#Empires is a land of magic so it only makes sense that they have more info on werewolves just saying ;)

[galedekarios]

gale & curing the orb - early access

writing my current series of cut content from early access made me think a lot, especially about how curing gale of the orb might have originally worked out if larian had kept to what had been set up in early access. it's no secret that a lot of things were changed or cut entirely, big and small, like for instance halsin's involvement with ketheric's fall, isobel and the shadow curse.

gale's condition, too, seemed different then.

what exactly was different in early access?

while only a few body models were unique in early access, gale's key art showed his left arm in bandages.

in early access, auntie ethel had vicious mockery lines, which hinted what might be beneath those bandages:

Auntie Ethel: I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin. Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle.

we also had information from gale directly as to what happened to karsus in the aftermath of casting his spell:

Player: I was wondering about that “mighty lord” you told me about in your story. Gale: Ah, yes. Karsus Karsus was perhaps the most powerful wizard that ever lived. The child-who-would-be-a-god, the elves called him. And he tried. With a spell of his own devising he endeavoured to usurp in one fell swoop the power of the goddess of magic.  Mystryl, she was called then. Imagine what it must have felt like. To be a god. To know yourself to be untouchable. To be mistaken. As Karsus aimed his spell at her she began to unravel, and with her, the entire Weave. Too late did he realize what he had unleashed. It would have been the end of everything had not Mystryl sacrificed herself.  Gale: The goddess of magic is all magic. By dying, the entire weave was lost, and the spell that challenged a god failed. It was the end of Mystryl, the end of Karsus, and the end of an entire civilization. As the child-who-would-be-a-god was turned to stone, his empire came crashing down around him. The floating cities of Netheril were no more. An event that came to be known as Karsus’ folly.

which is in accordance with the lore:

Unfortunately, his choice was a terrible mistake, for one of the responsibilities of the deity of magic was to regulate the flow of magic to and from all beings, spells, and magic items in the world. Lacking the ability to do so properly, magic surged and fluctuated. With her last remaining bit of power, Mystryl sacrificed herself to block Karsus's access to the Weave, causing all magic to fail. The flying cities of Netheril plummeted to the earth. The severing of the link also killed Karsus and transformed him into stone, and the last thing he saw was his entire civilization being destroyed because of his actions. This was to be known as Karsus's Folly. The stone form of Karsus eventually landed in a part of the High Forest, now called the Dire Wood. The city of Karse was built around its base. Karsus was never accepted as a petitioner by any god, nor did he go to the Fugue Plane when he died. Instead, his soul was bound to the Material Plane. Those with experience in pact magic could call up his vestige, where he appeared as a giant blood-red boulder, like the one found in the High Forest where his petrified form landed. Blood burbles up from the top of the stone, trickling down the side facing the summoner, pooling at the base. When he spoke, the pool fountained upwards, its height varying on the volume of his voice.

the netherese orb then seemed to have a immediate visible physical effect on gale, in addition to the ones that carried to the full release version of the game.

so putting these clues together, i think it's safe to say that the orb caused gale in early access to be afflicted with some form of corrupted petrification, which makes sense given that it's a piece of magic unleashed during karsus's folly.

at that point, this corruption seemed to be affecting his left arm the most, perhaps either from opening the book containing the netherese magic with it, or trying to shield himself with it - but that's just speculation on my part.

so what did the early access set up in terms of curing gale from his affliction?

gale in early access showed a great interest in the astral plane, especially in the absence of time there. he has several banters with lae'zel, which are still in the game now and showing his vested interest in the astral plane as well as any knowledge or insight lae'zel might offer on it:

Gale asks Lae'zel about the Astral Plane. Has she been there? Gale: Tell me, Lae'zel, what is it like on the Astral Plane? Your home realm intrigues me. Lae'zel: Githyanki lay their eggs on other planes. They cannot mature in the Astral. Lae'zel: I will only be welcomed once I obtain a mind flayer's head.

lae'zel notices gale's interest and initiates a banter of her own:

Lae'zel asks Gale what his interest is in the Astral plane, and he equivocates Lae'zel: Tell me, Gale: what is your interest in the Astral Plane? Gale: Time. Or rather: the absence of it. In the Astral Plane, everything is eternal. Lae'zel: It will be my home soon enough, should Vlaakith will it.

in addition to these banters, which clearly show gale's interest in the astral plane - which now in the full release seems merely academic - hinted at another solution to ridding himself of the orb.

what points to that quite conclusively is gale's dialogue when he reveals the truth about the orb to the protagonist.

this reveal differs quite significantly from the full release version. most notably, the protagonist was able to ask him about his own ideas for a what might be able to cure him from the orb.

gale had something very interesting to say to that question:

Player: What would permanently rid you of the orb? Gale: The orb was kept safe and inert in a pocket of Astral Plane, suspended in time. If I can somehow manage to expel it from my body while in the Astral Plane, it will be rendered inert again. Alternatively, I could learn to control it’s chaotic magic, that is; to succeed where I failed before. But without Mystra’s favour, I don’t see how that may come to pass. Of course there could be different answers as well. Faerun brims with more magic than any one wizard could fathom, let alone comprehend. Who knows what outlandish solutions may yet present themselves?

so what does this all mean?

in conclusion, i believe originally there were either more ways to cure gale from the orb - or maybe even in a different manner entirely - than there are in the full release version of the game (begging mystra to remove it, ascension, or accepting/keeping the orb).

perhaps even one that would circumvent having to beg mystra for forgiveness entirely, without gale having to sacrifice his mortality to do so.

i think these banters and lines of dialogue show that the astral plane, which would have rendered the orb inert and stopped the corrupted petrification of his body, would have played a bigger role in gale's quest.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #karsus #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #bg3 early access #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

[blueteller]

Cale be like: "Let's just buy the Magic Tower" – everyone else: *shocked Pikachu face*

I don't think enough people appreciate what utterly crazy, audacious, outside-the-box thinking Cale displayed back when he decided on that move.

People overlook it, because Cale does a lot of other crazy, audacious things, both before and after the Magic Tower. But in my opinion, this one was one the smartest and craziest.

From a reader's POV, it might not seem that crazy. Cale naturally presents the ruined Magic Tower as a perfect oppurtunity from TBOAH: it's described to contain a ton of treasures, some of which were found by Toonka and the Anti-Magic Faction, and some of which were lost. It only makes sense that he'd want to loot it and take the treasures.

However, that's not all what Cale did, no no no. Cale didn't just break into the Magic Tower and loot stuff. He actually, legally, bought the whole place, including the land it was standing on. And it was a genius move which changed the course of the entire war in the future.

Let's break it all down, shall we?

First of all, he made a deal with Alberu. Cale used the Crown Prince's money to buy the Magic Tower, and he did it nearly without a warning, which might have pissed him off... However, Cale wanted to make the Roan Kingdom stronger, so he gave Alberu the device belonging to the Liege of the Magic Faction, which would allow him to contact all the magical refugees from the Whipper Kingdom. Basically, Cale paid Alberu back in full – because the Roan Kingdom desperately needed magic users to strengthen their military.

Secondly, Cale created an alliance with Toonka, and thus the entire Whipper Kingdom. This alliance let Cale have influence when they later went to the war against the Empire. Without Toonka being on board, Cale wouldn't have been able to manipulate the battles against Adin the way he did. Against all odds, Toonka actually became one of this most useful allies later on.

Thirdly, by involving himself with the Whipper Kingdom, Cale actually saved it in the long run. Through Cale, Whipper was able to enter the alliance with the other countries who stood against the Empire and Arm. For example, the Jungle helped provide food to the Whipper Kindom – which in TBOAH, they had to steal from the Jungle in order to survive, leading to a conflict between the two. Instead of enemies, Toonka and Litana became allies.

Next, thanks to Cale being the one who proposed bringing back the Whipper Kingdom mages for reinforcements as mercenaries, during the war against the Empire, Cale helped out with lessening the hatred against magic among the citizens. Basically, by creating this debt of gratitude, the Whipper Kingdom won't be discriminating as badly against mages in the future. That's a huge deal.

Also, by becoming the owner of the Magic Tower, Cale had power over the documents containing the studies concerning magic resistance. The Whipper Kingdom wouldn't have used the information benevolently on their own, that's for sure; there was still too much hatred towards magic at the time. By limiting their access to the information, Cale actually helped them as well.

And finally, by giving the Anti-Magic Faction money from purchasing the Magic Tower, Cale literally bought time. He actually delayed the main conflict on the continent – because, as I mentioned already, the Whipper Kingdom was going to face financial problems due to food shortage, which would have resulted in them going after the Jungle (and Elisneh would have fanned the flames by controling Litana's people with illusions, too). He gave the Roan Kingdom more time to prepare for the war, and Toonka went after the Empire instead, gathering their attention and pulling it away from Cale's country. What feels natural progression for the readers was actually a huge divergence from what happened in TBOAH.

It might have seemed like a simple move at the time in the novel, based entirely on Cale's scammer's way of thinking and greed for money. But it was so much more than that. It was a very calculated, extremely bold move, which Cale came up entirely on his own.

...You think it was obvious to anyone in that world that you could simply buy a building such as the Magic Tower? That it was even an option? Not a chance!!!

It was essentially the fortress belonging to the true rulers of Whipper Kingdom. It was like a royal castle. Who in their right mind comes up with buying the castle of the rulers of a foreign country, right after a major revolution?? Such places are normally never for sale! The only reason it worked in the first place was because Toonka was so crazy he couldn't care less about it! It would have never worked if the Anti-Magic faction hated the magic users any less than they did!!

What Cale did was utterly ingenious. He doesn't get enough credit for such a ballsy move.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #lcf #lout of the count’s family #cale henituse #cale #tcf cale #toonka #tcf toonka #cale is a magnificent bastard #analysis #tcf meta

[felassan]

Image credits: David Gaider [source link below]

Article: 'Who is qualified to make a world? In search of the magic of maps'

"You're travelling with your imagination..."

An extensive feature article about maps, map creation and world-building. It refers to David Gaider and the team's early world-building and early-days process of creating the universe that would become Dragon Age. It includes this early series of original sketches of the map of Thedas through time that Gaider drew when the world was being created.

Excerpts under the cut (due to length):

"Dragon Age. That's the game Gaider was working on - or rather, it was the world he would dream up. Ideas had been swirling about what Dragon Age would be for a few months. The team knew it would be like D&D but would not be actual D&D, because BioWare was sick of licensed games at the time. They knew they were going for Tolkien rather than Conan or Diablo. "We definitely had at least some idea of the kind of RPG this was going to be," Gaider tells me when in a video call. But BioWare didn't have a world. One day, Gaider was handed a historical atlas of Europe and tasked with going away and coming up with a fantasy world for players to explore. And almost immediately, he sketched a map." - "What is it about a map that gives it magical powers to bind us and pull us in? I wanted to know more, and through talking to David Gaider and learning about his creation of the map for Dragon Age, I hoped I might find out." - "In fact, he corrects me, "I sketched a lot of maps." But they were the same map, replicated over and over, because in order for a world to make sense to Gaider, it needed history. "I drew this coastline and then made a bunch of photocopies of it," he says, "and did this series of sketches, like, 'Okay in this era, this is where people lived and where they migrated and created different cultures,' and those cultures changed over time as they got conquered. Much like the book of European maps I had, I was doing it in eras and forming an idea in my mind about how these groups all mingled together. David Gaider was kind enough to share his original sketches of the Dragon Age world with me, and in them, you can see an emerging flow of history. You can see the spread of the Tevinter Empire as the race of Men lands in the north and then begins to spread out. You can see, in the earliest images, there's still a kingdom of Elves in the forest of Arlathan, nearby. Then, they are forced out by the growing Tevinter Empire, south to the Dales, where we encounter them in the Dragon Age games, subjugated to being a kind of slave race. Tribes give way to kingdoms, and names we're familiar with begin to appear." - Caption on the sketches: "David Gaider's original sketches of the Dragon Age world. Wherever you see a name typed in, it's because it was changed by EA's in-house sensitivity team, which cross-checked place names with real-world names in case there was a clash. The area of Antiva, for example, used to be called Calabria, but Calabria is the name of a region in southern Italy. "Well, if you do something with the Calabrians that real Calabrians don't like, they might get upset," the sensitivity department at EA told Gaider. "So I was like, 'Oh fine, I'll change it,'" he says." - ""My feeling on history when it comes to worlds," Gaider says, "is that you need to have a lot of it." Without it, he says a world will feel like a facade. "Sometimes you'll see worlds where they've made only what is needed for their current story, and it's like an old Western set: it feels right, it looks right, but then you slowly get a sense of, 'Oh, there's nothing behind those doors.' Before he sat down to draw, Gaider already knew some of the geographical elements he wanted. He knew he wanted a topsy-turvy 'South was cold and North was hot' idea for the continent, to play with people's expectations, and he knew he wanted a large waterway - that he likens to the Mediterranean - carving its way far inland. Today, we know this as the Waking Sea, and it's an incredibly important feature in the Dragon Age games. Gaider also knew he wanted islands far up in the north, from which an unknown race could invade. "I knew that I wanted an 'other' race that would come along," he says, "which ended up being the Qunari." Gaider also knew he wanted untouched areas for adventure, like forests and mountains, just in case the game would need them. "I didn't want every place to be so civilised that when it came time for 'we need ruins' or 'we need massive wilderness', we've got nowhere to go because I've civilised the entire thing," he says."

