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ichabodjane · 2 years

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Identity and Self-Determination for Human!Halbrand, Bronwyn, and the Southlanders

Guys this is such a long post, I have so many thoughts, I tried to keep them organized but idk how well I did. Also this post was partially inspired by a fascinating convo with @demi-lancer so go check that blog out, too!

Disclaimer: I love all the theory posts about Saubrand, I think both the writers and Charlie Vickers have done a great job of keeping things open to interpretation. But I’m going forward here with the assumption that Halbrand is 100% USDA Certified Grade A Manflesh.

Tl;dr: Human!Halbrand and the Southlanders are interesting to me precisely because they are "just some dudes" trying to forge an identity against all the craziness in Middle Earth. Our two main Southlander protagonists, Halbrand and Bronwyn, aren't heroes because of special powers, they're heroes because they show up and do the work to give their people a shot at making their own fate.

RoP makes heavy use of the themes of identity and self-determination, which are important themes in the Tolkien Legendarium generally. Naming yourself, naming others, or being named BY others…this has real consequences in Arda for the fortunes of both individuals and sociopolitical groups.

The Southlanders are struggling to forge their own path and their own identity. Their ancestors tried to do it by casting their lot with Morgoth but that didn’t work out very well. By the time we’re introduced to their society, they have been denied their right to identity and self-determination for quite a long time. The elves have been keeping a close eye on them (maybe limiting their movements?) and both elves and Numenoreans look down on them as a whole. They’ve also been denied access to the elven affluence and resources that the Numenoreans have had. For example, Halbrand has clearly never seen anything like the giant Numenorean statues before and he’s so blown away just by being in a prosperous city built by humans. (And then Galadriel’s just like “these men are not like you” wow girl, ouch, okay then.)

Not only have the Southlanders been under elven control for generations but they then have Adar and Co showing up to completely remove their agency by killing or enslaving them and destroying the land they live on. Bronwyn’s heroic journey starts because she stands up against this. She rallies who she can because screw you, you don’t get to just waltz in and demand we bend the knee and sacrifice those rights or our lives to you. Even if Adar and Co have faced similar mistreatment, they don’t get to claim their own rights by taking away others’ (a topic for another post).

And when the villagers return home to prepare for that last battle, what do they do? Pop an orc head on a pike. That’s a powerful message: you try to take this from us and we will fight back.

We see this struggle happening on an individual level with Halbrand in the way he names himself vs being named by others and the ways in which he compromises safety for identity.

Halbrand is evasive about his past (I think partially for safety and partially because of the shameful and/or painful memories there) but he is very clear about his name. When he and Galadriel enter the throne room, Miriel only addresses Galadriel (giving her agency to name herself) but he adds his name in there, too.

Tamar the Guildsman is in the room, hears Halbrand’s name, but later either forgets or pretends to forget. Instead he just calls him “low man” repeatedly, showing again how the Southlanders are defined and thus limited by others. At first, Halbrand is evasive because Tamar is clearly trying to intimidate. But once confrontation is inevitable, Halbrand makes sure to repeat his name before smacking Tamar into the wall. (Apparently Halbrand is unaware of the effect of head trauma on memory formation but hey none of us are perfect.)

Halbrand also holds onto the king sigil/amulet (omg what is in that pouch, bro, is it the blood your ancestor swore on?) despite its threat to his plan of outrunning his past. It clearly means something in his community; Bronwyn recognizes it immediately. It’s unique enough that Galadriel can dig up its backstory at her local public library. So if he’s trying to disappear, why hold onto this thing? Because it’s crucial to his identity and in the end he’s not willing to give that up. In fact, he does the opposite: he takes it back to the Southlands in an effort to use the identity it creates to save his society.

I’m really excited to follow Halbrand and Bronwyn’s stories as they/their society wrestle with the legacy of past decisions while at the same time struggling just to survive day-to-day. Clearly Halbrand has done some things that he now really regrets. I think his family has probably been closely tied to the cult of Morgoth/Sauron and inter-human conflict in the region (he had to get that combat experience somewhere). Also I just can't stop thinking about the sheer amount of strong chains Adar and Co used to enslave people and the fact that Halbrand is a smith. And if everyone I knew got killed by the person I made chains for OR put in the chains I made? I'd run, too.

Now Halbrand is trying to counteract that past by stepping up to lead and protect his community from essentially the threat of extinction. Bronwyn is on a similar journey, though it seems that her personal past is less dicey. Neither of them have the powers of elves or the advantages of Numenoreans. They’re just regular people who grew up in a troubled area that recently gained A LOT MORE problems. While they have allies like Arondir, Galadriel, and some of Numenor, it’s still down to them to keep their people alive and find a new home now that agriculture in the Southlands is uuhhhhhh probably impossible.

This also sets us up for future wraith!Halbrand (as much as it grieves me to say). Because after struggling against these insane magical forces and seeing so many of your people suffer and die, of course you’re gonna make use of whatever tools might help level the playing field. Like a magical ring of power. In this way, Halbrand isn’t so much an Aragorn parallel as he is a Boromir parallel.

But before the inevitable tragedy, I’m hoping we get to see Halbrand and Bronwyn working together to lead their people to a safer place where they can shed the dark legacies of the past and create both a new identity and a new path for the people who were the Southlanders.

#I just have a lot of feelings about Southlanders guys #and #human halbrand #bronwyn #the southlanders #the rings of power theory #the rings of power meta #tolkien meta #tolkien #adar #sauron #middle earth #halbrand

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allthatisleftinthedark · 5 months

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"You know, we should be keeping up with our dance practice."

Seraph's voice is light as he closes his book and sets it on the stand next to his chair. He gets up and stretches out. They've put it off for obvious reasons, but the elf has kept practice on his own. Of course, dancing by himself isn't the same as having a partner to do so with.

His mind always returns to that night in the Rowdy Griffon, the feeling of elation and shyness at being bought to the stage always in his mind when he practiced his dancing. It wasn't as if he needed to know how, but it became one of his favorite ways to pass the time. He makes his way over to Sino, giving a bow before he stands back up and offers a hand to her.

"May I have the honor of dancing with you, my knight?"

unprompted asks | always accepting | @offrozenmemoirs

Retired for the day, Sino runs her gloved fingers through her long, thick ponytail. She separates the grayish-purple locks and faded pink highlights before twirling one strand around her finger. Her left hand haunts the back of her head, toying with the thick band fastening her hairstyle. "Mmm, not tonight," she muses before hooking her thumbs into the pockets of her pants.

The gnome glides back and forth across the foyer in her fluffy blue rabbit slippers, her eyes flitting around her surroundings. Her gunblade was comfortably retired by the couch, and her large travel backpack nestled comically between the towering belongings of her elven companions.

The kitchenette cleared up any last-minute snacking amongst the three of them. Any spare bottles of Elven Absinthe are in line of sight on the counter, but pushed away for a large map of the island city of Abarlio. An extra notebook holds down one corner of the map, while the parchment has been scratched around with stunning investigative work from yours truly. Never mind that penmanship is ragged, sharp, angular, and precise, unlike someone's snobbishly airy cursive.

Decompressing nowadays involves less inebriation, clanking bottles, and slumping over a mattress in pitch-black darkness. Instead, there are cozier conclusions where Sino sets herself with a book with her companion, Soot, nestled on her chest. A roaring fireplace might accompany the sound of crisp page turning and the clangorous snores of a 4-month-old raven. As present as the opportunities were for it, the gnome, admittedly, took the longest to acclimate to such intimacies when it meant it involved her, not her being a quiet onlooker who managed to be in orbit.

The lancer is skimming through his latest thrift store finds on the island. He has put his heavy boots on the front of the bed and is sitting in the foyer. In the meantime, the sorcerer has taken over the bathroom and is now on the sixth step of an extensive skincare and haircare routine.

Seraph's attention lies elsewhere now as he candidly expresses a reminder. His book hisses shut as he places it on the stand, already committed to resuming that practice.

Sino's hands rest on her hips, pausing her brief sweep of the hotel room. She blows a loose lock from her hair, raising a brow. "Has Soup not kept up with it?" An immediate retort slips her lips with that lopsided smile. With her crystal clear voice, she assumes (hopes) that it begins nagging the pristine princess at the vanity.

"Well.." Her gaze strayed to the table, blocking the spacious rug that served as the ideal practice area. She moves toward the very obstruction that Seraph is aiming at as he stands up and moves in her direction. It slips easily off the carpeting and toward the kitchenette as she presses the rear of her waist on the table.

Once the rug is barren, Sino dusts off her hands. "Not as roomy as the stage in the Rowdy Griffon, but beggars can't be choosers! That makes them whiners and not whining in the fun way, either."

Folding his arm over his chest, his right hand resting above his heart, Seraph bows. Lithe and gentle, it is almost unheard, but a little chuckle leaves the gnome as her nose wrinkles.

