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frogwithastrawberry · 8 months

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Danny Phantom headcanons I just thought of!

For starters: Not really a headcanon, but I love it when people write Danny using astronomy related nicknames for his partners. It makes the brain worms happy

-All ghosts have a specific weakness tied to when they died. It is HIGHLY frowned upon to knowingly use this against someone. Like, they can recover from it, but not easily

-this weakness is especially prominent in Halfas

-Out of the three Halfas, Danny is the only one who really has the weakness. Since the weakness is based on Death, he's the only one it really applies to?

-Vlad died slowly over time due to one event of mass exposure to ectoplasm, which I'm saying seeped into an open sore like acne in his face, and then replicated said acne. While the original case healed, the ectoplasm was in his bloodstream, and since he was fully alive it was slowly over time taking over his bloodcells, until eventually one day he, just found himself with enough of it that he was able to use ghost powers, and then the ectoplasm recognized him as a ghost and stopped harming him

-Dani was never really fully alive. She has a slight weakness to electricity as residue from Danny, but it's barely more than how one would normally react to being shocked

-For Danny though, the electric shock from the portal killed him, and the Lichtenberg scars that were formed as a result counted as enough of an open wound the ectoplasm started seeping in. Since the ectoplasm crept into the scar of what killed him though, he has a weakness to electricity

-this does also mean that if someone were to die by a fire, the ectoplasm would go into burn scars. They die by bleeding out though? Well, being stabbed was going to be a weakness anyways. Someone dies by drowning, the ectoplasm takes over the lungs, since they went out of commission, etc.

-TLDR: Ectoplasm works by taking over blood cells. Souls don't have those, so they just become fully ectoplasmic beings, AKA ghosts. Live people have blood cells, and the ectoplasm seeps into whatever open scars may exist until it occupies 50-75% of the bloodstream, making you recognizable as a ghost, and a halfa.

-BONUS FOR IF YOU WANT DC IN HERE!

-the reason Jason has pit madness is because the pit is ectoplasm (as most have agreed on) and since he was a corpse, the ectoplasm wasn't sure where to go. He didn't have any pumping blood for it to take it over, and so it settled in as his nervous system. But then the ACTUAL nervous system and blood vessels started working, and they're doing they're best to push out the mysterious entity, but the ectoplasm is sentient, and therefore trying to stay. (It's losing)

-this does mean that in my headcanon Jason can either become the fourth halfa, or become fully human again, depending on if the ectoplasm keeps fighting, or if he meets Danny who teaches him to control it

-side note: If he were to become fully human again he'd likely have a shorter lifespan since his body would be used to having assistance against things like injuries or poisons and wouldn't be able to learn how to heal fully by itself again fast enough to save him.

#danny fenton #danny phantom #my headcanons #ectoplasm #vlad plasmius #dani phantom #worldbuilding #plot?#in my headcanons?#more likely than you might think #this just came to me while doing math homework #i think its because thats when im closest to death #jason todd #dp x dc #barely #please ask me questions

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thecreaturecodex · 10 months

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Spawn of Rovagug, Xotani

Image © Paizo Publishing

{Sponsored by @tar-baphon. Although I imagine that @monstersdownthepath will be happy to see it too, since they had to sort of average the 3.5 and PF2e statistics of Xotani. PF1e skipped it completely, maybe because it appeared in literally the last D&D 3.5 adventure Paizo published. I did run Legacy of Fire, and loved it. Personally, I made a few tweaks. Even if Jhavhul had succeeded, his consciousness was just going to be overwritten by Xotani; you don’t compromise with a Spawn of Rovagug. The sponsor asked me to adjust its CR up by 1, which was really only a matter of deciding how many HD to give it. Besides that, and the lava bombs borrowed from PF2e, this is a pretty straightforward conversion.]

Spawn of Rovagug, Xotani CR 21 CE Magical Beast This creature is a living magma flow, a cross between a wingless dragon and a centipede. It is the size of a building, jagged obsidian plates rising from its back and sides, and gouts of flames shooting from cracks in its surface and drool from its maw. It has eight empty eye sockets, but still seems able to see just fine.

Xotani the Firebleeder is the weakest of the Spawn of Rovagug, but this still makes it one of the most deadly creatures in Garund. When Xotani is awake, it avoids the sun. It finds sunlight blindingly bright and surprisingly painful, and so remains underground by day, creating a network of tunnels from its own burrowing and from the lava that it spews and leaks. By night, it emerges, setting everything ablaze in its path. It has no desires or intentions other than pure destruction, although it will consume the ashes of what it destroys as a mockery of natural predation. It does take extra damage from the touch of cold, but cold damage enrages Xotani more than dissuades it.

Xotani is an unstoppable force in combat, moving like a lava flow over anything that stands in its path. Its very touch sets combustible objects ablaze, and weapons turned against it melt into slag. Xotani’s main strategies are either breathing a torrent of fire over clustered enemies, or grabbing and swallowing a single powerful foe. Wounds that open in Xotani’s flesh spew magma reflexively, and Xotani can fire lava bombs from its back. Xotani is barely sapient, but knows enough to avoid using its breath weapon against foes that are immune to fire: these it just eats after softening them up with claws and teeth.

The Firebleeder was “slain” by a powerful order of mages millennia ago, and is currently slumbering beneath Pale Mountain in Katapesh, where the color of the rock is said to come from the crushed bones of those who died in battle. However, Xotani came very close to being awakened in the recent past. The lovesick Jhavhul, an efreet general, attempted to possess Xotani in order to have a form worthy of the object of his obsession, Ymeri the Queen of the Inferno. Without the twisted wishcraft used by Jhavhul, Xotani will not awaken for centuries. But it does now stir in his slumber, and droughts, wildfires and heat waves are more common around the Obari Ocean because of it. And plenty of other doomsday cults, misguided fire worshipers or simply bad actors may be able to wake Xotani yet.

Xotani the Firebleeder CR 21 XP 409,600 CE Colossal magical beast (fire, spawn of Rovagug) Init +8; Senses blindsight 120 ft., darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +26 Aura frightful presence (300 ft., Will DC 27) Defense AC 38, touch 6, flat-footed 34 (-8 size, +4 Dex, +32 natural) hp 403 (26d10+260); regeneration 30 Fort +25, Ref +21, Will +20 DR 15/epic; Immune ability damage, ability drain, bleed, disease, electricity, energy drain, fire, mind-influencing effects, paralysis, permanent wounds, petrifaction, poison, polymorph; SR 32 Defensive Abilities heat, hibernation, supreme regeneration; Weaknesses cold, sunlight blindness Offense Speed 60 feet, burrow 40 ft., climb 60 ft. Melee bite +32 (4d8+14 plus grab and 5d6 fire), 2 claws +32 (2d8+14 plus 5d6 fire) Space 30 ft.; Reach 30 ft. Special Abilities breath weapon (70 ft. cone, 1d4 rounds, 16d10 fire, Ref DC 33), firebleed, lava bomb, swallow whole (AC 26, 40 hp, 2d8+21 plus 20d6 fire), trample (2d8+21 plus 5d6 fire, Ref DC 37) Statistics Str 38, Dex 19, Con 30, Int 3, Wis 17, Cha 18 Base Atk +26; CMB +48 (+52 grapple, +68 overrun); CMD 62 (cannot be tripped) Feats Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Greater Vital Strike, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Improved Vital Strike, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Nimble Moves, Power Attack, Staggering Critical, Stunning Critical, Vital Strike Skills Climb +27, Perception +26, Survival +23; Racial Modifiers +8 Perception, +8 Survival Languages Aklo (cannot speak) SQ unstoppable force Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization unique Treasure incidental Special Abilities Blindsight (Ex) Xotani’s blindsight is based on hearing. If it is deafened, Xotani cannot use its blindsight. Firebleed (Ex) As an immediate action upon taking at least 10 points of slashing or piercing damage, Xotani can spew lava from its wound in a 30 foot cone. All creatures in the area must succeed a DC 33 Reflex save or take 10d6 points of fire damage. Creatures that fail the save are coated in cooling sticky lava, being entangled and taking 5d6 points of fire damage for the next 1d3 rounds or until they spend a full round action to scrape the lava off. The save DC is Constitution based. Heat (Ex) All of Xotani’s attacks deal an additional 5d6 points of fire damage, and any creature touching or striking it with a unarmed strike or natural weapon take that damage. A manufactured weapon that strikes Xotani is incinerated and destroyed; a magical weapon may attempt a DC 33 Fortitude save in order to survive. The save DC is Constitution based. Hibernation (Ex) Spawn of Rovagug can sleep for years, decades, or even centuries and do not need to eat or breathe during these periods of dormancy, though they breathe normally and eat ravenously and almost constantly once they’ve been awakened. If a spawn of Rovagug is forced into an environment where it cannot breathe and would suffocate, it goes into hibernation until conditions are right for it to reawaken. Lava Bomb (Su) Once every 1d4 rounds, Xotani can create lava bombs as a standard action. Treat this as a supernatural version of the meteor swarm spell (ranged touch +22, Reflex DC 27) with a range of 400 feet. The save DC is Charisma based. Sunlight Blindness (Ex) Xotani’s light blindness is only activated by true sunlight. Supreme Regeneration (Ex) All spawn of Rovagug possess regeneration, and no form of attack can suppress this regeneration; they regenerate even if disintegrated or slain by a death effect. If a spawn of Rovagug fails a save against an effect that would kill it instantly, it rises from death 3 rounds later with 1 hit point if no further damage is dealt to its remains. It can be banished or otherwise transported as a means to save a region, but a method to kill Spawn of Rovagug has yet to be discovered. Unstoppable Force (Ex) A spawn of Rovagug can always charge, even if its movement is impeded or its path is blocked by another creature. It receives a +20 racial bonus on combat maneuver checks to overrun and Strength checks to break or destroy objects, and can make one such check as a free action as part of a charge. In addition, the natural weapons of a spawn of Rovagug ignore all forms of damage reduction and hardness.

