#who also used to be bane's exarch

[fangsandfeels]

More shameless Hoar propaganda coming your way

I've read this great bit of lore by @y-rhywbeth2 on how the justice system "works" and how most Banites and Bhaalists managed to get away with a slap on the wrist or just avoid punishment at all by making Gortash and Orin the scapegoats - and that it's normal because you can't persecute evil god followers too hard, lest you get punished by their gods for messing with their flock. So, if some influential Bhaal or Bane worshippers get caught in action, the city higher-ups may arrange some damage control: make evidence "disappear", remove suspects from the prison, make some random the key suspect, let the case be handled by a specially designated magistrate. And it's a common practice.

It's a fascinating (and infuriating) piece of lore all by itself (also reveals what Astarion might have been doing during his magistrate years). And it also enables my shameless thoughts on how Hoar followers and Doombringers apply to such developments. Because, according to the lore, they don't. give. a fuck.

Most of Hoar's faithful spent their time wandering the Heartlands, aiding those who suffered grave injustices and praying for those in need of vengeance. The church's clergy actively sought victims of injustice out to take in their stories and investigate the crimes. When Hoarites evaluated the veracity of victims' accounts, they sought the criminals and dispensed the "essential justice." The fitting justice delivered by Hoar's clergy could be as small or as grand as the crime demanded. Tyrists and town watches often branded Hoar's clerics as vigilantes. This disapproval from the Church of Tyr pushed the reputation of the Church of Hoar to prominence among commoners as the patrons of the downtrodden.

So, what I read from this, is that if you're a Banite noblewoman who bought her way out of responsibility and made some poor sod hang from the gallows instead of you, you can try throwing your money at the guy in the silver mask all you want; he has a leaden plate with your name on it and the daughter of the man who died a scapegoat for your crime, his name tarnished forever, wants you to pay in a way that matters.

Banite noble: "Y-you, you wouldn't dare! Don't you know who I am? Don't you know what they'll do to you for this?! There will be consequences! You will pay for this, you hear me?!"

Hoarite:

[enddaysengine]

Unseen Corner (Mage Supernal Being)

I didn't think it would be there. It's always in the last place you look. Why do I never look at the top of that stack of shelves? Did this room always have a window?

The Unseen Corner is a Supernal Being of hidden Spaces, especially those hidden in plain sight. The Unseen takes many forms, but all of them are small and diminutive. To a Mastigos versed in Life, it appears to be an ordinary mouse. To a Guardian, it is a mask buried in a rubbish heap. To mages with demonic or angelic Shadow Names, it is the classic Imp - a tiny, horn person with red skin, bat wings, and a pointed tail. As long as it is easily missed, it is a form the Corner can take.

The Unseen Corner is soft-spoken, rarely raising its voice above a whisper or calling attention to itself. Its unobtrusive nature means it is common for a summoner to not realize the Corner has appeared, except for the certain knowledge that the ritual worked.

Mages summon the corner when the want to be overlooked, interfere with surveillance, or shield their Sympathetic connections. It has a fondness for Guardians and Mystagogues, although neither Order get preferential treatment out of the deal. It does keep a Supernal eye on such mages however, watching them long past the terms of their summoning require. While the Unseen is ambivalent toward the Free Council, the Libertines frequently call on the Imp, as its trials are less harsh when it has the opportunity fuck with the Panopticon. It has no special hatred of Seers or the Exarchs in general, but if the Eye has its way, hidden spaces will cease to exist so the Unseen gleefully interferes with its minions plans.

The Unseen Corner is a reserved Imp, economical in its words unless it is pointing out a Mage's blind spots. It prefers to perch on ledges or hide in corners, anywhere it can easily be overlooked and spy on others unseen. The Unseen does not broke any suggestion that it is a hypocrite for spying while simultaneously working to dismantle the Panopticon. From its perspective, it is an individual who simply watches what happens around it from a hidden space in a limited area. The Panopticon, however, wishes to systematically eliminate all hidden spaces and observe everything. The few Seers who tried to sway the Unseen on this position met sticky ends.

Rank 2 Pandemonic Imp Power 2 Finesse 7 Resistance 5 Virtue: Unobtrusive Vice: Voyeuristic Ban: The Corner cannot use its Arcana in ways that are easily witnessed. Bane: A picture or painting of itself. Arcana: Mind 2, Space 2, Matter 1 Mana: 15 Corpus: 7 Willpower: 10 Initiative: +12 Defence: 2 Speed: 11 Size: 2

Hey! This was originally made for my patreons over on Patreon. If you want more exclusive monsters, you can back me over there, but you can also follow for free and get email updates whenever I post new public content too!

[alpaca-clouds]

Thank you for the long reply! I knew yesterday I needed to reply - but I was on phone and was just like: "... Nope. Not typing this out on phone. Not rebooting my computer either."

But I love your brain wigglies!

Something I do struggle with when it comes to the Chosen status is, that mortals usually do not get a say in whether they get to be a Chosen. So it is not like a position that you can somehow earn. Well, with the exception of Mystra, who will chose her Chosen when they are teenage boys in one of the magic academies most of the times, because - now everyone say it with me - she is a fucking groomer bitch. That is like her whole MO. (There also is a reason why Mystra is the goddess where we know a whole lot more about who her chosen are. With everyone else it is mostly like: "Yeah, they do have Chosen, and we know like one or two of them. But that's it." Meanwhile... Well, there is a whole fucking page in the FR Wiki just on the different chosen of Mystra. Though, yes, admittedly there are also female Chosen of Mystra, though they are mostly related to her in some way or form.) I digress...

To come back to Bane: We know of two of his Chosen. One is Gortash, and the other is Fzoul Chembryl. And it is fairly, fairly clear that Bane likes Fzoul a whole lot more than he likes Gortash. Why?

Well, Fzoul gets killed, Bane raises him from the dead and makes him his exarch. When Gortash dies, as we know, Bane claims his soul and tortures him for failing.

I mean, of course that "Speak with the Dead" interaction is literally the only interaction we get with Bane in the game. We also never see the Dead Three Chosen interact with any of their godly patrons, so it is a bit harder to say more about their relation.

But from my gut feeling I would say, that Ketheric might actually have the best relation with his patron. He is someone who is religiously devoted (even though he switches gods more often than some people their underwear) and just very traditionally this religious head of the Myrkul cult. Orin is super devoted to Bhaal, because, duh, she got groomed into it from birth on. What do you expect? It is not as if she has the internet to google "Five Sure Signs To Know You Live In A Cult". I would argue that Bhaal still is a bit pissed with her because it is clear that Durge is his favorite even though she got the drop on him. And then there is Gortash, who mostly seems to be using the Banite cult as an easy way to access goons, and who (as by the "Talk with Bane" dialogue) really was not terribly respected by Bane.

According to Farnol, the "Black Hand or Bane" is fairly far down the list of Gortash's "accomplishments," so I'm going to assume he was Chosen only after supplanting and dismantling ALL his rivals - the Zhentarim being the last (save for the Knight's of the Shield (Emperor), who aren't mentioned - but he does dismantle them sometime after he dominates the elder brain). It would make sense that Bane saw him as a very capable candidate by that time.

I mean, technically I could argue that this could also be seen as an argument for him being Chosen during the Second Sundering. Because technically speaking we know that there have to either way be other Chosen of the Dead Three around. Sure, given that they are right now fairly weakened probably not as many as with some other gods, but there should be others, unless they have all been killed. But when it comes to being killed/harvested...

I will admit, this is heavy speculation on my part, but... The groups hunting down the Chosen were mostly Red Wizards on the Order of Szass Tam (and there is some evidence that Szass Tam has some alliance with Bane, though we do not know the details, but Szass was very probably the person who revived Bane after the Dead Three got killed), then some Netherese Dark Mages (who, yeah, would go after Chosen of Bane), and then some Banites (who would probably not kill any Chosen of Bane), though they either way did only play a minor role in the whole story.

None of that proofs that Gortash was among the Second Sundering Chosen, of course. Just that it is highly likely that now - just 8 years later - there are going to be at least a couple of Chosens of Bane around that got their powers during that event.

*GODS* I ache to write a whole fic on every milestone Farnol listed 😭 I would just want it to be as "accurate" as possible, even if there's so much room for artistic license!

Do it.

We need just a lot more pre-canon stuff, man!

Some interaction between Gortash and Hope is another ripe opportunity for delicious character slurps! I can't imagine she would just sit back and ignore him - at first anyway (maybe he gets a little sour and wicked over his time there?) Would she be supportive of him? The only *genuine* kindness he pretty much had ever experienced? (I like to think Raphael has his own brand of kindness, but it was conditional, as a devil).

My first thought to this ironically was how Hope is convinced that she has to be hideous because she thinks her skin is missing or horribly scarred. And I have no doubt that she experienced torture and was skinned and stuff - but probably just healed afterwards. (Personal headcanon, absolutely not supported by anything but the fact that certain characters in FR Lore are barely scarred: If a wound is healed within 24 hours with magic the wound will not scar up, unless done by specific types of magic.)

But if Hope and Enver interacted with one another, I totally could see kid!Enver go like: "Oh boy, you really are hideous to look at." Or something like that.

And yeah, they should have met each other, given that we know that Enver did spend at least some of his time in the hells in the dungeon of the House of Hope. Probably when he annoyed Raphael too much, or broke some abitrary rule.

It is pretty interesting Karlach really seemed to have no concept of Gortash's darker dealings, which Gortash doubts (or at least says he does) when she confronts him later. Again it's just paraphrasing from memory, but he says she must have known what he was up to- there was no way she couldn't have, and he's kind of right.

That is part of the reason that I think that at the time he was not yet surrounded by Banites. I mean, she does seem to have at least some understanding that he was dealing weapons. I would have to look up the dialogue as well, but there is a dialogue option after you have visited the Zhents in Act 1, where she mentions that Gortash had a rivalry with them or something like that. Which makes me believe that she has at least a vague idea that he did that - but maybe just never considered that as that much morally objectionable.

