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thatonealise · 3 years

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On the Wild.

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then a single creative spark made something out of nothing, borrowing the best of many worlds, and before long came the Wild. First a whole world, conventional in rules and mundane in contents, it had at some mysterious and indistinct point suffered a calamity so profound it shattered the world into teeny-tiny pieces, and tossed them left and right, up and down, across time and space. Now, it is a world divided; split into a thousand island and one, and maybe even more, where creatures of all kinds make a do, yourself among them.

Enter the Wild. Befriend it, respect its law, and it will in return be kind and favourable to all your ventures. To go against the Wild, and disrespect the law, is to play a game of chess with powers great and unpredictable. Or so say the soothsayers and prophets and far-seers, and other outspoken folk. But the problem still stands: The Wild allures adventurers and explorers from anywhere and of every disposition. They board the airships and aim to cross the gaping chasms between the isles in search for parts unknown, and in so doing challenge the Wild to a battle of luck.

Why do we hear the call of the Wild? Why it beckons us, when it is the Wild that employs mysterious ways to consume much-too-curious travellers? Perhaps you will be the first to find out. Your airship, *The Unyielding*, awaits only the order to embark. Until it does, however, I’d advise any aspiring explorer, even so eager as yourself, to educate themselves on the Wild matters.

Matter 1: The Cosmology

A world without rules is a world much too arbitrary. The Wild, thank goodness, rests on a foundation solid in structure and clear in law (though not devoid of Lovecraftian instability, something we will touch on in due time). Binding all that exists within the Wild is an omnipresent gas -- the zephyr. Scentless and weightless, zephyr is what our earthly person would call the air, save for a few un-oxygenic properties it has that the air we breathe on Earth does not.

Zephyr is safe to breathe in reasonable quantities, which themselves are relative to the species in question. Some may breathe more of it than others, but what stays true for all is that, sooner or later (most often sooner), the creature gobbling up too much zephyr will experience what is called the Wild-headedness. The foul gas will cloud their judgement, and warp their mind over the course of days so much as to drive them bonkers. Indeed, it is not uncommon to see explorers return disturbed, whispering to themselves some cryptic nonsense, and it is then said of them that they’re Wild-touched, and as one would presume, no Wild-touched traveller has to date ever recovered from the mind-twisting touch.

But, there are lands safe from the zephyr; pieces of land large enough to have developed an “atmosphere,” and ousted the lion’s share of that cosmic poison. Such lands are quick to nurture prosperous civilisations as more and more nomads are drawn to zephyrless refuge. It is as such unfortunate that few floatlands may brag about their atmosphere; in fact one is twice as likely to encounter a land engulfed in the zephyrous miasma. At times even, unbeknownst to the unsuspecting traveller, what might strike them as an airful land, is in truth a land with an atmosphere too thin to banish all of zephyr, and so there it flies unrestricted, sucking in quiet at the unaware guest’s sanity, until they too find themselves forever Wild-touched.

Zephyr also appears to attract, or even conjure, especially horrid weather. Whereas upon the floatlands it tends to be stable of mood -- one day mildly temperate and on another temperately harsh -- Mother Nature likes to throw a temper tantrum whenever her children attempt to sail the zephyrous space. Thunders strike aplenty from within the clouds, and wherever they can reach; powerful currents toss the feeble airships caught within them around like feathers, and the dreaded whirlwinds (although rare) may send even the strongest of vessels flying leagues away from where they were headed.

This area of the Wild, by far the most abundant, and sandwiched between land and other celestial bodies, came to be known as the Betwixt. One can not leave for a different isle without also crossing the Betwixt along the way. The act itself earned a colloquialism, “to fly betwixt.” Whenever one flies betwixt, they embark on a journey across this chasm to a neighbouring isle, taking on a tremendous risk to their life and sanity.

If we were to project the Wild on to a map; to look at the world from a bird’s perspective, we would see a clear pattern emerge to the way celestial bodies are situated. Between them are the poisonous clouds, always there and slow to madden (but sure to do so), that the Wild folks termed Betwixt:

Notice how zephyrous clouds have engulfed the smaller lands, whereas the bigger catch remains predominantly unscathed.

The Betwixt may be your best friend, or the worst enemy. It is never clear what your relationship is to be whenever you take off into the Wild, but the Betwixt is kind enough to make it apparent when comes the right moment, either with a smooth sail to your destination, or a spontaneous whirlwind until the last moment hidden inside a zephyrous nebula. On that note: pirates, marauders, and lawbreakers may find the thick shroud of a nebula, rich in zephyr, to be a wonderful hideout few orderlies would have the courage to investigate.

Zephyred isles often provide a secluded base of operations for many mages, mancers of various schools, and physicians dabbling in unorthodox fields of study. Remote, fraught with traitorous weather and poisonous amounts of zephyr, they are often left well alone, and probably for good reasons, too.

To call upon the Betwixt to deliver you from misfortune, or challenge it to a battle of luck whilst flying, is a decision you will have to make as a player. The Betwixt is as much a tool in your arsenal as it is space for you to traverse. Still, I’d advise all sailors to keep their wits about them, never you may know when your favour with the Betwixt will run out.

2nd Matter: The Semantics

People of the Wild have never known the fluctuous oceans and salted seas, as there no longer exists land big enough to hold them. This fact of life ensured that languages and cultures of the Wild never developed words to describe outspread bodies of water, the size of oceans and seas, and neither did they arrive at the words derived in part or in full from their relation to the high seas and azure mains, be they islands or archipelagos or other.

