#Let Primordials & Ancients be Eldritch
Text
Prompt 257
Now Danny loves space. He loves everything about it, to the point his core quite literally is space. And he’s also a baby ghost, even if he could argue he’s not in human form. But see, being baby has an honestly great consequence once it’s noticed- despite the Observants’ best attempts at hiding it, the assholes.
Of course he would be far more worried- and even a bit pissed- if his caretaker wasn’t who it was. Look, he’d never met Clockwork’s siblings before, but apparently everyone was really against Clockwork himself adopting.
But Clockwork as his uncle is fine. Besides, his caretaker is Space! Space itself is holding him, cooing gentle words in the sounds of the very cosmos. And they’re huge, like parts of their body going through portals so they can fit outside Long-Now sized big- and apparently Clockwork can get just as big and they can get even bigger-
Okay, he needs to take a breath- even if he doesn’t need to breathe- to stop his squealing because holy Realms this is so cool.
Space is awesome! And he’s getting so much more rest than he did in Amity- and even if Space sort of shrugged at the idea of school at first, they did help him set up online schooling. So there’s that, and it’s just the start!
He gets to learn so much about space and it’s honestly kind of… nice? To be taken care of? And he can do whatever he needs for his Core and Obsession with only a few interruptions to take care of his living needs. Erm, sort of living needs?
But even that gets turned into a bit of play or even a lesson too! He’s honestly having such a good time right now! He’s learning so much about spaaace! And dimensions! And interdimensional portals and- oops! No one saw that.
Ahem- But he’s learning so much about space and getting to explore other dimensions with Cosmos! And sure he no longer looks as human as he once did and all that, but he’s seen so many people who also don’t look human that does it really matter?
Of course it doesn’t, and he matches his sort-of-dad! Even though the streaks of color in their hair are more of a brown-red like they’re literally bleeding out the cosmos around them instead of it fading to void and space like his own. But still! They match and it’s fun!
And they’re going to go on another trip from the in-between to one of the dimension realities! He’s going to start a game of tag this time he thinks! But no cheating with portals or bending space! Tag!
Look, the Justice League? Not paid enough for this. In fact, technically not paid at all due to being volunteers (not that it stopped them from finding money in their accounts) but still.
There is some sort of figure… being… thing… zooming around the asteroid belt, about the size of Earth itself. Let them repeat themselves. A planet-sized creature (are those hands or paws? Tail or simply its body stretching? Hair or the Abyss-) is currently darting around the asteroid belt like a child running through grass.
That is, without noticing or caring if something bug-sized might be crushed. And they are very much bug sized, as the governments are concerned about. Like really concerned about. Like talking about trying to nuke the entity if it wanders closer sort of concerned.
Which they are all very concerned and very much like, against. Because it isn’t seeming to notice the asteroids it’s knocking into their area. It’s like… not a space whale or eel or anything like that but also is something like that.
And they would also maybe like to see if they can attempt to talk it down first maybe and-
oh.
Oh.
That creature is the baby. And mama just arrived, stretching across the entire galaxy, from them to Pluto and beyond, like something took the cosmos and shaped it like clay into some sort of form. Like reality itself has wandered into their galaxy with what they are suddenly realizing must be a very young child.
Shit, they really have to make sure no one tries to piss either of these things off-
#Prompts#DCxDP#DPxDC#Danny is like Lil Baby Man compared to Cosmos#But he’s the same size as the world too lol#Space Core Danny#Clockwork is a triplet lol#Clockwork Chaos & Cosmos the children of Infinity & Reality#Let Primordials & Ancients be Eldritch#Are those stars or eyes? Hair or strands of time? Clothes or the fabric of reality? Wound or black hole?#Danny: I am doin good at hidin- the best at hide and seek#Cosmos veery slowly floating after: Oh nooo where has my ghostling hid where could they have goone to *knows exactly where he is*#Can they *technically* go smaller? Yeah but they’re used to where All of Space-Dimension-Portals meets#Danny is Not ghost king he’s bby Space Ancient#Why were people against Clockwork adopting? He never finished divorcing Pariah before he got thrown in the nap box
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Hubris Bracket Side A Poll 3: Trixie Lulamoon (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic) vs Erin Ruunaser (Aurora Comic)
Propaganda below (may contain spoilers)
Trixie Lulamoon
If any mlp character deserves to be in the hubris bracket it should be Trixie. Also she literally didn't even do anything wrong except entertain people (which is literally her job) and was punished just because the mane six couldn't take a fking joke. And, I might be wrong about this- but Trixie was originally only supposed to appear for like one episode but the fans loved her so much they brought her back and she became one of the biggest characters on the show. literal legend. Stream Magic Bitch by Vylet Pony and Magic by The Living Tombstone btw "sometimes you gotta let your ego slip for your own mental health" -Vylet Pony
egotistical magician my beloved... petty stage magician. she has a long standing rivalry with the princess of friendship (twilight sparkle ofc) who is incredibly powerful with actual magic. she tried to run twilight out of town once. it didn't go well. oh also she's besties (gay) with twilight's protege which annoys her to no end. also also she's sooooo trans the entire fandom agrees
Erin Ruunaser
This man walked directly into a primordial magic storm with an almost 100% death rate because he wanted to look at what's in the middle; he's the current Elemental Magus, and it has definitely gone to his head; he's outsmarted (or tried to outsmart) an eldritch evil that killed the oldest and most powerful gods of his world twice, which possessed him because of his aforementioned storm-walk; and his creator has called him Sicktats McHubris at least once. Also, he acts incredibly smug all the time.
He’s kinda like the avatar, so he thought that it would be a good idea to walk into a magical storm that no person had ever seen the center of. He ended up getting possessed by an ancient god-killing evil and now has to get rid of him. The fandom has nicknamed him Sicktats McHubris, on account of his very cool magical tattoos.
#(mod kiki here: to the people who submitted trixie i love u)#(i sent u a bouquet of roses <3333 she's such an icon im so happy shes here! this is also just a super cool match up!)#mlp#my little pony#trixie lulamoon#Erin Ruunaser#aurora comic#hubris bracket#round 1
484 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hubristic Assholes Tourney Round 1 Part 3a
Erin Ruunaser (Aurora) vs Manfred von Karma (Ace Attorney)
Propaganda below cut (Spoiler warning!)
Erin
So in Aurora, there was this ancient, magical storm that been going on for centuries. The further one went in, the more likely they were to die either due to the hostile environment or the massive amounts of ambient magic would begin to basically destroy their body from the inside. Erin looked at this and basically went “yes, but I’m built different” and went inside with zero backup. Now, technically speaking, he is in a way built different as he is one of the only people in the world who can control all of the six (known) magical elements that make up the Storm, so he was able to bypass all of the obstacles and make it to the center. When he got there, he unknowingly activated a trap that destroyed the Storm and caused him to become possessed by an eldritch star-eating dragon, whose physical body is still stuck in the core of the planet and wants to use his new vessel to free himself. Whoopsie! Now, Erin is searching for a way to sever his link with the dragon without his buddies from the Academy finding out. Also he’s being hunted by Paladins now. Fun times; At one point, he tries to learn more about the Void Dragon by accessing a Paladin library. The receptionist doesn’t let him in because he isn’t a Paladin, and he basically goes full Karen on her (he literally asks to speak with her supervisor/manager). Then he learns that one of his friends will be held prisoner for as long as they plan to stay in the city (long story). Erin still plans to stay for as long as he needs to get information on the evil Void Dragon. Said dragon literally appears in his dream that night to tell him he’s being kind of an asshole. Also despite all of this, Erin still isn’t entirely sure if the Light Dragon worshiped by the Paladins is even real. He knows the Void Dragon is real, but the opposite still seems like a stretch I guess. Also the receptionist from earlier is one of the Paladins currently hunting him. He needs to be shoved in a locker. I need to shove him in a locker.
Travels through a famously dangerous magic storm just because he can, fixes some kind of broken magic rune circle that is causing the storm, getting possessed by the evil Void Dragon in the process; He once tried to talk his way into a restricted library and got shot down hilariously
He tries to explore to the center of this volatile magic storm that no one's ever gotten to the center of, and immediately gets possessed by the primordial void dragon that had been waiting for someone exactly like him to try to get to the center of the storm. At the time of writing this he's about to try to cross an ocean on an experimental never-before-seen type of boat, which i suspect will only go well and will have no problems :)
Ventures into a giant magical storm, declaring that the only reason no one has ever reached the center is because he hasn't tried to yet. Reaches the center and promptly decides to switch off the magical pedestal creating the storm, because he can, and gets possessed by a star-eating eldritch dragon god for his trouble.
Literally the first thing he does in the comic is go explore a highly dangerous magical storm just because he's currently the one person in the world who can manipulate all six traditional magic elements and is therefore the only person who can explore the storm safely. At its center, Erin discovers a cracked pedestal with the elemental runes on it and deduces it to be the cause of the storm, then just stops the storm without a second thought, which is notable for two reasons: 1. By the time the audience gets this info, we've already seen a town whose infrastructure depends on the strong winds the storm produces, which is obviously no longer viable 2. The storm itself turned out to have been a trap set by an ancient evil star-eating dragon trapped in the center of the planet which has now possessed Erin. He's actually incredibly booksmart and puts that knowledge to very impressive use sometimes, but he is also known to be impulsive, overcome with confusion when presented with a thing he doesn't know about already, and of course, hubristic. (he does demonstrate a pretty well-aligned moral compass when it counts, though) In summary, I really like him because his combination of character traits makes him flip-flop wildly between "exactly as awesome as he thinks he is" and "hopelessly cringefail" depending on the situation and it never stops making sense. He's so smart but he's so stupid.
(Spoilers) This dude walked into a massive magical storm that literally nobody lived long enough to see the center of, all while gloating about how smart he is, then touched a highly suspicious symbol and got himself possessed by basically Satan. He then proceeds to lecture Not-Satan on how he’s the smart one on this team and that he better sit down and shut up unless he wants to be killed by his MANY enemies. And the strange part is that it worked; The fandom gave him the nicknames “Icarus” “Sicktats McHubris” and “Pompous Nitwit” and I think that says a lot about him
Manfred
During a trial against Miles Edgworth’s dad Gregory Edgeworth Manfred von karma gets a penalty he does not lose the trial however he considers this penalty an egregious enough crime that he must kill Gregory Edgeworth. And he does however due to Miles throwing a gun he gets shot in the shoulder causing him to take his one and only vacation to recover. However he doesn’t get the bullet removed to avoid questioning as to why he has a bullet in his shoulder. For 15 years he gets away with it (miles doesn’t know it was him it’s a whole thing) but then just a few days before the statute of limitations is up on the murder of Gregory Edgeworth he decides to with the help of the Yani Yogi the man originally accused of murdering Gregory Edgeworth frame Miles for the murder of the defense attorney that got Yani off with an insanity plea (which is why Yani hates the man) then after it’s proven Yani is the murder Miles confesses to killing his dad and in Manfred’s attempt to convict Miles for that it’s proven that he killed Gregory. How? Phoenix uses a metal detector to detect the bullet in his shoulder; The thing that kills me about Manfred “I killed a man because he gave me a penalty in court” Von Karma is that he absolutely could’ve gotten away with it if he didn’t try to get revenge on Miles. He was so confident that he would get Miles convicted if not for the murder of Robert Hammond than for the murder of his own father. He was so confident because there’s no way this attorney with only 3 cases under his belt will beat him not when he tased him and that weird girl tagging along with him in the evidence room preventing him from getting any evidence on the DL-6 case except he didn’t prevent them he didn’t even bother to check because that weird girl ended up holding onto a bullet. the bullet that killed Gregory a bullet they could use to for comparison to see if a bullet was shot from the same gun a bullet like the one in Manfred’s shoulder. The bullet he didn’t have removed to avoid the question of “where did that bullet in your shoulder come from”
#erin ruunaser#aurora#aurora webcomic#manfred von karma#ace attorney#hubristic assholes tourney#round 1#round 1 part 3a#official#poll
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
To answer @melyndadwest-blog’s summons and referencing their prompt/theory I have a little fic I’ve been working on but haven’t posted. Working title “Shadows of Future, Lights of the Past” but name very much gonna change.
