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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 2 years

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The Four Long Rests Of Ramiel

This is a cleaned up and expanded version of a piece I wrote quite a while ago, because if I don’t write and edit something that isn’t a work email or academic text I am going to quite literally die.

Anyway, this is some more Blorbos From My DnD Homegame and I’m not expecting anyone but me to be really invested in this, but they’ve been on here before and I’ve done my best to hopefully make this all not too obscure and unintelligible to an outside observer. Any thoughts and comments will, as always, be appreciated to bits and put in that collection I keep to gaze upon on bad days (yes, it’s an actual thing I have).

Commemorating how a little over a year ago in our Curse of Strahd campaign my character got caught by the land’s vampire lord while trying to heist an ancient dragon skull from his spooky castle in order to bring back a fallen order of noble knights (long story), stubbornly refused to give up the whereabouts of a legendary vampire hunter upon capture, and was subsequently brutally murdered despite her friends’ and dashing love interest’s very impressive efforts to save her. It was very peak DnD dramatic and great and the aftermath was wild, and then I wrote some of it up while processing it all and shared it with my fellow players and DM, the absolute champs.

The original comically long title of this was “The Four (But Actually Three So Far) Long Rests Of Ramiel The As-Of-Yet-Untitled, Recently Deceased”, alluding to the fact that the Raise Dead spell states: Coming back from the dead is an ordeal. The target takes a −4 penalty to all attack rolls, saving throws, and ability checks. Every time the target finishes a long rest, the penalty is reduced by 1 until it disappears. Yes, it was a fun stretch of sessions.

Spoilers for the Curse of Strahd adventure abound, as well as bits and pieces from the Eberron setting. A warning for (temporary) character death and related recovery, and some vampire-typical bloody violence, but nothing beyond an AO3 T rating.

In brief, Ramiel, the POV character, is an Aasimar Paladin, Lava is a Vedalken Artificer, Elgath is a Goliath Fighter. Rudolph van Richten and Ezmerelda d’Avenir are NPCs from the module and Ravenloft setting who ended up playing pretty big roles in our story, and also… I just think they’re neat.

Length: ~7700 words.

—

The Four Long Rests Of Ramiel

Fingers curled around her throat, the grip utterly merciless and unflinching, claws catching on already torn skin and flesh. The heavy rain, richly mixed with dark red, trailed freely down to her collarbone, painting the fabric of her shirt.

“One last chance,” ground out of a fanged snarl stained with her own stolen blood, an undercurrent of impatient rage tainting the cool, cultured voice from before. “Where is Rudolph van Richten?”

She couldn’t turn her throbbing, spinning, definitely concussed head to look towards her companions, try to see how they were doing. Her legs kicked out feebly and her feet could find no purchase. Her fingers tingled with the last remnants of (useless, useless) magic and slipped harmlessly off the clawed hands that were closed like a vice around her. When she forced out words, her voice was barely above a rasp, but the (futile, futile) determination in it was clear: “You’re never getting that from me.”

A burst of incredible, overwhelming pain, and then, for a little while, nothing.

Her eyes flutter open, barely.

Every part of her hurts, every breath a hard-won, costly victory. She can barely stand to tilt her head, the slightest of movements stretching and pulling at her ravaged neck and resounding like a drum within her skull. Her eyes burn and her eyesight blurs, and her shoulders, back, and ribs feel as if someone smashed them to bits then pieced them back together without much thought or care.

But she is alive.

She is also cold. So, so cold. But it is not a sharp wintry chill, nor the insidious misty seeping of Barovia’s dreary atmosphere. It is something deep and hollow, settled somewhere in the core of her bones.

Her vision clears up just enough to allow her to recognise the face hovering over her, but it is entirely beyond her lips to form the name, and beyond her strength to lift a hand and see if she is real or some cruel, cruel trick of the mists. Ezmerelda, worry battling with relief etched in every line of her expression. And then, next to her, the old doctor himself, alive and well, putting away the remnants of a finely made scroll. Ramiel feels a vague suggestion of relief wash over her, drowning out some of the confused jumble - doubly so when her other two travelling companions burst into the room, bringing with them an odd sense of lightness from some wellspring far beyond her understanding.

She keeps losing moments here and there, little stretches of time fluttering by and missing her entirely. There are vestiges of dragons and knights all around the cobwebbed halls of their hideout, and though tattered and ravaged by time and intruders both they seem to be exuding something new, something that she feels come over her like a balm.

Then there is a flurry of No time to explain what happened and We’ve lit the beacon but we have to go quickly and He’s coming around her, and she goes along with it because she cannot do anything else.

Well, she can’t really do this, either. So she waits, and clings to the one constant presence beside her. When she can finally manage to lift her arms even a bit, she fumbles under her shirt and feels her own heartbeat with one hand, clutching at Ezmerelda’s wrist with the other. Something warm and solid and real, to keep her from drifting off, from dissipating into the mists again.

The others are doing their best to hurry, mounting up, packing away what little is left to pack. The flight cannot wait. Soon enough Ezmerelda all but picks her up, getting her to her feet, and helps her stumble out of the crumbling old mansion they were hiding in and to the waiting wagon. She sets her down on the driver’s seat with some effort.

“It will pass in a few days,” van Richten says, adjusting his spectacles after briefly looking her over once again, bedside manner kept to the purely professional and matter-of-fact. “No cure for it but riding it out, I’m afraid.”

There’s something she needs to tell the man who just saved her life, but she cannot for the selfsame life of her hold on to a thought for more than a split second. She makes the mistake of focusing on the stabs of alternating pain and cold as he goes on to explain something about circulation and, oh, probably her heart?

Ezmerelda sees her wince and shiver and, in the midst of departure preparations, rushes over to the other side of her wagon, purposefully marching back with an armful of what seems to be the thickest blanket she had stashed away in there. She wraps it around Ramiel almost as if making a statement, then hops up on the driver’s seat next to her.

Van Richten shakes his head at the sight and at the pampering, and climbs up onto his horse. But it is not unkind, and the twist of his lip seems, while fairly inscrutable in Ramiel’s present state, far from disapproving.

The entire wagon jolts briefly, then she sees Ezmerelda take the reins and call out her Drovash! to get her magical horses to appear in a display that still never fails to make Ramiel slightly jealous. She in turn rests her head on a warm, solid shoulder as they begin their travel, wagon pitching slightly as it turns back onto the road. The rest of the world is still mostly a blur, so she closes her eyes.

She is jolted awake rather rudely some unidentifiable amount of time later, as the wagon suddenly and dramatically picks up speed.

“Wha–?” Ramiel mumbles, head heavy and mouth full of cotton.

“We’re under attack,” Ezmerelda explains brusquely with another sharp tug on the reins. “Hold on.”

Ramiel does her best to do just that. She catches flashes of her companions on their horses, weaving in and out, moving to protect the wagon from mounted attackers, and takes stock of herself as best as she can. She is in no shape to contribute to any encounter, perhaps - but she does have one last thing to give.

Ramiel remembers, more clearly than she would perhaps have liked to, one of the final, brutal attacks atop the castle tower, and the way her usually silent, stoic companion forced his way in between her and the vampire and willingly took it entirely upon himself.

“Elgath!” She can see his mountainous form, almost comically large atop his horse, galloping in parallel with the wagon. Ramiel tries to call out to him, but despite her efforts the weak rasp is barely audible over the sounds of battle and fleeing horses. “Hey! Elgath!”

He notices, at last, after throwing a javelin at some foe Ramiel can’t see, and pulls his horse over, not missing a beat. Exhaustion from all his recent sleepless, cursed nights makes his broad shoulders visibly tense under the furs of his cloak.

“I saw what you did, when… the bite. Thank you.” It’s not a time for soulful confessions of gratitude perhaps, but something in her will not allow it to go unsaid. She reaches over, puts a hand on his arm. “Here. It’s not much, but…”

It’s surprisingly easy to draw upon the very last of her healing power and allow it to flow out.

Why him? The doubt pipes up, and she doesn’t want to think who it sounds like. You could have healed yourself and perhaps been somewhat useful. Just look at the state of you. Pathetic.

Relief is visible on his often closed-off, stony features, and Ramiel knows it was the right decision. He gives a small nod. “Thank you.”

Then he’s gone, riding off again, spear at the ready.

Ramiel sinks back in her seat, the last of the warm, tingling energy leaving her hand. She feels she’s missing half the battle and the chase and the general chaos around her; whinnying horses and growling, snapping wolves and rough battlecries and whooshing crossbow bolts mixing into a cacophony beyond her understanding. Her head pounds in time with the hoofbeats of the magical horses pulling the wagon.

She fumbles for the hilt of her rapier at one point, trying to ground herself in the familiar and ever-reassuring feeling of holding a sword. To little effect. The attackers aren’t getting any closer. The confrontation - chase - ambush is dragging on, and what she needs is rest.

Ezmerelda half-stands on the seat, cursing under her breath in some language Ramiel doesn’t know, catches the reins in one hand to free the other, then turns and snaps up a handful of fire, slinging it out behind herself. The little mote of flame goes wide, and the cursing briefly intensifies before she sits back down.

Ramiel shakily lets go of the sword, careful to not let it tumble off onto the road, and goes for the Krezkian hunting longbow she frequently finds herself very thankful for. Nocking an arrow is already a struggle. The first shot hits one of the attacking berserkers surprisingly accurately, but it bounces and clatters weakly to the ground, piercing nothing.

Another. Shaky hands and weak fingers do not make for good archery, but something inside her, that one well of determination that fuels her every action and that is currently working near what she fears might be its very limit, allows her to get off a good enough shot to fell the last of their pursuers.

She manages to sit back down and place the bow behind her, and remembers very little after that.