The vocabulary we earthlings turn to talking about islands and archipelagos makes little sense to wildlings. They would understand what the “land“ of an island means, but the rest would leave them befuddled. Islands and archipelagos, in particular, are terms one has to rule out for a floating world for etymological reasons. Both words, if you were to trace them all the way back to their forefathers in PIE, happen to be portmanteaus of Indo-European for “river” (proposedly) -- that which is swift -- and Indo-European for “land.“ Therefore "island” describes a piece of land rested on a body of water, which would in theory be a possible but unlikely semantic development in an environment washed at most by small rivers and lakes. Many (if not most) of Wild-born peoples would simply never come across an island anywhere in their homeland, and thus never coin the relevant term; land surrounded by water would stay the stuff of contemporary science fiction.

Since the concept of islands and the relevant word have never been coined, peoples transcending the boundaries of their homeland do not think of the land they discover flying betwixt as islands. Anything but! Instead, they would size up the newfound land (wink-wink Canadians) and term it according to scale:

Lands comparable to or greater than their own, vast and bountiful, would be judged as Greatlands.

Lands smaller, only a little or downright minute, would be recorded as Minorlands.

Most peoples distinguish between great- and minor-lands. While these are not the words they would speak in their native tongues, translated into English they best convey the semantic and conceptual process that went into and evolved the words they use to describe the lands encountered on travels across the Betwixt. To them, it would not make sense to classify the lands as islands, for “island“ as a word implies land upon water -- literally speaking -- something wildlings wouldn’t think possible.

This same line of thinking I try to apply to all the other terms native to our world yet unfounded in the Wild, and supplant them with terms both clear to us and grounded in the semantic development one would expect from a floating world, and “floating” cultures. The choice of words they make reflects the world around them, and the traits unique to its cosmology. I have to stress, though, that I’m by no means a wise-headed scholar of all humanitarian and applied disciplines alike; I’m just a hobbyist, and the neologisms I invent for the Wild are altogether speculative, and nothing more.

3rd Matter: The Floating Lands

Second in number to zephyrous clouds are the floatlands, stretching as far as the eye can see, maybe even till the very edge of the observable world. Strip the Wild of the lands, and you would render it somewhat of a desolace, sparsely dotted with an occasional nebula, shining star, or the dreaded whirlwind, stashed away someplace on the outskirts to catch oblivious explorers off guard. It is upon these pieces of land torn away from long lost planets (or the great supercontinent, or the Primordial Star, depending on what you take to be the authentic Creation Myth, for there are plenty), that the Wild’s vast majority of earth-like features unfold.

Greatlands, true to their name, happen to be the greatest in extent. They stand as the most diverse in nature and features, owing to their scale; it is not out of character for a greatland to offer a dozen different habitats for the inquisitive traveller to discover. They hoard flora and fauna that would be a curiosity to stumble upon travelling a minorland, and the magnificent mountain ranges are but an ordinary fact of life, originating from the time that there were not great lands, but one too many minorlands drifting too close to one another.

The clash, in time, erected mountains recognised in the modern age as the peaky landmarks of a great many greatlands. Rivers and lakes wash them, and many species one is to encounter throughout the Wild claim descent from one such land or the other, cementing the popular opinion among wildling scholars of greatlands as the undisputed cradle of civilisation.

Minorlands, by contrast, are the smallest of lands, and as such very homogeneous in nature and terrain. Many a time they host temperate uplands, whether defined by scorching dunes or grassy hills or bone-chilling piles of snow, and seldom have another biome. Guesting adventurers are forced to walk the same plain time and again, hoping for a path somewhere that is not a desert with no end or an ever-stretching meadow.

Yet, minorlands are famed as the best places of seclusion: farmsteads have since time immemorial bonded with these flattened blobs of dirt and thickets, their predictable weather and absence of unwarranted surprises be praised; shady sorts, too, find the safety of a remote minorland to their liking, and so do polities on the rise, erecting watchtowers upon them to spot unwanted intruders from afar. Rural and tame, predictably temperate and never at all hiding dangerous surprises, they for certain hold a slew of advantages over their great towering counterparts.

Chainlands are less so a shape or form of a land in the Wild, and more so a cluster of the two varieties aforementioned. Ages ago, the first peoples would without question have entitled them minor- and great-lands alike, but the passage of time led them to invent and construct bridges and passes to connect these lands together, in an effort to make travel much less of a burden.

Of stone, of wood, or spectral essence (born of powerful spells), bridges to a chainland are as veins to a human -- cut them down, and the chainland will be sure to suffer a fatal blow to the economy and infrastructure. This reliance on bridge-making, and bridge-keeping, had implored the Wild folk to derive a neologism to describe this network of land and bridge. The Chainlands, the lands chained one to another.

Greatlands among chainlands are few and far between, but when they are, they only ever bind the neighbouring minorlands to drift around them, like moons round a planet in our world. The pull at times is so strong that the bound minorlands break apart, forming together a ring of shredded land, themselves at times entitled the shredlands.

Minorlands, on the other hand, stand unbeaten as the most usual finds in any given chainland, and more often than not the only land there is to be seen. When it is so, and there is no greatland to project authority upon the minorlands, they tend to revolve around each other, their pull so weak that the revolution appears paused to all but the most perceptive and patient of eyes.

The rarest of all is a chainland wherein two greatlands do battle. Under that circumstance, the two colossi fight for dominance over the chainland, and in due time (lasting millennia, and longer still) the pull they exert upon one another will tear them to pieces that the future wildlings will take for minorlands. It is believed all chainlands had in the forgotten days been greatlands dueling to death, and the minorlands as a phenomenon had only emerged from the rubble the duel had left. This is however in the view of many a contradiction to the theory of minorlands as the forefathers of greatlands. Sweet, one more thing to argue about...