#xotani #spawn of rovagug #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder 2e #D&D #legacy of fire #sponsored post

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rist-ix · 4 months

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Hi Rist! Can you give us a snippet of the next chapter of tbhtbh? 🙏🏻

I can't give u plot yet. But I can give u death and destruction if you want?

Layla used to tell them so much about her homeworld.

It's brilliant blue skies, it’s crystal clear waters. The gentle currents that would guide the boats of fishers and shellfish farmers from and to their homes; the salty winds that would rustle through palm trees and orchards, bringing rain in the morning and swarms of jewel colored birds in spring.

She used to talk about it with such warmth, such longing, an undying loyalty and love for her home and her people and her duty as their princess. Even when she had raged and resented her parents for the way they'd caged her in, she would have done anything for them. Anything for the vibrant, beautiful kingdom they all loved.

Bloom had never seen its beauty.

The first time she'd stepped foot on Andros had already been the beginning of its end. Even after Council Hall, when they were in dire need of a place to lay low, they never dared to return here.

The realm of the tides never got the chance to recover. The collapsing Omega Portal had robbed Andros of a crucial magical pillar, and when its atmosphere didn’t clear up, its waters didn’t calm and its mermaids were not freed from the monstrous mark on their necks…

It's like an infected body, desperately trying to rid itself of the sickness festering within. Killing itself with its own seizures, its own fever, its own madness. Murky oceans shaping tidal waves, skies heavy with clouds never ceasing their storms, the very earth breaking open and spitting black ash into the air.

They had met travelers two years later who said the fires were still burning.

Still. There's a difference between hearing about it, and seeing it first hand.

The second her feet touch Andros' rust-brown earth, gusts of hot, searing wind start tearing at her hair and her clothes, burning hot against her skin. Salt, sulfur and smoke make her eyes water, her lungs seize; every breath tastes like poison, and hiding her mouth and nose in her sleeve does little to make it more bearable.

When the glow of teleportation subsides and her vision clears, it reveals the full scale of Andros' fate.

Skies like molten iron, bleeding murky rays of sunlight through blackened clouds that seem to glow red from within. Their light is dim and pale compared to the bursts of sickly yellow lightning striking the waves below, over and over again. The horizon is never calm, the twisted branches of electricity reminding her of a nervous system in panic. To the east, lush green jungles have been charred to pitch black fingers reaching skyward. Beyond, red-tipped mountains cough ash and fire into the air.

It's almost beautiful, this deadly display of colors.

For a few seconds, that keeps the horror at bay.

Valtor lands beside her with his usual grace, showing not the smallest sign of discomfort. She can't tear her eyes away from the shaking, shuddering corpse of this kingdom she once knew, so she doesn’t see his expression. But she imagines he must be proud.

A new Domino. Except this time, he can savor its destruction without his pesky, selfish regrets. He's always hated Andros, after all.

“The view never fails to amaze, doesn’t it?”

Valtor makes a swirling gesture with his hands, and the searing wind tearing at her hair lets up. The taste of ash on the air fades as well, and she realizes he's shielding them from the worst of the storm.

Unwilling to yell against it, most likely.

It doesn’t make it easier to answer. For once, she is genuinely speechless.

She turns around to look at him, and finds him already watching her from the corner of his eyes. Almost eagerly, as if awaiting her outrage. Her revulsion.

Whatever he finds in her expression seems to satisfy him, because he smiles and turns his back on her, surveying their surroundings.

“Do you know where we are?”

She does. She knew before they even stepped out of the portal where it would lead them, and she has dreamed of this place often enough to know it blind.

The crumbling stone arches, the single circular structure rising from the sea. Saltwater in her mouth, her nose; her ribs still aching from Icy's blast to her back. A memory so vivid it’s hard to distinguish from reality, for a moment.

“We met here,” she says. Despite the relative silence within his shields, her voice feels small.

If they had known then what would happen, would she and her friends have even come? Surely, whatever damage Andros would have suffered under Valtor's attacks would have been preferable to this. If they had simply stayed at Alfea, hadn’t snuck out and simply acted like the students they still were, it could have all been so different.

Valtor clicks his tongue, chiding.

“We first met on Solaria, dearest. But I'm glad you remember that day.”

He trails his fingers over the rough, salt-encrusted stone of a pillar.

“I think of it often. I'd been dying to meet you again once I knew who you were. The very last princess of Domino, just when I feared there was nothing left of it. 'How often does one get the chance to destroy the same dynasty twice?' I thought. You must have been meant for me, an opponent like no other. Our final battle, your death, only that could mean true victory.”

He smiles to himself. She can tell from the way he inclines his head, the way he speaks, even if she can’t see his face.

“I don’t make a habit of being wrong, but I suppose even I have to admit foolishness, here.”

The wind around them howls, and the spray of harsh waves crashing against their little ruin evaporates against his shield.

His head tilts in her direction, just a little.

“Do you ever miss it?”

He doesn’t have to clarify. She knows exactly what he means.

How they had chased him through the entire dimension, the thrill of combat hot in her veins. Every fight a point to prove, a cocky race to the top, it didn’t even matter if she failed because she got quicker, closer each time. Locking eyes over the blaze of their colliding magic and understanding perfectly how the other felt.

Knowing that she would be his undoing. No matter how long it took, she would be the one to end him. The brilliant, powerful, immortal wizard that not even Omega could hold; she would bring him low.

The simple, reckless single-mindedness of it.

She also remembers that sense of safety. Tecna's shields humming to life around them, Stella's sarcastic little comments there to take the edge off of their numerous close calls. The unwavering certainty that nothing could hurt her, because her friends were there, and once the battle was over they'd go home and sleep it off, huddled together on Stella's giant bed.

“Every day,” she tells him.

Even Valtor, self-serving and arrogant as he may be, can’t ignore what she's really saying.

#asks #fic: to be hunted to be haunted #it’s not that i haven’t WRITTEN the plot yet it’s just very big and dramatic and I wanna savor your reactions when the actual chapter is up #I’m actually doing pretty decent! so far I’ve written every evening for 1-3 hours for the past 4 days #granted I haven’t written a lot quantity wise #but still!

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mail-me-a-snail · 4 months

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pls i hope you give us your Vance related PL thoughts one day <3 I’m sure he has a normal time of it

oh man. i could gush for hours about phantom liberty. dlcs dont usually engage me--the most "recent" exception having been destiny 2's last dlc with activision, forsaken--but phantom liberty gripped me by the membrane and throttled me within an inch of my life.

i mean, if it did that to me, imagine what it did to vance.

(spoilers follow)

it isn't 't the first time vance has gotten a holo from an unknown number.

that's the biz; most clients want secrecy. the private type don't trust fixers--they don't do middlemen. they cut straight to the point. vance has dealt with these kinds of clients before. they don't know the streets like he does; they don't give a shit to, either.

they give him the gist of what they want done; the finer details don't matter. job's a job--as long as he takes care of the gonk who needs flatlining, or klep whatever needs klepping, the scratch'll come through, no problem.

that's how it's supposed to go.

but songbird opens with this: she knows what's happening to him. she knows about the relic's slow poison; she knows about vance, who he was, is, and pretends to be; and she knows how to help.

the promise of a cure colors her tone, but she knows better than to make it here and now on the holo. so she asks vance to meet her at the gate to dogtown.

vance is fresh off a gig. he's maybe a kilometer from dogtown proper, can see the open, rounded top of the stadium peeking out from behind the buildings in the distance. black smoke rises over the skyline. seems there's always a fire in dogtown.

he had been nursing a cigarette on his bike--jackie's arch--when songbird had called him. he flicks what remains of the cigarette onto the pavement. grinds it out under his heel. he mounts the arch.

private-types always end up asking to meet at a secondary location.

this--this part of the routine that's been ingrained in him for the past year or so--he knows how to follow.

the malfunction tears through his parts with the precision of a ripper's scalpel.

it knows where to curl its long, electric-blue fingers in his internal wires. it knows how hard to tug; it doesn't stop, either. the force of it sours, taut, in the back of vance's throat.

the silver prongs connected to his spine rattle. they shake until they buzz--then that buzz sharpens into ringing. one constant note, ringing into eternity, rising without changing pitch.

it aches from within vance's very teeth. sits heavy on his useless tongue--the same tongue he fears that he'll end up biting during one of these seizures.

there was a time when the relic thought him still human. it's only recently that it's learned the true nature of its host. it's only recently that it's found out how much more it can feed on.

it's only recently that it's started affecting johnny, too.

he doesn't know how it happens--doesn't know if johnny's starting to share his pain, or if they're feeling each other's in a tenuous feedback loop.

either way, the relic is decaying, and it's taking them with it.

vance curls up against the nearest solid mass he can find; remembers he has to breathe; forgets, exactly, how to do that; reaches for johnny, who's seizing right in front of him--

and songbird reaches back.

she touches his shoulder. her hand carries no weight other than that of buzzing static. the sound bleeds into the malfunction's miasma of noise. she speaks, carefully, calmly, but whatever she says, the relic swallows.

her words seem to please it, however--because a few moments later, the malfunction trickles away. it leaves nothing in its wake but a bone-deep soreness and a few blue tessellations crackling across johnny's non-corporeal form.

the large lapels of songbird's jacket curl around her throat. beneath that and a number of colorful pins, she wears a rather nondescript netrunning suit in contrast. vance doesn't miss the cyberdeck attached to her hip.

she looks like any other runner. in fact, vance had traipsed around night city in something similar an eternity ago--only difference being the absence of his team colors of hexagonal red-and-black.

