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greekmythcomix · 6 months

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The essay question most likely to be asked on Odysseus is ‘how good a leader is Odysseus’ or ‘how responsible for his men is Odysseus’ and the answer, based on the text, is *always* ‘not very’

Here is a Basic Essay plan:

~FOR his being a good leader /responsible:

- tries to get them to leave Ismarus after attacking Cicones

- gets his men back from the Lotus-Eaters, using force in their best interests

- makes stops to take on food and water and ensures crews are well fed, so much so they vote him extra in thanks

- saves his remaining men from Polyphemus by clever thinking and action

- always shares food and loot equally with his men

- after several search parties come to sticky ends, he puts himself into the party and draws lots for fairness

- refuses to abandon his crew to Circe’s magic

- follows Hermes’ instructions to ensure his men are saved from being pigs (yes technically this means sleeping with Circe too)

- chooses not to tell his crew about the dangers of Scylla because he thinks it will cause unnecessary panic

- does tell them not to eat Hyperion’s cattle and tries to prevent them all from dying by begging help from the gods

- gives motivational speeches to try and improve morale (“my friends! We are utterly lost!” 😂)

- can carry *really* heavy stags on his own😉

- is such a responsible leader he attempts to stay awake for days on end to steer them home, and his men only make incredibly bad decisions (opening bag of winds, killing Hyperion’s cattle) when he’s not there to stop them

~AGAINST his being a good leader/being responsible:

- even though he tries to get his crews to leave Ismarus, they refuse, essentially mutinying, and he lets them = questionable authority

- puts his men unnecessarily in danger by insisting on exploring Polyphemus’ island even though they’ve already taken on food and water and even though he has ‘a bad feeling about it’, because their *might* be guest gifts, thus kudos, in it for him

- continues to put his crew in danger by revealing their location having escaped from blinded Polyphemus in order to claim kudos from having been the one to blind him

- continues to put his crews in danger by shouting out *again*, after they’ve narrowly escaped being sunk the first time, in order to further insult the cyclops, resulting in a curse that ends all their lives despite his men *begging* him to shut up

- puts his own life in danger by insisting on hearing the sirens, thus endangering his crew by removing their leader and putting them in the difficult position of refusing his orders (when he begs to be untied)

- doesn’t tell them what’s in the bag from Aeolus… although they should probably assume he’d share it with them if it was loot, because he has set a precedent for always doing that, by not telling them he creates confusion, leading to their mistake of opening it

- doesn’t stop the rest of the ships from entering the harbour at Telepylos, even though he moors outside = again questionable authority

- abandons 11 ships to the Laestrygonians because he cannot save them (ok he didn’t know they were monster cannibals but still, responsibility)

- chooses a more dangerous route when given a choice by Circe, because Jason’s already ‘done’ the Clashing Rocks and Scylla & Charybdis are unclaimed = more kudos for him again, adding to his personal kleos

- fails to prepare his crew for the dangers of Scylla & Charybdis instead choosing to sacrifice some of their lives for his and the rest of the crew’s (return to in Evaluation)

- absents himself at the crucial moment of their desperation in Hyperion’s island, ostensibly to pray for help, but knowing what Eurylochus is likely to do ie: go against his orders and kill the forbidden cattle

(If I’ve missed out some points I may add more later)

~EVALUATION

- although he can’t possibly be expected to know what’s coming (eg: Laestrygonians being monster cannibals), perhaps he should have taken more stock of the way things were going

- arguably, sacrificing some lives for the majority is one of those horribly difficult decisions of leadership, so this might even be admirable (?)

- he does question every decision he makes in order to choose what he considers to be the best course of action…

- …unless if it involves his own kudos, which is his priority

~CONCLUSION

- although he is not without leadership ability, Odysseus arguably makes too many decisions in his own favour, and is directly responsible for the loss of (12 ships x c.50crew each) c.600men, plus uncounted enslaved people from Troy

- and whereas some decisions made by his crew/men can be blamed for events (not leaving Ismarus, opening Aeolus’ bag, killing Hyperion’s cattle), that Odysseus doesn’t/can’t stop them suggests a lack of leadership on his part and/or a lack of trust in him from his men, and, on these events, we *only have Odysseus’s word for it*, as the sole survivor and narrator of these books, which are being narrated for the dual purpose of entertaining the Phaeacians and gaining sympathy from them so that they will help him get home and this is potentially an unreliable source that, like Odysseus himself*, simply cannot be trusted.

*due to his portrayal in every other literary text containing him as a character

I should end this by saying I LOVE Odysseus as a character. He is ‘meaty’, meaning there’s so much that can be discussed when it comes to him. If anything, he’s an annoyingly enjoyable antihero, like Milton’s Satan, or Shakespeare’s Richard III. Though he’s not a tragic hero and is only a ‘hero’ by Ancient Greek terms, *not* modern:

https://youtu.be/rXTecz3PN18

#let’s all take a moment to enjoy a measured and considered response #odyssey #Odysseus #greek mythology #Homer #essay plan #classical civilisation #gcse classics #gcse revision #greek myth #in truth I love him he’s my bestie

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hambonous · 5 months

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Death At The Ball

- An illustrated DND short story.

Evening, the orange glow from the sunset saturated the city of Tel- Salam. Its golden towers shimmering like the ocean itself. This particular evening was very special. The sultan of Tel-salam was holding his annual ball. Usually, commoners would not be allowed access to such a prestigious event, however, this time, five travelers would set foot in the decorated halls of the palace.

The sultan, a Mirus man by the name of Meaow Meaow II, had invited these five as a token of gratitude for rescuing his bumbling, buffoon of a son, Frazzle Meaow, from bloodthirsty pirates.

The quintet made their entry into the lavish palace. A servant made their presence known to the rest of the congregation by loudly proclaiming their names;

"Hear ye, hear ye, making their entrance; Scylla the paladin, Minerva the sorceress, Cyddr the warlock, Ludo the fighter and Pawkalia the druid, saviors of Frazzle Meaow, son of the sultan."

The party scurried inside and split up, a few quickly made their way to the rows of tables, filled to the brim with various luxurious foods and baked goods. The others would make attempts at small talk with the guests or moving about on the dancefloor. The festivities were a welcomed change of pace after a rough couple of weeks.

Eventually, the evening turned to night and guests were told to gather in the main hall near the sultan's throne. The sultan was about to make an announcement.

"My dear patrons, I've gathered you here today to issue a quest of utmost importance. As some of you might know I come from a lineage of illustrious kings, rulers of a formerly great city named Slumnir. Once the center of trade and the birthplace of our great dynasty, now it lies in ruin, afflicted by a deadly curse. This mission would entail many dangers and those who are brave enough to venture forth, would certainly put their lives at great risk. However, to those who would seek out the city and lift its terrible curse, the reward will be immense. They'll be granted access to the bank vault of Tel-Salam and its many treasures."

As the King went into details about the journey, the main hall suddenly went dark. A few of the guests were frantically looking around, yet the adventurers stood calmly by, assessing the situation. At the end of the hall near the doors, a faint red glow could be noticed, growing far stronger with every passing second. The gates to the palace slammed open, the now piercing red light, quickly enveloped the chamber. Emitting the scarlet light was a grotesque and wretched being. It stood tall, close to twenty feet. A thick miasma clung to the creature as it slowly made its way across the recently polished marble flooring. Its appearance was that of a shapeless, gelatinous mass. The creature let off a deep bellow before speaking.

"I am the Ravager, God of blood and destined ruler of this world. To those who value their lives, KNEEL!"

Nearly instantaneously most of the guests were on their knees, cowering in fear. The sheer presence of the creature had zapped many of their strength to stand, including the sorceress Minerva who was frozen in fear. The warlock Cyddr, and the druid Pawkalia, had taken a knee as well. The only two standing between the Ravager and the sultan were Scylla, the paladin and Ludo, the fighter.

"Do you two not know fear, or have you completely lost the capacity to think rationally?" Asked the Ravager.

Scylla, retorted; "I serve only one God and it's that of the black fish. I will not be begging for my life to some false deity."

Ludo, standing next to Scylla, made a statement of his own; "I may be a simple warforged but I would never let a friend of mine fight such a battle alone."

"Then you shall both perish..." Answered the Ravager.

"TO THOSE WHO ARE KNEELING, DO YOU NOT FEEL SHAME!? GRAB YOUR WEAPONS AND FIGHT! THIS IS NO TIME FOR COWARDICE!" Scylla shouted.

This action seemingly snapped a few out of their dread, including Cyddr and Pawkalia. Minerva however, was completely paralyzed, barely managing to breathe. A small party formed behind Scylla and Ludo. With a ferocious lunge the members attacked the Ravager with all of their might.

The group strung together a series of mighty blows upon the beast, however it seemed unfazed by their attempts to damage it. From its body, a whip-like tendril lashed out at Scylla knocking her to the ground and making her lose grip of her mighty hammer. Scylla felt a sharp searing pain across her chest, her hammer too far away to grab, she could only use the next best thing at her disposal. A tooth she had kept from a previous adventure, said to have belonged to the black fish itself. She made a sprint towards the creature and stabbed the tooth into its foul body. The Ravager screamed in anguish, having been hurt by the tooth.

