#folks have been using this to tell stories from their home campaigns and i love it so much

[mavrickbrett]

What if Orcs were smart?

The following is the journal entries and letters of a half Orc named Jack. He is on a long multiyear expedition from his homeland far to the east of the very tall mountains that mark the edge of the Orc homeland. It begins to tell the Story of how Jack finds his true love, and the not so fun campaign they go on.

Orcs face a lot of discrimination for being Orcs from the Humans so if you don't want to read that I probably would skip it. Its not anything graphic just clearly causes pain for the protagonist.

Chapter 1.

Unknown to many humans the orcs who are the villains of countless children’s stories are one of their closest relatives. Homo Orcus, as the Orc biologists of the Central University of the Mountains have taken to calling their species in their quest to describe the relationship of all life to each other shares a common ancestor with Homo Sapiens, as the Humans have decided to name themselves, less then 500,000 years ago. Adapted to hunt and hide in the temperate rainforest and moss-covered mountain range they call home, they are a unique species in comparison to their close relatives the Humans, or the small folk of the valleys as they call the halflings. This mountain range protects the 500,000 or so orcs that call it home. Being such a small population their separation from humans is not due to a desire to distance themselves but due to the nearly impassible mountains that separates their homeland and their being so few orcs that leave their homeland to travel. The human settlements near the mountain range on the steppe are used to working with and meeting the orcs and share none of the concerns many humans have with the orcs due to lacking experience with them. Many a farmer and rancher has welcomed an Orc son or daughter in law into their family or sent their child to an Orc college as while difficult to reach are much closer than the agricultural universities in many Human capital cities.  

Standing on average well over 6ft tall, with pronounced lower canines, often incorrectly believed in many human stories to be massive tusks, with a green pigment to their skin, the orcs stand out from Humans. Their dentition can make speaking many human languages difficult with certain sounds taking time to master, they prefer to speak one of the two orcish languages, High Orc commonly used in formal settings or in literature and orcish which has regional accents and uses a more poetic structure then high orcish. It has been rumored that human settlements that deal often with the Orcs begin to adopt a sort of creole language that either replaces difficult to pronounce words with once of orcish origin or truncates the words to avoid those sounds. Often when Orcs speak in common human tongues such as Burgandish or Low Costal they speak slowly giving many humans an impression as a dim witted species barely capable of speaking. This could not be further from the truth, as a species they love poetry and literature but is often inaccessible to many Humans and they make little effort to spread their work.

One of the Orcs proudest achievements is the high observatory, located on a snow capped volcano jutting out from their home land’s forest, a center of excellence for astronomy and optical design. In order to be able to craft the very precise lenses and mirrors the expert craftsmen of the observatory make optics much larger then any human craftsmen has ever considered. Thus the observatory is able to see into the night sky much better then any human or elf colleges astronomers could. Having spent years using the sensitive and massive telescopes to chart the heavens the Orcs have the most accurate stellar charts available, if unknown outside of their lands. Coupled with a dedication to learning shared across the species the Orcs colleges and universities are some of the largest in the world, and are open to all who wish to attend. The Orcish colleges and universities are open to other species if they wish to attend for a small price, much lower then the famous Elvish or Human colleges that educate the outside worlds elite, but this is largely unknown outside of their homeland.  Specializing in the natural and physical sciences the Orcs have independently discovered many laws of nature and have even pushed science further in some fields then either the Humans or Elves. Orcish surveyors a are widely sought in the Steppe near their homeland to solve human property and boundary disputes due to their unparalleled accuracy and precision in their documentation, even if the maps, and plans given to their human clients is much larger then any human would prepare often covering entire great hall tables just to map simple farm boundaries (Needing to use larger pens to fit comfortably in their hands has a downside). Often what humans perceive as Orc war bands are simply astronomy students sent out to improve the celestial charts, needing dozens of Musk ox to carry their equipment and observation books.

It has become legendary how energetic the orcs are, often in stories of them plundering entire cities in mere hours. While there is little basis in truth to these stories, being that it is quite hard to convince the Orcs to form up their militia to leave outside of great offense to either themselves or communities they are closely tied to, there is a pearl of truth to the stories. The Orcish homeland is filled with all manners of strange plants which when consumed by most outsiders gives a felling of boundless energy and taste quite bitter and leave ones mouth feeling cool like they just breathed in fresh mountain air. The scientists of the Coastal Agricultural College and Research Laboratory report there are two compounds that seem to be the cause of it but have no direct human language translations as of yet, but transliterated are catine and zenttine.  These appear to poses a significant toxicity to plant eating insects, and explains why Orc crops never face difficulties with locus or similar crop pests. This has resulted in a high number of flying pollinators though, which seems to unnerve visitors on their first trips to farms, which feed the many birds and insect eating mammals of the land. A significant amount of agricultural effort goes to growing a larger tough tubber, turdock, that is a stapple food of all communities. It appears the strong and pronounced lower canines are well suited for ripping into these energy and nutrition dense plants. While most orcs consume some meat as part of their diet, this is a very small amount of their food intake with almost all coming from cultivated plants and fruits. A strong spirit made from fermented and then distilled ratter berries is a popular drink while the fermented juices also a popular drink consumed in larger quantities. Visitors who consume this drink describe it as a “dangerous concoction” due to the high sugar content and a difficulty in telling how drunk one is from it unlike with human spirits.

Orc interpersonal relationships are complex, previously there was a strong tribal structure that is no longer meaningfully present, instead a weak guild system has developed with high degrees of mobility. Advancement in the guilds is due to mastering of one’s craft and with support of their peers. Many orcs form strong individual bonds with another, and go through a complex marriage ritual which involves a large celebration, and the couple going together in the mountains for a month together. Stories tell this was previously a test of strength for the new couple as they attempted to survive, today it resembles a vacation for the new couple. Their friends, families, and guild mates often conspire during this time to give the new couple a place to live either by building or finding the new couple a lodge to move into once they return. These marriages are predated by extensive courtship lasting months to years and are not of a rigid gender nature. Many marriages are between the same gender of orcs, and are largely supported by their communities.

Orcs have been seen to intermarry with humans and produce children that leave full lives. These marriages are observed primarily with the villages near the Orcs homeland. Often the children present with stripes or banding of orcish and human skin tones and make them stand out from other humans. Once they reach 13 to fourteen years of age these children begin to present with their stripping and their dentition may or may not begin to resemble that of an orc. If they do have orcish dentition, it may make pronunciation of some sounds more difficult. Largely these offspring are on the very large size for humans and possess heights and builds larger than children born from only human parents. These offspring are considered by many orcs to be fully members of Orc society and entitled to the same opportunities as other orcs, even if they are not as large or pigmented as children born to orcish parents on both sides. It is reported that these mixed offspring experience many of the same discrimination that orcs face outside of their communities.

The Military of the Orcs is surprising given their fearsome, and well deserved, reputation. Largely the rely upon a militia system, with college and university students given extensive coursework on the topic as part of their degrees. A professional core group exists for training, planning, and protecting dignitaries for the rare occasion they are dispatched to meet with other states. Largely the militia plans to defend their homeland at its mountain borders where few non Orc armies could imagine crossing let alone fight in. There is a professional navy rarely spoken about or seen that is rumored to ply the seas near their homeland that shadows any ship that comes close to the rocky and inhospitable shores. Details on its operations or size are scant and a closely guarded secret that no member of Orc society would reveal. It has been more then 200 years since the last time any meaningfully force has left homeland to fight or wage war, with the last time being provoked due to a cruel military campaign conducted against many of the village located near their homeland. The Militia plans for similar campaigns to be waged if called upon, but presently they prefer to dispatch small units to support allies if they are attacked.  

The government of the Orc homeland is principally conducted through a federation of smaller communities who send elected representatives to the (very small) capital city. Consisting of about 500 representatives there is an election of a single leader who forms a cabinet that manages the few matters of state the body manages, principle being matters that effect multiple communities or the entire homeland. All matters that are to be voted on are discussed for all days of the week but Friday, as humans call it, when all voting is done. This is only broken for matters of gravest importance such as imminent attacks on the homeland. Often frustrating foreign dignitaries who can be forced to remain for many days before a vote can be held. Any member of Orcish society can directly petition or speak to the council on non-voting days, which is often done to seek advice in matters that affect multiple communities. Non community members must either be escorted by a member of Orcish society or present a warrant issued by another state to address the council. (Often leading to amusing situations of foreign dignitaries not knowing this rule, and cursing about the unruly mass that is the council during public hearing unaware that many in the room may understand their language.) For purposes of determining who is a member of Orcish society for addressing the council, it is broadly taken with many humans from nearby villages having been considered members even if not blood, but due to economic or social factors It is considered polite for them to attempt to speak in Orcish at least during these attempts. Local communities decide most matters themselves often through a complex mix of plebiscite, and guild voting with many members of a community voting in multiple elections. Administrative manners are handled by a civil council, with most major decisions deferred to weekly community votes, where liquor and wine flows freely, which is seen by most as a chance for communities to be a great time to meet with neighbors and fellows. Often these meeting are quite chaotic, but it does appear to effectively administer the local communities.

While often reported as crude craftsmen this does not match with the goods produced by many workshops. As a large and heavy species, and having large fingers, small fine details such as fine engraving are often not performed. Instead, many crafts focus on elegance through simplicity and the overarching perfection of the good. For example, many Orcs own a large sword taller then many humans as both a mark of status of being a member of the species as no other species produces weapons of such size. They are simple affairs with simple bindings and little ornamentation, but a human bladesmith would marvel at the near perfect balance, the quality of materials, and most importantly the quality of steel that enables the very long swords be as thin as many other species short swords while still not deforming or bending adversely when used. Outside of a new architectural trend which asks how complex of curves can be built accurately, Orc builders seek to have their buildings more level, square, and plumb then any human craftsmen would be capable of building.

It has been mentioned at great length the discrimination faced by many orcs if they stray far from the Homelands from Humans and other species. This is believed to be due to a lack of familiarity others have with orcs. While never intentionally insular, the homeland provides many orcs with enough food and work to leave no need to venture past the mountains, and those that do rarely leave 20 or so leagues of the mountain range ever present on the horizon with its indomitable heights always visible on the horizon. The difficulty due to dentition of speaking many Human languages provides an impression to those who can not speak orcish, that orcs are unwise and struggle with speech in general, even in perfectly fluent in a many human languages. This leaves few options even for highly educated orcs that go far from the mountains for employment even if they are overqualified for many human jobs. Even though often those who leave for extended times from the homeland are some of the best educated and desire to learn and see from others, their only options on jobs where their strength and size are seen as their primarily qualification. Many a Human army has hired orcs for them to form brutal shock units to find out they are much better qualified then their own officers at leading, or their engineers at preparing for offenses or defenses, if given the opportunity which is rarely.

Final notes, I have endeavored to write this report in such a way as from the perspective of a human anthropologist (they seem to lack this as a profession? Instead, they have archodiggerist focused on digging things up) relaying their understanding of Orcs. I hope this can help your students understanding from a different perspective as requested Doctor.

-- Jack Otreen of the member of the Civil Engineers Guild

On expedition, currently Starfire Capital City – The Low Counties

It has been five years since I last was home in the shadow of the mountains. While I have learned much about the Humans and their culture, it has been painful these past many years. I deeply miss catine, the humans coffee is painfully expensive in comparison to the price of ratter barrier liquors at Joes liqueur establishment, and barely gives one the feeling of being able to work forever on a manuscript. I hope what information I will bring back will be worth it, the humans grow stronger and have expanded their military greatly. I ran into one of the high observatory astronomical observation teams, they had been attacked by a local towns guard, like so many places orcs are despised here and half orcs like my self are seen as “affronts to god.” They were going to return early after the attack instead of proceeding further along the cost for more star mapping, I know the navy will be sad they won’t receive more accurate astronomical position charts, but I have given them my maps of the cost north of here to bring back for me. I fear trying to bring them back the hundreds of leagues by myself, the people here are much more aggressive then my village back home. Even after my stripes began to show I was still respected by my human friends and peers but not here even after I have learned their language they mock me for the speed at which I speak, apparently it is painfully slow.

When I first left I hoped to find work as a civil engineer or a surveyor. I was quick to find out only the kings army engineers were allowed to work on the large projects I was used to. I tried finding work for local farmers but was often times met with threats, oh well I have still been able to make maps here tho. I recently heard the army was recruiting orcs for a new unit. Up until now it was never an option, I have been thinking about it. Perhaps that way I could join the army engineers. I have been working for a jewelry merchant these past couple of months it barely pays enough for me to eat, but it is easy work. I escort the messenger carrying, what is clearly inferior quality, gems to the shop from the city gate. I have plenty of time to work on my records of my travels and notes, I have just finished my notes on this strange being called a Dwarf. Fascinating thing, their entire species is agender. My brief discussion with the one I have met has led me to know they hail from a large island, or perhaps content, far to the east. They have sent a small party across from their island to explore this content by means of a contraption called a hot air balloon. The one I met is apparently the one furthest to the west with most of the others they traveled with staying in a capital city to the east of my current location.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 13/12/2773

I have been on the road for three days at this point heading to the city were any Orc recruits are supposed to go if they are to join what I have learned is called the “Grand Imperial Army” apparently this Kingdom is preparing for a war with the country to the East. I have linked up with another Orc on the road to the city to sign up by the name of Zach. He was dispatched by one of the agricultural colleges as part of his Post-Doctoral studies before he came back to teach agronomics and farming practices. We have been comparing documentation on soil conditions and weather in the regions we have been through. It is good to be in the company of other members of our species for extended periods of time. Interestingly unlike many Orcs he does not carry one of our swords but a long handled axe and shovel combination. Apparently it is quite effective as an agricultural tool, and in the hands of Orcs trained in its use it proves to be an effective fighting tool to. I won’t be leaving my sword for one tho.

As we have made our way further and further east, the roads have improved in quality with many now having drainage and some have reinforced surfaces near towns and villages. Apparently According to some stories I heard in a mead hall last night the army often ha to march along this road when reinforcing the outlying fortresses. Concern is great here about why Orcs are present this far inside the kingdom and what we could be doing. We have taken to carrying a copy of the recruiting poster with us to show guards what we are doing.

It should only be a matter of a couple more days till we reach the city we are heading to. I have been sketching rout maps of this highway as we have gone. I wish I had access to better survey instruments then my trusty compass or at least had better monumentation to tie too. So far I have been forced to use churches due to the lack of other stone fixtures. I hope this improves the closer we get to the army.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 14/12/2773

Zach and I have reached the city four days ago and have joined a unit of Orcs for the imperial army. We are forming what the human officer placed in charge of us calls a shock unit. To be honest we are broadly unimpressed with his skills as an officer, any first year student would be expected to lead better then him, he likes to scream lots and call us maggots. There are 15 of us in this unit and I understand there are at least two other unit this size, we are being kept separate for as our officer says “security reasons” apparently we cant be trusted together, most of us are on sabbaticals or extended field assignments for academies or colleges. Our officer does not seem to understand that most of us have many years of military training and may even be officers in the militia ourselves. Zach is from the southern rangers I have learned, watching him in the field is stunning. I have long heard the legends of the Rangers and their fieldcraft and having as a Pioneer myself drilled with them in the past I am still shocked to see how easily he glides through even the most difficult field problems. We have named one of our most senior members, a member of faculty from the Norther College of engineering to lead us named Dr. Nick. He is a competent leader and would be expected considering before his sabbatical he was a commander in one of the Marine units himself. I understand he went on sabbatical to observe a new type of device rumored to be in use at some oar mines that can pump water out of deep mines effectively, he said it has been difficult and he has been forced to work as a laborer to have an opportunity to observe it. We don’t know how we will be able to send reports and field notes from this far east but that is a problem to be solved in a bit.

Our Officer has been making us go on marches, luckily they are short in comparison to what we went through back in training, no more three day no stop marches. I suppose this is good without a more catine rich diet I don’t know how I could do that anymore. In addition to this Dr. Nick has been making us practice sapping, battlefield mapping and reconnaissance, and my favorite field fortification. We have tried to explain multiple times to our officer that these are key skills for a frontline infantry unit, especially a “shock unit” as we are called, but normally get yelled for a while. We have been practicing with what the Humans call long swords, they are much shorter then our own swords and are not as good for controlling the area around you. We have been discussing how the humans plan to have us fight, and have not received training in large unit operations.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 25/12/2773

We have been preparing for many weeks now, outside of the daily role call the Officer largely leaves Dr. Nick to run the day to day train up of the unit. We have started to mesh very well together as a unit. Coming from so many different militia units back home we have begun to learn each other specialties. We were finally allowed to meet with the other Orc units. They too have formed their own leadership chains also finding difficulty working with their officers. After meeting with them we have all begun long range marches, last note I spoke to soon about no more three day no stop marches, we are back at them back as if we were in college once again. All the Orc units answer to the same officer, a captain, and apparently our total unit is called the first shock. The irony that no members of the unit can pronounce it has apparently been lost on the Human officers.

Out side of drilling Zach and I have been spending more time together, he has been attempting to grow turdock, pointing out that if we are to go on campaign it would prove more convenient and beneficial to carry for a long range campaign then the human rations they give us. I have been helping to plant them and to set up the irrigation for them, which has taken quite a lot of work. The Human soldiers seem to be very poorly trained in field sanitation. We have tried working with them but normally get yelled at for it. Oh well we have clean water at least. Having spent so long away from the Mountains it is nice to be in the company of orcs once again. Jenny, one of my classmates many years ago, joined our unit last week. It was nice to see her again, she was originally dispatched to serve as the ambassador to a neighboring principality. Apparently, they do not accept women ambassadors, but on her way back home she found the same observatory team that I had, they seemed to be doing better form what she could tell, and had them take word she was unable to take the position and to dispatch a new delegate and that she would spend more time near by to gather more information on this event, and why the Humans were recruiting Orcs.

