Okay but a thought of mine given new rise by the animated intro after having it niggle at the back of my mind for months now are Ludinus and Otohan as villains and who’s going to be standing as the final big bad at the end of the campaign, the way Vecna and Lucien did for c1 and c2.
Because the obvious answer is Ludinus. He’s the instigator, the leader of the cult, a villain in the making for 2 whole campaigns and over a thousand years (not to mention the one who's actually interacted with the party outside of fights). But Otohan is the one standing center stage of the villain line-up in the opening. She’s the one shown actively fighting the party. And, more importantly (as narrative matters more than barely glimpsed easter eggs), she's the one tied to the history and setting of Marquet, who has actual stakes in the people there and has fought for (and against) them before in the Apex War (while the place Ludinus called home was torn down centuries ago, leaving him caring for seemingly nothing but his ultimate goal since). She’s the one who’s actually Ruidusborn, and she’s tied to the Luxon as well with her strange magic. And despite all this, she’s mostly passed under the radar so far, given very little developments or motives or history or even personality. She’s little more than a cool aesthetic and a handful of threats.
And here’s my thought: maybe that’s on purpose. Ludinus, in his great arrogance, has placed himself as the greatest threat, and he’s being treated as such by the Hells. But is he? He steals immortality, appropriates the very concept of being Ruidusborn while holding a secret resentment for lacking the very powers it grants. He barely knows what he’s doing, and certainly not what he's about to unleash. And is there anything more satisfying than seeing a deeply arrogant and hubristic villain taken down by his own folly in underestimating those around him? So what if, as the final fight edges closer, the person actually holding the powers Ludinus pretends to steps up out of the shadows she placed herself in, keeping her motives to herself, barely remarked upon by Ludinus or the Hells or the audience, and personally cuts him down and takes her place as THE exalted Ruidusborn?
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'I don't know what you're-a trying to say…' Peppino sighed, exasperated. He went to turn away, when-
'Pe-Pino.'
The voice… it was his voice, but the cadence was just slightly off. An imperfect mimicry, but close enough that it immediately fired every panic neuron in his brain at once.
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A little piece of writing to nail down the vibes im going for with my interpretation of Fake Peppino! Having a normal fun day in the kitchen where nothing uncomfortable or weird happens.
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'Pe- pi- no.'
Peppino tried not to flinch when he felt the heavy wet hand on his shoulder and the voice gurgling in his ear. Deep breaths- okay. He inhaled sharply and grit his teeth, bracing himself before he turned around.
It hadn't been easy, getting used to… that thing. Fake Peppino, as he had been calling it in his head. But he did feel admittedly a little guilty for destroying the tower- its home, really- and it didn't ask to be made like that. Still, he wished it hadn't decided to stick around sometimes. He'd spent an entire week just trying to make sure it didn't attack him on sight! And even then, it STILL chased him from time to time...
But he had reached an uneasy accord with his doppelganger, or at least thought so. He seemed more sedate at any rate, and Peppino had even managed to talk it into helping in the kitchen- which is where he was now, spreading a ball of dough thin with his knuckles, before he was so rudely interrupted.
He turned and forced a smile, trying to cover up his nerves with fake confidence. Ghh- he never got used to seeing him. His fake looked like him, but… uncanny. Stretched. Something wearing the wrong size of his skin. It made a weird bubbling noise- Peppino had come to learn that was its 'excited sound'- and grasped his wrist to tug him to the other side of the kitchen.
'Okay, o-kay! Slow down- whats-a the rush, paisano? What do you want to-a show me?'
Peppino tugged his wrist free and returned his hands to their comfortable position, tugging nervously on his tank top. Fake Peppino had dragged him over to the pizza oven. It was a great brick thing- a traditional piece and easily the most expensive thing in the whole restaurant, but also something he would never sell. After all, what kind of a pizza chef would he be without his pizza oven?
His clone straightened up then, drawing an involuntary shiver out of Peppino. It looked at him. Peppino looked back. He briefly made eye contact, watching as the fake's right eye slowly dribbled down his face- he glanced away before it started to make his heart pound any louder.
