#book of the wyrm companion
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Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy
Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy
fomor boar (see M20 Gods & Monsters pg. 105) for use with Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition, W20 Book of the Wyrm, and Book of the Wyrm Companion
ATTRIBUTES: Strength 5, Dexterity 2, Stamina 6, Perception 2, Intelligence 2, Wits 2
ABILITIES: Alertness 2, Athletics 2, Brawl 2, Intimidation 2
Willpower: 3
Health Levels: OK, OK, -1, -1, -2, -5, Incapacitated
Armor Rating: 1 (seven soak dice, total)
Attacks: Bite (Strength +1 lethal); Gore (Strength +2 lethal); Body Horror Cannon (8 dice lethal; 25 yard range at Difficulty 6; may fire as a single-shot or Three-Round Burst [W20, pg. 295] weapon; see below)
Fomori Powers: Berserker, Body-Horror Cannon (x2), Eat Corruption
Brought to you absolutely free to use, to enjoy, to share, to dick-around with, and to argue about – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.
Hugest of special thanks to Josh Heath and to all of my First Team: Last Chancers & Exalted Vs. World of Darkness players.
Portions of this material are the copyrights and trademarks of Paradox Interactive AB, and are used with permission. All rights reserved. For more information please visit worldofdarkness.com.
Nothing here is official World of Darkness material.
art by the incredible Joey Wallace
Berserker: A Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy has a Rage Trait of 5; it may spend & regain Rage exactly as if it were an Ahroun (W20, pg. 144-145) and is allowed a standard Rage-roll to remain active after falling to (or below) Incapacitated. In addition, a Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Gun-Piggy regains points of temporary Rage by consuming corpses, radioactive material, bio-hazardous toxic waste, and other absolutely horrible things (such as, just for example, radioactive corpses soaked in bio-hazardous toxic waste; see the Eat Corruption Power, below, for details). Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Gun-Piggies are vulnerable to frenzy (W20, pg. 261-262).
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Body-Horror Cannon: As a standard action, a Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may choose to spend a point of Willpower or Rage, suffer an unsoakable Health Level of aggravated damage, and roll Willpower, difficulty 7. On a success, the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy draws-forth its cannon instantly; on a failure, it begins pulling the cannon free but must wait three full turns before the weapon is fully ready.
NOTE: The Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy is free to act normally during this time: it does not need to spend further actions “drawing the weapon” as the object slowly emerges from the creature’s body. The Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may – should it fail on this activation-roll – choose to pull the weapon free early, but doing so prevents the beast from regaining its lost Health Level of aggravated damage when the effect of this Power ends (see below).
On a botch, the point of Willpower is spent and the Health Level of aggravated damage is dealt, but the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy can’t force its weapon to emerge from its body for the rest of the scene.
If the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy achieves three or more successes on the Willpower roll to activate this Power, the beast reduces all Difficulties to use the weapon in combat by -1.
When this Power is fully activated, the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy gains use of a Semi-Automatic Shotgun (W20, pg. 303) with unlimited ammunition (detailed above).
This hideous biomechanical firearm is pulled from the monster’s body, still dripping viscera and roaring like a chainsaw, and is often studded with weeping human eyes, crafted of compressed car-engines & rotten meat, continually spraying blood – and less-identifiable fluids – as it screams affronts to Gaia; such cannons are usually crawling with maggots & the obsidian-jade balefire of deepest Malfeas: in all instances, the mere sight of such a weapon incites the Delirium.
This grotesque weapon merges once again with the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy’s body at the end of the scene or after one hour, whichever comes first; the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may choose, at that time, to expend an additional point of Willpower (or Rage) to instead maintain its weapon’s existence for one additional hour or for one additional scene, as appropriate.
The Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may always choose to reabsorb its weapon at any time as a free reflexive action.
If this weapon is removed from the grasp of the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy early, the weapon decays to bits of cartilage, rot, and infected, bubbling ooze at the end of the round … then erupts once more from the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy’s body – appearing in the monster’s hands, ready to use – immediately before the beast’s next action.
When the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy absorbs its weapon back into its body and ends the use of this Power, the monster instantly regenerates its lost Health Level of aggravated damage … unless the weapon was drawn-froth early after a failure on the creature’s activation roll, as noted above.
Each unique, individual Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may choose three (3) of the following Special Ammunition Types when it crawls forth to defile & devour Gaia’s children:
Acid-Drenched Thunderwyrm-Teeth: The piggy’s cannon deals -4 dice of damage as compared to a normal Semi-Automatic Shotgun, but the weapon deals aggravated damage rather than lethal; any creature struck by a blast from the weapon also suffers an additional 2 dice of aggravated damage, soaked separately, the following round (difficulty 6 to soak).
Jagged-Razor Bone-Slivers: The piggy’s cannon deals -1 die of damage as compared to a normal Semi-Automatic Shotgun, but the weapon automatically ignores up to three points of armor. This specific Special Ammunition Type may be selected multiple times, and its effects stack: a cannon with Jagged-Razor Bone-Slivers [x3], for example, deals -3 dice of base damage and ignores up to nine points of armor. The Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may always choose to apply a smaller number of “doses” of this Special Ammunition Type to a shot it makes, if it desires.
Nasty, Sharp, and Pointy: The piggy’s cannon deals +1 die of damage. This specific Special Ammunition Type may be selected multiple times, and its effects stack: a weapon with Acid-Drenched-Thunderwyrm-Teeth plus Nasty, Sharp, and Pointy [x2], for example, would deal -2 dice of base shotgun damage, aggravated (rather than -4 dice); the target would then suffer 2 dice of aggravated damage (as normal) the following round.
‘Splodin’ Tumor-Loogie: The piggy’s cannon deals -2 dice of damage to its primary target; when its projectile detonates, however, the shot then deals [-1 die/2 yards out] of lethal damage to everything else in the area: this means 6 dice of lethal to the first target, 5 dice to everything within two yards, 4 die to everything within four yards, and so-on all the way down to one die of lethal damage to anyone 10 yards away from the target (this is, of course, assuming that the blast doesn’t also have the Nasty, Sharp, and Pointy Special Ammunition Type, above, applied to it -- increasing the base damage of the shot -- or any Special Ammunition Type that LOWERS the base damage of the weapon).
Tumor Full of Infected Waste: This unique Special Ammunition Type may only be added to a ‘Splodin’ Tumor-Loogie shot (see above); when the projectile detonates, it also coats everything within ten yards of the detonation-point with a thick layer of bubbling biohazardous sludge, which very rapidly begins filling the same area with toxic gas. Direct expose to the sizzling liquid deals 2 dice of lethal damage each turn, on the target’s action, until it’s washed-off, while exposure to the fumes deals 2 more dice of lethal damage each turn (also on the target’s action). Creatures with any level of poison resistance or immunity to poison (such as leeches and those with the Gift: Resist Toxin) are immune to the gas, but not to the sludge; a creature outfitted in a full biohazard suit is effectively immune to both. The sludge and gas dissipate after about ten minutes unless cleared-away early: use of the Gift: Call the Breeze (W20, pg. 199) can push away the fumes, but not the sludge itself. This specific Special Ammunition Type may be selected multiple times, and its effects stack: each time it’s selected, the sludge and the fumes each increase the damage they deal by two dice of lethal damage.
Tumor of Gore-Slick Calcification: This unique Special Ammunition Type may only be added to a ‘Splodin’ Tumor-Loogie shot that is also a Tumor Full of Infected Waste shot; when the projectile detonates, the sizzling bile sprayed over everything in the area rapidly hardens into a dense, solid mass of semi-organic, contagion-ridden resin: something like pustulent basalt – formed by the rapid cooling of liquid iron – bubbling with hot plastics & liquefied death. Each round on her action, immediately after a creature suffers additional damage from the toxic sludge of a Tumor Full of Infected Waste, the creature also gains one of the following (her choice):
she suffers a one-die penalty on all Dexterity-related dice pools
she suffers a two-dice penalty on all Perception-related dice pools
her movement-speed is halved, rounded down: because a normal human jogs at a rate of 13 yards per turn and runs at a rate of 20 yards per turn, a human who selects this effect twice (for example) may jog at a rate of only 3 yards per turn or flat-out run at a rate of 5 yards per turn
A creature reduced to a Dexterity score of zero or lower by this effect is effectively frozen – immobilized, able to take only purely mental and social actions (such as screaming for help, activating Gifts that require no external movement, or having a panic attack, for example) – while a creature reduced to a Perception score of zero or lower is effectively blind, deaf, and utterly numb, able to smell and taste only the thick, clotted, tar-like poison coating her, with all sensory-organs otherwise filled-in & glued-shut.
The congealing sludge eventually becomes glass-like – still oozing, ever so slightly, like 120-degree asphalt warping under a gout of balefire – and subsequently shatters into shards of irritating organic-metal dust after about ten minutes (as normal for a Tumor Full of Infected Waste shot).
This specific Special Ammunition Type may be selected multiple times, and its effects stack; each time it’s selected, a creature affected by the sludge suffers an additional “debuff” of her choice (an extra die of Dexterity-penalty, two extra dice of Perception-penalty, or an extra halving of her movement-speed) each round, immediately after suffering damage from the sludge of a Tumor Full of Infected Waste effect: a creature hit by a Tumor of Gore-Slick Calcification [x3] shot, for example, might choose to gain a two-dice Dexterity-penalty and a two-dice Perception-penalty on her first found after suffering damage, then choose to suffer a four-dice Perception-penalty and halve her movement-speed again on the following round.
The Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may always mix-&-match its Special Ammunition Types as it desires, switching between them or combining them on the fly.
NOTE: if a Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy would ever gain a new Fomori Power for any reason, the beast may instead choose to gain two (2) new Special Ammunition Types.
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Eat Corruption: A Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may draw strength & sustenance from unnatural sources, gaining up to ten points of Willpower or Rage (piggy’s choice!) each day from consuming objects thick with corruption and nightmare resonance.
No single object consumed in this way can provide more than three points of Rage (or Willpower), and most such objects provide only a single point. Objects to be consumed must be things associated with depravity, monstrosity, decay, or excess: the Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy gains no benefit from consuming gravel, unless it’s from a spot where a mortal died.
A Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy can even gain Rage (or Willpower) from eating normal human food, so long as the food is eaten in full view of a starving person; alternatively, the piggy might smear the food with blood or other bodily fluids first.
A Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggy may also -- at the Storyteller’s discretion -- gain Rage (or Willpower) from consuming murder weapons, stolen wedding rings, rare art, illegal drugs, human flesh, maggots, vomit, feces, insects, bones, and suicide notes.
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enjoying this? get more here!
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Word on the street these days has it that Chicago-based “private conceptual bio-research design-&-consulting firm” (read as: illegal black-ops military-grade flesh-engineering studio) Jetpacks & Sugar-Bombs LTD. — an off-the-books division of Nik-Nak Computing & high-profile, top-end contractor for Project Echidna — is, as of this most recent financial quarter, under new management.
VERY new management.
This is, just to be clear, more than somewhat to be expected: the catastrophic failure of the Particularly Diseased Pigeon (Book of the Wyrm Companion, pg. 46-47) to hit its numbers in terms of “being able to fucking MURDER a whole shit-ton of Bone Gnawers & their kin” could NOT have come at a worse time for the company, already reeling from the tragically underwhelming debut of the Lookie-Loo Hooty-Hooter (Book of the Wyrm Companion, pg. 38-39).
Long story short? Inflation is up, real wages are down, the stock market is a shit-show, the economy is a shambles, another recession is right around the corner, and the Lookie-Loo Hooty-Hooter is — while certainly a, uhhhh … a “technical marvel,” I guess? — it simply lacks the ... eh, how you say?
The uh ...
THE MOTHERFUCKING WOW!!1! FACTOR, DAWG
... I suppose, that’s required to truly electrify the Board of Directors.
