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dross-the-fish · 8 months

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how do you determine who is on team Dracula and who isn’t?

Basically it's down to which characters I think would be most likely to sell their souls to get what they want. Mostly it's based on who would be the most desperate or power hungry.

Dorian wants immortality without being bound to the portrait and by proxy Basil Hallward. The portrait in my version grows uglier and older based not on Dorian's sins but rather on how Basil begins to view him. Dorian resents Basil because he partly blames Basil for his current fate and it upsets him that Basil no longer thinks he's beautiful and even though Dorian doesn't love anyone but himself he can't bear to lose Basil's love and how Basil sees him still affects his self-image. He knows that one day the portrait will be so ugly that he'll end up killing Basil over the deterioration of their relationship and he wants to be free of this painting and this artist who he now feels has become a chain around his neck. The portrait got its power from Mephistopheles and while Dorian can't break that contract he thinks he has found a loophole in that if he obtains a new condition that keeps him from aging (vampirism) the portrait's powers will be nullified and he can destroy it.

Dr Moreau has lost everything, his money, his island, his reputation, his medical license. He has nothing left but his work and now more than ever he needs it to succeed or he'll have to admit to himself that nothing he did, the lives he destroyed, the things he lost, his rejection from society, NONE OF IT, was worth the results of his experiments. He wants to be a god to a new race of beings so perfect that they put humanity to shame. He wants to be worshiped and adored because after everything he's sacrificed that's what he deserves...right? He hasn't signed a contract just yet but he's going to break any day now.

Imhotep wants to be reunited with is lost lover...except after three thousand years he can't even remember her name and face, only that with her he was happy, he was home. He has the power to raise the dead as mindless husks but he can't restore what was lost to him and being a 3000 year old mummy in a modern world that only remembers his home through broken relics and robbed tombs is soul crushing. He believes that if he can just get back his former lover he'll remember her and he can have that sense of a home once again and his immortality will finally be bearable. He signs a contract because his heart is so broken he no longer cares if there will be consequences later.

Carmella wants to create a world where she and Laura can walk down the street, hold hands and embrace without feeling shame or fear. That a world will exist where Laura can love her back. Maybe if the world is run by vampires like herself she can have that. She's a vampire and a lesbian, how much more damned can she get? So why not sign a contract?

Griffin, has become truly invisible to the world. No one remembers him, he's forced to hide and he no longer has a face to show. His existence has been boiled down to pretending he's a ghost and terrorizing people. He has no home, no possessions and not even a name he can use anymore. He is invisible in every sense of the word and it's killing him. He wants what he always wanted, to be able to do whatever he wants without consequence without having to sacrifice being seen and admired. He wants to be able to control his invisibility and have a massive pile of never-ending wealth at his disposal. He has some hesitation about selling his soul and hasn't signed anything yet.

Dracula signed his contract centuries ago, that's how he became a vampire and at this point his goal is as it's always been. Return the world to a state of chaos, establish a vampire hierarchy and subjugate the humans as chattel and slaves. This is his end of the bargain, because desperation among mortals means more signatures on contracts.

#crossover Au

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dailycharacteroption · 2 months

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Prestige Class Spotlight 13: Aspis Agent

(art by LoranDeSore on DeviantArt)

Ah, the Aspis Consortium, an organization in the Lost Omens setting as insidious as they are greedy. With a mission statement that can be boiled down to “Make a Profit no Matter the Cost”, this organization is every bit of every bad thing about a worldview centered around money. Exploitation, theft, smuggling, slavery… If it can make them money, the Consortium will take advantage of it, all while maintaining the veil of goodwill through charitable works that are in the end infinitesimally tiny compared to the profit the organization makes exploiting the very people they’re supposedly caring for.

Remind you of anything in real life?

While the villainous and underhanded side of the Aspis Consortium can make them suitable antagonists for nearly any campaign, the most likely branch of the Consortium that members of the Pathfinder Society are likely to run into would be their agents. These explorers and plunderers seek out the same sort of ancient sites that the Society is interested in, but purely for the purpose of acquiring the relics within to either keep for personal power or sell to buyers without a thought or care about the impact they cause by doing so, be it disrupting sites held sacred by the locals or outright curses and magical traps on the relics they seek.

Which isn’t to say that the Aspis won’t have their field agents also participate in more domestic crimes as well, of course, but their training focuses on tomb robbing first and foremost.

Which is where this archetype comes into play. While primarily meant for villains, it can also be used for villainous protagonists in evil games, or even by former Aspis members who became (or are becoming), more heroic.

And outside the Lost Omens setting, this archetype could be quite useful for representing a character that is a professional temple delver, particularly one that often has to fight off other expeditions as well.

Delving into this training requires a whole suite of skills revolving around deceit and dungeon delving, as well as basic training with a whip and either keen senses honed around noticing traps or the ability to cast magic that reveals secret doors. The whip training in particular is due to the weapon being a signature combat style of the Aspis Consortium for it’s ability to cause nonlethal pain and control the battlefield.

True to their roguish talents, these agents learn the art of recognizing and avoiding traps if they don’t already have it, and improving upon their skills if they do.

Periodically as they grow in mastery, these agents pick up little tricks or improvements as they grow, drawing upon a short list.

Some stand fearlessly against larger beings and prove shockingly imposing against them, while others learn various advanced combat techniques ranging from setting up traps, using combat maneuvers, and even turning a whip into a deadly weapon. Others learn to ward their thoughts against intrusion so that foes only learn the thoughts they want them to know, while others with bardic training continue that to gain new and better performances. Some learn the art of concealing small objects and can even suppress their magic, which others still learn how to continue their bardic, inquisitor, or mesmerist training into spellcasting. Others learn techniques associated with rogues, while others learn enough magic to shrink an item down for easy carrying and concealment. Some who are also vigilantes can learn an additional technique for their social or vigilante identities.

They also learn how to conceal their aura so that magic that senses particular moralities fail to reveal anything. Later on, they can sense such attempts and even later provide a false aura in case their detection is sophisticated enough to sense all moral alignments.

Not content to merely bypass the traps they find, these tomb breakers learn how to rig both traps they’ve disabled or set up personally so that they can trigger them with a touch. After all, such ingenious mechanisms shouldn’t go to waste, whether they be used against rival delvers or particularly dull denizens. Later on, they can even trigger these traps from a distance with a deftly thrown rock or a nearly-invisible pullcord.

These agents also learn the art of striking for vulnerable points as a rogue would, or improving upon that skill.

Aspis agents know how to throw off the game of others, letting them demoralize or feint foes with clever words. Better yet, they can set such things up days in advance, calling back to a throwaway statement made days ago that sheds it in a new light and leaves a foe infuriated or reeling.

This prestige class certainly points the character in the direction of being the snarky rival archaeologist or treasure hunter, but the fact you can customize it to better suit several different base classes is a real boon. Not having true spellcasting increases is disappointing, forcing you to rely on the more roguish aspects of the class, and as such, your spellcasting choices will likely be built with that in mind, focusing more on buffs and utility than damage or debuffs. Still, this class can be a veritable bag of tricks, ranging from better casting to weaponizing and building portable traps, to performing all sorts of combat and utility tricks with a whip.

In the hands of an antagonist, this archetype can be quite effective for giving an adventure a villain or even recurring villain that isn’t inherent to the dungeon itself, which has the dual benefit of expanding the world and also give your villains and bosses somewhere to be that isn’t behind the final door. In the hands of a protagonist, however, it can a great way to have a morally dubious character in your game, or even a penitent one using their talents for good. Heck, aside from the lore there’s no reason this can’t be used with a swashbuckling hero that isn’t afraid to fight dirty to defeat evil.

Though most shabti, those beings created as surrogate souls to take the burden the souls of the wealthy after death, have a healthy respect for the dead and the world beyond due to how they are rescued form their fate by the psychopomps, not all feel this way. Some are bitter indeed for the cultures that invented the process of creating them to suffer in place of wicked rulers. Such is the case with Nayobi, who has become a professional tomb robber, not just for the riches therein, but to rob the dead she blames for her creation and suffering of their dignity.

For a month, the party has been racing against their rivals from tomb and ruin site trying to find the clues to the temple of the Horizon Eye, and they’ve both finally made it. However, the fight that erupts threatens to activate the Eye itself, a complex and powerful portal mechanism, and it’s guardian, a Lhaksharut inevitable!

The greedy often say that everyone has a price, that anyone will do anything if the reward is great enough. However, the counterargument is that there are lines that some people will not cross. Such was the case when the relic hunter Miriam Albrax learned what her employers planned to do with a dark relic she had procured, going into hiding as a hermit in one of the oldest forests in the world, watching over the relic with trap and forest ally alike.

#pathfinder #prestige class #aspis agent #shabti #lhaksharut #inevitable #Adventurer's Guide #Paths of Prestige

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fantasyinvader · 6 months

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I noticed this bit of localization last night, from the “A form of grief” scene. Remember how Edelgard tells Thales how there won't be any salvation for his kind after what he did in Enbarr and Duscur, only for Thales to state it was done for her benefit? This is what the chrome translator gives me.

Flame Emperor: To those of you who have repeatedly committed terrible deeds in Duscur and Enbarr... Will there ever be any salvation?

Thales: Didn't you do everything to gain power?

I checked Thales' line with google translate as well, and it comes out the same. It makes it sound like gaining power is Edelgard's goal, while TWSITD's goal is stated to be the purge of Fodlan. Then I recalled another piece of localization, one that the Edelgard sub got really angry over when they had the route retranslated. Safflowers' end card stating:

“Imposing a strongly centralized authority, Edelgard started working on a reform that would dismantle the nobility. She set out to create a new world where no one would be judged on the basis of crests.”

Sure, Edelgard works to dismantle the nobility, but she also takes most of, if not all, the power for herself. She gained power through this war, while Thales's comment makes it out that this was her goal.

But then we get another piece of localization, where as the Flame Emperor Edelgard says she will “reforge” the world. Now reforging can mean to make something again, or to make something again differently. But the Japanese text is thus: I am the one who will return this world to it's original state. Edelgard wants to put the world the way it was before the War of Heroes, undoing the influence of the Church...except the Japanese text states that Fodlan was not unified. From the History of Fodlan:

The clans of Fódlan were not united, but simply robbed and killed each other.

Edelgard has been led to believe that the Church's teachings are a means to control humanity, who Nemesis was a champion of and while her ancestor was tricked and betrayed humanity. She was told this by her father, who Hubert says was a puppet of the Arundel and his group which is comprised of Kronya and Solon. The Elites viewed their Relics as “sacred,” which would indicate it was tied to whatever religion they had, while we're told the Agarthans thought to themselves as gods while they are shown viewing non-Agarthans as animals. This possibly includes their ally Nemesis, per Epimenides in English while the Japanese says he's descended from beasts but it's still held against him.

So Edelgard putting the world back to the way it was? Nope, that's not what she does. But there was another piece of localization, Edelgard's goal at the Holy Tomb where in the Golden Deer version she makes it clear she intends to use the Crest Stones, not destroy them like the English version says (though, she is still shown using the resulting Crest Beasts or is said to view them as war assets in Flower). Or how, since this is Verdant Wind, she says she wants to kill Claude and his allies since if she doesn't there won't be any righteousness in the world, rather than saying she must.

Also, since I'm looking this up... Edelgard's line to Claude comes out that she DOES NOT think Claude's ideals are like her own. After all, Edelgard invades other countries following the war according to Caspar's endings in order to force her ideals on them, Claude instead turns Almyra into a trading power to promote cultural exchange. Claude also uses the “path of supremacy” line against Hubert, aka calls out Edelgard's rule as hadou, whole the English calls it “military rule.”

Really, the Japanese is a lot more blunt. Edelgard seeks power through conquest so she can force her beliefs, beliefs based on what her Agarthan puppet of a father told her, onto others. That's her goal, why she did everything that she did in the game. From the moment you press New Game, Edelgard has already put a hit on her classmates so that she can gain power. Hopes makes it clear she knew about the plan to turn people into Crest Beasts, her opposition being it's practicality, but she lies about it to you in Houses because she wanted to sway you to her side. Her ideals turn her into a monster, literally in Azure Moon, and Safflower is called the path of the beast, the opposite of enlightenment.

And the English text downplays this. All of this. I've said before, this is worse than Fates because at least with Fates, you still understood what the story was saying. With Houses, things are changed in such a way that the messages of the game become blurry or undermined.

