#unofficial official religion

[harumscarumcos]

SHUT UP I HAVE A QUESTION:

is kaine catholic? like I remember during his specific run for the scarlet spider comics, he would go to confession a LOT and I need confirmation

[handweavers]

any understanding of irish history of the last 500 yrs has to explicitly contend with ireland functionally having a caste system wherein your specific religious denomination roughly determined your class status ie. relationship to land ownership and the means of production. the common presentation of ireland being simply a matter of 'religious conflict' obfuscates that if you lived in the island of éire your position in society was nearly entirely determined by the religious sect you were born into, with some degree of economic movement (should you convert to a different sect but even then you would still be distrusted) and variability of the precise nature of one's economic status, ex. you could have some degree of land and wealth as a catholic but it was constantly being cut apart and taxed heavily, you couldn't attend school, you were often terrorized by both official and unofficial roving gangs of protestant soldiers and settlers, etc. but it often wasn't enough to simply be a protestant, you had to be anglican - a follower of the church of england - and if you were presbyterian (like most scots-irish) or from another protestant denomination your position was somewhere in between anglicans and catholics, and the rights of nonconformists (the term used for non-anglican protestants) often fluctuated depending on the material demands of the anglican ruling class, and whether it economically benefited them to gain favour with nonconformists or not. but the primary conflict was the mass extraction of capital from the catholic majority, to line the pockets of the anglican land (and later factory) owners and most importantly the coffers of the british empire. this relationship between religion and class is fundamental to having any degree of understanding of irish history

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 1 . Horrible Intuition - Cale/Reader

notes: I'll try to update this once a week

tags: mild cursing

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

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Kim Rok Soo’s knowledge about the new world he is in was all from the novel titled ‘Birth of a Hero’. That and whatever he had read in his study at the Henituse castle.

So when those reddish-brown eyes of his landed on an unknown figure that looked important, he was confused. Good thing Eric Wheelsman has his back, aware that his dongsaeng is not up to date in whatever’s going on in the capital.

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard of them but that’s _____ Perduellio, known as Roan Kingdom's Medicus[1], and they are a northeasterner too. They have been adopted by the Perduellio family who is aligned with the Gyerre Duchy.”

The person in question was busy running around healing whoever they could. They were wearing a white robe that reminded Cale of Ancient Greece or Egypt[2]. However, this one looks more luxurious as unnecessary details have been added such as gold linings, sash, beads, and crystals.

Despite all those details what caught Cale Henituse's attention was not their clothing. Rather, the number of guards they have following them.

“It is said that they have a weak body so they have guards everywhere. The story was that the Perduellio couple encountered _____ on the streets when they were 4 years old and immediately felt a connection that’s why they were adopted. Then 5 years later, they manifested a healing ability that seems to be a blessing from the Sun God. Oh, they can also perform small light tricks. In fact, I think they were supposed to showcase some of it today.”

Midway through Eric’s words Cale had stopped paying attention. Instead, he observes the adopted Perduellio. Eric might say that the guards are there for _____’s safety, but to the redhead, it looks as though they are guarding a criminal.

‘Oh well it’s not like I’ll meet them anytime so not my problem’

…Cale spoke too soon.

After the plaza incident, Crown Prince Alberu requested for that very same person to be Cale’s healer. It was to strengthen that image of the crown providing the young master of the Henituse County with the best as he recovered. 

While Cale understands and agrees with the intention, he has a hunch that this decision will smack him in the back later.

“Don’t worry young master, I know all information about young master _____ and have deemed them safe! Actually, the second child of the Perduellio family is said to be something akin to an unofficial maiden of the Sun God. The only reason it’s unofficial is because they are not officially affiliated with the Sun God Church as the Perduellio’s said their health would not be able to handle it.”

Cale, who is now relaxed and lying down on a bed meant for foreign officials, became a bit interested in this fact. Even though the Roan Kingdom has no official religion, families would still consider it a great honour if one of their relatives were deemed a saint or a holy maiden.

“The young master also doesn’t have to worry about political battles. Even though the Perduellios support the third prince, young master _____ is known for not taking any political sides. This is especially true when it comes to helping those in need. It is also why the young master is famous even with the common people.”

What Hans said brought some relief to Cale’s mind. He already has enough on his plate and he doesn’t want to add to it by joining a political strife. But even if he did he’s sure he could make the crown prince act as his shield. 

Hans finishes his report by saying that Cale is to be healed 2 times before the King gathers everyone and makes a proclamation. Each session will last up to 30 minutes only. This was because the crown prince insisted that no guard shall enter Cale’s room while _____ is healing him. The limited time is the Perduellio County’s compromise as they reasoned they don’t want _____ to become sick.

“Humans are odd, why are they healing other people when they are sick? Well, you weak human also save people when you are weak yourself…”

Cale pays no attention to the black dragon’s ramblings in his head as he observes _____ who has come to heal him. 

“That’s odd, I thought the guards were for that human’s safety. Why do they look more relaxed now that those guards are gone?”

He can’t hear anything. Cale can’t hear anything. Blah. Blah. Blah.

He doesn’t need to know any more unnecessary details that might potentially hinder his slacker life. He has already heard too much about the crown prince, no need to find out secrets about this healer that weren’t even mentioned in the book.

However, he can’t deny that the guards are acting odd. They are too strict with the time, and instead of it looking like they are worried. To Cale, it looks as if Roan's Medicus is a prisoner who’s granted limited visiting time.

During the two sessions everyone, Cale and the children averaging 7 years old, could tell that the healer knew that Cale was fine and didn’t need to be healed. This is more prominent by how the only thing they seem to be doing is removing Cale’s stomachache from eating while lying down and replenishing his energy.

Speaking of replenishing his energy.

The Vitality of the Heart works wonders when it comes to keeping Cale in tip-top condition 24/7. However, _____ makes him feel more refreshed. Every time the healer replenishes his energy he feels as though he has taken a particularly good bath. As if he was soaking in freshwater where the temperature was just right. 

Weird considering that their power is supposed to be from the Sun God.

“Human this is weird! That human seems to be using a new power, but don’t worry this great and mighty being can tell that it isn’t dangerous!”

Maybe if Cale tries really hard enough then he will not hear unnecessary comments that can jeopardise his slacker life…

“This is our last session correct?”

“Yes, uhm as you already know young master Cale, this will be the last time I get to officially check on you. You seem to be fine now but try to rest if you can. I heard that you’re going sightseeing in the Ubarr territory, I hope the sea can help you relax.”

Their soft and gentle voice along with tempting words about resting, slacking off in Cale’s vocabulary, sounded like music to the young man’s ears. Unfortunately, his itinerary in the Ubarr territory doesn’t line up with the doctor’s prescription.

“Really weird… Now that I pay more attention to it, they kinda smell like you human…”

But first, Cale is going to pretend to be deaf for his sanity…

Also, smell? Again? Just what does he smell like? First, it was the crown prince, then it was this baby dragon. Why does everyone have questions regarding smell?

In any case, it’s not like they’ll meet again right?

Wrong again! 

Cale was unfortunate enough to encounter the healer again while they were in the Dubori territory of the Caro Kingdom. Poor Cale was planning to pretend he didn’t see anything. But since his luck seemed negative, they made eye contact as soon as he thought of his great plan.

Well, it’s only right to properly greet his healer back in the capital right?

“I didn’t expect to see you here young master _____ much less without guards.”

“Ah no young master Cale, I still have them. They are just currently changing shifts so I have a few minutes to myself.”

A few minutes to themself… Perduellio’s adopted child said in their usual soft, gentle, and almost inaudible voice that Cale wouldn’t have caught it if they weren’t in close proximity. Cale had known since back at the capital how soft-spoken _____ was but didn’t expect that it would be this difficult to hear them.

However, he still caught and heard those words.

Words that again, sound as though there’s more to _____ than being the precious adopted child of the Perduellio’s family.

“However young master Cale, you look as though you are going beyond the territory walls. Please be careful as I’ve read about a phenomenon occasionally happening there.”

“What could that be?”

“I’ve read in an ancient text that dead mana rises there sometimes, but no one knows when it happens…”

_____ suddenly stopped speaking as they noticed a few things:

Their guards are coming over, and;

Tasha caught their eye

“Oh seems like my guards are here. Also, I would like to apologise as I didn’t realise…”

The usual prim and proper _____ is now rushing to get back to their guards making Cale unable to hear the last bit of their sentence. 

Good thing the invisible black dragon did.

“Human! That weird human knows that Tasha is a Dark Elf! While they were bowing to you I heard them say ‘I would like to say sorry as I didn’t realize you have a Dark Elf with you’.”

What now? Cale couldn’t comprehend how _____, whose supposed power was only healing and light magic tricks could know. So he asked Tasha if any nobles knew about her.

“Me as a Dark Elf? No way young master, that’s like asking for a death sentence. However, I am a bit close to Perduellio’s blessed child. Even though they are blessed by the Sun God, their healing powers don't have any purification in them.”

Safe to assume that _____ has known about Tasha for quite a while now but hasn’t said anything.

Cale can feel an additional headache coming. He has a hunch that this would be far from the last time he deals with that healer.

And wouldn’t you know…

Not even a day later Cale encounters _____ again. This time it’s in the most unlikely place you’ll see a child of the Sun God would be. 

The City of the Dark Elves.

Or the City of Life as they named it.

It was a peaceful morning, their stay in the City of Life was extended because of the dead mana rising. Despite that, Cale didn’t mind as he planned to take this chance to sightsee and talk to the necromancer. 

“Young master Cale, young master _____ is now in our healing ward. I don’t know what happened to them but they seem to be in bad shape. I figured I’d let you know as they were your healer previously. I have also sent a message to the crown prince.”

…Who would have thought the first thing Cale gets to sightsee in this city of life is this world’s version of a hospital.

‘Ah damn it, why is my intuition always right?!’

[1] Medicus is the Latin term for healer that stemmed from Medeor that means to heal or cure

[2] my main vision was Claude de Alger Obelia's clothes minus the chest window lol

[ultra-violet-heart]

Fanfare for Frieren (a fan translation)

This is the English fan translation of Fanfare for Frieren (奏送), the accompanying short novella for the opening theme of the Frieren anime, Yuusha by Yoasobi, written by Jirou Kiso with the supervision of manga writer Kanehito Yamada. The images here are from its print/digital version, which has been a bonus from the special edition of Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Volume 12.

Disclaimer: This translation is made by me for fandom purposes only. This unofficial translation is not affiliated with the official Frieren franchise or with Yoasobi. All rights reserved for Frieren: Beyond Journey's End to its respective committees, committee members, staff and rights holders.

Please ask my permission and credit me+this post if you will be re-translating this to other languages. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST THIS OR ITS IMAGES TO OTHER SITES. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE ESPECIALLY ON YOUTUBE AND TIKTOK. Please take the fan translations here with a grain of salt. 

I'm posting my Ko-Fi here as currently, I've been having financial trouble regarding my medicine, so if anyone can donate, I would be much grateful for the help, thank you very much.

1.

Five years after the death of Himmel the Hero.

Central Lands, the Capelle [1] Region.

A small city, commonly referred to as “Music City”, was located not far off west of the Royal Capital.

Many renowned musicians, who had established the foundation of court music, went there to study, and they each created orchestras there which continue up to this day. Day and night, orchestral and operatic performances kept theatres crowded, and these performances were well-known in the Central Lands.

The hymns that could be heard from the church also evoked such amicable ties between culture and religion. The singing voices and the performance, both tranquil and powerful, were pleasing to the ears.

There’s unexpected magic in places like this, huh, Frieren thought while walking through the streets with light steps.

She couldn’t visit this place during her journey to defeat the Demon King, but she thought it would have been nice to have taken a detour on the beginning. The journey started from the Royal Capital to the east, she recalled with a little regret.

To that extent, the city was much of a beautiful and isolated place.

The cobblestone pavements reminded one of a flowing music score, while the radial houses reminded one of a well-organized orchestra. The entire city had this atmosphere of welcoming people, so that there was music there for people to listen to.

There might be a wealth of music-related magic in this place. She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable when it comes to music, but folk magic rooted in a distinctive culture was worth collecting for that reason alone.