But I also think that his relationship to Karlach is a very interesting aspect. Because yeah, she definitely is someone who in general sees the best in everyone. And it is surprisingly hard to act all evil, when someone is sitting next to you with glittering eyes and tells you that they know you can be good.

From the like two or three interactions we get between them I do really feel that in a way Gortash did care about her. And your interpretation that he saw the hells as sone sort of initiation for her might actually be. At least that is how he might tell it in his own head to sleep easier at night.

I wrote earlier this year about how redeeming/saving Gortash would actually be a fairly easy way to improve Karlach's rather lackluster companion quest. (Again, her companion quest is: "Defeat paladins, bring infernal iron to Dammon twice, defeat Gortash, accept that no matter what Karlach will not get a happy end, as she either has to return to the hells or die." It feels like a bloody afterthought. Even the Act 2 recruits have more of a plot there.) And technically Gortash should know enough about the infernal engines that you could as a writer argue he knows how to fix the engine. So you could basically improve her plot by putting some effort into finding a way to fix the engines once in the city, and then realizing that Gortash is the only one who has the necessary knowledge. So Karlach is confronted with: Either die or trust him enough to fix it. That would have been interesting.

Obviously that is the way I decided to go with my fanfics. Basically in my headcanon Gortash lives because of this. He still gets punished, though, and at first is very not willing to see how he did anything wrong, because fuck you, he deserves to be a tyrant after how shitty his life was so far. And by the time he admits to himself that he indeed was shitty, the one person who he realizes he cares about forgiving him is Karlach... And she is very much unwilling to forgive him.

Trying to figure out Gortash's backstory

As I said before, I am right now very much inspired to write a redemption story for Gortash. Like post-canon, Gortash lives AU (because I still hate that he dies), and he actually gets a chance to redeem himself. Not only like: He turns good, but he actually does something good enough to be considered a redemption. And he does so without dying.

But... Yeah, that story is going to be from Gortash's POV, which means that I very much need to come up with some fillings for the big ass holes that the game leaves in terms of his backstory.

We don't know how old he is, but I would estimate him to be around his late 30s or early 40s. Which means we kinda have like 20 years to fill up.

While the entire timeline of Raphael "buying" him from his parents and him escaping the hell is very vague, he was probably somewhere between 18 and 20 when he got out of the hells. And the exact stuff what happened in between is vague. Even how he escaped the hells is not quite clear. I mean, was Helsink responsible for that? Or how did he get out?

And then he starts to do illegal weapons trading once he is back in Baldur's Gate. Which is fair. I am going to assume that he is actually going to throw some stuff in there that is of his own making, given that he clearly is a tinkerer.

Given Karlach is 30, I do not think he hired her before she was 15, so at max she has worked for him just a couple of years.

I mean, technically those details don't matter. What does matter however is: How does he become a Chosen of Bane, and how does he get into contact with the Dark Urge?

As quite a few people have pointed out: Technically the Dark Urge existing is very confusing given that they have been created by Bhaal and Bhaal was dead for about a hundred years until ten years ago. So unless Durge is ten years old, this does not fully make sense. Sure, technically speaking Durge could be immortal, I guess, but... Well.

See, the issue I see with Gortash is, that I just do not pick him as the religious type. I do not see him going to the Banite church and actually give enough fucks to make himself a name in the church and after some great show of faith getting the status of chosen. I mean, if you talk to him, he just... Ketheric is devoted to Myrkul, sure. And Orin was indoctrinated into the Bhaalist cult from her birth onward. But Gortash? He would follow nearly every god if that god gave him powers. At least that is my reading of him. Sure, the entire tyrant thing plays well with his pompous and kinda narcissistic personality (and I mean this in a neutral way - given how he grew up narcissism in a medical sense is to be expected), but... Like, had Oghma thrown him a boon, he would have served Oghma, right?

So, why is he a chosen?

Usually chosen are either one of two: Either, they are very dedicated to the god and have proofen themselves to them over and over again, or they have something (power, knowledge, influence) that the god is interested in. As I don't see Gortash falling underneath the first umbrella, the second one could be it. Was Bane interested in Gortash maybe, because Gortash had a lot of knowledge about the hells maybe? Was Bane originally interested in the crown or something else that Gortash knew about? That would be one possibility.

Though, there is another one. Because it just so happens that in the lore of Faerûn something happened just 8 years ago, that could have given him chosen status without him doing shit for it. Even though it would also mean, that him being a chosen is almost random. Because 8 years ago the second sundering happened. And during the second sundering for a variety of reasons the gods picked quite a lot of chosen. And yes, that included the Dead Three as well. And a lot of those chosen were in fact not people super dedicated to the gods or anything, but just people who generally aligned with the domain and alignment of the god in question. And I cannot help but wonder: Was Gortash just one of the chosen Bane got from that event?

It would work out fine. Because there is one thing that keeps bothering me: Sure, Gortash kept secrets from Karlach. But she still was his personal bodyguard. And she had no idea that he was aligned with Bane. Which makes me think that indeed he was not a Banite when he sold her off to Zariel.

And yeah, I cannot help myself. The timeline would work out rather well: Gortash becomes a chosen closely prior the events of the second sundering, but after he sold of Karlach. After a bit the Dark Urge (who somehow very much is an adult, because I guess he time travelled or something) finds him. The two hit it off (whether romantically or platonically) and come up with their grand evil scheme. At some point Ketheric joins.

Of course, there is one big hole in that explaination, though: Who are the other people working for Gortash while he just is a black market weapons trader? If he was a Banite it would be easily explainable (other Banites), but like this it leaves open the question: Who are they and what happened to them?

I don't know. I am rambling. But yeah. I like this asshole. And his story is fun to think about.

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #10: Heady

Heady – (of liquor) potent; intoxicating. -OR- willful or rash

Note - This takes place during the finale of 5.0, after the little kid asks if the player is the Warrior of Darkness, but before the Scions gather in the Ocular and send the Warrior back to the Source. The Crystarium is throwing a giant party to celebrate their victory.

Rheika was being subjected to another round of hearty toasting. She’d had a few to drink, but she knew her tolerance well enough to know that she was slightly tipsy and planned not to go any further than she already was. With every toast she pretended to drink, and so far no one had noticed. She wanted to be mostly clear-headed for what had to happen next.

She spotted Thancred approaching the bar and waved him over. The assembled patrons then began toasting his virtues as well, but he managed to weave past them all to get to her.

“Enjoying the festivities in your honor?” he teased.

“Uugggh. Ordinarily I only want this much attention when I’m performing, but these people won’t even let me get a word in to start a performance! It’s a never ending stream of ‘thank-yous’ or ‘bless-yous’ or people asking me to bless them!” she replied, tossing her hands in the air in frustration.

“I notice you’re not partaking much” Thancred pointed out, glancing towards her still-half full tankard.

She scoffed. Of course, he’d notice. He’d probably been keeping an eye on her all night. This newfound protector role he’d adopted suited him well, she decided. It was also kind of, okay really sexy…

No, down, girl. Things to do. “Not yet. Can you gather everyone in the Ocular? The Scions, I mean. And the Exarch. Ryne, too, but I counted her in the Scions, but I didn’t know if you would, so…yeah her too.”

He chuckled. “Give me a little bit and I’ll send them all that way.”

“Thanks, Thancred. Meet you there.”

Reaching into her pouch, she palmed one of her smoke pellets.

A short time later, Thancred led the others into the Ocular. Rheika was already present, wearing the armor she wore as a Shinobi. Her daggers sat her side, and she smelled faintly of the smoke they knew she used to distract opponents so she could hide. She stood in front of the portal that led back to the source, the Exarch’s usual spot when he addressed them all

Everyone, almost by instinct, fanned out in a semi-circle around her.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. I wanted to get you all together before the night got any later. I’ve…I’ve got things I need to say to each of you. Stuff that I didn’t want to wait until the morning. Hell, most of it I didn’t want to even wait until now but…well we’ve been a bit busy.”

All of them nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Rheika walked up to Ryne and embraced her. When they finally separated, she kept her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes, a wide smile on her face.

“Ryne, I love you. I know you had to accept a lot, being the Oracle, but you’ve never wavered in wanting to help, and you saved my life a bunch. I’m so thankful for you and we are gonna spend a lot of time becoming friends, okay?”

Ryne had tears streaming down her face, but she hugged Rheika again. “I can’t wait!”

Rheika let her go and walked over to Alphinaud. She ruffled his hair. “You, sir, used to be an insufferable twerp when I first met you.”

Everyone chuckled, even Alphinaud.

Rheika continued. “I said ‘used to’ and I absolutely mean it. You aren’t that kid and you haven’t been for a very long time. “

She bent down and put her hands around his shoulders. “You’ve had many more successes than you have failures, and they’ve been much more far-reaching. I want you to stop living in the shadow of your mistakes and live for your successes, past and future. Can you do that for me?”

Alphinaud sniffed and wiped a single tear from his eye. “I can. Thank you.”

She nodded, then walked to Alisaie. She also got a hug, but Rheika did not let go when she spoke to her, merely loosened her hold a little. “You’re so amazing, you know that? Trust me, I know Red Magic, and you’re utterly fantastic, and you’ve got a lot more growing to do, so just imagine how much more amazing you’re going to be. Tesleen was not your fault. Please don’t let guilt over her consume you. You have far too much life left to be eaten up by it, okay?”

Alisaie just hugs back harder, choking a sob. “Okay”, she says through her tears. “I’ll try”.

Rheika releases the hug and kisses her forehead. “All I ask, sweetie.”

She lets her go and looks over to Y’shtola, who has been smiling at the outpouring of love from the Warrior of Darkness. That smile fades when she sees that Rheika’s expression is no longer happy.

She looked upset.

