm flooding your inbox too much I just really like your content-)

Please don't ever feel like you're flooding here. I'm always happy to see you and others in my askbox ☺️💕 Thanks so much for the question, hope you enjoy it!

Be warned - this post is so, so long....

_________________________________________

Absolutely everyone has noticed a change in the behavior of the shadow people..... In the mines of the Stardew Valley, in the Highland caves, even in the Crimson Baldlans. Everywhere this civilization resided, great changes had taken place.

A topic that became a furor for all the inhabitants of the magical world. The young monster hunters in the recent reports that the shadow shamans, instead of their usual aggression towards them, had simply... retreated. Where? Why? Mages have been discussing for days now that they have stopped noticing shadow people at all in their raids.

All of this did not go unnoticed, and the Ministry of Magic along with the Order of Pythagoras became very worried because of such a drastic change in the monsters' behavior. The Guild heads and the First wizard and witches already called several secret meetings in a row to find out who or what caused this event.

Farmer's friends and acquaintances were also there, puzzling over whether this was a dark plan by a renegade mage to gather an army of shadow people to storm the Crimson Badlands, or an initiative by the shadow people themselves in retaliation to humanity for past wrongs?

Few people realized later that it was enough to ask a young and chaotic farmer to find out the truth about all this...

_________________________________________

Aside from his complete willingness to protect people at the cost of his own life, Lance admits that all the fuss has sparked a genuine curiosity and desire to capture all the details in his book. He still considers the shadow people to be something more than a bunch of mindless and ruthless monsters and hopes that he won't have to spill anyone else's blood. If the pink-haired adventurer is lucky, maybe he can figure out what's going on with shadow people and finish his book.

Whatever the top wizards and adventurers accept, Alesia prepares for a fight. The battle sniper will start training the young warriors of Castle Village even harder, check all the positions of the main wall protecting the settlement, give orders to replenish the arsenal with all weapons, organize shelters in case of irreparable situation.... All hard work, for the sake of saving the people Alesia swore to defend to the last drop of blood.

If the adventurers under Alesia's command had a hard time with the increased training, then for those with Isaac as their boss, the following days became a living hell. No rest, no indulgences. "The monsters will not give you a second to rest or to be weak. Focus!" - was a phrase that had become imprinted on young minds during the training. But Isaac can be understood: he does everything he can to ensure that his charges can defend themselves and others. He doesn't spare himself either: training - sleep, training - sleep. That's his schedule for now.

Jolyne was serious about training her Guild members not only in the use of weapons, but also in battle magic. She has no doubts about Lance's ability to defend himself, but the wise woman worries for the safety of the younger members of The First Slash Clan. Especially if the source of the threat turns out to be the Gotoro Empire, it will be her Guild that will receive the first and most powerful blow from the enemy on the other side of the Gem Sea... So Jolyne can't afford to relax.

While everyone is making a fuss about the shadow people, Camilla has been using all her connections in the magical and non-magical worlds to find out what happened and where. Since the head witch doesn't want to cause any more panic (and also doesn't want the conservative old farts in the Ministry to get in her way), she has quietly begun her search for the cause of the monsters' behaviour. While her own search for the truth began, Camilla quietly poured herself some tea and snacked on sweets, smiling and pretending to take it lightly again so that she would be left alone.

Jadu will sit in the front rows of the meetings and listen to every word of the magicians of the highest rank. He is excited and intrigued - it has been a long time since such a large-scale event, covered with mystery, has taken place in history. And the young mage promised himself to be the first to solve this mystery! Naturally, people's safety is paramount, but Jadu, if possible, won't miss a chance to learn something new about monster behaviour or maybe even a new spell.

Magnus and Marlon were not as excited as the young Castle Village mage. Old and wise, they know for a fact that none of this can bode well. The one-eyed adventurer has sunk even further into depressed thoughts after the day he discovered in the mines that the behavior of the shadow people has changed drastically. Marlon is also worried about the young Guild member, lest they get into trouble because of all this. Magnus, on the other hand, is fully immersed in theories about what this could mean and who might be involved, but also supporting Marlon's concern for Farmer's safety. They're also worried about Krobus's safety, and wondering how to discreetly hide them from the Order when-

Krobus! Of course! And why didn't they immediately realize to ask their shadow friend?

_________________________________________

Leaving the meeting unnoticed, Marlon and Magnus instantly teleported to the sewers beneath Pelican Town, accidentally scaring poor Krobus in the process. After apologising, the purple-haired wizard and the one-eyed adventurer began to ask about what had happened to the shadow people?

''Oh, didn't the Farmer tell you? We made peace. Can you believe this? Peace, finally... With the humans. I didn't think I'd ever see it, but my people are no longer fighting your people. We have a chance to become friends, all thanks to the kindness and endeavour of our friend Farmer. How happy I am!"

Except that it couldn't be said that after hearing this, the old men's faces directly shone with joy. Of course, they both breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that there was no secret conspiracy here, and peace in general after years of confrontation between humans and shadow people. But the fact that Farmer hadn't told anyone about it made them angry. Very angry.

Oh, here comes the culprit of the celebration and all this chaos! Farmer had deigned to come down to the sewers, wanted to treat Krobus to a pumpkin. Except that the young troublemaker didn't expect to see their mentors.... with furious expression. In a moment, Marlon had grabbed Farmer by the collar of their shirt, while Wizard with a snap of his fingers, had moved all three of them into his tower, leaving a confused Krobus with a pumpkin alone.

When Magnus teleported in the tower, he had time to call all the people he had decided to tell for the outcome of the incident. Marlon let go of the frightened Farmer, and barely suppressed the urge to lightly slap them upside the head. He was proud of his apprentice and fellow Guild member's achievement, but not to tell anyone about the peace while everyone else was pissing themselves from stress and training. Even though Farmer didn't know what was happening in Castle Village and elsewhere, it didn't negate the fact that it was their duty to report such important events.

Farmer's familiars teleported over to them in a little less than a minute: first Camilla, as always the first to learn about the news, followed later by Lance and Jolyne, and then Alesia, Isaac, and Jadu.

Magnus decided not to feel sorry for the Farmer this time:

"Well, young one. Is there anything you want to tell us?"

Everyone turned their eyes to Farmer, who craned their head into his shoulders from the scrutiny. Sighing tiredly, the Farmer began their story..... The only difference, though, was not to mention Krobus, so as not to expose their friend to danger, and Magnus and Marlon were grateful for that. But outwardly they didn't show it.

_________________________________________

When Farmer finished their story, there was a heavy silence. With an indignant half-cry of "What?!" Isaac was the first to break the silence. It didn't take long for the profanity to be hurled in the direction of the careless adventurer who had taken their duties so lightly and failed to report for peace with the shadow people. Isaac was angry, furious. So many days of training to learn such truth? Sure, he wouldn't want unnecessary violence and blood, but what the fuck does the Farmer allow themself!

Alesia was more well mannered, but also spoke out with annoyance at Farmer's lack of seriousness about their duties. They should have immediately reported to the head of the Guild or other senior adventurers first. But they didn't think it was important. A serious lapse in discipline.

To be honest - Jadu wasn't as angry as he was intrigued at what the Farmer had done. Peace? With shadow people? That's so exciting! A whole historical event, and when the others are done with their scolding Farmer, Jadu is sure to ask Farmer so many questions about current event.

Lance breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that there was no dire danger. At least not yet. The only one of them to smile sympathetically at Farmer as they blushed under the onslaught of scolding. He, like Jadu, is very interested in asking Farmer questions about how they were able to accomplish what people in the past couldn't. Farmer is a true peacemaker, and Lance bows to the heroism and bravery of the young adventurer. But praise will come later, now it is scolding, for this could have ended in injury, or even death, for Farmer.

Jolyne, on the other hand, decided to cross her arms and watch Farmer blush with a predatory smile. Camilla joined the head of The First Slash and silently watched this funny situation. What was interesting was that both Jolyne and Camilla had guessed Farmer's involvement even before Magnus and Marlon left the meeting, back then. Camilla's connections pointed to Farmer having become suddenly involved in soul gathering at Crimson Baldlans more recently. While Jolyne had seen Farmer leaving the Mines the day the shadow people's behaviour changed. She had been visiting Marlon then, and hadn't paid much attention to Farmer. She should have. Well, all is well now, and she and Camilla are enjoying the comedic situation.

Magnus and Marlon have the last word, as the official mentors of the most chaotic Farmer in the entire world. Farmer were the most unpleasant to listen to their chastisement, with a face the colour of a tomato.

But after the heavy scolding, both mentors thanked Farmer for their exploit, not forgetting to say how proud they were of them. This made the Farmer's mind go even further into a stupor. Even though Farmer had not intentionally created this chaos, and the fact that it could have ended badly for them, none of the people present dared to deny the fact that Farmer had once again done the impossible and that they were grateful for this peace. Everyone agreed with Marlon and Magnus's words, even the grumpy Isaac, and asked that in the future if anything happened, to let them know.

So much for the life and adventures of the disaster Farmer...

55 notes · View notes

apilgrimpassingby · 18 days ago

Text

British Folklore Book Recommendations

Black Dog Folklore (2015) by Mark Norman: the most comprehensive overview on the market of spectral dog folklore in Britain, albeit fairly hard to get hold of. Recommended for people interested in hellhounds.

Cloven Country: The Devil and the English Landscape (2022) by Jeremy Harte: a survey and analysis of Devil folklore in England (and a bit in Wales). I really can't recommend Harte enough; he's witty, eloquent, insightful and well-read. Recommended for people who want to learn about Devil folklore or just want a good book; this was the book that got me into British folklore in a big way.

Daemonologie (1597) by James Stuart: the standard text on witchcraft and witch-hunting in the English-speaking world. Since there's a lot of Scots, I'd recommend listening to it here, with definitions of the words. Recommended to witch trial nerds and other people trying to understand the mindset of Protestant witch hunters.

Cunning Folk: Life in the Era of Practical Magic (2024) by Tabitha Stanmore: a solid and accessible work on English folk magic between 1350 and 1650. Recommended to people who want a history/sociology of magic.

A Dictionary of Fairies (1976) by Katharine Briggs: this is the standard (and certainly most comprehensive) book on faerie lore in the British Isles. Sadly, it's out of print so unless you have a lot of money or access to a university library (I'm a student; guess which category I'm in) you won't be able to get hold of it. Recommended for people able to get hold of it who want the full scoop on British fairies.

Explore Fairy Traditions (2004) by Jeremy Harte: I've already praised his work on Devil lore, so now I'm praising his work on faeries, which can be found for free online here. Recommended for people who want an overview of faerie lore but don't have access to a university library or an obscene budget for books.

The Secret Commonwealth of Elves, Fauns and Fairies (1692) by Robert Kirk: one of the key collections of Scottish Highland faerie lore, with one hell of a backstory that I will relate to anyone who asks. Can be found online here. Recommended to serious folklore and/or faerie nerds.

The Stations of the Sun: A History of the Ritual Year in Britain (20021) by Ronald Hutton: the standard volume (in both academic and popular circles) on the history of festivals in Britain, with chapters for pretty much every festival of note in Britain detailing its origins and variations throughout time and place. Recommended to people who want to learn more about festivals and to those who want to incorporate some folk tradition into their life.

The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England 1300-1540 (1992) by Eamon Duffy: written as a rebuke to then-traditional Protestant histories of the English Reformation, the first half is the standard overview of Late Medieval English Christianity - for the purposes of people reading this, it's got chapters on the liturgical calendar and folk magic, as well as being where I discovered the Lyke-Wake Dirge. The second half, on the English Reformation itself, is substantially worse due to, as mentioned above, the author's conscious anti-Protestant stance leading him to understate support for it at the time. Recommended to people who want to find out about medieval religion and don't mind copious amounts of Middle English

A Treasury of British Folklore: Maypoles, Mandrakes and Mistletoe by Dee Dee Chainey (2018): a really good introduction to/overview of British folklore. Recommended for people starting to learn about it (it's the first book I owned on the topic).

The Watkins Book of English Folktales (2022) by Neil Philip: a giant compendium of folktales from England, collected in the 19th century (the book is the compendium of them) and related in that form. Recommended to people who want to read some stories ("Lazy Jack" is my favourite).

Also, I should note that many of them, particularly my favourite, Cloven Country, were discovered through my local library. Support your local libraries, people.

#british folklore #english folklore #scottish folklore #welsh folklore #folklore #history #book recommendations

8 notes · View notes

alhilton · 7 months ago

Note

G’day I’ve yet to read Hunters Unlucky yet I have a few burning questions. What is Curb social structure like, and how are hybrids treated in Curb society?

Also what inspired you to take heavy inspiration from thylacines when it came to developing them as a species?