Two shapes protruded from its body, taking the form of massive arms, the Ravager setting its eyes on Ludo. The newly formed appendages headed towards the warforged with great speed. Miraculously, Ludo managed to dodge the two blows, either through skillful acrobatics, or by sheer dumb luck. What he failed to notice was the third attack. Striking down on his metallic body, the viscous mass running through the Ravager quickly engulfed Ludo. A sizzling sound could clearly be heard as the ooze would aggressively corrode the thick armor plating surrounding the submerged warforged. Unable to fight back because of the crushing pressure, Ludo was lifted into the air by the Ravager.

The rest of the party looked on in horror, as the beast grabbed Ludo by his arms and started pulling them in separate directions. An atrocious and chilling noise of metal screeching and steel wires being snapped, echoed throughout the hall.

Scylla, screaming at the top of her lungs,

"STOP!!!"

With a final tug, one of the arms tore right off the socket, taking with it, a bundle of wires, pistons and bolts. Ludo was dropped to the ground with a loud crash, his mangled and melted body laying on the ballroom floor, lifeless.

Scylla, filled with rage, tried to once again stab the tooth into the creature. however with a mere gesture the Ravager casted a spell. Suddenly, everyone standing around the creature started bleeding profusely, from their ears, eyes, noses, mouths or any other wounds they'd accumulated during their battle. The hall went silent as the remainder of combatants fell to the floor, gravely injured. Minerva, the sorceress, still in a state of shock and terror, could do nothing but watch, as her allies collapsed.

The Ravager, now free to move as it pleased, closed the distance between itself and the sultan. Speaking in a growly voice;

"I've come here to claim the throne of Tel-Salam. This was merely a demonstration of my power, if I so desired I could kill everyone in this room with little effort. You have a choice, give the crown to me and spare your people from any further bloodshed."

As the Ravager spoke the king's personal elite guards had reached the ballroom, brandishing holy weaponry and powerful armaments. The sultan sitting stoically, retorted;

"I will not give up Tel-Salam to such a wicked beast like yourself, the crown will stay on my head until my death."

Still feeling the sting of the tooth the Ravager turned around, leaving with a chilling statement;

"I will return with a great army and burn this city to the ground, and you shall bear witness to the eradication of your kingdom."

As the Ravager left, so did the red glow. The regular lights burned bright once more and the king called for all of his soldiers and medics to aid the injured. Medicinal herbs were applied to wounds, health potions were consumed with great haste and clerics used their magical abilities to cure those in need. As the commotion died down, the adventurers were for the most part back on their feet. However, one of them still laid on the cold floor, eerily silent. Due to the nature of his injuries, Ludo had passed away.

Where there had once been a vibrant glow in his eyes and core, there was simply a dull gray. A husk, a shell of the individual who had stood by his friends til the very end. A machine built for death and war had died, fighting for life.

...

Error: Critical injury. Recovery mode: activated. Unit corruption: 30% Reboot: [YES] NO

#fantasy #writing #dnd5e #dnd art #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg art #ttrpg #dnd

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bownes-anon · 7 months

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|| It’s so long but under the cut! Important lore!!! ||

~ He sits outside, on the decoration-bench, looking out at his garden. He wished he could keep his guests in permanent safety, permanent happiness. But he can’t. He can only try. Autumn is coming, he knows, and soon winter. But his garden will continue to prosper as if it were spring, even when it’s snowing. Thank the enchantments for that. ~

~ He looks over to those flowers, those flowers that consume so much of his thought. Had his books truly been right? Were those grown from the spilled blood of gods and titans? How fascinating. Circe use that to turn Scylla into a monster, what use would he use for it? No transformations, that was not his strong suit. And that begs the question, what was his strong suit? Silly little charms, of course. But he had a knacking feeling he could to better. ~

~ He looks to the fig tree, still holding his favorite fruit after all this time. His favorite part about his garden. Iris has flocked over to the bench to sit with him. Just as he began to eat his mug cake, BANG. ~

~ He almost dropped the mug in shock, letting out a little yelp. And right before him.. a destroyed fig tree. It looks like it had been destroyed by a lightning bolt, despite there not being a single cloud in the sky. He looks on in horror, and Iris flies out in dismay, pecking at the charred trunk with an entourage of sparrows beside it. He runs up to it, checking for any fires. Nothing. He could almost cry, his fig tree destroyed. It would take years for a new one to grow, and his spells aren’t strong enough the fix this. ~

~ ..Not right now they aren’t. He kept telling himself he wanted to experiment with stronger spells, but never did. Well now the opportunity is before him. Filled with a bit of anger, and a bit of hope, he goes to the kitchen and begins mixing. Coaxing the petals off of roses, boiling rosemary and honey on a pan, grinding up some left over fig he had prior. In the end, he was left with a tub of a thick paste. He hasn’t even used a recipe for this, he simply felt his way through the ingredients. Would this even work? ~

~ He returns to the tree, and begins rubbing the paste over the trunk, almost the entire thing. At first, there’s nothing. But then the dead bark comes to life once again, and the tree regrows to it’s former glory. In a few minutes, ripe figs are already blossoming off the branches. He stares at his work in awe. Not for too long though, as a loud storm begins to roll in over head, almost immediately. As if healing the tree has offended the skies. ~

~ No, he didn’t care for the skies. He would not let his fig tree burn down. And he wouldn’t let the next person to hurt his guests get away. No more kitchen knives. He takes a few of the blood-flowers to the kitchen. He wanted more then anything, to be strong enough to protect his guests. To protect himself and his home and the friends he housed inside it. It seems as though worry has begun to crawl up his throat. He shouldn’t have made that comment about the skies. A storm could come down and ravage his home, destroy everything. No amount of spells could save him from that. A pit forms in his stomach. Why was a storm causing him so much distress? No matter. ~

~ As he places the flowers on the kitchen counter, they practically prepare themselves. The nectar drops heavy from one, the stem falls apart at another. A bronze bowl lays in front of him, a strange potion meant to do what? He wants to be a good host. He won’t transform himself into a monster, or transform his enemies into monsters. No, he wants to do what it takes to turn himself into a good host. ~

~ Ingredients laying scattered across the counter, he brings the bronze bowl to his lifts, making his intentions known as he speaks a few words under his breath. He drinks. At first, nothing, but he can feel the weight of the spell in his blood, like he’s carrying it. How it feels with any spell that works. ~

~ The discomfort begins, not pain, but an overwhelming feeling that there’s something under his skin. He feels nauseous. And from his spine, skin breaks, and vine begins to grow across his arms, torso, an legs. All in beautiful spiral patterns, those vines begin to sprout flowers and herbs from his garden, which is a lot. Even one of the flowers from the blood of fallen gods pops up. Seriously, who bled in that area in anon village to make those flowers grow? ~

~ He’s covering his mouth, eye closed shut in tears. The area by his spine is in vast amounts of pain. He’s doing his best not to make a noise, and some how he’s holding up. He cannot move, just standing still while it feels like fire is being lit from within his skin. The tears keep coming, as does the pain, and the weight he feels in his blood. He feels like he’ll fall from it all, but he doesn’t. He’s in so much pain, he’s clutching the counter and the vines slowly come to a halt. The pain doesn’t cease. The fire in his spine only keeps burning, causing Bownes to only let out small noises of pain as he bites his tongue. This is the worst pain he’s ever been in his life. I don’t think much compares to plants growing from your spine and out onto your body to someone who’s worst pain is a bad burn from cooking. ~

~ Despite all this? Despite the crushing weight, he feels.. content? Almost pleased in his own body, through teary eyes and gritted teeth. He makes his way over to the bathroom, slowly now, as anything that moves begins to hurt as well. When he looks in the mirror, through foggy eyes tears, he find that the plants suit him quite well, as if they were something missing to him this whole time. He would appreciate it more if he wasn’t in so much agony. He manages to make his way over to the garden, where Iris chirps in distress at his pain. He sits down next to the fig tree, almost falling over in doing so. From the excruciating hurt, he passes out. Around him, his garden grows. Without him saying a word, or doesn’t anything, the plants grow at least an extra ten inches, every fruit, even ones that were barely blossoming, become large and ripe. Unconscious as Iris sits on the branch right above him, the storm thunders on. But something gives me a feeling he doesn’t hold all that much worry for it anymore. ~

~ The Xenia arc has ended. The Pharmakis arc has begun. If you were curious, Xenia meant “of the foreigner” in Greek, and was used as an epithet for deities when associated with hospitality. ~

#🦷🎀 anon #|| long ass post ||#|| but very lore important. ||

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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Monopoly and pets

IDNMT proudly presents...a prompt by @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book, @vintage-jewel, and @scyllas-revenge...

Here goes nothing lol...

Words: 2k

Warnings: None

Characters: Éomer x OC, Éowyn x Faramir

“You are aware that you’re an idiot, right?” Éowyn grinned as she sat on the floor with her brother’s massive dog trying desperately to crawl on her lap while Éomer shoved magazines and single socks between his best tableware in the old armoire standing in his living room.

“Shut up and help me instead of indulging this traitor,” he hissed; his gaze roamed around the room frantically in search of other offending items. “Why did I even invite you over?”

Éowyn cackled and got up gracefully, stepping past her brother with a mocking grin, to open the door to her own boyfriend whose expression expressed both worried disapproval and barely contained glee.

“Ah, you’ve brought young Denethor,” she cooed at the grumpy-looking cat Faramir was carrying in his arms like a baby.