Rheika approaches her, arms crossed. “I know you weren’t part of the deception. But you still held things from me. I know it wasn’t long before you did say something, but it hurt that you delayed even that long.

Y’shtola started to respond, then looked away, shame on her visage. “No, I will not defend my actions. You are right. I should not have. You are my friend, one of my dearest, and I treated you as a puzzle to be solved. Never again.”

Her eyes found Rheika again. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you, Rheika.”

Rheika smiled and reached forward to hug her. “Accepted and forgiven, Shtola.”

She grinned. “Oh, and do you recall what you promised me the night before we set out for Eulmore? Feel free to make good on that whenever you like!”

Y’shtola arched her eyebrows in confusion, then they shot up as her eyes went ride and she turned crimson. She quickly looked down, hoping no one noticed.

Everyone did, though no one had any idea what Rheika was talking about.

She walked over to Thancred, giving him a cool smile. “You know what I’m going to say?”

He gave a half smile. “I presume you’re going to chastise me for the way I acted these past few years, the way I treated Ryne.”

“And everyone else, too. You hurt more than you realize when you lash out rather than talk about your hurts, Thancred. We all realize how much we rely on you, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t able to have you rely on us when you need it, when you’re the one hurting. No more forgetting that, you understand?”

“I won’t forget anymore, Rheika. I promise” he says, solemnly.

“Good.” She gave him a quick seductive wink. “Remember what you lose when you do, pretty boy”

He also blushed and prayed Ryne didn’t notice. She did, but she wasn’t sure why he was.

Rheika then turned to Urianger. He noted with some distress that her expression had chilled to anger, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

She stopped in front of him. “This is twice now you’ve played a game without informing the rest of us that’s gotten people hurt, Urianger. First there was that double-dealing with Ardbert’s crew that got Alisaie poisoned by Renda-Rae, now this. So I’m going to ask you one more time; are you going to honor the promise you made before we dove into the Tempest? ‘No further secrets?’

“Aye, milady. No more. Mine strategizing alone hath proven a bane upon someone too many a time, and I wilt allow no persuasions of any kind, be they mine or elsewhere, to deter me from this.”

“Good. You’re not BAD at this, Uri, but as brilliant as you are, no one can see every angle. The best tacticians work in teams, so that others might see circumstances that we miss. You’re surrounded by some of the smartest people on two stars, don’t forget that. I forgive you, by the way. I don’t remember if I said that already.”

“My thanks, Rheika.”

She smirks at him. “However, you DO owe me, so here’s how you’re gonna pay me back. When we get you all home, you are absolutely not allowed to hide away under that hooded robe ever again. In fact, I hereby ban you from wearing anything with sleeves. Those arms deserve to be seen.”

Urianger looked at his arms, confused. The other Scions chuckled, with Thancred throwing in a “Hear, hear!” for good measure.

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “And we can talk later about whether or not you’d like to show me the rest of those muscles later. If you want.”

She pulled back and gave him a friendly innocent smile. Urianger, to his credit, managed to hide his blush short of some faint rosiness in his cheeks.

Rheika turned to the Exarch and frowned. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

When she re-opened her eyes, the others all took a step back. None of them had ever seen her this angry, a fury born of betrayal and pain.

“What’s coming next is not going to be pretty. If anyone wants to leave, I understand. No judgement. If you stay though…well, consider yourself warned.”

No one moved.

She panned back and forth to the others, then nodded. “All right, then.”

She stepped forward to G’raha and poked a finger at his chest. “You’ve talked a lot lately, G’raha Tia. You’ve always been gifted with a tongue of silver. But right now, I’m more than just a bit tired of it. So here’s how this is going to work. You are not allowed to speak until I’m done talking, unless I ask you a question directly. When you answer, you do so with one word. You say anything more than that, or take too long to choose your single word and I will put you on the floor. Am I clear??”

G’raha gulped, then said “Yes”. His voice was uneven. Scared, even.

Good, she thought.

“Did you think I didn’t know, G’raha Tia?”

He cocked his head in confusion. “Pardon?”

She turned and looked back to the portal. “Did you think I didn’t know that it was you under that hood?”

His head fell. “Hoped.”

She laughed. “If you didn’t want me to recognize you, you did a pretty piss-poor job of trying to disguise yourself. That hood didn’t always cover your eyes, you know. I glimpsed crimson under there, more than once. But even before that, did you think I wouldn’t recognize your voice?

He looked up, sadness on his face. “Years”

“NOT FOR ME!” she yelled, whirling on him. “Not for me. I knew, right away, that it was you. So many times you could have come clean, and you didn’t, so I never knew exactly how much to trust you. After all, why would my good friend G’raha Tia need to conceal himself and his intent from me?”

She paused, and begin pacing back and forth before him. Eventually she spoke again. “So why, Graha? Why lie to me?”

He swallowed. “Protect.”

She froze, then slowly panned towards his eyes, outrage practically pouring off of her. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘protect’? YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT” she yelled.

G’raha reeled, catching his balance on a backstepped foot, before righting himself and returning his gaze to her, looking pitiful.

She continued. “I am SICK to FUCKING DEATH of people deciding what’s best for me and still asking me to risk my life to save their homes or people or the planet. I, and I alone, have the right to decide what I need protecting from! Especially from people who are supposed to be my friends! Instead, your so-called protection put me through an absolute hell to deal with on my own!”

She gestures to the other Scions. “I love and cherish these people and without them I would never have stood a chance in this fight, but they are not the Warriors of Light! They don’t have the Echo, or the Blessing of Hydaelyn. Do you have any concept of how much easier this could have been if you had thought to summon more than one of us?”

G’raha suddenly looked very afraid. “Un…undefended!”

She noticed. “Oh, undefended, I see! You were thinking of the Source, you didn’t want to leave no Warriors of Light to defend it. Fine, I’ll accept that. But there’s four of us, G’raha.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “You could have grabbed me and Dahkar, or Franks and Fearless, or me and Fearless. Any combination of two of us! But you didn’t. No no, you specifically targeted me. Don’t bother denying it, I’ve seen enough of your past to know this. So here’s the million-gil question, G’raha Tia. Why. Me?”

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down. He opened them again, crimson irises meeting green. “L-love.”

Leather first met his face before he could even blink, impacting his crystal covered cheek. He remembered crying out in pain, and then the next he was on the floor, grasping his jaw. He heard Ryne gasp, then Alphinaud say “That’s enough, Rheika!” He regained his equilibrium in time to see that Urianger is blocking Alphinaud from physically interceding.

“Master Alphinaud, if thou valuest thine health, I beseech thee, be silent. These feelings must needs be aired.”

He turned to see that Rheika has not stopped glaring at him. “What did we talk about that second night at the find, G’raha?”

He tested his jaw. Not broken, thankfully. The crystal didn’t appear to be cracked, either. He wondered if her first is all right, then quickly remembered he was on a timetable. “You.”

She nodded. “So you do remember. I knew you were interested in me, so I told you all about me. I’m not shy about it, after all. Do you remember what you said in reply. Don’t answer that, because I don’t want to hear it from you right now. You said you understood. So you already knew there would never, ever be anything but friendship between us when you locked yourself in this tower, and then you turn around and bring me across the rift, alone, and ask me to save both of these worlds because you think you’re in love with me?”

He had gotten back on his feet, but let her unleash all of her hurt, because he knew he had misjudged her greatly, and he deserved it. “Shame.” is the one word he could think to say.

“What exactly were you thinking would happen, G’raha? That some grand romantic gesture would break through the stone of my heart? Do you think you’re the first person to think that they’re the ‘right one i’ve been waiting all my life for’?”

“No…”

She crossed her arms in front of him. “No, you’re not. Dozens of others before you have tried, thinking I just needed ‘fixing’. You know what happened to them? They have it made very clear to them that they are not to speak with me anymore. Because I do NOT. NEED. FIXING. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with me. And you lied to my face when you said you understood that, just like they did. But your lie? That nearly cost me my life and two worlds worth of others.

G’raha silently sobbed, eyes closed but tears streaming down his face.

“Look at me”

He opened his eyes. She looked back at him, her face neutral.

“The only reasons I’m not going to do that to you are because despite all of that, you did bring hope to the people of that undone future. You built this city as a bastion of refuge and safety to the people of this realm. You protected them for a century. And despite your massive fucking screwup bringing me here alone and lying to me about it, when I truly needed them the most, you brought my brothers and sister across the rift to help me kill Emet-Selch.”

“That’s a lot of good to weigh against the bad of you lying to me and ignoring my wishes, G’raha. And I think you realized how futile your hope was a while back. Am I right about that?”

He nods. “Lakeland.”

“When we spoke alone after the Eaters invaded it you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Got it. So here’s what we’re gonna do, G’raha. You’re gonna figure out how to get the Scions home. Without killing yourself. You’re gonna keep taking care of this city. You’re gonna be one of the voices that helps guild this realm into a bright new future. You do all that, and this godsdamned time you remember what I told you, and maybe we can fix our friendship? Think you can do that?”

He nodded and smiled. “Yes.”

“Good.” She walked past him towards the Ocular’s exit. The others all watched her. “That was it, I’m done. I’ve been holding back drinking too much all evening so that I’d have a clear enough head to say all of that, so now that it’s over, I’m going to drink a lot more. If you all feel like joining me, can’t wait to see you there. If not, see you in the morning.”

She strode out of the Ocular. The twins soon followed, then after a few gazes between each other, the other Scions soon followed, until only G’raha Tia remained.

Despite everything he knew he’d done horribly wrong, he counted himself fiercely lucky that it hadn’t cost him everything. And he looked to the future with a renewed determination to continue repairing that which he’d damaged.

