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dravid-writes · 11 months

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Die in the game, die in real life. A terrifying threat, but one that I was confident I would survive, because the game I was thrown into? Last Legend III. My favorite game of all time by a long shot, and one I had beaten literally a hundred times.

I love this game to the point of obsession, learned everything there was to know about it, completed countless challenge runs, even held a world record speedrun for a while. Every detail and system quirk and glitch, I knew it all. Beating the game without the main character dying? No problem.

See, of all the glitches and exploits in this game, one reigns supreme as the most game-breaking tactic of all: Sharpen stacking. Elewis, the healer of the party, has many buff spells that aren't balanced very well. The Sharpen spell that you get at level 5 boosts the whole party's attack power by x1.5 for the entire battle, turning basically any fight into a cakewalk. But the devs were really asleep at the wheel when programming it, because if you cast it multiple times, it stacks. Exponentially. Just 3 casts will more than triple your damage, and you can shred through the final boss in 5 turns.

So yeah. Aside from the ending, this was going to be a breeze.

But then I got to the first boss.

It's a possessed suit of armor, really basic, no tricks except a charge attack that doesn't even do enough to kill. I played through the fight just like I had a hundred times before, shouting the same commands to my party members that I was so used to selecting. "Ricon," I call to the mage, "another Thunder Bolt."

Ricon silently prepares another bolt.

I turn to the archer. "Alina, Triple Shot."

"Quit telling me what to do!" she complains, but whips out three arrows. I liked it better when I could turn on Manual Mode with a menu rather than with a conversation.

"Elewis, another Sharpen."

"A third? Are you sure we shouldn't-"

"Just do it, the faster we kill this thing the less chance it has to kill us." Taking my own advice, I rush forward and strike with a Rending Slash. 46 damage. Then Ricon's bolt strikes it. 63. I tested to make sure, and all the game's mechanics still work perfectly; every stat and value and calculation is perfectly predictable, just like the game. There's no interface, but that's not an issue since I've memorized everything. The boss only has 300 health left. It's over in 2 turns.

The Cursed Guardian attacks with just a basic slash on Elewis. She grits her teeth and clutches her wound. "I'm hit!"

With the armor I gave her, it's only 35 damage out of 100 health. "Don't worry, just cast another Sharpen." But before I can shout another round of commands, Ricon points at the boss's glowing sword.

"It's preparing something! We need to defend ourselves!" That line just gets more annoying every time I hear it.

"Don't worry, it's not strong enough to kill us. Just keep attacking!"

Ricon gives me a look, but follows my order and continues raining lightning on it. We keep up the damage, ripping through the armor in not-quite-record speed, but far faster than a casual playthrough. I would've loved to speedrun this, but I have to make sure Galeran- I mean, I never die. Only 79 health left as the Cursed Guardian brings its sword down on Elewis. I already did the math before the battle, it's only 49 da-

A flash of light and a scream startle me out of my thoughts as Elewis it sent flying, falling to the ground... and staying there. Woops, a critical hit. Oh well, I doubt we'll need another Sharpen-

"ELEWIS!!" Alina shouts. Sheesh, she's irritating.

"It's fine, we'll kill this thing and revive her back at town."

But Alina ignores me and runs toward Elewis with a phoenix down. Oh shoot, I didn't know they could turn on Auto-Battle themselves like that. That could really screw things up. But fortunately, Ricon and I are able to finish off the armor without her. I feel the relief as the battle ends, and an energizing surge of strength from the level up. Now to head back and revive-

"Guys, something's wrong!" Alina shouts.

Ricon runs over, and I sigh and follow him. Alina kneels over Elewis, fumbling in her bag for a phoenix down. "No, don't waste that here, we can revive her for cheaper at the town-"

But she ignores me and presses the feather to Elewis' chest. It disappears, showering Elewis in a spiral of sparkling light... and nothing happens.

"I'm so sorry, I... This has never happened before," the priest says. "It's just... not working."

"What do you mean?" Ricon asks. "Is the wound too deep? Did that spirit's attack curse her body?"

"No, nothing seems to be wrong, it's just... the magic isn't working. I can't revive her."

"Why NOT!? Isn't that your JOB!?" Alina starts going on some stupid rant, I don't pay much attention. The others are all busy trying to figure out why this happened, how to revive her. But this is a simple realization for me.

This challenge makes ALL death permanent.

Still, I went along with them to every town we have access to, seeing if anyone could revive her, but it was futile.

We had lost Elewis forever.

The morning after the burial, I was desperately trying to re-plan my run. I've done a no-Elewis run before; with how broken she is with Sharpen and her buffs in general, it's a pretty popular challenge. And I've also done a deathless run. But both at once? This challenge just got a lot scarier. One roll of bad RNG, and everything could go wrong. And with how long fights will take without Sharpen, that's a lot of time for bad luck to come around... It's going to take a lot of planning, strategy, and perfect execution, but I think I can still-

"Galeran?" Ricon says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "I'm taking over as strategist."

"W-what? Why?"

Alina steps forward, jabbing a finger into my chest. "Because your stupid plan got my best friend KILLED!"

"What?! That's not my fault! I had no idea that resurrection would suddenly stop working!"

"Oh, so you were just going to have her briefly die. Because that's TOTALLY okay."

"I-it was bad luck! The chances of her getting hit twice and getting a cri- getting hit that hard were one in a hundred! You can't blame me for that!"

Ricon glares at me. "An ally was wounded while the enemy was preparing a powerful attack, and you told her not to heal, not to defend, but to cast Sharpen. Going forward, with resurrection no longer functioning, I believe we need a tactician that's less..." He pauses, trying to find a polite way to say 'stupid'. "... reckless."

Reckless? RECKLESS?! I've beaten this game at level 1! Do you have any idea how much caution that takes!? "This is ridiculous, I'm the leader! You need to follow my orders!"

"The only thing we need is your ability to wield the sacred sword. I suppose I can't force you to follow my lead, but we will not be taking orders from you any longer."

Oh no. Oh no no no, this is the worst-case scenario. The auto-battle AI is absolute trash, and without Elewis to keep them alive, this is about to become a solo-Galeran deathless run! Even the world-record speedrun for the solo-Galeran category includes reloads to deal with bad RNG! "No, no no, that is a terrible idea, you NEED to listen to me!"

"And why is THAT?!" snaps Alina.

Damn it, why can't they see how smart I am! "Because I know everything!"

Alina and Ricon exchange glances, then frown at me.

Oh geez, they hate me now. I'll never convince them to follow my plans like this. Talking to people was never my strong suit, that's why I have thousands of hours in this game. "... Okay, I'm sorry. But please, is there anything I can do to make you trust me as a strategist?"

"Technically," Ricon says, "you can't 'make' someone trust you."

"And you could start by being a bit less selfish!" Alina says. "You always take the best armor for yourself, and any time you're hurt you take a potion, but when ELEWIS was WOUNDED, you told her to not worry!"

"But that's because..." Well shit, they wouldn't believe me about the challenge. And... well, they're kinda totally right. No wonder they hate me, I've been purely prioritizing my own safety... That's it. "Give me a second."

I sit down at a table and start calculating on some scratch paper. I learned Shield Bash after that boss fight, so I know I'm level 11 now. I've been tracking our exp of course, but just to make sure... "Alina, do you know how to poison your arrows yet?"

Her anger turns to confusion. "No? Why?"

Good, so she's at most level 14. I pick out a convenient equipment setup, run all the numbers... I stand up and hand Alina my starting wooden sword.

"What's this for?"

"Hit me."

She doesn't even hesitate. 9 damage.

Ricon stares at us in shock. "What in the world are you..."

"Ricon, how many times would it take for Alina to hit me with that before I die?"

"Are you insane?!"

I turn back to Alina. "Hit me."

I grit my teeth as her strike connects. 9 more.

"Ricon. How many more can I survive?"

"What in the... I don't know, five?"

"Alina, six more times."

Alina grins and delivers a third strike. "I think I like this strategy." A fourth strike.

I endure it as best I can. "I know exactly how strong that sword is."

*WHACK*

"And my armor, too."

*WHACK*

I lose my footing for a moment, but stay standing. "And I've been tracking how strong-"

*WHACK*

"E-each of us are getting..."

*WHACK*

I fall backward onto the ground, but fortunately, there's no fall damage in this game.

"Stop, stop you idiots!" Ricon shouts. "He might be a selfish, arrogant fool, but if he dies there will be no one to wield the sacred sword!"

Alina sighs. "I hate it when you're right."

"A-another..." I say. It was only 8 hits. 72 damage.

"Seriously?" Alina shrugs. "Okay." *WHACK* 81.

I catch my breath. I don't think I can even stand like this. "I-I admit, I was reckless during that fight... I wasn't taking it seriously enough... I thought it wouldn't matter as long as we won..."

"But it would've mattered if YOU died, right?"

"Another..."

*WHACK* 90.

"I-I know... every monster... every spell... I know exactly how much... it takes to kill each of us... Another-"

"STOP!" Ricon steps between Alina and I. "Is this some sort of chicken game?! If you're trying to prove that you're willing to risk your own life, you've made your point!"

"No, it's... the opposite... I don't take risks... If you let me lead... I promise I'll do better this time... Another..."

Alina stares at me. "You sure?"

I manage a nod.

She hesitates... but brings the sword down.

*WHACK*

Darkness clouds my vision. My entire body is screaming out in pain, and I can feel myself ready to slip away.

"... Wow," Alina says. "I'll admit, I'm impressed."

"... could someone... take me to bed... i need to be unconsciousness for 24 hours..."

#my writing #video game isekai #currently no real title for this because i can't think of one #it's less a story and more just an idea that i'm writing out

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jeremy-ken-anderson · 2 years

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Fundamential Design Tension

One of the most basic tensions in game development is between the curated experience and player creativity.

Go heavy on the curated experience and the player feels more like they’re being told a story. Done poorly this can make them feel “on rails” or otherwise trapped in choice-free situations.

Go heavy on the player creativity and a) the capacity for things to just plain break is much higher - that thing you stress-tested for hours and hours will get roughly a thousand times as much stress-test in the first day after release. While patch culture may have its problems, the capacity to patch games after launch is such a godsend. Also, b) done poorly this can leave the player feeling like their choices don’t matter, because if nothing is curated the randomness can overwhelm the results of their choices.

I actually had to stop myself from saying “too much-” in front of each of these. There’s not actually something wrong with going very heavy on either end of this spectrum - An otome game with literally no choices in it is functionally an e-reader manga, and that’s fine. I’d argue it still gets enough flavor from its presence in the otome context to make it worth still calling it a “game” even with zero choice.

Sandbox games that have no scripted events, too, are absolutely fine. In those cases it’s good to temper player expectations, so they aren’t assuming, for instance, that the reasons they die will be fair. But if they know that and respawning isn’t a nuisance, they can just do whatever they decide to do, which is often what people come to games for.

You can contrast City of Heroes and Final Fantasy XIV here. XIV is heavily curated. There’s a right and wrong way to play each job, and even a solved right and wrong build for each job (though “close enough to ideal” is available to casual players so people are pretty cool about it). There’s no creativity in building your character. They don’t attempt that, which given what else they’re doing is probably the right move. They leave creativity for things like putting together your house, or fashion design on your outfit.

City of Heroes lets you build all kinds of bonkers creations. A bunch of archetypes, and then mix-and-match power sets within those archetypes, and then if you don’t feel like taking all of the powers from those power sets there are secondary power sets you can pull from instead. You want to be a weather mage who’s better at beating people to death with your fists than summoning storms? That’s allowed! On top of that you have the Invention system that lets you slot extra enhancements into your powers to mess with them and how they work. How many enhancement slots each power in your kit has is also customizable. So if you want to have a bunch of punchy skills but still have shooting lightning at people as your bread-and-butter go-to move? Totally allowed. But this can a) be kind of overwhelming, and b) result in horribly overpowered or underpowered characters, and to some extent solves this by making a lot of combats feel a little generic. In order to accept the gigantic selection of theoretical inputs the system had to throttle its possible outputs. When this game was invented the “chemistry” system of Breath of the Wild - later used by Genshin Impact as well - hadn’t been invented yet. I’d be fascinated to play a superhero online game that applied that concept to its superpowers.

So for all the variety for how you set up your character the quest designs are almost always “beat up everyone here” or “click all the glowy things” or “beat the last room worth of dudes.” In spite of having like 8 status effects they have to have a generic “mez resist” as a single stat that defends against all of them. In spite of letting you choose how your character got their powers, they can’t let that impact anything, just for raw writing-difficulty reasons (never mind balance issues if Magic-origin characters got to do cool quests that were good for farming and no other origins got to, or if Tech-origin got a quest with a special drop just for them).

I don’t think FFXIV got it right and CoH got it wrong, here. I love both of these games and their very different approaches. But they both had to grapple with this central tension where the more you set things up for the player in your game the more they feel like you’re playing the game for them, where the more you leave them alone the more they can feel adrift and the more you either have to write out piles of outcome trees or make things generic, which can make it feel like the vastness of choice they have doesn’t mean anything.

#game design

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nandalorian · 4 years

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the gentleness that comes

Sometimes you just get thinking about random things like “what if Jaskier decided to Eternal Sunshine himself to get over the mountain breakup?” and then proceed to ruin not only your life but the lives of everyone else around you. 🙃

Jaskier/Geralt, PG-13

“No mage can do what you’re asking. Not even, I would wager, something as powerful as a djinn, or at least not in any way that would bring you peace,” Tissaia explains with more patience than Jaskier honestly expected. For all the fearsome tales he’s heard of the headmistress of Aretuza, she is either kinder than he deserves, or the stories have done her very, very wrong. Perhaps both. But her eyes are steady, her expression serene. Absolute. “Just as we cannot induce someone to fall in love, nor can we make them fall out of it.” She pauses to offer a sympathetic smile. “I am sorry. For you to have travelled such a long way, I suspect you do not make this request in haste.”

The compassion in Tissaia’s voice is terrible to hear. After all, sometimes kindness can look like cruelty before you’ve gotten enough distance on a thing. Certainly the opposite is true, anyway. Jaskier would know. He lowers his gaze to his hands, of a sudden fascinated by the calluses on his fingertips, the ragged skin around his nails. He has to take several deep, steadying breaths before he answers.

“No, not in haste,” he manages at last. “I have prayed for it for some twenty-seven years.”

“Any man would be blessed to have captured such a loyal heart.”

Jaskier can’t resist a scoff. “Any man indeed.”

Several long moments pass, and eventually he must accept that Tissaia has said all she can on the matter. He forces himself to smile and climb to his feet, whereupon he sketches a bow fit for a queen. Tissaia doesn’t rise. She barely blinks, a statue rendered in green velvet and black lace.

“Mistress. I thank you for the tea, and your candor,” he tells her, still inclining his head with a hand pressed over his heart. “It’s not often a humble bard may boast an audience with the great Tissaia de Vries. If ever you are in need of musical entertainment, I proudly volunteer my services. I’m in your debt.”

“You are in no one’s debt, Lord Pankratz,” Tissaia answers, serenely as ever. At no point during their conversation did Jaskier tell her his full name, having introduced himself as Jaskier the Bard and no more. His title is useful to fling around in situations that call for it, but not here; Tissaia would see through any attempt at peacocking. “Nor are you merely a humble bard. You are most welcome here, as any friend of Yennefer’s is a friend of Aretuza.”

“Jaskier, if you will. And I’m not quite sure Yennefer would deign to call me a friend, but I’ll take it.” He smiles back and speaks through the tightness in his throat. “It’s been a pleasure.”

He is almost to the door of her study when her voice rings out again.

“Jaskier.”

He turns.

At some point Tissaia stood without making a sound and came around the desk to face him with her hands clasped together. “I cannot fulfill your wish as such. But I may be able to offer an alternative. One that comes at a great cost.”

Jaskier swallows and hopes the thrill of hope--and fear--elicited by her words isn’t completely obvious. “I’m listening.”

Her solution is quite simple, really, and so obvious that Jaskier isn’t sure how he didn’t think of it before.

However, nor is Tissaia’s warning in jest: the cost is great indeed. So great that Jaskier cannot in good conscience be sure it is one he’s capable of paying.

Not monetary, of course, though he came prepared to empty his pockets and offer his soul if necessary. No, the cost is something more significant and precious than any coin or favour. Much more.

“A memory spell is a rather straightforward matter,” Tissaia explains as she and Jaskier walk the halls of Aretuza. Their destination is unclear, but where Tissaia goes, he follows. He’s not stupid enough to do otherwise. “It’s a spell even a novice can be expected to perform adequately, with the proper training, of course. One never knows when war might be averted by something as simple as a king forgetting an accidental slight, or a maid forgetting a conversation they were not meant to overhear.” She shrugs. “Not always the most elegant solution, but effective.”

A shiver crawls down Jaskier’s spine and makes the hair stand up on his arms and the back on his neck.

Magic, especially the kind taught at Aretuza or Ban Ard, is an ethical grey area, and mages have always played hard and fast with the rules, holding themselves above the trivialities and petty concerns of human morality. That’s why they’re mages: feared, awed, and resented in equal measure.

That Tissaia speaks so casually about altering people’s memories, of mages’ power to decide the course of history according to their own values and interests, is a frightening concept. Most days Jaskier can’t decide what to eat for breakfast. And yet here he is, about to consider letting one of the most powerful mages in history stick her creepy magical fingers in his brain and give it a stir. He should consider getting his sanity checked instead.

Jaskier casts a sidelong look at Tissaia. “But falling in love isn’t like hearing something you shouldn’t, or being offended by a poor choice of words. It’s--”

“Complicated. Yes, quite. And even erasing the briefest of memories does not always go according to plan.”

Without warning, she stops in front of a heavy set of double doors, which she throws open with a flick of her wrist--a useless bit of pageantry, that, but one that distracts from Jaskier’s increasingly pressing urge to flee. Tissaia gestures for him to follow her inside and walks on.

Jaskier doesn’t immediately obey. Drumming his fingers anxiously against his leg, he leans over to peer inside, mind racing ahead to images of a frightening laboratory, potions bubbling away in vials, screaming victims strapped to tables or floating in giant vats. It’s--

Oh. A library.

Huffing to himself, Jaskier adjusts the strap of his lute on his shoulder and hurries to catch up.

The place is massive, far larger than it looks to be from outside, with soaring ceilings and giant stained-glass windows that reach several stories above their heads. Shelves upon shelves line the walls, stretching from floor to ceiling, and dozens more sit in neat rows upon multiple levels, staggered in tiers like a duchess’s birthday cake. They are filled to bursting with books, of course, interspersed with tables and comfortable chairs for mages at study. Jaskier can count at least four fireplaces burning merrily away. Right now he and Tissaia appear to be the only ones here.

With a theatricality he can’t help but admire, Tissaia turns and holds out her arms, encompassing everything and looking very like a queen showing off her kingdom. “What do you see before you?” she asks, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space.

Jaskier furrows his brow. The question is almost certainly a trick of some kind, so he answers with the first thing to come to mind. “Uh… books?”

“Precisely.” Tissaia lowers her arms. “Tens of thousands of books, each of them containing spells, histories, first- and secondhand accounts of untold lifetimes, many of which have been forgotten but not lost.”

“Memories.”

She nods. “Yes. But memories are not like books. And magic, even in the hands of the most talented user, is not like taking a book down off a shelf. It is not a matter of selecting a few chapters to discard and letting the person continue on their merry way. The mind is a much more delicate and complex thing. If it were to be a story, it would be a very messy story indeed, with no clear narrative or plot, no chapter headings, and not necessarily even a single voice.”

“Sounds like some of my earliest compositions.”

He titters at his own joke; Tissaia’s expression doesn’t budge.

Unnerved, Jaskier clears his throat and has to break eye contact, looks around the room instead. After a moment, and with a smidge more gravity, he asks, “Why are you telling me this?”

Once again Tissaia regards him with that patient look from before. “Because you must comprehend that there is a price to what you’re asking, and why I do not suggest this lightly. If you are truly serious in your quest to rid yourself of Geralt of Rivia, and I sense that you are, there is a possible way forward. But to erase this one chapter of your life will require throwing out many more--whole volumes, whole books, shelf after shelf of memories. Possibly the entire library, if things do not go according to plan.” She pauses and steps forward to touch his chin, forcing Jaskier to look at her. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

He swallows with difficulty, throat catching on the boulder suddenly lodged there. It wouldn’t do to ruin the moment by asking how she knows this is about Geralt, even though Jaskier definitely didn’t tell her and did his best to avoid thinking about him during their initial conversation. But his reputation precedes him, after all, and if not that, he really doesn’t want to know the extent of the mage’s legendary powers of telepathy. He also thinks to bring it up now would be missing the point.

“Are you saying I will forget my whole life?” he asks.