Almost forty years ago, it was, but she once enjoyed tales spun by the eternal void, the father of the sky, Lord of Night. One of his favorites to recite were always the stories of people of courts, mainly valiant knights, and their lovers outside of courts—the seemingly ordinary peasant with a golden heart beneath. Never did she sigh so syrupy sweetly like Seraph does with his stories, but she could tell that her patron warmed himself to stories of the mortal world.

'I wonder if those stories remind Night of her. Perhaps it befits their story: people of two different worlds finding and seeing past what no one else can see in them.'

"Is that what you've been calling me all this time?" Her brows raised as she accepted his invitation, resting her palm in his hand. "Knightly things aren't quite my aesthetic; I'm not clanking around in armor or anything like that." She giggles. "I don't think a gunblade is anything remotely common in those fairy tales you've read either."

"Are you taking the lead this time, Seraph? Or should I?" She tilts her head.

#⋆ * lettered received and responded ; sino‚ asks * ⋆#⋆ * interactions with the independent contractor ; sino‚ ic * ⋆#( soa verse tag tba )#offrozenmemoirs

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manfrommars2049 · 2 years

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Elven lancer, by me via ImaginaryKnights

#ImaginaryKnights #gabrieleb-art

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affableanthropologist · 1 year

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Lady o' War Crew

I've done a little post for a lot of my parties, but realised I haven't done one for the Lady o' War's crew! Since that game just finished up the other day I'm thinking about it a lot, so gonna write a ramble piece about the team. <3

These characters are from a one-on-one Spelljammer campaign, starting with Spelljammer Academy and running into Light of Xaryxis.

Vale Hart (he/him): my PC, a man cobbled together from parts of different dead people. He still had flashes of their memories, and part of his motivation to go into space was to make memories that he knew were his very own, as they were from somewhere those other people had never been. Vale was held together with glowing golden stitches, and it was the energy from these that he manipulated to magical effect (class-wise, he was a rune knight fighter.)

Vale had a figurine of wondrous power, which could summon a sapphire star lancer he named Nebulain (he/him.)

Vale died in the final session of Light of Xaryxis, returning the light contained in his friend Xedalli's ring to the star Xaryxis, which destroyed the star and himself in the process.

Edwin (she/her): the team's spelljammer, a human who uses the Mage (Healer) sidekick class. Edwin is an astronomer and was very excited to take her first steps into space! After the party defeated a hostile reigar named Hastain, Edwin bonded with their esthetic (a giant space jellyfish with spelljamming capabilities), and this joined the team's slowly growing fleet. Edwin named the esthetic the Lady o' War.

Demetrius Ozmata (he/him): the third member of the original team. He uses the Expert sidekick class. Demetrius at first appeared to be a snobby, selfish elven nobleman, but when he saw how his behaviour annoyed Vale and Edwin he admitted that he hasn't really had friends before and asked them to help him. He became closer to the group after this moment of vulnerability, and they soon learned his poorly kept secret: he is a recently turned vampire. Demetrius' parents had sent him away when he tried to stop the nobility hoarding precious water on his asteroid home, and the man he was sent to work for turned out to be a powerful ancient bloodsucker.

V (she/her): a mechanical woman who had very few memories when the party met her, on a ship where she was slowly being taken apart by clockwork horrors. V uses the Warrior sidekick class. Although she couldn't remember her name, the letter 'V' was scratched into her chest, and she adopted that as her new name. During their travels, the party discovered that V was a courier robot with a precious cargo tucked away in her chest cavity: a solar dragon egg. Her previous owner allowed her to stay with the party in exchange for the egg.

#vale hart #lady o war

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paxryder · 5 years

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Drawing King Spade with his hood removed WIP....

#King spade #All the deltarune fans might go batshit crazy of his elven look #Lancer is said to be a kewpie doll so why not give Spade an elf face #Hello DR fans #Hehe #art wip #wip #my wips

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table-top-romulan-playing-games · 3 years

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Hey yall! I havent been too active on here lately bc ive been more active on twitter, and recently been participating in swordtember! Follow if you want!

Top picture of unlabeled swords: Shadow, light, insect-like, ghostly, lava, snow, storm.

Second pic: anchor, summoned, banished, dwarven, elven, delicate, aquatic.

Third pic: forest, broken, bones, floral, musical, blessed, eyes.

#swordtember

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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 3 years

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Trinkets, 40: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A brown wooden mask sports green stripes that appear to be the color of the wood instead of being painted on. A single studded iron plate runs down the nose of the mask, stamped with a decorative "L" on the forehead.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A small bag containing a large brass coin stamped with the insignia of the archdemon of Random Evil Domain, along with a red cultist mask. There is also a map of the nearby area that indicates a meeting location somewhere in the distant woods. A perceptive PC will notice that the map reveals a passphrase “Bloodmoon” hidden within the drawing.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tool designed to crack nuts. It disintegrates shells, leaving the nuts untouched. Bloody marks between the teeth and weird stains on the handle leave disturbing thoughts as to what it has been used for recently.

A military banner bearing a black on yellow pattern with a crimson border, the center dominated by a grinning human skull spit upon a lance. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the sigil as that of the Mad Lancer’s an infamous cavalry unit that was a force of nature as much as a military company.

A tattered remnant of a sermon written on vellum. A certain passage reads “With the certainty of stone, we shall persevere. Each crack, each mark is not a blemish, but a testament—a history of defiance writ upon our flesh?”

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A glass flask messily labelled “Alchemist’s Fire”. It actually contains a highly-potent cinnamon whisky.

A scrap of parchment that reads; "Leave the jewel in a sewer grate by the church, or the next time you look into her eyes they won't be in her head."

A tiny porcelain doll with unnervingly human eyes.

A slender hand harp, graceful of design, small and light enough to be played in one's lap. It is carved of teak wood engraved with designs of waves and fog, with silver wire for strings.

A set of four horseshoes that seem to be magnetically attracted to hooves, requiring no additional fastening.

A linen handkerchief embroidered with a pentagram design, surrounded by arcane symbols.

A banner in black with the image of a crow sewn into it with white silk, surrounded by arcane runes stitched in black thread. Three white silk ribbons flutter from it.

A horrific black mask carved in the likeness of a demon’s face. Massive curved horns sweep up and back out of the forehead and behind the ears, while the fangs seem to glisten as if ready to bite at any moment. When worn, the mask’s eye sockets become covered with a glassy shield that glows red. When the bearer speaks, his voice is broadcast as a guttural growl.

A small dirty wooden figurine, that of a crudely-shaped blackbird. Its eyes are glass gems, pupiless; gazing into them feels like falling into an ocean’s black depths. In its tail is a hole, through which one may string a lanyard or band. When you hold it to your ear, you can hear the faint beating of a heart that is not your own.

A four foot long rod capped at each end by a six-inch-wide band of gold and steel. The rod has a three-foot long section of clear crystal in the middle, filled with a swirling white fog.

A silver monstrance, set with gold detail, intricate in its design and covered with tiny curlicues that resemble angelic beings.

An ornately carved pipe, its bowl fashioned into the head of a satyr; whose expression is one of malicious pleasure. If the pipe is used for smoking tobacco without cleaning it out first, the bearer will be plunged into a vivid, momentary dream wherein he is being pursued across a moonlit landscape by baying hounds.

A large, sumptuous shawl or scarf of deep red and heavy silk. It is finished along all of its edges with red and golden silk tassels, and is embroidered with outlines of stylized flames in golden thread.

A woolen scarf that is knitted with the words of an ancient elven supplication to the God of Random Domain.

An ink black statuette of a beautiful woman, clothed in gossamer-like veils, holds a large bronze bowl.

A rectangular wooden box labelled “Rawshins” containing dozens of red wax spheres. The balls have some give to them and the wax can be peeled away to reveal the pickled eye of a horse. The eyeballs while horrendously unpalatable is remarkable nutritious due to the herbal mixture used to preserve them and the box contains 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A wooden talisman carved into a screaming human face that when stared at it for more than a few seconds the observer can almost hear the sound of screaming from far off.

A silk bag with drawstring that open easily, revealing a glint of white. Inside is an elegant bone reliquary, smooth and pleasing to the touch. Polished, silvered fingerbones interlace to form a simple gate, operated by twisting a knob at the top formed from a single smooth vertebra surrounding a porcelain mechanism. Inside the small cavity is a cage formed out of rib that could have held an ancient curiosity of some sort, but now lies empty. The faintest touch of necromancy suffuses the curio, but surely any power it once held has long faded...

An incredibly detailed drawing of an alien creature.

A barnacle-encrusted piece of ancient stonework. Its touch fills the bearer’s ears with a great pressure that pulses like a dreadful giant’s heart.

A small wooden box with some silver markings on its surface. Something can be heard shifting inside, however it has neither a lock nor hinges. Cutting it open by force reveals it to be solid wood.

A Randomly Colored handkerchief with a knot in it, the owner probably had something important they didn’t want to forget.