Zach and I have also taken to practicing long range reconnaissance. Watching him move through the forest undetected is a thing of beauty, I could watch it all day. He has helped me improve my technique, I have a long way to go to reach his level of mastery. It may be wise for additional training for Pioneers in this field if we are to be able to provide the Rangers the engineering support the plans division has assigned us in the future.

I wish we had some of the Planning staff with us, Dr. Nick was able to convince the captain to at least tell him what the overall plan was, after a week of effort on Dr. Nicks part, and the plans are quite crude and unspecfic of actual objectives of where we are to go and what we are to do once we get there. We have requested to train with our human counterparts but have been turned down. Overall, I think while their armies can be much larger then anything we could assemble, I feel if we were forced to the mountains would be more then capable of holding them back from our lands.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 7/1/2774

It has been a couple more weeks since my last field note, Zach’s turdock have grown well even in the not great soil for them. According to Zach the soil should be more acidic to grow better. The camp grows every day with new units from across the kingdom arriving. Apparently there are many outlying garrisons and villages being called up to join this war. Our Officer has told us we are not to go further then half a day away from the camp on our marches anymore as we may need to leave any day. We have been informed as the “Fist” of the army we will be the first unit to move and must be ready. Apparently the King has even shown up to take control of Grand Imperial Army personally. Most members of our new adhoc band are from infantry units of the Militia, only Dr. Nick, Zach, Jenny, and I are from specialized units Luckily tho it does not seem like we will have to worry to much about that the Humans also have elite units it turns out. They ride upon a fascinating variety of horses from small ones for the forward scouts to these massive ones as tall as me for the heavy Lancers as they are called. Dr. Nick does not trust the information from the Humans and has told Zach and I that we will lead our own unit as a scouting party and prepare the way for the rest of first shock. On that note in keeping with needing to establish redundant leadership due to difficulties with the Human officers, Dr. Nick is now overseeing all three Units of First Shock. I think this bodes well for us going forward.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 31/1/2774

We received orders this morning to advance and to begin advancing towards the enemy to the East. Zach and I are about half a day’s quick march from the rest of the unit lead only maybe by the kings scouts themselves. Many of the bridges and fords we have crossed will not be able to take the strain of the army advancing across them, but we don’t have the time or the personnel to reinforce them. If only we had a full pioneer unit with us. We leave notes and signs in Low country, the language most of the Human officers seem to be able to read about its capability but I don’t know if they will know to fix it before it becomes a problem.

It is nice to spend all of this time with Zach, I wish we had met under better circumstances before this. Tomorrow morning before dawn we will cross the frontier into the enemy’s land. Let it be a quick operation. I don’t think the Humans can manage that long of a campaign with the supplies I saw at the camp.

-- Jack Otreen, FCAS 1/2/2774

I will need to go back through and edit its uhm rough, but I really like were its heading and want others to see.

#orc

[nermals-pile]

I just really love this edit

[Video description: A tiktok from user aok.wav displays an audio bar. The theme music for The Adventure Zone Amnesty plays. The music is jaunty and a little mysterious. The music comes naturally to an expectant pause. We hear a voice yell "Vibe check!" before the music slams back in. The voice was Griffin McElroy as Uncle Joshie from The Adventure Zone Ethersea]

#taz amnesty #taz ethersea #the adventure zone #folks have been using this to tell stories from their home campaigns and i love it so much #in part bc the music is just. so fuckin good

[jackoshadows]

Jon Snow’s bastard identity is central to his story. It defines and influences who he is as a person, the themes in his story, his feelings and thoughts about home, about his parents, his siblings.

Jon is at various times described by others in Winterfell as being ‘Sullen’ and is generally considered by readers as being ‘emo and brooding’. However, I don’t think Jon is self-loathing. Jon is ambitious, bitter and angry that his bastardy denies him what he thinks he deserves.

GRRM gives us different bastards in the series, from Jon Snow to Ramsay Bolton to Edric Storm and Bloodraven and even low born bastards like Gendry and Mya Stone. And they react in different ways to their situation, often molded by their upbringing. A Ramsay Bolton is whom Catelyn Stark should have feared, not a Jon Snow.

Ramsay Bolton and Jon Snow are of course a study in contrasts and intended as foils. Where both bastards are envious of their trueborn siblings, Jon accepts that Winterfell is Robb’s and leaves for the NW to make his own way while Ramsay murders Domeric Bolton.

Jon mentions that “A bastard had to notice things, to read the truth that people hid behind their eyes”. We are first introduced to Jon Snow through Arya and Bran’s POV chapters and they both mention Jon’s observant and perceptive nature. It’s clear that they look up to him as some wise mentor.

Jon was 14, an old hand at justice - Bran, AGoT

Jon looked her over with all his fourteen-year-old wisdom.- Arya, AGoT

Jon tells Benjen that he’s older because Maester Luwin has informed him that bastards grow up faster than other children – this is both sad and true. There are three instances we know of where Jon puts aside his own feelings in favour of those of his siblings.

“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

 Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own - Bran, AGoT

They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones….When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her. - Arya, AGoT

Robb knew something was wrong. “My mother …”

“She was … very kind,” Jon told him.

Robb looked relieved. “Good.”  - Jon, AGoT

Jon’s relationship with Ygritte is complicated by his bastardy. He is tortured by the idea of siring bastards. He is angered when Benjen suggests that he sire a few bastards before joining the NW. If there is any leader who would try to change the way bastards are treated in Westeros it would be Jon Snow. If Jon had the power to influence policy with respect to how bastards are viewed – Evil and treacherous due to being born of lust/fornication – he would do his best to better the lives of bastards.

This is why I always come back to the point of how the best leaders are those who can empathize with the small folk, the low born, the slaves, the disabled, those who are different, who don’t conform, women who suffer under the patriarchy etc. We see this in Daenerys Targryen’s campaign in Essos, in the decisions Jon Snow makes as Lord Commander

Jon secretly makes Arya a sword so that she can train and learn how to fight – because that’s what she wants to do. He befriends Tyrion Lannister.  Helps Samwell Tarly. Helps train Pyp and Grenn and the other boys. Makes Satin his steward, Leathers his man at arms. Hires Spearwives to defend the wall.

It’s being different that pushes him to help others who are also on the outskirts of polite Westerosi society. It’s what shapes his policy at the wall, it’s what defines his journey to the top. It’s why he ends up clashing with his top deputies at the wall.

Jon starts the books with a chip on his shoulder about his bastardy. He is angry anytime his bastardy is brought up.

“You’re Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you?”

Jon felt a coldness pass right through him. He pressed his lips together and said nothing.

“Did I offend you?” Lannister said.   – Jon, AGoT

“That is a longsword, not an old man’s cane,” Ser Alliser said sharply. “Are your legs hurting, Lord Snow?”

Jon hated that name, a mockery that Ser Alliser had hung on him thefirst day he came to practice. The boys had picked it up, and now he heard it everywhere.  – Jon, AGoT

In ASoS, he is using his bastardy to manipulate Mance Rayder into accepting him as one of their own. By the time we get to ADwD, he has embraced his bastardy and shrugs off all insults.

I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first? If you mean to kill me, do it and be damned for a kinslayer. Stark and Karstark are one blood.”

“My name is Snow.”

“Bastard.”

“Guilty. Of that, at least.” - Jon, ADwD

This is in stark contrast for example to Sansa Stark in the Vale pretending to be a bastard. She is aghast at the thought of having to play a pretend bastard and is nearly brought to tears by Harry the Heir calling her one. Jon Snow meanwhile has understood that such insults matter little in the grand scheme of what’s at stake.

Jon and Tyrion’s first meeting is also interesting in that we have Tyrion’s oft quoted advice - - “Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you.”.

And while Jon seems to have embraced some of that, Tyrion himself has gone down a darker, more angry and destructive path of self-loathing in ADwD.

In any case, Jon’s journey from bastard son with no prospects to Lord Commander of the NW is often times underpinned and colored by his identity as a bastard and his desire to help the underdogs and outcasts. Maybe this is why GRRM has stated that there is a little bit of himself in Jon Snow.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the outsider, for the underdog. ‘Cripples, Bastards, and Broken Things’, as the title of one of the (TV series) episodes goes. The angst that they have in life makes for more conflict, makes for more drama, and there’s something very attractive about that. My Game of Thrones is told by outsiders of both types. None of them fit comfortably into the society into which they’ve been born, and they’re all struggling to find a place for themselves in which they’re valued and loved and respected, despite what their society considers their deficiencies. And out of that, I think, comes good stories. - GRRM

It will be interesting to see the next phase of Jon’s story if he is indeed legitimized as Jon Stark by Robb’s decree and what changes if any he will bring about as King in the North

#Jon Snow #Bastardy and identity #JonSnowMonth2022

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen. 

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error. 

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully. 

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering. 

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice. 

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter. 

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?” 

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle. 

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless. 

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.” 

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask. 

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper. 

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly. 

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space. 

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?” 

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven. 

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.” 

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do. 

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about. 

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper. 

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.” 

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer. 

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject. 

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine. 

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk. 

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows. 

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth. 

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide. 

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers. 

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker angst #lee bodecker fanfiction #hoedecker club #hoedecker cult #tdatt fanfiction #my writing #fic title so wrong #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E111 (Sept. 29, 2020)

@eponymous-rose‘s internet is out tonight, so I’m here late and without coffee! Let’s see how many typos we can fit into an hour and a half episode.

Tonight’s guests: Ashley Williams JOHNSON, oops!! & Liam O’Brien!

We open with Brian in light-up vented sunglasses and Henry at his side, as always. Dani is very excited to be back and has fun-buns in her hair tonight. So cute! Everyone talks about how much they’re Zooming these days for work, and Liam mentions he and Matt & Marisha did a digital cocktail night. He and Dani arrange on camera to have a distanced, masked meetup in the park so Dani can see Liam’s dog again.

No announcements! Tonight, we’re discussin’ episodes 110 and 111.

Starting with the end, Brian jumps right to it by asking how they feel that Molly is alive. Liam 100% thought we’d be back to him, but still wasn’t ready when it happened. Caleb doubted he was alive. Both Liam & Ashley marvel at the numerology that keeps cropping up throughout the show. Brian hates not being able to see it at the same time the show happens live; Ashley was biting her tongue not telling him spoilers. (He doesn’t want to hear spoilers unless Yasha dies so he can be there for Ashley if needed.) Brian says he has a little reality trauma from the night Pike died in the pre-stream game; it was the first time he’d realized how much it affected the players.

Ashley’s realized how much she misses unpacking the game with Brian when they get home. She just has to sit with it until everyone else gets to see it. Brian: “Instead she comes home and I have to fill her in on the Real Housewives of Amarillo, Texas.”

Reunion dinner with Trent! Liam talks about how the way things unfolded with Trent is not at all how he imagined it in his pre-game creation; he’d expected more of a fracas, more of an unexpected clash. “Caleb might have been a different person if he’d run into these people earlier in the story. The M9 changed him before [Trent & co] came back and got to him.” He’d imagined Astrid & Eodwulf to be complicated encounters, but says what Matt’s designed has been even harder than that. A fight on a mountain is one thing, but walking into a room with “what Trent dropped, is impossible to cope with.” It also means that if what Trent said is true, anything Caleb does now is effectively of Trent’s design, even killing him.

He doesn’t think Caleb would have gone anywhere near Trent & co without the M9. “The Mighty Nein--it took a long time--but they cracked Caleb open like a walnut.”

He thinks what Matt has done is much more murky than the simplicity of murder, such as the Briarwood arc. He can’t just exact his revenge now.

Liam says that the tempation to tinker with time is no longer as all-consuming as it was. He might still be tempted if Matt dangles a bunch of carrots in front of him, but he thinks that now it might be better to make sure that that kind of thing doesn’t happen anymore for anyone else (!!!). “It’s still a nugget in his brain and it’s still possible he could be tempted by the drug, but what he wanted in the beginning was entirely selfish, but now that the M9 are involved he owes it to them, to the people of the country, even on the Dynasty side--is so complex that if Caleb were to get that carrot and chase it, he would be risking everything.”

Ashley agrees that most of their choices are no longer black and white. Many of the situations feel more like real life. Liam agrees and says he’ll sometimes make decisions that he’s both really happy with and regrets at the same time. They both look forward to what Matt will reveal in Act 3.

Brian feels it’s tough to gauge how deep they are into what Matt’s planned for the campaign. Liam says that thanks to Matt’s skill, he really doesn’t know what Caleb wants right now.

Ashley agrees, and talks about how she created Yasha to have more to overcome than Pike. She loves what Matt’s doing in terms of allowing each of them to overcome more emotional hurdles than physical ones in this campaign.

Going back to Molly’s grave was very exciting for Ashley since she wasn’t able to be there when he died in the game & wanted to do what she could to honor him. Yasha, however, was very hesitant but knew what needed to be done. She’s not very open with her emotions, but both she & Ashley were stressed. They all could feel the energy in the studio & knew Matt was about to do something mind-blowing. Liam: “You could feel all the dust in the air coalescing around Taliesin.”

Brian trips over Eodwulf. Liam tries to help him find some pronunciation shortcuts. Ashley: “You say it so beautifully.” Brian: “Thank you.” Ashley: “Not you.”

Caleb knows how wickedly intelligent & ambitious Astrid is, and was heartened by the wavering he saw in her at the dinner. However, he can’t trust her until he knows why she’s where she is.

He really feels that if they’d had this dinner 60 episodes ago, Caleb might have tilted back along the evil axis and he would have had to retire the character. He had a playlist entirely for if Caleb turned evil and left the party.

The vision of Zuala was a huge deal for Yasha, even along every other instance she’s had of being mind-controlled, etc. “That’s guilt I think she will always carry with her, but at least she’s starting to forgive herself.” Losing the chains, sprouting wings again--Ashley reiterates that she didn’t know that was even a possibility, she just picked the skeletal wings because they were dope--were huge moments in the character development. Ashley’s glad Beau was there at the moment of the first flight; Ashley thinks of the quotation “Happiness is only beautiful when it’s shared,” and because Yasha tends to keep things very much to herself, having someone there to share it made it more impactful. “That was a cool moment. There’s been a lot of healing for Yasha these last episodes.”d

Ashley also says sometimes in that moment, when all eyes are on you in a one-on-one with Matt, everything goes muffled like Saving Private Ryan. “Wub wub wub.”

Dani feels that the only way she could even have the conversation with Zuala was to let her go in the first place.

Liam thinks one of the things that Yasha & Cad share is that still waters run deep. He loves how much Yasha hangs back sometimes, only to then reveal some new moment like the fighting pit. Apparently Ashley also has a knife collection, and uses that metal side of herself when she wants to let that new side of Yasha show.

Cosplay of the Week: Crystal Armstead (@riyuski on twitter) in a Reani cosplay. Beautiful!

How does Liam feel about the return to Rexxentrum? Very, very complicated. Caleb loves magic and lights up when he sees it, which is wrapped in the Soltryce Academy; he brought folks to the dance hall for the same reason, which was wanting the M9 to see the things that he loved about the city.

Yasha felt the same way about visiting the Chantry of the Dawn. It was a memory of a very traumatic moment (almost killing Beau), but given everything that’s happened between then and now it was cathartic to see again. There’s been a lot of healing in the past few weeks. It also felt like a physical representation of Yasha’s growth, the last time she was controlled against her will like that (or at least, until she was mind-controlled by Vokodo. Ashley sighs, aggrieved.)

Brian: “The tower really feels like a love letter from Caleb to his friends.” Liam: “It is, and a love letter from Liam to his friends.” When he looked at Caleb’s spell list, he remembered how amazing the mansion was in Campaign One and how many role-playing moments it led to and knew he wanted to incorporate it. However, he knew it could never be the same as Scanlan’s mansion because Caleb doesn’t have the same improvisational genius as Scanlan does. Liam has been “tinkering with this machine” for over a year, waiting for the moment to reveal it. He loves that he got a chance to see Jester’s room in time to have her tower room reflect reality. He’d discussed the tower extensively with Dani & Matt. Brian: “Hey! What am I, chopped--what’s the saying?” Ashley: “Chopped cabbage?”

Ashley marvels at the design of the dome. Liam talks about how Caleb knowing Caleb has been abused has been slowly getting better, but he also loves now being able to juxtapose that healing with his innate love of magic and how beautiful he finds it, how he loves to use magic as his artistry. The Soltryce Academy wasn’t “Welcome to DEATH SCHOOL,” it was the Sorbonne. It was amazing, everything he wanted. It was only one bad apple within that recruited him and turned it all bad.

Liam also points out how much it means in real life to be able to express his love and care for his friends in person too.

Ashley talks about how much she loves Yasha’s armor in a meta sense because it’s so cool and useful, and great for her armor class, but struggles with what it represents in game. She might not be able to let it go due to its sheer utility, and she may have to find an in-game reason to justify keeping it.

Ashley segues a moment into talking about her velvet top which apparently has a matching velvet scrunchie. She’s asked to demonstrate the scrunchie and ties her hair up in a way that I have never in my life seen someone do with a scrunchie before, and my hair’s been waist-length most of my life. I watch it again in slow motion. How did she DO that??

Caleb’s been looking for the right time to tell Jester about his past for a long time. She’s a good person and makes him feel like he might be capable of becoming a good person at the end, because that’s how she saw him. Liam knew from Laura that Jester wouldn’t condemn him, but Caleb put it off as long as possible. He also wanted to take the time to make sure Caduceus & Yasha knew the whole story too before they went to dinner with Trent.

Liam was also relieved to get it out, because he could never remember who knew and who didn’t, and now he doesn’t have to track it anymore. “Now we can move forward. Now we can heal wounds, maybe.”

Ashley feels Cad picks up a lot, more than most people realize. Yasha was really affected by Cad’s line: “Patience can be good, but it can lead to apathy.” She really feels it opened her eyes, and she appreciated the simplicity of him pointing out her hair’s growing back white again. Having a friend notice “hey, you’re changing for the better” really means a lot. She’s interested in seeing how this means things might change with Beau.

