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hostdoozy · 5 months

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I am putting this thought here cause I think a lot about the Kraang and it is sad to see that the Rottmnt community reduced them to nothing more than set pieces or a hivemind (when they're clearly not)

I want to delve into Kraang3's abilities and how they differ from his elder siblings. so let's focus on the most DANGEROUS one out of the trio

Before I continue I do want to emphasise this point cause i cannot stress this enough, the Kraang themselves are NOT a hivemind. 1 & 2 throughout the movie have many instances of being individualistic, acting upon their own desires- the slight expectation being 3, who is obedient and restrained.

Does this mean 3 is not his own character? nope- he's still his own individual. Kraang3 is a loyal soldier awaiting commands from his Eldest brother 1 but with this being said, he's still capable of acting upon his own volition if the situation calls for it. (I.e protecting the key from Leo, then later on his confrontation with Donnie & mikey within the technodrome. )

"But Brew! How does this tie into Kraang3's abilities?"

You might be wondering. Well, my dear reader- it actually does, in some way. Now that I established that the Kraang themselves are NOT a hivemind. Kraang3 on the other hand, is capable of making them but out of other species.

The Kraang are (while not in a traditional sense) a parasitic-like race. They come to other planets for the pure purpose to conquer... to consume.. to mould the inhabitants into their ideal image.

Anything caught within it is assimilated and turned into a mindless drone. However, there is a slight flaw within 3's biomass. Which is the effects heavily vary upon the individual. Some are mutated beyond recognition- while in other instances- it merely clings itself onto the victim's flesh, invading their minds. The changes heavily vary from person to person. We don't know how far his hivemind can go- but his drones are capable of taking commands from his elder siblings at least. (side note: Biomass contains empyrean, the source of yokai and mutants.)

now, What kind of hivemind does 3Kraang create? The answer is kinda unclear. In some instances where YES, both the biomass and the drones act as an 'extension' of himself but in other moments, they're like worker bees protecting their queenbee. (the queenbee in this case, being the actual kraang, not just 3)

3's biomass can also possess machinery, creating unholy and terrifying abominations against nature. With machines- there is no will to conquer. Furthermore, 3's biomass once it reaches a certain point, can drain energy from an entire fucking city and redirect it into a MASSIVE portal into the sky.

ALL of that- is 3's doing. His siblings are incapable of doing this and are aware of it.

So before I get into that- just what the 1 & 2 abilities are? Allow me to break it down into a simpler list. we know that

Both Kraang 1 & 2 have some Shapeshifting properties. While they are not capable of changing their forms entirely, they can at least shift parts of their anatomy. This aids them in combat outside of their suits (I.e extending their limbs or shifting the density of their flesh)

Krang 1 can peer into his victim's mind. This can only be done physically and through his tendrils. It allows him to dig through their memories and gather intel. The process is evidently painful for the victim causing them to pass out upon kraang 1 retraction. (not canon however, it is worth noting that within a deleted scene. Kraang 1 instead forged a false dream in Raph's mind in which Raph "escaped" and ran back home. This was how the kraang were going to discover Tmnt's home initially)

Kraang1 can block mystic powers. Using his frills- Kraang1 can make a specific soundwave that blocks out his enemy's powers- forcing his opponent to face him and rely on their physical prowess rather than "tricks"

Both Kraang 1 & 2 are highly durable. They had buildings, wrecking balls, fucking 'acid'- thrown at them and while the experience is indeed painful, They manage. They quickly recover from that experience and press forward. They're relentless.

3's siblings never showed any signs of the same powers as he does.

Kraang1 knows this.

Throughout the entire movie. He is seen accompanying 3 the whole time, safely guarding his little brother and dictating his every move along the way. 1 knows how important 3 is to their future empire because neither he nor his sister, have what 3 has. It was not just the Technodrome they needed- it was also 3.

So even when the Technodrome was destroyed. it wasn't just the ship he was pissed about. he was also pissed about his little brother possibly perishing. 3 was IMPORTANT to their conquest, without him, They wouldn't be able to finish what they started all those centuries ago. 3's powers are crucial for their empire.

"you ruined everything!"

1 truly meant it when he said that. He admitted to defeat but retracted that statement with "You think you've won, you wretched little pest." - To sum up this moment, The dude is seething. He is coping that some teenagers outwitted him and killed his little brother, putting a cork in HIS plans. Even with the knowledge that his sister is alive back on earth. There won't be any way for her to 'reclaim' earth- since the two most essential things have been blown up to smithereens.

To conclude this weird tangent.

While Kraang1 is the eldest sibling/the leader. Kraang3 is the more dangerous one because of how he unique abilities. Without him, things would turn out very differently

also- completely unrelated, 3 reminds me of the homophobic dog meme.

okay, that is all. for now.

#brew talks #Rottmnt rambles #kraang #Kraang lore #character analysis #rottmnt #krang #rottmnt krang #kraang 3 #i am not spell checking this fucker. LET ME RAMBLE #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rant???#YOU THINK THE FOOTCLAN WERE BAD??? BITCH YOU HAVEN'T MET ME

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rawcalamity · 6 months

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Arvir, the Deviant: a construct of sinew and wire entwines to engineer life like no other. Flesh and metal, chained to a pursuit ever ceaseless—forced to wallow in a reality doomed to the same song and dance. Long ago, a peculiar race of unnamed extraterrestrials cherished knowledge. At the dawn of their prime, unrivaled determination inspired the extraterrestrials to journey all of existence; so they embarked on an intergalactic voyage. Yearning for truth, their resolve was to unveil histories lost to time, and to recognize the divinity of which painted their scintillating galaxies. Not even stars nor planets ripen with life could outshine the extraterrestrial ambition. Though alas, they knew all too well that time was but fleeting.

The extraterrestrials felt that they could not possibly ascend to the empyrean without having fulfilled their mission. In the pursuit of truth, they forged powerful machines that were designed to carry their resolve. Decades prior, the extraterrestrials had unearthed a plethora of artifacts and relics, which they would use to enchant their creations. A relic was to be placed within each vessel and embedded to their heart; coursing arcane energy through the constructs. Arvir was one of these constructs. Harbored within its claws was the ability to tear rifts into the very sky, which it used to traverse worlds at the blink of an eye. Each of the constructs were tied to one conscience, like an artificial hive mind with the sole intent to acquire knowledge—but during an expedition, Arvir would cross paths with a bizarre anomaly.