A black shiny disk with dozens of embossed rings.

A tubular instrument that gradually broadens towards the lower end. It is made out of wood, with a double reed at one end and a metal or wooden flared bell at the other end. Known as a shehnai, its sound is thought to create and maintain a sense of auspiciousness and sanctity and, as a result, is sometimes used during marriages, processions and in temples although it is also played in concerts.

A pair of clay tankards decorated with waves of blue coral.

A well-worn brass locket with a small drawing of a dwarven woman inside, she has a fantastic beard.

A well-worn ivory drinking horn etched with indigo leaf patterns and silver cap attached by slim yet robust chain.

A small obsidian horse headed idol with peridot eyes.

A large poster that reads; “Diplomat wanted. Must fluently speak the oceanic dialect of High Draconic. Come dressed in waterproof clothes to the beach by moonrise on the seventh full moon of the year.”

A piece of paper that refuses to become uncrumpled until a spell similar to Dispel Magic or Remove Curse is cast on it. Inside is the true name of a weak outsider such as an angel or demon.

A waxed scroll on which is written a complex alchemical formula. The recipe is not titled and seems to be for some sort of explosive but an knowledgeable PC can determine that it’s actually instructions for making soap.

A small silver tuning fork. When used, the ringing sound it creates can only be heard by those who have split blood in the last 24 hours.

A beautiful piece of quartz carved in a strange but unclear style. It is perfectly still until a certain tone is played near it whereupon it then begins to vibrate and move, gyrating sinuously. The carving causes the moving rock to resemble a lithe dancer.

A petrified basilisk’s egg carved into an elaborate diorama of a strange but beautiful landscape.

A disk of clay with extremely fine etchings of semi-concentric lines that seem to spiral outwards from the center in tight, semi random wiggly spirals. It has been broken into three equal shards.

A handful of jasper puzzle pieces speckled with flecks of semiprecious stones (Citrine, amethyst, garnet, etc.) that can be assembled into the likeness of a bird of prey.

An astrological chart with alien characters drawn in silver ink.

A blood red fiddle that seems to have strings made of human veins. The music produced by it always sounds horrible and terrifying.

A six-sided die that sometimes rolls a seven

A war banner that's shredded, torn, and stained with blood, this standard has seen more than a single battle. The image of a red maw devouring sacred flames stands atop a field of black.

A wicked wand made of two withered and twisted branches, with one single leaf to the side and a small skull tied by a string at the base. The wand has a uncomfortable chill to the touch and sometimes sends shivers through the body.

A gruesome hand fan made of plucked faerie wings

A painting of a red-eyed wolf-man eating a corpse while making eye contact with the viewer. The corpse always vaguely resembles the viewer.

A stylish jet black long coat with a furred neck.

A knotted garment that fades in and out of nothingness. Knowledgeable PC's know that an order of religious monks one covered their eyes with such bindings. It is a perilous act to stare directly into the mouth of infinity. But once unburdened by vision, salvation shall be revealed.

A frozen, crystalline gland from some unknown ancient being. Hard as stone, it thaws slowly but eternally. The alien object is nearly translucent, revealing a void filled with nothing but bright, cold light. The glowing core holds a strange allure, turning the mind toward rapturous reminiscence.

A speckled owlbear hide, tooled with raised marks.

A baleful gem that glows a sickly green and tingles unpleasantly warm when touched. The sparkling object is less like a precious stone and more like the withering glare of corruption, made corporeal and pellucid in crystal.

A child's doll made from dyed, woven coconut fiber and dressed in linen.

A selection of maps, all rolled tightly together, and crammed into one tube. The maps all show the expansion of the same location over a period of 60 years, one new map every 10 years.

A dried caul wrapped in gauze, brittle but intact.

An old, fraying coat of the type a ship's captain would wear in bad weather. There is a small singed hole through the outer layers that stops at an inside pocket.

An eight inch wide roll of silk, which when unfurled is revealed to be an elaborately decorated sock kite in the shape of a koi.

A ball of high quality waxed twine with a platinum netting needle stuck through it.

A child's wooden toy animal with a note tied to it with twine that reads in childish writing "so u arnt lonly".

A crystal vial containing a pebble, ash, water and a measure of air.

A burlap bag large enough to hold a coconut. It is smooth to the touch and found in the color purple with a golden strap.

An arcane wand that is rough to hold and twists like a wild vine.

A bill from a sorcerer listing an exorbitant amount of gold for a spell to cure a terminally ill child.

A horn hair brush inlaid with small peridot stones.

A copper door handle of a manticore head holding a ring in its mouth.

A one gallon cask of Shump's Shield, a white beer with with the colour of horchata and stout beer consistency. The flavor profile is that of a milk stout with a very light hint of peppermint and nutmeg. It is typically brewed at temples to the God of war and distributed locally.

A demonic iron idol with bloodstone eyes.

A crude and somewhat obscene silver statue depicting a goblin chieftain.

A owlbear skin run.

A burlap bag containing 3d6 days’ worth of trail rations, each individually packed in waxed parchment and sackcloth and tied with string. Each packet contains an assortment of jerky, dried fruits, hardtack and nuts.

A decorative bronze key with a rose quartz in the bow.

A black-lacquered pyx decorated with pornographic images. On the sides and the lid of the small box, colorful hand-painted scenes of lurid degradation depicts men and women copulating not with one another but with jackals, hyenas, goats, and serpents. The box is brimming with coal-black crackers flecked with red. The unleaved bread has a faint but repellent odor or herbs, sulfur and vomit

A foot stool with silver-plated eagle claw feet and silken pillow.

A violet satin facemask with purple silk ties.

A quartz and horn prayer beads on a silk cord.

A crystal, bell-shaped terrarium with an easily identifiable, miniature apple tree with fruit laden branches growing from its mossy soil. The terrarium and tree within are three inches tall.

A dark leather pouch with silver clasps set with a tiger eye.

A lock of faded reddish brown hair bound and wrapped with a red ribbon strung with cowrie shells. The ribbon is embroidered in tightly stitched green thread "Return to me, my love".

An obsidian statuette of a leering gargoyle.

A porcelain pitcher with arboreal imagery.

A petrified toad with a variety of crystals growing from its back, diverse in material, color, size, and shape.

A prosthetic bronze hand with ivory fingernails.

A deed to a plot of land signed over to the church.

A bronze-plated trophy etched with two jousting figures.

A darkwood lute with silvered strings, decorated with a painting of a djinn flying island.

A silver snuff box etched with a portrait of the night sky.

A brass censer dangling from lead chains that emits smoke resembling writhing vines.

A crystal canine skull that continually burns with yellow flames that are painfully cold to the touch.

A wooden abacus with fortune telling symbols painted across its beads. It occasionally self animates and acts of its own accord, locking up for a brief moment before the beads spin wildly then stop with several symbols facing upwards before moving as normal again.

A mahogany cane tipped with corkwood and thin red leather covers its gracefully curved handle.

A cloudy white orb with a scarlet sheen to it. When the bearer stare into its depths he see shadows flickering throughout it.

A glass globe that has no visible opening on its dark clouded surface, and it is warm to the touch. Its contents appear to be a faintly glowing roiling cloud of flame.

A glass jar filled with clippings of dwarven hair and toenails.

A silver thimble containing a shimmering ballgown of spun moonlight. The ballgown is ... very see through, but can be worn over another nice dress of plain material to good effect.

A diagram of a hollow earth showing major access point below nearby city.

A porous stone flecked with emerald and sapphire dust that always feels damp to the touch.

A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.

An automaton crab. If wound up with the key in its brass carapace, it will menace any nearby animals with its snappy little mechanical claws.

A snowball warded such that it cannot melt. At its center is a small glyph-etched stone.

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pistachi0art · 2 years

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Deltarune x SP au idea

(these roles are linked to the SOT character classes. But this au doesn’t mean that characters are exactly fit in with who they’re supposed to represent. Is more as if the SP characters ended up in the Darkworld.)

Kris = Stan : both take the warrior roles but Stan is a lot more opinionated and doesn’t exactly have a player controlling his every move. However that doesn’t mean he’s free of all choices-

Ralsei= Kyle: Not as sweet as the goat boy but just as morally right. He’s a elven prince (not a mage, but still uses some magic attacks and normal attacks.) instead of being levelheaded with his teammates he tends to get a lot more angry specifically at ⬇️

Susie= Cartman: probably way more morally corrupt than Susie and being harder to “reform.” Instead of being a barbarian, he’s wizard who just doesn’t cooperate with the rest of the party. Eventually, does come around to help but he’s still the same guy.

Lancer= Kenny: Is a princess :) doesn’t exactly help the party out but does help Cartman come around to help. (However Lancer still exists within this au? So he’s mostly hanging out with him.)

Noelle= Butters: Just like Noelle is easily influenced by others and is generally a people pleaser. He’s a Cleric with generally good intentions but when push comes to shove he can (unintentionally) do a lot of damage. Generally likes Cartman despite his attitude.