She will manage, later, to gather up and piece together the vague flashes of making camp; sombre discussions of both the immediate and pending threat of wolves; of getting some warm and oddly comforting soup tasting of home in her that Lava provided a surprisingly poetic lecture about; of falling asleep curled up into Ezmerelda’s side, clinging to her rather desperately and caring very little about who noticed that fact.

To call the awakening rude would be an understatement of historic proportions.

It’s unclear, at first. It’s dark and cold, and she doesn’t understand why she’s awoken (they said she didn’t have to take any of the watches, and she agreed after only a bit of protest, so why now?), or where Ezmerelda is, or–

Wolves, so, so many wolves, encircling. Elgath, exhaustion coming off of him in waves, raising the alarm, Ezmerelda standing a little ways behind him, slightly dazed, rapier in hand but not at the ready–

And then, the Devil himself.

“I am here for Rudolph van Richten, as you have doubtlessly been informed.” His voice is perfectly level, tone perfectly courteous, but it carries through the night and into Ramiel’s still vaguely ringing ears like a clarion. “No? My, how unfortunate.”

Lava steps up, robes crumpled and askew but his bearing entirely proper, and does his best to channel all those fancy diplomats he loves talking about observing during his many travels. He tries to stall, to avert looming, imminent disaster, but even his razor-sharp and lightning-quick mind, his greatest and most trusted weapon, fails to find a way.

Strahd knows. There is no doubt he sees right through the unlikely Dusk Elf persona the doctor is currently travelling under. The act of asking is merely another test - or an opportunity. Lava’s shoulders slump in visible defeat at this understanding, buckle under the burden of an impossible, inescapable situation, and he chooses to bargain for their lives.

He raises a hand mutely, gesturing to the other side of their small camp. Strahd’s gaze follows, and then he strolls over to where van Richten is now sitting up, so very calm, as his magical hat of disguise is plucked from his head and his countenance shimmers and once again becomes his own. So remarkably at peace with his impending doom.

Ramiel is anything but. I died to stop this! she wants to scream, but instead chokes out some inarticulate sound of futile anger. She fumbles out her holy symbol, channels the only power she has left. No impressive words of rebuke come out, just a desperate cry of “No!” as she clumsily tries to throw herself between them.

Strahd bats her arm away, unaffected, not even sparing her a look as he delivers more ultimatums, more thinly veiled threats, entirely secure in his triumph.

You can’t have him, she wants to shout back, but that would be a lie, just as much as I promised is achingly true. She wants to jump to her feet, dash forward to some end, just so she can feel she’s doing something. But Lava waves a hand, features uncharacteristically pained and apologetic, and an invisible force shoves her back down, for her own sake.

She watches them go, powerless, with a thousand flavours of We’ll come for you, we won’t abandon you to this fate– stuck in her throat. They all do, quietly standing by in various stages of dismay, as Strahd struts down the hill and beside him the feigned slow steps of a feeble old man snap back into the more brisk, business-like pace they have come to expect from the doctor.

And then they are gone.

Ramiel tears her gaze away from the dark trees and looks to each of her companions. Lava, mumbling pleas for forgiveness at what he has been forced to do; Elgath right next to him, with an expression of numb shock; a distraught Ezmerelda, hands clenched into trembling fists.

Well. There is one thing Ramiel can do, at least.

She gets back up, every part of her protesting her efforts to remain on her feet. The two-three dragging steps she takes feel like a gargantuan achievement. She takes one of Ezmerelda’s hands in her own, and soon feels the grip returned almost uncomfortably firmly.

“Ezmerelda,” Ramiel calls out weakly, weaker than she might have liked, and to little response. She presses on anyway. “Stay close to me, alright?” As if she hasn’t been doing so all along. “You know it will take a day to clear up. The charm,” she almost spits out the word. “But you don’t have to actually feel it.” Then, more quietly, “I don’t want you to feel it. I can help.”

I couldn’t stop you losing him, but I can give you this small mercy, at least.

Ezmerelda seems to jolt out of whatever thoughts she was stewing in and back to awareness at that, and gives a weak nod. “That moment before you woke up was enough. I– he– he has no right…”

She shakes her head as if trying to shake off the hateful, violating influence, and then looks a bit lost. Ramiel wants nothing more than to never have to see her like this again - to never see any of them cruelly torn into by one of his visits, each in their own way.

Soon. Soon. Soon.

It’s Elgath who breaks the silence next, voice more gravelly than usual. “Not much point in keeping watch anymore, but, well…” He gestures vaguely. “You should all try to go back to sleep.”

He’s right, of course. But Ramiel feels like she never wants to sleep again, never be caught unawares, never not be providing every little scrap of protection she possibly can.

The most she manages is to see Ezmerelda fall into a fitful sleep first. The sheer exhaustion and the mounting toll of their ordeals wins not long after.

The fangs sunk in and in and in, as if they were endless, first burning upon puncture, then chilling. Muscles seizing against the intrusion, but only making it worse. Then, the horrible, slow drain.

“I hope it burns on your tongue,” she managed to spit, struggling fruitlessly in his grip.

The glimmering red eyes of the Devil met hers as he pulled back, having had his fill for the moment. His deceptively young face twisted into a wicked, self-satisfied smirk as he lightly dabbed at the bloody corner of his lip. “Oh, be assured it’s actually quite sweet.”

Disgust coupled with frustration mounting, she let out what could only be termed a growl, and succeeded in freeing her right arm. She received only a mocking, glinting, fanged smile in return for her efforts.

She darts awake, gasping violently, her hand flying up to her neck. Her fingers just about brush against the tears and bruises, but then another hand takes hers, firmly but not unkindly, and pulls it away.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop. Calm down. You’re fine, you’re fine. Listen to me. Hey.”

A voice, stern but concerned. Ramiel knows that voice well. She… is fond of that voice. The presence of its owner has been the one unfailing source of something resembling joy here in Barovia, for such a brief, but such an important time.

She breathes in slowly, and feels her drumming heartbeat slowly return to a normal pace, and Ezmerelda helps her sit up properly.

Ezmerelda, who has been painfully obviously insistent on staying by her side from the moment her eyes opened on that musty floor, to the first weak, stumbling step as she helped her up, and on throughout the entire dismal aftermath of their ill-fated expedition to Castle Ravenloft. What feels like the continuation of the steady, stubborn buildup from a palpable but unacknowledged tension intertwining with the rising trust of repeatedly facing peril and fighting side by side. A supposedly indulgent night during celebrations at the camp outside of Vallaki becoming two, and then three, and then turning into a yearning for as much time together as could be eked out.

“I’m so sorry I woke you up,” Ramiel whispers, only mostly coherent. “You should go back to sleep. You first, and then…”

“Never mind all that,” she is interrupted impatiently as Ezmerelda waves her concerns off. “It’s almost light anyway. What happened?”

Ramiel shudders, and makes a weak, vague gesture towards herself. “A nightmare? I could still feel… in my neck…”

Ezmerelda looks at her, frown deepened by the play of pre-dawn shadows and the remnants of their campfire embers. She is, for once, inscrutable. Then she appears to come to a decision.

“Here.”

She reaches up and unties the striking red bandanna from around her head, decorative medallions glinting as she untangles them and puts them away somewhere in her coat. She leans over to instead wrap the cloth around Ramiel’s neck, slowly and gently, like trying not to startle a wild animal.

It’s warm. She ties it lightly enough not to cause pain, but tightly enough to be felt as a reassuring presence, to provide a sense of comfort and protection while hiding the jagged reminders from immediate sight. It brings back to mind the sound of thunder and the smell of lightning splitting the musty castle air - the sudden appearance of Ezmerelda at her side, staring the Devil right in the eye. Seemingly fearless, electricity surging and arcing and crackling around her, whisking them both away to some desperate hope of safety.

Ramiel catches one of her hands as she pulls back from her work, and presses a kiss to it in lieu of thanks.

Neither of them say anything more. Ezmerelda pulls them both down to lie on the bedrolls, as what passes for dawn in Barovia slowly breaks.

This, this was unpleasantly familiar.

The mists pressed in and in mercilessly, but also seemed to be tearing her apart. Her will alone, sheer determination, was keeping her together in some incomprehensible way, but the strain was almost unbearable. She could see them all; her companions, herself, even - or, well, what was left of her there - not a very pretty sight. Trying to get the horses to cooperate, bickering, exhausted, half out of their minds with shock and grief and worry, doing their best.

Her nonexistent hand went to her nonexistent heart, as if to grasp at the spike of feeling that seemed to go through it briefly.

Then… the mists swirling and roiling all around, and so many strange creatures, strange things she had no way of making heads or tails of. Lava striking some odd, convoluted, ill-advised bargain. An old woman leading them all to some kind of circle, and then…

A tearing.

She tried to scream, but there was nothing left to scream with.

As they climb higher and higher on the twisting mountain paths, the newly lit silvery beacon rising from Argynvostholt comes to dominate the ever-misty vista. It lights up the night as they travel, and remains steadily shining over them during the morning as they settle in for their brief daylit rest. Looking at it feels simply and pleasantly good, resolutely buoying in a way that’s impossible to explain. Ramiel doesn’t understand how it works - it is tragic they never had the time to get the full story from Argynvost’s most devoted knights, fallen or otherwise - but what it represents is more than clear. Hope. And hope is something the dreary lands of Barovia - and they themselves - have been sorely lacking.

It brings to mind Irian, the eternal Dawn. The plane of beginnings, of newness, of ever starting afresh. Of brimming as-of-yet untapped potential. Young and untouched, fresh springs bubbling over with clean, healing waters, feeding meadows that have never been trod upon. An early dewy morning that stretches on forever, somehow. Light, bright and searing. Growth and flourishing and all that starts and doesn’t end.

It never, ever ends.

Ramiel’s never been there, of course, but she’s dreamt of it, seen it. Witnessed its effects in their world, and, over the years, recognised the ways it forms and informs her own being, though the exact nature of her ties to it remain a mystery.