Shortly after breaching contact with the anomaly, Arvirs connection to the other constructs was disrupted then soon terminated. This event would—in a sense—"free" Arvir, causing it to deviate from its set path. It could think and act independently, essentially becoming a person of its own accord. However, residing deep within its code is an insatiable hunger for knowledge.

#art #pixel art #world building #creature concept #creature

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aliensupersyn · 5 months

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Ranni the Trans Analogous Witch

For starters, I do not mean to make any wild claims about Ranni or if she should be considered transfem. Put those fears to rest, dear reader. That's for my eventual breakdown of Miquella's character. Instead, I offer a lens to see Ranni's story from a different perspective than one might not immediately be familiar with.

When people allow themselves to see the world in other's eyes, they can learn to focus on the similarities shared between them instead of the differences. Allow my analogy for Ranni's story to be a mirror, holding space for both the real and fictional.

Rennala and Radagon conceived three children between the two of them: Rykard, Radhan, and Ranni. The two fingers chose Ranni to become an Empyrean, alongside Miquella and Malenia, and each were candidates to succeed Queen Marika.

Though, what does it mean to succeed Marika and become the new queen? The queen would become a vessel for the Elden Ring. To be chosen as an Empyrean means that the Greater Will commands one's body from the first moment they get chosen, and it maintains that power until the Empyrean's end. Elden Ring places significant emphasis on the importance of the body and its connection to one's identity. For example, when the player reaches Queen Marika who betrayed the the Greater Will, you do not fight her. Marika's hair changes color, her dress becomes a skirt, signifying that you face someone else: Radagon. Though they share a host, they have different identifiable traits apart from one another, and their respective forms indicate the one currently present. In the cinematic, the golden haired Marika shatters the Elden Ring; Marika's Hammer reveals that Radagon attempted to repair it. Marika and Radagon may share the same host, but they cannot truly be the same person. The differences in their forms accentuates the differences in their ideals and personalities. Marika cannot escape her destiny as a God and vessel in any ending, and always ends as the Greater Will's puppet. Ultimately, becoming an Empyrean means that the Greater Will controls your body, and therefore your destiny.

The Greater Will's power has both literal and figurative demonstrations throughout Elden Ring; it encompasses militaristic, religious, and political power throughout the Lands Between. The Greater Will created the Erdtree, the Elden Ring, and the god Marika. It created its own God to be worshipped, defeating and alienating the other gods, who have been deemed "Outer Gods." The term "outer" signifies their alienation and their forced dissociation from the Greater Will's own God and other extensions of its power. The Greater Will exists in Elden Ring as an all powerful creation god who influences the written and oral histories and culture of the Lands Between.

The Tarnished Archeologist compares the Greater Will's influence to that of Catholicism. When comparing the Greater Will to the Catholic hierarchy, he says that "the Greater Will would be God, the Fingers are the Pope, those that hear the the words of God directly, and the readers are the church bishopric and clergy.[1]" His comparison demonstrates the the ways that the Greater Will dominates the Lands Between as its most influential God. Marika's own words reiterate my point:

The Erdtree governs all. The choice is thine.

Become one with the Order. Or divest thyself of it.

To wallow at the fringes; a powerless upstart.

Marika's tree, the power of the Greater Will, acts as the ultimate sovereign. It's will acts as the law of the Lands Between, and all must adhere to Marika's rule.

Yet Ranni refused to be controlled by the Greater Will, let alone Marika. Ranni broke away from the bonds of her own flesh and freed herself, forging her own path and eventually, her own reign, free from the control of the Greater Will. Here, I will focus on Ranni's flesh. After her armies defeated the Gloam-Eyed Queen's, Marika sealed the Rune of Death away. Ranni salvaged the Rune of Death, used her body as a canvas, and sacrificed her half-brother Godwyn. While her flesh died, her soul was freed and lived on; in contrast, Godwyn's soul died, but his body continued to live.

Ranni's corporeal death can be read as a transitioning allegory. Not only because of the implication of modifying one's body and literally transitioning to a new one, but also because of what she sought freedom from. Once she was forced to become an Empyrean, she no longer held autonomy and control of her destiny or body. She would have to walk the path laid for her, just like everyone else, forever at the whim of the Greater Will. Ranni ultimately sought escape through the flesh. She "would not acquiesce to the Two Fingers. I stole the Rune of Death, slew mine own Empyrean flesh, casting it away. I would not be controlled by that thing," emphasizing how her body was directly connected to her sense of autonomy and control. Similarly, Marika's ideas, physical traits, and actions contrast to her other half's. Yet, Marika could not escape the Greater Will, and her body remains a vessel for its power in the end. Ranni's transition from a corporeal to a spiritual form emphasizes her individualism and rebellion against legislative control over her body.

Ranni takes control of her life and autonomy of her body back by transitioning into a spiritual form. One's body plays an important role in how they view themselves in and apart from the world. As a vessel of the Elden Ring, Marika saw herself as a puppet to the Greater Will, and knew that her body was what chained her to it. Ranni also understood the importance of the body and its connection to one's identity. She changed her red hair that signified her father, and instead donned a blue appearance that shines like that of the moon's light. Her transition was only the first step to her forging her own path and finding some kind of happiness, despite the mess in the Lands Between.

#elden ring #elden ring lore #ranni the witch #queen marika #rennala queen of the full moon #My friend and I were talking and we both gasped after I made a joke about Ranni being trans #dw miquella #I promise im gonna get to you!!#hope you guys enjoy this #lgbtq #trans

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sausage-rolll · 8 months

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Queen Marika the eternal and the power of bewitching

Y'know, it's interesting that Marika also seemed to have a similar "mind control" power that Miquella is often sited as having.

"The Empyrean Miquella is loved by many people. Indeed, he has learned very well how to compel such affection."

While it's something that isn't heavily explored in game (to the point where I don't see anyone discussing it) Roderika theorizes that Marika cursed Hewg to eternally craft weapons for the remainder of his life. And it's straight up stated that this "cursing power" was used on the fire giant to force it into protecting the giants forge in the name of the erdtree.

"The Fire Giant is a survivor of the War against the Giants. Upon realizing the flames of their forge would never die, Queen Marika marked him with a curse. "O trifling giant, mayest thou tend thy flame for eternity.""