4th Matter: The Phenomena

Rarer even than two greatlands locked in an ageless stalemate are the naturally occurring phenomena a keen explorer is sure to come upon at some point in their chasm-crossing career. They range in scale, and use, and animosity to the beings caught in their vicinity, but all are united in the danger they pose to every living thing, sentient or otherwise. They toss, and poison, and twist the minds of their unlucky victims, and beware they who dare venture someplace never charted.

Luckily for the Wild folk, all but one known phenomena are stationary; it would take a great deal of law-breaking and space-bending power to set them in motion -- more still to make a weapon out of them -- and the very idea has become the subject of Deluge Myths among many Wild-born faiths and traditions.

Note that the list I offer down below is incomplete; it would take me too much time, too many letters, and even more brainpower to scribble all of the wild ideas I’ve come to cooking up a host of obstacles for the Player to overcome on their journey across the Betwixt. I will instead list the ones I’ve thought about the longest, ordered least to most interesting, and leave the rest for another time:

Nebulas

Native to the far corners of the Betwixt, miles upon miles away from the closest floatland, nebulae take shape when the zephyrous currents, flowing of their own accord through the Betwixt, or given a violent push from a whirlwind, come to a halt in one place, and condense into clouds. The clouds then clash and thicken, and before long turn so dense one would struggle to make out the loosest detail even ten metres ahead, and not one propeller in the Wild would have the horsepower to blow the clouds away.

Naturally, it is as dangerous to sentient life (thanks in no small part to copious amounts of zephyr) as it is useful the mortals seeking refuge or a place to hide. The big problem for them is therefore to puzzle out a way to breathe, but also maintain their clarity of mind. Devices and gear exist to protect the daring pilots, but even they give in under so much stress. Oversaturated air notwithstanding, nebulae have been known to act as naturally fortified hideouts for criminal elements; whole syndicates were fabled to raise floating fortresses amid the nebula, and sometimes they would discover by pure chance “castaway“ minorlands inside.

Few have come back to tell the tale, and so it is to this day a wonder to many; one that raises a plethora of questions, most notably the question of what else could possibly be hiding in the nebula’s heart?

Currents

Driven now by cosmic forces and then by a raging whirlwind, zephyrous currents serve to experienced pilots as motorways serve seasoned drivers here on Earth -- they send even the heaviest merchantmen flying like a lightweight schooner, at the expected cost of abnormal levels of the gas in the air. Currents and lanes are cognate, and the words are used interchangeably to refer to the same phenomenon.

While impossible to influence, to slant or pick up the pace, almost like the current of a river, they always run their course like they did since the beginning of all things. Only whirlwinds may redirect some portion of a current away into the Wild, and the lost current soon stops deep in the Wild and turns to a nebula.

Even then, the main current will get to keep the direction it is flowing, making them a tempting choice of many traders and colonists, who by force of circumstance have to man ships so heavy that the cost of travel is immense. The current step in to help, and take some of the financial edge off.

Currents may every now and again branch out, and the individual branches may converge into another current at the very tip, forming networks vital to the circulation of trade and commerce and people throughout the Wild; about as essential as bridges are to a chainland. Maps charting the currents and the branches are worth their weight in gold, and it is only natural that many explorers make a living mapping the currents they chance upon in their travels.

Whirlwinds

The fear; the nightmare of every sailor seasoned and amateur alike, are the dreaded whirlwinds. Itself a smidgen tear (or hole, a better word) in the fabric of reality, a whirlwind bends the space and time around it with a pull a quintillion times that of the largest greatland conceivable; so strong it stretches all matter too close around the dark epicentre into a bright spiral of heated zephyr, and the chunks of land and other fallen material.

There’s a constant rotation of matter happening within the whirlwind’s ring, as old matter eventually reaches the point of no-return -- the whirlwind’s lightless and lifeless centre -- and new matter takes its place. What happens to the old from that point onwards is a subject shrouded in mystery, with only a handful of scholarly works, all pure speculation, as not one Wild person has ever managed to fly close to the whirlwind and stay whole, let alone fly so close as to observe the matter being absorbed into the black core.

Legend has it, and so does science, that should a whirlwind draw too close to a greatland, it will eat it whole, bones and all, and leave not one trace behind. Thankfully, there have never been cases observed and recorded of such calamities taking place, and gods help us that they do not befall us tomorrow.

Testament to the whirlwinds’ power is their ability to draw from the current a new one, and in so doing lay foundations for new currents for the network, or even the new nebulae. They are not, as such, entirely destructive when examined under creationist light.

There are moony captains out in the Wild who may, equipped the right things, ride on the very edge of a whirlwind’s ring to gain speed one would never reach in the strongest current. Nevertheless, I’d advise you, young captain, never to consider a means of travel with a potential so devastating.

Stars

They go by many names; of their own making and christened so by their mortal worshippers from the floating lands. They prefer to name their kin Celestials, but the noble intention this word carries could not be further from their nature. Aye, the Stars of the Wild are in every way as sentient as the Wild peoples, and just as numerous, but rarely if ever benevolent. Quite the polar opposite.

Stars are power incarnate; their blinding light may scorch and turn the lesser life to smoke and ash, but it may also plant the seeds of life upon a lifeless greatland, should the Star be in the mood to curb the sunlight. The taste of this godlike privilege has driven many of them arrogant of character; reluctant to hear the plights of land-dwelling “insects” they warm, whether by choice or circumstance, and eager instead to bind them to their will.