[sworn-unbeliever]

30 - Splinter

(or: The Unchosen One) (or: The Completely Canon Story of How Teremy Arrived at Norvrandt)

((The last entry! I wanted to go out with a bang. Or a diatribe since this entry is really long. First of all, a huge thanks to @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, an amazing person who tirelessly(?) organizes this event and with such passion and love. You’ve inspired so many to write or post, including me. Thank you so-so much. Also thank you to @abeat once again. I had asked her to have the Exarch describe Jeremy and she ran with it. She is amazing and hilarious and I can’t thank her enough for that and everything she’s done.

I debated whether or not to break up the story of how Teremy came to Norvrandt into a 3-part story for free Sunday. Then I opted to take Sundays off. But because of that, I decided to do this story as the last entry, and all in one go. Thus this entry is probably more digested than what it could have been. Either way, I had this silly idea stuck in my head for awhile about the sword in the stone and I finally got to write it. A huge thank you to anyone and everyone who has stuck around with me, my obsessive, self-indulgent stories, and this sarcastic musician-poet-dancer-thug up until now. You can also find me at @adeat, @quasionion, and @aspected-benefic. Until next time!))

Wc: 5,250

“Apologies for taking you out like this, but the citizens are as baffled as the local doctors. Perhaps you are able to shine light on this precarious situation.” said Lyna.

The two arrived side by side at the Rotunda. Upon Lyna and the Exarch’s arrival, commonfolk and guards alike parted, allowing them to pass. The Exarch didn’t have to go far to see what Lyna had been talking about. There in the center of the crowd laid an object that had not been there previously—a sword with a third of its black blade lodged in an oddly specifically-shaped stone. In fact, said object seemed so foreign that it looked as though someone had played a practical joke. Yet, as the Exarch held a hand towards the blade, he sensed great powers within.

“Whomever or whatever had brought this object here is no ordinary being.” said the Exarch. “The question is… what is this sword’s intended purpose?”

“This is why we’ve called you, my lord,” said Lyna, “in which you may hopefully shed light on this puzzling matter.

The Exarch held a hand to his chin and tilted his head. “Hm. ‘Tis most puzzling indeed. Perhaps I may attempt to divine an answer.”

Lyna bowed. “Please do, my lord.”

Closing his eyes, even though no one could see as such, the Exarch called upon the powers bestowed upon him by the Crystal Tower. He looked into the divide between worlds to see who the foretold hero would be. Using his phenomenal magical powers, he created a portal to show an image of the foretold hero. The crowds gasped in awe and wonder at the vision shown to them—a handsome, brown-haired miqo’te with a smile that radiated like the ever-present sun.

“Yes, I see it now. He is someone who is brave, kind and true. He is always kind to all creatures except his enemies. His enemies are creatures who are the bane of all that is good within our world. He feeds hungry orphans and houses needy animals. He is wise, benevolent and handsome—”

“What does being handsome have to do with being a legendary hero—” Lyna mused quietly under her breath. “Wait, is he feeding those orphans bacon bread?”

“—courageous and more powerful than anything across the land and sea—”

Lyna had never before doubted the wisdom of her grandfather, but she felt that was about to come to an end if this sweeping description continued for much longer.

“—he will come to us and slay all of the Light Wardens, Vauthry, and every last Eulmorean—”

“I doubt that’s necessary. Since when is mass murder heroic—” Lyna started to say.

“He is also chiseled like a god of war and has a magnificently long—”

“My lord, perhaps you should to try to summon the hero now?” Lyna interjected to prevent the description of the foretold from quickly going from a PG-13 rating to an 18+ one.

The Exarch coughed. “Yes! He is indeed the destined hero—the one foretold in the records.”

In the background, Moren, holding a tome, nodded vigorously.

“I see…” The Exarch held a hand to his hood, “... I see his name! His name is… Jeremy! Jeremy Itsubishi!”

Lyna quietly sighed, relieved that at least the remainder of the lengthy description had remained decent. “Where is this one, this Jeremy Itsubishi?”

“Alas, it may seem that he is… in a realm far beyond us. Much like the ones that have been drawn before.” The Exarch said tactfully. “But fret not. Mayhap with my magics I may be able to summon him here. Please stand back. I can guarantee neither the accuracy nor the drawbacks of this spell.” He held his staff in front of him.

The crowd, including Lyna, took large steps backwards to give the Exarch all the space he needed.

Closing his eyes again, the Exarch once again drew upon the powers bestowed to him by the Crystal Tower. He channeled his energies to cast a spell—one of which he had much practice. A giant, flat circle appeared in thin air. The Exarch reached inside, his hand vanishing into the hole. Bystanders peered to the sides and out the other end of the portal, yet saw nothing. A few moments later, the Exarch grinned like a cat that had just pounced on its prey.

“I have you now. Throw wide the gates!” the Exarch bellowed.

Everyone in the vicinity raised their arms as powerful gusts of wind billowed violently, yet somehow everyone’s feet remained firmly in place. The Exarch pulled his hand out of the portal. When the the portal vanished, all that remained were the Exarch himself and what he had pulled out.

Or, rather, who—a miqo’te, or mystel as they were known in these parts.

Blinking a few times, said miqo’te-mystel rubbed his eyes, one foot forward in a natural fighting stance, and looked around. “What the fuck is this place…? Can a guy ever get two winks of a rest? God fucking dammit! Agh. Next time, send me a warning ahead of time before you drag me through time and space?”

Lyna gestured to the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel that had just arrived. “Benevolence personified, my lord.”

Not one to be deterred that easily, the Exarch cleared his throat and spread his arms wide. “Welcome, destined hero, to the Crystarium in Norvrandt. I am the Crystal Exarch and I am the one who have summoned you here. You are the one fated for a destiny greater than you could ever imagine, Jeremy Itsubishi!”

“Jeremy…?” the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel asked. Rather than the higher pitch than the Exarch had imagined, this seeker spoke in a lower pitch with a natural velvety growl, even discernable from one word alone. “You mean my brother?”

Silence.

“... brother?” the Exarch asked.

“Jeremy’s my younger brother. I’m his elder twin brother. Teremy.”

The Exarch said nothing.

The crowd said nothing.

Lyna gestured to the brown-haired miqo’te-mystel again. “Once again, your aim is impeccable, my lord.”

* * *

“Teremy…?” the Exarch repeated slowly. “In what realm does one name their child ‘Teremy’?”

“I ask myself that every single day of my life,” said the aforementioned Teremy.

“Hmm.”

Placing a hand to his chin, the Exarch circled around Teremy, looking at the seeker up and down in a similar manner as one would appraise a fine piece of art. All the while, Teremy stood ramrod still, arms firmly at his side, his ears shooting straight up to the sky. Teremy sensed no malicious intent from this very familiar-sounding miqo’te, but at the same time, the longer the Exarch stared at him, the higher Teremy’s fight or flight thermometer rose. Any second longer and Teremy’s instincts will bolt him out of the room, whatever intention they had with him or no! Thankfully for Teremy, the appraisal process ended sooner, rather than later. The Exarch returned to his original position of in front of Teremy, his hand still on his chin.

“Well, he seems to appear the part on first blush,” said the Exarch. “He is quite handsome and his face, height and frame match the appearance of the one seen in the vision. Yet, there’s something different about him. I’m afraid I can’t quite place a finger on it.”

“Is it his hair, m’lord?” Lyna asked.

“Come to think of it, his hairstyle is different,” said the Exarch. “Rather than a lampshade, his hairstyle appears to be rather… messy? Side swept? But no, ‘tis another facet, one I’m failing to discern.”

Right then and there, Teremy wished his hairstyle looked like his brother’s. Then his mind could click on a light bulb as to what the fuck was going on.

“Then perhaps his build, m’lord?” Lyna asked.

The Exarch gave Teremy an appraising look up and down. “Yes, well, while the frame fits, his muscles are certainly much… larger. More pronounced. His shirt may as well be a second skin. A venerable god of war indeed. Perhaps he does even have a magnificently long—”

Teremy flattened his ears and pulled his hood over his head. “Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind—”

Lyna cleared her throat. “My lord. Although the spell may have been deceived by facial likeness, perhaps we can still take this situation to our advantage and have him try to pull out the sword from the stone anyway.”

Teremy pulled his hood back down. “Sword in the stone…?”

The Exarch gestured to something behind him. “Yes, well, we had attempted to call the hero seen within a vision to pull this sword out from the stone. Perhaps you can feel the blade’s energies from here? I can sense it. And it has been and shall be foretold—”

Moren, tome in hand, nodded vigorously again.

“—that a hero will pull this sword from the stone and use it to save our world.”

“That’s one hell of a story for you to drag someone all the way through time and space,” said Teremy.

The seeker paused to regain his mental state. He had taken on an empire. Primals. Violent illegal cartels and their lords. Getting dragged through time and space seemed like a logical next step. He pinched himself to see if he was dreaming. Pain. Bad idea. Yet he still stood amid a crowd and in front of a hooded miqo’te no less. Pulled through time and space all because his brother was needed to fulfill some kind of prophecy. And it wasn’t like Teremy could nope out of there. He had no idea where he was in the first place.

Might as well see this great big fuss first.

Teremy turned around to see exactly the description—a sword in a stone. Nothing more, nothing less, except for the sword itself. Teremy recognised the type of blade right away.

A gunblade.

The chamber was the largest thing Teremy had ever seen. The blade itself thick with a black coating except for its sharp edges. What was a gunblade doing here? What was it doing in a stone? Waiting to be picked up like a hero of legend.

Indeed, a legend: Teremy’s own brother.

The seeker’s mind jumped back to a point in time when Jeremy pulled out that own gunblade. Wherever he had found it mattered not. The thing got destroyed in a later ensuing fight anyway, but the point of the matter was that Jeremy had kept it. Prior to then, the younger Itsubishi brother had never shown any particular interest in the gunblade. But then again, things changed. Did Jeremy’s sudden affinity for the gunblade show some kind of destiny at work? Fate’s guiding hand that gestured the way?

And then fate in the form of this Exarch guy nabbed the wrong brother.

Teremy approached the sword in the stone. The crowd and the Exarch took a step back to give him some space.