G'day to you as well. :) You're asking for some mild spoilers. Do you want spoilers? Specifics regarding the curbs and their situation unspool for our protagonist (who is not a curb) over the course of Hunters Unlucky, and their struggles continue in the background of the other novels. I have not yet written a novel focused on the curbs. Broadly speaking, there are two subspecies of curbs on the island. They've been separated (mostly by a glacier that is slowly melting) for long enough to have significant anatomical differences. There has been no indication in the story that they are capable of hybridizing. The highland curbs have incentive to try, since they are on the verge of extinction. However, the lowland curbs are the main reason they are going extinct, so they're not very interested in trying to mate with them. I get a lot of millage out of what is sometimes called "the narcissism of small differences," which basically says that two groups who are very similar will have more conflict than two groups that are very different. This is because they compete for the same resources and occupy the same spaces. So lowland and highland curbs, while very similar in many ways, are intensely hostile and competitive. Likewise, ferryshaft and creasia, while not closely related, have more in common with each other than with any other sentient species on the island and yet are extremely antagonistic at various points in time. As far as social structure, both subspecies of curbs are matriarchal. Beyond that, they diverge. For much of their history, highland curbs have been almost eusocial, with a central breeding queen and her daughters calling all the shots. Males who are not chosen to mate function almost like drones/guardians/workers. However, they are smart and flexible, and they adapt when their queen is killed and their people scattered. The lowland curbs are also matriarchal, but they are the least cooperative of the intelligent species on the island. They are loyal to their individual pack, but will fight with other packs of lowland curbs for territory and resources. There's no high-level species organization. They are very clever, with a semi-opposable dew claw and can make simply tools. Unfortunately, they tend to reinvent the wheel a lot, because they keep their inventions as carefully guarded pack secrets. If the pack is wiped out, those innovations die with them. I have not delved deeply into lowland curb social structure, but I think of them as a little like kangaroos and a little like orcas. Both highland and lowland curbs will sometimes protect and manage flocks of sheep as livestock. Highland curbs have paws well-adapted to running on the sides of cliffs. Lowland curbs are less adapted for this, but they have that dexterous dew claw. They sometimes hunt with traps, either pit traps, or vine traps. They use the tendrils of a carnivorous plant that has a natural reflexive to twine tightly around prey. They use various techniques for preparing and placing these vines to entrap other animals. Lowland curbs were antagonists in the first book, but a couple of packs assist our heroes in book 4. As far as why I chose thylacines...gosh, why not? They're cool animals. My telshees are a kind of monotreme. Ferryshaft and creasia are placental mammals. The ely-ary are birds. I like to mix it up.

#hunters unlucky #curbs

18 notes · View notes

vabam-fr · 2 months ago

Note

🐸🐨

(For the ask game! -ringleaderising

🐸Share three dragons who would lowkey start a secret society together

This was a lot harder to find dragons for! But I managed (getting a throuple is harder to find than a duo...)

The most similar in concept I have is the Shaded Outcroft

Rasmus is a coroner / mortician, Xylant is a .. goth, and Anastasiya is a dhampir that Rasmus and Xylant take care of. While it's not as whimsical as the question sounds, the three of them live in relative secrecy, since Rasmus spends most of his time studying how to put down Revenants (Imperials that died away from other Imperials, but did not receive proper burial rites, and thus came back from the dead to siphon magical energy from living dragons.) Xylant likes to pretend he is undead and bothers Rasmus most of the time. Both of them have a sense of adoration and loyalty to taking care of Ana, who is still relatively young in their story canon.

The secret society part is a loose concept mostly relating to the Revenant Hunters. The Shaded Outcroft is a very very small village that have come together to mourn, or seek the defense the hunters provide.

Rasmus' wife, Blackmore, became a Revenant, and is something like a Bloodborne eldritch god. She seeks out Rasmus through a twisted, undead sense of love and devotion to her mate. Her goals mostly include turning Rasmus into a Revenant as well so they can live eternally together.

🐨Share two dragons who are smart on their own, but become stupid together

FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK --

I already had ideas for these two before Riot got to my lair! LOL Varg, the mirror, is the first "official" member of the Hunting Corpse, and is the one to eventually suggest the name. Riot meets Varg early in her Search, and they become good friends fairly quickly! Varg helps Riot with Lesser Falls to harvest magic for her leg. Very Timon and Pumbaa vibes in their early days.

To pass the time during their hunts, they entertain each other with games -- gambling or otherwise! But mostly games of Knucklebones. This habit spreads to a small portion of the Hunting Corpse, and they often meet secretly to play Knucklebones for coin or treasures they have harvested.

One such instance of Knucklebones happens in the Highland Scrub while on the hunt for a Lesser Fall, and Riot and Varg convince a couple locals to join them in a game. Their Boss isn't too fond of this behavior, and is quite vocal about his distaste with the Plague dragons and their influence. He tries to catch them in the act a few times, to little success.

#piglet: riot #faction: the revenants #place: the shaded outcroft #faction: the hunting corpse #dragon share #clan lore

6 notes · View notes

classiqals · 8 months ago

Text

{thomas doherty, 27, cismale, he/him} we are so glad to see you safe, KING ROLAND STUART of SCOTLAND! it’s dangerous out in the world these days, but i hear that you are RECKLESS and LOYAL TO A FAULT enough to handle it. just don’t let your DEMANDING NATURE bring you down! stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out YOU THINK YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED BY A GHOST AND IT'S GIVEN YOU INSOMNIA.

BASICS;

nicknames: ro

sexuality: bisexual

relationship: devoutly single

date of birth: july 22nd

zodiac sign: cancer/leo cusp baby

moral alignment: chaotic good (?)

hobbies: gardening, writing, hiking, camping under the stars, horse riding, fishing, swimming, anything to do with the outdoors, archery, storytelling, folklore.

dislikes: ghosts, witchcraft, conflict, excessive rain, broken promises.

politics/loyalty: he was not raised to think as a leader, for a nation... so instead, his loyalty, politics, and decisions are most guided by his heart. he is loyal to his loved ones above all else.

inspirations: tba

DETAILS;

as a child, roland clung to his mother's leg and listened to her tales of dark fantasy with wide, dreaming eyes - taking to the moors before lessons, and never able to sit through a full reading. he would take to his journals, inspired by the folklore of the highlands, creating new tales from his own mind, and dabbling in a world of gruesome fantasy.

he was able to get away with such whimsy for a spell; the youngest of four, when was he to ever lead a kingdom? it was not by his parent's urging, but that of his peers, to finally grow up into a young man rather than a boy with his head in the clouds.

so he did; he grew, becoming a fine rider, a fine hunter, a fine dancer. a son that the stuart's were proud of, even if his habit of journaling fantastical thoughts && stories never quite left him. stolen afternoons up a tree could be kept secret, scribbling away in a world far from his own.

there was much to be said for the childhood he lived; he was not unlike his siblings in any way, each one as full of life as he, and he aspired to be like each one of them in different ways. always he felt close to their mother, her beautiful mind, and would trust anything she told him.

even if it involved the mythical. maybe she believed her stories more than she let on - she taught roland of special herbs, of ways to prepare them, secrets for curing illnesses and heartache. she taught him songs to recite when he was afraid, shapes to draw in the dirt for protection. he never told a soul. it was their secret, something for the two of them to have alone.

but now - she is gone, and he is king. it was never meant to go this way; he was never meant to find a seat of power, and he was not trained for this. his mother taught him love, and love oh, how it was a fearful concept now. love could tear apart everything his parents had built; it could be their downfall, but he cannot help it. if the siblings choose to make a vow against love, then he would honor it, for them.

for their safety, roland would do anything. he did not ask for this life, nor did he want it; but he rose to claim it. a promise was made to his mother, and he intends to keep it.... keep them together, roland, no matter what. in this world, all you have is your family. if they work together, everything will be fine. but can they work together?

since his mother's passing, with the sudden pressure of the duties of a king, roland has taken to sleepless nights and sleeping potions when desperate. dreams haunt him; he sees shadows in the corners of rooms; it feels he is watched from afar. his mother taught him to believe in spirits; and now, roland fears they dabbled too deeply in the mythical. perhaps he was being haunted - or hunted - by something int he beyond? perhaps the promises he gave when their hands were in the soil, meant more than he knew.

#theopulent.intro #;; introduction > roland s.

7 notes · View notes

rookwurmwood · 23 days ago

Text

The Witch Stone

Part One: The Wizard of Hangman's Hollow

There are places in this world which are still beholden to many secrets. Places where the vestiges of Heathen-Times still lurk, far from the peal of church bells. One such place is the rugged and lonely hill-country of Appalachia. Many superstitions still linger regarding the deep, unspoiled highlands; especially the hollows. Deep, narrow valleys nestled between the high peaks which always seem 'neath a perpetual shade of twilight cast by the dense canopy of gnarled, ancient trees and the ghostly fog which remains persistent long after the morning mist has been burned away by the midday sun. Nearly every one of these tales share a similar puritanical character, claiming that the forest and dark hills are the abode of mountain-witches, demons, and all other familiars of the devil and that those who stray too far from the amber halo of the porch-light into the trees are passing the threshold of Satan's Kingdom; surrendering themselves, both physically and spiritually, to the powers of darkness.

Yet there are those who lay claim to those desolate regions, sturdy folk who sought freedom from the powers that be. The mountaineers would lead simple lives as trappers, hunters, and farmers who survived however they could among the mountains; creating small outposts of civilization in the heart of wild country.

One such place is a small town called Shepherd's Creek in the heart of West Virginia, a decently sized settlement founded by a coalition of Scotch-Irish settlers who fled the tyranny of the crown back in the early days of the colonies and natives from the Adena and Hopewell culture who were drawn to the settlement out of curiosity before partnering with the Celts. It rests on a tributary to the Kanawha, which lent the hamlet its name. It was here in 1816 when coal was found in one of the clefts in the hills. This discovery caused the settlement to grow and expand in the intervening century as more were drawn to Shepherd's Creek to pursue mining, which generated much of the income and infrastructure based around the mine and the river at the town's heart.

By 1916, Shepherd's Creek had become a subsidiary exporter of coal which was sent upon barges down the river which cut its serpentine path between the rolling hills to meet the Kanawha. However, the location of the town in the backwoods, far from any main roads lent the area a perpetual obscurity which destined Shepherd's Creek to never exceed more than a couple thousand residents. Most of whom being misfit, desegregated blue-collars and rednecks and their families who sought better worker's rights than the ones provided by the major labor unions, especially after the strikes at Cabin Creek and Paint Creek and the ensuing Coal War which would come to a head in 1921 with the Battle at Blair Mountain which will forever mark a chapter of bloody history in the chronicles of the coal-country.

Shepherd's Creek itself is a microcosm of Appalachia in and of itself, almost idyllic in its quaintness. Its architecture hearkens back to the colonial period with many small houses packed against the banks of the river with the main street of the town leading from the cavernous opening of Cromlech Mine to the wharf where the barges take up their cargo. Several Georgian manor-houses atop the tallest hills overlooking the town and the meager skyline is punctuated by the white spire of the St. John's Church which rests at the heart of town and the steep roof of the Finicky Fox Public House which is but a short walk from the mine. Around the town is a spider's web of dirt roads which stretch across the rolling countryside which lead to either the driveways of the myriad small farmsteads which dot the landscape or join into a gravel backroad which will end its wandering path at a main road which will take you all the way to Charleston.

There is, however, one neck of the woods which many in Shepherd's Creek deem it wise to avoid; especially at night. South of the main street of the town is a muddy trail which will lead you to Hangman's Hollow. The general squalor of the locale sits in stark contrast to the rest of the town and is the source of much scorn for the residents, coupled with the perpetual sulfurous odor which permeates about the place as if the place were haunted by some feted grave-specter conjured back from the shapeless black gulfs of night to further add to the atmosphere of incestuous degradation. Most avoid the place for fear of having a run-in with those who dwell among the shacks and cabins which line the overgrown road through the hollow. Most of whom being outcasts and pariahs who slink about the dark trees, shunned by society often for good reason. One such individual was Chester Ogden.

The Ogden Family was once a respected clan and major pillar of the community, that was until the scandal which saw most of the remaining members leaving town in an effort to salvage their reputations. Chester was born the son of a physician, Dr. James Ogden, which granted him a life of relative opulence in a manor-house off Church Street; where his ancestors had dwelt since the first timbers of the town were erected. Chester himself inherited much of his father's intellect and was considered a prodigy in the natural sciences when he was but a boy. He had later proven his worth when the Spanish Flu came back with those few who returned from the Great War. After the plague had taken his father who had succumbed during his struggle to treat all the afflicted, Chester had taken up his father's mantle as town doctor and saved the populace from the miasmic hands of illness all while only 17 years old.