Lands orbiting a Star, while far more bountiful than the lands lit only by the bleak natural light of the Wild, bask in the Star’s life-giving rays, and enjoy a life of everlasting overindulgence, with a sinister catch. Not so much a catch even, as a figurative leash that the Star has put them on, holding entire civilisations hostage forced to appease it, and many Stars are infamously whimsical.

All too often Star-lit lands resort to Star-worshipping zealotry, too small both in stature and in will to rise against their blinding overlord. Some did, though, and gallivanting bards sing of their ashes gliding through the Wild along the currents, the last traces of a civilisation wiped out in the flash of light...

To approach a Star is, too, an experience thrice as maddening and sickening as spending a minute too long in a nebula. The closer you drift towards them, the louder their diabolical whispers grow in your head, incessant and urging you to turn right around, or perish from your own madness. Spend long enough near a Star, and upon your unlikely return to the mainland, people will speak of you as as the Stargazer; the Star-touched. Needless to say it is an ailment every bit as chronic as the Wild-headedness.

Given this way of things, little is known to scholars from outside the Star-lit lands of the Stars’ origins, or the properties they possess besides the incomprehensible language they speak, and their obvious lust for power. It is only known of their kind that some of it is not as malevolent; the Stars aligned to do good have only been seen once or twice in known history, and few endured the pressure from their less-ethical peers so long as to live into our age. Regardless, maybe the fate will bring you together, young captain, and then you would be the one to teach me of the things you’d learnt from the meeting.

Finita La Commedia

That is all you need to know, for now, young captain, and I hope this minute handbook taught you a concept or two. Now-now, “The Unyielding” is ready, and so are you. Bewildering adventures await deep within the Wild; distant shores, bizarre creatures, and life-threatening phenomena itching to be discovered. Take notes of the things encountered and events witnessed, and maybe your findings will fetch a pretty penny. Don’t you dare approach the Stars, though, I wouldn’t wish upon my apprentice the Star’s pestilent touch. Come back to us safe and sound, friend, and pardon my sentimentality.

We all bid you a very fond farewell.

#worldbuilding #devlog #gamedev

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blind-band-geek · 5 years

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I am dragon [Beetlejuice Au]

Before I start. Hello!!! I’m writing a new Au instead of working on the ONE IM SUPOSED TO WHOOPS SORRY EM. But!! FOR THE LOVE OF GO WATCH I AM DRAGON ITS SUCH A GOOD FILM!!!! Now. On with the fic!!!

Also!! Their gonna be longer than this. This was just a preview to get something out!!! ❤️❤️❤️mwah!

Out in the far seas of the Atlantic stood an island. An island no man had ever seen, or come back alive to tell of. There lived a dragon, a fierce mighty fire-breather, that terrorized the common lands. He’s wings spanned over even the biggest of lakes, and his scales glittered silver beneath the moonlight. He had strong talons to grab the commoners livestock. In which he would fly back to his nest for a grand feast.

He would only come but once a full moon, then he would disappear back over the ocean. Where no one dared to fallow it.

Every waxing moon the village would prepare for the beasts arrival. They would leave sheep and cows, hordes of gold and even at times a sacrifice, all for the dragon of the seas. He had let them be when they would offer, so no one thought of changing their ways. Till one full moon in early of the new year.

The night of the full moon came and the people prayed. They waited and looked out of their homes toward the sea, awaiting the growl and wing beats of the creature. But, they never came.

The village waited... and waited. But, as the morning sun raised, the dragon never emerged. The village people rejoiced in absence of the dragon. Assuming the creature would never take to the sky’s ever again.

In celebration of the dragon gone, people went in search of it and its lair. As per the stories, the promise of gold and glory was enough the drive people. Ships left the harbors all across the small town, full of men and women hungry for a story, an adventure, and of corse, wealth.

These explorers sparked a new bread of pirates in the area. They called themselves “dragon slayers.” Though, none had ever had record of slaying any such beast.

The sailed the oceans, in search for this dragon and it’s glory. But, also for the sailors dumb enough to sail into their controlled waters. Where they would pillage, and murder the men on board. Then sink their ships and sail back out to sea.

With the amount of gold they earned from these pillages, most Dragon Slayers didn’t even care to much about the dragon himself.

All alone on an island, lived a boy. He long since forgot his name, as he had no use for one anymore. He lived alone in the middle of the ocean, surrounded by misfortune. A shroud of mist surrounded the small island, that once ships passed, they would never leave or come in alive.

His island was big, but it was so very lonely. It was him, the birds, the fish, and the sea. It was like this forever, it was all he knew. To him, this was it.

Nothing more.... and nothing less.

That night on the sea was particularly stormy. A small pirate ship was thrown in the waves like a toy. The cracks of lightning spread through the sky as the roaring of the winds snapped their sails. A certain woman was running about the ship, trying to help as best she could.

Second in command, Barbara Maitland. A young sea lass of 21. This was far from her first expedition, but with the weather.

It looked to be her last.

She screamed to people on the ship as a mist swept across the ship. Barbara stiffened in fear, she knew this fog. The storms waves crashed against the ship, knocking the sea lass off her feet. She stumbled and held the broken center mast. She covered her eyes with her sleeve as she listened for her crew, animals, anything other than the storm.

She listened between the cracks of thunder and the hissing of the waves. There, She heard it. The grunts and screams of a creature. Something she’s never heard. But, something she remembers vividly from childhood stories.

She uncovered her eyes to see. Squinting she looked straight ahead, her grip on the mast growing tighter with white knuckles. There, in the fog, were a set of glowing yellow eyes. Cut in small slits, and only vaguely visible from where she stood.