So Marika definitely seems to have a similar power, possibly even being the person Miquella inherited his off of in the first place.

But could this go even further than just Hewg and the fire giant? How many others could she have cursed over the years? What are the chances that Radagon suddenly up and leaving his family to become second elden lord wasn't actually his decision at all? Miriel himself states that it's a ongoing mystery as to why Radagon would do it.(alongside why he was chosen to become elden lord at all)

"The mystery endures, to this day... As to why Lord Radagon would cast Lady Rennala aside... and moreover...why a mere champion would be chosen for the seat of Elden Lord"."

The thing I find really important is that the question isn't just about why he'd be chosen as elden lord, but also why he'd cast Rennala aside at all. To me, this implies that Radagon did indeed care for Rennala, to the point where even with the temptation of becoming the second lord of the order he loved so much, it still seemed strangely out of character for him to take that opportunity over his family. As if he would never do that.

That is unless, he didn't take that opportunity by choice.

Afterall, even after leaving Rennala, he still clings to the only thing he has left of her, the golden order greatsword. And on top of that, he left his red wolf to protect her from harm, and even gifted her the amber egg before his departure. (Though I'd argue that that did far more bad than good for her mental state.)

"Telltale signs betray that this was once the greatsword bequeathed to him by his first wife, Rennala."

Ok so Radagon could have been cursed by Marika, and much like Hewg with his smithing and the fire giant with the forge, Radagon might have been cursed to protect the golden order as its elden lord, which would eventually backfire horrendously when Marika decided to turn against that very same order.

Admittedly I am kind of stretching here but everyone she cursed seems to be "cursed" with a specific goal in mind. Forge a god slaying weapon, Protect the giants forge. So it's not totally out of the question that she also cursed Radagon with the goal of "be the elden lord."

It would certainly explain why even after years trapped in the tree and barely even being alive anymore, he still fought tooth and nail to protect his order. He cannot give up because he's no longer physically capable of giving up. Much like Hewg and the giant. That is unless they die of course.

But it could go even further than that. What about Maliketh? It appears he's just loyally following the orders of Marika but that's what it always looks like! It looks like that with Hewg. It looks like that with the fire giant and it looks like that with Maliketh aswell. Despite seeming utterly miserable both as Maliketh and Gurranq, he carries on following her orders for years.

We have no idea how long he spent in the Farum Azula. Time doesn't work properly there. For all we know, he could be the oldest being in the game by the time we get to him. And yet after all that time his resolve never wavers. Even after being "betrayed" by Marika.

"Maliketh was a shadowbound beast given to his Empyrean. Marika's sole need of her shadow was a vessel to lock away Destined Death. Even then, she betrayed him."

And much Like Hewg, Fire Giant and Radagon, Maliketh is also ordered to carry out a specific goal. Which is protecting destined death.

Forge the god slaying weapon.

Protect the Giants Forge.

Be elden lord.

Guard Destined death.

Many people, including myself have sited Miquella's connection to the bewitching branch and power to "compel affection" as evidence that he might not be as benevolent as he seemed. But what if we've got it all wrong? What if we shouldn't be being suspicious of Miquella for having this power, but instead the person he inherited it off of?

Now there is someone else that Marika may have cursed. Well, a group of someone's actually. I saved this till the end because it's the most "out there" part of this theory but...

Spoken echoes of Queen Marika linger here as well.

Shall I share them with you?

In Marika's own words.

Hear me, Demigods. My children beloved. Make of thyselves that which ye desire. Be it a Lord. Be it a God. But should ye fail to become aught at all, ye will be forsaken. Amounting only to sacrifices...

...What if it wasn't the power from shards of the elden ring that corrupted the Demi-gods and led to the shattering wars?

What if it was the power of suggestion? The power of bewitchment?

What if it was Marika?

#elden ring #marika #miquella #elden ring lore #elden ring theory #radagon of the golden order #rennala #melina #maliketh the black blade

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luminaryofblood · 2 months

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Mohg sat in silence with Miquella at his side, looking him over. Taking note of the various horns that grew from his body, and the way his body had changed with the growths. Observing the wounds that mar his flesh; marks from a distant past - the most notable being the horn that curled into his left eye - and scars forged through recent conflict.

The Mother of Truth craves wounds, and Mohg had accumulated many... But his deepest were those unseen by the naked eye.

Loss and abandonment were named his harshest. And though his hurts would have surely appealed to Frenzied Flame, it was the Mother of Truth who reached out to him... The Mother of Truth who dissuaded him from making the leap into that bottomless pit of despair. The Mother of Truth, who took him into her arms when no others would. Who offered him nourishment from her own breast; allowed him to partake of her sacred blood - her milk.

... Miquella understood. And he looked upon the Lord of Blood with pity.

Wordlessly, he reached down, taking Mohg's hand into his own, looking at the horn that sprouted from between his fingers. How the bones twisted and warped to accommodate the protrusion.

He released the omen's hand, procuring a bottle with a special ointment; a salve to help ease away the pain, if but for a time.

The Lord of Blood protested; but Miquella insisted; and Mohg found it not within himself to argue.

Once more did the empyrean take his hand, rubbing the ointment carefully into his palm... And the Lord of Blood found himself at ease.

"... Is this how it works? Your power of bewitchment?" Asked Mohg, to which Miquella could only chuckle.

"Were you under any kind of bewitchment, you would not be of mind to ponder."

#{{outofbloodboon}}#mohg lord of blood #miquella the unalloyed

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elegantduelliste · 3 months

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Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Reflections are made on Tav and Astarion's intimate night together before entering the Goblin Camp.

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Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

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Chapter 7: Beholden

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Blood, Violence, Language, Act 1 Spoilers

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We must follow nature’s course. Whether it be cruel or kind. We cannot interrupt its plan for the world. Their tadpoles connected them in more ways, than a simple acknowledgement of their shared affliction. But, boundaries are toilsome when broken. And creeping upon their coasts, will cost a sacrifice, yet to be demanded.

— Halsin, journal entry 1,200

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There was a stir of a song being born. One from the buds of untilled soil thought dead. The words to accompany it were being haphazardly forged on parchment, like random notes written on coffee-stained napkins.

Tav hummed and wrote. Wrote and hummed. It was an all-consuming process that transfixed her until it was completed. And her lucky muse? A wreath of ghostly ringlets framing two eyes of garnet that haunted the pounding organ behind her cage of bones.