“I wish you would refrain from addressing the cat by the name of my father,” he sighed and bent down to press a loving kiss onto her smiling mouth. “Take the beast; I’ll see if your brother needs any help.” Extending her arms to her darling pet, Éowyn merely shook her head in earnest pity. It was just like Faramir to offer his assistance despite the fact that her brother had gotten himself into the mess he was presently mired down in all on his own and deserved neither help nor sympathy.

Apparently, the doggy day-care in charge of the mountain of flesh parading as an actual dog that lived here had informed Éomer that said beast, Firefoot – the laziest and least fiery canine in the world – had made a friend.

In his boundless enthusiasm – for “like master, like man” – Éomer had promptly invited the owner of said “buddy” to his home; it was only after the young woman going by the much less ludicrous name of Mathilda had accepted that Éomer was reminded of his woeful shortcomings as a host.

Thankfully for him, his sister had been so amused by his tale of woe that she had offered that she and her boyfriend could come as chaperones.

It had not struck Éomer at the time he had extended this ill-advised invitation that his motives might well have been understood as sinister and potentially nefarious; he was ashamed to admit that it had taken his sister’s vocal dismay to make him fully aware of how unfortunate it would have been to entice a woman into finding herself alone at the mercy of a stranger behind a possibly locked door.

Good-natured as he was, Éomer had not thought of himself as a threat but he was nonetheless very grateful that Éowyn and her partner had been willing to come defuse the dicey situation.

Truth be told, Éomer was rather nervous about the whole evening and his broad, strong hands were just the tiniest bit unsteady as he set out empty glasses onto the freshly polished table.

The frantic energy radiating from him was probably the reason why Faramir was by now utterly infected with blind panic and so, Éowyn got to witness her two favourite men in the world run around like headless chickens; as a woman herself though, she was firmly convinced that she wanted no partner for her only sibling who would be offended by a stray sock or a horse catalogue lying around.

After all, Éomer could clean up anxiously as much as he wanted now, he’d still be a bit scatter-brained and slightly chaotic in nature and the lady in question should learn this about him as soon as possible. If one was to ask Éowyn, she’d boldly claim that Éomer’s kind and brave soul were well worth the blatant lack of tidiness and she truly hoped that the much-anticipated guest would agree.

Indeed, it seemed very unlikely to her that her brother would just invite anybody to his home only because their dogs got along well with each other; certainly, there was more to the story than that!

Slowly, she started to feel her own senses grow sharper with wariness as they waited – seemingly endlessly – for this mysterious dog owner.

As soon as Mathilda arrived, swaddled in a breath-takingly beautiful coat and handsomely flushed on account of the cool evening air, with a very well-behaved dog in tow, Éowyn’s secret suspicions were instantly and uncontestably confirmed.

‘Tilda, as the lady introduced herself, was a woman of rather short stature with a radiant smile and twinkling eyes whose pretty complexion and luscious hair would have charmed even men much more hard-hearted than Éomer.

Right now though, confusion distorted her pleasant face as she took in the suspiciously bare room and the two strangers standing around displaying varying degrees of relaxation.

“I’m Éowyn, Éomer’s sister,” Éowyn simply took the initiative as the two men just gaped dumbly at the newcomer, “and the flushed panicky dude in the corner is my boyfriend. My brother has said something about an evening of boardgames and fun, so we thought we’d tag along, if that’s okay by you?”

Éomer grunted under his breath; he had said no such thing! As a matter of fact, he avoided playing any kind of game with Éowyn as much as possible as they were both sore losers and insufferable winners.

Ever since their youngest childhood, they had managed to turn everything into a competition and, while Éomer was taller, stronger, and faster than his sister, she was wilier by far.

Faramir also blanched for he was well-aware of the rivalry between his intended and her brother; he had been the heedless witness of many a game-night massacre and had been one of the chief instigators of the “no boardgames”-rule in both their households.

“Oh,” Mathilda whispered, her astonished gaze lighting up with innocent eagerness. “That sounds like a lot of fun! Let’s do that!”

Knowing himself to be outwitted thoroughly, Éomer admitted his first defeat of the evening and went to retrieve the old Monopoly from under a stack of empty shoeboxes in his bedroom.

Within a few minutes, war was raging around the rickety table; Éowyn literally bared her teeth at her boyfriend as he considered buying a very advantageous property.

Thus threatened, Faramir decided to play it safe instead and kept his money; he seemed to prefer endless, hopeless wandering around the board to the fierce threat of unspeakable violence in Éowyn’s eyes.

He was affectionately mocked by most people in his life for his tendency to bring great sacrifices and do himself tremendous harm in order to appease or please those he held dear, and – even though this was supposed to be innocent entertainment – the present conundrum was no exception to this idiosyncrasy of his.

As for Éomer, not only did he make a few very unfortunate choices early on in the game, but he was also cursed with a streak of particularly bad luck.

“Sister,” he cried dramatically, “remember the bonds of blood that tie us to one another. Will you not come to my aid in this hour of need?”

“Eat dust, Éomer,” she declared haughtily and made her next brazen move.

In a moment of petulant weakness, Éomer consider flipping the whole table in a sudden rush of irate impatience and heartsick dissatisfaction, but he reined himself in at the last moment and merely glared at his triumphant sister through the whole round.

Mathilda meanwhile had apparently been granted all the luck Éomer was lacking and, very soon, she was the only player who had any chance of toppling Éowyn and ending her reign of terror.

Unfortunately, she turned out to be just as ambitious and competitive; eyes flashed, lips tightened, and long hair was tossed back impetuously as they plotted their next moves frantically.

“Will you not help me?” Éomer whispered at Faramir whose wide, glassy eyes stayed glued to his beloved’s face as he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“You’re on your own, my man; I just want to survive to see my dear father’s face again,” he confessed under his breath. “Would that Boromir was here. I’m sure he would relish the chance to measure his prowess against such skill and wit.”

“What are you two conspiring about?” Éowyn bellowed from across the table pugnaciously; she was so close to her victory that she could almost taste it.

Both dogs had retreated into the kitchen, distraught by the unbearable tension in the living room, but Éowyn’s ugly cat was perched upon the armoire into which all of Éomer’s unpalatable belongings had been secreted so unceremoniously.

Just as his sister lifted her intrepid hand to make her last move, sealing their fates, the shaggy sour-faced beast leaped down and – landing on the board – made it slide off the table in an avalanche of cards and figurines.

“Ugh! Blasted cat!” Éowyn howled.

“Ah, such a shame!” Faramir cried out, swooping in to save their pet from her wrath and the wet nosing of the dogs who had sprinted back to roll around on the crumpled paper money on the floor.

“What about dinner? Mathilda? Would you care to eat something? I’m sure my sister and her boyfriend would be delighted to dogsit as it was their cat that spoiled our fun!” Éomer pounced on the opportunity to get out of the blast radius of his sister’s temper that was – by the look on her face – about to erupt in a flood of angry words and reckless actions.

Mathilda cocked her head; she was not disinclined to have a bite to eat, but she evidently thought it rude to go out without inviting the other two members of their party.

“Oh, it would be our pleasure, wouldn’t it?” Faramir replied hastily, a wicked glint stealing into his calm gaze. “We wouldn’t be sore losers, would we, my love?”

“I guess,” Éowyn grunted and shot such a withering look at both Faramir and their cat that both flinched visibly.

“That’s so very sweet of you, sister mine,” Éomer chirped and – ignoring the mess on the floor – he extended his arm to Mathilda to escort her into the foyer and help her into her coat. “We won’t be long,” he called over his shoulder cheerily. “If you’re hungry too, you could order a pizza? Be advised though, Firefoot barks when the doorbells rings and my neighbour is not overly fond of it.”

“Let him come and complain,” Éowyn yelled back – a little louder than necessary – and chuckled darkly. Knowing that she would be spoiling for a fight, Éomer accepted to sacrifice the annoying man next door – a grimy, pale-faced, lurking fellow – to her wrath.

Éomer sincerely liked his brother-in-law and consequently had no qualms to save his hide by diverting Éowyn’s frustration thus.

Moreover, he had seen the way his neighbour looked at his sister every time she came over and he delighted in the idea of having her blow him off in the most explicit and unmistakeable manner known to humanity.

He almost felt sorry that he’d probably miss that confrontation; he would have paid good money to watch his sister have a go at that slimy worm of a man.

Nevertheless, he had more important challenges to face now, and – if he didn’t want this evening to be a complete disaster – he needed to prove that he was more than just a mediocre Monopoly-player.

“Milady,” he grinned with all the charm he could muster as he turned suavely back to Mathilda. “Do not worry, my sister is much better with animals than she is with people!”

“I do not know what you allude to,�� the young woman replied coolly, “I found her to be perfectly agreeable and a worthy opponent, which cannot be said of all my fellow players.”

Catching her sharp but humorous side-glance, Éomer sighed deeply; it was just his luck to meet a fascinating and enchanting woman who just so happened to be eerily similar to his beloved sister in many a way.

At the end of the day though, he understood, respected, and adored Éowyn and thus, he decided to take Mathilda’s reaction as a good and promising omen.

@fellowshipofthefics thank you for creating such an amazing environment!

@laurfilijames here is Éomer losing his cool (among other things).

Lots of love. If you've not yet joined the server, come join us! Plenty of fun things are happening over there!

Lots of love <3

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heilith · 1 year

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I posted 982 times in 2022

That's 803 more posts than 2021!