Following the signboards that were shaped like sheet music and musical instruments, Frieren continued walking.

Just near were an opera house and a museum adjacent to it, and the sound of some rhythm coming from somewhere.

Various sounds overlapped the whole city, however, strangely enough, there was no cacophony at all.

Suddenly, among those sounds, one of the most awkward sounds caught her ear. The timbre sounded like it was carefully walking on ice.

Apparently, a small marching band was passing by in front of the church located in the city’s center. The boys and the girls were preparing for their practice that day, carrying brass instruments too big for their stature and with more percussion instruments than their hands could handle.

A boy wearing a red feathered military hat―or rather, was made to wear one―had this desperate expression as he continued blowing his horn, unconcerned about his reddening face.

Even though from a very young age, all this city’s people had been living together with music.

The sound the boy made while carefully holding the horn, which was said to be the most difficult instrument in the world for humans to play, was not the clearest at all.

However, sometime in the future, that sound will reverberate gallantly and kindly.

Frieren felt it was a timbre suitable for the city.

Frieren continued to walk, as if the small orchestra was pushing her back.

The rustling of leaves, the gurgling water of the fountain, the happy hubbub from the cafeteria. All the sounds of nature and the noise of daily lives here and there gave the impression they were all pleasantly tuned.

It might be said she could stay in here for years while exploring the city thoroughly.

In one corner of the city, there stood an old-looking music store. Its appearance, reflecting its long age, made it stand out.

For some reason, she entered the store. It was a place she wouldn’t normally stop by, but her feet were strangely drawn into it.

Beyond the store’s creaking door, however, a strikingly different but still atmosphere hung about.

Beautifully polished wind instruments. Stringed instruments without a speck of dust. They were placed on a cramped space, lined like capillary vessels. The store’s appearance made it feel like one could hear the breathing of the old craftsman running the store alone.

As she searched for a narrow foothold and was about to head deeper,

“You.” A voice said. Frieren felt it was a matured voice that carefully aged over many years.

An old man, whose white hair was tied up clumsily, peeked out from the back of the store. His sleeves were still rolled up, as if he was still tending to his instruments a short while ago. She caught a glimpse of the old man’s muscles, which were well-toned for his age.

“You… seemed to have lived a life unconnected to musical instruments.”

Adjusting the monocle on his eye, the old man fixed his gaze on Frieren.

“How can you tell?”

“Because you are a face I have not seen before. Those who love music and those who are loved by music will have visited this place sooner or later.”

The old man asserted his words with such sincere belief.

“Those who love music will immediately be obsessed with the instruments here. Those who are loved by music are people my eyes immediately recognize. So, yes, I can tell. Will you let me see your face?”

And then he beckoned her to come closer.

“My, my, I am surprised. It seems like you are the latter.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your ears, the corner of your eyes, your features. You appear to be an elf.”

“I am an elf, but…”

Frieren didn’t immediately catch the drift of the conversation.

“I have something I want people like you to have.”

After saying, “Wait for me,” the old man turned on his heel and took out a small wooden box from the back of the store and opened it. Inside was a palm-sized ocarina-like musical instrument.

The instrument’s intricate design was obvious even to the untrained eye.

“This is the Möglich. [2]”

“Möglich?”

“Its other name is ‘the Impossible’ [2]. It’s an instrument said to take a hundred years to master.”

“I once heard the horn is said to be the most difficult instrument in the world for humans to play.”

Frieren replied, recalling the boy from the marching band earlier. She remembered him struggling to play.

“That is a topic for ordinary humans. This instrument, however, was originally made by elves. You seem to be unaware of this.”

“That’s right. I didn’t know. Though it’s not strange if some elf did invent something like that.”

Frieren knew some of her own kind who spent so many years just killing time. [3]

“My great-grandfather inherited the Möglich, and he analyzed its structure. Apparently, it is impossible to produce a sound with this instrument unless they continue infusing in a small amount of mana while maintaining a perfect equilibrium. It would take more than ten years to produce a proper sound on this instrument. Fifty years is not even enough for an experienced mage to play one tune with it.”

“Really?” Frieren replied vaguely, not making it clear whether she was interested or not.

“I heard after one hundred years of diligently studying it, the sound one can play from this instrument is unparalleled.”

In fact, the old shopkeeper spent his life trying to master it. However, it was impossible for him to master the instrument as he did not possess any magical power. He could not even make it produce a sound.

“There is yet no one who has mastered it, much less know how to play it, so this instrument is still for sale, waiting for a buyer.”

The instrument had this eye-popping price tag. It was an amount that could already buy a house, and there was no way Frieren could afford it, not with the travelling-expenses-money she had on hand.

Of course, Frieren had no intention to buy it.

Certainly, it was rather interesting a fellow elf spent part of their long life in the form of developing this musical instrument. What kind of elf are they? Why did they give it to humans?

Most likely, she felt that this might be no more than a prank. It was an instrument that made sounds that could not be produced within the very short, fleeting lives of humans, after all.

“I am here because I want to hear the Möglich’s melodies one day. I have long sought for that timbre no words can describe. For so many years, this whole time. I eagerly awaited any who loved music or is loved by music to come here and finally fulfill my wish. It might be an impossible dream now, but I feel the guidance of the Goddess is at work that I am able to meet you, an elf.”

“I’m sorry, but…”

“I have no need for your money.”

“I can’t pay, then.”

“I want an elf like you to have it.” The old shopkeeper said with a strong tone.

His eyes held no arrogance on them, as if he was pushing his impossible dream onto someone else, but instead were filled with unadulterated hope.

“………”

After some hesitation, Frieren replied.

“If there’s no other buyers, I’ll think about it. This should be bought by someone who should own it though.”

“I see… Come back. I am sure you will.”

“I’ll be back. I plan on staying here for a while.”

The old man, as if to remind himself, called out to Frieren as she was about to leave.

“What is your name?”

“Frieren.”

“What a fine name. A name loved by music.”

2.

The dusk was casting its shadow over the city by the time she left the music store.

Frieren felt how the city’s tune changed between day and night.

Unlike the bustling daytime and the soundless midnight, the comforting evening was like a soft breeze caressing her cheeks.

Let’s have dinner, Frieren thought.

During the time she traveled with Himmel and their party, Himmel always decided where they would eat. He had this exceptional ability to find out any restaurant that had what Frieren and the others wanted without them telling him what they were in the mood to eat.

How did you know? She once asked him at the dinner table.

“You all have this way of showing what you’re thinking on your faces.”

Himmel smiled as he said this.

“Heiter’s face now has the color of a ditch.”

Eisen took a glance at the drunkard next to him.

“What?!”

Heiter looked back at Frieren, his face looking like an undead. He was so dead drunk he couldn’t tell the difference between Eisen and Frieren.

“You reek of booze.”

Frieren kicked him while Himmel laughed.

“Frieren, you see, I enjoy nothing more than having a meal with the four of us like this. I choose the food every one of us like as I want to make sure we all have a good time.”

She recalled wondering even then if it was the answer to her question.

She then looked at the restaurant now in front of her and thought it had the same appearance and atmosphere as the one from that time.

This restaurant, called Parlante [3], was such a calm place it was like it was not her first time entering it.

“What did Himmel like?”

Thinking back, Himmel always ordered his food last. It was often a different dish from theirs, or he would choose a dish that was easy to share between the four of them.

After that, he would portion out his food little by little, share that, and say, “Isn’t it more fun to have a variety of dishes at once?”

They had eaten around the table in as many places as she could remember. They partook of seafood when they were in coastal towns, they ate wild greens and hunted game in campgrounds, and they particularly were fond of each region’s local specialties.

“The food that can only be eaten in the place you’re in becomes a shared memory with the people you went in with. Even if you forget, you’ll remember again when you go there and eat the local food. That’s how I want to travel.”

Frieren remembered them talking about this one day, so she then called the waiter.

“Is there any dish you can only eat at this restaurant?”

Would Himmel be surprised to find out she had started thinking like that? Or would he laugh and say, “It’s written on your face,” as if he had already predicted this would happen?

The waiter flipped carefully through the menu pages.

“Our specialty is the l'oeuf omelette [4], made of ten chicken eggs. This dish has four servings, so shall I bring you a quarter of that?”

“No, I’ll order it as it is. If I can’t finish it all, I’ll have the rest on take-out.”

This dish, which was loved by well-known musicians, was bigger than expected and took up a large space on the table.

The evening for one person went on, her recalling that lively dinner table she once shared with others.

3.

It has been a month since she stayed, but she had been so distracted by the magic tool shops and the cityscapes, she wasn’t able to fully explore the small city.

Every time she passed the music store, however, the old shopkeeper would enthusiastically call Frieren’s name.

It had become routine for both of them to exchange small greetings.

It wasn’t particularly a trouble to Frieren, but somehow, she felt like going somewhere a bit different for today.

Not far off the city center, there was a street lined with monuments of musicians. Some were well-known, but others were unknown to Frieren.

At the end of the line, however, she found a rather out-of-place statue.

It was a bust of Himmel holding a violin. It was probably commissioned by the time he was travelling alone in neighboring countries after the Demon King’s defeat.

“He was here, too…” Frieren muttered unconsciously.

His eyes were closed, but his facial expression on the chin rest conveyed such a strong will. This must be the work of a skilled craftsman. One could tell a lot of time was spent making the statue. The finish it had was unique even among the more than one hundred types of heroes’ statues.

“So, he could play such a musical instrument.”

She muttered those words to herself, not wanting anyone else to hear, but from behind her came an unexpected response.

“It’s just as Master Himmel said.”

When Frieren turned around, she saw the speaker was an old woman. There was quite a gap between the woman’s voice, which was quite youthful, and the woman’s elderly appearance. The woman continued with a well-projected voice.

“Might you be Lady Frieren?”

“……?”

For a few moments, Frieren couldn’t understand the words directed at her.

“What do you mean?”

“Master Himmel said that when he came here before.”

The old woman, using skillful vocal acrobatics, reenacted her and Himmel’s state during that time.

“One day in the future, a mage named Frieren will visit this city. I want to make a statue that will serve as a landmark for her.”

“A landmark? Won’t everyone just stop in front of Master Himmel instead?”

“I’m sure they will. But I’m also sure they’ll recognize her immediately as she gazes at me.”

“Is that how it is?”

“Yes, it is.”

The old woman cleared her throat once, ending her little performance. Frieren felt it was strange, given the woman was surprisingly good at imitating voices. She was then told the woman was a former star performer at a circus troupe. It was no wonder that the woman’s voice carried through strongly.

“My apologies for the late introduction. My name is Flöte [5]. I got too excited at meeting you, Lady Frieren. This is embarrassing…”

Her cheeks blushed, a complete change from moments earlier when she was still acting with different voice tones.

“I witnessed a good performance.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Flöte smiled like a blooming flower.

“It seems like the statue was worth making.”

“Master Himmel lamented the statue wasn’t enough to convey his charm to the public.”

“Himmel would probably say that.”

Frieren then wiped the rust off the bronze statue’s flowy hair with a rag she carried.

“If only there was a ‘spell that removes rust from bronze statues’, this clean-up would be easier.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s all right. I can do it on my own. So, why did Himmel say that?”

As all the rust was wiped off and the statue’s smile returned, the old woman answered Frieren with a mysterious look on her face.

“I have a favor to ask of you, Lady Frieren.”

She said it so apologetically that Frieren got an anxious expression.

“…What’s the reward?”

“A grimoire with the ‘spell to record sounds in a book’.”

At that point, Frieren broke into a smile.

“All right, I’m in.”

4.

“So, you want to dispel a spell that will not dispel until the caster dies?”

Frieren asked again, repeating the old woman’s words.

“That’s rather difficult. Nearly impossible, even.”

 “’I’m sure Frieren will do it’, that’s what Master Himmel told me before.”

“That’s absurd.”

“I’m also embarrassed to say… I am the caster in question.”

“I’m not getting the situation. What do you mean?”

“I ought to speak in order, then.”

 As the old woman said this, she began narrating her personal history.

Flöte was not born in the Capelle region, but in a family of mages, and her parents moved to the area as they hated the horrors of war, and there they established a magical circus troupe. She didn’t originally want to join the troupe, but due to the education she received, she was able to use various magic spells back then.