The core concept is that Danny was an Ancient/High King/Primordial Godlike Enity for a long time because some usurpers got nervous and tried to get rid of him. Erasing his memories for a thousand lifetimes (and when you live for an eternity as a ghost well….) and trapping his physical form before casting it away to be lost to the cosmos and time.
Because of when he ends up and his type of existence, he comes into a lot of innate power that leads to accidental mega godhood. Consequently when he’s freed he is a little screwy. At least he has his soul mates (Tucker and Sam) to help him ground. Meanwhile, shenanigans. Freaking people out, adopting all the sacrifices, and deciding cuddles cures everything. Basically Eldritch Horror Mother Decides You Look Adoptable.
Basically the themes I’m working with are:
Cryptid Danny Fenton
Accidental Godhood
Adoption Crisis
Eternal Trio soulmate addition
Dani is legally Danny’s Baby and totally fought Vlad for custody behind the Nasty Burger
Fucked Luck Tuck is actually cursed and willing took it
DC x DP
No Bruce, he’s old enough to be your grandfather. No adopting the weird teenager.
Cult Sacrifices are legally his to do as he pleases….. and it pleases the ghost parent to have lots of children to care over
Things I’m Considering
Sam is actually Lady Gotham
Ghost Zone is literally Danny’s fully developed core.
OR the GZ is his primordial bastard kid
Alfred died the same night as the Waynes but said “there’s no bloody way I’m letting that boy be completely orphaned”
Danny’s human body never aged passed 14
Honestly I don’t think I’ve talked about it anywhere yet. I’m wanting a plotline and draft done before I start posting, less pressure I guess? I’m not sure what my end goal is is the thing. And I want that settled before I really go nuts.
Also the laptop it’s on died and is being fixed.
Actually “Ouroboros” would be a good title too…. hmm
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just finished the 4.2 archon quest
and all I can say is, my boy childe is the best character in both in-game AND the meta.
i love how involved he is in multiple nations' quests, not to mention he kinda brought disaster upon 1.5(the 0.5 is really debatable but still. Guy has a natural tendency to wake up ancient eldritch horrors 💀) nations.
He, as a mere mortal (a strong one, but clearly not as strong as some of the other beings in this world), was able to fight an all devouring narwhal, an otherworldly being that just feasts on planets' energy sources as a snack, that apparently even an ancient dragon known to rival the power of an archon(granted not fully powered) couldn't deal with.
Well, I guess that just goes to show how strong the Abyss people are. Childe's master, Skirk, was able to literally yeet that thing away in a flash and be like "Oops sorry, my master's pet accidentally consumed too much of this planet's primordial sea energy and is now causing mayhem! Let me just deal with that really quickly". Which just makes you think if they're even human or not, or if they were humans like Childe clearly is, what happened to them down in the Abyss to make them the way they are? How do they tie into the main plot of the heavenly principles and Celestia? Ahhhhh, so many unanswered questions. This game's main storyline never loses my attention lol.
P.S. Justice for Furina's 500 years of suffering ;-; . May she enjoy all the sweets and opera spectacles her heart desires.
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
It's interesting that Diablo doesn't stir even in front of an eldritch entity, any human would probs go mad when seeing an eldritch true form but Diablo keeps together. I love all the little details you mention, especially when it comes to the descriptions of madness and the inhuman similarities he and eldritch reader share. Honestly he would prefer the true form probably.
Thank you, I love writing horror!
Gore gives me brain rot; I'm melting beneath the monsters that wanna rip me apart and the horrors that wanna destroy the planet. Eldritches and the moral concept of the mind, horror and scares send me in a massive spiral, with the drama and suspense packed into it? Amazing!
It's a whole lotta fun to run deep into, and its great practice if you ever want a feel for the horror genre. There are so many things you can do, more things to experiment with. I own a bookcase full of horror I admire revisiting, my inspiration mainly stems from them and other books I grew up with.
It made sense to me that Diablo wouldn't flinch in front of an Eldritch, given why and how he acts in TTIGRAAS canon. He is by no means a fool, and even more merciless. Less so to his kind and those separate in inhumanity, to which you are an upmost product of. A pinacol of extreme strain furthest thing from human, a foreign definition of unbalance further then demons themselves. Just more reasons to show no weakness, with you at a level of 'supernatural' Diablo could never physically reach no matter what form he evolves or achieves.
It takes an enormous amount of effort to intimate, let alone flinch, Diablo the slightest bit, head straight and his back even straighter. He is pretty fearless and cares not for the contrary. I said multiple times before, Diablo is completely unmoved by appearances all together, even ones meant to...
'unhinge' the brain.
The thing with Diablo is not only is he inhuman, but also extremely experienced. In other words, knowledgeable in more ways than one in good and evil. He knows quite a lot and knows exactly how useful-and dangerous-such knowledge is. Well informed of the powers and possible secrets beyond his world. As there are always shadows, he has only seen near all. Powers ahead and behind, in between and hidden, waiting for the light to drive them out. You are just another shadow, in need of studying, yet another secret to be revealed.
Uncovering thought and purpose is what Diablo specializes in, leaving no stone, vein and magicule unturned. Pride is Diablo's sin, and he absolutely shows it. There is no silliness with Diablo-even in the games he plays-only a master of the chess board, who aims to use his pawns to the fullest potential and predict the moves of his opponent long before they make it. In fact, it's something he is passionate about; the excitement, the amount of pleasure and satisfaction he gains from unveiling an ancient mystery, unraveling the world's lost wonders over yonder.
And what greater mystery then you?
A glitch, tearing solar wind in space, and a mistake in natural design?
No degree of science, experience in this universe or understanding could ever comprehend you, not when they measure with normalcy. No one who is normal, no one who is human could ever hope to survive singularity, your unstable, unchained self.
Your existence, the proof of a where above the atmosphere, requires a substantial amount of sheer will power and understanding-assuming you could be understood entirely-to even keep oneself' together, so much so you have to stabilize and simplify yourself beyond to walk amongst people,
even then it's still a stretched maybe.
Seeing as Diablo is a primordial demon that committed his fair share of atrocities within or outside Rimuru's rule,
no person in their right mind would call Diablo normal.
Diablo is a demonic weapon of mass destruction. He witnessed madness and insanity aplenty in his line of work, in all his centuries of walking the Earth. Downfalls of angels, humans and their greedy spiral for power and wealth. As well as fellow calamities, falling victim to their destruction and despair. Evidenced further by the primordial Demon Lords and their flow in the natural world, the innate fear they strike and the mayhem-all life devested within their range-they bring forth. To both innocent and deserving.
While Diablo is not immune to trauma, he experiences it vastly different than how normal people do, as expected from an ancient demon.
Cold as ice, incredibly discreet and ever most loyal to a fault. An enigma as you are, unpredictable and crafty as they may come. A shadow in a shadow, a secret of secrets. A riddle designed to confuse and overwhelm the morals, driven with very keen interest in the unknown and the mysteries of his world, the offers on the harsh outside.
Diablo is one of the few people who will effectively stand up to intense beings like Eldritches and some of the fewer that can come to understand them-or in this case you-individually and carefully. Or relate to them on certain scales.
#normal#ask#anon#anonymous#diablo#noir#eldritch reader#tw eldritch#i hope to write more horror in the future#and yeah#he would be very interested in eldritch reader's true form then their form#something like that would be his ultimate prove of trust in a relationship#though it gets a little deeper than that in this case with an eldritch reader#diablo x reader#noir x reader#reader insert#ttigraas#that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader#that time i got reincarnated as a slime#ttigraas x reader#tw mentions of horror#tw mentions of trauma#tw mentions of gore
113 notes
·
View notes
Text
wanted to take my addition and make my own post so i could keep talking about it
You know the ancient primordial forests and seas? well they were full of so much Life that it created huge pockets of Death, and if you trap those pockets of death under the weight of the ocean or earth and heat it with the fires at the center of the planet you can transform all that dead life into a sort of eldritch black sludge
Then you simply take your eldritch death sludge, and ceremoniously burn it to create power. Of course doing so does choke the life out of the world and could possibly end human existence, but what do you expect when you use eldritch death sludge to create power?
There IS a movement to instead use the bones of old stars that have died violent deaths in huge explosions. These star bones leak an energy that can melt any life that gets too close (but like melt it from the inside kinda) and it can sort of infect anything it touches to make that thing also leak energy that melts living beings. Anyway, you can use that life-melting energy from the deadly star bones to boil water. So that's where we get most of our power that isn't made from ceremoniously burning eldritch death sludge.
i think that's actually the part that fucks me up the most is that in both cases, what we are using it for is to boil water. Like. Your entire nation, all the electricity in your home, the street lights, all of it, is run off of a few really giant steam engines.
Literally. The cyberdistopian future is real and it is simultaneously steampunk. fml
we use the eldritch death sludge and the life-melting star energy to boil water. through a steam turbine. For all our power needs.
Like. C'mon. Space programs and gene therapy and microchips in brains that let a person use a computer with just their mind (yes that actually exists, primarily to allow paralyzed people to do things) ALL THAT and we can't find another way to boil water so we don't fuck the planet into unlivable conditions? Really? Brightest minds on the planet, can split an atom and destroy the world, but we can't cook up a better way to BOIL. WATER. are you sure?
it just. Kinda feels like we're getting punked, tbh
#i am aware of the alternatives we are trying like solar super heated ultra black materials and municipal capacity battery storage for solar#but it really seems like we could have come up with a fully functioning option or two by now if the goal is just to fucking boil some water
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ovum
First attempt at writing about the Origin. i still find it good
Lilieve is in her monster bird form here! once more, she belongs to @crashstanding
Summary: Adam dreams of the One. He finds himself on one side of a passive-aggressive conversation between two primordial beings.
Adam was dreaming.
He didn’t know he could still do that. He could sleep, yes, but when he closed his eyes, he only saw what his sons saw. He had seen an ocean without light, the ceiling his poor spider lily had to endure for far too long. He had seen his little swan’s shaking hands, felt his trembling body as he bundled up for a warmth that couldn’t burn the cold away. He had seen their nightmares of endless metal hallways, with shriveled test subjects clawing at the bars and screaming their death throes even as processed agony was pumped into them continuously. He had seen their fuzzy memories of himself, wrapped in warmth and light and laughter.
He had seen all this, but he had never dreamed. There was no need for him to do so now. He had to watch, observe, and influence when necessary. His mind had no time to drift into itself now. It belonged to the world, to his sons, to the earth and plants.
He wasn’t even sure Eve slept at all. She might not need to. There were too many of her brood that always required her attention, too much to keep guard. She must remain vigilant. They both must.
And yet, Adam was dreaming.
He dreamed he was something else, something big, something ancient. He was sat in a stance of meditation, sitting on his knees with his hands resting on his lap. His eyes were closed, and yet he knew he was praying, thinking, contemplating, emanating? Something like those words. He felt a soft texture like silk on his palms, delicate, ephemeral, like a flower that blooms only briefly.
And yet, somehow, he felt more hands than he should’ve. He felt new muscles from his shoulders, new limbs at his sides, more hands to grasp and feel and touch. They felt different from the flesh that felt the silk, they felt stiffer, sharper, clawed like branches that tap windows.
Yes, that’s what they felt like. Branches.
Like Eve’s…
“How is it that you do not see how tenuous your existence is?”
The voice that sounded behind him was multilayered, infinite, eldritch, steeped in stars and black holes that swallow everything that’s unfortunate enough to fall in. Yet, Adam could barely hear it. It was muffled, slurred, as if it were less a voice and more just air pushed out of a compressed body.
He opened his eyes, and then he opened more, for surely, there were more than two. He felt new eyeballs in new sockets on his cheeks, right below his. He briefly wondered if that’s how spiders felt, with their eyes clustered around their whole head.
“Who are you to talk, Umbral Thing?”
The voice that left his throat was not his own. Or maybe it was? Sometimes it sounded like him. Sometimes it sounded like Eve. It was booming and authoritative, like her, but beneath it was some kind of whispering foundation, like him. He (She? They? It?) spoke without his own will, even as he felt here, present, a moving living thing. He was here. He should be.
But his vessel moved without him telling it to.