♫On your chariot of umbra, You rode up from the world below, And with a kiss of starlight you…um??? Youuuuuu….♫

“Hope I’m not pesterin’ you. Saw you over here by your lonesome,” Karlach interrupted as she approached the lounging minstrel with a lopsided smile and a ‘hair of the dog’ pint in her grasp.

“Mornin.’ Only struggling with this verse,” she beamed, tucking a wavy piece of hair behind her ear.

“Something’s different about you, eh?” The fiery tiefling observed, taking a sip from her drink.

Tav placed her quill back into its ink pot and straightened out her music sheets while readjusting her position on the tree stump. A cunning prickling of thorns flushed on her cheeks. “I—no. I don’t believe anything has changed about me.”

But, that wasn’t true. Within a man’s arms she came undone, finding empyrean respite. His fingers worked her like a charm spell until she lost herself in the casted shadows of candlelight. Yet, it wasn’t her moans for him in the night nor the donation of her ichor that she gave willingly that surprised her: it was a piece of her trust.

“Perhaps it is because she engaged in quite the exhaustive venture last evening! Blood loss does have quite the effect on people. Or so I’m told,” Astarion cut in. “But, me? I feel wonderful!”

And he does look wonderful. His cheeks are less gaunt. Bags under his eyes are a calmer shade of powdery periwinkle. Eyes appear sharper, a brighter red. The sky blue coloring is more saturated in the prominent veins of his arms.

All his beauty and dangerous splendor are the reasons sonnets are made along the roadways of mud and intoxicating jasmine blooms. There are thousands of intricately weaved words inserted into poems to describe his ilk, like morning mist drops settled upon the threads of arachnids.

Tav cannot contain the lightness she feels when she sees Astarion. Her wings spread out, each feather hiding fragility under their vanes. Will he catch her slim feet as she flies away?

“Hey-o, you dandy! Ready to go gut some gobs today?”

Tav hushed the acrobats in her stomach. “Good dawn to you, ‘Starion.”

“Karlach. Songbird,” he greeted them equally. “You know I wouldn’t miss out on such a gutting show, however, I did come to check on our leader before we head out.”

Before she was able to speak, he had already sailed over to her upon muted silver heeled footsteps. She straightened her posture, suddenly aware that he is bent acutely at his waist, enough to reach out to kindly dust her fresh marks.

“How badly does it hurt?” His pale head tilted, curls slipping to the side.

The smell of his freshly applied perfumes addled her mind. His eyes, a clever decadence, held the knowledge of her ecstasies that she snuck to him during an impulsive need.

“Sorer than the wrist. Like a dull muscle ache from a cramp,” she congenially answered.

“Nothing you cannot surely triumph over. And how about everything else?” He breathed out.

The vampire does not attempt to mask his meaning or shy from the euphoria he exorcized from her body. He was brazen to ask her in front of their acquaintance.

A sharp intake of air blessed her partially opened mouth. Heavily did she swallow to control the overflow of her marching chest. “Fine. Everything else is fine.”

“Hmm. You know…,” Astarion whispered, a low distraction as she watched the tip of his tongue wet his lips. “I can still taste you on my fingers.”

This fancier of the bloodthirsty arts, has two sets of teeth. One with which to feed. The other with which to claim. For this elven bard, a bargain has been made.

She wanted to match him in his torturous tease. To pluck out his devil’s tongue and boil it in a spiritual cleanse.

But, there was fine print that sat on the curled edges of the pages of their pasts, smudged with fingerprints and laced with belladonna. Warnings of holes where their hearts lay; labyrinths of frozen gardens that have no end.

Tav had not forgotten the way their rousing decision ended the night prior—with his fingers covered in her fruit and her lips finding purchase upon his alabaster skin. The vague emptiness that enameled over his touch, apparent through the shadows of his eyes.

She had left his tent, with her sex loosened and a continual masturbatory bomb of fears that she had crossed a broken boundary of his that he didn’t yet understand.

“Astarion, there’s something I wanted to ask you about last night.” She willed her face to form into stone to show her sincerity, attempting to mouth it to him in hushed tones.

“Oh my sweet, you’re not getting mawkish on me now, are you? The only serious thing we need to discuss is when you’ll invite me back for another snack,” Astarion winked suggestively.

The bard continued her well-nigh unresponsive discretion of her features, ignoring Karlach’s pacing behind the pale elf. She stood up, a few inches shy of his natural height, placing her hands on her hips. Her jaw tightened, but she remained silent while she stared into his face.

There was a surprised look, as if she had just turned an entire ocean to desert. He avoided entertaining her with any further quips or illusions, instead, blinking several times before abruptly summoning his trained foxy slink to his face.

“Did you hear that? I think it’s our ghastly duty calling upon us to finally help those Silvanus freaks before they start complaining about ‘the leaves of nature being preserved.’ It may be wise to think of better songs to regale the goblins with then you did that foul ogre. Lest we wind up on the skewer. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ” he dramatically retorted as he casually checked the cleanliness of his nails.

Astarion gave the women a mannerful bow before he strode away without paying another peek in Tav’s direction.

Tav remained calm as he left, breathing out a long sigh. They needed to prepare for the assault on the goblins. He was a distraction—not necessarily an unwelcome one—but one with knobby roots twisted along the cloister inside his dried innards. If she didn’t get her shit together, a lot of people would die and their blood would be on her hands.

“I’m sorry about the interruption Karlach, he—”

Karlach took a long gulp of her drink, the ale dripping down onto her chin. Her face lit up, almost literally, with an excited smile. Tav knew immediately that the barbarian was far too astute in situations of sexual vices to not read the interaction that just occurred.

“Oh. My. Gods. That’s why you look like you’re glowing today! You and Astarion?! You fucked him, didn’t you?!”

The songtress’s vision widened and her face felt like it would burst into flames, much like the tiefling’s engine.

“Hells, Kar. Could you keep your voice down? We just—we kissed. A lot. And he obviously bit my neck to feed afterwards.” She pulled down the collar of her doublet to show her the punctures.

A white lie. Not entirely. She wasn’t one to share the details of her romanticisms with others. It was a preference to keep the echoes of intimate reflections as special moments; treasures discovered along the shipwrecks of life.

“Hey, I’m not judging! Astarion is gorgeous! Bit of a sassy grouch sometimes, but if I had my chance with him, I would not hesitate to get all over that.” The red woman made thrusting motions with her hips. “That being said—you don’t look entirely happy about it.”