Dani points out that it also reinforced for Yasha that she can want things too--she can be patient and just continue to be with the group, as she’s wanted, but it’s okay to want more than that too. Ashley remembers Veth asking her what her purpose is. There’s a part of her that knows Yasha is still figuring that out, and she’s interested to see how Yasha will continue to change. She’s always spent her life serving somebody--the Sky Spear, Obann--and then even after she joined the M9, it was very centered on “what do you need, what does the group need, how can I help with our next job?” She’s going to have to take some time to figure out what she wants.

Fanart of the Week! Lovely Yasha & Beau flight art by @JMNP7888. The wings look amazing!

Brian: “One of the things we want to talk to you about, Liam, is about the Vokodo fight and the FUCKING disintegrate spell.”

Liam: “That was one of the most insane 60-90 seconds of gameplay that ever existed for the table, and definitely for me, in the entire history of the show. A lot of people think I just went, oh man, just bet it all on black. But what if I told you that...I Larkin’d the first 20 seconds of that fight and then at a quarter to midnight, I forgot that the reflection was a thing? I just forgot it was a thing! I spent that whole battle thinking I’m just here to banish things. I might buff my friends a little bit, maybe I’ll counterspell, but I’m just here to banish. And it didn’t work and it didn’t work and then it did! Finally it did and Jester made it work and then he was GONE. And then everyone got greedy and it was done but we brought him BACK. And it was a quarter to midnight and I’m not an animatronic D&D lesson machine, I’m just a guy playing D&D at 11:45 at night, and he came back and everyone started Goodfellas circling him and kicking him, and Beau & Yasha are gonna kill him, and then it’s my turn? Disintegrate! And then the room was quiet, and then time passed, and Matt asked, you really cast Disintegrate? And I said yes, of course, and Matt started rolling dice, and in the back of my head I started wondering why he asked if I was rolling Disintegrate. Oh no. In the back of my brain, I was like, well, just tell him that’s not what you did. Tell him you didn’t remember the reflection thing. But he’s already rolling dice! You can’t take it back now. Hold on a second. I’m going to take you on the journey I went through. I was thinking: you have a spell save of 17. This thing wasn’t that fast. +1, +2, maybe? Anything under 14 is okay. That’s 70%. 70%. That’s okay, right? And still no one said anything to tip me off that I was in ELDRITCH MADNESS at that point, no one said anything about the reflection! And then I realize it can reflect back on us, and I realize this is...disintegrate. And then I started becoming morbidly, macabre-ly fascinated at the puppet dance of death I had created. Well, this is a mess. I have made a mess. Let’s just sit in it. And somehow, nonsensically, spectacularly, it worked out in my favor. I went home that night and I got in bed next to my wife, who was fast asleep, and I stared at the ceiling going, dude. Duuuuuuuude. Duuuuuuuuuude.”

He apparently also told his therapist about this and how terrible it was and how close he “danced myself to the precipice like a crazy person!” Marisha (as told by Liam): “Epic roll, though.”

Matt told Liam that night that if it had been reflected, it would have gone back on him. “If a player throws an M80 in the middle of a room, it would reflect on that player who threw it.”

Ashley talks about how interesting that Yasha is not performative, and yet has been doing these public performances with the harp. It’s a great experiment for Ashley--Yasha doesn’t like the attention, but feels like she is making something beautiful for the world.” She’s trying to change something about how she views herself & her place in the world. She was raised to be a weapon for the Sky Spear, but she’s also extremely gentle and loves flowers & beautiful music, and the further away she’s gotten from the tribe, she’s falling in love with gentle, beautiful things. 

Liam also points out it easy (real, but simplistic) to make an entire character centered around a single personality trait: “I’m angry all the time. I’m sad all the time.” He thinks it’s more realistic to see nuance in personality.

Liam can see some paths for Caleb to find peace & do good. He doesn’t know if Caleb is conscious of those. He thinks it’s a huge step forward to admit he was molded in this direction at all and that it wasn’t all his choice, but doesn’t know if this is the same possibility as redemption.

He also mentions Essek in this answer: there was/is attraction there, both intellectual and physical--the forehead kiss was a big marker of that--and he’s interested in seeing where that goes because he’s invested in Essek’s redemption arc on its own, but Essek is not as high on the list as other things Caleb/the M9 need to work on. He loved the “high spy times” of the Essek arc and the tangled-up-ness of feelings getting involved at the same time as intense commitment to duty.

Liam always felt Matt would bring Molly back in some aspect, even though Caleb always demurred because he doesn’t believe in fate. Dani and Brian agree that this is the start of a new act.

Ashley cried at the Vilya reunion. She thought that was an incredible moment and was so glad to see Keyleth. Liam: “Keyleth as part of our story is everything to me. That story is really important to me, so getting just a glimpse of her again was so important to me.” They could all see how that affected Marisha & how special it was to her. Liam: “It was such a great note in her song or color in her painting. She achieved magnificent things and was powerful and great, but had a very heartbreaking and sad ending, so to have this sliver of joy go back in is so complex and beautiful and masterfully done.”

Aaaaaaand that’s all for tonight! Remember, no Critical Role this week. Talks will be back in two weeks. As always, don’t forget to love each other. <3

#talks machina #critical role #talks machina spoilers #critical role spoilers #long post #long post for ts

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 10 second part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Meta)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Unclean Realm

Lan Wangji has a Louis Henry Sullivan moment on seeing the Nie family home, becoming enraptured by its overwrought monumental architecture after a lifetime of restrained good taste and single-story buildings.

He approaches the fortress with the expression of delighted wonder that he usually reserves for when he’s looking at the moon or at Wei Wuxian.

Wei Wuxian is like, yep that’s a building, all right, but he supports Lan Wangji’s kinks.  

Meng Yao tells them about the Wen Clan directive, and has what appears to be a moment of genuine, affectionate amusement at Nie Huaisang’s reaction.

Jiang Cheng kinda blames the Lans for inventing the whole “indoctrination” thing and for encouraging his brother’s disaster bi tendencies. Wei Wuxian responds by complimenting the Lan Clan, almost like someone who met his true love got some real value out of the instruction he received there.  

(more after the cut)

One of the great ironies of this story is that Wei Wuxian sort of becomes a rogue Lan disciple because of his relationship with Lan Wangji. He relies on Lan temperament techniques, uses music as a primary cultivation method, has committed all of the Lan rules to his supposedly terrible memory and cites them on multiple occasions, and is an important mentor for the younger generation Lan disciples. Because Hanguang-Jun is just that good in bed.

Xue Yang in the background of this conversation is channeling OP’s church-enduring, school-enduring inner 10-year-old.

Nie Mingjue, Chifeng-Zun, appears, and couldn’t be more different than his brother. On first watching this episode, I saw him as a grumpy, sexy, very emotional leather daddy man who is quick to anger. Rewatching, I see someone who’s struggling with a growing illness...the resentful energy kind.

Nie Mingjue’s handling of resentful energy is very different from Wei Wuxian’s straightforward interest and acceptance. NMJ has a traditional cultivator’s view of it, regarding it as evil and as something to resist, while he is literally carrying it on his back. He’s like a secret alcoholic who is preaching temperence, and can’t find a way to be reconciled with himself.  

At this point of the story, Nie Mingjue is keeping it together, but is under a hell of a lot of stress, and Baxia’s blood thirst is already maybe a problem.

The Yunmeng bros think that Nie Huaisang’s fear of his brother is hilarious, because they don’t understand the situation. They think he’s just living in a hideously toxic family dynamic like theirs, when actually he’s in a loving, sorta healthy, if parentless, family that is being crushed under a generational curse.

Compliments for the Yunmeng Bros

I’m not the first meta poster to notice how happy Jiang Cheng is to be praised by Nie Mingjue.

He never gets this at home. Jiang Yanli praises him, but in that watery “you tried your best” way that doesn’t really stick.  Nie Mingjue’s praise really means something, because he is a fearsome warrior and stern authority figure. And this is a double compliment, because Nie Mingjue says he heard it from Lan Xichen, and agrees with it.

Let’s Make Terrible Decisions

Keep Xue Yang alive, says Wei Wuxian, and Meng Yao immediately agrees, although I’m pretty sure he would have proposed that even if WWX hadn’t.

So they do, not realizing that “kill him later” is never a good plan for someone who 1. super needs killing 2. has a whole lot of death-dealing skills.

Future clan leader Jiang Cheng notices how smart and talented Meng Yao is.  Xue Yang finds it hilarious when the trio praises Meng Yao, possibly because their evil team up is already underway.

Boss’ Bed Warmer Son of a Ho

The constant insults toward Meng Yao are about his mom, but there’s another level of leering implication, that Meng Yao seems to encourage in his conversation with the soon-to-be-murdered guard captain.

Nie Mingjue elevated him way above his expectations, and he is ridiculously pretty, which has to create rumors. In the Nightless City scenes when he’s fondling Baxia and telling Nie Mingjue’s family secrets there’s definitely a sense of intimacy that’s not just “loyal retainer.”

I feel like maybe this whole exchange is a bit of theater designed to show Xue Yang something without showing it to anyone else. Meng Yao didn’t need to have this conversation in front of his prisoner.

Let’s Do Exactly What We Said We Wouldn’t

Once the younger quartet are alone with Nie Mingjue, Wei Wuxian crosses the room away from his friends and practically into Lan Wangji’s pocket, if Lan Wangji had pockets.

He has no pockets and also has no personal bubble any more, when it comes to Wei Wuxian.

We could make a weapon out of Yin Iron, Wei Wuxian says, completely forgetting his entire conversation with Lan Yi, apparently. Lan Wangji doesn’t argue with this idea.

Nie Mingjue warns Wei Wuxian not to try it.

I stabbed a man in Qinghe just to watch him die

Nie Mingjue is like the Johnny Cash of the cultivation world, carrying the weight of his poor choices and trying to steer the young folk to the path of righteousness. But--like Johnny Cash--his bad choices have made him really fucking cool, so he isn’t very good at deterring anybody.

Meng Yao Didn’t Come Here to Make Friends

Immediately after Meng Yao’s fellow Nie clan people call him “son of a whore” again, Wei Wuxian meets him, is nice to him, addresses him by his military title, bows to him, asks why he’s away from the party, and thanks him for his service.

But Meng Yao has already decided to make friends with Xue Yang, so Wei Wuxian goes onto his list of people that he doesn’t give a crap about except if they can be useful to him.  Then Meng Yao goes to make out hatch a plot with Xue Yang.

I’ll Sleep On Your Roof

Meeting SongXiao seems to have done away with the last of Lan Wangji’s resistance to his connection with Wei Wuxian.

He hears a noise on the roof and, when realizing it’s Wei Wuxian, he smiles one of his tiny reserved smiles before heading outside.

When he sees Wei Wuxian drunkenly sprawled on the roof, limbs akimbo, wine on his chin and neck, mouth full of poetry about the open road, Lan Wangji gives him the most fond look imaginable.

Then he reluctantly leaves, with his signature “say goodbye, but only when he can’t hear you” thing.

They’ve both come a really long way since their first meeting. Wei Wuxian is openly and vocally attaching himself to Lan Wangji...but is not actually entering his space or asking for anything from him; he just wants to be near him, and wants to let him know that. “I’ll sleep on your roof tonight.”

And Lan Wangji just...loves him. Wei Wuxian is drunk, embarrassing, demonstrative, eager to make a hell weapon out of yin iron, touchy feely, and absurdly sexy. And Lan Wangji is pretty okay with all of that.

I Might Have Been Drunk

Wei Wuxian carefully avoids telling Jiang Cheng where he was last night.

Even if he did get blackout drunk, he would have woken up on Lan Wangji’s roof. And I don’t think he was as drunk as that. He just knows Jiang Cheng wouldn’t like the truth.

Wen Fucking Chao, Again

Wen Chao shows up to be annoying and boring.  This leads to a pretty good fight between Nie Mingjue and Wen Zhuliu. Note that when the chips are down, Nie Huaisang stands with his Gege without any cowering. Almost as if he had hidden reserves of bravery, and is not as helpless as he lets on.

Wen Zhuliu isn’t styled to be super hot, although he’s certainly compelling, and in Dance of the Phoenix he looks good with sensitive-guy hair wispies. I wonder what actor Feng Mingjing looks like out of character?

BRB, adding a tag to my follow list

Battle Bros

When the fighting breaks out, the Yunmeng brothers are decisive and united, with Wei Wuxian giving orders to Jiang Cheng and JC following without hesitation.

I feel like if these two could have gone through a few big battles together, instead of being separated during most of the Sunshot campaign, their whole relationship would have improved. On the battlefield, they respect, trust, and understand each other.  

The Pointy End

Nie Mingjue is holding his own against Wen Zhuliu, but he gets distracted by Meng Yao hollering “Xue Yang has escaped” and then shanking the guard captain right in front of him.

Wen Zhuliu takes advantage of the distraction to aim a very slow stab at Nie Huasang, and Meng Yao jumps in front to get stabbed on his behalf.

When the Yunmeng bros show up to help NMJ, Wen Zhuliu immeiately yanks Wen Chao back behind him and points his sword at Wei Wuxian. He absolutely sees these two as a serious threat.  Considering that eventually WWX is going to kill Wen Chao while JC kills Wen Zhuliu, this concern is not misplaced.

Wei Wuxian tells Wen Chao to stop being such a jerk, and Wen Chao menaces Wei Wuxian and gloats about the burning of cloud recesses. The burning, that is, of some part of cloud recesses that doesn’t include the library, the Jingshi, the main cultivation chamber, the rabbit warren, or Lan Qiren’s house, unless the Lan Clan is really really good at rebuilding things to very exact specifications.

In a rare moment of seeing Meng Yao’s internal thoughts, he is worried about Lan Xichen when he hears about cloud recesses.

The Yelling Part

Now we have the particularly nasty breakup between Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao. It’s...got some layers. Meng Yao is cowering on the floor, but is not apologizing.

He never apologizes throughout this encounter.

孟瑤無悔  - Meng Yao (has) no regrets

This scene is amazing and excruciating to watch, even more when you know what’s ahead.

What the Fuck is Meng Yao’s Plan

On one level this is Meng Yao, manipulative sociopath, setting up a cover story for his aiding and alliance with Xue Yang.  On another, this is Meng Yao, loving subordinate, being tossed aside by his lord because he dared to stand up for himself.

He uses the same “scout’s honor” gesture we’ve seen Wei Wuxian use to swear he’s telling the truth. Wei Wuxian is always lying when he uses this gesture.

I’m...not sure exactly what Meng Yao’s plan is, with all these chess moves? By stabbing the captain in front of NHS, he created an opportunity to plant a cover story about Xue Yang’s escape. He might be hoping that Nie Mingjue will forgive him and keep him on, while Xue Yang can stay in his back pocket to be used later.

Dry eyes? Try Visene

Or he might be intending to get kicked out, given his non-apology. In any case, Nie Mingjue is weeping during this encounter, and Meng Yao...isn’t. He is signaling distress in his voice, expression, and body language, but his eyes are dry up until the last moment, and even then they just glisten a bit. In a show where every actor is an expert at crying on cue, that’s got to be a deliberate choice.

Which isn’t to say that Meng Yao is faking being full of emotion in this scene. It’s just that the emotion isn’t necessarily sorrow.

What Does Nie Mingjue’s Head Think

Flip the view and this is about Nie Mingjue being betrayed by a subordinate, who has turned out to be a self-serving murderer. And on another level it’s Nie Mingjue being betrayed by his lover, who was just using him for advancement.

I rewatched the later episode where we get the scene as Nie Mingjue’s head perceived it, and he’s particularly brokenhearted and disillusioned from his head’s POV.  In that version there is a telling addition to the conversation.

Nie Mingjue asks about the guys who were roasting Meng Yao behind his back. He asks, if I hadn’t come, would you have murdered all of them?

Um. No, dude. Of course fucking not. That’s what a patriarchal authority does. That’s the way an angry Nie Mingjue/Baxia team might solve a problem.

Meng Yao has to use subterfuge to kill his enemies. And while he super hates being called “son of a whore” it’s absolutely not enough to make him kill someone, with the risk murder brings. Likewise, being treated well isn’t enough to make him spare someone. Nie Mingjue totally doesn’t get this, because he’s been the patriarch of this clan his entire adult life.

And Here’s the Actual Problem

There is a betrayal here, but Nie Mingjue is not simply a victim.  Whether it’s a sexual relationship or a non-sexual bond of affection, there can be nothing solid in Nie Mingjue and Meng Yao’s relationship within a feudal society, because it is fundamentally unequal. Even if they love each other deeply - which I’m not convinced either of them does - every encounter they have is tainted with power dynamics.

Meng Yao has been elevated by Nie Mingjue and quite probably taken into his bed, as well as being told many family secrets, but has not been given a new surname (like, for example, Wen Zhuliu was) or independent power. More importantly, Nie Mingjue has not used his authority to remove or punish the many people who disrespect his subordinate.  Lan Qiren would have had all of those gossipy fuckers kneeling in the snow, and Wen Ruohan would feed them to his mosh pit zombies.

Meng Yao is a murderous little snake, but he is right to be angry with Nie Mingjue about some things, and his pursuit of his own agenda is understandable.

Well, That Was a Slice

Meng Yao leaves, hurt, with a dignified bow; just as he did that one time when his dad kicked him down the Carp Tower steps.

Take note, both patriarchal authorities: that is his way of saying “I’m going to murder you one day.”

Nie Mingjue sits with his broken heart, as we realize that we’ve only spent 20 minutes with this guy and we’ve gone on an entire emotional journey with him. This episode packed in a LOT.

Soundtrack: Johnny Cash, Folsom Prison Blues

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #wangxian #meng yao #nie mingjue #my gifs #canary3d-original #the untamed meta #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed

[stuhde]

After taking some time off to cry, understand, and speak with myself. I decided to write something out expressing my thoughts and feelings about everything going on in this country. It’s long, powerful, and provactive but I need to get my voice out. Like, comment, share, have discussions with me when i finish my social media cleanse, but I will not stand silent in times of injustice. 

