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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years

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So, I've waded through the "rings of power" tag here, and heard every bit of negative feedback. The Eminem looking fella everyone assumed was Annatar, beardless dwarf women, short hair elves, old Celebrimbor, "politically ambitious" Elrond, and all the costume critiques made by those spoiled by WETA workshop. And of course, the fact half the show is made from just the LotR appendices, the other from scratch. I don't suppose you have any positive notes from the trailer?

MY FRIENDS? That trailer was absolutely great I've no idea what you're all on about, it revealed nothing negative in my view about the show that we didn't already know (except the Balrog at the end but I had suspected that for a while and I'll talk about it later.)

Okay first off for the elf fans out there, pretty sure the first scene is literally the aftermath of the battle of sudden flame like I know piles are big Nirnaeth arnoidiad imagery but that wasnt a pile of bodies it was a pile of helmets (bodies burned to ash??) and all around it the whole landscape is scorched to hell and that shot was incredibly ominous! For what I can only imagine is a brief flashback shot, that was a really striking representation of that obscure first age battle! Is that not cool to you elf fans? It seems like they're gonna give Galadriel a dead brother compilation! I thought it was cool and I couldn't care less about these folks.

But more importantly PALANTIR? 👀👀 oh acknowledgement of Palantiri in Numenor, Tar-Miriel using it BEING it's user, the special tower specifically created and designed with precise geometry to enhance the Palantir's sight!!!! Do I think Galadriel and Miriel were ever here in this tower together? No! But it's a cool scene to think about, it's a cool concept to ponder even for noted Galadriel-hater me! Where are all the AU fanfic lovers out there, come ship these two!! And once again I have to keep saying this; all the imagery of Numenor has been absolutely impeccable, I literally couldnt have asked for better numenorean design work, did yall know they went and built a city to film this all in? I had to stim about it.

AND NIMLOTH AHHHH That's my fucking tree mum there she IS she looks so beautiful I genuinely cried when I saw her and i was RIGHT too I thought those petals in the teaser trailer were from her! The way the arches around her are so old they are degrading because the anti-elf sentiment has meant people do not care for the tree and it's setting as they used too?? I'm excited to watch Numenorean politics! I think Miriel and Pharazon are attending Tar-Palantir's funeral here too.

Okay now listen, the eminem thing was funny initially but this here priestess doesn't look THAT much like him first off she just has buzzed white hair. And secondly Sauron cult!! I love Sauron cult and seeing the religious side to his influence and the way they're wearing WHITE I love that so much yes evil people wearing white. Am I psyched about stereotypical gender non-conforming woman being the Evil Priestess here? No not really, but her eyes look scary and we haven't seen the Sauron cult on screen before so!! I'm excited about it, it's a unique plot point to include! The ominous rune and the 'have you heard of Sauron' and spooky evil swords!! It's very Silmarillion is what I'm saying!

Not specific to this trailer but the looks at Khazad-Dum so far have been absolutely spectacular, I might not be a fan of this much exposed rock without beauty to that rock but just the sheer scale of it and the blue light to it and the way it's so lively and the dwarven battle masks that cover their beards too!! And Durin's costume!!! I'm so unbelievably excited for the dwarf stuff, Disa's character especially is so exciting, she's also a mother as well as being Durin's wife apparently like!! Thats an aspect of dwarvenness we've never seen on screen before and I want to see what Sophie Nomvete does with it!

Okay and THE HORROR MONSTERIFICATION OF ORCS BABES! Make orcs fucking terrifying yes oh my god, they're strong they're silent they strike in the dark they terrorised Middle Earth for seven thousand years and they ARE a threat, even one of them! Love that angle to view them in, really exciting as a concept!

ALSO! Just as more of an aside but I love all the mature romantic relationships we're getting in this show. As far as I can tell the only romance plot we're possibly going to see is between Kemen and Earien, Arondir and Bronwyn have been together for a while, Disa and Durin are married! Also Bronwyn already has a son? Is that with Arondir? I want her to be divorced with an elf husband so badly but her old husband is probably dead OR Theo is half elf which would also be cool, NO MATTER WHAT I'm into all of them.

BIG FISH!!

And just a bunch of little things and design choices in all the scenes, the tambre of the voices, the acting itself I'm!! Excited!! We haven't DONE this in so long, in fact the tolkien fandom has never done this, we've never had a piece of tolkien media where we dIDN'T know what was going to happen in it and more importantly to ME it's been far too long that PJ's been allowed a monopoly on tolkien designs, lets see what this has to offer! Come on, most of you were kids like me when the lotr films came out and when I was a kid I loved them and had a fantastic time watching them, be twelve again!! This is new and unique! Lets all have fun together about it! :D

Addendum: Yes, I am annoyed that (as seems likely) dwarves cannot be allowed narratives that dont revolve around their homes being traumatically taken from them through some narrative moralisation of gold and mining that has very antisemetic undertones. I would have liked dwarf politics not just Balrog.

#the rings of power #rings of power #lotronprime #tolkien #erran vs tolkien #chats

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evanderhilloway · 9 months

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Souls at Sunset

Chapter One ~ Raining Men

“Damn, betcha he wishes he had wings.”

“It just shat ‘em out!”

“Moose, ya idiot, clouds don’t shat people.”

“Quiet the lot of ya. Evander, what did ya see?” Captain Taprick cut through the racket of the small but growing crowd pressed eagerly against the port-side rail, his demanding voice aimed at the clean-cut sailor gasping in front of them. A rather large, rather sea-soaked stranger lay unconscious on the main deck beside him.

Dripping wet and out of breath, Evander's small frame cradled the man twice his size. Captain was impressed Evander managed to retrieve such a mass, but his question still lingered in the salty air.

A question, oddly enough, that would never be answered.

Evander raised his head, his sandy brown hair dripping saltwater down his soft, bare face, a pair of striking orange eyes meeting the captain's own. He grinned.

“Does that really matter right now? Did you see that?! Lightning struck this lad AS HE FELL!” Evander glanced back to the bulky heap of a half-elf in his lap. “I’m gonna name you Lucky!”

“He’s not a pet ‘Vander!” Cap howled as he turned, shaking his head. “Take him to the hold. Soon as he wakes, I want to know.” He spoke over his shoulder, eyes low. “As for the rest of ya, back to work. Acting like the sky be shittin' men. Have I got a crew of men or vultures?!”

Most of the crew dispersed and echoed back a firm “men!”, though truth be told, there were more than a few “vultures” quietly uttered in there. The sailors resumed their duties - albeit begrudgingly - trying to forget that the clouds did in fact just expel a real, live man. A half-elf to be precise. And probably live, anyway.

The stranger was undeniably a good-looking fellow, though considerably larger in stature than a typical half-elf. His fair skin made for an elegant contrast against the nearly black mop of hair atop his head, shaved sides giving him a somewhat hardened look to match his otherwise striking features. A strong jaw served as a foundation to a grecian nose, angular cheekbones, and a strong brow. Plain clothes and awkward tan lines about his neck and chest, and a strange tree-like birthmark at the base of his neck added to the mystery of “Sky Man” or “Icarus” as Evander had started calling him.

“Welp, ye scared him to death.” A large half-orc named Pea took a gruff inhale over [Dewdrop], a silver-toothed grin teeming with satisfaction at his assessment.

“If the lightning didn’t kill him, Vander’s breath would've.” Moose called from the bunk adjacent the stairs.

“Or his high-pitch lady voice.” Collin added, trying to mimic the unusually soft voice Evander possessed.

“He’s not dead, Pea… I think he’s trying to decide if he wants to stay.” Evander said matter of factly.

“Ever the poet.” Captain lingered on the stairs from the main deck to the quarter deck, warily eyeing his crew and the unwelcome and unhelpful extra body. “At least he’s not eating any rations. Moose, move 'em below. No sense in letting ‘em be comfortable if he ain’t conscious.”

Moose, true to his name, grunted in agreement and easily heaved [Shark Boy] over his massive shoulder. Evander opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Noting that the glow and position of [Failed Flyer’s] soul remained unchanged.

“Come on. This world ain’t so bad.” Evander thought as he willed his newest friend to stay.

Evander kept a watchful eye on Moose as he disappeared below deck with [Mr. Freefall] in tow, hauling the invalid down to a bunk in the hold. Evander then brushed himself off, and took to his normal jaunt of cheery jabs and belly laughs, working diligently to usher the crew back to normal in no time.

Before long, and finding himself on break, Evander hurriedly descended the ladders between decks before dropping softly on the wooden floor of the ship's hold, eager to check on his new friend.

Below deck Evander's orange eyes dimmed, the darkness softening their appearance to a resemblance of peaches, both shape and hue. His eyebrows relaxed as he took a good look at the recovering adrenaline junkie in front of him. The stranger's body swayed as the boat crashed gently against the ocean's waves.

“Unfortunate entry, but I think you’ll like it here.” Evander spoke as he eyed the dimly lit orb in the center of [Skydiver’s] chest.

●●●

Since the day he was born, Evander could see souls. Not apparitions or ghouls, but the glowing orb of life in everyone’s chest. He could see how high it sat, how much it glowed, and the effects that different actions had on it. Since childhood, Evander vowed to be the reason souls glowed around him. He would never speak in a way that would break a spirit, lower a soul, or darken the glow. He loved life. He loved love. He was the brightest, most spontaneous, giving person you’d ever meet.

And he was going to save [Mr. Flying High].

“Welcome aboard The Changeling, Cloud Rider.” Evander uttered softly, as he hopped down from his barrel perch on and hoisted himself up the ladder once again to continue his duties above, leaving the gently swaying half-elf to rest.

●●●

“Betcha wish we had a healer now, eh Cap?!” Collin jeered, as he gathered a nearby rope, coiling it around his elbow and the crook of his thumb.

“Not one bit. Y’know their kind is nothing but witchcraft. Bad luck is all it brings. No place for it here.” Captain shot back, eager to finish the conversation.

Evander entered the conversation as he emerged from below deck, chewing on dried fish. “No such thing as bad luck, cap.”

“Maybe not to you, Sunshine. You’ve been on water, what, six years? Ya greenie.” Evander turned to the sea so he didn’t catch him mouth the following in mocking cadence with the captain “until you’ve sailed for 22 years I’ll hear nothing from your baby face.”

Captain Tapia was of course referring to the fact Evander hadn’t a hair on his face or chest. Not a single sprig of manly prowess to be seen. It didn’t bother him. Truth be told, he preferred it this way. He told the men it was common in his family. They named him Baby Face and were done with it.

Moose, who had a grand beard, offered multiple times to share his trimmings with ‘Vander, granting him a roar of laughs from the crew.

After a few days of waiting, watching, regular checkups, and plenty of one-sided chats from Evander, [Sparky Sparky Boom Man ™] opened his eyes at last. He wasn’t awake, by anyone’s standard, but his yellow eyes blinked, drinking in his dank surroundings. The black gave way to a dimly lit hold, where shelves lined with haphazardly strewn parchments could be made out, alongside a particularly excitable, though not particularly discernible, form perched nearby. On what, the stranger couldn't quite say just yet, his vision still blurred and foggy in his half-asleep stupor. A wide smile and bright eyes met the barely conscious stranger's before he slipped back into darkness once again.

●●●

Waking to a pair of dimly lit orange eyes startled [Meteor], sending him into a panicked scramble, sitting himself just upright enough to reach a burly arm across his person and draw a seemingly imaginary sword from his hip. A mixture of confusion and disappointment spread across [Engine Failure’s] countenance as with the flooding realization that whatever he expected to be there, was in fact, not. A half a second’s thought later, and he was cracking his knuckles, fists held at the ready for what he perceived would be a little casual hand-to-hand combat instead.

“Woah there. I’m no threat. Take it easy…” Evander raised his hands as his friend stumbled in the dark, on edge and confused.

Teeming with rage and uncertain whether he had found himself on the defensive or offensive side of this whole situation, and unsure of what this whole situation even was period, [Dead Weight], still a little sleepy and dazed, stammered back, “I- if you’re not a threat, g-give me your sword then.” Keeping one fist clenched and held close to his jaw in a readied block, [Dragon Rider Sans Dragon] extended a hand out to Evander, waiting for him to relinquish his own weapon in truce.

“Mm ya know, dunno if you’re a threat yet.” Evander placed his palm on the hilt of his blade, only slightly cautious.