The Silver Flame, on the other hand, burns, but it doesn’t burn hot. It envelops and protects. Incandescent, glorious, impenetrable. Surging when it is time to drive off threats, leaping and searing bright down her blade when she lifts it in battle, if the cause is just. She’s been instructed in the texts, of course, in the many interpretations of the words of the Keepers, trained and prepared for the weight of duties that come with the ability to so readily become a conduit for the flame. When she dies, she can only hope to join the efforts to bolster and feed the blaze with her very being.

There is no end to duty, either, or to true devotion.

Neither Dawn nor Flame were to be found in the gloomy, isolated lands of Barovia, more a prison than a county or a kingdom. There was little save for what Ramiel happened to bring in herself - two sources of divinity, gleaming gold and bright silver intertwining, flowing through her and burning in her, shaping the meanders of the river of her life. It feels bitterly right, then, that a silver beacon of hope burns brightly across the horizon, and that she paid for it in blood, and more besides.

When they discussed their immediate plans, settling on a desperate last-ditch attempt to find a powerful mage hiding in the mountains, she told them all about what she saw, during her time… in between. The disgusting, creeping creature haunting them unseen, the parade of eldritch knights - all doubtlessly important, but nothing she could make sense of herself. There is more there, however, that she has to tell someone. That she feels will try to claw out of her chest otherwise.

The mood is dour enough - no sounds of Lava muttering to himself during his incessant tinkering as long, blue fingers move over metal and wood and spring faster than anyone can follow, or of Elgath scribbling in one his notebooks, jotting down the events of the day in quick shorthand, then moving on to slow and deliberate, almost ritual-like, tracing and retracing of runes new and old. No conversation is struck up beyond what is utterly necessary for continued travel.

While certainly not in the sorry state she was in the day before, the toll the steep, far from well-trodden mountain road is taking on Ramiel is considerable. She dearly misses the comforts of the travelling wagon they were sadly forced to abandon. And yet, when they stop for the day and set up camp, she finds herself wide awake long after everyone else seems to have fallen more or less peacefully asleep. While she’s in no state to toss and turn so much as rearrange herself achingly slowly and very, very carefully, she does manage to send a rather sharp elbow into a soft side.

Ezmerelda’s beginnings of a snore turn into a startled grunt, and then a quiet, “What–?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Sorry. Go back to sleep,” she whispers, and tries once again to make herself comfortable in the bedroll.

“I might if you stopped squirming about for five minutes.” The irritation has very little real bite, however. Ezmerelda seems to consider something for a moment, then gives a long-suffering sigh and sits up slightly, her long coat folded behind her in an improvised cushion. “Something on your mind?”

Ramiel smiles wryly. “Am I so transparent?”

The only response from Ezmerelda is a shrug, and an attentive look with only the slightest, barest trace of annoyance, once she blinks her light doze away fully. Go on, her eyes seem to say, as they catch the silvery reflection of the beacon.

“You know, when I was… gone,” Ramiel starts, awkwardly, hesitantly. “I tried to hold on… to myself? But even so, every last drop of my determination wasn’t enough. You brought me back in Argynvostholt of all places, and I can’t help but think of those knights, restless and undying. I can’t help but think, it could have been me. Relentless, rage-driven, determined beyond death, just like them. Could still be me, honestly. I felt it.”

Ezmerelda hums thoughtfully. “Would you… want to? If it came to that?”

“I… I don’t know,” Ramiel admits slowly. “I’ve thought about it, and I thought that yes, I would. If it meant taking him down for good. But…”

She pauses, swallows. Rubs at her neck - carefully.

“But there is something the Lady I squired under once said, about our oaths, about why she fights, and I will carry those words with me for as long as I live, because she was right. She said: I don’t fight because I hate what’s in front of me. I fight because I love what’s behind me.” [1]

She lets the words breathe a little before continuing. Tries not to spiral into thinking of the possible fates of the ever-fearsome Lady Herleve the Hawk, and the weight of not knowing that’s always at their heels, like a shadow, waiting for a moment of distraction.

“I do want to stamp out the evil plaguing this place, more than anything– but I’ve sworn no oath of vengeance and destruction. My oath speaks of protection and devotion and… I mean… I haven’t…”

It’s something that’s been troubling her for a long time, and doubly, almost burningly so since her brief death and sudden return, and the words don’t come easily at all. “I haven’t really sworn any oath. I was supposed to, soon. But there was the attack, and the retreat, and then we ended up here and I…”

She thinks of the crumpled bit of parchment she keeps stowed away in an inner pocket, with the carefully written-out lines of the knighting ceremony and official vows she’s pored over embarrassingly often for such a brief bit of text. She thinks of how instead of a formal errand, earning a knightly title and partaking in the final ritual - not grand, perhaps, but always deeply meaningful - she laid two long-dead children to rest in the haunted house that was their first real taste of the cursed land that entrapped them.

“What I mean is… all this, and I’m not even a real knight. Hah,” it’s a very bitter chuckle that escapes her, almost involuntarily.

Ezmerelda raises an eyebrow, tilts her head. “I don’t see anything unreal about you. What are you talking about?”

Ramiel frowns and fumbles for words. “I know it shouldn’t necessarily ‘count’ and all that, and… while I understand what’s important, that this is really no time for such petty concerns, I still–”

“I mean, it clearly counts in all the ways that matter, Miss Endless Well of Healing and Protection,” Ezmerelda cuts her off. “Where else would that be coming from?” She shrugs, feigning casualness, even as some of her words traitorously slip into a determined, even passionate cadence. “Realest knight I’ve ever met, anyway.”

Ramiel gets just a bit choked up. Instead of a reply, she opts for a hug. It is returned.

“Now please go to sleep,” she hears Ezmerelda mumble exhaustedly somewhere near her temple.

This time, snuggled into a warm shoulder, she does so without much trouble.

For the briefest moment, they both stopped in their tracks, trying to orient themselves, listening. Hearing nothing but the patter of the heavy rain outside and the occasional drip upon the elaborate interior stonework from their own soaked clothes, and the drumming of their own hearts in their ears.

Then, a terrifying hollow thud from just above them, followed by heavy footsteps, and their respite was cut painfully short.

“We need to run, now,” Ezmerelda gasped out, eyes wide, curls plastered over her forehead with both rainwater and sweat, chest already heaving with exertion but making to pull them both down the corridor.

“He’s too fast,” Ramiel managed through gritted teeth, almost tripping over some royal carpet or other, turning to look over her shoulder - only to confirm her fears.

Strahd’s expression was mild, neutral, almost peacefully nonchalant as he effortlessly pursued them with inhuman speed. Then, a corner of his lips quirked upwards.

I am inevitable, he seemed to say, without saying a single word.

Not a breath later, his claws came down upon her again.

There is, somehow, a perfectly tailored room for each of them in the conjured mansion. The four of them slowly make their way down the impossibly long hallway, freshly bathed and pampered and enveloped in decadently fluffy robes, bellies full of food, heads abuzz with plans and new knowledge and the wild, wild events of the day. The odd mostly-invisible servants have left them alone, for now.

They briefly stop in front of the first door to wish Lava a good night as he goes into his chambers. From the glimpse Ramiel manages to catch, it looks more like a library than a bedroom, with a delightful ceiling of bright blue sky matching the tone of the Vedalken’s skin perfectly, and only the odd fluffy white cloud floating about. Elgath’s, next, seems slightly colder than the rest of the house, a cool but not uncomfortable breeze of high mountain air wafting over them as he opens the door. With a murmur of farewell and silent questions on being able to actually get a good night’s sleep in a properly sized bed written plainly on his broad face, he is gone too.

Then it’s just the two of them and the muffled sound of their slow footsteps shuffling along in the outrageously thick carpet.

Ramiel can tell the next room is hers. She doesn’t even pause to think twice, but instead takes Ezmerelda’s hand tightly, and gives her a light tug towards the door.

“Listen, if you want your privacy, I understand, of course, but…” She starts but trails off, words sticking in her throat strangely and uncomfortably. Though the past few days have done much for her overall state, she can feel that insidious chill clawing its way through her chest again at each parting. As everything quiets down, all the odd magical pampering has yet to fully mask the deep-seated aches.

She manages, finally, in a very small voice. “I don’t… I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Ezmerelda pulls her into an embrace and holds her tightly. “I’m glad to hear that,” she murmurs in her ear, “because I’m not letting you go again.”

The room they enter is very simple, and very comfortable and comforting in its simplicity. The only thing that stands out is one far corner of it, looking like a segment of a warm, slightly bubbling pool plucked right out of a bathhouse.

Ramiel walks over to it briefly, running her fingers over the surface of the water, watching the ripples form. “You know, before today I’ve never taken a bath and not relished it. Never just hopped in and gotten clean just to get it done with.” She wrinkles her nose, knowing she must look rather childish and petulant, and tries to spin it into a joke. “It’s horrible.”

The bathrobe is so soft. The bed is absolutely decadent. Ramiel has never seen or felt anything like it in her life. She can’t find it in herself to enjoy even a moment of it.

“Do you know of this man? He seemed to think we should have heard of him. A ‘Magnificent Mansion’ - what in all the worlds…”

Ezmerelda shakes her head. She’s been noticeably subdued since the odd, frantic energy of a feast-like dinner combined with an impromptu magic circle workshop wore off. There is a bit of collarbone peeking out of her robe, leading to a slip of bare shoulder and a thin, dark line of an old scar, one that Ramiel has yet to hear the story behind. The small silver pendant carefully shaped by Ramiel’s own hands to resemble a lightning bolt glints in the muted ambience of the room.

“He was so calm,” Ezmerelda manages after a long silence, sitting listlessly on the edge of the large bed, rather unlike herself. “That’s what I keep thinking about. He just… stood there.”