but she's got no symbols of her own. no iconography denoting her allegiance to any one patron. he would've taken her for one of the afterlife's enny-a-dozen netrunners, then--had it not been for the fact that she could see johnny.

she touches him, too. she grasps the ghost's shoulder as easily as if--as if...she were a ghost herself.

data crackles in vance's ear; it's not the relic's tell-tale, almost musical blue purr. he usually welcomes the sound because it means johnny's somewhere around him, some lame-ass quip ready to fall from his lips.

but this data is red and black and angry and alive.

it writhes; spits; it takes johnny with it.

for the first time in the past few months, vance's head falls quiet.

it's so quiet that the absence feels more like a cavity.

it aches like one, too.

she's not like any other runner, if she can do that.

the realization leaves him reeling with more than just the after-effects of a relic malfunction: it's got him dizzy with the idea that she's like him.

songbird doesn't win vance over by taking johnny away from him. he can feel her confusion with that underlying her every instruction, but she's got bigger things to worry about.

ask any of the techies from his arasaka days and they'd tell you this: vance is the last person to give a shit about the president of the NUSA.

he's not an NUSA citizen; he's especially not about to lick her heels just 'cause she used to run militech, either. his parents had fought in the war she had started all those years ago--it's in his corpo blood to hate her, or, at least, what she stands for.

but a job's a job, and song's not gonna give johnny up until vance swallows his pride.

he'll do as she says. he's got too much to lose not to.

that same red data plays with vance's surroundings as songbird talks to him. she props open doors; gets rusted old elevators groaning back to life; all from the relative safety of--wherever she is.

that takes skill. splitting himself in two like that--he could never pull that trick off, not for lack of trying.

granted, arasaka hadn't built him to be stationary. they had made sure he'd always be on the move. they had grafted an entire torso's worth of realskinn onto him so his machine parts could breathe in the cool, polluted air of night city as he ran through its gutter-like streets.

and that living data--it's as bright as copper and just as conducive; it carries with it that same, rotting taste. it's not just any fancy code. it's not even something that could be called a runner's signature; calling it that would imply it's likely to allow someone ownership.

that code isn't just black with ICE--it is ICE. it's several layers of thick, hostile ICE.

vance had only seen such a thing in cyberspace. way out there, lurking on the horizon, ever-present and closely guarded.

(because of the highly personalized nature of cyberspace, perhaps vance had invited it to stay).

even with his pull in arasaka's ranks, neither the techies or netwatch would've ever let him touch the blackwall.

but song's got it eating out of the palm of her hand.

...which means rosalind myer's been keeping what she doesn't understand on a leash for the past decade, and no one's been the wiser.

not even arasaka.

later, when he looks rosalind in the eye as he digs the tracker out of her neck--his touch comes too soft for someone like her, he realizes, though he doesn't do so on purpose--he wonders if she knows who, or what, he is.

if, if she does, then she must know what arasaka had intended him to be--why wouldn't she, after all, when song had been the one to order him after her?

johnny fills their first night in dogtown with doubt.

"this a normal tuesday for ya, v?" he asks vance. the ghost sits backwards on a rusted old folding chair in front of him. "savin' the skin of the fuckin' president of the NUSA?"

"sure," vance answers. he can't sleep. hasn't tried.

they both listen to myers breathing on the next mattress over for few moments.

then, he continues, quieter this time. "way things'll be goin', seems we're punchin' hansen's ticket same time next week."

johnny rests his chin on his crossed arms. his chrome arm gleams in the low, blue light coming from what could generously be called a window.

"think you're gonna be outta here that fast?" johnny shakes his head. "ain't how quick myers and her ilk operate."

"bureaucracy, that it? gotta wait for the paperwork to zero hansen?"

(he's not a stranger to the concept, but he had figured he had left that sort of thing behind.)

the ghost hums as the thought passes through their shared subconscious.

"'s not the NUSA tellin' ya to zero 'im. that's how they do biz: they get an idea in your head, and--'fore ya know it--they're washing their hands of you."

vance sighs; one long, full body sigh, broad shoulders rising and falling with it. this scop again.

he eases backwards into the mattress that he sits on. a spring digs against his back. he runs his hands down his face; the monowire pads pressed into his palms are marble smooth on his cheeks. he sets his hands on his chest.

data purrs--relic blue, this time--as johnny manifests beside him.

the latter turns his head to the former. johnny's eyes remain on the ceiling; his features are hard to discern from the stark shadows falling across his face. his long hair fans out around him. it's easy to forget, sometimes, especially in quiet moments like this, that johnny isn't even really there.

vance takes the illusion as it is, without question, and follows johnny's eyes to the popcorned ceiling.

"don't doubt you know what you're talkin' about," vance offers.

"but you're still gonna help 'er," johnny counters, quickly.

"mmhmm."

he makes a show of sighing. "why am i not surprised?"

"'cause you'd do the same."

"bullshit."

"so, yer sayin'--" vance props himself up on one elbow, dog tags coming to dangle around his neck-- "that even if there's a pretty damn real possibility of gettin' you off the relic--

"--big fuckin' if, don't ya think--"

"--you ain't even gonna stick around to find out if it's true?"

"there it is again--if, v, if."

"but what if it is true?" vance tips his head. "what if song really could help us?"

johnny finally looks at him. his lips are pressed into a thin line; he's not pleased. "what the hell was it that i just said, v? they get an idea in yer head--"

"--then they wash their hands of ya. i know." he lies back down, the motion a concession in and of itself. "heard ya the first time."

"ya got too much hope than what's good for ya, v." johnny turns on his side to face him. "'s how they get their claws in you. promise you one thing, quid-pro-quo, and they'll lead you down a shithole of your own makin'. just can't see how far you've dug yourself 'til you're lookin' up from rock bottom."

"fuck," vance breathes, amused. he meets johnny's eyes with a grin. "run that last line by me one more time, johnny--gotta make sure i got it down for the silverhand doctrine."

"oh--" johnny laughs, dry but warm-- "fuck off, v."

vance meets reed in the following days; he had almost missed the pressure of a gun nestling between his ribs. then, alex, if that really is her name this time.

he sees how the years between them have soured--both the time they had spent on the field together, and the time they had spent apart afterwards.

he learns how song had betrayed reed--on rosalind's orders.

just how far does the shithole go?

can't answer that without stopping to look up.

and they can't stop, not yet; hansen's playing diplomat with night city's brightest and boldest, songbird's in her cage, and the black sapphire's looking like the place to be.

vance doesn't miss johnny's glance over--doesn't miss how quickly johnny looks away when he catches the ghost staring, either.

the shell of johnny's ear and the red piercings clipped into the cartilage face vance. the latter pale in comparison to the blush dusting johnny's scruffy cheek.

vance sidles up to him--away from reed's eyes--and leans into his space. the black mesh stretching across his stomach and chest whispers with the motion. it's soft against his exposed skin. he tucks his hands behind his back.

"like what you see?" vance teases, in a murmur.

johnny finds the sea of other brightly colored guests very interesting all of a sudden. he's so intrigued by them that he doesn't dignify vance's question with a response.

it's at the black sapphire that vance sees so mi for what she really is: little of flesh, all machine. myers had not done for song what arasaka had done for vance; she hadn't deigned to hide the true nature of her prize netrunner.

white, block letters run up song's spine and spell MILITECH. myers hadn't bothered hide the mark of her allegiance, either.

or, perhaps, the mark of her owner.

embossed letters spell ARASAKA on vance's innermost machine parts. when he sees song's back for the first time, he swears he can almost feel those letters start to itch.

even after vance learned what song had done to reed; had learned how far she was willing to go; how much she was willing to give; he would have never turned her in.

it's not because reed and alex had needlessly killed the two netrunners they had stolen the identities of. it's not because reed makes his skin crawl, reminding him too much of white, sterile clinics and martyr-like vows of loyalty and the absence of a worthwhile life outside of bureaucratic routine. it's not because of so mi's promise to help him, either.

he doesn't turn her in because if it had been him in her shoes--and it could've very easily turned out that way for him, had arasaka pushed him a little farther--he would've done anything to be free, too.

she is not like him--that implies they're on equal footing.

no, she is exactly what arasaka had wanted. she is what they had spent ten years trying to (unknowingly) replicate. she is the perfection of red and black and angry and alive data.

she had existed this whole time--and vance had had no idea.

he and johnny have a bond that goes beyond flesh and bone and chrome. if there's ever a day where they're finally separated, vance will think that separation only superficial.

but vance and songbird...

songbird is the netrunner vance would've been had arasaka kept going. if they hadn't resigned to throwing him out when they deemed him "obsolete".

if song hadn't chipped through the blackwall of her own volition--would rosalind myers, former ceo of arasaka's rival company militech, still have kept her around?

if vance had gone against arasaka's wishes and interacted with the blackwall--would they have called him obsolete?

would he have even met johnny? so mi?

how deep would they have been willing to dig themselves if it meant having a chance at survival?

it's like johnny had said--can't answer that without looking up from rock bottom.

but all vance sees is song leaving him behind; all he sees is the promise she had never truly made; all he sees are stars.

#asks #vance #OH MAN THIS GOT SO LONG. IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR THANK YOU FOR READING #BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST SORRY I GOT REALLY AUTISTIC.#WHOOOWEEE #my writing #im so fuckign eeped up man #phantom liberty #phantom liberty spoilers

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kayzero · 3 months

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So like. Julius Caesar and Pope Gregory XIII don’t exist in the Pokémon universe. So there’s no reason for the Julian or Gregorian calendars to exist. Angels don’t exist in the Pokémon universe either, so the Enoch calendar, but the story behind that is Uriel came down and gave Enoch a calendar with exactly 13 weeks in all four seasons for 364 days.