Not willing to lay all of his cards on the table, or any of them for that matter, and also acutely aware of the fact that the emptiness of his mind, devoid of any memory as to who he was or where he came from, indicated very strongly that he had no cards to lay down anyways, [Free Fall] opted for the most honest yet intimidating response his muddled brain could muster, “Of course I’m a threat. But there’s no need to find that out the hard way. Just give me the damn blade, boy.” He managed to keep his voice collected and even.

“Sure ya are.” Evander slowed, watching the heap in front of him glance hastily about the room, casing his immediate surroundings, before resigning himself warily back to the blanket Evander had left on him. He kept both eyes fixed firmly on Evander, gears turning about his mind behind them.

“Welcome to The Changeling! What should we call you?”

Silence.

Clearly [Divebomb] wasn't in the mood to chit chat, a mood Evander didn’t empathize with though he was quite familiar with it in others. He was, however, in the mood to relax his posture a moment, feigning surrender to his predicament long enough to distract his overly optimistic and trusting “companion” into letting his own guard down…or in the very least, he hoped, leaving him the hell alone.

“Right then. I’ll leave ya to it, Cap’s gonna wanna know you’re up though. Expect company, Birdman.” Evander climbed up the ladder as he had a thousand times, eager to uncover the mystery that grumbled from the depths. But the grumbling in Evander’s own mind came to a swift halt with a hardy knock to the back of his head. As he tumbled from the ladder with a groan and succumbed to the now inevitable state of unconsciousness, Evander’s last thought wriggled through. That was a lantern. Definitely a lantern.

This segued nicely into [Shooting Star’s] following thought, Where the fuck is the key?, as he rifled through Evander’s pockets, turning up nothing more than a feather, some skipping stones, and a copper piece broken in two. Contemplating a more thorough search, [Sky Captive] opted not to be too invasive with his pokings and proddings. He wanted out, sure, but he wasn’t a monster. He paused for a moment, looking down at the hands that he didn’t recognize. Or maybe I am?

Shaking off the intrusion, he continued his search into the hold itself, once again finding little of use - a stray barrel stopper and what looked to be a brittle old peg leg. Ugggggghhhh, fuck…gonna have to try the hard way I guess. Gonna lose all my fucking dignity before I even have any…

[Ripped Parachute] clambered up the ladder - wincing to himself at the egregious embarrassment that would ensue from what he was about to do next - clenched his fist, scrunched his eyelids in despair, and knocked a positively ridiculous diddy on the hatch above - Knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. He peeked one eye open in anticipation.

“That ain’t it, Star Lord ™ “, was the gruff and jeering response he got, followed by an echo of rolling laughter about the deck above.

This time, he pounded the hatch with both fists, screaming in anger. The chortling only grew louder among the crewmates guarding the hatch above, as they took immense pleasure in the futile escape efforts of the stranger below.

Where ya gonna go, anyway? [Penguin Pretending to Be A Fucking Goose] asked himself, much to his own chagrin. Sliding back down, he crumpled into a cross-legged heap at the base of the ladder. Taking note of the irony that now he was the one awake and forced to watch his sickeningly cheery captor slumber, [Satellite Reentering the Atmosphere] tossed an exasperated gesture toward Evander and grumbled to himself, “Fuck, I guess I really gotta make nice with Sleeping Beauty here.”

●●●

Opening one eye to a pounding headache, and stifling a groan, Evander squinted at his surroundings, spotting his perpetrator sitting criss-cross applesauce at the bottom of the only escape route. He let a sleepy smirk pan across his face, in recognition of his companion's failed attempt at an exit.

“What’s the plan, Icarus?” Crossing his arms behind his head as he kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, Evander inhaled sharply as he felt the sore spot on his head. “Hold me hostage for all I’m worth? Start a mutiny? Take over the ship with my wee dagger? Kill everyone and take The Changeling for yourself? I’m guessing by now you’ve alerted Moose and Collin that you’re up. Curious how you thought this was going to end for you.”

[TIMBEEEEERRR!!!] chuckled a little at the small man’s quips. He was, however, a little unsettled at his inability to find that dagger Evander just mentioned. But hell would have to freeze over before he'd let on to this puny excuse of a sailor before him.

Crossing his arms atop his barrel of a chest, his yellow eyes gleamed as he smirked, “Turns out I don’t really have a plan. Don’t suppose it’s too late for a truce?” He held out his hand to Evander, somewhat less a threat than before.

“All ya had to do was ask.” Evander reached to clasp the extended hand but pulled back at the last second “I’m gonna need something in return…”

The yellow-eyed stranger pulled at the seams of his loose-fitting, white linen, “Look man, I don’t know what ya want, but I clearly don’t have much. Whatever you’re asking for, I can almost guarantee I can't give it to ya. ”

Evander stepped around his captor and climbed the ladder “if you’ve got two eyes, you can oblige. You owe me a sunset, Icarus.”

Shit. [Not Icarus] released an audible sigh, “Fine, but you’re gonna have to call me anything but that. I ain’t no damn Icarus.”

Considering for a moment, and noting the unique traits of this half-elf, stranger in a strange land, Evander landed on an elvish name for his unlucky traveling companion “How about Vagor?”

An awkward pause filled the silence. “Why Vagor?”

“Damn you really don’t know? It’s Elven for ‘Wanderer’, which seems fitting enough for ya.”

Reaching up instinctually to take in the slight point of his ears, the half-elf uttered in response, half to himself, “Huh, how ‘bout that?...I guess I can get behind ‘Vaaaagoor’", as if testing the name out for himself. "Just as long as that’s really what it means and you aren’t just pulling some stupid-ass prank on me.”

Understanding the mistrust but eager to prove himself, Evander happily added “You’ll find out pretty quickly that’s not really my style.”

As Evander heaved himself back up the ladder, to finally exit the hold - this time hopefully uninhibited - Vagor exhaled sharply, catching his once benevolent captor’s attention one more time, “Look, kid. You seem like a decent human being. So I’ll be straight with ya. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know where I came from. I don’t know why I’m here or what I’m capable of. And you would do well to continue to see me as a threat, not a friend." He flung both arms out in exasperation, "Heck, you’d probably do best to throw me fucking overboard.”

The boyish sailor let out a laugh to break the remaining tension, “Everyone’s a friend unless proven otherwise, and even then, walking the plank isn’t up to me, you’ve gotta convince Cap on that one.” Evander paused, eyeing the sad state of a soul in front of him “You can call me Evander.”

Vagor paused too. “Well, Evander, when’s sunset?”

“Gonna be a few, stars are out.” Rubbing the back of his head he adds “thanks to your batting practice, we’ve missed it today.”

“Hey, don’t blame that shit on me. You coulda just left me for dead in the middle of this godforsaken sea and then you’da been able to watch your damn sunset none the wiser. So it’s thanks to your damn diving practice, actually.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.” Evander seated himself on the slightly slanted ladder, a perch he has taken many times now.

Vagor snorted, “Presumptuous of you to assume there was a ‘thank you’ on the way.”

Evander smirked and shook his head in reply.

An awkward pause filled the silence a moment longer than necessary, before Vagor quickly added, “Goodnight then, I guess, Evander,” himself clearly not planning to fall asleep any time soon.

“No way you’re sleeping now. The whole ship knows you’re up, and Cap’s gonna have questions.”

“Wasn’t aware I owed anyone answers,” Vagor replied, a renewed tinge of hesitancy tainting his voice.

“Plenty of us have secrets. Ya don’t owe anyone anything, but until we make port, yer gonna have to pull yer own ass. Cap just wants to know yer willing, and if not, the plank at night is a gorgeous sight.”

Vagor chuckles, “Don’t tempt me.” Before he even realized he’d done it, Vagor let his countenance fall into an unexpected sheepishness, his gaze quickly falling into his own lap. He hesitated a moment, unsure if he could find or even knew the words that were to follow, “I- I’d just like a few minutes alone down here. The dark. I like it. It- It feels familiar.” He returned his gaze upward to meet the shimmering orange eyes of the closest thing he now had to a friend, which was, in his mind, still not close at all.

“Sure thing.” Evander was familiar with the comfort of darkness.

Vagor nodded in appreciation of Evander’s understanding, at last releasing his peculiar new companion to take his final leave of the dark, dank hold.

#work in progress #fantasy fiction #worldbuilding #storytelling #backstory #writing #orange eyes #fiction

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caranelguild · 7 months

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Krieg and Vola peer out at the scene from around a dumpster, wondering how their party got into this mess. The scene: Damaia, disguised as a homeless orc woman, is being shoved around by a rotund dwarf named Belly while Davdak throws trash at two irritated goblins. Quagoon is somewhere in the dim half basement of the building.

Somehow, it devolves from here.

Krieg rushes into the fray as the two goblins advance, conjuring a fog cloud from the relic he took from Shinonome's library - only to blast it away with a shocking blast of force from his divine bracers. This blast catches Damaia as well as Belly and the two goblins, and all but the sturdy dwarf are thrown against the alley walls. Belly unclasps his chain mail sleeves (no shirt, just sleeves) so they bunch around his wrists. He pummels Krieg.

Damaia brushes herself off and shoots some fire magic into the fray. Vola also leaps to participate, just in time for a second thunderous wave of force from Krieg.

The lizardfolk from the high window peers out and withdraws a shortbow. Opposite her, the captain opens the safehouse window above the scene ...

Inside, Quagoon sprints through a dark kitchen to the front landing. From here, still invisible, he starts up a stairwell, hesitating when he sees a snoozing tabaxi occupying a step ahead. He creeps past her with precise agility, then races up a second flight of stairs, heading for the captain's room at the top of the house.

The third-floor landing brings him to a stop, as two guards are throwing darts from one end of the small hallway towards Quagoon and a dart board upon the wall. He crouches and tosses some ball bearings down the stairs to bring the dart-throwing to a stop; the guards pass by the invisible wood elf to investigate.

But as Quagoon comes to the door to the captain's room, he hears that individual call down to the melee in the alleyway that he is mustering his guards. His footsteps approach the door and it is thrown open. The guard, a grizzled human, is wearing a necklace that suggests "Key" to Quagoon. The captain calls out to the two guards - an orc and half-orc - to head down to assist their comrades, but he himself is caught by the suddenly appearing Quagoon, who speaks a word of Command: "Plank."

The captain drops down to the landing to hold the pose, and Quagoon snatches the necklace. Sure enough, an elaborate key dangles at the end of it.

Outside, Krieg coughs blood and launches himself at the dwarf to tackle him, and the momentum takes them both into Davdak, who is crushed beneath their combined weight. Krieg stands up to block a blow from a goblin, when ...

Damaia strikes the lizardfolk sentry with a beam of fire. The woman loses her balance in the window and topples down - directly onto Belly and the poor, smothered Davdak.

Vola slices a goblin in half and Krieg finishes the other, but then a tabaxi is suddenly leaping upon the paladin from the snow door! Her claws are enhanced by long metal blades, and they puncture through Krieg's abused armour.

Two guards quickly follow out the ground entrance - and then Quagoon from the third-storey window. "I've got the key!" he announces, and sets off at a sprint down the alleyway. The tabaxi is quick on his heels after wall-running over the melee.

The captain yells from the window that he is heading to fetch reinforcements.

Damaia turns also to run and is pursued by the half-orc guard.

Meanwhile, Vola cuts the orc's head in half, the tops of her tusks clattering to the ground before the crown of the skull splats beside them.

But Krieg has no such luck against the stalwart Belly. He is trying to strangle the dwarf when Belly delivers two crushing blows to Krieg's skull and the dragonborn goes limp.

The lizardfolk woman runs when Vola runs towards her. Davdak sends an eldritch blast at Belly. Vola had not been running at the lizardfolk at all, but drops down beside Krieg as the dwarf turns to Davdak; Vola administers a magical potion to her partner and he stands back up.

Together, the trio takes Belly down - Krieg delivering the mercy kill in honour of the noble combat. Then, they race off into the city, heading for the west-east road where they hope to muster with their companions who had run towards the alley's other exit.

The tabaxi is quicker than Quagoon, but the wood elf uses all the agility at his disposal to dodge and strafe, keeping away from his attacker's bladed claws.

Damaia ducks behind a corner as soon as she's able, dropping the illusion making her appear as an orc. This gains her a few precious seconds as her pursuer looks around for her, only after a moment identifying the bleeding tiefling as his prey - but by then Damaia is racing down the streets.