One of those spells was the ‘spell to erase one memory until death’. It would be a terrible spell if abused by others, but the spell was restricted so that it can only be cast on oneself.

There were many rumors about its effectiveness, which were never true. Some people said it reminded them of the moment of death where one’s whole life flashed before one’s eyes, while others said it meant like being buried in eternal darkness.

In any case, it was a mysterious kind of magic.

One day, when she was 15 years old, having mastered the spell at such a young age, she then cast it upon herself.

Since then, Flöte had lost that one memory, even until now.

“In short, I want to dispel that oblivion spell I casted upon myself.”

“What memory did you erase?”

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. I did erase it, after all.”

With downcast eyes, she connected her words.

“However, I began to wonder if I did lose something important on a whim, especially as I grew older and get closer to death. If, due to the heat of the moment, I buried that memory I shouldn’t have lost with the magic spell I learned, at least, I want to remember what it is before I die. I’m sorry, you might think of this as a selfish request.”

The old woman finally spoke in a voice appropriate for her age.

“When Master Himmel was in the city, I got an opportunity to tell him about it. He then told me about you, Lady Frieren. That Lady Frieren is sure to do something about it.”

Observing Frieren carefully, the old woman then appealed to her.

“Please, will you grant my request? I want to spend the little time I have left, which will pass in the blink of an eye, without any regrets.”

The old woman spoke eloquently, but Frieren didn’t reply, seemingly getting lost in her thoughts.

She walked through the city after, letting time pass, and when night came, she booked a room in a tavern.

Late at night, when the tavern earlier filled with cheerful music finally went quiet, the events of the day came to Frieren’s thoughts as she leafed through the pages of her grimoire.

5.

“This journey must have been a blink of an eye for you,” Himmel said.

The comment came as perfectly natural as picking vegetables in the market.

“I’ve almost died so many times, but now that I’ve made it here, everything feels so nostalgic.”

After the Demon King’s defeat, Himmel continued on as he rode the shaky carriage back to the Royal Capital.

“Frieren. I know you don’t think of this as nostalgic yet, but the day will come when you remember this journey, us, and this moment. I don’t know when that will be. Maybe after I die. Even so, I’m sure you’ll be able to laugh and say, ‘That was a silly journey, wasn’t it?’”

“It’s too early for the serious talk! We haven’t truly defeated the Demon King until we return home!”

Heiter continued to tease them while smiling.

“Well, we still have requests to fulfill.”

On his return to the Royal Capital, Himmel received many requests. He took on small tasks to help people, fixing roads, even searching for lost things.

Their current request back then was from the village undertaker, who asked them to eliminate a monster that only reacted to human corpses.

When asked for more details, the undertaker said there was a dragon blocking the only bridge that connected the village and the town. Since the dragon damaging the area only occurred when corpses were carried away, it was concluded that the dragon had the tendency to target only corpses.

It didn’t respond to scarecrows, and pretending to be dead didn’t work on it either. Since it only paid attention to real human corpses, Frieren guessed it might have eyes that could detect whether a person is alive or dead.

“I’ll act as bait.”

Himmel spoke resolutely, as he always did.

“You just defeated the Demon King, and you want to die here?” Eisen said. “Stop being reckless!”

“Even Eisen, who doesn’t die even if he was eaten by monsters, is useless this time, huh.”

“Heiter, shut up.”

Frieren looked at the two badmouthing each other and then asked.

“Can’t we just borrow a corpse?”

“We can’t do that, Frieren.”

Himmel continued, as if to admonish her.

“A dead person is the image of a life lived fully. We can’t recklessly put that in danger. Besides, even if I’ll be acting as bait, I won’t truly die. Frieren, you can put me in a state of suspended animation, yes?”

“A state of suspended animation?”

She once casted the ‘spell to encase a living creature on ice’ on a ferocious enormous fish. Himmel must have that time in mind when he said this.

“Are you sure? If I make a slight mistake, you’ll truly die.”

“You can do it, right?”

“I don’t know.”

Frieren shrugged her shoulders and…

“Just do it this time. You’re capable of it, after all.”

“Go for it!”

Heiter and Eisen happily cheered.

“I don’t know what will happen.”

Himmel stood on top of the bridge as Frieren took out her staff.

“Frieren. Fire at me.”

A flash of mana concentrated on the staff’s tip then enveloped Himmel. The air around froze, and Himmel quietly collapsed.

Soon after, a very large shadow appeared on the bridge. A dragon came on sight. As it circled the sky above, it went straight at Himmel, as if it had set its sights on him. Its piercing eyes and the sharp claws it brought out now loomed nearer.

Facing that, a large swing of the warrior Eisen’s axe violently exploded.

A heavy, dull sound echoed throughout the area.

White smoke and cold air blended, then wafted away as if they were thawing. One could see that Eisen was the last one standing.

Frieren then promptly used the ‘spell to warm up the skin’ on Himmel’s cold body.

Regaining his breath, Himmel smiled at Frieren with a reddened face.

“See? I told you; you can do it.”

6.

Frieren snapped her grimoire shut.

“The ‘spell to erase one memory until death’, huh.”

The next day, as the morning sun rose, the city became slowly filled with sound.

Frieren woke up on the hard floor far from her bed, and with bed hair she went to Flöte’s house.

It was to put a theory into practice. This was a drastic measure, but in Frieren’s opinion this measure would work.

“Lady Frieren, good morning. Did you find out anything?”

The old woman’s voice seemed refreshed.

“You’ll have to die.”

“Huh?”

“That’s why I’ll put you into the state of suspended animation.”

“……”

There was a moment of confusion from the old woman, then silence. However, after a while, she looked like she had made up her mind.

“Please. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

As soon as she heard those words, Frieren gently raised her staff.

“Lie on the bed. I’m starting.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, indeed, but are you all right with this…?”

“I’ve done it once before. I can do it.”

“If Lady Frieren says so, then it will be all right. Please do so.”

The spell Frieren casted on the old woman enveloped the latter’s body, and for a moment her body stiffened.

Soon after, however, the old woman’s body regained movement, just like how coloring paint flowed when dissolved in water. She then wore this childlike expression, showing a trace of the young girl she once was.

“How are you?” Frieren asked shortly after. “You technically have died once, so your memory should be back.”

“Hahaha… I was worried like a child…”

The old woman seemed to have recovered her lost memory.

As an adolescent, she didn’t want to join the magical circus troupe. Instead, she yearned for a particular musical instrument.

“The Möglich, the instrument said to take a hundred years to master…”

She strongly yearned for it, but it was too expensive, and she could not spend a hundred years on it, so as a child, she thought she could just forget it existed.

So, she sealed that memory instead. She put the lid on that unattainable wish and began to live on reality.

“I’m glad I remembered… I’ll put my life on the line even if it takes years before I reached my dream, and I’ll start learning from now on.”

“I see. Then, you should have that instrument.”

As the Möglich was an instrument which used magical power to produce sound, without doubt, it would be a good match for Flöte, who was a mage.

“I’ll tell the music store shopkeeper. That there is this customer who has wanted it for a long time.”

“Oh, no. Are you truly sure?”

“I want someone who loves music more than me to have it, you see.”

“Thank you very much. Lady Frieren, I cannot thank you enough.”

“I get rewarded anyways, so…”

“Yes, you’re right.” The old woman took out a grimoire from her bookshelf. “This is the grimoire with the ‘spell to record sounds in a book’. I’m ashamed to say I have already recorded various sounds in this book…”

Flöte’s eyes went downcast as she said this, just like when she and Frieren first met.

“It sounds like a strange hobby, isn’t it? As it was routine for me to travel to various places as part of the magical circus troupe, I had a lot of once-in-a-lifetime chance encounters, and I wanted to preserve them in some form. The local people and the sounds from nature became my source of support. Among these are the recordings of my meetings with Master Himmel.”

“This isn’t a strange hobby. Himmel would have said the same.”

Frieren said she would return the grimoire when she finished reading it, then left the room.

On the same day, Frieren went to Restaurant Parlante, which was now a completely familiar place for her, and ordered an omelette. When she went to bed with a full stomach, she then opened the grimoire the old woman gave her.

Just as Flöte said, the grimoire had sounds from various ages, places, genders of people… some of them were sounds from nature, some being the noise of daily lives.

“You… you look familiar.”

Was this how the old music store shopkeeper sounded like when he was younger?

“I’ll have the ten-egg l'oeuf omelette, please!”

The voice of a very well-known musician continued.

“This time, I’m thinking of starting a marching band in this city.”

“One day in the future, a mage named Frieren will visit this city. I want to make a statue that will serve as a landmark for her.”

She heard Himmel’s voice as she turned a page. His voice was a bit different from the last time she met him, but it was still Himmel’s voice from her memories. It felt nostalgic, too.

And she realized that Flöte’s voice imitation before was a bit exaggerated.

“Please pose quickly! You’re just holding a violin…!”

This was probably the heartbroken cry of the craftsman who made that Himmel bust.

It seemed like Flöte, as a young girl, followed her interests and recorded these sounds from the various places she went, and the chance encounters she cherished. Frieren could just imagine how she looked like during then.

“………”

It might not be a bad idea to retrace that journey with everyone, she thought, looking at the east towards the Royal Capital.

In the end, Frieren decided to leave after staying in the city for around three months.

When she said goodbye to the music store shopkeeper, he excitedly said, “Flöte loves music and is loved by music.” He said the old woman mastered producing sounds on the Möglich at an extraordinarily fast pace, something that would have normally taken ten years.

After all, it was appropriate for those who should own it to have it.

As she was preparing herself to leave with these thoughts in mind, a marching band passed by in front of the tavern.

The boy playing the horn had grown taller in a short time, and his hat now fitted him better. His fingers holding the horn now had calluses on them, and his blowing on it sounded less labored than before.

The sound was brave and gentle, but eventually became grainy.

A celebratory fanfare sounding like a parade salute echoed on Frieren’s back as she left the city.

(END)

Translator’s Notes:

[1] Written as カペッレ in katakana. I decided to translate it as “Capelle”, as the word means “the private orchestra or band of a prince or church”, which is a reference to the marching band in this short novel.

[2] Written as メークリヒ in katakana. In German, “möglich” means “possible”.

[3] Written as パルランテ in katakana. “Parlante” means “a piece of music to be sung or played in the style of a recitative”.

[4] In French, "l'oeuf" means "egg". In short, this word is just a fancy term for "egg omelettes".

[5] Written as フレーテ in katakana. In German, “Flöte” means “flute” or “whistle”.

[6] Frieren was most likely thinking of Milliarde, an elf friend of hers who first appeared in Chapter 69.

[paula-of-christ]

hey I'm an atheist, and I have a question, I'm not sure if this comes off as offensive or anything but if it does I really don't mean it that way.

I saw some things about like... neurodivergent people (autism, ADHD etc) being seen as like people who were possessed by the devil in Christianity. and im just confused because I'm not sure whether all Christians think that neurodivergent people are like possessed and sinned or something, or if it's just those people. sorry if this doesn't make a lot of sense, I'm autistic and I was just wondering what you thought.

That's largely an Evangelical/Fundamentalist Christian idea nowadays. Way back when in medieval times everyone thought that (including other Abrahamic religions) but that was when in general we didn't understand the science behind mental illnesses and other similar diseases or neurodivergency. It really is just those people. Of course you will find a Catholic that also believes that, but the difference is, it is not taught by the Catholic Church, officially or unofficially, and that would be considered private opinions those people hold. Granted, Catholic-Christians still believe in demonic oppression and possession, but we realize that it is much less likely for people to be possessed. Can demons cause symptoms similar to those? Yes, but you have to without a reasonable doubt rule out those neurodivergencies prior to any kind of investigation into the demonic. And at that point, you probably have symptoms that go above and beyond those neurodivergencies.