240 posts created (24%)

742 posts reblogged (76%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@heilith

@i-did-not-mean-to

@king-on-carven-throne

@mismaeve

@scyllas-revenge

I tagged 674 of my posts in 2022

Only 31% of my posts had no tags

#lotr - 120 posts

#amazing art - 96 posts

#the hobbit - 66 posts

#boromir - 62 posts

#thranduil - 60 posts

#legolas - 48 posts

#drabbles - 48 posts

#haldir - 47 posts

#thorin - 30 posts

#old stuff - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 70 characters

#and he fell in love with a witch and flew out of the chimney after her

My Top Posts in 2022:

Loss and Gain

A/n: As requested by @a-music-undergrad “Haldir notices the reader had a bad day and, in the most subtle and elusive way of his, offers a hug”. A bit loosely, but still. I do hope you like it. The feedback is very welcome.

@mismaeve Hi! :) I still managed to find a substitute for that word!

@scyllas-revenge Not sure you’re interested, but you asked me to tag you.

Sorry if there’re any mistakes or typos - my bad, I tried to edit it carefully. Also sorry if it’s awful - then forget you ever read that!

Ok, here it is...

Loss and gain

The light was pouring out of what looked like a thousand of windows, adding to your resentment. The people inside were making the merriest of the merries, as you were only left to wonder what had caused such a burst of cheer.

Whatever it was, you had not been considered a person important enough to deserve your place among the celebrators. Among the musicians, at the very least. The neglect was more offending, since you’d counted the so forgetful dwellers of the house among your friends.

And now couldn’t be so sure any longer.

The thought weighed unpleasantly on your mind since the morning, when you’d noticed the first preparations for the feast. As boring a life as you led, you’d been eager to partake in something to brighten it up, and the surprise of no suggestions of the kind was a rough one.

You sighed, telling yourself it was high time to leave and cease wounding your heart with the spectacle of the pleasure you’d been denied.

Would you have been that much of a burden?

Were you that unsavory a company?

“Enjoying your solitude, little neighbor?”

He had the most irritating manner of appearing by your side out of the blue, when you least expected it.

“Not anymore,” you muttered in a nasty sulky voice.

It had been silly of you to expect Haldir to have the temerity of looking guilty or thrown off his reserve.

“I wonder who’s to blame,” he encountered, untouched by the heavy hint in the greeting you’d bestowed upon him.

A particularly loud blast of laughter from the house interfered with your reply. You shrugged, averting your eyes to try and discern the silhouettes of the guests - to guess what had enlivened them to this extent.

“They must be really happy,” the words came out way more wistful than you wished.

“Some of them are. At least, they seem to be,” agreed he, “Are you not, little neighbor?”

You could never fathom why he insisted on calling you that. To your humble mind, the nickname was in a bad taste. It had you feeling more insignificant than you already knew you were. But you had yourself gulp it down each time, too polite to speak your annoyance.

It was such a trifle, after all, that you noticing it at all could only be an object of ridicule.

“I can you take you there, if that’s what you want,” offered he, leaning against the trunk of the mallorn, under the canopy of which you’d been pining away so pathetically.

“It’s called intruding, big neighbor,” you couldn’t restrain yourself from returning the favour for once. Alas, by the looks of it, his prideful self strangely enjoyed it – at least, his smirk didn’t testify to the contrary. Oh perhaps, he hadn’t let it grasp his attention at all.

“Not when you’re invited.”

“I was not,” the objection seemed amiss to you.

“Their loss,” stated he calmly.

The hour was far beyond the midnight, and the celebration was waning at an unhurried pace. The joyful tunes became tamer, more hushful, then metamorphized into a languid ballad, long and saddening.

See the full post

79 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Now

A/n: A Boromir x reader for the challenge of the lovely host @mismaeve for the Maeve’s January Tolkien Prompt Challenge

The prompt is “Have you no regrets?” I’m afraid, my take is very primitive, but that’s all I could come up with, and I really wanted to participate. :)

Warning: not exactly NSFW, so I guess the tag will be redundant, but it’s Mature.

Also tagging my dear @averil-of-fairlea for the reason of Boromir. :)

Anyway, let’s move to it.

Now

His eyes, so simply gray in daylight, showed all different in the glowing darkness of a Lorien night. Dark like the reflection of a storm cloud in a stirless lake. Coldish like the cruel steel of his sword. Deep like the waves, that had once closed over Númenor, hard and full of twisting shadows.

The air was tainted with the smell of your blood. Boromir could hardly fail to sense it, too, you could read it in his face, see it from the way his nostrils widened slightly, when he leaned over you for one last kiss. A satisfied hunter, still taut with the exertion of the chase and murder, but already triumphing over his prey.

This one had come too easy for him, your feared.

The two of you both marred the place and blended with it perfectly.

“Are you cold?”

The quietest question you had ever heard of him. You smiled in your mind, too exhausted to let it show on your lips. He was so unlike himself, and still so much of what you’d known him to be.

“Not yet.”

His skin was cooling off against yours slowly, but he didn’t hasten to deliver you from his weight.

The core of you was sore and had already started throbbing vaguely. Oh, hadn’t he had the best intentions to be tame and gentle with you. You had turned them into nothing with your moans, kissed them into dust and drove him into frenzied near-madness quite deliberately.

It took him a while to recover from it, and now the after-thoughts were stealing in with him.

“Have you no regrets?” he asked, voice even, yet strained like a string on a verge of tearing.

It was a bitter pleasure to run your fingers through his hair, again and again. You wished you could make yourself memorize the feeling for the rest of your life.

“I don’t know this word,” you whispered, “I forgot it.”

A husky exhale left his chest. He shook his head, obviously even unaware that he was doing it.

You took a breath at last, as he placed himself by your side silently, sliding his arm under your neck to press you close into him.

The Golden – now Silver – Wood heaved a tired sigh, sending leaves into trembling and scaring off whatever curious spirits could be spying on you at this hour.

Without a word he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, then your open palm.

“Boromir?”

“Yes, love,” responded he softly.

It came out with such ease that you had no heart to voice your mind and shatter the peace that you had given him, if only for a moment.

Don’t die. Don’t leave me.

“No,” you said on a calming note, “It’s nothing.”

His “now” was still here. And you could only hope it was still strong enough to fight his “then”.

93 notes - Posted January 10, 2022

Legolas jealousy (your Yearning fic has me addicted to this now.)

Well, well, since you liked Feel me so much, consider this to be a sort of a near-sequel for it. If something is wrong, sorry, a bad day today for me. Thank you for the request!

The urge to close his eyes is too strong, and Legolas succumbs to it almost with relief.

The sight of you is a torture.

You’re sleeping peacefully, a treasured prize in the circle of warrior’s arms, strong and jealous enough to keep you safe for as long as you allowed it.

Not his arms.

He was too late. Too fainthearted to face you in broad daylight. He found himself a dozen of better things to do, not a hard task for an Elf in an Elven realm…

His heart is festering with pain that he can find neither name nor remedy for.

A gift from you, concealed behind the sweetness of his name on your lips.

It’s hard to say what Legolas resents more – your games with his fancy or his own eagerness to ignore what he knows only too well. You do not care for him.

He could as well perish in the Halls of Moria, or long before that. You’d cry, perhaps, but not as it is fit to cry over the love that never came to be.

He’s not your friend, either.

He’s nothing, far less than the Man of the South, whose chest is burdened with the weight of your trust now. This one you feel at peace with, no matter how little affection is involved. Him you will see, as you open your eyes in the morning. He will return your smile and accept your gratitude for a night of tranquility.

You’re beautiful.

Legolas shudders hard, as the hand of the Gondorian wraps itself around your shoulder too tight for a friendly gesture.

He would never suspect it could take so little for every bit of selflessness to be ousted out of him.

He takes a step.

The feeling of your skin under his fingers breaks him yet again.

You flinch in your sleep, as the raw longing oozes from his fingertips and drips into your blood to bloom inside of you like wolf’s bane.

The man gives him a look, that promises no good.

“Her dreams are vile,” utters Legolas in a calm undertone, “She’ll be better now.”

@oenothera5 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @mismaeve I think you were interested in that drabble, too. :)

99 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

WIP ask game

WIP Name Game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll tell you something about it!

Oh, do I have a pretty bunch of WIPS of a various degree of staleness:

1) Blade

2) Bottled up

3) Ball and chain (gosh, do all of them start with B?)

4) Boromir_bet

5) Lonely girl_trigger

6) Legolas_in_disguise

7) Mairon

8) Safe landing

9) The_Anchor_2

10) Kitty cat

11) Faramir_love_letters

12) Robin Hood

I could swear there was something else, but nope, can’t find it.

Tagging @arizonapoppy (you haven’t done it before, have you?), @pollysforthelonelypeople @faeriefics @xxbyimm @mismaeve

117 notes - Posted January 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

In the Middle

Ok, @mismaeve, I KNOW it’s not exactly what you asked for, but, hmm, perhaps, you needed it? Just in case, don’t kick me too hard. Oh, and it’s also pretty short, with a lot to think up on your own.

I used two prompts for kisses, the one that you requested - A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party with Elrond - and something like A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond - and here we’re in for a twist.

The gorgeous drawing belongs to Yen-Yen-Yen

Anyway, here it is.

In the Middle

…two, three…

His each kiss came with a little gift.