Quagoon ducks into one bar - and is seen on the way out, so he ducks into another, tossing coins at the bouncer and claiming to be pursued by a tabaxi assassin who is wearing the garment of a guard she killed. He hardly waits for the bouncer to respond before racing off and up the back stairs of the building.

Damaia darts into the social district and picks an open door at random, running past a confused bouncer and an angry tabaxi guard. The half-orc behind her cries out, "Stop that tiefling!" Damaia points to a tiefling at the bar and says, "There, stop them!" then lights a harmless, magical fire upon the bar and runs to the back stairs.

Quagoon sprints down the upstairs hallway and out the window at its far end, dropping down into an overgrown park courtyard, where he hides swiftly behind a shrub. He looks back towards the window to watch for pursuit and sees Damaia clamber out of the window and down the drainpipe.

He hisses to her and they hide together - Damaia throwing herself behind the bush just in time: the tabaxi appears at the open window and looks around.

After the pursuit leaves them in immediacy (the guards muster with reinforcements and spread throughout the tournament village), the pair heads to the thieves' social house (where they met with Ethan) to meet up with their companions. When their companions are not there, they go with Damaia's instinct and head to the east-west road, where a dense fog has sprung up ...

Eventually, our four adventurers find each other in the fog. Four? But wait ...

The group discovers that the enigmatic Davdak, master of the insult and maestro of the stage, has slipped away in the night and the fog.

Vola hears a quiet squeak from her hair: it is Mick, Davdak's clever mouse, left behind by that mysterious bard for reasons known only to him.

Our party breathes deeply. It only gets more difficult from here.

#the hollow city #dnd #d&d #chapter 21

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kisant · 8 months

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So, like many people, I have been playing some Baldur's Gate, and my two games that have gone off the ground are two coop ones with my boyfriend. Game one: Eralue and Irithel, aka the Warrior Monks

Both of them are Tav characters.

Anyway, the fun think about this party is that both player characters are super tall, buff monks or clerics with good alignment but questionalbe backgrounds and/or races.

Eralue (my Tav) is a half drow monk who grew up an an abandoned urchin in the surface, and learn more than a few rogue/thief tricks as a result. But she was eventually taken to a monastery and got really into martial arts to channel the traumatic childhood away. But that doesn't mean that she doesn't have sticky fingers anymore, she steals more often and more efficiently than Astarion, which is amusing.

She's currently doing better keeping zen about anger issues than stealing, which is something she slips up on relatively often. Specially since she got her Shadow Monk subclass which synergizes super well with her half drow bonuses and her orphan bonuses to sneaking about and stealing shit while also letting her do ridiculous martial arts damage, ambush enemies, and make every single mage shut up in a wide area. Sphere of silence is a very, very fun ability indeed.

She generally gets along well with the rest of the party, especially Shadowheart, Wyll, Karlach and Astarion. Showheart generally likes her life choices and approach to problem solving, she supported Wyll and Karlach during the Mizora incident and she gave a small vow of confidence to Astarion precisely because every "vampire victim" dry corpse we have found have been animals, so hey, the pale elf is actually telling the truth about not hurting people to feed!. And She can always headbutt him again if he doesn't behave when he bites her.

Having both of them in the same group is fun because it's like having a rogue competition in the group. Only one of them is a 1,90m half orc woman that's not even a rogue, and she still manages to have better modifiers and throws. So now Astarion and eralue are friendly rivals. My bf's character Irithel is a big, buff, tiefling cleric who was also abandoned but grew up in a monastery. Tried out being a paladin for a while but ending up settling into cleric. He was the one who saved the tiefling child in the druid's grove form getting executed, while Eralue got to know (and fund) Mol's adorable baby tiefling thieves guild. I'll have to take a few pics when we are playing on the session itself, because the fun thing about both of our characters is how they are huge fuckoff mass of muscles that tower over everything else in the party that isn't named Karlach.

Now, we've also started a second file: A Dark Urge coop file. And since I got nostalgic from setting up an old PS3 with an old favourite game...

Hey, anyone remember Castlevania Lords of Shadows??? Because I do, and Gabriel Belmont/Dracula makes for a PERFECT character to base my Dark Urge around. So I'm playing Amnesiac "Dark Urge" Dracula and my boyfriend is playing Longsuffering "Tav" Alucard. But hey, we get to daywalk just like Astarion, only we hide the vampire part better (aka I can't make them be ACTUAL VAMPIRES) in the game. But the aesthetics are on point, they will be VERY fun to roleplay and we managed to defeat the demon commander, take his flaming sword, and have Gabriel beat the shit out of him with his own weapon. Which is an extremely Gabriel Belmont thing to do.

I really love how they came out, the character creator really came through for this rp idea.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur ocs #bg3

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beyond-abyss · 1 year

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CHAPTER THREE (because I haven't edited chapter 2 and it's not important don't worry about it)

Velkyn had already let the human girl live longer than she deserved, another day past the initial fight, but tonight she would die by his hand. Thanks to the shadow dїmon essence in his veins, Velkyn was as unknowable as the night around him. Creeping through the woods growing atop the drakback, Velkyn avoided waking the strange, glowing creatures that thrived in the branches. He snuck across rope bridges, causing them to quiver less than a light breeze would, and found Noa's quilt-draped abode.

The elves who lived in Distinguished Diumer's community atop a giant dragon-turtle creature had a special way of coaxing trees to grow in peculiar shapes, crafting concave half-homes and covering the rest with tents of quilting. As the two newest tenements, Noa and Velkyn were given new-grown homes and old quilts at opposite ends of the village. It was no secret that the drow wanted the human dead. And so, after only one peaceful day, Velkyn was determined to finish what he'd started in the bar.

Creeping to Noa's quilt-tent, secret boot dagger drawn, Velkyn had only the intake of a breath to decide his course of action as he beheld the assassin who was already poised to stab Noa. With that breath, he cried out, "NO!" loud enough to wake the whole forest, and tackled the fellow knife-wielder to the floor. Noa lurched awake, brown hair wild and brown eyes wilder as Velkyn became locked arm against arm with the would-be assassin. The two youths were both trying to stab one another and block the other's knife in identical actions. The one advantage which tipped the fight? Noa's swift and vicious kick to the assassin's head.

"I had her," Velkyn grumbled as Noa gaped at the unconscious orc girl.

"Was she trying to kill me?" Noa blinked rapidly at her would-be attacker just before screams tore apart the tranquil night. Both drow and human flung open the quilt curtain to take in the battle unfolding in the surrounding treetops. The varied residents of the drakback community were each defeating poorly dressed assassins with the same swiftness as Noa. Precise but brutal blows rendered the attackers unconscious or dead, and just as quickly as it began, it ended.

"What in Hell's latrines just happened?!" Noa yelled, dragging the orc girl out onto the landing of the rope bridge. "Who are these people, where did they come from, and why did they want us dead?!"

As Velkyn followed her out, she turned, confusion pinching her face, and said to the dark-elf, "And why were you in my room?"

Velkyn considered lying, then decided to share the instantaneous decision he'd made. "I was going to kill you in your sleep, but couldn't do that if this kid did it first," he admitted. Noa narrowed her eyes and turned fully to face Velkyn. "Now that I've seen it attempted, I realize that it would be too quick and boring a death for you, Lunnoa."

As the other elvish folk made their rounds checking on each other before coming to Noa and Velkyn, the human girl and drow boy glared at one another in silence. Just before Diumer was in earshot, Noa said, "I'm going to choose to believe it was some kind of dumb luck which saved my life twice in one instant. I will not be so unprepared next time."

Chaos ruled the remaining hours of night as everyone tied up the surviving attackers, and conferred with Diumer about what could be done. Ignoring the commotion, Velkyn sat keeping his own company by a fire, polishing his blade and wondering if it truly had been selfishness that drove him to protect his prey. Or if, in that moment, the horror he had felt seeing a dagger poised above such a helpless victim had snagged at something broken inside himself.

Or perhaps Velkyn refused to be robbed of the satisfaction of killing Noa after all the trouble she'd caused him. No matter why, he had chosen to save her life, on the very night which he had vowed to end it.

"You're a vicious piece of work," the human said, her arms crossed as she emerged from the dark. Noa's insult carried the air of a compliment as she wandered over to stand opposite Velkyn by the fire. "The way you and that assassin countered each other's every move… You've been trained?"

Velkyn stopped polishing his knife. "There's no counter for an idiot's interference, though, no matter how much you've trained."

Noa narrowed her eyes when the elf looked up at her and flashed a false smile. "That day in the bar, your knife hit me in the shoulder. You were aiming for someone else."

"I take it back: not an idiot, just a fool."

"Why does someone as arrogant and obviously silver-spoon-fed as you have the skills of an assassin?"

Velkyn tensed and turned the knife in his hand, pleased by the human's equally tense reaction. "Why don't I tell you my tragic life story while you braid my hair over a cup of tea?" Noa rolled her eyes, but Velkyn kept going, "Or better yet, how about you show me the art of sword swallowing which you so obviously learned in the circus you come from?" He wiggled his knife near the fire. "Here, put this in your throat!"

Noa spat on the ground between them, and Velkyn fell silent. A long pause crackled like the fire pit as Noa opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, only for nothing to come out. She turned and marched back into the dark towards Diumer's friends, muttering and kicking moss. Velkyn let his gaze return to the firelight on his blade, wondering why he had saved her.

#A. Sad. Universe

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mavrickbrett · 1 year

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What if Orcs were smart?

The following is the journal entries and letters of a half Orc named Jack. He is on a long multiyear expedition from his homeland far to the east of the very tall mountains that mark the edge of the Orc homeland. It begins to tell the Story of how Jack finds his true love, and the not so fun campaign they go on.

Orcs face a lot of discrimination for being Orcs from the Humans so if you don't want to read that I probably would skip it. Its not anything graphic just clearly causes pain for the protagonist.

Chapter 1.

Unknown to many humans the orcs who are the villains of countless children’s stories are one of their closest relatives. Homo Orcus, as the Orc biologists of the Central University of the Mountains have taken to calling their species in their quest to describe the relationship of all life to each other shares a common ancestor with Homo Sapiens, as the Humans have decided to name themselves, less then 500,000 years ago. Adapted to hunt and hide in the temperate rainforest and moss-covered mountain range they call home, they are a unique species in comparison to their close relatives the Humans, or the small folk of the valleys as they call the halflings. This mountain range protects the 500,000 or so orcs that call it home. Being such a small population their separation from humans is not due to a desire to distance themselves but due to the nearly impassible mountains that separates their homeland and their being so few orcs that leave their homeland to travel. The human settlements near the mountain range on the steppe are used to working with and meeting the orcs and share none of the concerns many humans have with the orcs due to lacking experience with them. Many a farmer and rancher has welcomed an Orc son or daughter in law into their family or sent their child to an Orc college as while difficult to reach are much closer than the agricultural universities in many Human capital cities.

Standing on average well over 6ft tall, with pronounced lower canines, often incorrectly believed in many human stories to be massive tusks, with a green pigment to their skin, the orcs stand out from Humans. Their dentition can make speaking many human languages difficult with certain sounds taking time to master, they prefer to speak one of the two orcish languages, High Orc commonly used in formal settings or in literature and orcish which has regional accents and uses a more poetic structure then high orcish. It has been rumored that human settlements that deal often with the Orcs begin to adopt a sort of creole language that either replaces difficult to pronounce words with once of orcish origin or truncates the words to avoid those sounds. Often when Orcs speak in common human tongues such as Burgandish or Low Costal they speak slowly giving many humans an impression as a dim witted species barely capable of speaking. This could not be further from the truth, as a species they love poetry and literature but is often inaccessible to many Humans and they make little effort to spread their work.

One of the Orcs proudest achievements is the high observatory, located on a snow capped volcano jutting out from their home land’s forest, a center of excellence for astronomy and optical design. In order to be able to craft the very precise lenses and mirrors the expert craftsmen of the observatory make optics much larger then any human craftsmen has ever considered. Thus the observatory is able to see into the night sky much better then any human or elf colleges astronomers could. Having spent years using the sensitive and massive telescopes to chart the heavens the Orcs have the most accurate stellar charts available, if unknown outside of their lands. Coupled with a dedication to learning shared across the species the Orcs colleges and universities are some of the largest in the world, and are open to all who wish to attend. The Orcish colleges and universities are open to other species if they wish to attend for a small price, much lower then the famous Elvish or Human colleges that educate the outside worlds elite, but this is largely unknown outside of their homeland. Specializing in the natural and physical sciences the Orcs have independently discovered many laws of nature and have even pushed science further in some fields then either the Humans or Elves. Orcish surveyors a are widely sought in the Steppe near their homeland to solve human property and boundary disputes due to their unparalleled accuracy and precision in their documentation, even if the maps, and plans given to their human clients is much larger then any human would prepare often covering entire great hall tables just to map simple farm boundaries (Needing to use larger pens to fit comfortably in their hands has a downside). Often what humans perceive as Orc war bands are simply astronomy students sent out to improve the celestial charts, needing dozens of Musk ox to carry their equipment and observation books.