Now as far as my personal opinion goes, I think depression and anxiety are demonic oppression in much more of an amount of time than we generally give credit for. However it doesn't extend to something like ADHD or autism, I think that's a stretch, my opinion is just based on my experience with depression and my observance of other people's depression and anxiety. Both of those things are almost totally cleared in most of the population by meditation (which a lot of prayer is), focusing on an object, or becoming aware of your surroundings (I cannot for the life of me think of what this is called but it's like, picking out things around you of the different senses). While medication can help, I do believe that the reason we see so much more anxiety now is because of the moving away from traditional religions, which almost all include multiple senses in their forms of worship. It isn't until American Protestantism really kicks off in the 18-19th century that we see these things become real issues, and at that time as well, a rise in anti-theism, rather than just agnosticism or atheism.

[michichi69]

MAAF & The Stolen Generations

It’s NAIDOC week y’all which has reminded me of that busted ass comic page, ‘MAAF’, specifically chapter 9. For the most part I’m sure this comic is a cool exploration of Indonesia and Australia but chapter 9 (in the author’s own words) includes a part regarding the Stolen Generations wherein, “Yolngu (Australia) became white and lost his memory”. I may sound a little harsh towards this author but I think they did have good intentions and poor execution of this concept. For context, I myself am the grandchild of a stolen child and so I do take issue when this subject is handled poorly.

Warning: This may include the images and names of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people who have since passed.

This is a fair warning that this will be long but I’m going to share some information on the subject to hopefully convey my grievances with the comic chapter. This will be upsetting and triggering at times so keep in mind this involves the kidnapping and abuse of children. To start, below is a summary of the philosophy behind the Stolen Generations.

This image shows how the Stolen Generations was intended to work. You take an Aboriginal child from their home who has a white parent, referred to as the dated terms ‘Half-Caste’ or ‘Half-blood’. Then that child goes on to procreate with a white person to produce a child with more ‘white blood’, then that child is usually taken themselves and repeats the process until you end up with a child who is of ‘white blood’. This process was often referred to as ‘breeding out the black’ or ‘breeding out the colour’, which was heavily based on blood quantum and phenotypical features. Western Australia’s Chief Protector of Aborigines (1915-1936) and Commissioner for Native Affairs (1936-1940), A. O. Neville (also known as ‘Mr.Devil’ by Aboriginal people), is pictured below.

He is quoted as saying:

"[T]hey have to be protected against themselves whether they like it or not. They cannot remain as they are. The sore spot requires the application of the surgeon's knife for the good of the patient, and probably against the patient's will."

This epitomises the justifications of ‘biological assimilation’ that the orchestrators and supporters of the Stolen Generations often used to continue this cycle (officially) for almost one hundred years from the mid-1800s to the 1970s*.

(*Indigenous children were also unofficially wrongfully taken by child services and placed in white homes or institutions beyond this date, I recommend watching After the Apology (2017) for some of this.)

But where were these children taken to exactly?

They were called missions and were typically Catholic but could be run by other Christian denominations such as Lutherans. Children essentially grew up being forced into practising the religion of the institution they were placed in. The abuses that happened in these institutions were prolific and entailed the attempt at a total loss of connection to Indigenous families, cultures and languages. Specific examples of the conditions of many of these missions include stories of harsh abusive punishments, maggots in the food, and sexual abuse. Many children were taken in infancy or at very young ages, some taken directly from hospitals they were just born in, either never knowing their families or knowing very little of them and being subjected to these abuses their entire lives leading up to adulthood.

I would recommend watching The Rabbit Proof Fence (2002) for a little more of an introductory ‘visual example’ of how missions typically looked and ran, albeit much more watered down than what the lived reality was. For that, I suggest seeking out the stories of former stolen children.

Now maybe just with that background you can see my grievances with chapter 9 of MAAF but I’ll just spell it out. I take major issue with depicting Australia as literally turning from Yolgnu to a white man as a result of the Stolen Generations - taken children were and always will be Aboriginal and taken children still always belonged and continue to belong to their family’s language groups. Tangentially, just to cover all bases here, I also take issue with implying light skinned Aboriginal people aren’t Aboriginal because of the same history but MAAF quite literally TURNED A YOLGNU MAN INTO A WHITE MAN? As stated by the author themself - so I don’t believe they were making an astute commentary on how really light skinned Aboriginal people will always be Aboriginal, I think instead it’s exactly what it looks like. I can’t control what content people choose to make, and I’m not necessarily totally against using the medium of Hetalia fanworks to discuss historically sensitive subjects either. However, I will just say this - Please consider the work you make public, because these sensitive issues have affected real people who might come across that work. I've seen a similar handling of Canadian residential schools in the Hetalia fandom which was a very similar concept to the Stolen Generations in Australia, and of course, these depictions have also fallen short by depicting this as a literal 'white metamorphosis' of Indigenous children. To convey just how much this has bothered me, chapter 9 of MAAF is frankly my version of one of those probably well meaning but still super insensitive 9/11 America fanfictions that just come off gauche. I suppose I just hope people now have the tools to look at these depictions a little more critically than the fandom historically has?

Anyways, that's mostly it. See ya. EDIT: Some text got lost when I copied it over from another document so I've added the missing text again. EDIT 2: I've also seen a lot more stuff from MAAF and the artist even regarding some questionable choices regarding the interpretation of SEA Indigneous peoples and North American Indigenous peoples, so yeah, MAAF and the artist themselves probably aren't the most reliable sources out there in terms of the interpretation of Indigenous peoples GENERALLY speaking... 😅 ANYWAYS - Thank y'all for showing interest in this post, I'm very passionate about sharing information on the Stolen Generations and hopefully using my unique perspective for some good.

[theelderhazelnut]

Titan Ombra

Template by lovely @malicedragoness <3

Note: This is so close to “Rise of the Villains: Darker than Black” ending but it’s not the same. So yeah, minor spoilers ahead! Also, this is not proofread.

Title: Ombra the Ironhead, Goddess of knowledge and revenge

Motto: “I infect their minds like a deadly desease.”

Powers:

Ferrokinesis - Ombra has full control over iron, but she can also manipulate other kinds of metals without being able to create them out of thin air.

Gift of Knowledge - Ombra is able to manipulate the minds of those she has chosen to make them “aware”, or in other words, grant them the awakening. Once the awakening has happened, that person unearths the arcane knowledge of the universe whether in just a second (by Ombra) or a lifetime.

Call of rebellion - Ombra gathered an army of angry people all around the tealms to rebel against the cult. She can do that now with less effort.

Realm they favor: Not a realm, but Quan Chi’s timeline. Also, she tends to spend more time in Metalrealm since she used to live there most of her life.

Places of Worship: There are temples all over the realms in which people can go to and pray. At the beginning of her timeline, Ombra was unsure about whether make herself known to her creatures, or keep her identity classified. But then she realized that it’s for the best to do what the Elder Gods did in the previous timeline. So Ombra created her own cult and religion in order to control the creatures. That was exactly what she fought against in the previous timeline, but she came to realize that she was stuck in a loop. There was no escaping this eroded system. Gradually, she watched herself turn into something she used to hate with every bits of her being.

Consort: Titan!Quan Chi is now her unofficial official husband. They found each other again after eons of loneliness and anticipation. However, Ombra made sure that the Quan Chi in her timeline has the good life he deserves.

Physical Appearance: Ombra now has short hair - it’s pretty short on the left side close to her forehead, and it gradually grows longer as it circles around her head to her right side -. Her left eye is golden, and the skin around it is gray with golden edges and veins as though it was exploded. The scars on her cheeks which grow from her iron jaw are golden as well.

Armor/Style of clothing: Ombra remains loyal to the style she used to have in the previous timeline. She’s almost always is seen to be wearing a black overcoat which makes her look a bit huge. Underneath that she wears customized vest with gothic elements, a shirt or a turtleneck. As for shoes, Ombra wears knee-high punk/gothic boots.

Weapons: Ombra doesn’t really need any weapons as she is able to create a lot of them with her powers. However, when it comes to her weapon of choice, Ombra prefers a gunblade. She can manipulate the blade while also shooting those who have dared to wrong her.

How does Geras help them/regard them: They have a love-hate kind of relationship. Geras a admires her calculated and intelligent character, but he also knows what she did in the previous timeline - causing an apocalypse -. At first he tried his best to stop her from executing her new plan: killing the remaining cultists and aiding the deadly alliance. But now he feels like his mindset is gradually becoming like Ombra’s. She’s the one in control after all.

Any characters or events that have drastically changed that you would like to mention?:

1. Quan Chi is the protector of the Netherrealm because he deserves the best.

2. Her parents are alive and have a good life without her. She just watches them from afar.

3. Shao Kahn is the protector of Outworld.

4. Jerrod and Sindel rule Edenia, and Kitana is their only daughter. Then Kitana falls in love with Jade, her bodyguard.

5. Hotaru is the protector of Orderrealm.

6. Havik is the protector of Chaosrealm.

7. Shirai Ryu doesn’t exist.

8. Raiden and Fujin are Ombra’s butlers.

9. Tarkatans are a race of people who live somewhere far from the cities of Outworld. Mileena is their princess.

Backstory/Notes/Tidbits:

The whole world was pouring down my fingers, splitting in between them. The Elder Gods were clawing at the last rope of chance to save their throne, never accepting that it was already too late. Cetrion had sheltered behind her mother, begging her to end me. Little did she know that I would never be dead really. Thousands of me was born all across their realms with sharpened teeth, ready to follow my footsteps. However, I was left with no choice but to fight Kronika in combat.

After the keeper of time turned into solid stone before my eyes, and was shattered to dust, I kneeled down. The blood staining my overcoat was almost invisible. It was only Kronika’s dust which shone like stars over this black sky.

Now I was the keeper of time. This uninvited responsibility of restarting the whole timeline and creating the new one fell heavy on my already exhausted shoulders. It was true what they said about people like me. We fought with monsters only to turn into one. Now I was one of them, exactly. It was all a cycle perhaps.

But I was granted with the greatest power. The reality would bend to my will. I would keep chasing any remaining cultists, and remind them who was their worst nightmare. And I would only hope that one day, I’d shroud myself in Quan Chi’s arms with a peaceful mind.

[acowardinmordor]

Idle thoughts for the historical royalty au it turns out I want to read, but can’t be bothered to write.

This is a fairly young or small kingdom. Early Plantagenets but less established.

Steve’s mom is more in the category of Eleanor of Aquitaine. She’s off in her own lands trying to fix the mess that the King made. The King forbade her taking Steve with her and they both have other lovers. Steve’s mom had several failed pregnancies when he was young, and at least one or two siblings that died too young for him to really remember.

The King is fighting yet another push against Not-France. Has been gone for at least two years, will be gone at least one more. Left his advisors and council in place, and gave Steve very little authority. He’s basically Henry the first. Except he’s Richard

Most of the important Lords and families left the capital when the King did, either to go on campaign, or back to their own homes. The adults who remain are either greedy and manipulative or too low ranked to have another option. Lots of the children of families are left there as good faith

Nancy and Barb are the daughters of nobility, not known for their social standing. Carol and Tommy are trying very hard to get/stay in Steve’s favor so they can elevate their and their families’ status. Joyce got elevated to a role like a chatelaine because the prior died while the king was gone. Hopper is Captain of the Guard.

Magic exists if you ask the right person, but in any official sense or statement there is science, religion, and blasphemous rumors.

El is for sure somewhere in the changeling shade of things. But in the sense that she got stolen, lived with the Unseelie Court, and escaped. Because he is the reason I am in this fandom; El follows the sound of music and laughter and finds Eddie.

Eddie lives with his uncle, who was in the last war, took an arrow to the knee and can’t serve again. Does odd jobs and repairs things for people. Eddie is supposed to be apprenticing as a scribe, but hates writing down ledgers of how much the Lords spend and how much they tax. It’s doomed from the start. But, it means he’s the rare example of a poor kid in the city who can read and write. He makes spare money telling stories, writing down and using bits of histories and rumors he hears while apprenticing. And because he travels from the town up to the court, he’s also doing a bit of unofficial trade.

Lucas helps at the stables. Mike wants to be a knight, but was too young to go with the king to war. Younger kids went, but the Wheelers are just noblé enough that he didn’t. Only son privileges. Will was sick as a kid, so he’s seen as kind of a ‘what’s the point’ but he learned to read a little, then spent so long sick he taught himself more.