Black and White confirmed that the Pokémon universe has four seasons, and it’s entirely possible for a human to have created a calendar splitting Arceus’ eighteen Plates throughout the year, each month containing 4 five-day weeks.

And if they did, the months could look something like this:

[ Image ID: A list containing all eighteen Pokémon types split between the four seasons. Spring has Normal, Fairy, Poison, and Electric types, with Electric underlined. Summer has Grass, Bug, Fire, Steel, and Fighting types, with Grass and Bug italicized and Fire underlined. Autumn has Psychic, Flying, Ground, and Dragon, with Flying Underlined. Finally, Winter has Rock, Ghost, Ice, Dark, and Water, with Ice and Water underlined. / End ID. ]

Explanations under the cut.

Summer and Winter have five months because of math Fire and Ice are the Summer and Winter Types. These are explained in-universe as the Supreme (Type) Months, the months in the dead middle of their respective seasons without any dimming or bleeding into the next season. And this is TRUE in the Pokémon universe because (most) people aren’t stupid enough to cause ecological disasters when causing an ecological disaster awakens an all-powerful legendary Pokémon that’s angry at you specifically for causing an ecological disaster! Global warming doesn’t exist! People are afraid of Cappy the Polar Ice Cap Legendary smacking them out of existence!

I’m open to discussion and suggestions about where to shift each type.

Italicized types were considered for a different season, and will be explained more thoroughly.

Underlined types probably won’t be changed without an Astounding Logical Argument that makes me feel stupid for even considering anything else.

Spring:

Animals give birth in the spring and Normal Type Pokémon are based on normal animals.

Fairies are associated with. Um. *flips notes* n. nature. i’m gonna be real with you in every planned-but-not-written explanation of a human sensing fairy type energy i describe it as “smelling wildflowers” and that’s all that went through my head.

Poisonous animals like frogs and snakes and the like. They hibernate. They come out of hibernation in the spring. Yay! This could easily be Winter for the same reason PLUS the fact that you store poisons in cold, sometimes freezing, temperatures.

Electric likely will not change. Thunderstorms happen most frequently in the spring months, because of the moisture and the heat present in the air. Electric could have easily been a Summer Type but I figured that because it rains more frequently in the spring because of snowmelt (“April Showers … May Flowers”), it would be easy to rationalize thunderstorms happening more often in the Spring in Pokéland.

Summer:

Grass and Bug were both considered for Spring because of the whole winter melts away and grass blooms and whatnot and then of course once the plants bloom it attracts the bugs. If I were going to change these two Grass would go to Spring and Bug would stay in Summer maybe.

But I ended up choosing Summer for these two because the summer sun makes the Grass grow and also all the other plants and then the heat and humidity brings all the Bugs to the yard. and they’re like. your sweat is tasty. why do bugs swarm humans we’re so much bigger than them.

Fire is unlikely to change. It’s the Sound of Summer. Summer hot. Sun go brr. Heat Wave Waves Heatingly. Etcetera.

You use fires to forge Steel. Or something along those lines. Honestly I just pulled that out of my butt, I was thinking about Heatran and like Heatran is a legendary and sub Steel. Volcanos or whatever.

THE FLAMES OF YOUTH IGNITE WITHIN FIGHTING TYPES and that’s why they’re in the summer. If you try to fight in the winter you like. Cramp up or something right? Is that bias? I hate winter it causes my body pain.

Autumn

Psy. chic? Fall Season is. appropriately. brain. y. (this is literally my favorite type i was NOT going to put it into the Evil Winter Season. die winter. i hope the global warms faster i’d rather drown than freeze.)

Flying was unlikely to change... however, migration plus tornadoes sneason was my initial thought. But Tornadus-Therian Searion is actually in the spring and migration is a two way street, the birds come back in the pringles. I might just. Switch Flying and Poison. If you Aggron Agree with switching Flying with Poison let me know in the comments.

You know how you run out of spaces and a type just HAS to go into a slot? Luckily I only had one of those. Unlucky it was Dragon. You smart folks probably have a better idea as to what Dragon should switch into but unless you have a good reason as to why the second Type should switch out, don’t @ me (or do @ me I like the attention).

Winter

Mountains are wintery and snowy because they’re so tall. And do you know what mountains are made of? …You do? Can you tell me, I’m lost, I thought they were made of chocolate but they don’t melt in the summer time so that idea’s washed…

Ghost was originally in the Fall, because Spooky Halloween, except not only could October totally be in the Winter now that I’m in charge of the calendar, and if it can’t, then Halloween doesn’t have to be a Fall holiday, it can be a winter holiday!

Ice? Ice. Baby.

Do you know how Dark it gets during the winter? How quickly it gets Dark? Even if we eliminate Daylight Savings (and we are eliminating Daylight Savings) the Equinox still happens in Winter. Days are still shorter. Darker. Sneasel type.

Water is unlikely to change. Like, it was initially in the spring because “oh look the ice is melting it’s time for spring” no bitch that shit cold. the ocean is cold. even during the summer the lakes are cold. it’s at the end of Winter towards the Spring side of things but That Shit Cold.

and that’s it that’s all i have does anyone have ideas for month names or day names aren’t the months named after like. emperors or something. should we name the months after legendaries. If someone comes up with a month name that’s a palindrome that starts with Ho and ends with oh I’ll give you $10. Call that a fiction commission.

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silver-tounges-and-golden-lies · 2 years

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Wild Kratt's but the bros are ancient gods that created the creatures.

The rundown on this au:

Chris things:

He's a land god that created most of the land dwelling animals.

He also was unsupervised while creating a plant, he created weed and got high for three days straight.

He also created shrooms.

He has a necklace that keeps him in a human form, made for him by Martin.

He has gotten decapitated multiple times.

His blood is tinged green, bleeds slower, and is sticky like sap.

Doesn't like fire because tree.

Can stay under water for a few hours before drowning actually becomes a threat.

He's tied to the above water land masses, like a dryad.

Occasionally becomes one with the mushrooms.

Agender he/him.

Poison ivy, poison oak,and wild flowers on his shoulders and tail in god form.

He can grow mushrooms and flowers out of his skin, regardless of form.

Hollow chest cavity is filled with vines in god form.

Freezing can kill him, but only in extreme freezing temperatures.

Has a secondary set of wings that unfold from his upper ribs, in his god form.

Has moss on his primary set of wings.

Martin things:

He's a water/ocean god that created most of the water/sea animals.

He has a anklet that he wears to keep him in human form, made for him by Chris.

Clear blood like the ocellated icefish.

Extremely flexible.

Has gills that show up under water.

Falls asleep under water sometimes, in human form.

In god form both his mouths have megalodon teeth.

His god form has three tongues.

He tastes more.

When in deserts or really dry areas he needs to drink more water.

He's tied to the ocean, like a nymph.

His crown horns are poisonous, the poison is stonefish poison, don't get stabbed.

Trans.

Takes ridiculously hot showers.

His eyes can move separately from each other.

Can choose to see infrared radiation.

His manta ray wings generate electric shocks.

Doesn't need to blink and will use this ability to fuck with people.

He also can change his pupil shape at will.

Has only died once.

He can run on water like a basilisk.

His tail can change shape.

Things that apply to both bros:

Neither of them actually have to touch a creature to transform, they just do it to make Aviva feel good.

They don't need the miniaturizer to change sizes.

They have multiple times turned into their god forms on accident and everyone else chalks it up to suit malfunctions.

They play Arm Hockey a bunch. Ask me about arm hockey. Please you definitely want to know. :)

While using the Creature Power Suits they look far more like the animal they're turning into just slightly off color, everyone else gets the canon suits.

They used to be able to transform at will but another jealous nature god yoinked that ability.

The bros worked together to make birds and amphibians.

When they're tired their god forms start to show.

Their eyes do the tapetum lucidum thing that cats eyes do.

✨Photosynthesis✨

They only half try to hide they're gods.

Power suit malfunctions cause the bros to be more feral the longer the malfunction lasts.

They can temporarily die, but will reform.

Is extremely hard to kill them.

Can talk to and understand animals, but Martin understands water/sea animals better and Chris understands land animals better.

Can feel pollution.

Sharp teeth in human form.

Whenever Aviva complements natures design the bros are very very happy.

Other things:

Jimmy knows that the bros aren't human, he's somehow the only one that notices right away.

The Tortuga's power source and base form was a gift from the bros who got it from a friend, that friend was Mother Nature.

The Tortuga has a Klabauterman.

Jimmy gets a gun at some point, it was given to him by the bros.

The villains eventually find out that the bros are gods and proceed to shit them selves.

Aviva and Koki have a "I've been yelling at gods. I've been yelling at gods." moment.

And god forms under the read more.

early editions, they'll probably be revisited at some point

Chris's god form

Martins god form

#orca rambles #wild kratts au #wild kratts

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arcadekitten · 2 years

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Well, now that you told us what type of pokemon Zapara would use from that one ask, it made me wonder, what type of Pokemon do you think the rest of the characters in HFSH/CM would use?

Ooooh yes yes yes!! I have actively thought about this and am so happy you asked!! ✰ List and some spoiler characters so read-more! I'll start with Cemetery Mary characters and then bleed into Here For Sweethearts!

Mary - Ghost types, of course!

Reginald - Poison. Self-explanatory.

Crowven - Dark!

Twyla - I go back and forth between fire and flying with this one.

Vasilis - Psychic ! Especially stantler, it's a perfect fit!

Netina - Probably fairy. She loves the cute and pink stuff! (Also water. because fish. I imagine all the fishes have some sort of water extension)

Theo & Zap: Dark! Maybe with a bit of fighting mixed in somewhere.

Mitzi - Maybe poison, maybe normal. Maybe even electric! A real mixed bag!

Ollie - Ghost!