“Unlikely, though not impossible,” says Tissaia like that isn’t an utterly testicle-shrivelling statement. “That is the worst-case scenario. The best is that you will cease to remember everything since you met Geralt. That is, in essence, what you want, is it not?”

“I’ve known Geralt since I was barely eighteen.” Panic suffuses his voice without Jaskier quite meaning it to. “I’m forty-five years old.”

Eighteen-year-old Jaskier is a mystery to him now. Oh, he vaguely recalls joints that didn’t creak and a back that offered him less trouble each morning upon rising, a cock that would swell at a hard gust of wind and balls that never seemed to empty. That boy could sing all day and dance all night in and out of people’s beds. He was loud, annoying, impetuous, drunk on the sound of his own voice, and full of love. So full of love that he could saunter up to a complete stranger with white hair and yellow eyes and end up following him around for twenty-seven years instead. Well… twenty-four, if you don’t count the last three since they become estranged. Which Jaskier absolutely does not.

His enduring muse and most steadfast friend; his life’s greatest and most unfulfilled passion.

His most profound heartbreak.

Not much has changed about the last part, but Jaskier likes to think he’s grown wiser with age, less migraine-inducing. He lived enough to discover what pleased him before it was taken away.

Are any of those lessons worth unlearning, for any reason?

“Eighteen isn’t a bad age,” Tissaia remarks, breaking through his thoughts, or perhaps deliberately interrupting. She has been steadily taking in Jaskier’s internal struggle with that calm, measured gaze, though her attention is sharp. “By then most of us have some idea of who we are and what we want. Enough that you could begin again.”

Jaskier slants her a look. “Mages are immortal, and you’re one of the oldest still living. Please don’t condescend to me that eighteen is anything but as unbearably young as it sounds.”

A small smile. Perversely, it reminds him of Geralt. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, forty-five is unbearably young too.”

Ruefully, unexpectedly, Jaskier barks a laugh and concedes the point with a nod. “Touché.”

They linger in that shared bit of humour for a moment, Tissaia’s smile widening and making her look abruptly more human since they met, and then she cants her head. She gestures, and from seemingly nowhere a book tumbles off some far-off shelf and flies into her hand. With an enigmatic smile, she turns it over to reveal the spine and hands it to Jaskier. The Songs of Jaskier the Bard is tooled on the front in gold, winking in the firelight.

“You’re more fortunate than most: there’s an account of your life right here. Should you want it, that is.”

“I’m not sure I do anymore.” Jaskier peers at the book from the corner of his eye. It almost hurts to look at it directly, to think of the tales sung about in its pages, the joy, the adventure, but also the love and heartache couched beneath every note, every clever turn of phrase. The next words are a genuine struggle to get out, and he tries with everything he has not to cry. “No, I think that time has quite passed. I want peace. And if not peace, then at least blissful ignorance.”

“Hm.” The sound is neither pitying nor understanding, merely thoughtful. Tissaia regards him critically. “Then you may have it. You’re still a young man. Not a grey hair on you, and I’ve my suspicions you’ll live for a while yet.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes at her. What does that even mean. “What does that mean?”

She chuckles. “It means you have time. And time heals a multitude of wounds. Not perfectly, but… passably.”

“And--what? I can find love again, or some such tosh?”

“If you like.”

He huffs. “I used to think that. I did. Give it time, and eventually I’d meet someone new who would make me forget Geralt ever existed, blah blah blah--yes, I know, the irony of that isn’t lost on me.” Jaskier is quiet for a moment. “But I don’t know if that’s true anymore. It’s been three years. The wound hasn’t healed, only festered. The more I try to open my heart to others, the more it seems to close.”

“It is said people linked by destiny will always find each other.”

“Oh, I know that one. That’s a prison sentence, not a comfort.”

“I didn’t intend for it to be.”

At last Jaskier forces himself to look down at the book in his hand. It has a pleasant heft in his hand, the weight of a life lived well. For twenty-seven--no, twenty-four years he gazed upon the face of the man he loved and loves still. Sang of him, to him, the way seabirds call to the sea, a song in their blood even when the crash of the surf is too far away to be heard.

Is that enough? Can it be enough?

Perhaps it will have to be. Or perhaps he can simply wake up tomorrow and not remember or care what the correct answer is. Forget even that he asked the question.

He sets the book down upon a nearby table and pauses only to run his hand down the cover, leather supple beneath his fingertips. In his mind’s eye is Geralt--not spitting mad and vicious on a mountaintop, no, but as Jaskier first saw him, sitting quietly by himself in the corner of a tavern. Trying so very hard to escape everyone’s notice, and yet once he caught Jaskier’s eye, quite impossible to look away from. Impossible not to love.

Jaskier turns back to Tissaia and meets her gaze steadily.

“I understand and accept the risks,” he says, confident in a way he does not feel. That has always been his way. Even, it must be said, at eighteen. It’s enough. It will be enough. “Now tell me what I must do.”

#the witcher #jaskier x geralt #jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier/geralt #geraskier #post ep 1x06 #post mountain breakup #not sure if this will continue or if i will just suffer in silence from here on out #my fic #tumblr fic

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thedinanshiral · 3 years

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My personal DA4 wishlist + thoughts

I’ve been teasing this post for a couple of weeks over at Twitter, i’m the worst! But anyway, since game journalism has decided to confirm, once again, that the next Dragon Age game will be set in Tevinter like that’s breaking news, now’s as good a time as ever to write all this down.

Locations: Tevinter, clearly. It’s been pretty much a given since the end of Trespasser in 2015, with that scene where the Inquisitor stabs a map on a table directly on Tevinter as they promise to go after Solas to stop him. But also concept art and several stories from Tevinter Nights heavily imply Antiva, Nevarra, the Anderfells, and maybe Rivain. For those of you who don’t know your Thedosian Geography 101, that’s basically Northern Thedas. And it makes sense, since so far for three games straight we’ve been first stuck in Ferelden, then the coast of the Free Marches, and later the rest of Southern Thedas. We’ve never been North, only heard of it. So in DA4 i’m sure we will finally be able to visit.

Characters: If we’re going to Tevinter, we must meet Dorian again, maybe meet Maevaris Tilani as well (previously only seen in comics), judging from the latest comics series, i’m hoping for Fenris too. And going by the latest teaser trailer, we might see Varric again. As for characters that so far we have no news of, i’d like to see Cole, the Iron Bull, and if by any chance BioWare feels like blessing us with a Hawke/Fenris reunion i might just die happy. I’d also very much like to see the Inquisitor, but more on that later.

Companions: considering concept art and the latest teaser trailer, plus Tevinter Nights stories and new characters, we have an interesting repertoire of new potential companions. A Tevinter mage, an ancient elf (like a temple guardian) or a dalish elf (like Strife), a Nevarran mortalitasi or spirit, Antivan Crows, Lords of Fortune (new faction, kind of like treasure hunters), Qunari lady, maybe an alchemist or shapeshifter, Grey Wardens (possibly a dwarf), a liberated or escaped slave, a Siccari (Tevinter spies/assassins)..even past agents of the Inquisition could return.

Plot: We know Solas wants to take down the Veil. We know there’s two archdemons left, and Grey Wardens are regaining some spotlight in concept art lately. We might have to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously and be strategic about it. Solas might even unleash a double Blight just to keep us distracted while he focus on his own goal, who knows. But many other things are happenig in the margins and all over the place. The Qunari Antaam is having a crisis with some of its members supposedly going rogue, the order they’re so proud of is breaking up, and the whole of Northern Thedas is facing an imminent threat of invasion. Tevinter is still dealing with remnants of the Venatori and might soon be dealing with a slaves rebellion and/or a political and social reform (Magisters Dorian and Maeveris have been working wirh the Lucerni, a group aiming to restore and redeem Tevinter). The Antivan Crows -the de facto rulers of Antiva - may be dealing with a succession crisis, as their First Talon, a powerful feared and respected but old lady, might not be around for much longer and seems her chosen heir has died before his time. Meanwhile in the Anderfells nobody’s heard anything from the Grey Wardens’ HQ at Weisshaupt since the end of Inquisition, and as told in the novel Last Flight, the sudden reappearance of griffons may have had something to do with that radio silence. So you see, get ready for another +100 hours long game because BW has plenty of stuff to keep us busy with. But in short, DA4 seems will be about primarily searching, finding, and dealing with Solas. Regardless of what you decided at the Exalted Council in Trespasser, the Inquisition or what’s left of it is most likely the group orchestrating that mission. As it was so clearly stated then, they need new people Solas doesn’t know so he can’t foresee their actions, so it’s possible the DA4 protagonist is a new agent or a third party hired to do what the Inner circle can’t due to their familiarity with Solas in the past. But at the same time -and this is assuming we get to find Solas in this game - i definitely think the Inquisitor could easily show up again. No, losing an arm doens’t mean they’ve retired forever, prosthetics do exist in Thedas, a world where you can combine dwarven craftmanship with enchantments, seriously, i don’t ever want to hear “but they lost an arm” ever again as an excuse to write them out. And no, marrying Cullen or joining the Red Jennys is no impediment to join the “Stop Solas” Squad; the end of Trespasser means something, mainly that this is personal. Be it they loved them as lovers, as friends or ended up hating his guts for using and betraying them, the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas makes this very personal, and so having any other character do that face off would cheapen all of it, all that bittersweet angsty development and expectations of either revenge or closure. That moment should happen between those two. It adds a ton of motivation due to their past historyas well, something a new protagonist would lack entirely. My personal best hope is for a sort of dual protagonist thing, say we play new protagonist for most of the game but a selected missions or scenes where we play as the Inquisitor once again and take over for key and heart-wrenching dialogue options. My second best hope is for the Inquisitor to show up as playable for the moment we catch up with Solas. My third and final best hope is for the inquisitor to be a sort of advisor but more like new protagonist’s boss/employer to whom they report back to and get new missions from. The Inquisitor can be stuck in meetings for the most part of it, i just want to know they’re there, behind a door, super busy but there. A cameo like Hawke’s in Inquisition is the bare miminum i can take, anyhting less than that like a mention in a sidequest description or a footnote in a codex entry would be a total injustice.

Romances: I’m open for pretty much anything, as any good BW fan would be. But i’d like romances to feel more alive in the sense that they don’t abruptly get stuck once you exhaust all related quests and dialogue options. As much as my Adaar liked that spank from the Iron Bull, that it was the only thing they could share after their romance was locked was a bit..meh. I liked Dorian’s tho, because his gave one the option to talk a bit, go for a walk, gossip, and sure, it all happened off-screen, and there were limited possibilities, but it was nice and made their relationship feel a bit more real, like they had more to it than kissing and stuff. It happens in most games, once you secure a romanceable companion suddenly you run out of things to do and share with them, and you get stuck with the same 3 lines of dialogue over and over again. There should be a way of solving that.

Side quests: i’m ok with fetch quests initially as it is a good way of forcing the player to go out and explore huge maps, but i’d also like the fetching to have some meaning other than checking things off a list. I want to explore many ruins, and -can’t believe i’m actually saying this- i want a Fade quest. Wait! I know what you’re thinking but don’t kill me just yet, here’s my idea: what if we could visit the Fade at certain locations to witness memories or meet with spirits and recollect information on Solas, his past, his present? Both to understand him better (keep in mind we’ll most likely get a new protagonist who isn’t familiar with him like we are as players) and try to locate him or predict his next move. It would be i think i great way of having visions of Arlathan in its golden age, maybe seeing some of the other Evanuris, how they interacted with each other and with the elves in their service, what really happened ...i just want that sweet, sweet lore, i need it.

Technical stuff: ok, graphics will be amazing for sure, but i also would really really like: better, more varied and longer hairstyles, PLEASE. Body sliders, it’s damn time we get them. Mounts that actually make a difference! Let staves blades make damage in combat, I’M BEGGING HERE. Combined classes, MAGICAL ROGUES! A homebase we can fix up/build on/redecorate as fully as possible (Skyhold was great and i love it to pieces but why were those walls NEVER repaired????) . More casual outfit options, idk i love to dress up my characters, maybe some transmog? A day/night cycle and please i would love to see Thedas’ second moon, also weather variations depending on the region. Yes, i’m ambitious.

Gameplay: i’d like more AI options for companions, but not quite like in DAO, that was too much and i rarely used it. I’m curious how they’ll do combat this time but i know for sure i don’t want the kind of combat that has me going almost frame by frame pausing at every second, it’s annoying for me. I want large areas like in DAI but with a bit more stuff to see and do although one of my favourite maps is the Hissing Wastes so i won’t complain if we get a literal desert but i’d also like it to have secrets hidden around, make me work to find and solve them, i love exploring, i jump and click on EVERYTHING like i’m still a kid playing Monkey Island. A companion in concept art seems to be holding what looks like some form of rifle, so i’m curious how they’d incorporate that in the game. I know Tevinter has the magics and dwarves have the skill, a firearm is totally within the possibilities in-game without breaking any lore; also super curious what sort of skill trees Crows or Lords of Fortune could have, are they rogues, or warriors, or both??

So far, that’s what i got in my head.Well, most of it anyways, i may have missed something but this post has to end somewhere lol

What’s in your head? Feel free to share! Have you been thinking on how you’ll create your next protagonist? All i can think of is magical rogues and that glowing bow was all the hype i needed.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age 4 #Tevinter #da4 wishlist #DA4

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Many More To Die, Chapter 12

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 12)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: While the assassin makes another attempt on Roman's life, the necromancers find help from an unexpected source--and an all too brief reunion between Logan and Roman has some disturbing results.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: None really, not this time.

Told you this one would come faster. XD It's bigger than most, because the next one is gonna be a whopper--and also, the next installment will be the last! But fear not: I'm already planning a sequel.

...and tbh, I can't stop writing these adorable jerks so you'll get lots more stories outta me. :P

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

1022, A.A.

“Pass the glue?”

Logan blinked, slowly looking up from his jacket to gradually focus on Roman's face. Watching him rise from something that had swallowed his whole attention was hopelessly adorable—a thing he could never tell Logan to his face, but could never hide the smile that crept across his face when he watched Logan surface like a pearl diver.

He saw the moment Logan's face shifted, the moment he finally returned to reality. Scanning the craft supplies scattered on the riverbank around them, he located the glue pot and passed it to Roman with a curious frown.

“What are you gluing?” he asked.

Roman held up the white mask he'd selected to go with his costume for the final night of the Festival that Logan had invited him to.

“Feathers! I want to be one of those things you showed me in the graveyard—the creatures etched on the one tombstone?”

“Angels.” Logan reminded him. “You know their wings go on their back, not their face.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I know that, Starlight. I can't exactly get a pair of wings for my costume on such short notice, though, so I...Logan?”

Roman set his mask down, scooting closer to the other boy with a cold lick of concern in his belly. Logan was staring at him with an intensity that made him want to squirm, and his face had gone completely ashen.

“What's wrong?” Roman asked, reaching for his hand. “Logan, are you all right?”

Logan blinked, drawing a trembling breath before briskly shaking his head as if to clear it.

“I—yes, I am fine. I just...” He trailed off, and that look was on Roman again.

“Why did you call me Starlight?”

Roman couldn't stop himself from frowning, confused. Gesturing to the jacket in Logan's lap, he shrugged.

“The beads you're sewing onto it—it looks like the night sky. It's—it's just a nickname, like Specs. I won't use it anymore if it bothers you.”

“No,” Logan insisted, “it is perfectly acceptable, it's just...it surprised me, that's all. Starlight is actually the name I use for the Festival. As I told you, we forsake our identities at the celebration, so we all use different names. Mine is—is Starlight.”

Roman watched Logan blink, and would have accused Logan of lying except that Logan never lied. He took things too literally, he was just...not the kind of person who did it. Not with Roman, at least. So if he said he was fine...

So why did he look like his whole world had been shaken?

“...Muse.” Roman spoke before he could think about it.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Muse.” he repeated, feeling confident about the decision. “That'll be my name for the evening. Muse.”

Logan just stared at him for a long moment before huffing, shaking his head as he scooted across the grass until he was leaning against Roman's side, shoulder pressed to Roman's arm.

“You're not required to do it. You're not part of the tribe.” Logan pointed out.

“It's your tribe, though—and I don't want to be disrespectful.” Roman insisted, reaching for the bag of feathers Logan had brought for their costume work. “Besides, I...I like it. I understand it. It's all to make the dead feel less alone, isn't it? I want to help.”

Roman focused very hard on picking the feathers he wanted to glue to his mask...and tried not to pay attention to the way Logan's head tipped to rest against his shoulder and just stayed that way for a very long time.

**********

1033, A.A.

“So that's how you did it—this is a problem.”

Roman blinked, shaking his head. He hadn't lost consciousness, he was certain of it.

...well, relatively certain.

Glancing around, Roman realized he was in his father's bedchamber, held fast by a palace guard on either side. He tried to tug free, but they held him fast, staring straight ahead with glassy, unfocused eyes and blank expressions.

“Don't bother—I've been rotating soldiers through dungeon detail for years. Nearly all of them are mine now.”

Roman's chest seized with cold, cloying horror and disbelief. He could feel warmth in the hands that held him, see their chests rising and falling with breath...

He turned to the man standing before him—salt and pepper hair and overly tanned features, with piercing blue eyes Roman was starting to realize he should have known on sight.

Colonel Mori—if only he'd remembered before this moment...

“The same curse you used on my father, I take it?” he asked, proud of how level his voice came out, clear and firm.

“Something like that.” Mori replied, idly tossing a familiar ring into the air, catching it, and repeating the action with casual thoughtlessness. “It's always been a specialty of mine—generational curses. You only have to curse a single man, and an entire bloodline or brotherhood will fall...would, at least,

if not for you and that idiot progeny of mine.”

Roman wasn't aware that he'd lunged until he had one guard's arm around his throat to hold him back. He'd actually slipped free, and found it hard to breathe until he consciously stopped trying to wrestle free of his captors.

“Logan is not an idiot.” he snarled. “He's stronger than all of us—he's the best man I have ever known.”

And just like that, he was aware of all the memories that infernal talisman had been holding back—the stolen moments, the beauty of learning new things about Logan's people...the purity of that young love that had been stolen from him.

He thought of Logan now, that lean and handsome face hardened by ten years of imprisonment...and how it opened up to him the night before, how Logan tucked against him in his sleep and clung to every touch like it would be taken away from him, just as he had when they first met...

Mori's hands were suddenly on him, gripping his chin and yanking his hair until Roman was staring directly into his eyes.

“Logan Crofter is a good man—and that is his downfall.” Mori spat as his eyes began to glow with an unholy orange light. “Good men have too many rules and too many weaknesses.”

Roman tried to shake his head, but couldn't fend off the impossible grip of the necromancer before him, the light of his gaze causing a slow, dull throb through his skull.

“Decent men have rules to keep them decent. Evil men like you have rules so they can revel in breaking them.” Roman replied flatly. “Good men don't need rules. They simply choose and act.”

The pain in his head grew, forcing Roman to close his eyes—but the light was still there, behind his lids and in his brain, turning the dull throb into a burn.

“So I'm looking forward, Colonel, to watching you face a good man with no rules—and nothing to lose.”

Mori's laughter was grating in his ears as Roman slowly began to lose the ability to think coherently.

“He has one thing, Your Highness...he has you. And I'm going to make sure he comes to find you so I can get what I want: the soul of another Lazari.”

There was some shuffling, a voice—and Roman's blood ran cold as he hung helpless in the grip of a guard and lost his hold on reality.

“Remy Somnum! Bring me Lord Janus. It's high time I added his life to my collection.”

“Yes, Master.”

********** 1023, A.A.

“You're certain this is where it is?”

Roman nodded as he finally opened the padlock on the door of the long abandoned storeroom, deeep in the bowels of the palace dungeons. “The locator spell Remus gave me works. He knows more about magic than half the court mages, even if he can't use it.”

“Picking locks as well.” Logan observed with a raised eyebrow.

Glancing over his shoulder at Logan, Roman just grinned at his expression.

“Remus didn't teach me that.” he declared, pushing the door open and ushering Logan in ahead of him. “If I'm going to be king one day, I shan't rely on anyone else to rescue me—what if I have to break free of some prison or shackles?”

Logan stepped into the room ahead of him, but immediately stopped and turned to face him, looking at Roman with blue eyes that glittered with something Roman couldn't name, something that made it hard to breathe.

It happened so fast he almost couldn't process it—Logan's hands in his tunic, the sudden feel of warmth crowding his front...

The soft, firm, smacking press of a kiss to his mouth that made his heart, and the rest of the world, stop.

For long moments, they just stared at each other, Logan seemingly reeling as much as Logan was.

“I...I am—I'm—apologies.” Logan stammered, trying to busy himself with straightening his tie instead of holding onto Roman's tunic. “I did not mean...that is to say—I just—your intellectual moments, they just—you're so—and I--”

Roman snatched up Logan's hand, pressing his lips to the back of it. He could feel Logan trembling, and Roman felt his heart tremble in sync with it.

