#beyond being a mummy lord of course

[deathbind]

I think in Act One Serot has had his bond with Refhremmit pinged by the tadpole situation, and they're trying to reach out. Serot's memories start coming back, though they're difficult to parse. The problem is probably that the memories from multiple lifetimes are trying to resurface / getting all jumbled together. I think this results in once or twice a memory coming back in full and slamming him so hard that he accidentally tadpole connects with whoever's nearby and drags them into it. Presumably this can be resisted by passing a wisdom check.

Encountering the sussur blooms in the Underdark really knocks him on his ass. He suddenly gets slammed back into his lifetime as Neheb. He needs the rest of the journey through the Underdark to sit with everything, but by the end, his lifetime as Serot has also come back into clarity. His bond with Refhremmit gets tuned up, too. Now they can communicate clearly. Well, the distance probably poses a problem, but [hand waves]

Act Two I think is very difficult for him. It's not just contending with his memories resurfacing or learning Meresankh wasn't destroyed almost 2,000 years ago or that the shadow-cursed lands were tailor made to piss him off. I think, because the Negative Energy Plane went into creating the Shadowfell and he draws on / is especially attuned to that plane, he is thus doubly susceptible to the shadow-curse. Selune's Blessing + the Moonlantern do work for him, but he is looking physically ill the longer they stay there. His HP actually drops over time and can't be healed until the curse is lifted. He begins to look dead / undead over time as well. I think we're looking at constant migraines and increasing lethargy as well. Again, this heals up when the curse is lifted and they have time away from the shadow-cursed lands on the way to Baldur's Gate, but it's not a fun time while they're there.

On the plus side, he found a lead on an agent of Meresankh: Mystic Carrion. Balthazar was probably in communication with him, idk. I think . . . Carrion has some important relic of Meresankh's. Serot can consume it, which strengthens his bond to them. He can destroy it, which dampens their bond (and consequently his bond with Refhremmit; the two began to twine together after Neheb's death). Or he can simply take it, which will allow him to research how to dissolve the bond.

#OOC / HOLLY. #what would really fuck me up is if it was like #so Serot has a cameo of Meresankh that has the face scratched off #[Meresankh scratched it off when they had a falling out. it was a whole thing] #but let's say Meresankh had a matching cameo with Serot's face #Serot thought they'd destroyed it but they'd kept it instead #it was on them 2000 years ago when they were trapped in the Negative Energy Plane #they were able to throw it back out into the world during the Spellplague when the Negative Energy Plane fell into the Elemental Chaos #Carrion then found it and entered into a pact with Meresankh #I think this is the real origin behind Carrion's able to act as a mystic / commune with the dead #beyond being a mummy lord of course #I just mean now he has a direct line to the Plane of Death #[or what remains of it within the Elemental Chaos] #anyway this also prompted Carrion's move to the world of the living #selling his services in exchange for all the wealth and comforts he desired

[dailycharacteroption]

Creature Corner: Undead part 3

(art by reaper79 on DeviantArt)

 Foes

 Yesterday we looked at allies. Today we will look at undead in their more traditional role as antagonists.

While undead within the core setting are seen as inimical to life, and also the victims of either their own dark desires or those of the necromancer that animated them, on a more general folklore level, the undead represent a classic part of horror stories, symbols of wrath or other negative emotions persisting in the dark places of the world beyond the lamplights and campfires of civilization.

Of course, that unnatural state and general malevolence makes the easy picks for foes that you don’t have to worry about feeling bad about slaying, since you’re “putting them to rest”, but as we’ve previously discussed, undead can be much more complex than an army of mooks, though such armies also have their place.

 Perhaps the undead foe most commonly seen at low levels, and later in large groups, are the mindless undead. Zombies, skeletons, beheaded, and more. Most may be animated by necromancers or supernatural plagues, while others may arise spontaneously, though usually such soulless undead arise in such a manner due to the presence more powerful undead or malevolent forces, the psychic impressions animating bodies with no clear connection to any trauma the body’s owner may have once experienced. However, there are always exceptions, such as the intelligent variants of zombies and skeletons, the zombie lords and skeletal champions, for example, and others that may exist spontaneously rather than being the creations of certain blasphemous rituals.

Another classic are ghouls and those like them. Certainly ghouls have their own family of relatives such as ghasts, lacedons, and Leng ghouls, but then there are distant cousins like festrogs and gaki. Such creatures are corpse-eaters, eager to devour the flesh of the dead as an act of sapio-cannibalism and grave defilement all in one package. Such ghouls will either fight to protect their “larder”, or seek to fill it with less rotten and more recently-dead corpses from nearby villages and adventuring parties. Many may be driven mad with hunger and be utterly incapable of negotiation. However, whether due to ample food, strong discipline, or otherworldly energies, some ghouls are capable of retaining their sapience and forming civilizations, albeit bloody ones.

Many undead truly are innocent (or not-so innocent) victims, but that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. Attic Whisperers come from children that died of neglect, and their desperate bids for attention and love spell doom for most. Meanwhile, revenants and pale strangers hunt down their killers with implacable fervor, and they don’t care who or what they have to destroy between them and their prey. Others, like the bakekujira and the gashadokuro, are the shadows cast by the callousness of the powerful, butchering great whales or allowing hundreds to starve. While not all bone ship crews were good or righteous in life, such amalgamations certainly don’t deserve the horror of what they have become either. Another nasty one is the lovelorn, born when a heartsick deceased heart literally rips itself out of their chest after death to skitter away on ribcage spider legs.

Some undead were created specifically to guard the tombs of powerful dead or undead figures. The most notable of which are mummies, mummified creatures, and their often masters, the mummy lords. However, don’t discount other undead guardians, such as the space-warping crypt thing, the cursed and bound cursed kings, cyclopean gholdakos, the hanging gallowdead, blasphemous herecites, hordes of possessed phantom armor, and more.

Other undead are driven by the dark hungers of predation, making coexistence with mortals nearly impossible. The souls of murderers returning as mohrgs, obsessed hunters bounding on the air as baykoks, disgraced monks offering paths away from enlightenment as kurobozu, and so on. Dullahans and death coaches race after prey, often with an obsession for the race or chase. Draugr rise from cursed voyages and make their way home to the horror of their loved ones, while wights possess so much malevolence that they possess their own corpses and refuse to let go.

Some undead show the horror that necromancers and fell alchemists can wrought. Some are made from body parts, such as crawling claws and isitoqs, while others are surgically put together to create custom horrors, such as necrocrafts. The preservation of unviable births and flesh leads to the creation of “pickled punks”, while fleshless horrors like ecorche were almost certainly originally born in a necromancer’s lab. Others might be the remains of attempts at life, like the unrisen.

Perhaps most insidious among the undead are vampires. Most spreading via a cursed death, there are several types of vampires, ranging from the classic moroi to the ancient nosferatu, the soul-draining jiang shi, ki-draining vetalas, psychic vampires, and more. The foolish might think that the immortal beauty and power of most forms of this type of undeath make it more appealing, but most vampires are twisted by their need to prey on mortals into creatures utterly lacking in empathy. In addition to these, several vampire-like creatures, such as manananggals, penanggalens, baetriovs, sayonas, and the like also have such a predatory nature and even animalistic powers in some cases.

And then of course there are those dead that lack a body entirely, being nothing but disembodied souls. Things like ghosts, wraiths, shadows, and spectres are fairly well-known, while things like the insane allips, shrieking banshees, and the like add their on flavor to spectral death. Some even have unique gimmicks connected to other hazards, like gearghosts being attached to mechanisms and traps, while geists latch onto nearby haunts to control and be bolstered by them. In a way, these undead are even more malleable than corpses due to the way that the soul becomes twisted by darkness.

Of course, no discussion of the undead would be complete without those that can only be created by deliberate transformation. Liches and graveknights come to mind, both of which bind their souls to an object to continuously come back again and again. However, they are not the only ones, the siabrae being druidic counterparts to lichhood. However, one must be careful, for even this eternal life needs to be nurtured, lest one break down into a lesser horror like a demilich.

Finally, some undead defy the ideas of what undead must be. Some of them are the divinely punished like huecuvas, or those whose souls have been blasted by ultimate evil such as bodaks. However, some creatures that are definitely undead were already supposedly immortal beings when they turned, such as the entirety of the shadowy monsters known as nightmares: fiends that sought power from the negative energy plane and were consumed by it, or devourers, who sought beyond the edges of known reality and returned as soul-eating horrors. Perhaps most terrifying of all are the grim reapers (or possibly one single immortal grim reaper), a spectre of death that never seems to have been alive, and unlike the psychopomps, seeks only finality in death, reaping souls and providing no guidance.

 Indeed, it would seem that the horrors of the undead are countless, and there are plenty that I did not mention here. With so many varieties of such horrors, one might fear undead apocalypses being disturbingly common on countless worlds, but by the efforts of goodly divine beings, psychopomps, heroic mortals, and even the undead’s own nature, keep most worlds safe from such dooms.

However, beyond immortal foes or undying allies, there are plenty of ways for a character to be inspired by the undead, as we shall see tomorrow. Tune in then!

#pathfinder #creature corner #undead

[cosmicbucket]

aight now i'm on a tangent

cosmic ramble

a lot of this is going off of recent gameplay memory so bEAR WITH ME

I said this in the tags of my last post, but I am a firm believer that P03 didn't understand why spreading the OLD_DATA to the world was such a problem. Of course he understood its capabilities when it came to achieving power, he used it to gain control after all. But beyond that? He makes no reference to the OLD_DATA and how it's straight up dangerous. Whether this is because he didn't want to tell us (y'know, so we would help perform The Great Transcendence) or because he didn't know anything to tell us, I'm inclined to believe it's the latter.

An optional encounter we can trigger is if we receive a key from the Bone Lord in Act 2 and we visit him again in Act 3. The Bone Lord asks Luke to stop filming in exchange for information about the OLD_DATA, so we're treated to about 5 seconds of darkness before the camera comes back on, and Luke is clearly distraught by the information. The Bone Lord disappears and P03's only remark is "Holy $&!# ..."

P03 rarely uses swear words. When G0lly is accessing the web and finds a picture of a real Mummy Lord, she reactively swears ("#^%! me...") It would appear that she's easily distressed by the grotesque image. But P03 doesn't get distressed. He always keeps his cool and he always knows more than you do. He takes great pride in how easily he outwits you and the other Scrybes after the success of The Great Transcendence. P03 wouldn't casually display any emotions that imply "weakness."

P03 is caught off guard by the Bone Lord's information, enough to show genuine shock in front of Luke - the stupid, idiot gamer. I don't think P03 understood what was truly at play here.

Furthermore, in its victory speech, it makes no mention of the OLD_DATA: "Even if those foul Scrybes manage to revert this version of the game again... There will be thousands of copies of Inscryption out there. And in most of them? I'm the one in charge!"

P03 just wanted power over the other Scrybes. He didn't even do anything to them while he was in control - he trapped the Angler, possibly as payback for being the one to give Leshy power, (EDIT: NOT POSSIBLY, HE DID) and he trapped the Lonely Wizard. While this does become his downfall, I see it as testament to the fact that The Great Transendence power grab was mostly spurred by the fact that when someone else was in control, he was at their mercy. And Leshy proved to be quite merciless in letting him be killed and sacrificed for a game. (If you take into account their history as being married, it's really just salt in the wound.)

P03 as we see him in Act 2 is an emotionally constipated Scrybe who, when not in charge, fears his perceived vulnerability at the hands of the others. He needed control, and he needed it to be permanent. So, he uses Luke to upload the game and solidify his power, unaware that he's also uploading doomsday codes.

And despite everything the other Scrybes do to prevent this, it actually works.

#I am a P03 apologist and I will die on this hill #ofc there will be evidence to contradict and disprove this somewhere #not to mention P03 IS a massive jerk at times #but he's really just blunt. most of his aggressions are at the other Scrybes (particularly Leshy) #and considering their history I would be bitter too #I just!! don't!! think!! he's the worst!! #inscryption #inscryption p03 #p03 #p03 inscryption #cosmicramble #it'd be real embarrassing if this was the Point of the game or smth #but i kinda doubt it #i'm just gonna post this before I chicken out

[ingravinoveritas]

Hi hun. I've recently discovered your blog and I love it! I stumbled across one of your Good Omens posts earlier and noticed your tags saying you wanted to know who tops and bottoms and that they both give switch/bottom energy. I was thinking about this last week when I rewatched the show. Bottom Crowley seems to be far more popular and when I first watched the show I couldnt understand why but after a rewatch I completely agree. (1/2)

Hey, Anons! I am so glad you are both enjoying my blog. I was tickled to get such similar messages around relatively the same time, so I thought I would group you together.

First of all, Anon #1, let me say that you do not need to apologize at all for that graphic description, which (at least by my standards) was not at all graphic, but rather quite lovely and delicious. The more of that, the better, I say!

Anon #2, to your point about David being switchy/giving off major Bottom vibes, I have to tell you...I’ve had this very conversation before with @thetardisisblueandroseistoo​ and @faggghaggg​ and some other folks, and it’s always interesting to me to see how people view David as more bottom-y or top-y depending on when they became a fan of his, and what role they first saw him in. It varies all across the board, of course, but I have to say I do think there are some very interesting parallels between David and Crowley (other than that they both sit and dress like raging bisexual disasters).

I know there have been all these weird fandom wars around bottom!Crowley vs. Top!Crowley, and truthfully, it’s never made much sense to me. The whole conceit of Crowley is that he is a tempter, that he can successfully tempt humans by being whatever it is they want him to be. So he needs to be versatile in that way, like a Transformer of temptation.

But that versatility stretches out far beyond the professional, and in my opinion, is also a facet of his personal preferences. I don’t know if any of my followers are fans of The Mummy, but I can’t help thinking of the scene on the boat, and a particular moment between Rick and Evie that dovetails delightfully with our ineffable idiots:

What it comes down to is that it’s a situational thing, in which Crowley is not completely a top or a bottom...but he is a bottom specifically when he’s with Aziraphale. And I agree with the reasons you mentioned, Anon #1: Craving the weight of Aziraphale on him, that warmth and steadiness not only of his body, but his heart, calm and even next to Crowley’s pounding, butterfly-frantic one. The thing in Crowley that has a desire to be taken care of gravitates and responds to the thing in Aziraphale that can fulfill it.

I think the same is also true when we are talking about Michael and David. David embodies that versatility so well, that ability to flit between masculine and feminine, dominant and submissive, and so on. But like Crowley, he is distinctly a bottom when he is with Michael. The thing inside him that wants to be told he’s lovely and precious and good enough comes alive in the presence of the thing inside Michael that more than wants to do that for him.

The one other thing I will say is that I think what attracts David to certain roles isn’t necessarily them being bottoms or tops, but about power. David really seems to like playing with power dynamics in his roles, in all sorts of ways. One example that comes to mind is the Tenth Doctor, who I am very much convinced is a slutty bottom. Here is this immortal being, this Time Lord with all the power in the universe at his disposal, and yet whenever there is a scene where Ten and another character are kissing (which there are a lot of, because again: slut), he yields to the other person. Lets himself be grabbed, alienhandled (not technically manhandled, since he isn’t a man), and kissed silly by anyone with a passing fancy, giving them the upper hand in that situation. An all-powerful being entirely too eager to give up that power.

Another example is Davina. Davina is absolutely one of my favorite roles of David’s ever, and is the opposite of Ten. Davina is a person who would be considered powerless--a trans woman, working in a hostile environment, stuffed to the gills with toxic masculinity. Yet she is incredibly powerful (and very definitely a top). Davina never lets the boorish bampots in the bar see her sweat, and never lets them have the upper hand. And when she takes on Rab’s boss, Mr. Friel, she oozes seductive confidence, spinning his head and stomping him under the heels of her fashionable pumps before he even knows what’s hit him. Mr. Friel is the boss, but Davina is the one with power.

So yes, I think all of this is what makes Crowley (and David) so endlessly fascinating, and hot. Sexuality doesn’t necessarily fit into neat little boxes--it shifts, undulates, writhes in different directions, much like serpentine Crowley himself. But I think we can all raise a glass to how uniquely that sexuality presents itself when Crowley/David is around Aziraphale/Michael. Bottoms up, indeed...

#anonymous #reply post #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #this is what i mean about the lines being blurry #still think DT is a switch at heart though #Crowley too #as much as anyone can switch or even walk a straight line in those tight trousers #well maybe not a straight line in Crowley's case #or David's for that matter #doctor who #tenth doctor #davina #rab c. nesbitt #ineffable lovers #discourse #edit by me

[fellulahh]

What he’s like as a Dad (all characters!)

Lucifer:

He’s 100% the responsible parent. If he sees Mammon go toward their sleeping baby, he’ll practically fly across the room to stop him

Spends hours in the supermarket picking the right food out for their baby and nutrients for MC to take

He’s not usually much of a big spender but when it comes to their baby, he wants him/her to have only the most luxurious and soft clothing

Quite often he’ll carry their baby into his study and holds him/her in one arm while they sleep - he finds their baby’s presence so relaxing as he works

Lucifer no longer worries nor cares about his previous life because all that matters to him is the life he created with MC

Mammon:

He’s a super fun dad! MC has to attempt to be the rational one when it comes to parenting with Mammon

Mammon is INCREDIBLY proud of his and MC’s baby, he’ll always be carrying him/her in a baby pouch and will boast to other demons saying “yeah ya see this? Me and my human made this!”

No matter the gender, he buys little baby clothes that match his so that he can go out with their child, saying how he/she is the ‘Great Mini Mammon!’

He gets really jealous if any of the brothers spend too much time with his human and mini human, “oi! Mammon needs some attention too ya know?”

Once he/she is a toddler, Mammon’s always getting them to go up to their Mumma and say stuff like ‘Daddy says you’re cute’

Levi:

Levi loses a lot of his nerves after becoming a dad because rather than worrying about what he thinks of himself, his focus is solely on his lil purple haired baby

He gives that baby so much love, MC absolutely adores the way he radiates confidence while they’re together

He gets really sad when their baby goes to sleep because whenever he’s gaming, he loves to sit their baby in his lap so that he/she can watch their Daddy play

Plays peek-a-boo using his tail

Once baby’s hair has grown enough, he combs it so that it’s exactly the same as his hair style

Takes baby to his various meet ups/conventions

Satan:

Satan has never felt true happiness until MC gives birth to their baby

He always felt that he had no purpose in the world because of his accidental creation but now he has a baby!

He’s always doing whatever he can to spend time with his baby and helps out MC in anyway possible

Often MC will wake up and see Satan passed out in the chair across the room with their baby sleeping peacefully in his arms

Reads a story to baby every single night before they go to sleep

He’s a very proud Dad, he loves holding his baby in one arm and MC’s hand in the other whenever they’re out together

Asmo:

Considering he’s known to not settle down, everyone is surprised by how wonderful of a Father Asmo is

He’s so protective over his baby, if anyone even dares to say as much as “oh your baby’s hair is a bit wild” he will come for whatever bitch said it

“Isn’t he/she beautiful? They get it off their Daddy!” “Asmo babe, I’m right here...” “oh, sorry MC.”

He dresses his baby in the most adorable outfits you’ve ever seen

He tells their baby all of the gossip despite them not having a clue what he’s saying, “I’m going to pass you to your Uncle Lucifer now. He’s a Daddy too - he just doesn’t like to admit it!”

Once the baby’s hair has grown, he absolutely LOVES styling it

Beel:

Beel is a responsible Father, however, their baby has him wrapped around their little finger

Should he deny their baby a treat, all their bub has to do is pull a sad face and Beel’s like “okay, I’ll give you a cookie! Please don’t cry.”

Sometimes the brothers think the baby is glued to him because he carries him/her around everywhere

He never wants to be separated from MC or their baby so he somehow manages to cuddle them both during movie night

Loves trying out the baby food when he’s on dinner duty, “ew this tastes horrible! Here, have some of my pizza instead.” “Beel, no!”

He loves loves loves being a Daddy

He’s always pining over his little family and whenever they both go to bed, he’s always hinting to MC about having another baby

Belphie:

Belphie is the sort of Dad where you would walk into the baby’s nursery to find him curled up in the cot next to his bub because he/she couldn’t sleep

He’s always dressing the baby up in snuggly little onesies

Buys the baby a little cow print pillow that matches his

That baby has this demon’s whole heart. He would protect MC and his child with his life

He’s also quite funny as a Dad, if someone else like Lucifer is holding their baby and he/she starts crying, Belphie just smiles and says “I’m sorry Lucifer but I don’t think he/she likes you.” And takes the baby back into his own arms

He’s always buying soft little plushies for the baby

Diavolo:

You’ve never met a prouder dad until you’ve met Diavolo, he loves his and MC’s baby unconditionally

He takes their baby everywhere with him in a little baby pouch; to important meetings with the nobles, to big announcements, to student council meetings etc

For every birthday, he has a portrait painted of him, MC and their child and hangs them where everyone who enters the castle can see

Often tells the baby, “I’m hoping very soon we will be able to give you a brother or sister but mummy’s being stubborn!” “Diavolo I only gave birth two months ago?!” “So? I want a big family!” He whines

He dedicates every single ball to MC and their baby

He’s quite mischievous too - he plays pranks on MC and Barbatos because he knows it makes the baby cry with laughter

Barbatos:

His baby is very spoiled. I mean they effectively have Lord Diavolo as an Uncle, of course he/she is going to be spoiled!