After seeing and reading the murder of George Floyd at the hands of the police, I was quick to delete all my social media apps and hide away from the “uwu Black lives matter posts,” the underserving claps white celebrities get from doing the bare minimum, and just witnessing the continuous realities of injustice that take place in this country.

As a first-generation Sudanese American, I was nothing but confused and lost in the midst of a growing movement, particularly George Floyd’s murder hitting home the most because the police who were arresting Floyd was responding to a call from an Arab American-owned store. With intersecting identities of being black, Muslim, and Arab, witnessing the anti-blackness rhetoric spew from my religious and ethnic communities clash with my racial identity stirred tension and fear in what it means to be a black Arab Muslim in this country and what my place is in the Black Lives Matter Movement. I often found myself asking, “what is my duty to the black community?”, “Am I too Arab to be black, or am I too black to be Arab?” And “what is my privilege in identifying as Arab and a non-hijabi Muslim?” Black Arabs like me often experience issues with invisible intersectionality, people often forcing us to “take sides” or strongly reside with one of our identities when it sees fit (refer to how people responded to the Ahmed Mohamed clock incident).

But I have come to the conclusion that my blackness is comprised of being a woman, Muslim, and Arab - not separately and that’s what makes this unique. Black Arabs are often finding themselves at the struggle of fighting against racial injustice because of our skin color and against the xenophobic and Islamaphobic rhetorics that have only increased since the beginning of the Trump campaign. However, you all have a duty not to ignore the experiences of black Muslim immigrants in this country, like Yassin Mohammed - he was murdered by police in Georgia earlier this month. Say his name and remember him.

Yassin like me is a Sudanese American - black, Arab, and Muslim but he wasn’t reported or written as such. The media called him a “Muslim man” and yet, our Muslim community remained silent. Why? Because it only brings to light the deep and historical roots of racism that are instilled in our community and we need to address it. Muslim and Arab Americans have a duty to stand with our black brothers and sisters in times of injustice. They were there for us in supporting Palestinian liberation and with us against the Muslim ban - now it is our turn. Listen to Black Americans and Black civil rights groups about their unique experiences and learn how we can best support our collective struggle against injustice. You have a duty to educate yourself and tackle anti-blackness in our community. As quoted in Surah An-Nisa [4:135], “be persistently standing firm in justice, even if it be against yourselves or parents and relatives” - support your local CAIR organization and others like the Arab American Action Network and the Muslim Anti-Racism Collaborative, who are all standing with the Black Lives Matter movement and doing their best to bring all our communities together to end all forms of racism, discrimination, and injustice.

For my fellow Sudanese, this is our fight too. While we must recognize the centuries-long of cruelty and pain the African-American community has endured since forcefully coming to this country and understanding that their pain is different from ours, we share the same skin and we will go through the same thing they are going through. I can tell you personally, from even the youngest age that I have always been afraid of the police. Why? Because I witnessed the disproportionate amount of cruelty and violence with which people who look like me are treated with.

While our older Sudanese community members will try hard to erase our blackness simply because we have drops of Arab blood, at a tragic reality we have all experienced and witnessed discrimination and racism at the hands of law enforcement. This is hard because we have a complicated relationship with race on the fault line of racial consciousness because our country is on the border between Arab and black Africa. However it is, we are BLACK and we need to have conversations about race in our community. We as Sudanese people are not doing enough to eradicate racism and prejudice that exists in our community as well as our Muslim, Arab, and general US society. The next phase in the revolution is to recognize that these issues exist in our Muslim community, come together with black Americans and African-Americans, and create change to take down these systemic institutions that were never designed to protect black and brown folk.

I will continue to do my social media cleanse, but I welcome those who wish to discuss what my views and opinions are more with me - should you agree or disagree. People who care will know how to reach me. In this time, I am reading, learning, and liberating myself to make a change and I can only ask you to do the same. There are so much power and knowledge invested in books:

How to be an Anti-Racist by Dr. Ibram X. Kendi

Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You by Dr. by Ibram X Kendi and Jason Reynolds

Why I'm No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

Freedom Is a Constant Struggle: Ferguson, Palestine, and the Foundations of a Movement by Angela Y. Davis (HIGHLY recommend to my Muslim and/or Arab folk)

The Autobiography of Malcolm X by Alex Haley and Malcolm X

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness Michelle Alexander

A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn

The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin

In Search of Our Mothers' Gardens by Alice Walker

Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson

Resources for my black Muslims, courtesy of my University’s Muslim Student Association:

The Muslim Anti-Racist Collaborative - deconstructing anti-Blackness within the Muslim community Believers Bail Out - re-imagining the prison and police systems through Islamic perspectives Sapelo Square - an online forum that places Black Muslims at the center: Reconstructed Magazine - a creative magazine and conversation space led by Black, Shia, and queer Muslims The Black American Muslim - space for Black American Muslims to share testimonials and resources on faith, history, and power Justice For Muslims Collective - an organization reimagining a world where radical inclusion leads to collective liberation for Muslim communities and beyond Kayla Renée Wheeler, Ph.D. - Islamic Studies Professor who created the BlackIslam syllabus Amina Wadud, Ph.D. - African-American scholar on gender and race in Islam. Learn more about her through her interviews here Su’ad Abdul Khabeer, Ph.D. - Scholar-Artist-Activist & Author of Muslim Cool Islamophobia is Racist Syllabus - resources to understand empire, anti-Muslim racism, and ideology

For my black friends, I hope you are well and I hope you are safe. I am with you all the way through in our fight for liberation and human rights. Take care of yourself first before anyone else and if you need a minute or more before protesting and educating those around you, take your time, you need it. All the love x

#lama makes a monologue #long post #black lives matter #blacklivesmatter #george floyd #yassin mohammed #afro-arab #muslim american #arab american #black muslim #politics #us politics #policing #tw: violence #tw: police brutality #tw: murder #please understand what i am going through while writing this #i am in pain i am scared but i will not stand in silence: i will be liberated and fight for my people and their rights #good night

[angelsndragons]

Day 1

Day 1 of the Caduceus Clay celebration week, folks, so you know what that means: I get to gush about my favorite character. I did warn y’all I would word vomit.

So, what does Caduceus mean to me? 

Well.

My brother lives in a separate state and has for several years now. We talked on the phone pretty much every day but we still missed each other a lot. One of the last things he did to me in person was introduce me to D&D. I loved it. It gave me a community away from home and a way to meet new people and form new friendships in new areas. I would tell him all about my weekly game shop adventures, he would tell me about the homebrew campaign he was in online. He also told me about this little show called Critical Role. I, like the dumb oldest sibling I can be, pretty much ignored it, outside letting him talk to me about it and engaging with it secondhand. Then, my brother’s party lost one of their players. They were down to four players and no full casters, just a gunslinger, a barbarian, a monk, and a non-healer warlock. Things started getting dicey. Like, really dicey. He worried with me over how close their fights were getting and how he felt it was only a matter of time until someone legit died and they couldn’t do anything about it. So, I asked, “Well, can you ask them if I could play? You’re looking for someone and we’re looking to try to do something together, it could work out.” Two years later, that campaign is going strong and (thankfully) no one has died yet.

I bring up this context because it matters: I rolled up a level 10 Grave Cleric. I had never played a cleric before but I had wanted to before my game shop sessions fell apart. And here I was, willingly thrown into the deep end of one of the most complex subclasses of one of the most complex classes in the game. And initially, I was not happy with it. Not just because there was a lot to learn but because of sheer mechanics. By rote, I could not keep up with the damage that the rest of my party was doing. At all. My high level spells weren’t doing much more damage than my freaking cantrips and I just felt stuck. I wanted to contribute outside of healing but really just couldn’t. I shared my frustrations with my brother, who, being the little troll he is, said, “Well, you know Critical Role has a Grave Cleric now, right?” So, to start this love fest, Caduceus taught me how to be a better cleric and because of that, I will never be able untangle the character from my relationship with my brother. Even if he died tomorrow or went evil or whatever, I would still be fond of him just for that.

I don’t remember which episode of campaign 2 I first watched all the way through. I know I started paying attention around Fjord’s chicken game and was fully on board with the series by Yasha’s loss in the pit fight. What I do remember is Caduceus. I remember being drawn in by this guy for some reason I still can’t articulate. 

Caduceus is a complex character who is difficult to fully understand and love. People have said unkind things about him, about how he is a glorified NPC or that he is boring or that there is just no ‘there’ there or that he should just go home already. I have seen people say that they think Taliesin should go back to the drawing board and come back with a ‘better’ character, one who vibes better with the group or something. And the sad thing is, I can kind of see where these people are coming from. Understanding Caduceus and what Taliesin is doing with him requires people to pay attention to him, to actively think about him both when he is and is not in the spotlight. And that is hard. Because Caduceus is that character who aggressively tries to divert attention from himself. So right away, we have this tension, this push/pull when it comes to engaging with him. And I do love me a challenge in my favorites. Also love the polite but judgmental assholes who have Opinions they would never say but nevertheless own.

For me, Caduceus’ arc has been about duty and desire, what duty means, how to prioritize yourself, and how to grow. Caduceus’ interrogation of identity as it relates to duty and his blossoming as a person fascinate me most. What is your duty, really? What does it mean to find balance in your life? How do you take down the walls you built to protect yourself? Where do you end and where does your duty begin? What does faith look like outside a strictly Western/Christian lens? Can we find ourselves in other people? What does it mean to grow beyond your wildest imagination and the people you love most?

Caduceus begins the show as a passive, apathetic shadow of a man who has cloaked those traits in duty in order to not deal with his feelings. He had basically grown up in a literal paradise on earth where the problems of the world couldn’t reach or affect him. Until they did. Until his family left. Until the Nein crashed into his temple. Caduceus makes the choice to basically leave paradise, at the Wildmother’s urging, sure, and experience the world in all its messy beauty and ugliness. It is nothing like he expected. It is hard, it is cruel, it tries to drown him at every opportunity. It is also good, the animals, the people, the experiences he has. Hearing Marion sing, learning of a lighthouse to the Wildmother (which he does not fully appreciate yet, this light in the dark storm). Caduceus spends his first chunk of episodes waking up, seeing life outside of paradise. I love these early episodes because they demonstrate just how far Caduceus has actually come (can’t imagine this guy buying an overly large pirate hat as a prank or helping the Traveler offload some followers through an elaborate ceremony, for example).

The crux of Caduceus’ midgame story right up until he saves his family is this: You’ve seen the world, young cleric, are you sure you want to continue to save it? You can go home and turn your back on all of this, what makes you stay in this imperfect world with these imperfect people? We see this a lot, in the questions he asks the Gentleman, in his insistence they save Yasha, in his newfound appreciation and companionship in Fjord, in making the Xhorhaus a home, in his dealings with the stone giants, in his determination to help Nott and her family. And this is the part that made me love him because Caduceus doesn’t shy away from these moments or tough questions. Like most of what he does, he contemplates them quietly and lets his actions speak for him. Caduceus allows himself to get involved, to become invested.

Caduceus’ new major arc is his realization that he is not just some vessel, some passive thing through which the Wildmother’s will will flow. No, he learns that he has to make choices, that he can affect change, and that if he wants this messy, beautiful world to get better, he is going to have to do something about it. Not just wait for Her to tell him it is okay. Taking ownership of his future and what that means to him have shaped Caduceus these last thirty or so episodes. Caduceus has blossomed so damn much. He continued with the Nein because he wanted to, and that led to the discovery of the Astral Sea City. (side note: Anyone want to take a gander what would be happening right now if Caduceus hadn’t been with them?) He not only felt his feelings towards the Nein, he began expressing them. From the man who refused to Scry or Send to his family to one who has a friend call up his sister and tell her he will be back, from the man who clung so tightly to his need to be useful to the Nein to one who openly declares how much he loves these people and how reluctant he is to leave them, from a man who wanted to save his home to one who is trying to save the whole damn world, from a man who couldn’t articulate his feelings if you threatened him to one who is trying so hard communicate, from a man who needed saving from his own apathy and grief to one who saves others, this is who Caduceus Clay has become and I for one am excited to see how the next 100 episodes influence him.

Also I cannot end this word vomit without mentioning the fact that Caduceus being aroace and so warm, loving, and caring is so damn important. Because it is; there are too many people out there who think aros/aces are loveless robots or fake or whatever. And having this person, this caregiver, this annoying little brother, this compassionate man, to hold up against that kind of hate, ignorance, and indifference means more than I will ever be able to express. 

#caduceus clay #cr caduceus #caduceus #caduceus meta #long post #critical role #critical role meta #caduceus clay week #cr campaign 2 #the mighty nein #my meta #it's like fjord said #caduceus inspires me #his arc is there people #he has grown as a person #and i am so dang proud of him

[gstqaobc]

FROM THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF CANADA

As this Ecomm went to publication, we received word of the death, at the great age of 96, of Bill Silver, a significant benefactor of the League from its early days, and for many years a pillar of our Ottawa Branch.  We wished to remember him here: his ebullient spirit, fierce loyalty spoken gently, innate modesty and kindness.  Indeed Chaucer might have had forethought of Bill in describing one of his characters as a “very parfitt gentle knight.” May his ardent spirit rest in peace, and his memory be a blessing and example to us all.   LEAGUE ISSUES NEW FLYER: THE CASE FOR THE CROWN The League thought it timely and useful to issue, offer in its advertising and distribute as widely as possible - both via the website and in printed form - a new flyer which will give you, our members, ammunition to argue logically the case for the Crown in conversation with others, and, we hope, to distribute strategically. One never knows when such an item, left on a waiting room table at the doctor or dentist’s office, affixed to a supermarket or other community bulletin board, put through neighbours’ mail slots - the possibilities are many - will do good work for our cause. We hope you will both enjoy and profit from this item, and that many thousands will be distributed across the country. See item one in the WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? section of this Ecomm, below, to read online and request printed copies.   And special thanks to our wonderful team of no less than seven translators, all francophones from La Belle Province, who so kindly volunteered to make the French version one that is accurate in expression and eloquent in its prose.                     WHAT CAN I DO FOR THE CANADIAN CROWN? Some suggestions for member activity during these times. We invite members to send additional ideas by return of email. 1.    How about asking the League to send you several print copies of our new flyer:  THE CASE FOR THE CROWN, or print them on your home computer:  https://www.monarchist.ca/index.php/publications and give them to others who may be unaware or sceptical of the importance of Canada’s constitutional monarchy, or even hostile to it. School teachers could be encouraged to read the League’s educational booklets, also available both online and in print at the same URL, or even to request a class set.   2.    When you read an editorial, opinion column or letter to the editor in a newspaper, or a tweet or Facebook post, critical of the Crown, don’t get mad - get even! In other words, use a temperate tone and logical argument to refute the writer’s attack.  Keep it brief: focus on the obvious flaws in reasoning, mis-statements of fact or name-calling substituting for logic.  Same goes for radio talk shows. In the long run, on all media, whatever the provocation, whatever the momentary satisfaction of ”giving them a piece of my mind” - an old adage remains true: “You catch more flies with honey.” 3.    Write your elected representative at the federal level to re-state briefly the reasons you support constitutional monarchy as our system of government,  and asking the MP whether not your view is shared. 4.    Once pandemic restrictions ease, try to make sure that Royal events - such as the upcoming 95th birthday of our Queen, 10th Wedding Anniversary of William and Catherine or 100th birthday of Prince Philip are celebrated both in your home but also among your wider family, your friends, your colleagues at the office,  your place of worship/faith community or service club. The League generally sends you some ideas to mark these celebrations. Remember, as they are incorporated into family life and public life, the     Crown becomes further embedded in the heart of the nation, and truly represents The Queen’s wish that it ”reflects all that is best and most admired in the Canadian ideal.” This is especially true when you go out of your way to include in your observance the newest members of our Canadian family, who generally are eager to participate in the traditions of their new homeland, and in turn to share their own traditions with the wider community. 5.    Always use a Queen stamp when you write a letter or pay a bill by mail. 6.     At events of ceremony, whether a Council meeting, a graduation, a civic celebration - whatever - make sure that the Royal Anthem is sung as well as the National Anthem. To the extent you can, discourage event organizers from having a soloist “perform” them. Far more pride and         learning develop from the untrained voices of loyal folk singing together. In that way, the Anthems are sung “with heart and voice” and not merely listened to.   A FINAL IDEA: AN ACT OF LOVING SUPPORT & THANKS Apart from the above, we think it would be enormously comforting and supportive for every one of us to  write a kind letter to The Queen, expressing your thoughts at a difficult time: her beloved husband ailing, a grand-child chiding other family members via sensational television, the drumbeat of the tabloids and the restrictions on her busy life caused by the pandemic.  A selection of letters, especially those from Commonwealth Realms, are indeed seen by The Queen - and their number and tone are summarized to Her Majesty. The address is - Her Majesty The Queen, Buckingham Palace, London SW1A 1AA, UK Theoretically you don’t need postage to write the Sovereign; in practice, it is safer to affix the international airmail stamp available from your local Canada Post outlet.   AN INTERESTING OPINION PIECE FROM TODAY’S DAILY TELEGRAPHWe thought you might be interested to see the following strongly-worded opinion piece, reflecting a good deal of the tone of recent British public opinion, rather different from much of the Canadian and US commentary. Meghan’s fake interview has real-world effects The Sussexes’ claims have undermined the monarchy and done lasting damage to the Commonwealth by Tim Stanley, March 15, 2021 Two headlines appeared on the BBC News website on the same day. At the top: “Harry and Meghan rattle monarchy’s gilded cage”. At the bottom: “The kidnapped woman who defied Boko Haram”. Well, that puts the Sussexes' problems in perspective, doesn’t it? Yet across Africa, one reads, the Duchess’s story has revived memories of colonial racism, tarnishing the UK’s reputation, and has even lent weight to the campaign in some countries to drop the Queen as head of state. The only nation that seems to think a lot of nonsense was spoken is Britain. In the wake of an interview that Joe Biden’s administration called courageous, British popular opinion of Harry and Meghan fell to an all-time low, and the American format had a lot to do with it. Oprah Winfrey is not our idea of an interviewer. She flattered, fawned and displayed utter credulity. Imagine if it had been her, not Emily Maitlis, who interviewed Prince Andrew over the Jeffrey Epstein allegations. “You were in a Pizza Express that day? Oh my God, you MUST be innocent! Tell me, in all honesty, though...did you have the dough balls?” This wasn’t an interview, it was a commercial for a brand called Sussex, a pair of eco-friendly aristo-dolls that, if you pull the string, tell their truth – which isn’t the truth, because no one can entirely know that, but truth as they perceive it. “Life is about storytelling,” explained Meghan, “about the stories we tell ourselves, the stories we’re told, what we buy into.” Meghan is a postmodernist. Just as Jean Baudrillard said the Gulf War never happened, but was choreographed by the US media, so the Royal narrative she was forced to live was fake, her public happiness was fake and, following that logic, this interview might involve an element of performance, too. People have challenged her claims, alleging contradictions and improbabilities, but one of the malign effects of wokeness is that you have got to be very careful about pointing this out. Why? Because wokery insists on treating a subjective view as objective truth, or even as superior, because it’s based upon “lived experience”. To contradict that personal perspective is perceived as cruel, elitist and, in Meghan’s case, potentially racist, so it’s best to wait a few weeks to a year before applying a fact check. In the meantime, affect sympathy. People would rather you lied to their face than tell them what they don’t want to hear. The result is profoundly dishonest, for I have never known an event over which there is such a gulf between the official reception, as endorsed by the media and politics, and the reaction of average citizens, who are wisely keeping it to themselves. Into that vacuum of silence steps not the voice of reason but bullies and showmen – like Piers Morgan, who said some brash stuff about Meghan’s honesty and, after an unseemly row on Good Morning Britain, felt obliged to resign from his job.  “If you’d like to show your support for me,” he wrote afterwards, “please order a copy of my book.” Dear Lord, was this row fake, too? I can no longer be sure, though I despised Good Morning Britain before and still do: it embodies the cynical confusion of emotion and fact, a show made for clicks, where even the weatherman has an opinion. So what is real in 2021? The Commonwealth, which does a lot of good in a divided world. The monarchy, which has been at its best during the pandemic, doing the boring stuff of cutting ribbons and thanking workers that, one suspects, Meghan never grew into (can you imagine her opening a supermarket in Beccles?). It contains flawed people, but that only adds to its realness, and they can adapt faster than you might think. Prince William got the ball rolling by telling reporters, who he is trained to ignore, that his family is not racist. His wife paid her respects to the murder victim Sarah Everard, demonstrating that she is neither cold nor silenced. I’d wager Kate does her duty, day after day, no complaint, not because she is “trapped”, as Harry uncharitably put it, but because she loves her family and believes in public service. Meghan and Harry have indeed prompted the Royal family to change: not in order to endorse their criticisms, however, but to answer them.