Look, man: Peter Culliford, Benjamin Rushing, and Chase Lamont may not agree on much — other than a shared love of serial-murder & some hardcore mutual disdain for one another — but I think we can all agree that they (and their colleagues) expect something slightly more impressive than “an owl that can see werewolves” when Harold Zettler unveils his newest project.
Like, you know!
A penguin made out of napalm!
An orangutan that shits ninja-stars!
A rattlesnake with a rocket-launcher, and then when it bites you it turns your blood into even more rocket-launcher-snakes that shoot their way out! Pew pew pew!
And let’s be clear: while Jetpacks & Sugar-Bombs LTD. may have a few big wins under their belt, they are — sad to say — sorely lacking the proven track-record of a group like Danmakuden Dynamic (an affiliate of Ichibashi, a subsidiary of Hallahan Fishing Company), or the First United Blargarian Church of Squaid the Redeemer (a splinter-faction of Incognito), or even those asshole bastards over at the Dick Meatsweats Collective (very proudly sponsored by O’Tolley’s, the Family Place!).
Speaking of which?
Yeah, those conniving shit-heals rushed their piss-poor, brick-stupid, utterly-unnecessarily-flashy Pure Goddamn ‘Murikan Patriotism Elemental (Book of the Wyrm Companion, pg. 53-54) out of beta-testing just to get the jump on the hot new King Vulture-fomor currently being built by the evil genius ornithologist team at Jetpacks & Sugar-Bombs, Codename: The King of Vrock.
THERE IS NONE HIGHER.
Hey, dickheads! “Avian-based fomori” are, like, their THING over here, man!
... or, I guess, at least, they were?
A guy who knows a guy who works at Jetpacks & Sugar-Bombs told me that Harold Zettler flew-in from Beaumont on the night the new quarterly figures dropped to personally eviscerate the CEO & feed him to his top brass.
It was a goddamn horror-show, man.
Anyway: Jetpacks & Sugar-Bombs is officially out of the bird-business.
They’re now in the PIG business.
‘Cause the new big-man over at Jetpacks & Sugar-Bombs -- a fellow by the name of Beauregard T. Waterhouse, former head honcho of Southeastern Waterhouse-Mangrove Suburban Development, responsible for fifteen out of the twenty largest hog-rendering facilities in the United States -- has a vision.
And that vision may be briefly summarized as The Age of Swine.
... the longer & less-summarized version, which Beauregard is currently writing-up -- one chapter at a time! -- as a sort of tell-all, self-help, personal-growth & lifestyle-fitness guide / business-Bible for all those cutthroat businessmen who aren’t (yet) greedy enough to literally devour the bones of the enemies, gets a LOT more into Mr. Waterhouse’s deeply held personal belief that “humans,” as a species, will very soon be replaced by a race of genetically-engineered super pig-human hybrids who have been designed to be as delicious as possible.
Once he’s finished, he’s REALLY hoping to get on Oprah with it.
Maybe on Joe Rogan.
Fingers crossed!
(Please note that the “T.” in Mr. Waterhouse’s name stands for “The Boss”).
A figure otherwise shrouded in mystery, Mr. Waterhouse is an intensely private man: they say that no one has ever met him personally, dealing with him only through phone calls, emails, and his loyal assistant: Scoot Turgsen.
Scoot Turgson, ladies & gentlemen: proud, card-carrying member of Tau Upsilon Phi (W20 Book of the Wyrm, pg. 137)
The reason for this privacy is two-fold:
Such anonymity affords Mr. Waterhouse the rare & valuable opportunity to sow mistrust, discord, paranoia, and suspicion among his employees.
Mr. Waterhouse is not human, per se, and in point of fact is technically a Skullpig (W20 Book of the Wyrm, pg. 154-155) who has eaten so many goddamn fomori that he’s now rocking an Intelligence of 5 (or possibly higher, if you decide to give him the Mega-Intelligence Fomori Power [W20 Book of the Wyrm, pg. 133-134 & Book of the Wyrm Companion, pg. 59], because ... eh. Why the fuck not, at this point?)
... and oh yeah, it ALSO lets Mr. Waterhouse do a wide variety of goofy voices for his own amusement (one of his favorite hobbies): while in-character as a CEO, for example, he 100% sounds like Foghorn Leghorn fucked Boss Hog.
He just finds it very funny to hear people shit themselves with terror while he rants & raves about killing them into a speaker-phone with a silly accent.
But that’s not important right now.
What’s important is that Mr. Waterhouse now has the money & connections to make his dream of replacing humans with swine-monsters an actual reality; his hot new Rage-Fueled Fully-Automatic Disposable Gun-Piggies, already in the ramp-up to full-on industrial-scale production, are just his first step.
He has so many more horrible ideas.
And pigs are SO CHEAP to work with!
... and unless someone from the Garou Nation and/or the Beast Courts of the Emerald Mother* can get their shit together and stop him, Mr. Waterhouse is gonna kill a whole goddamn lot of people as he attempts to stomp the world into mud beneath an infinite tide of squealing, Bane-infested murder-pigs.
*NOTE: that would be your PCs.
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As noted above: portions of these materials are the copyrights and trademarks of Paradox Interactive AB, and are used with permission. All rights reserved. For more information please visit worldofdarkness.com.
Nothing here is official World of Darkness material.
all hail the Dark Pack.
(for more information, see here)
#Not pathfinder#World Of Darkness#Werewolf the Apocalypse#pentex#old world of darkness#fomor#fomori#book of the wyrm#book of the wyrm companion#Monster#dark pack
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I made this post yesterday which @/hanafubukki and @/rayroseu and I kind offfff got inspired to actually write something LMAO
Labours Gained
Inc: Malleus, groundskeeper, nanny, briefly Maleficia
WC: 2.2k
Warnings: None, except swearing
Summary: Consequences for your actions come in many forms. For some, it's a time out. For others, it's mucking around in mud all day.
Eirnan was a man who has endured many challenges in his life. Over 600 years of employment as head groundskeeper at Black Scale Palace meant he had faced wyrms, blight, drought, tenebrae boars which had torn up the root vegetables, and the odd employee who nicked a few carrots for their own personal use. He had served during Queen Maleficia’s first reign, and then the wars, and now her second reign. He knew which plots of land were most fertile for which plants, he knew of companion flowers and the medicinal benefits of the herbs, and his mind was an almanac of its own right.
Eirnan was a learned man… until it came to the matter of child-care. He never knew how to act around children, nor did he have any interest in interacting with them to begin with.
But now it’s a beautiful cloudy day in Black Scale Palace, and there is a very, very miserable boy standing before him.
He’s poorly dressed for the occasion—fine garments in the fields are a recipe for disaster—and the eight o’clock hour shows residual glossiness in those green eyes. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest and his lower lip is jutted out in a pout.
Crown Prince Malleus is a temperamental boy—everyone in Black Scale knows this. His latest explosion of emotion regarding an off-handed comment a tutor said (it was a jest! the man had cried while diving for cover behind trees to avoid furious lightning bolts) had resulted in a complete annihilation of the palace gardens. Eirnan had spent much of yesterday repairing the damage while mumbling about how ‘some things truly are genetic’ under his breath.
Then he had received a missive. A missive, which led them to this moment, in which he stands before the prince with his own arms crossed over his chest and his own equally unimpressed expression on his face. At a glance, one would think the two are related with how mirrored these looks are.
Eirnan pulls out a pocket watch and raises an eyebrow. “On time today, hm?”
“I was told not to be late,” Malleus bites back, attitude in his tone as he glares up at the groundskeeper. He doesn’t want to be here. Eirnan doesn’t want him here either. It’s Queen Maleficia who has shoved them together like two children in a time out.
Eirnan can’t help but wonder if he may have slighted her in the past and this is her round of revenge.
“Right, well, you’re on time but you’re certainly not dressed right.” His gaze skims over the boy's proper attire before raising to look at his nanny instead. The woman ducks her head and focuses intently on the book she holds, making it obvious that no aid will be given. This earns a scoff from Eirnan as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck.
What exactly can he make the prince do? Queen Maleficia made it clear that a lesson was to be learned today for his actions. Malleus was barred from using any magic, and the nanny was here to ensure that this was followed through. The prince knew no loyalty or secrets were kept by his staff—a sad reality for a seven year old to face.
“It isn’t like I just have clothes to get dirty lying about.” Malleus retorts again while continuing to glare up at him. There is little to no remorse present—just sheer grouchiness. “I don’t usually muck in mud.”
“Well, you’re mucking in it today.” Eirnan can’t help but have his own bite in his words as he turns and treks towards the nearby gardening shed. Malleus stands rooted in his spot for a moment before following, having to run a little to keep up with the older man's long strides.
The inside of the shed contains the extra attire that the staff wear when working the fields in the on-season. Although the prince is significantly smaller than many of Eirnan’s employees, he does manage to scrounge up some pants, a top, and gloves for the boy to wear.
The shoes are a lost cause. There are no boots that can fit the boy without making him goose walk around the field.
“Put these on then, either over your clothes or not, and then meet me back outside.” He tosses the fabric into the prince’s arms, making the boy stumble back with an oof! of surprise. Malleus looks down at the clothing before his lip curls in disgust. Eirnan does his best to stifle the satisfaction he feels about that as he steps out of the shed and slams the door shut.
It’s a beautiful cloudy day in Black Scale Palace, and this is going to be a long ordeal.
_____________________________________________________________
Twenty minutes of protest later finds Eirnan and Malleus standing before a re-soiled plot of garden near the edges of the palace. The boy's act of destruction yesterday had uprooted a majority of the roses that had been planted there, but a few bushes still remained standing—albeit charred and drooping from the assault. Near their feet are bundles of rose plants that Eirnan had been soaking in the greenhouse overnight in preparation for what was to come today.
The nanny had followed them to this area and is watching with interest from her position on a nearby bench. Malleus looks significantly less intrigued. His gloves are lying discarded on the grass along with his shovel and there’s a distinct air of boredom about him.
“So, what we’re going to do is use our shovels to dig up some holes, ‘bout 18 inches deep, 18 inches wide, yes? Then I need you to mix compost in there—”
“Compost?” Malleus’ head snaps to look up at Eirnan wide-eyed. “But I read that compost has—”
“Shit. Yes, there’s shit in there. Do you still want to fight about putting on those gloves?” Eirnan leans against his own shovel as he looks down at the young boy. Malleus’ brow furrows and his lower lip trembles before he’s grabbing the gloves and shoving them on his hands. He looks ready to cry or throw another tantrum. Eirnan tenses in case that does happen, the memories of the tutor running through the gardens yesterday still fresh in his mind. If Malleus’ does snap, that means he’ll be out here tomorrow, too.
Tough lesson.
“Anyway, mix the compost, and then we need to loosen the roots and put them in the mound. Keep the bud union—that’s the little knob there.” He pauses to squat down and point at the bud on the root. Malleus leans down to look at it as well before Eirnan continues. “About 1 to 2 inches below the ground. Briar Valley has a colder climate, so if we keep it up, it’ll kill the plant.”
“If a plant can’t survive the weather, should we really be planting it?” Malleus’ question is fair. Most of the time, one wouldn’t try to grow plants that can’t acclimate well.
“They can survive, they just need a little help. Princess Meleanor herself was an enormous admirer of roses—it’s her notes of how to plant them that we’re following right now.” Eirnan clears his throat before re-focusing on his explanation. He misses the flicker of interest in the prince’s gaze at the mention of his mother’s name. “As I said, keep it below ground. Then we refill the hole ‘bout three quarters with soil and pat it down. Water it a little, let it soak, and then water it again.”
