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Something weird is lurking outside around your house this Christmas. Will you let them in?
New one for @halloweenshirtcompany
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New little star alien. They collect metal, super-heat it, and create an exoskeleton out of it.
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polishing effects ✿ by acnh.skdesigns on ig
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Adventure: The Grimlord’s Gala
Everybody’s dying to get in
Setup: In his nearly nine centuries of undeath, the grimlord Polveiris has seen the rise and fall of empires, brought doom upon kingdoms, and survived or taken part in atleast five supposed apocalypses. Now as his eight-hundred and eighty eighth “death-day” approaches, the withered old wretch has opened the doors of his subterranean lair manor to a who’s who of the realm’s malefactors and malign spirits for a grand celebration that’s sure to wake the dead from their graves.
Far too desiccated and doddering to do any actual villainy himself, the great concern is what Polveiris’s guests will do on his behalf: Seen as a kingmaker among evildoers across the continent, every would-be dark lord or mistress of malice has suddenly fallen into stiff competition to impress their host. While the Grimlord is content to totter about his tomb receiving pleasantries and blasphemous presents, a mounting number of wellwishers have spilled out into the surrounding caverns as they jostle for space and Polveiris’s attention. Since evil is little known for playing nice with its fellows, it’s only a matter of time before something sparks this powerkeg of villainy and the different factions start carving up the nearby landscape in a turfwar.
The party is likely to encounter the Grimlord’s guests long before they ever hear of him, as the old villain has kept his head down in recent centuries specifically to avoid the intrusions by meddlesome do-gooders. such guests are likely looking to collect objects of fel power or collections of profane knowledge to win their senior’s favor.
While many wicked souls spend their entire time at the gala competing who can get their sinister senpai to notice them, plenty of other wicked souls see the event as an excuse to network, ranging from morally unscrupulous nobles to shadowy entities hungry for power to mad mages wanting to show off their new toys. Should the party end up serving one of these heels, they can expect to attend the gala as part of their patron’s entourage, tasked with both defending them for rivals and looking for advantages.
The gala may provide the perfect cover for a heist, provided the party can earn themselves an invitation and sneak past a whole crowd of tyrants, undead, and madmen watching every corner for ambush.
One could suspect the grimlord of being a lich given his necrotic trappings and seeming immortality, but they’d be missing the fact that Polveiris has in truth no magical power whatsoever. Polveiris is part of a far more wicked and damned class of beings: the ultra-wealthy, as even in life his fortunes were enough to buy his way out of the moral coil and fund a ritual to transform him into a “necropolitan”. Though the techniques for this blaspemous practice have mostly been lost to history, Polveiris is known to have kept the blackiron nails that was their focus as the centerpiece of his collection. With the gala ongoing, one might be able to slip inside and heist out these nails, or any of the other fabulous or cursed treasures the plutarch has stockpiled over the millennia.
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Staring at the picture his dad had out in front of his face, Danny blinked confusedly. It was an old drawing, one of a boy about his age. It looked eerily like him to be honest, the charcoal shading around the eyes like black bags of restless nights, the same shade of stark black hair.
“Dad who is this?” He asked, holding the picture carefully.
Jack looked over and hummed, “That’s one of our ancestors. When we were first immigrating to the US, back in the old days, he was a medium. Could see the dead grandma told me. Your grandfather was named after him.”
And Danny was named after his grandfather… huh.
“He looks tired.”
Jack nodded boisterously, then took a solemn face so different from his normal joyous expressions, “He got lost chasing after something, got off the trail. Everyone knows it had something to do with ghosts though, our family was always weirdly connected to the dead.”
Danny nods as he stares at the picture more, and he feels like he knows this person. Suddenly he sees in perfect clarity a night dim as it is cold. He was walking around and caught a glimpse of something like a spark. A breathtaking green surrounding him so familiarly and suddenly darkness.
“Do you think he fell into a natural portal?” Danny found himself asking without thinking. His body moving on its own.
Jack looks over with a raised brow, taking in the shaken look on his sons face, “That could be what happened. Why?”
“Dunno. Just a guess…” Danny said and then forced himself to sit the paper down. He feels years older yet so young, and he finds himself leaning into a hug from his dad. The man was larger than a brick house, and his hugs were big great things, all encompassing and full of love.
Danny flies to Clockwork, mind swimming with questions and unwanted images- a boat in the middle of a rough sea, a natural portal opening, people he never knew yet is struck with familiarity and familial feelings. A girl in his dreams, a little boy, a mirror.