"Because remember, the team didn't yet know where the game they were making would be set. That's why so much of the continent you see in the sketches is as yet unused in Dragon Age games - the series hasn't needed all of it by this point. Continents are vast, after all, and realising them in 3D for players to explore is a mighty task. "I guess in my head," Gaider says, "we would be probably either on the north of Ferelden, on what became the Free Marches, or maybe off in the west more towards the Tirashan Forest or the Hunterhorns. That was a very wild area and I was like, 'That's a good place for an adventure to be.' Atlas at hand, photocopies in front of him, Gaider set about his work of growing a game world from a bunch of maps, and with not a small amount of trepidation. There was a lot riding on the world after all; it was a far cry from the worlds he'd created and freely abandoned as a teenager. "This is going to form the foundation, ideally, for a lot of games," he says, "and a lot of people are going to do work [on it]. And the trepidation is like, 'I don't know what I'm doing.' I'm essentially the equivalent of a 13-year-old just going, 'La la la, I'm going to call this Ferelden!'" - "Some things bother David Gaider about the Dragon Age 1 map, still, and they occurred when artists prettied his sketches without his involvement. "Oh," he said awkwardly when they were presented to him. "I didn't want it to look like this, exactly." He says they added a lot more rivers and mountains, and flipping between his sketches and the Dragon Age: Origins map, you can see some have moved around, or gained prominence, and places like Redcliffe have shifted. Apparently people would take to the BioWare forums after the game came out to complain about the map's geography. "And I'm like, 'You know what? You got a point,'" Gaider says. This is mostly anger at himself, though, for not doing more about it. Similarly, he wishes he'd been able to sit down with artists and work out what the rest of the continent you don't see in his sketches looked like, so they didn't have to have "the continent just keeps going..."-like messages at the edge of it. "But to where?" Gaider says. But it speaks to something he's noticed in his decades working in games about artists and writers. "They really speak two different languages," he tells me. They process things differently and they tend to care about different things. There were reams of history and lore written in a "world bible" for the Dragon Age team, but getting artists to read it was another matter. They wanted clear visual cues, not piles of backstory. Dragon Age: Origins eventually found its setting in Ferelden, the kingdom in the bottom right bulge of the sketches, so it left a huge portion of the sketched world unused, which the team presumed no one would ever see. "We thought that was going to be the only one," he says of Dragon Age: Origins. "That's why when you get to the end of Origins, there's so many epilogues that cast off far into the future, which, if we'd known that we were going to keep going and keep going with history, we wouldn't have said, 'Oh, in fifty and one hundred years, this is going to happen.' I think we would have played our cards a little closer to our chest. EA apparently found the game very old-fashioned and thought no one wanted turn-based role-playing games like that any more, which of course now seems ridiculous given the success of Baldur's Gate 3. "Baldur's Gate just goes to show how wrong people are when it comes to industry wisdom," Gaider says."

-

"Nevertheless, when Dragon Age 2 eventually was green-lit, the scope of it, and the focus of it, would completely change. With it, BioWare and EA would push towards a console RPG experience that stopped and started less, and had more action-packed combat. And EA only gave BioWare 18 months to make it, so BioWare decided to make a much smaller, more tightly focused game. It seemed like a good idea at the time. "People at BioWare convinced themselves that the fans would be okay - it'll be fine if it's a smaller game," Gaider says. "And I don't know why we thought that was the case, but for a moment there in time, we were like, 'Yeah, sure, it'll be fine.'" As for the mapping, a tighter focus meant centering on one place rather than a whole region, so the city of Kirkwall on the Waking Sea became the heart of the game, and BioWare developed a time-jumping idea for the game so you could see it at various different points in your character's lifetime, which I still think is really neat. And because there wasn't a large region to explore, the game didn't need a sprawling map, so BioWare turned the map on its side to give Kirkwall some height and majesty instead. It wasn't particularly memorable, but it looked nice. The game didn't go down well. "Its highs were really high, and its lows were really low," Gaider says now. "It was very unpolished. If it even got six months more polish, I think the reception would have been a lot different." More importantly, it meant everything would need to change again for Dragon Age 3." - "In Dragon Age: Inquisition, the third game in the series, the map plays a starring role. It's built into the game world specifically so you and your Inquisition advisors can gather around it and push pieces about as you choose where to go next. Thematically, this fits neatly with the theme of running an organisation like the Inquisition, but the map was also required to cover a lot of ground. One thing BioWare knew the moment it started making the game was that it needed to be bigger than DA2. This time, the game would spread across areas of Ferelden we hadn't been to as well as some we had; up to Kirkwall and into surrounding Free Marches, and then west to the city of Orlais and onwards until it reached past the Waking Sea and arid desert land. But the sense of scale was an illusion. Dragon Age: Inquisition wasn't a continuous, open world, but a fragmented one, made up of a few open-world-like zones, some small parts of cities, and many 'you can't actually explore there, but you can read about it' text-window interactions. Again, this was Gaider's idea, to give the game "a feeling of breadth" without needing the art department to render it all in 3D. By the time Inquisition came out in 2014, the world of Thedas - the name an amalgamation of "the" and "Dragon Age Setting" by the way - had been reinterpreted for three games and touched by many pairs of hands. Gaider's writing team had plugged the holes he, as a single writer, couldn't fill, and the art team had shown us what the world looked like. There was even, fittingly, a Dragon Age encyclopaedia released, compiling the teetering piles of lore and backstory, and maps and imagery that BioWare created for it. People were now joining the team who were already fans of the series. This was no longer an imaginary world; Thedas felt real. And perhaps it no longer needed Gaider to steer it."

- "So Gaider left BioWare in 2016, having worked there for 17 years, most of it spent on Dragon Age. Really, he'd had enough of wizards and demons, and Anthem wasn't the tonic he sought. Eventually, he'd move all the way from Canada to Australia for a fresh start, where he'd start Summerfall Studios and make a role-playing musical called Stray Gods, which was released last year. That game, incidentally, only featured a small map for travelling between city locations. Today, he awaits the arrival of a new Dragon Age game - Dragon Age: Dreadwolf - like the rest of us, having had no direct input. It's an anxious wait, as you can imagine. "I was Mr Dragon Age for ten years," he says, "so there is a certain amount of attachment. I'm not sure how I will feel when Dragon Age 4 comes out. I have a hard time believing that if I play it, I won't spend a lot of the time second guessing any choices I see, like, 'Oh, hmm, I wouldn't have done that.' What if they bring back some characters that I wrote? They're going to Tevinter so what if Dorian's there? Gah! I don't know; I am of two minds as to whether or not I will even play it." "It makes me wonder about these people who create worlds, who draw them into existence - whether that's in a preliminary sketch or a lavish piece of artwork - and whether there's always a point where success comes with the consequence of ceding control. Had Gaider kept the world of Dragon Age to himself, a photocopied map, folded and stuffed in a back pocket, we'd never have played it. And had millions of people not played and enjoyed it, I wouldn't be writing about it now and have that feeling when I look at an image of one of Gaider's photocopies, that I'm in the presence of something special, something powerful. But it's no longer Gaider's map, and no longer Gaider's world. It's all of ours."" - "For Gaider, maps are snapshots of history, photocopied slideshows explaining how places came to be. And of course they are, because he was thinking about Dragon Age when he started in on maps, which meant that he was thinking about geography, sure, but also the passing of time, and the way the latter affects the former."

[source and full article]

#dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #longpost #long post #anthem

[stirringwinds]

I can't agree more with your post about how natural languages are intimately tied to power dynamics, culture and personal identity. To make the nation personifications magically understand each other all the time is removing the depth and potential of their relationships with each other.

Since you mentioned that Alfred's first language was a Native American language, it sounds like he was close to the Native Americans as a child, and not only the English settlers. My thought is that Alfred, the personification of what would become the USA, was only "born" after the English settlers arrived. He was raised by Pilgrims, spoke only English and didn't have meaningful contact with the Native Americans. I'm not a fan of the idea that Alfred was a Native American personification who was born before the arrival of the colonists and was "kidnapped" by Arthur, as it implies that the tribe that he represented was the foundation of the modern USA. It makes more sense to me that he was a personification of the Pilgrim settlements when he was born. What are your thoughts on Alfred's "birth" and his relationships with the personifications around him as a child?

hello, thanks for your question!

to start off, i don't headcanon that nations are born the human way, but when they come into being, there are real cultural/linguistic links they have to other nations which I model on historical interactions and influences. my conception of Alfred is that his "birth"/beginnings are linked to Roanoke (aka the so-called "Lost Colony") and Jamestown (and its famine)—less so the Pilgrims/Mayflower in Massachusetts. but that difference aside, Alfred's 'beginnings' in my view certainly stem from British imperialism and European colonisation all the same. so he is not the personification of "Native America", because this would indeed be racist and homogenising: there can't be such a singular personification but would have to be multiple personifications to begin with. All of whom are much older and culturally distinct just like how Asia/Europe/Africa as a continent doesn't have one personification. this is a similar approach I take with my Mexico OC; she is Indigenous/European and spoke Nahuatl and Spanish, but she herself didn't come into being until Spanish colonisation—and there are other older personifications like Tlaxcala and Mexica (who was the head of the Triple Alliance/what we call the Aztec Empire and rivals with Tlaxcala, another pre-Columbian political entity).

so, for me Carolina Algonquian is one of Alfred's first languages—the other is English. the reason why I think he speaks Carolina Algonquian: the real-life interactions (from cooperative (barter, trade) to neutral to hostile—conflicts that happened since obviously the colonists were encroaching on other people's land) that occurred between the colonists and Algonquian-speaking peoples (such as Croatan and also Powhatan) occurred. All these were central to the history and trajectory of the early colonies. further, the research material on early colonial America I based his character on examined the experiences of biracial/multiethnic people and the dynamics of assimilation & cultural imperialism into Englishness that occurred. i'm from an ethnically-mixed family myself, which experienced cultural assimilation because of British imperialism that also resulted in a deprioritisation and loss of our other ancestral languages, so the cultural dimension of imperialism: how people navigate these faultlines, and pass or don't pass as a dominant group is something I'm interested in exploring.

hence, while i personally headcanon Alfred as mixed-race, he is certainly not an older personification that predates European colonisation of the Americas, and Arthur claims him as his son when he finds him with the Jamestown colonists, after the famine—so he isn't really 'kidnapped' because he isn't the personification of a pre-existing, Native nation. the Jamestown colonists don't really 'raise' him either—he appears to them as a young child who can already talk and walk, and they assume he is an orphan of sorts—after which Arthur comes into the picture. Arthur asserted his power by claiming Alfred as his son—just as the English politically claimed their colonial holdings, but Alfred certainly interacted with other personifications like Croatan or Powhatan and others, because that's who the English colonists themselves in Roanoke and Jamestown met. this contact imo, was meaningful in the sense that it was important and extensive—though obviously not wholly peaceful or conflict-free. So, in my headcanon, before Arthur arrived with the relief ship that met the starving Jamestown colonists, Alfred was regarded with some curiosity and at least distinct wariness, if not apprehension, by other nations because despite his familiarity with Carolina Algonquian, they know he is clearly linked to the encroaching English colonists—and they've heard similar stories already, about Mexico and Cuba.

overall, yes, the political/cultural origins of the United States are very much connected to the British Empire's settler-colonialism. For that reason Alfred is Arthur's 'son', because he is English—but he is not just English or European, because the truth of the British Empire is that while there was a racial and class hierarchy that privileged Englishness and then whiteness generally, the actual human communities that shaped the colonies were never homogeneous ethnically/culturally. Biracial/mixed people existed—and those European colonies as a whole were shaped by the varied dynamics of Native and other non-European influences and contact—whether it was involuntary or voluntary, cooperative, neutral or hostile. that's the angle I've personally chosen to take—and I would end off with emphasising that this is just my approach—because I think there's certainly more than one way to approach Alfred's beginnings and cultural identity.

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #i hope that explains things! #hws america #long post

[poetthewriter]

HELLOOOO!!! 🌘 ANON HERE >:333

I was meant to re-send my oneshot request a few days ago but I forgot...

Anyways!

Could I request some esmpS2!Jimmy x gn!reader angst to fluff :3

Like, Jimmy getting bullied by the other empires and the reader finds him in a secluded area sobbing so they comfort him as much as they can

Jimmy ends up sleeping on the reader's lap and it's just adorable :DD (maybe even add someone finding them and just taking a picture, the next day they show it to the reader and tease them about it)

I deeply apologize if this doesn't make any sense TT

Don't overwork yourself and don't forget to take care of yourself aswell! <3

-🌘 anon

The Ruler Of The Taiga

hello again moony! <3 (fun fact I was originally going to make the reader a tropical biome ruler if you would like to see something like that tell me!)

jimmy!E2 x Gn!Reader (Reader is a fox or wolf hybrid but could also read as a dear reader)

𝑬𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒔= 𝑺𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔&𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔🥮🍡🍯

The ruler of the taiga, a biome filled with beauty of all sorts, foxes prance around, sweet berries grow along the paths and enchant structures and statues litter the flora grounds. the sound of grainy foot steps march across the lands as you walk with peace, your delicate crown lays atop your hair and the wailing wind makes your cape fly behind you.

a basket rests in you hands and swings as you continue on your way, your biomes berries, fruits, vegetation, and herbs all pile in you basket as the sun starts to fall, as the sky darkens the temperature drops as if the ghosts have come out to play.

because of your empire being well known as the lands of the folk the air is always quiet, the ground you stand on and rule is known for its stories over thousand's of years this place has been known for its magical and haunting aura.

your ears perk up at the sound of the wolfs and coyotes that help you protect your empire howls, hearing the call of the sharp creatures you head back to elk village. paces quicken wanting to reach your home, all the views of the forest pass you as you scower but a flash of color makes you stop in your tracks.

on the soft plush soft fern filled ground the sheriff of the mesa lies, his hands run through his gold hair and his body is tensed. "Jimmy?" you speak up you voice quiet and soft but very welcoming, looking up jimmy sees you staring down at his stressed figure and looks away a little embarrassed putting his hands over his face.