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goblin-writer · 2 years

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Foreshadowing Feeling

Night had fallen and the guards had fallen into their old habits. Two figures stole across the rooftops all in black. They had left their coats a way away for when they made their escape. As they reached the skylight, Audrey prepared two long ropes and a collection of tools while Marguerite pulled away a panel through which they could descend.

“Archive room is down the Gallery.”

They went down the ropes, landing in the middle of what looked like an ancient tomb. In the moonlight the tall, twisting statues seemed to peer at them. Marguerite couldn’t believe how much effort they had gone to set this up. The tomb of Ulgarnak had been discovered three years ago, and hundreds of kilometres away. It was undoubtedly the find of the decade. But they had done sightseeing before. Tonight, was business.

Still, the way the statues loomed she swore they were following them around. A certain tension built in her every time Audrey went close to the sarcophagus of brilliant black stone.

Heading to the left they went along the Gallery of Thieves. Famous paintings lined the walls. She knew they couldn’t sell them but, as she passed, she stopped at one. A golden vase with blue flowers. Marguerite had wanted it for a while and her fingers twitched slightly.

“Marguerite. We can’t take that.” She knew that but she had made her living taking pretty things and it was a difficult nature to deny, “And even if we could it would sit in a safe house never to be seen. Think of the beauty you would rob from the world.”

Audrey was right. He had organised the contract, and she was already after a necklace that they were keeping for a Duchess. So, they left the Gallery and knocked on the Archive door. Marguerite swore she heard a long sigh the way they came from. A moment later it opened and they overwhelmed a surprised guard. Tying him up in a corner she took his keys and headed deeper into the room. Toward the back where they saw an array of strongboxes.

“Which one?”

“The scroll is in H-12.” Marguerite unlocked it and peered inside. The jet-black case seemed to drink all the light. Its apparent malice reminded her strangely of the twisting statues in the tomb. She let Audrey transfer it into the case. In the meantime, she opened a succession of boxes, finding jewels, and ancient relics a plenty. Most of them mere artifacts that wouldn’t be worth stealing.

They pocketed some of them until she found the necklace. Six brilliantly cut stones reflected the light much like a veil. She had been looking for it for years.

“All done?” She took out a rose of white glass and put it into the lockbox of the scroll. They would know who had robbed them.

“After you.” Audrey left first as they raced to the exit. In the tomb the statues seemed to have moved closer together. The sarcophagus’ lid had a thin gap in it. She was convinced a dark hand was reaching out towards them. Audrey on the other hand was looking out toward the entrance.

“There’s movement outside. We need to be quick.”

She followed her brother up the ropes. Together they packed their goods into bags and headed toward another roof. Across and down, they’d grab their coats and disappear. Marguerite touched her red scarf, ready to wrap it around herself and cover the black turtleneck.

All of a sudden the air was split by a crack of thunder. Someone had shot at them. Then another shot rang out and another. They ran, trying to keep low. They made it to the edge of the building and threw the bags across the way. Marguerite jumped. A bullet hit the stone next to her head as she landed on a balcony. Quickly she opened the door as she heard another shot ring out as Audrey jumped.

His body hit the wall unceremoniously and collapsed. A single bullet had gone clean through. She looked from her brother, dead in her arms to the street below. Dozens of figures dressed in deep blue coats were moving from the museum towards her. Only one of them had their gun drawn. She had to make her escape.

She disappeared, and the people searching for her were not able to discover how. The scroll, the jewels, the necklace were all gone. Marguerite came to terms with her brother’s death over the years that followed. Until one fateful day on a Quay when, as she boarded a ship, she saw that same face. Brown hair, and those grey eyes. The woman who had shot her brother was on the ship with her.

---

Thank you @flashfictionfridayofficial for supplying another wonderful prompt.

#writing #writeblr #writing event #original writing #flash fiction friday #comes from the backstory of one of the characters #the Case of the Shining Jade #and another relic plays a central part there #much love delicious reader

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iturbide · 3 years

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What do you think could have been done to improve 3H? Given the budget/time, what changes would you have done? Also, what elements do you consider KEY to a good story?

fffffff I would have done so many things differently in 3H it requires a read more but to your second question: I feel that characters are a key element of a good story. Possibly the most crucial element, to me. You can have the most epic, incredible plot in the world -- but if the characters taking part in it aren't interesting or able to engage the reader, then the story loses a huge part of its impact. It's only by caring about the people taking part that a reader can get invested in the story and its outcome; if you don't care about what happens to someone (either in a good or a bad way) then you're at best apathetic to the events, at worst bored by them.

Frankly everything else in a story -- narrative structure, conflict, etc -- is so malleable that I can't consider it key. You can easily make stories that have no classic conflict if you have characters that people care about, because just watching them interact with the world and each other can be beautifully engaging. So at least to me, the key is in the characters: whether you love them and want them to succeed or love to hate them and want to see them get their just desserts, they're the ones that do the heavy lifting in a story, so making sure they're compelling is one of the most important things to me when writing.

As for 3H though I have a lot of changes I would make. Throughout the whole game.

Academy Phase

Giving each House their own unique set of missions. I feel that part of why the Azure Moon route is considered so strong is because it's the most character driven, something that starts in the Academy Phase: everything from Lonato's rebellion to Miklan's theft of the Gautier Relic are highly personal to the Blue Lions students, with Ashe being Lonato's adoptive son and Miklan being Sylvain's estranged older brother (and someone who's well-known to Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid on top of it). While these are both important events, for the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer there's not the same level of personal engagement: it's just a thing that's happening rather than a devastating blow to the students we love. While there are certainly missions that can and should stay the same (the raid on Seiros' tomb, Flayn's kidnapping, the Remire incident, etc.) having select missions be personalized by House to give that same level of engagement would have made for a far stronger narrative, since it enhances the player's connection with the students of their chosen House.

Just as an example: for the Black Eagles, rather than putting down Lonato's rebellion, maybe have their mission be aiding a small sect of the Church in the Empire that's being plagued by monsters or bandits. It gives us the chance to learn more of the history between the Church of Seiros and the Adrestian Empire, how close they were and how it fell apart a century before the game; Rhea might explain that she wants to improve these failing relations by having Imperial students go to aid this disconnected branch, and in private Edelgard could hint at her distrust of the institution and of Rhea herself even if she is following orders. Not only that, we could hear on returning that the Blue Lions students accompanied the Knights of Seiros in dealing with Lonato's rebellion, so we still get the fallout from those events and have a reason to choose the Blue Lions in another run.

Another example: for the Golden Deer, rather than going after Miklan and witnessing his transformation, maybe a report arrives that someone stole Failnaught and task the Alliance students with retrieving it. It lets us learn more about the situation in the Alliance, giving more details about Duke Oswald's situation, Claude's appointment as the heir to the Riegan House...and while he would never do it personally, have there be subtle implications but no hard proof that Duke Gloucester is behind the theft, just as he was the death of Claude's Uncle; on top of that, we could still get a battle against a Black Beast when Failnaught transforms the bandit, giving Claude a very personal look at how dangerous these Relics can be (something he likely wouldn't have had deep insight into, given his Almyran roots). And again, on returning to the monastery we could see the Blue Lions dealing with the fallout from Miklan.

More interaction between the House Leaders in general. There are only a handful of scenes where all three of them interact together, and I can only think of one instance where they're even in each other's company at the monastery (Claude and Dimitri in one of the early chapters). Having more of these moments where they're apparently interacting on the grounds or where we can see them together in cutscenes, giving us more insight into the leaders of the other Houses we didn't pick, would give us a lot more investment in them as people and make the eventual revelations at the end of the Academy Phase hit a lot harder.

Especially with Claude's ambition being what it is, it would have been a far better show of his character to have him hanging out with different students every month -- not just from his own House like Hilda, but from other Houses. Have him be talking with Petra in the dining hall one month, or with Annette at the reception hall another; if you sided with the Black Eagles or the Blue Lions, it would be very easy to suspect that he's up to tricks and trying to figure out individual weaknesses...but if you picked the Golden Deer, you'd likely realize very quickly that he's got no ulterior motives because you've been seeing him in action and getting Supports with him.

More Supports period. We were robbed of some fascinating interactions, like Ashe and Dorothea or Dedue and Petra, and some really strong Support chains stop before they reach their full potential (several Sylvain supports, including Marianne and Bernadetta). I want to see so many more of these and I would add in a ton if given half an opportunity.

Giving Byleth more agency. This bleeds over into the War Phase, too, but one of my biggest complaints about the game is how limited the response options are, especially when it comes to Edelgard and her frightening rhetoric as early as chapter 3. Give us more options with real varied outcomes, rather than it changing one immediate line of dialogue; give us real dialogue trees rather than minutely altered responses so that we have an opportunity to affect change. This runs the risk of drastically altering Byleth's relationship with the various House Leaders, but that potential is undeniably fascinating in and of itself.

War Phase

Azure Moon: Make Dimitri's turn more gradual. Show him grappling with Rodrigue's words more, have more scenes where he and Byleth talk and he tries to work through his understandably complicated feelings. It doesn't even have to take that much longer, honestly: every week for the next month, give us an extra cutscene and let there be a small change in how you can interact with him. For example, maybe he still doesn't attend the round table in the first week, but you do have the option of assigning him to a task around the monastery; in the second week if you explore, you have the option to invite him to a meal; in the third week he finally attends the roundtable and you're able to work on his skills again; and in the fourth week his supports finally unlock.

Azure Moon: Make Claude recruitable. Don't have him leave Failnaught and go waltzing back to Almyra, have him actually head up the Alliance in this time of need and volunteer to join forces with the Kingdom forces. You can have the option of turning him down, if you really want, at which point he might leave Lorenz in charge and go back home, but give us the option of bringing him on board along with any other former Deer that fought with him at Derdriu -- and furthermore, let us have some supports with Dedue and Dimitri to go with it. Ideally those Support chains would be available in the Academy phase and maybe you'd have the recruitment option only if Dimitr's Support level with Claude is at least a B (since you can get to A during the Academy Phase but not unlock it until the War Phase as I experienced many times). But still: Claude recruitment. Yes.

Verdant Wind: Make Dimitri recruitable. Having him die offscreen after Gronder is absolutely terrible, especially since we know for a fact that at least two people from the Alliance army saw what was either going to happen or directly happening. At the end of the battle, give us an option of going after Dimitri: if you choose not to, he still dies, but if you do you have the opportunity to save him and recruit any other former Lions with him. As abve, Supports between Claude and Dimitri would be great, and you could even keep Dimitri's Supports locked for a while and include scenes of Byleth and/or Claude and Dimitri talking and working with him until he starts turning around the way he does in Azure Moon. Dimitri's death in Verdant Wind is a travesty and it needs to be changed.

Verdant Wind: More character stuff in general. One of the things that makes Azure Moon such a strong route is that it's so deeply character-driven. Verdant Wind is much more plot-driven, and while it's still strong, it could have been more impactful if the characters were more directly affected and/or we got to see more of their individual actions. For instance: after securing Myrddin, have weekly missions where you actually go along and meet with the Great Lords and discuss with them before the final round table. Have Byleth and Claude go with Lorenz to talk to Count Gloucester and try to get his buy-in, and give us more dialogue trees where Byleth can contribute (for better or for worse) so that in the end you either get his full agreement or only grudging consideration because Lorenz intervenes. Get us engaged, show us more of the situation in the Alliance, and let us have a role in moving from this uneasy state of neutrality to full agreement that it's time to take action.

Silver Snow: A unique story in general. Basically everything in the route is a weaker copy of the events in Verdant Wind, and regardless of which came first, Verdant Wind handles the events in a way that makes more logical and narrative sense than Silver Snow does. So even if things could be changed in Verdant Wind to make it stronger and more unique, Silver Snow needs the most work and ideally should have a new plot made just for them that gives the Knights of Seiros a chance to really shine.

Silver Snow: More for Seteth to do period. Despite the fact that he's ostensibly our Lord stand-in for the route (since he's the one who meets you after the timeskip, where it's either Claude, Dimitri, or Edelgard who does in the other routes), he barely has a chance to do anything and doesn't make much of an impact on the route overall. Silver Snow could -- and ostensibly should -- give him a chance to showcase his talents and stand as a unique and engaging character, since his role in the Academy Phase was so minor; relegating him to the same general role in Silver Snow does him a great injustice.

