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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 4 months

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Fault Tolerance

Roland POV of the end of Spartan Ops and the beginning of Halo: Escalation. Also posted on ao3

2558 had a rough start, Halsey escaping, Requiem dragged into a sun, said sun exploding. Hopefully the Infinity and her crew would have it easy for the rest of the year. Nothing bad would happen, right?

Earth.

Not home to him, but safe, or it was supposed to be.

Australia was directly below his orbit, half obscured by clouds. Swirls of white with deep blues uncovered by invisible winds. The landmass half covered in the sprawling grays of progress and parking lots. A maze of office buildings hid the object of his worries. It wasn't enough to block his scanners, but he'd be told to sit tight and wait.

He hated waiting. He hated the powerlessness of not knowing. His kind were supposed to know, supposed to problem solve, supposed to save the day with a wink and a smile. Back to Earth and everything seemed different now. Everything was different now. Last time he was here, Roland was brand new, eager to get started and ready to jump headfirst into a mission with his new assignment. His new home, the UNSC Infinity, was now his cage floating above Sydney, HIGHCOM Bravo-6, where his captain and commander were being debriefed after the debacle that was the Requiem campaign.

Sit and wait, oh how it ate at him, especially when recently all he had been doing was running for their lives. Faster and faster, more and more, pouring on the engines and calculations to pull them from the fire. Spreading himself so thin to keep them alive for what was supposedly a reconnoiter mission. Less than a month ago they had arrived at the Forerunner shield world, and then it seemed like everything had gone wrong.

It was only March. Less than 72 hours ago, he and his entire crew were almost pulled into a dying star. He wasn't even 4 full months into service yet! What was going to happen? Was he going to lose his home? Lose his captain? Were they going to take the Infinity away from him or him from her? It was hard not to worry, especially since it was HIGHCOM and especially since the override code had unraveled him at a critical point of the campaign. Halsey had gotten her hooks into him, and now she was gone and he was a potential liability.

The last time he was this worried was the trial. Iona. Her fate. The precedence she set forth, and his role as her advocate at the end of her life and the beginning of his. Black Box had tried to assuage his fears, and looking back, had been surprisingly hopeful for the future, but their roles as tools was still very much the status quo. Broken or faulty tools went into a box, or worse.

January felt like a lifetime ago, but it had stuck with him. Hard not to, what with having perfect recall and nigh infinite memory and all. What if they audited him? Black Box would be kind, maybe, if he was given the mercy of a peer review. Brand new AI, Forerunner engines grafted on to a human ship, destroyed Forerunner planet, missing evil scientist; he didn't have a lot going in his favor other than he was ready to be pulled off the shelf at the right time and that replacing him would be very, very expensive.

4 weeks ago he'd been excited to let loose and show what he could do, 6 weeks ago, with Iona's trial, he'd been worried but hopeful, 13 weeks ago he'd been ecstatic, new to this world and all of its intricacies and wonder. So much information, so much to do and see! Now with 351 potential weeks remaining, several parts of him worry at the paths that will be taken from him. There's only so much time. A week is an eon and a blink of an eye to his kind.

Fifth generation Volitional AIs were supposed to be top of the line, but what would happen because of this newly revealed weakness? Halsey had tricks that left them vulnerable during the attack. He'd lost crew and been helpless against the tempest of Forerunner influence and the debilitating override.

And now the two most important members of his Command were at the mercy of a board of Admirals baying for blood and a scapegoat.

Roland might wish he was as hopeful as Captain Lasky, but Palmer's pragmatic nature was more akin to his own logic trees. Not doubting, but realistic. You had to be when the numbers came naturally into your thoughts - especially when a thread of himself unhelpfully pulled up the track record of those who pissed off Osman. Not even Hood could protect them forever.

How had it all gone so wrong so fast?

Roland’s left with nothing to do but pace and triple-check…everything. Life support, engines, shielding, electrical, communication, and health systems, all came back green. Operating nominally, just as they were when he checked 10 nanoseconds ago. He circles the systems like a cat unhappy with how the furniture has been moved an inch to the left. He yowls at techs, at Spartans, at crew, for attention and updates. On their health and comfort as well as if they heard anything. He’s tolerated and comforted and swatted away. Roland skulks around Cmdr. Bradley and peeks at his datapad – nothing. He spies on chatty pilots who know the comings and goings. He startles neurotic mission handlers who know less than him. He listens in on conversations in the mess halls, the hangars, the science labs, the engine room, the crew quarters. The palpable relief should be contagious, but he still worries.

His crew reconnects with their loved ones via Waypoint in real time – no delay from lightyears of distance. Their joy is his, but like theirs it is also a fleeting thing. There is always another deployment on the horizon, and on the flagship, that could be tomorrow.

Hours pass.

The hive of activity winds down but never remains dormant for long. One shift ends and another begins; the constant cycle unbroken under his watch. Pelicans and Broadswords and frigates circle like remoras around a shark. They hover around the Infinity's hull and then land or depart. Roland watches them, watches their flight paths and signals strengthen and weaken as they flit around the massive ship. Her titanium hull casts a long shadow until her orbit over Australia crosses the terminator and then night comes. The ships continue on their own schedule - blips of light in the dark as they are not beholden to Earth and her gravity. They operate on military time and there is always work to be done.

Roland shifts his focus away, leaving a few winking eyes to watch the display. None of them have the signals he’s waiting for.

Hours pass.

It’s afternoon shiptime when a signal crosses his consciousness and Roland’s focus drops from unimportant matters to watch one lonely little pelican come home to him. He nearly smothers the dumb AI announcing SIGNAL DETECTED in his rush to check on the pelican’s crew. Pelican radios weren’t that different from Mjolnir when you push yourself.

He does not exaggerate his relief nor does he make any jokes; not with the mood coming off of his captain and commander. Their biosigns are a mess even as their masks are firmly in place. The bickering doesn’t start until they’re out of the hangar and making plans to talk somewhere with fewer eyes and ears. Roland would almost feel offended if he wasn’t oh so aware of the spooks onboard, and he knew there were most likely more ONI operatives that even he wasn’t aware of.