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

[canis-lunaris]

Introducing: The Wandering Witch AU

(With transgirl!Remus, questioning!Sirius and endless conversations about the metaphysics of wandless magic)

This is the latest installment of our various Wolfstar AU's with August, one we came up with while we were on a mini-holiday, celebrating our third anniversary.

In this universe, pureblood-supremacy is rampant, keeping the Wizarding World in the permanent dark ages. Muggle-born wizards are only allowed a wand upon being accepted at a magic school, and most institutions favour pureblood children over half-blood, or muggle-born students. Wands are registered and heavily regulated, including tracking-spells and random spot-checks for counterfeit, or unregistered wands by Ministry officials.

After a werewolf-attack at age 4, Remus Lupin’s father tries to teach her magic using his own wand, knowing she would never be allowed into Hogwarts. However, performing magic with someone else's wand is not only dangerous and illegal, but also extremely difficult. Remus — a savant, who can sense magical currents in a way none of her peers can — realises that she doesn't need a wand to focus her power, and instead develops her own way of casting — or spell-weaving, more accurately —, tying an intricate web of knots between intent and the ambient magical currents to shape reality to her will. While admittedly crude and volatile, her technique turns out surprisingly potent, which makes her more than capable of protecting herself against the many dangers of a transphobic, werewolf-hating world.

Because her condition places both her and her family in a vulnerable position (the "werewolf-issue is an ages-old favourite talking point of mainstream wizarding politics, including a fearmongering campaign designed to marginalise intelligent magical creatures and eradicate non-human magic users), the Lupins decide to avoid registering their child after the attack, relying on the help of muggle medicine and corrupt healers to nurse her back to health after the transformations. They move frequently, bouncing Remus from school to school, but once Remus has gotten a basic education, they settle down in an isolated cottage on the Scottish highlands, and her mum takes on the duty of homeschooling her.

Having been brought up in a mixed family and lived the majority of her life as a muggle, Remus is well-versed in the matters of 21st century life. Once they settle into their new home, she starts transitioning, takes up Luna as her middle name, but keeps Remus as her first name, refusing to abide by arbitrary societal rules about names being connected to certain genders, rather than the people wearing them. After both her parents meet a tragically early death in a car accident, Remus finds herself alone in the world, with both a house and a large sum of money to her name; she sells the cottage and spends her parents' life insurance settlement on getting bottom surgery, then sets out to travel the world, looking for someone, or something to find a meaningful connection with.

----------

On a glance, Cassandra Black is everything her most ancient and noble house could want for an heir. She is brilliant, powerful and a downright genious when it comes to magic; the only problem is, she's a bit too smart for her own good, and no amount of discipline can keep her from asking too many questions. The only thing her bewildered parents achieve with their constant, increasingly violent punishment is that young Cassandra stops asking them, and starts looking for answers of her own.

By the time she's 11, she's thoroughly disillusioned, worlds away from the conservative, blood-supremacist doctrines she was brought up with. Upon entering Hogwarts, she spends the first free breath of her life on convincing the Sorting Hat not to place her in Slytherin, a decision she pays for with the world as she knew it. In return, she gains a new, brighter one, full of friendship, adventure and budding romance — although dark secrets, stomach-turning injustice and bitter heartbreak too. When it comes to her parents' attention that she is sleeping with a witch, their treatment turns from toxic hostility to open abuse, severing all emotional ties between Cassandra and the House of Black. She spends five years as a proud Gryffindor, but by the time her 16th birthday rolls around, she feels like she'd learnt everything Hogwarts had to offer — the good and the bad alike. She decides not to return to the castle for the sixth year: instead, she uses the start of the school year to orchestrate an elaborate escape plan, that would make it impossible for her family to find her. She breaks her wand and vanishes into the night, never to be seen again.

British Wizarding society erupts in chaos, because even one as scandalous as the Black heiress, the mysterious disappearance of a 16-year-old, pureblood-aristocrat (and a witch, for that) brings the Ministry's messaging about public safety into question, and the story keeps the tabloids busy for the better part of a year. The family puts out an enticing bounty on their firstborn's head, but regardless of the spectacular reward, no one can locate Cassandra, and without a wand to track, she proves to be impossible to trace. Eventually, the tabloids move on and the story slowly fades into the background, although, en lieu of a body, they never officially assume her dead, and the family never gives up the secret search for their wayward, blood-traitor daughter.

----------

Three years later:

Somewhere, hidden in the mountains of Scotland, there is a halfway-house, for magical folks who need to get off the grid, for one reason or another. Remus is a regular visitor, using the shelter's reinforced cellar for the full moon, and taking her time to recover at the quaint little house for a while thereafter. Nobody bothers her there, and while people do use the retreat — it's always clean, stocked with food, healing items and clean bedding, among other obvious signs of habitation —, she'd never encountered any other guests during her visits. This time, however, an unpleasant surprise welcomes her, in form of a backpack and a half-drunk bottle of wine on the porch, and soon, she finds the owner of the items as well, lounging on her favorite sunning spot.

The stranger looks ragged; unkempt and malnourished, and when they speak, their voice sounds hoarse, like they haven't used it for a long time. Remus is immediately weary, even though the stranger looks very young and rather unimpressive, expect for the very posh accent and the fact that despite their extremely strong magical aura, they did look startled, almost terrified when Remus walked up behind them — and yet, their hand never even twitched to draw a concealed wand.

"I’m armed!" the stranger warns — maybe they expected a muggle? —, but still doesn't move to reveal any weapon. Remus is quite certain she could take them on in one-on-one combat regardless, should it come to that, but she finds it alarming that this runaway teen would survive alone in the wilderness for what seems like a considerable period; a feat that requires a number of skills and the kind of training that does not come with the elocution training the stranger's speech suggests. Not just the accent, the face too... Under the layers of dirt, severe sunburn and a fading black eye, there is just something eerily familiar about them.

She introduces herself as Remus — it's one of her favourite ways to quickly size up a person, based on their reaction to her obviously masculine name. She does the whole cheeky, "whatchagonnado" act she perfected throughout the years, expecting anything from a spiteful comment to a confused eyebrow-raise in response, but the stranger just nods and gives her a polite "hello, Remus", like this was the most normal interaction between two people who just met at a shelter for magical misfits, in the middle of fucking nowhere.

The stranger, however, is less forthcoming about their identity, and Remus has to openly ask for their name after 10 minutes of tense, but idle chitchat. The stranger blushes a deep red, and once again, there is that flash of panic in their eyes, before they blurt out "Sirius... Black."

"Oh."

Of course, Remus thinks, wondering how she missed it before. She knows exactly who Sirius is, or who they used to be — she'd seen this face a million times before; a younger, smoother version with fewer sharp angles and without the haunted look in their bloodshot eyes, but the very same face was once plastered all over Britain — on missing flyers, in front page news, later on wanted posters... 10.000 galleons are a fine bit of money for a head like this. She gives the stranger a sideways glance, and they glare right back at her, with a defiant expression that might have betrayed their famous origins, even without the esteemed family name. The Blacks, they do all look the same...

"Well, that answers the question whether you're a muggle" Sirius remarks with a bitter chuckle. "Look, I know what you're thinking. And yes, they do have the funds, but just so we are clear on this, if you move to draw, I'll attack you, and it's gonna be over before you ever reach your wand. You will lose, most likely die, and then I'll have to spend this lovely evening digging a hole for you in the woods instead of sharing a bottle of crappy wine. So, just don't, okay?"

Remus can't help but admire the kid's bravado — they aren't stupid, she can tell that much, if from nothing else, the fact that they somehow successfully evaded one of the most powerful magical families, and their countless footmen, for over three years without ever leaving a trace; and yet, they seem to know when they're outmatched.

"Who says I'd need to draw?" she smirks, hoping to provoke a quick duel out of the youth. She likes to get the power-struggle out of the way early on, just so nobody gets ideas while she's sleeping or in recovery. The young Black might turn out to be a reluctant ally, but they could mean real trouble after the full moon, if they were to follow family tradition in wanting to rid the world of a monster like herself. Three days left until the next transformation, which means she's at the height of her power, so taking Sirius out here and now would be the wisest, and she thinks she could do it without harming them too badly. Nothing she couldn't fix in a blink afterwards.

Sirius measures her with a curious squint, slowly raising their left hand into the air. All five fingers are adorned with a variety of silver rings, from plain, thin bands to heavy signets with rune-engraved stones. A web of glowing lines flare up on the back of their hand, spreading out from an intricate magic sigil on their wrist. They emit a faint, blueish white light, running along each finger to the tip, as Sirius charges up for a wandless spell. Flashy, but creative, Remus thinks, truly impressed for the first time. She's used to wizards relying on their wands to do the work for them, and she knows seven different ways to dismantle the connection before they ever get to fire off. The stranger's magic is different — it's raw and unpolished, but brutally powerful, and very complex, in a geometric sort of way. This would be more difficult than she initially thought, and she's unsure if she could immediately disarm Sirius without having to literally dis-arm them.

To avoid confrontation, she raises a hand in front of her too, conjuring a harmless little will-o-whisp in her palm — a trick she developed as a child, tied up on the bare cement floor of her parents' basement, waiting for the curse to take hold. There was no light in the basement; she was lonely, cold and terrified, so she made herself a friend, a cold flame to keep her company while she was waiting for the moon.

Sirius' eyebrows disappear somewhere under their tangled fringe, but their face lights up with a huge, mischievous grin:

"Remus, the girl raised by the wolves... You're not boring at all, are you?"

#the rest is history #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #fanfiction #wandering witch meets wondering bitch #trans!remus #trans!sirius #fanart #long post #julien draws

[heroineimages]

Muskets and Snow: Hero Forge Miniatures

So about the time I finished my Desert Elf designs, I started working on a series of Frost Elf designs as a counterpoint. Little did I know (but should have expected) that it would be the start of another epic fantasy setting. I now have all these ideas for the story of a Frost Elf queen uniting the fragmented northern tribes against an encroaching commonwealth superpower. I started by designing the Frost Queen and her twelve wives (1 for each D&D class), and in the next post I want to include the Commonwealth general and her twelve officers. @weareadventurers​, @fuckyeahheroforgecreations​

Part 1: Brides of the Frost Queen

For centuries, the Frost Elf tribes and the Commonwealth have maintained... icy but tolerant trade agreements, with occasional border skirmishes caused by territory disputes or some mouthy, xenophobic merchant. Recently, however, greedy mercantile families in the Commonwealth convinced the council to further open up Frost Elf territory, in hopes of better access to goods like amber, furs, mammoth- and walrus ivory, dyes, and even slaves. Four Commonwealth legions marched north with orders to open up northern trade--forcefully, if necessary.

Despite their guerilla tactics and home-turf advantage, the Frost Elves met numerous defeats and only minor victories, having never before faced the full might of the Commonwealth’s well-trained infantry, multi-role cavalry, advanced magic, and top-notch muskets and cannons. Coupled with lack of unity and coordination between tribes, much of their southern territory was lost within the first campaign season.

During the winter after the Commonwealth legions withdrew south, Chieftain Lialee of the Immianthe tribe arranged a series of marriage alliances between herself and twelve other powerful tribes. Lia loves and dotes on all twelve of her wives, but also expects them to cooperate with each other, rule their tribes wisely, and lead their warriors well. The unity created by these marriages has lead to excellent coordination between tribes, hopefully reversing their fortunes against the invaders come spring thaw.

A skilled sorceress and druid, Lialee became a princess and a powerful mystic theurge at a young age, and by the time she became queen, she was both a political powerhouse and a spell-casting powerhouse. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13504731/

Queen Tanila is Lialee’s third wife and is the youngest daughter of the chief of the Heilee tribe. A skilled axe- and spear-warrior, Tani and her tribe are frequently on the front line against the legions. Though she dislikes muskets and cannons, she understands their usefulness and is currently working with her mahouts to mount mortars and falconets on their mammoths’ backs. So far, the animals have been... resistant to this idea. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13505206/

Queen Dessielle of the Ravagella tribe tries out this strange new instrument that her warriors captured from a Commonwealth officer. Prior to marrying Queen Lialee, Des used seduction and negotiation to unite under her banner six badly fragmented tribes who were nearly wiped out by Legion VIII. Cornered and suffering heavy losses, her people used a timely blizzard to escape and seek refuge with the Keahice tribe. Now part of Lialee’s court, fellow chieftains and emissaries frequently call on Des to sing, dance, make love, or tell stories. She’s very good at all four. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13505714/

Queen Alea was originally a priestess who united the remnants of the coastal Gillen tribe after their chief and his family were wiped out in a series of battles with Legion XII and the Commonwealth navy. She’s frequently led defenses against enemy beach-storming, keeping them from breaking inland but never completely driving them back. Alea’s guerillas scored a major victory a week before the winter storms set in, using explosive-filled rafts to damage and sink a dozen men-of-war moored in a secluded fjord. Impressed with her tactics, Queen Lialee seduced Alea and made her her first wife. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13506444/

Disinclined to lead, Queen Chandrelle found herself forced to step up as chief of the Torlee tribe when her brother fell against Legion XIV. Though not great at inflicting enemy casualties, Chan proved adept at preserving the lives of her tribes-people, using deception and knowledge of terrain to get them out of harm’s way. Her greatest victory came after liberating a POW camp, just as the Commonwealth began their march back south and weren’t in position to retaliate. Freeing hundreds of Frost Elf captives was an impressive feat that immediately got Queen Lialee’s attention. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13506779/

Heiress to the best dire-wolf breeders in the north, Queen Elisen of the Keahice tribe was lover to Queen Lialee years before the Commonwealth’s invasion. Though her tribe has been relatively unaffected by the invasion so far, Elisen has spent a huge amount of time studying Commonwealth cavalry tactics, combining them with wolf-pack tactics in hopes of offsetting or even neutralizing that particular advantage. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13507674/

The Naevys tribe has always excelled at alpine guerilla tactics. Granddaughter of the chieftain, Queen Adrel and her warriors strike swiftly and skillfully from the trees, fog, snow, or even blizzard before disappearing without a trace. But of late those skills have been employed more at evasion than attack--small-scale ambushes proving a mere annoyance to the number of cannons, horses, soldiers, and mages brought by the Commonwealth. By marrying the Queen of the Immianthe, Adrel hopes that improved coordination between tribes can drive these invaders back south for good. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13508861/

Greatest snow-flier of the north, Queen Qamara rules the Wyndan tribe. Descended from a clan of winged-elves who interbred with the Frost Elves, one in three children of the Wyndan are born with the power of flight. Unfortunately, this made them a target by Legion VIII, who killed over a hundred of their snow-fliers and took dozens of their people captive. Qamara feels indebted to her sister-queen Chandelle for freeing many of her tribes-mates from captivity. Qam hopes that her marriage to Queen Lialee will help her drive back the attackers and keep safe the rest of her surviving people. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13534231/

An alpine ranger since childhood, Queen Shalaevar and the Reyvyre tribe have led some of the more successful ambushes against Commonwealth Legion III. Instead of attacking the main army, the Reyvyre have been hitting the enemy supply trains and reinforcement columns. The fast-response time of the legion cavalry has severely limited their successes, unfortunately, driving off Shala’s guerillas before they could inflict heavy casualties. In the upcoming campaign season, Shala hopes to coordinate her guerillas with Elisen’s wolf-raiders to neutralize any cavalry reinforcements. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13534330/

Part of a hostage exchange for a trade-agreement decades ago, Queen Riniya of the Faepetor tribe might possess the best understanding of Commonwealth tactics and mindset of all of Lialee’s wives. Having studied multiple languages during her captivity, Rini has proven a first-rate infiltrator, able to listen in on conversations in common, high elf, orcish, drow, or even infernal. Several times her espionage skills have kept her tribe and others’ out of harms way. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13535144/

Despite being one of the most powerful cryomancers in the north, Queen Myantha of the Qingwyn only barely survived an encounter with a well-armed band of dragoons led by a centaur warlock. Buying time for their escaping clan-mates, Qing and several of her guards held a narrow pass for two exhausting hours. Severely wounded and having lost all of her guards, she managed to inflict heavy casualties and was saved by Lialee and Alea. Owing them her life, Qing has rallied her remaining tribes-people under their banner. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13654782/

Embracing the Elabalar tribe’s warlock heritage, Queen Amedee rose through the ranks to become adopted heiress to the chieftain. A tribe of mammoth and woolly-rhino riders, the Elabalar were masters at riding their beasts into battle while throwing hex-bolts and magic-missiles at their foes. Unfortunately, this didn’t gain them shit in the face of the XXVII Commonwealth Cuirassiers and VI Commonwealth Field Artillery. Most of her tribe cut to pieces around her by superior gunnery and horsemanship, Amedee only survived by ending up half-buried by her own fallen rhino. Though not pleased at marrying her former rival Lialee, Ame realizes that this is the best hope of being able to drive the attackers from Frost Elf lands. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13655193/

Queen Siraye of the Ilipeiros tribe has always been a devotee of arcane experimentation. In the same way that arcane-archers once made up the backbone of high elf armies, Sira has recently started experimenting with using the same strategy to imbue bullets with magical energy. Results have been good so far, but she’s a long way form making it accessible to all of her tribe’s musketeers. Regardless, Sira and Lialee hope these new magics will give the beleaguered Frost Elves new advantages with the onset of a new campaign season. https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D13661408/

Thanks so much for reading, folks! As we speak, I’m also working on minis and discussion for a general and officers in Commonwealth Legion XIV.