Ramiel sits down next to her, and the sight of the Doctor and the Devil facing off in the dark forest flashes in her mind’s eye.

She then remembers her conversation with Ezmerelda in the inn from a mere week ago, the almost desperately simple and honest I don’t want Rudolph to die and the quiet He is family to me and more besides, in a moment of such clear openness and vulnerability Ramiel would have been ready to swear she’d pluck the moon out of the sky, if this could somehow help.

“We’ll get him back.”

Ezmerelda’s brow furrows, in anger, frustration, or sorrow, or some mix that seems too painful to parse, as she bursts out, “He’s in that fucking castle, if he’s even still alive, going through gods know what while we’re sitting here after attending a damned conjured banquet, and the last time we went there you died! He killed you! That bastard killed you with his bare hands and I couldn’t do anything about it!”

Her hands are clenched in the rich bedspread, and her chest is heaving with rage she can’t quite direct. Ramiel places a gentle hand under her chin, lifting her face up to meet her eyes. “I promised, remember? I don’t make those lightly.” She tries to give a wry smile, to twist something into some sort of light, joking air. “I guess I owe the good doctor my life now, quite literally. So don’t you worry about that promise going unfulfilled.”

“I’m… I’m not.” The reply is simple but carries so much weight and faith in it Ramiel feels an odd pressure form behind her eyes, like she might want to cry, just a bit.

Ezmerelda sighs. “I trust you. Even with - quite honestly - a lot of evidence to the contrary sometimes… But I hear you say these wild things with such ridiculous certainty and conviction: oh, we’ll find the powerful mystery mage and get him on our side, and we’ll get the mighty sword of sunlight and we’ll march right up to the castle and free van Richten, and, and– I can’t help but believe them.” She sounds almost exasperated at herself.

“Then you know I mean it when I say I’d rather die than let you down.” Ramiel has never felt more serious in her life. It takes even her herself by surprise, a bit.

“I’d rather you didn’t die. Again. Please,” Ezmerelda’s voice is quiet and soft and rather uncharacteristically vulnerable. “But I suppose you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t say these things while utterly, utterly meaning them. You wouldn’t be the person I…”

She trails away, swallows with some effort, and looks away.

Ramiel feels words almost burning in her chest, fighting to come out. “Well, let me say a few more things, then,” she starts, and Ezmerelda jolts a bit at the fierceness of the tone.

“You came all this way for him, and you are about to stroll right back into the den of the beast for him. Even after you’ve been apart for, what, years, and even after his latest plan almost got you killed. I won’t pretend I know why, but I do understand why. Because if there’s one thing I understand in this life, it’s loyalty and devotion. And you just… you have that in spades. I know… what you said back at the inn,” she allows herself the briefest bit of hesitation. “I don’t necessarily want to pry and interrogate you about your history and whatever you feel you need to be making up for, and… that’s all fine, that’s all yours to know. But I think - and I’ve told you this before, and I still mean it now - you keep selling yourself short.”

“You don’t even know–” Ezmerelda begins.

“I don’t need to,” Ramiel insists, gazing into her eyes with a steely determination she’d, for a few brief days, feared might have slipped beyond her grasp. “I don’t need to.”

She sees Ezmerelda is about to scoff and try to dismiss it all and put on a tough front, so she presses on. “There is a lot to be admired about you. A lot I admire. Now, if he can’t see it? His loss. But I hope he will. You’ll see. He will. In fact, I think he already does. And when we get him back he can tell you so himself.”

She puts an arm around Ezmerelda’s shoulders as if pulling her in to share something in confidence, and continues in a more quiet, but no less determined tone. “And then, when we stake that monster together, van Richten can tell you just how proud he is of you, and how very lucky he is to have someone as amazing as you to carry on the fight against the darkness.”

Ezmerelda shakes her head, not entirely convinced. But there is something like the ghost of a smile hovering around her lips. Ramiel takes that as a victory, at least for tonight.

This time, Strahd stops to take her in, just like he did on the castle wall, in the pouring rain. But then he turns oh-so-slightly and instead sets his gaze on Ezmerelda. A cruel, vicious understanding dawns on his face.

“Oh,” his voice and lips curl around the syllable as if it is a delectable morsel served up for his taking and slow consumption. “I see how it is.”

Ezmerelda, suddenly very painfully aware of his full attention being on her, reaches for her rapier.

She is too slow.

This time, when she finally, mercifully jolts awake from the nightmare, she finds she is crying.

Ramiel turns over and shoves her face between neck and shoulder, allowing herself the selfishness of waking their owner up, and lets the hot, stinging tears fall as silently as possible. There is a hand stroking soothingly down her back, she notices blurrily after some time. There is one gently resting on the back of her head, right where…

It stops, at some point; the burning flow dries up all on its own. Enveloped in the (warm, non-threatening, comfortable) darkness, she allows herself a soft confession into a battle-hardened shoulder that is by far the best pillow she has ever felt under her cheek.

“I don’t want to die here.”

It’s not a noble or inspirational sentiment, it is not some platitude about honour, it is not an observation upon the value of oaths and the trials of keeping them. It is barely above a whisper, but it is the truth, as she has been sworn to tell it.

“I thought, you know, I kept saying it’s fine if it’s me, I just can’t allow it to be anyone else. Not like… like Vallaki. Not Lava, who has so much to go back to, or Elgath, who has so much to see, so far to go. Not you. But it can be me.”

She takes a shuddering breath, and the arms around her tighten. She feels glad about the hold, thankful for how her face is hidden, how she doesn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes.

“But now I… I don’t–” Another heavy breath, and she manages to press on. “I don’t want to die here. I can’t let so much be left unfinished. No single one of us is expected to complete the work, but neither may any one desist from it,” she completes the recitation from memory, holding up the words in front of her like a shield. [2]

But that’s not it, either, is it?

“There’s so much I need– I want to do! I want to actually take my oaths. I want to see what happened with our home. I want to find out what happened with… with my family. It’s been so, so long. I should have… no,” Ramiel cuts herself off sternly, well-practised, “that’s a pointless path to take.”

Then, she manages a brief smile, as her thoughts turn to the more whimsical. “I want to fly on an airship - I’ve never, you know? I’ve seen them, but never up close. And I want… I’ve always wanted to see Irian - the plane? The sanctuary, the baths. All of it. I mean, I don’t know how to get there, but I’m sure I could find a way.”

“But this place…” She shudders. “This is the wrong place for anyone to die.”

Ramiel turns to lie on her back, gazing at the ceiling which she only now notices is lined with small, sparkling, clearly magical constellations. She finds, to her surprise, she recognises them - Aasterinian, Io, and there, the long tail of Bahamut… an odd but not unwelcome bittersweet little taste of home. The familiar skies with ships soaring by on wheels of fire.

“I want to fly,” she says finally, almost reverently, reaching up with one hand, seeing the stars glimmer between her fingers. Thinks of the many, many dreams she’s had of gliding through the air on powerful golden wings, and of the pale reflection of them she is capable of manifesting for but a painfully brief time.

“I’d love to see you fly,” Ezmerelda, quietly listening for so long, adds in a murmur.

Ramiel smiles, and allows warmth to fill her. “I’ll have to make it spectacular, then, just for you.” Then she lets out a small chuckle at her own expense. “Maybe one day I’ll even figure out how to take you with me.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Ezmerelda replies, forcing a casual air. “I’ve been to a great many places, and I’ve done quite a few things, but I can’t say I’ve ever flown before.” Her expression darkens a bit, then, her eyes narrowing, an intense, steely purposefulness creeping into them. “A victory lap, right from the top of Ravenloft’s tallest tower.”

Ramiel nods, the determined mood catching, in odd contrast to their lush, comfortable surroundings, and her most recent dream spikes chillingly into her thoughts. “I’m not letting that monster lay a hand on you.”

She can tell her eyes are burning alight by the way the shadows dance across Ezmerelda’s face when their gazes lock. She can tell that there is light seeping out of the thin scar on her jaw and out of the visible remnants of her more recent wounds. She can feel the roiling in her gut, the burning in her chest that’s always been hers, but that she has only recently come to truly know and harness.

Ezmerelda places her hands on Ramiel’s cheeks, cups her jaw with a gentleness not many would give her credit for, and rests their foreheads together. Then, she moves only slightly and comes in for a soft kiss.

“I was so relieved,” Ramiel whispers when they part, “when he looked at you, looked between us, and utterly failed to see anything.”

Ezmerelda looks at her curiously, a small frown furrowing her brow, but says nothing.

“No, but, see. He doesn’t understand. He never will. He can’t. For all his raging at his cursed fate, for all his efforts, all the poor people who have suffered because of him… Or maybe even because of all this, his cursed, tarnished, cold and rotted heart is incapable. He doesn’t understand it.”

“What doesn’t he understand?”

“Love.”

Ezmerelda stops and looks at her quietly, mouth very slightly agape. Her gaze is heavy with the implications she is gathering and sifting through, ever so carefully and tentatively.

“I mean,” Ramiel swallows and tries for a lighter note. “He failed where even our famously dispassionate Vedalken friend didn’t.”

“Oh?” It is possibly the shiest and most hesitant Ramiel has ever seen her.

She raises her hand to cup Ezmerelda’s cheek and pull her closer, one thumb stroking gently. For once, the words seem to come as easily as they are always supposed to for some kind of radiant and inspiring divine champion.

“He looked at me and he looked at you and he couldn’t see the most obvious thing in all the worlds.”

Ezmerelda makes a few unsuccessful attempts at a question before she manages to breathe one out. “And what… what would that be?”

“That I love you.”

Ezmerelda flinches away briefly, almost as if she’s been burned. But then she all but throws her arms around Ramiel and holds her tightly - and the kisses she presses everywhere she can reach do everything to dull any pain and discomfort this incurs.