Crimson Flower: Have Edelgard suffer consequences. This is one of my biggest complaints with the game on the whole: that Crimson Flower goes out of is way to glorify imperialism and Edelgard gets a rosy perfect ending with nothing ever going wrong according to her endcards. Logically the way she achieved her goal would have led to massive dissent, unrest, and civil conflict in the territories she conquered and subjugated; her route needs to show that, and make it clear that there are in fact consequences for her actions, both within the original Adrestian territry and without in the newly conquered ones.

Crimson Flower: Deal with the damn Agarthans. Given that she knows about them in detail the way neither of her fellow House Lords did, it's an absolute travesty that we never saw her go after them in her route: all she did was show her hand too early and cause hundreds of senseless deaths when the Agarthans fired on Arianrhod. Her route should have ended with a conflict against the Agarthan menace -- and likely a very hard one, harder even than the battle against Rhea, because she left them for too long and gave them time to bolster their defenses before she arrived. And given that she's killed Rhea, the end of that conflict would likely be a massive loss of life when Thales bombs Shambhala -- further consequences for her actions.

All Routes: Give Byleth agency. This is especially pertinent in CF where canon reduced Byleth to Edelgard's enabler: give them a chance to fight her, push back against things that either don't make sense or are only going to hurt people, argue and maybe force her to change her mind or see another viewpoint rather than continuing to barrel down a path of bloodshed and loss because she selfishly decided that war was the only way. But giving Byleth that same agency in other routes would be equally powerful: let them talk candidly with Dimitri, let them encourage Claude to trust his companions and reveal his Almyran heritage, just...let them have a chance to be their own person, with complicated relationships and the ability to speak freely.

#answered #21stcenturyhero #fire emblem: three houses #look i enjoy 3h a lot #but it's also kind of a mess when you think about it #these are just the immediate changes that come to mind #there are probably more improvements that could be made #but these are a good start #and would have made a much stronger game #at least in my opinion

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imaginesofruneterra · 4 years

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Ezreal x Reader: Friends to Lovers & Confession Headcanons

Anonymous asked: If I may, can I request Ezreal x Reader headcanons as Friends to Lovers and how do they confess to the other?

[Sure! Ezreal is one of my personal faves, so this is pretty self indulgent, lol. Also, sorry for the wait, I’ve just had a lot of homework lately!]

How you met:

The City of Progress was just how you'd imagined it--a wondrous haven of invention, innovation, and passion. Sure, the streets weren't actually paved with gold and silver, but they were still a sight to behold.

You'd always dreamed of opening your very own bookstore, and what better place to do so than Piltover? It was practically swarming with hardworking merchants and avid readers such as yourself.

Things were looking up. Runeterra was your oyster...but first, you had unpacking to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Shit, shit, shit!' Ezreal groaned to himself as he skidded around another corner. For the first time in months, he was faced with a problem that he couldn't just blast away with magic.

“Get back here, young man! I’m not finished with you!” cried a nasally voice from behind him.

Ezreal had to give the old guy some props. For someone who spent all damn day in his study, his uncle was in surprisingly good shape--not to mention the fact that he was currently fueled by his passionate, unbridled rage. Ezreal knew he’d get over it, though--he just needed some time to cool off. And so, he decided that a cheeky little detour was in order. He was great at making those.

Ez drew in a sharp breath. He felt his gauntlet hum with the buzzing of bright, arcane power. He squeezed his eyes shut, and the next thing he knew, he was surrounded by piles and piles of books, all haphazardly strewn on the floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You jolted. A customer?! You weren’t even open, and you could’ve sworn you’d locked the front door!

The blond stranger hadn’t seemed to notice you yet. He was too busy fixing his soft-looking hair in the reflection of your store’s big, glass windows.

You cleared your throat and gave him a small, sheepish smile, saying, “Hi, I didn’t hear you come in! Sorry about the mess...I’m still trying to get all this stuff sorted, straightened, and shelved.”

“Oh, hey!” he replied. “Didn’t mean to barge in. I just need to lay low for a while.”

You furrowed your brows. "You a criminal or something?"

The boy simply laughed in response.

"I'll have you know that the only crime I'm guilty of is being super devilishly handsome. Well, that and grave-robbing, but yeah. Details, details. Just...please don’t call the sheriff on me."

You were dumbfounded. Grave-robbing? This scrawny guy? You couldn’t believe it--well, not until you recognized the powerful relic he wielded.

"Holy shit, is that one of the gauntlets of Ne'Zuk?" you exclaimed, grabbing onto his arm.

"Good eye!” he said. “Looks like someone's done their homework." You hoped he didn’t notice your blush.

"So why’ve you got it? An artifact this rare belongs in a public museum!"

“There's an unspoken law in archaeology: finders, keepers. And I found it myself--fair and square.”

"I should really go report you, but I have way too much on my plate. Guess there's always tomorrow." You were bluffing, of course, but the stranger didn't seem to catch on.

"Hey, now! Let's not get ahead of ourselves!" he said, his voice cracking a bit. "How 'bout...I help you get organized? Yeah! I'll help clean--then we're even. Sound good?”

Free labor? Hell yeah!

“It’s a deal,” you replied. “So, here’s where we put all the novels...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent hours chatting with your cocky companion as the two of you shelved books together. You learned his name--Ezreal--and why he was hiding--to avoid being lectured by his uncle, the esteemed Professor Lymere. Apparently, Ez had been using Lymere’s money to fund his expeditions...again.

And yet, despite his questionable lifestyle choices, you were captivated by the explorer. He was charming, and funny, and made for some really good company, if you were being honest.

Ez told you of his travels--from the sands of Shurima, to the bitter blizzards of the Freljord. You suspected that he'd fudged quite a few of the details, but his tales were entertaining nonetheless. They filled you with awe, and made work go by faster. You couldn’t help but want to hear more.

And so, you decided to treat your new friend to a meal, and the rest is history.

General headcanons:

Ez tries to sweet-talk people into buying your books. He claims they're the best in the world. It really only works about half of the time, but his failed attempts are rather amusing.

He sees you as his partner in--completely metaphorical--crime. Nothing to see here, Sheriff Caitlyn...

The two of you love to geek out over ancient myths and cultures. Legends never die! And neither do the heated conversations you have--ones that bring a vibrant sparkle to your eyes.

Ezreal is actually a pretty good artist, which comes in handy during his travels. He has tons of sketches of temples and tombs...and secretly, some of you, too!

Confession headcanons:

You hummed to yourself as you helped Ezreal pack his bags for his trip to Ionia. It was bittersweet--though you were happy for him, you had no idea when he’d return. Maybe it was selfish...but part of you wished he would stay. You hid it with a smile.

“Are ya gonna take me along someday, Ez?” you joked, nudging him in the side.

He stiffened. “Whenever you want,” he replied.

Well that was unexpected. “You’re serious?”

“Huh? Y-yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Whenever I ask that, you always say no ‘cause you think it’s too risky for me!”

“It’s just that...if something bad happened to you, I would never, ever, ever forgive myself,” Ez explained, wincing at the ominous thought. “But...I’d be lying if I said I haven’t pictured us traveling the world, side by side.”

You were stunned speechless. He...really said that? And he meant it? God, this was too much.

“W-what are you saying?” you stammered.

“I like you!” he blurted.

You almost passed out.

"When I was a kid, my dad always told me, 'True explorers follow the compass in their heart.' I...didn't really get what he meant at the time, but now...I know it led me to you."

He took your hands in his, then drew you into a hug. You clung onto him for dear life.

“I like you too, dummy!” you cried in his ear. “So you better not leave me behind!”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t. You’re special to me.” He pulled you even closer to him.

“I’ve seen a lot of priceless artifacts in my time, but you’re the greatest treasure of all.”

#league of legends #league of legends headcanons #headcanons #scenarios #league of legends imagines #imagines #ezreal #lol ezreal #ezreal x reader #champion x reader #reader insert #friends to lovers #sfw #imaginesofruneterra

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charlemange1 · 4 years

Text

Ask of the Lesser (Frankenstein/Lovecraft Works): 8.2 Did I Solicit Thee from Darkness to Promote Me?

That overpowering, unnamable stench hit me first, then the chilled stone wet with slick moss beneath me. The intense cold told me I was far beneath the earth. Iron bars several feet above my head trapped me inside a dingy pit within the underground crypt. My left wrist throbbed where a hand had been, and I cradled the stump to my bloodied shirt. That multi-eyed creature Curwen had summoned flashed through my mind and I screamed. The ungodly barking I had heard down here before rose around me, much nearer than I preferred. Within the darkness of the pit, shapes shuffled around with slippery thumping.

“Walton?” I dared to call. “Walton, are you here?”

Slippery clopping struck up as a silhouette both not human and too human lunged at me on all fours. I scrambled up against the wall but there was nowhere to run. Something slimy brushed my leg and I lurched away as an equally appalling fiend reared up beside me with a demonic howl and slashed its paw-like appendage at the other creature. The latter backed away with a sour whine and shuffled further into the dark.

I stumbled away from the creature beside me and collapsed in the small beam of light on the floor. The creature fixed its eyes that were not eyes on me. I held my breath. It turned away and lowered itself to the floor, resting that head-like organ against its paws. Was this what Curwen meant by his attempts at resurrection being warped and inhuman? Walton would never stand a chance against those twisting nails. He was gone, and I would soon follow.

I reached inside my pocket and grasped air where Victor’s journal had been. My fist punched the floor as I howled. Curwen had all of Victor’s knowledge now, whether I had prevented him from resurrecting my brother or not. I had failed. Failed poor Walton, my brother, and possibly the world. How feeble Victor playing god felt compared to these cosmic abominations! A few feet away lay a trampled sheet of paper. I snatched up the relic of familiarity and saw the shredded edges where it had been torn from a book. The letters were written in Victor’s large, looping cursive:

I beg of you Curwen, do not call up Any that you cannot put down; by which I mean, Any that can in turn call up something against you, whereby your Powerfullest Devices may not be of use. Ask of the Lesser, lest the Greater shall not wish to Answer, and shall command more than you.

I hardly processed the words, for beneath the faint light lay more pages from Victor’s journal. Curwen had not found it after all! With my single hand, I frantically grabbed the scattered remnants of my brother’s legacy. I would destroy them so no one could use Victor’s work to inflict further harm! The journal itself was on the edge of the light, badly chewed but still containing a few pages. Halfway through ripping the first one apart, my eyes settled on an entry:

Wretched fool I am! I find myself subjected to a hell of intense tortures such as no language can describe. Curwen has taken me to the depths of Ingolstadt, those catacombs unused since the days of Weishaupt and his accursed New World order. He revealed his wicked work in full to me, which if left unchecked, shall jeopardize all civilization, all natural law and perhaps even the fate of the universe! I only wished to pour a torrent of light into our dark world, and for the sake of all life and Nature, I must thrust Curwen’s monstrous inclinations back into the dark. Forgive me, Mother, for delving into such unhallowed arts! Happier is the man who believes his native town the world than he who aspires to become greater than his nature will allow.

Curwen claimed he had only recently removed the stonework and gained access to the crypt. He had also spoken of using mathematics to traverse the fourth dimension and vanish from his prison cell. If he could disappear from enclosed spaces, surely materializing in others would be no issue for him. My hand trembled as I read further.

Curwen threatens to reveal my grave robbing if I expose his wicked deeds, yet my life and reputation are the very least of things that hang in the balance. M. Krempe and his ever-present disdain for the alchemists laughed off my warning, though it struck the soul of kind M. Waldman. He has offered his assistance.

The next page was barely legible, and I had to speak the words out loud to understand them at all.

It is done. We have set everything in that blasted lab ablaze, God willing Curwen too, though they have yet to locate his remains. The contents found within that lab have left me much changed. I am oppressed by a slow fever and in my agitation even the fall of a leaf startles me. Many have grown alarmed at the wreck I have become, but I might not be mad if Curwen’s accursed tomb-legions had not been so heinous!

If men like Curwen, bent on death and destruction, exist in this world, then my research may be our only defense against such insanity! I must discover the spark of life and use that power to protect the few that remain to me. My work, grizzly as it is, is nothing like Curwens! I shall create a man, not some cosmic daemon, and he will be benevolent and good! Surpassing any mortal man and immoral fiend fixated on tearing the world apart!

The next entry was a nearly identical description of that infamous creature found within Walton’s biography on Victor. The lustrous black hair, white teeth and overall beauty of his creation. Victor’s excitement showed through the sloppy handwriting in a way Walton’s printed report never could. Mankind’s salvation. With the key to life in his reach, he would never lose another person he loved again.