Chester was a tall and slim man with a pointed, bespectacled face, dark eyes, and a head of neatly parted black hair. His elegant features and polite, bookish nature made him quite the unobtainable prize among those who sought his hand as he was staunchly devoted to his studies, which had greatly broadened. By the age of 20, he was a true Renaissance Man in every sense of the word. Being an omnivorous reader, well learned in: medicine, chemistry, higher mathematics, philosophy, and archeology. His renown reached far beyond Shepherd's Creek by this point as he had published several papers which were universally praised in scholarly circles and scientific journals across the country. He had even been granted the privilege to host lectures at Marshall University.

Though, as is typical for those gifted with his level of brilliance, he did harbor some eccentricities; chief of which being his predilection for the strange and esoteric. A fact many saw as ironic due to his standing as a steadfast man of science but those who spoke with him on the matter claimed he dismissed it as a passing interest in the macabre; though the passion at which he discussed such topics alongside his small library of occult literature argued otherwise. Such volumes were often purchased from private collectors from overseas, often at exorbitant prices. His cryptical collection included works penned by Agrippa and Paracelsus, as well as several more obscure authors from various points in Classical as well as Medieval History, with all of the books focusing on a myriad of disparate and phantasmagorical subjects as: alchemical and hermetic doctrine, astrology, mystical philosophy, and arcane cycles of lore with one or two of his more aged volumes diving into shadowy topics of witchcraft, demonology, and necromancy.

As time went on, it would seem that Chester grew complacent with the conventional sciences and histories and began to publish more papers concerning philosophy and theosophy, often accented with extracts and passages lifted from those grimoires of his. He slowly dissipated from public circles and spent his days sequestered in his study. Pouring over those dread-tomes and performing queer experiments in a makeshift laboratory equipped with strange apparatuses and instruments. He would only venture out to have dinner or to walk down to the chemist where he would purchase all manner of chemical salts and compounds. Marcus Brown, the chemist in question, always seemed to be short of mercury, sulfur, phosphorus, and acid the morning after one of Chester's visits.

Gradually, Chester's routine became more and more nocturnal so that his studies would remain undisturbed with sightings of him becoming increasingly rare. He was only ever seen outside the walls of his family's manor when his stores of chemicals needed to be replenished or on long trips to the post office in the neighboring town to pick up another manuscript he had ordered. The only time he was seen outside without a clear motivation was on nights when the moon shone gibbous in the sky. On such evenings, Mr. Ogden would seemingly be gripped by some lunatic urge and would disappear for hours on end off into the wilderness; swathed in dark clothing and carrying with him an old surgeon's bag which appeared to be bearing a heavy burden, only returning when velvety black skies gave way to the radiant golds and reds of daybreak. Curiously, the woodmen and farmers on the fringes of Shepherd's Creek claimed that strange lights could be seen dancing among the ominously swaying trees, such phenomena synchronized eerily well with Chester's late-night outings.

Mr. Ogden was so consumed by his research that he had begun to neglect his own health. His well-groomed hair and boyish features gave way to a sallow, gaunt visage bordered by unkempt mane of long hair and the stubbly beginnings of a goatish beard. He also sported a festering wound on his left hand as it always appeared to be wrapped in bloody gauze when not concealed in the pocket of his coat and failed to show any signs of healing. Though he was no older than 22, his face bore premature lines of age as a result of the frequent exercise of an iron-clad will and many sleepless nights.

His mother was greatly disappointed with her son's abandonment of his prior ambition and prospects, calling it an insult to his father's memory. Tensions amongst the Ogdens grew after nights of harsh chemical smells and bizarre noises emanating from the study which Chester had claimed as his laboratory and forbade anyone to enter. This unrest eventually came to a head with Chester Ogden being forcefully emancipated when it was discovered that the dwindling family fortune had been funding the research which most in his house saw as frivolous. Thus the forsaken scion of the Ogden Clan relocated himself to a log cabin in Hangman's Hollow which he spent the following summer renovating. That autumn, his nocturnal expeditions and experimentations would increase in frequency and fervor.

He would still provide aid to those who sought him out as his reputation as the town-doctor had yet to be outshined by his eccentricities in the eyes of the public. Though this faltering image would not last long as those who were desperate or unfortunate enough to find themselves in his care were often assailed by the hermit's ramblings while he administered treatments. Even with all his oddities, it was clear that there was still a brilliance to him as he shared tidbits of metaphysical concepts with his patients. The most peculiar story came from Tommy Pierce, the foreman of Cromlech Mine who had sought aid for the morphine addiction he had picked up after his time with the army during the Great War. The whole time he was there, Chester spoke of things which he had unearthed during his studies into the esoteric regarding the inhabitants of distant spheres of existence where our notions of time and space hold no jurisdiction. Even he, a man beholden to the horrors of mechanized killing and chemical warfare, left Ogden's Clinic thoroughly disturbed. He regaled the patrons at the Finicky Fox of his visit, bookending the anecdote with:

"I tells ya, I'd rather live with them pains n' shakes then ask that crackpot for help ever again. Ya couldn't drag me back to Hangman's Holler even if ya tried."

Chester's cabin was in a constant state of controlled disarray. What was once a parlor had been converted into a makeshift clinic, cordoned off from the rest of the structure by canvas curtains. Behind which was the kitchen and bedroom which he used as his laboratory. Those who let curiosity coax them into pulling back the cloth barrier were greeted by table and countertop alike cluttered with heavy books of frightening antiquity, all bearing marginalia in Ogden's spidery hand. A chalk board was mounted upon the wall which bore all manner of equations, formulae, and geometric patterns which looked oddly like pentagrams. A telescope sat on a rickety tripod in front of the only window, next to it being a notebook full of crudely drawn star-charts. The stove was topped with beakers, alembics, and flasks of various sizes, all filled with fluids that bubbled and fizzed over low flames, giving off noxious fumes. In response, Mr. Ogden would become enraged, drawing the curtains shut and berating his guest for attempting to interfere with his delicate experiments.

Once in a while, someone would stealthily accompany Chester on his moonlit strolls to sate their own morbid curiosity regarding the habits of the eccentric. All returned with reports of uniform character and peculiarity.

When the moon hung gibbous over the hills, Ogden would steal away into the forest as he always did. He would tread along a briar-choked path down into the deepest recesses of a damp hollow. The trees shunned this place and the silver moonlight freely spilled into the clearing, bathing the weathered surface of a cyclopean edifice at its center. It was a huge, flat stone shaped a bit like a table which stood just over waist high. Its surface was cracked and stained by centuries of wind and rain. Beneath the moss and lichen it was engraved with patterns of concentric rings, all converging on a bowl-like recess in the middle of the stone. A relic of elder days standing defiant to the march of time. This was the so-called Witch-Stone, a local enigma with its own fair share of folklore surrounding it. It bears no similarities to the sacred earthen-works and monuments of the Adena, with the natives themselves claiming no ownership of the monolith and stating that it had been here far before their arrival.

The early European settlers of the region were similarly perplexed by what would have been an utterly benign stone and it is recorded that the pastor of Shepherd's Creek said in his 1785 sermon that it was "The Devil's Tea-Table" where witches would gather to perform their sabbatical pagan rites around bubbling cauldrons of moon-drugs. Later, the witch-hunting frenzy would crept its way into Shepherd's Creek and a midwife was hanged there after accusations of witchcraft. Legend has it that she called out to her infernal master as the life was being wrung out of her by her hempen executioner and now, if you visit the stone on certain nights, bad things will happen. Up until that point, it had just been a place where young'uns would wander to at sundown and dare each other to touch it but no one ever seemed to muster the guts to do so.

There, Mr. Ogden would begin his work. He would start by undoing the clasp of his surgeon's bag from which he would produce two flasks of chemicals, a knife, and one of the heavy books from his collection. The spectacle would begin with him emptying the two flasks into the basin of the altar which, by some chemical mechanism, would spontaneously burst into blue flames which bathed the clearing in a dim, ghostly light. Then he would open his grimoire to a marked page and begin to read aloud. Starting at a whisper and gradually increasing in volume until he was howling with feverish exaltation in an unknown language while he swayed and undulated in a ritualistic fashion.

"Ahrr'Ghaluathh ia khoduia! Gharr'Uaighahh ia nhoss nhuiidd ing bharnn'aos! Ghahll'Uiaghh dai aoshhan dhaan la'ad thae'fhathahl ahh ghuaiithh ah t'haahn urkh khanghaii ahhr dhraihh! Khafh'ohd ak ahmzharr rhoh'uikh iu'bhouahhdaiithh ia mhaah ahrr mhaesiithh ahsharnohl!"

He would continue this grotesque incantation as he set the book upon the weathered stone, the pages illuminated by the ghost-fire and flipping wildly in an unseasonably warm breeze which carried with it the stench of an open grave. He would then unwind the bandages from his left hand, reach for the knife which he had set on the stone, raise his hands high above his head while shouting to the sky, and quickly yank the edge cross the palm of his sinistral hand so that flecks of crimson smattered the surface of the monolith before him; all while singing, or rather shrieking, that strange chant with a precision which portrayed a notion of constant repetition.

While the display was already a testament to Chester Ogden's singular interest and character, there was more to this than the obsessive practice of some dead folk-religion by a deranged mind as occasionally, the Witch-Man would have his cries answered by a sound that was felt rather than heard. A curious subsonic vibration which somehow carried the impression of discernable syllables. It had no clear origin and seemed to come from the hills themselves. With every reply, the stone hummed and resonated in weird tones while the blue flames on the altar would dance in a sickening fashion, as if possessed of some will of its own. The flickering light of the flames as they swelled and faltered would illuminate the surrounding forest, shedding light on the things which furtively dwell among the deep hollows: silhouettes darted between the shafts of light which parted the curtains of ulterior darkness, shapes that were anything but human in outline that stood out against the darkness like fresh paint layered upon a coat which had already dried.

These exchanges would go on for hours as Ogden would have whole dialogs with unseen things, all in that croaking, guttural language of untraceable kindred. All the while, he would scrawl notes in the margins of his great books. Eventually, Chester would appear satisfied and utter a brief incantation which snuffed out the flame instantly; bathing the elder monument in darkness yet again before he gathered his implements and returned back the way he came.

Accusations of witchcraft were once again whispered among the people of Shepherd's Creek and soon it was common practice to bar your doors when the moon was gibbous.

The following winter is when animals began to turn up missing, mostly cats, chickens, and the occasional goat with the culprit being labeled as foxes or cougars which were growing desperate as the snow came down heavier and heavier, though there was always an undercurrent of suspicion towards the Wizard of Hangman's Hollow as the forest paths he walked always reeked of death. Investigation was futile, however, as crows began to appear in abnormal abundance along the tree-line. Attempting to shoo them off was fruitless and they would become unusually aggressive to anyone who tread too close with one man even being hospitalized after he had been mobbed by a murder of crows. Some of the more fanatical attendants of St. Johns and the more superstitious residents went as far as to claim that Chester had be-witched the corvids as his familiars.

By then, Chester Ogden's descent into madness was absolute in the eyes of most. Many wanted him institutionalized for his own safety though any relative or heir who could have authorized such an order had been long gone, departing from Shepherd's Creek in a struggling attempt to sever contact and cleanse their sullied image as soon as Chester's mania eclipsed his prior standing as a man of science, especially once the tabloid press caught wind of the gossip. Mr. Ogden was soon the sole member of his family in Shepherd's Creek, the last of a well respected lineage being a destitute lunatic. With his kinsmen gone, he had once again dared to reappear amidst the public, shedding his prior secretiveness. He was 24 by this point but looked nearly twice that in appearance. Gaunt to the point of emaciation, face dominated by deep-set eyes and a wispy beard. Light shunned him, the flames of lanterns and candles always seeming to dance away from him, regardless of breeze or lack thereof. What few cats remained in town arched their backs and hissed when their paths crossed. Dogs loathed him, snarling and barking wildly in his presence. The townsfolk regarded him with silent disdain whenever they chanced across him but they always avoided his gaze as those eyes which were previously too timid to meet another's in youth were said to freeze the blood and pierce the soul of those he leered at. Some swore his eyes possessed some vague inhuman quality or burned with an infernal light like the fires of Dis when his face was curtained by shadow.

The pale glimmering of the ghost-lights from the forest grew in intensity and nights of the gibbous moon were marked by an increase in unexplainable phenomena. Objects would move on their own accord, shadows moved about the trees after sun-down, and odd voices with no discernable point of origin harassed the miners as they walked home. It was as if some Poltergeist was called from beyond the waters of death, but the worst was yet to come.