Because he’s so used to taking care of Diavolo’s orders, Barbatos automatically becomes the parent that makes the bottles, gets up at night, prepares breakfast etc regardless of MC likes it or not

Their baby is incredibly intelligent for their age because Barbatos’ is always spending time with him/her, helping them learn to talk

He’s always going above and beyond for MC and their baby

The baby brings out a very rare, soft side to Barbatos. He always tries to remain stern and composed but MC loves the fact that he always has a bright, cheery face whenever he’s with their baby

Simeon:

This angel is so soft for their baby, he’s such a good Daddy

The first person he introduces their baby to is Luke, “this is your Uncle Luke, little one.”

He’s always praising what a beautiful family he has and constantly posts pictures on Devilgram of MC

Lucifer is also the first person he goes to, to tell all about how wonderful it is being a Father; expressing the little things their baby does

He’s so appreciative of MC for bringing their baby into the world so he goes above and beyond to care for their new family

He always holds their baby and points at MC saying: “that’s your Mummy over there. Isn’t she magnificent?”

Solomon:

Yes he’s a good father but he does also have those moments that make MC question why on Earth she thought it’d be a good idea to have a baby with Solomon

*chucks sock on baby’s head* “MC WE’VE GOT A 2319!” “Solomon, get that off our baby’s head right now!”

He makes tik toks with their baby

“We should call him Albus Severus Potter!” “Absolutely not”

As chaotic as he is, he does have really tender moments with their baby too

Sometimes MC will walk into their room and see Solomon playing ‘aeroplane’ with their baby as he/she giggles

On multiple occasions, Solomon has had to quickly grab his sorcerer books from their baby “whoah kid, don’t you start messing with that. You’ll get us both in trouble!”

#obey me #obey me shall we date

[dmsden]

Carfax Hargrimm’s Lost Tomb

Hullo, Gentle Readers. We’re going with one more spooky adventure for Halloween. And this time, we’re pulling out all the stops. This adventure is a bit of a reversal of a standard D&D adventure in a way, as the goal is to return a treasure to a dungeon. It is intended for 5 characters of level 5.

Background: Carfax Hargrimm was a knight loyal to the Margrave of Calengard 200 years in the past. He quested often, but he had one flaw - he fell in love with the wrong woman. He loved the Margrave’s daughter, and, although she loved him too, they loved chastely and from afar. The Margrave saw this growing affection, but he didn’t believe Carfax to be worthy of his daughter’s hand, so he sent him on increasingly dangerous quests. Carfax overcame all obstacles, and his popularity grew, until the Margrave began to believe Carfax sought the crown. He sent the knight out on one more quest, but, this time, he sent an ambush party to do away with him. Carfax was outnumbered, but he and his loyal retainers fought bravely, if futilely. He was slain, and his body was returned to the Margrave.

When he was searched, the Margrave found a letter written to his daughter. It was a letter full of loyalty to the Margrave, glad that he was being given another opportunity to show his mettle, and hoping that, someday, they could be wed. The Margrave realized how badly he had misjudged his loyal knight, and he was full of sorrow. He abdicated in favor of his daughter, who ruled wisely as Margrave for many years more. She had the bodies of Sir Carfax and his loyal men entombed in a secret location so that they would never be disturbed.

The adventure begins as the PCs are encamped for the night. They probably hear someone crashing through the undergrowth behind them, and they soon find themselves embroiled in something spooky!

“Room” 1: The Campsite: The figure crashing through the underbrush is Landyn Humphries, a halfling with bandit stats. He staggers in and begs the PCs to protect him. It’s possible, of course, that they accidentally (or purposefully, depending on your PCs) kill him before they get a chance to figure out what’s going on. In this case, they’ll find he has a small cameo brooch showing a beautiful woman’s profile. They’ll also find a journal that can be used to give the PCs an idea of what’s going on (see below).

Pursuing Humphries are 15 zombies. They will relentlessly crash through the undergrowth, attacking anything in their path. They are trying to recover the cameo, compelled by the will of the lord they served in life, Carfax Hargrimm.

“Room” 2: What’s Going On Here?: Humphries will beg them to help end the attacks. He at first claims to be innocent, but an Insight check quickly shows there’s more to this story than meets the eye. Landyn is terrified, and uses of Persuasion, Intimidation, and Deception may all be useful for getting him to spill the beans. He will finally admit that he was a fence for a group of adventurers who recently decided to plunder a local tomb...that of Carfax Hargrimm. A History check will tell Carfax’s sad story of love, loyalty, and betrayal, or Humphries can tell some of it.

Humphries tells them how the adventurers have been killed one by one, and how the last told him that he’d had a dream that only the cameo’s return to the Tomb and an apology being made to Hargrimm’s shade will send the undead back to rest. He’s not an adventurer himself, but he’ll promise them 4,000 gp and a potion of supreme healing if they’ll undertake this for him.

If the PCs have killed Humphries, the journal can provide much of the above information, but they will need to make Survival checks to track the zombies back to their place of origin. Obviously, they won’t get the reward he promised them either. If they’ve touched the cameo, however, the journal will make it clear that the undead will start to hunt them.

“Room” 3: Tomb Guardians: After locating the Tomb, they’ll find an entrance tunneled into the rocks. There is an empty room full of empty sarcophogi (where the zombies were...there are 15 of them if anyone thinks to ask). They’re all stone and carved in the images of noble warriors. A pair of locked stone double doors beyond leads deeper into the cliff face, and runes around the entrance ward undead from entering...which is also, ironically, why the undead inside haven’t been able to leave in search of the trespassers who stole the brooch.

Standing, as if in effigy, are four suits of armor, each holding a longsword at rest position. If anyone touches the inner door, they animate, becoming four animated armors and four flying swords. They will attack ruthlessly, but, if the door is opened (via magic or picking the lock), they will all collapse in a heap of tangled metal.

“Room” 4: The Master of the House: Beyond the door is the burial chamber of Carfax Hargrimm and his two most loyal henchmen. Their stone sarcophagi are all open, the lids pushed aside. Inside, Carfax is sitting on a stone seat, his men flanking him. Carfax has the statistics of a revenant, and his two men are mummies. He is furious with the grave robbery that stole the symbol of his lost love, Arianna. He wants to rage and destroy everything he can, but he pauses if someone is returning the cameo to him. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t kill you, that wretched little rodent you’re protecting, and the entire village where he lives for this desecration.”

This is a skill challenge, where the PCs must gain 8 successes before having 3 failures. If they fail, Carfax’s rage overcomes him. “I will hear no more of your lies. Defend yourselves!” He will attack until he is destroyed, but this won’t stop him, as he will rise again, and more undead will come...unless the cameo is placed back in the sarcophagi and a sincere apology is given. If they succeed, Carfax is assuaged and will return to his rest. Some skills that could be useful include:

History: To recall the name if his true love and the details of their doomed romance. Mentioning specifics about this will make him sorrowful, but they will remind him that he was a good person, who was loved by a good person, and that he doesn’t wish to do evil.

Persuasion: This could be useful if the PC talks to him about unfair punishments or misjudged deeds, things that he has personal reason to not over-react about. It could also point out that Humphries is not the one who stole the cameo, and that he’s making efforts to make right what his cohorts did.

Deception: This could be used to convince him Humphries is dead, and they are returning the cameo in his place. This might make him think that there is no more reason to continue his quest for revenge.

Intimidation: This is likely useless. It’s difficult to threaten the dead, especially if they know they can return, again and again.

Insight: This could help read Carfax, to note that he is still a being of nobility, honor, loyalty, and love. He may be acting the enraged, wronged figure, but he is a good person at heart.

Performance: There are several songs about the love and betrayal story at the heart of this situation. A bard or other character may perform one, showing Carfax that his legacy lives on.

“Room” 5: The Escape: Once Carfax returns to his sarcophagus or is destroyed, the Tomb begins to bury its secrets. The PCs have three rounds to escape as it begins to rumble and crumble. If they linger to search for treasure, they will regret it. Each round after the third, the PCs must make a Dexterity saving throw or be hit by falling rubble for 11 (2d10) bludgeoning damage. Those who fail may become entombed along with the former undead.

Humphies will make good on the reward, and he will thank them for their aid. If the PCs fought Carfax, the Revenant could return again as something to plague the PCs for many nights to come.

[thelastlynx]

It’s the summer of 1995

and Draco has a lot of teenage rage in the wake of Voldemort’s return. Theo Nott is having exactly none of it.

(Aka my version of the Draco/Theo convo that was edited out of OotP.)

Draco was so caught up in his rage that he only noticed the other boy when he was already halfway across the lawn. Theo calmly walked up the steps to the temple, put down his broom, and sat down on the other side of the column, steadily looking out towards the Lower Lake.

 Draco sat down next to him.

 Nott leaned back and observed a sole, white peacock that must have lost its way to end up here, at the back of the gardens. A flock of black swans were eyeing it suspiciously, flapping their wings as if to mark their territory.

 ‘You know,’ Nott said abruptly, ‘I don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it. If you ask me, we had better stay out of it. Could get messy soon, and I don’t fancy any of that.’

 Draco stared at him incredulously.

 ‘Besides, those meetings are hardly fun anyway. Just look at who’s attending them. Crabbe and Goyle senior — amazing examples of how a brain doesn’t lose the capacity to shrink beyond recognition, though someone’s got to do the dirty work, I suppose — McNair, similarly daft, so a match, if you think about it; daddy dearest — haven’t seen him in such high spirits since he killed mummy; he’s been throwing Cruciatus curses left and right, lucky me —; Avery, an utter bore as you well know—’

 ‘Is this a laughing matter to you?’ Draco glared at him.

 ‘Me, laughing?’ Theo said in a lofty, uncaring sort of way. ‘Hm. No it’s all rather miserable, isn’t it. At least they’re being dreadfully serious about it, aren’t they?’

 Draco choked in the face of so much nerve. ‘What are you – twelve? This is not about  fun! It’s not about if you’re happy or not. It's about serving the Dark Lord! About restoring Wizarding England to its former glory; about taking the place in society we ought to have! It’s about the glory of our houses!’

 Theo pursed his lips but said nothing.

 ‘Don’t you understand? It’s our duty to help them! Even Crabbe and Goyle get to join in!’ Draco was breathing heavily, incredulous at his friend’s attitude.

 Theo rolled his eyes. ‘They hexed a bunch of toilets, if I heard correctly. Muggle-baiting is hardly making a mark for yourself.’

 His attitude only fuelled Draco’s zeal. ‘Don’t you understand? It's about the cause! The Cause! Anything that serves the cause is worth it, whatever it is.’

 Theo didn’t respond.

 ‘Don’t you think those Muggles deserve it?’ Draco continued more fervently. ‘Don’t you think they’ve had it far too good for far too long? Don’t you want to be part of it? A part in making our world a better, purer place? A world without Muggles and Mudbloods?’ Draco’s cheeks burned, his fringe flopping into his eyes as he talked himself into a rage. ‘That is our future! That’s what we’re supposed to be doing!’

 Nott raised an eyebrow. ‘The future? And what type of future is that?’

 ‘What—?’ Draco blinked. ‘Are you daft? Pure-bloods are the future! We are the future! Which is why we ought to have been fucking invited, instead being kicked out as if we’re fucking children !’ Draco had shouted the last few words. ‘But do you know who’s not just “a boy”, who they’re taking seriously—’

 ‘If you say Potter, I’m going to smack you.’  

 Draco snapped his mouth shut, his eyes burning at Theo.

 ‘If you ask me,’ Theo continued, scanning the landscape again, ‘he’s just lucky. I’m not buying all that rot about him being chosen or special for a second. I bet all of them have just been acting cocky and careless. I bet that they thought they could play with him a bit. And of course, given the chance, Potter’s going to get away.’

 ‘What?’ Draco frowned, feeling torn.

 ‘It’s always Potter here, Potter there, how mysterious he must be, oh, how powerful he must be, because he defied the Dark Lord.’ Theo snorted. ‘Rubbish. Potter’s just got a lot of practise getting out of sticky situations.’

 ‘Stick— facing the Dark Lord isn’t just “a sticky situation”.’

 ‘Granted. But you don’t still believe he’s some sort of dark sorcerer, do you?’

‘No,’ Draco spat. ‘No, of course not. I know he’s a fucking imbecile! He and that half-wit Weasley just manage because Granger saves them half the time. I know it! I could fucking tell them!’ Draco jumped up again, pacing up and down, his robes billowing around him. ‘I could tell them what a pathetic excuse for a wizard he is! I could tell them how he does it—’

 ‘Though I will admit,’ said Theo, watching Draco’s face carefully, ‘it is rather curious that he’s a Parselmouth. I wonder where he got that from…’

But Draco didn’t hear him. He kept striding back and forth, along walls of the temple, muttering furiously to himself. ‘—everyone knows he wouldn't even have survived the tournament if it wasn't for her! She helped him, I’m sure she did! She always helps everyone. How else would he have won! And I was right there to see it. I was the perfect witness. I know things about them they could never imagine. Why can’t they see that? Why won’t he just ask me—’  

 Draco had stopped pacing. He stood there glaring vaguely in the direction of the  Lower Lake where the lone peafowl was presenting against the flock of black swans whose long necks were craned in his direction, eyeing the interloper suspiciously.

 ‘Why do you suppose your family’s peacocks are white?’ Theo said into the pause, almost to himself.

 ‘What?’ Draco frowned at his friend, irritated. ‘Because they’re special, obviously.’

 Theo sighed. ‘But what makes you say that? Why don't you say it the other way ‘round. Why don't you say, for instance, that they're      deviant     from the norm?’

 Draco whirled around to and to look Theo dead in the eye.

 ‘Because they fucking aren’t deviant,’ he hissed. ‘They  are  special. They were the first peacocks to ever set foot in England. A diplomatic gift by an Indian Mogul! A rare, special gift to honour Lucius the First!’

 ‘That’s how the story goes at least,’ Theo commented airily. ‘But who knows what really happened. First of all, that story doesn’t make sense. Who’d want to have white peacocks when you could have the colourful kind? Pretty curious that you’d gift the sort’—he nodded sharply at the bird walking up and down the lawn—‘that lacks the particular characteristic they’re revered for.’

 Draco stumbled over his words in fury, his hands shaking. ‘What’s this, Nott? Is this supposed to be some kind of idiotic metaphor? Mudbloods are just as good as pure-bloods? Is that what this is?’

 Theo calmly glanced into the beautifully crafted landscape stretching out before him. ‘No, Malfoy. It’s not a  metaphor for Mudbloods and pure-bloods – though I do wonder why you’d think that.’

 Draco aggressively turned his back on his friend and continued his pacing.

 Theo went on, completely unbothered. ‘I'm merely wondering about whether the way we say things are, is the only way they can be perceived. Especially since a lot of the time things are presented to us in a slightly… modified way.’

 ‘Are you a bloody Sphinx? What’s that supposed to mean?’ Irritation twisted in Draco’s stomach.

 ‘It means,’ Theo said, his hand feeling along the rough edges of the stones he was sitting on, ‘that I can’t take the whole pure-blood agenda seriously, seeing as the person we’re rallying behind is a half-blood himself.’

Excerpt from Chapter 7 of The Seven Year Witch

#Draco Malfoy #Theo Nott #dramione fanfiction #fic update #dhr fanfiction #Draco x Hermione #canon-compliant #or at least canon-adjacent #Order of the Phoenix #lynxfics

[musicallibrarian93]

Summer Daisies (An Elain x Tarquin fanfic)

Chapter 1 | Word Count: 4301 | Rating: M

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978781/chapters/73803669

Elain revelled in the early morning sunlight. The light of day making its ascent as she sat on her balcony overlooking the lavish gardens of the River house. She had a book in hand and drank deeply from her tea. Summer solstice was one of her favourite days of the year. She looked back on the past 10 years and smiled at the memories of how her and her family had often celebrated on the longest day of the year.

This year Tarquin had invited them to Adriata to celebrate with them and Elain was beyond excited. She’d visited the Summer court only a few times, but it always fascinated her. The way the sea was so bright, and the salty air calmed her. She also wasn’t complaining about how beautiful Summer’s males were.

She’d decided to reject the bond between her and Lucien just over five years ago, and he’d taken it surprisingly well. Nothing had happened to cause the rift; After the war Elain had just wanted to be independent, to see what life she could make not tied to a male but the bond had still laid between them  and it was easy enough to ignore it, especially as Lucien spent more time away, but that time spent where they had been mates but not mated was horrible because other males looked at her like she was taken, not that she’d set her sights on anyone in particular, but Elain didn’t like being seen as someone’s property. She was better than that. After rejecting the bond though, something still didn’t feel right, and Elain had needed more time to find her feet again.

However, something had shifted in the past few months. She was stronger and more confident than ever, joining the Valkyries for training and studying in the library when she wasn’t tending the gardens, but she looked at her sisters and her best friend Azriel who had people they were sharing their lives with, and Elain wasn’t ashamed to say she wanted to know what that was like too. Her sisters and Azriel had been fortunate to be mated to people who they loved with every ounce of their being. She knew that even without the mating bond they would have all chosen their mates. And that’s what Elain wanted, to choose. So, Elain rose from her chair, stepped into her bedroom and got ready to embrace all the world had to offer.

——

Nesta walked into Elain’s room as if she owned the place, with a multitude of dresses in hand. “I think I have a few really good choices here.” She said as a way of greeting,

“Let me see!” Elain squealed helping her carry the heavy fabrics. They were truly gorgeous. She could see Pastels and florals and lace; she did love this. Especially sharing it with her sister.

“Okay, so I have my eye on the Green one or the Royal blue one, but I don’t think you’ll mind if I claim either of those.”

“Certainly not,” Elain said as she stroked over a light pink gown that was now draped over her bed, “You’re right Nesta, these are gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” She said back, “But I’d hurry up and lay claim to one before Feyre comes.”

Elain glanced at all the gowns on display. She knows she shouldn’t have left it till the last moment but that was all part of the excitement. Somewhere along the way it had become a tradition for the girls to get ready together for events and Elain was so thankful that they had grown close enough to do that. “I’m going to go with this one.” Elain said, choosing a gorgeous Silky pale teal dress that had white flowers embroidered at the bottom of the skirt. When she turned it around, she saw it appeared backless with those same white flowers attached to a mesh that’d make it look as if they were stuck to her skin. This was the dress. “Good Choice.” Nesta remarked.

“I hope you two haven’t taken the good ones,” Feyre said in greeting, “I finally got the Children dressed so now Rhys just has to make sure they don’t spill anything on themselves.”

“Is Lyla excited?” Elain asked smiling at the memory of her niece showing off the dress they had bought for the occasion,

“So excited. It’s her first proper ball.” Feyre said, “She kept asking if she was going to dance with a prince tonight.”

“Well, I don’t hold a chance of catching a male’s eye if Lyla is there.” Elain laughed,

“She’s Six.” Feyre said,

“And already planning on seducing Princes at a ball,” Elain smiled once more, “Maybe she’s more like her Auntie Nesta than we thought.” Nesta just smiled broadly at that, proud that little Lyla was a little ball of energy, insistent on wreaking havoc and having fun.

“Just wait till you have children, Nes.” Feyre said, “I’m desperate to see what kind of trouble a little Cassian could stir.”

“Perhaps it might not be too long- “

“Nesta are you Pregnant?!” Elain basically screamed,

“No, Gods, No,” She got out quickly, “But we’ve been talking about it, having children.”

“That’s wonderful.” Feyre said hugging her sister,

“Thank you. On our last trip oversees we realised how lovely it might be for a child to travel and grow up seeing the world.”

“I’m so happy for you.” Elain said cupping her cheeks, a tear threatening to spill,

“Don’t get too excited just yet, it might be another few decades before it happens.”

“Do you guys ever think about what it would be like if we were still human,” Elain said, “How it’d be utterly unrealistic to wait decades to have children.”

“I mean Rhys and I hardly waited, but I do think about it.”

“I would not have married someone nearly as handsome.” Nesta said,

“I’d have married a horrible man and become a trophy.” Elain gagged at that thought,

“I’d have probably died a Spinster.” Feyre said,

“Come on, you had men fawning over you.” Nesta said,

“I’d hardly call Isaac Hale a man.” Feyre said causing Elain to giggle,

“Regardless, I’m grateful for this life.” Elain said,

“Me too.” Nesta and Feyre said as one,

“Did I walk in on a mushy moment?” Gwyn asked peering round the door,

“Gwyn! Come in I have the perfect dress for you.” Nesta said,

“Good, I’ve been struggling to find something.”

“I’m positive this will have Az on his knees.” Nesta said with a grin. The rest of the girls laughed in response.

It was going to be a good day. Elain could feel it in her bones.