I skimmed the mechanisms used to infuse life into the creature, why linger on the process when I knew the result? To my surprise, the narration differed from Walton’s account when Victor recounted the creature’s watery yellow eyes- the very detail that had sent him fleeing in disgust and sealed the fate of us all:

What horror! Curwen’s influence lingers closer than a familiar. It stains my hands to make my good work an abomination! Those eyes are watery, pulsing with yellow. It is not the candlelight playing tricks, it cannot be! I hoped to perfect man, but I have only raised up one of Curwen’s horrors in the body of my fellow creatures! There is no soul inside those yellow eyes, there cannot be! Oh, it is the same! The same! I chant the incantation to disperse the monster, but it is not enough! I shall inscribe them here and recite again, surely there is more power in the written word?

“OGTHROD AI’F GEB’L—EE’H YOG-SOTHOTH ‘NGAH’NG AI’Y ZHRO!”

It has not vanished! I dreamt of Mother’s corpse rotting in my arms. Oh, I have called up something greater which I cannot put down! I have brought a curse upon my head that cannot be cured. Yet who can I tell? M. Waldman would never forgive me if he knew I continued this wicked research and the rest would call me mad. Both would lock me up, and then who could save humanity from the vengeance of this daemon? I must stay silent and find a way to undo this. I must. I must!

The rest was illegible from ink smeared in a manic fit of agitation. There were no pages after it. I shut the journal, thinking of that accursed mass of tentacles and twitching yellow eyes.

Tears blurred my vision. I could see the horror on Victor’s face that dreary November night as he mistook his innocent creation for one of Curwen’s awful fiends. If I really wanted to, I could also see the shreds of paper caught in the monster’s claws squatting before me. My eyes closed involuntarily at the wretch. It was like a human, but painfully unfinished. The deficiencies were uncanny, and the abnormalities of proportion hinted at obscure cosmic relationships to horrible to behold. Yet I thought of Victor’s creature, the monster who had murdered my family out of spite because of his neglect. His appearance had denied him companionship and turned his heart black. Forcing my eyes open, I beheld the thing before me. Misshapen though it was, there were glimpses of familiarity. The shape of those uneven shoulders, the outline of what had once been a jaw. The blue tint in the eyes that were not eyes.

“You wanted me to read these pages, did you not, Victor?”

The creature released a moan outside the range of human vocal cords. He had slashed at the previous monster to defend me. He was safe. I crept over and touched his jutting shoulder blade. The skin felt like wet leaves mixed with gravel.

“I understand why you did it. I should have believed you before,” I whimpered. “Even if I doubted your claims, I should have taken your fear seriously.”

That which was not Victor sighed.

“I have never been capable of seeing what is right in front of me. Curwen is right, I am a feeble mind, the background character to the grand narratives of you greater men.”

The creature whined and rested his disfigured paw on my hand. I tried to ignore the wetness of the skin. He shook his head with a soft croak. My eyes looked into his. Past the cosmic abnormalities, I sought my brother. I found deep pain, regret, and words unspoken that would never be. I forced myself to smile.

“At least we are together in the end.”

The creature reared back with a hiss. A claw jammed beside my knee and etched C-U-R-W-E-N into the moss before slashing the word with a vicious intensity.

“Yes, yes, I hate him too,” I sighed.

The creature growled and gave me the begging look our old dog had perfected at the dinner table. Again, he slashed the remnants of Curwen’s name.

“You wish to stop him?”

The creature yipped excitedly and pointed to my chest.

“Me?” I broke off in a cough. “Victor, you are the genius! I led him straight to your remains and started this mess!”

The creature grabbed one of the torn pages and shoved the paper into my hand. I reread the familiar lines:

“Victor, this makes no sense.”

The claw scribbled a new name- Marie Antoinette, into the moss.

“The ex-queen of France? She was executed years ago!” I paused. “By her own people. Commoners. Lesser men.” I traced the name in the moss with an idle finger. Victor’s intent was reaching me. “Some people are born for greatness, and some are not. I am inferior to you two, an insignificant ant. Yet how great is a queen, be it of ants or men, without their subjects? It is the expendables who enable great men to be great, and can tear them down just as easily. Maybe I cannot stop Curwen, but together we may yet win!”

Victor nodded and half-hopped, half crawled to the stone wall and stood on what I assumed were his hind legs. He angled his head to the grate several feet above us. Picking up on the gesture, I climbed onto his shoulders with great difficultly. Leaning my stump of a hand against the rough wall, I stood on Victor’s shoulders and strained up toward the grate. Yipping came from below me as the other creatures emerged to investigate. Growls and barks echoed off the walls as they fought one another with animalistic savagery. My fingers grasped the grate and lifted it easily. Curwen had clearly planned on me being dinner to his failed experiments instead of working with them to escape.

Victor boosted me upward and I scrambled from the pit onto the stone floor. I was in one of the corridors connected to the haunted room of chiseled stone Curwen had shown me before. I had to wonder what pentagrams were original to Weishaupt’ s Illuminati, and what grizzly additions Curwen had added himself? I snatched up a dusty pole and stuck the end into the pit where Victor growled at the circle of monsters closing in on him. I regretted the second look, for horrid as Victor’s appearance was, his fellow creatures boasted far greater abnormalities.

Curwen is improving, I thought with a shudder as Victor clutched the flimsy pole and scrambled up the wall as the others snapped at his heels. He collapsed beside me in a panting heap as those left behind howled and scratched at the walls. It seemed Curwen had not perfected bringing back the minds of his genius men either, and I pressed against Victor’s flank with a shudder as he stared into the pit. Despite his deformities, the drawn eyebrows and puzzled scowl were distinctly Victors, and I thanked whatever governed the laws Curwen rivaled that I had my brother’s mind in full. Victor’s yip interrupted my thoughts as he angled his head toward the pit.

“You want to free them too?” I asked, the only explanation. “Victor, they tried to eat me and I am sure they devoured Walton!”

Victor pawed at the pit impatiently, and I knew arguing was pointless. Then again, if these creatures were Curwen’s failed attempts at resurrecting the dead, surely they retained some form of humanity? Victor nudged me behind him as he lowered the pole into the pit and the remaining creatures pulled themselves up one by one, ten in total. Each one thanked us by lunging at me with snapping jaws, but Victor was more complete than they, and a few swats sent them rushing down the nearest corridor howling with demonic bloodlust. The sound of shattering pottery reached me as they wrecked Curwen’s little stock in the furnace room. As the final one disappeared down the dark hallway, I could only hope Victor knew what he was doing. Victor pointed a claw to the opposite doorway. Nodding, I snatched up the pole and rushed with him back into the light.

#ernest frankenstein #victor frankenstein #frankenstein #frankenstein fanfiction #lovecraft fanfiction #HP Lovecraft #The Case of Charles Dexter Ward #classic literature #ask of the lesser

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

DARING DO and the ADVENTURE of the X'IBIAN VASE! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 17 of 21

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Daring Do

and the Adventure of the X'ibian Vase!

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

And

Carmen Pondiego

Cover Art by

Doctor Dimension

52630 words

Writing begun 08/26/15

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Robber and Overthrow were scanning the two passes that the maps showed as the only approaches to ancient Hong Wa. Their binoculars showed only narrow, stony notches with no vegetation at all.

“Any luck, Robber?”

“No. It is hard to be sure of details with all the heat shimmering but nothing the size of a dromedary has showed up at all. I wonder if something has happened to them?”

Tyranny was crouched behind one of the MT81 quick fire cannon, pretending to aim and fire up the gorges.

Overthrow shook his head sadly. “He was a sharp and prudent lawyer before he got this obsession with the Heart of Discord and world domination. Look at him. He threw away the firm’s entire capital on this one throw of the dice.

“He does not even seem to understand that we need to capture them all ALIVE, if we can! Daring Do, especially. I overheard him last night. He was muttering to himself about torturing her to death. That is bad enough. He was not even thinking about the fact that only she has any actual chance of FINDING the Heart of Discord.”

Robber agreed glumly as he sweated under the merciless X'ibian sun. “I would have given up. I can’t. If this does not work, we are bankrupt. I don’t want to start over from nothing.”

Overthrow sat on a stone and asked, “Taken up mind reading, Robber? Those are my thoughts, exactly.”

Tyranny was laughing in a twisted fantasy. “Just wait until they show their heads! These guns will tear them to shreds!”

Robber stepped up behind Tyranny and pulled him away from the weapon. “Fine! Blow them to pieces! THEN HOW ARE WE GOING TO FIND THE TOMB?”

Tyranny blinked several times. In a puzzled voice he pointed out, “That nearest necropolis is the oldest of them. We just go down there and look for the marker. Im Farst was an emperor, so the marker on the grave must be huge.”

In the gentle voice reserved for trying to reason with a child, Robber suggested, “Think it through, Tyranny. If it was that simple, one of the many previous expeditions would have found it. Besides, IT IS NOT A GRAVE. It is a BIG tomb. Somehow, it was hidden so well that over the ages, MILLIONS have been spent trying to find it. NOPONY ever has.

“Daring Do must not be harmed. SHE is very sure that she has solved the problem. She is not the only one. BOTH Celestia and Luna are backing her expedition. THEY are sure that she is right.”

From the low stone ridge off to the left of them, a rifle boomed, echoes bouncing back from the ancient wall of Hong Wa. Dirt flew up about two feet from one of the ammunition boxes. A second shot blasted from a different part of the ridge. The bullet made a screaming whine as it ricocheted from a stone near the tripod of one of the guns.

Before either of the partners could stop him, Tyranny leaped to one of the MT81s and began to blast away along the ridge, swinging the weapon on its mount like a fire hose! The noise was a deafening, rolling thunder!

The bits and chunks of rock flying from the ridge told of bad aim. He was not even hitting near the crest where his opponents had to be.

Robber simply clubbed him down and hurled him away from the gun. Taking the handles, he waited until the next rifle shot’s noise and smoke revealed where to shoot. He sent an economical three round burst at the spot. It shattered stone and threw up dirt right on target. He waited quietly for the next shot to reveal the location of a shooter.

That shot came quickly, and Robber’s return fire splintered stone there too. Not hearing their other MT81, he spared a glance. Overthrow was bleeding from a leg but worse, the gun’s ammo box was a shattered ruin. Single shells were thrown about like nine-pins when a strike is rolled. Overthrow was attempting to clear the wreckage and feed the weapon single bullets.

There was another shot from the ridge! Robber aimed and fired. His gun blasted once and clicked. His ammunition box was empty. He raised his hooves and stood well back from the useless MT81.

He saw that Overthrow was following his example. Tyranny was frozen with terror. Dromedaries were coming across the ridge. Robber recognized the advance method and shook his head. Somepony had trained these fighters.

Seven dromedaries under arms, accompanied by two ponies with rifles and one horse with a wicked looking sword came up and seized the three.

A large dromedary bared a sword and held it in a threatening position. Robber had read enough to know that was a bad sign with X'ibians. The dromedary mare spoke mildly enough. “I am Sang He. This could have been an interesting fight if that idiot,” she pointed to Tyranny, “had not wasted your ammunition. You used what you had very well.”

Robber shrugged, “Not a lot that I could do to stop him, in time. He was ‘playing’ gunner when the first shot was fired. I knocked him off the gun as swiftly as I could.

“This whole expedition has been his idea. He thought that we could just go to the necropolis and dig up relics of Im Farst.

“The whole expedition was not too bad, financially. He bankrupted us, buying old manuscripts of the earliest X'ibian Empire. He thought that those relics would be fabulously valuable and allow us to recover our huge expenses. There is only one problem. We made a foray into the nearby necropolis. It is the wrong age entirely.

“Then he thought that maybe we could force Daring Do to reveal the location of Im Farst’s tomb. That was another piece of stupidity on his part.

“Here at the last, Overthrow and I were following him because we had no other choice. I mentioned that we are bankrupt? If it helps any, I was shooting only in defense.”

Sang He regarded Robber with mild disdain. “You told us only some of the truth. You are after a single relic. The legendary Heart of Discord. Daring Do was dispatched, not to prevent you from it, but to study and preserve the rest of the tomb.”

“She wasn’t to prevent us from getting the Heart of Discord?”

Daring Do, a bit of wind whipping her mane impressively, inquired, “Do you have any idea at all how old the Princesses Luna and Celestia are? They KNEW Im Farst and the Dragon Queen. They do not want the tomb of a friend despoiled for a single relic.”