Halloween, 1926. While neighboring towns celebrated with drinking and merriment in the guise of goblins and ghouls, the people of Shepherd's Creek were struck by the heavy fist of tragedy. A young girl, Dorothy Huffman, had gone out to trick-or-treat by herself in the late afternoon and had never returned. Henry, the girl's father, had returned from a late shift at Cromlech Mine to find his house empty and the neighbors clueless of Dorothy's whereabouts. He was beside himself with worry and organized a search party at once. The last person to see Dorothy said they saw her crossing paths with Chester Ogden who had been aimlessly wandering the streets, seemingly engaged in a vain search for something before laying eyes on young Dorothy. Suddenly, it seemed as if the girl had been gripped by a drug-like delirium while Mr. Ogden locked eyes with her, all while he muttered something under his breath. Then, Mr. Ogden began to walk towards the forest to which Dorothy began to follow with a shambling gait and a glazed expression. This information was brought to the sheriff who immediately went to assist Mr. Huffman's posse, fearing that Ogden had graduated from subjecting cats to his experiments and had gotten his hands on a larger specimen.

They made for the forest but were halted by an out of season thunderstorm which gathered overhead suddenly and without warning. The trees groaned and cracked under the force of an immense wind and bolts of lightning shot down from the sky like arrows which forced the posse to seek shelter. Lights shone from the forest brighter than ever before which only grew as daylight died. Mingled with the cracking of lightning and the howling of the wind was another sound, a voice which roared with lycanthropic fury over the storm in that gurgling cant, magnified by some otherworldly force as if to mock the party who wished to save the girl. A pillar of sickly blue light rose from the dark outlines of the swaying trees and pierced the raging clouds into the starry night beyond.

"N'hohsuun Bhrehn'hhenohd iir Hh'nhafh! Dhe whahs dehh ahh'dheegh ehna'iihd ghuirhyfh yg ahh'bhth! Chl'uihh fhiih!"

That night, devils danced on the roofs of Shepherd's Creek and madness rode the screaming wind on bat-like wings. Those who lived close to the woods told that they could see lumbering, polypus shapes and vast amorphous forms which could not be of this world accompanied by what men of an earlier era may have called imps and fauns engaged in diabolical Samhain revelry to the infernal piping and whining of ceremonial flutes, the incessant pounding of ritual drums, and an inhuman ululating of a singular pitch and tone which had not been described since the witch-hunts nearly two centuries prior.

When the storm had cleared and daylight banished the shadows, the search party had forced their way into the dank hollow, already aware they were far too late and dreading the scene they were to find. They eventually came upon the clearing and the Witch-Stone. The forest floor was burned black and the trees were bereft of the auburn autumn leaves and angled outward as if blown away by the force of an immense explosion, yet no cinders linger and there was not smell of smoke. There was no trace of Dorothy with the only sign of life being Ogden who sat upon the table-like stone, laughing or wailing at the top of his lungs. Between bouts of jubilant, child-like screaming and hysterical tears, he would rave to anyone he could:

"You yokels thought me mad but I have done it! The correct stars were in position, the sacred geometry was precise, the barriers were thin enough, the vessel was accepted! I have brought forth my quintessence, my philosopher's stone, my magnum opus. I will take my findings to Harvard and be praised for my research!"

Chester Ogden was dragged kicking and screaming to the jailhouse once he had been torn away from the pummeling fists of Henry and was committed, or rather condemned, to the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. There he would spend the remainder of his years amidst padded walls, his dark woolen coat traded for a straitjacket with no home to return to as those who did share in his blood had long renounced the name of Ogden. Dorothy Huffman was never found and no amount of questioning revealed what he had done to the girl, the only indication of him having any knowledge being a slight smirk and a sardonic chuckle.

Mr. Huffman was inconsolable after the disappearance of his daughter, he spent his days combing through Ogden's cabin for clues or on his porch sipping hooch from a mason jar. He became a misanthrope who never gave up hope searching for his daughter when all others had given up after the first snow. Eventually, he himself would vanish during a violent snow-storm. Many assumed he had either gotten lost in the blizzard or simply wandered out into the woods to let the frost take him and the authorities had resigned that they would probably recover both bodies once the spring showers dispelled the snow. Though the relative peace in Shepherd's Creek was short lived, coming to an end with the next gibbous moon...

The ghost-fires shone out once again from between the snow-cloaked trees and the stillness of the night was broken by wild howls. The following morning, bare footprints were found in the snow along the tree-line which traced out an aimless and shambling trail, around which still lingered the stench of grave-soil and wet moss. Then came the disappearances as a new shadow was abroad. One which crept through the streets, wheezing and coughing all the way. It clawed at doors in an attempt to loose their hinges and crawled through unlatched windows to strangle the hapless dreamer and raid the squalling contents of unattended cradles.

To be continued in The Witch-Stone, Part Two: The Beast of Shepherd's Creek.

2 notes · View notes

es46 · 8 months ago

Text

Essentially, if a newt was also a turtle and an ankylosaur -

NIDAR-ARONA

Title - Coral frog Monster class - Amphibian Known locales - Terrestrial coral systems Element/Ailment - Mucus + Confusion Elemental weakness - Ice (3), Water (3), Dragon (2) Fire (1), Thunder (1) Ailment weakness - Paralysis (3), Stun (2), Blast (1), Sleep (1), Poison (1) Nidar-Arona is an amphibian endemic to the specialised environments of terrestrial coral systems, usually located near ravines or mountain highlands. Recognised by its cyan colouring and lustrous sticky coating, Nidar-Arona is a stockier amphibian compared to its relatives, boasting a firm shell, sturdy limbs, and a tail ending in a bony club. Adding to its defensive integrity is bioluminescent patterns strewn along its underside and throat patch, which the amphibian can confuse foes with by rearing onto its hind legs. A dedicated omnivore, Nidar-Arona uses its powerful beak-like jaw to break upon hard plants and corals, using its long flexible tongue to siphon all the softer parts and fluids. Occasionally supplementing its diet with nuts, minerals and the occasional bone, Nidar-Arona will affix the hard casings of its food to its own body, using a specialised mucus secreted from the thick leathery shell on its back. Though it may seem docile, Nidar-Arona can be quick to anger if it feels its space is encroached on; researchers should keep a safe distance and pay attention to its warning signs. If the amphibian turns aggressive, simply run and wait for it to lose interest. As expected, a combination of Mucus, extra armour and the thick bony club at the end of its powerful tail make Nidar-Arona a challenging foe for most predators. Even its softer underside has defensive utility; bioluminescent patterns extend from a large throat patch all along its belly and limbs, which light up with mesmerising displays should the amphibian rear up to bare its underside. Combining its sturdiness with Confusion usually repels most other monsters, but as a last resort, Nidar-Arona cna pressurise the pores that release the mucus and essentially launch all of its makeshift armour outwards like a burst of shrapnel. This will leave it vulnerable, however. Nidar-Arona relies on water to reproduce, as do near all amphibians, and so it will seek out secluded streams when it is ready to mate. The larger males decorate their turf with shells and minerals to entice females. If successful, a male can coax several females to lay eggs in his chosen spot; after fertilising them, the male will remain in place to guard his brood. When they hatch, he will diligently attend to their needs, collecting food and defending them from predators. Only when the young are old enough to metamorphose and adapt to a terrestrial lifestyle does their father finally leave them to their fate. Nidar-Arona is a respectable challenge for hunters (Low Rank, High/Master Rank - 2). Naturally, attacks should be aimed at its softer underside, but be mindful of its confusing colours. If a hunter is coated in Mucus, the fragments of Nidar-Arona's armour can stick to them and impede movement or even deal damage. Use water or ice to ruin the composition of its mucus and counter-attack should it turn and swing its weighty club. Keeping to the more secluded regions of its environment, Nidar-Arona avoids the attention of most other monsters. While it may encounter the occasional Tzitzi-Ya-Ku or Odogaron, its myriad defences usually convince them to back away. However, the amphibian lives in fear of the carapaceon Metamor-Deca, who perceives it as a rival to its precious mineral feeding grounds and will attack on sight.

#fanart #monster hunter #amphibian #sketch #monochrome

5 notes · View notes

sayitwithsarcophilus · 1 year ago

Text

Why do I still have Marvel (not necessarily even MCU) OCs rattling around in my brain?

I don't know if I should try to file off the serial numbers off or just keep them on the back burner in case Marvel does something to revive my interest.

Wiseguy, Osiris, Final Grrrl: Deadpool alternates.

Wiseguy: Wade Wiseman, Jewish WWII veteran who was a subject of yet another "let's try to recreate the Super Soldier Serum" experiment. Aspiring standup comedian before the war, Nazi hunter after it. His adventures are pulpy two-fisted tales with plenty of dieselpunk mad science weirdness.

Osiris: Wade Walker, Black Vietnam War vet, also the subject of a different series of shady military super soldier experiments. During a secret mission in the highlands of Laos, he got blown up, left for dead (to be fair, these were not the kinds of injuries an unenhanced human had a chance in hell of surviving), and rescued and reassembled by a local woman (who would later become his Gal Friday/mission control). Looking back to his childhood interest in ancient Egypt, he renamed himself Osiris the Undying. His adventures feature Cold War intrigue, blaxploitation swagger, and a touch of wuxia.

Final Grrrl: Wilhelmina "Mina" Wilson, early 21st century trans woman, perky goth, and involved in zero dubious military experiments. Mina was a private investigator who was half-turned by a Nosferatu-type vampire (giving her a weaker but still useful version of most vampiric powers while still being alive and lacking most vampire-specific weaknesses, with the side effect of looking like a bald snaggletooth cave goblin) in the course of one of her investigations. Her adventures are urban fantasy.

#more ocs

10 notes · View notes

morsrattus · 4 months ago

Text

Chen Gar, the Snow Peak Hunter, the White Cloud's Shadow, the Silent Cat

The Cult of Chen Gar (COLD BEAST DEATH)

Chen Gar is one of the Cat Brothers, the mighty sons and daughters of Fralar Flesh-Eater. His grandfather is the Universe Dragon, his grandmother is the Brown Earth. Of all the Cat Brothers, he climbed the highest, higher even than the wind. He is the father of the Chen Ga, the Snow Leopard People, and their greatest god.

Mythos and History

When Fralar set the world before his many children to divide into territories, the Cat Brothers stuck together. They saw no need to fight each other for territory, not when they could hunt different prey and be strong together. Chen Gar made pact with his brothers, Hsa and Manurl, and they settled in the mountains and steppes of Pent and the Shan Shan.

Manurl chose the grasses and shrubs, for he was the smallest of the trio, and claimed as his prey the rabbits, the rats and the gophers. He made an enemy of Gord, but he prospered by trapping. Hsa chose the mountain lowlands, the river basins and the northern taiga, for he was the largest, and he preyed on the deer and yak, and even the mighty Damal and Lo Fa feared his strength.

Chen Gar took to the highlands and the snow peaks. He explored the lands above the clouds themselves, and in the sky he found a new creature - a fluffy creature, unlike any of the beasts of the land. It was white and gray and rumbled with thunder.

In those ancient days, Dark had not yet come to the sky. There was nowhere to hide in the blue-stained sky realm, save for on the mountaintops. Chen Gar had black fur then, for he had planned to hide in shadow, but there were no shadows in the sky. He could not hunt these new creatures.

Chen Gar needed new fur - a cloak to wear about himself as if it were darkness. And so he went to the Snow Woman, who lived on the mountain tops. "You are ever cloaked in white snow, Snow Woman. Tell me what I must do to wear such fur."

Snow Woman did not trust Chen Gar, for he was new to the mountains. "Go to my father," she said. "He is named Winter. If you can survive his tests, he will give you a white cloak."

Chen Gar honored Snow Woman with a freshly killed marmot and went to the north, where Winter lived. There, he met Freezing Wind, who also sought the might of Winter. The two traveled together for a time.

The two both spoke of their shared enemy: the Cloud Beast. Chen Gar told Freezing Wind about how it danced around the mountain tops, but could not be hunted. Freezing Wind told Chen Gar of the things that lived above this beast - the cloudcats, who could teach him their secrets if he could make them think he was a cloud, and of the Beast's true name: Uroth, the Blue Ram, whose children are called sheep. In thanks, Chen Gar taught Freezing Wind how to hunt in the cracks, how to tear flesh from bone and seek every prey, no matter how small. This is why the icy winds can chill anything.

Soon, they reached the throne of Winter, the icy peak. Winter received them both as honored guests. He met with each alone, and Chen Gar told Winter of his desire for a white cloak. Winter set many tasks before Chen Gar, to prove his strength.

Chen Gar hunted great beasts of the ice and snow. He tracked tiny rats in the ice caves. He showed again and again that his cunning was great and mighty. Winter was proud of him, and treated him as a son. Often, Freezing Wind helped Chen Gar in his tasks, a mighty warrior whose brute strength was match to Chen Gar's cunning. At last, Winter gave Chen Gar a great white cloak, which faded into the snow and ice with ease.