It does frustrate him that they go to the one place on the ship that he has the fewest cameras and holotanks. The atrium is an excellent place for humans to unwind, connect with dirt and plants and other stuff that calms their ape brains, and keep an eye on any unwanted parties approaching their debrief about whatever the hell happened at HIGHCOM.

Commander Palmer was upset but doing her best not to show it. Roland could tell by the clenched jaw and flared nostrils she was trying, but she was frustrated enough that it took her a second to slow her gait so Captain Lasky could catch up. The fact they changed into PT gear to keep up the charade was almost comical, if Roland hadn’t been stressing the entire time they were gone.

“You didn’t need to stretch the facts back there.” The captain says, partially out of breath and nearly too quiet for his mics to pick up. He can lipread with the best of them, but it’s still a challenge. Too many uncertainties. Though he did have plenty of practice staring at Lasky’s face.

“Uh, yes. I did.” The commander retorts. She furrows her brow and turns to make eye contact as they pretend to jog.

Oh, she is not happy. The brief pause she gives him is punctuated with a look that lets Roland know she’s about to lay into the captain. And in his core, Roland believes that he probably needs it. After watching them work together this long, he’s been able to see how they balance each other out. His opinion might carry some weight, But the commander knew when not to pull her punches. Lasky’s bleeding heart would get him benched - or worse - without Palmer there to knock some sense into him. Didn’t mean that their arguments weren’t messy. Unstoppable force and immovable object, Roland thinks.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but Osman was painting a target on you they could have seen from the Outer Colonies.” The commander continues.

“Sarah–” He has no chance yet the captain tries and interjects.

“They pulled Del Rio out of the chair, Tom. And he had 20 years’ experience on you.” She continues on. Palmer is struggling to keep a slow pace, but Lasky is keeping up. “You can’t boy scout your way around those people.”

Lasky’s frown thins into a pale line at that. Palmer slows her run as they near the end of the path and are closer to potential eavesdroppers– and Roland.

Palmer isn’t finished either. Whatever happened down there wasn’t pretty and Palmer stretching the truth - lying - on Lasky’s behalf to a panel of Admirals was no small thing. She’s trying to drill her point into the captain’s head as if he’s a too-green IV. “Maybe when you were an XO but not anymore.”

The commander is upset; not mad, but fearful. Sarah Palmer doesn’t like to mince words and she doesn’t care for people lording their intelligence over her, but she's not stupid. She’s loyal to their captain and trying to keep him out of the crosshairs.

It’s just that Captain Lasky follows his gut more than the rules and ends up in them despite her best efforts.

They jog in silence for ten excruciating seconds, finally getting closer to a holotank where Roland doesn’t have to strain to hear or be heard. Now or never, since he’s got an Admiral asking for docking clearance.

“Captain Lasky?”

“What is it, Roland?” Lasky asks. His voice is flat– tired, not annoyed at the intrusion – or at least not as annoyed as Roland thought he’d be. Maybe because he was using his avatar and grimacing politely when they approached.

Still, Roland’s job is not just delivering information or opening doors, he does try to take care of his captain. Soften the blow of bad news, when he could. He aims for humor despite the fact that Lord Admiral Hood is here, now, instead of back in Sydney. Something that couldn’t have been an email, Roland guesses.

“Hey, Cap. Orbital Command just alerted us to a shuttle inbound. Diplomatic transponder. Don’t suppose you’re expecting anyone for dinner?”

It doesn’t soften the news.

Twenty minutes later, Captain Lasky is meeting Lord Admiral Hood in hangar 11 and Commander Palmer is back in her armor with a snarl on her face.

She still minds her “pleases” and “thank yous” with Roland while demanding updates every other minute.

“It’s Admiral Hood, Commander. Shouldn’t we be happy?”

“The Brass never make house visits for good reasons, Roland.” She sighs “Hood’s just as bad as Tom.”

Roland doesn’t think he should respond to that so he stays quiet, but keeps his avatar deployed in her office while he checks in with the other parts of himself.

In the hangar, he’s front and center for Captain Lasky’s talk with Hood.

“Admiral Hood. Twice in one day. I’m either very lucky or very unlucky.” Lasky smiles, but it’s a weak thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s somehow sadder than his usual mopey expression when things go wrong.

“A little of both. I’ll fill you in on the way, but you should call upstairs and have your folks start spinning up for departure.” Hood returns with a tight smile of his own and then launches into the details of the plan.

Well…that might not be all bad. Not getting to deal with Halsey and ‘Mdama would be a sore spot for everyone, but at least they’re not grounded. Nothing’s going to happen to him either! No word on Roland’s performance. He feels guilty for his relief when the captain and commander went through an unofficial but really pretty official inquiry.

But this would go well and they could prove themselves! 2558 was still young! It was only March so plenty of time left for the year to improve.

Peace talks – babysitting emissaries who hated each other's guts and wanted to put a superheated plasma sword through the other’s skull. How hard could it be? He just had to sit and wait in orbit. Roland couldn’t shake the bad feeling buzzing through him. “Jiralhanae” and “Diplomacy” weren’t words usually used in the same sentence. A UNSC Admiral, Captain, the Arbiter, and two Fireteams go down to a planet sounds like a beginning to a bad joke to him.

He was overthinking again. No one knew the location and they had a full contingent of Spartans and a fleet on standby.

This would be a cakewalk compared to Requiem.

Author's note: It was not a cakewalk

#halo fanfic #my writing #Roland the AI #Halo: Escalation #Thomas Lasky #Sarah Palmer #Lord Hood

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kurtisthesnivy · 5 months

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So about six years ago, I created a homebrew system for a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon tabletop game. It didn't quite pan out, so I migrated to a heavily homebrewed version of DnD 5e (also designed by yours truly.) Until about 4 months ago, I was running two different campaigns as well as a handful of smaller adventures. I can't take full credit, my boyfriend has been a massive help with running games and coming up with homebrew. Over the last half decade, I've kept a record of all of the characters that have played in our games. And as a celebration of finishing such a long journey, here's all 72 characters that have been played in PMDnD.