“There are too many steps.” Malleus grabs at the shovel with an apprehensive glance at the dirt. “Can’t we use a little magic? We don’t need to use it for all of the steps, but one or two? I can just make all the holes appear—”
“No magic. Her highness’ strict orders. Unless you want Queen Maleficia to come out here and watch you herself, which I’m sure is the last thing you want, I’d advise listening to instructions.” Eirnan grabs at his own shovel before tapping it on the back of the prince’s heels, making the boy step forward. “Hop to it, then. This will take up a good part of your morning.”
___________________________________________________________
The first few plantings are painful. The boy doesn’t dig deep enough, and then he digs too deep, and then he buries the plant too deep, and then he doesn’t bother burying it at all. The process reminds Eirnan why he never had any children himself as he carefully explains and fixes all of the prince’s errors. Despite his complaints, the boy actually does listen to his advice, and soon the two fall into a quiet pattern of dig-plant-water.
The compost part is still met with many vocalized protests, though, and Eirnan soon does relent to doing that himself.
“How long does it take to grow?”
Malleus’ question disrupts the silence they had fallen into, causing Eirnan to pause and lean on his shovel again. “Three or so years for these ones. The one’s that are still rooted are fully mature, but I’m not too sure they’ll be blooming this year. The buds got damaged.”
Malleus, who has been sitting cross legged on the dirt with a bundle of rose plants in his hand, stares at the bushes for a moment while his thumb plays with the stems. “Did my mother plant those ones?”
“Before she left, yes. She used to plant new ones at least once every few years. When she got her own palace, she had an entire garden there as well.” Eirnan digs another hole as he speaks. He had been in service long enough to see Meleanor weaned off of Queen Maleficia. The girl had sat where Malleus sits now, and their near identical likeness strikes Eirnan as unnerving, as though he’s been projected into the past and is witnessing those spring days once more.
He clears his throat. “They’ll recover. Roses are hardy plants. Strike ‘em down, and they’ll get back twice as strong.”
“Are you sure?” Malleus looks up at the groundskeeper, his green eyes squinting against the light. Eirnan doesn’t look back as he keeps digging.
“Mhm.”
At the affirmation, the prince returns to planting, now with significantly less attitude than before. He’s almost enjoying the rhythm after a while. Despite his status, in the end the boy is still a boy, and it’s hard to keep a child from loving messing around in dirt.
It’s when the nanny clears her throat and brings over a basket of food that the two finally take a break from their labours to sit in the nearby grass. Eirnan rarely gets to appreciate the fine foods served to the nobles, so he’s indulging himself heartily in the miniature sandwiches that are present when Malleus begins to speak again.
“How long have you been doing this?”
Eirnan pauses, ham sandwich halfway to his mouth. “647 this spring.”
“647 years?” The boy's voice is incredulous as he looks at him. “You’re old.”
“And you’re a baby.” Eirnan grumbles back as he wraps a few of the sandwiches in a napkin.
His comment causes another flash of annoyance to cross the prince’s face. “I’m not! Grandma says I’m very mature for my age!”
“Did she say that to you before yesterday, or after?” He challenges back. Malleus’ cheeks flush as he grabs at a sandwich and takes a bite. After a few more, the scowl on his face softens before he continues his questioning.
“Why do you do this? The manual work? It’s easier with magic.”
“Keeps my stress down.” Eirnan chuckles. The nanny gives a sound that might be mistaken as a laugh, which is quickly covered by a cough while she begins packing the extra food. He mourns the finger sandwiches being lost to the basket. “There’s always something to do for these gardens, and when you’re planting, you can let your mind just fall quiet. Watching something that you worked hard to grow get appreciated by others is a rewarding feeling. Magic takes away from that. The instant gratification fades faster than the long-term that labour brings.”
Malleus falls quiet again as he finishes his sandwich. He then fiddles with his gloves, which are still too big for his small hands. He has dirt on his cheek and his chin that he seems entirely unaware of. Eirnan offers him a napkin to wipe it off, albeit gruffly.
“It isn’t bad.” Malleus finally mumbles when he accepts the napkin and hastily wipes his face.
“What, using magic?”
“No, planting.” Then Malleus looks up quickly with another furrow in his brow. “Except the compost. The compost is bad.”
“It’s shit.” Eirnan shrugs his shoulders and ignores the sharp look the nanny gives him. Malleus’ lips do twitch slightly into a smirk.
“It’s shit.” The boy repeats, causing the nanny to say his name in a scolding tone, which finally does draw a laugh from the prince. “How many more do we need to plant?”
“Three, maybe four. Shouldn’t take long.” Eirnan rises with a grunt and brushes a few spare crumbs off of his pants. The prince is quick to scramble to his feet as well. He seems oddly reinvigorated as he pulls his gloves on and grabs his shovel. He then cranes his head back to look up at the taller man with a spark of challenge in his gaze as that cheeky smirk continues to play on his lips.
“Let’s hop to it then, shall we?”
Eirnan snorts in amusement as the two return to the dirt patch, both unaware of the figure watching from the windows of the palace above, a pleased smile present on her lips.
#malleus draconia#twst#twst fanfiction#i didnt know if it was ok to tag directly so i just did a lil slash#i always feel awk tagging ppl LMAOOO#anyway this was super fun i love writing the 'exhausted adult and devious child' dynamic#i feel like malleus was just a cheeky lil guy growing up yk
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“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” neri/raphael?
Hiiiiiiiii I give up editing this but thank you so much i spent way too much time on this insane fic but wow was it fun to write ily
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Neri stares up at the stars, disturbed by thoughts of recent discoveries, her ever nearing doom, dreams of the life she could’ve had had she not found herself on the Nautiloid. Now there’s a parasite in her head, she’s missing an eye, and she’s cursed to see this adventure through to the end.
Her brows furrow as she sits up, runs her fingers through her hair and sighs deeply. She needs to clear her head, alone, despite the dangers of Orin’s assassins, the Absolute, and the prying eyes of the Steel Watch. Without waking her sleeping companions, Neri pulls her cloak over her head and slips out of the camp.
Baldur’s Gate is lively and yet, quiet all the same. Rats scour the streets with reckless abandon and the wind blows between the buildings, creating a haunting melody. However, every inch and alleyway was devoid of citizens and she felt relief from the emptiness.
Except, she wasn’t alone.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
Neri has her dagger at the ready as she turns, glaring at the man who dared to sneak up on her.
“I mean you no harm.” He steps forward as if he wished to whisper a secret. “I bring you a message.”
She brandishes her dagger and the moonlight reflects off the blade, shining across the man’s features. “Not a step closer or I’ll slit your throat. What is your message?”
He reveals a letter from his cloak and shakily holds it out to her. “Just that I was to deliver this to you.”
Neri eyes the letter carefully and the crimson red seal that held it closed. She snatches the letter away and glares at the man to leave and that, he fearfully does. Her finger traces over the imprinted ‘R’ in the wax and her heart flutters for a moment.
Black ink stains the page in the corner as if the jar had been spilled but her eyes trail over the delicate words written neatly on the page.
“My Dear Neri,
My mind has become plagued by the vision of you and it’s been a constant torment. Should you need a bit of reprieve or care to release me of my agony, I will be waiting for you in the Devil’s Den.
Eternally yours,
R.”
The Devil’s Den. She’d only the faintest idea what that could mean- in her nervousness of following Sorn and Nym to their chambers did her eye catch the plaque outside a room. Neri thought nothing of it at the time, but she should have known with all the talk of his visits.
Her mouth twitches as she shoves the letter into her pouch. She hadn’t had any intention to visit with a devil so late into the night, yet her curiosity was leading her towards Wyrm's Crossing. There was no denying that she thought of him often; his lingering stares and flirtatious words. They way he spoke as if they were the only two in the room, his attention solely focused on her.
It felt like a trance took a hold of her and with a blink she found herself outside Sharess’ Caress. Neri walks through the doors, hand grazing over the banister as she takes each step up the stairs. Everything passes by in a blur - the drunken fools, some awake and some fallen over in a stupor - and the lovestruck patrons getting their fill.
The door to his room was cold to the touch when she pushed it open, but a wave of heat washed over her as she stepped in, glancing at the bed before turning her gaze to the large bath, where the water practically boiled and steam rose from the surface.
“My, my. I almost thought you wouldn’t show.” Raphael appears at the top of the steps leading to the bed. He holds a closed book in his hand and she follows the movement as he sets it down. “I’m positively delighted that you did.”
A shiver runs down her spine when she closes the door, the metal against her back cools her burning skin. “What was the purpose of asking me here, Raphael?”
His footsteps against the steps echo in her ears, his low laughter seeming distant and lost. However, the instant his hands grab her waist and pull her in, the world rushes back to her. He is warm and his scent is sweet and a sense of calm eases her nerves. There’s a hunger in his gaze like a beast ready to take his prey, but he’s holding back.
“You know why you are here, sweet girl. The same reason I spent my days locked inside this room, wanting and waiting. I’ve been patient, my love, but no more.” Raphael holds her chin up and his lips linger at the corner of her mouth. “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?”
Something in Neri stirs, different from the heat filling her body or the erratic beating of her heart. She can’t be so quick to let her guard down around him just because he said some pretty words. The man was still a devil.
“I’m not here to play games.” She pushes him away and steps around him. “You can not trick me into thinking that you love me for whatever scheme you have brewing.”
His eyes light up with something mischievous and dangerous. “Love? You mistake me, my dear. It is not love, it's an abhorrent desire. A lust that can only be sated if you allow me the pleasure. Believe me, I never thought I’d feel this way for you, but you impress me; thrill me; unravel me to my core. I feel as if you’ve cursed me to live out my days in agony, longing to feast on your body and soul.
You’re a wretched creature to believe such foolishness. I would burn this city ten times over just to unburden myself of this filthy feeling. I dream of only you and beg for only you. It’s unseemly.”
Neri spins around to stare at him, a lightness in her chest sparks pain where it should feel joy. “Do you not know that is love?”
Raphael frowns as his glossy gaze darkens. “Watch your tongue.”
A laugh escapes her, humorless and short. “Clearly, you do not. Love is wanting to give someone the world, the universe even. To lose all reason and thought. To feel as though you would die should they not be by your side - in your embrace.” She steps closer to him, her palm against his cheek,. “To bring destruction and death if it meant no harm would come to them. To agonize over their very existence.”
“Yes!” He breathes out spitefully, melting into her touch, as if her touch alone had the power to bring him to his knees. “I would bring this world to ruin if you asked it of me. If you must call it love to give yourself to me, then so be it.”
Raphael lifts her by the waist, bringing her body to his and she steadies herself by wrapping her legs around him and gripping his shoulders. He carries her with ease to the bed, sitting down with her on his lap. His skin burns like the fires of Hell, but she’s sure hers does too.
He presses his lips to the palm of her hand, brown eyes gazing at her. “Tell me. Do you not want the same?”
How could she possibly say no? In all her life, she has never felt so much devastation and ecstasy in the presence of anyone. He makes her skin crawl- not of disgust but of delight. She never cared about power, but she does wish to live lavishly and comfortably, as she did before. “Truly, I do.”
“If you will be mine, I will give you all that you desire. You will have no need for anything else this world has to offer.”
Neri combs her fingers through his hair carefully, searching his eyes for the doubt in his words. There is none. A deal he’ll make only once - be bound to him eternally and only him. He asks nothing of her but her sheer devotion and unwavering loyalty. A love that could never be broken, even by death.
She kisses him deeply, to which he responds in kind. His hands firmly hold her against him as he falls onto his back, grinning devilishly against her lips. The temptation to be devoured by him filled her body, to mold together so they are one divine being.