Gunter & Jaxter: Ice! They are snowy guys, after all!

Acanthibar - Water! And maybe a fairy or two since he's like my "fairytale prince"

Nova - Toss up between dark, poison, and bug!

#cemetery mary #hfsh #here for sweethearts #hereforsweethearts #im too tired to tag all the characters rn #ask

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katyspersonal · 2 years

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Also now that I've made more progress in Fishing Hamlet, I've seen that their wizards use YELLOW bolt magic, and every other mob drops a bolt blood gem!

And this makes sense, as even blood gems that give Bolt damage are coded as yellow! (With Poison gems coded as purple, Arcane as grey, Fire as orange, passive effect gems as green/cyan, active effect gems as pure red and Bloodtinge gems as blue)

But I wonder why is that? In lore Bolt is said to come from undead Loran darkbeasts and then utilized by Archibald for the hunters, and Abhorrent Beasts + Loran Silverbeasts are using blue Bolt too! So like, the ones using NOT blue Bolt are also those as secluded from beasthood as possible, so perhaps in their case it manifested differently. In real world blue electricity also carries way stronger charge than yellow, so perhaps "weaker" Bolt color is more or less evidence of Fishing Hamlet people having stagnated in their state for a long time rather than "evolving" like Loran people kept doing (wow that didn't end well...)?

However, that also could be unique properties of their blood! The curses (with scary skulls!) they are using as shown in spells of their wizards and Accursed Brew are purple, but for others the same magic is crimson red (like spell of Executioner Glove or Logarius's magic, remains of vilebloods spirits in transpormed Logarius Wheel too).

So yeah, it seems like they are very far from beasthood as their bolts are closer to the original yellow form that manifests in altered blood, but they are also far from humanity (pthumerity) as their blood magic is purple. (I'd say they are blood-related curses, because in Ritual Blood 4 and 5 you see The Scary Skull as well).

Maybe their mutation into fish people is really not fully a curse, but not fully a blessing either! I mean the mobs there bleed both red and "grey", when usually it is either "grey" (with Kin) or red. With imperfect Great Ones like Rom and Ebrietas bleeding both too 🤔 More like striking just right balance between... lifeforms I guess.

#bloodborne #fandomry rambles #sorry it REALLY bothers me!#odds are they just decided yellow bolt looked prettier in blue area but beasts looked cooler with blue #but irl blue colored electricity has STRONGER charge! arrrrgh.#with purple being THE strongest and red being THE weakest.#there is also the fact that marine creatures are infamous for using electricity and biolumiscence #so... maybe they needed it haha #but yeah they are super unusual group. screw byrgenwerth idiots for ruining everything lol #killing of very secluded and uniquely evolved group. then killing vilebloods who preserved ancient blood rites #miyazaki used every single way to insult humanity and hjacking unique cultures instead of-#-cherishing them is just one of those things :pensive:#bloodborne theory

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kanos-blorbos-archive · 3 months

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About time I talked about Hybrids, I mentioned them in Endrake's and Jacob Jr's post but haven't gone into detail ofc, just a little heads up this is practically part 1 of a series of hybrid info I'm gonna post, because it's a lot and I kinda want to keep my lore bite-sized on this blog

Also disclaimer number two the universe I'm talking about is like a beta of the of which is also the universe the reincarnation AU is set in so imma put all this both in og universe and beta universe

Ok SO today we're starting from the basics

What are hybrids?

Hybrids, as the name suggests, are human/dragon hybrids, they've been created on the planet Sirius to deal with the evergrowing deal of dragons, a native and invasive species to Sirius, that has been terrorising the people and destroying the cities, hybrids are the supposed solution to this dragon problem, they appear as humans with wings, tail and different mutations, they're stronger than the average human, have regenerative qualities and, from the 3rd generation forward, also manifest what's known as "Dragon Power", which is a power given depending on the dragon DNA fused with the subject.

Just to introduce more terminology, wings and tail and sometime mutations as referred to as draconic features

Before we talk about draconic features, let's talk about general features of the hybrids, specifically the superhuman strength, which is given either by genetic mutation or mechanical inserts, depending on the generation, hybrids can lift an average of 75kg to 200kg with little to no effort, and can hit with enough force to crack human bones up until being able to perforate dragon skin, plus they are extremely durable and resistant, up to 3rd generation onwards they are almost bulletproof (requiring either gas or energy based weapons for termination) and they resist toxins, fire, acid, extremely cold and heat, and electricity, making them very useful working with most kind of dragons, some could also resist either of them better because of their dragon power.

The other feature we're talking about today is their regenerative capabilities, which appear from 2nd generation forward, they have augmented regenerative capabilities, they're able to regenerate most wounds and recover partial or total limb loss, depends on the generation as well, the wound will leave a scar behind in all cases, and of course will heal faster if the bleeding is stopped and the wound is properly closed, they can even regenerate large wounds to their heart, if no other wound is present and have enough time, it's also close to impossible for an hybrid that can regenerate to get ill

I'm going to conclude this part with a little specification, I mentioned using gas to terminate hybrids, the kind of gas used for this scope is highly poisonous and toxic, and specifically brewed to kill something as resistant as an hybrid, needless to say it's also incredibly toxic to other living creatures who don't resist toxins and poisons

And for now that's it! See you next time with more info! And feel free to send any asks about this, or anything actually

#og universe #worldbuilding #beta universe #kano's delirium

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gasconnection · 2 years

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Why Is My Gas Fireplace Constantly Turning Off?

Fireplaces are wonderful because they provide both warmth and a cozy atmosphere. Unfortunately, there is nothing like sitting on the couch with your loved one when suddenly you realize that no matter how much wood or coal you put in the fireplace, it will not light up. If your gas fireplace keeps going out, it's probably because a sensor or valve needs to be cleaned or replaced. The oxy pilot (which monitors oxygen levels), thermopile (which regulates gas flow), and thermocouple (scaling system that converts temperature into an electrical impulse) are usually at fault—but in rare cases may indicate a gas leak. A Gas Fireplace Service Denver professional can help you figure out which part is not working, clean it or replace it if needed.

Keep in mind that if you haven't used your fireplace in months, it may take some time to bleed the line of air and allow gas to flow so that the pilot can light. If this is the case, patience is required. However, the following are a few potential causes if your gas fireplace continues to go out:

The Pilot Light

A gas fireplace's pilot light is a common reason for the shutdown. This is an essential component of a gas fireplace that ignites the gas fire. When you turn on the fire, the pilot light button must be held in place so that the fire can be lit. Understandably, if your fire isn't catching or if it keeps going out, the pilot light could be to blame. This could be due to debris or dust in the pilot light. This affects how the fire catches, and the resulting lazy flame disrupts the main flame. This will have an effect on the fire, causing it to go out. The pilot light is used to ignite the fire and remains lit while the fire is in use. As a result, if the pilot light fails, the fire will be affected.

Thermostat Issues

If your gas fireplace continues to burn out, there could be a number of problems with your thermostat or thermostat remote. Set the thermostat to manual mode and set the thermostat to the highest setting. If necessary, replace the batteries.

Thermocouple and Thermopile Issues

The thermocouple and thermopile are the two most important components of a gas fireplace. The thermocouple detects heat and keeps the pilot light lit, while the thermopile allows gas to flow to the appliance's main burner. If any of these components fail, your gas fireplace could go out again. A qualified fireplace repairman should always investigate and repair this.

The Oxypilot

The oxy pilot is a critical component of a gas fireplace. It is a sensor that measures the amount of oxygen in the room where the gas fireplace is located. If it detects a lack of oxygen, it is responsible for turning off the fireplace. This is a critical safety feature that guards against carbon monoxide poisoning, which can be fatal.

If the oxy pilot fails, it can turn off the gas valve, which then turns off the pilot light. This can occur for a variety of reasons, including being clogged with dirt. If you suspect this is the case, we recommend having it checked out by a professional so that any potential carbon monoxide issues can be ruled out.

Other Causes of Your Gas Fireplace Failure

-The pressure of the gas. Your fireplace will not work properly if your gas pressure is not properly set. A certified technician will be required to make the necessary adjustments.

-Bad gas valve. Gas valve failure is uncommon, but when it occurs, it poses a fire hazard and should be replaced by a trained professional.

-There is moisture in the gas line. This is also unusual. Because water and gas do not mix, the flame in your fireplace may go out.

-Burner ports have been blocked. Dirt, soot, and oxidation can accumulate on burner ports, obstructing gas flow and causing fire.

It is important to note that regular maintenance can prevent the majority of gas fireplace problems. An annual cleaning is advised.

Get Your Gas Fireplace Serviced!

If your gas fireplace hasn't been serviced by a professional in a while, then consider scheduling an appointment. A professional will be able to determine the cause of any issues – quickly and efficiently. To keep your gas fireplace running smoothly, have it serviced once a year. At The Gas Connection, our gas fireplace service Denver experts are the most reliable and efficient in the industry. We will ensure that your gas fireplace is in optimal condition by checking its operation, cleaning it, repairing any parts that need fixing, and making sure that everything is working properly. If you are having any issues with your gas fireplace, then contact us at (303) 466-4206! We are available to handle any gas fireplace problems that you may have and will get the job done right!

#Gas Fireplace Service Arvada #Gas Fireplace Service Loveland #Gas Line Installation in Broomfield #Gas Line Installation in Thornton

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 2 years

Note

Rpg Anon: 1. Sure. Remnant Sonia can still use military equipment for her attacks while still reveling in the death of her own people and controlling morale. Hell, it be fitting for her own attacks to hurt her own allies/Novoselic citizens. 2. I may have forgotten some but I'll try. To save time, I'm skipping descriptions and also not going to include the special status effects the other Remnants have.