Dustin flits around the court and castle, bullying people into explaining things to him. He has learned many things, and is still a little genius, but his reading is kinda self taught so he can’t always say why he’s right beyond saying that he is. Claudia came with the Queens court but stayed after the Queen left again. She’s in a weird important-but-not-noble position. Steve adores her because she was around more than his mom.

Actually. Yeah. Dial up the magic a little. The King conquered the region and stomped out most of the hedge-witch type folks. Also pissed off some of the more powerful ones as they fled. But the big piece is that he broke A Thing™ that served to hold the worlds separate. That was a least 15 years ago. The leak is slow/irs been getting worse.

Lucas’s family isn’t nobility, but they’re wealthier than some of the nobles. He’s the personable son with a fondness for horses, racing, hunts, etc.

Max and family moved to Hawkins and something something, Max is now working at a smithy. It’s not what she should be doing, but she’s really good at it. Also: horseshoes gets us LuMax.

Maybe the Hargrove were noble, mayfields weren’t. Lord Hargrove went to war, Billy has been there too, and the second you look away from max she’s back to doing what she wants.

Murray is something like a hedgewitch.

The Russians become some of the conquered people, looking for an opportunity to reclaim and lacking that: a chance to fuck things up for Hawkins.

Creel is def a kid from wayyy long ago, who got conned by the fae, but spent so long there that he’s got magic of his own, and a love/hate with a humans.

[nientedenada]

Why the Altmeri Commentary on Talos is Important to Lore Discussion (Even if It Isn't the Thalmor's End Goal) 

Originally posted on r/teslore three years ago. To be clear, important in this context means if you're trying to guess where TES might go in the future. And as the years go by, and we now have an almost complete turn-over of developers at Bethesda, it may be less relevant. Still, the new developers will have all these old ideas to rummage through.

This begins with a split among fans, though I don't think it has to be a nasty split. There is a very strong opinion in /r/teslore that Out-of-Game texts are valid if you want them to be, if you find them interesting enough for your Tamriel. And there's another very strong opinion that only official lore is really valid for theorizing. To be completely honest, we all probably dabble in one or the other at different times. Sometimes we are more creative and speculatory about Tamriel, other times we are arguing out the Lowest Common Denominator of agreed-upon lore. (It's never actually agreed upon, but that's part of the fun.)

But there's a third possibility: examining Out of Game texts for the perspective they can give us on In-game lore. A really good example of how this works would be the document: On the Nords' Totem Religion. It was a design document for Skyrim which was not incorporated into the game directly. However, the document gives a lot of insight into the little we do see in Skyrim of the ancient Nord religion. It is useful in interpreting the game itself.

It's also useful for going forward. When ESO returned to Skyrim this year, we could bet that the devs would be taking a closer look at the local religion, as they had in Elsweyr last year. And we could also guess that they might turn to that unofficial Skyrim design document which best explained the original ideas for the Nord religion. As of a few weeks ago, much of the Totem Religion document's lore has been added to the official lore as in-game books in ESO.

The totem religion document is as uncontroversial example of this process as you can find. Most everyone in lore circles has regarded it as a very useful document. You won't find that agreement about all OOG unofficial writings. But I'd like to make the argument for why the Altmeri Commentary on Talos is worth knowing and discussing even if you don't end up thinking it's true.

So, I'll begin with quoting the whole thing. It's pretty short.

What appears to be an Altmeri commentary on Talos To kill Man is to reach Heaven, from where we came before the Doom Drum's iniquity. When we accomplish this, we can escape the mockery and long shame of the Material Prison. To achieve this goal, we must: 1) Erase the Upstart Talos from the mythic. His presence fortifies the Wheel of the Convention, and binds our souls to this plane. 2) Remove Man not just from the world, but from the Pattern of Possibility, so that the very idea of them can be forgotten and thereby never again repeated. 3) With Talos and the Sons of Talos removed, the Dragon will become ours to unbind. The world of mortals will be over. The Dragon will uncoil his hold on the stagnancy of linear time and move as Free Serpent again, moving through the Aether without measure or burden, spilling time along the innumerable roads we once travelled. And with that we will regain the mantle of the imperishable spirit.

What it doesn't say: Nowhere does it say it's a Thalmor document. Nowhere does it mention the Towers. Those two points are pretty well-known in lore circles, but they come up enough to make it worthwhile to point out.

Second thing to notice: its date.

Submitted by Lady N on Sun, 09/19/2010 - 19:53 Obscure texts Author: Michael Kirkbride Librarian Comment: Many of these are in-character snippets taken from various forum posts.

It doesn't have an exact date; the old forums have been deleted. But we do see that it was re-posted on the Imperial Library on 09/19/2010, the year before Skyrim came out. This important detail is glossed over in a lot of the discussion of its relevance. It is not a document written after Skyrim trying to put a creative spin on some details in-game. It's a document published before Skyrim came out, and hence a window on the discussions that were going on in the development of Skyrim. We need to look at the stuff in Skyrim with the question: Does the Altmeri commentary shed any light on what's going on here?

Well, the fact that the Altmeri Commentary suggests that Talos needs to be erased from the mythic makes it very relevant. Maybe this is not the reason for the Thalmor's Talos ban in the game that eventually was released. But it's evidence that during the development of Skyrim, the reason was being kicked around by someone in discussions with the devs. It's that context that finally informs the two lines in-game that might refer back to the Commentary.

The first and most often quoted is Ancano's boast:

You think I can't destroy you? The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?

It's pointed out that he can simply be boasting of his power there, without any reference to a supposed greater plan. And yes, that's true. But remember, we aren't interpreting that line in a vacuum. There was a development-related post that brought up a fanatical Altmer idea of unmaking the world before Skyrim, and it's just a coincidence that a fanatic Thalmor member boasts of having the power to do so in the game? These things have nothing to do with each other?

And then there is the other line from Esbern which I think is even more significant.

I don't suppose they want the world to end any more than we do. Or at least, they'd prefer it to end on their terms.

Esbern's statement does not confirm this is the Thalmor's plan. What it does is confirm that the idea this is the Thalmor's plan exists in-universe. And Esbern is not some random conspiracist; he's a lore-master. Dragons were his hobby but we also know from his dossier that the Thalmor consider him responsible for two of the most damaging operations on Dominion soil. He knows his stuff when it comes to the Thalmor. His opinion may be affected by paranoia, he may not even hold the opinion very strongly (suggested by how he corrects himself there), but he is not some random guy in the pub with a conspiracy theory about the Thalmor. If it's a conspiracy theory, it's an important one in-universe.

So, we have a timeline that suggests the Commentary is important, and two references in the game of Skyrim to the idea presented in the Commentary. The references are independent, coming from ideological enemies, Ancano and Esbern. I'd say that makes a very strong case for the Commentary's ideology existing within the universe.

If this concept exists within the universe, the Commentary is important even if it does not represent the Thalmor's ultimate goal accurately.

But where does one go with that? With Michael Kirkbride's historic and ongoing influence on the TES franchise, elements of the Commentary are quite likely to make it into future games. On the other hand, the Commentary may be a window on an idea in development that was tossed around and ultimately abandoned. Maybe it's not Thalmor belief, really. It could even be Blades propaganda. Maybe Ancano believes in it, but he's actually a fanatic who's out of step with the Thalmor in general. etc. etc. etc.

Acknowledging that an Out-of-Game source is relevant does not mean accepting it as the Truth Bound To Be Revealed by TES VI. TES fandom has had enough of that over-certainty already. I think we've all met someone who takes some random developer's post as The Gospel Truth that cannot be questioned. That's frustrating, for sure. But let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater. It doesn't make sense to ignore it completely in discussions about the Thalmor's ultimate goal. There are enough sources to make it worth looking at, both inside and outside the universe.

This post was about the relevance of the Commentary, but if you're interested in how the Commentary's ideology could function within the Thalmor, I can never recommend enough this old /r/teslore post: Analyzing the Altmeri Commentary on Talos.

Additional reply in comments: I thought I'd hedged enough on my statement. I won't claim Esbern as an expert on the Thalmor's ontological goals, although he definitely is more knowledgable about the Thalmor than the random guy at the pub. I do think, however, that his statement confirms that some people within the universe think this is the Thalmor's end goal. I see his statement there as he's not certain himself of it.

In the comments of the original post, a user who has since deleted their account posted a very interesting timeline of the development under discussion. I also recommend this discussion with Misticsan about the post and whether fans give the Commentary undue importance in contrast to other sources on the Thalmor.

This was only the beginning of a very involved journey into the weird fandom status of the Altmeri Commentary and the Towers Theory. It's a lengthy saga, and I've put off formatting it for tumblr but I do mean to eventually copy all the teslore posts over here.

[raamitsu]

(⁠☞ﾟ⁠∀ﾟ⁠)⁠☞ WHAT YOU NEED TO LEARN ABOUT ME :-

→ PROFILE

NAME: JAMELA || NICKNAME: MELA / HANA

PRONOUNS: SHE/HER || RELIGION: ISLAM

AGE: GROWN || COUNTRY OF ORIGIN: 🇲🇾

MOST LIKE: ANYTHING THAT IS AESTHETICALLY PLEASING, CREATIVE AND BEAUTIFUL

MOST DISLIKE: NSFW ARTS AND FANFICS

→ CONTENTS

WHAT I DO ON TUMBLR: SHARING INFORMATION, UPDATES AND NEWS OF MY FAVOURITE ANIMANGA

REMINDER

ANNOUNCEMENTS

INFO / NEWS

OFFICIAL & UNOFFICIAL

COMING SOON

EARLY LEAKS / SPOILERS

INCOMPLETE / COMPLETE

TOP THREE MAIN SERIES THAT IS / ARE BEING SHARED ON MY BLOG :

JUJUTSU KAISEN

WIND BREAKER

GOKURAKUGAI

OTHER SERIES THAT FOLLOWS BUT NOT COMMONLY :

MY HERO ACADEMIA

ONE PIECE

VANITAS NO CARTE

TOWER OF GOD

→ CLOSING

EXTRA NOTE FOR FANFIC WRITERS AND READERS ON MY PROFILE SECTION:

USUALLY I WOULD LOOK INTO MY FOLLOWERS' BLOG JUST IN CASE THEY WRITE OR REBLOG FANFICS BEFORE I DECIDED TO FOLLOW THEM, HOWEVER, IF I HAVE ALREADY FOLLOWED YOU WITHOUT BEING AWARE OF THE FACT THAT YOU DO OR INTERACT WITH FANFICS, THEN IT IS ALRIGHT. REMEMBER THAT I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST YOU, YOUR PROJECTS AND/OR YOUR INTEREST, I JUST DO NOT READ THEM SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS NOT MY INTEREST AND IF POSSIBLE, I WISH TO SEE LESS OF THEM ON MY DASHBOARD. THEREFORE, I HOPE NO OFFENSE ARE TAKEN. I WISH TO BE RESPECTFUL WITH EVERYONE AND I AM EXPECTING THE SAME FROM YOU GUYS :'D

YOU MAY CHECK THE REST OF THE STUFF ON MY PINNED POST! THAT IS ALL. THANK YOU ♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠)

[jcs-study]

Thinking About JCS Too Much, Vol. 1: "Jaded Mandarin" - Lost in Translation?

Intro

In my second attempt at an introduction for this blog, I pondered aloud, "Ever wonder if you’re too big a fan of your favorite piece of entertainment?" Suffice it to say, that is far from the only time that thought has crossed my mind.

You see, unlike many faded celebrities attempting to jump-start their careers afresh by "finding religion," I followed the opposite path. I don’t remember hearing about God, Jesus, or anything like that before a certain age. I was about 4 when I first started becoming aware of religion. Something related to Christendom spawned a cover story in Time magazine, and they had this beautiful traditional artwork of Jesus on the front that caught my eye. I became obsessed with religion in general, and the Christ story in particular. (Even today a lot of my extracurricular reading is devoted to religious fiction and non-fictional religious studies, and the shelves of my film collection are strewn with biblical epics, both Old Testament and New. I’m by no means invested in the Abrahamic faiths -- in fact, I'm now an avowed atheist -- but I won’t deny that I’m very knowledgeable about them.)

This obsession led me to Jesus Christ Superstar, and so my life as a show biz professional, and my switch from a special interest (yay, spectrum!) in religion and the surrounding scholarship to one in a single telling of a story that happens to deal with religious subject matter, began.