‘Well, what the hell. Might as well give this a shot. Nothing left to lose.’ Teremy thought.

He gripped the gunblade’s handle. Immediately he felt the smooth coolness as though forged to fit his hand perfectly. He and Jeremy had the same size and shape of hands, but different dexterity, with Teremy being common and right-handed. Then why did this grip feel so natural? Why upon its touch did he feel like his very arm had been stuck in the rock and not this sword’s blade? Did Teremy imagine things? Fully expecting the blade to take his arm off the moment he pulled, Teremy yanked the handle with all his might.

His arm swung straight up with so much force, Teremy fell backwards. He shoved one foot behind him, quickly regaining his footing. The crowd gasped and murmured, but not the kind of gasp that he had expected. Not disappointed but not awed.

Confused?

Flecks of rock and debris trickled down on Teremy’s head and face. After shaking his head, he lowered his arm to see that he had indeed pulled the sword out.

With the sword still lodged in the stone.

In fact, Teremy not only pulled the sword out, he pulled the stone out as well.

Holding the blade sideways, his left hand cupping the flat end of the blade—or, rather, the stone—he turned back to the Exarch. “Does this count...?”

The Exarch’s pursed lips told the whole story. “Hm. Perhaps I truly need to perfect my aim after all.”

“There is always next time, my lord,” said Lyna.

Teremy’s ears darted around to the front and the side to catch the audio filtering in.

Disappointment.

Chatter.

Norvrandt will forever lord under the curse of an ever-present sun. Sin eaters will reign until the end of days. Teremy frowned and stared at the sword-still-in-the-stone again. His mind flashed him images of a time when he still lived under his father’s roof. A time when Teremy had been nothing but a disappointment to his father. A time when he protected no one but himself. His fight or flight radar soared near the top, only to be stopped by a roadblock called his ire. In just a few short moments, Teremy had been dragged around just to let others down by virtue of not being special, and that was that?

The Exarch placed a hand on his hood. “My apologies. I must return to my quarters. Also, I apologise again for inconveniencing you. You are free to stay here at the Crystarium as long as you’d like. We shall summon your brother in due time.”

He leaned on his staff. Teremy held a hand forward to brace him, even if he didn’t feel like he had a right to be in the Exarch’s presence. The Exarch turned his head towards Teremy and smiled.

“Thank you, but I shall be all right. This is nothing new. Believe me.”

Lyna sighed. “Yes, he is correct. This is nothing new. Teremy, if you don’t mind, I shall take the Exarch to his chambers.”

Without knowing what else to say, Teremy held onto the Exarch until Lyna got her hold on the cloaked figure. Once the two headed back, the crowd dispersed as quickly as Teremy had arrived. Teremy looked at the sword-still-in-the-stone.

“What should I do with this thing?”

No answer. Everyone had gone their separate ways. And now Teremy had no other choice but to do the same. Exhaling loudly, he placed the sword-still-in-the-stone on his back where he usually strapped his gunblade. May as well make use of it. Thanks to years of extensive training, he felt very little difference in weight. Had to be good for something.

Teremy wandered south. Some things remained the same as he knew them to be, yet different. Same gardens, though in circular plots with lampshades hanging overhead. Trees yielded leaves of not only green, but lovely shades of lavender and blue as well. Long lamps and domed areas that shone an unearthly shade of blue. He definitely wasn’t in Eorzea anymore.

But the question was… now what?

“Um! Are you Teremy?” asked a vaguely familiar voice that sounded like that of a small boy.

Teremy whirled around to see a dunesfolk lalafell looking back up at him. Blond hair parted in the middle, crimson eyes that matched his bandana and jacket, and an aura of magic surrounding him. But moreso than the lalafell’s presence or his appearance, his voice caught Teremy’s memory cue. Where had he heard that voice before?

Just in case Teremy’s mind played tricks on him again, he spoke cautiously. “Now all of Norvrandt knows my name. No thanks to that spectacle earlier.”

“Spectacle? Ah… I must have missed it.” the lalafell asked. “I just got here myself. Thought to take a walk and get a good idea of this place. Understand your surroundings and all that.”

“Fair. Then how do you know me?”

“I was part of the group that catered to that dance auditions. You know, the one you took part in. When that plant monster attacked, I was your co-tank. The, uh, paladin, if you can call it that,” said the dunesfolk.

The lalafell’s words acted as a cue that triggered Teremy’s memory. The dance auditions in Costa Del Sol. A disgruntled auditionee summoned a giant plant monster in retribution. What Teremy had once believed to be just the catering crew turned out to be an astrologian, a white mage, and a paladin—although more like a hybrid spellcaster who shielded his entire body with big guard and flung magical swords like a red mage—who helped the dance crew fight off the sudden foe. Teremy distinctly recalled the voice of said paladin who warned the party of dangers. A young boy’s voice.

A voice exactly the same as this lalafell’s own.

The lalafell nodded and smiled. “You remember! So you are Teremy Itsubishi?”

Teremy nodded. “If you’re looking for Jeremy, he’s… not here. Unfortunately for the prophecy.”

Joey put his stubby finger to his mouth and tilted his head, looking down, as though weighing options of how to answer as such. When he craned his neck to look up again, he finally spoke. “I just happened to see you and you looked lost and confused. That’s all.”

The seeker rubbed his face. All those years of trying to look indifferent… thwarted by his bewilderment. What a day. “Right. You said you missed the spectacle. Thankfully for my pride. At any rate, what’s your name again?”

“Joey. Joey Madison.” The lalafell gestured to himself with his thumb. “So, um, what brings you all the way to Norvrandt?”

“I—” Teremy started, but stopped. What was he supposed to say? One moment he was in Costa Del Sol chilling with his brother on the beach, and then the next moment he found himself sucked into a portal with only time to grab his clothes. Not even his trusty gunblade.

Joey tilted his head. “Here, come with me. My mistress, Reonora, also got summoned through the portal and I followed her here. She’s going to ask the Exarch some questions. He might have some answers for you too.”

‘Sure didn’t have any answers earlier.’ Teremy thought, but followed Joey anyway. Couldn’t hurt.

* * *

As it turned out, Teremy hadn’t been the only one who got dragged through a portal against his will—the entire Fortunes & Fancies crew—of which Teremy had correctly remembered as the catering crew at the dance audition—had been dragged here as well. The Crystal Exarch’s original aim was to find the fabled Warrior of Light, the one who had saved Eorzea time and time again alongside the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Somehow, this extended to a humble shopkeeper trying to make a living, and both her retainers. Well, Rosemary, anyway. Joey had followed Reonora here by reopening the portal, but only due to traces of energies. He couldn’t open the portal back. In other words, in an attempt to find the Warrior of Light, the Exarch had pulled in nearly every single Scion of the Seventh Dawn, and them too.

For Teremy, because the Exarch had a vision of some legendary hero that could pull a sword from the stone. Now all Teremy had was the sword… and the stone.

Teremy folded his arms and said nothing as he listened to everyone else talk. To his limited thug mental capabilities, he gathered that the Scions had scattered at various parts around this world, and the Leveilleur twins happened to be the easiest ones to reach. At least from the Crystarium. Speaking of twins. Teremy bitterly wondered how one of them thought if they learned the other had been hailed some chosen hero, yet they weren’t the one and now they’re stuck here. No, no point to think about that. Things happened for a reason. Even though Teremy wasn’t exactly sure as to what yet.

“We should split up.” Reonora concluded. “I can go to Eulmore to find Alphinaud.”

Teremy unfolded his arms and stepped forward. “Then I’ll go to Ahm Araeng to find Alisaie.”

Everyone, including the Exarch, looked at Teremy in surprise.

“Are you certain?” The Exarch asked. “‘Tis true you have been pulled from your homeworld against your will—and for that, I deeply apologise. But you’re welcome to stay in the Crystarium as long as you like. There’s no need for you to go out of your way for this trouble, especially after the trouble I have caused you.”

Teremy cracked his knuckles. “Sitting still makes me antsy. Destined hero or not, I might as well make myself useful.”

Reonora held Rosemary’s hand. The keeper had clearly chosen who she wanted to take with her. Though she looked at Teremy as she spoke. “Then please take Joey with you. He may not look like it, but he is a versatile all-rounder. He should be able to help you in any capacity you need.”

Joey performed an eastern bow. “I’ll do my best!”

Teremy placed his right fist in his left palm and bowed.

“Then it’s decided,” said the Exarch. “Please speak to the Amaro Keepers once you have fully prepared.”

The girls headed out first, followed by Teremy and Joey. As the seeker and his newfound companion headed to the Amarokeep, Teremy wondered what he was going to do with this sword and the stone combination. He quickly concluded that he’d just carry the thing around. If nothing else, having the feel of a gunblade made him feel better, even if half of its blade was rendered useless. All else fails, he had an interesting sword-mace and story to tell Jeremy when he got home.

If he got home.

* * *

The last time anyone saw any trace of Alisaie, she was last seen at the Inn at Journey’s Head. From Mord Souq, Teremy and Joey traveled south—Joey on a flying chair, Teremy on foot. He needed some time to work off his nervous energy.

The blazing hot sun beat down upon them. Occasionally Teremy felt breaths of cold coming from Joey’s own aura. At one glance, he saw a few ice cubes hovering around the lalafell. Magic really could do anything. Although Teremy felt the effects of extra heat from his black clothes, he welcomed that feeling right now. He needed that reminder that he was still alive.

Expected of a place that bared an eternal sun, the Fields of Amber gave home to some of the largest sabotenders Teremy had ever seen. Gigatenders, as the natives called them. The two also passed by varieties of turtles and moles, but none of them gave the two any extra trouble. As they continued south down a rocky ledge, Teremy placed his hands in his pockets. His fingers grazed upon aether-charged bullets. To think, he had the bullets but not an actual gunblade to fire them. His gunblade had been left behind at Costa Del Sol. All Teremy had left was this part blade mostly rock thing. Maybe he could fire off a round or two and a Burst Strike would blast the rock off. He pulled the gunblade from his back and slammed the rock into a nearby larger rock. All Teremy felt was the other rock shatter upon impact. That rock. Not the stone, that looked not even a grain out of place.