“Me, too, Starlight.”

For a second they just stood there, Logan's hand in his, and Roman's heart...

He had never, not once in his short fourteen years of life, ever felt so tranquil or so powerful, and definitely not both at the same time.

Roman forced himself to be the strong one, releasing Logan's hand so he could shut the door and finally take proper stock of the room.

There was barely any light through the bars on the small window in the door, but Logan moved forward with purpose, locating a torch and lighting it with some spell Roman didn't recognize—one that ignited a dazzling blue-white flame that was far clearer and brighter than the golden flicker of normal torchlight.

The layer of dust covering everything in the room was so thick Roman could feel the urge to cough bubbling in his throat just from breathing the air. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and could have made it easy to mistake the space for a library save for the fact that there were very few books on any of those shelves.

“It's like some kind of storeroom.” Logan observed. “That, or...perhaps a trophy room?”

“I told you,” Roman reminded him, “this palace is full of hidden nooks and crevices—places to hide, or to hide something you don't want anyone else to find. I hardly ever notice this door, but the locator spell sure did.”

“So...who does this belong to?” Logan wondered aloud, venturing over to one of the shelving units that had a few books scattered throughout. “And if these are trophies, what are they trophies of?”

Roman wondered the same thing, so intensely it took him a moment to realize Logan was no longer by his side. Shaking himself, Roman crossed the room carefully, painfully aware of the layer of dust his feet were disturbing as he came to stand beside Logan in front of the shelf. His eyes scanned over the objects and books displayed there until...

“Here!” he suddenly blurted, reaching up to pluck a book off the shelf. “This binding matches the Tomes in the palace library.”

Passing the small, leatherbound volume to Logan, he watched as Logan ran his fingers over the cover with a strangely thoughtful look, head cocked just slightly before he opened the volume.

“Is that it?” he asked hopefully. “The geneaology?”

Logan stared at the first page, shaking his head. “No...I mean, it is one of the Tomes, the one you likely said would have the magical bloodlines of the royal family, but—Roman, this was hidden for a reason. It's one of the Forbidden Tomes.”

“What?! Weren't those lost before the fall of the Animator?”

“Affirmative...this one, however, is quite new. Old still, mind you, but maybe two hundred years old at the most.” Logan looked up at Roman, eyes wide.

“I think this volume is a reconstruction.”

That rattled around in Roman's head, untethered and incomprehensible. “Who would be old enough to be able to rewrite one of the Forbidden Tomes? And how do you know how old this book is?”

Logan just stared at it...then flipped a couple of pages before going weirdly still.

“I can...it's an incorrect description, but I can hear it. The Tomes are written in mystical dialects, languages laden with power. My power.”

He lifted his head, meeting Roman's gaze head on with an intensity that stole Roman's breath.

“The mystical dialect this book was composed in is Mairome—the language of necromancy.”

Roman couldn't get his voice to work for a long moment as Logan turned back to the Tome and began reading, eyes flicking back and forth at a speed that was vaguely dizzying, trying to consume every nuance of the page, drinking it all in.

“What...what does it say?” he finally managed to ask aloud.

Logan didn't answer for a long moment. He shut the book gently, his gaze cast downwards.

“It says,” Logan finally answered, “that King Thomas Roman I is the name of the Animator.”

“...that can't be true. That...that means...”

“It means that the king did not slay the Animator—it means your ancestor assassinated the king. It means the Necromata have a legitimate claim to the throne.”

Roman ran his hands over his face, dizzy with the onslaught of information. “Who knew this that they had to take this book from the palace library and hide it here?”

“I think I know that, too.” Logan croaked, handing the book to Roman. “Start here—you should be able to read it.”

Roman accepted the book and peered at the page. Most of the text was a blurry mess of gently glowing lines and strange symbols, but some of the words were written in clear, plain English in various parts of the page.

When he was done, he passed the book back to Logan, reeling.

“Mori...I know that name.” Roman realized. “What are these?”

“They are the True Names of the monarchy.” Logan replied. “I know the name as well—it is the name of the man who tried to kill me when we first met.”

“...you never told me that.”

“I did not know his place among the palace guard—if he was someone close to you, I feared for your safety if he knew you were aware of his crimes.”

“Corporal Mori...he's a member of the dungeon guard.” Roman murmured. “My brother and I used to sneak into the dungeons to play at adventuring when we were little—he was a new private back then, and cruel to both of us. But...Logan?”

“Yes?”

“The name in there, below Thomas Roman I. Is that the Animator's son?”

Logan swallowed thickly. “It is.”

“But...but his True Name is Crofter...that's your last name.”

“Affirmative. At least...it was. Just as Mori's name was once Thomas Roman Sanders.”

Roman couldn't speak around the sudden tightness in his throat. Instead, Logan spoke for him.

“The Animator...he's not your ancestor, Roman—he's mine.”

Then the door of the storage room opened, slamming against the pile of detritus behind it.

Roman froze. Logan, however, snatched the book and rose.

“I'll lead him away—get back to your rooms at once, and look after Virgil.”

“Logan--”

He was cut off by another abrupt kiss, this one on the cheek.

“We'll get out of this, one way or another. I swear it on the Spider's Thread.”

Then Logan was gone, diving between the legs of the figure in the doorway to lead him away from Roman's location.

********** 1033, A.A.

“Paddock.”

Patton looked up from where he was crouched beside Logan's prone, writhing body. Logan's eyes had rolled back into his head and he was muttering incoherently while he twitched and twisted with an agony Patton could only guess at.

The voice that had spoken aloud belonged to a prison mage he recognized. The man was tall, dark, and tanned. He was handsome, mostly—he always wore dark glasses that hid his eyes, so it was difficult to be sure.

“What're you doing here, Somnum?” Remus asked sharply. He was awfully fast, next to Virgil one minute and the next standing beside Janus in front of Logan's prone form so Patton could only see Master Somnum through the space between their shoulders.

“Remy—the name's Remy, you fuckin' killjoys.” the mage sighed. “Will you just move already? Patton can vouch for me.”

“I can?” He asked uncertainly. Patton's nostrils flared on reflex, trying to scent the air—and immediately felt his magic rise, all animal instinct and threat.

The smell of death, old and ripe, was on the air. Not the smell of corpses or long settled dust, but death, fresh damp grave dirt and sticky in his lungs like worms crawling.

But...

Patton turned to Virgil, crouched beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil just looked at him, then at Remus and Remy, and nodded before focusing on his brother again.

Patton stood and came to stand next to Remus. He could feel more than hear the subsonic hiss building in the back of Janus's throat nearby, and found his gaze to reassure him before he faced the prison mage.

“He knows my True Name.” Patton admitted. “Janus can confirm it...but how?”

Remy didn't answer right away. He just stared at Patton, making him feel squirmy stomach and trembly. Breathing felt...not hard, but strange, and he wasn't sure if he liked it--

Reaching up, Remy removed his dark glasses.

“'Cause mine's Graymalkin.” he replied softly.

“What does that mean?” Virgil snapped testily. “Quoting Macbeth at each other won't--”

Patton didn't hear the rest. As far as he knew, Black Dogs and Heralds couldn't fly, but he couldn't feel the floor under his feet anymore...

...oh. Oh, he couldn't feel any of his legs anymore. The world was spinning, too—kind of like playing Statue Maker as a boy, grabbing his friends' hands and spinning, spinning, spinning before he had to stop and strike a pose--

“Patton.”

Patton blinked, and suddenly drew a deep, shuddering breath into his lungs before he started coughing. He—oh, he hadn't been breathing. That wasn't remotely good, willikers!

As he tried to get his breathing normalized, Patton found he was on the floor, being cradled in Janus's arms. His forehead was tucked against the scaled side of his neck, a lovely contrast of cool scales over warm skin and so much softer than anyone would think scales could be. As Patton calmed, he drifted, and gently rubbed his forehead against those scales, sighing at the soothing texture of their satiny surface brushing his skin, the edges gently catching in ways that sent pleasant little buzzes of sensation from his forehead to skitter over his scalp.

Finally, he lifted his head—and found Remy kneeling in front of them, staring at Patton.

His eyes were pure onyx, from sclera to pupil—solid black orbs in his head, barely glinting in the light of the room. They were the eyes of a hijacked body, a resurrection gone wrong. The owner of the body was gone, and another soul had taken its place.

A soul Patton was fairly certain he knew.

“Patton?” Janus's voice, a question.

Slowly, Patton nodded.

Remy sagged visibly in relief. “You remember...Paddy, I'm a Reaper. I can help Logan. Will you let me?”

Feeling more like himself, Patton nodded again. Without thinking, he twisted and tipped his head up to kiss Janus's cheek before he got shakily to his feet.

“Virgil, Remy's gonna help.” he announced, still watching Remy with a secret fear that this would be a dream and that he'd vanish.

“Fuck you. I don't--”

“He's my brother. Please, Virge.”

There was silence for several moments, but then Remy was moving off some indication from Virgil, and Patton twisted to watch Remy drop to his knees at Logan's side. He touched his forehead, taking his hand and watching him closely.

“Motherfucker knows the only real way to kill a Lazari, and he's using the king to do it.” Remy muttered. “Let's see...nerd's Claim is holding, that's good, but his mind won't hold up under the Baccanal...lemme see, gurl...”

Remy shut his eyes, bowing his head. As he did, Patton suddenly felt a gust of warm air touching the back of his neck, making him flinch and whip his head around.

“Easy, Sin-ammon Roll.”

Prince Remus was there, his hand a buzzing gnat in Patton's awareness as it sat on his shoulder. He was watching Patton with a look he couldn't read—his features were like Janus's, well schooled into calm lines, but his eyes were clouded with some very turbulent emotion.

“Is the prison mage really your brother?”

Patton opened his mouth to answer, but no sound was coming out. The words were all there, but they were sort of...clogging in his throat, too many coming too fast, all fighting to escape at the same time. Fortunately, Janus's arms were suddenly there again, wrapped around his waist, cradling Patton back against his chest, warm warm warm and comforting in their familiarity.

“Patton was four years old when his brother died.” Janus stepped in. “Remington Morell was not quite fourteen—essentially executed in the street. Patton told me when they were children...their mother loved the Scottish play. Quoted it all the time--'I come, Graymalkin' when Remy called for her, 'Paddock calls' when Patton would cry.”

“...but the kid died.”

“Yes, but...it's the black eyes. They indicate the presence of a Raptor.”

“Like the dinosaur?” Remus asked.

“Like a body thief—a soul that hijacks a coprse during a botched resurrection.” Janus sighed, rolling his eyes as Patton twisted his head to look up at him.

“Ohhhh, I mean—wow.”

“Lucky for me, children age in Shadow.” Remy's voice piped up. Refocusing on Logan, Patton realized his best friend wasn't writhing and muttering anymore, just...laying there, asleep. Seemingly, anyway.

“What'd you do?” he asked, gently removing himself from the circle of Janus's arms to move towards Remy as he stood.

“Guided Logan to the Loom of Memory.” he replied. “It'll protect him for a while, and let him communicate with Roman if I'm right about how those two are bound—Mori's got the king under the Baccanal.”

“Cursing him with madness?” Patton breathed, his stomach churning with horror as he covered his mouth with both hands. “That's forbidden, Remoo.”

“Yeah, well, the Animator ain't known for playing by the rules, gurl.” Remy replied with a shrug. “So burning away a man's mind, one layer at a time until he's a drooling vegetable? Totally on the table.”

Patton felt something loosen in his chest as he grinned up at the other man. “You really are Remy, aren't you?”

Remy opened his mouth, brow furrowed with confusion—then understanding filled his features and he grinned, laughing. “Ah, geez—Remoo. You started calling me that when you were two 'cause you couldn't say Remington.”

“It's the only thing I remember really well.” Patton admitted, rushing forward to fling his arms around Remy with a choked laugh that quickly melted to tears.

“Mom and Pop kept your Vigil every Festival—but I never stopped.” he giggled wetly. “Every day—I had an altar in my room...”

“I know.” Remy soothed, holding onto Patton tight and reaching up to tousle his curls in a manner that Patton didn't recognize, but still felt weirdly familiar. “I heard you. Why do you think I snuck back when I realized you were in trouble?”

Patton pressed his face into Remy's shoulder. The smell of the mage's trade clung to him, acid and alcohol and herbs, but under that was something that set of primal echoes in Patton's head of family home safe loved, loamy earth and fresh rain.

Remy held on tight, just for a few seconds, but when he pulled back Patton felt steadier than he had in a very long time.

“We need to get the Lazari outta here.” Remy instructed. “It's a long story, but I was sent here to drag Lord Scaly off for execution. Plans changed, now I'm takin' you all somewhere safe.”

“Where's that?” Virgil asked, flinching when Remus swooped in to gather Logan up into his arms before Virgil could.

“Long story, tell you when we get there. Everyone move.”

********** When Logan opened his eyes, he was home.

It was a very familiar part of his home, however—none other than his childhood bed, wrapped in a familiar pair of arms.

Lifting his head, he had to fight not to lose his composure when he saw Roman's face. His head was nestled into Logan's pillow, features slack with repose...

Then tense, a low noise of distress rumbling in his chest, vibrating against Logan and shooting straight to his marrow.

Reaching out, Logan dug his fingers in beneath Roman's ribs. Fortunately it worked: immediately, Roman woke up with a squeal that was wholly undignified, and melted immediately into giggling he promptly cut off.

“Roman, it's okay...shhhh, you are safe. It's Logan, I'm here.”

Roman stared at him with a blank, unfocused look that scared Logan—actual fear he could not deny any longer, cold and cloying and sticking to the inside of his chest. Those green eyes were glassy and unseeing...they did not know him.

Very deliberately, Logan reached for Roman's hand, meshing their fingers together. He held them up in Roman's eyeline.

“Hold on...do not let go.”

That struck a chord, bringing some focus back to Roman's eyes. After a moment that stretched into eternity, Logan felt Roman's fingers tighten around his. Roman stared at their joined hands, mouth working soundlessly...

“I...never have.” Roman finally replied. “I never will.”

Logan's throat closed up, his eyes burning.

“Swear it on the Spider's Thread?” He hated how small his voice sounded, how desperate.

Recognition finally sparked in Roman's eyes.

“...Starlight.”

Logan lost control then, flinging himself into Roman's arms. Roman let himself be bowled over onto his back, let Logan stretch out atop his body, press his face into the curve of Roman's neck, and just held on tight as Logan wept for the first time in ten years. Deep, heaving, wretched sobs that Roman soothed him through, a hand running over his back, Roman's deep and beautiful voice murmuring soothing nonsense directly into his ear.

Time passed. The slow, steady rhythm of Roman's fingers gradually smoothed the jagged edges until he could reach out and touch them without getting cut open again.

“Did you know?” Logan finally asked, lifting his head to meet Roman's gaze.

Roman stared back up at him, uncomprehending as his fingers drifted up to caress Logan's cheek. Logan found himself unable to resist leaning into the tender touch.

“Did I know what?”

“That day by the river—before the Festival. Did you know that you changed my True Name.”

“...not until we found the Tome. I...suspected something happened, but wasn't sure until we read about your grandfather.”

“What about later? When you came to me in my cell and gave me my new Name?”

“I...I'm not sure. I know I wasn't supposed to remember what you were to me, but...”

But he had. Reaching up to catch the hand Roman still had pressed to his cheek, Logan felt like he understood. Not really, but...but that was the point.

Roman never should have remembered enough to care about Logan, yet he'd come to find him, and helped him in his moment of need.

“I think,” Logan began hesitantly, “that it is as Grandpap often says. The stuff of Shadow—the things we are not allowed to know.”

Roman frowned pensively. His brow furrowed with it, and Logan let himself surrender to the temptation of bowing his head and kissing that line away.

“Miracles.” Roman murmured. “Shadow brought to the light.”

Logan made a sound of affirmation, nose brushing along Roman's hairline.

“Or an outsider brought to the Loom of Memory.”

Roman shifted under him, seeking out Logan's gaze with wide, curious green eyes.

“Is that where we are?” he asked, awestruck.

Logan nodded, running his fingers through Roman's hair.

“It is...and time moves differently here.” he explained, mouth hovering over Roman's.

Time Logan was going to take...because if Logan was Lazari, that meant he had power. If he was descended from the Animator, the First and most powerful, he had more power still. If he was bound, soul to soul, to the ruler of all the Kingdoms, Logan had power beyond magic.

He had all the power, maybe more, of his ancestor. Power enough to corrupt.

So he allowed it to corrupt him. He let himself be ruthlessly selfish.

He was not going to allow Roman to be taken from him again.

Never again.

********** He expected to feel a warm, strong pair of arms around him when he rose from a deep and restful slumber...but instead, his groggy mind was rattled by voices.

“So you've just been...what? Fooling him into thinking you were zombified? That's hot, don't get me wrong, but I don't see how he'd buy it.”

“Gurl, greedy men are dumber than a bag of hair—ain't that right, Emi?”

“Eh—yes, sweetheart. Basically, anyway. It takes a great deal of focus and power to control as many dead as Mori currently is.”

“That's why our people don't normally do it—raising a corpse is way different from resurrecting someone to life. Grandpap told Logan off for even suggesting the raising of more than two corpses at the same time. It's doable, but I think five is the limit before you risk madness under the weight of all those deaths.”

“So these are really zombies? Not people he resurrected? Gosh, that's just...scary.”

“Easy, baby brother—none of 'em are coming the fuck near you. That's why I got a heart-healer on my side...they don't tell people that they study necromancy on the side, y'know.”

“Remy, please. We don't...er...well, we don't study all of necromancy. Just necromatic theory—its relation to the mind. The function of the Cleansing, body theft, the psychological toll of magic...that's sort of how Remy and I met. I'm a bit of a bookworm...”

“Shhhh, he's waking up!”

Finally opening his eyes, he moved to sit up, reaching, fumbling until strong fingers caught his.

“It's okay, Loganberry—you're fine.”

“Logan—where is he?”

That was the moment he froze, his question coming out...strange. Deep, but not deep enough, well enunciated but too stiff.

“Logan?”

That was his voice...but it wasn't his voice saying Logan's name.

“...something's wrong.”

He looked around in confusion. Something was wrong with his eyes, the world fuzzy and haloed in blurs of color. He could recognize Remus only from the color of his tunic and the sound of his voice.

“Remus? What's happening?”

“Hold on—Virgil, his glasses.”

He didn't wear glasses, what the--

Then a pair was being set on his face, and the world suddenly came into painful focus. He was laying on a low couch in one of the palace offices. Remy and the heart-healer, Emile Picani, stood off to one side. Virgil and Remus knelt by his side now, with Janus and Patton wrapped around each other by the window.

Trembling, he lifted his hands in front of his face.

Pale. Slim. Long, lean fingers that had run through his hair so greedily, touched him so tenderly, blunt nails scoring skin in the depths of his mind...

“...Roman?”

Lowering Logan's hands—now his hands—Roman looked into his twin brother's eyes, into the face that he shared with him.

Or had at the start of the day.

“Please tell me that my brother did not just swap bodies with the fucking king?” Virgil squeaked, looking visibly ill as he swallowed thickly.

Roman, wearing Logan's skin, nodded slowly.

“I think he did,” Roman replied, “and in doing so...he just gave Mori exactly what he wanted.”

#necromancer au #sanders sides #fanfic #fic #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #ts creativity #ts dark creativity #ts morality #ts deceit #ts anxiety #ts logic #my name is liz and i swear to god i will fic again #this is all the artist's fault i'm just the hapless writer that stumbled across it

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nekoabiwrites · 4 years

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Of Princes and Potions 2 - Chapter 6

It’s finally back! This and likely the next chapter will be some cute filler-y chapters, showing Roman and Logan having cute relationship time - and maybe a few more hints towards another relationship ;) ;) ;)

AU: Royal/Fantasy Pairing: Logince Words: 2608 Warnings: Mention of Deceit, mention of injury. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Logan is confined to the infirmary as his wounds heal, but Patton approaches him with an offer at the very end of his stay. Then Roman appears and steals Logan’s attention easily.

Logan found himself confined to the castle’s infirmary for close to an entire month after the attack, mostly due to the severity of his injury. He was alone in the infirmary for most of the time – bar the nurses that periodically checked in on him and the visitors that did the same. He was, however, far from lonely

The mage found himself missing the company of Demitri once the other had been released after only a few days. In the time they did spend together, the two forged a bond tighter than before. Demitri seemed to find comfort in Logan, admitting many things whilst in the company of the mage that he otherwise would have kept to himself. Logan attempted to do the same, but Demitri shot him down once it was clear he was uncomfortable with sharing such personal details. He was, however, far from lonely once the animal handler had been allowed to go.