A soft, teasing bite.

A word of admiration and want - a touch of air, barely above whisper, more tangible than audible.

A brush of soothing fingertips against your cheek.

A broken exhale he would let you scatter with a laugh or a moan of your own.

…seven, eight…

Just like always, you were your best pliant self, lending your mouth to him to try and bewitch you, and turn your mind, so ever-wakeful and loaded with mistrust, into a shrine of tranquility, to where only one worshipper was allowed, if not completely welcome.

The old game of give and receive, in which you were never the giver.

His arms were begging and insistent. You played along, a waxen likeness of a goddess under his hands, inviting him to mold you into whatever shape pleased him best.

And his kisses were an offering and a prayer, and you accepted both without a shadow of shame.

…eleven,…thirteen…

The door behind your back creaked open and was shut immediately. The rough sound brought you back to alertness. You flinched and stumbled in the middle of your count, pulling yourself out of his embrace, yet there was not a trace of a strange presence in the chamber already.

Just when you needed your peace so badly…

“I’m sorry,” you murmured more to yourself, than to him, half-relieved, half-repentant.

“You never need to be,” reproached he mildly, “Go rest, my heart, it’s getting late.”

Another kiss could make up for the crumbling hopes, but that you’d have to grant him on your own, and that wasn’t what you wanted now. Or yet.

It still felt sweeter to be lulled than to take care of someone else’s comfort.

- - -

You motioned to step back, caught off-guard by the last thing you would ask for this evening.

He stood in your way silently, a disdainful presence, radiating scorn and bitter understanding.

“You’re toying with him.”

The initial shock was wearing off little by little.

The choice of smiles you could give him was endless, but you didn’t settle for a kind one.

See the full post

188 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

18 notes · View notes

parasite-core · 5 months

Text

This week in Pathfinder we had the most stressful cooldown episode ever :)

@scarlet-the-girl

The party arrived back to the Clocktower after fighting Kostchtchie. It was still early in the day, so after getting some healing done and getting Greta so that Cesseer could rest, we decided to get a plan together to clear out the Water Palace where the final known Crone Queen was located. We came to the conclusion that trying to infiltrate the place like we did with the library and the winter wolves’ palace would be our best course of action.

Unfortunately, this would mean going in unarmed and unarmored, since it was a bathhouse.

We stored all of our equipment in Calio’s bag of holding to place in the Water Palace’s locker room, then we made our way to the bathhouse. The trip there was uneventful—we’d thinned out the patrols so thoroughly at this point that we easily made our way halfway across the city without being noticed. Calio took the lead entering the water palace, talking to the receptionist and playing the part of a regular customer. Greta, Nestian, and Edeya joined him, while Aenland, Nevra, and Talsune waited for Calio’s signal on a nearby rooftop, and Roscoe was safely stashed in the Bag of Holding.

The group scouting out the Water Palace entered the changing room, and everyone but Edeya stripped down with no second thoughts—Greta and Nestian being a wolf and a bear respectively in their true forms, and Calio just being Calio, Edeya was the only one who considered that being flustered was even a normal reaction to this particular situation.

Once everyone had gotten changed, they entered the bathhouse proper. There were 3 tubs, with a waterfall between each, and stairs leading up to whichever you wished to enter (the hot, lukewarm, or cold tub). In the middle of the uppermost tub was what appeared to be a magical statue made entirely of water, shaped like a dragon, with water spilling forth from its open maw. To the side of each of the other tubs were two enormous ice yai onis, which stood statue still—pretending to be inanimate.

Greta and Edeya walked around one end of the tubs, while Calio and Nestian walked around the other way. Unbeknownst to them, their disguise was almost seen through by the ‘water dragon’, but it got distracted at the last moment when Edeya swung around and accidentally went face first into Greta’s chest.

While shenanigans were happening on the girls’ side of the tub, Nestian spotted something written in the pool in Skald—which he couldn’t read, but he knew Calio could. So he pointed it out to his companion, who translated it as ‘the VIP room’. They determined this must be where the secret entrance to the room the Crone Queen was hidden in was. Nestian and Calio got into the pool, catching Edeya and Greta’s eyes to get them to follow suit.

They moved away from the onis and other patrons as much as possible, and discussed what Nestian and Calio had spotted. They came up with a plan: Nestian would return to the locker room and get the Bag of Holding. Calio and Edeya would open the hidden door and stealthily slip inside, and Calio would signal to Aenland. Then when they were inside, Edeya would use her Bracelet of Friends to transport Nestian inside, and Greta would just have to burst in on her own once shit hit the ceiling.

We got into positions, giving Nestian enough time to get down to the locker room and gather our things before Edeya and Calio carefully slid open the door.

And they heard a strange unnatural sounding voice announce to the Crone Queen and the elven man with her that they had uninvited guests. The voice came from one of four enormous spiders that took up the corners of the room. And in the pool was a writhing mass of tentacles and wolf heads—a Scylla.

Edeya immediately shut the door, but it was too late as a booming noise echoed through the complex, alerting everyone within. Calio understood the noise to be speech due to Tongues—it was a foreign speech from something far far too massive, coming from somewhere deep below them.

A staff member ran into the locker room and asked Nestian—in Skald—if he knew where the intruders were. Nestian shrugged noncommittally, with no idea what she was saying or precisely what was going on, except that clearly the alarm had been raised. Despite Nestian now being in his bear form, and therefore very clearly not belonging here, the dragon-blooded sorcerer ran off to find said intruders.

Immediately the onis, the water dragon, and the various other staff members went on the offensive. The Onis moved from their pedestals, one taking a swing at Calio, and the other managing to get a swing at all three—Calio, Greta, and Edeya. Beneath the Onis, one of the monks swung around and tried to Quivering Palm Greta.

Calio tried to get revenge on the monk for his attempt to instant kill Greta, casting a Fire Storm on every inch of the bathhouse he could see—including kicking open the door to the secret room and tossing fire in to burn the Crone Queen and her spidery friends. Unfortunately the monks dodged—but everyone else in both rooms burned. The water of the baths kept most of them from being lit on fire for any extended amount of time—except for the dragon-blooded sorcerer, who ran in at just the wrong moment and got caught up in the blast. Without his components, Calio was limited in what spells he could Quicken, so he attempted to Banish one of the Onis, but it resisted his attempt, refusing to be sent home by a puny human.

After the sorcerer ran out of the room, Nestian activated his Boots of Speed and dashed out of the room himself, using his ursine strength to climb straight up the sides of each of the tubs as he reached them and then propel himself forward, until the reached the rest of the party, holding out the Bag of Holding.

The water elemental dragon breathed boiling hot steam at us, Calio took the brunt of it, with Nestian and Edeya dodging entirely and Greta resisting a good portion due to her ring. Without his Bone Armor or his belt boosting his endurance, Calio was already on his last legs.

Aenland, Nevra, and Talsune were Dimension Doored into the metaphorical belly of the beast. Aenland began having back and forth shit talk with the elven wizard, who was also named Aenland, but it was pronounced Eenlend, which infuriated Aenland worse, and he was all high and mighty that he was a proper elf wizard and only elves who can’t handle the rigorousness of magical study become lowly *archers*.

However Aenland held himself in check enough to aim for the Crone Queen instead of the mage, shooting her to death with a flurry of arrows before turning his attention back to the elven wizard, who was quite offput that Aenland had ruined a deal that was going to make him very rich.

While he did that, Talsune tore into the enormous Scylla, and rended it apart before it or its summoned Charybdis could act. However it wasn’t the only thing in those dark waters. Unnoticed by the bathing elven wizard, something big and ancient and hungry swam deep below the surface of this dark pool. And with the Scylla out of the way, it rose to the surface.

It was immense, too immense to even see the entire beast as it surfaced. What could be made out appeared to be a whale-like beast with a shell of ice down its back and frost tapering down its sides. It was like a Leviathan, but changed to better fit with the icy waters of Irrisen.

Outside, things weren’t looking too good. Calio had his equipment back, had tossed Roscoe through the doorway to help Talsune and Aenland, and he managed to patch himself up with a Harm spell. Then he Boneshakered the monk who’d tried to kill Greta, and dragged him under the water. He never resurfaced. However right after, the two Onis continued laying into everyone in the party—with Nestian helping to block what he could, but doing so was leaving him battered and bloody as well. And two more monks ran in and attempted to Quivering Palm members of the party, to no effect thankfully. But now we were well and truly surrounded.

And then Aenland got eaten.

Talsune had charged the Leviathan and gotten a respectable slash across the monstrous whale, but it didn’t even acknowledge the essentially papercut sized gash when compared to its massive girth. Instead, it propelled itself out of the water just enough to grab Aenland and then dive. Deep, deep, back into the darkest depths of the pool where no one would reach them.

Talsune immediately told Calio what happened, and Calio told the others. Nestian told him not to worry, he had an idea to save Aenland. Calio trusted in Nestian, and kept trying to deal with their own problem. Especially when the water dragon flew down, flanking with one of the Onis. Calio took advantage of its new positioning to cast Horrid Wilting, which did some massive damage to it and respectable damage to everything else around it.

Nestian pulled off the bow and arrow charm on his bracelet of friends, teleporting Aenland from the much more literal belly of the beast and back out to the middle of battle instead. Frying pans and fire and all that.