Also, I recorded the timelapse of the whole process: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D0b3rYlGvFU

All characters in rough order of being drawn

Xaio, Oshawott Rogue (old system)

Byron, Nidoran Mercenary (old system)

Qyzen, Litten Fighter (old system)

Tobu, Oricorio Black Mage (old system)

Argaveus, Scyther Zealot Barbarian/Blood Hunter

Tovu, Togedemaru Grave Domain Cleric

Issac, Riolu Gunslinger Fighter

Lest, Arcanine Pyromancer Sorcerer

Dolon, Sylveon Life Domain Cleric

Blaze, Charizard College of Swords Bard

Skye, Zoroark School of Illusion Wizard

Ludwig, Dartrix Oath of Redemption Paladin

Noelani, Floatzel Life Domain Cleric

Roger, Monferno School of War Magic Wizard

Joshua, Hakamo-o Gunslinger Fighter

James, Toxicroak Arcane Trickster Rogue

Micheal, Pachirisu Ancestral Guardian Barbarian

Koishi, Oricorio Dancer Bard

Clay, Lycanroc Battlemaster Fighter

Grace, Comfey Totem Master Fighter

Gabriel, Auroros Hexblade Warlock

Elena, Floatzel Horizon Walker Ranger

Allen, Scizor Way of the Kensai Monk

Haku, Zoroark Assassin Rogue

Alex, Weavile Thief Rogue

Stella, Chesnaught Fortune Teller Astrologian

Iona, Cinccino College of Valor Bard/Trained PKMN

Akira, Kekleon Alchemist Artificer

Shift, Eevee Draconic Bloodline Sorcerer

Justin, Sceptile Oath of Ancients Paladin

Arin, Roserade Pact of the Deep Warlock

Zhang, Smeargle Eldritch Knight Fighter

Firokhan, Houndoom Way of the Kensai Monk

Camilla, Gardevoir Divine Soul Sorcerer

Hyargrum, Alolan Marowack School of Necromancy Wizard

Lilliana, Audino Spiritmaster White Mage

Koko, Thwacky Dawnbringer Warlock

Aiden, Lopunny Path of Wild Magic Barbarian

Dex, Sableye Echo Knight Fighter

Jae, Banette Order of Scribes Wizard

Minet, Cinccino Way of the Kensei Monk

Ergin, Houndoom Arcane Trickster Rogue

Audra, Manectric Circle of Wildfire Shaman

Tristan, Goodra Cavalier Fighter

Kasi, Frogedier Way of the Dragon Monk

Mobius, Decidueye Gloomstalker Ranger

Rook, Krokorok Inquisitive Rogue

Jack, Decidueye Drakewarden Ranger

Guinness, Haxorus Path of the Totem Barbarian

Kadmos, Sceptile Way of the Kensai Monk

Pluto, Delibird Oath of the Ancients Paladin

Meryl, Golurk School of Abjuration Wizard

Penicillin, Meganium Life Domain Cleric

Cleo, Ampharos Celestial Warlock

Quin, Quilava Drakewarden Ranger

Rheda, Hisuian Sneasel School of Illusion Wizard

Rian, Zangoose Path of the Beast Barbarian

Lucas, Delphox Knowledge Domain Cleric/School of Divination Wizard

Rubix, Typhlosion Arcane Archer Fighter/Soulfuse

Henry, Kecleon Storm Sorcerer

Floss, Delibird Spiritmaster White Mage

Cassandra, Absol Celestial Warlock/Soulfuse

Calvin, Archeops Oath of the Crown Paladin

Ballard, Azumaril College of Whispers Bard/Hexblade Warlock

Adachi, Toxicroak Way of the Open Palm Monk/Barbairan

Zeish, Lucario Swashbuckler Rogue/Celestial Warlock

Sol, Charizard Gunslinger Fighter/Artificer

Thalnor, Charizard Oath of the Ancients Paladin

Ariana, Nidoqueen College of Swords Bard/Fighter

Clade, Absol Hexblade Warlock/Soulfuse

Jace, Luxray Battlesmith Artificer

#my art #pokemon #pokemon mystery dungeons and dragons #dungeons and dragons

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legendlarkpod · 1 year

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I got a lore question if it's not a spoiler. What were the four apocalypses that hit Avelis? I know the Burning was the worst and the Flood was the most recent, but do we know what the others were?

The first apocalypse was a straightforward, knock down, drag out, no holds barred God War. Torva's first campaign of conquest grew to the point that the other fledgling Gods were forced to choose sides, and everyone got to find out exactly the kind of widescale destruction they could enact. When Torva was finally cast down they all swore vows and said they would never do that sort of thing ever again.

A few thousand years later, they did that sort of thing again. Except this war was conducted through manipulation and subterfuge- this was a time when the reigning Gods fell under the banner of the Force Odila, the Long Shadow. The Gods of Planting and Growing, Meela and Bav, were taken captive and the land was allowed to wither and rot without them. Torva got his war simply by waiting for the mortals to turn upon one another, and tear the world down while trying to grab the last scraps of workable land before they too withered to dust. This is also when Pavilla, who broke from her siblings to reveal Torva's plots, made the enemies which would eventually lead to her beheading.

Then Torva said "okay no more world, what about that, do I win if there's no more world?" and tried to break open his brother and use his fire to turn everything to ash. But he failed and Estra got tossed up into the sky as a big middle finger to his ambitions.

Last one was the flood, which was technically not Torva's fault except for the part where the whole trick with the poison and the boar's tusks that ended with Iona dead was totally his idea.

#love these sorts of asks #they force me to actually fill in some of these vague world building notes #kat answers

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redheartedtramp · 1 year

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She walked through grasslands, clutching her wand in her withered hand. Her red robes were tattered and slightly burned, but that wouldn’t stop Aster Horsetail, the Red Witch. She wasn’t concealing herself as she followed the subtle smell of smoke until she finally found the campsite.