It only takes a few swift moments and you are now sitting beside him you can already see that he is stressed, his posture is weak, his eyes are tired and his hairs is all ruffled. "hey, are you ok?" you voice is gentle making sure he feels at least a little more comfortable.

soon after you talk he dimly responds in a strained voice "I'm fine". its quite obvious he was ether yelling, crying or tired. his body slowly fades in and out of conciseness "I'm sorry for being here Y/n I just needed to get away from things for a bit" he continues speaking voice breaking every few words.

"Hey don't be sorry, I can tell your not fine so you wanna tell me what's wrong?" you hum.

"im just tired of everyone ..."

" i know how hard it can be to deal with everyone, and i know that you know that your alot more then what they say you are"

Your head lays on the dirt of the hill behind you two and you rest an arm over you friend, "its hard when everyone is on you tail but why let the jokes and remarks decide how you feel, am i right?"

"thank you" jimmy looks up again as you lay back in the grass, small berries and wormwood spread out across the glade and jimmy slowly lays back with you, soaking in your presents.

-----------

a smaller male bard walks through the dim taiga in hopes to find you but instead he finds a new sight Infront of him, Oli usually comes by for the wonderful trades you present him but I guess today he's out of luck cause right in front of the jester like man, you and the sheriff himself lay sleeping in peace as the sunrises over the horizon.

Oli snaps a photo of the two of you and laughs quietly with a smirky face.

"photo for a trade" he whispers thinking of the deals he could make with this new found piece of blackmail, as the sun almost reaches above the trees Oli skips away giddily.

A/n I’m sorry this took so long I’ve been working and some stuff has been going on but enough with the exudes I hope to finish the reast of my requests<3

#hermitcraft x reader #og mcyt #hermitcraft #empires smp #jimmy solidarity #x reader #3rd life #empires #empires s1 #empires s2 #mcyt #esmp #empiresblr #mcyt x reader #hermit x reader

[a-midnight-rest]

Fixing the T'au empire part 2

So, in the first part I explained how the T'au were fine as they were, because their relatively hopeful outlook on the galaxy shone bright in contrast of the rest of the setting, how that turn the rest of the setting even darker, and how I love the idea that the solution to the Galaxy's problem is a truly different, alien approach to our individualist societies.

However, I have come to realize something, a reason as to why the T'au Empire may not feel at home in the 40k universe, and I thought about it by watching Indiana Jones 4, so sacrifices have been made.

The T'au Empire is not mythological.

The 40k is not a sci-fi setting, it is a dark fantasy setting with guns. And part of what makes the grandiosity of it is how mythologized every faction is. And I do not speak about religion, I speak of myths as in the stories we, right now, tell ourselves are the foundations of the world, the archetypes of what is and is not.

The Imperium incarnates the various mythologies of vast empires. Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, the British Empire, vast swats of lands combining different people united by righteousness and oppression. And also how all those empires fell. It's the idea of "things were better before" (even when they were not). Moreover, the equipment used by this faction is deliberatly old, centuries old, technology is religiously taken care of, weapons are blessed, vehicles are passed down from generation to generation. It is all very old, marked with that myths of the old Empire on its last leg.

The Orks are the Barbarians At the Gate, the savages who relish only destruction, like Attila the Hun, but british. In truth, it's not like barbarians actually existed, those were just foreign countries, but the myth is there.

The Tyranids are the Monsters in the Dark.

The Craftworld Eldars are the Atlanteans, the Utopians, the Babelians, the Old Civilization who fell due to their own hubris, and is now a superior people with no place to call home and no way back their transgression.

The Dark Eldars are the Feys of old, trolls, goblins, fairies stealing children in the night, playing cruel and horrific pranks, eating people. And following them to their home is a death sentence.

The Chaos is the Evil of Man, the primordial sin, the dark part of Humanity that eats itself to death, self destructive and perverse (They should have western dragons, that would fit them).

The Necrons are Death, or at least they try. They are like the Craftworld Eldars in a sense, but in a more Inevitable return way.

But the T'au? They do not fit any myth, in fact they specifically are immune to myths and the Warp. They are no none-sense, they do not play by any rule. As they were written, they would be better as a recurring joke than a faction. Everything about them is bright new, from theme to lore, and it makes them feel shallow.

There is one exception to that, and that is Farsight, who fit the myth of the Virtuous Rebel, an archetype that is not really coined by any faction as far as I know. In a way, he could also be kind like King Arthur, with his magic blade and his knights around him, but the clash of eastern/western reference hide this interpretation of him.

So... how to fix it? Modern problems requires modern myths.

As I said, myths are not about what is actually old, myths are always modern, visions we have right now about the past. So what Myth could fit the T'au Empire? I think we must look to a very modern work of literature: The SCP Foundation. A collective work written like articles depicting how an advanced and secret organization captures, study, and contains supernatural entities. They are much like the Men in Black, or the government in X-Files. They gain they mythology not through what they are, but what they deal with.

I think we should make the T'au Empire's main armies kinda fade in the background and focus on an organisation within the the T'au Empire that would approach the other mythological faction with a saavy appraoch based on tech to contain and use the horrors back at the horrors. A cold scalpel who knows what they are dealing with, knows they are outmatched, and use secrecy, focused efforts, and unconventional tactics to deal with it. The T'au Empire already have the foundation for it, they are technologically advanced, learn from their mistakes, and have authoritarian ruling cast shrouded in mystery.

They could pop up bio/cyber/solar-punks units, highly specialised and modified modern soldiers. Not the WW1 Kriegsmen, not the WWII Cadians, not the Catachan Rambos, not the Angelic Space Marines. People, with modern, recognizable equipment, turning to extremes in order to deal with demons, and civilizations using farming equipment more ancient than their prehistory.

In that perspective, the T'au main armies would kind of become the background, the necessary fight force to win actual battles and hold ground. Their stories could develop nicely on their own until they become established enough to have their own mythos. But the main event would be the Secret Cadre, the Black ops, the Foundation, the Men In Black of the T'au Empire, using not ancient techs and beliefs against demons like the Inquisition does, but developing Reality anchors of their own, sending modified Tyranid viruses into the other faction, using Soul Traps to capture and send daemons to corrupt enemy tanks.

Fire warriors spawned from tyranids biopools, weapons build by engineers trapped in time distortion to produce more advanced stuff faster, ships recycled from Space Hulks...

To mythologize the T'au, the T'au must, I believe, become Myth users to become Myth Breakers.

#warhammer 40k #t'au empire #Imperium #Orks #Myths #Tyranids #Space Marines #Chaos #Farsight #tau #tau empire

[badbatch-badfics]

Padawan (TBB x Male Reader) Part 2

Part 1

Characters: The Bad Batch - Cross hair + Cid.

Relationship: All platonic

POV: Only 2nd (you/yours)

Pronouns: he/him

Species: Unspecified

Content: Smidge of angst and worry, but mainly found family growing into fluff

Warnings: General TBB stuff, a little bit about Order 66. Cringe lol.

Word Count: 2,796

Notes: If anyone has any requests/ideas for this 'series,' please let me know! I'd love to learn more about what ya'll like and incorporate it. (and i'll obviously credit you in the notes for whichever part it goes in)

The Bad Batch was sound asleep, exempt from their designated pilot.  Tech was comfortably cruising through hyper-space, multitasking on a new upgrade for Echo’s arm-scomp and watching the scanners.  A light beep alerted him, signaling that they were approaching Ord Mantell.  He lightly pushed his goggles upwards, before pressing a series of buttons.  The Marauder shook as it dropped from hyperspace, the tremors waking Hunter up from his nap in the co-pilot's seat.  He would usually sleep in his bunk until Tech needed a break, but his bunk was… preoccupied, so to speak.

“We close to Ord Mantell, Tech?” Hunter asked groggily, cracking his neck.  “Approximately 11 minutes and 36 seconds until we enter the atmosphere, and then another 23 minutes until we reach the landing pad.  I would begin waking everyone else up.”  With a sign, Hunter stood up, arms reaching far above his head, ever-so-slightly leaning backwards.  He turned around and started heading towards the bunks, wondering how he should go about waking you up.  He didn’t know how much you would remember, and he certainly didn’t want to find out the hard way.

Of course, there was always the option of letting your body wake up on its own time, and just having someone stick with the ship until then, but there was the risk of general clatter and ruckus occurring and startling you awake anyway, which would be a harsh wake-up call, to say the least.  After a second more of contemplation, he finally settled on leaving you be, and simply shushing Wrecker the moment his eyes opened.  He walked up to his brother, shaking his arm.  Wrecker awoke with a large grunt, like an ancient monster waking from a coma in an echoing mountain, before Hunter aggressively shushed him.  He sharply pointed across the walking strip to your body, an absolute tangled mess of limbs and droll.

Wrecker got the hint, making an ‘oohhh’ sound before slowly sitting up, careful to minimize the amount of creaking.  Hunter walked on, heading towards Echo and Omega, shaking them both awake- Omega more gently.  She yawned and stretched, smiling and greeting Hunter, before quickly grabbing her day-clothes before heading off to the fresher to change.  Hunter went back to the cockpit, where his brothers were already making quiet discussions of what to do with you, the ‘teenager-that-had-essentially-magic-powers-and-was-being-hunted.’  Primarily how they would handle Cid.  She tolerated them because they did jobs for her, and they didn’t really matter to the Empire- except for Omega, it was appearing.  But a Padawan?  That would be a lot of credits, and it would put someone on the Empire’s good side- at least for a little bit.  Cid wasn’t above ratting them out for that kind of profit.  Or, at least, she wasn’t above ratting out the Padawan while keeping them away from the Empire’s eyes for the sake of missions.  “Perhaps we can convince Cid that his use in missions, among other things, would outweigh the reward from the Empire.  Even without using the Force in a physical push-and-pull manner, it can still be used for mind tricks, sensing danger, and much more, depending on his skill set.  We could increase our efficiency and time duration of missions greatly, which would hold a great profit for Cid,” Tech explained, preparing for the Marauder to enter Ord Mantell’s atmosphere.

“That's true, but there’s no way to know what Cid will say- if she agrees, great, but if she doesn’t…” Hunter responded, eyes glancing back at your sleeping form as he trailed off.  If they told her about you, and she decided to tell the Empire, then no one would be safe.

“There’s no way for Cid to be kept in the dark long enough to find a better solution, and we can’t exactly just hide a whole person in the Marauder,” Echo added on, waving his scomp-link around the cockpit for emphasis.

“Of course, this is all assuming that (Y/N) will want to remain with us.  He may know someone, or someplace, that is safe.  Additionally, he may even know Cid.  Echo said that she would occasionally report to the Jedi,” Tech countered, briefly glancing back towards his brothers, away from the planet and control panel.  Echo nodded in confirmation.  “Do we…” Hunter trailed off, sighing, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “do we have any place to go if Cid decides to tell the Empire?  Echo, do you know anyone else who would help?”

“Rex, obviously- but he’s more involved with defeating the Empire than we are, so it’d be an extra risk to the kid.  Maybe Cut and Suu, if we can get a hold of them.  But I don’t think either of us want to put that kind of risk on them- not with Jek and Shaeeah.”  Wrecker made a comment of agreement, briefly looking up from his game of Chopsticks with Omega.  A heavy silence fell over the group, uncertainty thick in the air.

“Entering the atmosphere,” Tech reported, breaking the awkward silence.  The Marauder shook as gravity’s presence took its toll.  It settled back down to a smooth ride within a minute, the greens and browns- mainly browns- of Ord Mantell’s natural landscape coming closer.  “I think Cid will understand, plus, like Tech said, (Y/N) can help us out!” Omega added, not looking up from her hands.

Hunter looked down, contemplating.  Would the reward of Cid accepting the kid outweigh the risk of her turning him in to the Empire?  Tech did have a point, your presence would make things go smoother- but if Cid didn’t care about that point?  What then?  Would they be able to escape the Empire, find a new place to settle down- there was bound to be some planet that was safe- but would they find it before the Empire found them?

They could keep you holed up in the ship for a while, but sooner or later, Cid would find out.  And once she found out, that could damage their… relationship, so to speak.  Assuming she wouldn’t tell the Empire immediately, anyway.  So that wouldn’t work either.  There was no good solution, and everyone knew it.  Finally, Hunter spoke up- “Wrecker, Omega, you two stay with (Y/N) and help him with anything- food, water, applying new bandages.  You get the idea.  Echo, you're with me- we’ll get anything we’d need for a long-term stay on the ship; med kits, food, supplies, whatever.  Tech, make sure the ship has enough fuel, and make any necessary fixes.  Don’t let anyone else know.  After you're done, I’ll tell Cid about… the kid.  We’ll see where it goes from there.”

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

The Marauder drifted down, landing neatly in the center of the dock.  Tech quickly pulled out his data-pad, scanning for any previously unnoticed internal damage.  Luckily, the report came back negative- as he had guessed, there was no new damage.  Satisfied, he checked the Marauder’s current fuel level, so he’d know when to stop filling.  Tech, Echo, and Hunter exited the Marauder, swiftly closing and securely locking the ramp behind them.