Tyranny leaped on what Daring Do had said. “So! They gave you a map to the tomb! If you don’t hand it over right now, I will …” He hit the ground with a thump and a cloud of dust flaring out in all directions! Overthrow, leg wound still bleeding a bit, knocked him down and was sitting on him.

From his perch on Tyranny, he offered, “Excuse this, please. Our senior partner is more than a tiny bit unhinged. It did not show until we were committed to this business.”

Jeremy giggled. “It sure showed when he was shooting! Are you SURE that he is on YOUR side?”

Daring Do glanced skeptically at the three. “I had in mind allowing you to help us to excavate the tomb entrance as soon as we find it. You must realize that any three thousand year old guide or map will not be too accurate today. Even some hills move in that span of time. We will have our work cut out for us, just to locate the tomb and determine the correct method of entry.”

Tyranny, from his place flat on the ground, demanded, “What is so complex about it? Once we find the tomb, we just dig in and get what we need!”

Daring Do looked down incredulously. With all seven dromedaries doubled up with laughter and Soree giggling, she pointed out, “In my career, I have opened thirty eight significant ancient tombs. Every one has had at least two lethal traps that still functioned.

“Now I am certain that it will be YOU digging in, when we find the entrance!”

Robber chuckled sourly, “Tyranny, are you even beginning to grasp how stupid you are sounding?”

Daring Do shrugged. “Let him up. I have had to deal with grave robbing idiots before. “Mister Tyranny, you will not be allowed to enter the tomb at all. When we locate the artifact or any complication connected with it, you will be informed. If you try to enter without our specific permission, Sang He and her Dromedaries will shoot to kill without warning, is that clear?”

Tyranny regained his feet, snarling, “How can we possibly trust YOU?”

That caused Daring Do to double up laughing. When she regained her composure, she replied, “Not only are you still alive when we could have easily killed you, we are allowing you to stay with us. Consider, you are bankrupt. You cannot buy enough of fuel or supplies to get home but we are taking you in.

“It is we who have no cause to trust you!”

Soree went to Kanya Ama and asked, “May I get out the stove and fuel? We are now past our noon meal, due the presence of certain venomous insects.”

Kanya Ama knelt and allowed Soree to open her big pack panniers. Soree got out the stove, charcoal, and rice with dried vegetables already chopped and mixed in, needing only cooking to make them a meal.

Jeremy and Sehang Shu joined her in preparing the meal. Sehang Shu quietly offered, “Jeremy, you were very courageous in this event. Without your lead, we could have been killed.

“My given name is Shu. I wish that you would use it from now on.”

Lifting his eyes from the task of measuring the noon rice, Jeremy questioned, “I have made many mistakes of understanding so far, due to both prejudice and not grasping what I have been presented to study. From my reading, that offer has more meaning than simply letting me call you by your given name. Is that correct?”

Shehang Shu nodded, her face serious. “That is true, Jeremy. It is an offer of more than simply friendship.”

Jeremy returned to her the bow of one of low station to one of high. “I would be most honored, Shu. If I may say so, I have rarely ever met one that I respect more.” He hesitated before giving her a gentle hug.

Her return hug lifted him a good half meter off the ground!

She let him down and suggested with a giggle, “We can follow this up later. Just now, your lunch needs to be fixed!”

Soree grinned ear to ear as she commented, “We had better give you seconds, Jeremy! You are going to need your strength!”

Tyranny wandered close and demanded, “Never mind messing with the servants! When will my noon meal be ready?”

Tyranny promptly discovered two things about dromedaries. The first was that they can deliver a full power kick from any angle, using any leg. The other was that full power for a dromedary is very powerful indeed!

He picked himself up, cautiously, checking for broken bones. He had landed two meters away from where Shehang Shu’s hoof caught him. He snarled, “That is it! You are fired! Get out of here!”

That was met by a sudden clacking sound as all seven of the large bore dromedary rifles that Daring Do gave the herd were brought to bear and cocked, safeties off. He was surrounded by a herd of grim faced dromedaries staring down the sights of their weapons.

Sang He said in such a gentle voice that it took a moment for the meaning to penetrate, “You will abase yourself. Grovel before Shehang Shu and beg her for your life. If you do not, we will destroy you.”

Tyranny turned to Daring Do, who was staring in consternation at a sheaf of papers, and demanded, “Do something! Your servants are in revolt!”

Daring Do gave him a pained look. She patiently explained, “There is nothing for me to do. They are being very forbearing in allowing this conversation before firing.”

She pointed sweepingly to the desert horizon about them. “If you examine your surroundings with the utmost care, you might notice a tiny detail. You are not in Equestria. Equestrian law does not run here. What Sang He’s herd is about to do is TOTALLY LEGAL HERE.”

Tyranny’s brows drew down in puzzled shock. “All of this over firing a servant?”

Daring Do pointed out, “In the first place, NOT YOUR SERVANT! In the second place, not my servant, either. Sang He’s herd was engaged for their known and proven expertise in all aspects of the documentation, conservation and proper handling of antiquities.

“They have worked with me before. They are partners splitting a twenty percent share of the value of the total find as assessed by consultation between my Royal backers and the X'ibian Provincial Department of Antiquities. If the expedition fails, they will receive an already agreed to per diem.”

He gestured at the herd, with unwavering guns aimed at him. “These crude beasts, expert at anything? Ridiculous.”

There was another clacking of a rifle being cocked and brought to bear. Jeremy had joined the herd in steady, utterly calm aim at Tyranny. Soree was off to one side, out of the line of fire, sketching the scene into her notebook!

Daring Do observed, “Your mouth is digging you a grave that you will not get. By custom, your body will be put into an exposed location for desert scavengers to eat.”

It slowly percolated through Tyranny’s consciousness that what he was hearing was perfectly serious. He got down to his belly, head extended toward Shehang Shu. “Please spare my life! I did not understand what I was doing.” He frowned in concentration and added, “I am not sure that I do now. I will do my best to understand and behave.

“I am a scholar of the ancient form of your language. Perhaps I can assist the work coming by that means.”

Shehang Shu gave a millimetric nod from the Bow of one of highest station and slung her rifle. She pulled her sword and held it in a low guard position, edge toward Tyranny.

In a voice so cold that it should have frozen him, she stated, “We are on the same road. We ask no thing of you and you, none from us. The path is all that is shared.”

She sheathed her sword and turned her back on him. The others all released the cock and slung their rifles too. Even Jeremy turned his back on the shivering Tyranny.

Soree and Jeremy returned to fixing their delayed noon meal.

Daring Do stirred the still shuddering Tyranny with her hoof. “We need to talk about this translation. I told you, back in your office in Canterlot, that your X'ibian translation was near hopeless. It does not seem to have improved.”

That got Tyranny’s attention. “Nonsense. I have even used your lexicon of X'ibian Ideograms! I got every one exactly right!”

Daring Do nodded briskly. “You did. You also totally missed the meaning! All references to Dromedary are superlatives. They are the epitome of beauty, grace, elegance and deep thought. They are NEVER negatives or symbols of clumsiness, stupidity or ugliness.”

Incredulous, Tyranny gestured at the herd and exclaimed, “Impossible! Just look at them!”

Jeremy had quietly joined them and said, “Yes, just look at them through THEIR EYES. Didn’t you know that the whole X'ibian first Empire was founded and carried on by dromedaries? Im Farst, whose tomb we are seeking, was a dromedary.

“His wife, the legendary Dragon Queen, named Wisdom, was actually a dragon, as the X'ibians understood such creatures. We hope to find out more about Wisdom herself, in the exploration of this tomb, assuming that we can find it.”

Tyranny, ears stinging from the multiple rebukes, snapped, “What about HER MAP? How could you fail to find it unless you are really stupid?” He pointed dramatically at Daring Do, who yawned.

Sehang Shu loftily informed him, “If you were a student, you would be removed from the class. I believe the term I want here is flunked.

“You were informed already that landmarks can change a great deal in three thousand years. You have failed to consider the information given you.”

Jeremy quietly added, “Besides, Doctor Do does not have a map. That was a conclusion that you jumped on and have accepted without question since. That is faulty reasoning that not even the military of any nation will accept. I am amazed that you, as a lawyer, would be guilty of such a basic failure of logic.”

Daring Do agreed, “I do not have a map. I do know how to find the tomb. It will not be easy. We must begin inside the Hong Wa.”

Overthrow cautiously inquired, “If the tomb is outside the city, why do we need to begin inside it?”

Robber acidly pointed out, “If Daring Do has no map, she has a chain of clues that begin inside the city somewhere, obviously.”

Sang He politely herded Daring Do away from the lawyers. “Doctor Do, your delayed noon meal is now ready. Why you would wish to associate with such low creatures as they is beyond me.”

Daring Do chided gently, “My friend, do not discriminate with them because they are ponies.”

“I did not. I have placed them in the station that they have earned by their behavior. We honor you and those you have brought, because you and they have earned our respect. Those back there have gone so far the other way that I am glad that we did not shoot.

“Scavengers are a needful part of the ecology of the desert. I would not wish to poison them with that creature’s carcass.”

<==Previous Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

#DARING DO AND THE ADVENTURE OF THE X'IBIAN VASE #part 17 of 21 #MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer and Carmen Pondiego

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hildiraphillips · 4 years

Text

Quest for the Magic Rock (2)

“I didn’t think your errand was going to take us so far out of town,” Hildira grumbled as she and Tristan journeyed some distance out of Strathmore, making for the foothills to the south. At least the journey out of the town was far less tense than the one into it- it seemed that the sensation of being watched had been Tristan himself and not some abomination still lurking in the area.

“You see,” Tristan began as the undead and the paladin traipsed across a long-dead field. “I was once a artisan in life- a stonecutter. In death, my skills have not been sullied by my, ah- Condition. I left that lunatic death cult in Tirisfal to find what had become of my home. When I came here, I found I needed space for my work. I made my new workshop far away enough to not be disturbed by... interlopers. I imagine you know the sort. Bandits. Scourge. Idiots.”

Hildira smiled at his assessment of the Forsaken, but otherwise nodded along, indicating for him to continue.

“My wife, she... had died only days before the plague came. Of natural causes- I searched for so long for a cure for her ailment, yet nothing could seem to stop it. When she passed, I barely had time to prepare for her burial before death itself was dumped on our doorstep. As you might have guessed, I... died around then, as well.” Tristan grew mournful, his tone somber as he spoke of death.

He was quiet, and Hildira took it as invitation to speak in turn. “You have... my condolences,” she offered after a moment of considering her words. “For both matters. I am sorry you have been left in... your current state, as well.” It was an uncomfortable thing, to speak so directly to an undead, but Tristan seemed so harmless that Hildira felt bad for feeling in such a way.

“So many have come in the years since then, to the town. Looters seeking things to take with them. Raving lunatics wanting to reclaim Lordaeron. Necromancers seeking more fodder for their armies. I have spent some time burying those who could be buried, hoping to hide them from the monsters that trouble them. Sometimes my efforts do not work- it makes me sad, but... what can I do? I was never a fighter in life, and even in death, I do not wish to become one. There was one particular person I was concerned with, however- one corpse I would not let them take, not as a mindless skeleton or... whatever I am.”

As they crested the hill, Hildira saw it before her in the afternoon sun. From the dried and deadened ground rose pillars of smooth stone, and between them lay a path. “You built all this?” the paladin asked the undead- and he responded with a quick nod.

“Undeath leaves one with more time than I know what to do with. I have been here for many years, and am lucky my work has remained of little interest to those who pass through here.”

The pair walked along the stone path between the pillars until they came to stand before a statue of a woman- and a great stone coffin. She was clad in a commoner’s dress, yet her visage breathtaking regardless. In an instant, Hildira knew who she was- and who rested in the sarcophagus. Tristan laid a hand upon the box, and closed his eyes.

“You have carved a beautiful tomb for your wife, sir,” she said gently, a gloved hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “Fit for a queen. And now I understand your years of toil. You’ve done her every feature justice.”

Tristan shook his head. “it hardly holds a candle to her as she once was. She was our town’s healer, you see. The light of my life. I miss her each day of this wretched existence... but I fear for her. I would not have her joined with me in the shadow of life that I live now. That is why I have kept this here. I hoped its power might ward evil away, just as touching the thing burns me. I knew one day, somebody would come for it- it is selfish of me to keep it here for her alone, but...”

The undead man knelt as he spoke, and reached into a hollow cut in the sarcophagus’ lower portion, and retrieved a box. It was worn and old, with golden detailing on it. Though a little worse for wear, Hildira could feel what was within- the very relic she sought. Its power was so potent- no wonder Tristan had wished to keep it here. Surely, the Church would put this to good use.