#pitchmoss#*fic#otp: for all the heavens of hell#oc: neri#tav/raphael#if it sucks it sucks i do not care anymore#so self indulgent im criminally insane about him
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Hey, so I'm reading your Hearthbound Supplement, and I wanted to ask why the Fianna were such unified enemies of theirs. From what I can tell, (this is more something that just bugged me) Fianna are one of the tribes with a stronger, healthier relationship to their Kinfolk (inasmuch as any tribe broadly has a good relationship with their Kinfolk) (though I have been known to miss Implications from time to time). Plus, it seems like the younger Fianna have a much kinder view of the Crinos Born, so I'd think they'd be heavily split along generational lines on whether the Hearthborn are enemies or not
Now, granted, my knowledge of WtA is only deep in certain areas, so this might just be me not having gotten to certain books yet, and the Finna really are Like That.
(Or it could be my draw to the whole keeper of history and knowledge, craftsmen, and tendency to adhere to the "Canon is a box of scraps in a cave and I'm Tony stark baby" approach)
Thank you for reaching out! I'm glad you asked, and I have hoped someone would ask me about this. I'm gonna give a wordy answer that addresses your concern and elucidates how I analyzed all the tribes to draw my conclusions.
I want to preface my answer by voicing my fondness for the tribe. At the top of it all, I completely agree that their biggest strengths are their existence as master artisans and storytellers. These aspects are absolutely worth holding onto and even expanding upon. I also appreciate their Celtic origins, but I wish it encompassed all Celts, not just the Irish. That veers a bit off-topic from your question, though.
My depiction of them as the primary antagonist of the Hearthbound stems from both their treatment of the crinos-born, as well as the objectification of their Kinfolk. In the book I call them crinos-born, but in WtE the writing team and I settled on Warborn as the title of choice, so I'll be using that term from here on out.
Different editions were never meant to supersede each other, but rather, build on one another to depict a continuous meta reflecting the evolution of Garou Society in response to their developing war against the Wyrm. For example, the Storytellers handbooks from 2nd edition, revised, and the companion all offer unique tools with very little overlap.
While more experienced people versed in the literature like you and I can read between the lines and handpick the bits we like most, it ignores that the flaws inherent to the tribes are intentional and meant to be confronted by players at the table. To that end, I conducted my research behind my writing with consideration paid to the narrative voices depicting each book, the Garou within them sharing their subjective knowledge, and use that to coalesce a perspective behind my group. When I started writing Hearthbound, I decided to form my conclusions based on three narrative perspectives:
The way a tribe's leadership wants other tribes to view them, their kinfolk, and their warborn.
The way the kinfolk within that tribe feel like they're being treated.
The way the warborn within that tribe feel like they're being treated.
Hearthbound makes a more naked depiction of these problems specifically to confront them, though I admit I should have taken more of an effort to make it clear that these depictions are reflecting the worst aspects of these tribes, rather than the whole of them. These problems represent the worst outliers from each tribe, and are not meant to entirely replace these tribes. When it comes to systemic oppression, it's not always the laws and customs that cause the problems. Still, there are those who hide behind the veneer of hierarchy to abuse those customs in a way that they seldom face repercussions for it, and the Hearthbound are those repercussions. This is a reflection of other forms of systemic oppression, like laws alleged to be 'tough on crime', which on the surface looks great, but glosses over the way those crimes unfairly target marginalized groups and keep them from rising to prominence.
I draw my conclusions on each of the tribe stances from three sources:
Kinfolk: A Breed Apart offering a depiction of Kinfolk the way the tribes represent them, or rather, the way they want other tribes to see them. It does hold many positive depictions on the relations between Garou and Kinfolk.
Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes, in contrast, represents a perspective from Kinfolk that is a little less flattering and is more closely representing the perspective of the Kinfolk themselves (and is taken as such.)
Guardians of the Caerns has a chapter dedicated entirely to the Warborn, and lends their perspective on what it was like growing up in a Sept of a particular tribe. This represents the sentiment of what it's like being a Warborn from any one tribe, opposed to the way these tribes want to be seen.
To answer your question in short, yes, the worst of the Fianna really are that way. They are more likely to outright kill a Warborn and their parents than to accept them, and those Warborn who do exist within their tribes seldom hold rank, are often hidden from view, and subject to rather terrible abuses by their fellow tribemates.
Contrast that with the blatant and plainworded phrasing in the tribe description of them trending towards violence:
Combine that with their lackadaisical ways of speaking of their own families in Guardians of the Caerns, pg. 94:
Merryck's comments: It's not without a certain sense of irony that the Fianna, self-avowed masters and mistresses of passion and abandon among the werewolves, despise the [Warborn]. They believe that physical deformity shows a malevolence in the spirit as well. But at the same time, they're really into having wild, raucus parties, orgies if you ask my opinion. The Fianna dismiss any potential risk with this kind of activity their answer to slowing those driving passions is "find a Kinfolk to slake your lust." How practical. Don't kid yourself; there are many [Warborn] running around with red hair and green eyes, both in their tribe and outside it.
When you combine multiple sources and add a human perspective wrt consent, it starts to paint an incredibly unflattering canonical picture of the tribe, and a narratively compelling one, to boot.
For others reading this, below is a link to my supplement in question OP is referencing, if anyone wants to take a look!
#world of darkness#werewolf: the apocalypse#werewolf the apocalypse#werewolves#werewolf#werewolf the essentials#wta#hearthbound#fianna#warborn#crinos-born#Ask a Storyteller#Mundus
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OC meme!
tagged by @aliasknives!! thank you love :3
tagging @menzoberranzans @elminsters @tadpole-apocalypse @undead-potatoes and anyone else who wants to do it :3c
B A S I C S
Full name: xarrai. just xarrai lol. they’ve never once used their last name and so that gave me an excuse to never make one up for them :)
Gender: sure. whatever. (transfem flavor)
Sexuality: bi/pan/who cares
Pronouns: any
O T H E R
Family: they don’t remember if they ever met their father or not, and while their mother and at least two half siblings live in neverwinter, they don’t speak at all
Birthplace: the outer city, somewhere between wyrm’s crossing and the basilisk gate
Job: bard, courtesan, information broker, pickpocket, con artist, professional drunkard, etc etc etc. post-game, they add adventurer and (reluctantly) bard college instructor. (jury is still out on if the xarrastarion harper ending is canon in which case they add harper to the list even more reluctantly LOL)
Phobias: loss of autonomy, The Church Of Bane As A Whole lol
Guilty pleasures: if you asked, xarrai would tell you they’re a true hedonist and would never feel guilty for any pleasure. but if you dig deep enough into the trunk they had stashed at the elfsong you will find a collection of some of the worst romance novels in faerun buried under fancy dresses and thigh high boots that they would VEHEMENTLY deny is theirs. they don’t Like these books but they are obsessed with them the way people hate watch reality television LMAO
Hobbies: reading, leather working, writing (mostly music or poetry), stick n poke tattoos, drunkenly making out with strangers at the blushing mermaid, petty theft. obvs they sing and play their lyre but that’s part of their day job so i’m not sure if it counts under hobbies? lmao
M O R A L S
Alignment: chaotic neutral, leaning a littleeee chaotic good by the end of act 3. a little.
Sins: most of them if we’re being fully honest. lmao
Virtues: self-control, vigilance, freedom (is that a virtue? whatever.)
T H I S O R T H A T
Introvert / Extrovert
Organized / Disorganized
Close-minded / Open-minded
Calm / Anxious / Restless
Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between
Cautious / Reckless / In between
Patient / Impatient / In between
Outspoken / Reserved / In between
Leader / Follower / Flexible
Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between
Optimist / Pessimist / Realist
Traditional / Modern / In between
Hard-working / Lazy
this section was such a challenge for xar they r very much an Everything All At Once guy lol. take these answers with a grain of salt ig
R E L A T I O N S H I P S
OTP: astarion, unfortunately for everyone involved
Acceptable Ships: gale (but it never really works out for them,) technically they romance halsin in game as well but it’s not really romantic. tbh u could make an argument for them with most of the companions and it wouldn’t be That outlandish
OT3: i mean like astarion/xarrai/halsin is vaguely canon but they’re never Serious with halsin, though perhaps they get a little more romantically involved with him post-game? realistically i think xar just keeps a rotating cast of other partners coming in and out of their life until the end of time and i rly dont see astarion ever having an issue with it. they would get bored without hearts to break tbh. its enrichment.
Brotp: karlachhhh forever and ever. after she dies, they’re probably closest with gale (sorry gale lol)
Notp: it’s not technically a notp but i am obsessed with how badly xarrai wants jaheira and how she turns them down every time. ur never gonna get that milf honey but u can keep trying
#pls feel free to ignore this if i tagged u and u don’t feel like doing it#and if u weren’t tagged and wanted to be… um yes u were#i try to tag ppl who have tagged me before bc i know not everyone Wants to do these kinds of posts but if u want me to add u to my lil list#lmk :3#also sorry it took me like a whole week to do this after u tagged me LOL#oc. xarrai#漫言
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OK, resuming Hector's adventures on the outskirts of Baldur's Gate!
I took the advice of the nice anon friend and have slotted Gale back out of the party in favor of Jaheira.
"Watching gods," she says cheerfully as Hector switches her in, "but I never thought I would be happy to see this city again, much less to *smell* it."
Hector had a little smile in response to this, which was cute.
"The Harper safehouse I spoke of is on the bridge at Wyrm's Crossing," she goes on. "Danthelon's Dancing Axe."
We'll definitely go check that out soonish, but no doubt we'll get sidetracked by several billion things along the way. Jaheira is used to this though, as she spent two games and change traveling with Caden of Candlekeep, he of the huge heart and tiny attention span.
Speaking of which, Hector had the option to ask if she was faring okay without the company of the Harpers, to which she replies:
"You think me lonely? In truth, I prefer travel in a small pack such as this. Unburdened by numbers, we're free to act, rather than react. A little like the old days. With allies every bit as peculiar - give or take a few tadpoles."
LOL. TBH, I appreciate the generosity but Hector's companions are WAY weirder than anyone Jaheira traveled with in the past. (I described this to Springy as - BG1/BG2 companions are fundamentally video game NPCs, which means they are designed to make a certain amount of narratively cohesive sense, while BG3 companions are fundamentally DND player characters, which means they are designed to be completely whack-a-mole (affectionate). XD )
"I'd like to hear more about those old days," Hector says politely. He's read about Jaheira's adventures of course, in many of his history books, but any good sage knows the value of a first-hand account. Plus he just likes Jaheira; she seems to have a good head on her shoulders.
But she just grins. "Would you? In time, then. Perhaps once you've found a rocking chair for me to doze off in."
I love Jaheira. <3
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BG3 - The Iron Throne, Ansur, and the Steel Foundry
(? I checked my entries and I had this written up but I don’t think I ever actually posted it? If it’s a repeat, my apologies:)
My kids weren’t here this weekend so I did a binge, spoilers below.
The Iron Throne… mannnnnn… I guess nothing in Act 3 is easy anymore. Even on my easy-level ass with two whole extra turns, I still found this a pain in the ass. Took me three complete back-to-start reloads to get my strategy right. (strategy was - bring lots of summons and make them do all the fighting, send Shadowheart to get the Duke so that you can heal him before he dies from Mizora’s spiders (if you didn’t have Wyll re-sign a contract, that is), send Astarion and another companion to the right (west side) to release prisoners and Astarion can book it down the hall and loot the two chests, and send your tav and Scratch down the chamber straight ahead (south) to release prisoners, and your tav can book it to Omeluum. By the time I attempted it a third time I had things pretty figured out, and I even managed to grab loot and books. (in case you didn’t, the notes and books indicate they’re doing fucked up psionic / medical experiments on the prisoners, and are soon just going to get rid of them all)
Ulder Ravengard, man. I’m glad we got a chance to explain things to him, and he and Wyll have patched things up, but DAMN I was not impressed with what a dick he was being there at first. Damn Wyll I’m so sorry.