The innards of the Marauder were quiet, Omega and Wrecker not really knowing what to do.  They both sat on the bunk opposite you, staring, just in case you’d wake up and need something.  Wrecker had rations and a water canteen to his left, while Omega had fresh bandages and bacta-spray to her right.  “Uhhh…” Wrecker broke the silence, glancing down at Omega, “do we just… wait for him to wake up?  It feels weird, just staring.”

“I don’t know… on Kamino, we would usually wait, but this is nothing like injured clones on Kamino.”  She sighed, wringing her hands together.  “I just…feel so bad.  I mean, our home was destroyed, but at least we have each other.  (Y/N) doesn’t have anyone, and he’s been alone on that ship since the Empire took over.  I can’t imagine what it must have been like…” 

“Well, at least we found him before the Empire did, and any situation we’re in will probably be better than Bracca.  Plus, he’s probably dead to the Empire, so they won’t be after him!”  Wrecker responded, finding the silver lining.  He and Omega looked at eachother, smiling.  It felt good to help people.

On cue, the blankets opposite the pair began shuffling, a long groan sounding out through the metal walls of the Marauder.  You turned over, eyes droopy and your Padawan braid/beads hanging by the corner of your mouth, covered in drool.  Slowly, you put your weight onto a hand and pushed yourself up, leaning against the back wall of the bunk.  Your head lolled back, another sigh escaping.  Everything hurts.  “Good morning!  Er, afternoon!  You slept forever, little Jedi!” Wrecker enthusiastically shouted, causing you to immediately sit up straight, hand shooting down to your waist for the familiar feeling of your lightsaber, only to be met with nothing.  Kriff.

Wrecker immediately sensed your panic, and put his hands up in an attempt of looking unhostile.  “Don’t worry, you're safe!  We’ve had our heads cut into, so we won’t be doing any of that Order 66 stuff!”  All you could do was stare, a comically surprised expression etched across your face.  He had an interesting way of wording things.

Wrecker stood up and handed you the canteen and ration bad.  “Here, rations and water!  They’re not the best, and we can pick up some better food soon, but I bet you're starved!”  And you were.  True, the mantell mix Omega had gifted you was delicious, but after so long of never having a proper meal, you certainly wouldn’t refuse any more food or water.

“Thank you…”  You glanced down after taking the food, quietly chewing on the ration bar, occasionally taking sips from the canteen.  You were never good socially at the Temple, and you certainly weren't any better at the moment.  Omega asked you some more questions; if there was any pain, did you bleed through any bandages, and such.  You responded in short answers, so quiet she was struggling to pick up what was said.  Eventually, she deemed you healthy- or, at least, as healthy as you could be, given the circumstances.  She stayed with you, telling stories about Kamino and the few trips she’s had away from it.  Mainly, though, she talked about her brothers.

After Maker knows how long, the Marauder’s ramp opened, Tech, Echo, and Hunter coming in, one by one.  Tech was lugging fuel, and the other two held general equipment, food, med-kits, and more.  While Tech didn’t pay as much mind to your waking, Echo and Hunter sure did- Echo more so.

After setting down the cargo, he practically spritened to the bunk you were on, crouching down on one knee and using his scomp-link to lift up your jaw, and do other inspections.  “You need a shower- desperately.  And new clothes, these are completely ruined!  Our old room is nothing compared to this!  Even Fives smelled better!  And you need some proper nourishment- I know how I felt after being in that stasis chamber for so long.  And mantell mix is not nourishment, no matter what Wrecker and Omega tell you, got that?”  He finished his spiel, pointing his scomp-link at you.  “Iba’ oskik’la…”

* (“what a mess” in mando’a)

“Yeah, I think he’s got it, Echo,” Hunter chimed in, smiling.  “C’mon, kid.  I need you to meet someone.  She used to work with the Jedi, so I don’t think she’d do anything.  But, just in case, we have everything ready to go.  And if all goes well, ”  You swallowed, a large lump forming in your throat.  You really hoped she wouldn’t do anything bad- you were already enough of a burden.  You and Hunter walked down the ramp, Omega gleefully waving goodbye.

He could hear your heartbeat, your anxiety- but he didn’t know much on how to help, given the circumstances.  Kriff, you didn't know about the chips until they found you, and he couldn’t imagine what that must have felt like.  When Wrecker had been affected and tried to kill everyone, at least they all knew it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t betrayed them, and that he would never try to do that when he was in control.  But you had no clue about any of that.  You thought all the clones who were your friends, or even just ones you were polite with for the sake of being a good person, had all wanted to kill you, and all the other Jedi.  You had thought that for months.  Cursing yourself, wondering why, and if there was anything you could have done differently to prevent it.  And now, irony at its best, you had been rescued by clones, coming to remove their chips.

“We’re on Ord Mantell, by the way… don’t know if anyone told you.  Ever been?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  You shook your head, eyes darting from sign to sign, stall to stall.  “Most planets I’ve been on, except for Coruscant, were just… military occupations, occasionally the natural landscape of Separatists planets.  Never got to travel outside of that,” you said, still taking in all the colorful decor and people of the city.  “I mean, you know what that’s like, obviously- being a clone and all, you went to the same type of planets I did.  I think, at least.”

Hunter nodded his head in confirmation, not really sure where to go from there.  What you said was pretty accurate, but he felt like he shouldn’t talk about the war much.  And in any case, they were approaching Cid’s.

You and Hunter trotted down the steps, the automatic door sliding open.  Cid’s bar was empty, spare for an Ithorian and Weequay who were bickering over who knows what, and obviously, Cid herself.  You placed yourself behind Hunter, something you would do with your Master during the war to avoid any interaction with… anyone.  Slicing droids was easy, making conversation with soldiers was not.

You slowly glanced around the parlor, taking in anything that could be a trap, or could help you escape if this ‘Cid’ decided she didn’t want a padawan on her doorstop.  Hunter called out for Cid, and the distant sound of claws tapping against the cold, hard floor echoed out.  Emerging from the back rooms was a rather short female trandoshan, a cane gripped in her three claws.

Her eyes went back and forth between your semi-hidden figure and Hunter.  “Where’s the rest of ya?  And who’s that kid in the terrible robes?  They stink.”  There was an obvious scowl on her face, her left brown rose in an annoyed and questioning manner.

Hunter took a deep breath, and then- “He’s… a Padawan.”  Cid’s brows rose, and then lowered into a vicious scowl.  “Before you say anything- hear me out.  He was trapped at Bracca, and the scavengers didn’t know- Tech checked the Empire’s wanted, and he’s dead to them.  The Empire won’t come here, and it’s not like anyone on the street will know- he’s just a padawan.  Not a full-on Jedi, not a general.  But, he can still help.  Even without using the Force to push and pull, he can still sense danger and… stuff.”  Hunter wasn’t really sure how the Force worked.  But he knew it was useful.  Before Cid could rebuttal, he continued.  “And imagine how helpful a padawan would be in making sure your deals go right!  Being able to sense a bad deal, or if someone unwelcome is coming.  And some of them can do mind tricks.  He’ll be very useful to you- just let him stay with us.”

Cid looking down, in thought, a scowl etched on her face.  Finally, she sighed.  “Fine!  But if the Empire comes knocking, I’m not keeping his hide a secret.  Too much heat.”  She walked away, already planning what to do with you.

Hunter looked back, smiling.  You tried your best to smile, but you knew full well it looked incredibly awkward and forced.  Not that you weren’t happy, by any means.  You just weren’t prepared, and he knew that.  Hunter placed a hand on your shoulder, attempting to provide comfort.  And it worked.  For the first time in months, despite the constant dread of what was to come, everything seemed to be going right.  You could stay with them, and they could stay with Cid.

“Let’s go get you some proper fitting, and smelling clothes, yeah?  Echo wasn’t wrong when he said it was worse than our old barracks.”  Your smile shifted to a natural one, not forced or awkward.  You certainly didn’t think you’d ever see a clone again; and it certainly wouldn’t be a happy experience, but it seemed like this batch was going to be the best thing to happen in a while.

#tbb x male reader #the bad batch x male reader #tbb x platonic reader #the bad batch x platonic reader #tbb x platonic male reader #the bad batch x platonic male reader #tbb x male platonic reader #the bad batch x male platonic reader #the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fic #tbb fic #star wars x reader #star wars x platonic male reader #star wars x male platonic reader #star wars x male reader #star wars x platonic reader #hunter tbb x reader #tech tbb x reader #wrecker tbb x reader #echo tbb x reader #omega tbb x reader #tbb x Padawan reader #tbb x male Padawan reader #the bad batch x Padawan reader #the bad batch x male padawan reader

[onlycosmere]

OUTSIDE by Brandon Sanderson

Snow is falling. So I look up.

The world mystifies when you stare up through falling snow. Even standing still, you can soar. Even alone, you are surrounded. Even mundane, you find magic. I’ve spent my life chasing the fantastical, yet everything I’ve ever imagined can be casually matched by someone tilting their head up. The soft. Settling. Aspiration.

Of snow on an otherwise ordinary day.

When I was eighteen, I moved from Nebraska to Utah. Here, snow is fleeting, embarrassed to be an obstruction. But in Nebraska, snow squats. It claims land, builds empires. You fight it all winter, carving pathways, reconquering your sidewalks. The cold digs inside, frosting your bones with a chill that lingers, even after you return to warmth.

I often think of those snowy days, now that I live in a desert. But each year my memories are a little less fresh. We build our lives with layer upon layers of years, like falling snow. And like the new snow, most experiences melt away. In interviews, I’ve been asked to recount my most frightening experience. I struggle to answer because it’s the lost memories that scare me—the unnerving knowledge that I’ve forgotten the majority of moments that made me who I am. Those dribbled away when I wasn’t looking and joined the spring runoff of life.

Fortunately, some experiences do remain. In one, I’m fourteen, and it’s a cold night in Nebraska. My best friend at the time was a boy we’ll call John. Though we went to different schools, he was one of the only other Mormon kids around, so our parents often had us play together. When you’re very young, it’s proximity—not shared interests—that makes friends. This often changes as you age. By fourteen, John had found his way to basketball, parties, and popularity. I had not.

On that day, after a youth activity, another friend suggested we leave to go have some fun. I don’t remember where. Strange, that I’ve lost what this was about, though the rest of the scene is etched into the glacial part of my brain. One of us was old enough to drive, so we headed out to their car.

Five seats. Six teens. They’d already counted.

Without a word to me, the others climbed in. John gave me one hesitant look, then settled into the front passenger seat and closed the door. They left me on the curb. The car vanished, taillights flaring in the night like lit cigarettes.

The memory settled in for the long winter. That night. Watching. Remembering John’s face, which was so strikingly conflicted. Half ashamed. Half resigned.

I was no stranger to being outside. It happens when you’re one of three Mormon kids in a large school. You’ll be at a birthday party, and the wine coolers will come out. Everyone stands there worrying you’ll judge them—while you just want them to stop staring. But you leave anyway, because you know they’ll enjoy themselves more if you and your unusual morals aren’t there to loom.

It should have been different that night though, watching John and the others drive away. They were in my church group—ostensibly, my tribe. They’d still left me outside.

This event shocked me in how dramatic it was, as I wasn’t generally bullied. I tended to be adept at social settings. People generally liked me. At the same time, there was something I’d begun to notice. Something distancing about me.

It happens still. It isn’t that people shun me or don’t want me around; indeed, they seem to appreciate me. When I join a group, I generally end up leading it in some way, and I never sense resentment to this fact. But I also have an air around me. Some writer friends call me the “adult in the room.” I tend to attack projects too aggressively, tend to be the one who steps in and gets things done—even when they don’t need to be done immediately, and when everyone else would rather relax.

This comes, in part, from a certain…oddity about me that started in my young teens, around the time that John drove off. As my friends grew hit puberty, they became more emotional. The opposite happened to me. Instead of experiencing the wild mood swings of adolescence, my emotions calcified. I started waking up each day feeling roughly the same as the day before. Without variation.

Around me, people felt passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy. They loved, and hated, and argued, and screamed, and kissed, and seemed to explode every day with a pressurized confetti of unsettling emotions.

While I was just me. Not euphoric, not miserable. Just…normal. All the time.

Often, it genuinely seems like I exist outside of human experience. It’s not sociopathy. I’m quite empathetic—in fact, empathy is one of the ways that I can feel stronger emotions. I’m not autistic. I don’t have a single hallmark of that notable brand of neurodivergence. It’s also not what is called alexithymia, which is a condition where someone doesn’t feel emotions (or can’t describe them).

I care about people, and I feel. I’m not empty or apathetic. My emotions are simply muted and hover in a narrow band. If human experience ranges between a morose one and an ecstatic ten, I’m almost always a seven. Every day. All day. My emotional “needle” tends to be very hard to budge—and when it does move, the change is not aggressive. When others would be livid or weeping, I feel a sense of discomfort and disquiet.

My emotions do go a little further than this on occasion, maybe once a year. It takes something incredible—such as being deeply betrayed by someone I trusted.

I’m not looking for sympathy; I don’t want to be fixed. I appreciate this aspect of my makeup—and it’s part of what makes me so consistent at writing. When everyone else is in crisis, I’ll just steam along. At the same time, when everyone else is elated by some good news…I’ll just steam along, unable to feel the heights of the joy they feel.

It makes people uncomfortable sometimes. Makes them think I’m judging them. While I’m absolutely not, I do try to be careful how I talk about my condition. Not as something to fear. Something, instead, I’m proud of—not because it makes me better than anyone else, but because it’s me. I like being me.