“I don't think I can take this,” the knight said simply. “This is all that wards your wife from necromancy and evil. I will not, in fact. It would be wrong of me to take it back to the Church- they’d probably lock it away in a basement somewhere, or--”

“No. You’ve come so far for such a small thing. Surely, it must be of great importance, is it not? Relics like this are meant to do good... please. I know some other way of protecting her. This is why I have asked for your help. You are a mighty paladin- surely, if anybody can keep her safe, you will.”

Tristan reached into the bag he kept with him, and withdrew a very old-looking book. “This was kept with your magic rock, in the old church. I brought it with me hoping it could help- of course, I found swiftly that I could not perform any of the magic in it. I cannot quite read it any more - my eyes - but it was in one of the earlier pages.”

Hildira took the book from him, and cracked it open. The old, leatherbound tome was slender, and the worn parchment it was made of described the artifact she sought in detail. Its history and believed powers were all told here- as was a list of rituals. As she scanned the pages, the paladin happened across what Tristan must have been referring to.

It was a ritual of protection and consecration- among the most ancient of things meant to ward humanity from dark magics. No foul presence could cross a barrier inscribed into the ground by the Steatite, especially if it were reinforced with holy runes. No foul presence, though...

“Tristan,” Hildira began softly, peering towards him. “If I perform this, you will never be able to visit her again. I don’t think that is fair to take away from you either.”

Tristan ran his hands across the smooth face he’d carved into the stone, a tender touch that stirred even Hildira’s heart with sorrow. How could she part them from one another?

“It is because I love my Catherine that I ask you to do this, paladin. It is selfish of me to ask any less. I have no idea if keeping the box here would have warded undead away forever- it did not stop me from coming here from time to time, after all. If you do this, my greatest fear will be eased. It is a cruel thing, to part with her resting place, but I will carry her in my heart for as long as I am around.”

“Your love, Tristan, is... pure and unsullied,” the paladin observed. “I am glad that you were not robbed of it. If this is what you ask, I will perform the ritual from this book- and travel here to make sure it is renewed every year.

Tristan offered only a nod, and a few words. “We are not all monsters. I hope perhaps it will be remembered.” He murmured a quiet goodbye to his wife- and walked away from the stony tomb.

The ritual took time to perform, and Hildira poured every ounce of her focus and effort into it- using the small, unassuming piece of talc to inscribe runes of holy protection and blessing at the entrance. So much strength rested in this small object- thousands of years old, yet blessed like one of the Lightforged themselves. She poured her own power into consecrating the ground as well. By the time she was done, no undead, no necromancer, nothing short of a powerful lich could cross this ground.

Certainly not a simple, nearly-blind undead man, either.

She and Tristan said their goodbye as the sun was setting, Hildira reiterated her promise to watch over Catherine’s resting place. As she and her horse rode south towards home, with her prize in hand, the paladin couldn’t help but wonder where Tristan would go next, his work fulfilled. She prayed that somehow, she might see him again.

#story

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autumnslance · 5 years

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“Even should I fail to do this steel justice, it will remain long after I have perished. A kindred soul shall take up the sword, and then you will see my coin was wisely spent.”

Arya’s spent her days since Lilith’s defeat fighting the monsters of Mor Dhona and studying with the various mage guilds of Eorzea. But a letter from X’rhun sends the Duelists to Ala Mhigo, where desperate men have robbed the memorial to the original Order, left by X’rhun at the Tomb of the Errant Sword twenty years before when his comrades were killed and he was forced to flee.

While he welcomes the WoL’s help, he’s genuinely concerned for Arya, but Lil’Sis won’t take no for an answer. While nowhere near her previous ability, acquits herself well as the Duelists capture the thieves and restore the relics--except for one, a special sword commissioned by a Duelist with shallow reserves of aether, a sword X’rhun never thought he might be able to pass on as his friend had wished--but now here are two new Red Mages, after all.

Arya returns to her training in Mor Dhona, with more direction as X’rhun takes over mentorship again, if from afar as he continues to wander the realm, upholding his oaths and helping against Imperial incursions. But he says we’ll see one another again.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Shadowbringers #5.0 Spoilers #Red Mage #X'rhun Tia #Arya Gastaurknan

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darkelfshadow · 4 years

Text

Session Summary - 76

AKA “The Light Of Truesilver Comes”

Adventures in Taggeriell

Session 76 (Date: 10th January 2020)

Players Present:

- Rob (Known as “Varis”) Elf Male.

- Bob (Known as “Sir Krondor) Dwarf Male.

- Paul (Known as “Labarett”) Elf Male.

- Arthur (Known as “Gim”) Dwarf Male.

- Travis (Known as “Trenchant”) Human Male.

- John (Known as “Ragnar”) Dwarf Male. <New Player>

Absent Players

Nil

NPC

- (Known as “Naillae”) Elf Female. <Controlled by Travis>

Summary

- Toilday, 9th Pharast in the year 815 (Second Era). Spring.

- The party begin this session, mid evening, in the dark forbidding corridors of the Yuan-ti Nest Complex, having just finished dispatching a small patrol of Yuan-ti at the end of last session.

- The black great sword in Gim’s hand, Hazirawn, speaks to Gim, “Fool Dwarf! You have taken me into the heart of the cursed Yuan-ti. I will not fall into their hands, I can not control their minds. Leave now Dwarf! Leave your friends behind and whilst the Yuan-ti kill and torture them you may yet be able to escape these lands.” Gim struggles to resist the control and does so, but the strength of the great sword is growing.

- The smell of mouldy food alerts the party and they check their backpacks to find that all their food is soiled and their water skins are empty. The party recall that that is one of the effects of entering into the lair of a Mummy Lord, which Diderius must be. They are now two and half days away from civilisation, in a inhospitable land, with no food or water.

- From down a nearby corridor, from behind a steel door, comes the faint sound of a male Dwarf voice shouting, “Berronar! Akyth offrumm tha ghoran!” Varis, who is the only one in the party standing in that corridor hears the voice but does not understand the Dwarvish words.

- Nedumlin, the ancient Dwarvish symbol of the Knight Anvil speaks in a frantic voice to Sir Krondor, “Did you not hear that call for help?!” Sir Krondor, standing away from the corridor shakes his head, “Heard what?”

- Nedumlin hurriedly replies, “A Dwarf calls out for Berronar Truesilver to send aid! That could be a Clan Peace Keeper, Cleric of Truesilver, in dire need of aid. We must go now!”

- Sir Krondor and Gim look at each other and nod and begin to run towards the steel door. Varis shouts as they run past him, “It could be trap! The Yuan-ti can put suggestions into your mind!” Just then, a female voice, can be faintly heard from the door. She sounds as if in great pain.

- Trenchant yells, “Wait! That sounds very suspicious!”

- As the two Dwarf cousins run towards the door, Sir Krondor bellows, “We don’t have time to discuss this!”

- Gim reaches the door first and bursts through with a kick with Sir Krondor just behind him. They see a rectangular prison chamber with multiple prison cells comprised of black metal bars. The cells are filled with many people, all wearing just loin clothes or under clothes. By the look of their distinctive tattoos, most of the cells contain Cultists, about seventeen with two of them wearing black metal collars around their necks. One cell has an elderly male Elf, trying to get out to stop a Yuan-ti guard striking an elderly female Elf who is crouching on the floor with a bloody face.

- In one cell by himself is a male Dwarf, he too has one of the strange black collars around his neck. He looks over at the two nearly arrived Dwarves, and in Dwarvish speaks, “Praise Berronar! Quickly!”

- The party rush in and engage the Yuan-ti. They pull their blows, trying to avoid killing the creature, when one of the Cultists wearing the metal collar tells them they need the creature alive to unlock the collars. The party force the Yuan-ti back towards the bars, with Gim holding him against the cell, whislt the Dwarf stranger in the cell grabs the hands of the Yuan-ti and places them onto his metal collar which immediately unlocks and opens with a click.

- Quickly the party knock the Yuan-ti unconscious. In a corner of the chamber is a large metal cupboard with multiple drawers with the belongings of the prisoners all stored within. The party learn that the two elderly Elves, Dalern and his wife Elona, are travelling herbalist, historians and map makers. They had been wandering the Serpent Hills recording animal and plant life when they were captured by the Yuan-ti and brought here. A day later the Cultists were also captured in brought here.

- The lone Dwarf is called Ragnar Krakhammer, Cleric of Berronar Truesilver, Priest of the Light, and Clan Peace Keeper. He came to the Tomb Of Diderius looking for an ancient book that might be able to help him find an ancient relic, the Sun Blade.

- He was captured by Yuan-ti early today, just before sunrise, and brought here too, having slept most of the day thanks to the poisoned arrows used to capture him. Ragnar takes back his gear from the metal cupboard and gets back into his clothing and armour.

- He walks over to the unconscious Yuan-ti and raises his silver war hammer high, then smashes it into the creature’s face killing it, green blood splattering on the floor.

- Trenchant reels, “I thought you said he was a Peace Keeper. That doesn’t seem very peaceful.”

- Ragnar wipes the green blood of his weapon as he replies, “I am a Clan Peace Keeper for the Dwarves. Through the guidance of the Revered Mother, Berrnoar Truesilver, it is my duty to keep the culture, lore, traditions and family histories of the Dwarves alive. The existence of that evil creature is an insult to the Light that I serve.”

- The Cult prisoners beg for their release too but when they refuse to renounce their worship of Tiamat the party leave them in their cells but free the Elf couple, Dalern and Elona. The party move over to a stone door, that one of the Cultists tells them is the throne room of the Yuan-ti and also where Varram The White is being held captive.

- They open the stone door and are invited inside by a large female Yuan-ti who commands a large group of Yuan-ti, the Nest Mother.

- The party enter the large chamber, lit by green flames that erupt from numerous statues along the walls. A stone altar sits upon a raised platform.

- Initially the party are trying to negotiate with the Nest Mother, who stands next to the prone figure of Varram The White, who appears injured and confused but alive. The negotiations turn bad however and the party find themselves in battle.

- The party are fighting the Yuan-ti forces in the throne room with more Yuan-ti appearing from the rear corridor. The party concentrate their attacks on the Nest Mother and quickly force her to flee, badly injured. Trenchant goes back to the Cult prisoners and releases them, telling them to armour up and get out. The Cultists do that and as they run out of the Nest they encounter a Yuan-ti Abomination coming from the rear and engage it in combat.

- Shadow, Varis’s animal companion, is killed when he leaps towards on coming Yuan-ti trying to slow them down. The battle is hard, but one by one the Yuan-ti are dropped until only the party remain, though badly injured. Varis and Ragnar take the time to cast healing spells to give some much needed healing to the party.

- The bodies and area are searched. The outline of a secret door is found and after examining one of the statues, it is turned toward the stone altar to open the secret door. Within is found a large pile of treasure which the party then divide amongst themselves.

- Taking Varram and the elderly Elf couple with them, they then move back towards the circular chamber they found earlier, but did not enter, with the many holes visible in the floor. Entering this room, they discover that it has an anti-magic field enveloping it to protect barrels of food and water from the effects of the Mummy Lord’s corrupting influence. They take the opportunity to have a short rest, eating and drinking.

- Moving onwards, they check out a few other doors, until the decision is made that the book that Ragnar wants to find must be in the Tomb complex and not the Yuan-ti nest. They make their way back to the secret door that leads into the Tomb Of Diderius, Mummy Lord.

XP Allocation

Group - Combined (This is equally divided by the number of players who were involved)

Quests (Only quests that are completed or rendered undoable, during this session, are shown here)

- “We don’t have time to discuss this with the committee!” Save Elona (Elf Prisoner) In Time = 500 XP

- “Eyes up here buddy!” Force the Nest Mother to leave = 500 XP

- “Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge” Release Cultist Prisoners = 500 XP

- “I see many things. I see plans within plans” Learn the Zhentarim have the White Dragon Mask = 1000 XP

Creatures Overcome

- Yuan-ti Malisons (Type 1) = 2800 XP

- Yuan-ti Malisons (Type 3) = 2800 XP

- Yuan-ti Abomination = 2900 XP

- Yuan-ti Abomination = 131 XP (Shared with 15 Cultists)

Individual (This is only given to that person and is not divided amongst all players)

Special Bonus (Outstanding Role Playing)

Nil

XP Levels and Player Allocations

Player : Start + Received = Total (Notes)

Rob : 89420 + 1702 = 91122

Arthur : 70786 + 1702 = 72488

John : 64000 + 1702 = 65702

Travis : 81241 + 1702 = 82943

Paul : 70117 + 1702 = 71819

Bob : 76545 + 1702 = 78247

NPC (Naillae) : + (851)

#D&D #DnD #5th #5e #ROT

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theonyxpath · 5 years

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Two young men trudged through the desert, far from the city’s limits. The first, adorned in fur and jewelry, led the second, dressed in flax cloth.