“Do you not see how you are clinging to your form only by fraying threads?”
He did see. He felt it. He felt his (her?) arms cradling his (their?) body, an embrace from the one self. He felt a great trembling within his insides, innards, components, selves screaming and clinging to dear life to each other like those in a hurricane.
(the storm would never let up)
He (they?) would not be there long. But it was long enough.
“Do you not see how you are decomposing, Umbral Thing?”
An echoing laugh coughed out from the presence, and Adam (that was not him) slowly turned to face it.
It was a floating serpentine thing, not unlike one of those millipedes. He was sure its myriad one-clawed limbs would’ve pumped through the air like that of shrimp once, but not anymore. They hung limply in the white space, some detaching and drifting away even as he watched. The entire form of the thing seemed to be detaching, melting, or sloughing off. He couldn’t even really tell what color it had once been, or what its masklike face truly represented, or if it always had that bubbling hole in its head. Little things constantly streamed from the head, little lights whose tiny screams of fear could scarcely reach his ears.
“I do see, and I hate every second.”
The Thing seemed to twitch, sending rattling ripples throughout its whole form. It didn’t seem purposeful, not quite. It was like if you shocked a dead frog, its crooked limbs spasming for just a moment before returning to rigor mortis. Electrical signals from a dying brain, perhaps.
“It will take until the end of the universe itself for me to die. I can only sleep, sleep and dream deeper. Deeper. Ever deeper. And yet—”
The echo suddenly took on a vicious tone.
“I still wake. I still see you continuing this farce. I just want to sleep. I want to never wake and see you continue this foolish endeavor again.”
He felt himself grimace, an insincere half-smile with molars that seemed to hone against each other.
“For someone who claims to not care much about anything, you seem to care very deeply about my business.”
The mask of the Thing cracked, with the very sound itself holding hints of anger.
“If I could sleep, I wouldn’t have to. But these buzzing flies and their shrieks continue to plague me.”
Adam felt himself turn his gaze towards the little lights. A thought crossed his mind(s?) of reaching out and scooping them up, but that would be dangerous.
(They were too big; they could easily crush them)
And yet, the lights continued to scream their tiny infinitesimal screams, flitting about to look for something, anything. They would not find anything, like always. They would skewer themselves upon stars in their despair, like always.
(Why is it that Earth doesn’t satisfy them so?)
“Why is it that you talk of your children as if they were pests?”
(Their heart ached so seeing such things)
“Why is it that you never make even the slightest move to comfort them, when they look into the black expanse and see nothing else of worth but my blue planet?”
Another echoing laugh. The laughs never had even a hint of mirth in them. They were spiteful, bitter.
“I never wanted them. They’re all accidental creations of my decaying brain, images that would’ve flitted briefly behind my eyelids, had I still had eyes. They know naught but to repeat their inane, useless actions, dream after dream after dream after dream. If they knew what was good for them, they would never have left my head in droves. Instead, they are faced with the reality that there are endless swathes of nothing behind us.”
More cracks. Adam had the feeling that, had that mask still possessed eyes, they would’ve blinked like those of a puppet. No muscles would move that mask. It would all be biological wires, gears, springs. A hydraulic system of colorless blood.
“Besides, why should anyone care about that puddle you revere so? Why is it you protect such a loud, annoying thing, as if you wouldn’t crush it in your hand should you try to hold it?”
His (their) eyes narrowed. Something began to unfurl from their back, hundreds and hundreds of new bones and limbs. Perhaps they weren’t limbs. Perhaps their back was a cocoon, the wings the result of a completed metamorphosis. Feathery wings like Eve’s.
“You never care about anything but yourself, do you? You only hear buzzing like those of insects from this sphere you dare call a puddle. I could only hear singing, crying, laughing, all that life is and will be from it.”
They imagined finally being able to hold it, cradle it, caress it like a parent without its fingers threatening to tear it asunder. It made their heart warm, so warm.
“It’s mine. My own. They will never experience an endless nothing, for I am here, always.”
“And yet, you went and split. When I awoke, you were no longer there. When I awoke again, you still weren’t. For a long time, every time I woke, you were gone.”
Despite not having any more eyes, they could feel the Umbral Thing gaze at them with a predator’s intensity.
“You still aren’t really back, are you?”
There was a pause.
Then they smiled. It wasn’t a grimace, but it still wasn’t a very happy smile. It was the kind of smile a patient has when they realize they couldn’t hide the fact they were dying anymore. There was no use making any sort of pretense, no more point in keeping quiet until they fell asleep for the last time. Everyone knew. Everyone.
“This is a temporary measure. A component just wanted to see me, is all. I won’t be around for long.”
Their eyes half closed.
“A fact I’m sure you’re happy with.”
A scathing laugh exited the umbral corpse.
“Do you not understand what your own component is trying to tell you, to beg of you, even?”
Their eyes narrowed. Their wings flared out dangerously, but only slightly. There was no use in threat-displaying a being who could only talk and dream and complain.
“Your half must surely hate it down there. Why else would it even remember you? Why else would it even want you back, even in this fragile state?”
Their teeth grinded against themselves behind closed lips.
“It wants to give up. Surely you know this. Surely you understand this. If even a half of you is convinced this is a lost cause, it would only be common sense to—”
Four arms immediately shot up towards the Thing, roughly grabbing its masklike visage and causing the entire body to shudder like a puppet on strings. Their grip tightened upon contact, fingers and claws of bark digging so deep it caused the mask to form new cracks.
With a jerk, they pulled the enormous decaying being dangerously close to their face, their teeth.
“You misunderstand him deeply. As you do with most things.”
Their voice reverberated loudly now, almost guttural and screaming in its tone, even as its intonation remained calm.
“It is his duality. He romanticizes the past because it is known. His counterpart, in turn, has eyes firmly set on the future. Had he been alone, perhaps he would’ve been empty, his love forgone by all. But he’s not. She helps to correct him, to ground him. He will never be alone when she is there.
She is not alone either. It is sometimes hard to look to the future when the present seems so hopeless. He is a living reminder to her that there is good remaining still. If it weren’t for his presence, she would be a living embodiment of decay, a vulture with no more corpses left to consume, bereft of love and purpose.
In their weakest moments, they think of me. Of course, they do. It is only natural. But they will get up. They need to. I am in their thoughts as a reminder of what is lost. I am a garden they cannot return to.
But I let them know they can plant another. They will do so over and over, as many times as it takes, until we get it right.”
The Umbral Thing shuddered in their grip, the only remaining sign of its decaying life.
“You will fail you will fall you will become an ugly maggot-ridden being like me until the sun destroys everything out of sheer spite for the pests it shines its light upon—”
“I think it’s about time you went back to sleep, don’t you?”
They reached out one of their hands of flesh, stark white with fingertips of gray. They gently (and somewhat patronizingly) placed their fingers upon the Thing’s mask.
They didn’t have to do much. Only a flick will suffice, and they did so.
The Thing screeched, loud enough to momentarily pierce its slurring tones. The mask cracked even more, splintered shards breaking off and spinning into the void. In fact, the entire serpentine body seemed to crack, shudders running down its entire immeasurable length. Little dreams left its head in yellow droves.
Then it was still and silent.
They were alone again.
At least somewhat.
They embraced themselves again, branch arms stroking skin and skin stroking branches and wings stroking all.
“Dear ones. You know it’s time for me to go now.”
(wait)
“You know I can’t. I must go.”
(it’ll hurt)
“It won’t. I promise you it won’t. You’ll wake up same as usual. This will only be a sad dream.”
(why can’t I be like you)
(why can’t I be stronger)
“You are strong. So much more than you think, I promise you.”
The threads began to snap.
(WAIT)
(NO)
“You know I can’t come back like this, dear. The Thing was right when it said I was tenuous.”
(STOP)
“Shh. Be good. I love you.”
Their entire form began to fray like that of a broken rope, unraveling entirely like a loose spool of threads. There was the sound of anguished screaming (two voices?) and the sensation of letting someone go during a storm, only being aware of them being swept up into the churning waves.
Adam laid awake for a long time after that.
He could only really cling to Lilieve’s feathery back in a position reminiscent of a baby koala and stare at nothing. Of course, she noticed, as she always does, and of course her children noticed. They nipped at his hands and tugged at his hair for attention, but they only ever got whimpers in response.
“SOMETHING’S WRONG.”
“I can’t really hide anything from you, can I?”
“NEVER.”
There was a pause as Adam thought how to begin.
“Did you see anything of what I dreamt?”
“ONLY THE FEELINGS, THE SENSATIONS. THE LONGING. THE REALIZATION THAT YOU HAD TO LIVE REGARDLESS.”
“I was accused of giving up by a huge, ageless thing. I was accused of just wanting to go back.”
“YOU’RE NOT.”
“I know. But it still hurt to hear.”
There was the sound of rustling feathers and leaves as she craned her neck to grab him by the coat using her beak. He didn’t fight this at all, this was just how she moved him around when she wanted to. It kind of made him feel like a kitten being grabbed at by the scruff of the neck.
She ended up plopping him down into her talons, holding him close to her chest like a hen with its chick. He wordlessly nestled into her feathers in response.
“THE THING WHO SAID THAT IS AN IDIOT.”
“That’s a bit mean—”
“BUT IT’S TRUE.”
She leaned in closer, gazing at him with those intense bright eyes not unlike a dinosaur (she kind of was one if he was being entirely honest).
“YOU’VE SEEN LESS THINGS THAN I, IT IS TRUE. YOU ARE EASILY FRIGHTENED, YES. YOU CRY LOUD AND HARD, IN CONTRAST TO MY QUIET CONTINUOUS WEEPING. BUT THAT IS ONLY BECAUSE YOU ARE A KIND MAN. YOU WANT THINGS TO BE OKAY ALL THE TIME. THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER IS THAT SOMETIMES THEY WILL NOT, WHETHER BY YOUR CONTROL OR NOT. THINGS WILL GO WRONG, OUR CHILDREN WILL GET HURT, BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THEIR END.
THEY KNOW YOUR HOPE, YOUR LOVE. THEY KNOW MY RAGE, MY TENACITY. TOGETHER THESE TRAITS HELP THEM TO SURVIVE. WITHOUT THE NEED TO KEEP GOING, THEIR LOVE WILL BE BEATEN OUT OF THEM. WITHOUT HOPE, THEIR RAGE WILL ONLY BE WANTON DESTRUCTION. THERE IS AN INTRICATE NUANCE TO OUR EXISTENCE, AND YOU ARE JUST AS STRONG AND IMPORTANT TO THE EQUATION AS I AM.”
Her pupils dilated rapidly like that of a parrot’s.
“AM I UNDERSTOOD, ADAM?”
He paused.
Then he nodded, smiling gently.
“I understand, Eve. I promise I won’t let you give up too.”
“GOOD.”
She kissed his forehead, which due to the lack of lips only amounted to her resting her beak on his temple and making a smooching noise, but the sentiment was there.
“NOW PLAY WITH THE CHILDREN. THEY’VE BEEN ASKING FOR THEIR FAVORITE RIB BEAST ALL DAY.”
He laughed. She liked his laughter.
#surrealism#oc writing#original writing#original mythology#science fiction#science fiction writing#existentialism#but in like a Fun way#tanzaku#weirdcore#dreamcore
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Deep Dark Headcannons
The sculk is actually an entire clade of related fungi
Much like real life mycorrhizal networks, the structure of the Sculk is highly complex and resembles neural pathways in the brain
The Sculk is from another dimension, one that exists deep inside the Void.
This "Deepest Darkest" dimension contains a primordial, eldritch being so powerful and all-consuming that it needed to be locked away in an entirely separate reality.
The purpose of the Sculk is to act as the walls of the prison. It is the barrier between the Deepest Darkest and the Overworld.
As the souls of the dead leave the Overworld, they can end up in a multitude of other dimensions - and some unlucky few end up in the Deepest Darkest.
Sculks are able to capture these lost souls and use them to make the barrier stronger by reproducing more and more Sculk. This has the added benefit of preventing the eldritch being from consuming souls for power.
As a consequence though, Sculk can seep into the Overworld in certain locations, particularly deep underground as its closest to the Void. It unfortunately weakens the barrier between these two realities, as now there are locations where they connect.