Berdly= Jimmy: Definitely not as cocky as as the blue bird but is kinda self centered. He’s a bard who usually sticks himself next to Queen telling jokes. (who still equally enjoys Butter’s presence more than his) and YES if you have seen the Snowgrave route you know what happens to him 😬

#mostly based off of The Stick of Truth on terms of roles #as much as I’d like to add Craig Token Clyde or Tweek #they don’t really have roles to fit yet.#however this is just an idea so throw in whatever you want #south park #au #au idea

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phantomphangphucker · 5 years

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Ectober Day 2 - Homecoming - We Welcome Back The Lords Of Chaos

Danny, Sam, Tucker and Valerie - lovingly known as the defect quartet - may have been held back one year but there’s no way they aren’t starting off their last year with dramatic bullshit. Because, honestly, they're tired of wearing masks and the lies. Besides, they’ve all moved to the Ghost Realm anyway, so what does it matter.

Danny lounges across the arms of a high backed chair, lazily swirling a half-filled wine glass of ectoplasm. Sighing up at Sams’ bedroom ceiling, “so we’re really doing this huh?”.

Tucker huffs from where he’s sprawled out on the floor, “might as well dude. It’s our last year to really throw Casper High through a loop”.

“And sources say, all the fuckers we should have graduated with last year will be there”.

Danny tilts his head down to look at Valerie, who’s repairing an ecto-blaster, chuckling at her, “is that your way of saying you spied on everyone?”.

Valerie just smirks making the halfa laugh, as Sam comes in the room. Everyone looks to her and takes in the deep red and orange knee-length dress made of felt leaves, dark purple under-bust corset; the arm sleeves long flowing sheer black and decorated in gold filigree. Black hair short and spiked, with leaves sticking out in places; her ever-present combat boots on, grapevines for shoelaces.

All three make a point of whistling.

Valerie kicks Tucker, “your turn to get dressed up, techno geek”.

Tucker grunts, “ladies first”. While Danny laughs, “Tuck fuck, you’re the one who’s going to enjoy this most. Parading around your royal ass for chics to fawn at”. Making Tucker groan as he rolls over and pushes to get up, “y’all are never going to let me live down that shit are you”.

“Nope”.

“Not a chance”.

“Wouldn’t think of it”.

Tucker just flips them off as he leaves the room.

Danny downs the rest of his glass and flips in the chair to be sprawled out on his stomach; chin up on the armrest and feet touching the floor. Blowing cold air at Valerie who sends him a dirty look as he speaks, “you’re not gonna take long are ya?”.

“I’m a girl”.

“But you’re well, you”.

“Asshole”, Valerie smacks him over the head with the butt of her gun, “but no, unlike you lot I’m not going all ghost royal to freaking homecoming”.

Sam rolls her eyes as she does her make up, “wait for prom, this is just basic lazy day royal garb”.

Tucker comes back in seconds later, a white intricately pleated kilt with gold trim and belt. Simple chain mail t-shirt and white robe, tied closed loosely with a silk rope. Topped off with a large bronze necklace etched with snakes and jackals, and wearing no less than fifteen gold, silver, and iron bracelets and rings; embedded with gemstones.

Danny, raising an eyebrow, “fucking speeding dressing? Is that a challenge?”.

“Dude no”, Tucker continuing to speak as he puts on a pair of sandals, “you can make your clothing appear instantly and out of thin air. Meanwhile, I simply calculated the highest rate off efficiency based on my clothing and accessories. You know, a real skill”.

Valerie snorts as she stands, tossing the ecto-gun on the bed, “I don’t know Tucker, creation and teleportation of damn ghost clothing sounds like a far superior skill. And less geeky”. Tucker makes a show of looking offended before pulling out black eyeliner and green eyeshadow; joining Sam at her vanity.

Danny flings over the chair, standing up as Valerie leaves to get dressed. Danny walks over to the vanity and squeezes his two friends' shoulders, “we are going to freak everyone out, now hand me an eye darkness stick”.

Sam snorts, handing Danny an eyeliner pencil, “drama queen”.

“King actually”.

Sam just rolls her eyes while Tucker points at her, “he’s right though. No one will be surprised by you, miss ooky spooky, but the rest of us? Just chaos”.

Danny snickers as he leans over them, pulling down at his eyelid as he lines his eyes, “poor Mr. Lancer’s going to have a never-ending stream of heart attacks this year and we’re starting it off today with a showy flashy bang. I’m surprised we even got Val to go along. The quartet’s truly complete”.

Sam smirks as she finishes off her lips with a metallic purple, gold shimmer layered over top, “I just want to see Paulina’s face. She couldn’t even afford Tucker’s outfit”.

“Isn’t she, like, a small-time model now or something?”.

“Yeah dude, for cars I think? Course she only stuck around Amity for your ghostly spandex covered ass”.

Valerie leans on the doorway after reentering, “well it is a great ass”.

Danny slaps his ass and winks exaggeratedly, “you mean it’s deadass drop-dead gorgeous”. While Sam and Tucker both turn their heads to take Valerie in, being the only one who isn’t some kind of ghost royalty. Knight was close enough to garner looking fancy as shit though. Having been knighted by all three of them.

Red titanium breastplate, waist plate, shin plates, and forearm plates; breastplate etched with black images of battling hellhounds, the rest etched with blood blossoms. Over top of a sheer black near floor-length pleated sleeveless dress, a dark cherry red silk knee-length long-sleeved pencil dress underneath that. Long curly hair pulled into a low ponytail and laying forward over her shoulder. Simple black titanium band rings on every finger and black dress shoes.

Danny makes a show of swooning as he hands her make up bag over. Which she uses to bop Danny on the nose with, as he leaves to change.

Shaking her head as she trades seats with Sam, who goes to sit on her bed and paint her nails black. Valerie only somewhat seriously asking, “so just how excessive is he going to look?”.

Sam chuckles, not even looking up, “good luck getting him to not wear a velvet cape”.

“My god what have I signed up for”.

Tucker snorts, “generalised suffering and ringing in the year of mischief”.

Danny dramatically swishes the vines covering the doorway out of the way, near shouting, “more like singing in the mighty reign of the defect quartet! Humanities rejects!”.

Valerie points towards his voice, “hey now, I still live in the Mortal Realm...mostly. I haven’t totally defected from normal human soci-”, cutting herself off as she turns around and gapes.

Danny’s standing there in a Superman pose, floor-length black crushed velvet cape with white plush lining; clasped together by two large green skulls, images of flames etched in pale green, and connected by a loosely hanging large blackened silver chain. Over top of a silk dark purple surcoat with black satin swirling embroidery, black leather double belt decorated with black spikes, and long-sleeved fine silver chainmail under it all. Black clawed titanium gauntlets and segmented knee-high boots of the same metal; both embedded with emeralds, rubies and onyx stones, at every joint and the cuffs. The whole ensemble finished off with a black leather choker, a green skull centrepiece with a large black obsidian ring hanging from its mouth.

Sam and Tucker start laughing at Valerie’s still gaping facial expression, while Danny slumps exaggeratedly, “What? Too much?”.

Tucker laughs hard, thankful his make up is already set, “dude! We’re going for street royal! Not ‘we’re going to the opera house’!”.

Danny sticks his arms out to the side slightly and looks down, “this is street royal”, plucking at the cape collar, “this cape is barely one step up from civvies”. Making Valerie finally lose it and start laughing her ass off. Wheezing, “you! You’ve been! Been here too long!”.

Tucker points at Danny’s shoes, “at least go for low top shoes and wrist-length gloves”.

Danny rolls his eyes and alters their length, before sticking in decent sized emerald earrings and giving himself black leggings, “happy?”.

Valerie shakes her head with a smile, “this school year is going to be a mess”.

Danny smirks, “perfect then. They have the audacity to hold these royal and knightly asses back a year then they deserve it. Plus”, pointing at everyone in turn, “how has no one figured shit out yet. Like this is getting sad, and it’s not like any one of us actually need the acceptance or even tolerance of the mortal world”.

Everyone sighs, “would still like it though”, before shrugging, “screw the lot of ‘em otherwise though”.

Tucker points at Danny, “really says a lot when even Mr. ‘Oh-Ancients-what-if-they-don't-accept-me?’ no longer gives a damn”.

Danny shrugs, “kind of hard to care when my folks and your folks, and maybe Val’s, are the only ones I’ll ever really be seeing again. And they’ve all accepted our crazy bullshit”.

Sam groans as she sticks her nails in Danny’s face for him to freeze-dry, “and lucky me, I get to be the odd one out in the acceptance train. But hey, it’s not like I ever actually cared. Not to mention Nana Ida is leaving the four of us everything”.

Valerie coughs, nearly messing up her dark grey lipstick, “wait, I’m included now?”.

Sam rolls her eyes, “duh. All of team Phantom is and you’ve officially joined the chaos”.