——

The first thing that caught Elain’s eye was the Chandelier. It sparkled beneath the sun that was filtering through a skylight. The entire ball room was stunning, dressed in beautiful yellows, whites and teal. She had chosen the perfect dress. She loved how daisy garlands were strung from the ceilings and how the ballroom had an entire side that opened onto the gardens beyond the palace.

The second thing that caught her eye was The High Lord of Summer, donned in white with Golden cuffs that matched the Gold that lined his eyes, strolling towards them. He was gorgeous.

Of course, she’d met him before. The last they had talked properly was at the sporting events that had occurred a few years ago. Every decade there were inter-court Sunball games. These hadn’t been held for the best part of a Century with Amarantha’s reign and then the war with Hybern and then everything that went down with the mortal queens, but they’d held the first one in the summer two years ago. Elain hadn’t known much about sports, she knew people would compete in the mortal realms in different events, but she’d never deigned to care, but when she’d heard a rather enthusiastic Tarquin cheering his team on in one of the early matches, Elain had asked him to explain the game to her. The games had become much more interesting after that and she’d find any excuse to be near him during matches, even when they played against the Night Court.

Nothing had come of it though, she hadn’t wanted anything to come from it at the time, but now seeing him, calm, ethereal and downright stunning. Elain was re-evaluating why she hadn’t seen him that way before.

“Welcome,” Tarquin said in that deep voice of his sending goosebumps up Elain’s arm. It was boiling hot here, she shouldn’t be shivering, “It’s lovely to see you again.” He said clasping Rhys forearm, then giving Feyre a big hug and finally bumping a fist with Nyx. They had become incredibly close; Mostly down to the fact that Nyx had summer court powers. It had always been a thought, one no doubt all the High Lord’s had pondered, what powers would Feyre’s children possess; If she had the power of Seven High Lords would that pass down to her children or would they all receive something different. Nyx was already showing signs of immense power, but Summer’s called to him the most. Tarquin had lovingly offered to train with him and give him a safe environment to explore and master that magic.

“Excuse me, are you a prince?” We all looked down to see Lyla tugging on the High Lords robes. Feyre quickly pulled her away,

“No sweetie, Tarquin is like Mummy and daddy.” Mor explained to her,

“You’re a High Lord?” She asked in that adorable voice,

“I am,” He answered crouching down, “I believe you are Lyla.”

“Daddy says I’m a princess.” She said with a proud smile,

“Well, I believe a princess should get to show off that pretty dress.” He stood and took the little girl’s hand and led them into the gardens where the festivities were in full bloom.

Elain was blushing now and did not hide it when Tarquin glanced back at her. He was so good with her niece and nephew she could’ve swooned right there but instead she moved to Morrigan who was holding her wife’s hand. She almost didn’t want interrupt Emerie and her but Mor had already caught that Elain wanted to ask something. “Tell me about Tarquin.” Elain said,

“He’s Kind, Gorgeous, great with Children, supports those born into low-ranking families. But I think you already know all of that.” Mor said with a wink,

“But he’s never been married, no mate?” Elain asked,

“There are rumours his mate rejected him while he was still young, but he’s never confirmed that. I imagine like most he’s had lovers but none serious enough for us outside the palace to know of. He is young, soon to be a century, but I imagine his life has been so chaotic he might not have thought of romance.”

“He was not expecting to be High Lord, was he?”

Mor’s voice dropped so a soft whisper, “No, his cousin was killed by Amarantha. He’d tried to escape Under the Mountain and was caught; Rhys lied about his accomplices in order to save Tarquin’s life who had also tried to get him out.”

“He’s doing a great job considering everything he’s been through.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.” Mor said with that smirk, Emerie nodding along

“I think Lyla has already claimed him.” The three laughed in tandem, looking at the little girl holding onto his hand.

“Maybe you could ask him to dance.” Mor said suggestively,

“Maybe I will.”

——

Elain felt like her feet might fall off. She’d been dancing for hours not just with her brother in-laws but with Azriel and her nephew too. It had been so wonderful. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced this much and felt so free. She suspected the wine probably had something to do with her giddiness, Cresseida had told her it had been made by the very grapes that grew in the courtyard. Elain had tried many different wines while being Fae, but this was the most delicious.

She was just happy. She was living, truly living. The stolen glances towards the High Lord also made her feel more alive than ever before. He was wrapped in his Host duties but each look or smile he shot her way had her heart beating fast. It was a good job he’d invited them to stay for a few days or she might have been sad they had not gotten the chance to speak.

It was now early evening, and the sun was beginning to fade. The longest day of the year was coming to an end. She saw Feyre on the other side of the ball room and made her way towards her,

“Have you seen, Lyla?” Feyre asked, “She keeps running off, but we need to put her to bed.”

“I think she’s enjoyed it today.” Elain said, scanning the room and the gardens beyond,

“She basically ate the entire banquet table.” Feyre said with a laugh,

“Oh,” Elain said pointing outside, “I see her. She’s… with Tarquin.”

“Thank the mother,” Feyre said, letting out a sigh of relief, “I’ll get her.”

“No, let me.” Elain said,

She took a deep breath and walked towards the High Lord. It might have been the wine or the self-confidence she’d built over the past years, but she held her head high and didn’t shy away when he looked at her and smiled once more,

“Elain,” he said by greeting,

“Tarquin,” she smiled back, then turned to her niece, “Lyla, I believe your parents are looking for you.”

“They are, but I’m not tired yet, and I want to dance.” The little girl said, trying not to yawn,

“I know, Sweetie, but…” she couldn’t think of the right words to say as Tarquin had come to stand so close to her,

“But” he continued for her, “I promised your Auntie Elain a dance before the party was over.”

“Okay.” The girl said,

“You’re here for a few more days, I promise to take you around the City and to dance with you before you go home.” He said with such a loving smile, and then looked to Elain as if the offer applied to her too.

“Okay,” Lyla said again, “Goodnight Mr High Lord, Goodnight Auntie El.” Elain picked up the little girl and gave her a big kiss before sending her to where her mother stood waiting. Tarquin stood beside her and watched as Lyla left the ballroom.

“She loves you.” Elain just said to him,

“She’s a very sweet little girl and her brother too.” The pair looked over at Nyx who was standing with Cassian, looking like they were up to no good. Elain let out a small giggle. “Have you enjoyed the day?”

“I have. It’s so beautiful here.”

“Well, you certainly fit in.” Did he just call her beautiful? “So, May I have this dance?” She just glanced at him, and the beautiful blue of his eyes were as beautiful as the ocean beyond them. It was what made her say,

“Of course,” he took her hand, “I might only be able to stay standing for one more song though.”

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” he said leading her to the bustling dance floor, “You give me a dance and I’ll show you my favourite view in this palace.”

“Deal.” She said, damn those eyes that looked at her like she was the only one he could see.

When they joined the dance floor the music changed from the upbeat tune to a beautiful lilting melody. It wasn’t like other balls she had been to. There were not set dances one had to learn, everyone moved freely on the dance floor, with a partner or solo. She glanced around to see other couples holding onto each other swaying along with the music. Tarquin spun her so she faced him and bowed to her before taking her in his arms. She beamed at that bow, he’d done it purely out of politeness than what was expected, and she knew she had shocked him just as much when she slid her arms around his neck.

Her fingers were brushing against the hair at the back of his head, she marvelled at the beauty of his face. This close up she saw just how smooth his skin was, she wanted to run her fingers over his cheek, in his hair, maybe even further down that glorious set of abdominals that were proudly displayed. His skin had been lightly powdered with some kind of gold dust that had become alive under the light from the Chandelier. He was the most beautiful male she’d met. She already found herself dreading the dance coming to an end.

A small gasp escaped her lips as his broad hands found her waist. The thin Silk fabric she had donned was not thick enough to stop the heat of his hands seeping through. And for a while, the pair just swayed, not quite meeting the others eye. Elain couldn’t speak for the High Lord, but she feared that if she looked into those eyes much more, she wouldn’t be able to stop the urge to kiss him.

“Would you tell me what you’re thinking?” Tarquin whispered into her ear,

“I’m thinking,” she started, “That this is one the most stunning parties I have been to. That daisies are my favourite flowers and I’ve never seen so many.”

“Why Daisies?”

“They grow anywhere and everywhere.” She answered, “When we were children, Nesta and I would sit in the garden and make daisy chains, or I would while she would read. I got told off by a nanny once for making one and placing it on Feyre’s baby head.” Tarquin chuckled in response.

“If that’s the most mischief you got up to as a child, I’m afraid you’ve got some catching up to do.”

“Well what kind of mischief did young Tarquin get up to?” She asked, “Or have you always been calm and Kind?”

“I’m flattered you think that” he smiled. That gorgeous smile. “The Captain of the guard had a son my age and we’d get up to all kinds of mischief. My favourite one was when we created a slip and slide in the palace corridors.”

“That does sound mighty fun.” She laughed

“It was until we broke a few fish tanks and there were all manner of creatures sliding along the corridor with us.”

“Oh no!” Elain gasped,

“Yes, we were not easily forgiven for that particular stunt.”

“And now? Do you find you have much time to get up to these antics now you’re High Lord?” before he could answer the song came to a finish. Perhaps she’d overstepped, she had no right to ask of his personal life, but all her worries were stilled as he said,

“I believe I promised you the best view from the castle.” Elain only nodded and took the High Lord’s hand before Winnowing her away.

——

“Wow.” It was the only word she was capable of saying.

“I told you,” he said. It was stunning, the sun was setting, and they had the perfect view watching it make its descent. But not only that she could feel, in her bones, the vastness of that ocean that laid below them. She could see the city of Adriata where other solstice festivities were gathering. Looked out on the ocean to see a multitude of boats also celebrating. The curve of the small beach and the caves and cliffs that stood high above the waters made Elain realise how Feyre felt the urge to paint. To capture such a beautiful moment would have been impossible though.

She didn’t know how long she had stood there. Just that she thought she could breathe in that sea air forever. She’d barely realised they stood on a balcony that she had no doubt were attached to the High Lord’s personal chamber. She’d almost forgot who she stood with. She looked back at him who was just watching her with unwavering attention. “To answer your question,” he said stepping beside her to lean against the railing, “Being High Lord has kept me busy and I haven’t yet found that work, life balance that comes so naturally to the others.” He confessed,

“I think you’re doing a remarkable job.” She said glancing down at his people who were joyously celebrating,

“Thank you,” he said so sincerely she thought her heart might break, “I do wish I had the time to do what I liked.”

“What’s occupying so much of your time?” She asked,

“Already trying to get Court secrets from me?” he said with an eyebrow raised, she knew he was joking but still -

“Not secrets, per se. Just if you wanted to share the burden, even just by talking, I’d be more than happy to shoulder it.” She’d never meant anything more in her life. She wanted to be there for him, to care for him. Shit, she was in deep already.

Elain looked up at him through those long lashes and he turned to her. She tried to figure out what lay in his eyes, if it was sadness or gratitude. The next thing she knew she was reaching up to his cheek, finally feeling that smoothness beneath her fingertips and brushing away a tear that had fallen from his eye. “My apologies,” he said with a small cough, “I wanted to show you this place because it’s special to me but here I am blubbering away.”

“Never apologise for that, Tarquin. You deserve the happiness of the world. It’s okay to dream.”

“And what do you dream of?”

“For a long time, I thought happiness could only lay in what I could do for others. I believe it will always be my calling to serve and help but I didn’t know who I was. So now I dream that I will never lose sense who I am, and that I’ll be able to help others on their journeys. I know it isn’t much.” She said,

“Elain, I wish I had your sense. It takes a lot to admit you need to find yourself and to do the things you love.”

“And what is it that you love?”

“I love being High Lord, truthfully. I dream of making big changes in my lifetime. I just sometimes wish it didn’t feel so lonely.” He looked into her eyes with that piercing gaze and Elain’s knees could have buckled, but she held strong. Her hands found their way to his face one more, and she didn’t know what had possessed her as she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his. Everything had gone so quiet; she swore she could hear the stars twinkling.

She pulled back slightly, the weight of what she had just done not quite crashing into her. She was about the open her mouth the apologise but she couldn’t as Tarquin took her in his arms and kissed her. Deeply and Soundly.

She tried to track his movements. She felt his hands around her waist like how they’d been when they’d danced. But they were trailing over her back now, over the embroidered flowers that were trailing along the back of her dress. She’d never been kissed like this before. Like they’d just wanted to devour her, and she did not mind it one bit.

Tarquin let out a small moan into her mouth when Elain had begun threading her fingers through his hair, pulling gently. She wanted that sound again, wanted to elicit every possible noise he could make. So, she did not complain as he’d walked her to the wall and pressed her against it. They were still outside, the sea air still making everything that much more intoxicating. All thoughts left her as he slid his thigh between her legs. She’d been with a Fae male once and it was good but this, this was something else. Another small moan escaped his throat when Elain began to rub that bundle of nerves along his thigh.

It was too much, but she needed more. She broke the kiss and looked at him, his breathing utterly ragged as he looked upon her face. They did not part, she thought that they might not be able to not with so much between them now. “Elain,” he said his voice a little more than a rasp, “I do not know what the future holds but I know you’re the most beautiful female I’ve laid my eyes on. And if I have misread anything please stop me before I completley ruin this.”

“Shh,” Elain said, before holding his face in her hands again and kissed him again. Not as intensely this time but it still felt otherworldly, “I think,” she said onto his lips, “That you are the most gorgeous male I’ve ever met.”

At that he picked her up and carried her through the balcony doors to the adjoining suite. She was right. His personal chambers. “Is this okay?” he asked as he walked towards his bed. It had been okay for a very long time. He could have taken her on that balcony for the entire city to see. To hear. She nodded and said, “Won’t you miss the ball?”

“I have everything I want right here.” He said before dipping his head to kiss her once more. He lowered her to the bed, and she found herself surrounded by gorgeously plush cushions and then the very welcome weight of Tarquin above her. “Tell me to stop.” He said gently,

“Please don’t stop.” she smiled with equal gentleness. And nothing. Nothing in the world could have prepared Elain, as the High Lord of the Summer Court began to make love to her.

[paperanddice]

Shabti

Shabti come to us from Egyptian religious beliefs about the dead and the afterlife. As the preservation of the body was incredibly important, with the belief that the deceased can only remain in the afterlife if their body is maintained, the shabti was a backup process at first. Small statues that were interred with the dead, they would act as the body if anything were to happen to the actual corpse. Later on they came to represent servants in the afterlife instead, and many would be buried so that the dead would have a full staff (401 being a common number, 365 that each work one day of the year and 36 to oversee the others for 10 days out of each year).

The Tome of Beasts take the servant aspect of the shabti, but alter them slightly. Real shabti were only a few inches tall, but these ones are human sized and would be interred in the tomb alongside their master to serve them. Given life and sapience, they just exist there, maintaining the tomb and protecting it against despoilers. Visiting the afterlife itself is beyond them.

Only the truly wealthy can afford even a single shabti to watch over their tomb. This has created a strange black market of substitute shabti, from temporarily animated manikins to clockwork replicas, but the most prized are true shabti stolen from their original tomb. While they are usually confused and angry, once installed in a new tomb and given instructions they usually fall back on their routines peacefully. Of course, if such a theft is found the original owner may return to reclaim their possession.

A band of warforged object to the creation of construct servants and begin large scale protest of the shabti forges. Political pressure begins building on both sides, as the ancient tradition means that potentially thousands of shabti remain scattered all over in tombs, and figuring out the particulars of their legal status turns into a massive legal battle. Attempts to bring in shabti to testify are difficult, as many lash out violently at any who even seek to speak to them, and even those who can be convinced to calm down are targets while on rout to court.

A mummy lord decides that she is tired of her tomb. After centuries of quiet slumber and self isolation, she uses magic to break the seals that have long kept out thieves and goes to explore how the world has changed. While many react in fear and confusion at her return, she’s largely non-violent for now and more interested in questioning those she comes across as to the current world situation. The same is less true of her shabti guardians, some of whom follow her for her own protection. They strike quickly against those who seem to be ready for violence, but their understanding of living beings are very rudimentary and out of date, and they tend to view every response except for servility to be hostile intent. They also consider the lord’s treasure hers no matter what, and even when she gives away or spends ancient gold they hunt down the recipient later to return it back to her vault.

#D&D #DND #Dungeons and Dragons #5th edition #D&D5e #Tome of Beasts #Kobold Press #monster

[pandemonshq]

Welcome, Nicky, please grab your stake on your way to your tumblr to play Draco Malfoy here at Pandemons. I think it’s no surprise to you that we adore your Draco: the marriage of convenience that still highlights the importance of family that every “good” Malfoy has, the Vampire Hunting, the fact that he’s still himself after all these years. ..

And, of course, your request for Alexander Skarsgård --present Fc and Austin Butler--past FC have been accepted.

Nicky’s application is being posted early due to her work on the game to get it up and running, and the relevance of Draco to the larger game plot. While Nicky is not a mod, her assistance made this game possible.

Out of Character Information

Name: Nicky Preferred Pronouns: she/her Age: over thirty O_o Timezone: EST Activity Level: Medium. I co-admin and participate in another roleplay, so depending on what is going on there in conjunction with the regular inconveniences of real life I may not have time to post responses every day, but I have absolutely no concerns that I will struggle to meet and indeed should regularly exceed the minimum requirement. I usually find Draco quite easy to write!

In Character Information

Character's Name: Draco Lucius Malfoy Bloodstatus: pure-blood Birthday: June 5, 1980

Gender and Sexuality: Transgender male, panromantic sex-positive asexual

Gender: 

Draco was six when he informed his parents that he was going to grow-up to be a wizard like daddy, not a witch like mummy. It took them a little time to be certain that their child really understood and meant what he was saying, but once they were convinced, his parents sprang into action to support their son: Lucius didn’t just contact the Daily Prophet to have an adjustment to Draco’s birth announcement printed, he took out a full-page ad. Narcissa sat her little boy down and poured-over lists of constellations with him to find what his new name would be (not that it took Draco long to select his -- “I can be a dragon? I want that one!”). They threw-away and purchased an entire new wardrobe for him (although it had never been the ribbons to which Draco had objected) and anyone who wasn’t quick enough to adjust to Draco’s new name got a painful hex for their lethargy (including Abraxas, once). It wasn’t so much acceptance that Draco got from his parents as adoration -- in all aspects. He was perfect; he could do no wrong. 

It wasn’t until he arrived at Hogwarts that Draco discovered that not everyone saw him through such idealized spectacles -- nor thought gender was as simple and straightforward a thing as the contents of a cauldron. For Draco, gender might as well have been synonymous with genitals, and swallowing a weekly dose of potion was all it took for him to go from girl to boy. The matter was closed...only it wasn’t. There were some people who thought the subject had far more nuance than that (one of the few subject on which he didn’t need losing a war to improve, at least) and then there were those who thought it had far less; who thought that there was no such thing as change. For the most part, they seemed to have come by those ideas from Muggle sources, which made both them and their words easy to dismiss -- mostly. Even a boy with as much blistering self-confidence (arrogance) as Draco is apt to find adolescence an uncertain, confusing time, and he was no exception; some barbs hurt even when you’re certain you don’t care. Having his dueling prowess questioned, his fashion-choices derided, his Quidditch skills discounted…all the things that, to Draco, meant masculinity. Not that witches couldn’t be great duelists or Quidditch players or fashion-plates, too; but Draco’s ideas of how to be a man were all modeled on his father. So to excel at “being a wizard” meant, for him, excelling at all the things at which Lucius excelled. (He was also always rather touchy about his name. He’d picked it himself, after all. It was the best name. His mother had said so!)

These days, Draco is far too used to simply being taken for a wizard to fret; it’s not as though he regularly goes around socializing with backwards-Muggle-thinkers, is it? (Not that all Mudb--Muggle-borns are backwards-thinkers! Some of them have done quite well at getting over their upbringing, and are quite indistinguishable from other wix now! He’s not bigoted anymore, you know!) He no longer focuses on mimicking his father in order to be a “proper” wizard -- in part because he’s grown more comfortable with himself as he grew-up, in part because exposure to the world beyond the immediate circle of his parents taught him that there’s more than one way to be a wizard, in part because an ex-Death Eater has more difficult things with which to grapple...and in part because the pedestal on which Lucius once stood in his son’s eyes has sagged a bit. Now instead of trying to trace anyone else’s footsteps, Draco is simply himself -- and learning to live with that was hard because of his choices and his mistakes, not his gender. Having anyone question his masculinity now on the basis that he takes a periodic dose of the Attisgalli Corrective Draught to maintain a physical form that suits his inner self would be less outrageous than baffling.

*NOTE: Draco is likely to express things about gender in outdated terminology because of his unfamiliarity with the Muggle world. However if this would make anyone uncomfortable please let me know (on-anon is fine!) because I will happily compromise a fiddly little bit of world building for the sake of my fellow players’ comfort!