However, Winter told Chen Gar a terrible thing. "I have been seeking to give up my throne to a worthy khan. I do not want to be Winter's ruler, but only my true self, Himile, the Cold. I have been testing you to see if you are worthy. You have passed every test - but so has one other. I must see which of you bears the true heart of ice. You must slay Freezing Wind."

Chen Gar refused. "I have no desire for a throne. I am here for only one reason: to be able to hunt Uroth the Cloud Beast, who is my prey."

Winter became angry, and he grabbed Chen Gar and hurled him out. This tore the white cloak, leaving holes and damaged patches, which is why snow leopards have spots. Chen Gar twisted in the air, landing safely, and fled from the castle. Freezing Wind took up the throne of Winter, but that is another story.

With his new cloak of white, Chen Gar returned to the mountains of his home. He stalked his prey, watching as Uroth danced through the sky. This time, however, he was hidden in the light itself, cloaked in white atop the mountains. When Uroth was not ready, he leapt.

The battle is in the blood of all Chen Ga. In that moment, Chen Gar truly became the Snow Leopard, and Uroth became his prey. Uroth fought like a demon, but Chen Gar was greater. He knew when to fight and when to retreat, and forever after have the Chen Ga and their leopard kin fed on the sheep and goats that are Uroth's children.

The Chen Ga themselves emerged after the battle with Uroth. Chen Gar retreated to tend his wounds, and some of his children came to lick his wounds with him. Their wisdom was greatest of the snow leopards, for they saw that they had as much to learn from Chen Gar in his weak times as his strong, and that by tending to him, they could learn as well. Therefore, he taught them his great secret: how to remove his cloak and stand as Freezing Wind had, the trick of turning human.

Their descendants are the Chen Ga - snow leopards who can walk as humans. They know the powers of Winter, of Freezing Wind and Cold and Snow Maiden, and they know the ways of the Cat Brothers. This is the legacy of Chen Gar.

Nature of the Cult

The cult of Chen Gar is the dominant force in Chen Ga society. Almost all Chen Ga, male or female, belong to it. It is the cult of the snow leopard and the hunter, the exemplar for basic life as one of the Chen Ga. It sets forth the virtues by which the Chen Ga strive to live, and its rituals order their gatherings. When the Chen Ga gather together, it is the priests of Chen Gar who teach them how to live. Survival is the primary goal of the cult, teaching the virtues of hunting skill, stealth and endurance.

Depiction

Chen Gar is depicted as a very large snow leopard, or as a man with the head of a snow leopard. When in four-legged form, he is shown as sleek and with his black spots in swirling patterns. In two-legged form, he has dark skin and wears a large but somewhat tattered white cloak whose holes form the same patterns.

Runes

Chen Gar is associated with the runes of Cold, Beast and Death. Initiates who possess either the Air or Darkness Rune will have it converted into the Cold Rune at equivalent rating.

:COLD:

Chen Gar's Cold Rune manifests as his power over his snowy domain in the high mountains. He has relatively broad control over the Cold Rune in the context of snow and mountains, but has relatively little control over other cold weather or more esoteric applications. Initiates have been known, among other things, to use the Cold Rune to withstand cold weather, move unseen and without trace in snowy areas, cause or prevent avalanches, blend into snow, ice or taiga, call snow squalls, create crude tools or weapons from ice, preserve meat, fight during snowstorms or cold snaps, freeze things, make shelters in snow or ice, or safely traverse frozen landscapes. Those strong in the Cold Rune tend to be stoic, dedicated, and distant.

:BEAST:

Chen Gar's Beast Rune is focused on the snow leopard, and all of its powers manifest through his nature as the father of snow leopards. Initiates have been known to use the Beast Rune to transform partially or completely into a snow leopard, to fight with claws and fangs, to track prey by hearing or scent, to move unseen and silently, to see well in dim light, to climb and maintain balance across snow or unstable surfaces, to leave messages with claw marks, urine and feces, to stay warm, to strike down prey swiftly, or to safely move through their territory. Those strong in the Beast Rune tend to be cautious, cunning, and suspicious.

:DEATH:

Chen Gar is a predator, a hunter of great skill who kills calmly and efficiently. He wields death to produce food, and his command of the Death Rune is practical, that of a stalker and silent assassin of prey. Initiates have been known to use the Death Rune to kill silently, to preserve a corpse, to fight, to remove a victim's ability to make noise, to kill prey instantly, to prepare meat, or to terrify scavengers and competitors. Those strong in the Death Rune tend to be direct, honest, and ruthless.

Opposed Runes

Chen Gar is opposed to the Runes of Fire and Life.

Particular Likes and Dislikes

Chen Gar's closest allies are his kin among the Cat Brothers, most notably his elder brother Hsa and his younger brother Manurl. The Cat Brothers and their children rarely fight each other, respecting and sometimes even sharing territory.

Chen Gar is also a sworn friend and brother to the Freezing Wind, who took up the mantle of Winter's Khan. The two have a long respect, and Chen Gar helped Freezing Wind fight his enemies during the Darkness. He is friendly with the Snow Woman as well, but more distant. The god Himile, also called Cold or Winter, is also a more distant ally, who still somewhat resents Chen Gar for rejecting the throne of Winter without even thinking about it.

Chen Gar's greatest enemy is Uroth, the Cloud Beast, who is the father of all rams, sheep and goats. Chen Gar eternally stalks this creature, hoping to devour him. This has also made Chen Gar an enemy of Uroth's friends and allies, such as the West King Wind.

Lastly, Chen Gar opposes most of the Pentan gods, who take issue with his hunting, and the Kralori gods, who are ancient foes of his ancestor, the Universe Dragon. Neither can be trusted, and Chen Gar teaches his followers to avoid them where possible.

Cult Organization

Chen Gar's cult is only loosely organized, built around maintaining the clan ties of the Chen Ga despite their solitary nature. Most Chen Ga are members of the cult, which provides the education and training needed to survive in the dangerous mountains where the Snow Leopard People make their homes. Each clan maintains an independent cult, and each claims descent from a specific breed of snow leopard, each the child of one of the original Chen Ga that tended to Chen Gar's wounds and learned from him.

Rank within the cult (and thus within Chen Ga clans) is largely built around demonstrated hunting skill and ability to provide meat for the people. Typically, the entire clan will only gather at specific hunting festivals in which rank and prestige are determined by successful provision of large amounts of meat.

The cult's priests are its leaders, teachers and judges. They resolve disputes between Chen Ga, judge the quality of meat in hunting competitions, and teach the young how to be proper members of the clan. They are not, however, considered to rule the clan. Instead, the cult's duty is to name the clan chieftain, whose duty is to lead the clan in times of danger. (In normal times, the chieftain is merely given more respect than other Chen Ga and the right to choose the best part of the clan territory to live in.)

Priests

Chen Ga priests are chosen by other priests. Each priest may raise an apprentice priest, though they may only train one at a time. Most end up raising several over the course of their lives. A child or adolescent chosen as an apprentice priest is given over to the priest that chose them, who is considered to be their parent now. They are trained in the rites of the priesthood, and are given full priest status only after passing a test set forth by them from their priestly parent. However, a priest may only take on an apprentice after succeeding at one of the cult's rites of challenge, which demonstrate ability and earn Chen Gar's favor.

Rank within the priesthood is based on hunting skill and completion of various challenge rites. Each clan maintains slightly different traditions around the challenges, and a priest has authority only within their own clan. The highest ranking priest of the clan is the high priest, and may overrule the judgments of the others.

Priests traditionally wear white wool cloaks as a sign of their rank. These cloaks are cut with hole patterns that denote which challenges the priest has successfully completed.

Priests are required to spend much of their time traveling between the homes of clan members. They keep track of where everyone is living, maintain communications between families, and ensure that children are provided the education and training they need to survive. Priests are not given hunting grounds or homes of their own, but instead are hosted by the members of the clan and must be permitted to hunt in the territory of whoever is hosting them.

Center of Power and Holy Places

The holiest site in all of the world is the lair in which Chen Gar lived after his first battle with Uroth. It was here that the first Chen Ga were created, when they served and tended to their father and were granted wisdom. However, the location of this site has been lost to time; if it were discovered, the various clans would likely fight over who got to control it.

Other holy sites mark various deeds of Chen Gar, including several battles against Uroth or hunts of great beasts and monsters. The Chen Ga clans sometimes come into conflict over control of these sites, which are used for sacred hunts and other rituals and also tend to have particularly good hunting throughout the year.

There are a number of holy sites in the distant north, which mark the locations of great deeds carried out by Chen Gar when he was staying in the lands of Winter. These places are not controlled by the Chen Ga, but are sometimes the sites of pilgrimage, particularly for those undertaking divine challenges or preparing for heroquests. The most distant of those lie in the far west, across the White Sea, on the Glacier, but the Chen Ga are able to visit these distant lands only very rarely and so speak of them mostly in legend.

Initiates

Initiates of Chen Gar must have one of the Air, Darkness, Beast or Death runes at 1W or higher. Any initiate with the Air or Darkness Rune will have it replaced by the Cold Rune at equivalent rating.

Holy Days

On the first Freezeday of each season, the cult holds a gathering festival to bring everyone in the clan together for a feast. The priests provide the food, and it is used to check in on the clan and their needs in the coming season as well as to perform sacrifices to Chen Gar in thanks.

In addition to these seasonal holy days, the Windsday of Death Week in Fire Season is the Hunter's Kill, a celebration of Chen Gar's first victory over Uroth. That week is considered the most auspicious time for organized raiding, and the Hunter's Kill is celebrated by a competition for who can bring in the largest prey, preferably a sheep or goat. Massive sacrifices to Chen Gar are performed.

The Firedays of Death Week, Movement Week and Truth Week of the Dark and Storm Seasons are minor holy days. The priesthood gathers up the clan on these days to distribute meat and celebrate survival in the cold times. Those who provide meat to others are given special regard and are considered blessed by Chen Gar.

Finally, the Godsday of Fertility Week in Sea Season is the Birth of the People, a great holiday celebrating the granting of wisdom to the Chen Ga by their patriarch. On this day, all people are considered to get one year older, and it is the traditional day for children to be given names or to undergo initiation into adulthood. It is a day of solemn meditation on the true nature of life.

Sacrifices

All sacrifices to Chen Gar prominently feature meat, preferably the meat of lambs, sheep or goats. Offerings of wool or bone goods are also acceptable, as is anything of value taken from outsiders by theft or raiding, unless it is made from snow leopard fur or bones, which must be given sacred burial. Chen Ga are forbidden to use the bodies of their four-legged kin for any purpose, and must bury them with full mourning rites when a body is discovered. Likewise, they may never harm a snow leopard.

Subcults

There are many subcults to Chen Gar, most of which are dedicated to the ancestral heroes who founded the clans, or to great heroes in the history of those clans. These tend to be highly localized to specific clans. However, a number are more widespread.

Irbis, the High Seeker (COLD)

Irbis was the most adventurous and boldest of the first Chen Ga. He sought to climb higher than any other, and he made friendships with the cloudcats and storm tigers, not only so he could better hunt cloudsheep but so that he could learn the ways of flight. He is said to have traveled to the White Glacier in the far west, to even train under his father's old friend, Freezing Wind. His followers may use their Cold Rune to glide during snowstorms or to walk on snow as if it was solid ground. Irbis grants access to the Cloudcat's Shadow Feat.

Unciar, the Kinminder (BEAST)

Unciar was the most fecund of the first Chen Ga, the mother of many and the grandmother of even more than that. She helped establish the first territories, traveling with her children and showing the Chen Ga how to depend on each other without infringing on each other. She taught children how to hunt, young leopards how to court, and elders how to lead by example. Her followers may use the Beast Rune to heal snow leopards (including Chen Ga), sense territorial claims, or bless snow leopard kittens and Chen Ga children. Unciar grants access to the Herbal Healer Feat.

Idor La, the Princeslayer (DEATH)

Idor La was the most ferocious of the first Chen Ga, vengeful and unforgiving. She recalled to her kin the depredations of humanity, who took too much from the land, and worst of all, of the Son of Dragons, who had turned his back on the Universe Dragon in order to conquer the world, which could belong to none. She even slew the Son of Dragons' own son, the Prince of White Jade, and fashioned his skull into a gauntlet she wore over a wounded claw. Her followers may use the Death Rune to evade the sight of foes on the battlefield, to paralyze the followers of those they kill, or to make enchanted weapons from human bone. Idor La grants access to the Slayer of Princes Feat.

Devotees

Chen Gar Devotees must have one of the Cold, Beast or Death Runes at 11W or higher, and are forbidden the use of magic from any other source, as normal for devotees. They may belong to only one subcult.