“There it is!” The first man pointed to a half-buried obelisk stone.

“You brought me here to see a rock?” the second man asked. “Once your family realizes we’re gone—”

“We’ll be back before nightfall.” The first man dug into the sand beneath the stone, and pulled out an effigy of a cat, carved from lapis lazuli. “I wanted you to see this.”

The second man examined it. “Another rock?”

He traced his fingers over the sculpted patches of fur and around the perfectly re-created scar over its left eye. He shook his head and smiled.

“Mouser,” he said, “It’s Mouser!”

The first man grinned. “I know you loved her very much. I crafted this from my memories of her. Now, she will be the Pharaoh of Mice.”

The second man hugged the effigy. “Thank you.”

“That’s not all,” the first man said, “I will present it to the Tef-Aabhi, and they will look upon my work and proclaim me a fellow master craftsman. Then, I will bring you with me. We will no longer be master and servant, but guildmates. Your family won’t live in the barracks anymore.”

The second man looked at the first, shocked. “You don’t mean that.”

The first man put his hands on the shoulders of the second, and looked deeply into his gray eyes. “I do. I will aid you and your family for as long as I live. I promise.”

? ? ?

Pert-en-hat opened his eyes and grasped at the leather seats. He took a moment to gather his surroundings. It was 2020, and he sat in one of the self-moving chariots his cult called a “van.”

The man sitting at Pert-en-hat’s left reached over and grasped his chest. “Easy there, we just hit a bump.”

The mummy grabbed the man’s wrist. “Who said that you could touch me?”

“Wait!” The man shouted. “It’s me, Tristian! The thief you hired?”

“Pert-en-hat,” the woman to his right said, “He’s telling the truth. Let him go.”

He looked at her, stared into her gray eyes, and released the man.

“I am sorry,” Pert-en-hat said, “When the relic calls to me, my mind gets…distorted.”

He watched Tristian shake his wrist and felt a twinge of shame. A year ago, he would have shattered the thief’s arm in three places and summoned a swarm of beetles to devour him before a single cry of mercy crossed his lips. It would have been wrong to do so, but the power would have come naturally. Now, mustering the strength to grab someone was a challenge.

“What did it tell you?” The woman asked.

“Its name,” the mummy said, “It is the ‘Pharaoh of Mice.’”

“So we’ve got its name and where the bastard’s keeping it,” Tristian said, “That’s all I need to know. I’ll give my people the update.”

Tristian got on the phone. As he talked, the woman leaned over to study Pert-en-hat’s face.

“You learned something else, didn’t you?” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You can tell me.”

“Farah, I saw its creator.”

“Was it someone you knew?”

“In a sense, yes.”

“My lord, I don’t understand. Who is it?”

Pert-en-hat sighed. “The relic. It’s mine.”

?? ?? ??

The young man expected to see one of the master craftsmen when he entered the guildhall. Instead, the seven cloaked guildmasters of the Tef-Aabhi beckoned him from the atrium into a private hall, and shut the door behind him.

He fell to his hands and knees before them.

“Most holy Shan’iatu!” He prostrated. “Forgive me; I did not intend to shirk my labor, only to demonstrate my craft.”

He looked up, just for a moment. Their faces were well-hidden by the hoods of their cloaks.

One of them spoke in a husky, feminine voice. “We know what you’ve done. Show us what it can do.”

“Of course.” The man stood up. He invoked the Pharaoh of Mice, speaking its name and holding it above his head. A mouse poked its head from a crack in the floor. Another squeezed through a crevice in the ceiling. Mice from all over the guildhall poured into the room, crowding the floor and standing at attention.

“It controls the weak,” the man said. “As long as you believe you rule them, they cannot disobey. Watch.”

He commanded the vermin to leave. They fled the room. The workers outside shrieked and cursed as the rodents ran as one through the guildhall’s exit. The mice continued into the town, and then to the sands beyond.

He said, “If it pleases the Shan’iatu, I shall add this treasure to the panoply and take my place as master craftsman.”

There was a moment of silence.

“No,” said the husky voice. “You have earned something greater, should you accept it.”

The man blinked. “Yes, of course! What is it?”

The Shan’iatu looked at him, and for a moment he saw the heads of animals, not people.

“You will learn,” the husky voice said, “In due time.”

??? ??? ???

Tristian looked up at the skyscraper, shaking his head. “Robbing a corporate headquarters in broad daylight. You people are my kind of crazy.”

“It’s the only way we can get to the relic,” Farah said. “If Pert-en-hat’s visions are right, it’s in Mr. Collins’ personal safe, and we need him to open it up before you move in.”

“Right.” He looked over the building’s blueprints. “I’ve gotta say, this is a way better deal than what I thought we were going to get when we robbed his tomb. I could get used to this.”

“He recruited you,” Farah said, “because he saw potential. If it had been any other tomb, you and your friends would not be alive right now. Remember that, before you get too comfortable.” She waved over a woman to join them.

“This is Emma,” she said. “She’s the eldest of us. She’ll be heading in for an interview with Mr. Collins. Once she gets him to open the safe, she’ll signal your team over the radio.”

“Good to meet you, Emma.” Tristian took her in, low-cut dress and all. “You know, for the oldest member, you don’t look a day over 22.”

Emma smiled. “Thanks, but she was 26 when I stole her body.” She winked at him and walked into the building.

He laughed. “She’s kidding, right? Right?”

Farah pulled out a jar of red liquid from her jacket and drew a sigil into the ground.

???? ???? ????

The young man shuffled deeper into the tunnels beneath the city, where the pillars dug into the earth. He moved shoulder-to-shoulder with other workers. He recognized some of his fellow sculptors.

Earlier that day, a group of Maa-Kep dragged the grey-eyed young man and his family from his home. The young man, the family’s master, witnessed their arrest and demanded an explanation. They would not tell him why they captured them or where they were going. When he struck one of the secret police to the ground, the rest overpowered him and carried him to his guildhall.

There, servants stripped him of his finery and bathed him. They held him down and poured a bitter drink into his throat. They clothed him in robes with hieroglyphics he didn’t recognize and sent him to march with the others.

Now, his head swam as he created the end of the corridor. He stumbled and tried to grasp the wall with an unfeeling arm. His grip lost strength, and he slammed face-first into the floor. Two cloaked figures, Shan’iatu, carried him to an altar. Blood from his broken noise stained it. They did not care.

“What is this? The young man’s question mingled with the sound of chanting and screaming nearby.

One of the Shan’iatu lifted a long, copper spike above the young man’s head.

“You earned this.” The man recognized her husky, feminine voice. “You accepted it. Our empire is eternal, and you will be its vessel.”

She thrust the spike into his forehead. It was his first death.

????? ????? ?????

Pert-en-hat’s cultists assured him the plan would work. With Farah’s sorcery, the body thief as decoy, and the aid of world-class thieves, they would take the Pharaoh of Mice, and he would return to Duat with the relic without lifting a finger.

They hadn’t expected their mark to find the body thief’s radio. They couldn’t have imagined that he knew they were coming. They were not prepared for Mr. Collins using the vessel and commanding every employee to hunt down the team.

They would need him after all, and he would need to gather all the strength in his dying body. He sprinted into the building, tossing away the glassy-eyed workers trying to tackle him. When he reached the elevator doors, he ripped them from the wall and hurled them into the crowd. He leaped into the empty elevator shaft. His body melted into the concrete floor on impact and he swam through the building like a fish moving upstream. The Pharaoh of Mice shone like a beacon among the skyscraper’s inferior materials and mediocre architecture. He followed its light.

He emerged from the floor of Mr. Collins’ office. The relic stood on the businessman’s desk. It radiated warmth that soothed the mummy. Mr. Collins stood between Pert-en-hat and his goal. Beneath him sat Farah and the others, tied together.

“So.” Mr. Collins kept his gun trained on the captives. “You’re the man who wants to steal my treasure.”

?????? ?????? ??????

Pert-en-hat rose from his sarcophagus, confused. He knew Emma, but she was surrounded by strangers.

“This is your master,” she said to the others. “Kneel before him!”

They did so, save for a woman no older than her late teens. Instead, she moved to him, close enough to get a clear view of her face in the dim torchlight. Her gray eyes seemed alight with wonder. Pert-en-hat stood dumbfounded.

“No!” Emma shouted. “You don’t know what he’ll do!”

“It’s you,” the young woman said, “from my dreams. My father, and his grandfather, they served you. Do you remember?”

The muscles on Pert-en-hat’s skinless face twitched. His mind’s eye saw vague memories of a young man in the desert with eyes like hers, but nothing else. “No.”

The woman sighed. “We’ll give it some time, then. I’m Farah.”

??????? ??????? ???????

Mr. Collins stood with a hunch. His eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were soaked in sweat. His body had a corpse’s pallor.

“You’re dying,” Pert-en-hat said. “Without the proper invocation, it feeds on you. There’s still time. Give it to me, and I can save you.”

“Save me?” Mr. Collins wheezed out a laugh. “When I have the power of a god? No. It’s not me you should worry about.”

He shot Farah in the chest. She slumped over. Her blood soaked into the rope.

“I have more than enough for the rest of—”

Before Mr. Collins finished his sentence, Pert-en-hat leaped on him and smashed his head through his desk, the floor, and several inches into the concrete below both. He convulsed and went still. Emma struggled against the rope. “Farah? Stay with us! Farah!”

“She’s not dead,” Tristian said, “Not yet.”

Pert-en-hat lifted the Pharaoh of Mice from the ruins of Mr. Collins’ desk. He traced his fingers along the patches in its fur, and the scar on its eye.

A husky, feminine voice echoed in his mind. Leave them. They can be replaced. Return it to me.

The mummy’s head ached. “I…”

“Master, do something. Please!” Emma yanked her body away from Farah. “The police’ll be here any minute!”

Return it to me. It’s mine!

“No,” Pert-en-hat said. “It’s mine!”

He crushed the Pharaoh of Mice in his hands and its power flowed through him. The pain in his body ceased, and he cried to the heavens in joy.

He tore the rope binding the cultists. He placed a hand on Farah’s chest, over the bullet wound. “Live!”

His life force flooded her body and her wound sealed. She coughed up gold-tinted blood.

Pert-en-hat felt a chill spread from his chest to his limbs. His skin shriveled and he fell to the floor. Farah and the others grabbed his body, but their voices sounded far away.

Before he returned to the sleep of death, the voice in his head spoke once more. I am very disappointed in you. But I am merciful. We will try again. After all, you are my most beloved servant.

???????? ???????? ????????

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition is currently on Kickstarter.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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furbysciences · 4 years

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AN INHABITANT OF CARCOSA by Ambrose Bierce

(DISCLAIMER: Ambrose Bierce wrote this story and I claim no ownership to it or anything mentioned in it.)

For there be divers sorts of death- some wherein the body remaineth; and in some it vanisheth quite away with the spirit. This commonly occurreth only in solitude (such is God’s will) and, none seeing the end, we say the man is lost, or gone on a long journey--which indeed he hath; but sometimes it hath happened in sight of many, as abundant testimony showeth. In one kind of death the spirit also dieth, and this hath been known to do while yet the body was in vigour for many years. Sometimes, as is veritably attested, it dieth with the body, but after a season is raised up again in that place where the body did decay.