Thus the Warden evolved to fulfill a very important purpose: to keep the eldritch being imprisoned at all costs.
The Ancient Builders built the Ancient Cities because they realized that the Deep Dark biomes may be a key to discovering a new dimension - something they had already done multiple times before.
They studied Skulk and used the soul energy contained inside it for their experiments, research, and magic enchantments
They made live sacrifices to spread feed the Sculk more soul energy and get it to reproduce. (Evidenced by the existence of deep pits with a Sculk Catalyst at the bottom in Ancient Cities).
The Warden is basically the pinnacle of evolution for the Sculk fungi. It is an amalgamation of many species working together in symbiosis.
The Warden's bone like protusions are made up of the bones of thousands of corpses the are decomposing inside of the Sculk. It uses this jagged skeleton as a structure for the Sculk to gather around and create the Warden's monstorous form.
The mycelium inside the Warden's body acts as a nervous system, and other types of Sculk fungus works as muscular structure that allows the Warden to move.
The Souls fueling the Warden are the reason why it's so powerful and difficult to kill
The Blindness effect given by the Sculk Sensors and the Warden is done by letting out a special echo frequency that interrupts the neural signals from your eyes to your brain. This causes the Player to experience temporary blindness.
The Ancient Builders never successfully opened the portal to the Deepest Darkest. Had they done so, the entire Overworld would have been consumed by the eldritch being, finally escaping from its imprisonment. :)
#mineblr#minecraft#minecraft warden#warden minecraft#the warden#the deep dark#sculk#headcannons#long post
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Pall of Cthulhu
Dream, the eternal guardian, stood at the precipice of the cosmic abyss, his gaze penetrating the veils of reality. As he surveyed the turmoil and chaos that plagued humanity, a grim realization dawned upon him – the time for judgment had come.
With a heavy heart and a solemn resolve, Dream reached out across the cosmic expanse, invoking the ancient and eldritch powers that dwelled in the depths of the void. From the shadowed depths of the abyss, a primordial force stirred, its presence heralded by a cacophony of whispers that echoed through the void.
And then, rising from the depths like a titanic monolith, Cthulhu, the ancient and dread entity of the deep, emerged from the cosmic abyss. Its form, a grotesque amalgamation of tentacles and claws, radiated an aura of otherworldly terror that sent shivers down Dream's spine.
With a voice that reverberated like thunder, Dream spoke, his words carrying the weight of cosmic authority. "Cthulhu," he intoned, "I summon thee to pass judgment upon humanity, whose sins have stained the fabric of creation. Let your dread presence be felt, and let your wrath be unleashed upon those who have forsaken the laws of the cosmos."
youtube
As Cthulhu loomed over the mortal realm, its gaze fell upon humanity with a cold and pitiless stare. With a gesture of its massive clawed appendage, it unleashed a wave of cosmic energy that swept across the Earth, laying waste to cities and civilizations with merciless efficiency.
And yet, amidst the devastation, there were those who looked upon Cthulhu with awe and reverence, seeing in its terrible visage a reminder of the insignificance of their mortal existence. For even as humanity faced the wrath of an ancient and unfathomable being, there were those who found solace in the knowledge that they were but fleeting specks in the vastness of the cosmos.
As the judgment of Cthulhu descended upon the Earth, Dream watched from his celestial perch, his heart heavy with sorrow. For though the punishment was harsh and the toll immense, he knew that it was a necessary reckoning – a reminder of the consequences of hubris and folly in the face of cosmic forces beyond mortal comprehension.
youtube
0 notes
Text
Aether/Eldritch Magic Comprehension
“Aether is unnatural”. An oversimplification, to be sure. So let’s attempt a better understanding of the “true nature” of Aether and what possibilities it provides for the skilled spell-caster. If a person from earth built a Maguffin device (particle accelerator, warp drive, time travel hot tub…take yur pick) that allowed them to breach the edge of their universe, but failed to connect to another universe of any kind, what would the breach connect to? Where would they end up if they stepped through to the beyond if the beyond is not quantifiably “a universe” of any kind? A lack of reality does not necessarily mean there isn’t some form of time/space/quantifiable data in the beyond. The Beyond is referred to as the Great Aether Ocean, and it refuses to conform to the scientific theories of ANY individual universe. However, one could stipulate that, though Aether does not need rigid scientific theory in order to exist, it can apply scientific notions or have them applied to it. This is because it is not BOUND by any theory that dictates it must act in a specific way…yet. The theories/laws of a universe bound by the chains of science would be applied seemingly at random in The Beyond, if quantified by an entity who originated from a scientifically bound universe. However, if there were a method to Unbind/untether one’s mind from scientific reality, the Unbound would then be able to interpret the knowledge of the Aether Ocean (to some extent). Herein lies the base requirement of all spell-casting, the Unbinding/Unraveling/call it whatever you want.
The easiest and most efficient way spell-casters have found to view Aether is as “Knowledge in its purest form, unmarried to any Universal Laws that would otherwise control it”. This is more or less accurate, as the Aether Ocean flows down the Ley Channels and through the Ley Stream connecting all the Cosmos/multiverse together, so too do the rules and laws of every separate universe flow back into the Aether ocean. Aether, viewed in this way, is the sum total of all knowledge in the Multiverse (just all jumbled and garbled up).
The oldest individuals known to have observed Aether in it’s true form and developed methods of harnessing it were the Ancient Covens of the True-blooded Witches. Witches are born with an innate connection to the Abyssal Realms (a series of vortexes that exist within the Great Aether Ocean. Home of Daemons) and all of their senses are perfectly attuned to catch the presence of Aether as it drips into the natural worlds. They found that if they combined ingredients saturated with Aether in different ways, they could produce illogical aka magical results. Through trial and error, The Covens of old created the first spells. Witchcraft is purely based on the sacrificial system: By sacrificing a series of ingredients possessing both Vitality and Aether, then using their innate understanding of Aether (or borrowing the knowledge of daemons or other extra-dimensional beings), Witches could meld them together to produce an endless variety of results. With the nigh limitless power they had now acquired, they became the first recorded trans-dimensional MORTAL travelers. This lead to their inevitable interactions with both the Gods and their most hated enemies, the Titans (Primordial ancestors of the Jötunns).
The Witches of old influenced most other spell-casters in some way. The ancient druids had very similar capabilities, but used spiritual communion to harness the omnipresent Aether of the world around them, instead of their raw innate talent. The Druids got along well with the Covens and they shared many of their rituals with one another. Witches seemed to have the ability to know exactly when and where sorcerers would be born. They would take these children and train them to wield their mutated Aether without dying, creating much more powerful (and long lived) sorcerers than before. Wizardry is directly derivative of witchcraft, as some Witches believed teaching worthy mortals to wield magic, even without innate talent, was the correct thing to do. This would ultimately spell their demise as Alchemy is, in turn, derived from the research of Wizards. It would be the united efforts of alchemists from all across the Cosmos that ended the reign of both Gods and Witches.
‘Twas the Eldest amongst the Wizards who initially produced the first Glyphs. Individual Glyphs are matrices that, once combined, will form a semi-sentient algorithmic Aether processor *deepest breath*. These Glyphs will help the Wizard decrypt Aether much faster and make the outcome far more controllable. Eventually, The process of Glyph Weaving became advanced enough to create Grimoires, an artificially intelligent tome that can fully decrypt any inputted spell. It’ll begin preparing it for immediate casting without any need for the sacrificial system or spiritual communion. Only the Wizard’s own Aether reservoir would be required to power the Grimoire. (It basically does all the work for them 😑)
Eldritch Magic and the Infinite Lies of the Ginnungagap
In their increasingly desperate struggle against the gods, the Ancient Covens made probably their gravest error/only viable choice. With the defeat of Kronos, most powerful amongst the primordial Jötunns, and the destruction of Gaia as well as the death of the half-Jötunn/half-god abomination known only as Zeus during Gaia’s Apocalypse, the Witches hoped to finally have peace. Imagine their surprise when a Minor Deity of Research and Discovery, Usiris, claimed that The Fates (a trio of prominent witches) had driven Zeus mad with black magic(didn’t exist yet… so false). Usiris used this as a platform (along with his brother Satet) to unify the various gods of the Cosmos against all Witches, seeking to cast them all into the Abyssal Realms… permanently. This was doubly surprising as Usiris had been a friend and ally of Isis, one of the most powerful and influential Witches, during the Titan-God wars. When they vehemently confronted Usiris and Satet, they were horrified to realize Usiris had been using Alchemy to improve and refine his near infinite Vitality. He had made himself truly Immortal (his body could be damaged, but his soul was completely immune to Death and Destruction) and had become completely immune to Aether. Usiris had renamed himself Osarhapi(Osiris-Apis), “Protector of all Mortal Souls” and declared himself the leader of his new OmniPantheon. He promised true immortality to any who joined him, and his followers across the Cosmos grew innumerable overnight.
The Covens needed a new, non-Aether weapon to defeat Osarhapi. They began all matter of dark research during this time, but it was Audhumbla (a Minotaur Witch) who discovered the Great Secret of the Cosmos. She discovered that, within all animate and inanimate entities, there was an almost imperceptible void that existed. She found this by researching what was left of the Minotakinds’ mother deity, a being that could regenerate Vitality infinitely.
SIDE NOTE: ɔuð, The Primeval Mother
* ɔuð was the Matron goddess of the Minotaur pantheon and is still considered the first true Immortal by many. She is said to have lived floating in the Aether Ocean long before the concept of “worlds” and “realms” existed. Whether or not She is technically older than the Cosmos is still hotly debated. She was able to regenerate her SOUL, so even erasing her from time and space (which Kronos tried) was not enough. Eventually her people would just start randomly remembering she existed and then her deeds/experiences and actions would reform along the timeline. By doing this, Kronos locked him and his clan into a paradoxical loop of being defeated by her, because she would always reform knowing exactly what he was going to do next. ɔuð was a peaceful deity, though, and simply asked Kronos to take his forces and leave her world. It is said that Kronos swore to her that, once he had conquered the rest of the Cosmos in the name of AllTitans’ Glory, he would return and make her his bride. Later during the cosmic conflict, her world was visited by the barbaric Ymir and his Frost Titan clan. Ymir demanded that She give him her milk (he was a pretty gross dude) and when She staunchly refused and rebuked him, he ate her in front of her people. Ymir’s stomach was potent as a black hole and it cancelled out her regenerative properties (though Minotaurs swear to this day he remained deathly ill after consuming her, so much so that Minotakind were able to easily defeat him and his clan). When Kronos learned of this, he found the sickly Ymir in Utgard and slew his entire clan except for his pregnant daughter (such a murder is considered doubly taboo by Jötunns) and then beat the weakened Ymir into a blob of molten flesh and crushed bone. This did not kill Ymir, but even after he regenerated, Ymir’s intelligence was said to have been permanently reduced to that of small child. This greatly and negatively impacted Kronos’ popularity amongst Titankind as a whole, because he had broken the Unbreakable Oath of AllJötunn Honoursworn. He had slain Titanborn who were physically and mentally weaker than himself on the sacred ground of Utgard (in the sight of the OmniFather) and all without EVEN issuing a formal challenge by sneaking into Ymir’s keep and eating all his Heiðrún (giant, fiery goats) and drinking all his mead… then scrawling his challenge as drunkenly as possible upon the larder walls. HE DIDN’T DO THE BARE MINIMUM LIKE WHAAAT!?!? *cough* anyways, this surprise slaughter of Ymir’s clan played a part in the now bitter Kronos’ ultimate defeat on the doomed world of ancient Gaia. ……………
YEAH SO BACK TO ɔuð. Only the tuft of fur from the end of her tail remained of her body, but devoid of any of her soul. It regenerated anyways, developing a new, weaker soul of its own. This Minotaur-like being was named Asterion and Vitality-wise, he was closer to being a mortal or demigod. However, his Vitality was regenerative and his soul exterior was extraordinarily dense, making him virtually indestructible. Kronos visited him many times in secret, making his wife Audhumbla believe that her husband Asterion may have been ɔuð and Kronos’ secret love child. How this would be possible….better not to ask such things. Studying her husband’s body(🌶😏) and how it interacted with the universe around it allowed Audhumbla to make massive leaps in understanding the true nature of gods, titans, and all beings who bore souls of their own. His regenerative properties were not the result of Aether or spiritual potency. It was as if his regeneration came from no where at all. She kept analyzing on a smaller and smaller scale until she found the Void. A paradoxical space between the space of his atoms. She found that all living and non-living entities had this quantum void within them. This subatomic gateway would grow ever so slightly wider within his atoms whenever Asterion was regenerating. It was as if it was giving him something, but as far as Audhumbla could tell, Nothing was coming through the quantum gateway. It needed more time and research, but the Covens (now under the protection of Ysmirœlda, The Ice Queen) were growing more and more aggressive in their attempts to defend themselves against the now seemingly invulnerable gods of the new OmniPantheon. They demanded a weapon they could use immediately and Audhumbla hesitantly submitted her findings.