“Daniel, I was wondering when you would arrive.” Clockwork said, in the kind and distant tone of his. He was hiding amusement under those words.
“What’s happening to me!” Danny asked, “I’m dreaming things that I shouldn’t know and suddenly I’m remembering things that are definitely not my memories!”
The blue ghost hims, his voice like a ticking grandfather clock, “Did you know that reincarnation is as rare as becoming a half ghost?”
“What?” Danny asked, taken aback enough to stop gripping his hair. The statement seems so out of place, he doesn’t connect it to his current predicament.
Clockwork takes pity, “Daniel you are a rarity, two impossible feats shoved into one body. Your soul has been alive for so long, and now it is trapped as you.”
It clicked then, like the hands of a wristwatch slowly trekking onward. Danny looked at his hands and he remembered.
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Working on my entry for this year’s Secret Santa Jam! My santee wanted something that was spooky, so I’m making a game about traveling through dark, cursed lands and trying to keep your lantern lit while battling demons.
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Ghost: do you believe in spooky ghost?
W-who said that?!
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into the mist by atmospherics
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|| scaredy cat ||
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New ref for Apollo!! its been like 2 years so this was LONG overdue. This should be the end of my ref making tirade tho, so I can finally rest.
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The Fentons were being haunted. Something was afoot in that house, by all means there shouldn’t be a soul in the house that wasn’t the living ones of their children and them, but it was there anyway. Despite the anti-ghost things they’ve got sitting around, the guns, the lasers, the tasers, the tools; this creature was still there.
They had grown used to the screaming in the middle of the night. Of blankets torn off them while they slept, spindly fingers barely caressing their ankles leaving a small slim scratch that just barely wells up with beads of thick red blood.
Danny was disproportionately affected by this spirit, because he was half-ghost. This should have been easy to stop yet here he was being terrorized by a vague creature in the night in his own home. Driven to paranoia, checking his closet and under his bed like a frightened kid again.
He spends some nights away from the house, sleeping on random roofs as Phantom just to get some resemblance of peace.
The wraith didn’t keep to the nights shadows either, no it’s invisible jaws sunk deeper. The insidious thing drew knives from the block, throwing them and barely missing a neck, embedded deep into the walls. Jazz had stopped going into the kitchen altogether due to almost being speared through with a grill poker. They didn’t even own a grill.
Even Maddie and Jack were starting to go a little mad with it now. They were driven to the lab, trying new ways to keep the thing from them. They tried everything, and their vendetta on Phantom and the other ghouls of the town was overshadowed by their growing loathing of the thing haunting their halls.
Danny tried talking to it, but the thing never showed it face, simply going for the jugular. His ears rang with the creatures let night screams.
Finally he had enough, he pocketed a pair of anti-ghost scissors and grabbed his bedding.
Planting his blankets and pillows on the couch he yelled, “I’m sleeping in the living room tonight!”
Maddie’s voice called back, slightly stutters with the lack of sleep she was getting. Paranoia had crept over the whole family like a spidery hand, it’s claws deep in them, “you sure honey?”
“Yeah.” He said and closed his eyes. Sleep came easy to him, as it always had with his exhaustion did.
Something woke him up, and he bleary looked around, running the sleep from his eyes. The room was pitch black, the TV making strange static noises, and the hum of the fridge in the other room louder than normal. Running a hand through his hair, Danny yawned. This was not a peaceful wake up scene though, he knew it deep in his bones. He stayed laying down.
His hand went to his pants pocket, fingers gripping the scissors even though they burned his skin with their anti-ghost property. It hurt, but this fifth inhabitant of his home must be taken care of.
His eyes adjusted to the dark little by little, helped along by his ghostly night vision. That’s when he spotted her- the wraith that haunted his family. He saw it clear as day, an elongated form of a woman, her face was distorted, her mouth open in a wide smile, tearing through her face like her mouth was an open pit with shining white teeth. Her eyes were too real, yet not real enough- so uncanny and wrong that Danny shuddered internally.
Gripping the scissors tighter, Danny stayed still, completely still now. Faking sleep was hard when his skin was bubbling around the metal scissors but he managed well enough. And suddenly the being was upon him; long, bony sharp hands barely touched his cheek and he had his chance.
He leaped out of his spot, ripping the scissors from his pocket and driving the sharp side to the creatures face. It was slowly dissolving into sand, once it had been stabbed.
So does he, “Leave this place! You are not welcome in my home- my lair- my realm! I am the thing that haunts this house!”
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Little jmart doodle I made in the art class I helped teach today :)
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