#well now at least its finally freed from the drafts and im finally freed from it! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Text

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!)

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing.

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this." Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back? He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me headcanons #gods have mercy I wanna smooch him so bad

594 notes · View notes

xxxdragonfucker69xxx · 7 years ago

Text

wizoner's dilemma

a high fantasy epic fantasy game that uses dice pools, about magicians on floating islands as seen through Abrahamic mythology

-robotvance

-Jonathan Dragonfucker

Generally, Nabushezibanni found that the most embarrassing part of being a sorcerer in Babylon was asking the local demons to serve him as familiars. In Eastern Anatolia, such creatures had acquiesced instantly, eager to gain any foothold in his soul. In Babylon, however, he constantly felt as if they rather looked down on him–that taking the time to corrupt Nabushezibanni would simply upset their rather full social calendars.

-Michael Kay, The Hanging Gardens

-Jenna Moran, Nobilis

The world was a world, once. There were mountains and cities and gardens and potholes in roads. They’re gone, now, because of people like you.

You are a magician: an heir to unimaginable power. You live in your own world: some island, some remnant of the world that was, some bastion against the sea of chaos in which you now float. Maybe you are the last living person you know. Maybe you live in a charming town, the heads of the mannequin-villagers concave masks when seen from behind. Maybe, against all odds, you manage to share the world with another magician.

Not likely, though.

Likelier that you spend your time plotting and scheming. The world is harsh and hostile – literally, yes, because of Chaos at your doorstep and demons beyond the walls – but also in the way that all worlds have ever been hostile, in that the time between meeting someone and being stabbed in the back is measured in days or hours. In that the only defense against betrayal is to betray first.

This is why the world ended.

There are some schools of magic: Sorcery, Enchantment, Evocation, Conjuration. Divide 7 points among them.

Sorcery is concerned with Fate, with fortune, luck, destiny, doom. Sorcerous rituals often involve traditional methods of divination, which include any random element (palm nuts, yarrow sticks, the entrails of a goat). Use Sorcery to

Prophesy a particular death or misfortune

Curse someone with bad luck

Foresee the bad things that will happen to you

Divine the intentions or location of another

Query the cosmos about a mystery.

Enchantment is about minds and hearts and souls and dreams. It is often expressed through song and art. Use Enchantment to

Enthrall someone into your service (another magician will contest with their own magic)

Hypnotize someone to sleep, and walk through their dreams

Infect a whole population with an emotion or attitude

See someone’s memories, and change them if you want.

Evocation is the art of creation, of calling forth the world from nothing, of shaping Chaos. Spells of evocation are flashy and dramatic, full of sound and fury. Use Evocation to

Create an extension of your world, increasing its area or otherwise adding to its landscape

Form a catastrophe, anything from a living earthquake to a storm of fire and glass, and set it upon another

Build a whole new world from Chaos

Shake the foundations of the universe.

Conjuration is the way of binding spirits: the shades of the dead, the memories of angels, or most often demons from Chaos. Set the correct altar, make the correct sacrifice, and invoke the correct names. Use Conjuration to

Summon the ghost of someone particular, and question them

Call up an army: of zombies, monsters, or worse

Create and bind a specific demon for your specific needs

Subvert the binding upon another spirit, freeing it or binding it to your own will

Bind a demon or angel to serve at a specific task, not to be freed until that task is finished (never, if it’s something like ‘guard my island’ or ‘hold up my bridge’).

You own a world. Describe it. Is it very like the memories of the world before the war? Does it have life in it? Does it have people, or things that act like people, in it? Does the sun rise and set? Have you remade the moon? Is it perhaps five days wide, no matter how fast you travel? Is it perhaps unbearably deep, atop ruins of civilizations that never existed? You may later, if you choose, amend this world by magic, so don’t sweat it too badly.