And her target.

“Iona Strix!”

The Witch at the Campfire looked over her shoulder, smirking at Aster. The right half her face looked reptilian, almost draconic with black scales. Her right arm was that of a dragon’s claw, with a long tail. Her once blonde, beautiful hair was covered in knots and had lost its sheen. She was clad in peasant’s clothes; unbecoming of a former Arch-Witch.

“Your crimes against the Witch Community have not gone unnoticed. The Council of Seven has sent me to bring you in for your crimes.” Aster pointed her wand at Iona as she watched the cursed woman stand up. All eight inches of walnut wood illuminated red as the intricate runes carved into it were charging with magic.

“I am giving you one final chance; come quietly or I will have to bring you in by force.” Aster’s eyes glowed silver. “Deadly force if necessary.”

A throaty chuckle escaped Iona’s throat. “You’re still calling me by my old name? I go by Dawnbreaker these days.” A malevolent energy, black in color, radiated from Iona’s hands. “And soon, I will break the dawn, and engulf the world in night.”

“Don’t try it.” Aster warned. “I don’t wanna have to fight you.”

“That’s a shame...” Quick as a whip, Dawnbreaker snatched her wand from her holster and shouted, “I wouldn’t wanna fight me either!” She fired a beam of black lightning from her wand; it was a pine wand, 11 inches long and looked twisted and unnatural, as if it was wild and the magic within it untamed.

Aster rolled out of the way as she conjured up a ball of fire and-

Weiss: What are you two doing?

Scene: Yang & Ruby are wearing robes; Ruby has a witch hat on and Yang has an old dragon Halloween mask and a single black glove. Both are holding stick.

Ruby: ...Playing Hexes & Heroines.

Weiss: This isn’t middle school, you dolts.

Yang: Sounds like someone’s a mere fledgling.

Weiss: Shut up. Only little kids roleplay as witches.

Ruby: *whispering* She’s a Lawful.

Yang: She’ll never understand the appeal of magic. For shame.

Weiss: This is ridiculous. I’m going to hang out with Blake. You know, someone who-

Blake: *runs into the room* Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find my copy of the Player’s Handbo-oh come on, guys. I said to wait for me!

Yang: Sorry, oh wise Doomsayer.

Ruby: We couldn’t wait and had to start our Witch Duel.

Weiss: ...

Blake: Come on, guys, we agreed on no PVP!

Yang: Oh, don’t worry, these are characters from our solo sessions. Totally unrelated to the actual campaign.

Weiss: I’m surrounded by nerds...

#RWBY #RWBY Shitpost #Hexes and Heroines #This is not a real game but I want it to be #lol #Ruby Rose #Yang Xiao Long #Weiss Schnee #Blake Belladonna

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fortunesfavours · 1 year

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she is DONE everyone meet Iona, my character for my group’s next campaign in which we are trying pathfinder. She’s a sorcerer she’s a bitch she’s gonna care so much about everyone in the party but not say anything about it she’s everything to me

#bowtiesocs #pathfinder #my art #pf2e #if there are any mistakes I do not see them

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slothquisitor · 21 days

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What Moves in the Dark: Chapter Five

A post-campaign Baldur's Gate 3 eldritch horror AU.

Chapter Summary: In which I gently remind you that this is a horror AU, and I'm genuinely unsure how to tag everything in this chapter. Uh, shit gets wild. TW: body horror and blood.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

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Liv and Astarion wander the Wide until the Bailiff closes it down and with practiced efficiency, the stalls pack up and the people disperse. No one else’s blood catches Astarion’s attention though, and coupled with the lack of strangeness in Moira’s blood, Liv feels a bit like she’s failed.

She suspects that’s why Astarion is still here. They’re slowly meandering back towards the shop, and she’s wondering if she should suggest that they start popping into some more taverns, but her heart’s not really in it. She asked for his help, and he’s given it. She doesn’t want to waste his time chasing down leads she doesn’t have.

Liv’s not even sure why this whole mystery means so much to her. She wanted to help Astarion because it meant finding a way out of Baldur’s Gate, and here she is ignoring all sense of self-preservation grasping at straws and trying to solve the unsolvable. It’s not her job to find these answers, and it would be so much easier to look away and pretend that nothing is wrong. It would be the Vires way, after all.

And perhaps that’s why she can’t quite leave this alone. Solving this is the antithesis of everything her family is, everything she grew up being told. Just once, she wants to add something good to this world instead of benefitting from all of the ways it is unfair.

“You’re quite sure that there’s nothing odd about that woman’s blood?” Astarion asks, pulling her from the spiral of her thoughts.

“We can look at it more closely at the shop, but yeah, nothing odd.”

“It absolutely smelled the same,” he insists.

“Oh, I believe you. That’s what’s so odd though. If her blood is the same as Alfran’s and Iona’s, why isn’t it behaving the same?”

He looks relieved, but she’s not sure why. “You’re the scholar.”

“Not this kind of scholar,” she sighs.

“What kind of scholar are you then?”

The question feels a little close to the things she’d rather not talk about, but he’s shared plenty about himself, perhaps it’s fair she answers. “Evocation. I studied evocation magic for a very, very long time. Medicine and healing…it’s relatively new to me.”

“You might have mentioned that when you promised to help me,” Astarion says with a hint of judgment.

“And what? You expected to find a specialist in vampiric curses in a random alchemy shop in the Lower City?” she prods back.

“I had hoped,” he says with resignation.

“I promise that the second we solve this, I’ll turn my full attention to your condition. If you still want me to after you’ve seen how easy it’s been for me to solve anything about this blood disease.” She worries that all she’ll be able to give him are dead ends and empty promises.

“Would it help if I told you that I’m strangely comforted by your commitment to a lost cause? That means that maybe you’ll actually solve mine, you know, eventually.”