After Aenland appeared we saw that the dragon-blooded sorcerer, who we’d mostly forgotten about, had been making her way around the tub and was now here—a bit singed for her trouble. She spoke a word, and tried to kill Aenland instantly, identifying him as the most injured member of the party. Nestian threw the protection of the Black Rider around Aenland, strengthening his resistance and saving him from an instant end to his story (or at least from needing to be resurrected).

Aenland repaid the trouble by killing both the water dragon and the draconic sorcerer with a flurry of arrows.

The nearest Oni tried to reposition herself so she and the other Oni would be flanking us in place of the now-dead dragon, earning her an attack from both Aenland and Nestian, but it did not down her and she was able to get in position. Not for long as Greta tore into her, slaying her with a brutal bite.

The other Oni threw her attacks on the party, which again left us battered, but Calio stepped out of her range to cast Oracle’s Vessel and then Harm on Aenland to heal him, while Talsune finished off the last Oni—having been teleported out of the Leviathan’s chamber by Nevra before the enormous beast resurfaced to find a new target. Roscoe was left behind, taking pot shots at the spiders from the ceiling of the chamber, much as he’d been doing to Daemons during his solo week in Abbadon.

The party regrouped and entered the chamber with the dark pool. Roscoe had paralyzed the spider nearest the door, leaving it unable to take swipes at anyone entering and making it an easy target for Nevra to finish off, while Aenland took shots at the spider in the back corner. Nestian charged in at the spider in the opposite corner, despite being on his last legs with more blood in his fur than in his body. Edeya followed behind and avoided an attack of opportunity to heal him.

Then the Leviathan rose to the surface, and once again grabbed Aenland off Nevra’s back. With his Stone of Farspeech he told Calio not to let Edeya teleport him out with her other Bracelet of Friends until they’d killed this thing. Calio complied, flying in on Talsune’s back and unleashing a Slay Living empowered by his pocket watch, followed by an attempt at Boneshatter that was resisted. Before the Leviathan could dive back under the waves with their friend in tow, Nestian finished it off with a final swing of his axe. Aenland escaped its now limply open mouth, and its body fell back into the darkness of the depths below.

The party investigated the room further, trying to discern where the portal into the Dancing Hut was hidden. Aenland gave Nestian his Goggles of Trueseeing so he could explore the magical darkness at the bottom of the pool. Nestian dove under and found a rune carved into the side of the pool, which could send them to the hut, dispel the darkness, and turn the pool into a magical bath that would empower them if they bathed in it for an hour.

Forebodingly, however, he did not find the body of the beast they’d just slain at the bottom of the pool.

The party was exhausted by this point, and decided to head back to the Clocktower.

Calio had a talk with Nestian about a conversation he’d had with Aenland. He hoped that Nestian could get through to Aenland, because Calio wasn’t good at dealing with him when he got stubborn. Calio had talked to Aenland about how *obviously* he and the others were going to help him to fight Treerazor when this was all over, it was a given. Aenland had disagreed vehemently. After some back and forth it come around to Aenland telling Calio that he didn’t want them to go because they would die if they went. Calio tried to reason with him that *he* had a better chance of survival if they all went, but he was having none of it, he didn’t want to see people he cared about killed by Treerazor a second time. So Calio was hoping that Nestian could talk some sense into Aenland, because Calio didn’t know how to get through to him when he was running on his emotions.

Nestian suggested approaching this from a different angle: instead of trying to convince Aenland that he logically should let them come along, Calio should try convincing Aenland that him going off on his own and getting himself killed would hurt them in the same way Aenland losing his family had hurt him. Calio agreed that this was a good argument—and one he never would have thought of on his own.

As Calio was making to leave to rest for the evening, Nestian mentioned that they would be going to the Dancing Hut to get Anastasia the next day. Calio was surprised this was his friend’s priority, and he said so, pointing out that Nestian’s mother and her Eidolon were still trapped in the Nonagon. It hit Nestian for the first time that his mother was likely still in danger, and he agreed that going to deal with Keisuke—one way or another—should be their first priority tomorrow.

Before Calio left, Nestian asked him why he cared so much about Keisuke. It struck him that there was more to it than just Calio feeling he owed the kitsune his life. Calio was quiet for a time before admitting to Nestian that, the way he saw it, if he’d met the party at any point other than when they did—whether he was still without his memories or the Grimm Rider in this scenario—the others would have tried to kill him on meeting him, just like they had Keisuke. They only liked him now because they knew him.

Nestian disagreed with Calio’s assessment. He agreed that Calio and Keisuke had some things in common, but they differed in a vital way: Calio couldn’t bring himself to be pointlessly cruel. Sure, he could be cruel to people who slighted him first, but he never just went around hurting innocent people. Calio pointed out that just hurting innocent people without cause was pointless and a waste of energy, it gained him nothing. Nestian said that’s the point: plenty of people they’d met and defeated DID hurt and kill innocent people just because they found it fun. Calio argued that the fact they had killed all the people who did that proved that it was an ineffective means of getting and keeping power. Nestian told Calio that he was better than he gave himself credit for—he’d never hidden the sort of person he was from Greta, and she loved him all the same, just like he loved her, and that said something about who he really was. Calio had no argument for that.

Elsewhere, Aenland had gone looking for the Night Monarch, to give her the gift meant for Desna to get the goddess of dreams’ blessing in saving Xanthadon from her demonic patron.

He and Nevra flew to the top of the opera house, in hopes that the Night Monarch might pass by one of the highest buildings in the city—or at least it would give them a good lookout spot.

While they waited they talked. Much like Calio and Nestian, they talked about Aenland’s plans for when this was over, and his desire not to have his new family join him in battle and get themselves killed. Unfortunately, he knew they were stubborn as hell and weren’t going to just take no for an answer. And if he tried to go on his own there was a good chance they were going to use everything at their disposal to try to track him down to help.

Nevra tried to bounce some ideas off him on how to either convince them to not come, but they both knew that in the end the others wouldn’t be dissuaded. Aenland bemoaned that as ‘his family’ they were incredibly frustrating, to which Nevra added that that’s what made them good friends, though.

As they talked, The Night Monarch appeared on the rooftop alongside them. She said it was pure luck that she happened to land here on this night—but luck had a deeper meaning to her and her lady than it might to others. She noted that she knew Aenland had something to give to her.

Aenland offered the acorn he’d taken from Earth—the progenitor of Vigliv’s tree, which had also taken in power from the herald of a god of another universe that had slipped between the cracks in reality into this world. He explained that he’d taken this acorn with the intention of it being his anchor back to ‘that sad planet’—he’d intended to go back to do something to help that world that Baba Yaga hailed from, where magic was dead. But now it had become something more, after absorbing whatever power the herald of that alternate Gozreh held. He believed it was something that Desna should safeguard.

The Night Monarch took the seed and examined it. Then she told him that what this told her was that he was thinking about the future. This wasn’t the offering of a man who was throwing himself into a fungal cave to die. This was the offering of a man who was looking ahead. She accepted his gift, and granted her blessing.

Aenland returned to the Clocktower, where Nestian had waited up for him with some dinner he’d saved. Aenland confirmed that he’d successfully done what he’d gone out to do, and he had the last piece of the puzzle for freeing Xanthadon. Nestian told Aenland their plan to go to the Nonagon in the morning. He and Aenland agreed that they had promised Calio not to attack Keisuke immediately—but Nestian told Aenland he believed that Calio was beginning to have his doubts about Keisuke, and the two agreed that this was probably going to come down to a fight.

The next day, the party teleported back to Artrosa, and returned to the Eon Pit. Calio asked the others to remain outside until he gave a signal. He wanted to try to talk to Keisuke first, and see if he could simply get him to release Nestian’s mother and eidolon—and he didn’t want to go in looking like he’d come with hostile intent, dragging the entire party along.

Calio went through the nine-sided door and walked down a long hallway. Up some stairs, he found himself at the same entry to the Nonagon that he usually Plane Shifted into. Keisuke had his back to the entrance, facing the final of the nine doors around the room. His ears perked up as he heard someone behind him, and he asked if it was Calio. As he was turning around, he was beginning to cast a spell—but he dropped the spell when Calio confirmed that it was him. If it l had been anyone else, apparently his first instinct on being snuck up on was to Death Clutch a bitch. As you do.

Keisuke expressed excitement that Calio had made it just in time. ‘The time and the place’, he kept telling Calio that’s all he’d needed, and now with the deal he’d struck with the King in Yellow he’d gotten it. Calio noted dryly that Keisuke could have warned him about the Demon Lord that was going to jump them in the Eon Pit, but Keisuke told him he’d honestly had no idea that was going to happen. All he’d known was that his bargain had been for him to help a Demon Lord with one task, and then he’d get the information he was seeking. And he did. And then he got right out of there, and slipped Calio the means to undo his handiwork while he was at it.

Keisuke asked Calio if he was just here to talk, or if he was here to see the end result of Keisuke’s work. Calio admitted he did want to see what Keisuke had to show, but also told him he *needed* to talk to him. Keisuke told him they could talk, but first he would show Calio the fruit of his labor—he opened the door he was standing before, revealing a chamber that was much more decorated than the plain chambers all the other simulacrums were kept in. This one looked like it was a room pulled right out of Cheliax—although Calio failed to identify the foreign nation’s style and only knew it looked more stylized than the other plain rooms. Keisuke told him that he’d been looking for a long time for the hidden cache of one of the greatest spymasters in the world, Eirtein Obeirago.