The default unit of time is a season, even though the actual length of a season can vary wildly from world to world. Play proceeds in turns, visiting each player a couple of times over the course of a season as they describe assembling their new magic or otherwise preparing for the final ritual. Over the course of that season you come up with a new working and unleash it on the universe, on your own world or on another. If you suspect that another magician intends to attack your own, you can set up a defense that will take place just before the threat arrives: if you have provoked a master of Evocation and fear her wrath, you can build an army of enormous statues to hold back the flood she is sure to send. If you successfully attack another magician, you gain and they lose a point of mana: equal parts mystic potence and social status. If you know that you cannot resist another magician, you may spend a point of mana to bolster your defenses with another school: inhabit those statues with bound demons to add your Evocation and Conjuration together. You still lose mana this way, but at least the attacker won’t gain any unless they manage to still overpower you somehow. If they still manage to, you can build on the previous season’s defenses with your next working.

Not every working has to be in preparation for war, of course. You can simply try to build your own paradise. But every such working is a wasted opportunity to fight for mana, and if you build too beautiful a world someone else will simply kill you and take it.

Every year, all the magicians remaining journey to the Tower of the Sun where Martael binds them to neutrality, and they partake in the Years Feast. No magic may be performed at this time, on pain of annihilation or censure. During this time the magicians bicker, gossip, and preen. They make alliances and they make enemies, but it has been a long time since anyone was foolish enough to try making friends. Those with the most mana are granted the highest social status, and those with the least may be forced to sit near the servants (though they still bask in untold luxuries). Magicians are capable of bending the world to their whim, and little can touch them; for many, humiliation at the Years Feast is the worst injury imaginable.

[SIDEBAR: Teamwork Makes the Dream Work]

No, it doesn’t.

How can a group of PCs play this in a cooperative mode? What is the goal of this game, the best possible outcome? Let me be clear: there is none. This is a game about people at their pettiest, not their best and not even their worst. Play will continue until you get fed up with yourselves and each other. Nothing good will come of this.

But if you really want the PCs to play nice together, there are some options. First is that you can live in a shared world: pillars of the four elements at the poles of the world, or some other such element. In such a scenario all the PCs are required for the wellbeing of that world, and will not destroy each other; they may even pretend to like each other. Second is that some other, more powerful magician has arisen in a far land, a star in the west. This new power threatens to destroy them all if they do not cooperate. If you want, it doesn’t even have to be a magician; it can simply be an unspeakably powerful demon, named by some foolish amateur and free to destroy all ordered things.

But by default? This game doesn’t mean anything. It will not help express any emotions. It is simply an avenue for some friends to come up with cool curses and dumb shit to do to each other, and do those things.

[SIDEBAR: This Isn’t Artsy Enough]

If you want, you can even decide that the theme of this game – the pettiness and pointlessness of human spite – is dumb and uninteresting and you want to invert it. Maybe you actually live in the last normal remnants of Earth, and you are trying furiously to hold the Chaos and the demons and the evil magicians at bay.

Maybe you want this game to give you emotions.

If that’s so, I’ll add another rule. Well, not a rule, because you don’t have to follow it. Another option.

Usually, when attention comes to a magician during the course of a season, that magician is getting ready to do magic. They are memorizing the myriad names of the dead, or negotiating with the devil, or rearranging the stars in auspicious patterns. But, if you want to be nice about it, you can be doing something else instead. Rather than being a magician, you can be a human being.

Walk down the docks, and don’t even go dressed as a magician; go as an old man, and talk to the fruit-sellers heart-to-heart. Sit on a hill and look at the sky. Take tea with your friends. Revel in beauty. Rejoice in what you have made; be glad, for it is good.

If someone emotes a moment that is so touching, so true, that it grabs everyone; or if, at the Years Feast, you think back to a moment that has managed to stay with you; if someone gives you emotions, like, really good? They can have an extra point of mana. They squeezed it from the world, they grasped the imperishable flame that makes things good and real and holy. What’s left of it, anyways. In such a mode, life is no longer a zero-sum game. You can get better. You can make the world bigger. You can make the world whole again.

as i have remarked this is basically the perfect opposite of a witchs ladder game, i got to the end and it was actually paining me that there ws no avenue for emotional expression

my first robotvance game, im so proud of my beautiful child

i got really jenna moran near the end due to reading a bunch of chuubos for chuubos marvelous wizardry engine

im actually quite happy with how this turned out, it needs firming up but i think its a good first draft

please let me know if you think of an actual good name for this

#tatterpigs #tatterpigsgiving #wizoner's dilemma

34 notes · View notes