She reaches the lips last, the kiss long and deep and loaded with meaning and intent and promise and fierce, fierce determination, and the I love you too she remembers to speak out loud only later.

—

1. G.K. Chesterton paraphrase. ↩

2. Paraphrase of a quote from Pirkei Avot that @docholligay has embedded in my brain and quite honestly life forever, much love ↩

#curse of strahd #dungeons and dragons #dnd #tabletop #gonna take my horse to the old svalich road #fanfiction #my fic #oathkeeper writes things #ezmerelda d'avenir #rudolph van richten #oc #aasimar #*slaps sentient STR 8 glowstick* this gal pal can fit so much suffering in her #still mostly lurking around here love you all #ramiel

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this-world-loves-you · 3 years

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Listen, we don’t appreciate Tommy‘s rp enough. And I don‘t even mean his ability to switch in and out of character like it’s nothing, or the way he‘s able to find the perfect balance between playing deeply emotional scenes and cracking jokes. No, but especially how he just gets to people and I mean not only to the audience but especially his co-streamers. No one, not even Wilbur is able to pull people into lore like Tommy does, but he doesn’t only carry them along HE LIFTS THEM THE FUCK UP. Tommy gets people like Tubbo who sometimes has trouble getting into character to holding a touching monologue ending on their famous “Who am I without you?” - “Yourself” scene. Tommy gets emotional responses out of Technoblade who himself admitted that he wants to keep his rp rather lighthearted when he replies to Tommy‘s accusations with his “I am a person” line. Tommy bounces off of Wilbur‘s very strong roleplay like he has never done anything else. Tommy might be treated as the main character of the DSMP but despite that Tommy doesn‘t steal other people’s spotlight, the contrary, really: he‘s the biggest supporting character. Just like his habit of checking in w/ everyone IRL. He wants his friends to shine.

#dream smp #dsmp #dsmp rp #tommyinnit #listen he plays the role of the annoying child really well but he’s also the biggest sweetheart #no discredit to either tubbo techno or wilbur they‘re all awesome #i just think we don’t appreciate Tommy enough #like wilbur once said Tommy is a legend #and he deserves the world #for someone like me who comes from dnd this is just beyond impressive #players like tommyinnit are a win for every rp group #a rambles #txt post

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utilitycaster · 2 years

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I'm curious on how you would rank the CR cast in terms of how well they understand the mechanics of dnd. Because I agree with something you said a while ago, which is that Sam somehow has this rep as being "the mechanics guy", but I feel like that just isn't true honestly. Not that he's terrible, but I think he does tend to like having one "go-to" move like bigbys hand or sneak attack, and seems to be struggling a little now that he has more choice. And perhaps controversially, I think Marisha has come such a long way in terms of mechanics. Like, sure, Keyleth had some bad moments, but Marisha mostly killed it as Beau and she's killing it now as Laudna, yet she gets very little respect for it I feel.

(answering this along with this from earlier today):

So in terms of strongest, Matt. I think DM-ing is the fastest throw-you-into-the-deep-end way to get good at mechanics, and so an experienced DM generally is excellent at mechanics. We can see it from him as a player, as Dariax or in one shots.

In terms of the rest of the cast, it gets a little murky in that I think everyone but Sam and Ashley is very, very strong (and I have my eye on Ashley because she's catching up fast), and the people I perceive as strongest are in part a matter of my personal taste in how to play/their playstyle beyond just mechanics. As a result I explain a lot of things and this is going to get long so I've put it below a cut just to save your dashes.

Unsurprisingly for followers of this blog, I think Travis is among the top players. I remember sitting with my father watching the boys basketball team at my middle school play a match and he pointed at the team's star player, who I should point out had not hit his growth spurt yet and also iirc never broke like, 5'8" as an adult, and said "that kid has incredible court sense" and anyway Travis has court sense. He asks all those questions because he's thinking about the battle map like, well, an athlete. And as someone who in some small part plays casters because my spatial reasoning is adequate at best, this is really impressive to me. Like, there's a reason he's taken the mobile feat twice, and why he's confident in melee, and this is on top of the fact that he managed to build out a utility hexadin with so many short range teleports, swapping out spells thoughtfully and picking highly useful invocations that also tell the character's story, like, part of why I've been so outright derisive towards the people who have insulted his skills is because this guy recognized Vespin Chloras within seconds. This guy is reading the manuals.

Liam is also among the top players. Hilariously, he exclusively has played Core Four in D&D with two exceptions (Vax's multiclasses and the For Legal Reasons This Is Neither HP nor the Breakfast Club one-shot) so he knows what he likes but he is, to be fair, very good at what he likes, and what he likes is utility casting and fighters and that's the most valid. He is perhaps the strongest at the table at integrating mechanics and story, though Travis and Laura are very close, and like Travis he can handle a highly modular build skillfully and thoughtfully as we've seen with both Caleb and Orym.

Liam and Travis were also the two players I said who I think could at least take a reasonable stab at the Empathy Domain, in that they are both the pragmatists of the group. I think Ashley may be one as well, hence why she's one to watch, but: they are able to quickly make peace with tough decisions or a bad turn and see it through, which, with the finicky nature of the Transfer Suffering feature and the highly RP dependent Sympathetic Bond, is crucial. When will one of them play a cleric for more than like, a two-shot. Please.

I think Taliesin is extremely good at mechanics broadly and has a lot of DM-ing experience and so he's counted in the "very, very good" section with Laura and Marisha here mostly because I happen to also be more of a brutal pragmatist and so that gets extra points, and Taliesin is one of the more optimistic playstyle cast members. He also tends towards min-maxing (obviously for Percy; Caduceus is min-maxed for healing and perception) and I respect that but I prefer the broader utility that Liam and Travis tend to pursue - although Ashton is, mechanically, super fun and has a more diverse array of skills/abilities than many barbarians (though a lot of credit goes to Matt here for the subclass) and I'm excited to see more.

I do have to disagree with the idea that Marisha "got much better". I mean, she has improved at D&D as has the rest of the cast but she was one of the strongest players from the start and the narrative that she's vastly improved since C1 instead of being consistently excellent is outright incorrect. I think people do not appreciate that she was usually the only prepared caster on screen, she was the only person with crowd control while also trying to be the healer and the tank simultaneoulsly, or that druids in 5e are significantly different than in Pathfinder. Like, literally, the only example of a bad Keyleth moment that comes to mind was the Wind Walk in the purple worm fight, and not to keep dunking on Sam but if Sam got a rep for being the mechanics genius for two great moves 3+ years ago it seems, uh, mad fucked up that Marisha still has a reputation for not being great as Keyleth for one bad spell 6 years ago. (In fact, to stop dunking on Sam: most criticisms of Sam and Marisha from C1 should probably stop. If suddenly you're down a sorcerer and usually down a cleric? You get a GENEROUS leeway.) I also was more impressed by Beau than by Laudna in terms of story incorporation - like, eyes of the runekeeper is great but why does she have that, and also I personally believe no warlock should ever have higher wisdom than intelligence unless they multiclassed. A sorcerer/warlock should not be in the business of having a positive wisdom score. Which isn't a knock on Laudna in general - some of this is personal taste and some will be resolved as we learn more - but I need to say that your Marisha mechanics opinions seem really off to me.

I think Laura is quite good and I think everyone who insults Jester's healing is an idiot who listened to Laura complaining and forgot to keep in mind that Jester actually did a great job healing while complaining, up until Caduceus "the healing guy" Clay showed up at which point she pivoted. This is called "responding to what else is going on" and I highly recommend it because mechanics in a vacuum are mere thought exercises. I think Laura is mechanically good but she also I think knows what she wants to do, which is to hit big and hit hard - I think she's aware that certain aspects of mechanics (support casting, tanking) aren't her interests, so she's not quite as strong all-around, but she's very good at what she's interested in. She's also showing a lot of utility as Imogen. Sorcerer is a really good fit for her and she's killing it.

#long post #critical role #tenser's floating discourse #not really discourse-y honestly imo but like. i'm giving people the chance

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hiccanna-tidbits · 3 years

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Autistic Hiccup x ADHD Anna Headcanons

SO I’ve been really into the whole Autistic x ADHD ship dynamic and Hiccanna...highkey fits??? Like y’all know I will die on my “Anna has ADHD” hill, but after reading this post by @hobie-brown I’m like wait, the autistic Hiccup headcanon is wonderful too??? And blends SO WELL with ADHD Anna??? And I absolutely HAD to explore it more so BOOM headcanon time! Another special thanks to @hobie-brown for writing the super lovely autistic Hiccup headcanon masterpost that inspired me to do this!

Disclaimer: I myself am not on the spectrum (part of the reason I’ve always felt a little weird about definitively HCing characters as autistic unless I see actual autistic people HC them that way too), so most of the stuff here is stuff I know secondhand from my autistic friends! I do have ADHD, so I can always promise that ADHD Anna will be 100% authentic XD

~Anna absolutely gets into Hiccup’s special interests to try and impress him. The most obvious one being, of course, dragons, but also dinosaurs (extinct dragons), lizards (tiny dragons), and Dungeons and Dragons (An RPG game that does, in fact, include dragons). Hiccup absolutely had that dragonology book as a kid and got obsessed with it beyond all reasonability. Hilariously, Anna’s wooing strategy of indulging his special interests works like a charm--mainly because a) he’s pretty flattered that someone takes THAT much of an interest in what he likes and b) half the time, ANNA finds that she genuinely gets into whatever said special interest is and finds them easy to hyperfixate on. It helps that the more she obsesses over it herself, the more she has to talk to Hiccup about XD

~Specifically, Anna definitely joins a DnD campaign at some point so that Hiccup will think she’s a “cool gamer girl”--and then gets unironically obsessed with it and starts writing 10-page backstories for all of her characters. She later tells Hiccup it started out as a ruse to win his heart via nerdiness, and he absolutely loses his shit laughing.