And now he had what he’d been seeking. And the means of mythic ascension were finally within his grasp.

#pathfinder #pf weekly #the end of Calio's arc with Keisuke is this weekend #I am SO excised and SO afraid at the same time #Calio is so sure this can still be handled without having to kill Keisuke #and despite his talk with Nestian he can't bring himself to not want to for a lot of reasons #what he told Nestian was the truth and it's what he believes but I don't think it's the full truth #I don't think he even really knows why #I think he likes having someone who's almost a parental figure who encourages the things he does #but for him to admit that would mean admitting it bothers him that his regular ordinary parents #didn't want him to go to Irrisen and chase his ambitions #or that he's never done anything to even try to make them proud because they only wanted an ordinary life for him #and he wanted to be extortionary and found the life they wanted for him dull and essentially beneath him #while his parents were just afraid for his safety #and while he'll admit to part of that he'll never vocalize that it actually bothered him in any way #of course it didn't bother him he's above that #he's not the scared child in the dark with nightmares of Winter Witches anymore #he doesn't need mommy and daddy's approval #of course not #but some part of him feels so pleased when Keisuke acknowledges him #even if he knows that he's surpassed the master at this point

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very-salty-popcorn · 1 year

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Nike Bogg, at the end of the campaign. You can read her epilogue below:

---

Nike Bogg was a hero, a leader, and most importantly, she was a friend to all.

---

After the Battle against Bast, Nike Bogg took some time to go on a honeymoon with Addie. It was no surprise that this honeymoon entailed the typical adventure and hijinks that had become expected from anyone in the Order of the Stones.

After some well-deserved rest from life-threatening dangers, Nike Bogg stayed close to where the Order of the Stone had been established to create an academy for adventures. She called her academy, The School of Rock. The Academy was rather, small at first, but due to the influx of so many people who had come to fight Bast, the Academy steadily grew over time. A small city formed around it, with local businesses taking names after adventures from the Order of the Stone, such as “Myrrh’s Magiks, The Blessings of Finnlay, Scylla’s Skewer Shack, Armor by Abel, “ and many others. The Bogg also became an established Tavern franchise.

The School of Rock was intended to help anyone learn how to fight, whether it is with magic or one own’s strength. Adventures were bound to a creed, “May your actions be kind, your intentions good, and your words be gentle.” Nike invited many of her friends to be guest speakers and even had her own sister, Cricket, aid in the teachings.

Soon, the School of Rock became a well-established institution, with many familiar faces being part of the school’s faculty. The school’s mascot was obviously the Owlbear, and Ene held the position until he retired along with Nike. The School began hosting the Falcon tournament as a regular sports activity and it became a large part of the Academy's revenue. The School also developed additional sports, such as interplanar races, escape rooms, and many other pastimes perfect for future adventurers.

Nike, while being a fighter and obviously helped teach self-defense and other heavy weapon fighting at the Academy also developed magical fighting technics. Using her knowledge of magically bonding weapons to one’s self, Nike developed magic through tattoos. With the help Cricket, the sisters developed arcane magic that could be bound to one’s body. This was the foundation for a type of magic that would take decades to develop. The magic was first dubbed “skin glyphs” as weapons and magical items could be converted into a symbol on a body. It was later tested to see if a wizard could tattoo their entire grimoire unto their body, but quickly was dismissed as any damage to the skin could cause spells to distort and even turn on the wizard. This type of magic is still being developed at the School of Rock, however, it is yet to be properly taught until the magic is stabilized (though this does not mean that there are not those that try without permission).

After some time, Cricket retired from her teaching position to spend some time with Hilda. They were married in Radix, to which their wedding was attended by all the members of the Order of the Stone. Cricket and Hilda did spend some time on their own adventures, developing the next era of magical technology (whatever technology they developed is up to the DM). They also established an adventurer's stone of far speech network, using drawing tablets and chalk (thus creating a “magic” social media platform), calling it Chirp. It became a well-used communication system to alert adventures of opportunities and help organize people.

Cricket and Hilda stayed together till the day they passed. They could often be seen taking later afternoon walks in the main square in Radix, and they often spent their later years being local bowling champions. They were cremated and buried under a tree, next to the Bogg family home. Many travelers pass by to pay their respects, so oftentimes one can find a cluster of flowers underneath.

Nike Bogg and Addie Bogg spent some time traveling, even after their brief time teaching at the Academy. Nike and Addie lived in Cirne for some time, to allow Addie some time to rebuild her relationships with her sisters. It was a peaceful time.

Nike Bogg was the first from the Order of the Stones to pass away.

This was simply a tragic fact that many of her friends knew. It was not a death from a monster or a great battle, rather it was a death from something none of us can fight, time.

Nike knew that she would die first. She did not want to make it hard for anyone, least of all Addie. So when she felt it approaching, she went back home to Radix. One morning, while staying in a tiny home Nike had constructed for her and Addie, she felt it. She got up, and made Addie breakfast. Addie woke to a comfortable silence, but it was when Nike stood up and kissed her on her forehead that she knew. She knew that Nike had to leave, and this time, she wouldn’t be able to come back.

Nike had given Addie a gift, early on in their life together. She bound Argenta’s Lance to Addie so that Addie could carry a piece of her when she was gone. The tattoo was outlined in gold and spanned the length of Addie’s arm. Whenever Addie reached for it, she felt a comfortable warmth.

Nike Bogg said her goodbyes, and then she took her axe and her owl bear and walked into the Olioli forest and she was never seen again.

---

There’s an urban legend, that if you go into the Oliolie forest in Radix alone and unprotected that a spirit of the woods will protect you and guide you back home. This spirit’s light is different from the mischievous will-o'-the-wisps. It’s golden, warm, and comfortable. When you see it, it feels like you’re looking at an old friend you haven’t seen in a long time. It’s often told that there is another light that chases around it. Some have even said they say the outline of a fighter and an owl bear.

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In the Oliolie forest, there’s an axe lodge within a stump. It has been the source of great mystery. Some say the axe belonged to the great Nike Bogg, while others believe the axe was placed by a God. Whatever the case may be, not a single person has yet been able to remove the axe from the stump. It seems as though the axe has lodged itself, waiting for someone. Many have said that only the greatest hero can wield such a magical weapon, while others say that only a truly virtuous hero may have the right to unlodge it from the trunk.

Or perhaps the axe is simply waiting for the day that the person who placed it there returns.

---

There was a statue built for Nike Bogg after her death, placed at the Academy. It displays her, with her axe and Ene. Written on a plaque, per her request reads:

“Nike Bogg, friend to Addie, Cricket, Scylla, Myrrh, Finnlay, Able, Leo, Jonah, Hilda, Erika, Jessie, and all who may be in need of a friend. You are only as strong as the company you keep. Know that I love you always, despite our distance.”

---

#my art #dnd #d&d #half-orc #nike bogg #ill miss playing her #she was so fun!

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aphrodict · 2 years

Text

☆

saint spell’s love guide masterlist

order : oldest to newest

! : might be ooc || /!/ : content warning

unlabeled : imagine anyone

none!

bugbear /!/ some works may contain disturbing content

an unexpected guest // where bugbear goes inside your dorm room after class to sleep in

simon

none!

alucain !

none!

scylla !

none!

luca

none!

#．⸝﹕masterlist #．⸝﹕navi #reading tag:#sslg x reader

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xtruss · 6 months

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The Italian resort town of Sperlonga can be seen from a cave that was once part of Roman emperor Tiberius’s villa. The first-century A.D. ruler hosted solstice viewings at the site. Photograph By Horst Kløver, Lauf/Redux

See The Summer Solstice From A Roman Emperor’s Party Cave

Ancient Roman Elites Marveled at an Astronomical Alignment from this Cavern on Italy’s Coast. Now You Can Too.

— By Susan Van Allen | June 20, 2023

When summer arrives, celebrations of the solstice happen all over the world. In Italy, la dolce vita unfolds in Sperlonga, between Rome and Naples, in the middle of a coastal stretch called the Riviera of Ulysses.

Sperlonga is set on a promontory, with a curve of beach clubs below, adorned with perfect rows of colorful umbrellas. Bordering the beach is an alluring sight: a giant cave opening to the sea. Recent discoveries reveal Sperlonga’s cave to be the location of an extraordinary astronomical phenomenon dating to ancient Roman times.

Roman Holidays

The cave at Sperlonga was the place to be in summers of the first century A.D., if you were lucky enough to be invited by Emperor Tiberius. It was part of his massive villa, remodeled to be an awe-inspiring, open-air banquet room. Romans would boat there, escaping the heat of the Eternal City, and dine while reclining on benches in the cave’s dining niche (the triclinium), which was decorated with mosaics and shells.

Map

It was an atmosphere that mixed myth with reality. As this coast was thought to be the location of events in Homer’s Odyssey, diners were surrounded with enormous marble sculptures that recounted the trials of Ulysses (Greek name, Odysseus)—dramatic images of the hero thrusting a spear to blind the giant cyclops Polyphemus or of his ship being attacked by monstrous Scylla. The natural backdrop was the same that enchants travelers today: sparkling sea and Mount Cicero, where Ulysses was captured by the sorceress Circe.