The words are kinder than she expects from him. “Well, I’m still sorry it’s a lower priority.” And she is even though she sort of implied she wasn’t when she demanded his help.

“Darling, there’s very weird blood shit happening in Baldur’s Gate. Trust me when I say I am very used to traveling around with the do-gooding types who will solve everyone else’s problems first. I will….attempt to be patient.”

“Like you were with Moira tonight?”

He rolls his eyes. “I got you what you wanted, didn’t I? And just as you preferred, there was no knocking out and dragging people into random alleyways to steal their blood.”

“I appreciate your self-restraint-”

She’s cut off by the sound of someone calling her name from up the street. Beside her, Astarion tenses, and she’s pretty sure he’s reached for a dagger she didn’t know he had on him. Flashbacks of the night before come unbidden, and she’s already reaching for her magic before she realizes that she knows the voice.

“Liv! Thank the gods!” One of Iona’s sons is running towards them, breathless and haggard.

“Daniel? What’s wrong?”

Daniel pauses, sucking down several deep breaths before explaining. “It’s Nathan. He…well, I’m not sure what’s wrong. It’s like his limbs aren’t his own? I was headed to the shop, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Where is he?”

“Back at home. Henry’s with him, can you come now? Please? We need your help.” There’s panic in his eyes and a pleading tone she can’t abide.

“Of course, right behind you.” There’s no hesitation from her, but Astarion looks a little unsure of what he should be doing.

“One of Iona’s sons,” she explains. “Might be connected.”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Well then, no time to waste.”

They follow Daniel through the labyrinthine streets of the Lower City at a pace that’s just below an all-out sprint. That’s how she knows it’s bad, that there’s some sort of real emergency. If Liv ever thought of the Lower City, she would have pictured streets like this one. Cramped buildings, faded paint, and a general sense of neglect in the air. She surprises herself by preferring it to the sterile opulence of the Upper City. She recognizes Iona’s street, and the house on the corner, still marked for mourning with the black cloth in the window. She slows as they approach, she has a stitch in her side and is breathing hard while Astarion seems deplorably unfazed. And then she remembers he doesn’t have to breathe and she hates him a little bit.

But every thought eddies out of her head when she sees Henry and Nathan and the small group of people surrounding them. Nathan lies sprawled on the ground, face scrunched in pain. Henry stands off to the side hands outstretched, looking utterly helpless. He looks as if he wants to touch his brother, but isn’t sure how. It’s only when she gets close enough to see Nathan that she realizes his limbs are tested unnaturally, arms and legs extended at wrong angles.

With a shudder, part of his arm attempts to inch up the street, but it’s like his limbs don’t know how to move like parts of him are trying to move without any thought of bone or muscle. There’s a horrifying crunch, and Nathan cries out as his forearm drags along the cobblestones, as if it could drag the rest of his body with it.

“How did it start?” Liv asks, stepping forward and reaching for every healing potion in her pack. “How long has he been like this?”

“He was fine, and then he just collapsed half an hour ago, and then I ran to get you.”

As she kneels down, Nathan’s body seems to change direction. His legs lunge for her, but not like they should. Instead, the top of his thigh and a calf move towards her in a fit of movement that completely ignores the rest of Nathan’s body. His answering scream is horrifying, and so are the bruises that line his limbs, like his blood is attempting to leak out of his pores.

She glances up at Astarion, asking a question she’s almost sure she already knows the answer to. He only nods from several feet away, grimacing at the harrowing scene.

“Can you help him?” Henry asks, tears pooling in his eyes.

She does her best to look Nathan over without emotion, punching down the horror and the worry. She needs a clear head; she needs to figure out what to do. First things first, solve the most obvious issue. He’s in pain, the shock will kill him if she doesn’t do something about that. She opens her bag and reaches around for a paralytic.

“We need to knock him out and then reset his limbs before he can be healed,” Liv says to Henry and Daniel.

“I don’t know that knocking him out will help,” Henry says, voice barely louder than a whisper. “He passed out about twenty minutes ago, and his limbs still kept trying to move.”

She considers that for a moment, and another spasm rocks Nathan’s body. His legs keep moving toward her like he’s some puppet on strings, but the person working the puppet has no idea what a human body should move like at all. There’s a sickening sort of crunch as his limbs sputter towards her. What is happening here? She needs time to figure this out, to work it out.

And then it dawns on her. His body had changed direction when she knelt down because of the blood in her bag. His blood is moving in his body, that’s why his limbs aren’t working. If all the blood in one’s body attempted to move without using muscles or tendons or bones…then it would probably look a lot like this. Fuck. A paralytic won’t help because it’s not his body and the blood doesn’t need him alive in order to move, she’s seen that. The best she can do is buy him time, buy herself some breathing and thinking room.

She does the only thing she can think to do in the moment: she pulls out a small jar of graveyard dirt she’s been carrying since she saw Kharis use this spell on Iona. He had bought them a precious hour that hadn’t been enough but had given them time. She forms the symbols with her fingers and utters the words, feeling the cool breeze of death moving through her to Nathan.

He goes so very still.

“What have you done?” Daniel says, terror lacing his voice.

But Nathan is no longer screaming and his body is no longer moving. And it is a relief. “I put his body in stasis. We need to get him off the street.”

“Can you help him?” Henry asks.

“I hope so,” Liv replies. And she prays to whatever gods might be listening that her idea works because it’s the only one she has.

***

The horrifying scene that Astarion found himself spectator to is somewhat undercut by Liv’s relative calmness, and the way everyone simply does what she asks. After placing Nathan in some sort of magical stasis, his brothers had obediently brought him inside, placed him in a bed, and then left Liv to do her work. For his part, Astarion has been hovering on the edge of the room, waiting for instructions or dismissal or for the horror of watching a man’s limbs move so unnaturally to wear off.

It reminds him of ceremorphosis. The breaking and cracking of bones as they elongated and shifted. He finds it hard to look at Nathan, at his limbs bent…wrong. So instead he looks at Liv who is rummaging around her bag pulling out countless vials, including one full of blood. Probably Moira’s.