Almost daily, Logan would receive a visitor. Usually it would be Roman, who would drop by between his duties to ensure that his love was, in fact, healing alright. Each visit would end with Roman reiterating his promise to take Logan somewhere special as soon as he was able to leave; an earnest statement that had Logan’s cheeks show a light dusting of pink each time. Demitri returned often and was back to his normal, sarcastic self. The two argued playfully in between moments of sincerity and trust. It was comfortable and Logan found himself looking forward to his visits. Both Patton and Virgil were far less frequent at dropping by the infirmary, but no less welcome. They tended to appear together, as they were extremely busy with their obligations and duties. Logan did once attempt to convince them that they need not worry about him, but Patton simply waved it off with a smile. On the opposing side, Virgil responded by reminding Logan that he was worried about most things, so of course Logan would be on that list somewhere, no matter what state he was in. Logan had made no attempt since.

Logan was nearing the end of his time in the infirmary when Patton come by one evening, this time alone.

“Hello Logan. How are you feeling today?” Patton asked casually as he seated himself in one of the chairs that had been left around Logan’s bed as he received visitors so often.

“Good evening, your ma- Um, I mean, Patton. I finally feel as though the wounds have fully healed. The nurses informed me that I should be allowed to leave any day now.” Logan said plainly, shifting his back slightly as he spoke about it.

“That’s fantastic news!” The king beamed, “I actually wanted to speak to you about what we plan to do once you are released.”

That piqued Logan’s interest. Only Roman had mentioned taking him to do something once he was allowed out of the infirmary, but he couldn’t help thinking that Patton’s idea was going to be far more responsible than Roman’s.

“If you would like to, we are planning on taking a trip down to the not-a-dungeon dungeon with yourself and Demitri. We would like to show you what we’ve done for those who live there.” Patton’s usual easy-going demeanour had shifted, and he was instead serious and calm. Logan, for the first time in a while, could see the strength and commitment the king had without having to search for it underneath the bubbly exterior.

“Who would be joining us? If you wouldn’t mind giving specifics.” Logan questioned.

“As mentioned, we have planned to have both yourself and Demitri come along. I decided to ask you first, as I feel your answer will foreshadow Demitri’s own. I am also planning on asking Roman. It would do him well to see what I was talking about, as well as show him what some compromises look like.” The king’s shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly at the mention of compromises. The lines around his face almost seemed to deepen and his age was showing. Patton had been doing so much, whilst holding onto a sunny smile that allowed no one to truly know what was going on in his turmoiled mind. Logan almost reached out for him but thought better of it once Patton regained his composure.

“Virgil will be alongside us as the only guard. I would prefer to keep the secret between only a few select people, for safety purposes. I’m sure you understand that.”

Logan nodded, “Of course. I would be happy to join you. It will be… interesting, I’m sure.”

Patton’s arms twitched, as if he wanted to pull the mage into an embrace but was thinking better of it. “That’s fantastic! Do you know exactly when you will be discharged?”

“They said it will be either this evening or tomorrow morning.”

“Ah…” Patton’s face fell, and he put his weight against the back of the wooden chair as he seemed to get lost in thought. He muttered to himself quietly, his fingers tracing invisible lines. “We may have to postpone for a few days. My schedule, and subsequently Virgil’s, is extremely busy with meetings with visiting diplomats and the like. Sorry Logan.”

“It is quite alright. You have important tasks to handle. That is reasonable and should be accounted for. Relations are essential after all.” Logan said with a casual shrug,

“What is this talk of relations?”

Both men turned to the infirmary doors to see Roman heading towards Logan’s bed, a large bouquet of colourful flowers in hand. Upon reaching them, the prince leant forward and placed a kiss upon Logan’s forehead before busying himself with swapping out the flowers that sat in the vase beside the bed.

“We were just discussing taking a trip down to the not-a-dungeon dungeon.” Patton explained, loving smile growing as he took in the sweet gestures of his son and the reactions they were gaining from the typically stoic mage.

Roman made a questioning noise of acknowledgement, “So, you and Logan are going down there?”

Patton stood to address his son, “Yes, and I woul-”

“Let me come along.”

Roman had turned suddenly, hands still wrapped around the flower vase. His expression was determined, features hard, posture straight. He was clearly attempting to look as though he had power, or something akin to intimidation. The effect was broken once his father grinned wide and clapped a hand on the prince’s shoulder, causing the expression to falter.

“I was just going to ask you to come with us. Though, it will also be with Demitri and Virgil as well.”

“Oh… um, I-I didn’t know that, uh…”

“Anyway, I’m glad you both agreed to come along! It’ll be a wonderful opportunity for you both. I must be getting back to my duties.” Patton began to sweep out of the room with something that could have been described as gleeful grace, “I’ll send someone to find you both once I have the time to take the trip down with you. Goodbye!” Without so much as a pause, the door was shut behind the monarch and the couple were alone.

Roman turned and placed the vase back down onto the side table, “You’re feeling better?” He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, resting a hand atop one of Logan’s lightly, as if he were made of such brittle glass that Roman could break with too hard a touch.

The mage forced his eyes not to roll as he heard the same question that had come from the prince’s lips every single time he had come by for a visit. As each day passed, Logan had gotten steadily more and more frustrated with the question. Was it not obvious he was feeling better? He had agreed to join the king and others in a trip down into the depths of the castle, so of course he was feeling better! Logan realised he had to do something to finally get Roman to understand that he was, most definitely, feeling better.

As he was trying to think of an idea, Logan’s gaze caught on the prince’s lips. It was all downhill from there. Very little thought went into his actions as Logan, without a word, pulled his hand from Roman’s grasp. He gripped Roman’s shoulders in order to stabilize himself as he threw his body forward, crushing his lips against the royal’s own. Roman was far too surprised to stop the momentum of Logan’s body, which led to his back falling upon the mattress and Logan falling on top of him. Thankfully, both of them mentally caught up with what was happening before they landed and neither seemed as though they were unhappy with the situation they’d found themselves in, instead favouring to continue the passionate embrace.

Eventually, Logan reluctantly pushed himself up and off of Roman. He was slightly breathless as he spoke. “Did it finally get through to you that I am, indeed, feeling better?” Logan attempted to look put together, but his clothing and hair were ruffled from Roman’s wandering touch. Speaking of, said touch was wandering back along Logan’s side as the prince closed in on the mage.

“I believe it may have, but perhaps you should really make sure I’m truly convinced..” Roman muttered, his lips hovering mere inches from Logan’s, tempting the mage even more to return to their previous activities.

Logan was a man who prided himself on being able to avoid the temptation of all manner of vices. He could only list one thing that was able to tempt him before and that was one specific sweet treat. But then he’d gotten involved with this stupid, gorgeous, romantic, sweet brat of a royal. His list of vices promptly doubled immediately after that first kiss, and Logan was officially an addict with Roman being his chosen substance – a decision that the crown prince was more than happy with.

In order to get his next fix, Logan initiated another kiss, almost letting out an embarrassing noise as Roman returned it with enthusiasm. Both lost themselves in each other, forgetting that a world existed outside of themselves. They forgot so much that Logan put up no resistance as Roman slowly began revealing more of the mage’s pale skin.

“Your Highness. Please refrain from such acts with patients in my care.”

The stern voice had the couple splitting apart with sharp movements. Logan’s face quickly bloomed red and he turned his head away from the head nurse, leaving Roman to explain to her that his initial intention was far from inappropriate and that Logan had started it. It seemed as though the head nurse had no patience for the royal’s excuse as she quickly ushered him out of the room under the pretence of needing to evaluate Logan’s healed wounds.

“Honestly, you would think that his father would have raised him better. And you.” She turned her attention to Logan once the heavy doors of the infirmary had shut, “You should know better than to let such a harlot tempt you into such acts.”

Logan mumbled a few apologies, seeing as he had no excuses to rattle off. He followed the old woman’s instructions to the letter, allowing her to examine all she needed without prompting another rant from her. Despite her current nature, Logan knew she was overall a caring woman and had been working for the royals for years - Patton had let slip that she’d been the one to assist in both the princes’ births and so had seen them grow up. The idea that this familiarity was the only thing that allowed her to use such harsh language to talk about the crown prince crossed Logan’s mind before her voice addressed him again.

“Your back seems to have healed wonderfully. The scars are still there, but that is to be expected. I expect you to be careful in the coming days. Do not do anything strenuous for your back, just as a precaution.” She gave him a hard look that implied all sorts of things that Logan really did not want to hear from the old woman. Then a tiny smile grew, and she looked almost motherly, “You are free to go, Sir Pendry. I would like to see you in a week’s time, just to ensure everything is alright.”

The mage nodded and stood, finding his legs to be stiff from such little use. He thanked the head nurse and began gathering up his belongings. It wasn’t long before Logan realised he would have to make multiple trips to take everything back up to his tower. He sighed and stood up to full height, intending on turning to the old woman and informing her of his plan, but he wasn’t able to say a word.

“I heard what you called me! How dare you use such foul language to describe me?! I should have you thrown out for that!” Roman had been let back in by the head nurse, who was simply standing before the seemingly irate prince with an unreadable expression.

“By all means, your highness, do your best to get rid of me. See how long you last without my assistance.” She retorted.

Roman gaped at her before dramatically tossing his head with a sniff, “Fine. I suppose I’ll allow you to stay.” He stalked over to Logan and gathered up the things Logan was unable to fit into his arms, “Come, dear. I’ll escort you away from such a heathen of a woman.”

As the two exited, the head nurse called out, “It was lovely to see you, your highness. Do drop by to visit more often and tell your brother to do the same.”

The prince stopped dead. A beat passed before he turned on his heel and smiled at the old woman, “Of course. I’ll try my best. Goodbye, Felicity.” He then continued on his way, seemingly unaware of the odd nature of the interaction.

Logan had long since given up attempting to make sense of his significant other’s ability to act in any which way he desired. Instead, he focused on making it back to the safety of his tower.

Once there, Logan placed the books in arms upon one of the desks and stretched out his shoulders, “I haven’t had to carry so many at once in a long while. I had forgotten how heavy they are…” A pair of hands resting on his shoulders startled the mage slightly, before he remembered that Roman had accompanied him. Logan quickly relaxed as the prince’s hands massaged at his shoulders, tension he didn’t know he had disappearing in an instant.

“Feel free to reject my idea, but I would like to show you that sight I’ve been promising tonight. If you are willing, meet me at the stables at dusk.” Roman spoke low, still kneading Logan’s shoulders. “I hope to see you there, my love.” A light brush of the royal’s lips against the back of his neck had shivers running down Logan’s spine. Roman’s hands then left him and he left the tower.

For a moment, Logan mourned the loss of the prince’s secretly talented hands, but he soon managed to pull himself back together. He considered Roman’s proposition about meeting at dusk while he picked up the vase that had been brought back with him, the flowers still wonderfully fragrant and fresh. Logan wandered up the spiral stairs and placed the object on his sparse bedside table, his mind already finding his decision made. Of course Logan was going to go to the stables at dusk. What reason did he have not to?

---

Previous —— Next

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

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#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Logince #Logan Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Logic Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Morality Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Of Princes and Potions #Fantasy AU #Royal AU

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scyllaxcharybdis · 4 years

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AFK Arena Secrets of the Forest

This is the third experience in the Peaks of Time. It's additionally the subsequent that compensates an antiquity.

Each time you rout a foe in this experience a plant will develop in a set spot that will hinder your way.

This isn't generally a lot of an issue for the initial 3 money boxes, yet for the last one you may have the option to vanquish a specific measure of foes before it is forever closed off and you'll need to restart.

It's difficult to get the last fortune by vanquishing the entirety of the foes that are standing out.

So how would we get around this? You should be "Honored" by the woods, which will open up a concealed way to the relic.

You can get the gift by finishing the "Preliminary of the Forest", which is a foe group that you should vanquish.

Sounds simple, eh? Be that as it may, there's a trick; you need to win the battle with just Wilders saints.

NEW CHEESE STRAT TO DISABLE VINES

For reasons unknown, fighting the five adversaries underneath will for all time prevent any longer plants from developing on the guide. When you've vanquished the fifth foe, you can simply advance toward the chest without any problem.

Notwithstanding, some money boxes are bolted behind hedges, so you'll have to vanquish the wilders group to evacuate them on the off chance that you need to 100% the experience.

Credit to u/Mwar_ on Reddit for this.

THE ABYSSAL EXPEDITION RETURNS

Opened the occasion: The Abyssal Expedition. This occasion will be accessible from Local Time: 30/07/2020 14:00 (Test worker). Players may select for this occasion subsequent to finishing stage 15-40 of the crusade.

X4 BATTLE SPEED FUNCTION

The x4 Battle Speed work has been added to a wide range of fights. It very well may be opened subsequent to finishing Chapter 21 or arriving at VIP level 11.

ARENA OF TRIALS

The legend preliminary element has changed and is currently known as the "Arena of Trials" include. At whatever point another saint shows up in Esperia, the Arena of Trials' Bountiful Trials" occasion will likewise open up.

NEW VOYAGE ADVENTURE

Included the new Voyage of Wonders experience: Windfall Gorge, which will be accessible from Local Time:03/08/2020 07:00.

NEW WANDERING BALLOON ADVENTURE

Included the experience 'The Howling Wastes' to the 'Meandering Balloon' highlight, which can be opened in the wake of finishing Stage 21-50.

NEW CAMPAIGN CHAPTER

Included the new battle part – Chapter 36 – Dragon's Rest.

MISC

Expanded the odds of Emblem Choice Chests being created by The Roamer, found inside the Arcane Labyrinth subsequent to finishing Chapter 25.

Added a catch to the Oak Inn highlight, that permits players to choose and put different household items without a moment's delay.

Added a class channel to the legend and fight readiness interfaces.

Included a catch that permits players to sort out their Resonating Crystal legends by group or level.

GAME OPTIMIZATIONS

Advanced the intelligent experience of different game interfaces.

Advanced the how certain things are arranged inside the player's sack.

Deep EXPEDITION OPTIMIZATIONS

Included Honorable and Casual enlistment strategies to the Abyssal Expedition. Decent enlistment expects jewels to select, nonetheless, when a player arrives at a specific title during the occasion season, they will have the option to guarantee back up to twofold the measure of precious stones that they had initially spent. Easygoing enlistment is free, however players don't have the chance to guarantee the extra precious stone prize. Noteworthy and Casual enrollees will likewise not be coordinated with each other during the occasion.

The occasion has now been stretched out to 16 days, with the last 24 hours turning into a "Calm Tim which permits players to play ordinarily, nonetheless, because of the noxious impacts of the evil Zolrath, settlement assets and Stamina can't be produced during this time.

Balanced title rewards. Prizes will be affirmed with the beginning of each new season.

Included a "Worker Heroics" highlight. After the principal player on any worker has finished a predefined task, every single other player taking an interest in the Abyssal Expedition will be qualified to guarantee the compensation for this errand.

Included the Militia Damage Leaderboard and leaderboard reward. The main 100 Militias with the most noteworthy harm toward the finish of the occasion, which likewise meet the predetermined prize necessities will get an "Organization Statue" reward, that can be shown in their Guild Grounds.

Upgraded the manager reward rationale. Beside the supervisor "The Devourer", managing harm to different managers or overcoming followers will compensate players with Blessed Essence. Additionally, in the wake of overcoming managers, all Militia individuals will have the option to use that structure, yet it won't produce any assets.

Included another "Settle" highlight, which permits players to set up their own camp on empty tiles. On the off chance that the place to stay is straightforwardly associated with a supervisor's tile, the player will get an expansion 5% harm reward against that chief.

Included another element that permits tile directions to be partaken in visit.

Included Militia Leader and Militia Deputy positions to Militias. Local army Leaders can change Militia names and symbols and both Militia Leaders and Militia Deputies can utilize the Militia Marker work.

Included two new Gate Defenders: Satrana and Solise.

Improved Stamina space rules. In the event that a legend is expelled from a space due to being utilized as climb material, their comparing endurance will likewise now be evacuated.

More involved settlements inside the Forsaken Territories have been found.

Revamped all Blessed Relic Tank capacities.

Balanced the Blessed Relic Mage Ability "Focus".

Fixed an issue that was forestalling the mark things of a few foes inside specific settlements from being powerful, and balanced the trouble of specific settlements.

Expanded the assorted variety of adversaries.

Read more about AFK Arena Secrets of the Forest

#afk arena #secrets #forest #new version

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realm-of-dragons · 4 years

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Staff App - Yagi Toshinori

Played by Mod Gray

OOC:

Name: Gray

Age: 26

Preferred pronouns: She/her or they/them

Timezone: PST

Discord: bizarrebird#1697

Any topics you want added to the content warning list?: animal abuse

Second choice character?: Eijiro Kirishima

IC:

Name: Toshinori Yagi

Age: 105 (physically, closer to 60)

Gender ID / pronouns: Cismale, he/him

OTPs, BroTPs, or NoTPS?:

OTP - I primarily ship him with Aizawa

BroTP - With Midoriya of course, I would love them to have a familial relationship. That goes for most of the younger characters too, he’s very prone to adopting anyone who needs a decent parent.

NoTP - I would rather not ship him with any of the characters who are his students in canon and I’m a little hesitant to see him get involved with villain characters romantically.

Toshinori is gay and though he’s rather private about his personal life, he doesn’t make a secret of that. There is an endgame ship in mind for him with Shouta Aizawa, so he won’t be actively pursuing romance outside of that.

Race: Human

Appearance: Toshinori always resembles his skeletal, shrunken form as he does in canon. In his youth, he resembled his more well known All Might form, but after several injuries and magical procedures, he has been reduced to his smaller appearance at all times. His most notable features, apart from his overall nearly bone thing appearance, are his shadowed piercing blue eyes and his wild mane of blond hair.

Role: Toshinori is the ruler of the human kingdom. His reign has lasted nearly fifty years and he is loyal to his people to a fault. In his younger years, he was a great unifier of the scattered humans, bringing them together and was unanimously selected to lead them.

Skills:

Toshinori’s greatest skill is his ability to uplift and inspire those around him. He’s always been an excellent public speaker who could bring hope to those who needed it most.

In his younger years, he was a skilled warrior, never losing a fight once he put his mind to it. These skills have fallen away with his weakening from, but, if necessary, he can still hold his own.

He’s an excellent teacher and has trained many of the greatest heroes of the last several decades, who have gone on to do great things themselves.

Even with his weakened form, Toshinori is still much stronger than he looks and is capable of lifting most full grown adults over his head. He rarely demonstrates this ability, but it is useful in a pinch.

Backstory:

Humans are nothing. They’re scattered, lost, barely holding on. Liege lords lay claims to any land they desired, caring nothing for the smallfolk they force under their thumbs. Farmland is burnt when absurd taxes aren’t paid. Mercenaries terrorize towns barely strong enough to keep standing.

Toshinori’s home burns. He’s a child as he watches the embers take to the wind. His father leaves, seeking work and a doctor for his mother. The cough came with the fire, it takes her not long after. His father never returns.

It isn’t fair. It isn’t right. Someone must do something.

He’s not the only orphan left behind by the blazes that spread across the village. Taking to the woods, he learns to fish, tries (and fails and fails and fails) to hunt. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to keep the children fed, to tide the few parents left over for another day. It’s nearly a month before men in armor approach the town, demanding to know who has been hunting in the lord’s woods. Toshinori steps forward without a thought. The punishment for theft is death at the knight’s sword, life in service, or life in chains. He’s ten years old. Given a choice, he asks for a sword.

The weight is nearly too much for his hands, but he lifts it as the crowd gasps. He blocks one blow, then two, then the third sends the sword from his hands, skittering across the dirt. Starving, hands aching, he stands tall and waits for the blow to fall. It never comes. A new knight stands before him, calling for an end. Her voice rings out strong as she sends the lords’ men running, tails between their legs.

Nana Shimura offers her hand and Toshinori takes it.

They travel together. After a few years, the sword never feels too heavy in his hands. But it isn’t enough. Nana fights for justice, for the little people, but once she’s done, she moves onto the next town and the next. And every time, Toshinori fights to stay. There must be more they can do, there’s so much more that their people need. If the people were to come together, unite under a common banner, they could be so much more. All they need is a force to rally behind.

Toshinori doesn’t mean to become that force, to be a leader, but when he speaks, people begin to listen. When he tells them they can band together, they do. When he speaks of strength, they find it in themselves, more than they could ever know. When he speaks of a future, they start to see it too. But seeing it alone isn’t enough.

They need someone who can fight for it, and Toshinori does. He fights until his bones ache, until his fingers are scarred and bloody, until he can barely stay upright. And there are still more battles ahead. His hope has been given to so many and for a time, it nearly abandons him until Nana tells him of a legend. Whispers of a witch who could grant him the power he needs, not just to fight, but to stand firm, to be the symbol that the people need.