#Hero Forge #world building #elves #frost elves #adventuresses #minis #miniatures

[jackoshadows]

Unpopular opinion, but I disagree with the notion that Jon should be accepting of his bastardy and not rule if given the chance. Even  “I don’t want it ” show!Jon ended up as KITN when some Northerners randomly made him one despite Ned Stark’s trueborn daughter sitting beside him, so why wouldn’t the book version - who does want it - not accept an offer to be King? 

Why shouldn’t Jon Snow rule the North and Winterfell? Of the remaining Starks, he’s the oldest, most experienced and qualified. He is Ned Stark’s son. Winterfell is as much as his home as it is to the rest of the Starks. He learned from the same people Robb did. Removing any gender and class bias, Jon’s still the best person belonging to house Stark to rule the North. Robb Stark certainly thought so.

Jon has never let being a bastard define what he is capable of. He has always looked beyond class lines and valued people for what they are capable of rather than the limited and narrow views that society has. Why wouldn’t Jon want to rule the North?

I feel that reasons like ‘Jon is a bastard, he should remain a bastard, Jon being king would undermine his story, perfect King Jon would be boring etc.’ are just excuses for wanting Jon out of rulership. One may as well say that they want *insert favorite character* to be king/Queen rather than Jon.

Rather, I think this line of thinking should be applied to someone like Young Griff - and this is precisely the story that GRRM is trying to tell with the character. It would, for example, be boring for secret, trueborn, Targaryen prince Aegon to go on to be the perfect king that Varys expects him to be.

Young Griff is the perfect king on paper –  groomed to know the common man’s struggle, he’s smart, well liked etc. But for us readers, him becoming king would feel unearned. Young Griff is actually a critique of unearned rulership.  We see from his cyvasse game with Tyrion, that he is arrogant and spoiled. He feels entitled to Dany’s dragons – the dragons that Dany has hatched and nurtured and bonded with. He thinks that Dany will immediately throw her full support behind him.

Compare Young Griff to Jon, Dany and Arya. Jon is defending the realm without any expectation of reward, planning Stannis’ campaign to win the North, preparing the wall for an attack from an existential threat. Dany halts her Westerosi campaign and is ruling Meereen for the people, dealing with insurgency, famine and sickness, having to make the hard decisions that come at great personal cost. Arya actually lived among small folk in war torn Westeros. She has no Jon Connington or mercenaries protecting her as she fake lives among the small folk – her experiences are real. The pain and trauma she experiences – that she sees the small folk go through – that’s real. It was about survival for her, instead of Young Griff learning how to fish and wash clothes.

Young Griff is supposed to feel unearned. He is a stand in for Jon, Dany and Arya – the secret prince, the Targaryen come to take the Iron Throne and the Stark princess who has actually lived among the small folk and befriended them. Young Griff is Jon, Dany and Arya without their actual experiences.  Not to mention that in GRRM’s world, there are no perfect kings or queens. His rulers are flawed leaders who make mistakes because ruling is hard.

That has been GRRM’s position  - rulership has to be earned. And I think right now 17 year old Jon and 16 year old Dany have earned their leadership positions by actually doing and learning. If Jon Snow becomes KITN, he would have earned that position.

I also disagree with the notion that Jon should not be trueborn because that would ruin his character and make his story pointless.

This is Jon Snow we are talking about here. The Jon Snow who loved wild child Arya for her bird’s nest hair and her scabby knees and gave Lady Arya Stark a sword because she wanted to learn how to use it like her brothers. The Jon Snow who thought that it was okay if Randyll Tarly’s eldest son did not want to fight and asked Maester Aemon to take Sam on because he’s intelligent and liked to read. The Jon Snow who made Satin his steward because he was quick and clever and fearless in a fight. The Jon Snow who held out his hand and called Tyrion Lannister friend.

The Jon Snow who said this:

The collar is supposed to remind a maester of the realm he serves, isn’t that so? Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can’t make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people. The Night’s Watch needs all sorts too. Why else have rangers and stewards and builders? Lord Randyll couldn’t make Sam a warrior, and Ser Alliser won’t either. You can’t hammer tin into iron, no matter how hard you beat it, but that doesn’t mean tin is useless. Why shouldn’t Sam be a steward?”

If this Jon Snow turns out to be trueborn, does he suddenly regress into a person who buys into Westeros’ patriarchal and primitive notions of blood and birth defining who a person should be? Is he suddenly going to expect Arya to behave like a southron lady? Fire Satin from his job?

Is Jon going to believe that being trueborn is superior and that is why he became Lord Commander? Are we as readers going to think that Jon only got to where he is because he is trueborn? All the decisions he made  – all that is retroactively ruined because he’s trueborn?

I doubt Jon is trueborn in any case - Rhaegar was married to Elia and they had children.  Rather, I think GRRM will use Jon’s parentage to explore one of the themes that he really loves – the human heart in conflict with itself. It would add an extra layer of angst, self-doubt, and struggle to Jon’s already existing personal issues.  A father he loved and blamed for his bastardy, send him to the wall - to a life of hardship and celibacy - without telling him the truth. Everything he knew about himself is a lie.

With GRRM’s writing, he could delve into Jon’s inner psyche as he is hit with these truths. A possible heir to the Iron Throne ends up a low born bastard at the wall – how does one deal with all this? How does one react? Then there are his relationships with the only other Targaryen and his now cousin Arya. And that’s what would make any such reveal exciting and add complexity to character and character arcs.  And I think that would be damn interesting to read.

#Jon Snow #Young Griff #Becoming King #KITN #TWoW speculation #asoiaf

[botwstoriesandsuch]

P-please talk about your Rito OC, please... ramble without any context, please... I have one too... please make me feel less alone...

Ok ok let me just *unloads all of Illeka’s super angsty self-indulgent backstory*

I technically have two backstories, one for botw that I’m gonna use for my fic Where Time Takes Us, and another I use for my dnd campaign. My dnd one is more fleshed out (thanks to my amazing GM) so I’ll probably just share that one. 

Warning for super duper long post that is barely coherent and I haven’t checked for typos and also rip to ADHD folks because I have no pictures to ease your brain with. Anyhow prepare for like thousands of words worth of rambles this is not edited at all

This is just a copy paste of the random incoherent shit I sent to my poor DM. Anyhow, I technically have 3 ocs here, but Illeka is the one I play

A weird Rito, that one is. I hear they’ve only cried at birth...

- Illeka was born on the Day of Living Fire, its a celebration of the dead essentially, where you mourn and remember your loved ones and ancestors and all that. It’s superstition to be *born* on this day, because your life/creation takes away from the day that’s supposed to honor the dead, and some people on birb island believe these things, that if you let the kid live it’s a curse. But most people are like no wtf you boomers it’s fine there’s no such thing you crazy old people are weird, which to be fair is kinda true.

- When Talako is around 6, his single mom dies. He’s adopted by a new family, Kala (also around 6 years old) and her parents.

- Illeka meets Talako after he kinda follows her around, because he’s an innocent cinnamon bun that admires Illeka’s calm and stoic demeanor after they help him with some bullies. Through this, Talako, Illeka, and Kala all become best friends.

- The events in Illeka’s life aren’t really helping their whole curse case. Every bad event, from their dad getting injured and having the slightest limp, to their brother, Zekk nearly setting himself on fire— it’s all a supposed punishment for not killing them when they were bored. But at this point most people brush it off as coincidence, besides, nothing THAT bad has happened yet.

- the trio of friends grow strong, becoming some of the best in their arts on the island. And their relationship is seemingly adorable. The serious ~~cursed~~ one, the optimistic sunshine one, and the sarcastic firey one. Prides of their village, set to protect their people from harm.

- Illeka is the best in the village when it comes to physical fights. Trusty halberd, and a keen shot with a bow, they’ve never lost a sparring match on that front. Their personality is offputting to some, there’s a rumour that they’ve never cried. The easiest of jokes, and the vilest of insults don’t spark much reaction from them— except in the presence and topic of their family, Kala, and Talako. But otherwise, the story goes that the cursed kid doesn’t have a soul, and hence, no morality or emotions.

- When they train with Talako and Kala, they never back down, if only out of respect, Illeka wouldn’t want to embarrass them with pity. Talako always laughs at his inevitable defeat, though he tries nonetheless. He promises that one day he’ll be strong enough to beat them.

- Talako is a pleasant soul, but has an nack for adventure and a hint of chaos. He prefers to dual wield daggers, and on occasion a short sword or two. He’s great with the blade, loves the thrill of the fight, but is more skilled with cooking and physical healing and remedies. He’s always the one encouraging fun celebratory hang outs at the tavern, with his two closest friends after a day of guarding the village. Kala always sides with him, and Illeka typical gives in after at least putting on a show of reluctance. He humble and happy and loved by most of the village, if only things would last

- Kala is of wit and cunning, she’s typically the first to speak. She’s headstrong and not afraid to insult whoever she displeases, and a bit too arrogant in her abilities. She laughs at all of Talako’s jokes, if perhaps only to spite Illeka’s groans. She’s also the most strategic of her friends, being the “one with a plan” in battle. While she’s a decent wield of two khopesh, Kala’s mostly gifted with magic. She’s got a knack for conjuring, though is well researched in other types as well. Illeka and her are an even match, with decent win ratios on either end. Illeka doesn’t take it that personally, they suck/hate magic after all. Kala’s a bit more competitive tho.. While her power in magic is certainly the best on all of the island, she can’t help but feel salty/jealous for always being overshadowed by Illeka’s feats, since the people prefer/understand the physical over the magic.

- Oh, and she was born on day after the Day of Living Fire, according to her parents. How lucky.

- In a sense, they’re all a bit of an outcast. Kala the fiery independent one, a bit sidecasted for prefering magic over steel. Talako the weird orphan, for being a chirpy, happy boi, which is a bit annoying for some. And Illeka…well lets just say their situation isn’t going to be improving

- One year, Illeka’s family is expecting more kids, twin sisters at that! It’s the most excited anyone’s ever seen Illeka, thought perhaps that’s not the right word… They’ve still got their usual demeanor, but they did spend nearly a week crocheting little baby hats and tunics and scarves. They threatened to kill their brother if they told anyone, although Zekk was allowed to let it slip to Tal and Kala

- [They are absurdly good at crochet btw. They never do it anymore to try and maintain their “reputation,” but their family will never forget the time they crafted matching blankets and hats to win a little competition in their home town.]

- Then the Day of Living Fire arrives for that year. Theres a little celebration for Illeka’s birthday, before moving on to other activities.

- The twins die that night.

- The village was in a bit of shock…and rumours grow considering the timing of it. The mysterious circumstance of it…well it does turn the heads of even some of the less-superstitious. The rumours, the death, the silent thought that perhaps that cursed bird caused some babies’ death, Illeka endured it.

- Years later would it get worse.

- Illeka is still publically respected at this point, weird rumours sure, but try telling that to the edge of her halberd. Their mother had made the twin’s shrine, but they say Illeka didn’t visit that often. Talako was always by their side, trying to help them, which was always appreciated, even when they tried to hide it.

- Kala was busy in the library these days.

- Zekk had started a family by now, a little baby birb named Mili hatched into the world.  Illeka would often steal her away for little cuddles when they (thought) no one was looking. Zekk would jest that they had to fight for the right to hold his own kid. Kala would also occasionally tease them about it, though Tal was mostly happy to see them in better spirits

- Then, another Day of Living Fire.

- Talako and Illeka were usually on guard duty together, the northern patrol by the village edge. But tal was still a bit worried about his friend’s state of mind, he’s not sure he’d even seen them mourn. He pushes for Illeka to take the day off, it’s technically their birthday after all, plus they can pay their respected at the shrines and attend the festivities and do the ceremonies and all that. Illeka denies it, brushing it off like they always do.

- Soon, their nightly patrol begins, and Illeka is about to set off to met up with Talako, but Kala intercepts. She has a talk with them, similar to that of Talako’s, but with…more well crafted and laced words. It’s nearly the same message that Talako tried to tell them, “It’ll be healthy for you, visit the shrines, be with your family, maybe brush off some rumours in the process.” Illeka nearly denies again, joking that Talako would get afraid of the dark if they didn’t show up. But Kala interjects, stating that she’s already made plans to take the patrol that nigth with Tal. Trusting their friends to be safe in each others care, Illeka relents and takes the day off.

- …yeah. so

- perhaps you can see where this is going.

- Kala’s jealousy had been growing over the years. Not only was she being shadowed by Illeka and their non magic ways, but it was irritating even more that all the talk about magic in the town was not of her exceptional abilties, but of stupid rumours and non-existent evil curses. If the people wanted show, she’d give them a show

- This mindset made her spars with Illeka a bit more personal as of late, getting it in her head that she needed to get stronger, strong enough to best Illeka with ease. Strong enough so that there would be no question who was the best warrior on the island, magic, bows, halberds, or no.

- The library had many forgotten books that she had been studying. Conjuring, rituals, illusions, necromancy. It was all…beautiful. Kala soaked in every word, sometimes berating the bookkeeper offhandedly for not keeping them in the best condition

- In her research she eventually found a beast. A..thing, a demon? A monster, the specifics weren’t there, but the gist of it was, if you had the courage to summon it, it would grant you the knowledge for attaining anything you desired. All it asked in return was…to eat some people.

- But not just any people mind you! Supposedly the ritual only worked for the people with the greatest of ambitions, willing to sacrifice the lives of people they might care about. The sacrifices had to be of someone with great trust and bond with the person.

- Kala’s parents disappeared that day, a few feathers laid about, but there was no blood.

- Near the northern border, by a open field, a weird circle dripped the grass red

- Talako waited by the village edge, ready to fly off with their patrol partner when they arrived. When Kala greeted him, he was a bit surprised, but happy when she explained that Illeka had gone off back to town.

- Indeed Illeka was with their family now, as the sun started to set. Occasionally, a passerby would give them a weird glance before walking swiftly away.

- Somewhere in the northern border, a warrior is knocked unconcious, and dragged upon a blood red pattern

- Illeka is by her sisters’ shrine. For the sliver of a moment, they contemplate crying.

- Then an explosion is heard off in the distance

- Talako was wide awake at this point, although his wings being pinned to his sides wasn’t that helpful considering there was a giant, *giant* dark monster in front of him.

- Kala lets off a final remark, saying it was for his own good. The death would be swifter if he didn’t squirm.

- He whipped back at her, glaring with a fire she hasn’t seen before. He calls her a coward for tricking Illeka, a coward for kill their parents, a coward for not even giving him the decency to fight for his life.

- She nearly smiles at the last remark. “Fine.” She tosses him his blades. “You were never much of a warrior anyway.”

- Illeka was flying towards the booming sound at full speed, nearly knocking over their family and other mourning, people in the process. A few others had tried to slow them down, claiming they should suit of better first, before confronting whatever had been the source of the explosion. Illeka didn’t listen.

- They barely had time to grab a weapon, before approaching the northern border. After gracing the crests of the hill tops, they finally saw it. A giant demonic beast, snapping it’s jaws against a flying dash of black feathers, Talako.

- Illeka called out to him, nearly dashing off into the air again, but they stopped when they spotted Kala, standing idlely by next to her.

- Before they could even speak, before they could even question why she was acting so nonchalantly while their best friend was fighting for their life against an evil monstrosity, Kala shook her head and spoke. “You always have to ruin my fun, don’t you?” She struck a magic blow and Illeka, square in the chest.