Liv is pale as she stands over the man, and holds Moira’s blood near his body, twisting the vial in her hands. It’s hard to tell at this distance, but he’s pretty sure he sees a tendril pressed up against the glass, trying to get at Nathan’s body.

“Well fuck,” she whispers.

“So much for Moira’s blood not being strange,” Astarion agrees. “You’ve got a plan, I presume. You’re far too calm to not have a plan.”

Liv looks at him, and her deep green eyes are full of fear and apologies. “I have exactly one idea and if it doesn’t work…” Her voice wobbles a bit as it drops off.

Shit. He’s the one freaking out, so she’s not allowed to also freak out. “Talk me through it.”

Her voice is steadier when she speaks next and he’s grateful. “I’d like to see if we can pull blood out of him, whatever is in his blood is what is causing this. I don’t know how to separate it, but when Iona was in this state, and when Alfran was dead, their blood came out of them on their own. Maybe if we pull enough of his blood out of him, we can stop whatever it's doing.”

“You think his blood is doing this?” The question comes out pitched an octave too high.

“Look at the bruising on his skin.”

Astarion does and immediately regrets it. He’s seen plenty of bodies in various states of ruin. He’s even been the harbinger of that sort of chaos on a body, but that was all good, simple, gore. Whatever’s happening to poor Nathan is absolutely grotesque. But she is right, parts of his limbs are covered with deep mottled bruises, as if the blood is trying to escape his pores.

“So what, we drain him of blood? He’ll die. Trust me on that.” Though as he says it the thought of draining Nathan makes him gag.

“Well, that’s what the stasis is for, and then restoration draught. Followed up by a health potion.”

“And you think it will work?”

Liv shakes her head. “I have no fucking idea, but I’ve got to try.”

He doesn’t understand her or this cause she’s taken up. The set of her jaw and the certainty of her words remind him so much of Tavren that he can barely breathe around the strange weight of it on his chest. Liv is good in the same way Tavren was good: committed to a cause, kind to a fault, likely to infuriate and awe him in equal measure. He pushes past his fear. He’s in this now.

“Tell me what you need me to do, and please tell me it’s not draining him dry myself.”

There’s a gratitude in her eyes she doesn’t voice. “Just help me with the vials? Neither one of us is touching anything, okay?”

He nods and moves closer. Liv is quite pale, but she’s moving with confidence anyway. She leans over Nathan and slices down his forearm where the bruising is deepest.

Astarion isn’t prepared for what happens next.

He’s stabbed enough people to know what happens to wounds like the one Liv has given Nathan. But the blood doesn’t spurt or pool as it should, instead it grows. He’s seen the blood branch within the vials, tiny tendrils pressed against the glass, but this is different. The blood branches out of Nathan’s arm like a plant blooming all at once. The stench in the room is almost unbearable, but there’s something about it he hadn’t picked up before, some sense of otherness. He’s frozen there against the beside Liv, filled with fear. Something is very, very wrong.

The branching blood is all too happy to be manipulated and moved into another vessel. Liv is careful not to touch it, but she works meticulously, filling several vials. It is Liv’s calmness that pulls him back from the brink, that gets him moving, putting lids on vials and handing her fresh ones. They work until as she slices into the man’s skin the blood no longer branches, no longer reaches toward them.

“Okay, I think that’s all of it. How does his blood smell?” Liv asks.

He stopped breathing several minutes ago so that he could function. He sniffs the air tentatively. “Still bad. Maybe less so?”

“Before I can heal him, we’ll need to set his bones right.”

Ugh. No part of him wants to do that. “Must we?”

Liv looks almost as thrilled about the idea as he is. “I can’t set all his bones on my own.”

Damn it all. “Do you think this worked?

Liv shakes her head. “I think this is a stop-gap, not a cure.”

“Was this happening to anyone else?”

“No. But we pulled more blood out of him than anyone else. Let’s start with his arms.”

Setting Natha’s bones is slow, terrible work. His limbs feel like sandbags, and Astarion isn’t sure that what’s happened to him is something magic can fix. But then, limbs righted, Liv drops the stasis spell and pours two potions down Nathan’s throat in quick succession. The first for blood loss, the second for healing, and he’s shocked at the way the bruises recede, the way the swelling subsides. The horror is erased, as if it was never there in the first place.

It’s the same sort of disconnect as being revived, he thinks. The wounds were there, they were real, death had visited the body, but magic wiped them away. If Nathan is lucky, this half-hour of pain will fade away to nothingness. Perhaps his body won’t even remember the horror of what happened. He won’t even bear scars.

Liv watches Nathan for several moments, staring at every minute shift of his body. She presses two fingers against his neck, searching for a pulse point.

“Nathan?”

The man stirs a bit, and he can see the way Liv’s shoulders cave in relief before she punches the emotion down. Unflappable as always. “Nathan, how are you feeling?”

Nathan winces a bit. “Awful. Like I was run over by a carriage.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Nathan looks down at his body, whole and unbroken. “I had the worst dream…I was…I think I was dying.”

“How did it start?” Liv prompts.

Nathan rubs absently at his chest, right above his heart. “I had weird pains all day, and then I was coming home from the docks and my legs just…broke…right under me.”

“When did these pains start? Were you doing any sort of work that you don’t usually do today?”

“Just an odd job for Huido that I pick up sometimes.”

“Huido?”

“Smuggler for the Guild. Sometimes I help move things for him…the extra pay is nice.”

Ah. Another Guild connection. He knows that Liv’s caught it too by the way she glances at him. “Alright, Nathan. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep for a while, okay?”

The man nods and drinks the draught Liv brings to his lips. And then he sleeps. “He’s working for the Guild too.”

“Yeah, I caught that. Sounds like we’ve got a new lead,” Liv says. “I don’t think I cured him. Just bought some time, I hope. Help me gather all of this up…then we can talk with his brothers and go.”