Searching through frost and fire, down to a forbidden cave, Toshinori finds not a witch, but a well. The promise of power and long life draw him in, the inscription assuring both, for those who are true of heart. So Toshinori drinks deep. It’s after his rousing speech, when blood creeps up his throat that he learns all magic comes with a price. But he remains strong, stands tall. If he can bring the people together, last long enough for them to be united under one peaceful banner, it will be enough.

His strength grows, as do the people rallying around him. The liege lords are forced out when even their strongest men turn tail and flee. One last white flag rises and Toshinori lifts his hand in victory. They’ve won. Blood fills his lungs and his muscles ache, but his smile remains as he waves and shakes every hand held his way.

From there, he steps down, or he means to. The people have been brought together, his job is done. But… things are never so easy. Meetings are held and Toshinori insists on a vote. It is for the people to choose who should lead them. He puts forth several names, some of his supporters, some who opposed him, all wise, earnest people worthy of following. Every last one of them votes for him instead. The people follow suit and Toshinori is crowned king of the new kingdom of Unifia.

For years, he reigns and peace is held. But the pain creeps. Day by day it grows. Still, his people need him, so Toshinori keeps his head held high. A little bit of unpleasant magic can’t hold him back.

The question rises now and then, who will follow after him once his reign is done? His advisers make casual comments, suggestions, perhaps it’s time you think about finding a wife, your highness. Toshinori lets his laugh echo through the halls as he gently turns their ideas aside. No, that is not what he wants.

His mind drifts now and then to a man with dark hair, shadows beneath his eyes, something altogether inhuman about his beauty. But Toshinori lets the moment pass. He’s no longer some young, eager adventurer, he is king, and flights of fantasy must be put aside.

The strength starts to leave him, slowly at first, but it isn’t long before others take notice. Toshinori does what he can, but he can no longer hide the blood that dots his hands with every hacking cough. A healer is brought in, then another then another. Some ease the pain, slow the blood, others bring it back tenfold. Finally, a young mage is summoned. He’s talented and powerful. A great bout of sickness strikes at once and Toshinori knows nothing for nearly a month.

When he awakes, the blood has slowed to a trickle, but the softness of his youth has abandoned him. His arms are thin, brittle, his face sunken and gaunt. It’s truly for the best he never sought out a wife, for who could stand to look upon him with love now. But he lives on, his legs still carrying him, his eyes still sharp, his voice still enough to reach his people.

It is only now that Toshinori knows what must be done. He needs a successor, one who can carry his people into the world he has given everything to build for them. And with the aid of the elven king and the newly established adventurer’s guild, he has just the place to begin his search.

Extras:

Toshinori took the throne when he was a little over 50 years old, but due to the magic of the well, he looked quite a bit younger even then. Now his true age is finally starting to catch up with him a bit.

The magic that gave him strength all those years ago has taken its toll and Toshinori finds himself feeling rather weak. The worst of his coughing fits have passed thanks to his healers, but from time to time, he still coughs up a bit of blood.

He has his eye on Izuku Midoriya to be his successor, how far their relationship has progressed will be discussed when Midoriya is picked up.

Writing sample:

The castle’s grand halls are empty and unnecessary. Toshinori has always thought they were far too much, far too grand. But the people insisted. His advisers insisted. A king must have a castle. If it were up to him, he would be content with a cottage in the woods, close to the central city, but far enough away that he could have his privacy. He loves the people, he always has, but even he needs a bit of time for himself now and then.

Especially now.

He flexes his fingers. The skin feels taut, drawn too tight, like it might begin to crack at any moment. Life is leaking out of him. Everyday a bit more springs free, slowly trailing away. Toshinori doesn’t guess at the number of days. It’s likely to be years still. That hardly matters. He hardly matters in the long run. It’s the kingdom, the people who must live on.

So he refocuses, attention going to the parchment laid out on the desk before him. More potential successors. He trusts his advisers, of course he does. But… they have different ideas about things, about what it means to be king. They mean well. Toshinori scans the ever growing list. “Strong candidates,” he says, almost gently. “You’ve brought me an excellent list. Thank you.”

His words are earnest, genuine. They always are. His advisers bow, mumbling platitudes as they make for the door. By now, they know that he prefers to examine the lists on his own. The door shuts behind them and Toshinori finally lets his shoulders slump. He brings a hand to his brow and lets out a slow breath. They all want him to have the gusto, the energy of his youth, but… it isn’t in him anymore. After so long, he’s started to wonder if it ever was.

Hand falling away, he turns his eyes back to the list. A frown slowly grows. The choices are clever, careful. His advisers have picked children… sons of prominent families. Any would bring their supporters rallying behind them. But none of them are right. Leaning back in his chair, Toshinori lets his eyes fall shut.

At once, he sees them, the jeering faces of the old lords, smells the ever present smoke. Sitting up sharply, he presses a hand to his mouth to stifle a cough. No blood lingers on his hand when he finally draws it away. That’s something at least. As he’s done again and again, he casts the list aside. None of them are right. If this kingdom is to go on, the choice must be his. He trusts his people, of course he does, but they’re young, they’re too optimistic. They haven’t seen the cruelness of people, they haven’t seen the power of hatred and greed. And perhaps that is his own fault.

He leans forward in his seat, grabbing a fresh piece of parchment. There is a decree to be made. A letter to be sent. It is time to bring the next generation of adventurers, of heroes , into the fold. One of them will be worthy, of that much, he is certain. He must be.

#bnha rp #my hero academia roleplay #mha rp #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #staff apps

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dokubara-blog · 5 years

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THERE is no doubt that mirajane is a prodigal talent when it comes to takeover magic. she’s truly exceptional among an already select group of people. for reference, mirajane is currently merged with six demon souls & three demon curse souls. for comparison, a master of takeover magic would be able to handle perhaps four souls of demon-level caliber.

HOWEVER - this difference in numbers is not due to a magical capacity discrepancy but rather self-preservation. it is far from unheard of for a takeover mage who bit off more than they can chew going berserk. elfman’s episode was tragically mild in comparison to a worst case scenario. so most takeover mages that live long enough to become masters, do so by practicing extreme caution.

MERGING your soul with another powerful entity is nothing to do casually - the effects are profound. it’s not simply something you can turn off when you’re done using it. the effects of takeover magic are constant, a fundamental change to your very soul.

MIRAJANE stands out in her ability to distinguish herself, her desires && thoughts from that of the demons that share her internal space &&& even she doesn’t do a perfect job at it. but its her remarkable resilience, her clear sense of self & deep connection to those she loves that ground her in a situation many others would have lost their minds in ages ago.

THE truth of the matter is rather simple - if mirajane, who’s power is a wild, malicious && clever thing, were to lose control it would be catastrophic. she regulates herself against destruction every time she uses magic, she knows how dire the consequences of her slipping up would be.

YOU may be asking yourself, if it was so dangerous, both to herself && to those surrounding her why would anyone in their right minds let a girl barely even twenty one years old bare such a burden. she had three demon souls, the amount it takes most mages upwards of twenty years to collect, by the time she was sixteen.

THE answer may surprise you. mirajane had no real way of knowing the full impact of what she was doing, she didn’t realize how abnormal it was for takeover mages to acquire so much in such little time. where she &&& her siblings grew up - magic was so rare & feared it was seen as evil. The only person she had in her life to teach her of magic was Makarov.

MAKAROV who knew how incredible a takeover mage could be, who met a twelve year old girl that had accidentally been able to bond with a demon soul. he encouraged her, taught her how to control the shift && pushed her to acquire new souls as well.

CARING not for the danger, but instead the potential of such a promising mage - in the early days Makarov was there for her day in &&& day out. helping her adjust to the changes her mind & body were enduring. he was excited for her && made her excited in turn. with two demon souls all but secured by fourteen, he sent mira to acquire her third. which is when things changed.

WHEN she obtains her Halphas soul - the momentous progress she’s shown in terms of control begins to crumble. it becomes the first time things truly begin to overwhelm mirajane && her fear only makes it that much worse. makarov attempts to help by having her practice more, hold the form longer, try to appease it with small desires, etc.

HOWEVER one particular incident changes their relationship forever. makarov, despite being there to witness her internal struggles, hadn’t fully grasped the severity of the situation. he knew she was having difficulties, that she was more aggressive, more violent - but these were just personality traits. she still retained a tenderness with her family, had moments of joy, of childlike excitement. he wasn’t afraid of her &&& pushed accordingly.

WHEN mirajane was fifteen - she attacked makarov. it’s an incident only makarov && gildarts are aware of. she was training, pushing herself for the upcoming s-class trial. the fierce competitiveness, the drive to win, to beat erza out for youngest s-class mage was so vicious for mirajane, that the demons were able to overwhelm her emotionally with it. makarov &&& gildarts were both able to sense the wild pulse of power that spread from mirajane losing control of her halphas form & rushed to see what was happening.

MAKAROV arrived first && unprepared as he was damn near lost an arm to mirajane before gildarts could pry her off of him. mira completely overwhelmed him, lost in her own blood lust makarov could barely fend her off without risking serious injury. it was gildarts who had to hold her until she was able to regain herself &&& he did not escape unscathed by her teeth, her claws & fire. there was a legitimate fear that passed through both men, as they waited with bated breath to see if they were going to be forced to kill a child to save a town.

MIRA did come back down to herself, with help from Gildarts while makarov stared on in a shocked horror. it was the first time makarov was confronted with the reality of the situation - the truth of what mira had been holding back. mirajane was forbidden from acquiring any new souls && makarov’s never really been able to look at her the same since.

BY this time, mira had already internalized a sense of responsibly for wandering demon souls. after her own life was distorted by coming across one left unattended - she was determined to do all she could to prevent anyone else from coming into the same fate. even if it meant her destruction.

disclaimer: this headcanon is specific to a verse arc I have developed with a few of the other rpers in the community. if you have any questions - feel free to reach out!

#❀ || a white rose with venomous thorns ( main )#✖ || headcanons #✖ || canon

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theonyxpath · 6 years

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Yes, I’d say the creation of the 2nd Edition of Scion has taken the most thought (and Thoth) of any of our projects to date.

From the years spent iterating the Storypath System that powers Scion, to the years and years we and the Scion community dissected and recombined the first edition rules and setting, to the extensive amount of care the writers and developer Neall Raemonn Price have put into improving first edition in every way they could.

Like the Netjer (Egyptian) pantheon pictured above, all the pantheons have been researched and re-researched and run past experts in the myths and cultures they represent. You don’t in any way need a doctorate to use and enjoy them in your game, but now they more accurately reflect our current understanding of the gods and their cohorts.

Neall goes into this in his interview with Eddy and Dixie on last Friday’s Onyx Pathcast, and it is well worth your time to check it out if you’re a Scion fan. He goes into his thinking on Scion, as well as some of the often torturous steps we have had to take to get the first two game books created. If you’re not a Scion fan, he also reveals how Beckett’s Jyhad Diary was developed and written, and so basically, it’s a great overview of how RPG books are created.

You can check it out on your favorite podcast venue or directly on PodBean here: https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

This Friday on the Onyx Pathcast, the Wraith Curse rears its ugly head, and the gang have to recreate an entire episode where they only mention Wraith in discussing TTRPGs and how they affect our non-game lives. Listen in to find out how the Wraith Curse manifests this time!

Dragon-Blooded art by Yiyoung Li

Now for myself, I too have thought a lot about Scion. From green-lighting the first edition and realizing that without something wahoo going on, the sales distribution system was going to under-order Scion: Hero, (“We need new games to sell!” “Here’s a new one we made.” “Wah? It’s new and has no sales history, how can we order that?”), to getting a copy of the book put into every retailer bag at that year’s GAMA trade show. Retailers who then ordered the game in such amounts that we had to do a second print pretty much before the book hit stores!

I’ve thought a lot about the dedication of the Scion community during the (very) lean years when almost nothing new came out, yet WW‘s old Scion forums were still getting more posts than entire other gaming websites. I read your posts you magnificent bastards, and incorporated that thinking into what we needed to do to elevate Scion for second edition.

I’ve ground my teeth in frustration during the time Storypath was iterating and while Scion: Origin and Scion: Hero have been incubating, and thought long and hard about the iterations and improvements that slowed things down. Were they worth it?

Well, the answer is yes, as far as I can see. Storypath is the simple base 10-sided pool system that can be expanded depending on your table’s interest in more shared storytelling that I hoped for. It is so flexible that we can add tweaks to it to emulate a post-apocalyptic scarcity game with zombies in Dystopia Rising: Evolution, and reflexive and meta humor mechanics in They Came From Beneath the Sea!.

And it enables play from man on the street to god levels of power for Scion and the Trinity Continuum.

VtR2 Guide to the Night art by Sam Araya

Scion has a built-in setting now, with the World, yet it is so designed that you can pull back on that and keep the god stuff hidden, or dial it to 11 and make the presence of the gods even more impactful on our normal world. I thought about whether adding the World was the right way to go – and had probably far more discussions with Neall than he wanted to have about it – but in the end, I think the default setting combined with the very easy options to alter that if you so choose hits the right spot.

It’s there and it’s rich and deep with history, but still open enough that your characters matter. Which is a big part of Scion, as I see it.

And one more thing that I’ve thought about A LOT, and have mentioned before, is that to me Scion is just getting started. The 4 book core of Origin, Hero, Demigod, and God is really the central spine of the possible ways Scion can be played. There’s the “Children of the Gods in Modern Times” that defines that spine, and we can provide a lot more projects that help build on that. We already have the Companion, Jumpstart, Ready Made Characters, and Bestiary being worked on.

But let’s change that to “Children of ____ in Modern Times”, or “Children of the Gods in _____ Times”, and we open up a huge range of possibilities if we start filling in those blanks!

Whew! I get pretty fired up thinking about all that.

Now, on to the Notes from our Monday Meeting today! We talked about:

1- We are all over the place online right now! It’s great! On this Tuesday night at 6pm Pacific US time, Pugmire: Homeward Bound begins on the Saving Throw Show Twitch channel. Here’s the intro video (it is amazing and beautiful!): youtu.be/qMpNHXjbZK8

And the link to their Twitch channel: twitch.tv/savingthrowshow

2- I did a wee little interview that surprisingly covered all sorts of Onyx Path and classic White Wolf stories and yet did not go into my love of pudding. Why is that surprising? Because the podcast interview was for Everybody Loves Pudding, and I was lured into this because I thought I’d be able to expound on the virtues and wonders of pudding. But, even without the pudding, it’s a pretty good chat – the guys were very on target with the questions. Not sure if you can say the same about my answers, but judge for yourself: http://www.everybodylovespudding.com/podcast/season-1-episode-22/

3- Eddy Webb is flying up to my neck of the woods and we’ll be going together to Save Against Fear, the convention that benefits the Bodhana Group, whose mission is to use tabletop gaming in their therapeutic efforts. Links are below in the Convention News section of The Blurbs, but we recently added that I’ll be there on Saturday signing Magic Cards and working on some artist proof sketches. So if you are near there and want your cards signed and to help a great group – come on by and meet me and Eddy!

4- On a related topic, Monica Valentinelli is working with Extra Life on a fundraiser where she’s playing D&D5e to help sick kids. Onyx Path has donated Scarred Lands PDF rewards at various levels of contribution, so here’s your chance to help a super cause and dig into Scarred Lands! https://www.extra-life.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.participant&participantID=326323

M20 Gods and Monsters art by Claudio Pozas

5- If you missed the Prince’s Gambit casual Vampire card game by Justin Achilli Kickstarter campaign, we have copies of the card set available to buy from Studio2 and your local retailer, see below, and the basic set and booster pack will go on sale on Wednesday from DriveThru. The retail card set is all the cards from the Kickstarter in one box, and the DriveThru cards take all the cards and divide them into a basic set, and then the added cards from the KS in a booster pack. And, because we are asked this, Prince’s Gambit is a different type of game than VTES, it is not VTES, was not intended to replace VTES, and lots of us here are VTES fans and glad that new VTES cards are being made.

6- Finally, we have a fantastic sale going on at IPR for our Deluxe and Prestige books from our Kickstarter print-run overruns! Half off until the end of October, it’s our HalfoWeen Sale! The Mummy: The Curse Prestige Editions have sold out as of this writing, which means there are no more of them available for sale anywhere in the world! (Except EBAY, I’m sure. But other than that…)

I’m not finding a clever way to lead in to out tag-line this time, no wait, I just did. Damn:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

Lo the darkness that lies like a pall over Chicago. The V5 Chicago By Night Kickstarter arises in October!

We’re also working on the Kickstarter for They Came From Beneath the Sea! (TCFBtS!), which has some very different additions to the Storypath mechanics we’ll be explaining during the KS. They take an excellent 50’s action and investigation genre game and turn it to 11!

ELECTRONIC GAMING:

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

Here are the links for the Apple and Android versions:

http://theappstore.site/app/1296692067/onyx-dice

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.onyxpathpublishing.onyxdice&hl=en

Three different screenshots, above.

And our latest, the dice for Werewolf: The Forsaken 2e:

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

Vampire: The Masquerade: The Endless Ages Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Rites of Renown: When Will You Rage II (Kindle, Nook)

Mage: The Ascension: Truth Beyond Paradox (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: The God-Machine Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Mummy: The Curse: Curse of the Blue Nile (Kindle, Nook)

Beast: The Primordial: The Primordial Feast Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Masquerade: Of Predators and Prey: The Hunters Hunted II Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: The Poison Tree (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Songs of the Sun and Moon: Tales of the Changing Breeds (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Requiem: The Strix Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Forsaken: The Idigam Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Mage: The Awakening: The Fallen World Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Masquerade: The Beast Within Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: W20 Cookbook (Kindle, Nook)

Exalted: Tales from the Age of Sorrows (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: Tales of the Dark Eras (Kindle, Nook)

Promethean: The Created: The Firestorm Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Demon: The Descent: Demon: Interface (Kindle, Nook)

Scarred Lands: Death in the Walled Warren (Kindle, Nook)

V20 Dark Ages: Cainite Conspiracies (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: Strangeness in the Proportion (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Requiem: Silent Knife (Kindle, Nook)

Mummy: The Curse: Dawn of Heresies (Kindle, Nook)

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there!

https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

And we’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://theonyxpath.com/press-release-onyx-path-limited-editions-now-available-through-indie-press-revolution/

And you can now order Pugmire: the book, the screen, and the dice! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

The Prince’s Gambit basic card set and the added cards from the PG Kickstarter booster pack will both be available on DriveThru this Wednesday!

CONVENTIONS!

From Fast Eddy Webb, we have these:

Eddy will also be a featured guest (and RichT will be there at some point, too) at Save Against Fear (October 12-14) in Harrisburg, PA. He’ll be running some Pugmire games, be available for autographs, and will sometimes accept free drinks. http://www.thebodhanagroup.org/about-the-convention

Dixie Cochran will be at High Level Games Con in Atlantic City October 12-14, running a Women in Game Design panel, Eddy’s RPG Developer Bootcamp, and possibly making a surprise appearance at another event!

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Tales of Excellent Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Scion Ready Made Characters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion Jumpstart (Scion 2nd Edition)

Geist2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Memento Mori: the GtSE 2e Companion (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Redlines

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Second Draft

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Development

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Night Horrors: Shunned by the Moon (Werewolf: The Forsaken 2nd Edition)

Adventures for Curious Cats (Monarchies of Mau)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

In Media Res (Trinity Continuum: Core)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Wr20 Book of Oblivion (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

V5 Chicago By Night (Vampire: The Masquerade)

Manuscript Approval:

Aeon Aexpansion (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

C20 Players’ Guide (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Editing:

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Post-Editing Development:

Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)

They Came From Beneath the Sea! Rulebook (TCFBtS!)

Dog and Cat Ready Made Characters (Monarchies of Mau) (With Eddy)

Changeling: The Lost 2nd Jumpstart (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

Indexing:

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Dystopia Rising: Evolution

M20: Gods and Monsters – AD’d and Contracted.

Geist 2e

The Realm

Trinity Continuum (Aeon and Core) – Tracking down Core finals and going over Aeon Sketches.

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Chicago By Night – KS art finals in.

Pugmire Roll of Good Dogs and Cats

C20 Player’s Guide

Aeon Aexpansion

They Came From Beneath the Sea! – Got KS artnotes out.

Marketing Stuff

In Layout

Trinity Core – Working on symbols this week.

Trinity Aeon – Fancying up my Opnet images.

Ex3 Dragon Blooded

Proofing

Scion Hero – Inputting Neal’s 2nd proof changes.

PTC: Night Horrors: The Tormented – KT has Steffie’s corrections in.

Scion Origin – Doing Neall’s errata changes, and swapping out the font.

VtR: Guide to the Night – Danielle is getting me her p.xx stuff on Monday and I’ll be wrapping this one up for approval by WW shortly thereafter.

Fetch Quest – Package design done

At Press

Monarchies of Mau and Screen – At Studio2. Dice and buttons getting ready to ship to Studio2.

Cavaliers of Mars – Backer copies all shipped out.