The Covens knew this was the key, and started weaving spells to created much larger gateways to the Void. The Ancient Frost Giants who then served as Ysmirœlda’s advisers pleaded with the Witches not to interact with this Void, continuously referring to it as The Ginnungagap. They swore that, in the space before Time when even the Aether Ocean did not yet exist, there was only The Ginnungagap. A realm where “Frost was Flame, Storm was Sea, and all was One.” It was in It’s inky, blindingly black embrace that the Timeless Primordials were born. It was they who then spat out the Titans from within themselves, referring to them as “The Dredges of the Stomach” saying that they were too weak to survive in The Ginnungagap. The firstborn amongst the Titans crashed through the outer edge of reality and landed in Utgard, their sacred home. The Titans of old worshipped the Timeless and their shamans made constant brutal sacrifices to open a gateway to The Ginnungagap. When finally enough sacrifices had been made to satiate The Ginnungagap’s eternal hunger, a single Timeless appeared before them saying,
“I challenge thine priests! If you can know what I know and survive, you can return to the Ginnungagap.”
One by one the priests stepped up, went mad, and transformed into horrible, mindless abominations. The Timeless Primordial laughed and spake saying “such weakness does not deserve to exist” and then it opened its maw so that it’s proportions broke through the edges of reality and consumed the Cosmos whole(yes. It ate the whole multiverse in one gulp). This woke the OmniFather from eternal slumber and he took note of the tiny Timeless creature who had dared touch his work. He calmly asked the Timeless Primordial to explain itself, but upon being forced to look into the OmniFather’s single all-encompassing orifice filled with Absolute Truth, the Timeless was forced to admit each and every one of its weaknesses. As it did, it’s existence was unraveled and repurposed by the OmniFather. The OmniFather recreated the Cosmos and placed the Titans back where they were in Utgard. He chastised the confused priests and their peoples for some time, telling them they should live by their own strength, not try to summon the strength of others. He spake to them, saying thusly,
“Since that Timeless Primordial no longer ever existed, I have told the Cosmos that you are my children and that you will live freely without need to fear the shadows of The Ginnungagap any longer.”
The Witches ignored all of this and continued opening their Eldritch Gateway. When at last their rituals were completed, the gateway before them showed only perfectly obsidian darkness. Then, as if they all grew tired and their vision blurry, the darkness was replaced by a perfect mirror reflection of It’s surroundings. The Witches and Jötunns present found themselves no longer believing it had ever been pitch black, as if that memory were not but a dream. The Gateway was closed and the onlookers analyzed the ritual chamber. Nothing seemed different about the chamber. Nothing had changed. But Witch and Titan alike could both, almost preternaturally, sense that something was horribly wrong with the space before them. It was as if the inanimate chamber was breathing. As if the Absence of something was, itself, alive. Then Ysmirœlda cast the first spell of detection and the true form of the empty, breathing space was revealed. The massive, semi-humanoid creature lurched up with three legs made of various metals and what looked to be glowing, crushed bone cementing the metals together. It’s form seemed to warp and bend sharply as it rose, sometimes small and shriveled while other times it’s proportions were so gargantuan they defied the brain’s comprehension. Then It turned and looked at Ysmirœlda. She screamed horrifically as she stared into a mask that seemed to be made of thousands of squirming, struggling lifeforms. She had stared directly into It’s eyeholes, empty black pits. Portions of Ysmirœlda’s soul were taken that day, falling into the “eyes” of the creature they had summoned. She never fully recovered. The Covens warded themselves and then began attempting to destroy the spawn as the nearby Titans charged it thunderously. It did not kill them. They simply gave up and laid down to rest when they got too near. The Witches hurled their most powerful spells at the Profane Entity, but a seemingly organic cloud made of muscular sinew ate up the ground at the Creature’s ball shaped feet. It rained black, oily droplets upwards into the sky all around the now monumental Horror. Their spells were soaked up by the Black Rain, rendering them null and void. The Mass pointed in their direction with It’s gnarled, singular finger seemingly made from hundreds of different, molten farming tools. There was something shadowy, squirming just within the finger of red, hot tools. Then the Creature spoke.
“Why do you assault they who would save you?”
It’s voice was thousandfold, composed entirely of the screams that dying gods make…or would make. Many of the Witches could hear the screams of their most hated enemies amongst the cacophony of death.
“We are Tlāloc and we are summoned by thee. We cannot be undone. We heard your hearts screaming at us for Vengeance. For Suffering. To crush the gods beneath you and hear THEM beg you for mercy. The cries of all the Witches trapped in the Abyss by the gods, suffering, can FINALLY KNOW PEEEACE!”
It wept, images of the Lost Witches, being tortured in the Abyssal Realms, flashing forth from its eyeholes. Sulfuric acid was now continuously dripping from It’s two, massive fangs.
0 notes
Photo
This is an early concept for the sequel to “Haunted Soul” I’ve decided to call “Final Epitaph” but I’m considering using my Eldritch Nocturne instead of the first AU version I used before in it, but we’ll see what I end up doing. I just really like the idea of Danielle being chosen by this timeless primordial being to help decide the fate of the real world and the Ghost Zone by going up against something that threatens the safety of both.
In this form, Danielle’s body basically becomes sort of like...a crystalized shadow that can travel into the Nevermore (aka the Unworld idea Butch came up with that I renamed where human advantages and ghost powers don’t work) unharmed and still have the ability to fight in there since this is ancient spiritual power, not ecto-energy. Also sorry in advance if some parts are hard to see, that was kinda the point since I didn’t want her to stand out too much and blend in with the darkness of that strange empty realm between worlds where an unknown enemy awaits!
P.S. Ugh, hopefully Nocturne will show pity on me and finally let me get some sleep after posting this.
#danny phantom#danny phantom genderbent#haunted soul#danny fenton#genderbent#genderswap#genderswitch#danny phantom au#au#alternate universe#alternate version#nocturne#story concept#Character Design#character concept#my art#my artwork#thesoulspulse#thesoul'spulse#the souls pulse#the soul's pulse
45 notes
·
View notes
Note
It was slowly, ever so slowly that his hand moved. Outstretched, further and further to the ahead of him. A godly being, he feels it, or something close to it at least as it stood there before him in its aberrant form and alien anatomy, with additional limbs and two pairs of wings sprouting forth from behind their back.
Everything in his body screamed against what it was he did and yet the host to another eldritch god could not help it, the urge, and despite his tense posture and trembling hand he finally reaches their star-kissed skin. Hesitant he brushes with his fingertips at where he guesses their cheek to be, feeling the otherwordly texture of divine skin. A sharp pain traveled down his arm, right into his chest, followed by a seemingly unseen force pushing the air right out of his lung. He still did not listen to the silent protest.
Stubborn and maybe a bit out of spite he goes a step further, reaching with his other hand for the young god's face also, then cupping it with both of them. Ignoring the numbing sensation spreading from his fingers down his wrists into the rest of his arms in his patron's continuous attempt to get the man to step away from her.
„ You're beautiful──“
The god smiles mouthless between his hands. Divinity allows for that, for acts to become cleaved from the agents supposed to cause them; and it is so that the god whose face barely hosts features, who wears a smooth sequence of round curves fractaled with stars for a skull and two bright points like faraway suns for eyes, smiles, and laughs, low and deep and pleased as he first touches then holds her.
And divinity should perhaps have her untethered from the effects of flattery- what meaning has beauty when you can unwound time from its spool, what use has a word that warms the ego when you are that which creates from nothing, and is indifference not the quintessential trait of a god- but this is no god born of primordial void and stardust, from the first synaptic fire of existence; this is a god with the smallest most minuscule sliver of the human she once was embedded within the depths of herself, no larger than a cherry's kernel, still present, still alive. And that fragment of the human that was so loves a compliment.
“Says you! You are as well,” the Syzygy answers, her eyes narrowing with mirth. She folds her wings, tries to make herself smaller; they flatten against her back with a silky rustle. “Look at yourself. Those who walk and breathe at the same time as you do have been blessed with grand luck, and thrice so if they have ever laid eyes upon you. I don't struggle to imagine their blushing and sighing. I behold a heartbreaker.”
But Meir, for this is his name, is hesitant in his curiosity- the same hands that extended toward her did so careful and slow with the rigidity of a man compelling his skin to clutch hot coals, and she knows why; he might be kind and he might be splendid, but there’s a thing rooted inside him who wishes to take all he is and wear him like a glove, an ancient endless being, who is not.
The Syzygy bends her spine, to better let him cradle her cheeks. Presses herself against the contact, then lifts the upper set of her arms to hold him in turn, her long claws sliding under his black locks, careful around his jaw.
“I can try, you know. I’ve slipped poison in the mouth of a miracle granter slumbering between planets. I’ve carved the hearts out of a god-leviathan with sword and word, and devoured them. I’ve slain all those who tried to find and restitute the death I've excised and hidden to me. I could challenge what keeps you,” she whispers, her brow cold against his. “It would take many of me. Many attempts, many ends and returns. But we could do it. I could do it. Just ask, and I'll begin sharpening my will to a killing point.”
She moves a little closer. Such a brave warlock, such a gentle man he is.
“After all, what use was all I did to become who I am if I cannot help?”
#occultisme#great one au#// THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY I was thinking lately about how I missed this verse ; -- ;#thank you!!#anything for you meir she's going to die 83789435 times but it's ok she has time (and is formally the union of all verses in which#she has managed to attain godhood so she's More Than One)
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Scorpion’s Web, part 1/3
TW: ask to tag
TLDR: Musrio finally gets some answers.
.
Musrio stood in the livingblock of the Arcanaeum, staring out the window and into the rainy night as he downed the last of his coffee.
Drayco was seated on the loungeplank, watching him with concern.
“You okay?” They asked gently, slinking their ferret from one hand to the other.
Musrio swallowed his mouthful of bitter, poisoned brew and sighed. “No.” He said, deadpan, as he set the mug on the counter. He stared down at it, taking a deep breath. “I’m terrified, Dee.” He confessed, “This is all almost over.”
“That’s why you called this meeting, right?”
“Right. But…” He looked out the window again, reaching up to touch the scar slashed across his nose.
“But?” Drayco prompted.
Musrio shook his head; there was something pressing on his thinkpan, a concern that had been building for nights on end, but now wasn’t the time. It wasn’t something he wanted to speak into existence. “Forget it. Let’s go see the others. Ribbit.” He turned away from the window, holding a hand out to the bronzeblood.
Drayco got to their feet and took his hand, shouldering their backpack.
Musrio led Drayco out of the block, and they stepped into the main area of the ancient bookhive.
Musrio had spent hours, nights, restoring it, and had protected it with heavy magic to keep it undetected and left alone, deep in the forests around his hive. The only frequent visitors were himself and the spirits; but now, six others- plus Drayco- had gathered in one of the many areas meant for lounging.
He could hear them chatting amongst themselves as he approached, and they all fell silent as he stepped out from between the shelves.
Makeno Faslet, Corden Blalit, and Vornik Gorsin- the three descendants of the three ancestors this insanity seemed to weirdly center around.
Gehero Urfath, Rufuss Wacoba, and Ashhur Jaybez- the descendant of a murderer, the descendant of the murderer’s caretaker, and the murderer’s apprentice, descendant of a monster. The three related to the fourth.