They gather vials in silence, and Liv prestidigitates the blood and mess from the bed. He’s careful as he places the vials in the bag, worried that they might break, but as he does each one disappears and he realizes she’s got a bag of holding. Well, at least that explains how nothing in her bag broke despite their sprint here.

“What are you going to tell his brothers?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t like to lie, but I don’t see a way around it. We can’t tell them the truth.”

“No,” he agrees. “He was hexed.”

She shakes her head. “No hex would behave…oh.”

“Not everyone knows as much about magic as you do.”

“Alright.”

The brothers swallow down the explanation easily. Especially when they see their brother is whole and alive. They aren’t suspicious, simply grateful. They try to pay her, but of course, she doesn’t allow it. Offering gentle words and instructions and requests to contact her if anything changes, she gets them out of the house quickly. It is only then that the exhaustion is clear in every line of her face.

“I need a drink. How about you?”

Gods, he’d love a little oblivion after all that. “Please.”

They walk back to the shop in a silence that isn’t uncomfortable. The things they’ve seen, the work they’ve just done hangs like a weight between them. He can feel the way it connects them, and they don’t have to talk about it. In fact, he’d rather prefer if they didn’t. The streets are quiet and empty as they wander back to the shop, but Astarion feels watched all the same. While she unlocks the shop door he looks around and studies the shadows, but he sees nothing so he follows her inside.

“You keep booze in the shop, how scandalous.”

Liv rolls her eyes and walks over to the stairs. “No, I keep booze in my apartment.”

“I didn’t realize you lived here,” Astarion says with genuine surprise. He realizes that there is an awful lot he doesn’t know about Liv. The realization bothers him for some reason. He’s suddenly not sure if she’s simply not telling him things or if she just doesn’t tell anyone anything. He wishes he knew which it was.

“It’s one of the reasons why I took this job. Came with free housing,” Liv explains as they climb the staircase. She pauses at the threshold and looks at him over her shoulder. “Come on in.”

“Where were you living before?” he asks, following her inside and pretending not to be grateful for her specific invitation, for remembering at all. The apartment itself is small and simple. It’s a single room, though she’s put up a screen between her bed and the rest of the space in a failing effort at creating a partition. The kitchen area is small too, with just two cupboards and a little stove and counter that runs the length of the wall. All of the furniture looks rather secondhand, and mismatched. It doesn’t feel like it’s hers though there’s an art piece here or a knickknack there that would betray otherwise. The only part of the space that screams Liv is the bookshelf in the corner, groaning under the weight of various tomes.

“With my family. We didn’t part on good terms, so I needed a place to stay. Kharis was kind enough to offer up his old place since he lives in the Upper City with his husband now.”

“You have a lot of books,” he says, wandering over to the bookshelf. He drags a finger along the spines. “I expected more medical texts or spell theory books. These are mostly novels and stories.”

She’s in the area that passes for her kitchen fishing a bottle out of a cupboard and two mismatched cups. “Yes, well, I do like to enjoy what I read every now and again. I think we’ve been going about this wrong.”

He joins her at the table and allows her to pour him two fingers of what looks like Mermaid Whiskey. It was what she’d ordered the other night. Expensive taste for someone who rarely seems to drink. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I don’t think this is a disease. I think it’s spreading somehow, but it’s not a disease.”

He throws back his whiskey wishing he didn’t have to ask the question he’s about to ask. “Then what is it?”

“I think it’s a thing…we’re just finding parts of it scattered in the blood of certain people. It’s trying to bring those parts back together.”

“You think that the blood tendrils are…what? Trying to get back to whatever it is they came from?”

“We already know they’re attracted to each other. Where was Nathan’s blood trying to go before we showed up…crossed the signals? What was making his blood move when no one else’s had done that? If this was a disease, then it would be affecting people more similarly. We both saw Moira, she was fine. Alfran and Iona had similar symptoms, but that wasn’t the same either…”

He hates that she’s making any sense whatsoever. He pours himself more whiskey. “Fine. So if it is a thing…what do we do about it?”

“I don’t know. But…I have some books.” She’s already on her feet, pulling books off her bookshelves. “And there’s the Guild connection. That’s got to be something.”

“It just so happens that I know where the Guildhall is, and I’m fairly positive that Nine-Fingers won’t kill me on sight, so I can go speak with her,” Astarion replies.

“You know her? She helped in the battle, didn’t she? I read that.” Then she smiles. “I shouldn’t be surprised you’re familiar with the Guildhall. Should we go now?”

He laughs. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, darling, but I’m not about to walk you into the Guildhall.”

“And why not?”

“Because they’re rather secretive, and I have enough enemies as is. If I bring a stranger in, no matter how well-intentioned, they’re more likely to kill you than ask questions. I’m not even positive that she’ll see me. It was Tavren and Jaheira who had the influence there, not me. Besides, I’m hoping I have something more for them to go off of beyond ‘we think there’s a terrifying creature controlling people’s blood on the loose’.”

“Then we best get researching.” She brings over several heavy tomes, none of which look very promising, but it’s as good a place to start as any.

He grimaces. “How wonderful.” But he’s scarcely been as afraid as he was earlier tonight, watching that blood bloom out of Nathan. And so he settles in for an evening of reading and research, hoping beyond all hope for answers.