Wraith 20th – Printing the Deluxe interior, proofing cover.

Wraith 20 Screen – Printing.

Scion Dice – At Studio2.

Cav Talent cards – PoD proof coming.

Lost 2e Screen – Prepping files.

Scion Screen – Prepping files.

Prince’s Gambit core deck and booster PoD – On sale at DriveThru on Wednesday!

Changeling: The Lost 2e – Prepping files for printer.

TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: OK, celebrate this one or don’t as you see fit. I know a lot of my South Philly buddies do and will. All I know is today I didn’t get my new fancy brush recommended by Jeff Miracola today because no mail on the Monday holiday. And the last kid has off from school, so I get to hear him shouting at his friends as they multi-play a shooter. Some holiday.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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thatboomerkid · 6 years

Text

A User’s Guide to the Abhorrent Heavens

A User’s Guide to the Abhorrent Heavens -- An Essay for Bloodlines & Black Magic

“The key difference between any one of the Abhorrent Heavens and the very foulest churning pit of the deep Infernal is subtle but distinct: within an Abhorrent Heaven, one person is having a wonderful time. These grotesque realms, home to souls perfectly selected by their mistress for obsession and malice, are obscene in the extreme. On the surface, some of these blood-splattered abattoirs may appear as 1950s suburbs or modern-era cities, but all merely hide the hunger of a psychotic spree-killer finally unleashed from all consideration of consequences.”

-- Bloodlines & Black Magic, pg. 204

Your players don’t stand a chance against the Grand Archons.

Not directly, anyway.

After all, the Invisible Masters of Heaven & Earth have been putting down titans, would-be messiahs, world-shaking Goetic monstrosities, rebellious Bloodlines, sorcerous god-kings, charismatic serpent-cults & upstart wizards since before time had a name ... or so they say.

In most cases, of course, the Grand Archons don’t even have to respond to a threat directly: the exact moment when someone dumb starts making enough noise that rumors of the Invisible World begin reaching mundane ears, Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights simply opens a gateway from our reality into one of her many Abhorrent Heavens & lets-loose one of her grateful, loyal servants to play dirty for a little while.

What happens next is, simply put, utterly unspeakable.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

Additional content contributed by Blaine Bass of ScrapFinder and by Sam Berry; hugest of thanks to the Broken Token for editing assistance

photography by Boomer; digital editing by Tim Jenkins of Battle! Studio

SO ...

Maybe you’re starting a brand new Bloodlines & Black Magic campaign from scratch, and you’re looking for a unique way to kick things off with a real bang.

Maybe you’ve just ended a long, complex story-arc a little bit early, without all of the mysteries completely solved; maybe you can’t quite jump into the next chapter of your narrative until the PCs achieve a certain slightly higher level or meet a specific NPC or learn a particular secret; maybe only half of your players showed up to this session and you need a quick “filler” episode.

Maybe your PCs befriended & adopted the Godzilla, shunted the Terminator to the Deepest Astral, had the Voldemort removed from public office in perp-walked, handcuffed & humiliating disgrace or otherwise drove your campaign’s entire plot-arc so far off the frigging rails that you suddenly find yourself needing a few extra weeks to re-orient your entire game from first principles.

Whatever the reason, you require a brand new plot hook on the fly, and – simply due to the setting-assumptions of the Bloodlines & Black Magic universe! – a classic sword-&-sorcery fantasy plotline like “goblins attack the village” or “the princess is secretly a werewolf” or “foolish local knights go questing for the Vast Horror” simply won’t cut it.

No sweat, friend. We’ve got you covered.

In such an instance, the creaking & blood-spattered gates of the Abhorrent Heavens swinging wide into our own realm should provide more than ample fuel for your dark, strange fire.

original image from here

Plot Hooks (Pick from the list below, or Roll 1d10):

The PCs show up to a meeting with an important contact (or group of contacts) only to discover that everyone is dead or missing. Should any word of this discovery be made public, of course, the PCs are the most obvious suspects for mundane law-enforcement agencies to pursue. As their quick & panicked investigation unfolds, it becomes clear to the PCs that this was an extermination ordered by the Seven of Secret Names ... and that whatever was unleashed from an Abhorrent Heaven is now on their trail, looking to complete its mysterious mission and to have itself some slick red fun while doing so.

An old mentor of a PC is requesting help & offering sky-high payment: something is after him, and it’s rapidly chewing through every emergency defense he’s built-up over the last few decades. Upon closer examination, however, it becomes clear to the PCs that what’s after this particular occultist isn’t just a pissed-off Goetic spirit or some random undead manifestation: it’s a creature of the Abhorrent Heavens, released directly by the Archons to mete out justice in their name. Do the PCs continue to intervene, and risk angering the Grand Sisters directly?

The PCs are contacted obliquely by Jackie Ipanema (see below) or by another favored servant of the Archons who spends a lot of time outside of his Abhorrent Heaven on “real world clean-up”; this contact is polite & non-threatening in the extreme. This potent soldier of the Grand Archons needs a small favor: he maintains multiple false identities in the real world, and several of these identities have been invited (for mysterious reasons) to attend the same fancy dinner party at a secluded woodland mansion at the same time; of course, this is probably a trap. Can the PCs take on these roles & solve the mystery?

A bit of casual, routine investigation into an old “haunted house” in a remote farming community with a vaguely sinister reputation reveals the existence of a poorly-locked and seemingly unguarded portal sitting in the attic, marked only with some eerie chalk-lines. This hole in space-time leads directly into a previously unknown Abhorrent Heaven, full of thousands of fearful damned who are preyed-upon by a mysterious figure of terrifying power ... one who has (apparently) been used very quietly by the Seven of Secret Names on rare occasions to take out major targets. Do the PCs dare to explore this realm? Seal it & guard it? Profit from it?

The estate-sale of a wealthy & enigmatic amateur-dabbler in the dark arts turns up a “Dantean Codex”: a log-book detailing various entrances into an assortment of Abhorrent Heavens scattered across the US & Europe. 90% of the book is useless gibberish, of course ... but the parts that are real are literally invaluable: the sort of things that powerful Lineages kill & die for, or that make legends out of dilettantes. Problem is, the text ALSO represents the most deeply forbidden kind of occult knowledge; mere knowledge of its existence is punishable by death at the hands of the Archons & their servants. Where do you even hide such information?

An enterprising & clever young crew of magicians are playing with hell-fire itself: aping the legendary power inherent to the Invisible City of the Tianlong Dynasty -- Bloodlines & Black Magic, pg. 53 -- they’ve cracked their way into an Abhorrent Heaven with multiple exits back into the real world, and are using this otherworldly realm as a “secret level” to allow for quick, untraceable transportation between cities & across the globe. Every trip risks attracting the attention of the realm’s dark master ... and when these boys get caught, things are going to get very ugly very fast. Can the PCs shut down this mad plan?

The death of a famous & well-loved occultist reveals, hidden amongst the notes in his possession, that he was a MAJOR contact for the Archons: selling out other magicians for personal gain, setting up his friends & his enemies alike to be taken out by their purges, and often profiting directly from executions performed in the name of the Archons, all in the hopes that he would -- in death -- finally be granted the playground of his own Abhorrent Heaven in recompense. Worse, he names a close & trusted ally of the PCs as his longtime accomplice (or even mentor) in these double-deals. Who can the PCs trust?

The PCs are contacted by a powerful, underground circle of mages who think they have a real shot at taking-out one particularly nasty servant of the Archons, potentially crippling it -- like the famed Revered was pulled-down a peg -- or even killing it outright. If the PCs can bait the thing into a particular emotionally-significant, magically-potent location at a particular numerologically-consequential time -- and with all of the attendant esoteric magical formulae properly in-place to secure a full-on Occult Connection with the ritual casters -- then the PCs will have a front-row seat to watch something nearly unknown to modern arcanists, along with an exclusive invite to join the crème de la crème of international occult society. Of course, they’ll have to survive the fight ... and it might all be a trap laid by Nannareal, the Grand Archon of Secrets and Whispers.

An urgent call from an old friend of one of the PCs sends them down a dark alley with their associate in a strangely familiar location. Their sense of eerie déjà vu grows as they round a corner ... only to watch as a horrid creature lashes-out of the darkness and butchers their friend before their eyes, then vanishes into the night. Familiarity shattered, the PCs find themselves in an ever-shifting Abhorrent Heaven drawn from their own memories, locked into a game of cat-and-mouse that has gone on for centuries. When the PCs finally track down the monster and avenge their buddy, their sense of foreboding grows: this creature was not the master of any Abhorrent Heaven, merely a trapped plaything like themselves; soon after, another supernaturally-gifted foe is lured into the concrete jungle to start the hunt again. There’s a way out, of course ... but the voyeuristic occupant of this Abhorrent Heaven, a stalker obsessed with the vicarious thrill of predators & prey making war, isn’t talking.

Rumors start popping up -- with increasing & frightening regularity, and an uncanny level of detail -- about an ancient artifact resurfacing: a lost blade of Goetic Titan-craft that serves as a bane weapon against any creature tied to an Abhorrent Heaven. While the Archons & their servants scramble to kill-off anyone with anything resembling proof of this blade’s existence, the PCs are contacted by an old associate who claims to have located the thing ... as he requests extraction from a war-zone.

Uncountable Abhorrent Heavens ... and their Occupants

No one knows exactly how many Abhorrent Heavens there really are.

Or, more accurately, Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights knows ... but she’s not talking.

Or, more accurately still, Yasazziel is talking all the damn time. It’s just that nobody can quite tell what she actually means by whatever she says.

In any instance, there are innumerable Abhorrent Heavens -- glittering like dark jewels, smoking with thin coils of screams & ghost-iron -- tucked away into obscure corners of the Celestial Realm, forever waiting to be opened-up whenever it amuses Yasazziel to unwrap & caress them.

Each one is sort of halfway between a prized Pokemon & a reverse Darklord of Ravenloft: each occupant is an utterly unique dick-in-a-box, sure ... but they love every minute of it, "bound" to their realm only so much as is required to keep them equal-parts amused & dangerous, all so that they can be taken out to straight-up murder people whenever their mistress desires.

Below are two of them.

Jackie: a Signature Soul of an Abhorrent Heaven

So ... you need a unique & scary monster, the sort of creature that Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights would happily uncage & send after a troublemaker? Jackie Ipanema can, with only slight alteration, be used to fill exactly that role ... in much the same way that Canio de Pogo, Happy Muurvaerid and Khakissandra Ayla, the Foul Wish Granted can -- in a pinch! -- serve as interesting quick-&-dirty Goetic monsters.

image from here

Within the Bloodlines & Black Magic setting, Jackie’s ties to Zon-Kuthon are placed with service to Yasazziel the Grand Archon of Glittering Things & Earthly Delights.

ODDITIES:

If a character’s Threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or the power) of Jackie Ipanema, she may gain one of the following Oddities (roll 1d10):

You can never again “spark” an object: you can’t turn on a stove or start a microwave, lighters that you try to use fail to ignite, cars you try to start won’t turn over, flicking a light-switch produces no effect, you can’t get a cellphone to turn on by pressing the button, and bullets or cartridges don’t go off when you squeeze the trigger on a firearm. You add quench as a 1st-level spell known to any one spell-list you possess; use of this special spell also extinguishes light bulbs, flashlights, chemical light-sticks and other simple, cheap devices that heat up, produce illumination and that can “burn out”. Use of this spell does not affect cars, cellphones, computers or other more complex electrical objects (such as firearms) used by opponents.

Your appearance becomes subtly creepy, and you remind everyone you meet of a dead person (either a specific dead person they have seen or a generic corpse, as appropriate). This affects your look, your voice, your scent and even the non-verbal sounds and movements you make; you suffer a penalty equal to twice your hit dice on all Charisma-based skill checks & ability checks except Intimidate. Once per day, you may choose, as a free action, to activate the Unnerving Gaze ability of an evangelist kyton, Will save negates (DC 10 + 1/2 your hit dice + your Charisma modifier); this ability last for 10 minutes or until you voluntarily end the effect as another free action.

You add bullet shield as a 1st-level spell known to any one spell-list you possess. This special spell may only be cast while you are in an area of dim or lower lighting, and a spell effect created by you in this way is suppressed -- as if in the area of an antimagic field -- while you or the target of the spell are in any area of normal or brighter light.

While in an area of dim or lower lighting, you are always considered to have a running start when jumping; you also add your character level (max +7) as a bonus on all Acrobatics checks to jump. You are fatigued while in an area of bright light and exhausted while in direct sunlight.

You gain light blindness. In addition, once per day as a free action you may choose to see through mist and fog (including fog cloud and similar magic) as if they did not exist. In areas of moderate or stronger wind, while this ability is in effect, you can also see as if you were standing at both your own position and a position a number of feet in the wind’s direction equal to the wind’s speed in miles per hour, potentially allowing you to see around corners and other obstacles. This ability lasts for 10 minutes or until you voluntarily end the effect as another free action.

As long as you are humming the song Girl From Ipanema to yourself (which applies a -10 penalty to all Stealth checks based on sound), you are immune to fear and to non-lethal damage.

You can never again “spark” an object, as per the first result above. While in an area of dim or lower lighting, you gain full use of Exotic Weapon Proficiency: spiked chain and Weapon Finesse. If you normally possess either of these abilities, you instead gain one of the following for each feat that you already possess: Improved Initiative, Lunge, Power Attack. You gain these abilities even if you do not otherwise meet the prerequisites.

While in an area of dim or lower lighting, you gain damage reduction 5/silver or good and immunity to cold. You gain vulnerability to fire while in an area of bright light and are nauseated while in direct sunlight.

You gain an overwhelming scent of rust and old metal; all opponents within 30 feet may freely detect you purely by sense of smell. If you are upwind, the range increases to 60 feet; if downwind, it drops to 15 feet. Your exact location is not revealed, only your presence within range and the general direction toward you. When you are within 5 feet of any creature with a sense of smell, that creature automatically pinpoints your location even if otherwise blinded to you. You may also be tracked by your smell: any creature may attempt to follow from where you have been by making a Wisdom (or Survival) check to trace your movements and current whereabouts, even if you possess the trackless step ability. The typical DC for smelling you out is 10; this DC increases by 2 for each hour since you departed the area. This otherwise follows the rules for the Survival skill. At will as a standard action, while you are in an area of dim or lower lighting and are not wearing any other armor, you may cause wickedly-hooked, barbed & razor-edged chains to sprout from your body, providing a +4 armor bonus. These otherworldly chains are not treated as armor for the purpose of spell failure, armor check penalties, maximum Dexterity, weight, or proficiency. These chains persist for ten minutes or until you voluntarily end the effect as a free action. If you already possess a strong scent, such as because you possess the third Oddity result from the Reverend of Razored Witch-Pyres, re-roll.

Roll 1d8+1 twice, keeping both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

Mr. Liu, the Cryptic Policeman, Secret Saint of Hong Kong (CR 13)

Those who speak with Mr. Liu on the telephone -- or correspond with the “man” via text or email -- universally find him charming, disarming and erudite in the extreme, with a remarkable wit; he has a refined British accent, exceptional knowledge of Chinese history, and he is obviously a highly-educated & well-traveled man: most likely from a fantastically-wealthy family of lawyers, college professors, international investors and physicians.

He often goes by Peter, Peyton or Penley; he comes off as a librarian, scholar or antiquarian ... although those who correspond with him quite frequently often begin to suspect that Mr. Liu might actually work for some type of clandestine, highly-discreet governmental organization.

That suspicion is partially correct.

Amongst those in-the-know, the Cryptic Policeman is a terrifying urban legend: the sort of ghostly creature who makes high-ranking members of the Tianlong Dynasty whisper a quick prayer & glance nervously over their shoulder.

Mr. Liu, the Cryptic Policeman, Secret Saint of Hong Kong, The No-Shadow Dragon, has never been seen. He is, in fact, invisible … save for a wide, toothy grin and the occasional flash of a bladed finger slipping through shrieking flesh. Despite this, Mr. Liu desires notoriety more than anything: he lusts for the perfection of his brutal art, wanting to be sought and never found, craving -- above all else! -- a eternal, profane and inverted game of cat and mouse: his Abhorrent Heaven is a bloody & endless game of hide-and-seek in the deep city, where he slays his pursuers and taunts the yet-unslain with riddles, poetry, bizarre word-puzzles and coded messages.

His identity is well known: he is considered one of the earliest recorded serial killers. In the 2nd century BC, there was a dragon-blooded Han prince, Liu Pengli, who ruled a small region in what would eventually become China. He was bloodthirsty and cruel, and led hunting parties made up of slaves and fugitives. At first they would kill indiscriminately, robbing and slaughtering the innocent and defenseless. After a time, though, Liu used these expeditions as opportunities to isolate and murder the strongest and most clever among his own men: he used misdirection & trickery to blame the deaths on the innocent and further the bloodshed. Eventually, he gained a taste for those with occult power in their blood, and targeted them specifically ... no longer killing the innocent, but instead hunting criminals, cultists, demon-summoners and rival murders, bringing a dark order to his province with his own hands.

While he wanted to get away with his crimes, Liu Pengli also wanted someone -- anyone, everyone -- to know how clever he was: how perfect a predator he had become. He had over 100 known victims, and far more unknown; soon, Liu Pengli began to announce the deaths of criminals & witches with messengers in every town, making known their deaths and his art ... even if he couldn't receive full credit for his lethal ingenuity. Eventually, this hunter of humans & magicians alike was brought before the Emperor, and he voluntarily stood for justice.

The Emperor, being his uncle, could not bring himself to execute the prince; thus, he reduced Liu Pengli in status, making him equal with those whom he had hunted & slain: Liu Pengli was stripped of his rank & title, made into a commoner, a no-one. The emperor exiled his nephew after making him anonymous, and sent him out of the kingdom to become a stranger in strange lands.

Liu Pengli couldn't help but smile.

It isn't known precisely when Liu Pengli actually died, nor how many he killed after being banished, but what is known is that before the 3rd century, he had been granted an Abhorrent Heaven of his own. Ever since, the occasional brutal murder of some poor bloke with a Bloodline is attributed to him, especially if a coded message is left behind.

Only two instances of prolonged activity are confirmed:

In London in the late 1800s, a powerful coven which owed fealty to the Goetic spirit of lust, Asmodeus, was all-but-openly active: conducting the dark rites of their cult under the thin guise of prostitution. The exact goals of their rituals are uncertain, but most likely these practitioners sought to magnify the influence of their patron-spirit in the material world, or to somehow otherwise threaten the power of the Archons ... because in 1888, the Cryptic Policeman was released from his Abhorrent Heaven to stalk & slay the Infernal-blooded priestesses. For three years the Policeman shadowed the five priestesses of Asmodeus's inner pentacle, with brief skirmishes slowed only by wards and fetishes which made it clear that the priestesses knew what hunted them. They attempted to replace lost members and complete the ritual, but failed ... as, one by one, they were hunted down, killed and mutilated in brutal fashion: sending a clear message from the Archons to those in the Secret World; lust is not to be flaunted. Mundane law enforcement never discovered evidence of the true killer, though the Cryptic taunted them through letters, using coded phrases and metaphor designed to communicate with the Invisible through the press, hinting that he was 'from hell'. The police never decoded the cipher, though those steeped in the occult could see it plain as day. He wanted to be unseen in his art, but credited for his achievement. Once his task was accomplished, the Archons spirited him back to his boundless cage.

Later, the Cryptic Policeman would be deployed again, loosed for nearly ten years at the very edge of the New World. From the late 1960s to the early 1970s, on the American West Coast, for unknown reasons the Fey bloodline began passing through love: granting power both to those born with the blood, and to those beloved by the blood. This allowed the power & influence of several new-born Lineages to grow rapidly, and threatened to destabilize the balance of power within the region. While most of these Fey-Blooded had no knowledge of their own power, or the significance of their acts, the Archons do not judge slights by intent. The Cryptic Policeman was released, and again stalked his prey methodically -- often for months -- waiting until he was certain that they had the potential to pass their power, and then brutally murdering both once the power was passed. Ever the artist, the Cryptic again taunted law enforcement with letters, this time encoded in a clear cypher. Once the code was cracked, he had the captive audience he sought: most watching the papers in horror, some in awe as he practiced his visceral art. Once the Fey outbreak was contained, his performance was cut short: with an unseen & shadow-less bow, Liu Pengli was again dragged back into his brutal paradise.

image from here

The Cryptic Policeman is a lawful evil invisible stalker (CR 7) with the Half Dragon template (+2 CR), the Gunsmoke-Blessed Creature template (+1 CR) [see Bloodline & Black Magic, pg. 161], the War Machine template (+3 CR) and the Lifespark Construct template (+1 CR).

Because the Cryptic Policeman possesses the Lifespark Construct template, his Intelligence is not reduced by the application of the War Machine template.