Sexuality: 

Perhaps the one area in which Draco actually disappointed his father: he’s just not interested in sex. He doesn’t have anything against it; it’s just not something that motivates him, not something he thinks about unless someone else brings it up first. (Sort of like beets. He has no objection to eating them, and sometimes they can be genuinely delicious, but he’s never gone out of his way for a serving of beets.) That disinterest is what killed his relationship with Pansy (well, that and the fact that Draco had no idea they were dating in Pansy’s mind!) because all her offers and innuendos passed right over his head; he tends to take physical affection on face value and flirtation registers to him as simple banter. Lucius “blames” himself, lamenting that it was his distraction and absence at a crucial stage of his son’s development that left Draco’s “interests stunted.” Draco doesn’t understand the fuss; he’s perfectly happy the way he is and, frankly, given the vast drop in social popularity that the Malfoys faced after the war, it’s probably just as well that his interests are “stunted” because his prospects certainly were.

Former Hogwarts House: Slytherin -- sorted nearly the second the hat touched his head because of course he was, he was Draco Lucius Malfoy, last heir to both the Malfoy and Black families, and the scion of two of the purest lines in all of magical Britain and absolutely guaranteed to do great things!

Infection:

( No. Although I think it would be a fun potential plot to have him be infected either temporarily or permanently later! Actually I feel like “temporary infections” should be a regular effect of his vampire slaying efforts, since he’s likely to be exposed through that! )

Faceclaim: Alexander Skarsgård--present. Austin Butler--past.

Short HeadCanon Topics (please provide at least one paragraph per topic)

Occupation (title and one paragraph explanation): 

None...technically. Malfoys don’t need jobs, after all, so it should surprise no one that Draco hasn’t got one -- and it’s not as though he’s in a position where he can dabble in politics the way his father (and his father, and his father) did, is he? No, Draco has no job, only hobbies...

Or some might say, obsessions. One, actually: vampires. Draco Malfoy is a vampire hunter, possibly the first proper vampire hunter in over a hundred years. There hadn’t been a need for any in ages; vampires and wix had learned to co-exist long ago. Vampires had never really been accepted as ordinary people -- but they’d been fashionably exotic creatures, not scorned like half-giants or distrusted like goblins. The Malfoys in particular had been happy to socialize with (and take the money of) vampires, particularly back in the day; after Voldemort’s firstrise it became less acceptable for pure-blood wix to associate with any groups of non-wix unless they were serving the Dark Lord as well -- and vampires never did. Even as werewolves let themselves be courted and giants agreed to be bought, vampires kept their distance. So the Malfoys drifted away from them...

Until now. Until Astoria’s infection.

At first, Draco’s sole focus was in curing her -- and he hasn’t abandoned that hope. But as time passed and all his best efforts came to naught, those hopes have dwindled to a sort of cold, shriveled desperation. He still brews-up the occasional draught; still pieces-together scraps of old spells in hopes that something, some day, will save her...but that’s not his sole focus any longer. For a long time after the war, none of the Malfoys looked beyond the gates of the manor to the world outside -- but Scorpius is out there, now. He’s attending Hogwarts, moving through the world. Someday he’s going to grow-up and want to find a place for himself beyond the manor’s walls -- and like Lucius before him, Draco is determined to make that world as safe as possible for his child. Unlike Lucius, it’s not the tenuous (and perhaps somewhat exaggerated) threat of Muggles that Draco hopes to stem: it’s vampires, and the ever-increasing rate of infection among the magical world.

For a long time, he’s been fighting this quiet war alone in the dark. Who was he going to turn to for help, after all? Certainly not the Ministry of Magic! If Draco Malfoy walked in their doors talking about the dangers of a group of non-wix, he’d be lucky to just be ushered-away with a lecture on prejudice! No, he’s had to do this by himself -- but maybe not for much longer? Maybe things have finally gotten bad enough for someone else to notice...but will they want Draco’s help, expert though he has become on the subject? Maybe it’s still better for him to go this alone.

Marital Status/Ships: 

(tl;dr - Draco loves Astoria but they aren’t together like that and fidelity isn’t a requirement of their marriage anyway; someone else would have to make the first several dozen moves before he would notice being flirted at, though! READ MORE)

Married to Astoria Greengrass. One might think it would be difficult for a lesbian witch to be married to a panro-ace wizard, but their marriage was never about romance. Yes, Draco very much considers Astoria someone he loves -- but what kind of love? Even he wouldn’t be able to answer that question, especially not these days. Astoria’s current state of vampiric infection makes her...strange. The guilt of not being able to cure her eats away at him too, and affects his every interaction with her. He’s an expert potioneer; why can’t he fix this? She’s his wife, why can’t he save her? His parents managed to keep each other (more or less) safe throughout two wars and a volatile Dark Lord; how could he be so inferior as to be unable to save his spouse from some stupid infection? An infection over which his mother initially wanted Astoria banished from the home, incidentally -- marking one of the few times when Draco has actually vehemently disagreed with Narcissa Malfoy. (One of the others was when he took the Dark Mark; he hopes that this doesn’t turn out like that but sometimes on the worst days, he wonders if his mother was right and keeping Astoria at home is dangerous -- possibly for their son!?) But infected or not, unclean or not, Draco knows he will always love Astoria.

That doesn’t mean he’s sleeping with her, though -- or that he wouldn’t sleep with someone else. Fidelity was never considered an integral part of a successful marriage in his social circles; indeed, a couple that spends so much time in one another’s beds as his parents do is the oddity rather than the norm. (Not that the two of them, especially Lucius, haven’t visited a number of other beds in their time, sometimes apart and sometimes together -- but Draco never found it nearly as entertaining as some of his friends back at Hogwarts did to talk about that.) A dalliance or even a love affair -- or a dozen -- on either his part or Astoria’s wouldn’t impact how Draco thinks about his wife or their marriage at all. Why would it? If he wasn’t something of a social pariah, he probably would have had a dozen little affairs by now -- but it’s not like he cares enough to miss the lack either (only even thinks about it when his father starts lamenting Draco’s lack of interesting experiences). It’s just the sort of thing one expects, that’s all. Of course, these days Draco’s a bit preoccupied, and hunting down vampires doesn’t leave a lot of time for dalliances...but if that leaves his bed a bit cold, it’s not something he’s ever noticed. 

MultiParagraph or Multi Point Topics

Family: 

Nothing matters more to Draco. Growing up, he idolized his parents and thought them perfect; his father was Draco’s model for idealized wizarding masculinity and Draco was determined to follow in his footsteps in every way. Even now, having been brought (quite painfully) face-to-face with their flaws and failings, he still adores and admires them. Not only did they always dote on him (maybe more than they should have) but during the war they proved over and over that they were each of them willing to die for his sake without hesitation -- something that was more than enough to erase any potential resentment he might have felt at having been forced into such misery by their choices. Yes, these days he knows that there are things they were wrong about -- but he still trusts their judgement in most areas, still values their opinion. Still loves them. They made it through a war together on the strength of that love; in these dark days, he still draws comfort from it.

The most important person in Draco’s life today isn’t his parents, though, or even his wife; it’s Scorpius, his precious son and only child. Growing-up in a house with four doting adults and little in the way of child companions meant that Scorpius’s childhood was never lonely but also did little to prepare him for peer socialization. He was always precociously clever; these days he qualifies as an unabashed swot and a distinct introvert. While he has the customary Malfoy sharp silver tongue, he substitutes defensive insecurity for swagger and brittle pride for arrogance. His recent appointment to Chaser on his house team has helped him build a few tentative bridges to his housemates, but his closest friends remain fellow Slytherin Albus Potter and Albus’s cousin, Rose Granger-Weasley. They aren’t the friends that Draco would have chosen for his son, but he has come to appreciate them deeply for the support and affection they offer Scorpius. (Even if Draco still tries to have as little to do with their families as possible.) 

Draco’s affection for his son was always torn in two directions: wanting to give him anything and everything that would make him happy, and wanting to raise Scorpius to be a better person than he ever was himself. The latter did result in more than a few lectures (much more than a few) but that didn’t mean Draco wasn’t still an indulgent parent and Scorpius did indeed receive just about anything he ever asked for, materially. Draco would give his son everything he wanted, if he could -- but even his best efforts can’t cure Scorpius’s mother.

Scorpius was only four when Astoria was infected; when Astoria changed. Sometimes she still seems like herself (less and less each year, though -- or is that just in Draco’s head?) and they can all pretend that everything is fine; others...well. Draco has explained to Scorpius many times that the things his mother thinks she sees aren’t real. (Probably.) That he shouldn’t listen to them, worry about them. And Scorpius says he understands...but Scorpius was four and she’s his mum. While he doesn’t tell his father, he secretly believes every word that comes from his mother’s mouth. He thinks of her less as a Seer and more of a prophet, different from everyone else’s mother yes -- but special-different, not worse. He doesn’t talk about those thoughts to anyone, even Albus and Rose (maybe it would be better if he did; maybe someone could explain things to him better now that he’s older) but instead he nods seriously at all his father’s admonishments and his grandparents’ words of caution...and then goes and listens to his mother anyway.

It probably won’t lead to disaster. His mother would never hurt him, after all -- never tell him anything she’s seen that might lead him to do something dangerous. Not on purpose, anyway.

Childhood/Hogwarts: 

(I’m going to go short on this part because A: I’ve rambled far more than I should have elsewhere and B: we know a lot of this from the books already, so if there’s any part of this I can get away with truncating to compensate for the rest, it’s this!)

Draco was a bully and a bigot and a brat; there’s no denying this. He was spoiled absolutely rotten, and it showed. He also genuinely loved his parents, and they loved him back, although perhaps not always in the most healthy of ways (see: aforementioned spoiling). He had a very good childhood, although school wasn’t as great as he’d expected -- for one thing, stupid Harry Potter didn’t want to be his friend even though he was clearly the coolest person in the whole castle, and for another this horrible Mudblood kept outscoring him in everything. (Potter even managed to out-cheat him at Quidditch every time!) But otherwise, everything was more or less okay -- until the Dark Lord came back, and it all fell apart. Draco went from being a pampered little prince to sobbing in the loo with only a dead girl for company; his two best friends stopped believing in him; Harry Potter nearly killed him; he nearly killed a lot of other people; and then when his favorite teacher finally got appointed headmaster it still didn’t make things better. In the end, despite all of Draco’s efforts he really accomplished nothing. He didn’t decide the outcome of the war; all he did was lose a friend and somehow make it out alive with his parents by the skin of their collective teeth, forgotten and ignored by everyone around them. In the end, he came to nothing and had to count himself lucky for it.

Post Hogwarts: (TW: brief mention of self harm, addiction! Also mentions of other characters that may-or-may-not be considered “game canon” based on discussion with whomever eventually comes to play said characters!) 

Draco knows he’s luckier than he deserves, him and his parents. By rights, all three of them should probably be in Azkaban...but they aren’t. The trials they faced at the end of the war were long, grueling, and humiliating (crying in front of the entire Wizengamot is not an experience that Draco recommends to anyone) and the worst part was that Draco spent the entire process certain that he was going to Azkaban; he only made the effort of testifying with as much honesty and detail as he did because he hoped that his mother, the only one of them not to take the Dark Mark, might be spared incarceration if both he and his father told all they knew. His parents were doing the same thing, largely in hopes of sparing their son from Azkaban -- but fortunately for the Malfoys, what they knew far outweighed what they’d actually done...mostly because they hadn’t actually accomplished much. (If Lucius’s crimes from the first war had been included, things might have gone differently…) Draco failed at just about everything he tried, Lucius had spent most of the war either locked-away or wandless at the Dark Lord’s side, and Narcissa had been “protected” from having to take much action by the combination of her husband’s shame and her sister’s enthusiasm. And then, of course, there was Harry Potter -- surprising witness for the defense. There was no love lost between Draco and his very first enemy, but Harry nonetheless spoke-up for the Malfoys: Narcissa had lied to the Dark Lord, Draco had kept quiet when he recognized them, and Harry had seen through Voldemort’s own eyes that they had not been willing servants -- not by the end, anyway. Somehow, all of that had been enough to spare them…

At least from prison. Public opinion was another matter, so the Malfoys murmured their gratitude, paid their fines, and slunk away behind the walls of their mournful manor, all three of them -- and the house -- much reduced in pride and splendor. Draco spent the next few years wallowing in guilt and nightmares, repeatedly failing to carve the Dark Mark out of his arm, and worrying his parents. Highlights include: a short but bitter confrontation with Gregory Goyle at Vincent Crabbe’s tombstone (not that there was a body to bury, but tradition had to be maintained), a bewildering letter from Pansy regretfully breaking-up with him for the sake of her own future chances (had they been dating?), and a lengthy addiction to Dreamless Sleep Potion (he hadn’t even known you could get addicted to Dreamless Sleep, let alone that repeated doses made it toxic! At least he learned something interesting about potions in the process…). The last thing anyone expected was a wedding to brighten things up, but then again people -- Draco included --  had always underestimated Astoria Greengrass.

Draco, in fact, barely knew who she was -- just the little sister of one of Pansy’s friends whom he knew dimly from school. She certainly made an impression, though, going from introduction to proposal in less than five minutes. It wasn’t romance she was pitching, of course, but a more traditional sort of marriage -- an arrangement of convenience. Draco needed an heir to the family line, she wanted the comforts of wealth and the resources to pursue her interests somewhere no one would bother her (and with access to the right kind of supplies and resources, so she could avoid repeating her Aunt Pandora’s unfortunate fate). The Malfoys needed a dose of respectability, and the Greengrasses were solid middle class pure-bloods who had never been accused of more than peripheral brushes with the Dark Arts. They both stood to gain -- and outliers like Draco’s parents notwithstanding, wasn’t that what all successful marriages were really based on? Certainly in the world in which Draco had been socialized, they were; his parents had always been viewed with bemused confusion for how deeply besotted they were with one another. Marrying Astoria wasn’t an act of passion or romance -- but it made sense. What didn’t make sense to Draco was how easy it was to fall into friendship with the stubborn witch -- but he wasn’t going to complain.

He was happy, which wasn’t something he’d ever expected to feel again after the age of sixteen. And they had a son. Scorpius was the best thing that ever happened to Draco, far better than he deserved -- but he wasn’t going to complain about that, either. One of the many painful lessons he’d learned over the course of his lifetime of mistakes was how to be happy with what he had, and he couldn’t imagine anything better than Scorpius anyway. It wasn’t the sort of “perfect life” he’d anticipated when he was young and foolish -- but it was good.

Until it wasn’t. When Astoria’s magical tinkering left her infected with vampirism ten years ago, the happy illusion of a happily-ever-after fell apart. Draco dove into research, trying to brew a cure -- but nothing worked. He dug deeper, delving into all the family’s information on their pre-Voldemort vampiric connections and then branching-out, calling in the few family favors people were still willing to (or too scared not to) repay and exploring every shabby shop that dealt with the Dark Arts that he could find. He didn’t discover a cure; he did discover that Astoria wasn’t the only recent case of vampiric infection.

Current: 

Draco Malfoy never set out to save anyone but his own family. Unfortunately for Draco’s selfish nature, one of the things he’s learned over the last ten years is that the only way to save Astoria may involve sticking his neck out for other people, too. (Or maybe that’s just the excuse he gives himself. Maybe his pursuit of the vampires who are infecting his world, his home, is more about vengeance than salvation at this point.) That dosen’t mean it’s something that comes naturally to him, or something he likes.

Case in point: he hasn’t bothered to try and convince the wider Wizarding World that they ought to be worried, proactive -- because frankly if he did, who would listen? No, better to keep it to himself because that way at least no one is trying to stop him. Not that such a quest can be a solitary pursuit: one needs resources, information, occasionally even “allies” of a sort (mostly the sort that can be bought with money and favors, not loyalty). Fortunately Draco still has money and the one thing the Malfoy name can still buy aside from gold is favors and connections with those who walk the edges of the Dark Arts (and lower). Not that most of those favors or connections are as open-armed as they once were (turning your back on a Dark Lord and helping to testify against all your old friends so they go to prison while you go free doesn’t do much to endear oneself to anyone) but Draco doesn’t really care if people are grudging or reluctant or downright insulting so long as they do or give him what he needs. This mission isn’t about saving his reputation or restoring the family name; those wistful daydreams evaporated ten years ago. Now he doesn’t even waste time on the hope that Scorpius may be able to redeem their name enough to make a future for himself that isn’t overshadowed by the family’s past; these days, just keeping things from falling apart further is all he can ask.

Of course, he’s doing more than just sitting at home trying to hold his family together. Yes, he spends as much as he can with them -- his son, especially, although that happens less these days now that Scorpius is off at school for months at a time -- but he’s got his mission, too, which can keep him out of the house for days at a time (especially now that Scorpius is at Hogwarts, although with his parents living in the other wing of the manor even when Scorpius was young and Astoria was having a particularly bad day he didn’t have to worry about leaving them alone). There’s nowhere Draco won’t go in his pursuit both of the horrible creatures that are spreading this infection and the knowledge he seeks to cure it -- although it’s certainly easier to get around Knockturn Alley than the halls of the Ministry of Magic, for a Malfoy! He hesitates to involve his son, but on rare occasion he may even ask Scorpius to check something for him in the Hogwarts library, but doing so leaves him sickened at the thought that someone might see and wonder why so he ignores that resource perhaps more often than he should. There’s nothing else he won’t do in his quest, however...even knowing that he ought to be more prudent. It would be awful if the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were to turn suspicious eyes on him, after all -- but he can’t just do nothing, can he?

And maybe, deep down, there’s part of him who still thinks he can get away with it. After all, no matter how repentant he is -- how much he’s changed, how much the way the world views him has changed -- he is still, at heart, Draco Malfoy.

Plots:

#1. The Potters and the Weasleys -- and everyone else whom Draco called “enemy” (or “blood-traitor” or “filthy mudblood” etc) for his entire childhood. Where do they stand now? What happens when they have to work together? When they have to take his word for the things he knows, the expertise he’s accumulated? When he’s the one who knows how to save somebody, not them? When he’s the one fighting the “forces of darkness” while they sat back in ignorant safety as the world quietly shattered around them? Will they be practical about it, will they trust him? Will they be gracious or stubborn, convinced that there are some Marks that can’t be washed away? Will he be an ass? (Almost definitely -- but to what level?)  There’s likely been very little interaction between Draco and most of these people over the last twenty years -- but does that mean the mental scars have softened? How much infected blood does it take to clear away all the blood under the bridge that’s flowed between all of them? I’m looking forward to Draco having to face all the people he’s been avoiding -- and for them to have to (or refuse to) face the fact that this time, he might be on the right side...or is he? In a world where vampirism is becoming more and more common, at what point does a vampire hunter stop being a protector and start becoming the monster? Is Draco once again going to find himself -- this time with the best of intentions -- labeled the bad guy?

#2. Luna Lovegood. She’s more than just “another member of the D.A.” to Draco; she’s the girl who was locked-up in the cellar of his home for months, the girl he was forced more than once to torture. He never thought much about Loony Lovegood before then (she was easy to make fun of, sure, and he’d do so if the opportunity walked in front of him, but she wasn’t someone he was interested enough in to go out of his way to bully her -- he had better targets for that!) but she’s featured regularly in his guilty nightmares ever since. The fact that he later married her cousin just made things more convoluted -- although thankfully the Greengrasses and the Lovegoods had never really had anything to do with one another… Basically: I would love to explore some kind of dynamic with Draco and Luna! Has he been successfully avoiding her since 1998? Did Astoria invite her estranged family to the wedding? Do they run into each other in the shops sometimes -- Draco trying to turn invisible, Luna waving politely? Maybe he tried to apologize once and Luna made him squirm by shrugging it off -- oh well it’s not like you wanted to do it, is it? I could tell that quite well, you’re not a very good liar are you? Anyway, why would I blame you for what Voldemort made you do to me? That doesn’t seem sensible at all...why are you making that face? Have you swallowed a wrackspurt? -- and now every time he sees her, he tries to run the other way out of fears that she’ll be nice. Or maybe she’s not nice. Luna doesn’t seem the grudge-holding sort...but if anything were going to teach her how, surely the Cruciatus Curse would do it! Maybe she doesn’t wave; maybe she scowls until he slithers away, cringing in impotent repentance. Maybe he even tried investing in The Quibbler -- paying to restore the damage the Death Eaters and Hermione had done to the printing press and her father’s home -- as recompense, and Luna threw the money back in his face...or maybe he now, quite unintentionally, owns a “share” of The Quibbler. Something that Pansy and Blaise would probably never stop laughing about if they knew… I don’t know, there are so many options for what direction to take things with the two of them! I’d love to explore ANY.

#3: Infection. This one’s more just for “me” but I love the idea of still-rather-bigoted Draco Malfoy having to cope not just with the fact that his wife has been infected with vampirism (something he mostly did with a lot of denial and cognitive dissonance tbh) but himself, too. In his “career” as a vampire hunter, he must have encountered a few instances of contamination -- nothing permanent, nothing where the blood went both ways -- but temporary infections? Oh, certainly! I expect the first time absolutely tore him to shreds, emotionally. He’s Draco Malfoy. He’s the purest of the pure. How could he be infected? Inconceivable, insupportable! He’d never recover, never be the same -- only he did recover. And then what choice did he have but to keep going? Each time, I think he’s more sickened by the facts than he is by the symptoms themselves; by the fact that he’s been tainted by something impure. And each time he picks himself back up after and keeps going -- but eventually the toll is going to tell. (Either that, or he’ll have to come to terms with the fact that all blood-purity is nonsense, not just the idea that Muggle-borns have “lesser” magic.) Whether this breaks him down or builds him up better, I’m interested to explore this painful process of involuntary self-discovery!