My neurodivergence came up in a recent interview I did. The interviewer latched onto the fact that I don’t feel pain like others do. (More accurately, some mild pains don’t cause in me the same response they do others.) I asked the interviewer not to mention it in his article, as I felt the tone to our discussion was wrong. I worry about my oddity changing the way people think of me, as I don’t want to be seen as an emotionless zombie. So I try to speak of it with nuance.

As the interviewer ignored my request, I thought I’d talk about it here. Profile myself for you—because this aspect of who I am has deep ties to another happening from my teenage years. In this, I want to answer a big question for you, the one everyone wonders about. The key to understanding Brandon Sanderson.

Why do I write?

Why do I write so much?

Why do I write so much fantasy?

Let me tell you about the first day, that beautiful day, when I found myself inside.

It was when I opened a fantasy novel. I was an isolated kid whose emotions were doing something bizarre. Even John leaving had left me feeling…disturbed more than angry. Alone, and outside. Then I opened a book where I found emotion.

In that story about dragons, and wonder, and people trying impossible things, I found myself. I felt a variety of powerful emotions through the characters—emotions that I remembered from when I’d been younger.

I hadn’t tried reading fiction in a long while, so I was blindsided by this perfect book. The experience transformed me, quick as a boy tilting his head back, looking up, and finding a new world.

When I read or write from the eyes of other people, I legitimately feel what they do. There’s magic to any kind of story, yes—but for me, it is transformative. I live those lives. For a brief time, I remember exactly what passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy feel like. My emotions mold to the story, and I cry sometimes. I legitimately cry. I haven’t done that outside of a story in three decades.

Stories bring me inside.

My second published novel is called Mistborn. It’s about a world where ash falls like snow, and I can linger, looking up through it via a character’s eyes. Near the beginning of Mistborn, the teenage protagonist finds herself standing outside a room. It is full of light and laughter and warmth. But she knows, she knows she doesn’t belong inside that room.

She’s wrong.

Nearer the end of the book, I linger on as similar scene—only now, she’s sitting with the others. Light and laughter. Warmth. Mistborn was the first novel I wrote after getting the call offering me a book deal. Finally—after slaving over a dozen unpublished manuscripts—I knew I was going to be a professional writer. With that knowledge, I wrote Mistborn, the book about a girl who learns to come inside.

While writing Mistborn, I changed. Now that I’d made it inside of publishing—now that I’d joined those authors I’d loved for so long—why would I keep writing? I needed a new goal, and I discovered it that year.

So let me tell you why I write. It isn’t about worldbuilding; that’s a mistake everyone makes about me. Assuming I write because of worldbuilding is like assuming someone makes cars because they love cup holders. It’s also not because I’m Mormon, as some profiles bizarrely conclude. My faith and cultural heritage are both important to me, but if I were any other religion, that aspect of me would rightly be a footnote—not a headline.

I don’t write for plot twists, or dragons, or clever turns of phrase—though I enjoy all of these. I write because stories bring people inside. And I sincerely, genuinely believe that is what the world needs.

Lately, I’ve seen a resurgence of something that genuinely disquiets me: an attempt by some members of our community to hold others outside. Science fiction and fantasy is forever gatekeeping what constitutes good or worthy stories. Like my old friend John, who sought cooler friends, we renounce anything accessible—part of our perpetual (and largely fruitless) plea for legitimacy with the literary establishment.

Thing is, I can’t really get mad when someone does this, because I’ve done it myself in the past. The unfortunate truth is that we all probably have at times. The moment a group finds cohesion—discovering the warmth and peace of being inside—we decide there aren’t enough seats, so we start muscling and pushing. Readers who came in because of the latest popular teen novel? Outside. Fans of the film version of a story, instead of the book version? Outside. People who don’t look the same as the supposedly conventional fan? I suspect they know this struggle far better than I do.

To use a thematic metaphor, it’s like we’re dragons on our hoard of gold, jealously keeping watch, worrying that if anyone new enters, their presence will somehow dilute our enjoyment. The irony is that there is infinite space inside, and if we open the way, we’ll find many of these newcomers are the very treasure we’re seeking.

Fantasy, out of all genres, should embrace the different, even if it doesn’t match our specific taste. This is the genre where anything can happen—and should, therefore, be the most open genre. Only fantasy offers me the full range of emotion. The wonder of exploration. The magnificent highs of epic scope and the miserable lows of cataclysmic terror. In writing it, I can learn. Monomaniacal, I hunt experiences of people different from myself, then explore them in prose until I feel—in some small part—what they do.

This is why I write. To understand. To make people feel seen. I type away, hoping some lonely reader out there, left on a curb, will pick up one of my books. And in so doing learn that even if there is no place for them elsewhere, I will make one for them between these pages.

Those who interview me seem to have trouble understanding this fundamental part of who I am: that writing for me isn’t so much about performance as it is about exploration and elevation. I love prose both literary and commercial. And I think I write great prose. I’ve slaved over my style, practicing for decades, honing it for crisp clarity. My prose is usually intended to convey ideas, theme, and character, then get out of the way—because this is how I strive to bring everyone inside.

That said, I know my goal is impossible. Occasional strolls through the outside are part of being human, and I can’t eliminate that. And even I have to admit that there are lessons to be learned on those lonely paths. For example, contrast is the only way to appraise growth. Emotional alien I may be, but that very alienation has motivated me to understand. I value the connections I’ve made so much more for that struggle.

Moreover, I find that occasionally looking in through a window at everyone else gives a person a more complete perspective. Inside, things can get messy, and a streak of color finds it hard to comprehend the painting. I’m a better writer because of my time spent looking in. I don’t know that I could have written Mistborn if I hadn’t been left on that curb.

This isn’t to discount the pain of those who have been forced outside. Nor is it an advocacy for extended periods spent in the cold. I also don’t know if I could have written Mistborn if the wonderful people of the science fiction and fantasy community (including many of the friends I now work with) hadn’t latched on to me in college and—at times—forcibly pulled me inside to be with them. Beyond that, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found people like Emily, who love me in spite of (and partially because of) my quirks. Blessedly, because of this, my times outside have been increasingly brief.

My goal here is merely to point out (as I’ve had occasion to remember recently) that beautiful moments do accompany the isolation. You can only watch the snow fall when you’re outside. Only then can you look up and experience that mystifying world, where fragments of the sky drift past and lift you toward the heavens.

I’m forty-seven now, enjoying desert snowfalls in early April. The man I am is separated by distance and time from that boy who stood on the curb, and I’ve forgotten most of the steps that led between the two. I still don’t feel strong emotions outside of stories—but I did tell an interviewer lately that I sometimes cry when writing scenes in my books. They just aren’t the scenes that I thought he’d expect.

I don’t necessarily cry when characters die, or when they marry, or even when they find victory. I cry when it works. When it all comes together, and in a beautiful shimmering burst of humanity, I feel what it is to be that character. At those times, I remember what I learned twenty years ago writing Mistborn. That there’s a reason I do this. And even if I’ve lost more memories than I retain, each of them had a point, because they collectively brought me here.

So when you find yourself in the cold, know that sometimes, there’s a purpose to it. Trust me; I’ve been there. I might be there right now. Feeling the cold on my cheeks—but these days, no longer in my bones. Knowing that this will pass, and that it might be for my good. Most of all, looking up so I can appreciate it. The still. Solemn. Perspective.

Of one who stands outside.

#brandon sanderson #cosmere #cfsbf #root #branderson #wob #kind of #long post

[slexenskee]

I'm just curious. Can I ask more about JJK/GOT? It’s just that as soon as I saw the Satoru/Robb couple I immediately became interested 😅

Sure haha I have a few plot points I could use feedback on

The backstory is where I'm??

Idk if I want Satoru to be reborn as Viserys and start his life just vibing as a pampered prince kinda ambivalent about his life / couldn't care less about the rebellion or his batshit father until he gets shipped off to Dragonstone and eventually Essos. Then he kinda realizes A) his little sister is literally relying on him to exist and they're situation is pretty rough and B) he has no more fucks to give and now he can really do whatever tf he wants. Kinda goes a bit wild, takes over one of the free cities (casually), gets worshipped by the Dothraki as a god (accidentally), ends up creating something of an empire in the Disputed Lands/takes over the Stepstones and now all the pirates and traders pay him for safe passing like sailors paying tribute to the altars of gods. Mostly he's just bemused by it, and doesn't care what they do so long as they don't bother him or his sister, who's raising her dragons (a gift from Illyrio) and just living a nice happy life.

OR he's not Viserys at all, he legit transmigrates adult body (and powers) and all and becomes a wandering god around Essos just sort of feeling his way through this random new world - definitely goes to Valyria just because he can, makes a fortune selling all the random junk he picks up there and becomes something of a master on the topic just bc he ends up learning so much about it as someone who regularly hangs out there, and one way or another ends up the accidental god of the Stepstones like he is the first scenario. Except this time he's cajoled to Pentos at the behest of Illyrio Mopatis, who wants to know more about the Valyrian freehold, and while he's there he meets Dany and Viserys. Immediately clocks Viserys as a nutjob and Dany as abused but honestly doesn't really care about either of them until he sees the dragon eggs + his Six Eyes see Dany has magic and it's reacting with the eggs. He pays Illyrio/Viserys a veritable king's treasure in exchange for Dany as his 'bride' and gets the eggs as her bridal gift... which he does not bc he wants a bride but bc dragons are, in his opinion, the only cool thing in this world and he wants to have one as a pet and Dany is his ticket to that.

EITHER way he's the god of the Stepstones and Westeros tries to push their weight around and fails regularly. Gojo eradicates probably like 3 Redwyne and Lannister fleets and lets them wash up to Dorne in pieces before Westeros finally gets the picture to leave him the hell alone. Robert Baratheon comes personally a few times mainly because he has a total hard-on for Gojo and frankly just loves the fighting (his adoration is not returned), Oberyn becomes one of his favorite drinking buddies. They probably fuck multiple times, let's be real.

He's not interested in taking over the world or anything - honestly if it wasn't for Dany he'd have like zero purpose for existing so he's lowkey happy to have her in his life, but it's definitely a brother and sister relationship no matter which way I go with his backstory. It's all very wholesome.

By the time we get to S1 Gojo is an undisputed world power that's also something of an eccentric recluse.

He doesn't get involved in the plot until one way or another he's notified of Shit Happening™ in the far north. Idk how yet - maybe he senses it himself, or one of the Red priests/priestesses tells him?

He goes to the wall, meets Jon Snow, learns some of the Northern history, feels bad for the Night's Watch - who are actually doing the lord's work up in this damn place, what is wrong with westeros, smh - and sends men and plenty of food/supplies as he can see the magic in the Wall and knows it's not just there to look pretty. Especially not when his Six Eyes can see that the Land of Always Winter has more magic and is more active than old Valyria. He jokingly propositions Jon Snow, who to his surprise is not actually gay, and then afterwards when he's summarily rejected casually propositions his 'sister' for him instead- who's going through a romance phase and wants a handsome man and Gojo, being a good brother and also a fucking troll, decides to help out. Whether Gojo is actually Viserys or not, at this point everyone assumes he's Valyrian and also related to Dany no matter what he says, so he just rolls with it. Jon still declines, because he's still all up in his duty and honor phase. (He notices Jon has magic, like Dany, but assumes that's just because of the Northern magic)

He becomes fast friends with Maester Aemon, deeply interested in his stories of the Far North. He's actually interested in the North, in general, bc its one of the few parts of the world he hasn't yet gone to, and also has a history that's almost as old as Valyria. The Free Folk are downright unfriendly to him, so he decides to try his luck with Winterfell.

Idk what the route is but basically from the Wall he ends up in The North and finally meets Robb smack in the middle of the War of the 5 Kings. Maybe he goes to Winterfell with a letter from Jon, and then from Winterfell to Robb? Or from Jon straight to Robb? Basically no matter which way he ends up going, he gets a warm intro from one of Robb's siblings (or both). He also gets tasked, by one or both of them, to look for the Stark sisters. Gojo's all like, 'LOL look for them? Bruh I could blast down the Red Keep and drag them out within the next hour, but sure ok I'll 'look' for them). It's especially easy because he realizes all the Starks have more magic than most, so his Six Eyes can pick them out easily.

So Robb and Gojo kind of have immediate chemistry. Robb has obviously heard a lot about him, most of it mysterious, all of it dangerous, so he's shocked when this stupidly good looking guy comes out of literally nowhere (teleports) and has some messages for him, and is also going to go fetch his sisters as a personal favor. That last one he's a bit cautious about, because he's heard plenty about this Valyrian god or devil or both, and he doesn't believe for a second such a powerful being would offer such a boon for free.

Gojo's only response is 'I've got a little sister too ya know, I understand how it feels to be an older brother that wants to see them safe and sound' and Robb's all like, blushy and flustered, but plays the hard line and sort of just dismisses him and denies his help. And Gojo's all like, 'damn this guy's hot' also 'if my gaydar isn't wrong, which it usually isn't, he'd totally be into me' and also 'he'd be even more into me if I really did rescue his sisters'. Which he was going to do anyway.

He obviously finds both of them. Arya gets a free assassination teacher that doesn't come with the price tag of her soul, Sansa doesn't have a tragic few years ahead of her.

Idk haven't figured much else out after that. Robb pines but refuses to act on his feelings, but Gojo is swapped in for Talisa so we all know how this ends. There'll be plenty of consequences for that though, but no Starks are going to be injured (aside from Bran lo siento) in the making of this fic.