Whenever the Cryptic Policeman deals damage to a living creature with any of his natural melee attacks, his wide & toothy smile very briefly becomes visible. This does not negate his bonuses to Stealth from invisibility, as his eerie smile is disconnected from his body: often appearing two to three feet away from the Cryptic Policeman’s actual face, as per a combination of blink & displacement.

The Cryptic Policeman may choose to suppress his natural invisibility & is in possession of a greater hat of disguise; he may choose to appear as a normal human whenever he desires.

Using the Cryptic Policeman:

If a character's threshold increases to an odd number from direct exposure to the presence (or power) of the Cryptic Policeman, she may gain one of the following oddities (roll 1d8)

You begin compulsively smiling whenever you deal damage that sheds blood. You may choose to a cause a living opponent to bleed whenever you deal melee slashing damage; your attack may cause an opponent to suffer 1 additional point of damage each round for each level you possess (for example, if you are a 5th level character, you may cause you opponent to suffer up to 5 points of bleed each round). This bleeding can be stopped by a DC 15 Heal check or the application of any effect that heals hit point damage. Bleeding damage from this ability does not stack with itself; bleeding damage bypasses any damage reduction the target might possess. Each time this bleeding damage is inflicted, you suffer one half that amount of damage (non-lethal damage, rounded up) as your uncontrollable grin begins to ache, twitch & burn.

You can see through your own eyelids, and have a difficult time sleeping. You may make sight-based Perception checks with your eyes closed, but are always fatigued for the first four hours after waking or until you have had at least two cups of coffee.

Whenever you write anything, you involuntarily pepper the page with strange runes and sigils which you don't recall writing ... or know the meaning of.

You gain full knowledge either Draconic or ancient Chinese (your choice).

Whenever you speak face-to-face with an unfamiliar, non-related individual for more than a few minutes, small scratch-marks and cuts as if from from fingernails form on your arms and face. This is actually a great way to tell if you’re actually talking to someone you already know (who might be in disguise).

Whenever you hold anything that could be used as a slashing weapon, your hand grips it until your knuckles whiten. You are incapable of holding such an object loosely, though you may put it down without difficulty. You gain a +2 bonus on all Disarm attempts made against you.

You may make Linguistics checks untrained. Whenever you encounter a language or writing which you do not understand, you feel distracted and are considered shaken while within 10 ft. of such script.

Roll 1d6+1 twice, keeping both results. If you gain the same result for both rolls, re-roll one of the dice.

PLOT HOOKS (pick from the list or roll 1d8)

A new string of killings has begun in a local metropolis, and they seem to be imitating the ciphered letters of the Zodiac Killer. Although the new cipher has yet to be decoded, it uses the characters of a hidden & secret language. The Cryptic Policeman has, perhaps, inspired a copycat ... or an acolyte. Or a rival, calling him out to face vengeance.

A potent young Dragon-Blooded sorcerer with a warm, charming smile has discovered that amongst his ancestors sits Liu Pengli; the brash magician is now attempting to become a host for the Cryptic Policeman’s ancient power for the express purpose of taking revenge on a rival ... but he risks unknowingly allowing the Cryptic Policemen to walk the earth again, unfettered by the Archon's cage.

Multiple high-profile businessmen in the finance industry have been found eviscerated in their offices, the walls splayed with bloody & undecipherable sigils. Mundane authorities are confounded not by what is on the security tapes, but what isn't: the murderer is invisible. Already, secret organizations have begun covering-up the crimes. Has the Cryptic Policeman been sent on a clandestine errand ... or is another player at work here, hiding behind the Cryptic’s reputation?

An invaluable 13th-century German grimoire detailing rituals used for summoning & binding the Cryptic Policeman has gone to auction. While the seller -- and most of the buyers! -- have no idea what’s on the block, at least one buyer is willing kill to obtain the prize.

An ancient and priceless knife which supposedly belonged to Liu Pengli has been stolen from a local museum by a Dragon-Blooded cult who believe it may hold a portion of his power ... or the ability to command & control the great ‘Machine Colorless Wyrm’.

An eccentric hobbyist, fascinated with 'ripper-ology' and researching for a book, has deciphered an unnoticed code in the letters from the Whitechapel murders. He is drifting dangerously close to an open secret of the Hidden World: the identity of the Cryptic Policeman.

The newly-awakened descendant of a victim from the Cryptic's 1970s-era West Coast murders has manifested the power of Fey blood ... and, moreover, she has demonstrated the ability to pass that power on to others through love while retaining the full Bloodline potency herself. This young woman must be carefully introduced to the Secret World, and gently told the truth about her heritage, all without arousing the interest of the Archons or their murderous pet.

A panicked coven is seeking any & all of the help they can acquire -- begging, borrowing & blackmailing, as they are able -- from anyone powerful and in-the-know enough to assist: they attempted to summon the Cryptic Policeman from his Abhorrent Heaven & to bind him ... and while their summoning certainly worked, and seemingly escaped the notice of the Archons, they were unable to chain him. Now, the Cryptic Policeman is gleefully stalking the members of their coven, picking them off one by one in a slow-moving orgy of violence.

So ... what color of dragon is the Cryptic Policeman, precisely?

Within the context of your own Bloodlines & Black Magic game, this is left entirely to your own discretion. Whatever energy-type of breath weapon you want him to unleash in combat (or need him to be immune to!), that’s the one ... although there are certainly dozens of theories, dating back centuries across any number of cultures, claiming to authoritatively state that the invisible scales of his armor & unseen cogs of his bones are one precise shade or another.

#pathfinder #bloodlines and black magic #urban fantasy #modern #horror #campaign #essay #cr 9

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leywalkwithme · 6 years

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Verdy Taylor stands in the waiting parlor of one of the many classrooms found in the Violet Citadel and she can hardly breathe. It wasn’t the formal robes with their heavy shoulders and ridiculous gold fringe. It wasn’t the perfume that hung in the air from the last person that was waiting for their turn to speak. It wasn’t anything but her own nerves. Damn them to hell.

She stands in front of a full body mirror, looking for any imperfections but finding none. Nails cleaned. Dirt washed off her face. Boots replaced with dress shoes. Her auburn hair was clean and styled, the flairs at the ends intentionally there. She barely recognized herself as she smooths out her starchy robes.

Never in her twenty-six years of living did Verdy think she would ever get this far. A farm girl, the first of her family to study any type of magic, a girl who grew up tending to chickens and pulling weeds and having to catch rides from local families heading to Stormwind so she could get to classes. A girl who had to borrow so much gold to move to Dalaran that she thought she would die before she ever paid it back. She was a simple girl who grew up with headaches from the magic around her and now she couldn’t imagine life without those shimmers of purples and blues. It was a part of Verdy Taylor. A part she could never deny.

Walking into the room, Verdy Taylor feels lightheaded. This is it. Oh Light, don’t throw up, Verdy. This is her life's work, spread out on a table. Pots of flowers and vegetables organized neatly next to several tomes. Maps hang on boards behind her, lines of blues and purples shimmering and flickering as they travel across the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor. Is this all of it? She swears she brought more. No, no, this is all. Right? No. Yes! Her mind is racing nearly as fast as her heart. The crowd is larger than she expected. She barely has time to register that information as her gaze passes over several archmages sitting in the forefront.

Past the Council of Six she saw comfort; Her mother and father sit upfront, wearing the nicest clothing that they had which paled in comparison to even the most destitute citizens of Dalaran. Wrinkled, tan faces smiled with pride as they catch their daughter’s eye. Beyond them, scattered amongst the other mages that came to listen to the “dirt mage”, Verdy sees her friends. A one eyed man covered in scars. A bright faced Lightforged who looked out of place but her smile is genuine and curious. A young human mage with dyed white hair who is chit chatting to a man with runic tattoos scattered across his arms. A worgen sits next to a badly dressed male with bright red hair. They poke fun at the mage, laughing at his clashing outfit. A gnome speaks animatedly to a man who would appears to be must more interested in jumping off a cliff than listening to his boss. Even more friends and coworkers sitting together, supporting her with smiles.

A tall and well toned man sneaks in as she’s looking over her materials. His casual clothing a harsh contract to broadsword on his back. He beamed his perfect teeth and beamed the Light, giving her a small wave. Verdy waves back with her fingers and says a little prayer as the room grows quiet.

Light, give me the strength--

“Verdy Taylor,” Archmage Khadgar has risen from his seat, giving a bow towards her, “You’re here today to present your thesis,” The greying man peers at the paper and snorts back a laugh. “The Arcanist’s Almanac: Leying the Groundwork for Better Crops.” A hint of amusement lingers on his words and Verdy suddenly feels a bolster of confidence. Thank the Light for his love of puns.

This was it. The moment of truth. Over ten years of work had gone into this moment. Ten years of digging in the dirt, collecting samples, honing her skills. A decade of of getting stronger, getting smarter, getting ridiculed by her fellow mages. It had all lead up to this moment.

“This is correct, Archmage.” Her rural accent is gone, replaced with a much more neutral and obviously practiced tone. “I come before the esteemed Council of Six and a selection of my peers to present my findings on the innate magical properties found in the soil of Azeroth. I will describe how they reflect the power of the leylines, and how magi can use such knowledge to help further crop growth and development.” Her words flow from her lips with confidence. Ten years have lead up to this moment and she wasn’t going to let this slip by her.

“Very well, Miss Taylor. Begin when you are ready.” The Archmage sits down slowly, far too slow for Verdy’s lack of patience. A flick of his wrist brings several enchanted quills out; Where they were hidden Verdy will never know. They wait for her to begin speaking. She clears her throat.

Show time.

She points to places on her maps. She hands vials of dirt to members of the Council, ensuring she smiles brightly to each person. She shows off the magic that is part of her, wrists glowing under her robes as she pulls the magic from various pots, redirecting those sparks to another one close by. Mutters of approval from the gathered guests spur her further, confidence rising with each passing moment. She doesn’t notice that her practiced voice has pretty much dissolved, her rural accent growing with strength.

Nearly two hours pass before she leaves the classroom and walks back into the waiting parlor. She flops down on a chair and before she can even remove the heavy pauldrons, the doors fling open. Friends and family sneak in, offering words of praise. Hugs and handshakes are exchanged as Verdy does her best to hide the pure adrenaline surging through her. A scratchy cheek nuzzles against her forehead and strong arms hand graze her waist in a quiet moment that she hopes no one and everyone notices. Tiny tokens of congratulations in the form of flowers and trinkets are offered and she accepts each one with a smile. Each time she turns around, she has to find some way to wipe at her eyes. Once the greetings and well wishes are winding down, someone offers drinks to celebrate the moment. The room clears out rather suddenly as Verdy stands there, smiling like a fool. Her parents stay, however.

She says nothing to them as she tosses off her pauldrons and wraps her arms around them, pulling them close, rubbing her face into her father’s shoulder. The adrenaline of the day finally causes her to collapse in their strong and supportive arms, a flood of emotions overtaking her. Tears spill from her eyes.

“You did it, Verdy,” her father whispers just loud enough for her to barely hear over her own sobs. The three embrace one another in a tender moment, foreheads touching foreheads, a happy family Verdy owes everything to.

“I did it for y’all.”

#mage #Moon Guard #dirt mage #Verdy Taylor

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ustrinamor · 6 years

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PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP MEME!

tell everyone how to start pre-established relationships with your muse! How to be their friend? Enemy? Ex? Go for it! Have lots of fun and tag five blogs you want to know better afterwards!

tagged by: Stolen from @chantryprince because I can’t resist pre-established stuff tagging: @ralliedcry (both your bbs I’m a lazy tagger lmao), @dirthera , @ass--sass--sin , @thxwarden , and anyone else who wants to do it!

(I put this under a cut because I’m doing it for all of my muses so it might get long! I’m only doing a couple of ideas for each to help with the length. Also, these are all pretty non-specific so they can be tailored on a case-by-case basis. Come talk plots with me and we can make something specific to our muses!)

FRIENDS

Azula

(Mostly Dragon Age) A contact or acquaintance she’s made in the underground. They might be one of the few people who know of her involvement with the Kemurikage. Pls give her more criminal friends

(Dragon Age) A family friend, most likely nobility with Tevinter background/connections but Orlesian nobility works too.

Faline

Tbh she has a lot of connections in Orlais as a Marquise’s sister so she could know someone through that. This also extends beyond Orlais to a degree.

She is well-loved by the Orlesian commonfolk and is likely to have friends of non-noble status throughout Orlais. A lot of her work has been put to improving the lives of those outside of the gentry, and she’s really spent more time among commoners than nobility as she’s grown into her adulthood.

Daeris

Fellow assassins in any verse (Elder Scrolls/Dragon Age mostly)

Worshippers of Nocturnal. No doubt she’s been sent to do a few personal requests for the most faithful of them. She’s likely even been sent as assistance to the nightingales and other agents on occasion.

Arsine

Fellow bards and ex bards. Perhaps they even worked together on a few assignments.

People from Kirkwall. She built a wide net of connections while spying there. She spied in Kirkwall the same time Hawke was there. One of her objectives was to actually spy on Hawke and their companions later on when they became more involved with events.

People she knew during her brief time as a slave in Tevinter. She was young and escaped when she was barely into her teens, so this would be less familiar than other relationships.

Teslaena

Fellow Dalish. Teslaena was First in her clan before she got kicked out, so she was highly involved in dealings with other clans.

Free Marchers. Tess’s clan was very friendly to humans in Kirkwall, Ostwick, and Starkhaven and for the most part had a good relationship with them. She explored the cities a lot, always interested in human culture. She might have made a few friends there. She also lived in Kirkwall later after being exiled, so that makes this way more likely.

Natsu

Other ninja or demon hunters. Slayers gotta stick together yo

Associates of Taki. She probably introduced Natsu to a lot of people, since she is her successor.

Josephine

Antivans; anyone ranging from nobility to bards to assassins to whatever. It’s her homeland and she has a wide net of connections there specifically.

She honestly knows or knows of 90% of the nobility in Thedas tbh. Being the skilled ambassador that she is, she likely has numerous friends among the gentry.

Trish

(DMC Reboot timeline) Other Demons. She was one of Mundus’s top lieutenants before her fall from his favor. No doubt she’s made a lot of allies and still managed to keep some even after getting into trouble. Probably has a better relationship with other demons now that Mundus is gone, actually.

(Dragon Age) Mortals she’s made deals with in the past. This is largely more likely to occur with mages since there is easier access to them than non-mages, but she is powerful and has likely found non-mages who were willing to make deals with her.

Vivienne

Former members of the Circle, apprentices or high-ranking. She likely only still thinks fondly of the people who did not approve of the rebellion, but there may be a few exceptions where she is forgiving to those who joined. (Younger apprentices and people who were just led along, mostly, since she believes some of them truly didn’t know any better. For older enchanters or established members or members who actively pushed for the Circle’s dissolution, she is unforgiving.)

Members of the Orlesian court. She has a favorable reputation, if not a vicious one. Many would like to befriend her if only to earn her favor.

ENEMIES

Azula

Political rivals, whether mainstream or for control of the underground.

Nobility who have slighted her (and most likely paid for it.)

Faline

Many people still look poorly upon her family for what the Shame of Serault did. Some have even taken measures against her family. These people are unforgivable to her.

Nobility who for the most part openly act for their own gain. She is quick to speak against people she finds selfishly motivated, uncaring of the repercussions.

Daeris

Rival assassins in any verse (Elder Scrolls/Dragon Age mostly). Perhaps there was a contract dispute, or a target was killed by one assassin while the other believes they target was rightfully theirs (or just doesn’t like having a paycheck stolen)

Worshippers of other Daedra. Particularly Mephala or Molag Bal. (Not so much Azura, Meridia, or Sanguine, as they are the least ‘intrusive’. Mephala and Molag Bal just like to fuck shit up for other daedra lmao)

Arsine

Slavers and Tevinter nobility. For the most part it isn’t personally towards a single person or noble house, just the institution in general. When it comes to House Erimond, however, it is deeply personal as that is the house she served as a slave.

People she worked against as a bard. She worked for Empress Celene on occasion as her employer was a close friend and supporter of the empress, so she has done things against Gaspard and his supporters as well as other rivals of Celene and her employer.

Teslaena

Templars. Particularly from Kirkwall or other cities in the Free Marches. She explored the cities a lot, so despite the clan’s good relationship with the cities, she’s likely encountered her fair share of Templars who were apprehensive or rude to her for openly presenting herself as a mage. A few probably even tried to arrest her for apostasy.

Other Dalish that she didn’t get along with. Her pro-human views likely have earned a lot of detractors and enemies. A lot of people would be especially angry that a clan’s First had pro-human opinions.

Natsu

Demons. She’s a demon hunter, so it’s a natural fit.

Other demon hunters that see her as no more than a demon herself. They might want her dead because of the demon sealed inside of her, or believe she’s a hypocrite or some sort of sleeper-agent.

Josephine

The rare few members of nobility that don’t like her lmao

People who have worked against her family and their fortune (assassins, etc.)

Trish

(DMC Reboot timeline) Angels. Demons and angels have a longstanding history of hate and war, so there’s a natural dislike.

(DMC Reboot timeline) Demon hunters. I mean....this is kinda obvious too lmao. She didn’t start appearing in the mortal world again until after Mundus’s death, but someone who hunted her before she disappeared might remember her.

Vivienne

Vivienne has a LOT of enemies, particularly within the mage rebellion. She’s got plenty at court as well, so really a past rival or enemy could come from anywhere for any various reason.

EX-LOVERS:

This is honestly on a very specific case-by-case basis, so I’ll just say how likely an ex-lover relationship could be with a muse.

Azula: Not very likely. She trusts very few people, and is extremely selective with casual relationships.

Faline: Somewhat likely. She’s had a few relationships, some of them with suitors her mother wanted her to marry though she always chose not to.

Daeris: Extremely likely. Daeris is very into casual relationships, and uses them as an unhealthy coping mechanism. She tends to scare off at signs of real romance.

Arsine: Likely. She’s had a few casual relationships and a couple of serious ones.

Teslaena: Not likely at all. She’s only ever been in a relationship with one person. She’s not quick to give out her heart, and she doesn’t like casual relationships.

Natsu: Not very likely. She tends to put all of her focus into her work, not to mention she doesn’t see herself as dateable because of her occupation and the fact that she has a demon sealed inside of her. She is a romantic at heart, though, so there are exceptions, but she’s gotten her heart broken every single time she’s tried a relationship.

Josephine: Not very likely. Maybe a few fleeting romances when she was younger, but since she has matured and her focus has become her familial duties, she hasn’t had much time for idle romances.

Trish: Somewhat likely. Trish is a tease, but she’s picky with who she actually gets involved with. Never anything serious.

Vivienne: Not likely at all. Her love life has always been focused on Bastien. Before he came along, she was too busy instrumenting her ownadvancement to worry about dull affairs.

#{tag meme}#{azula ; relations}#{faline ; relations}#{daeris ; relations}#{arsine ; relations}#{teslaena ; relations}#{natsu ; relations}#{josephine ; relations}#{trish ; relations}#{vivienne ; relations}

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selenelavellan · 7 years

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No Place I’d Rather Be

Concert AU

Deceit, Fear and Dirthamen belong to @feynites

Selene agrees to the move, in the end.

Due in no small part to Des's insistence that he will be moving in with their lovers regardless, and the prospect of finding another roommate sounds like a sort of hell she just doesn't want to deal with.

Getting him away from the apparent lyrium dealers in their building is a good thing, anyways.

The new house is nice. Sturdy, with good bones and much more comfortable after Fears renovations start to take place.

Deceit looks at her funny when she moves in, though.

“Where's your stuff?” He asks.

She blinks, glances to make sure her bag is still on her back and not left on the bus. It is, and she's got her box of books securely in her arms, before slowly answering “This is my stuff.”

“All of it?”

She shuffles awkwardly on her feet. Buying things has been...low, on her list of priorities. Most of the things she had actually purchased for herself were left behind when she and Des hopped onto the boat to avoid the Carta. Without a steady income since then (too overqualified for most entry level jobs, they tell her, and being publicly labeled an 'unhinged dalish mage' accused of arson and attempted murder in carta controlled media means most universities and research foundations consider her too 'high risk') she's been focused on stretching her funds as far as she can manage.

She's got her casual boots, and some heels Des has bought for her, and a small collection of frequently washed clothing. A box of books she uses for her studies, often traded back into the local used book store for credit towards more recently updated collections. She and Des had decided to donate their kitchen items, since Fear's apprehension to the black spots in their old home meant they likely wouldn't have survived 'disinfection inspection' anyways. Des is taking their shared mattress, since he used it more and Selene wasn't particularly attached to it. They'd also decided he should keep the dresser, since he had enough clothing to actually need it.

Selene was taking their fold out couch, to use as a bed for the foreseeable future.

