#the toad things of the black obelisk

[notsumma]

i haven't read *that* many ttrpg source books but, like,

is the whole "this evil race worships [Egyptian god], while this evil race worships [Aztec god], but THIS evil race worships [Hindu god]" something I'll always have to filter out? or am i just picking the most racist games by chance?

[palushiemalis-fr]

She laid downwind at the crest of the hill. The wind rippled her mane and she swished her downy tail back and forth. Body rigid as she scoured the landscape. Her raven pinions fluttered about her ears and she twitched them in annoyance. At the bottom of the valley, a healthy herd of cerdae grazed by the banks of a stream. There was a wobbly foal amongst them, bleating at its weary mother who stumbled as she knelt in the grass. Rynka sighed, she knew just how she felt, she had been following this herd for hours and they hadn't settled into a convenient place to catch them. Now, finally, as hunger gnawed at her insides, she could make her way down the patch of woodland to the east and corner them, forcing them into an uphill chase she would surely win. She stood up and felt a small quiver in her legs. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and her blood felt thin. She needed to eat. Now. She picked her way down an elk trail to a patch of birches and willow, their golden leaves shivering. Autumn made the woods flush with bird song as waxwings and sparrows gorged on the last of the berries. Quail skittered through the brush and a fat toad lolloped across her path. She felt desperate enough to snap at it, but it leapt clear into a puddle and splashed her snout.

Rynka's thoughts turned to sleep for a moment; she could give up her hunt for a few hours and listen to the birds chirp, she could scrounge around for mice or snakes as it got dark. She shook herself out of it -- no, she needed to eat, she could grow too weak to get up. Then who knows, she could become the prey. Her mind was clouded with hunger, anxiety and frustration. Perhaps she was wrong to have left Dragon Home, insisting she could fend for herself. This was only her second Autumn and she had crossed half of Sornieth, avoiding dragons wherever she could. She was a seeker and a hunter, and there was no backing down from that call. "Hello?" This is how a blundering dragon managed to make her jump out of her skin. With a short, sharp scream Rynka fell over herself with shock. In the distance, she heard the scattered beating of hooves as the Cerdae galloped away. The Gaoler had padded out from behind an Alder with a basket of mushrooms in his mouth. Yellow patchy fur and smudgy black tips as if he'd ran through soot. Twigs and leaf litter tangled in his mane, his tail wagging apologetically. "...Sorry about that." Rynka sputtered and leapt up, taking a defensive stance, "Who are you to ruin my hunt?" The dragon cocked his head, "I've never seen a dragon hunt alone... Oh, but I'm Pen. Penemue." He held out a paw to shake, it was her turn to stare at him in confusion. "Uh, I am sorry about your hunt. There's food back at the lair if you want, we're happy to have guests. I guess I owe you after scaring that herd away. I mean, its the least I can do." Rynka bared her teeth at the suggestion before she felt the pit of her stomach grow sore. It had been days since she had eaten, the last few nights she had slept through rain and thunder. The pads of her paws were cracking and blistering. She felt hollow and ragged. "I... accept this proposal." She sighed, "I admit, I could use somewhere to sleep as this storm passes through. I provide myself, I will bring ample food after I recover." "Of course, we wouldn't let anyone sleep out in the cold! Unless they wanted to -- we have a few tundras and obelisks who don't mind being out in the snow, y'know. I don't mind much either, but I prefer having a nice warm fire place. Qian Xue likes to take off to the Ice territory now and then, he says he makes a thing called an igloo to sleep in. Its like a house made of snow, its wild! But then again, everyones a bit strange sometimes, like me, they said there weren't any mushrooms left in the season but I knew about this woodland and..." Pen chattered away as she followed behind him, trailing out of the woodland to the top of the valley. A grand lair of sandstone rose out of the horizon, dragons circled up above and sauntered below. None were thin, all were bright eyed and had kindly voices. She ate stew, lamb that fell off the bone with what she learnt was rosemary and thyme, and plenty of mushrooms. She combed her mane and washed in miraculously warm water. She was given a small chamber, with no wind or rain or frost. There were blankets. She hadn't used a blanket since she was a child. Pen offered to light a fire and roast chestnuts in the embers as he read from a book of epic poems to break the silence. Rynka fell asleep next to her new companion as he wittered the night away.