But, they grew closer, and closer. And the sound of wingbeats filled her sense. In her chest she could hear them, in her hands and ears. The snarling of the beast, the snap of its talons opening. It sounded like the sharpening of a sword.

She closed her eyes and awaited the impact. The sharp nails dig into her sides. She felt it, just barley missing her lungs by mear inches. She felt her grip loosen on the mast, the floor beneath her feet felt like a distant memory. A sensation she once felt seconds before.

Unable to see, she could feel the winds blow violently through her hair.

They flew. Away from the storm, away from danger,

Away from her only family.

Barbara’s senses didn’t come back till she shot up in pain.

Her eyes snapped open. A shooting pain going up her entire body, from the ribs up. She sat on the ground, holding both wounds as she observed her surroundings.

She was in a ditch. Way to high to climb out of, and to her sight, there was no way out.

The walls were covered in jagged rock, dead vines and plants, and blood. She gagged ad just how much blood the wall had. It was in streaks, almost like someone was trying to escape. Or just the occasional splatter on the wall. Which was just enough for Barbara to not go near it.

Scanning more of the room she saw a little opening in the wall. A small stone that had been misplaced on the floor, making a small hole in the wall. Not quite big enough to see through, but a good enough pep hole.

Barbara curled her legs closer to her chest, in fear of what could be on the other side. Animals? Monsters?

The...

She swallowed her words. She looked away from the hole, the curiosity eatting her away. What was over there?

Not that she could see anyway.

#beetlejuice #barbara maitland #adam maitland #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice au #maitland fanfic

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myth-lord · 7 years

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CREATURES FROM MYTHIKA: D

DACTYL (Greek Myth)(Humanoid/Dwarf/Construct)(Medium)(Best Stat: Defense): Dactyl are an chaotic race of dwarves that are obsessed with mechanics and metals. They are behind the creation of countless constructs such as the Golems, Gold-Digging Ants and the Juggernauts, but also behind the creation of the most powerful armor and weapons. These mechaniacs are obsessed with replacing flesh with metal, turning their victims into horrifying golems or worse and also replacing their own flesh with mechanical parts, becoming more monstrous with every replacement. Some Dactyl went too far with replacing their own flesh with metal and they turned into golem-like constructs all-together.

DEATH WORM (Mongolian Myth)(Aberration/Vermin)(Large)(Best Stat: Defense): Giant red worms that dig through the hot desert sands hunting for anything that moves and which they can swallow whole. Death Worms are named after their ability to bring death in multiple ways, they can swallow you whole, shock you with their magical lightning, poison you with their slime and their acid blood burns you to death, also their poisonous tail-stinger can sting you to death.

DELGETH (Native American Myth)(Demon/Anaye/Beast)(Huge)(Best Stat: Strength): These fiery Moose-like creatures burn with hatred and they leave a trail of abyssal fire and destruction behind them. Delgeth are the least intelligent of the Anaye Demons and the most wild ones, turning an area into a burning sea of flames is all they love to do. Getting burned by the Delgeth’s demonic fire will hurt the very soul and the pain will never heal without the help of magic.

DEVALPA (Arabian Myth)(Plant/Parasite)(Small)(Best Stat: Charisma): Whenever a mindless Mandrake root drinks the blood of a demon it will turn into the intelligent and horrifying parasite plant known as Devalpa. These magical shapeshifting plants often use cloaks and minor illusions to appear as humanoid children or crippled old men that beg to be carried to the closest town. Whenever a kind soul offers this help however the true nature of this parasitic plant becomes clear and its root-like tentacle-arms and legs will burrow into the flesh of the victim and entangle its throat and connect to the victims spine, the kind helper will become a living host for this demonic plant and a way of easy locomotion. Whenever a victim disagrees the plant just moves the roots onto the spine, giving insane pain to the victim who then agrees to do anything for the Devalpa. Devalpa will also slowly drain the victim of its life energy and blood until nothing remains but a exhausted, drained corpse.

DHEEYABERY (Australian Myth)(Ooze/Shapeshifter)(Medium)(Best Stat: Stealth): These horrible, smelly flesh oozes use disguise as a weapon, their smell will attract scavengers which will be killed and absorbed in their fleshy mass, humanoids will be lured in by taking vaguely humanoid forms out of its fleshy mass, at close range this disguise is easily seen, but at far range these creatures really look like humans that need help, when a curious or helpful person will come to close the Dheeyabery will lash out with its fleshy ooze tentacles and add the victim to its ever-growing mass.

DIJIANG (Chinese Myth)(Aberration)(Large)(Best Stat: Charisma): Pets of the Chaos God Hundun which created them with cruel intensions. All a Dijiang wants is to play and dance with other creatures, but their dangerous chaos aura’s and bizarre appearance often ends in mass confusion and chaos. Whenever another creature looks at a Dijiang for too long, or stays around it for too long they lose their sanity, because of this the Dijiang rarely finds a good playing partner and this makes the creature sad and sometimes even dangerous.

DINGONEK (African Myth)(Beast/Chimerae)(Large)(Best Stat: Defense): The dangerous Dire Pangolin or Dingonek are vile carnivores that hunt for big beasts and humans. They use their armored bodies as living weapons, their tails are covered in sharp spikes, they have a rhino-like horn, pangolin like scales and bizarre large tusks like a walrus or smilodon. Their scales are even more magical, when used to make an armor this adds to the magic protection of the armor, as their scales are highly magic resistant.