A copy of a Roman Statue depicting Ulysses blinding a Cyclops is among the displays at Sperlonga’s Archaeology Museum. The original was made for the cave villa of Roman Emperor TIberius. Photograph By Emanuela de Santis, Anzenberger

During the summer solstice, guests to Tiberius’s cave experienced a wondrous event: The dining niche was designed by his architect and astronomer to be directly lit by the rays of the setting sun. The discovery of the marvelous alignment was made only recently by archaeologist Marina De Franceschini with archaeoastronomer Giuseppe Veneziano of the Astronomical Observatory of Genoa.

While sites like Stonehenge, the pyramids of Egypt, and Teotihuacan in Mexico have long been known for their astronomical alignment, De Franceschini says discoveries show that buildings in Imperial Rome were also designed to correspond with the sun’s path.

“The power of the sun was seen as a sign of a divine presence, and when Emperor Tiberius stood in his cave’s niche on the solstice, he was glowing, proving his divine origin, that he was an intermediary between men and gods,” she says.

In this mid-20th-century photo, workers excavate the cave in Sperlonga, Italy, which was once part of a Roman emperor’s villa. Photograph By David Lees, Getty Images

This discovery also reveals another dimension of Tiberius, whom historians nickname “the reluctant emperor.” His succession was fraught with intrigue, as all believed his mother, Livia, killed off potential heirs to the throne to put him in power. Gloomy and unpopular with the Senate, he retreated from Rome to rule from Sperlonga. Although he may have been unhappy about his role as emperor, De Franceschini’s cave discovery shows he strove to emulate rulers who came before him.

Tiberius’s party times in Sperlonga ended abruptly when the cave collapsed during one of his banquets, nearly killing him. Spooked, he abandoned the place for Villa Jovis in nearby Capri.

Seeing the Solstice at Sperlonga

De Franceschini brought her cave findings to the new director of the National Museum of Sperlonga, Cristiana Ruggini, who collaborated with her to stage a 2022 Summer Solstice Event. It will be repeated this June 24.

On that evening, visitors can enter the museum and then the nearby cave after-hours to experience the luminous effects in the niche. Slide projections will recreate what a banquet scene may have looked like on those long-ago summer nights. The presentation also shows how the Ulysses statues, now in the museum, were strategically placed in the cave. De Franceschini believes that “The Blinding of Polyphemus” statue was made for the summer dining niche, where the sun’s bright rays would also create a blinding effect to the viewer.

The solstice event is one of many initiatives Ruggini has spearheaded, reviving the museum and archaeological site, which is celebrating 60 years since its founding. Along with expanding the site’s archaeological research, Ruggini envisions the museum as a cultural center.

Situated halfway between Naples and Rome on Italy’s Adriatic shores, Sperlonga has been a resort town since ancient times. Photograph By Mauro Flamini, Reda & Co/Universal Images Group/Getty Images

Though Sperlonga has long been a popular vacation destination for Romans and Neapolitans, it’s still under the radar for foreigners. It can be reached from Rome by car or train to the Fondi-Sperlonga station, and then a taxi or bus, in about two hours.

Travelers can wander the pedestrian-only historic center, a labyrinth of whitewashed stone buildings, archways, and narrow stairways. Sperlonga’s beach clubs serve seafood dishes, such as spaghetti alle vongole (with clams), or Caprese salads, made with fresh mozzarella from farms near Naples. After lunch, a walk along the beach leads to the museum and archaeological site with Tiberius’s cave, where the heart of Sperlonga’s enchantments await.

#Travel 🧳#The Summer Solstice #Roman Emperor #Party Cave #Susan Van Allen #Sperlonga’s Archaeology Museum #Roman Emperor TIberius #Roman Statue ||Ulysses

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hellmouth-manor · 10 months

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Our Esteemed Guests

It is our distinct pleasure to welcome tonight’s guests of the hour to Hellmouth Manor. A night of mystery and mystique awaits you all. Allow yourselves to fall to temptation and indulge in this grand event of lies, deceit, and infernal delights.

Hellmouth Manor proudly presents the guest list for Ms. Louisa Nightingale’s supernatural soirée.

Alou Agneau, played by Juni

Cassandra Adams, played by Dia

Cedric Pryce, played by Audge

Elishama, Scribe of Prophecy, played by Steph

Haru Kamiya, played by Sora

Heather, played by Mod Ali

Hibiki Shinobu, played by Noa

Hisashi Beaumont, played by Alli

Mari Yamada, played by Finn

Micah Linne, played by Scylla

Mirai Takei, played by Sissel

Miranda Bailey, played by Kou

Nikephoras Florakis, played by Isa

Nori Nonomura, played by Rynn

Poppy, played by Lepra

Raoul Beaumont, played by Adair

Ry “Cu” Greyson, played by Deuce

Sapphire Scott, played by Cammy

Shoji Okumura, played by Mod Michael

Touji Asagiri, played by Shannon

Wakako Nakano, played by Mod Jonah

#OOC

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bownes-anon · 9 months

Note

you cant call yourself a wha

~ He’s now back to cooking. He’s still sniffling a bit, but has forced himself to stop crying. ~

A Pharmakis. It’s a type of.. “witch”? I suppose that’s the best analogy I could use. We use the earth to cast our spells and what not. You know, the whole thing of what I’ve been doing. Circe could turn men into pigs if she wished and turned Scylla into a six headed monster, Medea and her father Aeëtes could summon chariots pulled by dragons.. and the most I could do? Add some flimsy charms to the food my guests eat that last, like a day, in hopes it might give them good luck or good health.

#🦷🎀 anon

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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October 23rd

Candlelight

Dear @scyllas-revenge, this one is for you and our other Boromir-fans in the server :D

I love you dearly and I will never be able to express how much your friendship means to me 💖 You are delightful!!

Oc is from this story.

Words: 731

Warnings: nothing, bad soup...

The groan Boromir uttered as the lights flashed and then died held all the frustrations of a man foiled by nature and aware of his helplessness.

Decided to prove to Aubrey that he was not the pampered, indolent royal she might have expected – and to redeem himself for the truly abysmal speech he had prepared and that she had been good enough to amend in long hours of meticulous work – he had invited her to dinner.

The small cottage he had been granted – for security and privacy reasons – by the gracious government whose esteemed guest he was had the cutest, little kitchen he had ever seen, and he had been eager to make use of it.

When they had been but lads, Faramir and he would sneak down to the kitchens and learn how to make a proper roast and the best potato dishes at old cook’s side; a pang of nostalgic longing overcame him at the thought of a woman long dead and buried now for he had been very fond of the patient, kind woman who had taught him many a good trick and an easy dish that he had devotedly recreated and adapted over the years.

The storm was spewing rain against the windowpanes as if it tried to tear them asunder, eager to hammer down on tender flesh and delicate skin; illuminated by the bleak light of lightning slashing through the darkened sky, Aubrey’s eyes looked huge and unfathomable, but her smile was generous and cheery.

“Candles?” she asked in a soft tone, feeling her way along the kitchen counter; Boromir’s hand brushed hers as he made to open the same drawer she had already started pulling out and she shrunk back in surprise.

“I had a roast in the oven,” he lamented, only minimally pacified by the feeling of cold wax underneath his fingertips as he pulled out half-burned-down candle stumps and a nearly empty matchbox from the messy pile of lost buttons and stray keys.

“And I am sure it would have been marvellous,” Aubrey appeased him without the slightest hint of disbelief or irony in her voice. In the wavering light of the flickering tapers, she looked like the ghostly apparition of a much yearned-for soulmate, Boromir found, akin to the visions the servant girls were seeking in antique mirrors when they stood – in their nightdresses – in dark corridors, holding hallowed lights in their trembling hands.

As she grinned though and nodded at two cans of tomato soup, he had to amend his assessment; Aubrey was beautiful in a vivacious, winning way that could barely be captured by a reflection or even a picture. One had to see her move, smile, speak, or laugh to truly be able to even fathom how painfully alive she was.

“You deserve better,” he moaned, but – remembering his training and evenings in much less hospitable circumstances – he resigned himself to serving a woman he desperately wanted to impress lukewarm soup from a tin can and stale bread from the previous day.

He had half-expected her enthusiastic reaction but was still charmed by the way she ladled the bland fare – only barely heightened by the old spices they had unearthed in a cupboard – as if it was an award-winning dish presented to her on a golden plate by a three-star chef.

“You are marvellous,” he breathed as he watched her wipe up the last drops of her soup with a handful of bread, smiling mischievously at him and motioning for him to do the same.

Her face went expressionless with stunned surprise upon seeing him so intensely moved by an emotion that she could not easily identify or name.

“How about you tell me more about that?” she then prompted with a wink, ambling over – candle in hand – to the fridge and giving a small shout of cheer when she opened the heavy door. “We shall be here for quite some time as these have to be taken care of before they go bad.”

Boromir doubted that the few bottles of beer and wine would turn sour and become undrinkable within a night, but the idea of keeping this miracle by his side – sleepy and slightly tipsy – was too good for him to resist.

He was a good, honourable man, but – at the end of the day, in a deluge of biblical proportions – he was still only a man.

@fellowshipofthefics some Boromir for your nerves!!!

Lots of love from me (as always)...

-> Masterlist

#fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #fotfics October challenge #fotfics fictober #ficlet run #1 scene per day #a different pairing every day #LOTR #Lord of the Rings #Boromir #Modern!AU #Boromir x reader #for scylla #candlelight #improvised dinner

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