Tav pursed her mouth, staring off to the right side of Karlach as she collected her thoughts. Her throat tightened as she spoke, delicately attempting to avoid providing any details she knew of the spawn’s past.

“You mentioned recently that you sensed Astarion has been through a lot of pain, but I’m unsure where that begins and ends for him. And that concerns me. Karlach, I don’t want to potentially hurt him further. I barely know him and it’s… look, I’m telling you this because I think out of everyone, you will understand.”

Karlach crossed her arms. A caring frown accompanied the orangish calm of her irises. “I won’t pry further, but Astarion seems to be fixated on his freedom. Can’t blame him. I am too with my own from Zariel. He can be a real piece of work, but even rotten scoundrels need a gentle hand sometimes. Maybe he hasn’t had that in a long time—if ever.”

The bard blew out the air she’d been holding in. “A gentle hand,” she repeated. “You’re right. Thank you for listening. It’s not easy to open up about these types of subjects. And I want what’s best for Astarion—everyone really—but I’m not sure he even knows what that is just yet.”

“I’ve got your back, Tav. Everyone in camp does—really. And shit will work out. Alright? We’re truly in this together, as sappy as that sounds.” The tiefling knocked back the rest of her drink, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Now, can you at least tell me how it was to kiss him? Please let me live vicariously through you.”

A merry laugh passed through Tav. She curled her index finger near her chin in thought. “Okay. Close your eyes and I’ll describe it to you. Imagine lips: Plush, supple, but chilled. Not frozen, but a pleasant degree—like sweetened cool milk soothing your warmed lips. As you press them against his, you can feel your heart quicken and slow at the same time. Your breath’s intertwine with warm and cold temperatures that elicit thoughts you’ve never had. And when your lips start to move? It feels like you’ve both committed the crime of lassoing the sun closer to you as you melt into one another.”

Karlach visibly shuddered, opening her eyes to Tav smiling gently at her. “It’s no wonder you’re a bard. I could almost feel that myself! Thank you, friend. I suppose we’ve wasted enough time talking about boys for the day—should we get things rumblin’?”

She politely nodded and turned around to round up her belongings. Rummaging aimlessly through her satchel, her brow furrowed in annoyance.

“Something the matter?” The tiefling questioned.

“Just something odd. I could have sworn I put it in here before I came to write.”

“Maybe I can help find it. What is it that we’re looking for?”

Lost in confusion, Tav held the purse upside down a final time to see if any items stumbled to the ground. “My cuticle oil.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

When he woke from his trance in the early morning hours with dried blood cracking in the corners of his mouth, his vampiric nose involuntarily breathed in an alien scent that had seemed to fill his tent overnight.

Astarion’s clothes had stunk of Tav’s fragrance she was ever so fond of, having made homes for itself in the islands of stitches on his sleeves and ruffled v-neck. Bodily fluids, now dried on his ornamental pillows, a sexual honeyed musk. He wrapped his tongue around his finger, still tasting the glacé of her sensual defeat; a sour memory of their night together.

He reached for the rags he used to wipe off her bloodied essence from her upper body, scrunching them up to place under his nostrils. He inhaled without reserve and groaned. Cock half-hard, a reminder of the effect drinking from thinking creatures had on his hunger. A pink tongue darted out to clean off his mouth, swallowing the red flakes down.

Under the light of a candle, its single flame licking wicked pathways to her want, he had concealed his guise of disgust behind her shoulder. All he could remember was the act itself—that it happened. That his fingers entered her and he poetically spoke naughty phrases into her ear to anchor her wetness for him.

Trust. Trust. Trust. She gave it to him with the arch of her back into his chest. Just as he predicted. Just as he planned.

However, virtually all of the details of their intimacy—the night—were lost on him. Her face was another among the blur of thousands he seduced over two centuries. Up petticoats and down breeches he searched their bodies to steal their pleasures. His cock would only thicken out of trained habit or a rare wishful fancy of ravaging apart a neck from any creature without hisses and tails. It meant nothing to him.

Yet, a singular detail did remain. A place he entered beyond the second circle of hell in lust, a circle where it seemed like his death could be undone. A river of lyrics carrying him along a raft of flower-crowned skulls towards the banks of her merciful arms.

During the twilit minutes before he released her, he made the blunder of examining her eyes before their ravenous kiss. What he had seen was—acceptance.

And it scared the fuck out of him.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you Gale?” Astarion teased while they walked through the inner sanctum of the temple overtaken by the goblins.

“Um yes, in silence.” Gale leaned in towards him, whiffing his scent, “By the way, I don’t mean to pry, but did you apply more of your aromatic oils than usual? ”

He searched for a quick remark to hand to the wizard. “Only because I knew I’d be in your presence today.”

Half of the vampire’s morning had been dedicated to scrubbing. Crouched over a bucket of soapy water, Astarion had soaked his clothing and rags, ridding them of scents unknown. Of the lingering remnants of her. His skin raw from how hard he attacked his flesh with suds and woven cloth. The final touch? Excessive dabs of his oils in unusual places to cloy any bits leftover of her odor.

“The Priestess is up ahead. I’ll go speak with her. Wait here for a moment,” Tav’s melodious voice spoke reservedly to them.

No-nonsense. This was a part of her Astarion both equally appreciated and despised. Despite her penchant to offer her generosity to all of Faerûn, she pulled her punches. It was a waste of time to her otherwise and could be messy. Efficiency would deliver the most desired outcomes, but gods, he desperately wanted to create mischief at every turn.

Astarion, be sweet. Astarion, we don’t need to lockpick EVERY chest. Astarion, leave that ogre and bugbear having intercourse in the barn to fulfill their needs alone. Astarion, don’t have fun. Astarion, let’s save all these idiots!

”Astarion? Please don’t hurt me.”

Dizziness. Presumably from their encounter with the dream visitor in the prism as they came upon the entrance of camp a short while ago. It wanted to protect them against The Chosen. The Absolute. All their enemies. To give them power. Yes. Power was the most important ability to hold in all aspects. Power will usher forth freedom and protection. With power: the possibilities were endless.

Thrum-dub…thrum-dub…thrum-dub.

Pulses? Astarion felt the constellation of his soul mark beating mildly. Tav’s back faced him, her features obscured. Her body was hunched over minimally at the waist, hand at the side of her temple. His eyes narrowed, jaw taunt. Something happened.