DJIEIEN (Native American Myth)(Beast/Vermin/Undead)(Medium)(Best Stat: Defense): These solifugid-like arachnids are bizarre vermin with two phases in life, you have to kill them twice first as vermin then as undead. They are born with necrotic blood which means they automatically revive as undead creatures when slain. For this reason they are also known as Lich Spiders. Some myths about the creatures tells about how they hide their own rotten hearts and the only way to kill them is to pierce their heart, but this isn’t true, their undead forms are just very hard to kill, you have to aim for their hearts to kill them. Their poison resurrects weak creatures as undead puppets, but only for a small amount of time.

DOPPELGANGER (German Myth)(Aberration/Alien/Shapeshifter)(Medium)(Best Stat: Stealth): Sneaky, Evil aliens that invaded Earth and other planets ages ago, making great use of their magical talents to take any humanoid form they desire. Doppelgangers are perfect shapeshifters that can copy any humanoid creature their own size they have seen in their lives, they can create perfect copies of humanoids they have slain and from which they have devoured the heart and brains from. Doppelgangers are power-lusty creatures that crave for high functions in society and often try to replace war-leaders and kings, slowly moving their way through their protectors and advisors until they finally become and replace the King themselves. They shift very fast and it is almost impossible to spot.

DOROTABO (Japanese Myth)(Elemental/Undead)(Large)(Best Stat: Stealth): The Dorotabo is a horrifying undead mud elemental. Most Dorotabo are created from farmers who drowned in their own mud or victims of quicksand. They are often called Mudmen and appear in mud puddles out in the swamps where they create more of their kind by pulling in more victims. While they are mostly made from mud, their face is a skull and their arms contain some swamp plant vines that help them with dragging prey in.

DRAUGR (Norse Myth)(Undead/Shapeshifter)(Medium/Large)(Best Stat: Strength): Brought back to the state of undead by mysterious powers and curses of the sea, the Draugr are powerful drowned pirates, sailors, barbarians and captains that once sailed the seas with pride and now do so again with bitter hate and an uncanny lust for bloodshed. They can summon magical mist, and their ships are always shrouded in thick layers of sickening, cursed or suffocating fog, they have limited powers of the winds and they can increase their own size to become giant-sized. While most Draugr haunt oceans with their Ships, there are also solitary Draugr that haunt the lonely rivers, lakes and swamps they drowned in. Draugr often work for Davy Jones, the mysterious sea deity, which is also behind their curse.

DROP BEAR (Australian Myth)(Beast)(Small)(Best Stat: Stealth): Not really a joke to the people from the jungles in Mythika, these dangerous beasts take the form of cuddly Koala bears and drop themselves on prey walking underneath their favorite trees. Drop Bears can increase their own mass and gravity, becoming as heavy as a rock, crushing the skulls of creatures they fall upon and surviving the fall down as their bodies become hard as rock.

DRUJ NASU (Persian Myth)(Demon/Vermin)(Medium)(Best Stat: Speed): As the incarnations of corruption, dead matter and defilement these giant female fly horrors have the worst reputation. When one of these hateful demons nests in an area it will be corrupted into a ugly wasteland full of putrid creatures and other horrors. One bite of these demonesses and your flesh will melt away into a puddle of fleshy corruption, giving life to horrid fungi and oozes. These are among the most hated of demons and they serve only the lord of flies called Beelzebub. Druj Nasu are always surrounded by swarms of horseflies and worse which will attack anything that comes near their demonic “mother” the buzzing and stench is enough to drive most creatures mad or nauseated.

DULLAHAN (Irish Myth)(Undead/Fae)(Medium)(Best Stat: Speed): Dullahan’s are the Horseman of Death’s most loyal Generals, they command the lesser minions of death with an iron fist, and their many death-like abilities serve the undead well. They were once proud Elven Kings or Erlkings before they fell from grace and got themselves beheaded by their own race. Burning with vengeance they now roam the forests on their evil black stallions hunting for the heads of other creatures while holding their own head in their undead hands as painful reminder of their glorious pasts. Some advanced Dullahan ride in chariots of doom, still others ride undead Wyverns into battle.

DYBBUK (Jewish Myth)(Demon/Spirit/Parasite)(Medium)(Best Stat: Intelligence): The Dybbuk is a terrible demonic spirit that possesses a victim, uses its body for it dark ends and then jumps over in the next victim when it is discovered or bored with the host. It is very hard to remove a Dybbuk spirit from a host and even when the exorcism succeeds there is a very big chance the victim dies later from stress. Many creatures mistake a Dybbuk for a spectral undead, but they are incorporeal demons. Some creatures/characters that have the power of true-seeing can see the Dybbuk spirit hanging behind the victim they possess, acting much like a puppeteer to the victims body.

BOSSES:

Dalaketnon (Philippine Myth)(Dark Elf Patriarch) Davy Jones (Worldwide Myth)(The Cursed Pirate)

FRIENDLY CREATURES:

Dhampir / Djinn / Domovoi / Dryad / Dwarf

OTHER MONSTERS: (I like them but aren’t going to post them)

Dilong / Dipsa / Dobhar-Chu / Drac / Dragon Turtle / Drekavac / Dvergr

@NOTE: All pictures found on GOOGLE PICTURES, not my own work, and mostly here to give an impression of what the creatures COULD look like.

If you see your own artwork and want it removed, just PM me about and I instantly remove it.

@NOTE 2: While all these creatures come from mythology, I gave my own spin to these creatures, many of these creatures don’t have the powers and abilities I gave them.