Pondering these words of Hali (whom God rest) and questioning their full meaning, as one who, having an intimation, yet doubts if there be not something behind, other than that which he has discerned, I noted not whither I had strayed until a sudden chill wind striking my face revived in me a sense of my surroundings. I observed with astonishment that everything seemed unfamiliar. On one side of me stretched a bleak and desolate expanse of plain, covered with a tall overgrowth of sere grass, which rustled and whistled in the autumn wind with Heaven knows what mysterious and disquieting suggestion. Protruded at long intervals above it, stood strangely shaped and sombre-coloured rocks, which seemed to have an understanding with one another and to exchange looks of uncomfortable significance, as if they had reared their heads to watch the issue of some foreseen event. A few blasted trees here and there appeared as leaders in this malevolent conspiracy of silent expectation. The day, I thought, must be far advanced, though the sun was invisible; and although sensible that the air was raw and chill my consciousness of the fact was rather mental than physical--I had no feeling of discomfort. Over all the dismal landscape a canopy of low, lead-coloured clouds hung like a visible curse. In all this there was a menace and a portent--a hint of evil, an intimation of doom. Bird, beast, or insect there was none. The wind sighed in the bare branches of the dead trees and the grey grass bent to whisper it’s dread secret to the earth; but no other sound nor motion broke the awful repose of that dismal place. I observed in the herbage a number of weatherworn stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were broken, covered with moss and half sunken in the earth. Some lay prostrate, some leaned at various angles, none was vertical. They were obviously headstones of graves, though the graves themselves no longer existed as either mounds or depressions’ the years had leveled all. Scattered here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous tomb or ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion. So old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained--- so neglected, deserted, forgotten the place that I could not help thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose very name was long extinct.

Filled with these reflections, I was for some time heedless of the sequence of my own experiences, but soon I thought, “How came I hither?” A moment’s reflection seemed to make this all clear and explain at the same time, though in a disquieting way, the singular character with which my fancy had invested all that I saw and heard. I was ill. I remembered now that I had been prostrated by a sudden fever, and that my family had told me that in my periods of delirium I had constantly cried out for liberty and air, and had been held in bed to prevent my escape out-of-doors. Now I had eluded the vigilance of my attendants and had wandered hither to---to where? I could not conjecture. Clearly I was at a considerable distance from the city where I dwelt-- the ancient and famous city of Carcosa.

No signs of human life were anywhere visible nor audible; no rising smoke, no watch-dog’s bark, no lowing of cattle, no shouts of children at play--nothing but that dismal burial-place, with it’s air of mystery and dead, due to my own disordered brain. Was I not becoming again delirious, there beyond human aid? Was it not indeed all an illusion of my madness? I called aloud the names of my wives and sons, reached out my hands in search of theirs, even as I walked among the crumbling stones and in the withered grass.

A noise behind me caused me to turn about. A wild animal--a lynx-- was approaching. The thought came to me: if I break down here in the desert-- if the fever return and I fail, this beat will be at my throat. I sprang toward it, shouting. It trotted tranquilly by within a hand’s breadth of me and disappeared behind a rock.

A moment later a man’s head appeared to rise out of the a ground a short distance away. Her was ascending the farther slope of a low hill whose crest was hardly to be distinguished from the general level. His whole figure soon came into view against the background of grey cloud. He was half naked, half clad in skins. His hair was unkempt, his bear long and ragged. In one hand he carried a bow and arrow; the other held a blazing torch with a long trail of black smoke. He walked slowly and with caution, as if he feared falling into some open grave concealed by the tall grass. This strange apparition surprised but did not alarm, and taking such a course as to intercept him I met him almost face to face, accosting him with the familiar salutation, “God keep you/”

He gave no heed, nor did he arrest his pace.

“Good Stranger,” I continued, “I am ill and lost. Direct me, I beseech you, to Carcosa.”

The man broke into a barbarous chant in an unknown tongue, passing on and away.

An owl on the branch of a decayed tree hooted dismally and was answered by another in the distance. Looking upward, I saw through a sudden rift in the clouds. Aldebaran and the Hyades! In all this there was a hint of night--the lynx, the man with the torch, the owl. Yet I saw--I saw even the stars in absence of the darkness. I saw, but was apparently not seen nor heard. Under what awful spell did I exist?

I seated myself at the root of a great tree, seriously to consider what it were best to do. That I was mad I could no longer doubt, yet recognized a ground of doubt in the conviction. Of fever I had no trace. I had, withal, a sense of exhilaration and vigour altogether unknown to me--a feeling of mental and physical exaltation. My senses seemed all alert; I could feel the air as a ponderous substance; I could hear the silence.

A great root of the giant tree against whose trunk I leaned as I sat held enclosed in its grasp a slab of stone, a part of which protruded into a recess formed by another root. The stone was thus partly protected from the weather, though greatly decomposed. Its edges were worn around, its corners eaten away, its surface deeply furrowed and scaled. Glittering particles of mica were visible in the earth about it--vestiges of its decomposition. This stone had apparently marked the grave out of which the tree had sprung ages ago. The tree’s exacting roots had robbed the grave and made the stone a prisoner.

A sudden wind pushed some dry leaves and twigs from the uppermost face of the stone; I saw the low-relief letters of an inscription and bent to read it. God in heaven! My name in full!--the date of my birth!--the date of my death!

A level shaft of light illuminated the whole side of the tree as I sprang to my feet in terror. The sun was rising in the rosy east. I stood between the tree and his broad red disk---no shadow darkened the trunk!

A chorus of howling wolves saluted the dawn. I saw them sitting on their haunches, singly and in groups, on the summits of irregular mounds and tumuli filling a half of my desert prospect and extending to the horizon. And then I knew that these were ruins of the ancient and famous city of Carcosa.

Such are the facts imparted to the medium Bayrolles by the spirit Hoseib Alar Robardin.

Fin.

It was originally published in the San Francisco Newsletter of December 25, 1886. The city of Carcosa is used in the story ‘The King In Yellow’ by Robert W. Chambers, a book comprised of short stories which was published in 1895 by F. Tennyson Neely. Fun extra fact, ‘The King In Yellow’ is widely accepted to be part of the Lovecraftian Cthulhu Mythos.

#lovecraft #hp-lovecraft #book #took a long time #horror #short story

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crystalelemental · 5 years

Text

Oh, right, the Blue Lions route as a whole. Sorry, I was fixated on how annoyed I am that most of the prominent questions about the world are likely not being answered until April’s DLC.

Of the three routes I’ve cleared so far (Edelgard, Church, and Dimitri), this is probably the most...complete? Well put-together? Both, really. Edelgard’s route feels like it cuts off early, and worse, doesn’t really do a great job of showing what the problem is with the church. She hates the Crests, and with damn good reason based on her supports. But it’s never quite clear how the Church is the one at fault, aside from upholding the society that allowed such abuses. Which is good enough reason, but it comes as a little odd when she’s allied with the people more directly responsible, and we have no idea why it’s the Church’s fault society came about this way. Seriously, nothing is every fully explained about what Nemesis believed in or why he slaughtered the dragonkin, nothing is ever explained about what exactly the Church has done or what crest stones/the relics actually are, and it’s just...it’s obnoxious. The Church route was supposed to answer a lot of that. It did not. We got the explanation of Nemesis just showing up after robbing the Holy Tomb, and his slaughter of the dragonkin for reasons that seem to be related to the Slitherers but is otherwise unexplained. We also get the explanation of how Byleth came to be and why you can hear Sothis, but...that’s about it. We still don’t know what Crest Stones or Relics are. We still don’t know why the Slitherers have it out for everyone so bad. These aren’t small details; they’re critical pieces to understanding this game’s story, and we just have nothing about it. So if it isn’t coming until the DLC, that’s really shitty.

Anyway, Blue Lions feels way more complete, mostly because the story doesn’t have any significance for the Slitherers or the Church. It’s a personal story about Dimitri, his relationship to Edelgard and the trauma he’s faced, his journey through all of the painful emotions that are dredged up through the games events and how he manages to overcome his dark thoughts and choose to do good in the world. Dimitri’s route is incredibly powerful on that personal level, and it feels detached from the larger plot and history examined in the Edelgard/Church routes, which...is frankly, to its benefit. If those questions aren’t going to be answered, then fuck it, I’d rather take the character-driven narrative.

I really appreciate this route. It’s made me like Dimitri a lot more. Not enough to change him from being my least favorite of the three lords, but at least it’s not my a huge margin anymore. I do kinda get annoyed with the superhuman strength thing. I feel like that’s a bit ridiculous, and used to explain why he’s able to survive and kill enemy generals for 5 years without ever suffering a loss, but it’s overall not a huge detriment to anything in the story. Of the rest of the cast, I think Felix came out as my favorite. I liked him beforehand to some degree, but he really shines in this route. You get a much better sense of why he’s so angry and abrasive, and why it is he seems so mad at Dimitri specifically. He’s had to deal with his own brother’s death, and has an acute understanding of the horrors of war, and how the illusion of chivalry and honor in combat is something made up to justify atrocities. And when he does inevitably have to fight, he watches his close personal friend lose control, essentially blank out and just auto-pilot the battle, killing everyone without any shred of his former humanity. That’s terrifying. He knows what Dimitri is capable of, and has a pretty clear sense of the lurking darkness within his heart. He’s not just mad at Dimitri, he’s scared of what he is. His anger and lashing out at others can feel extreme, but he’s never really...wrong about it, either. Ingrid has this grand vision of knighthood and honor in combat, and he’s disgusted that all she could think to do is follow orders without question. He’s repulsed at Dedue’s devotion being taken to a level where he can state with no uncertainty that he’d kill civilians if ordered to do so. Felix is always spot-on with his assessments of things, he’s just not going to sugarcoat anything or treat the views counter to reality as anything worth discussing.

The general takeaway for the route is that it’s really, really good. And probably the best route to start with overall. Blue Lions gets a lot more little scenes sprinkled in, and the fact that the missions for the first half of the game more directly tie to stuff going on in the Kingdom means that it feels a lot more personalized than just random assignments you have to do for progression.

#fire emblem three houses

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dailycharacteroption · 6 years

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Relic Raider (Rogue Archetype)

As a general rule, rogues are typically found, or rather, not found, getting into places they shouldn’t be, and in the vast array of places with that qualification, we make note of tombs, ancient complexes, and abandoned ruins.

Today’s subject specializes in infiltrating and looting such places, delving deep in order to recover rare relics and either take them for themselves or else sell them to buyers both legitimate and otherwise, depending on how the local authorities view tomb robbing.

Whether they are legitimate archaeologist or just those looking for a quick buck, their line of work often pits them against restless dead and the magical wards left behind by the creators of such places, and their skills specialize to rise to the challenge.

As they often have to deal with magical curses and hauntings, these tomb robbers are well-versed in identifying such things, picking up on subtle cues.

Not one to let a thing like curses stop them, these rogues learn to expand their skill at disabling magical traps to also include dispelling curses, though they have an upper limit in how many they can disable in a single day.

Additionally, these rogues can learn a few special talents associated with their skill set. Namely, some learn to not only disable curses, but lay them as well, these already magically talented rogues cursing foes just as they drive their weapon into their vitals.

Others learn the art of stabbing into the ether, not only striking at incorporeal undead, but also at bodiless haunts.

Extremely useful for dungeon crawls into haunted and cursed locations, these rogues add their own spin to things. I recommend definitely maxing perception, since you’ll want to see things coming in the absence of uncanny dodge. Their ability to remove curses also makes them useful prior and after running into various cursed artifacts and rooms as well. I recommend a utility rogue build, focusing on having an arsenal of skills and tools, including the magic talents you’ll have to take to get the cursed sneak attack.

Classical adventuring explorers with a touch of magic, this archetype is useful for representing both outright tomb robbers, as well as those with a genuine archaeological interest. Of course, even the latter is not necessarily goodly, with some archaeologists perfectly happy to defile and steal from the descendants of the cultures they investigate in order to make their mark, and a hefty earning, from historical finds. Understanding where the line between rediscovering the past and stealing from other cultures is an important part of playing this archetype well.

On its final, ill-fated voyage, the Maiden’s Lace was lost at sea carrying rare artifacts from Engyor. Eager divers have tried to recover them before, but the sunken vessel is chock-full of haunts and curses, not to mention the duppy which was once the captain. Trying to loot the ship will require specialized aquatic equipment and someone skilled at breaking curses.

Sir Maxwell Intorion, legendary adventurer, archaeologist, family man, lover, fighter, murderer, martyr. Indeed, he was many things in life, but after an ill-fated expedition, his luck finally ran out, and now he exists as the very sort of thing he struggled against for so long, a gearghost tied to the rolling boulder trap that crushed him, lying in wait to take out his frustrations on the next daring fool.

Viewing the magical defenses of lost civilizations as fascinating puzzles, the astomoi Engadaa has been hiring themselves out to expeditions for decades now, and more than one has had their lives saved by a quick-thinking disabling of a cursed item. As long as you keep them away from traps involving toxic vapors, they will not steer you wrong.

#pathfinder #archetype #rogue #relic raider #duppy #gearghost #astomoi #Black Markets

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