'Ah… what? What is it?' He mumbled again, shrivelling a little under the unyielding gaze. He may have been his clone, but they apparently didn't copy the part of him that hated prolonged eye contact, ugh. He chanced another look. His double was looking at him almost expectantly.
Suddenly, he raised an arm- quick enough to make Peppino flinch. But he didn't strike. He simply pointed- one finger poking Peppino in the chest. Then he moved his hand to point at the oven, the heat of which was beginning to make even more sweat bead on his forehead.
'I don't know what you're-a trying to say…' Peppino sighed, exasperated. He went to turn away, when-
'Pe-Pino.'
The voice… it was his voice, but the cadence was just slightly off. An imperfect mimicry, but close enough that it immediately fired every panic neuron in his brain at once.
'Peppinos. Pi- Za.' The fake nodded, looking pleased- then slapped one hand down on Peppino’s head, crushing his chefs hat down and drawing a yelp of surprise out of him.
'Peppino. Pi-zza.' The words sounded smoother as he rolled them around his mouth, smiling wide enough that his teeth looked as if they were about to drip out of his lips. He pushed Peppino a little closer to the oven- his heels dug into the ground instinctively. The heat was oppressive... 'Peppi-no. Pizza.'
Peppino froze. He had learnt not to run- bolting only excited his fake. He stood stock still, even as its face slowly lowered to his. His eyes widened- there wasn't anywhere else to look but into his own distorted visage, the oven's heat only causing it to drip more. Oh, god, it was dripping everywhere…
His hands balled into fists, ready to react, but his body seemed stuck. Damn his freeze instinct-! He held his breath as his fake tilted his head curiously, and then laughed. A bubbling gurgle, face practically split in two.
'Pizza. is. Peppi-no.' He said, happily. Peppino couldn't bring himself to figure out what exactly that meant, because the only idea he had right now- well, the heat wasn't helping, and his vision was blurring, and it wasn't good…
'Peppino. Pizza. Nothing. Compares!'
All of a sudden, he was pushed back. Away from the heat, a cold blast of air hitting him as the doppelganger shoved him. All at once Peppino’s body reacted, scrambling back along the floor and breathing- wheezing, really- trying to get enough air in his lungs so he didn't pass out. All the while he watched as the wax figure of himself dripped like a candle in the heat, spun on its heel happily and giggled.
'Not- yet!' It smiled, face still firmly turned to look at Peppino even as its entire body twisted 180 degrees to stick to the nearest wall- his neck creaked with the strain, more of its doughy flesh sloughing off onto the floor as he moved away from the heat.
'Cook.' It's hand found one of the open vents- it's favorite hiding spots. 'Let him. Cook. Not ready!' It smiled, eyelids squeezing shut happily over misshapen sockets, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.
'Later? Pizza later. Nothing Compares...' He mumbled, voice softening as Peppino could only watch in wide-eyed terror as it folded itself in half to slide into the narrow vent- he'd seen it many times but he still wasn't used to it. The wet sounds of a body moving in ways it shouldn't, the scrape of the metal... As it pushed itself into the darkness, Peppino saw its face- his face- the last thing to disappear.
'Peppino. Pizza...? Soon...'
And then it was gone.
He didn't move.
Honestly, he stayed on the floor for an uncomfortably long time.
After what felt like hours, his body finally decided to return the feeling to his joints- and all at once he scrambled upright. What- what was that? He thought…
He thought he was reaching… some kind of agreement with that thing. But clearly it was still far, far beyond his understanding. And what it said- no. No, Peppino shook his head violently. He didn't want to think about it. Because if he thought about it, it sounded an awful lot like...
No. No, no, no. That was silly. He just needed to get back to work. He needed to push this out of his mind and forget it ever happened.
He stumbled over towards his pile of pizza dough. Looking down at it, he couldn't help but feel… uneasy, suddenly. A wave of strange nausea rose in his chest.
Maybe… maybe that was enough pizza for one day.
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