[alexilulu]

Books I Read in 2024, #6: Runequest: Roleplaying in Glorantha (Greg Stafford Steve Perrin Jeff Richard Jason Durall and friends, Chaosium Inc., 2019)

A bronze age-styled fantasy epic setting originally published in 1975 (as White Bear and Red Moon), Glorantha is one of the founding touchstones of fantasy storytelling in the RPG space that draws upon historiography and a firm integration of magic and mysticism into the firmament of its setting.

My first experience with Glorantha, like a great deal of others, was King of Dragon Pass. I don't remember exactly where I first heard about it. It's either on SA in the LP subforum back in the early 2010s or Tumblr in the same era; if it's the latter, Jared is entirely to blame for this, and probably because of him telling me stories about it in my car over the years.

King of Dragon Pass is a management game in which you play the tribal leader of a Heortling group exiled from their homeland in the wake of Belintar's accession to the throne in the Holy Country of Esrolia, forced to travel to the forbidden land of Dragon Pass where centuries ago the Dragonkill War wiped the land clean of all human presence. For you see, the Dragonkill War was named not for what we did to the dragons, but what dragons did to humanity.

Glorantha is like that.

Glorantha sticks in my mind easily, to be honest. It draws such a stark picture of itself so quickly you can't help but feel arrested by how committed it is to being itself. The Gods are so real that reenacting their greatest deeds invests you with their awe-inspiring power, and the Runes they wield are so bound into the fundament that embodying and studying them allows you to manipulate reality directly yourself.

The game itself is straightforward; every skill is rated from 0 to 100, and you roll 2d10 to roll under your skill rating, which you can further influence by channeling your passions or the Runes that represent you. Its character creation is delightfully baroque and fitting with the focus on historiography: you roll to generate the general lifepath of your parents and your own history in the last 21 years of Dragon Pass' history, during an eventful lead-up to the Hero Wars starting in 1625 when the world will enter a true tumult as empires face off.

I really just love the little things about the world here. Glorantha is detailed in the way that only a seasoned reader of history would be, with a light touch to give you plenty of room to imagine your own tribes in the region, the foibles of each village that give it real texture. The book grounds you in the idea of being from each ethnic group, the stereotypes others hold for them and the realities of their lives.

More than once it states that the Orlanthi recognize 6 gender roles and 7 forms of marriage, which is both a refreshing acknowledgement and also just a good reminder that societies for centuries have seen things in ways that would be foreign to the modern reader, and that you have to think of these societies in the context they've been shaped by.

The various pantheons of the world rule. I could evangelize about Orlanth, the god of storms all day, but it rules that the chief god of the largest and best-known pantheon, the Lightbringers, is the god of the season of utter disaster where life becomes cheap and dangerous, which i suppose makes sense as far as who you would beg to for survival during.

It's combat is dangerously swingy, in a way that kind of rules, in that you can plan for a lot of bad things to happen but you really can't stop that 5% roll from putting a javelin through your soft palate. This is your granddaddy's RPG, there's no luck recovery methods. You die, you beg the local priest for a resurrection and pay him handsomely for the privilege and don't do that shit again.

It just sticks in the mind for me. Very few other RPGs take the sort of careful, historically and culturally-focused bent on producing and placing a world in the way that Glorantha does. It feels lived in and loved, with a clear idea of itself and what it wants to be. I wish I could say the same for more games in the space.

#Alexis Reads Books 2024

[thatfeelingwhentheshowisover]

NeverRealm™

Weather Warlock

Jay got banished scroll in possession

He fixed the mech and explored the Never Realm

fell into a similar "funk" as when he was stuck in the First Realm

Vex convinced Jay to join him, they became con buddies

They would sell lightning rods, Jay would make sure that people needed them

Jay held onto the staff and slowly his morals got corrupted by it

The emperor had Jay and Vex captured because of their crimes(theft, widespread panic, and eventually manslaughter) but Jay was having none of it, so he got rid of the emperor and Vex took the throne

No one dares to challenge Vex because he has what most believe to be the very spirit of the sky on his side

Jay electrified Vex with magic juiced up lightning That made him more or less imortal

Lady Phoenix

Nya got banished scroll in possession

She tried to fix the mech, but had no power source so she tried to look for help finding Vex

He tricked her into believing that the emperor was a wicked man, so that she would fight him

After she won Vex claimed that she should rule, she became the Lady Phoenix

The scroll corrupts her sense of self, making her extremely stubborn and unwilling to let others tell her what to do or who to be

She is actually a good ruler, the people's opinions on her are generally positive

She throws Vex in prison because he dared to tell her what to do

Water fills the castle, think wall waterfalls, and there is a moat that has rivers that break off and spread all over the land, the rivers never freeze or slow

Her water boosted by the scroll has healing abilities and people exposed to it don't age, there is water in the prison

Tapestries with phoenix imagery, red and blue are her empire's colors with gold

She wears something similar to her Samurai X armour

Red Shogun

Kai got banished scroll in possession

He tries to look for help while staying close to the mech, just in case the others can track it

Vex finds him barely surviving all alone

He tricked Kai into believing that the emperor of the realm was evil, so he fought him

Kai knowing that he has to win(Vex made certain to make the emperor sound like a horrible person), is able to unlock his powers

Although he thinks he is only able to use his powers with the scroll, so he keeps a hold on it

Kai becomes the Red Shogun because someone needs to prevent the empire falling into chaos

The staff makes him rather power hungry, which in turn makes him paranoid

Vex can easily trick Kai into attacking anyone he wants

He has guards with him at most all times and never leaves the palace

With him in charge the section on the Never Realm we see became a mostly burnt desert wasteland

His fire lights torches that fill the castle, his fire gives off comforting warmth and grants a sort of immortality when in its presence

He wears intricate gold coated armour that he made himself, he is good at making fancy things like when he remade the Golden Weapons

The Volcano

Cole got banished scroll in possession

He stays near the mech knowing that it has a tracker and is therefore more likely to be found than if he left

Vex finds him and lies about the emperor being a terrible person

Cole gave the scroll to Vex, to try and avoid getting corrupted

During the fight, of Cole vs. the emperor and his army, Vex throws the scroll to Cole because he wasn't winning without it

Cole "wins" by accidentally creating an earthquake bigger than he ever has, it wreaks the castle and splits open the ground causing Cole to fall

Cole is stuck and keeps trying to get out, but it's just making him panic, so he stays stuck

Due to his panicked attempts of escape, more earthquakes happened and a mountain formed where the castle once was, which then became a volcano(the lava doesn't hurt Cole)

Now trapped with the scroll in hand, he becomes more and more corrupted, just wallowing in misery and becomes barely even conscious for most of his time in the Never Realm

Vex, always the opportunist, learned that strange crystals appeared near the volcano that had certain properties(think of the promised properties of gemstones were real) and uses them to practically become immortal

The terrain changes a lot, Vex uses this to his advantage by becoming a leader because he has lived as a nomad for awhile and people who's homes were destroyed didn't know how to survive as nomads

The Great Dragon

Lloyd got banished scroll in possession

He tried to find help immediately and ran into Vex

Vex was able to convince him with almost no effort

When Lloyd fought the emperor he sent a shockwave that took out everyone there, including Vex

He became power hungry and full of rage real fast, all those years of unprocessed trauma catching up to him, and he loses his mind

He gains the title of "The Great Dragon" for being a powerful out of control monster

The scroll got caught in his monster hair after he couldn't just hold onto it normally

His more Dragon and Oni features come to light, he looks a bit like his dad in his warlord phase and devolves into a dragon/oni looking creature

Mainly black with green and purple accents

Feel free to ask questions or share ideas in the comments!

#ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago au #jay walker #llyod garmadon #kai ninjago #lloyd ninjago #jay ninjago #nya #nya ninjago #cole ninjago #Never Realm #Red Shogun #Volcano #Lady Phoenix #Weather warlock #NeverRealmTM #Dragon Ninjago #The Great Dragon #VoidMirror posting

[pfirsichspritzer]

Rebelcaptain trees for @oh-nostalgiaa (AU, fantasy AU/magic AU/dragon riders and elves AU)

Here is a little AU idea for you, I hope you like it 😊

The moment the stranger steps into the dingy old tavern, all eyes are on him. He is human, tall and imposing, face drawn tight. His clothes are made from the finest fabrics one cannot find in this part of the realm and the sword strapped to his hip, forged from rare metal and emblazoned with precious gemstones, speaks of trouble. Patrons, regulars and travelers alike, muster him with suspicion and barely concealed hostility. They all know what he is. Dragon riders, Fire bringers, Sorcerers, they are called, their kind feared and admired across the lands, even though few have actually seen one in person. Guardians of the queen, keepers of peace, soldiers, flying on their fiery beasts to administer justice throughout the realm. Wherever they go, war isn’t far.

His gaze sweeps over the patrons, seemingly without a care in the world, until it lands on her. Jyn involuntarily shivers.

His footsteps seem to echo through the room as he slowly walks towards her, and they resonate in her very soul. When he stops in front of the counter, studying her with deep, dark eyes, she knows that her destiny has changed, if she wants it or not. He is here for a reason and the reason is her.

“A glass of your finest ale, please”, he orders and puts a handful of coins on the counter, that are more than she makes in a fortnight. He leans closer, and she involuntarily does so as well. His mouth is only mere inches from her ear when he speaks. “I’m here on behalf of the queen. She is looking for a powerful sorceress that is rumoured to live in these parts of the woods.”

Jyn scoffs. “Who told you that nonsense?”

He only musters her intently as an answer and she crosses her arms defensively, after placing the ale in front of him.

“There are no sorcerers in these woods, and we certainly do not need those magic dwelling scallywags here.” She waves her dirty rag dismissively in his direction. “So, do yourself and us a favour and be on your way again as soon as possible”

When she turns to serve the other patrons, she can see his bemused expression in the corner of her eyes. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

-

He waits for her when she leaves the tavern late at night through the backdoor. Leaning against a tree trunk, she almost doesn’t see him in the dark. But her senses have always been better than those of mere humans.

“What do you want?”, she asks, in equal amounts concerned and annoyed.

“I think you haven’t been honest with me before.”

“About what?” He doesn’t answer. Irritated, she turns around to leave.

He follows her.

“I can’t help neither you nor your queen.” She says over her shoulder without slowing her gate.

“Ah, but we both know that isn’t true, is it?”

Angrily she stops on the spot and whirls around, a familiar rage flaring up in the pit of her stomach.

“Let me phrase it differently: I do not want to help your queen. I have left your order years ago, when they decided that my heritage was too much trouble, that my mother’s blood was too dirty for them and the connections I have to the elves because of it, was too dangerous. I had to start my whole life anew, build everything I have here with my bare hands. They would have been glad to leave me for dead and suddenly they decided they want my help?”

He has taken a step back, holding up his hands in an appeasing manner. “Things have changed. The queen recognises that mistakes were made under her predecessor, and she wants to formerly apologize to you.”

Jyn scoffs and shakes her head in disbelief. “Why now?”

“The empire has become a threat in the eastern regions again and apparently, they have a new ace up their sleeve. It is rumoured to have something to do with your father, that he is working for them.”

“My father?” Jyn is barely able to keep her voice from shaking. “My father is dead.”

“We all thought so too. But it seems that he isn’t”

Now he is looking at her with something akin to pity and she hates it.

He seems to notice it too because he is quick to continue: “The queen wants to build an alliance with the elves, against the empire. Both our folks would benefit from it.”

“And she wants me as what? A token? A leverage?” Jyn feels horribly cold all of a sudden.

“She wants you as a diplomat to talk with them.”

“Do you think I would be living here in the middle of nowhere, if the elves cared even a little bit about me?”

It is all so laughable to her. That this new queen, barely a year on the throne, has now apparently decided to uproot her life and throw her back into a conflict she has sworn to take no part in ever again.

He musters her for a second, seemingly unsure if he should continue, but soldiers on, nevertheless “Your mother was the heir to their throne after all, before she ran off with a human.”

The fact that he does know this about her makes her heart clench painfully. So that’s what he meant before when he said she hasn’t been honest. Because she isn’t just a half-elf, but she is the daughter of an elven crown princess that fell from grace. Her tainted heritage that has resulted in her loosing so many good things in her live. Is this the next thing she will lose?

There is no time to focus on her fears now, though, when her blood is still burning with rage. Without another word she turns around and marches on. She hears his quiet sign behind her.

Wordlessly he follows her once more. They walk silently, side by side through the woods until her little hut becomes visible between the bushes and trees.

A giant, dark scaled lizard is napping next to it, his wings as wide as the meadow around her house if unfolded. He lifts his head when they approach, his glowing yellow eyes mustering her critically and he breaths out a puff of smoke.

Jyn involuntarily chuckles and steps forward, lifting her hand to pet his scaled snout. “Hello, Kay. It’s good to see you again. Please don’t set my home on fire, ok?” He just exhales another gust of hot air that ruffles her hair when she scratches his chin.

Her anger has disappeared now, she feels nothing but hollow.

“Let’s go inside”, she says half over her shoulder and doesn’t wait for an answer.

Her little home is cramped, filled with herbs and potions she sells to the villagers around. The money they are able to spare on this medicine is barely enough to get by.

Rogue greets her, jumping up and down, wanting to be held in her arms, even though he is too big for that now. She found him as a little kitten, a half-breed between a housecat and a mountain lion. Abandoned by the lions because he was too weak, feared by humans because he was too wild. Just like her, a part of two worlds but belonging to neither.