- It knocked them to the ground, but they got up, setting their halberd and pointing it at them.

- Then insert some dramatic scene where Kala is like “you’re so selfish, hogging all the attention, thinking you’re better than me, but today I’m gonna finally best you mwahaha” and Illeka is like “wtf why did you do this? I thought we were friends? I trusted you?? the fuck? also talako is our friend!!?” and then its “yeah thats right I manipulated your stupid feelings to gain the upperhand. you’re super pathetic honestly for falling for it. anyhow yeah talako will probably die, i tried to give him the luxary of a swift death but he wouldn’t listen, so now he’s probably gonna get brutally slayed lol” and illeka is all “I’ll kill you” and kala is “no u. This whole thing is gonna give me so much power no ones gonna question me again” and then they fight each other

- The duel is nearly a draw, Kala’s magical ability is certainly is certainly stronger, but she’s not as all powerful without that knowledge from the demon monster guy that needs to eat his meal. Illeka is fighting with all theyve got, but all they brought was a halberd, but they are very fueled by rage and spite so it’s still an even match. Illeka eventually lands a blow that’s got Kala bleeding severely, but Kala pretty much almost kills them with a direct attack. Kala’s too weak to finish the job, plus those other guards have finally started to fly and approach in the distance, so she flys off. Illeka finally slips into unconsciousness.

- When they wake up, it’s almost sunrise. Their mom is shaking them awake, part of the party that was investigating the explosion that summoned the beast. Illeka bolts up, they’re still in the field were they had fought Kala, but she and the beast are no where to be seen.

- They run off, trying to find Talako, and ho boy do they find him alright. His body is crumpled by some rocks, his wing nearly ripped clean off, theres so much blood, even a warrior like Illeka can hardly bare it. Some small bit of hope in their head thinks that he might still be alive, and they listen to his chest to see if he’s still breathing.

- His eyes flicker once at Illeka, his chest rises, then falls for the last time.

- Illeka cries.

- Then, still pretty wounded and tired, they collapse again

- The days following are living hell. Kala hasn’t been found, and their her parent’s [bodies]. The rumours are creeping as ever, at the coincidence of Illeka and this disaster. They spend nearly a weak in bed at home, recovering physically, thought probably not mentally.

- As soon as they’ve fully recovered, Illeka’s mind is set. They are going to leave, no more warrior/village protection for them. They’re going to travel far off, train and hone their skills in combat, and find and kill Kala.

- Their family is opposed to this at first, but in the end nothing they say changes Illeka’s mind.

- In a sense, there was another, unspoken reason Illeka was leaving the islands. They didn’t want to hurt anyone else.

- Hell, the rhetoric is even stronger down the line, concerning the fate of poor Mili. Illeka has given in and accepted it, they are cursed to cause pain to the people they care about. [It’s basically that trope of the character isn’t actually cursed but they believe they’re cursed] Illeka will stay away, and go it alone for as long as they can. Then once the deed is done, once they draw Kala’s corpse across the mud, they’ll probably fly off somewhere far to die, before anyone else gets hurt. It’s probably best for their family never to see them again.

- - - - - - 

Wow you did it, you made it through the super angsty self-indulgent backstory congrats. Illeka is my lil baby and I love them and I’ve gonna send them on a revenge quest and then they were gonna have a cool character arc probably about learning to grieve and have self worth and all that and to actually allow themselves to show emotions for once in their lives. That’s the general plan I had in my head anyhow

But you know what my dm thought?

They were like how about mORE ANGSt

Fucking shit you not, session three of the campaign, I’m heading back to birb island because of circumstances, and I’m getting supplies from my blacksmith dad and showing off this sword that says “fuck” a lot that I got from a dungeon that took a selkie’s soul which they gave up willingly in exchange for fire hair...long story

but THEN I meet up with my bro Zekk and it’s like “wassup bro just passing through” but then I find out that Talako’s shrine thing was DESTORYED by some unknown entity and that’s very not good because spirituality and all that

and also I find Mili and they’re a cute lil toddler birb now aww it’s so great hope nothing happens to them because I sure do have enough emotional traume to burden right now. anyhow due to CIRCUMSTANCES our only lead to the thing that destroyed Talako’s shrine is 1) a delinquent named Chesio [that our party nicknamed cherrio because the GM misspelled it the first time i think] who apparently was Talako’s shitty cousin and his only living relative who could build his shrine and 2) the destruction of the shrine lines up with a period of time where Mili went missing but its ok she came back so her parents were like “chill we gucci”

Our party decides we should go down the Mili lead [because I accidentally knocked Cherrio i mean Chesio to near death with a crit roll with my halberd so they’re in the infirmary now but it’s really not my fault that they triggered my emotional trauma by mentioning how I keep running away from grief and never staying around to confront it it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiine] so we stop by Zekk’s house and we’re like “hey so remember when you disappeared for like a week where did you go, and then mili was like “oh it’s in this cavern that no one knows about and I can’t really give you the directions but I can lead you there if you take me with you” in which I then glare at the GM for this obvious attempt to force us to take Mili with us to put her in danger and apparently I was the ONLY one who cared about this because everyone else in the party was ready to adopt this birb child, and Zekk was like “sure take the kiddy harness” so here I am, watching my niece run around in a kiddy harness that’s also attached to me, while my Chaotic neutral party someone gets grilled cheese sandwiches in the background

Badabing, badaboom, we come to some crystal caverns. while I, being one of the only members of the party with morals other than one chaotic good dragonborn, am watching the selkie, halfoot, and elf girl steal a bunch of crystals, Mili fucking DISAPPEARS the fucking KIDDY HARNESS fucking NOT GOOD she FCUKING SLIPPED OUT AND SHES GONE AND IM FREAKING OUT 

after about an hour or two of searching through the deeper parts of the cavern and tunnel and also fighting a minotaur and discovering an abandoned arena and a cleric, long story. We find Mili fucking laying on A NECROMANCER’S RITUAL CIRCLE WHAT THE FU- 

I pull a “I don’t hesitate bitch” on the hooded dude that’s hovering and chanting shit. He’s dead, it’s all swell. Saved the day, the evil’s dead. Mili’s fine she can go back to being a cute lil baby who loves shiny rocks and-

oh wAIT actually Mili is still transformed into a demonic monster and the necromancer dude was actually in the middle of completing a ritual to bring her back to life after he killed her a few times

So turns out, necromancer dead dude was hired by a mysterious someone, to steal something from Talako’s shrine, and to destroy any evidence. Turns out, his methodology for doing so was to kidnap some birb kid who had the misfortune of wander too close, killing them, turning them into some demonic monster that does their bidding, using that monster to steal and ruin some shit, and then when the day’s done he turns them back like nothing happened. Sure do wish he was alive to redo that last part

I’m freaking out, the party’s freaking out, that sword from earlier is cursing to high heaven for no apparent reason. Cleric unhelpfully remarks how it was a bad idea that we impulsively killed the evil dude bro, yes wow thank you for the help

Eventually everything’s fine. After a few round of shouting “NO ONE TOUCH MY FUCKING NIECE OR YOU DIE” after said demonic niece is kinda mindlessly attacking everyone, we eventually do some good ol blunt force trauma and a bit of magic and BOOM. Mili’s back. Although they do have permanent black ritual markings on them but its fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinee (its not)

We find a note on necromancer dude bro that his employer was from another island, so that’s a lead yay Find Out Next SessionTM but at this point I really don’t care as I’ve already started tying Mili to my chest and walking back to the village

I go back to Zekk’s house, hand off Mili, explain everything that happened, give a super heart feel apology about how I pretty much killed Mili (even though I really didn’t but also as we all know Illeka is an angsty birb who’s steadfast in the idea that their existence hurts everyone they love so yay <3) and then I leave as fast as I can before anyone can protest sure was nice visiting my family after i’ve been away for a few months sure am glad that my inner thoughts about staying away weren’t justified whatsoever hmmmmmm

A session or two passes. We try to assassinate and elf’s evil parents and fail, we get into a Fake Dating Being Someone’s Children Au with a dragon. The selkie keeps trying to date everyone, even thought they’re already married to a necromancer princess and a boat (long story) and inbetween we head to that island that note i got was talking about and turns out it was to a place where all your inner demons and anxieties manifest into reality and taunt you, until youre slowly broken down to the point where the evil dictator on the island can “magic” away your problems with puppet strings. fun for the whole family!

Anyways, after our party fights out evil neon-blue clones, I get a lead from dictator dude that the employer I’m looking for is a Rito that’s good with magic, and was last seen headed east, in the same direction we just came from. fun.a

So I’m kinda low on leads, other than the fact that theres a magic school in the east, but in between we have to deal with the fact that husboat (again, the boat that is married to the selkie who is also our entire party’s form of transportation across the ocean. wait a sec did I mention that we weren’t in Hyrule? We’re not in Hyrule, this is a flooded land with a bunch of islands. Think wind waker) was being chased by pirates. also these pirates were the ones that raised the selkie, and also they kinda also slaughtered an entire island of halffoots in their time with the pirates, and also that island was the one that the halffoot in our party grew up in. So basically that’s some cool tension and drama. Anyhow, back to moi

One talk about how “no we cannot kidnap aNOTHER priest” to the selkie and elf later... magic school! Magic school is pretentious and I hate it. Everythings glowy, they don’t allow you to fly over the gates. There’s puffy noble middle aged men and children in bedazzled cloaks. There’s magic in the air and I swear I would choke and die on the glitter and rainbows of it all. 

Half the party is off getting into cloak fashion, I head off with my dragonborn friend Ness because highfive! We’re the only one’s with morals in this party! Morality pals! (This is saying something considering I am true neutral and she’s chaotic good but we might as well be clerics in this party...)

My morality pal and I and hanging around, then we catch word that there’s this transfer student that no one has seen in a while and “oh I wonder where she could be” and all that jazz from other students. Mortality pals are like “ok let’s go look for her” so we drag the rest of the party off of their larceny spree and look around.

Eventually, after I spot a tattered cloak roaming the halls that matches the description of the gossip, we find the transfer student.

TURNS OUT (unsurprisingly honestly given the way the dm framed stuff) this transfer student is someone I know. She’s standing there, in the middle of the room, preparing to do some ritual or something. She’s standing there, my life purpose, my one and only goal, literally the only reason I’m still going in life, my arch nemesis, my target, my mortal fucking enemy. It’s Kala.

Ness sees a demon dog in the background and says hi, ruining our element of surprise, but to be fair, she doesn’t know it’s Kala. 

Kala whips around from her table thing. We make eye contact. Her face suddenly shift from confusion to surprise to bewilderment to shock to happiness. 

Happiness.

“Illeka I thought you were dead!” Kala runs towards me, but I’m too shocked to move.

She’s smiling. It’s not sadistic, it’s not...harmful, it’s just genuine joy. For a moment I thought I saw a tear in her eye. 

Kala hugs me for a long moment, before letting go. “So how did you survive?”

...

In my head I’m thinking, “oh you fuck face”

THE. AUDACITY. OF. THIS. BITCH. 

“HOWD I SURVIVE” UH NO THANKS TO YOU FOR ALMOST KILLING ME FOR YOUR STUPID RITUAL WHATEVER THAT KILLED TALAKO WTFFF

ARE YOU REALLY TRYING TO PULL THE SAME TRICK AGAIN??? GONNA PRETEND TO BE ALL SENTIMENTAL AND NICE JUST TO TRY AND KILL ME LATER ON? HA OK OK

how about instead, I do the one good thing, the one worthwhile thing I can do in my entire life...just one simple course of action that might hope to make up for the mountain of regret that is my entire existence. 

I am finally going to kill you.

Kala’s staring at me, eyes curious, head tilted as if all she ever did was ask what I had for brunch. 

I blink once, and my neutral expression, faintly coated with shock morphs into determination.

I roll for initiative. 

- - - - - - 

It’s 1am. 

So have a cliffhanger, kinda. 

If anyone bothers to read this far, congrats! Your reward is me being lazy. I’ll tell you what happened sometime tomorrow if anyone really wants to know :P Long story short, it doesn’t end how I, and therefore probably you, would except. 

#haha brain go- shamelessly talk about Illeka for 3 thousand words #i actually dont know the word count i didnt check i think it's 4k?? #the thing i copy pasted is like 2k and the campaign stuff i added is....idk #not botw kinda #rito oc #kinda #dnd #kip talks for too long #i'd write this better but its 1am #good luck if you can actually read this

[pigeon-princess]

Edmund Ravenwood’s Backstory

Thank you all for being so patient!! I finally have the comprehensive story of my DnD character Edmund’s life, past experiences, how he met his patron The Winter Prince and right up until he first ran into our dnd party! I’ve also included a lot of of never before seen secret artwork below the cut! 

Some of the backstory content discussed in this has not been shared with the other players in the campaign, so if anyone of you are reading this (Selby I’m looking at you) avert your eyes!! 

EDMUND’S EARLY YEARS

For the full family history of the Ravenwoods, I only know as much as Edmund knows which is not a lot (My DM holds the secrets). As far as it concerns to Edmund, the Ravenwood family have always been renowned for their arcane abilities, holding a strong Elven lineage that dates back centuries. His father, Rykar Ravenwood used be high ranking officer in the Queen’s army before she died and now holds the position of Kings representative for the state of Vela, in the continent of Lunaris. 

During the time of his military service, Edmund’s father left his family to fight for a few years and when he returned, he brought back his illegitimate Half Elven son, much to the dismay of his wife, Selphine Ravenwood. The identity of Edmund’s birth mother is unknown to him (Only my DM knows) and absolutely everyone refuses to talk about it, the only thing he can assume was that she was human. Although not knowing has left Edmund feeling uneasy at times, in order to fit in with his family, he’s never dwelt on who she could be or had any strong desire to seek her out.

Edmund is the middle child of Ravenwood's 5 children. The oldest son, Ambrose is a respected professor at Hansen’s Academy of the Arcane, doing his best to keep himself composed and proper despite Edmund giving him constant headaches. The oldest daughter Leona is the commander of Vela’s current military force, she has a particularly cold and serious attitude towards most things. Corda, who is slightly younger than Edmund, takes after her mother and is a young socialite with an interest in fashion. She hides a particularly cruel personality behind her sweet smile. Erinaya is the youngest of five children, and has always been the one sibling that openly cares for Edmund. She has outward adoration for him and he would often take her out for adventures and play with her throughout their childhood together. 

His parents were distant in his upbringing, his father would occasionally show him slight signs of warmth when the rest of the family was not around. However, his mother held a particular disdain for him as Edmund was a walking, talking reminder of her husband’s infidelity.

Another constant reminder that Edmund did not fit into his family was the fact that he was completely magically inept. Despite countless tutors, he was unable to do any kind of magic properly, either the spells would not work at all or things had a habit of exploding. The crueler members of his family (His mother and Corda) would often say that it’s the filthy blood in his veins (the human half) that stops the magic from coming to him. 

While spending most of his time being raised by the family’s hired nanny Mary, he developed a similar accent to her own, one less posh than the rest of his family which suited him just fine when people commented on it (Eddie’s accent more is East London/Cockney while his family is closer to am upper class English accent. I used to be really bad at speaking in his accent but I’ve gotten a lot better with practice and now I can slip into it no problem!).  

Most of Edmund’s early years were spent playing out in the woods at the back of the Ravenwood's grand estate. It was there that Edmund met his first friends, two human twins by the names of Rosa and Elijah and despite how his parents discouraged him from associating with the common folk, it only urged him to seek them out more. His friends started calling him Eddie, and the nickname stuck as his little band of friends grew over the years. 

Some of his new mates included a chilled out blue Tiefling called Hex, who is the go to guy to get ahold of all your illegal substances (He was also the person that Edmund lost his virginity to in their teenage years), a Half Orc named Zarak (He became the designated Mum friend of the group) and a Gnome girl with a bold personality called Kiplin. 

AURIGA & APOLLO 

By the time Eddie was a teenager, rebellion was deeply rooted into his personality. The next state over from Vela is a place called Auriga, it's known for its loud music and wild parties. Using the family’s teleportation circle, Eddie and his mates would nearly always sneak off for nights out and spring break holidays. 

A lot of those years spent partying in Auriga are still very hazy to Eddie to this day, the copious amounts of alcohol, party drugs and occasional hook ups have all blurred together. However, things took a turn when on one of these wild nights out, his friends dragged him to a concert for a band of bards known as Killer Korpse. 

Watching the lead singer perform, Eddie was absolutely starstruck and fell in love on the spot. Apollo was everything Eddie dreamed of, a rebellious bard full of magic, singing about not giving a shit and as an added bonus he was a human which his parents would hate. Everything to do with Apollo was a world away from his uptight family and a reputation he has no hopes of living up to. 

After stalking the band for several weeks, hanging outside the backstage door and hovering in the taverns they were staying in, surprisingly Apollo actually took notice of him. One night when Eddie was hopelessly loitering near backstage, the door opened and instead of the usual guard telling him to fuck off, Apollo stepped out and right over to him and Eddie stared up at him completely lost for words.

Apollo thought the stalker kid was really funny so he decided to bring him backstage to meet the rest of the band. After Eddie had downed a bunch of drinks he started oversharing about how much he hated his family and it was then that it clicked for Apollo who Eddie actually is, since the Ravenwoods are very well known. When Eddie started a very drunk confession of love to Apollo, he decided he was going to have a lot of fun with this and a few minutes later Apollo had Eddie pinned to the couch in a very drunk make out session.

After that Eddie was caught in a whirlwind of things and over the spring break he was brought along with the band for their tour. He was having the best time of his life, half in a daze because he couldn’t believe he was spending nearly every night in bed with Apollo, the rebellious bard of his dreams. 