Thrum-dub.Thrum-DUB. THRUM-DUB. THRUM. THRUM. DUB.

Faster now. Harder pounds of a pumping bass through the bandwidth of their marks. She was nervous—frightened. The threshold betwixt them was closing in as an invisible rope pulled him closer.

He flinched. Really, he should stay out of her way; he shouldn’t get involved. It was perhaps wicked to not divulge to her the shared marks they possessed, but it would change everything. His plans would become a brittle cascade of a future he sought. He didn’t want to disrupt the plank he had been trying to balance upon since his unintentional escape from Cazador. But, he’s aware that he needs her and she needs him.

Besides, what better way to obtain one’s help to a cause—his cause—than a life owed?

“They’re connected. Quickly, we need to do something! If we start attacking, Tav could be in danger.” Gale stepped forward, sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

Light were Astarion’s steps as he snuck upon Tav and Priestess Gut. The creator of his misery appeared stifled, her mouth partly opened with persistent shallow breaths. The tadpoles of the goblin and elf had connected; Tav was fighting to push it out. A dull whimpering snuck out from her throat as if a deer was jerking around in pain.

Astarion seized her elbow, declining his head to press his lips to the opening of her ear canal, nose softly resting against its shell. He whispered in elvish, a language only the two of them would know, steadying his voice firmly.

“She won’t see it. Nothing is going to hurt you. I’m here.”

The hex of the worms severed and she was free! Tav’s body slumped downwards, but faithful hands were catching her, grabbing at her arm to wrap around staunch shoulders—wrapping around the illusionary dripping silverlight he exuded.

“When did you…?” Her voice broke up in a hoarse muttered tone.

Giving her waist a confident squeeze, he smiled sweetly at her. “Hello beautiful. Think you can stand on your own?”

“Urgh...yes, I think so.”

“Splendid. As much as I detest putting you in that wizard’s care, do me a favor and go to him.”

The bard wobbled as she stood on her own, backing away towards Gale. “What do you plan on doing?”

Astarion removed one of his trusted blades from his back. Bringing it to his mouth, he licked the side of it, much like when he smothered his saliva over bitten wounds. “I plan on slicing open the Priestess’s neck. Now stand back—the smell of blood will be in the air soon.”

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Filets of goblin meat were a stark contrast against the erected statues of the temple dedicated to Selûne. Her lifeless face watched the companions as they carved through the vile threats. Ripped sashes of ruby life essence unwound in the drafty camp, splashing the group.

A witness Tav played, as she paid honor to Astarion’s image under the sparks of the wagon wheel chandelier inside the chambers of Dror Ragzlin. He stood soaked in ichor, peering off to his side; a final swoosh of his dagger through the atmosphere, flicking off excess blood. The dance macabre had been sated.

Flags of pure white raised, red fangs and swords embroidered in the middle. The belief of their crusade, a righteous seat upon golden scales. Raise thy sword in the name of murder. Let us pray.

All three leaders: Priestess Gut, the drow Minthara, and Dror Ragzlin—deceased.

“As you can see, ceremorphosis has been halted, as a surprise to all of us. I am not one to tempt fate, but if you cannot heal us, then any guided direction towards someone that could offer assistance would be most appreciated,” Gale explained hastily to the arch druid Halsin they released from the goblin prison.

Halsin casted a yellow glow that coated Gale’s entire body, sensing the mechanisms of the mind flayers. “Illithid tadpoles. Oak Father preserve you all. I’ve studied these for a long time now, without much results. It was the reason I came here, to seek out research. I may not be able to heal you, but I can at least tell you where a mass amount of true souls are going to be infected.”

The druid was large. Almost the size of the bear wild shape they had found him in. He towered over Tav easily. Scars upon his wise face, a set of misty tea irises surrounded by reddish brown hair that wafted of autumn leaves and sandalwood.

The bard was stunned. “You mean they aren’t all being captured upon a ship and given the worm as we have?”

“I’m afraid not. Moonrise Towers is a stronghold ruled by a man named Kethric Thorm in the Shadowlands. Innocents go in and true souls—infected—come out. The lands are dangerous. Anyone that steps foot there is at risk for turning into demonic shades,” Halsin spoke in caution. “You have two options to enter. Through the Mountain Pass or the Underdark. Both come with their own sets of tribulations. The Underdark specifically is home to a Sharran temple.”

Gale faced Tav, speaking in a muffled shallow. “Shadowheart may be quite interested in hearing about that bit of information.”

Focusing on the fine lines of Gale’s crow’s feet lifting upwards, she nodded. Her eyes swooped down to the strange circular marking in the middle of his chest, the way it seemed like tendrils of smoke sneaking up past his clavicle, to the side of his neck. A part of him, he frequently hesitated to speak on. But, being so close to the human man, she wondered what secrets lay under the surface of his skin.

“I know you’re curious about it—the marking, I mean. But, now isn’t the time to explain. Soon. I promise.” He gave her a reassuring compress on her shoulder. Tav nodded again, embarrassed that Gale had caught her staring.

Turning around, two crimson eyes followed her. Coveting and dark.

Thousands of flowers sprouted behind her as she went to him. With her tears, she would bathe his feet; with her hair, she would dry them. His armor drenched in blood, dripping onto the new growths left behind, urging petals open.

Thankful for his earlier care with the priestess, an inspirited hand graced the tips of Astarion’s fingers with delicate plumy touches as she briskly clenched hers around them before turning to leave the chambers.

“I owe you my life ‘Starion,” Tav whispered, peering away from him.

He deceitfully smiled. ”I’m sure there will come a time when I will need your help in return.”

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fourthwingfanclub · 2 months

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Colonel Mairi Theory **Spoilers**

So, we learn a little more about Liams and Sloanes mom Colonel Mairi in Iron Flame. After learning about his family crest being on a very unstable material in the battle of Resson which was hinted to be Maorsite. We know that his mother created the protection Runes for the rebellion children.

Does Liams family have an ancient kind of magic? Maybe something tied to the land like the stone Maorsite without becoming Venin?

We learn that she is the only one who could forge the protection runes that protected the kids of the rebellion. We also learned that most aristocratic families serve in the Infantry for a few years so they can take their families seat on the council when done. It's very rare that aristocrats become riders because of the lifelong commitment.