It has become legendary how energetic the orcs are, often in stories of them plundering entire cities in mere hours. While there is little basis in truth to these stories, being that it is quite hard to convince the Orcs to form up their militia to leave outside of great offense to either themselves or communities they are closely tied to, there is a pearl of truth to the stories. The Orcish homeland is filled with all manners of strange plants which when consumed by most outsiders gives a felling of boundless energy and taste quite bitter and leave ones mouth feeling cool like they just breathed in fresh mountain air. The scientists of the Coastal Agricultural College and Research Laboratory report there are two compounds that seem to be the cause of it but have no direct human language translations as of yet, but transliterated are catine and zenttine. These appear to poses a significant toxicity to plant eating insects, and explains why Orc crops never face difficulties with locus or similar crop pests. This has resulted in a high number of flying pollinators though, which seems to unnerve visitors on their first trips to farms, which feed the many birds and insect eating mammals of the land. A significant amount of agricultural effort goes to growing a larger tough tubber, turdock, that is a stapple food of all communities. It appears the strong and pronounced lower canines are well suited for ripping into these energy and nutrition dense plants. While most orcs consume some meat as part of their diet, this is a very small amount of their food intake with almost all coming from cultivated plants and fruits. A strong spirit made from fermented and then distilled ratter berries is a popular drink while the fermented juices also a popular drink consumed in larger quantities. Visitors who consume this drink describe it as a “dangerous concoction” due to the high sugar content and a difficulty in telling how drunk one is from it unlike with human spirits.

Orc interpersonal relationships are complex, previously there was a strong tribal structure that is no longer meaningfully present, instead a weak guild system has developed with high degrees of mobility. Advancement in the guilds is due to mastering of one’s craft and with support of their peers. Many orcs form strong individual bonds with another, and go through a complex marriage ritual which involves a large celebration, and the couple going together in the mountains for a month together. Stories tell this was previously a test of strength for the new couple as they attempted to survive, today it resembles a vacation for the new couple. Their friends, families, and guild mates often conspire during this time to give the new couple a place to live either by building or finding the new couple a lodge to move into once they return. These marriages are predated by extensive courtship lasting months to years and are not of a rigid gender nature. Many marriages are between the same gender of orcs, and are largely supported by their communities.

Orcs have been seen to intermarry with humans and produce children that leave full lives. These marriages are observed primarily with the villages near the Orcs homeland. Often the children present with stripes or banding of orcish and human skin tones and make them stand out from other humans. Once they reach 13 to fourteen years of age these children begin to present with their stripping and their dentition may or may not begin to resemble that of an orc. If they do have orcish dentition, it may make pronunciation of some sounds more difficult. Largely these offspring are on the very large size for humans and possess heights and builds larger than children born from only human parents. These offspring are considered by many orcs to be fully members of Orc society and entitled to the same opportunities as other orcs, even if they are not as large or pigmented as children born to orcish parents on both sides. It is reported that these mixed offspring experience many of the same discrimination that orcs face outside of their communities.

The Military of the Orcs is surprising given their fearsome, and well deserved, reputation. Largely the rely upon a militia system, with college and university students given extensive coursework on the topic as part of their degrees. A professional core group exists for training, planning, and protecting dignitaries for the rare occasion they are dispatched to meet with other states. Largely the militia plans to defend their homeland at its mountain borders where few non Orc armies could imagine crossing let alone fight in. There is a professional navy rarely spoken about or seen that is rumored to ply the seas near their homeland that shadows any ship that comes close to the rocky and inhospitable shores. Details on its operations or size are scant and a closely guarded secret that no member of Orc society would reveal. It has been more then 200 years since the last time any meaningfully force has left homeland to fight or wage war, with the last time being provoked due to a cruel military campaign conducted against many of the village located near their homeland. The Militia plans for similar campaigns to be waged if called upon, but presently they prefer to dispatch small units to support allies if they are attacked.

The government of the Orc homeland is principally conducted through a federation of smaller communities who send elected representatives to the (very small) capital city. Consisting of about 500 representatives there is an election of a single leader who forms a cabinet that manages the few matters of state the body manages, principle being matters that effect multiple communities or the entire homeland. All matters that are to be voted on are discussed for all days of the week but Friday, as humans call it, when all voting is done. This is only broken for matters of gravest importance such as imminent attacks on the homeland. Often frustrating foreign dignitaries who can be forced to remain for many days before a vote can be held. Any member of Orcish society can directly petition or speak to the council on non-voting days, which is often done to seek advice in matters that affect multiple communities. Non community members must either be escorted by a member of Orcish society or present a warrant issued by another state to address the council. (Often leading to amusing situations of foreign dignitaries not knowing this rule, and cursing about the unruly mass that is the council during public hearing unaware that many in the room may understand their language.) For purposes of determining who is a member of Orcish society for addressing the council, it is broadly taken with many humans from nearby villages having been considered members even if not blood, but due to economic or social factors It is considered polite for them to attempt to speak in Orcish at least during these attempts. Local communities decide most matters themselves often through a complex mix of plebiscite, and guild voting with many members of a community voting in multiple elections. Administrative manners are handled by a civil council, with most major decisions deferred to weekly community votes, where liquor and wine flows freely, which is seen by most as a chance for communities to be a great time to meet with neighbors and fellows. Often these meeting are quite chaotic, but it does appear to effectively administer the local communities.

While often reported as crude craftsmen this does not match with the goods produced by many workshops. As a large and heavy species, and having large fingers, small fine details such as fine engraving are often not performed. Instead, many crafts focus on elegance through simplicity and the overarching perfection of the good. For example, many Orcs own a large sword taller then many humans as both a mark of status of being a member of the species as no other species produces weapons of such size. They are simple affairs with simple bindings and little ornamentation, but a human bladesmith would marvel at the near perfect balance, the quality of materials, and most importantly the quality of steel that enables the very long swords be as thin as many other species short swords while still not deforming or bending adversely when used. Outside of a new architectural trend which asks how complex of curves can be built accurately, Orc builders seek to have their buildings more level, square, and plumb then any human craftsmen would be capable of building.

It has been mentioned at great length the discrimination faced by many orcs if they stray far from the Homelands from Humans and other species. This is believed to be due to a lack of familiarity others have with orcs. While never intentionally insular, the homeland provides many orcs with enough food and work to leave no need to venture past the mountains, and those that do rarely leave 20 or so leagues of the mountain range ever present on the horizon with its indomitable heights always visible on the horizon. The difficulty due to dentition of speaking many Human languages provides an impression to those who can not speak orcish, that orcs are unwise and struggle with speech in general, even in perfectly fluent in a many human languages. This leaves few options even for highly educated orcs that go far from the mountains for employment even if they are overqualified for many human jobs. Even though often those who leave for extended times from the homeland are some of the best educated and desire to learn and see from others, their only options on jobs where their strength and size are seen as their primarily qualification. Many a Human army has hired orcs for them to form brutal shock units to find out they are much better qualified then their own officers at leading, or their engineers at preparing for offenses or defenses, if given the opportunity which is rarely.

Final notes, I have endeavored to write this report in such a way as from the perspective of a human anthropologist (they seem to lack this as a profession? Instead, they have archodiggerist focused on digging things up) relaying their understanding of Orcs. I hope this can help your students understanding from a different perspective as requested Doctor.

-- Jack Otreen of the member of the Civil Engineers Guild

On expedition, currently Starfire Capital City – The Low Counties

It has been five years since I last was home in the shadow of the mountains. While I have learned much about the Humans and their culture, it has been painful these past many years. I deeply miss catine, the humans coffee is painfully expensive in comparison to the price of ratter barrier liquors at Joes liqueur establishment, and barely gives one the feeling of being able to work forever on a manuscript. I hope what information I will bring back will be worth it, the humans grow stronger and have expanded their military greatly. I ran into one of the high observatory astronomical observation teams, they had been attacked by a local towns guard, like so many places orcs are despised here and half orcs like my self are seen as “affronts to god.” They were going to return early after the attack instead of proceeding further along the cost for more star mapping, I know the navy will be sad they won’t receive more accurate astronomical position charts, but I have given them my maps of the cost north of here to bring back for me. I fear trying to bring them back the hundreds of leagues by myself, the people here are much more aggressive then my village back home. Even after my stripes began to show I was still respected by my human friends and peers but not here even after I have learned their language they mock me for the speed at which I speak, apparently it is painfully slow.

When I first left I hoped to find work as a civil engineer or a surveyor. I was quick to find out only the kings army engineers were allowed to work on the large projects I was used to. I tried finding work for local farmers but was often times met with threats, oh well I have still been able to make maps here tho. I recently heard the army was recruiting orcs for a new unit. Up until now it was never an option, I have been thinking about it. Perhaps that way I could join the army engineers. I have been working for a jewelry merchant these past couple of months it barely pays enough for me to eat, but it is easy work. I escort the messenger carrying, what is clearly inferior quality, gems to the shop from the city gate. I have plenty of time to work on my records of my travels and notes, I have just finished my notes on this strange being called a Dwarf. Fascinating thing, their entire species is agender. My brief discussion with the one I have met has led me to know they hail from a large island, or perhaps content, far to the east. They have sent a small party across from their island to explore this content by means of a contraption called a hot air balloon. The one I met is apparently the one furthest to the west with most of the others they traveled with staying in a capital city to the east of my current location.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 13/12/2773

I have been on the road for three days at this point heading to the city were any Orc recruits are supposed to go if they are to join what I have learned is called the “Grand Imperial Army” apparently this Kingdom is preparing for a war with the country to the East. I have linked up with another Orc on the road to the city to sign up by the name of Zach. He was dispatched by one of the agricultural colleges as part of his Post-Doctoral studies before he came back to teach agronomics and farming practices. We have been comparing documentation on soil conditions and weather in the regions we have been through. It is good to be in the company of other members of our species for extended periods of time. Interestingly unlike many Orcs he does not carry one of our swords but a long handled axe and shovel combination. Apparently it is quite effective as an agricultural tool, and in the hands of Orcs trained in its use it proves to be an effective fighting tool to. I won’t be leaving my sword for one tho.

As we have made our way further and further east, the roads have improved in quality with many now having drainage and some have reinforced surfaces near towns and villages. Apparently According to some stories I heard in a mead hall last night the army often ha to march along this road when reinforcing the outlying fortresses. Concern is great here about why Orcs are present this far inside the kingdom and what we could be doing. We have taken to carrying a copy of the recruiting poster with us to show guards what we are doing.

It should only be a matter of a couple more days till we reach the city we are heading to. I have been sketching rout maps of this highway as we have gone. I wish I had access to better survey instruments then my trusty compass or at least had better monumentation to tie too. So far I have been forced to use churches due to the lack of other stone fixtures. I hope this improves the closer we get to the army.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 14/12/2773

Zach and I have reached the city four days ago and have joined a unit of Orcs for the imperial army. We are forming what the human officer placed in charge of us calls a shock unit. To be honest we are broadly unimpressed with his skills as an officer, any first year student would be expected to lead better then him, he likes to scream lots and call us maggots. There are 15 of us in this unit and I understand there are at least two other unit this size, we are being kept separate for as our officer says “security reasons” apparently we cant be trusted together, most of us are on sabbaticals or extended field assignments for academies or colleges. Our officer does not seem to understand that most of us have many years of military training and may even be officers in the militia ourselves. Zach is from the southern rangers I have learned, watching him in the field is stunning. I have long heard the legends of the Rangers and their fieldcraft and having as a Pioneer myself drilled with them in the past I am still shocked to see how easily he glides through even the most difficult field problems. We have named one of our most senior members, a member of faculty from the Norther College of engineering to lead us named Dr. Nick. He is a competent leader and would be expected considering before his sabbatical he was a commander in one of the Marine units himself. I understand he went on sabbatical to observe a new type of device rumored to be in use at some oar mines that can pump water out of deep mines effectively, he said it has been difficult and he has been forced to work as a laborer to have an opportunity to observe it. We don’t know how we will be able to send reports and field notes from this far east but that is a problem to be solved in a bit.