Common Chen Gar Feats

Cloudcat's Shadow (COLD): Irbis sought to climb higher than any other, to enter the sky itself and dance with the cloudcats. When the snowstorms raged at their highest, he would climb upon the snowflakes and head into the air, disguising his spots so that he looked like a cloudcat, all in white. So long as the snow raged, he could fly like they did, though not so high. He danced in their shadows, up and down the storm, stalking through the raging winds and snowbursts. As the snows ended, he would follow them down, landing in the snow drifts and forced to land once more.

Herbal Healer (BEAST): Unciar revealed to the snow leopards, both four- and two-legged, the secrets of herbs, of eating plants to gain their strength. When one of her children became sick, she went into the wilds and sought out the secret herbs. She knew all the secret herbs, and she would find the herb whose secret heart warred against the evils of disease. She would take it into herself, chewing the herb and returning home. Then, she would release her soul from her body, combining with the herb's spirit to stalk and fight the disease within the body of her kin. Armed with the herb's warrior spirit as claws and fangs, she would fight against the evil disease and slaughter it, burning it away in a hot fever that she cooled with mountain snows.

The Hunter Unseen (BEAST): When Chen Gar took to the field to find prey, he would draw his white cloak of snow around him. He would seek out the greatest prey, the most delicious enemy, and would traverse the mountains invisible. Anyone that saw him saw only snow and dirt and shadow, for his cloak made him one with the mountains. No avalanche could touch him, for he climbed above them all, and no foe could find him, for he was the snow and the brush. He would stalk his prey for days, waiting for it to weaken and tire. He did not know cold, did not know fatigue. At last, when his prey was alone, he would pounce, shattering the spine of his prey in one swift movement. He would feast, then place the body in the ice, where it would last the season. In this way, the greatest of all hunters would never starve.

Slayer of Princes (DEATH): While Idor La was out hunting, her favorite little brother was slain by the Prince of White Jade. His pelt was taken and worn as a trophy, but his bones were cast aside like dirt, and his soul cried out in torment. This filled Idor La with a terrible rage, and she swore not to rest until the Prince of White Jade was repaid for his crime. Idor La stalked through the cities of men, unseen by all. When she passed the camps of soldiers, she was as a shadow in the night, her claws tearing their throats. She did not eat them, but left them as a sign of her fury, taking a bone from each one. As she traveled, she bound the bones together with sinew, making of them a claw. It took ten camps and ten bones before she was done, but it brought her to the Prince of White Jade's palace. She snuck inside, slaying any servant she met and marking the walls with their blood, that all might know her rage. At last, she entered the Prince's chambers, and she woke him from his bed, setting him to flee like prey. She hunted him through the palace, slaughtering any who came to defend him, and when he hid, she pulled him from his hiding place and lifted him to be seen by all. She tore his throat out with her teeth and pierced his heart with the bone claw she made. Then she tore his head off and stripped it of flesh, taking his skull and making of it a cestus to fit her claw. Thus was Idor La's brother repaid, for his killer was made prey, and he was honored by the bones of the dead.

Divine Retribution

Any Chen Ga who kills a snow leopard, four-legged or two-legged, will be cursed as a kinslayer. They are spiritually marked, causing a bad smell which makes them unpleasant to be around and which alerts prey to their presence. This smell also attracts nasty and cruel spirits in the form of biting flies and nightmares, which will both assail the kinslayer frequently. This curse can only be removed by performing a great rite of atonement requiring a pilgrimage to a holy site and the sacrifice of a great prey beast, along with the blessing of a priest of Chen Gar.

#glorantha #gloranthaposting #pent #rpg #secret history of the horse sun #heroquest #questworlds #chen ga #hsunchen

2 notes · View notes

wylanzahn · 8 months ago

Text

OMG two posts in one day?? What are the odds? Anywho this is a sort of OC storyline set within Alfarwind, my homebrew/original D&D setting which is epic high fantasy, mostly the bland Western type with a couple, highly, notable exceptions. For this (monthly?) LitRPG series is going to be set in the southern coasts of the continent of Dulgren, specifically in the Kingdom of Galadinor which was one of the first Princedoms to rebel against the Empire of Concordia. Now, 138 years later, many in Galadinor live in hardship against the rule of a thick bureaucracy which is corrupted by much darker forces; and whilst the bureaucrats argue the lands of Galadinor are ruled by bandits and rebellious barons.

However, this is no tale of lords or of princes or even of kings, for we fall in line to the adventurers of Galadinor, aka the lowest of the lows, and the King of those paupers? Why of course it has to be, without a doubt...

The Grape-Smashers.

Follow the adventures of Det. Alastair Netherwaste (Lvl 3 Celestial Warlock), Travelle of Bregoncourt (Lvl 3 Ghostslayer Blood-Hunter), Lidryn Firetongue (Lvl 3 Draconic Sorcerer), and Godzimir of the Halny Mountains (Lvl 2 Oathbreaker Paladin, and Lvl 1 Barbarian). Classes probably won't be super important but I thought it would be fun for y'all to have! (*wink*)

I won't go super in-depth because I want to leave secrets but Alastair (He/Him) is an ex-convict before his run in with the paladin Ser Kithola Luelrift (She/Her), whom forced his repentance. Alastair is now a lowly-paid detective who travels alongside his cohorts. Alastair is Bi.

Travelle of Bregoncourt (She/Her) was a travelling street performer and the daughter of a famed mystic before her and her family's caravan were attacked. Ever since then Travelle has had a knack for not only seeing ghosts, but hunting them as well. Travelle is Straight and Trans.

Lidryn Firetongue (He/They) unknown. Assumedly a prince of some sort due to his ancestry of magic. Lidryn is a Demimale.

Godzimir of the Halny Mountains (He/Him) born in the Halny Mountain range within the Kingdom of Ardrezenskia (or Ardrezenium in the west), Godzimir is a part of the highland Rumiany tribe before they were decimated at the Battle of Godor's Keep. Godzimir was then raised by an evil cult known as the "The Eye of the Sparing," however, he has since moved on from then... we think. Godzimir is Pan.

Anywho I hope you guys enjoy and stay pumped because the first little text will come soon! This should be like a monthly thing so hopefully I can pump out something epic for everyone to enjoy!

Also for attribution {the squiggly borders} Image by Freepik, the rest is by me.

2 notes · View notes

chrislaplante · 9 months ago

Note

🖊 — any tattoos?

🧶 — any non-writing hobbies/interests?

📺 — favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)?

🤔 — what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most?

💯 — share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you.

⟩ any tattoos? nope. plenty of ideas, tho. problem is, with this kind of thing i'm indecisive as hell - and, get easily bored of looking at something/the same thing for a long time (my hair is proof of this, i recently chopped it all off). but anyway, been thinking of finally getting around some of those ideas i've had for over a decade.

⟩ any non-writing hobbies/interests? traditional art. i.e., sketching, drawing, yadda yadda yadda. i'm currently struggling with making the transition into digital art... i'd say music, too, but, i haven't touched my guitar in ages.

⟩ favorite movie(s) and/or tv show(s)? ok so, bc of the 9 movies meme you sent me, i'll name different ones on here. the lost boys, beetlejuice, edward scissorhands, donnie darko, into the wild, split, first blood (rambo), school of rock, the sixth sense, the terminator, the sword in the stone, bambi, dumbo, alice in wonderland, the land before time, awake, rosemary's baby, psycho, the exorcism of emily rose, brainscan, i am not a serial killer, the craft, foxfire, jeepers creepers, secret window, candyman, sinister, insidious, the texas chainsaw massacre (remake), salem's lot (remake), rose red, gus van sant's last days, my soul to take, carrie, primal fear, misery, veronica, hannibal rising, the silence of the lambs, serial mom, natural born killers, death proof, kill bill (1 & 2), constantine, hell fest, the addams family (both 90s flicks), hard candy, the cabinet of dr caligari, twisted nerve, paranormal activity, the blair witch project, the watcher, empire records, behind the mask (leslie vernon), twister, scream (franchise), pet sematary (1 & 2), child's play (franchise), friday the 13th (franchise), a nightmare on elm street (franchise), halloween (franchise), and gone girl. shows. sons of anarchy, tales from the crypt, criminal minds, dexter, the mandalorian, obi wan kenobi, book of boba fett, andor, hannibal, ahs (first two seasons), bates motel, freakylinks, the x-files, sabrina the teenage witch, ranma 1/2, sailor moon, fullmetal alchemist, death note, renegade, highlander, 21 jumpstreet, bob's burgers, the simpsons, south park, catfish, hoarders, intervention, true life, the crow: stairway to heaven, ghost hunters, ghost adventures, seinfeld, friends, the glory, the girl from nowhere, dinosaurs, the toys that made us, the movies that made us, ju-on: origins, the end of the f**king world, being human (uk), six feet under, buzzfeed unsolved, the exorcist, etc. as you can see, i've too many.

⟩ what genre(s)/theme(s) do you struggle to write the most? smut. lol

⟩ share three random facts about yourself that your mutuals may not know about you. hm. i've a congenital heart condition and have had three open heart surgeries for it. english is my second language so, the occasional grammatical error will occur (in? on? english is stupid). aaaaand, true crime hits a lil too close to home (long story, maybe another time lol).

#🕯 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 👁 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖇𝖞𝖊 𓏴 munday.#🕯 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 👁 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖇𝖞𝖊 𓏴 ooc.#🕯 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖔 👁 𝖌𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖇𝖞𝖊 𓏴 inbox.#freakarus #belated but whatevs lol

2 notes · View notes

studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 years ago

Note

Do you think it's possible for the farmer to join The First Slash? 🤔 Like the farmer has been through a lot, slaying Apostles and undead mummies in the Badlands, not to mention saving the entire underworld (is that what it's called??) for Raeriyala and Belinda.

It seems to me that the Farmer may already be running for the member of the most famous Guild in Castle Village, because they alone can do much more than many seasoned adventurers cannot - the Farmer is just like a diamond that you want to take for yourself. Also, Lance has repeatedly expressed the desire of the Farmer to join The First Slash Clan. Considering how the Farmer successfully coped with growing monster crops, destroyed Bully (a dinosaur bitch in the Highlands), freed a dwarf from captivity, which even Lance did not know existed (although he patrols there), catching many Torpedo trouts from ocean waters and just protecting civilians - and all this on pure enthusiasm. Imagine what the Farmer will then be capable of if given a clear goal and unlimited possibilities!

Although, on the other hand, just the giftedness of the Farmer can play a cruel joke with them and not allow them to join any other Guild. Because the Farmer causes the leaders of these Guilds... fear and suspicion. A youth who came from nowhere and became such a wonderful adventurer, + hidden potential in magic, with an all too sincere desire to help everyone and always pry into other people's business. Moreover, the Farmer is already a member of Marlon's guild, why did they suddenly want to join them? What are they up to?

I had a headcanon about where my OC Farmer Julian gets invited to the Castle Village Guild for his services in fighting monsters and rescuing some adventurers from the Crimson Baldlans. However, he politely refuses, saying that "his body and soul belongs to Stardew Valley forever" and that he will not leave his first teacher and friends in his life as an adventurous mage (referring to Magnus, Marlon and Gil). Besides, “no matter how beautiful and luxurious the walls of other Guilds are, a cozy wooden cabin at Adventurer's Summit will always be sweeter to my soul." Julian added that if they need his help, he will never refuse them.

Pretty cheesey headcanon, I know, but I love fluff. Even though I didn't want to talk about it before 2.0 came out, I've been running this scenario over and over in my head.

And so... The Farmer has every chance to join any guild, but again, such a talent can, on the contrary, become an obstacle to joining The First Slash or Castle Village. Although, if Jolyne decides in matters of accepting newcomers, then the chances will be much greater. After all, as for me, she sees a gifted, but still too young person who needs to be trained and kept an eye on them, and not as an agent sent by apostates who wants to find out weak points in the defense of the Guild.

I'm not sure, however, how Farmer's help in freeing Ridge Forest from dark magic will affect the introduction, since this, as far as I understand, is kept secret from everyone, even from Farmer's close friends. It will also be fun to see the reaction of monster hunters and wizards who find out that the undercover adventurer was Farmer's grandmother. Will it be positive, because the Farmer, one might say, "has the blood of an adventurer", or vice versa, due to the secrecy of the cult of the Lady with the Red Tail? Can't say for sure until I know the whole Ridgeside Village lore.