Danny smirks as he flops back down in the chair, “there’s no way out and nothing but dead ends. But rejoice! For death is only the beginning”.

Valerie squints at him as she finishes, “that's way more ominous than you think it is”. While Tucker gets up and rummages through Danny’s bag, lifting up their assorted headgear. Tossing it to each of them and smirking at Danny’s ‘simple’ three-peaked green crown covered in obsidian stones, “well at least this one doesn’t float, or burst into flames, or give off mist, or give off the horrifying wails and moans of the dead”.

“I’d like to actually be able to hear the music, Tuck”.

Danny adjusts his ‘small’ crown and admires everyone else. Sam in her silver elven like crown wrapped in ivy vines and leaves. Tucker’s golden band of coiling snakes and rubies. Valerie with a blackened silver headband with titanium black ram horns, green skull wrapped in vines with a snake winding through its eyes at the centre. Nodding curtly, “alright, y’all ready to go freak all our former and current classmates out?”. All three of them give devilish grins so Danny continues, “well then, it’ll be a pleasure doing this song and dance with you all”, nodding at Sam, “Botany Lordess NightShade”, nodding at Tucker, “Ranatheo Pharaoh T Duulaman”, nodding at Valerie, “High Dread Knight Rufescent”.

The three of them nod back, “Phantom, High Ghost King”. Before everyone bursts out into laughs as they hop into Sam’s pumpkin carriage drawn by three black horses with flaming manes. Deciding to save Danny’s skeleton procession and fanciful Litter, as their ride for prom.

They all agreed to arrive fashionably late, since being tardy was something all of them were well known for. So it seems no surprise to them that things have already gotten started by the time they get there. Danny’s the first to hop out and holds the carriage door for everyone else. A dude smoking outside going bug-eyed at them and coughing, though the quartet completely ignores him.

Tucker, snickering at Danny, “dude, you’re the highest royal of us all. The fuck you doing?”.

Danny smirks, “gotta take care of my underlings Tuck. And y’all are mortals after all”. All three of them flip him off before the defect quartet head inside sneakily; all of them seriously wondering how long it will take for anyone to notice them.

Valerie makes her way over to the food stand, which honestly seemed like a dumb idea to have in the same room as a high school dance. Munching on some cheesy snacks, there really wasn’t a Ghost Realm equivalent to this level of greasiness and synthetic cheese, when someone taps on her shoulder. Turning around to see Star with some curly-haired brunette. Star speaking with shock, “oh! Valerie?!?”. Valerie just waits and smirks into her drink as Star opens and closes her mouth before speaking, “why? How? Armour?”.

Valerie laughs, takes a sip of her drink and eats a few more cheesy snacks before responding, “yup, it’s the last year and none of you noticed just how weird we were. So we decided fuck it, let’s really be straight strange. And the armour is a status thing, Star. Kind of came with the whole getting knighted thing”.

The brunette speaking up while Star just stares, “you know, I heard there were some unusual people in this town but, uh, this is a bit above and beyond”.

Danny laughs from behind the two girls, “you really have no idea Brittney. There’s no place stranger”, making both girls jump.

But Star quickly collects herself, recognising Danny’s deep and rather unique voice before turning around and stopping. Rubbing at her eyes as Danny and Valerie laugh. Brittney nearly whispers, “how do you know my name?”.

Danny smirks and shrugs loosely, cape bunching up. While Valerie speaks, “oh don’t mind that. Danny knows everyone’s names”.

Star looks back to Valerie while pointing at Danny, “okay...What is going on here? Those are, that is a lot of precious gems”.

Danny waves her off, “these are my less decorated clothing. Probably the most dressed-down I’ve been in a solid month”, chuckling, “ah the joys of being royalty”.

Star chokes and it looks like they’ve finally started to get other people’s attention. Multiple girls are poking at Tucker’s finery, Sam looks to be arguing with some popular girls who took Paulina’s place after she graduated. Dash, Kwan and Dale slowly walking over while eyeballing Danny. “The Hell Fentit?”.

While Sam slips over, escaping the clutches of the younger A-Listers, “hey now, is that any way to talk to your future king”.

Dash scoffs, “Fenturd is no one’s king. What are you four pulling?”.

Danny laughs and pats Dash’s head, Dash goes to whack it away but goes through Danny’s intangible arm. Making Danny laugh even harder, smirking down at the stunned Dash, “I’m everyones king in death Dash. Well, if you become a ghost that is”.

Dale squeaks, “you’re a ghost!”.

Tucker tosses his arm around Danny as the two laugh, the jocks and girls changing to glaring at Tucker. Dash muttering, “what the hell”.

Tucker chuckles, “naw he ain’t flat out dead. None of us are. Ghost royals all the same though”, plucking at his gold bracelets, “comes with plenty of positives I’d say”, before flicking sand at Danny, who flicks snow back.

Sam glares and shoves her head in between the two boys, “how dare you leave me out”.

Danny points at her as she flicks leaves at them, Danny speaking with a shit-eating grin, “we’d never leaf you out”.

Star slowly looks back to Valerie, “when the heck did you all acquire powers and what’s up with the king thing?”.

Valerie chuckles as Star and Brittney join her in leaning against the food tables, Valerie replying, “like I said no one noticing was getting annoying so we’re not even bothering to hide it anymore”.

Danny sticks his head close and smiles, “if you recall, there was a point in time where the trio went from just the losers three to the weirdo trio. Quite a time that was. Ghosts popping up all of the sudden. The mad man king of ghosts stealing our town into another dimension only to be defeated and dethroned. Only for a certain someone to find out they were the rightful heir to said throne”.

Tucker joins in, “dude yeah, crazy shit. And then the school goes on weird field trips only for another certain someone to find their look-alike in an ancient museum while some crazy evil ghost awakens. And then of course, as things always happen, turns out that look-alike is the rebirth of the ancient ghost pharaoh and thus heir to the throne”.

Sam smirks, “and who could forget the time this dumb town decided to destroy all the plant life only for some crazy powerful ghost lord of plants to turn everyone into mindless zombies and fertiliser. Only for said ghosts to pick a certain someone as their queen and mother to all plants. Before, obviously, getting defeated”.

Valerie shrugs and smirks at Star, “and then what certain someone turns out to be a freakishly skilled fighter and ghost hunter, and friends with the aforementioned certain someone’s. A certain someone who only needed to share their secrets to unlock the door to knighthood”.

All four grin while everyone around just gapes at them, everyone in the room having gone silent shortly after Danny had started speaking.

Dash blinks before blurting out, “that’s bullshit”.

Danny rolls his eyes and snickers, “is that the ‘how dare you do better in life than me’ kind of ‘that’s bullshit’ or the ‘you are lying’ kind of ‘that’s bullshit’?”.

Dash glares at him and crosses his arms, “the second Fentoad. You four are weird but that’s it”.

The four exchange glances and snicker.

Star shakes her head and puts on a smile, “well whatever, you’re all here so things can actually start now”.

Valerie raises an eyebrow while Danny asks, “wait what?”.

Star nods to someone and suddenly a banner drops down reading ‘Respect, Protect And Never Forget. The Defect Quartet!’, and the music starts up in genuine, playing weird intense songs that are decidedly not normally played at any dances. Balloons and streamers start going off all over the place; most people breaking out into erratic dance, everything from the monster mash to the creep. One person appears to be doing a mash-up of the chicken dance and cotton eye joe. Anyone not dancing wildly in the whirlwind of streamers and flashing lights is leaning against the gymnasium walls watching the chaos.

Danny makes a show of looking like he’s about to faint, “they love us, they really really love us! Catch me”, before going to fall over.

All three others speaking in unison, “no”, as Danny just collapses on the floor.

Sam points at Dash who just finished doing the wiggle, “don’t you jerks hate us?”.

Dash shrugs, “Danny’s the only one I could pummel that would still stand up to me. Not to mention he never seemed to actually get injured”.

Danny blinks and tilts his head, still laying on the ground, “you actually noticed that?”, laughing, “sweet Ancients someone did actually notice something!”.

A couple of people who were just standing around come up, “plus you four are basically a staple of the school and town”.

“Your bullshit is Amity Parks hazing ritual”.

“You’re our mascots”.

Danny flings himself up and yanks the other three in for a tight hug, “guess we have to frequently visit our mortal lair now! Haha! The mortals have accepted their fate!”, before dragging them all onto the dance floor and all four of them break into weird ghost dances. The most ridiculous or over the top ones they can think of.

Danny’s bouncing around on his palms, cape dragging all over the floor and surcoat folding over his face. Sam is stomping and swaying her hands through the air like she walking through vines and pretending to have a seizure. Tucker looks to be doing a version of the robot that involves swords, bracelets jangling loudly. Valerie looks like she’s fencing while doing ballet, occasionally clanging on her breastplate for the sound effect.

The four bursting into an erratic mock fight as Freaks by Timmy Trumpet comes on. People laughing and eventually joining in. Danny notes that even Mr. Lancer, Mr. Lewis, Mrs, Testlauf and Ms. Trent seem to join in.