Joey jumped and squeaked. Had Teremy not been in such a sour mood, he would have thought the lalafell’s noise to be cute. “Everything okay?”

“Too much sun.” Teremy strapped the gunblade to his back.

“Here, have some cold.”

Teremy never asked for anything, but he felt a cold breeze slowly billow around him. The miqo’te smiled a little. “Hypothermia.”

“S-sorry!”

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh!” Joey placed a hand to his mouth. “A sarcastic type. I see.”

“Glad we understand each other. Thanks for the cold, though. Feels nice.”

Teremy held one hand over the horizon. How much farther was this inn anyway? What kind of inn could even survive in the middle of a desert?

Just when Teremy thought he saw a trickle of blue like an aetheryte crystal coming from between two large rock formations, he also saw a flash of white streak across the sky. Pure killing instinct. And from Joey hopping off of his chair, Teremy knew that the lalafell sensed it too.

What they saw was a sight they had never seen before—beings of pure white with angelic wings but forms of monsters screeching from the sky and diving down towards what looked like hyurs in rags.

“Those are Sin Eaters! We have to be care—”

Joey didn’t have time to finish his sentence, for Teremy already ran ahead at full speed. Imbuing his body with the power of wind, he ran faster than Joey’s lalafell legs could keep up. The miqo’te thought he heard things from the lalafell like “—ful.” “This guy…!” and “Wait!” but too late. Teremy had already committed the moment he saw someone in trouble. And soon, one of the sin eaters keeled back in the air from Teremy’s shoulder tackle. A reverse roundhouse kick to send the next one flying. And a quick burst of qi energy launched like a projectile to push away the last.

“You all right?” Teremy asked what appeared to be hyurs.

And indeed they were. Or whatever they were called in this world—Teremy forgot the explanation nor did he have time to care. His strikes had only served as a distraction. The sin eaters regained their senses quickly and dove again.

“Go, quickly! I’ll hold them off!” Teremy whirled around and grabbed the gunblade strapped to his back. Footsteps pattered behind him. Good.

One of the sin eaters took a large dive at him. Teremy swung his gunblade, except that the weight at the tip felt much heavier than usual—not enough to knock Teremy off balance, but enough to feel the weight of that attack. Rather than slash and slice, the stone still attached to the gunblade bludgeoned the sin eater. Good show but not exactly what he was looking for. Taking a chance, Teremy filled the revolver with one aether bullet, snapped the gunblade back into place, and fired.

Ka-thunk.

The recoil of a burst strike sent Teremy flying back. He skidded on the ground to prevent himself from falling. And yes, to answer his question, the stone remained perfectly intact. Putting the useless gunblade away, he resorted back to martial arts again. A shoulder tackle. A series of hand strikes to points usually vital to humans, but the sin eater didn’t seem to recoil in the same manner. Now what?

A flechette of magical swords impaling the sin eaters answered Teremy’s question. Immediately following the hailstorm came bolts of fire. A sudden bolt of lightning that shocked the sin eater to its core. A bolt of unaspected energy flecked them, followed by a large gust of wind to blow them off target. Teremy watched as a red blur collided onto the sin eater in front of him, but it was the sin eater that inevitably went flying from a impact spell with Joey’s open palm as a catalyst.

“Careful. These sin eaters can sire you into one of them if they feel like it,” said Joey.

“Thanks for the heads up.” Teremy called back. ‘Huh. Magic and martial arts together. Don’t see that every day. Cool.’

Teremy turned around, raising his fists in a fighting stance. Now he and Joey stood back to back.

Turned out that these three sin eaters weren’t alone. Another screech and more arrived. Joey flung spell after spell. Lightning to unaspected kinetic magic. Wind to unaspected kinetic magic that sent sin eaters flying away towards Teremy, causing the miqo’te’s strikes to collide even harder. But the more sin eaters they felled, the more came. The more strikes the duo dished out, the more sin eaters clawed their way. Teremy felt more irritated than winded—the miqo’te was just getting warmed up. But Joey, as befitting of a typical spellcaster, felt his stamina ebb away from him. It wasn’t long before the lalafell fell on his knees, panting, using vercure to heal his and Teremy’s wounds, but the same spell couldn’t cure for Joey’s exhaustion.

Although Teremy could rely on his martial arts to attack, his very instincts reached to his gunblade. He had to be there. He had to be the one in front, to protect the party. To protect the people behind him. To protect his companions.

To protect…

Teremy clenched his teeth. He had known the answer all along. He just didn’t want to see it. He pulled the gunblade from his back. “You know what? Fuck this. I made a vow upon my honor to protect others. Destiny can go to hell!”

With the hardest swing he could muster, Teremy smashed the blade’s stone prison against the rock wall.

CRACK.

The stone shattered. The sword’s blade gleamed in the light, shining brightly like a smile from its first taste of freedom. His grip on the handle never felt any better. As he swung, he felt like this blade was not a weapon, but an extension of his own arm. Moreso than any blade he had ever possessed.

“C’mon!” Teremy beckoned to the sin eaters as his battle aura flared twice as brightly.

He vaulted into the air and spun around, sword outstretched. The blade cut cleanly into the sin eaters’ flesh. Another spin cut even deeper. Sensing the danger that shifted from Teremy’s battle aura alone, the sin eaters now flew away from Joey and towards Teremy instead.

Joey struggled to stay on his feet just enough to see Teremy call all the sin eaters in the vicinity to himself. Even in his tired state, Joey noted just how much the miqo’te’s fighting style had changed. Although powerful and graceful before, Teremy’s moves flowed much more naturally. Much more gracefully. Like he now had the means to complete his purpose. Still, there had to be something Joey could do. He watched Teremy spin around to attack all the sin eaters at once. But that alone, was that enough?

“Teremy. I got an idea. I’m going to imbue your blade.”

Whether or not Teremy had heard Joey, the lalafell proceeded anyway. Using Teremy’s blade as a catalyst, the lalafell summoned magical fire onto the blade. When Teremy spun, a trail of fire followed, cutting and burning into the sin eaters’ flesh. With their combined attacks and another flechette hailstorm, the sin eaters collapsed to the ground. Their bodies dispersed into the air, never to be seen again.

Joey flopped to the ground and sat down, exhaling. Teremy, too, panted slightly and leaned on the wall. The miqo’te laughed. Then Joey. And soon, the tension from the battle subsided from laughter of genuine relief.

“That was a good idea with the fire thing.” Teremy pointed the blade of his sword upwards and turned it with a flick of his wrists, reflecting light from the sun. “I’ll have to remember that technique for myself.”

“And you… you freed the sword from the stone,” said Joey.

Teremy stared at the black side of his blade. “I did, didn’t I? Heh… rather than be chosen, I forced my way, you could say.”

“Sometimes destiny is what we choose for ourselves,” said Joey. “Maybe the stone knew that.”

“Or I hit the damn thing too hard for its liking. Yeah. I’ll go with that story. Fate splintering off into the great unknown thanks to me.” Teremy strapped the gunblade to his back. “C’mon. Let’s go find Alisaie.”

As the two headed into the Inn at Journey’s Head, Teremy felt a wave of relief tide over him. Now he understood why he had been called to Norvrandt. There were people who needed saving and people he had to protect. He didn’t need to be chosen to protect others. He had already decided long ago what he wanted to do.

[sharkyhat]

/ Artist Unknown. If anyone can direct me, please do. Google Image Search didn’t give me anything besides Pinterest posts. / Well, my Sunday night group are coming up on the finale of a long-running campaign in a few more sessions. We started at Level 3 and we’ve hit Level 20 and are finishing the final steps in our campaign against Thrazidun, amassing a world-army to charge into the Abyss to take him on at his doorstep - a collected force of armies of Pelor, Bane, Kord, Zehir, Grummsh, and other Deities both good and evil. We’ve united the powers of Divinity to take on the one threat that they had to unite against in the past. We use the Dawn War pantheon and timeline as a backdrop. 

This is quite the experience since we’ve only ever *finished* one other campaign in our group’s history due to timing availability, housing changes, work schedules, people moving, etc. and that was for a game called “Anima: Beyond Fantasy”.

This character - Morthos Farrapul - has become one of my favorite characters ever and the second in my long-running Farrapul family line of characters behind Sennos Farrapul, a Human archer from the previously finished “Anima: Beyond Fantasy” campaign. My naming schemes are often connected, but in my own way rather than any canon way in campaigns. Sort of running references and homages.

If he were to be given titles, he’d be... Morthos Farrapul:

Lover of Churros

Pretty simple. We found churros and they were delicious and Morthos and the party’s cleric, Rhogar, have taken them and spread them around the world with eagerness to share the treats to new cultures.

Manipulator of Fate

After drawing The Fates from the Deck of Many Things and doing a big ol’ WHOOPS on the identity of Thrazidun’s Herald.

Father of Therai Farrapul

Who is the firstborn granddaughter of Strahd von Zarovich and the first true vampire-tiefling hybrid. She’s firstborn because I say so and nobody can change my mind. I also don’t completely remember.

Son-in-Law to Strahd von Zarovich

And the savior of his wife after a deal made with Asmodeus to give Big A Therai at birth, but not completely literally - more like a destined soul.

Exarch Warlock of Asmodeus

THE Warlock of Asmodeus by this point. His reputation precedes him among the Champions of the gods. And Demons and other Archdevils hate him.

The Shining Slayer of Demogorgon

LAST HIT, BABY - ALL THAT MATTERS! Crown of Stars is awesome alongside Eldritch Blast, just Macross Missiles all over the place.