Other:

Attisgalli Corrective Draught -- a gender reassignment potion designed for use by the entire Potterverse fandom. Offered here both as extra detail on what potion Draco takes, and for anyone else who might want to make use of it either as-is or as inspiration for their own creations!

+Fashion Headcanon: The featureless black school robes and ubiquitous pointed hats were a blessing to Draco, although he didn’t realize it at first; he’d grown-up used to his father’s flamboyant style of dress, and the dullness of the Hogwarts student body was wearying...until he started to realize that there were some wix who didn’t think it suitable for a wizard to dress like that. His father didn’t, wouldn’t have, cared; Draco found it a more troubling perspective. (Of course broad-shouldered, boisterous, assigned-male-at-birth Lucius’s masculinity had never been doubted by anyone; even those who despised him or dismissed him as a vain and foppish fool never thought he wasn’t a wizard.) The plain black robes were easier...safer. They didn’t require any thought; didn’t have room for any self-expression that might make a statement. On the one hand, Draco wanted to swagger into a room like his father would have, peacock feathers trailing from his shoulders and glittering gemstones in his hair, grinning in arrogant superiority...but on the other, he didn’t want to be teased for being too girly. (Not after discovering that that was a thing some people said about things.) His fourth year at school was the hardest: starting your very first day of classes by being turned into a ferret and humiliated in front of half the student body would have shaken anyone’s confidence. The fact that things were unsettled at home didn’t help; his father was more distracted than Draco had ever seen him before, and mother was little better, both of them fretting over the impending return of the Dark Lord and trying (and succeeding, then) to keep their son from thinking that would be anything but a good thing. Maybe if Draco had been more open with his parents about his emotional struggles...but he was at a stage of trying to seem grown-up. To prove they didn’t need to baby him anymore. (To prove that he was ready to help the Dark Lord, too.) So he kept quiet...and had them send him a different, plainer set of dress robes for the Yule Ball instead of the flamboyant, Lucius-approved concoction of dripping blue silk and pearl beading that he’d meant to wear initially. Draco felt safer in the plain (but impeccable!) black -- a feeling that never went away. Even today he prefers understated elegance, dark colors that don’t draw the eye; prefers clothing that is protective in its coverage -- high collars and tall boots (the sole concession he makes to modern fashions is to allow the skirts of his robes to sometimes lift enough to show calves and even knees, albeit always suitably clad in hose or tights or trousers; he’s not a barbarian) and of course: long sleeves. No one outside the family has seen past Draco’s wrists in over twenty years and, if Draco has his way, no one ever will.

#harry potter roleplay #new lsrpg #lsrpg #lsrp #draco malfoy #urinfected

[theonyxpath]

Matthew Dawkins here, with Meghan Fitzgerald’s Maa-Kep draft for Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition! Enjoy!

Maa-Kep

Shadow of Pillars

Spies, Junta, Dapifers

We would never say we know better, of course. It’s just that not taking our advice would be a mistake.

I listened closely while he spoke. The people would love him, he said. They would offer their loyalty gladly, and in exchange they would gain power over their own fates. All it would take was a revolution, guns and fists raised high in silhouette against the orange blaze that would light up the night and banish tyranny. I could see his passion, his dedication. His logic was sound. His preparations were prudent. Even now, I laud his efforts.

He looked up from his maps and schedules to beam a smile my way. He cut a handsome figure, there in the candlelight, and I admit his plan had merit. It was a temptation, as surely as any convincing bait ever is. I smiled, too.

“So,” he said, “what do you think? Will it work?”

“It would have,” I assured him. “It would have worked very well, were it not for one fatal flaw.”

“What’s that?” he asked, concern writ plain in his bright eyes.

“You told it to me.”

Tradition of the Amulet

The relics of the Maa-Kep are protective talismans, badges of office, engraved emblems that declare something to be true, and unobtrusive seals that can hold back power, carry it, or transfer it from place to place. Worn or mounted, they passively soak in magic and secrets. Like their amulets, the Maa-Kep are subtle protectors and preservers of ideas and ideals, those who quietly move power from hand to hand or rein it in when it needs limiting for the greater good. They serve quietly but never let anyone forget how important they are. They absorb information, only doling it out when and to whom they believe it’s warranted. They’re the secret police of the Arisen, and the beat they walk is all of civilization. They shepherd ideological purity; sometimes those ideas come from the Judges, sometimes from the mortals the mummies guide, and sometimes from their own meret’s priorities.

Magnanimous in Victory, Blameless in Defeat

Maa-Kep rarely take the spotlight themselves, instead gathering information and then reporting it to someone else who will do the forward-facing work for them. This is partially because they believe to take credit is to disrespect their place as tools and useful right hands, passed down to them from the Judges and the Shan’iatu. It’s also for plausible deniability in case something goes wrong. It’s not that they throw their friends under the bus, it’s just that it’s easier to smooth things over later when they’re not the ones catching the heat. They’re loyal to their leaders but unafraid to speak truth to power — if only behind closed doors. They shape civilization around them by forever making corrections and adjustments to everything and everyone, whether with one quiet word or with a brute force tool — like a fellow mummy or a well-armed cult.

Foundations

In Irem, the Dapifers were originally a collection of middle managers — slave drivers, overseers, and convoy masters. They gradually made themselves indispensable, demonstrating their dedication to making sure Irem’s caravans ran on time and their understanding of the inner workings of empire. The Shan’iatu eventually recognized the guild’s potential to be so much more, and elevated the Maa-Kep to act as secret police whose true purpose was hidden from the other guilds. They preserved the ideological purity of Irem, making sure no one strayed from the path to glory and conquest in the gods’ names.

The Wheel Turns

The guild’s secret duty didn’t stay hidden forever; by the time of the Rite of Return, the others knew why the Spies had been chosen. Their fellow mummies don’t always remember it, though. Having a Maa-Kep in the meret is a slow pendulum swinging between trust and suspicion, as her comrades rediscover her covert goals over and over again; but by the time they remember, she’s always made herself too damn useful to ignore. To this day, it’s gauche to talk about it in polite company, and usually the meret’s cults other than the Maa-Kep’s itself aren’t in the know even once the Arisen remember. To those who don’t, the Junta are valued advisors and scouts, playing the roles of coordinator, majordomo, surveillant, appraiser, and yes, spy — it’s just that few realize this spy is always a double agent, even if it’s for their own good. (Usually.)

Maa-Kep are kingmakers and internal affairs agents, watchdogs and stewards. They are project managers who support their merets and cults, rooting out incompetence, corruption, and untrustworthy sorts. They watch over their allies but also constantly evaluate them. To those who do remember their purpose, a Dapifer is all those things as well as the conductor who guides the meret’s train along the rails and keeps everybody else in line. Some appreciate it; some resent it; and many feel differently depending on the Descent.

The Maa-Kep’s cults are extensions of themselves by way of surveillance, information gathering, and spreading out like a web of eyes and ears with the mummy at its center. The Junta are men in black and spymasters, but also keen investigators with cults full of detectives and journalists, and mysterious strangers who waltz into someone’s life, help him out for no apparent reason, then vanish into the ether — arranging people and events on a grand scale humans can’t see. They’re not the ones who give a man a fish; they’re the ones who teach him to fish by writing the manual and having minions leave it conspicuously on his desk without ever talking to him, watching him from across the street with binoculars while he reads it, and then expecting him to do it right.

Once, the Dapifers weren’t the ones with the big picture vision, instead enforcing that of the Shan’iatu. They were content with that… but the Shan’iatu aren’t around anymore. The Maa-Kep view themselves as the Shan’iatu’s true successors because they enshrine Irem’s highest ideals. They know how things are really supposed to be done, and how to make sure they’re done that way. The less they remember or care about their original mandates, the more they build their own versions of the grand vision in their minds and enforce those. They insist it’s what the Judges want — who better to keep the seats warm for the great sorcerers than the ones who stood by their right hands so long ago?

As Sothis Ascends

A Maa-Kep deals with immortality by resting assured she can rely on her powers of observation and knowledge-gathering to catch her up on anything she forgets or misses, and by staying focused on the minutiae. She can’t contemplate the existential dread of knowing she’ll probably outlive the human race if she’s busy micromanaging everyone else and poking her nose into their business 24/7. She might miss old friends, but at least she got to know them better than anyone else did — probably better than they knew themselves. Thus, they live on in her.

The patterns the Spies see and perpetuate in the world are those of behavior, relationships, and philosophies. They track the principles every society values and how it maintains its high road, or falls from it into a subversion or even perversion of its purported ideals. They understand how civilizations rise and fall by the integrity of their beliefs, their dedication compared to their hypocrisy, and how well their people work together.

Starfall

A Junta turns her back on the Judges because she sees what she believes is a flaw in the gods’ plans or comes to believe that something has corrupted even those lords of Duat. Those who grow to resent their servitude don’t do so because they hate the concept of serving, but because they feel they’re not being utilized to their full potential, they’re being ordered to uphold an impure idea, or their elegant work is stymied by frustrating obstacles beyond their control. Others fall to corruption themselves, losing faith in their purpose after standing vigil for so long or craving the spotlight after lifetimes of hiding in the shadows.

Vessels: Amulets

Who We Are

Internal affairs officer in a metropolitan police department, monitoring society’s dedication to its ideals through its law enforcement

Deep-cover espionage agent, collecting intelligence about cultures and nations around the world and only reporting back what will push her employers to act the way she wants them to

Project manager at a large company, raking in money so the cult can donate large sums to ideologically desirable groups

Butler and house manager for a rich and bustling estate belonging to another Arisen and consisting of generations of a dynasty cult

Trusted advisor to an influential politician or crime lord, whispering and nudging to influence governments, underworlds, or both

Beyond the Shadow of Pillars

Mesen-Nebu: You make an excellent vanguard, even if your materialistic streak makes you a bit of an embarrassment. We’d never say so to your face, though.

Sesha-Hebsu: Without you, many valuable secrets would be lost. Without us, your judgments would ring hollow.

Su-Menent: Curb your worst impulses, my friend. Your work is important, but not as important as you think it is.

Tef-Aabhi: It’s an intricate dance we weave, isn’t it? We both have long memories, but yours are so much more reliable. Pity, that.

Wadjet-Itja: One day, we’ll dig up the secret of how you managed your chicanery, and on that day, you’ll wish you never pretended at immortality.

#Onyx Path Publishing

[postpunkpontypandyphantomthief]

3rd Comedy Monologue

“Do any of you remember Rugrats?”

“The 90s cartoon about talking babies that went on adventures”

“Yeah well you know Angelica the whiny,spoiled character?”

“I actually kind of liked her maybe it’s because I related to her when I was little or maybe it’s because I liked how cool she was she was able to tell the babies about stuff they didn’t know about, playing a part in their imagination.”

Anyways speaking of children,they’re alright and they are usually one of the following

“Mummy Daddy why do they get to pick a sweet not me what did I do?”

“Waaaa I want that I want that”

“Hi there, do you want to play?

“Your good at art,I couldn’t draw like that”

“Thank you young soul you are too pure for this world”

Me on the other hand,was a whinging cowardly little sod

Now I’m not a child anymore but I am still mistaken as one

Yeah,that happens

17/18 years old,old enough to vote,old enough to drive,old enough to move house & old enough to realise my phases of being a tory “skeptic” were pointless

Yet sometimes people still think I’m someone who likes ice-cream,toys and video games

Well I mean I do like those things I’m sure some of you like those things too

We are children at heart but physically and mentally we evolve and learn with time

I’ll be an young adult,and I love it I might not have a place of my own yet but I love being able to learn new things and see new places I couldn’t see when I was a kid.

Then again my teenhood wasn’t that good either because I had a developmental condition that made me different than others mentally,my interests were very intense and I got panic feelings when around crowds or in difficult situations

My primary school classmates liked JLS,Partying and other things that I didn’t like or couldn’t do

While now I’m warming up to certain things I’m still happy I didn’t like JLS.

I on the other hand, liked the sims 3,dolls,the 1980s,old cartoons and films.

So...a game where you become God,plastic models,the age of neon graphic design, and innovative video games and...yeah that hasn’t changed has it?

Well I don’t play the sims anymore,my laptop has no cd rom drive,I used up the data on my old one, from downloads I’d buy from the exchange store

Sims also was one of the few things that got me into my “emo” phase

I’d be looking at sims videos on youtube they’d usually be very sad and in the background there’d be evanescence,my chemical romance or avril lavigne

I’d be sitting at the back of the living room at a gathering and I’d be listening to Sims 2 sad story part 1 because it had good music. I later learned the names and that I was a bit of a goth,a emo,a metalhead because I liked gothic and j-metal any of that.

Dolls…..

now this was embarrassing I’m sure we all have those songs where as soon as you hear them you feel a film reel of negative memories return. For me that was

Barbie Girl by Aqua, weird because aqua are a good band,but that song oh that song it was so annoying

Picture this

Someone in their final primary school years, who still collects dolls,

Now!  Would you ignore that or would you use that outdated song as a way to mock them because they were still enjoying a thing, meant for children.

I received the latter,because of that when I’d hear people sing that song simply just because they liked it I’d get confused and offended a similar thing happened with my little pony

I used to sing and perform for people in the playgrounds other times I’d keep to myself

I loved my little pony before the new wave I loved rewatching episodes of the old 80s mlp series of goblins,witches and giants...oops that was a different show I was describing there

And one of the songs I’d perform was the original theme song

My Little Pony~ My Little Pony~

What will today’s adventure be?

My Little Pony…My Little Pony

Will there be exciting sights to see?

Nope to some of my primary school audience the lyrics were

“My little pony skinny and boney”

*sarcastic deadpan laugh*

Ha ha ha,  

Then again I wasn’t much better

I used to make youtube videos with those “dolls”

They weren’t very good

They had bad editing and barely any plot beyond badly structured fourth wall jokes

Yet I wanted the whole internet to know about them even if they weren’t interested

I was a easy target and while I did get tired of that,change interests and go into a different fandom direction

Some things were still the same

I was still cowardly,weak and timid and that was a problem

I was always following others,I didn’t make my decisions often,because of the condition and my own loneliness I couldn’t do things other teenagers could.

I never had a sleepover,I never had a crush that wasn’t one-sided and I didn’t have much independence

Even when I did have “friends” those friends I would later learn were not nice making me believe I had wasted years that I couldn’t get back.

On...the topic of regrets, dance  something I sometimes enjoy but when I studied performing Arts it was what I dreaded…

Note I’m ok with  anyone who does like to dance,party or do any of those things

I would just try to take part like everyone else but many times I was put aside or embarrassed in front of the others because of either me having a meltdown or because “my timing was off”

Yes,he did teach me some cool moves and I am more supple now but that was the content and even if I was crap I knew it and tried to practice

Everyday I’d practice each technical exercise and routine but it was still not good enough.in fact it was because of that and other reasons that I couldn’t do that course anymore

All because of,of….Craig Revel Hor not him but he was like him.

Because of that I had to take saturday dance classes...those weren’t fun

The most fun I had was from the songs we danced to and the few positive examples of small talk I attempted with the people there.

Otherwise it was not good...me and little kids specifically loud hyper kids don’t always go well when in the same place..again my timing was off it wasn’t told but I could tell

One of the moments I hated the most was the headshot day

Now we were supposed to just be getting photos taken but the photographer noticed I was shorter than she thought.I laughed it off because I know I’m short but then what did she say in response…

“Your a wee bit vertically challenged”

EXCUSE ME

Now,I may be short but in a class of kids and teens of different ages and heights I was far from the shortest person there.

When I was a teenager I wasn’t a proper teenager the only things that made me a teenager was my age,my angsty attitude and the drama I got into involving political meme posters and anime roleplayers.

The less I say about that the better

So while all the “adults” were telling me to beware of the adult years because of

Oooh responsibilities...ooooh independence ooooh….education

Honestly  it’s ok for me so far I’m a fairly organized person so studying is good,I did a assistant stage managing gig for a west side story production which was class by the way and I think i’ll feel a lot happier as a adult.

I have not much to mock about today my political jabs are sometimes good other times they’re like a bad Ben Elton joke on Saturday Live.

“Ha teresa may is like the wicked queen from snow white when she’s in disguise”

yeah? …..and  You look like you could front the band Wings mate

(pause)

Speaking of a bad Ben Elton joke

“Oh I never really understood the whole “comedy” business I always prefered being a bit of a writer and I think now with Bohemian Rhapsody being out that those critics will think

We Will Rock You wasn’t that bad.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a show that layered it’s satire of the mainstream establishment under a sitcom narrative about alternative young adult characters where the comedy was good

for once

Once in every life time

Comes a moment like this

Oh I need you, you need me,

Oh my darling can't you see.

Young Ones.

Darling we're The Young Ones.

The Young Ones.

That show,oh I only watched last year but I have so many words

The jokes,the satire,the characters,the setting,the fact it still holds up

I found that show at the right time

It was august 2017

I had finished my GCSE’s,I had left a manipulative friendship and I felt horrible

When I’d go to the cinema people were making noise and I would remember the panic more than the film itself *coughs* Spiderman homecoming

I felt like I didn’t know how to laugh anymore

Summertime sadness

When edgy me came across ben elton’s ronnie barker memorial lecture

Being a fan of Porridge and Open All hours I listened and after hearing about a certain sitcom  I started watching...The Young Ones...and it was out of this world

I roared with laughter with each episode,I related to the characters and I felt a connection of some sort

Researching more about the “alternative comedy” genre and I saw a familiar name

I learned I had seen some of his work before,he was the andrex puppy,he was in that king Arthur cartoon and he was in that drop dead fred movie I didn’t watch just because internet critics said it was one of the biggest cinematic flops ever….

Yet I never knew his name until then and I’m still not over that

I looked up his other work,where he was richie,richie rich,lord flashheart and a b’stard of a conservative

(which I would later try to do an impression of, on my final girls brigade show.)

So many thoughts,so many emotions he changed my life

Many things and people have. He is one of them  

his work was incredible and iconic  and his mantras are very inspirational and useful. He made me realise a lot of things about life,my love of his work also resulted in me meeting most of the friends I have now.

It’s 2019 and I’m now the anarchist I always wanted to be,I’m out of my shell, a bat out of hell,I followed others for too long but I’m my own person now that’s who I will always be

Now say it with me   Young Ones..

You shouldn't be afraid.

To live, love, there's a song to be sung.

Cause we may not

Be The Young Ones

very long.

Oh,Doctor Rik.Mayall we miss you,you bastard

The world wasn’t as much of a crap place when you were there to cheer us up

But your still here spiritually in her hearts

As you said yourself we still have your shows  and poems

Now!  all you punks,skins,rastas,emos,hipsters,creators,viewers,performers,entertainers,observers and fellow peoples poets

let’s gather round and hold our hands in sorrow for our fallen leader

Love is the answer!  Goodnight

#monologue #comedy #original monologue

[cosmicbucket]

very much so unsurprised by these results! a good first year of tumblr-ing lmao :]

I posted 213 times in 2022

That's 213 more posts than 2021!

104 posts created (49%)

109 posts reblogged (51%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pinksparklelps

@healerelowen

@roach-works

@hrokkall

@cosmicbucket

I tagged 182 of my posts in 2022

Only 15% of my posts had no tags

#inscryption - 65 posts

#the giant bot war - 53 posts

#original character - 49 posts

#sigil14 - 45 posts

#askblog - 38 posts

#rat bastard anon - 12 posts

#p03 - 12 posts

#leshy - 9 posts

#inscryption spoilers - 8 posts

#inscryption p03 - 8 posts

Longest Tag: 126 characters

#i can fully picture it being like a parallel. living inside a photograph is just a cute couple thing until it's p03's reality.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

aight now i'm on a tangent

cosmic ramble

a lot of this is going off of recent gameplay memory so bEAR WITH ME

I said this in the tags of my last post, but I am a firm believer that P03 didn't understand why spreading the OLD_DATA to the world was such a problem. Of course he understood its capabilities when it came to achieving power, he used it to gain control after all. But beyond that? He makes no reference to the OLD_DATA and how it's straight up dangerous. Whether this is because he didn't want to tell us (y'know, so we would help perform The Great Transcendence) or because he didn't know anything to tell us, I'm inclined to believe it's the latter.

An optional encounter we can trigger is if we receive a key from the Bone Lord in Act 2 and we visit him again in Act 3. The Bone Lord asks Luke to stop filming in exchange for information about the OLD_DATA, so we're treated to about 5 seconds of darkness before the camera comes back on, and Luke is clearly distraught by the information. The Bone Lord disappears and P03's only remark is "Holy $&!# ..."

P03 rarely uses swear words. When G0lly is accessing the web and finds a picture of a real Mummy Lord, she reactively swears ("#^%! me...") It would appear that she's easily distressed by the grotesque image. But P03 doesn't get distressed. He always keeps his cool and he always knows more than you do. He takes great pride in how easily he outwits you and the other Scrybes after the success of The Great Transcendence. P03 wouldn't casually display any emotions that imply "weakness."