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sailingbrisa · 7 years

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Shelter Bay and the Panama Canal

We arrived in Shelter Bay Marina on Friday … sent an email to the Eric the agent who would help us get through the canal and did our Customs clearance and immigration after a taxi and ferry ride into Colon. Easy and friendly… wouldn’t say fast though. We had to wait until Wednesday to be measured and spent our time exploring the jungles around Shelter Bay, swimming in the pool and meeting fellow cruisers from all over the world on their way to many different destinations. Significantly for me.. most of the people here were a different type of cruiser to what I was used to. Mostly the St. Martin cruisers are used to sailing around the Caribbean, always fairly close to land and a bar. In panama they cruisers were more exploration oriented and had stories of great remote little anchorages all over Central America. Elwin and Ross went for a mega hike… I think in all about 18km round trip in brutal heat and humidity, out to the old fort. Lots of cool animals and good memories.

We finally had everything we needed so we packed up and shipped out for a 132 nmovernight hop to Boccas Del Torro. A surf/ party destination. We arrived, had a Red Bull and went for a walk around. There were a lot of hostels and Europeans and commercialization, so we zoomed across to one of the nearby islands and explored the mangroves. We were hoping to see lots of dolphin, but we were only welcomed in and out of the main channel and didn’t see any others. We decided to pull anchor and head off to Bluefields Lagoon… supposedly a beautiful anchorage filled with fish and fairly remote. It got its name from a Dutch Pirate… so Elwin was happy. WE went snorkeling and climbing around a big gannet hatchery.. loads of fish everywhere and beautiful warm water.. Almost too warm I think! We got back to Brisa and ross had managed to get 6 lobster for 7 dollars… good size ones too so we got stuck into barbeque lobster with garlic butter off of the grill. LOVING IT! The bay was beautiful and we enjoyed watching the local school kids in uniforms so white it hurt to look at paddling across the bay in their little traditional dugouts. They would all stop by to say hi and get some candy from us! I gave one of the bigger kids who was learning English a book about Babara Kendals windsurfing history…. He didn’t believe I knew her, but said he would take it to his school for the English library… now apparently they had 12 books in English! He was very excited.. so Babara.. if you ever wash up in Bluefields I imagine the kids will now who you are. J We anchored very close to a little fishing village in deep water. That night we had a flashlight on the ladder… but crazy jumping fish hit it and knocked it off the boat and it sank to the bottom in 50 feet of water, leaving just a faint glow. As we were right beside some mangroves and had heard of big crocodile stories… I wasn’t about to go in there and get it.. but came up with a plan to use one of our sinking lures to hook the string on the light. I was sitting there for about half an hour bouncing the jig of the bottom and I had only caught a couple of plastic bags, when all of a sudden there was the unmistakable strike of a big heavy fish… I handed Elwin the rod and he pulled … but nothing moved. I think we hooked a big ray or Nurse shark.. because it wasn’t even noticing it had been hooked. Sadly we snapped the end off the rod trying to get it up to unhook it… and then the line broke too…. Needless to say I didn’t go down there to get the light……

We pulled up the anchor and motored off to Isla Escudo DE Veraguas…. A little island about 25 miles off of the Panamanian Coast. 5 hours later we anchored in a spectacular little island. Beautiful sand beaches, awesome little islands and caves and bays, potential for surf.. but we didn’t manage to time the swell well. We brought more lobster and went exploring the island.. snorkeling incredible reefs filled with fish and lobster, touched nurse sharks… and napped in the evening. The next day was my birthday and we spent it eating lobster, snorkeling and windsurfing on the JP convertible stand up board as there was only light wind. Elwin was a pro after his first couple of hours of trying. I received a great hammock, a thermos to keep my water cold and my midnight watch coffee hot and a great mug from the boys! Awesome gifts. I have to say I enjoyed the day there very very much with a great crew doing exactly what I had always dreamed of doing with Brisa.

We sadly left the little island.. but knowing we would soon be crossing Central America in the Panama Canal started to sink in and as we motored ( yeah that’s all we do these days as there is almost no wind anywhere here ) back towards Shelter Bay I told Brisa to enjoy her last few days in the Caribbean salt and to get ready to explore a new ocean.

Now I wish I could say the trip back up was routine… but this time of year in the tropics we have massive land mass thunderstorms.. slow moving very active and covering between 6 and 10 miles. Darkness really makes these monsters impressive as you can see the forks of lightening very clearly and they were slowly getting closer and closer. WE were about 20 miles out to sea but the closer we came to the marina the less distance there was between the storms and the coast .. leaving us about 2 miles offshore in the middle of a big thunderstorm… luckily we made it through with no damage and popped out the other side and made out entry into the breakwater by the canal just as the storm we just went through came back and got us again. It was now about 130am… puring rain and I was driving around using the radar to know where I was… I found a big ship and went over beside it figuring if the lightening came this way it would hit that big boat before Brisa…great idea until Ross comes up and asks me why we are sitting bobbing around in the thunderstorm by an LPG tanker… lol. Zoom off we go and arrive in the tiny entrance to shelter bay with about 500 yards visibility and lightening everywhere. The dockmaster standing there at 3am flashlight and radio in hand smiling at us form under his raincoat. Thanks Dockmaster Frank! You rule. We tied up.. I took a shower under the rain and curled up in bed about 430 am after a loooong day. The highlight apart from making it in one piece was just after dinner… literally as I Said “ Ross thanks great meal! Now all we need is to get lucky before sunset.. “ at that very second the reel took off and we hooked a great little spearfish… basically a marlin with a little nose. Thirty minutes later he was by the boat, we gave him a little slack in the line, the hook fell out and I didn’t have to wrestle any angry pointy nosed fish again! Ross had requested to catch a marlin on the trip so we ticked that off the list! I think for Elwin he was pretty damn happy with having enough lobster that he could throw one in with his ramen noodles…J For me the highlight was the night thunderstorms and dodging them .. and making it into Shelter Bay marina in the middle of it all. Great fun.