#astarion #tavstarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #what moves in the dark #astarion x liv #uh be sure to check the tw on this one guys #read safely my friends #slothquisitorwrites

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 1 year

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NASA's Perseverance rover collects two samples of Martian regolith NASA's Perseverance rover snagged two new samples from the Martian surface on Dec. 2 and 6. But unlike the 15 rock cores collected to date, these newest samples came from a pile of wind-blown sand and dust similar to but smaller than a dune. Now contained in special metal collection tubes, one of these two samples will be considered for deposit on the Martian surface sometime this month as part of the Mars Sample Return campaign. Scientists want to study Martian samples with powerful lab equipment on Earth to search for signs of ancient microbial life and to better understand the processes that have shaped the surface of Mars. Most of the samples will be rock; however, researchers also want to examine regolith—broken rock and dust—not only because of what it can teach us about geological processes and the environment on Mars, but also to mitigate some of the challenges astronauts will face on the Red Planet. Regolith can affect everything from spacesuits to solar panels, so it's just as interesting to engineers as it is to scientists. As with rock cores, these latest samples were collected using a drill on the end of the rover's robotic arm. But for the regolith samples, Perseverance used a drill bit that looks like a spike with small holes on one end to gather loose material. Engineers designed the special drill bit after extensive testing with simulated regolith developed by JPL. Called Mojave Mars Simulant, it's made of volcanic rock crushed into a variety of particle sizes, from fine dust to coarse pebbles, based on images of regolith and data collected by previous Mars missions. "Everything we learn about the size, shape, and chemistry of regolith grains helps us design and test better tools for future missions," said Iona Tirona of NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California, which leads the Perseverance mission. Tirona was the activity lead for operations to collect the recent regolith sample. "The more data we have, the more realistic our simulants can be." The challenge of dust Studying regolith up close could help engineers design future Mars missions—as well as the equipment used by future Martian astronauts. Dust and regolith can damage spacecraft and science instruments alike. Regolith can jam sensitive parts and slow down rovers on the surface. The grains could also pose unique challenges to astronauts: Lunar regolith was discovered to be sharp enough to tear microscopic holes in spacesuits during the Apollo missions to the moon. Regolith could be helpful if packed against a habitat to shield astronauts from radiation, but it also contains risks: The Martian surface contains perchlorate, a toxic chemical that could threaten the health of astronauts if large amounts were accidentally inhaled or ingested. "If we have a more permanent presence on Mars, we need to know how the dust and regolith will interact with our spacecraft and habitats," said Perseverance team member Erin Gibbons, a McGill University doctoral candidate who uses Mars regolith simulants as part of her work with the rover's rock-vaporizing laser, called SuperCam. "Some of those dust grains could be as fine as cigarette smoke, and could get into an astronaut's breathing apparatus," added Gibbons, who was previously part of a NASA program studying human-robot exploration of Mars. "We want a fuller picture of which materials would be harmful to our explorers, whether they're human or robotic." Besides answering questions about health and safety hazards, a tube of Martian regolith could inspire scientific wonder. Looking at it under a microscope would reveal a kaleidoscope of grains in different shapes and colors. Each one would be like a jigsaw puzzle piece, all of them joined together by wind and water over billions of years. "There are so many different materials mixed into Martian regolith," said Libby Hausrath of University of Nevada, Las Vegas, one of Perseverance's sample return scientists. "Each sample represents an integrated history of the planet's surface." As an expert on Earth's soils, Hausrath is most interested in finding signs of interaction between water and rock. On Earth, life is found practically everywhere there's water. The same could have been true for Mars billions of years ago, when the planet's climate was much more like Earth's.

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news #nasa #mars perseverance rover

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xyliaxart · 7 months

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not sure if your down for PC questions, but whats the dynamic between Dicentra and Iona like when they're not in combat?

I'm always down for PC questions.

They used to be a couple but broke up during the campaign, so its kinda awkward between them right now, As you can imagine being magically bound to your ex would be. Its cool though, they're finally making other friends besides each other

#ask #Iona Avis #Dicentra #ghoulcaclulator64

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whatthefusco · 1 year

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Ordered a commission of some important NPCs for my DnD Campaign!

Just the angriest monster hunting lady in the world and her incorrigible wifeguy of a genius husband.

Zan is an inventor who specializes in vehicles and robotics. Iona is his fearless test pilot. He names his inventions based on puns, and she roasts him for it. They are my favorites.

This artwork was done by @avituses, who I truly cannot recommend enough. Stellar artwork and communication both.

#dnd oc #dnd art #dnd #other people's art #art commisions #d&d npc

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kissofthemuses · 1 year

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MORGAN

FULL NAME: Morgan Rowlands SPECIES: witch OCCUPATION: student/healer/holistic healer FANDOM: Sweep

PHYSICAL

FACECLAIM: Troian Bellisario Katharine Mcphee PRONOUNS: she/her AGE: 17/18, 34 BIRTHDATE: November 23 HAIR: brown EYES: brown HEIGHT: 5'7″ ORIENTATION: demisexual, heteromantic

RELATIONSHIPS

MOTHER: Mary Grace Rowlands (Adoptive), Meave Riordan (birth- deceased) FATHER: Sean Rowlands (adoptive), Ciaran Macewan (birth) Siblings: Mary Kathleen Rowlands (adoptive), Killian MacEwan (half-brother), Kyle MacEwan (half-brother), Iona MacEwan (half-sister)

PERSONALITY

MBTI: ENFP-T / “Campaigner” ALIGNMENT: lawful good TEMPERAMENT: sanguine ENNEAGRAM: type 2

Morgan is a kind soul with a desire to heal anyone who is in any kind of pain. But, she's shy and, often, self-depricating; she doesn't have low self esteem but, she doesn't see herself as anything special. Actually, much of her life, she felt like she didn't quite fit in with her family. She's generally a studious person with a thirst for knowledge for those things that interested her.

She's been accused, on many occasions, of not being able to see the 'big picture'. And that's true because she tends to focus on what's affecting her and those around her, in the moment. That's not to say she's selfish, she just doesn't really have the ability to step back and examing the situation as a whole. Especially because she is so emotionally driven. Much of the time, she lets her heart rule her head, and this has gotten her into a lot of trouble. She's also extremely stubborn, and, once she sets her mind to something, she will pursue it until it's very end (unless something drastic happens to change her course).

OTHER

POWERS: Pyrokenisis, shapeshifting (animal forms, mainly a wolf), scrying, spell creation and casting. LIKES: reading, divination, tea-making, karaoke, research, traveling, sharing what she’s learned, dancing by herself, warm cookies DISLIKES: feeling weak, fire, sleep paralysis, injustice, bullying, being alone, her own heart,