Naturally, this has led to a few embarrassing incidents of over-thinking where I nerd out just a little too much, primarily from a literary perspective. (Case in point: my answer to a recent question posed to this blog about the lack of a detail from the biblical story in the show. Did I need to go "all in" on whether or not Jesus was actually prophesying that Peter would deny him three times by the time a rooster crowed? Probably not. Did I anyway? Oh, c'mon, you've read it by now, don't make me relive it.)

So, in a similar vein, I'm going to periodically write about those moments where I nerd out too much, in hopes that my immense nerdiness will maybe give someone a deeper understanding of the show, even just a small part of it. You've seen one, thanks to an inquiry from an anonymous fellow fan; after the jump, here's another.

Translation vs. Adaptation

Among the many unique features of JCS, it was one of the first musicals of its kind to be widely adapted into the local vernacular when presented internationally, rather than merely importing an English-language cast as the custom used to be.

Besides its mother tongue, JCS can (theoretically) be heard in:

Czech

French

German (anecdotally, it has been reported that the German translation is not the best, which is why many productions in German-speaking countries opt for the English instead; however, that might be about to change, as the production at the Luisenburg Festspiele Wunsiedel this summer is supposed to mark the debut of a new authorized one -- we'll see how it goes!)

Hungarian (there's two Hungarian ones, actually)

Japanese

Polish

Portuguese

Romanian (in a translation recently debuted in, of all places, Chicago)

Russian (there are several, both official and unofficial; we will deal with all of them today)

Spanish (both the European variety and two Mexican ones)

Swedish (at least two that I'm aware of, the original and whatever Ola Salo uses for productions involving him)

(And those are just the ones I know about.)

While I appreciate JCS most in its original language, being a native English speaker myself, I realize translation and adaptation are important, for all the reasons that they usually are: not everybody speaks a foreign language with dexterity, or is capable of processing it at the pace a play or musical is performed; almost without exception, people respond better to the language they grew up speaking, especially in a piece of entertainment; and, most importantly, translation allows ideas and information to spread across cultures, sometimes changing history in the process. (After all, no matter what your religious belief, part of the reason the Bible -- the show's source material, as if you needed a reminder -- has had such an impact on history is the sheer number of translations, which, at last count, is 531 languages.)

However, translation into any language (pro or amateur) is a delicate art, especially where a play or musical is concerned. As Don Bartlett, who has translated Danish, German, Norwegian, Spanish, and Swedish books into English, put it in a piece where several translators were interviewed for The Guardian, “There’s always a tension between being true to the original and being readable.” On the one hand, translating the meanings of words and phrases in a literal way maintains fidelity to the text; on the other, translating sense-for-sense, taking into account the meanings of phrases or whole sentences, can improve readability. And that’s just books… imagine doing this for theater or film!

Personally, I subscribe to the assessment of Edith Grossman (also interviewed in the aforementioned Guardian piece), who once said: “…the most fundamental description of what translators do is that we write — or perhaps rewrite — in language B a work of literature originally composed in language A, hoping that readers of the second language — I mean, of course, readers of the translation — will perceive the text, emotionally and artistically, in a manner that parallels and corresponds to the aesthetic experience of its first readers. This is the translator’s grand ambition. Good translations approach that purpose. Bad translations never leave the starting line.”

(Or, to tie this back into our topic somewhat more closely, I'm mashing together two quotes from two different interviews with the late Herbert Kretzmer, the adaptor of such popular foreign musicals as Les Misérables, Marguerite, and Kristina: "Words have resonance within a culture, they have submarine strengths and meaning. If I wanted a literal translation, I would go to the dictionary. Translation — the very word I rebut and resent, because it minimizes the genuine creativity that I bring to the task. [...] I offer this advice to any lyricist invited to adapt or translate foreign songs into English: Do not follow the original text slavishly. Re-invent the lyric in your own words, remembering that there may be better ways of serving a master than trotting behind him on a leash.")

Nowhere is this job harder than JCS, especially in Russian. As languages, Russian and English are just too different from each other, each very rich in emotional shadings that the other language lacks (or at least conveys differently), to a point that nearly every new production of JCS over there has led to a fresh translation. Tim Rice's unusual wordplay, masterful (at times) in English, is very difficult to convey in a foreign tongue, especially when it can be safely argued that the expression in question is hardly common to its native audience.

The Piece We're Evaluating

As if the title didn't give it away, I speak, of course, of a certain insult Judas hurls at Jesus during their climactic argument at the Last Supper, calling him:

A jaded mandarin A jaded mandarin As a jaded jaded faded jaded jaded mandarin

That's a doozy in English, to say the least. I may have written on this blog previously that I’ve heard enough jokes about the Last Supper being at an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant or Jesus’ penchant for citrus fruits to be tired of them all.

In case you missed Tim's actual meaning: mandarin is not just a variety of orange, a form of the Chinese language, or a term for an official in any of the nine top grades of the former imperial Chinese civil service (or clothing characteristic of what they’d allegedly wear or porcelain objets d’art depicting them). The root word for mandarin in Hindi means “counselor,” and – unfortunately, given this definition’s origin in unkind Asian racial stereotypes – the term came to refer (in colonialist British parlance) to a powerful official or senior bureaucrat, especially one perceived as reactionary and secretive. When he calls Jesus a “jaded mandarin,” Judas is saying that Jesus is corrupt, washed up, and useless as a leader.

Could Tim Rice have found a better way to say that? Probably. But this is the method he chose, and for better or worse, it has gone down in history ever since, including a recent parodic reference in the second season of the Apple TV+ series Schmigadoon! to a “sour macaroon.”

Now, it took all that explanation to convey its meaning in English. How well do you think it crossed over to Russian? Well, no less than 16 translators decided to try; some were official, others fan translations that were used in little-known productions. (The number should not be surprising. This is very much the viewpoint of an outsider looking in who lived long after that time, but when an album is banned by the government, bootleg copies change hands for huge sums "underground," and the music on that album is in a style also banned by the government… well, let's just say something "forbidden" is going to attract a lot of people. After that initial burst of enthusiasm, then it's like any other piece of literature which is translated a number of times by multiple people -- someone who thinks they can do a better job of conveying the foreign meaning in their native tongue, perhaps in a more modern dialect or a more relevant way.)

Inspired by a conversation I had on ye olde JCS Zone Forum (RIP) with Russian fan Pasha Levcovetz, we're going to take a look at all of them, evaluating them for literal vs. poetic accuracy and also offering opinions on which might have even -- dare I say it -- improved on the original. For the sake of most of my readership, I'll render the Russian in (literal but accurate) English so you can understand what the adapted lyrics intend to say. (Special thanks to Pasha for his help!)

Translating "Mandarin"

As one might expect with a phrase that is not exactly common linguistic currency, and the number of jokes made about Tim's choice of words, the first problem Russian translators might encounter is "mandarin" -- more specifically, whether or not it is a literal reference to mandarin fruit.

Much to both my dismay and my amusement, two of the official translators and three of the fans decided that the lyric indeed referred to the fruit.

In the Teatr Mossoveta production in Moscow, which has been presented numerous times from 1990 to the present (and which made much larger departures that I've previously written about in response to a question from @nemoverne), Yaroslav Kesler rendered it like so:

Like a pitiful tangerine Like a pitiful tangerine Like a pitiful, pitiful, pitiful, pitiful, yellow tangerine!

For the more faithful version recorded on CD in 1992, Vyacheslav Ptitsyn traveled in a similar direction:

Squeezed lemon! You are a squeezed lemon! You are a pathetic, petty, pathetic, petty squeezed lemon!

Lastly, for something that is not a variation on either of the above, fan translator Yevgeniy Susorov gives us:

You are a withered fruit You are rotten, tasteless fruit You are a withered fig tree that will die in the flames!

I can see their intention, and, in my opinion, both Ptitsyn and Susorov improved on the original line, although this was probably coincidental in the former's case.

As far as Kesler is concerned, it's more of a vague fruit comparison that sort of makes sense. A yellow tangerine is overripe, and as tasty as overly ripened fruit can be, it's prone to developing patches of mold, and goes bad when left uneaten for too long. The meaning here when Judas applies it to Jesus as an insult should be clear, as he's been saying something like this about him -- metaphorically speaking -- for the entire show. (In the fan category, Vadim Zhmud makes the same choice and is even more explicit about his intentions, rendering the fruit as a "lethargic," "well-fed" tangerine. Mikhail Kokovikhin's take also chooses "tangerine," but gets caught up in trying to use it in exactly the way Tim uses "mandarin," repeating the word for emphasis and relying on the fact that Russian has three different synonyms for the word "rotten" to pad out the stanza. There's nothing wrong with trying to match Tim's choices as closely as possible, but just calling someone a rotten fruit in all the ways one can is a little weak.)

Ptitsyn's is more intriguing, partially because of a (likely) unintentional double meaning. If you recall, he refers to a pathetic lemon that has had all the juice squeezed out of it. In American English, in addition to referring to the fruit of the same name, "lemon" is also used to refer to a product, usually an automobile, that has flaws -- like manufacturing defects, in the car's case -- too great or severe to serve its intended purpose. (To cite a more abstract usage, the late Jim Steinman aptly used the "lemon" analogy in the Meat Loaf song "Life Is a Lemon And I Want My Money Back.") In Russian, the phrase "squeezed lemon" similarly refers to someone very tired, a person who has lost their strength or abilities. Poetically speaking, Judas calling Jesus a "lemon" at this moment has an extra layer of meaning that works really well in either language.

Lastly, my favorite (if only as an atheist theologian) is Susorov, who doesn't just spin the line into a much better fruit metaphor -- he even gets biblical with it, referencing both Jesus' teaching about "trees bearing bad fruit" and also one bad tree in particular that figured into Jesus' final week in the original Passion narrative.

Quoting loosely from the King James Version of Matthew's Gospel (an incident also recounted in Mark, chapter 11): "And seeing a fig tree by the wayside [Jesus] went to it and found nothing on it but only leaves. And he said to it, 'May no fruit ever come from you again!' And the fig tree withered."

In Susorov's text, Judas is not only condemning Jesus as the tree bearing bad fruit against which he preached, but also comparing him to a specific, very recent failure that might still sting.

(Susorov's choice is made even more ironic by the fact that Lloyd Webber and Rice intended to musicalize this moment in JCS themselves, but ultimately decided to cut it from the original album when concerns of length were raised, as previously discussed here. If that scene was still in the show, this would be quite the burn!)

Getting at the Meaning

Moving away from the poetic toward conveying the lyric's literal intention without getting bogged down in language, both official and fan translators seem to settle for general insults, so it becomes a different question: whether they are just that (i.e., general insults) or they convey the same meaning as intended by "jaded mandarin."

The latter is achieved adequately by Viktor Polyak (Yaroslavskiy Gosudarstvennyy Teatr Yunogo Zritelya, 1989-1994):

You are a crashed idol You are a crashed idol You are a crashed, broken, dirty idol!

It works. The show is called Jesus Christ Superstar; a fallen celebrity metaphor is far from out of place. Maksim Samoylov, in the fan department, goes for a similar take, having Judas call Jesus a "little, fallen star."

Svetlana Peyn, whose translation has appeared at Stas Namin in Moscow from 2011 to the present, is on a similar wavelength:

You are a pompous hero You are a pompous hero With poisonous loud glory you are a self-important pompous hero

Ouch!

Mikhail Parygin, a fan translator, is in the same boat, going for "a [...] pathetic, petty, pompous king." Likewise Andrey Voskresenskiy, with "a [...] surrendered, fallen, finished prophet," and Vera Degtyaryova, who settles for "a miserable [...] former leader." Also rather close is Aleksandr Butuzov, who has Judas call Jesus "a loser" and "a mediocre, brainless, stupid leader." Though Russian fans I've spoken to don't especially care for his choice of words in their own language, it's on the mark as far as literal meaning goes.

Another official translation is not quite in the same realm, but close enough to make sense. Specifically, Grigoriy Kruzhkov and Marina Boroditskaya, holding the pen for the St. Petersburg Rock Opera State Theater in an adaptation which has been produced since 1990, provided:

Like a rebel! Like a simple rebel! Like a deceiver and a thief! Like a self-proclaimed king!