Savior of the Battle of the Ellcrys

The “Yeeted” One

There’s a story to be told here: Imagine an Earth Elemental smashing through a wall like the Kool-Aid man before chucking this crazy-ass Tiefling Warlock, who is armed with a Scroll of Plane Shift, at a Hag-like entity, then said Tiefling bitch-slapping the Hag with the Scroll and sending them both to Asmodeus’ doorstep. This is how the Battle of the Ellcrys went.

These are just some of my Disaster Child’s antics and memorable moments. I just wanted to share them with you. It’s been a Hell of a ride with this troublemaking Warlock.

[elegiacescapist]

A List of Archons

Since I’m sickly and bored today, here’s my working list of Archons for quick reference; includes titles, a short overview, and an indication (†) if they are confirmed to be deceased. Kyros and the major Archons in the game get a short description because there’s not enough room on this list to do them justice. Again, like the post on locations, please let me know if they are any corrections or additions to be made as this isn’t 100% complete or accurate, and it’s been a while since I made some of these notes. (I am also sick, so there may be typos and mistakes that I didn’t catch).

WARNING: TEXT DUMP & SPOILERS FOR TYRANNY

Kyros, Overlord & Archon of Edicts:  Believed to be the most powerful Archon ever known.

Tunon the Adjudicator, Archon of Justice: Master and creator of the Order of Fatebinders, and one of the few archons bestowed with the powers of adjudication. He is one of Kyros’ eldest vassals. Was known as Tunon the Fair prior to his ascension to the ranks of the Archons.

Archons of War

Graven Ashe: General of the Disfavoured legion, former general of the Northern Kingdom. Father of Ashelryn (†), Priam (†), Brennix (†), and Amelia.

Blood Echo/Ruin (†): Slain by Graven Ashe during the Northern Conquest. According to the Voices of Nerat he wore his best disciples’ knuckle-bones as jewellery and fashioned a breastplate out of his brother’s rib-cage. Killed Ashe’s daughter Ashelryn.

The Voices of Nerat, Archon of Secrets: Kyros’ Spymaster and Interrogator, as well as the General of the Scarlet Chorus and patron of the Blood Chanters guild.

Archons of Shadow

Bleden Mark: Kyros’ assassin and executioner, attached to Tunon’s Court as a headsman. He sometimes teaches the more promising of Tunon’s pupils. His name or sigil (the flavour text is vague) has been used to augment the Nightwalker’s Boots.

Unknown, Beastwoman Archon (†): Her sigil/rune can be found on the Nightwalker’s Boots. A peerless stalker and trapper, she eschewed civilisation and lived for centuries as a nomadic figure. Some still believe she lurks in the wilderness, but it is heavily implied she was the Archon whom Bleden Mark killed at the Ashweald.

Unknown (†): The Everwell is thought to be his decapitated head- the ink his arcane talent and substance forever bleeding out. Might be the Archon that Bleden Mark had to challenge for his title. (I will write more on this theory later.)  Dark story bro. This is a busted theory now because of the confirmation of Bleden Mark killing the Archon of Blood around his [Mark’s] ascension.

Cairn, Archon of Stone (†): Originally known as the “Wild Man of the Hills” before bowing to Kyros in 402 TR after being subdued by Graven Ashe. Patron of the Earthshakers guild and subordinate to Graven Ashe. His original name was likely Stelio, a name Sirin used in her letters to him. (Epistolary of Song and Stone, short story)

SIrin, Archon of Song: One of the youngest Archons recorded. Sworn to the service of the Voices of Nerat, his Bloodchanters developed the Sigil of Emotions through their study of Sirin’s abilities. Occasionally referred to as “Songbird”.

Pox, Archon of Ruin: General of the Plaguebearers, who spread disease during the Northern Conquest, one of her victims being Priam, a son of Graven Ashe. A variation of her sigil of Atrophy was discovered by a cult of mages in the east to have its own powers, perhaps indicating the existence of a previous Archon of Ruin.

Icarix, Archon of Time (†): His powers allowed him to rewind time while keeping his memories of the future. Slain by Bleden Mark for using his powers on Kyros, he’s also a known womaniser, and is implied to have attempted to put the, ahem, moves on Kyros (and Bleden Mark, disguised as a woman during Icarix’s assassination). (Shush, short story)

Occulted Jade, Archon of Tides: Leader and patron of the School of Tides, arrived in the Tiers with the first human settlers over 400 years ago. Is referred to as an Archon despite not being under Kyros’ rule. Fled with the majority of the School of Tides across the ocean shortly before the Conquest. 

Moramus of the Mire, Archon of Fungus: A stooped hermit who lived in the Nettlebog and produced most of it’s flora. Apparently he resembled a dapperling mushroom (He’s a funguy!). Hasn’t been seen for 300 years, but some believe he’s still alive in his land. 

The Orphan Midwife, Archon of Rebirth: Born in 160 TR, bowed to Kyros in 201 TR. Her powers caused various arcane effects around her, such as plants sprouting and the sick becoming vigorous where she walked… But they also sent most folks into fits of rage and animals into heat. Imprisoned for transgressions against Kyros, including the illegal immigration of one of her disciples into the Tiers in 222 TR. The Sigil of Life is her personal sigil.

Nox Mirea, Archon of Pestilence (†): A rather disliked Archon, when she opened her eyes or mouth, flies would gust out into the air. Died in her twentieth year after suffering a string of unusual and grotesque symptoms. It’s possible that the mass dislike towards her made everyone believe she’d die from her powers, and that belief became reality.

Thunder Mane, Archon, Unknown Aspect (†): A Beastwoman Mystic who became an Archon. Killed five other Archons before she was slain.

Fading Wrath, Archon of Concealment: Associated with illusion magic. Status Unknown.

Archons of Fire (fiery personalities here)

Thousand Embers (†): Had a strong motivation to assist others, and obsessively wrote on the “inner fire” of humanity (the drive to eat, reproduce, and destroy), and reflections on his own use of fire. Slain by Bleden Mark in 73 TR after continuously refusing to join and serve Kyros. The School of Wild Wrath was among three mage cabals that appeared after his death claiming to be the true inheritors of his powers.

Sun Queen (†): First user of the Sigil of Fire centuries ago. Was challenged by an Exarch of Fire in a legendary battle that created a swath of destruction known as the Scar.

Unknown, Exarch of Fire: Challenged the Sun Queen for her title, may have been Thousand Embers. Status Unknown.

Unknown (†): @kittymaverick found some seemingly cut dialogue for Rhogalus that indicated the existance of a third Archon of Fire (and a third style of fire magic). If their existance is still “canon”, they would likely be dead as Thousand Embers is the most recent Archon of Fire.

Archons of Frost

Ranna, Nirabel, & Slayr: Triplets that simultaneously held the title of the second recorded Archon of Frost and were never seen apart. When they were born they were thought to be stillborn because they were so cold to touch. Status Unknown.

Unknown (†): The first recorded Archon of Frost, not much has been recorded about him.

Archons of Lightning

Rin: “Accidentally” killed an Archon of Water during an electrifying diplomatic embrace. Might be the Archon of Storms under a different title.

Unknown (†): First recorded Archon of Lightning.

Archon of Blood (†): Kyros’ first assassin, and Bleden Mark’s predecessor. They were, quote, “destroyed” when Bleden Mark ascended to the status of Archon. The first incarnation of the dagger Heart’s Blood was their weapon of choice.

Archon of Enchantment (†): An ancient and long-forgotten Archon, runes associated with them decorate the Rune-etched Buckler (item).

Archon of Entropy: Fought for Kyros in the Northern Conquest, their powers were used to destroy the weapons and armour of the Northern armies. Status Unknown.

Archon of Humours: An accomplished magician in his day, known for his ability to destabilise the balance of liquids in others, such as causing internal hemorrhaging, mood adjustments, and bowel disruption. He also advanced medical practices (with trial and errors at times), pioneering Leeching and other methods of siphoning fluids, and finding medical uses for avoided herbs. Status Unknown.

Archon of Misery: Mentor of the Voices of Nerat, previous Spymaster and Interrogator. Might be the Archon of Sorrows under a different title. Status Unknown.

Archon of Sorrows: Fought for Kyros in the Northern Conquest, using their powers to sap the morale of the Northern armies. Might be the Archon of Misery under a different title. Status Unknown.

Archon of Snow: Their teachings enabled the Ice-Shod hunters to create weapons out of ice and snow before the practice was lost after the tribe was absorbed by the Empire. Status Unknown.

Archon of Storms: The Governor of the Blazing Reach district. The core sigil of Lightning is his personal sigil. May be Rin, Archon of Lightning under a different title.

Archons of Tharavis: For some reason I can’t remember, I only have the title and their association with preservation magic in my notes. Please clarify if you have more information.

Archon of Thralldom (†): An ancient Archon, known for his interest in the Bane and any means of taming them as useful servants. His runes provided the means to create the Baneward. (The flavour text on the Baneward is positively enthralling)

Archon of Turmoil: An Archon who some claim wielded the Gravebow in a war to single-handedly destroy the Bane. Unknown if they actually existed or are just part of a rumour. 

Archon of Water (†): Killed by Rin, Archon of Lightning during an allegedly diplomatic embrace by electric shock.

Archon of Wind: Received the dubious honour of being called the “Archon of Gullibility” for a decade in the Voices of Nerat’s head for losing a race with him through Nerat’s trickery. Status Unknown.

Archon of Wounds: Developed various methods of arcane healing with their powers. Status Unknown.

Archon of Unknown Aspect (†): A female “Archon of old” whom wielded the first incarnation of the weapon Deathbringer, and is described as having “brought death to all her enemies.” Likely deceased as her weapon has been shattered by 431 TR.

Unknown Archons (x2), (†): Two Archons that the Voices of Nerat was allowed to consume.

[fangsandfeels]

Yo, I didn't expect the game to mention my boy Hoar in any capacity

Imagine my surprise when it did:

Naturally, that tiny cameo means it's legit for me to shamelessly spam headcanons on Jerra's possible connection to Hoar.