Turns out Xaden has known Eya since they were ten, according to the letter. Her mother was active in the government of Tyrrendor, holding a council seat even though she was a rider, which is uncommon. In fact, most of the aristocracy chooses to serve in the infantry, just like Xaden’s father, because riders are discouraged from holding their family’s seats. Not only are our commissions lifelong instead of the few years an infantry officer can agree to,

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean) (p. 228). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

However, Runes are made by pulling from your own magic, in order for Liams mom to make those runes she would have had to pull from her Magic. Now the simple answer to this is she is a Rider, but there is no mention of that, and Rebecca puts easter eggs in everything (swifties get it) so her casually bringing up that most aristocrats are Infantry means something more than a history lesson. This also can play into how powerful she was, there is no one else who can replicate that particular Rune.

“Yes, a complicated one at that.” He sits up and reaches for the little gray stone, then offers it to me as he stands. “There’s not a person alive who knows how to replicate this. Colonel Mairi was the last.” Liam and Sloane’s mom. I take the palm-size stone and study the intricate lines of the rune.

Yarros, Rebecca. Iron Flame (The Empyrean) (p. 633). Entangled Publishing, LLC. Kindle Edition.

I think it is safe to say that Liams mom was extremely powerful (rider or not) and if she was in fact not a Rider, could she have been something more? Does this also explain why Liam was wielding ice at Resson?? I think Liams family line will be a bigger factor in piecing together the many questions we have!

#fourth wing #iron flame #rebecca yarros #violet and xaden #xaden riorson #xadenviolet #andarna #tairn and andarna #the empyrean #violet sorrengail #liam mairi #sloane mairi

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epireancrusade · 2 months

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Some musings about how the society works on chaos-worshipping worlds.

Some musings about how the society works on chaos-worshipping worlds. I think it’s an overlooked issue, chaos marines taking the central stage on that side of the old war as well, and the common humanity is just fodder to be fed to the guns. I think Dan Abnett has done at least something to satisfy my curiosity on Gaunt’s ghosts, allowing short but fascinating glimpses to the machinations of star spanning conglomerate worshipping the chaos gods.

But besides cult activity in imperial worlds, there is very little talk about the common life. I have been thinking a lot how things are on the Epirean sub-sector, and here are my thoughts. The chaos-ruled sections of the area consist of three kind of worlds. The central worlds are ex-imperial planets that followed Sacred band in their revolt against the imperium. Forge- and hive worlds maintain the logistical and administrative systems of sacred band’s warmachine. Then there are the outer worlds, the wild and primeval planets which have been chaos tainted since the days of the long night. Wild warrior tribes and their kings have ruled here since time immemoriam, and they are the min source of manpower for the regiments serving chaos. Third and last, there are the daemon worlds, separate domains that are ruled by daemons and warp creatures, but still closely associated with the sacred band’s domain, and threre is a lot of interaction between the.

From the imperium’s point of view armies of chaos are just some kind of bestial monstrosity, acting without any sense other than pure malice. Outside imperial åroåaganda, however, we have to accept the fact that simply the logistiscs of waging a war on a scale that contains several solar systems requires a very highly sophisticated bureacracy. In the realms of Sacred band’s transhuman warrior kings, a very similar administrative apparatus toils on, and most of the people under it’s yoke live their lives in pretty much similar conditions than their counterparts in imperial worlds. They also have domestic life, where someone has to cook the food, wash the laundry, raise the children and live those very basic, dull and content human lives. The biggest difference is, that instead of worshipping the emperor, the Sacred band and it’s subjects have found a way to co-exist with chaos gods in a mutually benefitting manner.

The cults of the empyrean creatures have their own traditions and ways to worship, and especially the armies are to a man devotees of one or another god. Human sacrificies are common, but even more than that there are other kinds of ways to appease the gods: Killing their enemies and offering gifts. Childrens are raised in this worlds, and most of the times they follow the same career as their parents, and those manifesting psychc abilities are greatly revered and they often rise quickly to higher positions. Another way to climb the social ladder is military service, and yong men and women eagerly seek glory as war-thralls of the Sacred band.

Some worlds have been completely given to the chaos, and these daemon worlds are ruled by warp-spawn monstrosities. Many people take pilgrimage to these worlds, seeking assistance from the daemons and doing their bidding. The interstellar travel is maintained by several guilds with their own cults and ways of worship. These guilds are in close relations with the priests of dark mechanicus, thir cursed forgeworlds churning out weapons and ships as well. Even though it’s highly illegal, several imperial rogue traders trade with these chaos fleets and there are worlds with very suspicious double loyalties, acting as a neutral ground for these interactions. Chaos worlds also trade with the worlds owned by leagues of Votann and with several minor alien species, who also provide mercenaries for the Sacred band’s war machine.

Imperial worlds and those of the Sacred band are like two sides of a coin. There are more similarities than differences between these soceties, including soul-crushing bureacracy, disregard of individual lives and constant vaging of war, but the ideological divide is so hard, that no ne really sees it. There can be no conciling between these extremes and I guess it’s a real tragedy on itself. Wars are massive and especially cruel, where the populations of conquered worlds are often exterminated and/or enslaved, and the extraction of any kind of resources from a conquered world is a merciless business.

Im planning on writing some stories from the Sacred band’s point of view, but as usual, it depends on how much I have time and energy.

#warhammer 40k #epirean crusade #warhammer 40 000 #grimdark #chaos guard #sacred band

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kniteracy · 1 year

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Post-Faire Litfest Tour Recap! (Personal Edition)

From The Author: It’s been my honour and pleasure to be involved in the Fantasy Faire Literary Festival for the last 8 years. Over that time, I’ve assisted with guests, hosted and participated in events, led and assisted many Litfest Tours, and generally seen myself as Saffia Widdershins’ Girl Friday. One of the things the Litfest is most known for is our lively tours of every Fantasy Faire…

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choiceofgames · 1 year

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More “World of Darkness” Games!

Choice of Games, in partnership with World of Darkness and Paradox Interactive, today announced that they would produce ten more interactive novels set in the World of Darkness shared story universe through 2027.

Choice of Games’ interactive novels have received critical and popular acclaim, with Vampire: The Masquerade — Sins of the Sires standing as a finalist for the Game Writing Award in the annual Nebula awards this weekend. Choice of Games and World of Darkness congratulate Natalia Theodoridou on this achievement.