Metaphorically speaking, if you squint at it, it looks similar; full-bore insults that at least fit the plot.

Things get a little more interesting when translators move farther afield. For example, on the official front, Valeriy Lagosha's version for the "Free Space" Theater in Oryol, which ran from 2003-07, is:

No, I do not want this, prophet I do not want this, prophet After all, in this life I was able to do much more

It's an interesting idea to follow Judas' suggestion in "Heaven On Their Minds" that everyone would be better off if Jesus had not become famous and reinforce that point.

On the fan front, Kirill Sukhomlinov chooses to turn Jesus' biblical language about the religious authorities back on him:

You are a pathetic hypocrite You are a pathetic hypocrite You are a pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, nasty hypocrite!

And Maksim Zakharov doesn't really hit on the exact idea, but manages to create something that at least fits the character and situation:

You are a dark person You are a terrible person I am glad that you will end your life in prison!

Conclusion

Will there ever be a perfect translation? The jury's still out, especially -- it would seem -- in Russian. (There are more examples just from Russian translations to talk about that I will contemplate in future posts.) But it's always fascinating to view a piece from someone else's perspective, isn't it?

[spacetrashpile]

Masterlist of MOTW Resources

Have you ever wanted to play MOTW but had trouble finding the resources for the game? Well, here you go, PDFs of everything you might need in one place! As inspired by @freemotwresources's Masterlist of Playbooks. A list of everything in the folder can be found below the cut.

GAME MECHANICS

Revised Mystery Worksheet: The latest version of the "mystery planning" worksheet, a fillable sheet to help the Keeper plan each mystery.

Revised Hunter Reference Sheet: A reference sheet for all the moves every Hunter can do, plus some extra +Weird moves for Hunters that cannot Use Magic, as well as some more specific Magic options. There is also some other tips for running the mystery as the Keeper.

Playbooks and Teambooks: A list of all (official) MOTW Playbooks giving ratings to each Hunter's skill with fighting (Action), skill with research and other aspects of mystery hunting (Mystery), how many weird powers they get or strange things happen around them (Odd), how much the inclusion of the playbook will influence the game's story (Story), and how much the playbook needs the rest of their team to succeed (Team). Basically just a guide on how the official playbooks will affect the game.

PLAYBOOKS (OFFICIAL)

The Chosen: Your character is the chosen one in a prophecy.

The Crooked: Your character is a criminal.

The Divine: Your character has powers from and/or is chosen by a deity.

The Expert: Your character specializes in monster hunting.

The Flake: Your character is a conspiracy theorist.

The Gumshoe: Your character is a detective.

The Hex: Your character is a self taught magic user who's magic has terrible side effects.

The Initiate: Your character is a cultist.

The Monstrous: Your character is a monster.

The Mundane: Your character is a normal person.

The Pararomantic: Your character is in a relationship with a monster.

The Professional: Your character works for a monster hunting agency.

The Searcher: Your character is dedicated to studying the unknown.

The Snoop: Your character is a reporter.

The Spell-Slinger: Your character is a magic user.

The Spooktacular: Your character is or was apart of a creepy circus.

The Spooky: Your character has powers from a mysterious source.

The Wronged: Your character's loved one was killed by a monster.

PLAYBOOKS (UNOFFICIAL)

The Apprentice: Your character has a mentor.

The Athlete: Your character is a student athlete.

The Big Game Hunter: Your character hunts monsters for sport.

The Braggart: Your character is "too good" for the other hunters.

The Brat: Your character is a trained hunter in a child's body.

The Constructed: Your character is an inhuman construct.

The Cryptid: Your character is a cryptid/urban legend.

The Cryptozoologist: Your character studies monsters.

The Deathless: Your character is hard to kill.

The Demonic: Your character makes demonic pacts with people.

The Displaced: Your character has time traveled here from the future and doesn't know why.

The Doomed: Your character has run out of luck as is about to die.

The Earthbound: Your character gets power from the earth.

The Exile: Your character is a monster hunter from the past sent to the future.

The Foreigner: Your character is an extraterrestrial living among humans.

The Hard Case: Your character has been in the game for a while and has many skills as a result.

The Henderson: Your character is a crazy old person.

The Mad Scientist: Your character specializes in the science of the supernatural.

The Meddling Kid: Your character is a Scooby-Doo style meddling kid.

The Mystic: Your character practices magic how most Wiccans/witches practice today.

The Operative: Your character used to be The Professional, but has left their agency.

The Ordained: Your character is apart of a supernatural/magical religion.

The Parasite: Your character is a parasite who's stolen the corpse of a dead hunter.

The Pest: Your character is extremely annoying.

The Protector: Your character is dedicated to protecting someone.

The Risen: Your character has come back from the dead.

The Science Guy: Your character does science.

The Scout: Your character is a girl/boy scout.

The Secret Seeker: Your character finds and keeps secrets.

The Sidekick: Your character is the sidekick to another Hunter. (similar to the Apprentice but plays differently and made by different people)

The Skeptic: Your character is a skeptic monster hunter.

The Star: Your character is a famous musician.

The Stranded: Your character spent a long time stranded in strange lands.

The Summoned: Your character was summoned to bring the apocalypse, but doesn't want to.

The Thrillseeker: Your character hunts monsters for fun.

The Time Traveler: Your character has time traveled from the future to help the other Hunters save the world.

The Tracker: Your character specializes in tracking things down.

The Traveler: Your character comes from an apocalyptic future.

The Unkindled: Your character is a fallen hero brought back from the dead. (A tribute to the Dark Souls game)

The Veteran: Your character is a grizzled monster hunter who's getting too old for this.

NOTE: The Brat, Foreigner, Parasite, Stranded, and Unkindled playbooks are all found in the same PDF.

[monstermoviedean]

*student groups for religious students in this context means an organization/club/group specifically built to provide community for students of a certain religion. as an example, a club that specifically for christian athletes.

**student groups centered on religious practice in this context means an organization/group/club that is not only built for students of a certain religion, but includes religious instruction or activities. as an example, a bible study club or prayer club.

***looking for lobbying/attempted book bans here, regardless of success or not. these could be bans on books in curriculum, or removal of books from school or classroom libraries.

bonus points if you want to tell me in the tags if you're in a more red or more blue state, and what decade this happened in

[elenwen-and-ondolemar]

Drakon Indarys, Dunmer Stormcloak (NewWillinium): ... Alright sera I think I may actually have a couple questions for you two. If I may?

What is the Official and Unofficial view of the Thalmor of Alinor regarding their more cultured cousins, The Dunmer and Orsimer?

I must admit that despite the Thalmor I have seen and talked to across Skyrim nods head to Ondolemar I have been shocked to see them all unattended by their servants. What has happened to the Imga of the Summerset Isles?

Is there anything that you two appreciate about Skyrim and its peoples?

Finally ... Alright this is just a personal curiosity I must admit. Why do the Thalmor focus on outlawing the worship of Talos and not the cults of the rest of the Emperors? Why do you not pursue the worshippers of the once mortal Arkay and Mannimarco with the same fervor as you do Talos?

Those are my questions. May Lady Azura watch over you two.

Ondolemar: More cultured . . .

Elenwen: If I may, Commander. Master Drakon, as a Dunmer, you know, of course, that your people are originally of the same blood as ours, despite the many misfortunes you have since encountered, and have steadfastly defended the purity of that blood. How those misfortunes have shaped your destiny remains to be seen, but theoretically there is no reason for enmity between kin.

Practically, our shared history has been . . . unfortunate. The Thalmor hold forth a hand in friendship to all who desire the greater good for Tamriel, but first you must take it. To us it seems that selflessness, gratitude and reverence for the gods and ancestors have, unfortunately, been in short supply in Morrowind in the past.

Ondolemar: Where after all did Tiber Septim get the Numidium in the first place, sir?

Elenwen: Ancient history, Commander, and best forgotten.

As for the so-called Orsimer (though a number of them have indicated to me that they prefer to be called Orcs) their ultimate origin is probably best left to the scholars to entangle. The Thalmor has no opinion on them as a people, preferring to judge them by their deeds, good or bad.

Ondolemar: The traditional customs and religion of the Orcs are utterly abhorrent to us. They make a mockery of the gods, marriage, and family. But orcs in person often behave better than their crass theology suggests. You will remember, sir, that there are many orcs in Markarth, veterans of the Legion, and they are certainly among its best citizens. Which may not be saying much in the case of Markarth, but I see no reflection of their twisted "code" in their actions.

Elenwen: I believe you have been misinformed as to the Imga. The Imga are of Valenwood, not of Summerset, and we have never employed them as servants. In the past , they have indeed meritoriously adopted Altmer culture as best as they could.

The current state of the Imga is mysterious. Their numbers have dwindled precariously since the First Era, but I believe they do live in some scattered communities deep in the Valenwood forests. This would be a good question for our colleagues in Valenwood's administration. I will pass along your question by letter, but paperwork being what it is, it will take a long time to get an answer.

Ondolemar: I'm sure you know that it was an Imga who founded the Alessian Order. Marukh and his followers rose to great power in the First Empire, and yet the Empire today can hardly tolerate beastfolk. There's a lesson in there if you're inclined to look for it.

Elenwen: Indeed. As for Skyrim, I have made many valuable acquaintances among its people. The best of Skyrim routinely mingle at these events, and the conversation is as sparkling as the wine.

Ondolemar: lowering his voice There is . . . a certain quality of sincerity among the Nords that I do not dislike. Not among its nobility or grubbing merchants, but among the ordinary people. It can be quite refreshing to know exactly where one stands with a person, even if the person is a misguided heretic. It also makes the job of the Justiciars much easier, when people do not hide who they are.

Elenwen: Your last is an excellent question. The worship of Talos is not of course the only deviation that the Empire has indulged in the past. Our ranking Justiciar here can give you some theological education on the matter, but first let me say that the Dominion does not tolerate the worship of that necromancer within its own lands.

Ondolemar: A lesson in theology, then?

These examples that you bring up are not cut from the same cloth. Mannimarco's evil nature was understood in our homeland while men indulged his wicked desires. Those perverse criminals who honour him as a god would be executed if they showed their faces in the Dominion's lands. The greater part of Tamriel, however, shares our sentiment even if their laws do not entirely ban necromancy. No government promotes his worship, and salutary organizations such as the Vigil of Stendarr work among you with the de facto blessings of Skyrim's governors.

As for Arkay, He is one of the Eight as understood by the people of Cyrodiil. The mythology that they sometimes ascribe to him: a mere human shopkeeper who late in time ascended to godhood, is absurd, but he is no doubt a reflection of a true Divine. Within our own lands, we mandate the proper worship of the Eight, but it has always been our missionaries' practice to emphasize our commonalities and to encourage what is good and true within these human cults. At times, the ridiculous perversions we encounter may leave us hopeless about human capabilities for true worship, but it would be a step in the wrong direction to lead people away from the worship of the Eight.

Incidentally, Arkay's origin is not nearly so offensive theologically as you may imagine. It seems to many of our theologians to be a poorly-understood reflection of Aldmeri doctrine of our ancestors' ascension. The Aedra were brought down to Nirn by the Betrayer and it was Our Father Auri-El who showed us how we might ascend again. It is perhaps unsurprising that that the barbaric human tribes of the early era misunderstood this re-ascension as a man being granted divine status.

As for the cults of other Emperors, the Nibenay was historically known as the land of ten thousand cults. The worship of gods such as Reman and the so-called Emperor Zero flourished for a time among the Nibenese, but never reached the stature of the Talos Cult. Today, they are obscure curiosities tucked away in corners of Cyrodiil, and upheld by a few old priests who cling to barely understood traditions.

Yet even at the height of their popularity, the other Emperor cults never claimed their new gods to be the equal of the Eight, let alone their Chief, as did the most blasphemous members of the Talos Cult. The Talos Cult was a new and terrible innovation, which in effect, undermined the worship of the Eight.