Omeluum is so cute, acting surprised we even bothered to save it. I really like it, it’s such an interesting contrast to the Emperor. On the one hand we have a mindflayer who appears quite alien and speaks in a less relatable impersonal detached way, but its actions are genuinely helpful. Everything it does really does seem to indicate it has quite genuinely given up traditional evil mindflayer pursuits, and it’s even attempting to research a dietary substitute for brains. And then you have this other mindflayer who makes a great big song and dance about being relatable, being trustable, oh it’s an adventurer just like us, look at all these little sentimental objects from its past, oh it wants the same things as us, oh it can show us even a whole different level of intimacy and power… but (in my opinion) this is all standard mindflayer 101 behaviour, 100% just grasping at ambition to eventually situate itself as its own elder brain in the end, and I don’t trust it it at all. Friendship ended with the EMPEROR: now OMELUUM is my best friend.
(it’s so hard using “it” pronouns for the mindflayers! “It” is usually a pronoun for inanimate objects in english, “it” just sounds so rude, I have a hard time saying it, I kind of wish they used “they” instead. But I’m trying!)
After that we snuck back into the Wyrm’s Rock prison and did the Ansur stuff. I think it’s neat that the Emperor is a complicated character and there are some players who like it, but me, my tav is done with its bullshit. More lies by ommision, more babbling about illithid superiority. I told it that it sounded like being an illithid was more important than any of its friendships and it said, quite bluntly, yes, it is. And it keeps blabbering on about its wonderful illithid potential and how it could achieve so many great things, but I haven’t heard it talk too much about what its ultimate plans are, because I’m assuming its plans are along the lines of “one day become an even more powerful elder brain”. Poor Ansur. Look I know planning to kill your good friend / more than friend??? is not… nice… but I’d personally love to hear why Ansur thought that was the only option available. And I get the whole how heart breaking it must be that your closest person in your life can’t accept you after something has happened to you, but… once again… it very bluntly said, being an illithid is more important than its friendships. So. Fuck that. My tav is done. No more squid bullshit. In his head, my tav is planning out how and when they’re going to go and show the orphic hammer to Voss.
So…… after all of that…… I guess Wyll gets what is supposed to be the big conclusion to his arc. Wow. Damn I’m sorry, Wyll. I see now why everyone is complaining about his character. The conversation I had with Wyll was so bizarre and weirdly written… first he’s despairing because Ansur is dead and he feels all hope is lost. The Emperor says well look at it this way, you guys are the heroes who have come this far and done all these great things, Baldur’s Gate doesn’t need a dragon, you can be the winning tide! And then Wyll, immediately, is like oh wow you’re totally right, wow we’re heroes, everyone will hail us as heroes, wheee maybe I’ll even be an arch duke and be powerful! I didn’t know what to say to him, this bizarre conversation and this sudden lust for power from a character who has never expressed an interest in that regard before was weirding me out, so I was like man Wyll, just do what your heart says. And then Wyll was like yeah you’re right. Scratch that, third option, heroes are out of touch and so are politicians, imma go hunt devils! Wow ok. And then after that, you go back to camp, and have the exact same conversation again with Ulder, as if you didn’t talk about any of it.
That’s really unfortunate. Wyll is a really nice character, and his story moreso than anyone else in the party ties in directly to what’s happening to the city, but he gets written a bit blandly, and then he barely gets a proper conclusion, just some weird buggy dialogue and an unsatisfying choice.
BTW: I know duke is positioned as the “bad end”, and I know that you have to be the Blade of Avernus to get Karlach’s best ending, but… Honestly? I think Wyll should be a duke. Running around hunting devils is certainly *exciting* (though how he plans to do that without his warlock powers, I’m not really too sure…) but I feel like, after the big battle is finally over, joining his father to rebuild the city is the best way to help the people, the way to do the most overall good. The Fist will be in disarray, Gortash has left a big power vacuum, the city, I am assuming, will need major repairs, and someone needs to effectively help the refugees that have been piling up at the city edge. I think that would be amazing for a good-hearted, idealistic young man to step up and help rebuild. Plus I think it’s a nice little conclusion to his issues with his dad - his dad can finally see all the good his son has done, welcomes him back, and works along side him now. But nope! This isn’t the right ending. If you do it, the companions all grumble about politics and corruption, and then (if you haven’t romanced her) there’s no one to convince Karlach to go to Avernus at the end, so she burns. Not too happy. Oh well. It’s a shame Wyll, you’re a really sweet guy, I wish your story had time for a bit more polish.
(and btw - feeling disappointed about a character is fine - HARASSING THE DEVS ABOUT IT IS NOT FINE, please don’t fucking do that)
After that, I went to go blow up the Steel Watch Foundry. Should be easy right? Man nothing in act 3 is easy now. UGH. I’m not sure how this plays out differently if you do the watch first before the foundry? I heard the Gondians don’t attack the banites and help in the fight? Man, freaking… like, sneaking in was annoying, the main floor fight was whatever, but fuck me, the fight in the basement… I spent hours reloading that, hours. In the end I got rid of all the banites and the steel watch in two turns, but my god, every single action in those two turns had to be absolutely perfectly calculated or it fucked everything else all up. Least fun fight of the whole game, but I managed to save every gondian, so yay! After that, it was fun to explore around and read the books and notes. For some bizarre reason, they decided it was important to include a sex journal that one of the banites was making notes in, also it’s nice that there’s still more gross things the game can surprise us with - the steel watch being controlled by harvested brains was a total surprise to me. My absolute favourite note was the guy on the nightwatch who said the brains in the console start to SING at night. He found it so horrible he’s considering cutting off one of his own fingers to be excused from work. I also found the piece of Lenore’s clockwork. I’ve heard people say this implies maybe she was employed by Gortash to work on the steel watch - personally I don’t think so. The note says that Ketheric found the clockwork piece in the underdark and sent it to Gortash because it looked like the kind of clockwork bullshit Gortash likes. If anything, this implies that KETHERIC did something to Lenore, not Gortash, unless I’m missing more notes in here. (though in early access it is implied she was eaten by her pet bulette)
After all this, Wulbren walks out slow clapping at me. He’s lucky Barcus is there to suggest a peaceful conclusion because otherwise I would have yeeted that fucker straight into the ocean. I’m so proud of my buddy Barcus that he finally realizes he can’t fix this toxic man, and stands up for himself and for the Iron Hand gnomes. It’s been really fun watching him warm up to my tav, and so sweet to watch him awkwardly express his gratitude and friendship. A+. Less sweet - I was really looking forward to seeing the Gondians reunite with their families, just like we did at Last Light Inn, but apparently there’s no reunion. I can’t find any of them anywhere in the city now, and online says they just disappear and there’s no scene. That’s too bad!
Man. I can’t believe I’m almost done the game now. All I have left to do is kick Gortash’s greasy ass, then kick Raphael’s, and then that’s it, then I have nothing left to do except for the big final fight.
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Dark Star Falling (2 of ?)
A familiar voice speaking familiar words. “‘Memoirs by Gortash, outline for chapter four’.” Enver Gortash’s breath catches in his throat as he steps into the corner of the penthouse. He turns to see his guards, just as surprised as he is, reacting to the sudden voice in the silence. He gestures broadly for them to leave. They shuffle for a moment in confusion. He repeats the gesture and they all warily start moving towards the exit.
Steel sabatons, on his clean white linens, peek out from behind the red curtain. “‘I realize the secret worship of Bhaal is also on the resurgence and acquaint myself with the local leader, an actual Bhaalspawn’,” they continue. He pulls the curtain aside to meet the Bhaalspawn’s gaze.
Their appearance was a shock when he first saw them in the entrance hall of Wyrm’s Rock two days past. It had only been a few months but so much had changed. Where once they had worn their hair long, kept under control with complicated braids, always dyed violet, they now have a curly thicket of mousy brown tipped in almost white. On the whole they are presenting more feminine than he’s used to. The tattoo on their throat and chin is the same, as are the embossed gold on their horns, but their scars are all different, and their eyes no longer match. He catches himself staring at their right eye for a long time. Glass, probably enchanted.
“So it was you,” he finally says.
“Of course it was me,” they reply, swinging their legs off the bed. They tuck the book they’d been reading from, his book, back into their pack. “I didn’t like it when you said I only get one warning. I understand that you have to be cautious. I have to show you who I am.”
“You’ve changed. After the coronation–”
“I didn’t say I hadn’t,” they interrupted. “After the coronation I went down to the prison to free Councillor Florrick and while I was there I happened to find a route to, well, here and I decided in the moment to take advantage of the fact that you were still peacocking for your brainwashed sycophants.”
“Yet you left all of my guards alive,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “You never would have before.”
“Before Orin scrambled my brain? I wouldn’t know. It was a calculated decision. I saw your metal man. I saw the explosives and flamethrowers in the walls. My objective was paper. Stealth was the better option.” They’re pacing now. He remains standing next to the bed, watching them for signs of familiarity. Finally they turned to him, huff, and say, “I didn’t realize what we were until Withers–someone, it doesn’t matter–he referred to my lover and me as ‘bosom-companions’. I found something in the colony. You may have read it too.”
He had not. “You never took this long getting to the point before.”
“You’re going to have to get over who I was before,” they hissed, advancing on him. “You’re going to have to decide if you still want me the way I am now.”
He falls backward onto the bed and they move in closer, looming over him. “Dearest,” the word escapes his lips unbidden.
“Is that what you call me?” They seem taken aback.
“Yes.”
“I go by Darling now,” they look like they’re wrestling with something in their mind. The similarity between the two words. Clearly not a coincidence. He smiles and they notice and their mouth pulls to the side, an annoyed expression they’ve made a thousand times before.
They climb into his lap, straddling his legs with their own. His hands move to touch them, but Darling pushes him back so that he has to use his arms to prop himself up. They lean in and grab a fistful of hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck. They touch their fangs to his throat experimentally. There it is, the ‘little shiver of excitement’ they were looking for.
“I knew it,” they smirk, releasing his hair and sitting upright.
“So you do remember,” he says, quietly, intimately.
“No, not really. I’ve only remembered a few things. Everything else I've had to put together from… things I’ve found.”
“You found me,” he says, scooting closer to the wall so he can sit up. “We can finish what we started. Together. We can be–”
“That’s not what I want anymore,” they interrupt again. Their hands are on his chest now, slipping their fingers between the laces of his shirt. He puts his hands on their hips, firmly enough that they can feel the claws of his gauntlet thru the elven chain. “I want to get rid of the tadpoles. I want Astarion… and I want you.”
“Who’s–,” he pauses because he realizes he doesn’t care. “I’m yours, Dearest.”
“No. To own something is to know it. I have to go into the city. I have to kill Orin and find myself,” they slide a hand up his throat to his cheek. “But I’ll be back.”
Before he can protest, they’re sidling backwards onto their feet, turning away. Their tail slaps up against his leg, looking for one last touch before they depart. He touches his cheek tenderly where their claw left a faint red line, pulling away to look at his own blood on his fingertips.
“And don’t worry. I won’t be empty-handed.”
He kicks himself for not asking about the painting. How in the Hells did they sneak an 8-foot painting of Bane out of the penthouse without being spotted?
Previous - Next
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Every Dragon in Game of Thrones: House of the Dragon
House of the Dragon will depict dragons wielded as both protectors of various Targaryen factions but also as almighty weapons wielded in a war dubbed the Dance of the Dragons, a years-long campaign for succession among the various Targaryen claimants to the Iron Throne – a war that will prove tragic for all involved, human and dragon alike.
The following is a list of all the dragons that appeared during the Dance of the Dragons. Some have already debuted on House of the Dragon, while many others aren’t expected to appear for several more seasons due to the significant passages of time chronicled in Fire & Blood.
1.Balerion the Black Dread
The largest and eldest of all the Targaryen dragons, Balerion was flown by Aegon the Conqueror and later became the steed of King Viserys I. The black and red mal dragon has died by the time House of the Dragon begins, but his massive skull can be seen on display at the Red Keep.