~One of their overlapping special interests/hyperfixations is high fantasy. Hiccup is, unsurprisingly, all about the mythical creatures while Anna is more into the magic and the zesty political drama, but you dun best believe they catch every CGI-ridden fantasy movie that ever comes out. They’ve both spent a literal fortune on fantasy movie tickets, even moreso on watching them in 3D or Imax. How embarrassing for both of them.

~Another less-obvious overlapping interest is history. Hiccup gets into it while looking into the cultural mythos of dragons (he’s pretty fascinated by the fact that so many cultures around the world thought up similar creatures independently), while Anna gets into it because she grew up cooped up bored and lonely in a big house, and entertained herself by looking into the history behind some of the family paintings. They don’t seem it at first, but they’re actually both huge medieval and ancient civilization history buffs.

~Hiccup is THE most touch-repulsed person you will ever meet. This is unfortunate, as he is also SUPER touch-starved and absolutely does not realize it (I mean, I’ve never gotten the vibe Stoic was the super huggy type, considering his and Hicc’s relationship in HTTYD 1). This means he has absolutely no fucking clue what to make of Anna when they first meet meet. Anna’s the sort of person to give physical affection pretty freely, especially if she likes you--usually in the form of hugs, arm pats or playful swats, putting her elbow on your shoulder, etc etc. Hiccup is kinda just like “this is way too much touching but like??? I kinda like having her this close to me??? What do???”

~Anna, meanwhile, notices that Hiccup kinda stiffens up whenever she touches him and seems to not be crazy about it and she’s just immediately like “yo what’s wrong???” And as SOON as he admits he’s not all that crazy about being touched randomly she’s like “OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY” and never touches him without asking again.

~As soon as she finds out touch a kind of A Whole Thing for him, Anna is like...AGGRESSIVELY respectful of Hiccup’s boundaries when it comes to physical affection. Almost annoyingly so. She gets in the habit of basically never initiating any kind of physical touch without asking first--even long after they’ve started dating, and he’s told her it’s okay to initiate touching as long as she’s not smothery about it. She still refuses out of principle.

~They come up with a kind of “consent language” so Anna can pretty quickly determine when it’s all right to touch Hiccup--because Anna still really likes being physically affectionate with him, and he does actually like receiving physical affection a lot of the time (because, again, touch-starved), he’s just choosy about who does it. They work out a system based off of small, light touches that Hiccup doesn’t mind where it’s basically 2 taps on his shoulder for “can I hug you around the neck,” 2 taps on his side for “can I hug you around the waist,” 2 taps on his arm for “can I grab/lightly slap/punch your arm,” and 1 tap on is shoulder for “can I put my arm/elbow on your shoulder.” If he’s cool with it he’ll either nod or just say “yeah go ahead.” It works a lot quicker than asking “can I do such-and-such specific touch” every single time, and allows Anna to keep some of her spontaneity. They develop this during their friendship and it ends up rolling over into their relationship, even after Hiccup has basically told her she doesn’t need to ask permission for a lot of these anymore. She adds a new one after they start dating--she taps him a couple times wherever she wants to kiss him to ask if it’s cool to give him a smooch! It usually is.

~INFODUMPING. Literally SO. MUCH. INFODUMPING. Hiccup absolutely WILL NOT SHUT UP when he gets to talking about one of his special interests. Anna just will not shut up in general, but when the topic changes to one of her hyperfixations, it’s even worse. If you try to have a conversation with these two while they’re infodumping, you WILL get talked over. Honestly, left to their own devices, they could probably infodump to each other for literal days on end.

~Despite how much they both like to infodump, they’re both pretty good about being patient and indulging the other when it’s their partner’s turn to infodump in the conversation XD They are, however, notorious about accidentally triggering a barely-related infodump in the other person. It’s not uncommon for one of them to finish a rant and then the other goes “OH THAT REMINDS ME” and sets off on a completely different, barely-related rant.

~Hiccup actually really appreciates how overexpressive--and occasionally overdramatic--Anna tends to be. He never has to try and figure out what she’s thinking because she just says everything in her brain, and her body language basically always matches how she’s feeling to a ridiculous extent, so he never has to give himself a headache trying to read her. The fact that she’s the opposite of subtle and has no filter whatsoever works great for him, because he doesn’t have to drive himself insane trying to understand her. He gets her better than he gets most people because she’s an open goddamn book. The boy’s never been the best with social cues at all, never mind the nuanced, obscure ones, so Anna’s general straightforwardness and utter inability to hide her true feelings at literally any time is a breath of fresh air. What you see is basically what you get, and Hiccup wouldn’t have it any other way.

~People think when Anna and Hiccup start dating it’s gonna be a disaster, mainly because he’s so blunt and she can be...”oversensitive” (i.e. has a REALLY bad case of RSD). Turns out they’re dead wrong--because Hiccup has RSD too! (I mean, come ON--look how BADLY he wants to get his village’s approval! And how hard he takes it when his dad or someone else is mad at him--even if he tries to hide it with snark) He’s actually one of the few people who can be blunt enough with Anna that she realizes when she’s being a dumbass but tactful enough not to hurt her feelings or set off her RSD--because god, has he been there. When Anna is being especially difficult and has worked herself into a real bad funk, Hiccup (and sometimes Elsa) is the only people who can talk to her and get through to her without getting blown up at.

~They stim in similar ways!!! They both tend to fidget or kinda bounce up in down in place as a way to comfort themselves and calm themselves down (I see them both having a lot of anxiety and generally being kind of paranoid, although Anna is MUCH better at hiding this via putting on a cheerful face). They both do the leg bounce!!! Also if they get SUPER excited they’ll do a little awkward happy dance!!! They both also tend to stim by rubbing things in small, repetitive motions--with Hiccup, it’s usually his sketching pens, his ear, his head, or the back of his neck, while with Anna, it’s usually her other hand, her arm, her clothes, or really anything with kind of a comforting, consistent texture (some favorites are rubber, felt, and velvet). After they start dating, they actually will stim with each other’s hands while holding hands--usually by squeezing the other person’s hand in kind of a repetitive pattern or doing the thumb-rub thing on the back of the other person’s hand. It’s not uncommon for them to each be doing something completely unrelated while holding hands and just stimming on each other’s hands the entire time. Anna especially really loves when she feels Hiccup stimming on her, because it’s her little indicator that he’s happy and feels at peace and content in her presence and she LOVES being able to do that for him!

~They both stim by playing with hair too! Anna likes to play with her own to stim--mainly by figeting with the end of her braids or tucking hair behind her ear. She DOES love to ruffle Hiccup’s hair too (and she LOVES how fluffy it is!), but it’s usually not a stim thing. After they start dating, Anna does occasionally stim by massaging Hiccup’s hair/scalp, but she doesn’t usually do it for very long. Hiccup really loves braiding Anna’s hair, or just playing with it when it’s down. it helps him relax and clear his mind to have something fairly repetitive and/or mindless to do.

~Even after gaining some confidence, Hiccup still has a fair bit of social anxiety, so he and Anna basically always go to parties and social events together and stick with each other the whole time to make it less intimidating for him. Hiccup generally prefers to let Anna do the talking when they chat with people, and sometimes if he’s REALLY nervous he’ll sometimes even let her kinda talk for him (not in a condescending “speaking over” kinda way, but more in like a “I can sense you’re not comfortable speaking here so I’ll help you out as best I can” kinda way). She always makes sure to leave space in the conversation for him to take over talking if he wants. She’s also incredibly prone to bragging about his accomplishments to basically everyone they know. Hiccup is both embarrassed and flattered by this.

~When Anna finds out about meltdowns (probably through Hiccup mentioning it kind of offhandedly--“Eh, sorry I went AWOL last night, I was having a bit of a meltdown. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine now.”) she lowkey gets super anxious and frustrated because she REALLY wants to help, but has no idea how. Cue literal HOURS of research on the internet and AGGRESSIVE memorizing of any and all tips that she reads that she thinks would help. Which, of course, means several MORE hours spent going over flashcards like she’s studying for a goddamn test, because Anna has never been known for her sharp, expansive memory.

~The first time Hiccup ever has a meltdown in front of her (maybe after a really bad phone fight with his dad or something? Just general sensory overload?), she takes him to a secluded room and IMMEDIATELY gets rid of anything that could be agitating sensory-wise. She dims the lights! She closes the blinds! She throws a nearby clock, an alarm, a timer, and several other objects with only the slightest potential of making an annoying noise out of a nearby window in a fit of passion! She goes on a frenzied quest to find Hiccup’s noise-cancelling headphones--and finishes it in record time! Even in a state of emotional turmoil, Hiccup realizes that Anna’s being just a little too methodical in how she goes about all this--these are the kind of things that wouldn’t ever occur naturally to her to do. So as soon as he calms down a bit and has screamed into a pillow for a while, he’s like “...did you go on the internet to look up how to help with meltdowns?” and Anna’s like “...yes?” And Hiccup is lowkey so touched he starts crying all over again...and then, naturally, makes a long string of snarky comments to try and distract from it XD

~For their anniversary Anna saves up a bunch and buys Hiccup a lizard and a terrarium!!! She gets him a crocodile skink because, I quote, “Well, they always look annoyed, they’re kinda shy, they don’t like to be touched, and they look like tiny dragons, so they reminded me of you!!!” Hiccup screams like a goddamn fangirl, he’s SO excited. As luck would have it, Hiccup’s crocodile skink is a lot less skittish and prone to hiding than they usually are, and he actually lets Hiccup pick him up and pet him without much issue. Which is honestly great, because repeatedly touching something smooth and even like lizard scales helps calm Hiccup down when he’s agitated and helps with some of his sensory issues.