Of course, I had to choose the most cringe edgelord/most edgy cringelord among the Forgotten Realms pantheon that is Hoar, the Doombringer, and the Poet of Justice. I’m not even joking here: Hoar is an angry petty bitch who sits in his edgy domain with booming thunders and heads on pikes while being salty about not getting a god of war portfolio in Unther. Like, this is meme is not a meme in Hoar's case, this how he probably talks:

Needless to say, Hoar's followers are just as cringe, brooding in their temples, remembering their grievances and planning their revenge. On top of that, he is the former exarch of Bane and the buddy of Beshaba (the goddess of misfortune and bad luck who ruins people's lives for the most insignificant of reasons).

So, Jerra is certainly not his faithful follower or loyal paladin. If she was, let's just say Astarion would not have gotten away with pulling a knife on her that easily. Also, him trying to bite her at night? Hoar would be pissed off at Jerra telling Astarion off and then letting him sink his fangs into her anyway. As a good devout, Jerra would be expected to bite the vampire's neck in return because Hoar's direct dogma is all about following Equally Matched Aggression standards to an extreme.

But in a world where everyone is influenced by deities and follows some (because the alternative is the Wall of the Faithless and you do NOT want to be condemned to the Wall) Jerra praying and leaving offerings to the Poet of Justice still makes sense, both in the context of her actions and even her acceptance of Astarion.

+ His tenets are actually pretty based. Violence begets violence, but kindness is repaid with kindness. Treat people like you want to be treated, don't commit evil acts for the sake of evil because this path leads to ruin and self-destruction. Meaningful gestures and actions matter more than words.

+ There are several different churches of Hoar scattered across Faerun, each squabbling over who understands Hoar best. So, there is a lot of in-fighting going on, which gives plausibility to the idea of more watered-down followers just minding their own business and keeping away from more intense brothers and sisters in Hoar.

+ Hoar is not that worried about looking righteous or valorous. It’s the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law, that must be upheld. So, it’s not about you looking good when you deliver the vengeance the person deserves. It’s about sending a message. Accordingly, poetic justice is encouraged. Yes, killing the duergar who enslaved a Deep Gnome and made him serve them drinks is good. But lacing the drinks he serves with deadly poison, so the slavers die vomiting their own blood and guts after smugly grabbing mugs from their captive's hands and laughing in his face? Wonderful. Priceless. Deserved.

+ Probably most important: Hoar doesn't mind the undead. At least, he doesn't seem to abhor them like Tyr or other gods of goodness, and his clergy has a rather interesting approach to the undead and necromancy. The dead deserve to be heard and avenged just like the living. Doombringers (the elite battle priests of Hoar) can raise the corpses of victims who died with the wish for vengeance on their lips as revenants - nothing is better than beating a murderer or a serial killer to death with the crowd of raging revenants who lost their lives because of them. Also, if a Doombringer is killed unfairly, they, too, rise as a revenant as a final "fuck you" to their murderer. But Hoar's tolerance for the undead doesn't stop there. The lore even mentions a vampire follower of Hoar (on the bad guys' side, but still). So, even if Jerra merely follows the diluted image of Hoar shaped by her mentor, she is used to speaking with the dead and didn't bat an eye at He Who Was when she first met him. Accordingly, it was relatively easier for her to think outside the box with Astarion and judge him through the prism of his deeds instead of his nature. Her philosophy is less about "there are inherently evil creatures that are KOS and inherently good creatures that deserve multiple second chances" and more about "there are many evil things in the world, lots of them are less obvious than the others"

In general, I don't think that Jerra draws her paladin powers from Hoar. Even though she ends up with several huge grudges against the Absolute, Raphael (when she promised to rip out his mocking tongue, it wasn't an empty threat), and the Emperor (oh she does NOT like the Emperor), she is still way too forgiving and patient to be a full-blown Hoarite. She pays her respects, certainly: her mentor followed the Poet of Justice, which was why they even met - all the time while the Flaming Fist and City Watch, the seemingly dedicated followers of Tyr and Helm, looked the other way. But her Oath was to herself, first and foremost.

However, if Hoar was more chill, I would have headcanonned that Jerra draws powers from his domain, which confused him greatly when it happened for the first time, but then he decided to allow it in a "Listen, if this mortal is so dedicated to her idea of vengeance, she raged her way into my domain, this is going to be good" way.

[enddaysengine]

Tarnishing Cloud

Another one of my creations originally posted on Patreon... Happy Halloween! Pollution corrupts and twists the environment. That isn’t a moral judgment, it's a statement of fact. Change the environment too much, even with the best intentions, and the life that existed there can no longer survive. Their homes twist into something new and different, so by their standards, that is corruption. Sleeper ecologists understand this fact, but mages and werewolves know it runs even deeper, for changes in the material also impact the Shadow. The Tarnishing Cloud represents the pollution of material and ephemeral ecological. It is well known to both the Pentacle and Seers, having appeared in many forms over the last three centuries. To some, it manifests as an enormous peppered moth that fluctuates between a white and black coat. For others, it is a gas-masked WWI soldier marching through the poisonous cloud. One day it appears as a silver statue befouled by verdigris, the next it is a factory worker covered in caustic grime. Most often, it manifests as a cloying cloud of smog, a horrendous mixture of ash, soot, exhaust, chlorine, and ozone. It speaks with a wheezing, consumptive voice that makes all animals and spirits fall silent. It is not a malicious entity, but it obsesses over ecological change and has no regard for individuals such massive shifts impact. Mages summon the Tarnishing Cloud to learn about the Shadow’s ecology, change an environment, or disrupt a rival’s Sanctum. No records exist of this Supernal before the Industrial Revolution, but since then it has become well known. While useful, both sides of the war between the Pentacle and Exarchs treat this Apeiron with caution. It is bit too unconcerned with collateral damage to be a natural ally for the Pentacle, but it is too disruptive to fit into the box the Exarchs want it in. Many mages have found, to their great chagrin, that the Cloud has no problem tearing down the new order it helped create once it becomes the new norm. Despite the fears of the very few werewolves who learned of the Cloud through their Wise allies, the Apeiron has no particular affinity in magath or the maeljin, caring far more about corruption in the Sleeping world. Pointing this out is unlikely to lower any hackles. The Tarnishing Cloud is disruptive by nature, which is an intolerable insult to the People and their territory.

Tarnishing Cloud Rank 4 Stygian Apeiron Attributes: Power 8 Finesse 12 Resistance 11 Virtue: Disruptive. The Tarnishing Cloud's actions change old routines, preventing stagnation and complacency. Vice: Destructive. All the Tarnishing Cloud cares about is change, not who gets in the way or what gets destroyed. Ban: The Cloud can only use its powers in ways that disrupt existing systems, it cannot use them restoratively. Bane: Water from a stream that has never been polluted. Arcana: Death 2, Matter 4, Prime 2, Spirit 4 Mana: 25 Corpus: 18 Willpower: 10 Initiative: +23 Defence: 8 Speed: 20 Size: 7 Trial: Pollute something you hold dear

[enddaysengine]

Smoke on the Water (Chronicles of Darkness)

Another post from my Patreon (and the third month in a row of Mage content...). Enjoy!

Smoke on the Water (Mage the Awakening)

Pollution corrupts and twists the environment. That isn’t a moral judgment, it's a statement of fact. Change the environment too much, even with the best intentions, and the life that existed there can no longer survive. Their homes twist into something new and different, so by their standards, that is corruption. Sleeper ecologists understand this fact, but mages and werewolves know it runs even deeper, for changes in the material also impact the Shadow.

The Tarnishing Cloud represents the pollution of material and ephemeral ecological. It is well known to both the Pentacle and Seers, having appeared in many forms over the last three centuries. To some, it manifests as an enormous peppered moth that fluctuates between a white and black coat. For others, it is a gas-masked WWI soldier marching through the poisonous cloud. One day it appears as a silver statue befouled by verdigris, the next it is a factory worker covered in caustic grime.

Most often, it manifests as a cloying cloud of smog, a horrendous mixture of ash, soot, exhaust, chlorine, and ozone. It speaks with a wheezing, consumptive voice that makes all animals and spirits fall silent. It is not a malicious entity, but it obsesses over ecological change and has no regard for individuals such massive shifts impact.

Mages summon the Tarnishing Cloud to learn about the Shadow’s ecology, change an environment, or disrupt a rival’s Sanctum. No records exist of this Supernal before the Industrial Revolution, but since then it has become well known. While useful, both sides of the war between the Pentacle and Exarchs treat this Apeiron with caution. It is bit too unconcerned with collateral damage to be a natural ally for the Pentacle, but it is too disruptive to fit into the box the Exarchs want it in. Many mages have found, to their great chagrin, that the Cloud has no problem tearing down the new order it helped create once it becomes the new norm.

Despite the fears of the very few werewolves who learned of the Cloud through their Wise allies, the Apeiron has no particular affinity in magath or the maeljin, caring far more about corruption in the Sleeping world. Pointing this out is unlikely to lower any hackles. The Tarnishing Cloud is disruptive by nature, which is an intolerable insult to the People and their territory.

The Tarnishing Cloud

Rank 4 Stygian Apeiron

Power 8 Finesse 12 Resistance 11

Virtue: Disruptive. The Tarnishing Cloud's actions change old routines, preventing stagnation and complacency.

Vice: Destructive. All the Tarnishing Cloud cares about is change, not who gets in the way or what gets destroyed.

Ban: The Cloud can only use its powers to disrupt existing systems, it cannot use them restoratively.

Bane: Water from a stream that has never been polluted.

Arcana: Death 2, Matter 4, Prime 2, Spirit 4

Mana: 25

Corpus: 18

Willpower: 10

Initiative: +23

Defence: 8

Speed: 20

Size: 7

Trial: Pollute something you hold dear