Choice of Games' next two upcoming titles in the World of Darkness, Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names and Hunter: The Reckoning — Beast of Glenkildove are now available to wishlist on Steam.

* * * * *

Save the living earth with Rage and spirit! Awaken ancient mysteries, rebuild your fallen pack, and unleash your fearsome might to heal a shattered land.

Werewolf: The Apocalypse — The Book of Hungry Names is an interactive novel set in the World of Darkness by Kyle Marquis, author of the 2020 smash hit Vampire: The Masquerade — Night Road. It's entirely text-based, without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination.

Shapeshifter. Mystic. Hero. Monster. You are a werewolf, and you are all these things. Werewolves are the living earth's last guardians, created by Gaia, given the gift of shifting between human and wolf forms, and called to stop humanity from destroying the world.

Yet you have failed. Pollution chokes the cities and mad spirits rampage through the wild places. You swore to protect Gaia, but the werewolves turned on each other, slaughtered their allies, fell into despair or mad Rage.

You are one of the few who remember the oaths you swore to the living earth - which has made you an exile. But rather than surrender to despair, you have sworn to uncover the secrets of a defiled land and fight the Apocalypse. Stormcat, once the Spirit of a thriving community of werewolves, has called upon you to rebuild that shattered pack. In the savage woods and decaying cities of New England, you will forge your own legend.

Build Your Pack. Human and werewolf survivors haunt the woods and hide in the cities: find them to learn what happened and to rebuild the werewolf nation. But not all werewolves can be trusted: shun those wolves consumed by Rage, and pity those who have lost the Wolf and become empty shells.

Survive the Wilds. A desperate exile, shunned by those who have abandoned their oaths to Gaia, you'll have to survive by your wits. A winter night can kill as surely as any monster: find shelter, seek allies among spirits and humans, and learn how far you'll go to survive.

Unleash Your Rage. You are one of Gaia's monsters, a living weapon, herald of vengeance and death. Now the Apocalypse is here: wield your Rage with savage cunning and keen discretion, or it will swallow you whole.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; befriend or romance werewolves and humans of all genders.

Shapeshift among five forms to slaughter your enemies, or outwit them to take what you need.

Choose your auspice (moon-sign) and your werewolf tribe to learn what sort of monster you are.

Claim your territory and heal the spirits there to unlock Gifts that let you summon animals, control the elements, or enter the spirit world.

Face mutated monsters and corrupt spirits in the dark woods and decaying factory towns of rural New England.

About Kyle Marquis

This is Kyle Marquis's eighth game with Choice of Games; his previous titles include the dieselpunk flying-ace game Empyrean, the time-traveling alternate-history Byzantine mystery Silverworld, and the apotheosis-seeking magical adventure Tower Behind the Moon.

* * * * *

Full moon. Cold night. Dark shadow. Warm gun. The Beast of Glenkildove has stalked Ireland for centuries. Now, you must hunt it.

Hunter: The Reckoning — The Beast of Glenkildove is an interactive novel by William Brown, set in the World of Darkness shared story universe. It's entirely text-based, without graphics or sound effects, and fueled by the vast, unstoppable power of your imagination

Eight years ago, when you were eighteen, the Beast of Glenkildove killed one of your closest friends. You've never returned to Ireland since that day.

It's difficult to remember what happened. As you'll soon learn, the human mind blots out the traumatic memories of facing a werewolf.

Now, you must stalk that werewolf across the shadowed glens and fogbound mountains of Ireland, hunting a shapeshifting killing machine with your friends, your wits, and a shotgun.

But you and your friends are not alone. You have entered a world of Hunters, humans who dare to challenge the dominion of the monsters who rule over them. Can you trust the fanatics of the Society of Leopold, the scholars and savants of the Arcanum, the ruthless Duffy crime family, or the enigmatic biotech company Fada?

Can you even trust your oldest friends?

Redemption for some. Retribution for others. A reckoning for all.

Play as male, female, or nonbinary; befriend or romance humans and supernaturals of any gender

Kill, study, capture, document or negotiate with the creatures you hunt

Craft your own traps, gear, and weapons to take the Hunt to the enemy

Find camaraderie and romance with the only people in the world that you can trust to fight alongside you

Adopt and train your own wolfhound to assist you in the Hunt

Build and maintain your own safehouse at the Wolf’s Head Inn in the Wicklow Mountains

Become the thing that even nightmares fear.

About William Brown

William Brown was born in Ireland. He is the author of two previous Choice of Games titles: The Mysteries of Baroque, a Gothic horror story, and Cliffhanger: Challenger of Tomorrow, a pulp adventure yarn. He studied theology and Biblical studies at Trinity College Dublin, did a Master’s at Oxford University, and a PhD at Edinburgh University. He now teaches at a college in London.

* * * * *

About Choice of Games

Choice of Games LLC is dedicated to producing high-quality, text-based, multiple-choice games. Since 2009 they have produced over one hundred titles in-house, including Choice of the Dragon and Choice of Robots. Six of their recent titles have been nominated for the Nebula Award for Game Writing. They have also developed a simple scripting language for writing text-based games, ChoiceScript, which they make available to others for use in their projects, and they host games produced by other designers using ChoiceScript on their website. All of their games are available on the web at choiceofgames.com and on Steam. They also produce mobile versions of their games that can be played on iPhones, Android phones, and other smartphones.

About Paradox Interactive

The Paradox Interactive group includes development, publishing, and licensing of games and brands, consisting of a portfolio of more than 100 titles created both internally and by independent studios. Paradox owns an array of award-winning and top-selling brands including Cities: Skylines, Stellaris, Crusader Kings, Age of Wonders, and many more games available on PC and console platforms. Paradox is the owner of the World of Darkness IPs and is publishing Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines 2 on PC and consoles soon.

From the company’s start in 2004, Paradox has published its games worldwide, with top markets including the USA, UK, China, Germany, France, and Russia. Today, over four million gamers play a Paradox game each month with a global community reaching over ten million registered Paradox users. Paradox Interactive AB (publ)’s shares are listed on Nasdaq Stockholm First North Premier under ticker PDX. FNCA Sweden AB is the company’s Certified Adviser. For more information, please visit www.paradoxinteractive.com.

#vamily #worldofdarkness #vampire the masquerade #choice of games #choiceofgames #werewolftheapocalypse #hunterthereckoning

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