Our Officer has been making us go on marches, luckily they are short in comparison to what we went through back in training, no more three day no stop marches. I suppose this is good without a more catine rich diet I don’t know how I could do that anymore. In addition to this Dr. Nick has been making us practice sapping, battlefield mapping and reconnaissance, and my favorite field fortification. We have tried to explain multiple times to our officer that these are key skills for a frontline infantry unit, especially a “shock unit” as we are called, but normally get yelled for a while. We have been practicing with what the Humans call long swords, they are much shorter then our own swords and are not as good for controlling the area around you. We have been discussing how the humans plan to have us fight, and have not received training in large unit operations.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 25/12/2773

We have been preparing for many weeks now, outside of the daily role call the Officer largely leaves Dr. Nick to run the day to day train up of the unit. We have started to mesh very well together as a unit. Coming from so many different militia units back home we have begun to learn each other specialties. We were finally allowed to meet with the other Orc units. They too have formed their own leadership chains also finding difficulty working with their officers. After meeting with them we have all begun long range marches, last note I spoke to soon about no more three day no stop marches, we are back at them back as if we were in college once again. All the Orc units answer to the same officer, a captain, and apparently our total unit is called the first shock. The irony that no members of the unit can pronounce it has apparently been lost on the Human officers.

Out side of drilling Zach and I have been spending more time together, he has been attempting to grow turdock, pointing out that if we are to go on campaign it would prove more convenient and beneficial to carry for a long range campaign then the human rations they give us. I have been helping to plant them and to set up the irrigation for them, which has taken quite a lot of work. The Human soldiers seem to be very poorly trained in field sanitation. We have tried working with them but normally get yelled at for it. Oh well we have clean water at least. Having spent so long away from the Mountains it is nice to be in the company of orcs once again. Jenny, one of my classmates many years ago, joined our unit last week. It was nice to see her again, she was originally dispatched to serve as the ambassador to a neighboring principality. Apparently, they do not accept women ambassadors, but on her way back home she found the same observatory team that I had, they seemed to be doing better form what she could tell, and had them take word she was unable to take the position and to dispatch a new delegate and that she would spend more time near by to gather more information on this event, and why the Humans were recruiting Orcs.

Zach and I have also taken to practicing long range reconnaissance. Watching him move through the forest undetected is a thing of beauty, I could watch it all day. He has helped me improve my technique, I have a long way to go to reach his level of mastery. It may be wise for additional training for Pioneers in this field if we are to be able to provide the Rangers the engineering support the plans division has assigned us in the future.

I wish we had some of the Planning staff with us, Dr. Nick was able to convince the captain to at least tell him what the overall plan was, after a week of effort on Dr. Nicks part, and the plans are quite crude and unspecfic of actual objectives of where we are to go and what we are to do once we get there. We have requested to train with our human counterparts but have been turned down. Overall, I think while their armies can be much larger then anything we could assemble, I feel if we were forced to the mountains would be more then capable of holding them back from our lands.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 7/1/2774

It has been a couple more weeks since my last field note, Zach’s turdock have grown well even in the not great soil for them. According to Zach the soil should be more acidic to grow better. The camp grows every day with new units from across the kingdom arriving. Apparently there are many outlying garrisons and villages being called up to join this war. Our Officer has told us we are not to go further then half a day away from the camp on our marches anymore as we may need to leave any day. We have been informed as the “Fist” of the army we will be the first unit to move and must be ready. Apparently the King has even shown up to take control of Grand Imperial Army personally. Most members of our new adhoc band are from infantry units of the Militia, only Dr. Nick, Zach, Jenny, and I are from specialized units Luckily tho it does not seem like we will have to worry to much about that the Humans also have elite units it turns out. They ride upon a fascinating variety of horses from small ones for the forward scouts to these massive ones as tall as me for the heavy Lancers as they are called. Dr. Nick does not trust the information from the Humans and has told Zach and I that we will lead our own unit as a scouting party and prepare the way for the rest of first shock. On that note in keeping with needing to establish redundant leadership due to difficulties with the Human officers, Dr. Nick is now overseeing all three Units of First Shock. I think this bodes well for us going forward.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 31/1/2774

We received orders this morning to advance and to begin advancing towards the enemy to the East. Zach and I are about half a day’s quick march from the rest of the unit lead only maybe by the kings scouts themselves. Many of the bridges and fords we have crossed will not be able to take the strain of the army advancing across them, but we don’t have the time or the personnel to reinforce them. If only we had a full pioneer unit with us. We leave notes and signs in Low country, the language most of the Human officers seem to be able to read about its capability but I don’t know if they will know to fix it before it becomes a problem.

It is nice to spend all of this time with Zach, I wish we had met under better circumstances before this. Tomorrow morning before dawn we will cross the frontier into the enemy’s land. Let it be a quick operation. I don’t think the Humans can manage that long of a campaign with the supplies I saw at the camp.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 1/2/2774

I will need to go back through and edit its uhm rough, but I really like were its heading and want others to see.

#orc

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fanficsnstoryshiiiiiiit · 1 year

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so Rokida is an orc who doesn’t know her origins, the earliest she can remember is a farm where she was closer to a slave as a child than anything else. When thieves killed the land-owners and burned their house down in the night she escaped from the nearby barn before it caught. She wandered for weeks, cutting and selling wood for scraps to get by. At 14 she was offered a room and free meals in exchange for some work, but on her own terms. Desperate for regular meals and a safe roof over her head, she agreed. Barely felt the crack across the back of her head before she went out.

When she wakes up she’s in a caged cell; a simple wood bed frame with straw and a sleeping bag, a bucket, and a small dresser. Three out of four walls were stone, one being bars and the door. Across the way she saw a wood elf- what did they call it? A bosmer? Either way the man was tall but maybe half her weight, even if he appeared older. She would learn she was to spend the rest of her young days in the gladiator pit. A fighting ring that made it’s money from gambling and betting and elite royals sponsoring fighters, and regularly attending for the feast and blood and gore. She shocked all when she slashed her opponents shins with the sword they allowed her, despite the wide-eyed fear obvious even in her helmet. In her opponent’s rage he charged forward, hammer over his head, and she lunged; impaled him clean through on her sword, only holding it until his life faded and she rolled out from under his collapsing body. Panting and shaking, she couldn’t even process the shocked silence over her heartbeat racing in her ears. Then an uproarious cheering broke out and snapped her up, an emerging guard making her jump as they strode up and held her arm up to declare her the victor. Then she took in the crowds, but her relief at surviving was overcome with disgust. At these people, this sport, what she had done… She nearly vomited and was quickly escorted away so the next match could take place. The Bosmer was just as shocked as her to see her alive, but from there would be her only friend.

At least until the young altmer came. Smaller than Rokida when she arrived and possibly younger, she would do everything she could to see the whelp survive, as her Bosmer friend Allias did for her. Maybe two years down the line and Rokida is placed in a holding cell to her her match after the altmer, Friedis. She could watch the match from there and shout orders to Friedis at least, but to her horror Friedis would be facing one of the three most seasoned fighters left. Rokida rattled her cell and made the walls creak as she watched, her rage boiling as she watched the fighter toy with Friedis and let her wear herself down. Until she was all too easy to cut down; and in that moment Rokida took the door clean off her cell and rocketed on all fours past the guards, hurling them out of the way as she went. The fighter had just turned from standing with a triumphant grin that quickly morphed into pure horror as the orc descended on him, tackling him and ripping out his throat with her bare teeth. Her animalistic state wasn’t satisfied; she ripped his head clean off, and stood and flung it into the booth of the organizer for the pit. A moment of panting passed in a red haze, before it suddenly broke and she whipped around to kneel down and cradle the body of her young friend. They had done this on purpose. To get to HER. She knew then she would kill the remaining champion, if only to be paraded before the owner so she could get close enough to kill him.

From there she worked with Allias to buy and convince all the other fighters she could to help them; all would culminate in the final day she cut down the last champion. The fight would be effortless for her, rage-fueled and precise, nothing would distract her. Two guards on either side of her approached, one raising her arm before they placed her arms behind her and shackled them. Steel instead of the simple iron of most; as though it would make much difference. They lead her up the stands into the owner’s booth, where he laughs in a disgusting snobby way and claps her on the shoulder. She doesn’t hear what he says, listening instead for a cue to come as she stares him down. Then the whistle, the guards are looking around as she snaps her shackles easily, tearing a sword from one guard to slice them both down in a matter of moments; sending their bodies tumbling into the pit. The old man recoils into his throne as she looks out for confirmation of the other fighters having made it to the pit. Then she turns on him, bearing down on him with one hand gripping his remaining hair and the other pressing a sword to his throat. She had no witty remark to make, only finding satisfaction in the spray of his blood across her face as she decapitated him. She turned to her fellow fighters, holding his head aloft and roaring in victory, a cry that they raised as well. By now the royals and spectators were beginning to flee, so on cue a double ended spear was thrown to her; she thrust it into the throne before planting his head on top of it.

After that it was a mad dash to escape the coliseum before the city’s guards filed in, every fighter went in a different direction save for Allias and Rokida. They donned long brown hoods and fled the city easily, then catching rides on supply wagons out towards the border of Skyrim.

In the ambush that overtook Rokida and Allias, she fought anyone who dared towards her with a sword, likely killing a handful of Imperials before finally being subdued after Allias was gravely wounded. In her pause they jumped and bound her in as many ways as they could manage. When she and the Stormcloaks were loaded up, Allias was left to bleed out. She wouldn’t have stopped struggling had it not been for the sword butt to the back of her head.

— —

The rest of her story as LDB is a little more up in the air still, the only part I know for sure being the Companions. But I wanted to get my ideas for her backstory down somewhere!!

#Skyrim #Skyrim oc #oc backstory #I kept going back and forth on a lot of details but…#idk I’m happy with it for now #she ends up very very quiet and almost selectively mute #but she’s extremely willing to help people in need #so yknow she accidentally gets better known than she wants to be… it spirals out of her control from there #she eventually finds a friend in Farkas and kind of Vilkas st least-#ugh I’ve indulged in too much Skyrim fanfic #I’m all rambly #my writing #Ghostiepop

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thecreaturecodex · 2 years

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Grevan

Image by Anthony Carpenter, © Kenzer and Co.

[Hey! A Hackmaster 5e monster that’s not a animalistic quadruped facing left! Most of the humanoids in the first 5e Hacklopedia are takes on traditional D&D fare like gnolls, goblinoids and orcs, but the grevan is an interesting giant kin. We get several pages on the development of their culture and different subsets within, which I’m not going to get into. I like them as a different take on the “evil elves” trope, as if Romulans were religious zealots and also nine feet tall.]

Grevan CR 8 NE Humanoid (giant) This humanoid stands half again as tall as a human, with pointed ears and chiseled features. He wears leather armor and carries finely made gear.

Grevans are sometimes called “elven giants” or “giant elves”, as they combine features of both these races. Instead of being a crossbreed of the two, they are descended from elves that were devoted to violence and warfare above all else, and were rewarded by their dark gods for it. Grevan society has absorbed weaker, dumber giants like ettins, trolls and ogres, which are often found among them as disposable troops and heavy laborers. The grevan language is a creole of Giant and Elven, and a speaker of either of those languages can understand Grevan with a successful DC 15 Linguistics check (if both languages are spoken, only a DC 10 Linguistics check is required). Their tongue notably has no word for “peace”, only “pause” or “weakness”, and they view warfare for its own sake as the driving force of their civilization.

Grevans will often attack targets that have little value to traditional military strategy, but serve mystical or sacrificial purposes in their rites. Grevans hold sacred an entire pantheon of gods, each of whom is worshiped for some facet of the art and craft of warfare. The only members of grevan society who are not expected to fight and die are the very young and very old, who are put to work in order to support the war machine. Grevans value slaves for their knowledge and skills as well as for labor, and do not casually kill and eat them the way hill or frost giants may. This does not make any slaves truly members of the society, and even the most valued and loyal slaves are often turned into living shields if a grevan base is under attack.

In combat, a grevan favors the application of overwhelming force if possible. They are as skilled at range as they are in melee, and usually attack with a volley of arrows from ambush. They do not hesitate to close the gap, however, and a grevan’s position in their society is measured by how many kills they make in combat. They fight dirty, and grevans often use false retreats, traps or hazards on the battlefield, and attack resting or recovering forces. Grevans will gladly fight to the death, viewing death outside of combat as shameful. As the grevan proverb states, “he who is without enemies is lost”.