2.Caraxes
Dubbed the Blood Wyrm, this huge, red, and horned beast is the steed of Prince Daemon Targaryen (Matt Smith) and is as fearsome and vicious as his rider.
3.Syrax
As described in George R.R. Martin’s official companion book The World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones, the yellowish Syrax is the “huge and formidable” female steed of Princess Rhaenyra (portrayed in House of the Dragon by Milly Alcock as a youth and Emma D’Arcy as an adult).
4.Meleys
“The Red Queen” is the steed of The Queen Who Never Was, Princess Rhaenys (played in House of the Dragon by Eve Best). Meleys is described in The World of Ice & Fire as “old and cunning, lazy, but fearsome when roused.”
5.Sunfyre
With his golden scales and flame, it’s no wonder this huge and formidable male dragon is dubbed “Sunfyre the Golden.” He is the steed of Aegon II Targaryen (who will be played in House of the Dragon as an adult by Tom Glynn-Carney and as a youth by Ty Tennant).
6.Seasmoke
This grey and white dragon is still relatively young during the Dance of Dragons, during which it bonds with Ser Laenor Velaryon (played on House of the Dragon as a teen by Theo Nate and then as an adult by John Macmillan).
7.Arrax
Said to be five times smaller than Vhagar, this young male dragon is the steed of Prince Lucerys Velaryon (to be played by Elliot Grihault as an adult and Harvey Sadler as a youth in House of the Dragon).
8.Dreamfyre
This silver and blue she-dragon has been the steed of both Princess Rhaena Targaryen (daughter of Aenys I) and Queen Helaena Targaryen at different times. Helaena will be played by Phia Saban as an adult and Evie Allen as a youth in House of the Dragon.
9.Tyraxes, Morghul and Shrykos
The steed of dragonrider Prince Joffrey Velaryon, Tyraxes was not as big as Vermax and Arrax. The role of Joffrey has not yet been cast in House of the Dragon.
Morghul is a young dragon is bound to Princess Jaehaera Targaryen, a role that’s yet to be cast in House of the Dragon.
Shrykos is a she-dragon is bound to Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen (Aegon II”s son), a role that hasn’t been cast yet in House of the Dragon.
10.Tessarion
“The Blue Queen” is the steed of Prince Daeron Targaryen, a role that has yet to be cast in House of the Dragon. This she-dragon, who breathes blue flame, is said to be younger than Dreamfyre, Sunfyre, and Vhagar.
11.Moondancer
Dubbed by The World of Ice & Fire as a “slender and beautiful” female dragon, she is the small but swift steed of Lady Baela Targaryen (who will be portrayed in House of the Dragon by actors Shani Smethurst and Bethany Antonia as the younger and adult Baela, respectively).
12.Vermax, Morning and Stormcloud
The young male dragon Vermax is the steed of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon (to be portrayed on the HBO series by Harry Collett as an adult and Leo Hart as a youth).
The she-dragon Morning, the offspring of Syrax, is hatched during the Dance of the Dragons. Morning has pink scales and black horns and is the steed of Lady Rhaena Targaryen (to be played in House of the Dragon by Phoebe Campbell as an adult and by Eva Ossei-Gerning as a youth).
The young male dragon Stormcloud won’t factor into House of the Dragon until later in the series, during which time it will be the steed of Aegon the Younger.
13.Vermithor
“The Bronze Fury,” the third largest dragon, is described in The World of Ice & Fire as “old and hoary.” This male dragon was once the steed of Jaehaerys I Targaryen, aka the Old King.
14.Vhagar
The second largest dragon of the Targaryens, Vhagar is an ancient female dragon and the last of those flown during Aegon’s conquest, when she served as the steed of Queen Visenya Targaryen. Together, they burned the Arryn fleet in the waters off Gulltown. Vhagar was named in honor of a god of Old Valyria, and will factor into later developments in House of the Dragon.
15.Silverwing
Once ridden by Queen Alysanne Targaryen, this she-dragon will later become the steed of Ulf the White, a “dragonseed” character yet to be introduced in House of the Dragon.
16.Sheepstealer, The Cannibal and Grey Ghost
The “brown and plain” wild dragon Sheepstealer is tamed by, as The World of Ice & Fire describes her, a “plain, baseborn and disreputable girl” named Nettles, who feeds the dragon mutton to win it over. Nettles has yet to be introduced in House of the Dragon.
The Cannibal is another beast yet to be introduced in House of the Dragon. This wild dragon is known in Fire & Blood for never having been tamed let alone ridden – and for eating other dragons, hence his name. Legend has it that it’s lurked on Dragonstone since before the arrival of the Targaryens.
Like The Cannibal, the Grey Ghost is another wild dragon who was never tamed or ridden and has to appear in House of the Dragon. It is said to have feasted on fish rather than people.
Follow us to explore more about house of the dragon
Source : IGN
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❛ table . to hoist my muse onto a table .
@lordgortrash
There was something about today that was absolutely vexing, as if all the lowerlings of the Flaming Fists lived to just piss her off. Be it them just being too abundant within Wyrm's Rock than she felt was usual to give them impression they were constantly underfoot, or maybe just because Melinoe was simply tired of the same faces every day saying the same pointless things. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how Gortash was able to stand looking at them all so frequently.
Maybe this was all just her headache affecting her mood. She hadn't felt an ache this badly since she'd fallen out of the nautiloid she'd be abducted in and had to swim to shore. Gods, it had been months since then hadn't it? Perhaps she was getting too comfortable and cushy in the city. Gortash definitely made sure of it that she would want for nothing.
The real truth of the matter then... the reason for the ache in her temples. She craved bloodshed. She craved the sweat of a hunt and the feel of flesh in her teeth. It had been a while since she was required to enter into any form of battle. Of course, the Melinoe was sure to keep up her skills by carving out time to train. But practicing didn't come with the same adrenaline rush.
To put it plainly, the Bhaalspawn was bored.
And, of course, today of all days, her most favorite companion to pastime with had fixated himself on his work. She hadn't seen him for most of the day, only when she'd awoken and gone to check up on him before doing her own little morning ritual of meditation and pampering herself.
Perhaps another visit was in order. Perhaps this time she could break his attention enough that he could help cure her boredom. But, more so than that, she did very much crave his touch and his taste.
To say Lina was unsurprised by the fact that he was entirely consumed by whatever scrolls of information laid out upon his desk would have been an understatement. She said nothing when she stepped in, sauntering her way within his personal space and slowly beginning to circle the archduke like a vulture.
He wasn't so consumed in his work not to notice her presence, nor to not notice her circling. And when he actually spoke to inquire in what manner she intended to try and steal away his attention this time, she couldn't help the mischievous grin that tugged at the corners of her lips. This was just a little game to her that they played. He so nobly focused on his work and his plans and his plotting and his fixing until he'd tired himself out furrowing his brow, but refusing to take himself for much needed rest, while she came in like a siren song on a gust of wind to tempt him astray.
❝ You've reclused yourself for quite some time now, my lord, ❞ she began with a purr, ❝ the wine is all but flat vinegar now and I see you hardly touched the plate I had the lowlings bring you. ❞ He remained unaffected, of course, studying a book now and comparing it to the scroll that previously had his attention.
—— ❝ Would you not consider a little break? I can provide a way for you to clear you head. And I do very, very much miss you. ❞ she laced a little whine to her tone, her head tilting as she leaned forward, bending at her waist to try and catch his gaze. Even so, he remained unaffected and visibly neutral the the softer feminine wiles she was attempting to utilize. Something about this struck a nerve in her, to have her presence balanced and managed secondary to something else.
He wasn't even fully paying attention to her flirtations and seductions, only half seeing her as his mind was full of the Flaming Fists and whatever complaints and suggestions are weak attempts of gaining his favor the nobles shoveled at him daily. This wouldn't do at all, especially not when her body was itching from untapped energy.
Her little temper the hidden sense of entitlement that came with it flared out as one of her hands quickly extended to give Gortash a firm shove backwards towards his chair. It was clear that this sudden outburst had taken him by surprise, but it also seemed to serve to clear away some of the enchantment his work held over him. She bent down at her waist once more, leaning towards him as an arm extended to set a palm against his chest to block him from standing again. ❝ Do I have your full attention now? Now that I've stopped asking so sweetly? ❞
Something about him seemed to change. Perhaps a mix of annoyance that she had put her hands on him how she had and by all rights forced him to sit down - her certainly wouldn't have allowed it if she had been one of the underlings - but maybe... something else. She honestly wasn't sure what, but the look in his eyes changed into something dark and the way he looked over her body made a shiver erupt in her spin. Then, his own smirk and beneath his breath she sword she heard him give an amused, "So very like you." Had she done this to him before? Waltzed into this very office and so rudely and selfishly demanded his attention?
Melinoe hardly had time to ponder before she felt his hands on her thighs as he so roughly flung her upon his desk. She landed with a small yelp of surprise, her heartbeat quickening as now it was he that loomed over her.
She had wanted his attention, hadn't she? Well, it seemed now she would most certainly be getting it. He pushed his way between her legs and immediately his lips claimed hers, her instinct to grab at him and pull him closer taking over her as she grazed her teeth upon his bottom lip.
❝ There you are... Are you going to punish me for being so insolent, Lord Enver? ❞
#verse ; midst: shadow is the greatest teacher#ode ; do not fear the shadows but take reign of them#sonnet ; ray#masterwork ; the lady of dread#ship ; an offer from an archduke#ship ; loviatar's blessing and bhaal's curse
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Weird Lookin’ Deer
Weird Lookin’ Deer
fomor stag (see M20 Gods & Monsters pg. 105) for use with Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition, W20 Book of the Wyrm, and Book of the Wyrm Companion
ATTRIBUTES: Strength 9, Dexterity 3, Stamina 8, Perception 3, Intelligence 1, Wits 3
ABILITIES: Alertness 3, Athletics 2, Brawl 2, Empathy 2, Stealth 3
Willpower: 3
Health Levels: OK, OK, -1, -1, -5, -5, Incapacitated
Armor Rating: 0 (eight soak dice, total)
Attacks: Trample/Kick (Strength +1 bashing); Gore (Strength +1 lethal)
Fomori Powers: Exoskeleton, Ghost in the Electrical Twilight*, Postmodern Digital-Nightmare Ambush Predator*, Regeneration (*see below)
Brought to you absolutely free to use, to enjoy, to share, to dick-around with, and to argue about – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.
Hugest of special thanks to Josh Heath and to all of my First Team: Last Chancers & Exalted Vs. World of Darkness players.
Portions of this material are the copyrights and trademarks of Paradox Interactive AB, and are used with permission. All rights reserved. For more information please visit worldofdarkness.com.
Nothing here is official World of Darkness material.
art by the incredible Joey Wallace
Ghost in the Electrical Twilight: at will, as a reflexive action, a Weird Lookin’ Deer may freely alter or adjust how it is registered by any piece of mundane, human-manufactured electronic recording equipment: the Weird Lookin’ Deer may always choose to be invisible to cameras & motion-detectors ... or it may choose to appear only as a blur, to appear as an utterly mundane deer, or even to appear as a specific animal or human (such as a family dog or a dude it just ate) known to it.
This applies to any and all equipment that might capture direct evidence of the Weird Lookin’ Deer -- fooling both audio-recordings & thermal-imagining systems, for example -- but it will not fool a direct eyewitness, nor will it fool an enchanted or magical camera.
Note that the Weird Lookin’ Deer (a particularly dumb, purely spite-driven monster with a rock-bottom Intelligence-score even by animal-level-intellect standards) is quite frankly fucking terrible at mimicking anything other than “a hideous, 400-pound, ten-foot-tall, bone-plate-covered psychopathic carnivore deer-man” and -- as such -- very rarely tries to do so and even more rarely does so successfully.