~Probably goes without saying, but Hiccup basically NEVER genuinely gives Anna a hard time about her memory problems or how she’s not always the quickest on the uptake, and if anyone tries to call her annoying, dumb, or immature he will absolutely roast them into oblivion. He does sometimes like...lightly tease her about jumping into things without thinking or never shutting up, but he never pushes it if he can tell she’s genuinely bothered by it (and, again, Anna is very easy to read, so it’s not hard to tell XD)

~I’ve seen other people in the fandom HC either Hiccup, Anna, or both of them as BOTH autistic and ADHD, and honestly...fuck yes!!! I’m down for this too! I love the idea of these two disaster ND kids just vibing with each other on so many damn levels that it’s like...incomprehensible to the average human XD Like man, they fuckin GET each other!!! I’m pretty happy with most combinations of ADHD + Autistic headcanons for Anna and Hiccup, so long as they end up vibing!!!

~THEY JUST. THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. SO MUCH. THEY LITERALLY WOULD DIE FOR EACH OTHER. I AM SURE OF IT. I’M CRYING.

#hiccanna #hiccup x anna #anna x hiccup #hiccup #anna #hiccupxanna #annaxhiccup #autistic hiccup #adhd anna #headcanons #hcs #httyd #frozen #crossover #rotbtd #rotbtfd #hiccup haddock #princess anna

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noncombativednd · 3 years

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The Problem with Simulation in DnD

Oh gods, how DnD Memes always make me want to write up about problems in DnD and how to fix them. Seriously, do you all think even the NPCs all roll for EVERY action they do?! So again, DnD on the TTRPG spectrum of Simulation system to Story telling system is very strictly in the simulation department. It’s mechanics goal is not to help you tell a story, it’s to help you simulate actions and boy does it show in the memes. Not just memes, but the fact that you can find the next pyramid scheme inventor in your group when you get an Alchemy Jug and someone says “How much does Beer sell for, and who will keep buying 4 gallons of it every day?” See that’s the problem there, DnD wants to be a storytelling system while using simulation rules; and Someone, SOMEONE will always see that and say “Well why doesn’t everyone just use ___ spell/magic item to create a kingdom!?” You know why they don’t Billy? Because that’s not the goal of DnD, Billy! But don’t worry, Billy, we can help you fix this.

The Players are already Heroes at level 1. Now, this is the quick and easy fix that DnD 4e did better than 5e. PCs are already better than everyone at level 1, and thus you never expect anyone to ever really be at your level. See, the problem with 5e returning back to “everyone, even a commoner, is like a PC and/or better” mentality is that it gets people to think normal citizens.. make rolls! Why would they need make rolls?! they’re not heroic, rolls are heroic! I know level 1 PCs in 5e are squishy, but even having the mindset is important. Also, we all start DnD 5e at level 3, so like... that helps out.

Stop Giving NPCs the same Abilities and Spells the Players use. This is harder and, I hate to repeat this, another thing 4e did better. Honestly, take notes from 4e and just give NPCs things that are similar, but adjacent to players. If they swing a longsword and the players, it does 1d6 instead of 1d8. The enemy monk only get one extra attack from the flurry of blows. Their Fireballs are basically a normal fireball, but half the size. Now, warning on this part; If you ever use this idea, make sure it’s always less impressive then anything they can do at the same level. If anything is an “upgrade” it should only be in ways that are not easily compared, like don’t shy away from the enemy necromancer just laughing and suddenly animate up 20 skeletons around the party, even though the PC version... really shouldn’t be able to do that. A player isn’t going to feel bad that some super evil necromancer had a trick up their sleeve, but if Jim’s fireball splits in two mid flight, the players is GOING to demand that they can learn that spell on the spot.

Throw Gold out of the game. I swear, the first thing smart players stop caring about is gold. Embrace this! Gold is useless to storytelling beyond “have it” and “don’t”. Once your group gets some gold, stop counting. This will stop players from even thinking about how they’re going to rule the world through goodberry economics. Economics is not fun (Sorry to all my Economic Major followers), and there is a reason movies don’t revolve around keeping track of how much money every protagonist has at every moment in the movie. It’s not important to a story. Neither is arrow count; there is a reason we mentally stop counting how many bullets someone shots in movies, too.

Remember, the goal of DnD is to tell a story. This is always hard for some players to admit, but this is where the “you don’t play DnD to win” comes from. Everyone at the table has to have the same mindset here for things to work. You’re not dumb if you though that wasn’t the goal either; the system started as a fantasy war game. But, the system evolved and while it was purely a stab and blast simulator, now it’s not. If you embrace that, you can get a much better game. You still have to help guide it away from it’s simulation side to tell a story, but I’ve had some lovely games from it. Yes, if the player has guidance what the hell wouldn’t they just cast it right before EVERY check? Let them, it’s not worth fighting the simulation; just let them get to the story faster.

Again, it’s not hard to see why when someone see’s the simulation level of DnD, they start crunching numbers on how to successfully take over the world with just a few decanters of endless water. It’s like the beauty of realizing you can unleash a tornado in simcity or remove the the ladders in the Sims. Just remember that while it’s very simulator heavy system, DnD is not built to be a good simulator. Things are broken, because it wants desperately to help tell a fantastical story more than be a perfect simulation of medieval peasantry. Embrace the storytelling, ignore Min-Maxing your commoners, and focus more on the fun moments of failure and success instead of the gold count and the “I swear I said my character casts guidance right before ever roll I ever do”. Sure Jim... sure you do.

#DnD #D&D #Dungeons and Dragons #5e #ttrpg #ttrpgs #The funniest player I ever had did seriously automatically set up roll20 to always have guidance attached to every roll they could #Which I guess is the same broken problem as when players always helps each other for every roll to get the +5 of advantage #Which please don't be the bad DM that tries to fight this by finding more excuses for disadvantages to try and counter it #Just talk with your players and try to make sure that their bonuses are cool story moments of characters actually working together

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beneaththetangles · 3 years

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Light Novel Club Chapter 32: The Faraway Paladin, Vol. 1

Welcome to our Light Novel Club discussion of The Faraway Paladin, Vol. 1! We’ve got a fairly unique light novel to discuss this time around, and this is a great time to discuss it, with an anime adaptation coming up soon and also the recent announcement of hardcover print editions for the series. So let’s jump into the discussion!

Joining Jeskai Angel and I is marthaurion, one of the members of the Beneath the Tangles Discord! This is a reminder that all Light Novel Club discussions are held on the public Beneath the Tangles Discord and anyone can join these discussions, so if you want to join future discussions, check us out over there.

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1. What are your overall thoughts on the novel?

Jeskai Angel: The pacing was a little slow at times, but overall I enjoyed this light novel. Also, it bugs me that I can’t narrow down a specific reason, but this story felt strangely old, like I might have picked it up at the public library back in 1998. I’ve written before about how I think Unnamed Memory doesn’t “feel” like a typical light novel, and I experienced a similar sensation with Faraway Paladin, though I don’t think it was for the same reasons (e.g., how magic works is actually explained quite a bit in Faraway Paladin).

stardf29: Maybe it’s because the author took inspiration from traditional tabletop RPGs like Dungeons and Dragons, as opposed to video game RPGs like “typical” fantasy light novels?

Jeskai Angel: Ooh, that’s possible! It’s not exactly “You all meet in a tavern,” levels of DnD tropey-ness, but I can definitely see the DnD resemblance now that you point it out.

stardf29: This was definitely an interesting read that is quite different from the usual isekai light novel. It does feel a bit slow-paced because a lot of the beginning is so focused on Will simply growing up with his “parents” and learning about the world. That said, that kind of start is nice every once in a while; it is kind of like Mushoku Tensei in that regard. The worldbuilding is great because of it, and the conflict against the god of undeath is nice, too.

Beyond that, I do like how this story delves into various themes that are worth thinking about. It’s a nice, thoughtful light novel, and as much as I like my brainless fun light novels, having something like this is good for a balanced light novel diet.

2. What are your thoughts on the characters?

Jeskai Angel: By far, my favorite aspect of this story was the active role the gods played. It actually sort of resembles my favorite aspect of Spice and Wolf in that regard. In most light novels, either there’s no evidence gods are real, or they are deistic watchmakers who jump-start the story by isekai-ing the MC but thereafter take a hands-off approach to the setting, or they are benign comic relief. The biggest exceptions I can think of are Invaders of the Rokujouma!? and Is It Wrong to Try to Pick Up Girls in a Dungeon?, plus Tearmoon Empire (which, thus far, has strongly-implied-but-not-explicitly-confirmed divine intervention).

I think one way to summarize this volume is that it’s the story of someone (Will) coming to know and put his faith in a loving deity (Gracefeel). Since learning about the Lord and then choosing to devote oneself to him is fundamental to being a Christian, it’s actually kind of a relatable process. Gracefeel, as a character, walks a fine line, managing to be knowable while remaining mysterious. She’s not just a human with superpowers, but neither is she a total enigma. She’s also a rare truly benevolent god; her power is finite, but she consistently seeks to use it for good.

Stagnate was…peculiar. Like, if the author had added a line about Stagnate twirling his mustache while cackling evilly, it would have fit right in; he acts almost ostentatiously villainous. At the same time he, doesn’t feel quite as “evil” as he acts. He DID help with sealing away the demon king, and even if he had an ulterior motive, that doesn’t entirely invalidate the goodness of aiding the struggle against the demon king. Then there’s issue of death. Stagnate isn’t wrong to see death a Bad Thing (TM). I got the the sense that he really had at least somewhat good intentions behind his flawed approach to the problem of death. Even his nefarious scheme to ensnare Blood and Mary consisted of…arranging for them to raise the child they’d always longed for. Like, as far as villainous plans go, “Give a childless couple a baby so they can shower him with love” isn’t actually all that fiendish. I can’t be too hard on Stagnate if that’s the best he can do for an “evil” plan.

marthaurion: For what it’s worth, I don’t really think I got the same impression of stagnate as being overtly evil, but maybe I wasn’t focusing on that at the time. From what I read, it seemed like his motivations were rooted in a concept that made sense, but his implementation ultimately brings him at odds with others.

stardf29: I have to agree that Stagnate is not so much “intentionally evil” as much as a sort of “well-intentioned extremist”. I think it’s interesting that Stagnate was originally a “good” god, but would later “stray from that path”; it shows that, putting the initially “evil” gods aside, the gods are not actual moral paragons and are indeed falliable. I’ll have more to say on this in a later question.