Danny shimmies his way over to Mr. Lancer, who’s now panting, elbowing the teacher who’s now shorter than him, “thought y’all would get back at us by making things as weird as possible huh? Try to shock us for a change?”.

Mr. Lancer waves him off, “as some would say, ringing in the new year and your last one”, standing up fully, “and yet you all still managed to startle everyone. What even is this Daniel?”.

Danny laughs exaggeratedly, “y’all only have the tip of the iceberg on our oddness. Literally in my case”, Danny swishes his cape out, snow falling out of it, as Danny goes back to the dance floor,

While Mr. Lancer is extremely confused, and then startled by Valerie coming up from behind and stomping her feet; making a show of standing ridged before bending over in laughter. Patting Mr. Lancer’s shoulder as she stands, “Mr. Lancer, you really should have expected us, especially Danny, to pull some shit. Out weirding him is honestly impossible. But hey, that’s the High King of Ghosts for you”.

Mr. Lancer coughs, “what?”, while Valerie winks and walks off. Mr. Lancer looks around, Samantha’s lifting a teacup made out of a leaf with a vine, Tucker seems to have a magically appearing red carpet of bandaging appearing in front of his feet and Mr. Lancer’s pretty sure he sees brown snakes winding around him in places, Valerie seems to be showing off a green and red board sword - where did that even come from? - to Mia, and Daniel is seemingly hopping around and changing the colour of the floor every time he lands. Mr. Lancer is officially both in awe and fear of what this year is going to be like. Watching as the Defect Quartet, which he honestly thought was a pretty insulting name for the group, all collapse in a heap on the ground; Daniel throwing his cape over the other three dramatically like a large blanket, while the music quietens down.

Star and Kwan, the previous years' homecoming queen and king, take the stage. Star grabbing the mic, “okay now that we’ve had a chance to adjust to the strange and bizarre again. It’s time for this years homecoming king and queen!”.

Star waits for the cheering to stop, though some are booing too, expected honestly. Clapping her hands, “so the votes were cast by everyone as they entered, meaning!”, Kwan holds up two envelopes that Star points at, “we don’t even have to wait!”.

People cheer and hold up cups while Star opens a pink one and Kwan opens a blue one. Meanwhile, Sam mutters about gender roles, stereotypes and colours.

Star smiling down at the paper and lifting up her head, “the homecoming queen is...Valerie Gray!”.

Valerie sticks her arms out to the side speaking as people cheer, “the fuck? I’m only here, like, half the classes?!?”.

Jesse elbows her above the metal, “but you have literally saved people's lives and not to mention basically taught everyone how to work ectoweapons”.

While Kwan leans into the mic, grinning like an idiot, “and the homecoming king is...Danny Fenton”.

Sam, Tucker and Valerie slowly look to Danny with expressions of mock horror, while people cheer. Danny blinks once, twice, three times before going stiff and pitching sideways, laughing and shouting, “you poor innocent fools!”.

Valerie sighs and grabs Danny’s arm, pushing up his cape to do so, and drags him with her towards the stage. Danny points behind him at Sam and Tucker, “chant as we rise”.

Sam and Tucker shrug and start stomping their feet, “before the armies, start the chaos. ‘Cause these boring skies will be no more”.

Dash snorts at Dale, “they are really going all-in on this act, aren’t they? Kind of makes me miss Highschool”.

“It’s only been a couple of months dude”.

While Danny bends forward to let Kwan awkwardly put the puffy homecoming king ‘crown’ over Danny’s actual crown. Valerie doing the same as Star tries to situate the tiara in between the horns. Star muttering at her, “this is absurd”. Making Valerie and Danny smirk.

Star and Kwan step to the side and bow at the crowd while Danny does silly hand waving; Valerie being more normal about it even if light is bouncing off her armour.

Star and Kwan hop down off the stage as Valerie grabs the mic and points at Danny, “the Zone were you all thinking putting him up here?”.

Multiple people shout at them about how they basically defined the town and school, were a vital part of the atmosphere and culture. And that Danny was basically the epicentre of it all.

Danny laughs and leans over the mic, looking at Valerie, “face it Val, I’m the perfect collection of blood, guts and other assorted candy store viscera”, before turning to the crowd, “Imma tell y’all a story. ‘Cause unholy guacamole, you have no clue”.

Valerie looks at him and snorts, “origin story time?”.

Danny just smirks before speaking, “you see, it was many years ago. Before you or I, but not really ‘cause I was here and so were most of you. I decided this reality wasn’t for me, space was always my shit. Hence why I get called space boy so much. Anyway, so I tried to aim for a better world. And then what happened? I accidentally opened a hole into the realm of the dead! And you know what I did? What I goddamn did? Waltzed in and screamed ‘Honey! I’m home!’”, clapping his hands before pointing them out at everyone, “and now I’m here with you fucks again, in a town known for its ghostliness. Which I am absolutely the epicentre, or whatever, for. So y’all want atmosphere, I’ll give ya atmosphere”, snapping his fingers making green mist appear in the air, “this year is going to be a dissection of weird for all to see!”, Danny leans against the podium, posture instantly becoming more serious, well sort of serious anyway, “but really, the lot of us genuinely debated whether to even stick ‘round Amity”, Danny laughs as multiple people gasp and some shout “no!” and “never leave us!”, most people just going along with the quartets dramatics at this point. Danny smirks as he continues, “this silly mortal plain can barely handle us, we are in league with the dead after all. But fuck it, this town’s dead enough for our asses and y’all clearly accept our shit”. Resulting in a bunch of cheering, even if most people are incredibly confused.

While Danny nods at Valerie to speak, letting her step up to the podium with a dramatic bow. Valerie chuckles and smiles at him before turning to the crowd, “so obviously I’m the least odd of the quartet. I’m also the only one that isn’t straight up accidental ghostly royalty”, Valerie shrugs, “up to you whether you believe any of us about our bullshit. But just keep in mind, we have been ‘away from town’ all summer. Take a good guess as to where. Anyway, let’s have a wild year and remember”, Valerie leans forward almost menacingly, metal wrist guards clanging on the podium, “this is your final chance to take us down”.

Danny throws his arm around Valerie, “and you call me ominous!”, turning to the crowd, “is our lives nothing but strange or just hard to believe? Question our behaviour but it’s never what you guess. So just let go of what you don’t know. You laugh at us and you laugh with us. But we can be anything you don’t want anyone to be”, snorting and laughing, “because we are humanities defects!”.

Valerie pushes him off the stage and grabs the mic, “he’s a drama queen, obviously”.

While multiple people whisper about how it seemed like the quartet are the ones who came up with their name, which honestly tracks.

Danny shouts from the ground, “KING!”, before springing up and adjusting the fake crown over top of his real one and smiling wide at everyone, “best boil my blood and gouge my eyes, for I’ll never learn to hold my tongue”.

Valerie shakes her head as she hops down from the stage, going with Danny for a dance, “you ominous bastard”.

Danny laughs as he takes her hand in his, “ah sweet sweet normalcy”.

While Tucker and Sam dance, snakes and vines weaving in a dance as well.

Mr. Lewis watches from the sidelines over the rim of a paper coffee cup, “you know, I thought aliens were the weirdest shit I was ever going to see”, shrugging, “but hey, at least no ones tried to kill me yet”.

While the defect quartet roamed the dance, confusing every person they talked to or stood next to or so much as looked at.

End.

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thepilgrimofwar · 4 years

Text

Breaking the Line - Edited Roll20 Log

[Back dated from after Minutes to Midnight and before Warplanning 2]

[Event Start]

The counter-attack had caught the forces of House Illithia off-guard, and a conscripted army that had expected an easy advance against the scattered resistance from the Emberglades instead found themselves on the run. Retreating behind hastily dug and fortified earthworks, they manage to halt what meager soldiers that the Heartlands had to spare. Gathering their strength for the next push, they awaited Judereth’s militiamen. Numbering in the thousands from every household of the Glades, they had spent the last day mobilizing and marching to the front and were now prepared to join a new offensive.

Judereth marched at the head of the coalition. True to her words over the war table, they were to be the tip of the spear. A spear that would be driven straight into the heart of Westheath. “Spread the word, we’re approaching the front,” said the Baneret, and the men under her command did so without question.

Relriah rode beside her, sidesaddle. She looked the part of a noble lady save for the sheathed sword on her saddle and the look of fire in her eyes. “I am in your hands,” she said with a nod, looking at the men that she led into battle. The comment seemed to encourage them, activating some sort of primal instinct that did not wish to see a mother come to harm.

Mara Blazingdawn rallies the banner men of the Dawnspire to her side. Looking along the ramparts, she could see the muzzle flash of rilfemen opening up onto the approaching forces. Bodies littered the field of good men poorly spent. "Shields!" Mara shouted, as she channeled a personal protection spell. Swords and shields versus well fortified fusiliers. "It's a suicide charge! We need to clear them out!"