[lacking-hydration]

Meeting Confusion | Drabble

---

Dr. Channing stared at the door of his office with a look of confusion and worry spread across his face, as it began to drip with thick, black liquid, speckled with purples and blues. The sparkling sludge squeezed itself through the cracks of the door, slowly dripping towards the floor, until it had completely collected on the ground. Nigel kept his eyes fixated on the puddle, afraid to move. He took a careful step forward, before immediately retracting said step when the pile of sludge began to jitter and bubble. A portion of it began to slowly rise until it created a blobby obelisk that towered over the chairman, just barely scraping the ceiling. Two tendrils sluggishly extended from the shape, creating long, lanky, arms with sharp claws. The lower portion of the structure split into two, forming thin legs with wild, swirling tendrils at its feet. The top of the blob formed a head and neck, which split open, creating a wide and jagged grin. A spiraling crater drilled itself into its chest, traced by a glowing purple lining. Jittering scribbles appeared where it’s eyes should have been, those reminiscent of the frustrated scrawlings of a young child. The inhuman creature shook to life, and took a staggering step towards Nigel, who only stared at the monster in terror. The beast drew in a disgusting breath, before bellowing the words,

    “Your face reads an expression of terror, Dr. Channing.” The creature’s voice horrified him. It was deep, bassy, yet articulate. It rang in his ears, shaking him to his core. “I hope I haven’t spoiled our partnership already, I’ve barely introduced myself.” It continued. It took another step forward.

    “W-what-...” He nervously choked, “What are you?” The thing chuckled to itself, producing a gross, mucus-y, and vile sound, something akin to the sickly cough of a diseased toad. 

    “Well, the answer to that is simple, really, I am Confusion! The very manifestation of all of those foggy memories in your head. The knots in your stomach, The blank spaces in your mind. I feast on chaos. I breathe disorder. Your institution is overflowing with chaos, making it a perfect source of energy." Nigel backed up slowly as the creature approached him, and only began to panic more when he found himself backed up against the wall. "There is one small thing I'm going to need from you, though."

               Before Nigel could ask the monster what it exactly meant, it grabbed him by the throat, making him let out a strained squeak as the thing lifted him a few feet off the ground, pressing him against the wall. Nigel gripped the slimy, clawed hand, desperately trying to pry himself from its grip.

                "Don't try and struggle. You'll only make things more difficult, for the both of us." It said calmly. 

                "What-" Nigel gasped for air, "Do you..want from me?"

                The creature let out a disgusting laugh, "You can't exactly expect me to roam around the institute looking like this, can you? I'm going to need your help. I need someone they'll trust. Someone they'll listen to. You'll be perfect." It said in a low voice, before beginning to shift. Its form started to melt, losing its shape. That's when Nigel realized what it was doing. The matter making up the beast slowly crept up Nigel's neck, snaking and spreading all over his upper body, before suddenly piercing his skin, closing in on him. He could feel the sludge tearing it's way through his skin, a feeling that slowly spread from his neck, all the way down to his feet, engulfing him in an unworldly amount of pain. He tried to scream in anguish, but he could only produce a pathetic, dry, nearly silent squeal. He was helpless, and the pain and lack of oxygen was making it harder for him to stay conscious. As he slowly drifted off, lethargically flailing at the creature in an attempt to loosen its grip, his head heavy, and vision cloudy, he stared into the scribbled eyes of the creature as it melted into him. Helpless. Unable to save himself from whatever was to come. All of the feeling in his body slowly began to slip away, paralyzing him. In his final moments of consciousness, Dr. Channing could only limply stare into the unforgiving eyes of the being, silently begging that he was only dreaming, that when he closed his eyes, he would wake up, that everything was going to be fine. He was going to be fine. Everything was going to be just fi