The next day we spent getting ready for the Panama Canal crossing. Checking the engines, receiving the buoys and long ropes we would need for the locks… 3 up +100’ and 3 down – 100’ and about 37 miles of motoring through the canals with all the big ships. And about 5 pm we motored across the canal and anchored at the flats anchorage awaiting our advisor to arrive between 4 and 5 am the following day. Debbie and Bob were also onboard as our line handlers. I went up[ the mast to see why the anchor light wasn’t working and basically the wiring fell apart in my hands… oops .. maybe I should of waited until we got through the canala to “fix” that eh? I spent a very rolly hour and a half up there fixing the little wires back together and … voila problem not solved. Still no anchor light. So we had a look the next day in the control box in the anchor locker, joined a broken wire and voila problem fixed.

The advisor didn’t show up until about 1pm.. and with him onboard we followed a big ship up the canal and said our goodbyes to the Caribbean as we passed the construction of the new Panama Canal bridge and entered our first lock. We were with a big boat, a tug and a beautiful sailboat called Altos. WE tied up beside them and uneventfully passed through the three locks. We had to tie up to a mooring ball for the night in the Gatun Lake and as the sunset we spotted some manatees playing close to the boat, got some great photos and had a few Balboa beers as a reward for leaving the Caribbean. Brisa sitting 100’ above sea level in a fresh water man made lake!

The next day at 745 our next advisor showed up and off we went across the Gatun lake.. about 26 miles from start to the next lock… it was beautiful scenery, cool to see the huge new panama boats and be up close and personal with all the commercial traffic… but Brisa didn’t skip a beat. N fact since we left she has been nothing short of exceptional. We showed up at the next locks a little early so tied up to another bouy for about an hour waiting for the other ships we would go down the next locks with. We went in first, the dockhands threw us little lines on monkey fists and then pulled back out lines. As we would go through three locks, each about 30 feet down, we would need to pay out line evenly on all four corners to keep the boat straight. The three locks went by without incident and we pootled out into the PACIFIC! Brisa motoring under the bridge of the Americas and we took a mooring ball in front of the Balboa Yacht Club, went to TGIF and had some food and beer and then back to Brisa for a good sleep.

Bob and Debbie were a bit sad as they knew this was possibly the last time we would see each other for a while… but like all sailors.. they knew it wasn’t the last time. We really had a lot of fun going through the canal.. and it was an amazing feeling to see Brisa floating there with the Panama canal behind us and the Pacific Ocean calling her name. I guess that is one right of passage for every sailor, but not every boat.

The next day we went to Casco Viejo to take care of some paperwork with the rental of my little apartment there. We all stopped into the Red Bull office to say hi to everyone. Was great to see the guys and girls again!

Next we picked up some parts that had been ordered and went to the fishing shop to get a couple of our reels that were there being repaired, brought Elwin some flippers, a three prong spear gun and a replacement fishing rod for the one we broke in Bluefields. Heheheh. Great fun.

That afternoon refueled and relocated to the other side of the Amador Causeway. Interestingly the Marina wanted to charge us 21. Usd to park our dingy while we brought supplies and had dinner at their restaurant and shops….. ??? Huh? Incredible. So we told them we didn’t like their attitude and off we went to climb up the rocks and go get some supplies. Red Bull, beer, bread and coffee. The next day Ross and I zapped off to super 99 in the mall for some resupplying. WE had a great time there buying up everything we needed and an even more entertaining time while we watched the lady at the register try to work out how to use the Vale Panama food stamps that I had been keeping from my time working in Panama. Was pretty sad when even with a calculator the lady had to count 110 little $3 vale panama tickets 8 times to work out how much I had given her….. even with a calculator she couldn’t get that 10 x 3 = 30. It literally took us 40 minutes for her to sort that out and eventually the packing boy helped her count as obviously he had finished high school.

Then we head outside and I wont take the little yellow taxis in Panama. They continuously try and rip you off and have shitty attitudes. So I walk out with Ross and the bagging guy form super 99 that can count, and dial up an Uber. At least 40 taxis stop while im there and ask if I need a ride and a big police man comes over and asks why im not getting in the taxi. I explain the shitty time ive had with Taxis and that id wait a week for an Uber before getting in the taxi and he gives me some shit about Uber not being legal. The Uber dirver shows up, the cop stops him and asks for all his papaers… lol. Everything legal and the cop calls his boss… who explains that it isn’t illegal and the cop lets us go, saying Ubers time is almost up in Panama. Jajjajaja. The driver was super cool and wished the officer a lovely day.

We got back to the boat dropped off the food and I went for dingy gas while the boys organized the food. AS soon as I got back we started the engines and headed for Las Perlas Islands, showing up around 430pm and straight into glassy clean lefts and rights. Not so big, but just me and Elwin in the lineup. Lots of waves ridden before sunset. Very positive start to our surfing mission in the Pacific as the goal of it all is to surf un-crowded remote areas…. And this definitely was one of those.

Today we got up early and went for a look around the island. Dragged the dingy up the beach a little and went for a twenty minute walk.. when we came back the dingy was 20 feet up the beach. Huge tides here are something that will take us a while to get used to. We surfed a little bigger waves this am, but the wind was a little onshore in front of a big thunderstorm, so we came back, had lunch and played gin while we waited for the lightening to stop! Now as the tide drops we are foaming for another glassy evening surf session!!!

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