Thanidiel:"I am not fond of that entrenchment."

"Highdawn will hold but will not advance until there is breach."

Kebha was silent as always, her presence unknown even to those men she had been given to command. She had all but abandoned them, leaving them with the simple notion of kill or be killed- or be eaten, if they failed. Kebha cared little for the fates of 'her' troops- she was here at Lirelle's request, honoring perhaps the closest thing to a friendship she had formed outside of the cabal. She left them to their devices, cloaking herself in thick void and vanished from sight along with Xio'lhr and her trusted Ashtongue.

Ethalarian nudges his Charger forward to the crest of the small hill behind the artillery. He surveys the field with a grim expression painted over his scarred features and turns to the square-jawed man behind him. "Send word to Highdawn and the militia cavalry under my command- we wait for a breach in the lines."

Thanidiel:"Lady, if you would pull towards the farmland."

"It is unwise to be so close to the 'firing line.'"

Thanidiel 's iconic banner flicks after Ethalarian's runner reaches them. Some sign of her understanding without return or shout.

Relriah acquiesces to Thanidiel's demands. "Very well, I'll be observing"

Elara Blazingdawn surveys the troops under her command and fists her hands on her hips. "Alright lads and lasses. Now's the time to find that inner sense of strength that I hope to the Light you all have. Otherwise, uh, we're done." She pauses, realizing this is a bad motivational speech. "BUT!" She exclaims, "We represent the Dawnspire tonight! The Serdar has sent us strong and bolstered to the field. Tonight we fight for,er, Quel'thalas!"

Avenaiel is a construct of an elf, and her soldiers seem the same; the remains of Blood Knight armor mantles her but it is mostly replaced with leathers. She waves with her fingers to the artillery, and is greeted with nods.

[Combat Start]

[The Assault]

With a great war cry, the forces of Emberheart charge across the gap of no-man’s land, crossing over the corpses of the ones who had charged before them. But this time, the soldiers of the coalition were there to protect them with their flesh and steel. Esheyn covered their flanks, her soldiers protecting the ladder and siege bridge bearers with their shields as cavalry belonging to Thanidiel, Ethalarian, and Relriah ride at their backs, ready to cross the moment the staked trenches were bridged.

Beathyn orders the bombards that he had purchased off Obaniwix to shell the enemy rifle lines, trying his best to minimize the casualties from enemy fire.

Mara & Elara Blazingdawn, with their knights sent by Telchis and Ellasha from the Dawnspire, covered their rightmost advance, ensuring that the militia there were well protected from their assault.

Kheba, an Illidari of blood and shadow, infiltrated the enemy lines, drifting over with others of her kind until they were far behind the enemy defences and trenches. She moved towards the artillery that was raining death down upon friendly troops on the assault.

Oosaarn advanced with arbalests on either side and a handful of no longer bored Warsong at his back. While the orcs held their ground, crossbows soon fired away at the enemy's rifles.

[The Staked Trench Bridged]

Thanidiel rides straight through the enemy lines to the forefront of their cavalry reserves. The standard of Tyr’s Hand held high in the horizon by her troops as the ex-Knight cracks a whip of holy fire like a blazing lightning strike, meant to startle the horses.

Ethalarian lifts his lance high and bellows his orders over the din of cannon fire and the screaming wounded. "Punch through! Clear a path for the infantry!"

Thanidiel:"Soon would be the time to gain a real notch on your belt, Lady Illithia."

Relriah gives her a nod, unable to hide the mix of excitement and horror in her eyes.

Elara Blazingdawn signals her troops to advance, reinforcing Mara's troops near the ladder. Boots thunder on the ladder as the elven troops raid the fort, turning on the Westheath Militia where they can.

Oosaarn led that ragtag group of Warsong towards the siege ladders. Leaving the arbalests behind to continue their volleys upon the enemy forces.

Kebha continues to advance forward, an incidious shadow across the battlefield like choking smoke. She rushes forward, making her way towards the battery, biding her time until she can do real damage. Across the field, the militia struggled on, heeding the words of Thanidiel. They drew steel, diving forward into the riflemen before them.

[Battle for the Battery]

Esheyn rallies her troops to press on, to bring their weapons down upon the militia that surround them.

Mara Blazingdawn"Rally! Do not get stopped! All forces advance!"

Ethalarian wheels his cavalry about as the first formation of heavy infantry are broken apart. He signals to the militia cavalry with his lance and turns his own cavalry on the infantry striking at his flank.

Elara Blazingdawn hikes up the ladder with her troops in tow, eager to close the distance between her sister and herself. "Keep moving, keep moving! Get that militia!"

Oosaarn’s Arbalests again fired on the forces at the other side of the defenses. All while the group of orcs barreled into the enemy's frontlines in thunderous war cries.

Shrapnel catches Thanidiel as the battery fires indiscriminately into the advancing Emberheart forces. She is seen passing the Standard of Tyr's Hand to the Emberglades heavy cavalry and pulling off of the field with a scant retinue, letting them continue the battle in her stead.

[Morale Breaks Militiamen begin to flee]

Mara Blazingdawn:"Let these peasants run back to their homes. All forces reform and move onto the trebuchet!"

Ethalarian goes racing northward now, shouting orders for his flagging unit of militia to retreat. The Blood Knight lancers crest the hill, preceded by thundering hoofbeats and the deafening blast of a war horn. Lances at the ready, enveloped by the twisted sheen of stolen Light, they crash into the crews manning the artillery battery.

[The Trebuchet is destroyed. Combat Ends. Knowing they were defeated a significant number of Westheath forces have thrown down their arms.]

Ethalarian would like to keep War Crimes to a minimum.

Mara Blazingdawn:"The battle has finished. What will we do with all of these captured and wounded?"

Iriina:"Dungeon."

Relriah doesn't speak, but should the decision to slay the captured and wounded be decided upon she would see to it herself.

Oosaarn:"Give them a choice. Rot in a cell or a quick death."

Kebha sheathes her glaives, turning her attention back towards her allies. She says nothing, but does eye the frightened looking infantry like a snack.

Isilos:"The question is, will they become hostile combatants if released?"

Judereth clears her throat. "Prisoners will be a drain on resources we scarcely have at the moment. But I am usre Lord Emberheart would like them alive. The boy wants to be merciful."

Mara Blazingdawn:"I am liken to agree. Hold them in a cell until the war is over. Rebels are less likely to take up arms if their brothers and sisters have a chance of surviving. Killing them will only give them reason for revenge."

Elara Blazingdawn:"Offer them the choice."

Oosaarn:"Then do whatever it is your 'lord' wants. I do not care."

Iiloridan shrugs his shoulders; not his land, but if they were asking... "I agree with the orc. Cell or death."

Ethalarian tugs on the reins of his charger and, somewhat bloody and now covered in artillery shrapnel- thanks Isilos- exhales a long sigh. "I've seen enough of my kin slain in recent times." Lord does he sound thoroughly -tired-. "Treat their wounds and hold them until this business is finished."

Judereth:Sighs, shakes her head, but orders her militia coming up from the rear to collect the wounded and to clasp the others in chains.

[The Coalition votes to Imprison them.]

Kebha laments. But Dinner.

Ethalarian: There are enough freshly dead people to eat, you monster

#Epilogue #Battle

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neo-luna · 3 years

Photo

Another Color sketch.

This time of one of my older ocs, Riko Maki. A Fairelle (A elven race) girl and prodigy white mage. She also something of a paladin and her main weapon is a lance...that she will insist is a staff. It does have magical properties accustom to staves, but as a weapon functions a a lance as well. Namely, Riko falls into the lancer/dragoon classes or at least thats where some of the inspiration for her fighting style comes from. *shrugs*

Also decided to do something different with the colors and shifted the shadows to warm side of the wheel.

#life of neo-luna #art #artists on tumblr #oc #Riko Maki #sketch #I forgot to shade the ribbon #but I dont feel like fixing it lol #same with the top #oops

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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

Text

Stealing Elves (Gilgamesh, Cu Chulainn, Rin, Hakuno, a ‘would rather not involved’ Gudako)

“Hakuno, when they leave the room, we need to attack them. I’ll let you take the golden one on and I’ll beat up the idiot.”

“Why do you get the idiot?”

“Because I’m the leader.”

“Bitch.”

Gudako stared at the two pointed eared women at the table by the door, her mood dropping immediately as she listened to them talk to one another.

Gilgamesh and Cu Chulainn were laughing nearby, clinking a goblet and beer can together and drinking deeply.

The two idiots were getting along?

Two women were captured?

“What did you do?”

The two jumped, glancing over at her and grinning a little.

“Master,” Gilgamesh spoke up first. “You recall that the Celt and I acquired the great game of Elven Empires the other week, correct?”

“Yes…”

The king grinned. “After careful consideration, Lancer and I went into the game and decided to claim our own women. There is now no need for you to find us women in the singularities or complain that we are leaving. We have our women.”