Exoskeleton: a Weird Lookin’ Deer has a hard, gnarled, ossified carapace sporting bizarre ivory growths, which grant it +3 Strength & +3 Stamina (included above). The sight of a Weird Lookin’ Deer registers in the human brain as so nightmarishly impossible that merely seeing it incites the Delirium; most of those who behold a Weird Lookin’ Deer simply remember it as exactly that: “a really fucked-up, weird lookin’ deer (that just so happens to incite panic attacks & severe nausea if you think about it too hard)”.
Postmodern Digital-Nightmare Ambush Predator: a Weird Lookin’ Deer may always choose to send and/or receive text messages, phone calls, IMs, emails, voice mails, and other digital communication as if it were physically holding the unlocked device of any creature it has killed or eaten within the last 24 hours.
Furthermore, a Weird Lookin’ Deer possesses an instinctual, marrow-deep understanding of how best to wield or utilize any such electronic device: it is as comfortable hunting the realms of rapid-fire texts & multi-app email-tag as a lordly stag striding the deep night woods; a Weird Lookin’ Deer always rolls Wits + Stealth (rather than rolling Intelligence + Computers or Intelligence + Technology, for example) to “do something clever” with a digital device it is manipulating.
By means of this Power, the Weird Looking’ Deer may -- for example -- choose to send a message to a favorite contact of a person it just killed (telling the friend to come outside because “omg moon is so pretty rite nao tonight”) or respond to a panicked text from a family member with a gentle and reassuring “don’t i worry just went a for walk the trees i am fine”.
In addition, a Weird Lookin’ Deer may choose -- at will -- to reflexively spend a point of temporary Willpower (or Gnosis, if it has access to such a resource) to perform any one of the following tricks as a normal action:
take control (until the end of the round) of any one mundane electronic device it can see
become aware (for the next minute) of the exact location of all electronic devices within seven miles
take control (until the end of the round) of any one mundane electronic device it is aware of, even if it cannot see the device
re-use (until the end of the round) any device it has already used, at any point in the past
By means of this extremely douche-bag use of its Power, the Weird Lookin’ Deer may send a text-message from a guy it killed & ate five years ago, cause the phone of a guy it can see to shut off & restart, send a text from the phone of a guy asleep in his tent a half-dozen miles away, or otherwise pretty much fuck with people with near impunity.
Note again, however, that the Weird Lookin’ Deer is very specifically stupid as balls & not real good at making up clever lies: anything it chooses to do in terms of “using a cellphone” is probably near-perfect, possibly traceable only by a world-class expert in forensic data analysis ... but that doesn’t mean that the Weird Lookin’ Deer doesn’t pretty much always sound odd and horrible and deeply unnerving when sending texts.
“I know that this was sent from his phone; like, the cops confirmed it and everything, but ... seriously?
‘come see me in the woods, son the stars r so dim the woods the woods the woods come son come now come here come see i want you. here. here with me. here in the woods’?
“That’s so fucked-up, though, right? My dad never would have texted me some shit like this, no matter how drunk he was; I think that whoever ... I don’t know, whoever ‘took him’ & his hunting-buddies must have sent it.
“My stepmom thinks I’m making it up for attention; my counselor said to just drop it ... b-but fucking look, man! I got three more texts from him last week, too: same message. They’re right goddamn here!
“Cops say they’re from his phone, same as before, although I don’t know how that’s ... possible, I guess? They said it’s a prank, or maybe a glitch or something in the phone system.
“But last night?
“Last night, man ... I got a new one.
“And this time, it just said ‘help’.
“The useless fucking park rangers or whoever still haven’t found my dad’s body or his phone ... but I think? I think he might still be alive.
“Or, at least, that somebody is. Somebody who knows what happened.
“I’m driving up there this weekend, man.
“Yeah. No bullshit: right to his cabin, bro. I know how to find it. I’m taking my stepmom’s van & some of my dad’s spare hunting-shit with me; Chad, Ricky, and Jenny are already coming with.
“What? Yeah, of course there’ll be beers, dude.
“You in?”
A fomor must already possess the Ghost in the Electrical Twilight Fomori Power (above) before she may select this Power.
Regeneration: a Weird Lookin’ Deer automatically heals one level of bashing or lethal damage each turn. Healing a level of aggravated damage requires a full day and the expenditure of a Willpower point.
---
enjoying this? get more here!
---
Well hey there, friend!
Do you have a profoundly lonely, gaping, unutterable emptiness deep within you — a hole of just sick, awful sadness you’ve carried your whole life — that ONLY a hulking, blood-drenched, forest-themed hardcore slasher horror-show named “Stagg-Orr O’MacStag-Man-Murder” could begin to help fill?
Uh, wait. Some of you are nodding “yes”?
Shit. Huh. I guess, uh … if so?
Wow, that’s just super random!
... but also HEY GOOD NEWS, ‘cuz GUESS FUCKIN’ WHAT!?
It looks like one or two of those sick fuckers over at the Dick Meatsweats Collective -- the only illegal black-ops military-grade bioweapon design-firm operating under the auspices of Project Echidna very proudly sponsored by O’Tolley’s, the Family Place! -- finally put down the greasy bong & N64 controller long enough to get up off their foul, pasty, unwashed, Mountain-Dew-&-Cheeto-dust-stained-sweatpants-wearin’ asses & take the very first baby-steps toward making YOUR dream a reality!
That’s right, baby!
Weird Lookin’ Deer: made of 100% stag-monster parts!
Weird Lookin’ Deer: not just a direct affront to Gaia, but ALSO a grotesque & violent insult to the Fianna and all that they keep holy!
Weird Lookin’ Deer: it just fucking LOVES to eat campers! Honestly, we can’t get it to stop! We’ve tried shooting it! Several times! OH SHIT IT DIDN’T EVEN SLOW DOWN!
Originally developed as part of Harold Zettler’s bizarre late-90s / early-2000s anti-environmental push-back program (codename Operation Wild-Hunt 2: 2 Wild 2 Hunt!) as a means by which to rapidly generate panicked, grassroots, word-of-mouth, pro-industrial-development suburban public outcry -- “The woods aren’t safe! Your kids are IN DANGER! Call YOUR senator to demand that Good House International be given PHAT STACKS OF CASH to clear-cut & strip-mine a National Park! Do it NOW!” -- the Weird-Lookin’Deer is designed from the ground up to do exactly one thing, and to do it extremely well:
To evoke, amplify, and embody humanity’s PRIMAL FEAR OF THE WOODS.
The very first live-fire trial-runs of the Weird Lookin’ Deer -- staged in & around a number of secluded, heavily-forested rural communities scattered across North America (especially targeting impoverished backwoods trailer parks in the Rust Belt, the Deep South, and Midwest) -- succeeded beyond the wildest dreams of Project Iliad’s sociopathic operational managers: their brand new monster, they discovered, wasn’t just a hulking, deadly, stag-shaped thing that could casually scramble cellphones, eviscerate hikers, erase video evidence, survive a head-on collision with a SUV, and/or occasionally go toe-to-toe with an inexperienced Garou pack & limp away still technically breathing.
It could also -- sometimes, and I mean just sometimes -- reproduce outside of a laboratory environment, the exact same way that Flesh Packs & Freakfeet (W20 Book of the Wyrm, pg. 132) can go viral in the wild.
This has both advantages and disadvantages:
On the plus-side, all those so-called “2nd-gen. / 3rd-gen. / Xth-gen.” Weird Lookin’ Deer tend toward more & more badass Powers in increasingly bizarre and outlandish permutations; in short, the things may be mutated & ugly as fuck, but they show-off everything from Animal Control -- becoming grotesque swarm-lords over infected deer, raccoons, squirrels, foxes, owls, crows, bears, and other seemingly-random forest critters -- to Adaptive Regeneration (see Book of the Wyrm Companion, pg. 72) ... and that’s without even leaving the A-section of the alphabet.
Just wait until we get to Unleash the Infinite Balefire-Enema Apparatus!
Shit, we even found one that was basically a moose-sized Hollow Man (W20 Book of the Wyrm, pg. 134-134; Book of the Wyrm Companion, pg. 43-44) filled with deer ticks.
On a LESS positive note, these fucking things -- like ANY animal-based fomor not specifically bred in a Project Echidna lab -- don’t come with cranial bombs helpfully preinstalled, which makes them exactly as dangerous to Pentex forces as they are to everyone else (which is to say: FUCKING VERY).
At the moment, therefore, Project Echidna has a temporary “work-hold” order in-place on the engineering of any more Weird Lookin’ Deer -- at least until we can puzzle-out how to control (or even track!) Xth-gen instances of the vicious, evil goddamn things -- despite how excited a lot of the guys in the lab are to start dumping some hot & spicy Formula Z into the mix.
So unless somebody from the Garou Nation can get their shit together, uh ... yeah, any day now some idiot junior lab-tech with more security clearance than sense is going to convince himself that “mixing in a shitload of Formula Z” is the correct answer to the riddles “how do we make sure that Xth-gen Weird Lookin’ Deer are born as Pentex-assets?” and “how do I get a goddamn promotion around here?” -- HINT: THIS IS NOT THE CORRECT ANSWER -- and then all hell is gonna break loose.
... oopsie-doodle, as they say!
---
As noted above: portions of these materials are the copyrights and trademarks of Paradox Interactive AB, and are used with permission. All rights reserved. For more information please visit worldofdarkness.com.
Nothing here is official World of Darkness material.
all hail the Dark Pack.
(for more information, see here)
#Not pathfinder#Werewolf the Apocalypse#old world of darkness#World Of Darkness#pentex#fomor#fomori#book of the wyrm#book of the wyrm companion#Monster#dark pack
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source of my joy
Relationship: Astarion/Lae'zel
Length: 394 words
read on ao3 / part of my zhak (source) collection of astarion/lae'zel fics
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In thousands of years she will return, on a red dragon, her people free, their voices rising up against the tide of the Astral Sea to sing her as liberator, savior, Mother.
And in thousands of years he will kiss her again, and it will all be worth it.
She will return in thousands of years. And in those years kingdoms will fall and rise, holy wars and civil disputes alike, and yet Baldur’s Gate will stand, welcoming to adventurers and scoundrels all.
In thousands of years he will explore every inch of Faerûn, read every book, learn every language, and still there will be years where there is nothing for him to do but wait. Remember her eyes, her touch, the way that the sunrise over the Gate’s harbor washed her face in happiness. In thousands of years his companions - his friends , all illithid touched at one point and all yet saved by her Prince’s hand - will die. He will bury their bodies, and mourn their memories, and write memoirs about their lives, no matter how boring they came to be after defeating the Absolute. He will re-read them to remember a bit of himself, when he feels lost in wine and darkness, and he feels the cold of his heart all the more for it.
But in thousands of years she will return, on a red dragon, her people free, their voices rising up against the tide of the Astral Sea to sing her as liberator, savior, Mother.
And when she returns, she comes at night, slipping through the Astral Sea down to the plains surrounding Baldur’s Gate on her fearsome wyrm. The stars are bright as they welcome her back to Faerûn, Astarion watching as she lands gracefully, no different than she was thousands of years ago. But her eyes are older, and he thinks his probably are too.
She is monumental, silver sword glinting against her hip, her back straight and tall, her full regalia reminding him he is in the presence of a demigod.
She runs to him across the grassy plain, and he catches her in his arms. She is so warm, and he feels a deep, longing ache and thudding in his chest at the sight of her. He puts her down only so he can cup her cheeks with his hands and look at her face, drink in every feature, every scrape and scar and new wrinkle.
“ Zhak vo’n’fynh duj ,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from disuse and the foreign sounds.
And then, she smiles , “You have been practicing.”
In thousands of years he will kiss her again, and it will all be worth it.