Burn, Bleed, Stun/Shock, Despair, Hope (I forgot what this did), Hunger, Stuffed, Good Luck, Bad Luck, Frozen, Taunt/Aggro, Charmed/Hypnotized, Wet, Fear, Poison, Confused/Disoriented, Sleep, Berserk, Mute, Blind, Doom, Chibi, and that's all I remember so far.

//Ok, so here’s a list of animals I think we can consider using for Gundham’s fight. I don’t know if we’ll use them all, but I also think it’s a fun and stupid idea to have a boss that can inflict almost every random status effect on you.

Salamanders burn you. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but this is Danganronpa and in Danganronpa, everything is bullshit. Either that, or we get a panda to spit fire.

Wolverine’s inflict bleeding by attacking with their claws. honestly, any animal that has sharp claws that they use specifically to attack would work, but Wolverine’s I think work best.

Stun/Shock is inflicted by Electric Eel’s or alternatively, Jellyfish.

We’ll leave out Hope because regardless of what it does, it doesn’t make sense for a Remnant of Despair boss fight to inflict Hope.

Despair is inflicted by Gundham himself.

For Hunger, I really have no idea, but I came up with a stupid concept in using Seagulls. To give the sense that seagulls steal the food that’s in your hand without warning, and leave you hungry and depressed.

I don’t know about stuffed. Maybe we could get a monkey or ape of some sort to shove food down your throat.

Good Luck should be implemented as a random chance thing that can turn the tide in your favor, and bad luck do the reverse. I think that a Black Cat should be used for both, because in most places, when a Black Cat crosses your path, it’s considered to be bad luck, but in places like Scotland, it’s the reverse, where Black Cat’s are considered very lucky. So if a Black Cat appears in the battle, whichever one you get is a coin toss. (Thank you Simon Pegg for teaching me that.)

Freeze should be inflicted by an arctic animal like a Penguin or a Polar Bear. Again, it makes no sense, but it doesn’t have to.

Taunt/Aggro is inflicted by mischievous monkeys/apes. And I know I used those for stuffed, but that was more of a guideline than anything else.

Hypnotize is inflicted by a cobra. There are a few animals like a cuttlefish that can hypnotise it’s prey by flashing disco lights, so I did consider that, but a cobra seems more useable, and Gundham HAS used one before.

Wet is inflicted by a fish. Just a regular fish that Gundham throws at you.

Fear is inflicted by Lion. Lion’s probably have high attack when they get summoned in battle, but they can probably terrify you with a roar.

Poison is inflicted by scorpions. Pretty standard.

Confused/Disoriented is inflicted by Butterfly’s/Moth’s. The reason being is they have large circles on their bodies that look like eyes. Predators often aim for the eyes (or the head). Eyespots fool them into attacking a less vulnerable part of the body. I know the human brain is smarter than most animals, but even so.

Sleep is inflicted by poison frogs. I just wanted to use a different toxic animal for this one.

Berserk is inflicted by Octopi, because they jump on your character and cover them with ink, which enrages them.

//And I don’t know what to do for the others. I think we’ll miss Chibi as well though because that’s just ridiculous.

-Mod

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 3 years

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Why do yeerks die when their hosts die?

Someone over on AO3 claimed this was a plot hole, but I’m gonna disagree. I think it does make sense with their physiology.

We know from MM4 and HBC that a yeerk inside a brain (human, hork-bajir, etc.) is completely interfaced with that brain and isn’t even yeerk-shaped anymore. They might even dissolve into a literal liquid to interface directly with human cells, and only solidify on exit. Regardless, we know the yeerk is super spread-out and super soupy when controlling a host. And we know that some kind of signals — electrical, chemical, psychic — are passing between the cells of the host body and the sensors of the yeerk.

My guess would then be that, when the host brain dies, it’s a power surge that the yeerk’s body can’t handle. Like what’d happen if a lamp suddenly got enough electricity running through it to power a house: flash, bang, broken glass everywhere.

It’s rare to see yeerks able to bail out in time, because we know they need a few seconds to exit (#41, MM4) and that trying to rush the process ends badly for yeerk and host alike (Visser). So that gives Esplin 9466 enough time to get out when Alloran is poisoned, and Visser Four the ability to abandon a bleeding-internally-but-not-yet-dead John Berryman. But not enough time if host dies immediately, as from a fall (#7), a torn-out throat (#19), or beheading (#33).

There’s also the issue of yeerks needing to be suspended in liquid to survive. We don’t know if they’re like whales in that dry-Earth gravity will just smush them, or if they’re like fish in that they need liquid to breathe, but the few times a yeerk does end up unpooled and unhosted, they immediately hoof it for the nearest liquid. Cassie puts Illim in a baggie of water and Aftran in a horse trough for their protection (#29), Visser Three escapes without Alloran through diving into a river (#8), and Visser One makes a break for the yeerk pool before Eva squashes her (#45).

So if a yeerk is in a dying host, it’s probably sort of like a human being in a spaceship that’s currently on fire, with no spacesuits to use for escape and only the slim hope of being able to dive through the vacuum of space fast enough to get picked up by a rescuer before suffocating. You can understand why the human would hesitate to escape and might even choose the fast death, and some yeerks might end up making the same choice.

#animorphs #animorphs meta #yeerks #controllers #body horror #character death

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candidhart · 3 years

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Made this one some time ago and had the HONOR of collabing with my dear friend @royai who wrote this AMAZING piece!

Love u Katie :3

After Dark

by @royai

It came as a surprise to Riza Hawkeye that the light could be as fearsome as the dark.

It never occurred to her that trouble could exist in the thin space between the two, that it should preserve itself there for a hundred years, maybe longer, and wait. She imagined herself as a girl asleep in her bed, moonlight slanting through her four-paned glass window, a ferry for the monsters and the things that were worse than monsters. Children checked under their beds and inside their closets, refused to venture into cellars and attics, thought of warding off the unknown with fat oil lamps and candles melting into their brass candlesticks. That things with spindly arms and bodies blacker than ink could use light as a conduit for their demented games…

That they could touch her, even…

Nightmares took up residence in Riza’s sleep. In her waking too, they lingered there, limned her mind with the briefest flashing of tendrils. She curled into herself at night, closed her eyes on the horrors. The blackness found her, though. A million spider’s legs on her body, ghosting the flesh, raising the hairs, and that line on her cheek where the monster had touched her would weep. And she would weep, too, because it had been so long since dread had forced its way in. The tendrils brought strange, frantic memories to the forefront. A panic as familiar as church bells.

Riza’s father, a monster in his own right, in the way that men become monsters and in the way that she had become a kind of monster too. He never minded her but to be those tendrils in the dark. Never in the light. That was her comfort, her safety, her promise.

The light.

A betrayal.

***

Central reached for her like a beggar. Grimy hands, oil-stained, gunk under fingernails chipped and jagged, it closed its hands around her and she was reminded, again, again, again, about the stories her father would tell. He would tell them in his sleep, and make promises of them in her ear, and he would tell them, even, through mouthfuls of blood. That Central was a bastard city. Its towers, spires, and cobblestones bathed in storefront lights bleeding from ornate windows, in the yellow glow of street lamps.

Riza left her apartment and slipped off a curb, first thing.

She remembered her first night in the city. Automobiles flicked light into her windows, made shapes out of the lamp she kept on a pile of boxes in the living room. Shadows in the dark. There were sounds all the time. Movement like tree branches.

Back East, back home, Riza could wander into the fields when she couldn’t sleep. She took a military vehicle into the countryside, an hour or so west, just a bit further inward. It parked fine on the dirt roads. Headlights would go black, melt into the darkness all around, and the hip-high grass cradled her as she sank down, down into the cottony earth. Most people counted sheep to sleep; Riza counted stars, stalks.

She always woke before the sun. Home in time to rinse the sticks from her hair and brew coffee on her electric stove.

Central did not exist to afford her any of that. Central was alive like hordes of flies are alive. Incessant buzzing, a whirring in your ear that you can’t see, that you worry might bury itself in your eardrum. Even before the tendrils and the monsters Riza would lie awake in her bed, books unearthed from boxes, clothes folded in neat squares over her dresser, a chest of drawers not quite filled yet, her apartment unpacked and unsettled, and fret over the whole of it: Central.

She slipped off the curb and scraped her achilles on the concrete. Her teeth crashed together with the force, and she massaged her jaw as she reached down to rub her wounded ankle, fingers coming away wet and red.

A car beat over the cobbled street, spewing dampness from its tires. Riza wasn’t aware that it had rained but she smelled it now, acute and intense, like a single pinprick on the skin.

Out east, that smell was earthy, ancient: soaked stone and evergreens, swollen carriages and damp horse hide, wetted dirt and a choked fire.

Riza took Longmont to Leander, cutting her way through the city via back alleys where moonlight and street light was caught on brick corners and cordoned off by severe angles. She read the stories of women assaulted in Central well past dark, and had seen all the headlines he placed strategically at her desk, a tiny dog-shaped paperweight holding the newspaper steady until the moment Riza could read it and be properly warned. But it was never the people of Central who made her uneasy.

It was several blocks to his apartment. Riza folded herself into the dark. The creature could follow but he could not show himself here, not without a conduit, not without the light. Everything black, nothing inside of it, a void.

A rectangle of light exploded over the ground. Riza stopped, terror seizing her hard. A woman with greying hair hummed and whistled as she sprinkled water out over hanging potted plants. Riza’s chest bounced frantically as she watched the shadow of the woman’s hands in the light, the shadow of the watering can wandering back and forth across the chasm of yellow, methodical as a pendulum.

It happened so suddenly that Riza had little time to react. A mist, a gathering shadow, one red eye peeked out at her from the fluttering darkness. Then, like snakes, tendrils crept out of the line of black and into the little patch of light. Riza willed the woman to close the window, begged her, thought for a moment that she might shout or cry, but it was likely that the woman would only become curious and the window would remain uncovered as she came to watch from her lighted perch.