#this is pretty interesting topic to discuss #thanks for the opportunity dear anon ❤️#stardew valley expanded #sve #stardew valley #sdv #ridgeside village #rsv #sve headcanons #rsv headcanons #sdv headcanons #farmer julian

31 notes · View notes

sunnyrealist · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 43: A Legacy of Love

The Sun, the Moon, and All Our Stars

Summary and Details…

Previous Chapter Recap/Context: Sebastian and Kate are on a trip in the Scottish Highlands, exploring the mysterious Blackfold Castle. Protective wards, set by a queen who took her own life, have kept curious treasure-hunters away for centuries. Somehow, Kate and Sebastian are able to enter the palace with very little effort. The great hall of the castle provides much information - a piece of parchment somehow interacts with them, asking them to view the memories of Queen Eilionoir through a Pensieve and promising a great reward for doing so. The memories tell the tragic story of Eilionoir Aitken and Neacal Brody, childhood friends turned lovers who planned to marry but were thwarted when a prince asked for her hand. Her family was destitute, and her father saw the marriage as economically and socially advantageous, agreeing to the match without a second thought. The night before her wedding, Neacal and Eilionoir met in secret and completed a magical ritual for reincarnation. Trapped in a joyless marriage, Eilionoir only found reprieve in writing letters back and forth with Neacal, but Prince Luthais eventually discovered their correspondence and deemed Neacal a traitor to the crown, executing him while Eilionoir watched. Shortly after becoming king, Luthais was assassinated. Still miserable, the queen dismissed the entire castle staff, placed protective wards over the castle, set up the great hall for her future visitors, and, presumably, ended her own life. Sebastian and Kate realize, finally, that they are Neacal and Eilionoir.

Pairing: 25-year-old, post-Azkaban Sebastian Sallow x 24-year-old Kate Mayflower (my OC), the Hogwarts assistant librarian

Content warnings: In general, this is rated 18+ - minors should not read or interact with this story. This chapter features discussion of sui/cide.

The full chapter is available below the cut; it can also be found on AO3 (link is posted below). Please leave some feedback if possible, especially if you like what you read! 🥰

Chapter 43: A Legacy of Love

Kate touches Sebastian’s arm to halt him. “Wait, Sebastian.”

He turns to face her, wide-eyed and determined.

“Sebastian… Before we write to Eilionoir, we should take a moment. That… that was a lot to process.” She pauses, then smiles. “My love… Do you understand…?”

He gazes upon her for a long moment, grinning brightly. He takes her hands in his. “It was us. Kate… that was us.”

Kate squeezes his hands. “I never knew it was possible. Never. I thought reincarnation was one of those fantastical things people like to believe in.” She moves in closer, looking up at him. “But we did it. You did it.” She chuckles. “Of course you did it! If anyone could, it would be you, Sebastian. Your mind… your passion for learning… creating a spell that endured centuries, that defied death.”

Sebastian speaks warmly. “Don’t discount yourself. Look around, my sun. You did all of this. Your magic was so powerful! You could create protective wards that stood the test of time. You planned and left this here… I think you left this here for us… only us.” He gestures at the table and the Pensieve.

Her mind spins, considering his idea. “No one could ever come into the castle except us…” She trails off, then contemplates it more. “Is it even possible to set wards to only allow specific people inside?”

“Yes,” he replies quickly. “It is possible. I don’t know how, but I know it’s possible. And I’ll find out how you did it. Just give me time - I will research.”

She smiles at him, breathless, then embraces him.

“Sebastian… It all makes sense now,” she whispers, pulling slightly away from him to look in his eyes. “It’s why we have always been so drawn to each other. It’s why I felt… complete… the first time we kissed…”

“You did?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes. Have I never told you that?”

“No,” Sebastian replies. “But I felt that way, too.” He pauses, suddenly realizing another clue. “And Kate - we met on the night of a full moon!”

“That’s right!” Kate gasps. “Good gods, it was all destined! We were meant to meet. To find each other.”

Sebastian presses his forehead to hers. “Kate, we were born for each other. This was always the plan.”

“It was. It really was,” she murmurs, her face filled with wonder.

Their lips press together in a long and serious kiss. When it ends, they spend a full minute in silence, simply searching each other’s eyes. Sebastian eventually pulls Kate back in, desperate to physically connect once more. Both smile and chuckle as their kiss ends. Neither can fathom that the first true case of reincarnation ever personally witnessed consists of each other.

Kate feels so light, as if her soul is being carried towards the sun by lacewing flies - the impossible is, in fact, possible, and achieved because of their love for each other. There is a great comfort in knowing that her gut feeling, the one that insisted that this man was exactly who she was meant to be with, was not just a hunch. It was real and fated - and now they would continue a legacy of love that was once cut short.

“We will do what they never could,” Kate muses. “We will get married. We will grow old together. Spend our entire lives in each other’s arms.”

“Oh, Kate,” Sebastian whispers, clinging to her. “If it’s even possible, I love you even more now. There’s no question, no doubt left for us.”

“No,” she replies, still grinning. “None at all.”

After some more kissing, giggling, and giddiness, they finally make their way to the table, hand in hand, breathless with excitement, their faces filled with pure joy. Sebastian cannot stop looking at Kate - his one true love, his soulmate.

Sebastian immediately dips the quill into the pot of ink, then writes in Scottish Gaelic, translating it all for Kate.

Queen Eilionoir, we have finished viewing your memories.

She replies quickly. I am glad to hear it.

May I ask how it is possible that you are communicating with us?

Ever the curious one. This parchment is enchanted to contain my conscious memory from the day I departed this world. Now, may I ask a question? Do you both know now why you are here?

Sebastian chuckles a little. “That’s kind of a loaded question.”

We, Kate and Sebastian, are Eilionoir Aitken and Neacal Brody, reincarnated. And we were meant to come here to make this discovery.

Yes. You would never have made it into the castle otherwise.

So, it is true. You set up the wards in such a way that only you and Neacal could enter.

Yes. I knew it was risky to do such a thing, but I was certain that Neacal’s soul would carry his adventurous nature and that someday it would lead him here. I trusted Neacal more than anything in the entire world. If he believed his spell for rebirth would work, I would never doubt it.

How did you set up wards this way?

There is so much to tell that I believe it a poor use of time to discuss enchantments at the moment. Besides, you will learn on your own. I know it. Now, ask a more important question while I still have time.

Kate glances and grins at Sebastian. He really must be so much like Neacal.

Why? Why did you do such a thing?

It takes a moment for her next message to appear on the parchment, as though she is thinking and choosing her words carefully. I must tell you first that there was no sadness in my decision. I was overjoyed to shed this body and meet Neacal once more in the great beyond, and for us to have our next chance. I did it all for us. For love. I desired to give our future selves the best chance possible to succeed and to not suffer like we did.

How is that? By giving us this information?

Yes, but there is more. I promised a reward. You will find it as soon as we end this communication. I did not wish for either of you to have your lives - and love - determined by money. I have thought long and hard about this, and, indeed, your reward will ensure that your economic status shall have no role in your relationship. I hope that this reward will allow you to reach your dreams - to live life without worry.

Sebastian and Kate look up at each other, wide-eyed.

“I wonder what she means,” Kate whispers.

You have our attention.

I cannot communicate much longer. You will understand. Just wait and you shall have a surprise. And do not forget to look at this table before you leave.

We have so many more questions for you. May we take this parchment with us so that we may speak to you anytime?

No. I do not have enough strength left to enchant it any further. My time with you is running out.

Neither of them seem to know what to say. How many more messages could Eilionoir last?

“Sebastian, we should end this discussion positively. I would hate to be in the middle of a conversation with her only for the magic to run out,” Kate suggests.

Queen Eilionoir, thank you for all that you have shared. We are sorry that you and Neacal did not have a happy end.

Ah, but we do have a happy end. It is both of you.

Kate and Sebastian smile at this. Before they can begin writing another message, Eilionoir continues.

This shall be my final message. Blackfold Castle stands only for you. Once you have read this message, time shall move quickly - twenty minutes will be the extent of your time here. Then, Blackfold will crumble forever. Sebastian and Kate, know this: You carry all of our hopes and dreams. Remember us. Honor our memory by living well, standing together, and loving each other with everything you have. Truly, the most powerful magic in the entire world is love.

Farewell, Queen Eilionoir. We wish you a peaceful rest. Thank you for all you did. We promise to live a life filled with love.

Sebastian and Kate are silent for several moments, contemplating all they have learned. When Kate sighs, Sebastian stands up straight and brings his girlfriend into his arms for a long embrace. She melts into him, closing her eyes in satisfaction. He kisses the top of her head.

When they pull apart, they immediately see three things.

Queen Eilionoir’s correspondence is on fire, burning up.

The table now holds two rings and a much smaller piece of parchment.

Behind the pensieve, items materialize out of thin air, as if they had always been there, just invisible. A chest filled with coins. Emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls. Crowns set on pillows. Necklaces, earrings, and rings. A bronze handheld mirror, along with a golden comb. A scepter. Large shields. Several ornate swords. Breathtakingly bejeweled wand holders. A pair of golden slippers. Gorgeous pieces of fabric - silks and furs. An embroidered purple cloak. Dresses fit for royalty. Dragonhide boots. A large stack of old tomes. An antique lute. A huge banner bearing a coat of arms. A bronze compass. A marble bust of a woman wearing a tiara. Incredibly rare and exotic ingredients for potions.

Kate blinks several times, then rubs her eyes. How could this be? She turns to Sebastian, who wears a similar dumbfounded expression as he faces her.

“Is this really all for us?” Kate says in a hushed voice.

Sebastian nods. “I think so. Eilionoir said… she didn’t want us to worry about money. She didn’t want it to determine our future, like it did hers.”

Kate imagines what must have taken place. The queen must have gathered as many valuables as she could before exiting the castle for the last time, leaving the artifacts for the future Eilionoir and Neacal to discover. She must have carefully thought it all through. The trust she had in Neacal and his spell for reincarnation must have been positively limitless. Kate smiles, realizing it is a trait she carried on - absolute and unconditional faith in the man she loves.

“Kate,” Sebastian says, interrupting her thoughts. “Eilionoir said we would only have about twenty minutes until the castle is destroyed. I know there’s a lot to process and discuss, but we must hurry if we are to take this all with us.”

She nods in response, coming to her senses. “You’re right. Yes.”

The two of them easily work in tandem. Inside her extendable bag, Kate waits for Sebastian to levitate the items and direct them to her, where she waits at the bottom of the ladder. She then works to organize and stack the items as carefully as she can. The small space, really, not much bigger than a walk-in closet, is quickly filled. She hurries up the ladder when they have finished packing, closing the enchanted bag. Then, she shrinks it and places it inside a pocket in her trousers.

Sebastian and Kate are about to exit the castle when she suddenly remembers what they saw on the table. She takes his hand and rushes to it. Unfolding the small piece of parchment, she shows it to him, since she cannot understand Scottish Gaelic.

He breathes out, smiling. “It’s the spell. The reincarnation spell.” He carefully slips it into a pocket within his cloak.

Then, there is nothing left on the table but two beautiful rings. One is dainty - the band is gold and twisted, leading to a gold setting that surrounds an oval moonstone. The other is weighty and masculine. A square moonstone sits in the center of the wide, green ring, bordered by golden leaves.

To put these rings on would be momentous. Kate’s breath hitches, uncertain of what might happen. Sebastian weighs it in his mind. They are undoubtedly bound to each other, but placing the ring on her finger would feel like an engagement or marriage. Kate once told him that she wanted him to propose purposefully, after meeting her family. As he looks into his girlfriend’s bright blue eyes, there is no doubt in his mind that these are special items - beyond special - that will forever symbolize their connection and infinite loyalty to the other. As much as he wants to place the gorgeous ring on her finger, to impatiently propose here and now, he has learned his lesson. He knows this isn’t the right time.

“My love, we should save these for each other. They are so precious,” Sebastian murmurs, opening her hand and placing the green and gold ring in her palm. Speaking so quietly, he is barely audible when he asks, “My sun, will you keep this ring safe for me?”

Kate closes her hand around it, nodding slowly. She does the same with the other ring, gently leaving it in Sebastian’s hand. She speaks softly as well. “And will you keep this safe for me, my moon?”

“Always,” he replies, touching his forehead to hers, “As long as is necessary.”

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x oc #post azkaban sebastian #aged up sebastian sallow #hufflepuff x slytherin #hogwarts legacy oc #hl oc #hogwarts legacy original character

6 notes · View notes

unknownmusing · 1 year ago

Text

Torchwood Fanfic: 'The First Tale of the Immortal Storyteller'

------------------------------------

Summary:

Hidden away in a small, undisturbed village located in a valley, a person called Javin Boeshane - a simple, book-keeper and writer, plus Historical Document Collecter - doesn't expect when they went to work that their peaceful, calm life would be shattered by the arrival of.....

....Torchwood and the person called Captain Jack Harkness.

So, begins a series of events all leading to a deep, dark secret which has been buried for some time and waiting to be told.

--------------------------

Notes:

- An idea that came to mind after watching the last episode of Season 4 of Torchwood, where the learn about the thing called 'The Blessing' - Slight episode diverging, but will be including episode moments etc - Title refers to how Javin records information in Tales which can be spread to generation to generation or be for ones he closely considers family or friends. - In this Cristopf is the Ninth Doctor from parallel universe, where will explain more in further chapters as fic progresses.