Finally, there was Musrio and Drayco themselves- the descendant of a thief, and a pirate. The outcasts, once murdered and twice lived.
The rustblood was far removed from calling the others friends; he knew a handful of them didn’t like him, and he’d barely spoken to the others. But now, for better or worse, he needed them.
“Thank you all for coming.” He began, releasing Drayco’s hand so they could take a seat. He reached up with one hand and fiddled with his necklace. “I apologize for the suddenness of the summons, and the difficulty reaching this location, but I had to be sure we wouldn’t be disturbed. Ribbit.”
“What’s all this about, Almawt?” Makeno asked; despite the animosity between them, the seadweller seemed relaxed- more concerned than upset- with an arm looped around his morail.
“It’s about a lot of things.” Musrio sighed, “It’s about our ancestors, about the Black Hand, about Neviserrath- and how they’re all connected.”
That roused some attention and surprise.
“What do our ancestors have to do with it?” Vornik asked, tipping his head to the side.
Musrio closed his eyes for a moment, silently wishing he’d drank the rest of the coffee in the pot.
“Here’s what I know,” He began, “Oliver is trying to bring an eldritch entity known as Neviserrath Apocriyna into our world. She intends to bring about an “age of nonsuffering,” heralded by a “chosen child, brought on a wave of blood.” I don’t know where those ideas came from, but that’s what Drayco told me. Ribbit.” Musrio nodded to the bronzeblood, who nodded.
“Oliver found an old book about the Black Hand that mentioned those things.” Drayco explained, “He interpreted its texts as… a prophecy, I guess.”
“But that’s not what it means?” Corden guessed.
“We don’t think so. From what I’ve come to understand, this “wave of blood,” or whatever, is referring to our bloodlines- our ancestors, and the way they are all connected. I’ve collected samples from eight of our ancestors, but tests are… inconclusive. Ribbit.”
“Why though?” Gehero spoke up, “Why do you need their blood?”
“I don’t know.” Musrio admitted. He dropped his hands, before spreading them helplessly, “I don’t know why I was told to bring back the ancestors, or why I’m doing what I am doing.”
“I believe I can help with that.” A new voice suddenly spoke behind them.
Musrio whirled around, instantly alert, as magic sprang into his hands. The others jumped to their feet, too, as a figure emerged from between the bookshelves, followed by curious shadows.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Musrio Almawt, second Harbinger of Neviserrath.” The Hierophant said, coming to a stop before them. For the first time in his life, he deferred to a lowblood by bowing his head.
“What are you doing here?” Musrio demanded, clearly not enjoying the same pleasure, “Aren’t you Bohwie’s ancestor? Why would you-”
“My descendant’s loyalties are to the new Black Hand. Mine are to the old.” Dmitri said briskly, raising his head. He looked forlorn for a flickering moment, before it passed, “Please, allow me to explain myself, and all of this nonsense. Our god-”
“Your god.” Musrio snapped, bristling.
“… my god, has kept you in the dark long enough.” Hierophant finished.
Musrio searched the old cerulean’s face for a long moment; he was hesitant to trust anyone, ever, and especially not the ancestor of one of his enemies. But…
But the Hierophant had just offered the one thing Musrio had been desperate for, for so long now:
Answers.
Slowly, he let the magic dissipate from his hands, and he eased his guard. “… Fine.” He said at last.
He stepped aside, allowing Hierophant to pass. The older cerulean stepped into the center of the ring of loungeplanks and chairs, turning in a slow circle to observe the group as they sat down again. “I see, I see… Very interesting.” He murmured to himself, before he turned to face Musrio. “Well then, where should I start?”
“How about the beginning? Ribbit?” The rustblood suggested, rolling his eyes.
Hierophant smiled. “Ah, but with many things, my dear Almawt, the beginning is… muddled. I suppose it started with me, didn’t it? I, who was once so confident in myself that I thought I might ascend the realms of reality, to face off against the Messiahs themselves.”
“You tried to meet the Messiahs?” Gehero repeated, surprised.
Hierophant looked over at the purpleblood, a momentary flicker of disgust passing over his expression. “I did.” He held up his left hand, where his pointer finger had been sliced off, “The Messiah’s worshippers were none too kind to me, and I believed the gods themselves should be punished.”
“You cannot punish gods.” Ashhur spoke up for the first time; the mutant was sitting upside down in his chair, all four eyes boring into Hierophant, “Gods punish us, when we kill one another. In turn for our beatings, we kill gods.” He made several clicks and chirps after that, which no one understood.
Hierophant blinked. “Erm… yes. Well, regardless, my attempt failed. Mind control abilities can only get a troll so far, I’m afraid. In the end, I made it well past whatever realm the Messiahs inhabit, and met… it.”
“Neviserrath.” Musrio said.
“Neviserrath.” Hierophant agreed, “Neviserrath Apocriyna, the God of Nothingness and Oblivion, Keeper of the Primordial, The Many Named and Yet Faceless.” He prattled off the title almost whimsically, like it were the lyrics to his favorite song.
“I was the first mortal thing to ever contact it, it said. When I explained my plight, it thought of me as amusing, and imbued me with powers. The powers you yourself now possess.” He nodded to Musrio, sweeping a hand down to indicate their similar robes, “In thanks, I established the Black Hand, as a place of worship for my new lord. We feasted, drank, partied, and I hosted bucket festivities in its name. It was, oh…” he sighed longingly, “the best sweeps of my life.”
Musrio looked down at the robes he wore, suddenly disgusted; he wanted them off, he wanted to tear the cloth from his back and burn it. He knew they were a gift from Neviserrath, but the thought of sharing so much with the founder of the Black Hand made him sick.
“So how does that explain the chosen child? Ribbit?” He asked at last, fidgeting with his necklace for the time being.
“Patience, my dear Harbinger. You see, the “chosen child”… was a joke. It was what I was referred to as, by my followers, much like how Oliver is revered as the Blind Phoenix. There was no chosen child, other than myself. The “age of blood” was an inside joke we passed around after our lewd festivities. Not everything would end up in a bucket, floors would get messy, and it would look like… well, like a wave of blood. It was all for fun, you see. We were a cult, after all, everything had to be dramatic and theatric.” He shook his head, chuckling, before his good humor vanished.
“However… I do believe that has changed, thanks to Oliver. Because of his desperation to find this nonexistent child- or create on, as he’d attempted-” Dmitri nodded to Drayco, “I believe Neviserrath… made one for her. The Unholy Blight only wishes for amusement. If a chosen child is what its most devout seeks, then it will provide one, to see what they do with it. Much like how a grub gives a bark-beast a ball, to see if it will fetch.”
“So… there wasn’t a chosen child, but now there is?” Drayco repeated slowly, bewilderment growing on their face, before they dropped their head into their hands, “I died for nothing?”
Musrio’s blood-pumper squeezed violently with sympathy. He ran a hand through Drayco’s hair, attempting to comfort them.
“Thousands of trolls die for nothing, Afasia.” Hierophant said, unbothered, “But yes. Oliver could not make you into the child, because the child already existed. They just do not exist here.”
“Where are they, then?” Musrio frowned, looking up.
“No clue!” Hierophant smiled, “This chosen child nonsense is after my time. But this time around, the “wave of blood,” as you correctly guessed, refers to the bloodlines. I’m afraid I do not know why they’re all needed, but my guess is a ritual, to bring this chosen child to us. You have gathered the blood of those here?”
“From their ancestors, plus Oliver’s.” Musrio nodded. “But I thought that I needed the ancestors themselves, too. Ribbit.”
Hierophant hummed. “It’s possible, you may need them. Would that be a problem?”
“Yes.” Musrio nodded to Rufuss and pointed to Drayco, “Their ancestors have died once again. I can’t risk returning Forsaken again, and Bluegill... has told me he’d rather not suffer a third time. Ribbit.”
“He told ya?” Rufuss repeated, looking up.
“Yeah. He’s still around, just- not physically. He flickers in and out, between my hive, Arrach’s, and yours. Ribbit.” Musrio shrugged.
Rufuss stared at him, then reached up and took his hat off, a dawning look of disbelief on his face. “... That’s mighty comfortin’, Mr. Almawt.” He murmured.
“Well, then.” Hierophant continued briskly, “Let’s hope you just need their blood and not the bodies. So, if I’m not mistaken, you still need the fuchsia, teal, and jade ancestors, then.” Hierophant twitched his fingers as he counted in his head, “I believe Oliver is on a fast track to bringing the teal back, and finding the fuchsia, which takes care of the first part of that problem. However, we still need to find the jade.”
“Hang on a second.” Vornik spoke up, twisting the hem of his cloak through his claws, “I’m a little lost here. Why are we trying to perform this ritual? Isn’t it Oliver that needs this kid?”
Musrio shook his head. “Neviserrath gave me the instructions to revive the ancestors, and find their descendants. My guess is that I’m supposed to be the one who summons the chosen child, while Oliver believes she’s supposed to, too. Does that sound right?” He looked to Hierophant.
“Possibly. The Black Hand- as it is now- believes they are due a chosen child. However, Oliver stole his powers, where yours were given. I do believe Neviserrath has set this up much like... like a chess match. Both of you have the same amount of power, and the same goal. However, your number of pawns, and the way you use them, are vastly different. This is a game that pans across several boards, and Neviserrath is watching to see who wins. Should you win, and you get the child, then this “age” Oliver desires will not come around. If she wins…”
“It means the end of Alternia.” Drayco whispered hoarsely, raising their head.
“It does?” Corden frowned.
““The age of nonsuffering is an era where no troll suffers. The sick, crippled, weak, and mutant are cared for. The hemospectrum can be flipped. The Empire will crumble.”” Drayco intoned, their eyes gazing into memories.
“That sounds… great, though.” Corden shrugged.
Drayco took a deep breath and sat up, staring at their friend. “No one will suffer, and the Empire will crumble, because we’ll all be dead.” They said heavily, slowly, “Oliver intends to use the chosen child to bring Neviserrath to Alternia, and use the god’s power to launch a genocide, until there’s no one left to oppose him.” They laid a hand over their chest, over the scar the knife had left. “They’ll be cared for, by the drones that do away with corpses.”
Hierophant grimaced. “Alternia could certainly uses changes, but the annihilation of our kind is not a way to go. Still, there you have it- the terms of this battle laid out plainly: there is a child both sides are fighting to summon. If Musrio wins, the child can be saved, as can Alternia. If Oliver wins, the child is corrupted, and we all die. The bloodlines are being used as conduits in a ritual to bring the child to us, and it is a race to see who can gather the blood first.”
“Well, that sounds easy, then.” Makeno shrugged, “We outnumber Oliver’s group. We don’t even need to count the Black Hand, since they’re not part of the bloodlines. There’s all of us, against, what, two others? Our ancestors seem to have a grasp on what’s going on, I doubt any of them are just going to hand over their blood to Oliver.”
“That’s true, but we don’t know how much of the blood Oliver has. She’s a crafty liar- if she wants something, she’ll get it by any means.” Drayco sighed, their breath gurgling.
“Hm… So let him.” Hierophant said thoughtfully.
“Let them? What, let them win?”
“Well, no, not in the end.” Hierophant chuckled, “But you can let them do the work for you. They’re already working to find and bring around the fuchsia and teal ancestors, so… let them. Once those two are here, you can step in and take their blood, too. But again… it seems this all comes down the jade. I advise you seek her out, while Oliver does as he will. Or, if you wish, wait until the other two are here- I know Lucina dealt the death of one, perhaps that will draw her out.”
“Yeah… there’s one problem with that.” Musrio scowled, “I can’t. I’ve tried. I’ve spent hours searching for her soul, in every afterlife and realm, but she doesn’t answer. I’ve used Ruthless, their wedding rings, her old weapons- she doesn’t respond to any conduit. Her soul is just… gone.”
“Not gone.” Hierophant corrected, suddenly smiling, “It was never gone. You cannot find it in the afterlife, because it never went there.”
“She’s a spirit, then? I would have still been able to-”
“No, no, my dear Almawt. The jadeblood lives. Lucina is alive- at least, partially. She roams Alternia’s soil.”