“YOU’RE CLAIMING US?!”

The bitchy one glared over at the golden idiot.

“I AM NOT YOURS!”

“I don’t want you,” Gilgamesh told her, his eyes drifted to the plainer of the two. “You are my choice. Take pride at your new station in life, my shrewd maid.”

“I’m so very happy I would like to go vomit,” she replied in a droll voice. Those brown eyes drifted over to her. “…You seem like you’re in charge. If you would be so kind as to send us home, that would be wonderful. I’m set to marry an idiot blond king and I plan to slaughter him.”

“That was me!”

The woman glanced over at him and shook her head.

“Gilgamesh, correct?” Gilgamesh asked.

“That is the fool’s name.”

“Gudako!” Gilgamesh glanced over at her. “State my name for my Wife Hakuno.”

Gudako pat both women on the shoulder, freeing them from their bonds. “I’m so sorry about Cu Chulainn and Gilgamesh. They’ve been playing the game for weeks. It’s bad.”

The women glared over at Gilgamesh and Cu Chulainn. Two bows were pulled from their cloaks, their eyes focused in as they aimed.

Gilgamesh and Lancer smiled over to them.

“Class advantage, women.” Gilgamesh snapped his fingers, motioning Cu forward. “Lancers beat Archers.”

“Hakuno’s bow comes apart into two pieces.” The Bitchy woman told Gil. The plain one, Hakuno, snapped her bow in two, preparing it as double blades.

“Ah, a woman fated to lose to me then,” Gilgamesh stood up, Gates opening. “Archers beat Sabers.”

Gudako turned, heading for the door instead.

These two idiots could fight the women all they wanted.

She wasn’t getting involved.

#drabble #drabbles

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allthatisleftinthedark · 6 months

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"Sino...Can I ask what you find attractive about me? I mean...I'm curious. Plus, you know, I did just tell you what I thought was attractive about you. Albeit, in a more precise fashion."

He's just curious. It feels like this is a better step to go off of, though he's already outed himself as thinking about kissing her.

unprompted asks | always accepting | @offrozenmemoirs

The instant Seraph chokes on his drink is the moment the elf witnesses Sino's famously large and mischievous smile on her face. The corners of her lips curl wider, reveling in the abrupt plunge of his composure. In eight words and less, the lancer unravels! Unhooking her thumbs from her pants, she rests her hands on the generous arch of her body that was wisely noted by Seraph.

Her airy and playful laughter gives way as her dulled yellow eyes watch his expression morph. In her focused observation, his lips tuck into his mouth, his eyes skittering away. Yet a residual courage emerges as their gazes meet once more. Unaddressed matters, which Sino wryly dubs "complications," lay bare as the door to its secret was pried from its hinges to reveal the truth behind it. Almost emerging, unresolved, and unwelcome feelings peek from the enshrouded room.

With the minstrel, her banter serves as a buffer, a deflective dance that evades the blatant while retaining the balance of the comfortable knowing that stays unspoken. As carefully as she navigates one, as she does with the man of the cloth. Words quieter yet with a sharper edge, she speaks to him softer with undeniable care. Aiding him to navigate through his legitimate grief and rancor, the gnome had always fashioned a seat beside him. She clutches that strategy close to her heart.

No life is sweeter than the one lived now. To be consumed by rage, then emptied and hollowed, is not to live at all.

As Seraph hides behind his hands, coughing, the room settles into a long silence. His eyes search for the Elven absinthe, the embarrassment still making him quench. Sino is all too familiar with the sensation and has a memory attached to it. Instead of a lavish hotel room with only one bed to spare, there is a bed of snow and the low crackles of an outside fireplace. Her gaze softens, drifting back to the bitter cold that bit her fingertips and the flickering shadows of the fire's glow.

Back to the Lenoir manor, a haven in the snow.

Watching the snowfall tucked away in the barren outdoor gardens of Lenoir Manor, Sino was Seraph's rock. As the elf shares their confidence, the gnome's initial thought comes: How fortunate you are to see this world! His countenance wilts; the imprints of a hand are still fresh on his neck. Do not rob yourself of the chance to see a world so new to you; I do not want you to miss out on so much you missed. She recalls the vulnerable slump of his shoulders and the underlying fear of a boy's helplessness. Ironic, as at that point, he walked among Pharasma's servants, entities seemingly above a mortal concept.

Seraph De Vinter is anything but fragile. Every month since joining the party, he has been besieged with earth-shattering trials. It began with the alteration and concealment of his memories and the realization of his falsified childhood. Then came the dawning of his existence as a spirit, not an elf. Now, he questions trust, love, and fidelity from his confidants. What awaits on the horizon is the impending confrontation about the circumstances that robbed and hid his past and the one responsible—the one who orchestrated it—the man, his own father.

Silent talks and a night of debauchery helped mitigate the catastrophe upon catastrophe that seemed to be in the form of champions of balance. Liquor-heavy in the brain, Sino finally sat alongside someone from her party for the first time after a great tragedy. Still more cognizant than the deathwatcher, she looked at the stage and the miserable, foreboding presence lingering over their shared table. With the band barely touching their instruments and Millicent towel-drying the tankards, she pushed herself from the table, glancing at Seraph before heading to the stage.

Ignora was saved, and it was no pyrrhic victory. Another breath to have is another minute to live. Life may continue again. The details of the night blur, but some details stand. She recalls speaking to a pianist at the bar, exuberantly speaking in Nihiranian with her parse verbiage. She folded her coat and removed her shoes, putting them on the side of the stage. The waves moved her around the place, her arms following her as she serpentined. Other patrons perk their heads up before clapping along, even being helped on the stage by Sino.

Almost white eyes looked at her. Seraph. She saw the invitation and pulled him on stage.

'Let me show you...'

They danced and danced the night away.

The laughter fades, and Sino's eyes return to the here and now, again meeting Seraph's. She blinks; her grasp on reality weaves her back to the present. Sober and somber to delighted and drunk, each memory sharing the same feeling as before: liberation.

Screw your head on right! All he asked about was what made him attractive. Figure out something to say without all of that vomiting out. It's about physicality, not how he makes your insides feel warm and squishy. Mind not the fact he just stated crush! No!

"Honestly, I might echo things you would've heard from Soup." Sino rubs the back of her neck, her back facing Seraph. As much as she attempts to conceal herself, the mirror is an unwitting conspirator, revealing her secrets. In the glass, he would see her gaze downwards, staring at the floor, and her brows furrow together in contemplative fixation. Lips parted once as if to reveal more, only to press together—a silent struggle as she sifted through her thoughts, piecing together something that needed deliberation and extensive planning.

"By the hells, I am now guilty of repeating you, but you're undeniably attractive. It's beyond being charming. Time and time again, so many people have liked you. Something deeper and more intrinsic to who you are draws people like moths to a flame. They can't help but notice those big, broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, and that composure that comes naturally from you. Then there's something else—something more. They come actually to learn of you." Sino slowly reaches for the end of her ponytail. Her gloved fingers twirl a lock around her index finger.

"Everyone sees the depth of your sentiment beneath that steel and stoicism. Not everyone notices, but I see how your ears give you away—they vibrate slightly with excitement or flatten when you're bashful." Her voice softens; one could hear the corner of her lips turning upright. "...like what happened minutes ago. Though I'm fairly sure you're aware of that by now."

Her other hand reaches her hips as she shakes her head. "For someone set on initiating and beginning things, which I greatly relate to, you have a remarkable way to keep things stationary. I struggle with connecting to the day-to-day, yet you embrace it wholeheartedly. You reach out decisively with what you want to do."

"And when you commit to something, you stand unwaveringly by your word. It's no coincidence that the Lady of Death picked you, out of all of her devotees, to join the ranks of the Deathwatchers. She recognized your strength—those shoulders built to bear weighty burdens—and decided not to waste the opportunity to use them. And," Sino pauses, a note of playful teasing entering her voice. "Soup's rather well-acquainted with their sturdiness, isn't he?"

Unrestrained laughter fills the space between them. "Haha! You know, it's remarkable—nobody ever doubts your word. No one questions your actions. You exude an air of genuineness that I don't have," her voice meanders, "that I can't have." Though high, the mirth in her voice is tinged with bittersweetness with each last and upcoming word. "Is it such an odd comment if I say you're so utterly authentic? You're so in touch with everything and connect with the world, especially with how new you are to it."

Sino's attention drifts away, her fingers absentmindedly combing through the tips of her hair. In the mirror, sorrow shines in her eyes. Undeniable melancholy festers, and she murmurs.

"By the gods, you're too good for me."

#⋆ * interactions with the independent contractor ; sino‚ ic * ⋆#⋆ * lettered received and responded ; sino‚ asks * ⋆#offrozenmemoirs #[ ooc: she failed her original intent LMAOO ]#[ ooc: and tysm for sending luca!! ]

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