A hand gently touches her shoulder.

Slowly she turns around. His eyes are full of so many things: Regret, hut, betrayal.

“Do you despise me now? Because of my mother” Her voice is small, like the scared child she was when her mother died, when her father left her at the doors of the dragon riders order.

He looks vaguely sick even thinking about it. “Jyn, no, of course not.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m hurt you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

“I haven’t told anyone in a long time, Cassian. But if I would have trusted anyone enough to tell, it would have been you” She mumbles.

He doesn’t look completely appeased, but holds up his arms and she steps closer, sinking into his familiar embrace. It always makes her forget the world around her for a minute.

After a while where no one says anything, she finally asks: “The queen is determined to find me, isn’t she?”

“Yes. But she doesn’t know where you are. Doesn’t know about this, us.”

No one knows about them. They would have thrown him out of the order as well, the moment they knew. The thought of him losing everything like she had is unbearable to her.

“I can prolong the search for a few more weeks and you can flee, hide somewhere, until it dies down.” His voice is full of determination, he has always been lying on her behalf and if she asks him to continue, she knows he will do so untill his dying breath.

“But she will send someone else, won’t she? She won’t rest until she finds me, I’ll always be on the run.”

His heartbeat in her ear has always been her favourite sound. Though every moment listening to it has been borrowed, stolen time all along. She has the painful fear it is running out.

“And you will be fighting in this war, nonetheless. If my father really is helping the empire, who knows what they will be capable of doing. I can’t protect you from the side-lines.”, she mumbles into his chest.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t need your protection”

“Oh, yes you do, don’t you remember that I always beat your ass in a swordfight.”, she grins up at him, remembering the little boy with the shaggy hair and lanky arms.

“I’m not 12 anymore”, he scoffs indignantly.

“I know”, she says sadly, studying his face, trying to imprint every laugh line and every little winkle into her memory.

She wishes they were twelve again, without a care in the world, just two stupid apprentices in the order, before everything went to hell.

Jyn signs. “I will accompany you to her queen’s court. Listen to what she has to say.”

Cassian pulls her tighter into his embrace and kisses her forehead gently. She knows he feels it too, that their time is running out.

But she cannot run anymore, she has to face the world again and her parent’s legacy with it.

“Will you stay for the night”, she asks him, because if this is their last night together, she might as well enjoy it to the fullest.

“Of course. Always.” He mumbles against her skin and for now it is enough.

Who knows what the future will bring.

#rebelcaptaintrees #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain au #oh-nostalgiaa #dailyrebelcaptain #rogue one #rogue one au #jyn x cassian #my writing #rebelcaptain moodboard

[pastel-omegas-blog]

Just want to ask you if you're still continuing series, the current DD one, because the cliffhanger is killing me😭😭😭

Chapter seven Chapter nine

CHAPTER EIGHT

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️WARNING!!! THIS BOOK WILL CONTAIN MATURE THEMES AND VIOLENCE PLEASE LEAVE IF IT WILL MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. I DO NOT NEED THIS BOOK TO BE REPORTED . YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.( Mentions of suicide, bullying, blood/torture ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️( This book is going to have more matured themes  compared to my others, from smut scenes to non-con, lactation, drugging, hypnosis, abuse of power and over obsessiveness.

        

                  ¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶

A new rumour had been going around the Trovian Empire lately.

 The Discarded Emperor has survived the assassination attempt on his life.

Word about it was buzzing around every nook and cranny of the great Empire surprising those who already knew of the event and shocking those who only recently found out.

" He's not dead? That's not supposed to be possible. I heard he was in a terrible state "

" They said all the doctors that examined him pronounced his death to be inevitable "

" How long has he been well? "

" I'm not sure but people are saying it's been up to a month now. "

those were the main whispers going around. The people were shocked that their former h/c Emperor was even breathing well. There was an air of doubt at first, but a few words from some temple attendants confirmed it.

The Devil omega was alive and well

That caused a new rumor to start circulating about. A concern that suddenly popped into the back of their minds like it was magic and it began taking over their thought. All because someone said that the saint had sensed  a large amount of månå surrounding the  mānåless man.

Dark månå.

Their head all ran around as people started bringing up different proofs to try and support the holy man's words.

After all why would their holiness lie to them? He was trying to provide the very best for them by warning the people of any possible danger.

Then someone made the connection.

" Isn't that when the river in the north started drying up ? "

" Now that you mention it it's truth. You think it could just be a  coincidence ? " 

" What kind of freaky coincidence is that? The moment the devil omega starts getting better the river just starts to mysteriously dry up! "

" That's a bad omen right there. He should have just died and let everyone live in peace!

" What if he gets angry about the incident and decides to curse the Empire? He's already started causing problems so he would probably be petty enough to do it "

​" Haven't we suffered enough at his hands ? "

" Imagine how terrified the saint must be knowing that wicked thing is still alive and well "

" What will the Emperor do? If that man is free to roam around as he pleases there will be much more disasters to deal with! "

Be it commoner or noble the people of the eastern part of Trovia's empire where in a panic.

The reincarnation of the fallen god/goddess Medikur had risen from his deathbed and would curse them for his near demise. The holy temple tried to calm down the people's nerves, but everyone was to hysterical to listen.

Orange and red butterflies fluttered away everyone to caught up in their madness to notice how it was such an oddity. The species of butterfly weren't native to the land so why were there so many of them.

                  ¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶

​​​​​​​​​​​​Seated in one of the many indoor gardens of the imperial palace were two omegas. Both of noble background but the younger woman was clearly the one with the highest authority present in the room. She had the silver eyes as proof for that.

" Y...your majesty you really don't have to do this.. you must be really busy and I.. I'm probably just w.. wasting your time " leon's soft voice spoke up timidly softly stuttering over his words as he lowered his gaze  trying not to look at the younger woman in front of him, his head bowed softly as a sign of respect

" Nonsense! Of course I have to do this. I heard what you went through with that brute of a woman. I can't believe that barbarian would dare raise her voice at you. And it was all because of that lowlife scum! "

The voice that replied to the blue haired man's words had an air arrogance to it venom dripping from the tone as well.

Leon raised his head to stare at the red haired woman sitting infront of him,his gaze catching how her normally silver eyes seemed to darken and start to glow a light vermillion colour, her soft scent of grapes and marigolds turning sour and he had to bite back his smirk at how easy it was to sway her to his side.

" B..but it really was nothing. I..I Know the Empress of Pentigria doesn't r.. really like and I..I've come to terms with it, a..and Lord l/N did nothing wrong " the saint argued back weakly as he lowered his gaze back to his trembling hands gaining a look of sympathy and pity from the red haired young woman and servants alike.

Princess Cosette bit her bottom lip as she watched her future brother in law defend that trash omega and that evil woman.

The younger girl didn't like it.

He should be mad at them for staining his image, for embarrassing him in such a humiliating way. Instead he chose to turn a blind eye and forgive them. As expected of the kind-hearted and forgiving saint.

He really was the very best of the best.

No. He was perfect.

The perfect mate for her older brother

The youngest child of the imperial family and the only daughter Cosette had been given only the most perfect things from a very young age and because of that she desired nothing less.

From toys to dresses, to jewelry. She had picked out only the most perfect tutors for her upbringing ( if they didn't meet her high requirements that was the end of their careers). She was the perfect example of a princess.

Beautiful, smart, outstanding , a very soft and delicate omega and she had a sweet scent. Just like all those perfect princesses in the story books she read growing up.

She had grown up to be exactly like them. As a perfect princess should.

She was well versed in the act of mannerism and proper etiquette. As a proper princess should be.

After all it was something expected of  most perfect princess across the whole continent.

She was queen of the eastern noble ladies upper aristocratic circle. She had everyone listening to her every neck and call and always had people gathering to flock her like bees to a flower.

She was a genius for her age. A young master of lightning månå affinity ( something all members born into the imperial family bloodline were blessed with)  and had become the first omega in the imperial family history to do such a thing.

A perfect affinity Māgi

She had the most perfect family in the world.

Her eldest brother was a strong,  powerful, and handsome dominant alpha. And was the current ruling Emperor of her perfect empire.  He was a genius that appeared once every, blessed by the dragon god that founded their family, he was given infinite powers and skills no mere mortal could ever dream of having. He even surpassed the late Emperor Agustas Marrow Vermillion in aspects of raw power and was a mastermind on the battlefield with strategic planning, winning his very first war when he clocked the young age of ten.

He was the most perfect man to ever exist in the young Cosette's eyes. She had looked up to him from a very young and wanted only the very best for her perfect big brother. 

The perfect man only deserved a mate who was equally perfect.

That was why she absolutely despised the h/c man her father had chosen to be her brother's mate.

She wondered how such a magnificent man as her own father could choose such a worthless mutt to help create future heirs for their mighty bloodline ( didn't he learn from his brother's mistake when he married that bantrik woman and had those mistakes she had been forced to call her cousins ).

The h/c man might have come from the famous L/N Ducal family, but that was the only good thing about him.  If her father wanted someone from that family then he should have picked his older sister. Sure she was an ordinary recessive alpha, but the red haired woman preferred her to her younger brother who was a dominant omega. 

The second L/N name child was far better looking and had the proper training of a noble. Hell even if her månå reserve was meager compared to other talented individuals at least she had the ability to wield månå.

The h/c mutt was unattractive. His looks could make other dominant omegas ( like herself ) feel ashamed that someone like that belonged to the category of the prettiest second gender group. She had beta servants more better looking than the s/c man. He was so full, far to meek and shy to be standing by the side of her amazing and bold older brother. Not to mention how he dressed was absolutely horrendous. A huge puffy coat with different multicolored ribbons. He was an absolute eyesore and he wore such things with pride. Such a waste of good silk and materials. But none of these facts was what infuriated the young red haired woman.

No, she could look past his ill manners unattractive physique and bad taste in dressing. She could even handle the fact that he was a devil incarnate.

What absolutely disgusted her to her core was that the h/c bug was completely månåless. He could even cast a small fire spell that even toddlers  knew how to do.

What had her father been taking when he picked out such a thing to be her future brother in law??!! And she didn't understand why he had been so adamant about it to. Did he want their family to become a laughing stock in the high society??!!

She wouldn't stand for such a  disgrace been married into her noble and perfect bloodline.

And she was glad her older brother wasn't standing for it too.  It was only the gods and goddesses that knew the amount of pride and joy that had swelled up within her when her brother suddenly announced his divorce to the beast during the ball a few months ago and she nearly fainted from the excitement when he said he would be marrying the saint instead.

Her brother had finally dumped that trashed and had picked up someone worthy of ruling the empire by his side. The empire's own precious Lilly.

Cosette thought things couldn't get any better.

Then the idiot got poisoned.

Her joy knew no bounds.

She was finally going to have her perfect family. The perfect family she deserved and the cretin that was standing in her way was finally going to be gone for ever.

That was what she thought. Her happiness had been knocked down a notch when word reached her ears. She had manage to compose herself. No matter how much she wanted to glare up she had let it die down and managed to hold it in like the perfect noble lady she was.

Then she heard words that the cretin's guard dog had bullied their innocent saint along with that barbaric woman her brother had invited.

That she wouldn't stand for.

" You! Over there. Come here now ! "

The princess's voice suddenly speaking up shocked the servants standing by, her finger pointing to a male beta servant had the  butler tensing up a bit before he made his way to his young mistress with his head bowed.

" Yes your majesty ? "

Cosette's silver eyes stared at the man she had picked out from the crowd, nodding inside herself at his pretty appearance. ( All the servants working under her wing where all pretty. She was a beautiful woman and she wouldn't have ugly people serving her )

" From today your going to be serving that trashy h/c omega "  her watchful gaze didn't miss how The man's shoulders tensed even more at the news, but his reply made a small smile stretch on her peach lips.

" As your majesty wishes "

He was obedient. She liked docile things, made it easier to keep them in check.

" Good. Now off you go. I expect you to report to every single thing that happens to me " the red haired woman said using her hand to shop the man away as she focused her attention on the hot tea in her front, bringing up the porcelain cup to her lips.

Before she could attack she needed to know her enemy's weak spot.

" Let's push all those nasty thoughts behind us. So how far have you planned for the wedding preparations ? " Leon watched how the younger girl started talking with more preppy tone as she focused her attention on him. He likes how it was so easy to get her to do his bidding. And if anything went wrong the blame would simply fall back on her

" A..ah yes your right. It not really nice to talk about bad things all the time "  he replied with a soft smile.

As the two got engrossed nobody seemed to notice the lone red and orange butterfly that flew out the window. It's job done for now and relying the information to it's master.

                   ¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶•¶

Marrav ran his gloved hand through his silky locks as an exhausted sigh escaped his lips.

Paperwork and documents were scattered around on his table but in the middle of it all was an opened  gold coloured envelope with a pure white wax seal that had the letters " AV " in the middle in bold letters, the letter laid beside it, the fine paper crumpled slightly from the force the alpha had used when his anger got the better of him when he was reading the contents.

" So what does it say ? " The ebony haired man's silver eyes  looked up from the paper to stare at the beautiful woman sitting in front of him.

" I'm asking again sweetie what does that white devil want. That he would dare send you another letter when it hasn't even been a week since the last one. They should be patient and know where doing everything we can to solve the water problem in the North so they should stop hounding us like dogs " her voice was filled with hatred and Marrav couldn't help but roll his eyes.

His  Mother was always hot blooded whenever his cousins and uncle where involved.