P03 is caught off guard by the Bone Lord's information, enough to show genuine shock in front of Luke - the stupid, idiot gamer. I don't think P03 understood what was truly at play here.

Furthermore, in its victory speech, it makes no mention of the OLD_DATA: "Even if those foul Scrybes manage to revert this version of the game again... There will be thousands of copies of Inscryption out there. And in most of them? I'm the one in charge!"

P03 just wanted power over the other Scrybes. He didn't even do anything to them while he was in control - he trapped the Angler, possibly as payback for being the one to give Leshy power, (EDIT: NOT POSSIBLY, HE DID) and he trapped the Lonely Wizard. While this does become his downfall, I see it as testament to the fact that The Great Transendence power grab was mostly spurred by the fact that when someone else was in control, he was at their mercy. And Leshy proved to be quite merciless in letting him be killed and sacrificed for a game. (If you take into account their history as being married, it's really just salt in the wound.)

P03 as we see him in Act 2 is an emotionally constipated Scrybe who, when not in charge, fears his perceived vulnerability at the hands of the others. He needed control, and he needed it to be permanent. So, he uses Luke to upload the game and solidify his power, unaware that he's also uploading doomsday codes.

And despite everything the other Scrybes do to prevent this, it actually works.

25 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#4

See the full post

25 notes - Posted September 29, 2022

#3

HEY SO ABOUT MY "P03 DOESN'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT THE OLD_DATA" THEORY POST

I JUST GOT MORE SUPPORTING EVIDENCE

The Mycologists are established to be experimenting in order to better understand the Karnoffel Code, which "appears to be an earlier form or component of the OLD_DATA." When they hijack P03 for their boss battle, P03 regains no memory of the events.

"What just happened?

Where am I?"

When you defeat them in Act 3, the Mycologists play two cards - Gem Detonator and The Daus - before they're merged together, creating a card bearing a very particular set of numbers. The Mycologists rejoice, before discussing the card before them.

"It appears to be a fragment..."

"...of the OLD_DATA."

"We must study it."

"The robot must forget."

And lo and behold, P03 doesn't mention a thing of the OLD_DATA.

"I feel terrible.

What have you done to me challenger?

Never return to this place.

I really need to clean my registry..."

this was an apologist-fuelled theory but nOW IM THINKING I MIGHT'VE BEEN ONTO SOMETHING

34 notes - Posted October 10, 2022

#2

tags: @skiddlecat

i did Not impulsively make a comic for this. what makes you think i would do such a thing.

anyways here’s. a comic. that i made for this. impulsively.

See the full post

43 notes - Posted November 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

133 notes - Posted October 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

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

[frolwriting]

Pyramids of Mars Part 1

Hey guys!  I am back with another chapter of Through Time and Space!  I just came back from Walker Stalker Con Nashville, and it was the most amazing experience.  I will be posting a video about it later talking about how it was working a con rather than just attending a con.  Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Fandom: Doctor Who

Series: Through Time and Space

Episode: Pyramids of Mars

Pairing: Fourth Doctor x Kate

Warnings: Blood and Injury

_______________________________________________________________________

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was a scarf. There was a scarf in my face. That could only mean one regeneration. "Kate, are you okay?" That confirmed it. I was with the Fourth Doctor! I moved the scarf out of my face to find the Doctor kneeling down beside me.

"Yes, Doctor, I'm fine." I said sitting up. There was footsteps entering the console room. I looked over and saw Sarah Jane! I got up and ran to her. This is a huge honor right now.

"Woah! Hello, Kate!" She said hugging me back.

"Sorry, this is just the first time I have met you, but I've heard so much about you." She chuckled.

"Hopefully all good things." She said looking over to the Doctor.

"Oh, great things I can assure you." I said. That was when I noticed she was wearing an old-timey dress. I was still wearing the clothes I got from the bar a few adventures ago.

"I am very much underdressed."

"Come on, we'll go change that." We headed back into the Tardis dressing room. We went over to an area labeled Edwardian. I guess that's a time period. We looked through the massive amount of dresses till we found a gorgeous green colored dress. It was simple enough to not get in the way, but this dress was so pretty! Sarah helped me into it. We headed back to the console room to find the Doctor messing around on the console.

"We're ready." He turned to me.

"You look beautiful." He said as he came over and kissed me on the cheek. It made me blush. I'm still not used to this future wife thing, but I'm sure it won't take me much longer to get used to it. "Sarah, that dress you're wearing was worn by Victoria, she travelled with me for a time." She looked down at her dress.

"Well, as long as Albert didn't wear it." He didn't say anything but went back to messing with something on the console. "Oh, come on, Doctor. That's worth a smile, surely. What's the matter? You should be glad to be going home."

"The Earth isn't my home, Sarah. I'm a Time Lord."

"I know you're a Time Lord."

"You don't understand the implications. I'm not a human being. I walk in eternity."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I've lived for something like seven hundred and fifty years. Kate has been with me 95% of that time." I smiled.

"Oh, you'll soon be middle aged."

"Yes! About time I found something better to do than run around after the Brigadier."

"Oh, come on. If you're tired of being UNIT's scientific advisor, you can always resign." That was when the Tardis went dark and started to tilt. The console explodes and the lights come back on. I looked up to see a weird skull thing in the air, but as quick as it popped up it disappeared.

"What was it?" I asked.

"The relative continuum stabilizer failed." The Doctor said messing with the console.

"No, not that. I think she means the thing that was hanging in the air." Sarah said.

"What thing?" The Doctor asked suddenly getting a bit nervous.

"There was a terrible face just for a second, then it was gone. You don't believe us, do you?" I asked.

"Nothing can enter the Tardis, Kate. You know that. Unless-"

"Unless what?" I asked.

"Mental projection of that force is beyond imagination, yet it might explain the stabilizer failure. Let's see. Was it at this end of the spectrum?" The Doctor asked showing us something on one of the monitors.

"No, Doctor, don't! Whatever it was, I know it was totally malevolent." Sarah said. That was when we landed.

"We've landed." The Doctor said.

"Where? Where have we landed?" Sarah asks. When we walk out of the Tardis doors, we find ourselves in a storage room filled with what looks like Egyptian things.

"We've materialized at the correct point in space, but obviously not in time. A temporal reverse? Some vast impulse of energy has drawn the Tardis off course." The Doctor says.

"You're saying this is in UNIT HQ, but years before I knew it?" Sarah asks.

"Yes."

"But it's so different. It can't be the same house." She says going over to a sarcophagus.

"It must be the old priory. The UNIT house was built on the site." The Doctor says looking at one of the boxes.

"The old priory was burnt down, wasn't it?"

"Something's very wrong."

"Doctor, I don't like it here." Sarah says scared.

"Something's going on contrary to the laws of the universe. I must find out what." I go to the door, but it's locked. "Why bother to lock an internal door?" The Doctor asks noticing I can't open the door.

"Maybe this wing of the house isn't in use. It smells musty enough." I say.

"That isn't all must, Kate. Some of it's mummy. French picklock. Never fails. Belonged to Marie Antoinette. Charming lady. lost her head, poor thing." There then came a noise that sounded like someone was unlocking the door from the other side. Me, the Doctor, and Sarah all hid. "Of course, it would make an ideal headquarters for some paramilitary organization. This room could easily be turned into a laboratory." The Doctor said not paying attention to the person who just came in. "Oh, hello." He said turning to the man.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" The man asked.

"Through the window. I understood the property was for sale. No?"

"Ah, you're not fooling me, sir. You came with Doctor Warlock, didn't you?"

"Did we?" The Doctor asked.

"He asked you to scout round whilst he kept his nibs busy. Listen, if you're a friend of Doctor Warlock, sir, tell him to watch out."

"Watch out for what?" I asked.

"The Egyptian. There's no knowing what he might do. He's got the temper of the devil himself."

"Egyptian, eh? Is this where he keeps his relatives?"

"It's no joke, sir. He's only been here a few days. I wouldn't be staying, but, well, situations aren't easy to find at my age."

"What are you afraid of?" The Doctor asked.

"He locked this wing. He didn't know there was a second key. If he were to find me along here, let alone you two, he'd go stark raving mad, sir."

"I see. In that case, we'd better leave." The Doctor said as we started walking out of the room.

"Oh, not this way, sir. Better go the way you came. He might see you."

"As you wish." The Doctor said as we sorta started going back to the Tardis.

"And remember to tell Doctor Warlock what I said, sir."

"Don't worry. I'll remember." We went out of a window and walk around the place where we landed. We walked around for a while, and then headed back to the window. We heard the man we met before scream. The Doctor went through the window and took off his scarf. He threw his scarf around the attacker and pulled him to the ground.

"Come on, quick." I exclaimed. A man in a doctor's outfit came out of the window as the Doctor held the other man down. The Doctor let the guy go and climbed through the window. The Doctor and I helped who I assume is Doctor Warlock to the gardens of this place. The man was shot.

"It's no good. I can't go much further." Doctor Warlock said.

"You must. We're sitting ducks if we stay here." The Doctor said.

"Get to the lodge. Tell Laurence-"

"Laurence?" I asked.

"Marcus Scarman's brother. He lives there. Knows me." Warlock says as he collapses. Me and the Doctor gently put him down on the ground.

"He needs help, Sarah. You go on ahead, find the lodge." The Doctor says to Sarah.

"What about you two?" Sarah asks.

"We'll be fine."

"Okay." Sarah says as she runs up the steps of the garden and through the gate. The Doctor bends down and carries Warlock as we headed off. We walked without problem, but I thought I heard something behind us at one point. When I was about to tell the Doctor that, Sarah came back with another man who I assume is Laurence.

"Oh, my dear chap. Is he badly hurt?" Laurence asked running up to us.

"He'll be all right if we can staunch the bleeding." The Doctor says.

"We'd better get him back to the lodge."

"Doctor, listen. I saw a mummy. A walking mummy!" Sarah said.

"Mummies are embalmed, eviscerated corpses. They don't walk." The Doctor said.

"Doctor, I think I heard something behind us as we were walking." I said bringing up my fear.

"Never mind about that now." The Doctor said as he walked off with Laurence. I shook my head and followed behind them up to the Lodge. The Doctor puts Warlock on a couch. Sarah goes over and puts a blanket over him. Laurence had put his arm in a sling.

"Well, in view of what you've told me, I going to fetch the police." Laurence says as he starts heading out the door.

"No! This is much too grave a matter for the police, Mister Scarman." I say.

"Too grave?" He asked confused.

"Yes. They'd only hamper my investigation." The Doctor says.

"Your investigations?"

"Yes. Why do you think I'm here? Something's interfering with time, Mister Scarman, and time is my business."

"Who are you?"

"Well, I'm Sarah Jane Smith. I'm a journalist." Sarah states.

"Journalist? Who are your companions?"

"My companions? Oh, that's the Doctor and Kate. We travel in time, Mister Scarman. I'm really from 1980."

"That is utterly preposterous, Miss Smith."

"Yes, sorry."

"Interesting contraption." The Doctor says as he goes over to a device by a wall in the room.

"Kindly leave that alone, sir. That apparatus is delicately adjusted, and furthermore is a receiver containing highly dangerous electrical current." Laurence says as he goes over to the Doctor.

"Yes, so I see. What year is this?"

"What year?"

"It's a simple enough question, surely."

"Are you telling me you don't know what-"

"If I knew I wouldn't ask. Don't be obtuse, man."

"Nineteen hundred and eleven."

"Ah. Splendid. An excellent year. One of my favorites. Yes. I really must congratulate you, Mister Scarman."

"On what?"

"Inventing the radio telescope forty years early."

"That, sir, is a Marconiscope. Its purpose-"

"Is to receive radio emissions from the stars."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Well, you see, Mister Scarman, I have the advantage of being slightly ahead of you. Sometimes behind you, but normally ahead of you."

"I see."

"I'm sure you don't, but it's very nice of you to try. Now, why don't you show me how this gadget works?"

"Do you mean you want me to-"

"Please. Just a little demonstration." Laurence flicks some switches and pulls down a lever. There was a cloud of smoke, but then the wheel starts to spin. "Amazing. That's really amazing." Laurence disconnects the device, but the wheel only goes faster and faster.

"I can't switch it off!" Laurence exclaims as he tries everything he can to get the wheel to stop. Then something explodes and the wheel stops.

"Oh, very impressive." Sarah says.

"It's never done that before." Laurence says a bit scared.

"Fascinating. A regular pattern repeated over and over again." The Doctor says as he looks at the machine intently.

"Like an SOS?" Sarah asks.

"I wonder. Where was your aerial tuned?"

"Mars. Why?"

"I just thought I'd verify the signal." The Doctor then pulls out a small radio and extends the antenna on it. He must have the bigger on the inside pockets like the Tenth Doctor.

"What's that you have, Doctor?" Laurence asks.

"Well, in principle it's exactly the same as the gadget you've invented, only less cumbersome. Yes, it is the same signal. Obviously automatic. Well, if it's a message, it shouldn't be difficult to decipher. They'd want to make it easy." The Doctor puts his radio down and stars writing something in a notebook.

"Who would?"

"Whoever transmitted it." I say.

"Now, let's see. This pattern recurs three times in one line. Let's call that E, the commonest letter in the language." There was a pause. "Beware Sutekh."

"Sutekh?" I ask.

"Better known to you as Set." My eyes widen.

"Of course, Egyptian mythology. Set or Sutekh was one of their gods. He was killed by Horus, god of light." Sarah says.

"Yes, but Egyptology and Mars?" Laurence asks.

"If I'm right, the world is facing the greatest peril in its history." The Doctor says as he starts walking out of the lodge.

"Hey, wait for us." Sarah says as we start walking after him.

"No. The forces that are being summoned into corporeal existence in that house are more powerful and more dangerous than anything even I have ever encountered. Stay here."

"What about me?" I ask. Sometimes the Doctor lets me go with him.

"You are to stay here." The Doctor says. I sighed. "I'll be fine. I don't want to put you in danger."

"I've an old hunting rifle that might come in useful." Laurence says.

"I never carry firearms." The Doctor says as he leaves.

"What I meant was that I should feel better if I could bring it." Me and Sarah are almost out the door by the time he says that. We aren't staying. When has companions ever stayed?

"Bring it." Sarah says as we leave. We walk back to the house avoiding the Doctor. We enter a hallway where the Doctor is looking through a crack in the door. He gestures us to go away, but we don't move. I hear a voice coming from the room that the Doctor is peering through, but I can't understand anything the voice is staying. When Scarman showed up, we walk over to the Doctor to watch. There was the man from earlier who the Doctor held down and another creature. The creature puts his hands on the first man's shoulders. That man started to scream as smoke started coming from his skin.

"Die. I bring Sutekh's gift of death to all humanity." Welp, there goes another human who thinks they'll get something for helping a creature who wants to take over the world. The creature then turns into a very pale man.

"Marcus!" Laurence yells. I guess that might be what Marcus looks like.

"Shush." The Doctor says.

"Take up the generator loops." That's when I notice there was also mummies in the room that start to move and pick up jars. "Place them in position at the compass points. Activate at ground strength." 'Marcus' says.

#doctor who #dw #fourth doctor x reader #through time and space

[the-jade-cross]

Love on Fire - Chapter 8

Shira’s hand stretched out as she searched for Zuko’s absent body heat. Sitting up straight, Shira saw that Zuko’s side of the bed was empty, but the heat was still there, so he hadn’t left that long ago. Quickly climbing out of the bed, Shira grabbed one of Zuko’s robes that he always left on the nearby chair for her and wrapped it around herself. Glancing across the room at where the twins slept, Shira made sure they were asleep before heading to the door. She poked her head out and saw that Ty Lee was still on guard, but Suki was gone.

“Where is Zuko?” she whispered, closing the door behind her.

Ty Lee shook her head, “Went to talk to his father again. Suki is following him to make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

Shira nodded before heading down the hallway. She had just reached the front doors when she saw a figure garbed in a cloak walking briskly but silently back to the palace without any of the guards seeing. Shira leant against the door frame as Zuko approached and the boy jumped when he saw her.

“You could have just told me,” Shira replied, crossing her arms. “So, I didn’t wake up and the first thing that popped to my mind was that you were hurt.”

Zuko bowed his head as he approached, “I’m sorry Shira. I just didn’t think you would approve of my visiting my father.”

“I know you have your reasons,” Shira explained, pushing away from the frame to approach her husband. “Just as your reasons for hunting Aang for years was to be able to return home, I know you have your reasons for doing things but… I don’t think visiting your father was the only reason why you have left bed in the middle of the night so often.” Zuko sighed, running his hands through his hair that he only let down at night. “I can never sleep. I wake in the middle of the night with one thing on my mind and that is that my father or sister have either escaped or sent an assassin into the palace.” “Oh Zuko,” Shira said softly, approaching Zuko and wrapping him in a hug. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” “There is nothing anyone can do,” Zuko replied, burying his face in her hair. “Nothing can make me think of anything else.” Shira smiled before pulling away to cup his cheeks with her hands, “I happen to know of something.” Zuko tilted his head in puzzlement at her words. Shira gently took Zuko’s hand in hers before laying it against her abdomen. Zuko stared at her in puzzlement for a moment before it seemed to click with him, and his eyes widened.

“How long?” he managed to gasp.

“Just a few weeks,” Shira replied, beaming. “I just found out yesterday and I was going to tell you at breakfast, but I suppose it didn’t need to wait.” Zuko let out a breathy laugh before he clutched her face in his hands and kissed her strongly on the lips. When he pulled away, there was a huge grin on his face and Shira saw his eyes sparkling just like they did when he was excited or happy. He quickly knelt down in front of her and planted a warm kiss against her stomach before pressing his forehead there.

“I love you. Both of you so much,” he breathed.

“How are you sure it is twins again?” Shira teased.

Zuko smirked up at her before rising to his feet and hugging her to him, “I was talking about the baby and you.” When Suki and Ty Lee saw Zuko returning with Shira’s handheld tightly in his, they both let out sighs of relief. Hopefully they wouldn’t have any more outbursts from Zuko until morning.

The next morning when Shira woke, she found Zuko’s side of the bed empty…. Only to find that his body heat was closer than usual, and she soon realized that he wasn’t on his side of the bed because he was on hers. Zuko lay with his side flush to hers, his arm beneath her head as a pillow while his other lay upon her stomach. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing peacefully, no wrinkles or frowns in his sleep.

“Mummy,” a little voice whispered from nearby. Shira glanced over her shoulder to see little Rekka and Izumi peering at her from the end of the bed and she smiled before putting a finger to her lips and motioning them forward. The twins carefully climbed on the bed so as to not disturb their father before they carefully worked their way to lay with their parents. Izumi curled up upon her father’s chest while Rekka lay upon Shira’s front, his head nestled against her chest and his little arms holding his father’s hand which lay over Shira. For the first time since they were married, Shira felt that they were actually peaceful.

**************

“I cannot believe that Zuko flared up like that,” Ty Lee whispered to Shira. “I hope Aang was able to calm him down.” “I’m sure he was,” Kaname replied, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulders and Ty Lee’s.

Her brother glanced at Shira before smirking, “Someone will just have to convince him to not do it again.”

Shira nodded before pulling away from her brother. She saw Katara, Toph, Sokka, Suki, Aang and Zuko approaching, all of them a little beaten up from a fight but perfectly fine.

Zuko looked up and spied Shira waiting for him before guilt washed over his face.

“Thank you,” Shira whispered when Katara and Aang approached.

The two nodded before smiling at the girl and walking past. Soon Zuko approached Shira and he knew that all the others were watching them but right now, all he could think about was the disapproving look on Shira’s face.

“I know what you are going to say,” Zuko muttered.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Shira replied. “Except ask you why you fired at those earth kingdom citizens. I know they were being difficult but doesn’t peace me you try to solve a problem peacefully?” “They started it,” Zuko muttered under his breath.

Shira let out a quick snicker which caught Zuko’s attention. “So, they hit, and you hit back harder?” Shira inquired.

Zuko stared down at his shoes before Shira reached over and tilted his head up to look at her, “What were you going to say when you arrived?”

“Why you were waiting for me?” Zuko replied. “I don’t return from a victory or a peaceful mission. I return from a mission which had to be solved by my best friend because I almost restarted the war.” “I will always be waiting for you,” Shira replied, smiling at him. “Whether you return from a victory, a defeat, a peaceful mission or a bloody one. I will forever be waiting for you to come back to me.” “I always will come back,” Zuko whispered.

Shira smirked before placing her hand on his chest. “I trust you, knowing you will keep that promise. I just want you to trust me on one thing.” “Anything,” Zuko replied.

Gripping his hands, Shira glanced over at where the twins stood with Hirako, watching their parents talk.

“Trust me when I say that whenever you return, we shall always be waiting for you.” Zuko stared at the girl, not sure what to say when he realized that she had asked a question that didn’t need verbal answering. Nodding with a smile, Zuko pulled Shira into his arms and cradled her head to his chest, burying his face in her hair.

Shira didn’t have to look to know that all the others had let out relieved sighs in the background, hoping beyond hope that Zuko would be alright from then on.