#astarion x lae'zel#astarion#lae'zel#baldur's gate 3#bg3#they are in love#they are meant to be together
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Let’s have an open discussion post about Hermeus Mora (Herma Mora), and his Black Books. Out of all of the Black Book quests which is your favorite? And which is your least favorite? What do you think of the Seekers when you’re in Apocrypha?
When you go into Epistolary Acumen you have three choices of powers that you can obtain (just like with every Black Book). The first is, Dragonborn Force. When you use your Unrelenting Force shout, it causes more damage and has the chance to disintegrate your opponent. The second is, Dragonborn Flame. When you use your Fire Breath shout and your opponent dies, a fire wyrm appears and will fight for you for 60 seconds. The third is, Dragonborn Frost. When you use your Frost Breath shout it encases your opponent in ice. Which of these do you typically choose?
When you go into Filament and Filigree, you get the choice of a new additional power you can obtain. Secret of Arcana causes your Magicka not to drain for 30 seconds. Secret of Protection causes damage halved from all physical attacks and most magical attacks for 30 seconds. Secret of strength causes your stamina not to drain for 30 seconds. Which would you choose?
In the Hidden Twilight you get three more choices. Mora’s Agony summons a field of writhing tentacles that poisons foes. Mora's Boon completely replenishes Health, Stamina and Magicka. Mora's Grasp freezes the target between Oblivion and Tamriel for 30 seconds, making them immune to all damage. Which OP power would you choose?
The Sallow Regent introduces skill buffs. Seeker of Might causes 10% more effective combat skills, 10% improved Smithing. Seeker of Shadows causes 10% more effective stealth abilities, 10% improved Alchemy. Seeker of Sorcery causes 10% reduction in cost of all spells, 10% improved Enchanting. Which buff set sounds most appealing to you?
The Winds of Change will throw you off with the diversity of choice you have this time around. Companion's Insight: Your attacks, shouts, and destruction spells do no damage to followers.
Lover's Insight: +10% damage to and 10% better prices from people of the opposite sex.
Scholar's Insight: Reading skill books provides 2 level increases for the skill.
Untold Legends has some awesome perks that you can choose from when choosing your power. Bardic Knowledge: A spectral drum that plays for 300 seconds replenishing stamina recovery. Black Market: A Dremora merchant spawns for 15 seconds. Secret Servant: A Dremora butler spawns for 15 seconds, total carrying capacity 148 points.
And last but not least, we have Waking Dreams, which does not offer any choices. It’s found in the Temple of Miraak during the main quest line. This Black Book allows you to reset a skill tree and refund spent perk points at the cost of a dragon soul. Which skill tree would you reset? And is it worth the dragon soul, when you can just Legendary your skill tree?
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House of the Dragon fic rec - Soon the hymen-song
Deep Tuesdays! House of the Dragon Fic Rec
Link - Soon the hymen-song
Rating - M
Pairing - Daemon/Rhaenyra
Author - eldritcher
Length - 5300 words. One shot fic.
TL;DR - 50% Female character study + 50% Pegging.
Vibe Quote!
A godlike thing, lonely and brittle, warped strange like his wyrm. He had wed himself to her in hymenal hymns, and the greatest of his grants was this hold of her arms about his yielded all.
Spoiler warning - Spoilers for the books and the show.
Title!
We have got to talk about this title. It looks like it's about a woman's virginity. Because that's where we generally see the hymen word pop up. But this turns that expectation upside down. The fic is really about how Daemon's "hymen-song" is only for Rhaenyra.
Premise
This fic is set during the period when Rhaenyra has given birth to her first kid (Jacerys/Jace) and she is now pregnant with the second. She is struggling a lot with her body image after the pregnancy esp comparing herself to Alicent.
Themes
Experienced Older Character/Idealistic Younger Character
One of the classic fandom tropes! Cynical/experienced older character gets his/her emotional awakening/reawakening because of falling in love with somebody innocent/optimistic/idealistic/totally different. They go through a lot of challenges and both of them change but in a good way because the Power of Love. This is Luke/Han, Any doctor/their companion, Xena/Gabrielle and a ton of other pairings.
It's complicated!
Rhaenyra and Daemon are in the fucked up soulmate category. They kind of exist in two weird spaces of May-December relationship and forever Love with capital letters. The May-December relationship part is why Rhaenyra really doesn't want Daemon to see her post-pregnancy body. But at the same time she wants him to be still attracted to her. Which he is, of course. Because forever Love with capital letters.
Characterization and character dynamics
Brilliant characterizations written on the show side of the show-tell scale. We get to see the characterizations through their character dynamics.
Daemon is Rhaenyra's uncle and she replaced him as the heir. So their dynamic really shows that combination of being family/lovers esp in the context of how much Daemon's destiny changed because of Viserys choosing her as the heir. They have a lot of reasons to resent each other. Their personalities are definitely on the long grudge holding side. Which we get to see. But they really aren't able to do that with each other.
Family
I really love how Rhaenyra in this fic has love/support from her husband and her father. True soul mates fics can sometimes bash the people who are "standing in the way" of the soul mates getting together. This fic is refreshingly different and doesn't bash anybody. Rhaenyra deserves that support <3
Beauty
Beauty for women is a lot of times defined in terms of what other people find attractive. Rhaenyra is doing that here. Daemon realizes that but it's not like he is the world's best orator or flatterer. He's probably one of the worst. But he sees how Rhaenyra is hurting about her body image without her saying anything about it and he is great at showing through his love language why he is still attracted to her.
Love languages!
Two people with totally different love languages and still on the same page. This is like the perfect fictional soul mate dynamic! Other people don't really get them but they get each other.
PEGGING!
:D Some authors have repeating kinks in their fics. Eldritcher is pretty interesting in how they write their het fics to focus around how women feel about aging, pregnancy, menopause, body image, self pleasure and things like that. Also pegging. The het fics from this author are really liberal with pegging. So we get that here also. It's really hot and it's really fitting the dynamic Rhaenyra and Daemon have.
Prose
Some authors have writing styles you can spot anywhere. Eldritcher's standard prose is distinctive because of how it looks like poetry but without any extra descriptions. You can also easily spot this author's work by the last sentences. The lyrical endings are really unique in their work. It is like a Gregorian chant.
#deep recs#recs#hotd fic recs#daemon x rhaenyra#character studies#with pegging#daemyra#hotd het fic recs#prose alert#short fics#asioaf fic recs#book spoilers#show spoilers#daemon x rhaenyra fic recs#daemyra fic recs#house of the dragon fic recs
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I did a review for the Book of the Wyrm Companion over on the STV. Check it out if you have the stomach for the grossest critters this side of Tromaville
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Arrow’s Flight by M. B. Sträng #Fantasy
Arrow’s Flight
Knights of the Pearl Order
Book One
M. B. Sträng
Genre: Fantasy
Date of Publication: 02/17/2022
ISBN-13: 979-8418478887
ISBN-13: 9781005631352
ASIN:B09SP9R1YX
Number of pages: 277
Word Count: 99,600
Cover Artist: M.B. Strang
Book Description:
An unknown menace moves through the polite society of Pearl’s Holding. If not caught in time, it will bring down not just the hallowed Knights of the Pearl Order, but also everyone who lives and works with them. The answer lies with a young woman of mysterious origins whose life has been touched by tragedy. To fulfill her potential, she must confront her past and discover a future more amazing than she’d ever imagined and find the inner strength to fly.
She’s not alone. A handful of Knights, a hearthmage, and their magickal companions all test their physical and magickal limits to make things right before it’s too late. Otherwise, dark forces will overtake the Knights for good.
Amazon Smashwords
Excerpt:
Beads of sweat rolled into my eyes, and I used the back of my wrist to wipe my forehead as I continued to cut flesh from the lamb’s carcass. The task became difficult as my knife had dulled over the years, and there was no way to sharpen the blade. Scraping it over a rock seemed to make it worse, not better. Taking the animals thumped guilt into my heart, but I didn’t think that the people in the valley would miss them much and I was tired of eating fish. Only once had one of them ventured anywhere near my cave, but he never came close enough to find the bough-covered entrance. I hid, just like my mother said to do. The man soon left, but I’d stayed hidden for hours.
Rumbling filled my belly, and I sliced at the flesh with greater determination. Figuring out how to make fire had come naturally. As for the rest of it—what my parents could do, but I had not yet learned—well, Mama and Papa were not here to teach me. And besides, Mama said to keep it hidden. Some, especially the Brethren, would kill us for what we were.
“Mama said to hide.” I spoke out loud to myself. It had been a long time since I’d heard another voice, but at least I could hear my own. My cave was too far from the valley to hear the people there. The few times I ventured close to the hamlet, I heard their language was not my own native tongue. Suspecting I had lost some words, I spoke more often now, and practised all the languages I knew in order to not forget more, and so my throat wouldn’t lose the ability to speak. I talked to Mama and Papa, wishing they were here. I visited Mama out there in the woods. Just bones now. I had taken the arrow out of her ribs, broke off the shaft, and wore the arrowhead on a cord woven with her hair. It was my way of taking my mother with me, keeping her close.
Heat flushed my forehead. That had been happening more often lately. Despite the warmth in my brow, I shivered. Waves of dizziness washed over me. I finished with the lamb and cleaned the knife on a bit of parchment, one of several scraps I found floating down from the sky one day. A piece had drifted across my face, and I glanced up to see what appeared to be a book flying by. The dropped parchment was no less strange: ornate script scribbled all over in green ink. I had grown tired of trying to decipher the bizarre symbols, many of which different than any of the languages I had learned to read, and found other uses for the parchment pieces.
And now I used another sheet as a mop for my sweating head.
Sitting back on my heels, I clutched the arrowhead in my fist. Once more the events of that long-ago day forced themselves into my mind. That terrible day when a man appeared on the ridge. The sun behind cast him in silhouette, and we could not see his face. He wore the dull robes of the Brethren. They billowed, though there was no breeze. His limbs writhed and twisted and cloth rent as wings thrust out, the man’s body distorting until it resolved into a white wyrm, like a dragon but certainly not a dragon. A foul stench emanated from the beast, and I started to gag.
I saw my father struggling. I knew what he was trying to do, but he could not do it. I knew why my mother could not do it right now but why couldn’t my father? Before they had a chance to ready weapons, the wyrm flapped its leathery wings and issued a bone-jarring shriek. Lightning spewing from its terrible maw, past its narrow, gleaming teeth. That creature took flight, swooped down, snatched up my father in its talons, and carried him away.
“Teban!” My mother screamed my father’s name over and over that the word may reach his ears and give him hope. She fell to her knees, wracked with cries of anguish. Clasping me tightly, she held me for what seemed like a long time, both of us sobbing violently. At last, she gained control of her breath and said, “Quosa, I must go after him. I will get your father back. You must hide.” She stood, and shaking her head, she said, “It must be because of the signatures. That’s why he couldn’t—” Her words broke off as we saw another one of the Brethren approach. She screamed, “Hide!” as the man loosed the arrow that lodged in the middle of her chest.
About the Author:
M.B. Sträng has been happily married to Timothy for over 33 years and they are the proud parents of a Biologist who has earned a Master’s degree. M.B. recently worked at a domestic violence shelter, but now writes full time. She has black belts in two martial arts and occasionally teaches self-defence classes. She enjoys writing (of course), painting, drawing, sewing, and embroidery. At the age of 53, M. B. learned that she is autistic, and suddenly her whole life made sense. She fences with messers, longswords, sabres, and arming swords and bucklers fairly regularly at the Ann Arbor Sword Club, and is a Knight-Magister in the Order of Paladins. Arrow’s Flight is her first novel.
Web site: https://mbstrang.com/
FaceBook: https://www.facebook.com/MBStrangAuthor/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/22242754.M_B_Strang
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/M-B-Strang/e/B09SQCBZDT/
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TemperedBlade
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