“Des and I are bringing the furniture after he gets off work,” she ultimately shrugs before heading into the room they had selected for her. She closes the door before Deceit can follow her inside with any follow up questions and lets out a breath.

The window is nice. She ended up with one of the second floor rooms, with a larger window to look out over some of the trees in the yard. She yanks open the blinds to let the light in, in an attempt to clear out any lingering dust mites, and contemplates the merits of stacking her books in the corner versus just leaving them in the box for storage.

Des might complain that she's not actually 'unpacked' if he sees them.

Still. She can probably wait until the couch-bed is in here to make any final 'design' ideas.

Selene unpacks her bag though, placing her folded up clothes in the shelf of her closet, since she doesn't actually have any hangers yet. She might see if she can snag a few from Des, when he's done settling in himself. Plugs her laptop and into one of the outlets on the wall to charge, and lays down on the floor, soaking in the warmth from the sunbeam streaming through her window.

The neighborhood is quiet. No loud neighbors on the other side of her wall, no curtain for a semblance of privacy while someone hisses in pain on the other side. Just her breath, and her thoughts, and the wind brushing the tree branches outside.

It's nice, she thinks.

She falls asleep in the warmth of the sunlight, and wakes up embarrassed when her phone vibrates loudly against the hard floor.

Where r u??? from Des.

On my way. Got busy at the new place. Sorry. She shoots back.

One of Des's coworkers was nice enough to let them use her pickup truck to get their furniture out, but there's a very small window of time she's willing to help them for. Mentally berating herself for running late, and already feeling bad, she begs a ride off Deceit who agrees without complaint.

By the time they arrive, the dresser is already loaded into the truck, and Des and his coworker are at the bottom of the staircase with the mattress in hand.

“You two stop for a quickie?” Des teases. Selene just rolls her eyes and apologizes for being late to his coworker. She steps into her apartment (for the last time, she realizes) and carefully lifts one side of the sofa.

Deceit is close behind, and helps her with the other end as they make their way carefully back out the door.

“Gonna miss it?” They ask.

Selenes gaze drifts to the kitchen tile, the green patterning on the edges, and feels her stomach get tight.

“Probably not.” she admits.

Once the couch is loaded into the back of the truck, Deceit moves to go back up the stairs before Selene gently grabs his elbow. “Where are you going?”

“To...get the rest of it?”

“This is everything.”

Deceit frowns. “Seriously?”

“We're minimalists.” she lies.

“Sure, Des definitely gives off that minimalist vibe.” Deceit jokes back.

Selene sighs “Just...this is really everything. Can we head back now?”

Deceit hesitates, but finally nods. The ride back is awkward, and it doesn't really ease up when Deceit speaks again.

“Just the one bed?”

“Nah, the couch folds out.” she corrects.

“That doesn't count.”

“It's comfy.”

“I doubt that.”

Selene just shrugs “Fine, not like I'm begging you to sleep in my bed anyways.”

“Why isn't Des taking the couch bed? He's less likely to stay in his room.”

“We decided he should have the mattress. Suits him better.”

Deceit shakes his head, but doesn't push the matter as he pulls into the driveway.

Des thanks the woman for letting them use her truck once he's gotten everything out of the bed and into the driveway. She tells him no problem, and goes on her way before Des and Selene start carrying everything inside, carefully maneuvering up the stairs and into Des's room.

“We need a bed frame,” he laments, staring at the twin mattress looking suddenly much smaller and just a bit pathetic on the floor of the expansive room. His own boxes of clothes and trinkets are all piled high in the corner.

“You'll need a box spring too.” she points out.

Des grumbles, but agrees as he tosses a few of his pillows on top of it. They descend back down, carrying up the dresser and finally the couch.

He glances around her room, judging not so silently. “You need stuff.”

Selene just rolls her eyes and ushers him out of her room with a soft “Go unpack.”

She turns around, readjusting the couch until it's centered on the wall opposite the window, making it easy to look out of.

It occurs to her, then, that Des has all of the sheets and blankets.

Some quick mental calculations, and she thinks she might be able to swing a set for herself since her bills will be less this month, with her new rent.

She doesn't want to bother Deceit again, so she opts to just walk to the nearest bus stop instead of asking for a ride. Debates whether she should probably take someone with her in a new neighborhood, but a quick look through the house reveals Des already enjoying one of the new showers, and Dirthamen and Fear both still out.

She shrugs, silently stepping out of the house and looking up the closest bus stop on her phone. It's only a fifteen minute wait, the sun just starting to set as she boards and waits for the bus to stop closer to a general store. She steps off twenty minutes later, snagging a shopping basket inside the superstore, and heads off to home furnishings.

The route takes her past sporting goods, and she stops for a second to admire a sea-green bicycle with wide enough handlebars to comfortably support a large basket.

The house does have a garage, she thinks. So she'd actually have somewhere to keep it, if she can manage to budget for it.

Although she's pretty sure she overheard the others talking about converting the garage into a practice space for the band, so maybe not. Could the basement work? Carrying the bike up and down the stairs might be a pain, and she'll have to wash off the wheels before she brings it into the house, but it could probably be done. For that matter, she might be able to just keep it in her room and out of everyones way.

She does some mental calculations and frowns.

She's not actually sure how much the utilities are going to be now. It's split amongst more people, but surely a house is going to cost more in power and water. Plus band rehearsals. Amps and guitars and Fears electric drum set probably need to be factored in.

She should have asked these questions before she moved in.

Stupid. Moved too fast.

Too late to go back now. She'll have to wait a few months to see what her average bills will look like now, and then readjust her budget. A few months, and there'll probably be new bikes anyways.

She spares one last look at the sea-foam green bicycle before refocusing on what she actually came for.

She finds a nice jersey sheet set in lavender to fit the pull out, and balks at the ridiculous price of most of the comforters, opting instead for a large white afghan that she can just roll up in when she needs to. She runs hot enough, she probably doesn't need a heavy blanket anyways.

She tucks both the sheets and the afghan into her basket and heads towards the front of the store to pay. Going over a mental list of things to get done. She'll need to wash the sheets and blanket, if not tonight then at least soon. Do they have a washer and dryer? Will she need to pitch in for them, or is there a laundromat nearby maybe? She supposes with three bathrooms though, she could probably wash her things in a tub and run a line between the trees to dry them on without too much trouble. Maybe she should pick up a washboard and some baking soda while she's he-

Selene freezes in her tracks as her eyes register a familiar face on one of the magazines in the checkout line.

Carina's smiling face is on the cover of a magazine. The cashier asks Selene if she needs anything else, and before she can think twice, she has them ring up the magazine, and walks out with three items instead of two, hustling to get back onto the bus. She shifts nervously on the crowded bus, holding tight to her plastic bag as it rattles and shakes back up the road and she reaches the stop nearest to the house.

What is Carina doing on a magazine cover?

She's beautiful enough to be, of course. Selenes never doubted that, but it's certainly not how she expected to see her again.

Not that she ever expected to see her again.

She could, though. She threw the phone into the sea so they couldn't be tracked with the GPS, but she knows Carina's number, assuming she hasn't changed it in these last couple of years. It's not like she hadn't considered calling before. Catching up, apologizing for the way things ended, seeing how Carina is doing.

She supposes Carina is probably doing very well though, if she's on a magazine cover.

Half wondering if she's making something out of nothing, Selene decides to glance at the cover again, just to make sure it is Carina and not just her mind playing tricks on her. It definitely is, and Selene is stuffing it back into the bag when she accidentally knocks into Dirthamen in the driveway.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, taking a step back, arms hiding behind her in-what, guilt? (Why should I feel guilty, it's just a magazine, she berates herself) “I wasn't looking where I was going.”

“It is alright,” Dirthamen assures her “It is very dark here in the night. Perhaps a few solar lights for the walkway would not be out of place.”

Selene nods, and gestures for him to head in ahead of her. Dirthamen still holds the door open for her to enter first, however and she shuffles into the house as quietly as she can manage, but a shirtless Des loudly announces “There you are!” and blows any hope she had of getting her purchases into her room without being seen away.

“Hello,” she says, attempting to seem calm and definitely not in possession of a magazine with her ex-girlfriends face on the cover. “I just-I had to get some things. I didn't mean to disappear.”

Des grins, and moves to take the bag from her “Ooooh, you got 'things'?” he asks enthusiastically as Fear, Deceit and Dirthamen greet each other over towards the kitchen. “What sort of-”

Selene violently snatches the bag back when he tries to look inside, clutching it tightly to her chest “Blankets,” she blurts “It's just-just blankets. I'm gonna-I'm just going to go set these up and I'll be right back,” she stammers, making her way backwards up the stairs and away from the group “Just-right back.” she finally says with an uneasy grin before disappearing into her room.

All four of them glance curiously up at the closed door.

“That was weird, right?” Deceit finally says.

“She's probably just stressed from the move,” Des covers. “She'll be fine in a day or two.”

Fear gives a skeptical 'hm' before they go back into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

–

Selene, to her credit, doesn't look at the magazine until much later. She eats with the others, works (or tries to find work) during the day for about a week or so and tries not to think about the magazine she hastily stuffed into the back corner of her closet.

It goes well, mostly. She never actually gets the fold out set up either, though. Instead she sleeps on it as a couch, feet and legs dangling off of one side, or in one of the others beds after evenings spent together.

Still.

Curiosity about the magazine eats away at her, just a bit, until she finally can't take it anymore.

She snags the booklet out of her closet, and climbs out her window and onto the roof for a bit more privacy than usual (Des has yet to realize that even on Selenes door, he needs to knock before going in). It's chillier than she expected though, and she eyes one of the closer trees, scooting down over the roof and testing the sturdiness of the branches with one leg carefully. Once she's confident it can support her weight, she climbs into it, settling comfortably against the trunk. Summoning a small wisp of light, she begins to finally look through the publication.

Apparently Carinas personal project finally bore fruit, and she's being internationally recognized for her work. Her RNA mapping led into a gene that's commonly found in both dwarves and materials found within the recesses of the Deep Roads, giving scientific credence to the notion of dwarves coming from The Stone. There's mention of the Assembly bestowing her as a Paragon, if her finding can be conclusively recreated. A large deal for any dwarf, and even more so for one from the surface.

Selene smiles, happy that things have been going Carinas way, and that she seems to be doing very well for herself. She deserves it, really.

“You can take the elf out of the Dales....” someone drawls, startling Selene into almost losing her balance as she clutches the magazine tight to her chest again.

She frowns, looking down to find Des on the ground, both hands on his hips expectantly.

“I made an oath not to climb anymore trees, so you'll have to come down.” he teases.

“It's a nice view,” she jokes back “Plenty of stars.”

“Sure, if you ignore all the leaves and the bugs and the cold.”

Selene just shrugs.

Des groans, and climbs the tree anyways, muttering under his breath before settling on a nearby branch. “Any particular reason you're up here, alone, instead of inside with the rest of us?”

“Just getting some fresh air,” she lies.

Des gives a soft 'uh-huh' before snatching the magazine out of her grip. Selene tries to grab it back, but has to stop before she falls out of the tree. And by then, it's too late anyways.

“Is this Carina?”

Selene is silent, shuffling awkwardly in the tree.

“Selene,” Des groans. “What's going on with you?”

“Nothing. I-...I really did just go out to get sheets when we moved in. Then I saw this, and...”

“And you grabbed it, because of course you did,” he sighs. “Probably not a great sign you're trying to keep it hidden, huh?”

“I'm not hiding it...”

“You are. Like porn. Kinky fetish porn.” Des points out.

“That's not true.”

“Have you even told the others about her?”

Selene frowns, and looks away.

Des sighs “Maybe tell the people we're sleeping and living with that you were in a serious relationship before we met them?”

“And when they inevitably ask why it ended?” Selene argues.

“Tell them the truth,” Des shrugs. “Would you feel better if I told them?”

Selene hesitates.

“You're not serious.” she says.

“Sure I am. They should know, in case I relapse. Fear'd probably be great for keeping me straight.” he grins and adds in a teasing tone “Well, not straight, but off of lyrium at least.”

Selene snorts.

“They're going to find out eventually,” Des points out. “Fear probably knows about the charges against you already, and they haven't kicked you out for being an arsonist and attempted murderer.”

“I'm not an arsonist, or an attempted murderer-” Selene groans.

“Exactly. So stop stressing about it.”

She frowns, leans back into the trunk and lets her legs dangle off of either side of the branch. “So you think I should...what, say 'hey here's my ex-girlfriend who's up for Paragon-hood but its cool because I haven't even spoken to her in two years because I ran away with no warning to get away from the carta, by the way who wants ice cream'?”

“I would maybe bring out the ice cream before the abandonment thing.” Des quips. “But yeah. I think you should tell them everything honestly, but the whole...clan and evil ex thing is another thing for another day, probably. I don't think I'm ready to talk about my parents yet either. Pretty sure we could handle the lyrium thing though. I think we're stable enough for that, now.”

Selene glances over to Des, skeptical.

He just shrugs “I really love them, Selene. And you. I tease a lot but this is probably the first time I've felt like I belonged somewhere. And I think our chances of not screwing this up are better if we tell them ourselves, instead of dodging around certain topics and hoping we never see certain people for the rest of our lives.”

Selene sighs, scraping off a small layer off moss from the trunk with her boot absently “When did you become the voice of reason between us?”

“I dunno, but it's throwing off our whole dynamic. Do me a favor and go back to being the smart one, ok?”

“You've always been smart, Des.”

“Nah, I'm just clever.”

Selene snorts. “You wish.” She eyes the roof behind her, deciding that it's probably too far to climb back safely (and if she tries and fails she will never hear the end of it from Fear) and instead opts to climb back down into the yard. She helps Des with his own descent, and he rolls up the magazine and hands it back to her.

“Ready?” he smiles, linking his arm through hers.

Selene carefully tucks the magazine into her back pocket, and squeezes his arm carefully with her own.

“As I'll ever be.”

#Concert AU #Dirthalene #Selene lavellan #Des #Carina #Fear #Deceit

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buddyrabrahams · 5 years

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Biggest storylines entering the NCAA Tournament

During college basketball’s biggest week, sometimes I worry that I’m going out of my mind. The excitement builds and builds to a point where I put any kid on Christmas morning to shame. Just looking at an unfilled, untouched bracket makes my ears perk up and my heart race.

If you’re like me, you don’t need to spell out the storylines we’ll see play out this month. Those ideas are already bouncing around your head like bingo balls.

For those of you who have been more focused on other sports recently or who have not hit peak excitement just yet, there is good news. This bracket, this field of teams, and everything about the next month of basketball we’re about to see is poised to be great.

Here are eight things to keep an eye on:

1. Duke’s sky-high expectations

Even for a top overall seed, Duke’s expectations are as high as any team. This Blue Devils squad is the first since Kentucky’s undefeated team in 2015 to enter the Big Dance with people expecting nothing less than a championship.

With Zion Williamson and Tre Jones healthy and in the lineup, the Blue Devils lost just once. Even with those players out, Duke’s five losses all came to teams in the tournament field and ranked 35th or better in KenPom.

At full strength, this is the best team in the nation. That does not make them a shoo-in to win the title or to even advance to Minneapolis for the Final Four. Duke ranks 338th in 3-point shooting in college basketball, but shot the 63rd most long balls. Every coach poised to face Duke in the next month will know those stats and hope that their team is the one that catches the Blue Devils on a monumentally cold shooting night. If Duke can go six games without an icy cold performance, they’ll cut down the nets.

2. The top tier of teams could lead to a chalk bracket

Just behind Duke are seven other teams that have separated themselves from the rest of the pack. These seven make up the rest of the No. 1 and 2 seeds in the NCAA Tournament. This group is more talented, better coached, and more skilled than the rest of the field by a significant margin. It is hard to play out the future of our bracket without seeing at least six or seven, if not all eight, of these teams remain after three rounds of play.

The top seeds are always strong, but this year the separation is stark and defined. These eight clubs are poised to battle for Final Four bids and compete to be named champions.

3. Finding a contender from the middle of the pack isn’t easy

Just beyond that group exists a bit of a wasteland. There are good teams seeded in the 3-6 range, but all of them are flawed and inconsistent.

Purdue, for example, lost twice to Minnesota in the last ten days. Texas Tech and LSU were bounced in the quarterfinals of their conference tournaments despite being the top seed. Kansas State and Virginia Tech are both dealing with massive injury questions in Dean Wade and Justin Robinson. Marquette stumbled down the stretch, and Kansas has had the season from hell.

Picking one of these teams to crash the party and top of one the top teams is a tough proposition.

4. Can Wofford and Buffalo live up to their seeds?

Teams from the MAC and the SoCon are not generally awarded single-digit seeds in the Big Dance. Buffalo and Wofford earned their respective spots in the bracket, yet that won’t stop casual fans and talking heads from belly-aching if those two clubs don’t perform in the first few rounds.

Neither is ill-fitted for the task.

Wofford’s resume is sharp, featuring a win over South Carolina and an undefeated season in a Southern Conference that featured three other top 80 teams, per ESPN’s BPI metric. The Terriers also battled North Carolina and Oklahoma in tight losses. Fletcher Magee has as good a chance to become the household name from a Cinderella team as any other player in the nation, yet he’s not alone. Storm Murphy is a strong point guard and Nathan Hoover is the Klay Thompson to Magee’s Curry. Don’t roll your eyes at that comparison; these guys can flat out shoot.

Buffalo has been even more impressive, with early season wins at West Virginia and Syracuse, two of college basketball’s toughest environments. The Bulls have lost just three times all season, all on the road and none since Feb. 1. Buffalo plays at one of the fastest tempos in America and defends its brains out for 40 minutes.

5. Eyeing NBA Draft prospects

The tournament is a perfect way to shine a spotlight on the players with a chance to have their names called in June as NBA Draft picks. Zion Williamson will be the first overall selection, barring catastrophic injury, but tons of other prospects have a chance to move up or down draft boards this month. Williamson’s teammates have work to do in that regard. RJ Barrett and Cam Reddish entered their freshmen season as consensus top five picks. Both have provided more questions than answers so far and earned some criticism. A huge tourney for either could cement their place in the top three or stop a slide into the mid-to-late lottery.

Murray State’s Ja Morant likely has the largest opportunity, with a chance to ensure he’s the second-ranked prospect after Williamson. Murray State has only faced two power conference foes this season, leaving Morant with a more scant resume than scouts would prefer. A first round match-up with Marquette is a perfect chance for Morant to shine.

Marquette’s Markus Howard also has an opportunity, highlighting a group of players on the fringes with a chance to move from undrafted to the second round, from the second round to the first, or from the late first to the lottery. Keep an eye on Tennessee’s Grant Williams, Yale’s Miye Oni, Kentucky’s PJ Washington, Iowa State’s Talen Horton-Tucker, and Virginia Tech’s Nickiel Alexander-Walker as possible movers this month.

6. Who is our double-digit team in the Sweet Sixteen?

Every season there is a Cinderella that does not stop with one upset win, but compounds their success with a second win to advance to the second weekend of play. Some years we’re blessed with more than one of these gems.

Finding that team is easier said than done. I have my eyes on the East Region, where LSU is dealing with fallout from FBI wiretaps. If a strong Yale team can upset the Tigers or if the winner of Belmont-Temple can beat Maryland, that pod is prime for a double-digit Sweet Sixteen team.

Other squads with that kind of potential include Vermont, Saint Mary’s, Oregon, UC Irvine, and Seton Hall.

7. Will the ACC prove itself as the best conference?

Any question about the best conference in college basketball was promptly squashed when the brackets were revealed. The ACC received not just three top seeds, but the top three in the tournament.

Other leagues got as many total bids, or more in the case of the Big Ten, yet the top of the ACC was shown to be a clear step above the competitors. It’s dangerous to dole out praise on conferences based on the wild outcomes of the Big Dance, though we’ll all happily do it. If the ACC makes up half, or more, of the Elite Eight, hours of television will be discarded as the discussion will be put to bed. If instead the ACC flounders, loud proponents of the Big XII and Big Ten will have their voices heard.

8. Looking for the next round of coaching candidates to emerge in March

There’s no surer way for a coach to move up the ranks than by leading a mid-major program to NCAA Tournament success. This year that will be prominent with several attractive vacancies already appearing. UCLA and Texas A&M headline the field, with George Washington, UNLV, and Tulane also providing intriguing destinations.

UCLA’s choice is likely above simply finding someone winning in this year’s tournament, but the other schools on that list will be watching intently. Coaches like Yale’s James Jones, New Mexico State’s Chris Jans, and Utah State’s Craig Smith will, or should, be hot names.

Shane McNichol covers college basketball and the NBA for Larry Brown Sports. He also blogs about basketball at Palestra Back and has contributed to Rush The Court, ESPN.com, and USA Today Sports Weekly. Follow him on Twitter @OnTheShaneTrain.

from Larry Brown Sports https://ift.tt/2UFElyo

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