---------------------------

Prologue - 'The Immortal Storyteller'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage - Early Morning

Javin Boeshane's P.O.V:

The steady chime coming from the large Grandfather clock located downstairs in the hallway, brings me out of trying to finish the manuscript for my next book on the typewriter leaning back in my wooden chair to look out the study window at the white, wispy clouds rolling their way across the skyline.

In the place where I live, built for an important purpose is an alien refuge village for various species of aliens who over millennium have chosen to land or crash-land on planet Earth seeking somewhere to survive - away from what has happened to them in their solar systems.

Precise location of The Boeshane Cottage - my home - situated above the hidden valley helps in protecting the place from being discovered by UNIT or any other mysterious, hidden organisations who might came to investigate the strange, anomaly they might detect with their equipment or they learn about it from a Witness - referring to ordinary, human beings who accidentally stumbled upon the area, most of them minority being:

Hikers, who'd gotten lost exploring the Highlands; Tourists or Archealogists curious in rumours about a hidden village and finally, UFO Hunters who assisted aliens existed and had spotted some in the Highlands.

Dragging both of my hands down my face, I decide to put the manuscript I've been typing up on hold for now. There is no point in procrastinating over it, when my mind is distracted by something else - probably to do with said 'guest', if he could be called that, staying in the second bedroom of the cottage.

Pushing my chair back from the study desk, the half-typed manuscript placed in the typewriter waiting to be finished and the blank paper placed to one side, I head out my study to step out onto the top floor landing.

"Writer's block with the manuscript?" A voice interrupts me, making me turn slightly to face to the source of the voice asking me the question

Seeing my 'guest, Captain John Hart, stepping out of the other bedroom wearing his fashionable crimson miltary, styled jacket - which is not from the 21st Century and more suited to his style - along with his weapons and other stuff.

Seeing I'm eying the open bedroom door, he closes it behind him - even though I've caught a brief glimpse of the ruffled bedsheets on the bed, clothes scattered about on the bedroom floor and the scent of strong, sex pheromones lingering in the air.

"You could say that." I reply to his question.

Internally noting 'From his appearance - the well-coiffed hair, a faint scent of shampoo coating his body covered up by a cologne and a slight limp in his step - this indicates last night he had a good time with the person he brought back' until realise he's right beside me, waiting for me to either move or head down the stairs.

Not wanting to hang around on the landing, I turn myself around to descend the stairs with him following close behind me.

Neither of us say much, though no doubt he's itching to ask questions or wants to tell me some important information.

Reaching the first-floor hallway leading to the front door on my right and kitchen area towards the back, it's a sudden thunk - Dammit, I thought Cristopf had fixed that dodgy step - forcing me to turn slightly to catch him.

Though I've underestimated the momentum of his combined weight and mine, along with how I've got a foot placed on the second last step to lean myself up to catch him.

Causing for both of us to fall straight down onto the hallway wooden polished floor to land with a heavy, muffled combined thud.

"Javin? Hart? Is everything alright? You're not hurt are you?"

Cristopf, I hear calling out to the both of us lying on the wooden, polished hallway floor from the kitchen area, with a muffled, pained groan of "Fuck, why didn't you say about the step. Goddess, this is embarassing that trip up on it again" coming from John.

Shifting his body to lift himself up off me so I can either get up myself on my own or he can help me get up off the floor.

Or would have, it hadn't been for him stiffening in a way he's discovered something, his head lifting up to look down at me - in particular where his face had been buried when he fell into my arms - with unexpected, shocked surprise.

"Everything's fine, Cristopf. John, just tripped on the dodgy step, again." I reply back to him, realising the other man above me is looking downwards at my heaving chest.

Realising the special binder, holding my breasts flat against my chest to give the illusion I'm male, must have slightly, loosened to reveal the mounds showing underneath my black shirt

Exposing a secret about myself - the fact, I was 51st Century human who been born male, but had a female body instead and is hiding the fact from people.

"Does he know?" John queries, flicking his eyes up to Cristopf, standing by the kitchen doorway followed by back down to me.

Cristopf must have sensed both of us need some breathing space, so heads back into the kitchen to finish off cooking the breakfast he'd been making, leaving me and John alone.

My mind debates on what to say him, opening my mouth to speak only to find I really know what to say to him - What can I say? Tell him the truth? Both of us know I can't trust him - with him giving 'Hmm...' getting up off me, holding out his hand bearing the Vortex Manipulator to me.

Taking hold of his right hand, I allow him to haul myself up the wooden, polished hallway floor onto both of my feet leaving me to compose myself.

"You realise both of you can't hide for long. Soon this very, sweet peaceful life you've built may become shattered, Javin Boeshane."

John states, the back of his knuckle stroking my right cheekbone lightly to soothe me when visibly flinch at his tone of his voice - it's callous of him.

He's right.....He's right.

Both of us know it.

It will happen, this sweet, peaceful life I built with Cristopf will be shattered at some point...

But when?

Now?

A few weeks time?

In the future?

When.....will...it happen?

-----------------------------------

Notes:

- Set before Season 1, Episode 2 Day One which will be worked into next chapter. - This chapter deals with more introducing Javin to Captain Jack and the Torchwood Team

-------------------------------------

PART 1 - 'An Ordinary Morning becomes Something Else'

Location - Scotland, Scottish Highlands - Hidden Alien Refuge Village, Hidden Valley - The Boeshane Cottage's Driveway- still Early Morning

"Did John say something to affect you, Javin?"

Cristopf asks, noticing how subdued I'm in not answering his question at first and refusing to look at him because I don't want to admit the truth.

"Just something which irritated me. Nothing to be worried about." I reply to him, unlocking the driver's side to enter the vehicle which use to get to work. Cristopf, wearing his faded jeans, leather jacket and simple, plain green t-shirt underneath steps close to me to place a hand on my waist and other tilt my chin upwards to look at him.

Looking at his gentle, sweet face and those eyes that have seen so many things – Universes forming and dying; life on planets never heard of and so many things that an ordinary human could only imagine – I find myself being pulled into a soothing, reassuring kiss.

Oh, how this reminds me so much of our first kiss we shared.

I’ve missed this…. Missed his kisses and touch.

For a short time, I become lost in our kissing – lips softly moving against each-other’s and his hands moving to hold me closer to him like he’s afraid to let go of me in case I disappear from him. – until both of us pull back, one hand moving off my waist to stroke my cheekbone lightly with his thumb.

“I better…. umm….head off…” I state to him, breaking the tender moment between us, slipping into the driver’s seat and leaving him to close the driver’s door for me giving a look of ‘Will talk later about this.”

Stepping back to allow me to start the engine, where driving down the gravel driveway look at his reflection in the wingmirror getting smaller and smaller until turn to take the winding road out of the hidden valley to reach the M6.

Due to the trip to get Cardiff taking precisely 9hrs 39 minutes and distance is about 882km, I would have time to mull over stuff that been swirling it’s way around my head during my journey to the city.

-------------------------------

Location – Mermaid Quay, Cardiff Bay – The Boeshane Bookshop – Mid-Morning

Javin Boeshane’s P.O.V:

Hanging up my leather black great-coat on the wooden coat-hanger, I begin to open my Bookshop called The Boeshane Bookshop by going around checking the light sconces are working – it was old Historic building so the electricity wires still held hints of the past – and the small kitchen behind the counter is well-stocked and finally, stepping out onto the Mermaid Quay overlooking Cardiff Bay to pull the shutters covering the windows up.

Outside people are going about their daily lives: school children heading to school; mothers pushing prams or walking with their child or children; teenagers talking amongst themselves, listening to music or on their phone texting or scrolling through social media.

Un-padlocking the first shutters, I go to push one of them up or would have if it weren’t for someone knocking over me with such impact, I fall onto the pavement seeing a person wearing a blue RAF great over-coat chasing something with another person following close behind them.

“Fuck, bloody idiot. A bit of warning…. next time…” I swear out, trying to haul myself up using the flowerboxes on the window for stabilisation only to cry out when one of my leg’s gives out on me drawing the attention of people passing and two other people.

“I apologise. He’s a bit of a handful.” The medical-type person of the two people helping me up from the pavement to back into my bookshop over to red leather high-backed chair to sit down. A heavy wince forms on my features, bones which have shattered beginning to quickly heal due to my immortal healing factor is kicking in.

“Handful? More like menace. You do know there’s law about running about like that.” I grit out, seeing the woman I’ve overheard being called ‘Gwen’ heading into the kitchen-area behind the bookshop counter to get a glass of water.

“Well, uhhh…..he’s in a hurry…” the medical-type man states, his eyes studiously avoiding looking at me and hiding what he nearly about to say in case his colleague overhears him. “Now, can I see your leg. I need to make sure nothing is broken…What!?....I’m a medically trained professional.”

He begins to protest at me, while tries to check my leg, when I place my hand on his to push it off not wanting him to discover it’s already healed – though albeit still sore.

“It’s fine. I have a partner who can look over it.” I state at him, using the armrests of the red leather high-backed chair to haul myself up seeing how he gets up as well – it seems he only comes up to my chin – with a glare on that harsh, yet vulnerable face – Something happened to him. He shows on his face a haunted look of someone who’s experienced loss of a loved one. – and arms crossing over his chest.

Going to the kitchen-area, the bell above the shop-bell indicates someone else coming in a reflection in an ornate mirror embedded into the wall shows they are an older man wearing a RAF blue or grey greatcoat with a younger man wearing a suit beside them.

“Owen, is everything alright? We lost sight of the Wee….ummm, Pickpocket.” He asks the medical-professional, correcting his sentence when gets an elbow in the ribs by the young man in the suit making ‘Owen’ grumble something under his breath.

“Stubborn patient refusing help you mean.” Owen – He reminds me of her so much, right down to the mannerisms and look – replies, not really answering the question asked by his ‘Boss-man’ who comes up him with the ex-policewoman Gwen, appearing at the doorway of the kitchen-area going to interject with something.

Hmm, interesting team ‘Blue/grey greatcoat’ has brought together. One, stubborn and medically trained and hints may have done the danse macabre; the female Gwen an ex-policewoman by her stature and presence and other looking like he’s some kind of archivist.

Blue/grey greatcoat must have noted I’m taking in his team’s appearance, because he steps in front of the young man in the suit to block him from my line of sight. Pursing my lips, I brush past Gwen to go into the kitchen-area taking the glass of water off her to bring up to my lips to take a sip – one taste telling me what’s been placed in it.

“Next time you try and drug me, use a better memory replacement sedative.” I tell her, seeing how she looks at me with her widened, panicked eyes at my words with myself moving to go over to the sink where go to pour what’s in the glass down the kitchen sink to get rid of the contaminated water.

A hand grabbing hold of my wrist holding it tightly, makes me stiffen at it. I decide not to turn my face to look at the ‘Boss-man’ keeping myself looking at the calendar where important events are dated hearing him commanding one of his teammates.

“Gwen, lock the front door.” Blue/grey greatcoat orders, his hand moving to my trouser pocket for the key it makes me slap it away first, using my other hand to slap him across the face or would of if it hadn’t for his name being called out.

“JACK, LOOK OUT!!?”

My whole body goes completely numb, forcing me to wrench free from ‘Jack’ allowing the glass of water I’ve been holding still to fall onto the polished kitchen-area floor with a tinkling smash I only distantly hear.

It’s not possible!!!? He cannot be!!!? He can’t be…..Jaketh-Javic Piotr Thane, my sibling!!!?

Memories flood into my head, overwhelming me so much it’s like a dam which holds back tonnes of water breaking apart to allow torrent of water to cascade down into the valley below, swamping everything in it’s destructive path.

“Hey, we’re not going to kill you. Listen to me, we’re not going kill you.” A voice breaks through the haze of rushing water, forcing me to lift my head up to look straight at the very concerned face of my sibling, Jack/Jaketh-Javic’s face.

His team-mates who have come into the kitchen area are looking at me with various signs of concern written on their face – one protective; another medically trained and one empathic by the way he’s trembling at the doorway – with Owen, checking my pulse.

I try to speak, but the rush of water within my head begins to get louder again it blocks out everything around me.

My body must be seizing uncontrollably because can distantly feel someone's hands wrapping around me to stop my body thrashing about until finally the distinct prick of a needle silences the water, allowing me to go limp in the arms of the person holding me.

Maybe for the better.

--------------------------------

#Part 1 of 'The Tales of a Immortal Storyteller'#Part 1 of 'The Untold Torchwood Stories Collection'#emotional angst alert #jack harkness/ianto jones #slow-burn romance #dealing with emotions #owen harper/original character #torchwood #Everyone survives #Slight episode diverging #wip #Deals with lot of issues #additional tags to be added #post will be updated with new chapters as progress in typing it up

4 notes · View notes