A grevan stands about nine feet tall and weighs nearly seven hundred pounds on average. Their life expectancy is shorter than that of elves, with venerable members of the species reaching 200 years of age, but few grevans live that long before dying in battle.

Grevan CR 8 XP 4,800 CE Large humanoid (elf, giant) Init +9; Senses low-light vision, Perception +13 Defense AC 21, touch 16, flat-footed 21 (-1 size, +5 Dex, +2 natural, +3 armor, +2 shield) hp 102 (12d8+48) Fort +8, Ref +13, Will +7; +4 vs. mind-influencing effects Immune fear, sleep Offense Speed 40 ft. Melee masterwork longsword +15/+10 (2d6+6) or slam +14 (1d6+6) Ranged masterwork composite longbow +14/+9 or +12/+12/+8 (2d6+5/x3) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Statistics Str 23, Dex 21, Con 18, Int 13, Wis 12, Cha 8 Base Atk +9; CMB +16; CMD 31 Feats Alertness, Deadly Aim, Iron Will, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Rapid Shot Skills Climb +15, Craft (bows) +11, Perception +13, Sense Motive +4, Stealth +11, Survival +11 Languages Common, Grevan SQ heart of war, weapon training Ecology Environment cold and temperate grasslands Organization solitary, pair, raid (3-12) or settlement (20-100 plus 50% noncombatants) Treasure standard (masterwork studded leather armor, masterwork heavy wooden shield, masterwork longsword, masterwork composite longbow [+5 pull] with 40 arrows, other treasure) Special Abilities Heart of War (Ex) A grevan gains a +4 racial bonus on saves against mind-influencing effects and a +4 racial bonus on Initiative checks. Weapon Training (Ex) A grevan is proficient in all swords and all bows.

#grevan #giant #elf #pathfinder 1e #hackmaster #hackmaster 5e

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courtpheasent · 2 years

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More DnD concept art for my campain: this time featuring the crew of the Vanity! An all-lady pirate ship that has no standards when it comes to who they let aboard, or what they steal from them!

More about the ladies and their role on the ship (spoiler free of course because some of my players have tumblr) below the cut

Captain Alexi Steelhide

Captain of the Vanity

She/Her

Animal Folk (Otter to be precise)

Has survived at least one ship wreck

Easily Excitable

Over Ambitious

Barely keeping everything together

Probably sleeping with the Qaurtermaster

I love her

Anris Straventzgi

Quarter Master

She/Her

Orc

Official disappointed mom of the ship

Probably sleeping with the captain

Is so done it’s not even funny

Mama needs a break pls stop being dumbasses for four seconds-

I love her

Kirk Dhumum

Sailing Master

She/Her

Elf

We’re not supposed to pick favorites but she’s my favorite

Over 300 years old and so sick of everyone’s bullshit.

Clearly Harboring some dark secret in what she claims to be a closer.

Never stops working

Token Alcoholic pirate

Canonically has snorted fantasy drugs to ‘clear her mind’

Has a little sister.

I love her.

Petnan Wraith

Boat Swain

She/Her

Half Elf (other half is tabaxi)

Baby

Please don’t hurt her

Kirk’s half sister

Lives in the cargo hull because it’s dark and quiet

Resident rodent control, magical plant farmer, and baby sitter along with her normal job

Has a stutter

I love her

Dr. Ganock Sunderer

The Vanity’s Doctor/Carpenter

She/her

Orc

Does she have a doctorate? Who knows!

Handy with a saw (bone and regular)

Mother Hens everybody

Very Neat

Sings sea shanties while working

I love her

Ugva Heartthrob

First Mate

She/Her

Orc

Resident flirt

Suprisingly acrobatic

Apperently has fallen off the ship. More than once.

Has her own supply of booze.

Very extra

I love her

Smug

Second Mate

She/Her

Goblin

We know literally nothing about her she was in a coma when we got there and hasn’t woken up since.

Love her though.

Mamir Nífear

Third Mate

She/Her

Orc

She’s new here pls be nice

Had social anxiety

Bit of a herbo

Likes mopping

Doesn’t like big crowds

Genuinely confused bu pretty much everything

I love her

Thunri Futhrid

Cook/Weapons Manager

She/Her

Human

Likes to sing

Very sweet

Lil bean of a woman

Everyone on the ship will fight you if you hurt her

Knows how to use magic

I love her

Okay that’s all. Thank you for reading!

#sorry for there are any types it’s 2 in the morning #and I’m falling asleep while typing this lmao #Anyway #like these guys #dnd #pirates #the vanity #my art #Ref sheet #oc

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

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hey love🥺🥺

can i request smth for aragorn pls🥺🥺 prob based on this post cus hes so crazy HOT in this but yeah everything else is up to u!! hope ur having a wonderful day<3

Yes girl here we go. I hope this is alright.

Aragorn x Elven reader - Find Me

Summary: With your elven duties done for the time being, your heart yearns for a certain Ranger as he travels in the wilds of Middle Earth.

Warning: fluff, Aragorn just being a beautiful softy

Folding your arms you look out upon the great valley of Rivendell, with her beautiful elven homes, shimmering waterfalls, and never ending ability to always have singing nearby from elven voices of pure golden honey.

You truly love this place with all of your very heart and soul, it has been your home for the past four-thousand years or so, but in the recent five-hundred have you been traveling throughout the wilds of middle earth in search of adventure. But it would just so happen that on one of your travels through a lonely mountain range did you happen to come face to face with the dirty but admittedly handsome likeness of a Ranger.

His crystal blue eyes grew wide in awe and wonder as your angelic form drew forth from the woodland, it was like all troubles and fear had vacated from his body the moment those beautiful ocean irises saw your smiling face. He was undoubtedly aware that you were in fact an elf, but his heart swelled anyways and he blessed whoever would listen for a single chance in all his lifetime to have seen your face just this once.

Though this would not be the last time you’d meet him, far from it, it just so happened that when looking upon his scruffy face did you feel an intense pull to him in a way that you couldn’t explain, nor have ever felt before. It was a strange but wonderful feeling all in one, that night would the two of you talk for hours. Leading into a week of traveling with him, this Ranger seemed content and joyous with your company.

It did not take long for feelings to grow and spark into a magnificent fire, swirling with admiration, respect, trust, and love for one another. It did not feel rushed, it felt completely right, like you had waited this long for something so pure and meaningful, and were not disappointed in the slightest.

This handsome Ranger would not utter his true name until the next time you two would meet, a year and a half later after you had to assist Elrond with something gravely important dealing with some strange pack of dwarves and a quest to claim their homeland. The things you do for that elf.

Though when you returned to the wilds, and it did take some skilled tracking, you had found him once more and still looking as dashing as ever. Though this time he greeted you with a chaste kiss, his eyes so full of love and relief for your safe return to him after such a long time apart. Under the stars, wrapped up in his arms with the light of a lowly burning fire flicking shadows across your faces. Did the Ranger tell you his name, Aragorn, your heart leapt with joy once the words had parted from his lips.

Aragorn.

You would learn of his heritage and that he was the rightful king of the great white city, so far away. But just the same you would accept him anyways, he was grateful and loved you twice as much. In the next couple years would you leave for Rivendell and your duties then return to your Ranger, staying with him for months on end, the two of you soaking up every moment together with stories, fleeting glances, laughter, and the sweetest of kisses.

Though right now, standing on a grand balcony in your true home of Rivendell do you feel that familiar pang of longing deep in your heart, you miss Aragorn more then you’d be able to say with words. But Elrond has needed you recently, claiming no other elf can slay so many orcs with such stealth and precision. Indeed a truthful compliment, and yes you’ve upheld to your duties to protect the realm, but you can’t help but feel called to your Ranger.

He misses you deeply.

You tilt your head to the sky as a light soft breeze caresses your face, you can hear the familiar patter of light footsteps as they walk down the steps behind you. Crossing the opened room, the source of the intrusion stands by your side, yet he is still a calm and comforting presence, “My dear Y/N, you have done well to protect these lands in the past couple months. But I can’t help but notice how your smile seems fleeting these days. What troubles you?”

Sighing you glance at Lord Elrond, “The Ranger.”

“Aragorn.” He says knowingly with the tiniest of smiles.

“Yes. It has been many moons since last we parted, I worry for him. But I understand that I must keep to my duties here. So I will stay.”

Elrond smiles like a kind father, “So it would appear that the world would have you two meet once again. I ask you this, Y/N. Would you find your Ranger and bring him to Rivendell, I very much would like to speak to him again.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, your heart practically leaping with joy, “I would be honored.” You laugh, “Like you had to ask my dear friend, he will not be able to hide from me. I will find him in due time.”

The old elf smiles, “I do not doubt it. Your tracking skills are rather outstanding, though your heart leads you in more ways then you know.”

“Always with the wise words,” You tease, “you’re around Gandalf too much I can tell.”

“Oh Y/N.” A small chuckle escapes him, “Maybe so....but I must tell you, your horse will be awaiting you at dawn. Your weapons and travel pack just the same, stay safe, I fear more beasts lurk around every corner these days.” He warns.

“Well, perhaps it’s a good thing I know how to use a sword. And with my bow, they’ll never see me coming.” You add with a sly grin, he nods in agreeance.

“Til we meet again, Y/N.” Finally speaks Lord Elrond handing you a small smile as he turns to leave and go about his other duties.

“Farewell.”

In the early hours of the morning, just before the sun began her bright ascent into the clouds, did you make way for the mountain pass. Atop of your dashing steed, sword at your hip, bow held to your back, and determination in your heart.

To find your sweet Aragorn.

It had been many days, then turning into a couple weeks of riding and endless tracking before finally, finally, did your elven eyes land on a familiar boot print in the mud. A horses hoof by its side, not even three days old, he is close now. But as you take another few steps does your nose crinkle in disgust, you follow the scent to a tree where a dead orc is laying upon the ground rotting from a slice to its neck and chest.

Aragorn.

He was without a doubt here, the evidence is truly telling. You turn, quickly throwing yourself atop your horse before taking off in the direction of the tracks. Just as you’d thought, it would take about a day and a half to find him. His trail leading into the woods, a thicker more secluded wood, full of great green pines and giant ferns littering the opened ground. Sliding off of your horse, you walk around to her front, grabbing the leather reins to lead her forward into the unknown.

Not even an hour later do your pointed ears pick up the sounds of someone trying to dig out roots, if they were attempting to be quiet, mission failed. Not wanting to be made known of your presence, you leave your loyal steed by a downed log and stealthy walk your way to the source of the noise.

Is it him?

As silent as an owl in flight do you unsheathe your shimmering silver sword, it flashes in the dying sunlight as you take cautious feather light steps to a certain Ranger, he’s almost hilariously oblivious to your staring. You watch as he cuts out a thick root from the disturbed earth, you glance to your right and notice his horse, it feeds unaware to your presence.

With a smirk do you take another couple steps forward, he doesn’t even know, another step now and you’re an arms reach away. As sly as a fox do you bring your sleek blade to the side of his throat, he tenses immediately.

“What’s this? A Ranger caught off his guard?” You smirk, a mischievous tinge to your voice as he lets out a breath. His body relaxing once again as you move your blade from his throat, sheathing it once more.

A smile graces his lips as he slowly stands up, turning around to face you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, “Y/N.” You smirk at him. He’s so close now.

“Aragorn.”

You don’t have time to speak another word, for your king has captured you in his arms, blessing your lips with a warm kiss, it’s full of love, longing, and adoration. You can tell how much he’s missed you after these longs months apart, hopefully he’s able to tell how much you happen to feel the same. After another couple wonderful seconds does he pull away for breath, his hands hugging your sides close as he presses his forehead to yours.

“Meleth nin.” Whispers your Ranger, “What brings you to the wilds? I thought Lord Elrond was in grave need of you for something important?”

You smile, “That time has passed. My duties are done for now, I could not bare to keep away from you for much longer. It would have driven me mad.” He tilts his head to kiss the tip of your nose affectionately.

“You’ve blessed my soul once more, Y/N. My moon amongst the darkness, I am grateful to see your face once again.”

“Aragorn.” You speak breathlessly at his heartfelt words, you hug him tighter, a warmness blooming from deep within your chest, “Come with me back to Rivendell. Elrond has missed your company and I would very much enjoy having you close.”