The monster was an ancient child and yet, in this form, none of his features were childlike. His smile was wolfish and cruel, thin like a knife’s blade, and his tendrils sharp as barbs. They thrashed up against the liquid dark where Riza was hiding, attempting to gather her by the ankles.

The child spoke using a dozen voices.

“Where are you going, Lieutenant Hawkeye?”

Home, she thought. An impulse, the truth, spoken so carelessly in her mind. To him. To the stars or the stalks, that tall grass and damp earth. Somewhere known.

“You have made a rather purposeful attempt to evade me.”

“Forgive me,” she bit, “but our last meeting was less than enjoyable.”

The monster smirked.

“Do I trouble you so much, little Riza?”

The nickname, familiar in sound, comforting in its use, was a bitter poison on his tongue.

“I’ll ask again for transparency.” The tendrils clawed at the ground, raked it. “Where are you going?”

Away from Central.

Away from the light.

To him. To him. To him.

He’ll shut off all the lights, pull all the curtains closed, feed her hot tea and leftover lentil soup and summer sausage. His apartment will smell like cologne and the candle with petals baked into it, and they’ll settle into the down of his bed and see nothing, and the monster will never even realize he has lost.

“You have only as long as the window stays open,” she said, gaining confidence. “I am not bound to you. I can go wherever I want.”

As she said it, the woman in the window started to stir. Her footsteps grew closer, the sound of the humming rising, rising, rising into the final closing of the curtain. The monster’s frown was washed away by the night.

Riza ran.

His apartment was several blocks east of Central Headquarters. The storm’s eye, the quiet, the massive, white and oppressive thing. Riza wound her way past it without managing to sneak a glance. She didn’t need to. She could feel its gaze on her, what all of it represented. And the squared coach lights were tiny pillars of threats, waiting for her to come closer and be beckoned.

She thundered past several shuttered windows; an older man on a stoop hunched close to the ground; the sounds of women chattering together like preening birds, their heels clicking over cracked brick and concrete.

Riza took the stairs two at a time, lunging forward through the hall light, praying nothing would lurch out from the darkness and drag her away. She learned at a young age to fear the sudden jerk of the unknown.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he said. He must have heard her coming, because his door was wrenched open, and he stood there in pajamas and holding a cup of tea, the bag still soaking.

“We’ve had an emergency at the office, sir.”

His brows trundled downward.

“Please, come in,” he said, and moved aside as she nearly tripped her way into his apartment. “Excuse the mess.”

There was no mess, not quite like someone would expect. The Colonel’s apartment was better kept than hers, although she had just moved and he had gotten to stay. Things were collected together in neat piles: alchemy books gathered at one arm of the couch, on the floor, an old mug sat atop them, and there were coats strewn about too, though placed strategically, two on dining chairs and one on the lounge by the front door. Pots hung together in clumps along his kitchen walls, white-tiled, much nicer than Riza’s tan wallpaper; and on his floor, beneath the coffee table, several sewn blankets, all gifts from the Madame’s girls, as far as anyone knew.

Riza reached for one as she folded herself into his couch. “Please, sir. Can you turn off the lights?”

He set his tea on the counter. Again, he looked at her with concern, but the lights started to fall away the closer he came to her. First the kitchen, the six squares of dining space, the hall light he shut off as he sat opposite to her on the couch. The lamp was last. And finally, with the lights of Central thoroughly shut out, Riza could breathe.

It was much like how she would lock herself in the bathroom as a child, plugging the bottom of the door with a wet towel, the waxy shower curtain a flimsy barrier between herself and her raging father. Eventually he removed the locks, and then the knobs. Even now, she felt the cold, hard press of the tub’s porcelain on her back.

“Thank you.”

Silence, and then: “What are you doing here, Lieutenant?”

Coming home.

“I’m not sure myself, sir.”

The Colonel shifted his weight. He was a full cushion away from her, but his heat radiated all the same.

“What happened to your cheek?”

“I cut it on a bramble while fetching a lost toy for Hayate at the park.”

Fingers pressed to her skin, a thumb ran slanted along her wound.

It was reminiscent of childhood, for sure. Riza had always courted this quiet, contemplative darkness. It was when she was a little older that she invited Roy into it, and he welcomed the invitation, and he was a kind, treasured guest. But tonight she was feeling particularly fragile.

She took his hand and fit his knuckles under her chin.

The monster had allowed her to be here, that much was certain. There was no other reason that he wouldn’t have stolen her from those stairs.

She crushed Roy’s hand into herself.

What was he after?

What was the motive?

Was it… afraid?

Roy leaned closer to her. His fingers squeezed hers. He wanted to say something, she knew, or ask her why she had come to him and begged for the dark.

She would not tell him. Tomorrow, maybe, but tonight she was fragile.

Riza found his mouth in the dark. She set his hand free and it wrapped itself around the curve of her neck, tipping her head back. His other hand gave her hair a gentle tug.

“Are you all right?” he managed to ask around her lips, while she occupied herself with tracing the scars on his hip and in his abdomen. She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled him toward her until she was on her back and he had to brace himself against the arm of the couch. “Lieutenant,” he said, though the sentiment was weak, ill-willed. He was attempting and failing at control.

“I’m all right,” she said, and kissed him again. He tasted like his tea. Again his fingers brushed the cut on her cheek, and as they did she was shocked, jolted. She broke away from him and sat upright. “I’m, uh…”

“I really just need to know if you’re all right.”

“I’m going to go.”

“Lieutenant— Riza.”

The name was too much, the break in her skin was too much, the darkness was not enough. It was not enough. The curtain hadn’t been enough. The porcelain. All the nights cascaded in the dark, the world pulling itself to a close around her, fitting like a glove.

“I have to go.”

The Colonel kept to his place on the couch as she stood and put her hand on the door and wondered again about what the monster wanted.

She hadn’t known as a child, and she had survived anyway.

She had survived.

The light swallowed her whole.

#royai #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #selim bradley #fma #fullmetal alchemist #LOVE U KATIE #so nice to do a collab....#AND ITS SO GOOD #also yes I have a lot of feelings about the whole Pride situation #myart

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vinyls-and-valentines · 3 years

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Description: Fun Ghoul and Party Poison keep crossing paths. Neither side's too stoked about it, but Poison needs help and Ghoul can't just turn em away— common sense be damned. Warning(s) for: Injury, Needles, One (1) Mention of Fire, and, of course: Angst Tagging: @organhaver, @dagger-queen, @tasteofamnesia, @struckbysatellites Additional notes: Writing some alternate first meeting stuff because i'm stuck on my actually canon stuff? More likely than you think! ao3 link || wordcount: 1749

Fun Ghoul is not a doctor. Not the people kind, at least, nor the machine kind like he had once wanted to become as a starry-eyed kid, but nonetheless he does know a thing or two about the human body and vaguely how it works. This, however, seems to be enough for him to qualify as doctor enough in Party Poison's mind— a red-haired crash queen Ghoul had met maybe two or three times and, mind you, all had ended up in rather heated spats— as ey barges into Ghoul's unannounced and carrying a lanky and rather unconscious blonde killjoy, the candy atom vaguely places as being the Kobra Kid.

"Couch." Ghoul all but hisses, as he pushes some junk out of the way to reveal an old electric kettle barely held together with wire tape and black dried-up mystery goo, "Also, you better have a good story to tell because so far i see no reason why i should help fix your fuck ups." he adds, ducking under the desk he was sat at before the redhead so rudely barged in, grabbing a couple bottles of water.

"I didn't fuck anything up." Poison glares daggers at Ghoul as he empties the bottles and switches the kettle on, but it's hard to take em seriously when ey stands awkwardly next to the couch, seemingly at a loss of what to do next, "This dumbass got in Destroya-knows-what kind of shit again, and i had to do something before it bled out in some alleyway again."

There's a hint of tiredness buried under the annoyance in eir voice, but Ghoul doesn't quite register it, much more preoccupied with the sudden realization that people do tend to, in fact, bleed when they are injured and his couch is going to gain a couple more stains that look like (and probably are) blood. A loud click breaks the killjoy out of his thoughts, signaling the water had finished boiling, and he pushes past Poison to grab the cleanest piece of cloth he knew of from the top of a scrap fabric pile that looked more an animal had made itself at home inside it. The crash queen mumbles something under eir breath in protest, but let the former pass by regardless, watching as he walks back to the desk and produces a bowl seemingly out of nowhere, before pouring out the water and dunking a pair of tweezers and the cloth in it; how he found any of those, there was no apparent way of telling, the room they were in seemingly stuck in the aftermath of a hurricane.

"Oi, gumdrops— help me and take off its shirt while i make sure these things are clean." Ghoul snaps his fingers to grab Poison's attention and ey throws him another glare that he brushes off with an eyeroll, quietly mumbling, "Witch-help-me if i have to deal with you again because kid got an infection."

"Trust me, i wouldn't have come here if i had any other option." the latter returns the feeling, and he turns around to say something, but his words evaporate on the tip of his tongue like a drop of water in the midday sun as he watches Poison, for only a brief moment, gently peeling off Kobra's t-shirt, grimacing slightly whenever the fabric pulled at its wounds.

It doesn't feel like something he was meant to see— the scene feeling like the polar opposite of the rough and boastful Party Poison that Ghoul knows— and he quickly turns back around in his seat, trying his best to focus on the matter at hand as looks around for something to fish out his out of the still-hot water. Whoever the Kobra Kid is to Poison, ey seem to care about it deeply, and as much it pains him to step on his pride and admit it, Ghoul understands what that's like.