Apollo and his bandmates were pretty much just assholes, the fame had really gone to their heads and they would get away with doing pretty much whatever they wanted. Eddie being naive and being in his own happy world never noticed Apollo sneaking off to hook up with other groupies or making fun of Eddie behind his back. Half the time the band was high on a drug known as Sharp Sugar that’s often used to enhance your senses (AKA gives you an advantage on all ability checks) however the come down can be brutal on the body and makes the substance highly addictive. Some of the shine for his relationship with Apollo started to wear off after having some very scary encounters with a drug deprived Apollo. 

Even though Apollo was a dick a lot of the time, there are also some moments where he could be incredibly sweet, and parts where he would share stories of his own life with Eddie and the sincerity of it made Eddie fall deeper and deeper into devotion. 

On the night that Killer Korpse finished their last show for the spring break in Auriga and just before they were about to travel to the capital city to tour again, there was a big party to celebrate. While Apollo was surrounded by his drunk and very high friends, Eddie approached him with all his courage and told him that he had decided he wasn’t going back to his family and he was going to run away with the band so that they could be together. 

Apollo stood there looking at him seriously for a moment before he started to laugh. He was howling with laughter, clutching onto his friends, his eyes snapped back up to Eddie saying “You can't be serious, look this whole thing was fun while it lasted but everyones heard about the black sheep of the Ravenwood’s now and I'm bored of this. Its over Eddie” 

Absolutely humiliated in front of Apollo’s entire backstage entourage, in a daze Eddie ran away as fast as he could and he slowly made his way home to very angry parents.

HANSEN’S & HUDIC 

By the time Eddie returned to Vela the word had gotten out that the bastard son of the Ravenwood’s was sleeping around with a famous bard. 

In order to quickly shut this rumour down and to get Eddie out of the spotlight, his parents paid to send him to Hansen’s school of the Arcane, under the assumption that he would be watched over by his brother Ambrose (much to his dismay), who is currently working there as a professor. They were hoping that with the correct teaching, Eddie might be able to hone some kind of magical ability. 

There are two ways you can get into the academy, you can either take an extremely difficult exam and practical test, or if you have enough money you can pay your way in. Luckily for Edmund’s family, money is not an issue. 

Not being able to use magic while surrounded by a school for talented magic users is not fun. Especially when everyone knows that you didn’t earn your place and your parents paid for you to be there. And it sucks even more if you don’t actually want to be there in the first place but for Eddie he thought that this would be a wonderful opportunity to stir up some shit. 

Edmund was stuck sharing a dorm room with a human boy called Ozwald. Oz wasn’t too bad, he was one of the only people who didn’t actually look down on Eddie because of his family or lack of magical ability. He was also very patient for putting up with all the trouble Eddie was seeming to find himself in. 

It was in his numerous detentions that Eddie met his new band of friends. A feisty fire Genasi sorcerer called Flint who had a habit of setting things on fire when he lost his temper. Miriam Makovski, a human wizard who just wanted to hit things with a sword and not use magic like her wizard family insisted. Rowan Buckley, a sweet Firbolg druid who was only in detention because the teacher had forgotten he was still in the classroom organising the books. And last but not least his right hand man and partner in crime Theron Finchley, A Halfling wild magic sorcerer who enjoyed stirring up shit just as much as Eddie did. The group managed to get up to all sorts of mischief, smuggling in drugs and alcohol with the help of Hex, pranking teachers, and messing with the uptight students. 

Heres a drawing I did of Rowan because I love him and I would die for him. 

Once Edmund was starting to finish off his second year the Academy, his lack of magical ability was starting to get to him, especially seeing the shining talent in his friends, even if they didn’t really care about their own magic much at all. Doing some research for the first time in his life, Edmund went down the path of researching powerful beings that could give power to those who seek it. Thinking that perhaps this could be his opportunity to have the magic that he was so jealous of. Sneaking into the restricted section, Edmund came across a book describing a resurrection ritual involving an old god of Betrayal known as Hudic. 

Gathering the supplies for the ritual was tough, some of the ingredients being very hard to get ahold of (including bones of an innocent person and other strange items) and over the next few months,  Edmund worked on drawing up the summoning sigil under the rug in his shared dorm room, hiding it whenever ozwald returned from his studies. 

On one cold evening, as soon as Ozwald left to study in the library, Edmund began the ritual, pouring his own blood into the center of the sigil and chanting the words from the book. As the shadows started to collect around his feet and a grotesque figure began to pull himself from the inscriptions on the ground, it was then that Ozwald walked back into the dorm room having forgotten something. 

At that point everything went wrong, the demon grabbed Ozwald and dragged him back into the shadows with him, blood covering the floor, and the screams of both Oz and Eddie echoing throughout the halls. There was a huge scene students began to run out of bed, Professors running into the dorm room to stop students looking in. And before anyone could grab him, Eddie used the rest of his strength to climb out of the window. And for the second time in his life, Eddie ran away. 

THE WINTER PRINCE

With nothing but the clothes on his back, Eddie blindly walked south. Since the academy was in the southernmost part of Vela, it wasn’t long before he started nearing the border for the state known as Crusis, a cold and unforgiving territory bordered by an endless winter wasteland. Eddie, snuck through the border patrols by pretending to be one of the hundreds of refugees making their way south, all displaced from the war with the fire giants raging across the South East of Lunaris. 

Huddling for warmth in barns and gathering scraps of food where he could, he overheard a group of travellers discussing a hidden library out in the winter wastelands. He had nothing else to live for? Perhaps a magic library would have the solution to his problems. So with what little supplies he could gather, he set out in search of a Library, in hopes that he could find another book that could help him reverse what he had done. 

The wastelands are absolutely brutal, many experienced travellers die out in the cold, so for Edmund he was barely hanging in there. At one point he even had a run in with a polar bear and fought to avoid a handful of white dragon wyrmlings. He wandered the endless snow fields until his legs gave out, and the snow was too strong. 

Edmund lay in the snow, looking up at the greying sky, frostbite already starting to nip at the exposed skin on his face. It was in this lucid state of consciousness that he barely registered a figure standing over him, he could have sworn that he was being lifted, and the last thing he remembered was strong arms carrying him before he passed out. 

It was the press of something to his lips that woke him up. Delirious, naked and covered in blankets of fur, Eddie gazed up at the face of the most ethereal looking man he had ever seen. Long white hair, pale skin, long elven ears and ice seeming to glitter across his features. At his lips, the man was forcefully pushing berries and fruits into his mouth, looking annoyed and telling him to eat or he would die. 

After a few days, when Edmund was mostly recovered, he took note that he had been brought to some kind of palace seemingly sculpted of ice and stone. The man introduced himself simply as The Winter Prince. He explained that he had been banished from his home in the Winter Court of the Feywild and confined to the mortal realm and specifically this small area of wasteland in Crusis. Ignoring any of Edmund’s questions about why he was banished, The Winter Prince proposed a deal to him. 

“I’m trapped here in my castle, I can’t go anywhere or in fact do anything, so if you are able go out and look for someway to release me from this banishment, in return I will grant you access to my power, but you’ll also have to lend me your eyes and your body on occasion.” 

By accepting the deal The Winter Prince would be able to look through his eyes and take control of Eddie’s body when he sees fit. (As a player I have to roll a wisdom save and if I fail then my DM takes control of Eddie’s actions as the Winter Prince. In the beginning of the campaign the other players had no idea what was happening, and no idea who my patron was at all. This has already lead to some AMAZING in game interactions) 

With promise of magic and nothing else left to lose, Eddie agreed and The Winter Prince stepped forward and sealed the contract with a kiss on the forehead. After spending the next few hours running around in the snow, throwing Eldritch blasts into the sky and wooping for joy the two of them prepared for Eddie’s journey back into civilisation. 

In the throne room lined by a large mirror made of glass, Eddie was shocked to see a vision of his reflection standing motionlessly, behind the prince’s throne. The prince explained that it was another added sign of their contract (Eddie now does not have a reflection and doesn’t show up in mirrors) 

The Winter Prince is always very graceful and elegant in his movements and he usually speaks with a relaxed tone, like many of the fey he is cold and cruel but has somewhat of a mischievous edge. Eddie was reminded of the cruel twist of his personality with how The Winter Prince reminded him that the only reason he was chosen was because all the other people that he had found in the snow were already long dead. 

With a new mission in mind, a resistance to the cold and new power running through his veins, Edmund set out to the capital city of Naos to earn some money and start looking for ways to release The Winter Prince’s banishment. And of course he wouldn’t throw away the opportunity to test out his new found magical abilities along the way, perhaps he would even try to unravel some of the mysteries behind his patron’s cold heart. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you have any questions please let me know because I’d be more than happy to answer! 

#dnd #dungeons & dragons #d&d #dnd5e #Dungeons and Dragons #dnd character #dnd character backstory #dnd backstory #Eddie #Edmund #Edmund Ravenwood #The Winter Prince #Pigeon Princess #my art #d&d character #writing #backstory #dungeons and drawings #WOW WOW lots of secret art in this one #Please check it out if you have time!

[iamrealbuilder]

Bill Buchalter interview

Bill Buchalter was a level designer for Sunstorm Interactive. He’s worked on 3 official add-on of Build Engine games: Cryptic Passage for Blood, Suckin’ Grits On Route 66 for Redneck Rampage, Caribbean Life for Duke Nukem 3D. Interview, November 2020: Corentin: Can you introduce yourself?

Bill Buchalter: My name is Bill Buchalter. I’m an avid gamer of all kinds – video games, board games, and especially tabletop RPGs. I’m currently a freelance writer for AAW Games (Adventure A Week Games) writing mini adventures for Dungeons & Dragons 5E. I live outside Indianapolis, IN with my wife Jane, our three kids, and our dog Roxi. When I’m not gaming, I also enjoy music, playing guitar, hiking, and camping.

C: With Sunstorm Interactive, you're credited for level design on Cryptic Passage, Caribbean Life and Route 66. How did you start working with Sunstorm and what do you remember from that time?

BB: In the mid 90’s, maybe around 1995 or 96, I was very into playing Duke Nukem 3D. Like most PC gamers at the time, I had played Castle Wolfenstein and Doom, and Duke Nukem just blew me away. Back in those days, when we played online, we would use a 3rd party program called KALI. You dialed up on your modem, logged onto the internet, and then used KALI as a portal to chat with other gamers and find someone to play with. The KALI software would then allow you to network together over the internet and play PVP matches. It was crude, and the lag could be horrible, but we didn’t know any better at the time and we loved it!

I remember I was in a B. Dalton bookstore in the mall one day (another relic of the 90’s that is long gone!) when I found a book called the “Duke Nukem 3D Level Design Handbook”. I was intrigued, and as I flipped through the pages it talked about a program on the Duke Nukem CD called Build, which allowed you to create your own levels. I had no idea Build existed, let alone how to use it. I bought the book and spent the next couple weeks diving into learning how to use Build. I was hooked!

Making my own maps quickly became an obsession. I would share them with my friends on KALI and I quickly earned a reputation for making user maps. I remember there was a map building competition, but I don’t recall who sponsored it. A guy named Robert Travis won the competition. When I saw his maps, I was blown away! His designs were so much more advanced than mine. He was using tricks I had never thought of to get lighting effects and set moods. I had to reach out to him to pick his brain.

Robert responded and we began talking and quickly figured out that we both lived in Indianapolis. He was working for Sunstorm at the time and invited me to come to their office to discuss level design. I met him there one evening, and he showed me some of the stuff he was working on. We ended up playing Duke all night on Sunstorm’s network with some of the other guys in the office. I was in heaven!

Robert introduced me to Anthony Campiti, the lead producer on Sunstorm’s next project – Cryptic Passage, an add-on for a Build engine game called Blood. They invited me to design some levels for the game and I jumped at the chance. Robert assigned me to design an opera house level and immediately I got pictures in my head of the theater scenes from Interview with a Vampire. I went home and worked furiously on designing the level. I was still rough, but with Robert’s help I tweaked things here and there and slowly learned his techniques. In the end I was really pleased with the level I’d designed. Robert and Anthony were happy too and asked me to design a second map specifically for deathmatch.

The next project Sunstorm was working on was Suckin’ Grits on Route 66, an add-on for another Build engine game called Redneck Rampage. Robert again asked if I’d like to be a part of that team and assigned me to build a truck stop level. Using a lot of the things I’d learned on Cryptic Passage, and the campy feel of the Redneck Rampage game, I had a lot of fun designing that level.

The last project I worked on for Sunstorm was Duke Nukem Caribbean Vacation. By this time Duke’s popularity was beginning to wane, and Quake was taking over. Robert was already starting to experiment and learn how to use the Quake engine. I was a new dad at the time (my first daughter had just been born) so unfortunately, I didn’t have the spare time to devote to learning a new engine. I barely had the time to design my level for Duke Caribbean, but I did manage to finish the casino level for that project. I do recall that Robert ended up going through in the end and changing a lot of the aspects of my level to fit the theme they had in mind. I remember being a bit disappointed and not really feeling like the level was “mine” because of so many of the changes. It was the last project I worked on for Sunstorm.

I kept in touch with Robert and Anthony for a while after that. They were branching out, working on other projects, and even trying to develop their own FPS game that I don’t think ever really got off the ground. Sunstorm was having the most success with their Deer Hunter line of games that at the time were selling well in Wal-Mart. Sadly, I eventually just lost touch with those guys.

I’m sure this is WAY more information than you were wanting (I’m a writer… I can’t help but go off the deep end!) but you dusted off some fond, old memories for me, so I apologize for walking so far down memory lane!

C: I see that you're still making maps, different kind of maps! This makes me wonder if maybe you were involved with W!Zone (a pack of maps for Warcraft 2 released by Sunstorm). Can you tell us a bit about that if possible?

BB: I didn’t have any hand in the W!Zone project for Sunstorm, but I loved the Warcraft series. As was common for many video gamers like me, who had roots in fantasy games like D&D, I played a lot of Warcraft and eventually got sucked into the world of MMOs with Ultima Online, Everquest, and World of Warcraft! If only I had back the time I sunk into those games!

These days I’m exclusively writing and designing for Dungeons and Dragons. I started about ten years ago writing for D&D Organized Play in a campaign called Living Forgotten Realms. I co-authored two adventures for that with my good friend, Michael Pearman, and authored a third adventure on my own. As you know from tracking me down via AAW Games, I’ve now authored six adventures for them, five of which are already published and one that is still in the works but should be released soon.

When I do manage to find time for video games, Diablo III is my game of choice these days. I’m looking forward to Season 22 starting here shortly, and like many others, I’m really hoping for something great with Diablo IV. I’ve been a huge fan of the series since the beginning, and even wrote an entire campaign for D&D 5E that translated the story of Diablo III into Dungeons and Dragons for the players in my home game! Thanks again for the opportunity to share some of this history. It was fun putting it all down and reliving those days!

C: There are two signatures in the Truck Stop level for Route 66. Do you remember anything about that ? There also several levels with no known credit : Fun Park, House of ill Repute, Mystery Dino Cave, Bigfoot Convention.

The signature on the truck stop is Route 66 was a joke! I was the only designer on that one. I just signed it "Billy Joe Jim Bob Buchalter" as a joke for bad redneck name. I wasn't the kind of guy that had to sign my maps the EXACT same way every time. :)

Other than the truck stop, I don't recall designing any other maps for Route 66. I pretty sure none of those you listed below were mine, but I don't recall whose they were.

Finally, here are some final comments Bill made after reading through some forum posts:

Wow, I am really quite humbled that you guys looked so deeply into my work! The fact that you could recognize my build style is pretty cool - I didn't even know I had a style! LOL. The truth be told, the reason you probably had so much trouble telling my levels from Robert's is because he was a big influence on me. I learned a lot from him and incorporated a lot of that into the stuff I built.

Its funny how reading through that thread you linked brought back memories... I remember now that my biggest disappointment from Duke Caribbean was that my only level in the game ended up being a secret level - that some people wouldn't even find it or ever play it. I was actually pretty excited about that level. I was the one that suggested a casino because my folks had retired to Vegas, so I'd been in a lot of the casinos there and had some great ideas for the map. I'd forgotten all about the restaurant I worked into it, and the big fish tanks.

There seems to be some debate about Robert. From what I remember, he was a really good guy. Maybe a bit tough to work for, but only because he really strived for our designs to be the best they could be, and he demanded that of both himself and the other designers. As I said before, I learned early on to accept criticism and critique and not take it personally. It was just Robert doing his job. I'll be the first to admit that I designed better levels thanks to the stuff I learned from Robert.

Someone on the message board made a very astute comment, basically to the effect that "Bill had to have other work out there. Sunstorm wouldn't hire an unproven guy off the street." But truth be told, that's exactly what they did! I hadn't done a single thing before working there. But I think a few things played in my favor. First, I lived in Indy, just 15 minutes from their office, so it was easy for me to go in and work directly with Robert. Second, while I didn't have anything officially published, I did have a disk full of the maps I'd designed on my own, and Robert thought I showed promise. I would design at home a lot, then go into the office a couple times a week and sit with Robert while he critiqued my work and offered advice on how to improve it.

I'll be honest - I'm blown away at the number of people STILL playing these old maps we made so many years ago. I watched a couple YouTube videos of a guy playing and reviewing Duke Caribbean and Blood Cryptic Passage. His high praise of both Full House and the Opera House really made my day. It's nice to know that people enjoyed my work.

_____________________________

Thanks a lot to Bill Buchalter for taking the time to answer these questions! Thanks also for sharing... “Big City” !

A Duke Nukem 3D map he created back in the day before joining with Sunstorm Interactive which was never released before! Screenshot:

Map download:

https://msdn.duke4.net/bigcity.zip

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External link: Duke4 forum blog megathread: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/11471-blog-interviews-of-build-engine-video-games-developers/page__pid__353013#entry353013 The forum posts Bill read, mentionned above, can be found here: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/9418-duke-caribbean-multiplayer-levels/

#build #build-engine #blood #duke nukem #redneck-rampage #duke #nukem #duke nukem 3D #video games #route 66 #caribbean life #cryptic passage