“Then I am yours my lady.” He whispers lovingly into the evening air, your heart flutters with excitement.

The journey back to Rivendell felt much shorter and less lonely with your dirty faced Ranger by your side keeping you company and warm on the cool nights as you both slept underneath the thousands of dazzling stars. Soon enough your horses had made their way onto the white stone path leading into the great kingdom. Birds chirp happily from nearby as you both listen to the soft roaring of the waterfalls.

You and Aragorn ride up to the front, a long stairwell in front of you leading into a large gathering area, your horse neighs as footsteps be fall upon the pale stone steps. Your elven eyes glance up to find Lindir as he carefully walks down the steps, stopping on a flat platform just above more of the marble stairs.

“My Lady Y/N, Aragorn, it is a pleasant sight to see the both of you doing well on this fine morning.” States Lindir with a genuine smile.

You laugh, “You mean to say, it’s good that we have not been slain by goblins in the dead of night?” Aragorn chuckles from behind you as he sits upon his steed.

The elven man blinks, a small laugh escapes him, “Perhaps that was what I happened to be implying. These days we can never be to careful, terrible beasts lurking around every corner it seems.” He pauses for a moment, remembering what he came down here for, “Forgive me, I meant to ask if you’d join Lord Elrond for breakfast, he is eager to speak with Aragorn...I will have my men take care of your horses. You two must be tired, I will have baths prepared for you two at once. Excuse me for now, my friends.” Rambles Lindir as both you and Aragorn jump down from your horses, two elves coming to your aid as they take the leather reigns from each of your hands.

As they guide the loyal beasts away, you turn to take a step up the stairs, stopping to look at Aragorn, “Now you.” Your eyes trail him up and down, “definitely need a bath.”

He jogs up the steps, coming to a halt next to you, “Have you seem your face melleth nin.” He teases, though you don’t have a speck of dirt on your skin, being an elf does have its perks like that.

You laugh, “I don’t need to my love, I’m already the most radiant creature you’ve ever been lucky enough to see.” The most adorable smile breaks out upon his dirt smudged face as a light pink dusts his scruffy cheeks, even knowing you for so long are you still able to make him blush.

“Perhaps I cannot disagree there. Now let’s get something to eat.” He adds with a smile, a flash of excitement crossing his features as he thinks of actual real food.

You playfully scoff, “And you a bath.”

“Am I not the most radiant creature in all the land?” He teases.

Rolling your eyes you let out a chuckle before continuing to walk up the stairs, “Aragorn. Come on.” He smiles while watching you lead, feeling rather blessed to have you so near once again.

——

Breakfast had been delicious without a doubt and your bath was warm and definitely needed, even if you can’t seem to get as dirty as a certain someone. Now dressed in your normal elven attire do you wander around the halls of Rivendell in search of your Ranger who has appeared to have gotten himself lost. Well not really, you’ve more so misplaced him, this kingdom is rather big after all.

Not even ten minutes later do you find him, he’s standing on the edge of a crystal blue pool, watching as some beautifully colored fish swim around the water unbothered and free. You slowly walk into the opening of the large room, taking light steps to see if you can sneak up on him again. Your breathing is low as you skillfully take your time to cross the room.

But alas your plans are foiled once he happens to glance in your direction, his blue eyes locking onto your smirking face as he takes you all in, “Were you trying to scare me?” He wonders in that velvety voice of his.

You bite your lip, taking a few more casual steps forward as you gently touch the side of his arm, “Me? Scaring you? I would never do such a thing.” You play off, he laces his arm through yours as you both begin walking towards a balcony.

“Your absence these last couple months have been more taxing then I had first realized.” Begins your sweet Aragorn, shifting the mood to a more serious tone, “But I am glad to have you now, my dear Y/N, thank you for coming back to me.”

You hand him a kind smile, “I will always come back to you, in every lifetime, you may be the most skilled hunter I have ever known. But I will always be able to find my way to you.” You lightly squeeze his bicep with your free hand, “I love you more then life, you know this.”

His eyes look to the floor for a moment, “Are you still certain?” He asks, finding your gaze once again, though you know exactly what it means.

You nod, “Without a doubt in my heart, I am.”

He brings you to the balcony overlooking all of Rivendell in all of her grand beauty, his face true as he looks deeply into your eyes, “You know what your choice means Y/N, my life may be longer then most men’s, but I don’t want you to give up your life for mine.”

You gently touch the side of his cheek, your other hand pressed against his chest as he holds onto it tightly, “Aragorn. I have lived many lifetimes on this earth, and in every one of them alone. Indeed I am very old, but I would rather be apart of yours then suffer another three thousand alone. It is not your fault that I feel this way for you, you have to understand that.”

He sighs, looking deeply into your loving eyes, “But your life here.”

Shaking your head you smile, “My true family has been sleeping in the ground since the last great war for middle earth, all I have left his Elrond. I made my choice the moment I decided to follow you into the wilds. You are all that I want, all that I care for in this life, do not push me away because you think I should live longer.”

He frowns, “I would never do that to you, I swear it. I just want you to be happy, that is all I care about.” Oh, Aragorn you sweet man.

You remove your hand from his cheek to gently hold his arm that’s wrapped around your side, “I am, and I plan to follow you to death, I don’t believe even a Balrog could make me leave your side.”

He chuckles holding you closer, “Y/N, I do not deserve you.”

You let out a quick laugh, “Definitely not.”

#aragorn x you #aragorn x reader #aragorn #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagines #middle earth imagine #king of gondor

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hopeymchope · 3 years

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I don't know how well you know Dungeons and Dragons (if at all), but if you can answer this, what races and classes would each character in THH pick for their characters in a given game?

Do I know anything about Dungeons & Dragons? ... Aside from the classic Alignment Chart, no. I don't know much of anything about it.

Or at least I didn’t know much about it. Because: Will I do a bunch of unnecessary research into the current version of D&D just so I can try to answer this question? YES OF COURSE.

So I dove into the various classes available and the various races that are playable (including current expansions), read the official descriptions for them all, verified which race/class combos were allowed, and finally came up with a list. Obviously, I don't have the depth of knowledge that a legit D&D player might have, but based on just the base descriptions available in the official materials, here's what I came up with.

Makoto Naegi – Human, Paladin. It makes sense that Naegi would go for the most commonly played race in the whole game. You might think he’d go for the most common type of class, too, but nah — his passionate sense of justice lures him towards being a Pally.

Kyoko Kirigiri – Half-Elf, Artificer. Artificers are the class that most values knowledge and intelligence, making them easy for Kiri to respect. And the Half-Elf is a being of two worlds who is said to be curious, inventive, and ambitious. Those traits are certainly present in Kiri.

Celestia Ludenberg – Elf, Rogue. We know Celes loves the physical appeal of thin, pale, otherworldly figures, and we also know that she’s hardcore into playing games of deceit. Ergo, this is perfect.

Aoi Asahina – Gnome, Ranger. I think the gnomes’ joyous embrace of life and all its pleasures would really grab the cheerful Hina. Plus she’d like how cute they are. Obviously, we’ve seen her bond with a fellow athlete quickly in RL, so for her class, I think she’d be drawn to a physical type — one better known for dexterity than raw strength. That brings it down to Monk or Ranger, and I think Ranger allows her to be less self-serious than the focused studies of a Monk.

Toko Fukawa – Tiefling, Bard. The bard is a primarily a storyteller, after all. It fits with her talent, and besides, it’s not like she’s inclined towards direct violence. The Tiefling is what fits with her personality. The constant abuse and suspicion that the Tieflings receive really reflect how Toko feels in her daily life.

Genocide(r) Jack/Syo – Half-Orc, Rogue. If Jack/Syo is in charge during the selection process, a Half-Orc who feels that inexorable pull towards her inner bloodlust is natural. I waffled on whether to go straightforward Fighter or Rogue, but I think the Rogue’s sneakier aspects and tendency towards smaller blades has to speak more to Jack/Syo.

Chihiro Fujisaki – Halfing, Fighter. A combination of what Fujisaki would clearly relate to (the small, peace-loving halfing) and what Fujisaki most wants to be (strong in both body and mind) resulted in this unlikely pairing. I think the evident dichotomy between class and race also hspeaks to

Sakura Ogami – Leonin, Monk. As the Ultimate Martial Artist who is constantly training to be the best, she’d see herself reflected the Monk that constantly strives for physical and spiritual perfection. But what wins out when she picks a race – her noble warrior side or her girly side that loves cute things? I found myself waffling between the noble, physically imposing Leonin and the adorable Gnome. But ultimately, her combatant side has to win out, because she’s prone to hiding her girlier side.

Mondo Owada – Dragonborn, Barbarian. Dragonborn are loyal to their clan above all else, which is something Mondo can get into. Barbarians value strength, obviously, but they also have the ability to explode into a powerful rage. Mondo might not even be aware of why that speaks to him…

Kiyotaka Ishimaru – Dragonborn, Wizard. I think Taka would feel lost and perplexed when faced with a choice of what race to take, so when Mondo takes “Dragonborn” because he thinks it’s rad, Taka is just inclined to stick close to his bro. Then he chooses Wizard because it’s said to be the most scholarly of the various classes, and he wants to make sure he’s taking his studies seriously in every possible version of his life.

Mukuro Ikusaba – Leonin, Fighter. Leonin are mostly concerned with their own race and are nomadic. They’re a proud race of warriors and tend to keep to themselves. Mukuro has lived a similarity nomadic life, and the one person she usually lets close is her sister. Besides, mythical beasts like a Leonin sort of fit with the iconography of Fenrir. And then the Fighter class is… just obvious.

Junko Enoshima – Elf (Drow), Warlock. I think it’s extremely Junko to choose the most beautiful and noble of races and then pick the most chaotic/psychotic possible sub-race within it. The Drow are a group of subterranean elves who murder and enslave however they see fit, typically killing entire families if even one member stands in their way. Perhaps she’d try to disguise herself as a Wood Elf for most of the game, only to reveal her true nature once they’re deep into play. Furthermore, I can see her choosing a Warlock that has sold their soul to a demon or a dark god in exchange for power because of how incredibly despairing that sounds.

Hifumi Yamada – Dwarf, Bard. Given his own stature AND how much pride Hifumi takes in his “craft,” I think he’d identify with the skilled craftspeople who are stout in build. Hey, he already has shown a preference for characters with a similar build to his own body if you take his love for Princess Piggles into account. I doubt Toko would appreciate him sharing a class with her, but he’s even more overtly proud of being a storyteller than she is, so it’s a natural choice.

Leon Kuwata – Human, Ranger. With an eye for speed and precision, I picture Leon being drawn to the Ranger class. I also see him finding most of the fantasy races too weird/goofy and preferring to go Human, which actually fits nicely given that Humans in D&D are known for their ambition. Leon is definitely big on that.

Byakuya Togami – Refuses to play because it seems so foolish and frivolous, of course. But if he somehow is sweet-talked into it: Elf, Sorcerer. The Elf is a being of otherworldly grace with a larger perspective on world events that other races can’t gasp. The Sorcerer is a character with a magical birthright thanks to their powerful bloodline. Everything about this speaks to how he sees himself.

Yasuhiro Hagakure – Satyr, Druid. Satyrs are gregarious and just want to enjoy life’s pleasures, which sure sounds like our boy. But a Satyr Druid? The way I see it, Hiro will be put off by the typical magic-wielding classes, which’ll mostly make him think of his hatred of the occult. But the Druid derives all his power from nature, so Hiro will somehow figure that’s totally ok in the same way that his own weird powers somehow aren’t occult to him.

Sayaka Maizono — Half-Elf, Bard. OH CRAP I ALMOST FORGOT SAYAKA. I think the push and pull of the two worlds that Half-Elves feel, which often leave them feeling like they belong to neither one, is something that Sayaka would find understandable given the pull of her industry vs her desire to live a more “normal” life. And the Bard thing isn’t just because it’s typically a musical role — it’s also because of Maizono’s desire to be someone’s sidekick/supporting role and step out of the spotlight.

..........and there it all is! Sorry that this took so long to reply to, but as you can see, I’m a wordy bitch. I wound up with quite the variety across the cast, actually. I used almost every class and almost every race (no Clerics and no pure Orcs, but that’s all that got ignored).