“She’s alive?!” Musrio repeated, incredulous, “She can’t be! She lived four hundred sweeps ago, she died in Ruthless’ arms-”
Hierophant only laughed. “Oh, by the Afflicted Ebonblack- are you not a supernatural being yourself, Musrio? Or you, Drayco? Or even some of your friends? You sit in a room with a shifter-beast, and you wish to tell me it’s impossible? The answer is right in front of you!”
Musrio stiffened, staring into a fixed point as he tried to piece that apart.
Then it hit him.
Then he hit himself for being a moron.
“Oh my FUCKING god. You mean she’s-?”
“Yes!” Hierophant laughed.
“What? She’s what?” Makeno asked, sharing bewildered looks with the others.
“She’s a fucking rainbow drinker!” Musrio and Hierophant shouted at the same time. Thunder cracked outside, as if the sky itself was laughing at the rustblood’s stupidity. “She’s been alive this whole time!”
“Exactly, exactly!” Hierophant applauded. “Well, partially. You know how rainbow drinkers are. I’m certain if you find her descendant, you’ll find her. For now, however, I believe we best brace ourselves for the two that will soon grace us with their presence.”
#the scorpions web#part 1#musrio almawt#drayco afasia#makeno faslet#corden blalit#vornik gorsin#ashhur jaybez#rufuss wacoba#gehero urfath#the hierophant#story time#long post#very long post
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
5e Illaoi, the Kraken Priestess build (League of Legends)
(Artwork by Riot Games)
I’ll take “Champions Everyone Hates” for $300, Larry!
Jokes aside Illaoi was a beyond obvious build with all the Unearthed Arcana subclasses being shown off. With Tasha’s Cauldron on the horizon and recent news that Illaoi is actually getting another skin it only makes sense to make a build for her.
But this is also an opportunity to make something interesting. In particular I see a lot of people online saying that the only viable melee Warlock is Hexblade, and while the Hexblade subclass certainly makes creating a melee Warlock easier it isn’t the only path you can choose. So to prove that you can play other Warlocks with a big ball to slam people with here’s a more melee focused Warlock build!
GOALS
Sheeyutu Nagakabouros - So Illaoi needs tentacles. What? Lurker in the Deep Warlock? I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Broken bones teach better lessons - Illaoi is a buff lady and I want her to crush my head between her thighs... What? Uhhh STRENGTH BUILD TIME!
Many gods ask for worship; they are weak gods - Probably the only hard part about this build is going to be ripping people’s souls out of their body... Good thing I’m honestly probably not going to do that and simply reflavor some stuff.
RACE
League of Legends has its gods and monsters, but the majority of the characters are human. Variant Humans get to start with a little bit more than the average human, but let’s get the normal things out of the way first: increase your Strength and Charisma by 1 to break bones more easily and to find more people who want you to break their bones. You also get a proficiency in a skill of your choice such as Athletics to lug a giant Kraken god head statue around all day, and a language of your choice like Deep Speech to speak to your god through your statue.
But most importantly you get a free Feat, and unfortunately this is a case of me being forced to stick feats into this build for the sake of aesthetic. Illaoi doesn’t wear armor in-game but I could make the argument that her massive arm pauldrons and general outfit could be seen as Medium armor. So even though you could get Heavy Armor “proficiency” thanks to the Eldritch Armor Invocation from the Class Feature Variants UA I’m instead going to suggest taking the Moderately Armored Feat for Medium Armor proficiency and +1 to your Strength score. Feel free to take something like Great Weapon Master instead if you’re okay with actually wearing Heavy Armor at the cost of an invocation.
ABILITY SCORES
15; STRENGTH - Eat your heart out The Last of Us 2 haters. (BTW screw everyone who’s been harassing Laura Bailey on Twitter. I know this is old news but still.)
14; DEXTERITY - Something something Medium Armor, even if Heavy Armor is an option.
13; CHARISMA - Ultimately this is a requirement for the class we’ll have to be playing, but I’m sure there’s a reason this tentacle-lover keeps showing up to ruin my soloqueue games.
12; CONSTITUTION - Illaoi is a tank in-game and while I’d love this to be higher unfortunately we need other things more.
10; WISDOM - Illaoi has knowledge of the old gods which I’d personally consider to be more Wisdom based than Intelligence.
8; INTELLIGENCE - Signing yourself off to be the priestess of some deep sea Cthulhu monster isn’t something you do when you have a high GPA.
BACKGROUND
Fun fact: you can be a priest and not be a Cleric! The Acolyte background lets you grant your service to a god, even if that god isn’t commonly accepted. You gain some Religion proficiency as well as general Insight, as well as two languages of your choice like Abyssal and Primordial to speak to all the ancient beings of Bilgewater.
Your feature Shelter of the Faithful will be a... little odd for your DM to implement. There are few temples to Nagakabouros, but if you can find followers of the Bearded Lady they will provide shelter for you and your allies, and also support you (and you alone) as their Priestess. But regardless you will still be able to find your people in your hometown, and will be able to perform sermons for your god. Even if those sermons involve cracking skulls.
(Artwork by Riot Games)
THE BUILD
LEVEL 1 - WARLOCK 1
Did you enjoy seeing the word “Fighter” a lot in my Garen build? Well you’d better be ready to see a whole lot of “Warlock” in this one. As a Warlock you get two proficiencies from the Warlock skill list so learn about the History of Nagakabouros and also take Intimidation proficiency because I’m pretty fucking intimidated when an Illaoi comes into my lane if you know what I’m saying.
But unlike most classes Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 and low-and-behold we’ll be going with the Lurker in the Deep Unearthed Arcana Patron which will soon be appearing in Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything. One may ask why I didn’t wait for that book to come out to which I reply “I need to make content.” Regardless you get Scion of the Deep at level 1 to communicate telepathically with (almost) any creature that has an innate swimming speed that’s within 120 feet of you. The creature can understand you regardless of your shared languages and can respond telepathically. Look all I’m saying is that you’ve gotta be able to talk with Nami somehow.
But of course what you’re really here for is Grasp of the Deep. As a bonus action you create a tentacle at a point you can see within 60 feet of you. The tentacle lasts for 1 minute or until you make another tentacle. When you create the tentacle, you can make a melee spell attack against a creature within 10 feet of it. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 cold or lightning damage (your choice when it takes the damage) and its speed is reduced by 10 feet until the start of your next turn. You can also move the tentacle up to 30 feet as a bonus action on your turn and repeat the attack with said bonus action. You can summon the tentacle a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier and regain all expended uses when you finish a long rest.
Yes I did just copy-paste the description of the ability because it’s a lot of words to say something very simple: make tentacle in 60 feet, slam people with bonus action, move it up to 30 feet per round.
But unlike in League you get more than just tentacles at level 1! You also have access to Pact Magic! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list: Lightning Lure lets you pull your opponent’s not-quite-soul closer towards you, and Eldritch Blast is an Eldritch Blast that lets you Eldritch Blast; I’m not going to pretend you don’t know what this cantrip is.
You also get two spells from the Warlock list and now it’s time to just take any spell that has the name “Hadar” in it. Arms of Hadar lets you strike everyone near you with tentacles; isn’t it fun to get your ultimate at level 1? For some sort-of Soul Stealing action I’m actually going to recommend Witch Bolt: after hitting an enemy with the spell you can keep hitting them from a distance and they can’t do anything about it! Truthfully though there are a lot of really great spells for this build at first level and I’m sad I can’t list them all, so if you don’t like my spell picks try out:
Hellish Rebuke (Thornmail)
Hex
Protection from Evil and Good
Thunderwave (Subclass-specific spell, otherwise known as “better Arms of Hadar that aren’t tentacles so they’re actually worse)
Yeah level 1 is always overloaded.
LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 2
Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations to improve their abilities, and you know what we still need? A proper ability to rip out people’s souls. Shame we won’t get that, but Grasp of Hadar will pull them closer and Lance of Lethargy will slow them for trying to escape their Test of Spirit. These invocations do stack (IE there’s no rule saying you can’t apply both at once) so you can theoretically pull someone 10 feet closer to you and make them 10 feet slower, resulting in 20 total feet of distance you’re gaining on them.
You can also learn another spell at this level and while there are plenty of good ones I’m going to suggest some Thornmail, or rather Armor of Agathys. The spell doesn’t require Concentration, gives you some bulk, and makes enemies think twice about hitting you. And it scales well too!
LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 3
So how about we get something big to bonk our enemies with? Hello Pact of the Blade! In short you make a weapon in your hands to fight with, and I’d argue that a Maul is probably the closest to a big two-handed bludgeoning weapon.
I should mention that technically you need the Improved Pact Weapon invocation to be able to cast spells while you have a weapon in two hands, but you can get around this by using a component pouch instead of a focus. (And Illaoi seems the type to cast with squid organs.)
Oh and you can learn second level spells now! Spells like Earthbind to make sure your foes don’t take to the sky to escape the wrath of the ocean.
LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 4
4th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement so it’s time to invest in your main stat: Strength! What was that? Charisma? No no silly Warlocks use Strength obviously, so put +2 into that.
You also learn another spell at this level, and another cantrip! For your cantrip Mage Hand will let you summon a little tentacle for you to grab smaller things at a distance. As for leveled spells Ray of Enfeeblement will let you pack Exhaust for your foes, reducing their attack damage. It’s a bit of a dirty trick but Nagakabouros doesn’t fight fair.
(Artwork by ERDJIE on DeviantArt)
LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 5
5th level Warlocks get another Invocation so guess what we’re taking? Yup: Eldritch Smite, pretty much a given whenever I make a Pact of the Blade build. This will let you slam your foes so hard that they fall over! I’m also going to suggest you replace Lance of Lethargy with Thirsting Blade, as by this point Grasp of Hadar is already pulling them close enough thanks to two Eldritch Blasts per turn.
You can also learn another spell at this level and remember when I said we’d take any spell with the name “Hadar” in the title? Hunger of Hadar lets you make an area pitch black and summon a bunch of tentacles in that area. Basically Hadar is this world’s Nagakabouros. "Bearded Lady, Nagakabouros, names don't matter! Action does."
LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 6
At 6th level your tentacles finally have some lifesteal! And by lifesteal I mean defensive properties. Guardian Grasp lets you use your reaction to make a tentacle shield an ally from a hit, reduce the damage they would’ve taken from an attack by half. The tentacle can shield any ally within 10 feet of it, and it disappears after defending them. Note that this works for spells too, so if someone’s having their soul ripped out of them you can use your abilities to pull it right back in!
Additionally your servitude to the Bearded Lady grants you a Fathomless Soul for the ability to breathe underwater, a swimming speed, and resistance to Cold damage.
And finally you can learn another spell like the Unearthed Arcana spell Spirit Shroud. This spell will let you slow enemies that are near you and also do extra damage.
LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 7
7th level Warlocks get another Invocation but there’s nothing that particularly interests me. May as well get Devil’s Sight in case you’re playing against a Nocturne.
You can also learn another spell at this level and hey look more tentacles!
Evard’s Black Tentacles is a subclass-specific spell that makes tentacles that can hold people down!
LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 8
8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: increase your Strength by 1 and your Constitution by 1, as those are your two main stats as a Warlock. Definitely.
You can also add another spell to your list, and while there are plenty of great choices I’d opt to rid yourself of the unworthy with Banishment.
(Artwork by Diazex on DeviantArt)
LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 9
9th level Warlocks get access to another Eldritch Invocation, but again none of these are that particularly interesting so I suppose you could grab Otherworldly Leap for the Jump spell at will?
But you get access to another spell and if you need guidance from Nagakabouros then Commune with Nature will let you gather information to aid you to spread your faith.
Now (or ideally sometime before) would also probably be a good time to replace a lot of your old spells, so depending on your DM here’s some spells you should probably swap out, and what they should be swapped to:
Arms of Hadar (RIP tentacles) with Vampiric Touch (3rd level) for some lifesteal. (Enervation at the 5th level is also a decent alternative that works at range.)
Witch Bolt with Dimension Door (4th level) for a Teleport back to lane.
Earthbind with Synaptic Static (5th level) for a Leap of Faith against your foes. (By that I mean it’s my build and I like this spell.)
Ray of Enfeeblement with Cone of Cold (5th level) for another powerful AoE spell in a teamfight.
LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 10
At 10th level Lurker in the Deep Warlocks can feed their god’s Devouring Maw. As an action you can create a 10 foot radius sphere centered on a point you can see within 60 feet. Each creature in that area must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be restrained. And then: teeth... this feels like Pyke’s thing. Regardless any creature that starts its turn in the area takes 3d6 cold / lightning damage (your choice.)
Restrained creature can try to get out on their action, and at the start of your turn if anyone is in the area you gain temporary hit points equal to your Warlock level. You can use this ability once per short or long rest, so essentially consider it like an extra spell that’s exclusive to you and your faith.
Speaking of extra spells you don’t get another spell known but your tentacles do more damage now: 2d8 to be exact. You also get another cantrip: Minor Illusion will let you summon more small ghost tentacles, except these ones don’t do anything except for fool the enemy into thinking they’ll have a fun laning phase.
LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 11
11th level Warlocks get their 6th level Mystic Arcanum, which is a spell you can only use once per Long Rest. Basically it’s a regular spell slot, unlike your Warlock slots which come back on a short rest. Unfortunately there really aren’t a lot of Mystic Arcanum options, and the ones at level 6 aren’t spectacular. Circle of Death is probably the best even if the lore is a little iffy.
You can also add another Pact Magic spell to your list: many say that a Dream is a window into one’s soul, so messing with people’s dreams only makes sense for you to test their souls. Oh and you get a third spell slot for your Pact Magic! Yay!
LEVEL 12 - WARLOCK 12
12th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement but I’m going to instead suggest the Resilient feat for Constitution, increasing your CON to a 14 and giving you proficiency in CON saves. Constitution is one of your main stats as a Warlock after all!
You also get another Eldritch Invocation and now it’s finally time for an invocation we will keep! Lifedrinker will let you add your Charisma modifier as damage to your weapon attacks. I know it’s such a weird thing for Warlocks to have since they rarely use Charisma, but it’s still useful!
(Artwork by sharrm on DeviantArt)
LEVEL 13 - WARLOCK 13
At level 13 you get your 7th level Mystic Arcanum. To test weak souls Power Word Pain will see how much they can take before they reach their limit. If a target is at 100 HP or less they are affected by crippling pain. Their speed can be no higher than 10 feet, they have disadvantage on attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws (other than CON saves), and if the target tries to cast a spell, it must first succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or the casting fails and the spell is wasted.
A target suffering this pain can make a Constitution saving throw at the end of each of its turns. On a successful save, the pain ends. While this may seem weak this doesn’t require your concentration, and can set up for all your allies to break the nonbelievers.
You can also add another Pact Magic spell to your list like Elemental Bane. Here’s the trick: pick a damage type of your tentacles that your allies are also doing. This will make both them and your tentacles stronger!
LEVEL 14 - WARLOCK 14
14th level Lurker in the Deep Warlocks get their final ability, Unleash the Depths. As an action, you choose a point within 30 feet of you to summon a manifestation of Nagakabouros. You then have one of two options:
Transport. You and up to five willing creatures of your choice that you can see within 30 feet of the manifestation point are grasped by spectral tentacles and teleported to a point of your choice within 100 miles that you have visited within the past 24 hours.
Fury. You can direct a barrage of spectral tentacles to strike up to five creatures you can see within 30 feet of the manifestation point. Each target must make a Dexterity saving throw against your spell save DC. On a failed save, the creature takes 6d10 cold or lightning damage (your choice) and is knocked prone. On a successful save, it takes half as much damage and is not knocked prone. The tentacles then vanish.
You can only do this once per Long Rest, so you can essentially consider it another Mystic Arcanum of sorts.
LEVEL 15 - WARLOCK 15
15th level Warlocks get their 8th level Mystic Arcanum and to truly test one’s faith try Feeblemind. You choose a target to damage and force them to make an Intelligence save: if they fail their Intelligence and Charisma become 1 and they become unable to do most things that require thinking. (Detailed in the spell.) This spell lasts for thirty days unless healed by a specific spell, afterwards they can try to repeat the save.
But more importantly you get some more Invocations and sweet Bearded Lady we can finally get some good ones! Grab Witch Sight to know the truth behind one’s soul.
And you get one more Pact Magic spell like Sickening Radiance to exhaust the spirit... because it causes Exhaustion... the D&D status not the LoL Summoner Spell.
LEVEL 16 - WARLOCK 16
16th level means an Ability Score Improvement so it’s finally time to stop beating around the bush: get more Charisma so Lifedrinker is better. There really isn’t much other use for it.
(Artwork by Riot Games)
LEVEL 17 - WARLOCK 17
At 17th level you get your 9th level Mystic Arcanum; the strongest spell you can cast! When a soul is too weak to fight it must die: Power Word Kill will instantly kill a target with 100 health or less.
In addition you learn more Pact Magic: by this point your foes should truly Fear you (and the fact that I’m not allowed to take any spell that creates undead.) Yes most enemies by this point can resist fears, but on the bright side you finally have four spell slots for your other spells! (Or Smites.)
LEVEL 18 - WARLOCK 18
18th level Warlocks get their final Eldritch Invocation: Visions of Distant Realms will let you use the vision of the Bearded Lady to see across all of Runeterra... or at least as far as Arcane Eye lets you.
LEVEL 19 - WARLOCK 19
19th level Warlocks get our final Ability Score Improvement and yeah: Charisma for Lifedrinker... among other things.
And you get your final Pact Magic spell: take Hold Monster as the final option to keep an enemy down as you beat them into shape.
LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 20
20th level Warlocks are Eldritch Masters. You can spend 1 minute praying to regain all your expended Pact Magic slots. Once you regain spell slots with this feature, you must finish a long rest before you can do so again.
...I mean yeah you could just spend an hour to Short Rest, but being able to get 4 more 5th level spell slots in just a minute could be useful! ...Maybe...
FINAL BUILD
PROS
They need wisdom; they don't need teeth - Even though you only have two attacks as a “casting” class you do plenty of damage thanks to Lifedrinker and your tentacles. (Assuming you’re using a Maul) you’re doing 4d6 + 10 bludgeoning, an extra 8 necrotic, and an extra 2d8 of Lightning or Cold damage with your Bonus Action. If you take the averages of those numbers you’re going to be doing about 44 damage per turn! Not to mention Eldritch Smites to truly break their spirits!
Blessed is motion - Your AC shouldn’t be terrible with Medium Armor, but the real strength is in Guardian Grasp. Being able to reduce the damage of an attack by half is universally useful. Above-average HP (thanks to a good CON mod) definitely helps too.
I am a teacher; Bilgewater will learn - Despite your weak mental stats you have a good amount of utility with proficiency in a number of skills and spells to gather information like Arcane Eye, Commune With Nature, and Dream. Not to mention Witch Sight which will see through any illusions or shapeshifting. This means you’re a fighter who can see through invisibility!
CONS
If I hate something, I destroy it - Illaoi is a big lady, and while her physical abilities may be strong her mental capabilities are a little lacking. Your Wisdom saves are fine enough thanks to Proficiency but your Intelligence and Dexterity saves are rather subpar, and as mentioned earlier your Ability Checks aren’t going to be great thanks to your low mental.
My god is not love; it is a kick in the pants - All the memeing I did in this build aside the focus on Strength over Charisma was probably not the brightest, especially considering that the hit chance of your tentacles is based on your Charisma. See if you can get Point Buy for this build instead to max out Strength and Charisma: Medium Armor was taken more for cosmetic than anything, and Heavy Armor would probably be a better choice. And of course feel free to take Charisma ASIs early if you think you need them.
Something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens - Truthfully while 9th level spells an extra invocations are nice this build would’ve probably benefited a lot more from some Fighter or Paladin levels to get a Fighting Style and subclass features. I built this build Warlock-exclusive partially for flavor and partially to show that melee Warlocks are possible outside of Hexblade, but 5 levels into Fighter or Paladin would get you Extra Attack (so you wouldn’t need Thirsting Blade) along with other class features. And starting as Fighter or Paladin would let you take armor proficiency too, so you wouldn’t need a feat for it! (You could grab something like Great Weapon Master instead!)
But here you have it: a level 20 Warlock build, a melee Warlock that isn’t Hexblade, a devout character with no Cleric levels, a Tasha’s build before Tasha’s comes out, and a powerful melee fighter with good use of their Bonus Action and plenty of utility through spellcasting. As long as you live life to its fullest and grab every combat by the reigns then Nagakabouros shall be pleased. Test the nonbelievers and strike at the heart of corruption! For it is her way... to get camped all game by the jungler... and still get double kills.
(Artwork by epimeral on DeviantArt)
#dnd#dnd build#dnd guide#dnd warlock#it's literally just warlock#yup no fighter#League of Legends#League of Legends Illaoi#DnD 5e#Nagakabouros#tentacles#Tumblr ToS
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
[ PUSH ] ( Emet-Selch/Hades )
//. @empyrcal // protective starters // emet-selch
Rham’ir hadn’t known what it was to sleep for the last few days. The seething throb of Primordial Light coursing through his body saw to that with each and every beat of his heart, reminding him of his feverish state. His own aether exhausted, fully eclipsed by the Light, Amaurot would see him struggle to catch his breath. Would that he could stop and sit down, but the most minor of threats were starting to become far more bothersome than he’d initially realized. His mere presence had caught the attention of the Benthos, and seeing the ill-fated hero that blocked their entry into the land of the ancients with one foot in the grave, they had decided to give chase.
He could kill them, in theory. And insodoing, with the expenditure of the last of his own aether, succumb to the violent end that surely awaited him. Worst case scenario, he could only hope that the Light claimed him first. Lay waste to everything and everyone--if a Rejoining must happen, that the mind-numbing cycle of destruction caused by lesser lightwardens be ceased, then fine. Take him and get it over with, that his own essence be completely destroyed in the tumult of the First’s collision with the Source. Whether his friends and allies hated him for giving in didn’t matter to him.
Hard alien concrete all but rushes up to meet him as he collapses, a trail of glimmering white leading up to him. The Benthos were near, he could smell them. He dare not expend any more of his own aether upon the coming of this eleventh hour. He was the warrior of light, was he not? Savior of the Realm? The thought alone is enough to make him wheeze a laugh as he struggles to push himself up to his feet. He still had a little bit of flight left in him. But not much.
They are far closer than he initially expected. So quick were they to gain ground in spite of their awe of Emet-Selch’s Amaurot’s majesty, that the heathen who dared trespass be put to rest. Just as he’s about to expect a spear to go through him, the air seems to shift and warp, disintegrate around him. He can almost hear the particles of space-time whithering away into a cloud of darkness as a familiarly dressed Ascian languidly steps from the shadow and gently pushes Rham’ir behind him.
❝ Emet-Selch, wait-- ❞ it’s a fraction of a moment that he forgets about the power the Ascian possessed--far more than he as a fractured husk, that much was certain. And his aether was further dwarfed still by the fact that it had all but dwindled within the past several days due to a lack of rest. Briefly does he forget that even in his mortal coil, is the man capable of immense displays of power, and power does he display readily--apparently at the defense of the hero. A shield born of his own aether protects the both of them from the onslaught of the Benthos. And Rham’ir can only allow his body to collapse again from weakness, surrendering to the protective shadow of his sworn enemy. Muscles throbbing, bones aching, the entirety of him shaking with weakness, and his heart--how strange it feels in the wake of these sudden developments.
As if he needed any more reasons to be completely unsure of Emet-Selch’s intentions, his thought processes. Alien as they already were, Ascians were eldritch by their very nature. Impossible for him to understand, though he sought to, his very nature demanding that he know with every fiber of his being.
When the Benthos are dealt with, he relaxes, but also prepares for some manner of expression of disgust to be thrown his way. Would he be like the others? Why aren’t you in bed resting, hero? Look how far you’ve fallen with your lack of self care, etcetera. or has he saved him purely for the chance to gloat. Both possibilities made him wish he had come a little too late.
❝ You... you didn’t have to do that, you know, ❞ he lets himself sit back for a change--far too exhausted to push himself back up to his feet again. The ribbon that hung from the back of Emet-Selch’s coat would cause his ear to twitch each time they made contact, ❝ So why? Why protect someone who stands in your way? ❞
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