The former Empress ran her hand through her blood red locks, her red eyes where slanted as she waited for his response.

Seeing the older woman wouldn't leave until he answered Marrav relented.

" Word about my divorce with it seems to have reached their ears " he wasn't surprised it had, considering that it was Empress Shiva who found out, it was only a matter of time before everyone would become aware of it.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at her son's answer " oh so what now? Are they declaring that you and demon get back together ?  The nerve of those monsters- "

" Actually it's the opposite. " Evangeline's glare disappeared ignoring how her son cut her off as a confused expression replaced it.

" W.... what ? "

She asked again trying to make sure she heard the words right.

" They are asking me to send it over to them. They letter says and I quote.

' we will welcome him in with open arms. '

Uncle writes down that he and father had an agreement, that if I were to ever divorce it that he would be taken in by their family " Marrav explains as he reached out for the letter and passed it to the woman so she could read it herself.

A tense silence surrounded the two of them once she finished reading the contents. " So what are you going to do now ? "

Marrav honestly didn't know. He had already been planning to drop off the h/c omega in the north by forcing him to stay on one of the properties there so he wouldn't be able to cause trouble for him and his beloved and also soothe the commoners sudden rise, but now that he had received this letter he felt himself fighting with the idea.

He didn't know why though. It was a great opportunity to get rid of the man and if his cousin ended up being forced to marry the man it would make the imperial family look far better. The Northern duke's bloodline were already regarded as monsters. How would the people feel if monsters married a devil?

Especially the same one that is being rumoured to have started the drying of the river.

It would cause an uproar and he would have nobles from the north running to join his faction and it would give him more power over the other regions.

This was a marvelous opportunity to do so yet he was hesitating.

And he didn't know why.

Just what the hell was going on with him?

Sorry there is any screen time for MC in this chapter. I wanted to write the after effects of everyone discovering MC's well and the different reactions it would bring. Also meet the other members of the imperial family yay. We have two more left now.

Yes I changed them just a teensy weensy bit, but not to much.

Count how many times I wrote perfect all because of Cosette, but it gives you guys a lot more information on her character because of this. And the former Empress got to shine a little too. She's the reason why Marrav is how he is. Spoilt the crap out of him when he was growing up.

Anyways hope you guys enjoy the chapter see you in the next one.

#dearly detested #omegaverse #mc #leon #nobility #omega male reader #x male reader #x omega male reader #aria #ask #Cosette #Marrav

[burningsuitfire]

Ludinus's Research (and Essek)

Okay so. I actually think Essek might've known way more than the fandom assumes.

First of all, he hints multiple times that he knew Da'leth had a secret weak spot, research that he couldn't afford for anyone in the Empire to discover. And as such, Ludinus needed the war to stop.

How much do you want to bet Essek keyed onto and was talking about the Martinet's secret dunamis research for his moon plans?

(91) Caleb: I want to see the conflict end and I do not get that sense from them. Essek: ...What is the biggest danger... to secret research? Caduceus: Discovery. Essek: Discovery. What better way to avoid discovery than to find a way to stop a conflict that pries into what you're doing?

(125) Beau: You'd be smart to focus your attention to Ludinus and Ikithon. Yudala Fon: It never leaves them. And they've been acting quite nervous recently.

(97) Essek: (...) you're all in terrible danger for the things that you know. Their research is to continue and we are to correspond as the research progresses. There is intent to end this war.

Also, common fanon seems to think Essek didn't get any research when Matt, Da'leth, and Essek himself said the deal was an ongoing cooperative exchange.

If anything, DeRogna, Yeza, and Ikithon said that the Assembly was having a massive amount of trouble on their end trying to work with dunamis and the beacons, and would really need Essek in their work for insights (as Essek said was happening) and to work with the dunamantic expert and intelligence lynchpin.

And another point. The raids. Even if Ludinus wasn't forthcoming with Essek in their meetings (which Essek said he was), the Kryn were raiding research facilities.

The Felderwin raid, which people seem to take as evidence that Essek wasn't getting information, kinda looks like it suggests the opposite. Only after months of experiments and effort and expense and problems did they get a single potion, and Yeza said it was barely days after the completion when the Kryn raided. Incredible timing.

Meaning that it sure seems like the Martinet gave Essek information, possibly even more than he intended, and Essek wasn't playing nice.

Essek, who said his being in Rosohna was the exception right up until the ceasefire (where we saw him constantly in both important wartime full den meetings and sparse late night meetings, seated on the council, deeply influential and personally requested for the Bright Queen's strategy and war efforts)

(94) Essek: It prevents me from some of my capabilities throughout the day each time I do this, so while I'm here in my home and things are not requiring me to be elsewhere rapidly, thankfully this is a moment in time in which I am more useful here in the city.

He could've even been in Felderwin.

Also, if Ludinus was trying to sway Essek over to the Vanguard and his side, easy money that the heretic (a self-proclaimed "coward" who refused self-preservation via consecution, and managed to annoy his own intensely religious father to the point of self-destruction) wouldn't be happy about it.

That attempt at recruitment and following rejection could've easily been the cause of the unpleasant dynamic and tense conversation between the two on the Assembly's boat.

Bonus, Essek's leyline device. That's relatively simple, and a friend clued me in. Essek being able to track leyline strength is just useful for timing dunamancy research for his "personal studies" as he calls them. It's been pointed out multiple times in CR lore that wizards like ley spikes and solstices because the flare in leyline strength and ley energy just means it's easier to manipulate arcane energy and make new spells.

Look where the Tal'Dorei Guide talks about leyline strength and spellmaking.

The Verdant Expanse is saturated with magic. The ley energies that suffuse the greenwood make it easy for arcanists to create works of spellcraft by themselves, when it might take a half-dozen mages working in concert in other lands.

#essek thelyss #essek #ludinus da'leth #ludinus #ruby vanguard #c2 #campaign 2 #cr meta #c3 #campaign 3 #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #critical role #mighty nein

[utilitycaster]

Im very very intrigued by your take on wisdom being the more arrogant stat. Is your thinking that wisdom is more ‘inherant’ while intelligence is typically earned? Please elaborate!!

Not quite about what's earned vs. inherent and more about where these types of arrogance draws the line.

In real life, while I’ve run into no small number of immensely arrogant academics, nothing will ever exceed the smugness of people who claim to be “empaths” while generally being insufferable black holes of energy and time. At least the academics are correct some of the time. Having good insight is all well and good but if instead of using that simply to inform your interactions with that person, you act like you know what’s best for them…that’s a level of arrogance that intellectual snobbery can never, in my mind, achieve.

To use the examples I gave - I think Percy is, to be clear, a hugely arrogant prick (honorific), and I think Keyleth is typically a more well-intentioned person than he. But I also think that Keyleth does, for example, tend to operate on a sense of legacy that presumes a thousand-plus year lifespan, and doesn’t really think through the fact that Percy is someone who’d be lucky to live a century and who has spent his entire adult life assuming he is the sole survivor of his family line. It’s not that Percy’s actions are good; but they are understandable, and he is coming from a very different place than Keyleth. And it’s Percy who’s able to point this out.

This is also true of Caduceus, who of the Mighty Nein has very little life experience, but does tend to assume he knows what’s best for people. He is, as I’ve discussed many times, a quietly deeply arrogant character. Many of his banger lines absolutely don’t land with the target - “rest well with your poor decisions” is hilarious but judgmental and completely misses Fjord’s objectives; his line to Trent flies so far from the mark he may as well not have said anything at all. He’s not wrong, per se…but he assumes everyone operates on the same principles he does.

I think while the flaw of intelligent characters is often to assume their knowledge surpasses that of other people, the flaw of wise characters is often to assume that their perspective is objectively the right one. And the thing is, an INT 20 wizard probably does know way more than other people, whereas a WIS 20 cleric probably doesn’t have a universal perspective. Wise characters often don’t know what they don’t know, and intelligent characters often do.

I should point out - in Worlds Beyond Number, this observation concerned a fey-influenced girl with anti-magic abilities who had a job with a weird and unpleasant hedge mage. Suvi, a wizard of the Citadel and essentially the adoptive daughter of someone important within the Empire, suggests she go to the Citadel for opportunities. Ame, a witch from a small town, opposes this in part because she (with a good insight check) realizes that the girl is not unhappy in her role, which Suvi does look down upon. The thing is…neither of them know what will be best for her! They both assume they’re right, and they’re both well-intentioned. But Ame fucks it up specifically by telling Suvi that she (Suvi) had opportunities this girl would not - which may or may not be true (it’s genuinely not made clear). Both Suvi and Ame make a ton of presumptions here, but Ame is the one who specifically assumes Suvi is wrong.

This also happens to tie into another common thing about WBN: While for narrative reasons I do expect the Empire to be a deeply flawed and well, imperial thing, I’ve already seen so much that’s just people knee-jerk hearing “empire” and losing any sense of nuance and analysis. It’s simply not possible yet to have any meaningful discussion of the actual flaws in the specific society in question. We’ve really only seen Suvi, who is, I should note, arrogant, but also at most 20 years old and a wizard prodigy who was orphaned at the age of six by parents who died for the Empire, and that should be taken into account. Which kind of gets back to the main point! A lot of people who I think would consider themselves insightful and empathetic tend to also go off gut feelings instead of actually exploring the reality of a scenario.

#answered #faltermoth

[wormtime123]

AAAAAAAAAAAA DRAMATURGY EPILOGUEEE

I love the lengthy wrap up of so many loose ends, the slow mend of things torn and that utter contentment to be found with people just existing right there. This is going to be my go-to comfort fic for found family to re-read over and over and over and over

Now I wanna pick your brain on all the bits; worldwalker shapeshifting Gem? Its so coool I love it. When did you decide to give her and others (Scar, Cub?) powers? What did Cub actually do at the end of Grumbot there? What was your favorite part of the epilogue to write? And which part was the most emotional for you? (tough question, I know I can't choose between Pearl & Gem's or Pearl & Grian's conversations)

WHEW dear god thank you for presenting me a pass to go insane on a silver platter. i’ll be putting my answers under a read more so i don’t explode people’s feeds with nonsense

most of the magic decisions made are based ~mostly in what i know about canon, i just ended up filling in some blanks and playing around with what’s already there! i’m endlessly fascinated by gem’s dimension-hopping (empires isn’t addressed in dramaturgy, but i operate on everything she said about her powers in e2) and i think the idea that she can open portals at will and freely travel between worlds/universes in a way that other players can’t is amazing. then the shapeshifting just made sense to me in how she changes her appearance around to fit into whatever character she wants to take on in each world.

cub and scar lore i’m a lot less familiar with since i only know of certain clips about their vex deal, but i kind of treat it similarly to gem in that i assume they can shift their forms around (ie. how often scar changes to fit a character like gem does, cub going from old man to s8 e-boy skin) and have a peculiar knowledge around portals (ie. the big dig, scar using his “wizard portals” to travel between seasons.) however i think gem has a different kind of expertise working with portals with how often she dimension-hops, so those two were kind of just doing unethical science at the rift to see what stuck lol.

the rift on its own is its whole thing in my Fanon Brain, but i have a strong image of it as a living, breathing entity that sucks things in and spits them back out in other spaces indiscriminately. dramaturgy scar describes it as hungry and i think that’s about as apt as it gets. stuck perpetually wanting to consume yet unable to hold anything in. then one of my biggest plot problems to solve was making the story line up with grian’s lore, aka grumbot (prime) getting tossed in the canon timeline ominously hinting at the other grian’s crimes, so i asked myself how dramaturgy hermits could have weaponized the rift and that’s where i landed! i admittedly don’t have a specific answer to how cub would have aggravated the rift enough to make it go hogwild in chapter 10, but i personally just imagined him figuring it out at one point or another by throwing shit in until something worked

dear god this is already getting long but epilogue!!! my answer for favorite scene to write is a little anticlimactic but i love writing all the evo flashbacks. if you couldn’t tell i am completely evo enamored. i love the strange, off-putting, nostalgic innocence of “something unpreventable and life-altering is about to happen and they Don’t Know.” i love them working together to get to the stronghold and entering the end portal thinking it’s going to be another task of teamwork as always and then just *silence* on the other end. amazing incredible tragic love it

(also on that note i loved writing the scene atop the mansion. just one last hermit acting entirely too normal while subjecting pearl to cursed knowledge before we go)

and lastly for most emotional to write i’d definitely say the scene at the hobbit hole! i’ve had that one as well as the sleepover at impulse’s in the back of my mind for so long i’m just glad i got it out. getting there was like the end of an era for me. everything with grian and pearl finally being back together but still not quite on the same page. i think pearl seeing grian so taken aback in the face of the tangible proof of his actions and mumbo’s feelings was the straw that broke the camel’s back, because at this point in the story pearl’s finally willing to see herself in mumbo’s situation. she’s finally realizing how badly she needs this specific closure but grian’s too busy going ???my actions… have consequences? i can’t just run off into the night with no negative impact on the people around me?

(which is of course also a matter of a warped sense of self-image and understanding emotions, but grian will go on murder sprees in the 3rd life time loop box before exercising an ounce of self-reflection, more at 11.) and only after seeing pearl shaking like a sad wet chihuahua clutching this random notebook of his like it’s the sacred texts does he really start to grasp how genuinely bad it’s been for her. like that would have been obvious to anyone who’s normal but whatever. i love studying skyblings like bugs

ANYWAYS. i hope you enjoyed this thought dump and thank you again for the ask i owe you my life

#dramaturgyAU #i hope this is interesting! or at least comprehensible. you know.