Now, the typical D&D party is recommended to consist of 4-5 players, so this is obviously waaaaaay too many characters for a single session to contain. But if I were to pick the 4 or 5 people I think would most easily get drawn into a single D&D game? I’d think it’d be Hifumi, Makoto, Celestia, Chihiro, and Hiro.

#dr1 spoilers #danganronpa #asks #d&d #dnd #dungeons & dragons #danganronpa x d&d

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elliemarchetti · 3 years

Text

The Most Macabre of Scenes, The Most Terrible of Nightmares

As I hope the few souls reading this have already guessed, requests are open for anything on LOTR and The Hobbit. However, in this chapter the journey of the Fellowship continues, but various shadows loom over their safety and the hearts of its members.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Words: 2643

The attack was short and violent, but fortunately no one was injured. It was about midnight on their eighth day of travel when the Orcs stroke, a raid planned down to the last detail, one might say, as they had took advantage of the current, the crescent moon that lit up the sky and the abundance of strangely bright stars, reflecting like torches on the River’s surface. Their black-feathered arrows had fallen like lethal rain upon the Fellowship, but except for a few torn cloaks, there had been no damage. Hidden among the ferns of the western shore, as awake as they could be, everyone thought about what they saw in the sky after their enemies had unexpectedly retreated, trying to give a name to the great winged creature, blacker than the pits of the night, which had emerged from the south. Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water, and Elva could still feel the chills running through her and clutching at her heart, deadly cold like the memory of an old wound. She had killed it, with a single shot from the bow she had received as a gift in Lorien, but she was sure there were others, and she wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible from that irreparably corrupted land. After that vision, Haldir had no longer spoken, but he was frowning and his mind was probably in Lothlorien, lost in calculating how long such a beast would take to reach the ends of the mallorn’s forest. Lying next to him, Elva wished she was able to say out loud that he could return, if he wished, that no one would’ve wanted him any harm for placing his homeland before a mission that didn’t even belonged to him, and that Galadriel herself would’ve probably been grateful for the warning, but selfishly, she couldn’t, so she hugged tighter her knees under the cloak, a reassurance and a way to fight the changing of the weather. When the day came, the mood of the world about them had become soft and sad. Slowly the dawn grew to a pale light, diffused and shadowless. There was mist on the River, and white fog swathed the shore, making the far bank impossible to see.

“I can’t abide fog,” said Sam, “but this seems to be a lucky one: now perhaps we can get away without those cursed goblins seeing us.”

“Perhaps so,” said Aragorn. “But it will be hard to find the path unless the fog lifts a little later on, and we must, if we are to pass Sarn Gebir and come to the Emyn Muil.”

“I don’t see why we should pass the Rapids or follow the River any further,” said Boromir. “If the Emyn Muil lie before us, then we can abandon these cockle-boats and strike westward and southward, until we come to the Entwash and cross into my own land.”

“We can, if we are making for Minas Tirith,” said Aragorn, “but that’s not yet agreed, and such a course may be more perilous than it sounds: the Entwash’s vale is flat and fenny, fog a deadly peril for those on foot and laden. I wouldn’t abandon our boats until we must, for the River is at least a path that cannot be missed.”

“But the Enemy holds the eastern bank,” objected Boromir, “and even if you pass the Gates of Argonath, coming unmolested to the Tindrock, what will you do then? Leap down the Falls and land in the marshes?”

The tones were heating up, and Elva thought it was time to intervene: “It’s not the way of the Men of Minas Tirith to desert their friends at need, and we’ll need your strength, if ever we are to reach the Tindrock.”

The mortal seemed satisfied with those words, and decided he would go as far as the tall isle, but no further.

“There I shall turn to my home,” he announced, “alone if my help hasn’t earned the reward of any companionship.”

Elva prayed that someone had decided to pursue that mission, but in order to keep an army as powerful as that of Boromir's father, if everyone chose to follow Aragorn, she would be the one to separate from the rest of the companions, this decided a long time ago, perhaps at the very moment Gandalf had chosen her for the Quest. That gloomy possibility, which was so far from her ideals, prompted her to wait for the mist to rise in silence, even as she and Haldir went exploring forward along the shore, while the others remained by the boats. She hoped to find some way by which they could carry everything to the smoother water beyond the Rapids, but even if the elven boats wouldn’t sink, that didn’t ensure they could come through Sarn Gebir alive, for none ever done so yet, and no road was made by the Men of Gondor in this region, for even in their great days their realm didn’t reach up Anduin beyond the Emyn Muil.

“There is a portage-way somewhere on the western shore, if I can find it,” revealed Haldir, so softly that for a moment Elva hardly noticed.

"I didn't tell the others," the elf went on, "because I was afraid they wouldn't believe me, after my miscalculations pushed us towards the Orcs attack; besides, I fought those creatures for a good part of my own adult life, and I could’ve imagined their simple but ingenious plan."

"No one was injured, that's the important thing," Elva replied, thinking that if anyone had risked being hit, it would’ve been him, as an arrow had ripped off both the cloak and the skin of the jacket from his shoulders.

"But if that had happened, the fault would’ve been mine alone, and whoever had accused me, even if only in grief, would’ve been right: you have already lost the Istar, and before I should’ve warned Aragorn it wasn’t wise to continue at night as he suggested, but I didn't, and now I don't want to deceive anyone until I’m sure that my memory doesn’t deceive me," he replied, resolute in the bitterness of someone who can't forgive himself.

"Why are you telling me, then?" Elva asked, unable to stop.

"Because I'm sure I can trust you, and I know you’ve faced the guilt, same or not, even if I still don’t know what you’re carrying it for,” he replied, with a naked and vulnerable honesty, which hit right to the point. She didn't like talking about her past, much less what she felt about it, yet he must’ve seen a difficult life in her eyes, a life that perhaps could’ve been more like his, if only she had been born in another realm. Like Lorien, Mirkwood was a wonderful but tricky place, where growing up as a half-breed wasn't easy at all, especially when you needed to do it by yourself. Getting to know Legolas, and later becoming his confidant and friend, had been a blessing, and she kept telling herself that her true life had begun the day a young prince was bewitched by the ability of a simple recruit with a bow and with words. She hadn't treated him well, weary as every orphan is, and perhaps that was precisely what had intrigued him, since at court no one spoke to him as an equal, much less had the courage to say what they really though, too busy trying to win the future king’s favours, since with the one in charge was so hard. Speaking of Thranduil, he had welcomed her as if she were his own daughter, instructing and having her instructed in the best possible way; but the king was a cold and distant father, rigid in his manner and limited in his displays of affection, not exactly what a girl without parents desires most. If loving Legolas as a brother had been simple, as natural as breathing and almost a matter of survival, the same couldn't be said of the oldest of the Greenleafs, but she had learned that too, and with it the art of concealing her heart, although with Haldir it was so difficult.

"And how can I know I should have the same trust in you?" she asked, her heart heavy. She needed to believe that he wouldn’t leave the Fellowship, even if she followed Boromir and everyone else went by water, and she needed to know if he would understand her decision, or if he would end up misinterpreting it.

"You can't, but to convince you otherwise, I'll tell you something that I'm sure should’ve remained a secret: Galadriel's Mirror showed me three visions, three possible futures, I find myself believing. I still don't want to talk about two, because it doesn't seem wise, but the most macabre of scenes, the most terrible of nightmares that I thought I could have, I feel like sharing: I don't know if the Fellowship had failed in its intent, or if it's the fate that awaits my homeland anyway, if events should take that turn, but darkness had fallen over the forest of golden trees when a flock of huge winged creatures, like the one you killed last night, swept over Calas Galadhon. The Lord and the Lady fought side by side with every common citizen, and a shower of arrows capable of obscuring the stars was sent from each talan towards the sky. I don't know how the battle could end, as my vision was limited to that, but I have seen you fight with us, and defend our young and old as if they were your own. I don't pretend to understand what those images meant, and why the Mirror decided to show them to me, but I believe it was the beginning of Lorien's Winter, the first day of a downhill road to inevitable ruin, yet you were there by our side, and I don't think you'd fight for the land of someone you don’t trust,” he concluded, just as enigmatic as his ruler. Did he meant he understood her malfidence towards the Galadhrim, or was it really just his way of assuming that she would always trust him, to the point of risking death for a place that did not belong to her? There was no way of knowing but asking, and it didn't seem appropriate, fearing that he too might ask her what the Mirror had shown her. Death, she might’ve replied, no matter it was the mallorn’s, his people’s or Haldir’s himself, but she didn't want to talk about it anymore, she just wanted to forget his pale skin in the moonlight, the dust, sweat and blood surrounding her like a sea that smelled of the Enemy's wickedness instead of salt, so she fell silent.

“It cannot yet have perished,” muttered Haldir under his breath, after a while. “Light boats used to journey out of Wilderland down to Osgiliath, and still did so until a few years ago, when the Orcs of Mordor began to multiply.”

“Even if we find the path, peril will grow with every mile we go forward, for it lies ahead on every southward road,” replied Elva

They found what they were looking for just before noon, with the head of the Rapids half a mile below them: a track leading to a good landing, a little more than a mile long, was still serviceable, not far beyond the stream clear and smooth again, though running swiftly. The hardest task was to get the boats and baggage to the old portage-way, lying well back from the water-side near which they were camped, and running under the lee of a rock-wall, a furlong or more from the shore. “I fear we must leave the River now, and make for the portage-way as best we can from here,” said Haldir, once back.

“That wouldn’t be easy, even if we were all Men,” said Boromir.

“Yet such as we are we will try it,” Aragorn replied peremptorily.

“We will!” confirmed Gimli, and although the task was difficult, it was nevertheless completed, the goods taken out of the boats and brought to the top of the bank, where there was a level space, and the boats themselves drawn out of the water and carried up, proving to be far less heavy than any had expected; at last, all was removed to be laid on the portage-way and with little further hindrance, save from sprawling briars and many fallen stones, they moved forward all together. Fog still hung in veils upon the crumbling rock-wall, and to their left mist shrouded the River: they could hear it rushing and foaming over the sharp shelves and stony teeth of Sarn Gebir, but they couldn't see it. There the portage-way, turning back to the water-side, ran gently down to the shallow edge of a little pool scooped in the river-side, not by hand, but by the water swirling down from Sarn Gebir against a low pier of rock that jutted out some way into the stream. Beyond it the shore rose sheer into a grey cliff, and there was no further passage for those on foot. Already the short afternoon was past, and a dim cloudy dusk was closing in. Sitting beside the water, they listened to the confused rush and roar of the Rapids hidden in the mist; they were tired and sleepy, and their hearts were as gloomy as the dying day at the thought of spending there another night, even if it seemed inevitable, given the general fatigue. Luckily, nothing worse than a brief drizzle of rain an hour before dawn happened, and as soon as it was fully light and the fog was thinning, they started. Keeping as close as they could to the western side, they saw the dim shapes of the low cliffs rising ever higher, shadowy walls with their feet in the hurrying river. In the mid-morning the clouds drew down lower, and it began to rain heavily, forcing them to drew the skin-covers over their boats to prevent them from being flooded and drifted on; little could be seen before or about them through the grey falling curtains but it didn’t last long, the sky above growing lighter and suddenly opening, dismissing fogs and mists too. Before the travellers lay a wide ravine, with great rocky sides to which clung, upon shelves and in narrow crevices, a few trees; as they sped along with little hope of stopping or turning, whatever might meet ahead, Elva peered forward, seeing in the distance two great rocks approaching. Like pinnacles or pillars of stone they stood, tall, sheer and ominous, creating a narrow gap among which the boats could only pass one by one. They were the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings, vast grey figures silent but threatening, shaped and fashioned as two great kings of stone with blurred eyes and crannied brows frowning upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning, while in each right hand there was an axe and upon each head there was a crumbling helm and crown. Great power and majesty they still wore, the silent wardens of a long-vanished Kingdom, instilling awe and fear in the Fellowship travelling in boats frail and fleeting as little leaves, under the enduring shadow of the sentinels of Numenor. Passing into the dark chasm of the Gates, sheer rose the dreadful cliffs on either side, while the black waters roared and echoed, and a wind screamed over them. What a horrible place it was, but it must’ve been even worse for Aragorn, a king in exile who was finally returning to his land only to see it filled with the noise of wind, rushing water and echoing stone.

#haldir x fem oc #haldir of lothlorien #aragorn #frodo baggins #sam gamgee #boromir #gandalf the grey #galadriel #legolas greenleaf #thranduil greenleaf #gimli son of gloin #lotr #the fellowship of the ring

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