The history of one other Imperial cult does, however, give some hope for men to purge themselves of these heresies. The founder of the First Empire is known to you as Blessed Saint Alessia, who prayed to Akatosh and received his help. There was a time when some people within Cyrodiil revered Alessia as a goddess, and yet now you recognize her great achievements with a title that properly acknowledges the true relationship of mortals to the Aedra. In time -

Elenwen: hurriedly No one is claiming Tiber Septim to be a saint. He was a great man, who deserves honour. That is quite enough.

[darkchocolatecoffin]

HELLFIRE/HEAVEN'S GATE | Judge Claude Frollo

🕯️˖⁺‧₊ "Claudette" Frollo partially introduced turning to face the man "My daughter."

╔═════☩══ ♱ ══☩═════╗

The City of Paris was bustling about in excitement. Schools were closed for the day, shops closed early, and all cleaning and chores were to be put aside for the day to follow (much to the children's satisfaction). Men and women of all ages accompanied the streets in multicolored garments. Some were amplified with delicate jewels and feathers while others were more modest, meaning to represent a fool or dummy. It was easy to assume that just about everyone was exhilarated by what was to come in the next hour. January Sixth was a day of celebration in Paris, a day where regulations were suspended, and people were granted the freedom to let loose.

It was a day that for once the people of Paris were not divided by their backgrounds but instead were united by the feast. The Feast of Fools was an unofficial day of celebration, but its continued success had made it a permanent fixture on the Parisian calendar, so much so that Public officials were expected to attend, much to the dismay of a certain Judge. 

As you make your way through the quaint streets of Paris, you’ll be met with a shift in the air. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods gives way to a haunting breeze that sends shivers down your spine. The Sunny embrace that once kept hold of the city is replaced by the chill of an eerie musk that hung heavy in the air. Perfectly placed within the center of this part of town was a gloomy building 'The Palace of Justice' The Gothic architecture stood out promptly creating a devastating display. This was where Judge Claude Frollo resided. A man who was known for his high value of religion, he held himself above the city for he only ever saw sin in everything and everyone, save for himself. He had no tolerance for anything but, excellence, even his own blood was not exempt from his rigorous standards. She accompanied him to the Church Sessions held in The Bell Tower, where he subjected her to his unbending moral principles.

Claudette Frollo

Claudette was often left alone in the confines of the Palace, aside from the ever-watchful guards who patrolled the grounds. Her father, Claude Frollo, would depart daily without a word of explanation, leaving Claudette to ruminate on his mysterious whereabouts. One possibility that lingered was the idea of him having a confidential lover, which, if true, would be a betrayal of everything her father—and by extension, she herself—had stood for.

It was a day like any other, a morning that began with the familiar tolling of the bell. Frollo had made his departure, leaving Claudette with the solemn task of maintaining the building's pristine condition. It was a duty that was bestowed upon her as the woman of the household, and she accepted it willingly. She never complained about the menial tasks that were required of her; the Bible had instructed her that she was to follow her father’s word.

6:1—Children, obey your parents because you belong to the Lord, for this is the right thing to do.

The front door opened allowing a dark and intimidating figure to step inside. The man's visage was stark and angular, with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. His eye sockets were deeply set and shadowed with dark circles. His nose was long, and hooked at the end, with narrow, downward-turning brows over his equally sharp eyes.

"Father, How was your trip?"

As Frollo crossed the threshold, Claudette welcomed him, stepping forward to gingerly remove his hat and rest it upon a velvet silk sheet placed on a shelf.

"Fine."

Frollo spoke slowly, examining the home from where he stood. His slender fingers, decorated with intricate bands of jewel-encrusted rings, glided along the edge of a wood-furnished bookshelf, pulling them back to inspect momentarily. He finally rested his empty basket on the table as though it were the most precious object in the world. Claudette instinctively bowed her head, feeling small in his presence.

"...May I ask you something?"

Claudette spoke, breaking the tender silence. He gave her a half-sided glance acknowledging her.

"Today is January Sixth..."

"And?”

 Frollo pressed 

"And every year you have me stay here at the Palace while you attend...The Festival"

Getting these words out was a difficult task in itself but to see her Father already so displeased with the conversation at hand made Claudette feel unsure if she should continue, nonetheless, she pushed forward.

"Seeing as I'm no longer a child I feel that I may be able to handle going to something like this."

"Claudette."

His voice was unsmiling and grim

"I attend this-Feast of Fools every year because I am a public official. But I do not enjoy a moment of it. The sinful activities of these Gypsies are being paraded around and everyone sits there and commemorates it."

Frollo’s hand drifted towards Claudette’s face, his long fingers wrapping around her cheek and drawing her closer. Her heart raced with fearful anticipation as his gaze intensified. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to speak, but her words were caught in her throat, strangling her like a suffocating noose.

"I don't want to see you be engulfed in that." 

His words seemed as though they were supposed to be charitable but they came out in such a demeaning way it was hard to differ. Ultimately Claudette chose the latter, she knew furthering the conversation would be senseless. 

"Yes Sir"

Frollo clasped his hands together admiring his child. He did this often, though the gesture was rarely accompanied by words, leaving Claudette feeling uneasy. It could be the fact that Claude was fueled by the memories of his deceased wife, who he saw reflected in Claudette’s features.

"We have company arriving...I want you to look presentable, have yourself ready."

As Frollo’s words trailed off, he set off into the dark, his form disappearing into the depths of the dimly lit dungeon. Claudette didn’t hate her father, she couldn’t, but there were moments when she wished things were different, that their relationship wasn’t so strained and distant.

As Claudette gazed out the window of her bedroom, a serene sense of calm washed over her. She admired the bustling city daily, guards on patrol, children making their way to school, bakers and fishermen prepping in the early hours, the way of life going about as it was. Her isolation within her bedroom was her sanctuary. 

But being alone was far from unusual for Claudette, ever since she was a little girl, she was forced to rely on herself. Her memories of her mother were nothing more than hazy recollections, making it impossible to form a clear image of her face. She had to question, how her mother, in all her grace, came to fall in love with Judge Claude Frollo? She couldn’t imagine any romantic gestures coming from him, as cold and distant as he was. Was it possible that, before her birth, he was a different man? Was she the reason for his change?

Her earliest memories with Frollo included being forced to recite Bible verses at the dining table as her father read alongside her, correcting her punctuation. It was instilled in Claudette's mind at such a young age that religion was the singular most important thing in life, and she was made to understand that any deviation, however slight, would result in her spending eternity in the fiery pits of hell.  Hours spent kneeling in the church, hands clasped around her rosary, would sometimes leave Claudette's body weak and trembling, accompanied by whispers of apologies and pleas for forgiveness, The sight of her suffering caused the Archdeacon's heart to ache. Her desperate attempts at salvation never seemed to ease the guilt that gnawed at her, leaving her to lay awake in bed with her mind spiraling into ever-deepening thoughts.

Claudette's dress was a rich ebony shade, its dark and midnight hues forming a contrast to her pale skin, which bore a striking resemblance to her father's bloodless complexion. The decorative lining along the flare complimented the lace undersleeves that neatly hooked over Claudette’s middle finger.  Her raven-black hair was styled into a French roll, with subtle strands falling into her face, softening her sharp features, which shared qualities with her father, including his hooked nose and vampiric skin, yet her eyes were soft and kind, her lips heart-shaped like her mother's had been.

Claudette stepped out of the sanctuary of her room, her arms naturally assumed a position of concealment, tucked away in front of her as she strode down the hall. The dark and foreboding ambiance of the building instantly took her over the moment she left her bedroom. The distant sound of voices moved her focus when she attained the end of the stairwell. Her father ascended from the dusk hallway, and behind him was a soldier. His gleaming armor, the golden hues of which illuminated the room. He was handsome.

“Claudette”

Frollo partially introduced turning to face the man

“My daughter.”

The man nodded his head acknowledging Claudette, and was swiftly followed by a warm and affectionate smile that illuminated his chiseled features. His blonde hair was neatly coiffed, with a small goatee neatly trimmed below his mouth. He had a pair of deep blue eyes that mirrored the hue of the cape that adorned his muscular build.

“It’s nice to meet you, Claudette. My name is Phoebus…means Sun God”

 Phoebus tried to ease the tension he picked up on with playful banner.

 “I hope we will come to get to know each other better during my time here”

Frollo marked the interaction under a dingy gaze. He sighed about to dismiss the interaction between the two but Claudette spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you too…Phoebus”

 She smiled trying out his name

 “I’m sure we will cross paths”

Frollo cast a gaze upon Claudette that only she was able to pick up on. She moved her gaze away and down into her folded hands while Frollo stepped past her. 

“We should leave. I’d hate to arrive while they are scampering around making a mess of-”

“Are you going to the festival?”

There was silence.

Frollo turned to face Claudette his watch hard and unforgiving, as though daring her to offer any sort of explanation for her untimely interruption. Claudette realized her mistake. As she frantically searched for a suitable apology, Phoebus intervened for a rescue. Having spent enough time around her father, he could see that Frollo was a man who possessed little to no compassion for anyone other than himself. He could only imagine how he must have been as a father, with such a lack of empathy towards the world and those around him. 

“We are. Will you be joining us?”

He invited

Claudette’s eyes flickered. While she desperately desired to attend, she had been shut out by her father, who offered little more than a stern refusal and an abrupt dismissal. She couldn't help but feel hopeless, for she realized that there was unlikely any chance that her father would change his mind

“You yourself are a public official no? I’m sure the people would love to see you attend with your father.”

Claudette looked at her father while he held his tongue planning out a response. If looks could murder. 

“I’m sure Claudette wouldn't want to be wrapped up in such defilement. It’s not the place for a woman such as herself.”

“I think it will be a nice experience…even if it is only a one-time attendance.”

Frollo's gaze was dark. If it were just them two alone in the room surely what was to come would have gone very differently. He nodded his body forward, his hands clasped together as he delivered a deceptive smile, willing to make the concession to grant her wish to attend the festival. 

“Very well…if it is the Festival you wish to attend…”

 Claudette found herself both elated and appalled at this prospect, for she was all too aware of the potential repercussions that might follow. Nonetheless, she felt resolved to face any punishment that might come her way, so long as she could attain the opportunity to experience the festival. Frollo turned to depart, trailing behind him the heavy weight of ill will that he held towards Claudette at that moment.

“Come along”

Claudette locked eyes with Phoebus, grateful for how he had stepped in to aid the situation. With her father leading the way, Claudette followed, her heart was filled with a sense of warmth and excitement, knowing that she would be able to attend the festival and experience everything she had dreamed it would be.

[monroeknoxwrites]

this is more general worldbuilding than for a specific oc, but about how many religions does the coalition recognize?

oooh a very interesting worldbuilding question, thank you for this! I've yet to set all the pre-approved religions in stone but I'll share the current ones:

universe worship, as mentioned here and here

worship of the dead/ancestor worship. this is a very loose religion and usually practiced on an individual family level at home. it has two religious festivals which can be celebrated communally: one of the oldest known ancestor and for those who died without a proper burial, in hopes of calling their souls home

polytheistic religion based on a celestial pantheon. the Shards' home system has five other planets without any signs of life. this religion believes those planets are slumbering gods and while they do not recognize the progenitors as gods themselves (or give the progenitor worshipers any credibility) they do use their existence as proof of the former planet's powers

progenitor worshipers. it's the newest and less widely accepted official religion. many dismiss them as a government-backed cult

on the Shards, prejudice is focused more on classism and religion rather than on race and sexuality. it isn't exactly illegal to practice an unofficial religion but it does open the practitioner up to discrimination without government protection. those from poorer districts suffer their own brand of discrimination. it's hard for those born there to leave, given very little opportunities. their best option is signing their lives away to the Coalition military (sound familiar?)

now gender based discrimination can be tricky. you won't be treated differently if you're a man or woman, cis or trans, but if you perform those genders in a nonconforming way (think women with beards and men in dresses, etc) or declare yourself existing outside the gender binary, you will suffer anything from funny looks, open disdain, and in extreme cases, violence. the Coalition doesn't allow changing birth records/legal info for these identities either. as a trans woman who came out in university and kept her original, traditionally masculine name, even Mithat has suffered some microaggressions/mistreatment. her uni dorm mate commented on it so often Mithat decided to find an apartment off campus for her comfort