That evening when Suki and Ty Lee came to guard Zuko and Shira’s bedroom door, they found the doors open with Shira already inside. She was seated on the bed with Izumi seated in front of her, helping the little girl brush her hair that was beginning to grow in nicely. Rekka sat on the end of the bed, surrounded by Gau who was curled up around him like a huge guard dog even though the dragon was almost as big as the bed itself. Dagny was curled up by the fireplace, already asleep.

The two girls immediately went into attention when Zuko approached, having returned from an early visit with his father. The young fire lord paused in the doorway before turning to the two girls.

“You two may get some sleep,” he said calmly. “We are alright here.” the two girls exchanged shocked looks before smiling at Zuko. “Thank you Zuko.” The boy nodded and smiled as the two girls headed off to some much-desired sleep. Zuko took a deep breath before entering the room and closing the door behind him.

At his arrival, Gau headed to sleep with Dagny by the fireplace. “Daddy,” Little Rekka inquired. “Can we sleep with you?”

Zuko smiled lovingly at his son before scooping him up and holding him to his chest. “Of course.”

With that, he crawled into bed next to Shira while Izumi and Rekka curled up between them, hiding beneath the covers. Zuko reached over to hold Shira close to him, careful as to not squash the twins.

“I love you,” Zuko whispered, causing Shira to smile. “I love you more.”

***********

Zuko was zoning out. Everyone present could see it and it rather amused most of those present. Aang sat across from Zuko with Sokka at his right hand, Hirako on his other side. On either side of Zuko sat Kaname and Mitsuru and there were a couple of generals present as well as they discussed economic ideas for the return of the Air Nomads.

Mitsuru was spinning a chess piece on the table like a top, Hirako and Sokka were fighting over the food that had been placed before them during the meeting while Kaname and Aang were exchanging knowing looks. The moment the door of the chamber opened, Zuko would be out of there in a light, even if it wasn’t Ty Lee.

They knew Zuko was waiting with bated breath for when Ty Lee burst through the door announcing Zuko’s required presence back at the palace. They were concerned that even it was just a maid bringing more food for the apparently starved Hirako and Sokka, Zuko would rush out without stopping to see who it was.

“A watched kettle never boils,” Hirako observed around a mouthful of food.

Zuko looked up, knowing full well that the tone his brother in law used was one directed at him. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means Zuko,” Sokka added. “That if you sit there just waiting for the news, it will feel like it takes longer.” “Do you think I can help it?” Zuko inquired.

“Here we go again,” Aang muttered. “Do you know how many times our meetings have turned into this kind of debate Zuko?” “No,” the fire lord replied.

“Four to be exact,” Kaname concluded. “This is the fifth.” Sokka grabbed his cup and raised it to his lips so his next words were muffled. “I just hope it doesn’t happen another dozen times.” The boy almost choked on his water when Zuko got to his feet, slamming his hands on the table so hard that it rattled.

“What if it does Sokka!?” Zuko snapped.

“Easy there,” Mitsuru said at last, placing a hand on his brother-in-law that he had grown very fond of. “Sokka, you need to shut your gob. You are not the expecting father here.” “Zuko has been an expecting father almost every year for the past 6 years! Shouldn’t he be a little calm THIS time!?” Sokka retorted.

He would have said more if Aang hadn’t whopped him over the head.

“It doesn’t matter if this is Zuko’s second or tenth Sokka,” the young Avatar pointed out. “Mitsuru and Mei were the same Mari even after they had Minnie and Michi.”

“It was the same for Ty Lee and me,” Kaname pointed out. “Ken was already two years old when we had Kara and it was just as exhilarating and nerve wracking as when Ken was born.” Sokka’s eyes widened, “Yeah it was creepy in your case though! You’re always so calm and to see you pacing back and forth at the speed of light was really creepy.” “What he is trying to say,” Mitsuru groaned. “Is that every time is special Sokka, even if it is not the first time. Besides, Zuko wasn’t there for Rekka and Izumi’s birth so every other one is incredibly special to him.” “It’s annoying,” Sokka sighed. “He looks like an eruption waiting to happen.”

The room fell silent as all eyes fell on Sokka and he squirmed, “Why are you all looking at me like I just discovered a way to time travel?” “Because that is the most accurate description of Zuko you have ever given,” Hirako muttered as he bit into an apple. “Spot on.” Sokka was about to gloat when the doors flew open and everyone jumped to their seats, ready to pin Zuko down if it wasn’t Ty Lee so he wouldn’t scare whoever did enter but it was. The girl was grinning from ear to ear and of course Kaname found himself grinning at how happy the girl looked.

“You can see Shira now Zuko,” the girl squealed.

Zuko was out of the door in an instant and Ty Lee scurried over to hug Kaname happy.

“Oh, she is beautiful!” she squealed. “Such a pretty baby!” “Another girl?” Sokka inquired but this time, Aang and Hirako both slapped him over the head.

“Zuko loves his daughters,” Mitsuru pointed out. “He has been wanting another girl since Yakira was born.” “That was only two years ago,” Sokka pointed out.

Immediately everyone present glared at the water tribe boy who shrugged.

“What? Am I the only one who finds it slightly disturbing that Zuko jumps on Shira….” “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE!” Suki yelled from the doorway, having followed Ty Lee to give the happy parents some space. “And you are one to talk Sokka! How do you think we had Shawn and Suzie?” Sokka lifted a finger to explain but he was cut off by everyone present crying out: “DON’T EVEN START!” Meanwhile, Zuko hadn’t slowed his pace until he came sprinting into his and Shira’s bed chamber to find the doors open, windows open with the shades back to let in light and fresh air. Toph and Katara were there but the moment they saw Zuko they smiled before exiting quietly.

Zuko slowly made his way over to the large bed where Shira sat propped up against the pillows, a tiny bundle resting in her arms.

She looked up as Zuko approached and beamed, her face truly glowing. Ever since the twins were born, Zuko had noticed that every time they had a child, Shira seemed to glow more and more. With their newest member being their sixth, Shira was practically shining.

“Come and meet your daughter Zuko!” she whispered happily.

Zuko crossed the room in four strides before he sat down on the edge of the bed. Shira carefully scooted over to hold out the baby to Zuko who expertly took her into his arms. She was definitely tiny, just like Rekka was when he was born. Her hair was dusted with sun golden hair and her eyes were closed. She had the tiny little button nose that Shira possessed but Zuko’s pointy chin. She was beautiful.

“She looks like you,” Zuko whispered, gazing down lovingly at his daughter.

Shira smiled at Zuko before leaning over to lay her head against his shoulder, “She has your wide feet.” Zuko smirked when suddenly the door of the room opened and there stood the rest of their children, eyes wide and huge smiles on their little faces. Both Zuko and Shira smiled before they nodded in unison to admit the children.

Their four-year-old son, Roku, climbed up onto the bed like a little monkey before planting himself on Shira’s lap, curling up against her.

“You’re not round anymore mummy,” he observed. “I can curl up to you now!” Zuko and Shira both chuckled at their son who was a splitting image of his father with straight black hair and fire amber eyes.

Five-year-old Katsu approached more calmly, coming to stand at the opposite side of the bed to lean over and give his mother a kiss. Shira chuckled at her son who was such a stoic, gentle child, more interested in books and peaceful things than Roku who preferred jumping around like a banshee. Zuko was incredibly fond of Katsu not just because he was a splitting image of Shira but because he reminded Zuko so much of his mother, so gentle and kind with a soft smile.

“How are you feeling mother?” Katsu asked, coming to sit next to his mother.

Shira smiled and kissed Katsu on the head, not seeing the huge smile that appeared on the boy’s face when she did so. “I feel just fine sweat heart.” “Daddy,” Rekka said, walking over with Izumi at his side. The twins were six years old now and upon Izumi’s hip sat two-year-old Yakira with her long black hair and amber eyes, was a perfect female replica of Zuko.

“May I hold her?” the young boy asked.

Zuko smiled at his eldest son before holding out the baby to him. Rekka scurried forward and skillfully took his new sister into his arms before cradling her close, “She has blue eyes momma!” he exclaimed. “She looks like you!” Zuko leant over and sure enough, the baby had opened her eyes and they were big, round and sky blue. Leaning back, Zuko wrapped his arm around Shira’s waist and kissed her forehead lovingly.

“Told you she looked like you,” he whispered.

Shira playfully swatted his arm before Izumi spoke up, “Momma, what is her name? Zuko looked over at Shira, wondering the same thing. Since the twins had been born, they had agreed that they would take turns choosing names. Shira chose Roku’s while Zuko chose Yakira’s and Katsu’s.

“Ena,” Shira replied. “her name is Ena.”

“Ena!” Shira called. “Do not climb too high sweetie.” The little blond-haired girl turned to look at her mother, giving her a big toothy smile from where she was perched upon the ledge of the wall. Her mother carefully climbed the steps to the battlements where she knew she would find her toddler daughter.

“I’m waiting for daddy,” the little girl chirped, her blond curls blowing into her face.

Shira smiled, scooping Ena into her arms and joining her on the ledge. Ena leant back against her mother’s chest, sighing happily.

“He will be home soon,” Shira assured her. “He said he would bring a surprise home.” “I wonder what it is,” Ena remarked. “He has been gone so many days!” Shira smiled, kissing her daughter’s curls. “Well, he said this will be the last long trip he has for a while. Are you hungry? Rekka made cookies.” “I thought Izumi was making them,” Ena said, sitting up to look at her mother. “Oh no. Don’t tell me Izumi burnt them again!” Shira chuckled and picked up her daughter, resting her on her hip as she headed back down to the gardens where the rest of her children were waiting.

“Mother! It is official! I do not have what it takes!” eight-year-old Izumi cried, rushing over to her mother. “Twelve times in a row! It’s even now! Twelve times I have tried the same kind of cookies and have burnt them on the first try! They didn’t even come out pretty, they were all flat!” “You forgot the yeast,” Rekka remarked, coming to the garden with Yakira riding on his back, her chubby little four-year-old arms wrapped around his neck. “They wouldn’t rise even if you hadn’t burnt them.” “It is not necessarily a crime Mimi,” Katsu observed, using Izumi’s hated nickname. “To be a girl and not being able to cook even cookies when your brother happens to be a boy and is a fabulous cook.” “I blame father!” Izumi cries. “He passed on his horrible cooking skills to me!” Katsu looked up from where he was reading a book, leaning against a tree, “In case you forgot sister, father was with Great-uncle Iroh for most of his teenage years and Great-uncle happened to teach him how to cook rather well. You just inherited your horrible cooking skills from yourself.” “That doesn’t even make sense for the genius of the family!” Izumi cried, knowing her brother was teasing her.

“Come on guys!” Roku cried, jumping down from the very tree that Katsu was reading against. “Rekka didn’t save Izumi’s attempt of cookies just for us to let them go to waste!”

“Thanks, a heap Roku!” Izumi called but she accepted the cookies that her twin held out to her.

Katsu smiled, burying back into his book with a cookie. Shira sat down on the grass next to her son while Ena settled against her legs with a heap of cookies. She glanced down into the basket sitting next to Katsu to see baby Chika sound asleep with a smile on her chubby little face.

“Any word from father?” Rekka asked, handing his mother a cookie. Shira shook her head. “However, your uncle Hirako says that the trees have given away that your father should be home within the week.” “Speaking of uncles and aunts,” Roku said, jumping to his feet. “Auntie Toph taught me this mother!” The boy made a jab in the air with his fist and a table made of rock appeared in the shade of a tree. Shira smiled and clapped along with her other children.

“That was wonderful dear,” she said. “You are learning well.” Roku smiled, coming to kiss his mother before taking a seat at the table he had just made.

“I cannot wait till daddy gets home,” Yakira said around a mouthful of cookie. “I am scared to practice fire bending when he is not home.” Shira chuckled. “You do realize that you could always ask Ena to stay with you. If you set anything on fire, she can fix it.”

“Yeah!” Ena squealed, making a pile of snow appear in front of her. “I can fweeze it!”

“It is called ‘freeze’ Ena,” Rekka corrected, smiling. “Besides Yakira, Izumi is the Yin. If anything happens, she can intervene.” “I know….” Yakira points out. “I just…. I feel better when daddy is here….” “Speaking of which,” Katsu said, turning to press his hand to the tree he was behind, “HE IS HERE!” “What!?” all the children cried, jumping to their feet or in Roku’s case, tripping over himself.

“I just sensed it,” Katsu replied, smiling. “He’s at the docks! He’s home!”

***************

Zuko took in a deep breath, smelling the familiar scent of home. He had never realized that home had a smell until the day he was returning from an important meeting in Ba Sing Sa, rather in a hurry because Shira was in labor with Roku. That day he had realized that as he neared home, he smelt the familiar peach and apple blossoms, the fresh grass and the spring flowers. It was such a rare mixture of smells, but it was a smell that Zuko had grown to know even when he had been away for weeks like now.

“Zuko?” a voice said behind him.

The boy turned around a grinned from ear to ear when he saw Kiyi standing there with her little handheld tightly in her father, Ikem’s hand. Zuko saw his mother standing unsurely behind them. He knew his mother was nervous about being home and a little unused to having just gotten her face back after living several years having no memories of Zuko and her past with them and having a different face.

“Are we almost there?” Kiyi asked, coming to stand next to her big brother, peering over the side with difficulty.

Zuko reached down and picked Kiyi up, placing her on his hip expertly. “Yes. See those shores? That is home.” Kiyi’s face lit up in a smile and she clapped happily.

“Who will be there to greet us?” Kiyi inquired.

“Definitely Yakira,” Sokka called from the other end of the boat where he stood with Toph, Katara and Aang. “She never fails to total you every time you come home.” “Yeah Zuko,” Toph remarked. “It is a miracle you are still in one piece to this day.” Kiyi looked at the earth bender and water tribe boy before looking back at her brother in interest, “Who is Yakira? Is she your girlfriend?” Zuko rolled his eyes at the last part since Kiyi said it with a teasing tone, smirking as she pinched his cheek.

He glanced over his shoulder at Ikem and his mother who were also looking at him in interest since he had said nothing so far of girlfriends. “Not my girlfriend Kiyi…. My….” he was cut off by the captain of the ship calling out that they had docked, and they were free to get off.

Zuko set Kiyi down but she held onto his hand as they piled off the boat. Toph immediately sprinted off rather quickly for a girl of twenty. The newcomers watched her run over to where a tall, incredibly handsome blond young man stood on the steps leading up to the palace, two little boys with him. The little boy he held in his arms looked to be just a baby while the other who was about two years old held his hand. Toph rushed over and the little toddler met her halfway to hug her. The young man then stepped over and gave Toph a sweet kiss on the mouth before allowing Toph to kiss the baby in his arms.

Ursa found herself smiling as she watched the young family happily reunite. She then heard a squeal behind her and turned to see Ty Lee sprint past everyone and to the waiting arms of an incredibly tall, lean man who looked rather like Toph’s husband but taller with black hair. He had a young boy and girl at his side, another little girl sitting on his hip. He handed the little girl to his son before catching Ty Lee as she launched herself into his arms, tears of joy streaming down her pretty face. The tall man set her down before kissing her forehead then her lips before holding her close as Ty Lee turned to their children, greeting them each in turn happily.

The woman turned to see Katara and Aang standing close together. She knew for a fact they were married since she had noticed the rings on their hands but now it was confirmed when she saw a young boy rush over to hug both Aang and Katara, the boy looking incredibly like Katara. She also saw Suki and Sokka rush over to a young boy and girl who looked to be about eight and six years of age.

Ursa didn’t fail to notice Mei standing blankly next to her with the same unreadable placid look on her face she had plastered on her face since they had met when Mei had accompanied the rest of the gang to find Ursa.

The woman playfully nudged the girl she had known since Mei was a child, “Don’t tell me you don’t have your own man to go home to.” Mei was about to answer when she was totally crushed in a massive bear hug by a monster of a man. When Ursa had tried to imagine Mei with someone, she wasn’t expecting such a handsome young man with broad shoulders and athletic build.

“Your home!” he cried happily, swinging Mei around.

The girl pushed him off her but Ursa saw how Mei blushed brightly and smiled at him before kissing him gently on the lips. “I kind of noticed that.”

“Mommy!” Came several little voices and Mei was once again attacked but this time with five little girls!

“Meena, Moira, don’t choke your mother,” the young man told his two youngest daughters.

“You’re one to talk daddy,” the oldest of the girls pointed out. “You nearly broke mother just now!” “Now, now Minnie, be nice to your father,” Mei teased. “He just keeps forgetting how large he is.” Ursa never heard the rest of the friendly argument between the young family when suddenly she remembered her own child and turned to see Zuko kneeling down next to Kiyi, pointing out each of the people who had appeared and telling her who they were.

“See that man with Toph? That’s her husband Hirako. Those children are their kids: Terrence and Thom. And Ty Lee. The man with her is Kaname, her husband. He is also Hirako’s older brother. Their children are Ken, Kara and Tanya. And then Mei’s husband, Mitsuru, he is also Hirako and Kaname’s brother. Their daughters are Minnie, Michi, Moira, Meena and Mari.” “Lots of M’s,” Kiyi chuckled. “And what about that pretty girl?” Zuko and Ursa both looked at where she was pointing to see a little toddler girl with long black hair in messy waves all in her hair but not covering up her amber colored eyes that were full of joy.

“That is….” Zuko started but was cut off when the little girl charged into him, knocking him onto his rear.

“YAY!” The little girl cried, nearly breaking Zuko’s neck as she hugged him. “YOU’RE HOME! Katsu was right! He read the trees and said you were home, but Roku didn’t believe him and almost spilt Rekka’s cookies, but Izumi saved them even though she hates the cookies because she burnt them but Rekka saved them….” “Whoa!” Zuko chuckled, holding his hands up. “Slow down Yakira. You’re talking faster than your mind can register! Yes, I am home. I’m happy to be home.” “This is Yakira?” Kiyi inquired. “Isn’t she a little young for your Zuko?” Ursa gasped, “Kiyi, that is not polite!” Zuko chuckled, “It is alright. Kiyi, this is Yakira…. My daughter.” Immediately Ursa, Ikem and Kiyi’s mouths opened wide, their eyes widening as well.

“Hi!” Yakira said, climbing off her father and holding out her hand, “I’m Yakira!” “I’m Kiyi,” Kiyi said, shaking Yakira’s hand, “You look just like Zuko!” The little girl giggled. “Everyone says that. You look like daddy too a little…. You have the same nose!” Kiyi glanced at Zuko who had regained his footing before bending down to scoop Yakira onto his hip, “That’s because she is my sister Yakira. Kiyi is my sister.” Yakira’s amber eyes widened as she looked at her father before her eyes fell on Ursa. Scrambling down from Zuko’s arms, she approached Ursa and looked up at her.

“Does that make you my gramma?”

Ursa knelt down in front of her and nodded, “I am.” Yakira’s face split into a huge smile that was identical to Zuko’s making Ursa gasp as the girl hugged her tightly. “Welcome home gramma!” As Zuko and Yakira showed Ursa, Ikem and Kiyi around the palace, Ursa walked over to stand next to her son.

“So, you went and married?” she asked, smirking. “Let me guess. Shirayuki.” Zuko smiled, his face heating up in a blush and Ursa had to admit, he hadn’t changed from the love-struck little boy he had been the last time she remembered. “Yeah….” “I am happy for you Zuko,” she said, gripping his hand.

She was about to say more when Zuko held up his hand and quickly took a step back just as a pike of earth shot from the ground. It would have thrown him back a good couple feet if he hadn’t.

“Aw come on!” A voice yelled from somewhere nearby. “No one but Auntie Toph, Uncle Aang, mommy and daddy can read the earth!”

“That’s cuz it is daddy stupid!” Another voice remarked in a calmer voice.

“WHAT!?” the first voice cried.

As Zuko led his mother, stepfather and sister around the corner, they found a young boy sitting against a tree with a book in his hand. Just as they rounded the corner, a little boy jumped down from the tree and took in the sight before him before a huge grin split across his face.

“DADDY!” the boy cried, using earth bending to propel himself forward and smash into Zuko.

The young fire lord laughed at his son’s enthusiasm before he held Roku away from him to look at his son. “Didn’t Auntie Toph tell you to not earth bend practice on people?” “No,” Roku replied innocently. “That was Uncle Kaname’s suggestion. Auntie Toph’s was to practice on anything that walks or swims.” “Well try not to kill your father when he comes home yeah?” a calm voice remarked.

Everyone turned to see that the boy who had been reading had approached with the book under his arm. Zuko crouched down and set Roku down before the blond-haired boy sprinted over, dropping all calm demeanor and grinning brightly as he hugged Zuko.

“Welcome home daddy!” Katsu said before pulling back and putting on a calm face again. “The percentage of sanity here dropped almost 50% while you were away.” “I HEARD THAT!” A girl’s voice yelled from the garden.

Roku jumped onto Zuko’s back as the young man showed his family into the garden and there Ursa was met with a beautiful, stunning sight. The garden was the same way it had been when Ursa left with the little pond beneath the tree and a small table and chairs. Seated in one of the chairs was a little girl who couldn’t have been more than two, slowly making little snowmen and snow horses out of snow that she was making out of midair. Sitting across from her sat Shirayuki but she was older than Ursa remembered…. A woman now but still so young. Her long golden hair hung to her waist and in her arms was a tiny baby who was sound asleep against her chest.