Armed with tweezers in one hand and the cloth hanging over the edge of the bowl enough so Ghoul won't get injured himself as he tends to Kobra's wounds in the other, the candy atom turns to face the pair and keeps his eyes trained on Kobra, giving it a quick one-over while pointedly trying to avoid the cold, steady gaze Poison kept trained on him every step of the way. There's an angry redline going across the motorbaby's stomach, as well as a couple flaky burn marks, charred around the edges where the shirt had melted into skin from a blast set on stun from a little too close to be harmless, but the tiny patch of red on the side of its neck is enough to turn Ghoul's blood cold.

"Poison," the killjoy says slowly, taking in deep breaths to try and make his voice sound less wobbly, "I need you to run over to Tommy's and grab a needle and syringe for me, with some Morning-sun."

"Why?" Poison's expression turns into a midpoint between confusion and skepticism as ey moves ever so slightly further between Ghoul and the blonde teen, "Ghoul, what the hell do you want to do to my— to Kobra?"

"Just trust me on this." he tries to hold eir gaze, but his faux confidence falls through as he quickly adverts his gaze again, only making the former's frown deepen.

"No, Ghoul, i won't 'just trust you on this'!" ey barks, as if Ghoul had struck a nerve in his hesitation of sharing his whole academic history with some stranger he's barely even met, "That's BL/i shit! There's no way i'm letting you or anyone near it with any of that! We don't know—"

"I know what i'm doing, Poison!" Ghoul raises his voice, and he hates how it feels as natural as breathing, despite the way his actual breath speeds up and he becomes all-too-aware about the blood coursing through his veins.

There's a long beat of silence, in which the black-haired killjoy tries to steady himself by focusing on the warmth of the bowl in his hand and the grip of the tweezers, as Poison takes eir time coming to a resolve they announce in a cold tone, "Fine. But if you try anything funny, i'll burn this whole place down with you in it— mark my words."

And with that ey is gone, leaving Ghoul play doctor all on his own as if his hands don't shake and he's not completely clueless as what he's supposed to do if any wound calls for a suture, because Ghoul was taught how to scientist— how to work with tubes and pills and chips smaller than a strand of hair, how to record the effects they have on the human body and how to know why— but never how to help. Regardless, he kneels by the couch, setting the bowl down and balancing the tweezers on its lip, before beginning to lightly wipe away the blood from the cut over Kobra's stomach that Ghoul finds relieved only needs to be cleaned up and maybe wrapped up in clean dressings he probably should've asked Poison to grab as well. Next, he moves to its shoulder, grabbing the tweezers and carefully pulling at the charred remains of the killjoy's t-shirt, wincing whenever they left a tiny red mark in their wake that he makes sure to clean up quickly before removing the rest.

It's a tedious process, but it keeps him busy for the majority of the time Poison is gone, warding off some of the memories stubbornly circling his head alongside newfound curiosity of what Kobra must've done for Better Living to want it back even after escaping the City, though he quickly bats the latter away, knowing damn well he has no place to speak. When the red-haired killjoys finally returns, Ghoul's tinkering with a broken old radio he'd been meaning to fix enough to at least get tapes working on it, but he quickly pushes it aside as Poison unceremoniously drops a bag containing the shopping list he gave em. From there it's as close to protocol as you can get with none of the supplies— prepare the needle, get the contents of the vial into the syringe, give it a preliminary squeeze to make sure there's no air stuck in with the serum, wipe down the area and administer the dosage.

"If i'm wrong, this should only give it a headache when it wakes up." Ghoul says as they steadily squeeze the plunger until it hits the bottom of the barrel, taking out the needle and pressing a clean rag over where he's punctured Kobra's neck in lieu of a bandaid, "If i'm right then it should wake up in another 15 minutes to half an hour, or so."

Poison nods distracted, brushing some of the blonde's hair out of it faces, and even though ey hasn't said anything Ghoul can almost see in eir eyes the question bouncing inside eir skull, "How do you know all this?"

Ghoul throws the needle in the trashcan tucked away in the corner, before turning to Poison with a wry smile, "You said it yourself, remember? Once a city kid..." and the rest of the sentence remains a silent witness to history, as both parties seem to become awfully interested in everything else but each other.

Kobra does wake up eventually, much like Ghoul had said, the first sign of consciousness being a bone-weary groan as the killjoy tentatively cracks open an eye, squinting in the sudden brightness of the room before opening the other and looking around the room with an unreadable expression. Poison is asleep on the other end of the couch, head slightly tipped back against the backrest in a way that cannot be comfortable by any means and Kobra's feet in eir lap, so Ghoul is the only one awake enough to tend to it, but before he can even get a word out, Kobra cuts him off.

"Four questions—" the blonde says, its voice startling Poison away, but it doesn't seem to care as it pins Ghoul with a glare, almost daring him to try and find out what'd happen if he spoke over it, while holding up a hand and counting off its questions as it rattles them off, "How did i get here? Who are you? Why's Poison looking like ey just saw Mother Theresa waltz by, and where the fuck is my bike?"

Ghoul swears it and Poison must be siblings, based on attitude alone.

#kobra: has not rode its bike in 2 weeks because it blew a tire; also kobra: 'where tf is my bike?? poison did you lose my baby?? D:< '#to be fair it was coming down from bad bl/i pre-re-education bullshit but still #anyways. director's commentary over. it's too late for coherence <3 #killjoys #danger days #killjoys fanfic #party poison #fun ghoul #kobra kid #boo's writing #ttlotfk

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thecreaturecodex · 3 years

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Grikkitog

[Commissioned by @coldbloodassassin. I avoided doing the grikkitog during my initial run of PF2e monsters this summer, in part because I couldn’t figure out whether or not it’s supposed to be able to be attacked through its manifested maws. I don’t think so, and have clarified this in my version. This will probably be a somewhat tricky monster to fight in ways that mundane ambush predators wouldn’t be--it can eat three PCs at once while remaining hidden. A dangerous foe for low Perception parties!]

Grikkitog CR 14 NE Aberration This rock suddenly shifts. Clusters of pinpoint eyes open at irregular intervals, as do asymmetrical maws filled with jagged teeth.

A grikkitog is a bizarre predator native to the Plane of Earth. As fleshy meals are scarce on the Plane of Earth, they usually seek to escape to the Material Plane, where they prefer rocky habitats. There, they masquerade as a boulder, part of a cliff face, or even part of a stone structure, and then attack creatures that trod on them or pass by. This behavior has earned them the appellation of “hungry earth”.

A grikkitog can cause jaws and eyes to appear on any surface that is contiguous with the ground where it sits, and can attack, grab and chew to death multiple foes at once. While so doing, their core body remains quiescent, but small twitches and spasms may alert savvy combatants that it is not an ordinary rock. Grikkitogs usually flee if their core bodies take serious damage, preferring to retreat and set up an ambush point somewhere else.

The true body of a grikkitog is a strange symbiotic creature, a fusion between some incorporeal parasite and the body of an earth elemental. Most earth elementals tell horror stories about grikkitog infestation to each other in low, rumbling tones. Some, especially weak or oppressed elementals, may actually seek out a grikkitog in order to gain access to its power to wreak revenge. Such a bargain is short-lived, though—a grikkitog lives for a few decades at the longest as opposed to the functionally immortal elementals, killing the elemental to which it is fused along with it.

Grikkitog CR 14 XP 38,400 NE Huge aberration (earth, extraplanar) Init +8; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., Perception +28, tremorsense 30 ft. Aura infestation (120 ft.) Defense AC 28, touch 12, flat-footed 24 (-2 size, +4 Dex, +16 natural) hp 210 (20d8+120) Fort +13, Ref +10, Will +17 DR 10/adamantine; Immune bleed, paralysis, poison, sleep, stunning; Resist acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10, sonic 10 Offense Speed 20 ft., burrow 20 ft., earth glide Melee 3 bites +22 (1d12+8 plus grab) Space 15 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Special Attacks gnash (1d12 bleed), manifold grab Statistics Str 27, Dex 19, Con 20, Int 14, Wis 21, Cha 20 Base Atk +15; CMB +25 (+29 grapple); CMD 39 Feats Blind-fight, Critical Focus, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Power Attack, Skill Focus (Disguise), Tiring Critical, Toughness, Weapon Focus (bite) Skills Climb +31, Disguise +31 (+35 as a rock), Knowledge (planes) +25, Perception +28, Stealth +19, Survival +28 Languages Aklo, Terran, Undercommon SQ implant core Ecology Environment any mountains or underground (Plane of Earth) Organization solitary Treasure incidental Special Abilities Gnash (Ex) A creature grabbed by a grikkitog takes 1d12 points of bleed damage. Implant Core (Ex) As a full round action, a grikkitog can root itself in place on a rocky surface. While implanted, it cannot move and is considered to be flat-footed, but is always treated as taking 10 on a Disguise check to appear as an ordinary rock. It also gains the use of its infestation aura if it is implanted on the surface. A grikkitog may free itself as a move action. Infestation Aura (Su) An implanted grikkitog can manifest mouths and eyes on earth or stone surfaces within 120 feet, as long as they are in contact with where it has implanted its core. It may make Perception checks and bite attacks from any of these squares, treating them as the source of the attack for the purposes of cover and concealment. Only damage dealt to the grikkitog’s core affects its hit points. While making attacks through its infestation aura, a grikkitog’s core remains disguised, but at a -20 penalty (as if it were making Stealth checks while sniping). Manifold Grab (Ex) A grikkitog may make grapple checks to maintain up to three grapples as a swift action. It does not gain the grappling condition if it makes grapple checks using jaws created through its infestation aura. A grikkitog only takes a -10 penalty on CMB checks to grapple when using just its jaws to maintain the grab.

#grikkitog #commissions #pathfinder 1e #pathfinder 2e

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