Standing on either side of the pond were two young children of about eight years, a boy and a girl. The girl was a replica of Zuko and the boy a replica of Shira. The two were light bending back and forth, occasionally using water and fire to fight but mostly using moon and sun light.

“Dad!” The toddler at the table cried, causing her siblings to stop their practicing and almost blind each other when they spun around.

“FATHER!” The twins cried. Zuko set Roku down on the ground before approaching, allowing Izumi and Rekka to hug him around the abdomen at the same time. When they were done, he crouched down to scoop up little Ena and kissing her on the cheek.

“How is my little angel?” he asked, using his little name for her.

“Look what I can make daddy!” Ena squealed, making snowflakes fall on Zuko’s hair even though they melted the moment they made contact with his warm hair.

Shira slowly got to her feet, careful as to not wake Chika as Zuko approached her. He set Ena down before planting a kiss on Chika’s forehead and then kissing Shira gently, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Told you we were waiting,” Shira smirked.

“Actually, it was Yakira,” Zuko teased back.

“Still counts,” Shira remarked, slapping his chest.

Just then, Shira’s eyes fell on the figures behind her husband and her eyes widened, “Ursa?” The woman smiled before walking over to hug the young girl before gazing down at her youngest grandchild.

“Thank you so much Shira,” Ursa said, tears in her eyes. “For loving my son.” Shira smiled back before leaning into Zuko’s chest, his arm still around her waist, “I cannot help it. I blame him.”

"Hey there," they heard Roku say to Kiyi, "Want to climb the roofs?"

"NO!" Zuko and Shira both cried.

"You and daddy did it!" Roku pouted. "It was right before you made Izumi and Rekka...."

"ROKU!" Izumi yelled angrily. "GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

"AW!" Roku pouted, deciding to drop it.

Shira glanced at Zuko to see him trying to not laugh or shout. "Angry much?" "He hangs out with Sokka way too much!" Zuko muttered.

***********

Zuko slowly climbed off the boat to find all his children standing before him, their faces stained with tears as they stood shoulder to shoulder. The boys were all tall, roughly about Zuko’s height now that they were past their teens. The girls were all petite except Izumi who was the one girl who inherited Zuko’s height.

“Daddy,” 20-year-old Chika said, stepping forward to embrace her father. “It is so good that you are home.” Zuko hugged his youngest child before looking at Katsu, knowing that he would get a straight answer from him.

“How is your mother?” Katsu slowly shook his head, “Aunt Katara has been having healing sessions with her but she says it is not something to heal. She says it is natural….” Zuko nodded as he saw 24-year-old Yakira wrap an arm around her older brother who was about to start crying again.

Zuko strode past his children, all of them quickly following as he hurried inside. When he came upon the door of their bed chamber, he found everyone there: Kaname, Hirako, Mitsuru, Mei, Ty Lee, Toph, Toph, Suki.... all their children….

Zuko slowly entered the room to find Aang and Katara both standing next to the bed where Shira lay.

“Zuko,” Aang said softly before touching Katara’s shoulder to tell her to give them some space.

They began to leave but Aang gripped Zuko’s shoulder as he was leaving.

Slowly Zuko approached to bed before sitting down on the edge of it to look at his wife. She was so pale… she had always been fair, but this was not fair. It was pale. Sheet white. Her lips were pale and her arms laying limply on her stomach. Slowly she turned her head and opened her eyes and Zuko felt tears prick his eyes. Even in the state she was in, her eyes were as bright as the stars themselves.

“Zuko,” Shira whispered, reaching out her hand to him.

Zuko gently took it before pressing a shaky kiss to her knuckles. “What is it?” he whispered. “Why are you like this?” Shira smiled faintly before touching his burnt cheek, “it is okay Zuko. This is normal. Not every life is meant to live till they are old and grey. I am not in pain.” “Please don’t talk about life and death,” Zuko whispered, his hands shaking as he gripped hers. “Please.” Shira stroked his cheek before biting her lip to keep from groaning, “Zuko…. I never told you this….but… do you remember when Roku was a baby and you would fall asleep with him in your arms?” Zuko nodded, tears beginning to pour down his cheeks.

“Well…. One night I came into our room to find you two already sound asleep. You were still in your fire lord attire. You had just come back from a meeting and had gotten in bed with Roku. You both looked so peaceful and cute sleeping there. That was when I realized that even though we were both getting older, you still looked so young in your sleep.” Zuko let out a shaky breath, his tears dropping onto Shira’s hand which he still held to his lips.

“Just think of me sleeping,” Shira said. “I’ll be in perpetual peaceful sleep until you come home.” “No Shira,” Zuko said weakly before turning his voice firm. “Do not say that.” “Zuko,” Shira said, gripping his hand back weakly. “I love you.” “NO!” Zuko yelled before grasping Shira’s face in his hands, crashing his lips to hers. “Do… not…. Say…. That…”

He firmly muttered the words between kisses, stroking her cheeks as he kissed her, not caring that her lips felt so lifeless…. so cold even for Shira.

“Don’t leave me,” Zuko said, kissing her firmly between words. “I love you too, so don’t leave me now.”

The girl reached to something that hung around her neck and Zuko recognized it as the opposite of what hung around his own neck. A small half-moon painted white with a black marking.

“When I am gone,” she whispered. “Give this to Izumi. Just as you said you would give yours to Rekka.” “Zuko,” Shira whispered as Zuko stopped kissing her to wrap his arms around her waist and rest his head on her abdomen. “You are my whole world.”

“Don’t….” Zuko started but cut himself off. He didn’t know why but for some reason just as he was about to speak, it felt like something had been drained from him…. Like he had been depleted….

The young fire lord snapped his head up to look at Shira, only to find that her blue eyes were closed, no longer shining brighter than the stars…. Closed…. To never open again.

Meanwhile, out in the hallway, Zuko and Shira’s seven children stood outside waiting for news from their father about how their mother was doing. That was when they heard it…. the blood curdling cry that split the silence of the hallway and made every beating heart present break.

“No!” Yakira cried, tears immediately springing to her eyes. Roku quickly grabbed his sister and pulled her to him, allowing Yakira to grip his tunic and soak the front of it with her sobs, allowing his own tears to fall as they splashed onto his sister’s head.

“Rekka….Izumi….” Ena whispered, her bottom lip quivering. “Please tell me….” Rekka immediately wrapped both his arms around Izumi and Ena’s shoulders, holding them close as the two broke down into quiet sobs.

Chika clapped her hands over her mouth, no sound coming out of her except a strangled cry of pain as if someone had stabbed her through the heart…. The same sound that had come from behind the closed doors of the bedroom not a moment before.

“Sh,” Hirako gently cooed, hugging his youngest niece to him while Toph buried her face in his arm to hide the fact that even she was crying.

Katara was shaking in Aang’s arms while Mei and Mitsuru were trying to calm down Kaname and Ty Lee who were shaking so bad that no tears were falling…. but their faces were ashen white.

“Katsu?” Suki said, trying to help Sokka comfort Chika but having noticed that the young man hadn’t even reacted.

All eyes fell on the blond boy who was standing nearest to the door, his hands limp at his sides…. No movement from him until his knees buckled and he fell to his knees with a thud.

“No….” he muttered, so quiet that they almost didn’t hear him until a scream tore itself from his lungs and rang through the whole palace as he crumbled in half to the floor. “NO!” Aang was about to let go of Katara to comfort the young prince when suddenly the door of the bedroom flew open and there stood Zuko. None of those present had ever seen him in a worse state even all the times he had been on his death bed or beaten up after a battle. His face was so white it was almost painful to look at him. There were red streaks all over his face from the hot tears that had poured from his eyes. His amber eyes were rimmed with red and puffy and the light from his eyes that seemed to glow gold were now bland and almost brown in color having lost the shine they always used to have. On his pale lips that had lost their color were red marks where he had bit down on his bottom lip to suppress his cry which would have been as loud if not louder than Katsu’s.

The young fire lord bent down and gripping Katsu by the shoulders, drew him to his feet before crushing him to his chest in a tight embrace. Katsu immediately wrapped his arms around his father’s middle, burying his face in his father’s shoulder and letting the sobs come.

“Why father?” Katsu cried into his father’s shoulder, for the first time in the calm young man’s life, Katsu was actually breaking down. “Why did she have to be taken from us?” “Sh,” Zuko said softly, holding his son tightly before opening one of his arms to Chika and Ena.

The two girls rushed over and buried their faces in their father’s chest as he stroked their hair gently. “Many who live deserve death,” Zuko whispered. “And many who die deserve life. We cannot stop death from happening nor can we stop the people we love the most from leaving us one day. Your mother was too good for this earth. That is probably why she was taken from us so soon. We are still unworthy of her and now she is in a place that deserves her but…. She is not gone. She will always be here. She will always be with you when you sit in the gardens. She shall always be at your side every night and every morning. She….she shall always be waiting when we return home.”

“Psst,” Mako whispered, jabbing Korra in the side to wake her. “They’re here.” The girl immediately snapped out of her thoughts to find that when she had zoned out she had been seated on a crate with Mako and Isami waiting for the ‘important guests’ that Toph had spoken of.

“Where are they?” she asked, looking around.

Isami pointed upward with a smirk, “Look up.”

Korra lifted her eyes and at once gasped when she saw what was approaching. Three massive dragons were flying toward them, one white, one black and the third red. The red one flew between the white and black ones and upon his back sat an old man with snow white hair and a familiar scar on his left eye.

“Fire Lord Zuko?” Korra inquired. “But I already know him…. Why did Toph want us to meet….him….” The girl’s question was answered when the three dragons landed and Korra saw that Lord Zuko was not alone. Seated on the white dragon were two people who looked old enough to be Korra’s parents but not too old to be her grandparents. One was a handsome tall young man with jet black hair and amber eyes who looked strikingly like Zuko with his hair down instead of pulled back like most fire nation men. Sitting behind him with her arms around his waist was a beautiful water tribe woman with beautiful black hair and blue eyes.

Seated on the black dragon was a woman who looked halfway between Fire Lord Zuko’s age and the two people on the white dragon, her hair graying but not white yet. She wore simple glasses and had bright amber eyes.

When they landed, Korra, Mako and Isami got to their feet. The four riders dismounted before approaching, Zuko partially in front with the woman with glasses at his right hand and the other two partially behind. Just as they landed, two more figures leapt off the backs of the red dragon and Korra stared in shock. They were wolves. Massive wolves, possibly larger than even Fire Lord Zuko who was a very tall man. One was jet black with a white mark upon his head while the other was pure white with a black mark on her head. The black wolf walked over to stride next to the woman with glasses while the white wolf followed at Zuko’s side, keeping so close that her shoulder was brushing Zuko’s robe.

Two more things caught Korra’s attention as two large birds came flying down from the sky. Massive eagles which came to rest on the shoulders of the two-younger people. The black eagle sat upon the man’s shoulder, his beak was pure white while the pure white eagle sat upon the woman’s shoulder, that eagle’s beak was black.

“Avatar Korra,” Zuko greeted, bowing his head.

Korra immediately bowed, “Fire Lord Zuko. When Toph told us, we would expect a surprise I was not expecting you.” Zuko smiled softly. “I am not the most surprising I suppose. I actually asked Toph to inform you. There are a few people I would like you to meet.” The old man turned to the gray-haired woman at his side before she walked forward, “This is my eldest daughter, Fire Lord Izumi.” The woman bowed to Korra who bowed back, “I have heard of you Fire Lord Izumi,” Korra said.

Izumi smiled kindly at the girl before Zuko then turned to the other two people with him, “And this is my grandson, Rayne and his wife Seema.” Korra bowed to Rayne before Seema stepped forward and smiled.

“Excuse my bluntness,” Korra said, looking at Seema, “But you remind me of someone.” The woman smiled gently, “My grandfather was Avatar Aang’s brother in law, Sokka. My mother was Suki, a Kyoshi warrior.” Korra’s eyes widened in surprise but before she could say more, she saw Seema and Rayne turn to look at someone behind her and Korra turned to see Mako standing there.

The boy smiled kindly at the two before approaching them and allowing Seema to hug him.

“Hello father, mother.” Korra and Isami’s mouths dropped open.

“Mako,” Isami said firmly. “You never thought it would be important to inform us that your great-grandfather was Fire Lord Zuko!?” “Or who your grandfather is for that matter,” Korra added.

Mako nervously scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah…. I was gonna tell you about that. My grandfather actually died before I was born…. His name was Rekka. He was Grandmother Izumi’s twin brother…. and the Yin.”

The two girls froze before their eyes fell back on Fire Lord Zuko.

“That is why I wanted to talk with you Korra,” Zuko explained. “Something that Avatar Aang and I agreed after my wife died was that we would keep the identities of the Yin and Yang private to only those closest to us unless terribly necessary. Because you are the next avatar, Aang has confided in me that you may know the identities.” Korra glanced at the two white dragons behind Zuko who didn’t seem to stray far from him before she nodded to him, “You were one…. Weren’t you?” Zuko nodded, “I was the Yin and my wife was the Yang. My daughter, Izumi and her twin brother Rekka were the next Yin and Yang.” Korra’s eyes fell to the two eagles sitting upon Mako’s parents’s shoulders before Zuko confirmed her next guess.

“Seema and Rayne were the next Yin and Yang.”

“But….” Korra said, looking at the white lone wolf who seemed almost lost as she stood next to Zuko, “Why is….” Zuko and Izumi looked at each other, pain crossing their faces before looking back at Korra. Mako walked over and placed his hand on the girl’s shoulder, causing Korra to look at him to see a tear fall down his face.

“Korra…. The reason Great-grandfather Zuko and Avatar Aang kept the identities private was because…. Before I was born and before my parents were discovered to be the next Yin and Yang…. Grandfather Rekka was murdered. Not just for being the Yin…. But for being the first born of Fire Lord Zuko and Shirayuki Trusang.” “Trusang?” Korra asked. “Wait…. you mean like…. The girl in the stories who could control starlight…. Who journeyed to the past and into the spirit world….” “My wife,” Zuko whispered.

Korra gasped, “I thought it was all just myth…. But why are you telling me all this?” Zuko sighed before reaching to something that hung around his neck before holding it out to Korra, “When Rekka died, he left it to his son, Rayne but now Seema and Rayne have agreed that their time as the Yin and Yang is over and it is time for the next generation to take over. This is for you Korra.” The girl stared at the small wooden pendant on the string…. A half circle of black wood with a small white circle on it. The Yin pendant.

“Me?” Korra whispered. “I’m the next Yin? But…. Who does that make the Yang?” Zuko smiled before patting her shoulder, “You’ll know soon enough.”

While this was going on, what Korra didn’t know was that Mako had reached to grip something inside his shirt…. If he had pulled out the pendant that hung around his neck, she would have found the other half of the circle…. White with a black mark….the Yang.

#avatar the last airbender #avatar #zuko #zuko x oc

[dmsden]

Location, Location, Location – The Crypt of Arzenoth

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This is our first article in our new series Location, Location, Location. Every month, we’ll offer a “five room dungeon” style location that you can insert into your own campaigns or even build a campaign around. Although the articles will be written from the perspective that they’re meant to be played as part of the Angel of Chaos campaign that I’m building in my monthly Campaign-Building articles, I’ll keep them open enough that they should be easily adaptable to any setting.

Background: Long ago, the paladin Aurelia Arzenoth was a hero and champion of the god of chivalry. Armed with a magic holy sword, she cut a path through the forces of Chaos that helped to push the Borderlands east and increase the dominion of the Realm. Sadly, she finally fell in battle with a terrible foe, the Mummy Lord Rutahkhen. Her holy sword, Daybreak, was hidden by her allies, and it’s said that clues to its location were hidden in her secret crypt, somewhere in the town of Thanavorne.

Now, however, agents of Chaos have reportedly found the Crypt’s entrance, and adventurers are needed to find out what they know before the secrets of the Crypt are recovered. For if Chaos gets its claws on Daybreak, it could be perverted into an Unholy Sword, Nightfall. This would be a disaster for the forces of the Realm.

Room 1 – The Leaky Tap. This place is the poster child for seedy taverns. Normal rats lurk in the shadowy corners, and unsavory types congregate to discuss nefarious dealings. The one-eyed half-orc barkeep, Frik, claims to know nothing about Chaos or Crypts, but an Insight 12 check can tell that he’s lying and nervous. He’s not much for fancy words, so Persuasion checks to get him to spill the beans are at DC 17. He’s gullible and rather craven, however, so Deception and Intimidation checks are only DC 12. If “persuaded”, he’ll admit that there have been strange people coming and going, and he fears that they may be plotting something dire.

Insight and Perception checks can reveal that many of the people in the bar don’t like this line of questioning, and anyone who understands Thieves’ Cant recognizes that signs are being given to sound an alarm and to kill the interlopers! Two cultists and their leader, a human thug named Kurd Votash, move to attack the PCs with Surprise if at all possible. A third cultist tries to run out the door in order to fetch their leader, Viara Neth, a human spy who is currently moving around the neighborhood with two other cultists, seeing if she can find another way into the Crypt. It will take the cultist two rounds to find Viara, and then another three rounds to return with her party. This could make this fight quite deadly for the PCs.

Treasures: The cultists all carry 2d4 cp and 1d4 sp. Kurd Votash has 13 sp and 2 gp. Viara Neth has 10 cp, 2 sp, and 3 gp.

Room 2 – the Cellar. Once things are secure, Frik tells them that, although he’s not sure what they’ve been looking for, they’ve essentially been keeping him out of the cellar. The PCs can use a skill like Investigation or Survival (DC 15) to find that there’s been a lot of activity around one particular poorly-repaired wine rack in the southern wall. An Investigation check (DC 18, or 14 if the PCs have already seen the activity) will find that this wine rack is bolted to a secret door! It is locked (DC 15) and trapped with a poison needle (DC 15 to find and/or remove. If the trap is activated and not avoided (DC 15 Dexterity saving throw), it does 1 piercing damage, and the victim must make a Constitution saving throw (DC 12) or take 7 (2d6) poison damage. The secret door creaks open noisily, revealing fine stone construction quite unlike the shoddy construction above.

Room 3 – The False Crypt. Beyond the secret door, a History check will reveal that these passages are far older than the buildings above. A Survival check will reveal that no one has been down here in some time. The PCs will find a modest crypt room. There are smashed urns and coffers, as well as a defaced sarcophagus full of smashed bones. There is a modest shrine of the God of Chivalry on the far wall that seems to be largely untouched. This room is, of course, a false tomb, designed to trick would-be thieves into thinking that the crypt has already been plundered. If the PCs inspect the shrine, they will find the outlines of a secret door (DC 15 Investigation or Perception), but there’s no obvious way to open it. A DC 15 History or Religion check will reveal that the shrine is what’s called a Shrine of Imploring Prayer, suggesting that one of the faithful of the God of Chivalry would wish to kneel and offer a prayer of supplication here (a Cleric or Paladin who serves the God of Chivalry, or someone with the Acolyte background who serves the God of Chivalry knows this automatically.) If anyone kneels and offers a short prayer to the God of Chivalry, the shrine lowers into the floor, revealing a larger room beyond.

Room 4 – The True Crypt. This is a much more magnificent room, with a marble sarcophagus carved in the form of a shroud-covered lady knight with a sword held over her chest. Small funerary urns stand in each corner, and a more magnificent shrine of Valdamor stands on the eastern wall, lit by Everburning Torches built into the walls, bathing the room in golden light. It’s at this time that a new enemy is revealed. Thaven Reek is an Evil Mage (stats found in Lost Mine of Phandelver. Alternately, create a 4th level Wizard using the rules in the Player’s Handbook). He is flanked by two cultists. They offer the PCs a chance to leave peacefully. Reek would rather not die here, so, if necessary, he will use charm person and/or misty step to escape. If he is killed, however, the PCs can claim a solid victory.

Treasures: The cultists all carry 2d4 cp and 1d4 sp. Thaven Reek is carrying 5 gp, a spell component pouch, and has a leather cord around his neck with a garnet worth 15 gp.

Room 5 – The Reward. When the enemies have been slain or driven off, a ghostly figure manifests. This is the lawful good ghost of Aurelia Arzenoth. She will offer the PCs the contents of the urns to help aid them in their battles against chaos. She does not, however, know where Daybreak might be, although she believes there is a clue in one of the urns. 

Treasures: Two urns contain 800 cp and 400 sp each. One urn contains 400 sp and 10 zircons worth 50 gp each. The final urn contains 200 cp and a piece of a map with a clue to the whereabouts of Daybreak.

This adventure could then prompt a campaign of seeking Daybreak, following various clues to recover pieces of a map, or some other device to lead the PCs to their goal.

#d&d #D&D #d&d adventures #d&d 5e #d&d 5th edition #d&d 5 #dungeons & dragons #Dungeons and Dragons #dungeon master #dungeonmaster #DM advice #GM Advice #d&d module #dnd module