Jeskai Angel: Will was surprisingly relatable. The way he described himself, I got the impression that he suffered some real trauma which caused depression or anxiety or some other form of mental ill health, and as one commonly sees in anime / light novels, he never got adequate psychological / psychiatric treatment for it. I also appreciate that his past-life memories were important yet not intrusive. By that, I mean that the story spend a bunch time dwelling on Will’s efforts to replicate modern technology, business practices, or Japanese food culture the way so many isekai protagonists do. That sort of thing is sometimes done well, but other times just feels like a cookie cutter isekai trope. Memories from his past are both inspiring and useful for Will, but they can only carry him so far, something he explicitly notes when talking about how Gus’s lessons eventually surpassed his past-life education level.

Will eventually does end up as an OP Isekai Protagonist (TM), but it feels “earned” in a narrative sense. He puts forth a ton of effort to reach the point of being OP, and even then, it’s not just efforts that make it possible. He never could have reached the point he did without all the care and teaching Blood, Mary, and Gus give him. Mater and Gracefeel also contribute to what he becomes. He isn’t just handed phenomenal cosmic power from the start.

marthaurion: For my impression of will, it was hard for me not to draw parallels to Mushoku Tensei, since both protagonists come from that similar thought of feeling like they want to make something more of themselves in their new lives. It’s hard not to feel like Will’s reincarnation is more of an afterthought whenever it comes up, whereas Rudy’s reincarnation seems to more actively inform many of his decisions. Ultimately, it seems like Will’s reincarnation is mostly meant to tie him to Gracefeel. To be fair, i think this is fine, but the other attempts to tie back to his old life don’t really hit home for me.

Also, I would agree that will’s abilities definitely feel earned, in spite of what I said earlier about how I compare him to Rudy.

It’s more of a commentary on how the reincarnation aspect ties into things.

Jeskai Angel: I haven’t read the Jobless Reincarnation light novels, and only watched the first few episodes before dropping the recent anime adaptation. That said…the big contrast I saw between Will and Rudy is that the former is a relatively good person and the latter is a relatively awful one. I got the distinct sense that Rudy, was a Jabba-the-Hutt-like sleazeball in his previous life, AND that he carried over his perverted habits into his reincarnated life. In that regard, at least, Rudy didn’t even seem to be trying to do better than in his previous life. Perhaps I’m off base in this, and Rudy wasn’t as bad as in his first life as the anime made him seem, or perhaps he eventually turns better in his second life. I just know that in terms of comparisons, I found Will vastly more sympathetic and likeable.

marthaurion: Is that so wrong? Even if I don’t have the same traits, I can respect that Rudy carries over parts of his identity while working past some of the traumas that held him back.

stardf29: Regarding Will, honestly, I don’t really have anything to add here that Jeskai hasn’t already said. I like how his past life memories have enough of an effect on his current self that you’re curious what his past life was life, but not so much that I want the story to actually explain it, leaving that in the realm of fascinating mystery.

Jeskai Angel: I appreciated how each of Blood, Mary, and Gus contributed something irreplaceable to Will’s upbringing. They were well balanced, and had a fun rapport with each other. I also thought it was a fun touch how the story emphasized that some of their knowledge was dated and they don’t really know anything about the current state of the world. I can’t help but suspect all three are some kind of allusion to Christianity, due to in their names. First, having a woman named Mary who ends up with a baby through unnatural means is…not remotely subtle. And once you’ve introduced that, the names of the other two start to seem suspiciously coincidental. “Blood” is in fact a very important thing in Christianity (e.g., the Lord’s Supper / Eucharist). And Gus isn’t in the Bible by his nickname, but “Augustus” (of the Caesar variety) does get a shout-out in Luke 2:1.

stardf29: Man, Blood, Mary, and Gus are great. They are such a great parental trio, with each of them having aspects that are different from each other that allow them to balance each other out, which overall makes them quite good at raising Will. It definitely made me sad that their time with Will ultimately had to come to an end. And I definitely found the use of “Mary” for the mother’s name strangely familiar…

Someone took some creative liberties with their nativity display.

3. What do you think about the setting/worldbuilding in this volume?

Jeskai Angel: Now that you’ve said it, the worldbuilding and setting seem clearly inspired by tabletop RPGs (or video games closely based on tabletop RPGs, like Baldur’s Gate or something), which in turn drew from older western fantasy works (from Greek mythology to Tolkien). It contains a lot of traditional elements, and the end result is something that in one sense feels creative and unusual compared to typical fantasy light novels, but in another sense more derivative than many other fantasy light novels. That is, light novels that don’t draw so heavily on traditional fantasy have room to sometimes do some really interesting things, whereas Faraway Paladin never completely loses that familiar “I think I might have read this in the ’90s” vibe I mentioned before.

marthaurion: I really liked how magic was presented in this world. It feels more grounded to think of it as something that isn’t guaranteed to succeed in a general sense. With that presentation, Gus’s philosophy of choosing words that have the safest failures rather than the most effective successes makes a lot of sense. It truly makes magic feel like a feat of intelligence, rather than just a question of how well you can time or aim the spell, as is the general impression in other fantasy settings.

As for the pantheon, I’m less familiar with kind of the “official” pantheons for D&D, so I didn’t immediately draw that parallel. I felt the similarities to Greek/Roman mythology a lot more strongly when I was reading, where the gods are just presented as very powerful beings that preside over processes.

stardf29: As mentioned before, the current highlight of the worldbuilding is in the gods and how they relate to the people of the world. I do like how the worldbuilding is presented over time, as if we are learning about it alongside Will. This is especially notable since this first volume only takes place in a small area geographically, so there’s still a lot of world for us to learn as Will explores outside the city of the dead.

Also, I like how magic in this world works. It’s not just “oh yeah people can use magic,” nor is it too videogame-like or overly “scientific”. There’s a greater sense of mystique thanks to the connection to the “Words of Creation”, and even Will himself mentions it’s more like classic fantasy novels in this way.

Now, about those gods. As I mentioned before, the “good” and “evil” designation of gods is not static, and that does make me wonder a few things. For one, what exactly defines what makes a god “good” or “evil”? Gus does say at one point that he considers those designations something that their followers, i.e. the people, decided, and that makes me curious as to the greater religious sociology of this world. It also makes me wonder if there are any cases where an “evil” god ends up being more “good”…

4. What connections does this volume’s story have with our Christian faith?

Jeskai Angel: The conflicting divine approaches to death provide fascinating contrasts with the third possibility Christianity teaches. Gracefeel represents reincarnation with no memories. Life ends in death, but then restarts from scratch. In this system, a soul is basically an Etch A Sketch, getting erased & reused over & over. I find this a deeply unsatisfying concept because it makes one’s life meaningless. It doesn’t matter what you do, eventually you’ll die & get erased & nothing about you will carry over. This approach leaves no room for reward or judgment. It actually reminds me a bit of some of my issues the versions of predestination/election found in some circles of Christianity, in that by say God absolutely predetermines the outcome, they risk making this life meaningless.

Stagnate has beef with this, & thus offers undeath as an alternative to reincarnation. Your identity won’t get erased, but you’ll be stuck as some damaged or half-destroyed version of yourself (e.g., a skeleton, zombie, or ghost) that isn’t truly alive. By offering some degree of continuity, Stagnate’s undeath does have an advantage over Gracefeel’s soul recycling bin. Unfortunately, it’s rightly called ‘undeath,” not “life.” The solution to death needs to be life, so in that respect Gracefeel’s approach has an edge over Stagnate’s.

Finally, there’s Christianity, promising a transformative bodily resurrection. Gracefeel & Stagnate only have workarounds to the problem of death; they can’t do anything about death itself. On the other hand, in the person of Jesus, Life directly challenges & overcomes death. In the resurrection, we will still be ourselves in some meaningful sense, unlike Gracefeel’s reincarnation. But unlike with Stagnate’s static, flawed imitation of life, we will be truly alive as transformed, perfected versions of ourselves. In short, the contrast between Gracefeel’s reincarnation & Stagnate’s undeath really drives home how awesome our Lord’s promise of resurrection is.

stardf29: So one of my favorite moments in the novel is when Mater protects Mary, and shows that Mary’s “punishment” was entirely self-inflicted, and that Mater had long forgiven her. It’s a good picture of grace, and how we can sometimes believe we are being “punished” by God, and perhaps even try to punish ourselves, even though God has already satisfied all need for “punishment” through Christ’s death. Sure, we have to deal with consequences of our actions, but that is not some kind of divine judgment.

Now, this story’s theological worldbuilding is based on the idea that “if good is created, then evil must be created to balance it”. There’s also how Will feels like he needs to fear death in order to feel like he truly is living, in opposition to Stagnate who wants to remove death entirely. It’s this idea of “balance” that I think comes from one of the major Eastern religions (will have to do some more research on this) and is fairly popular in fantasy works. It’s certainly a nice-sounding idea, but I think Christianity shows how we can look forward to a future without death, and not feel like we’re “missing” something because of that.

The contrast with Stagnate, as Jeskai pointed out, is particularly helpful because it shows that eternal life, separated from God and His perfect design for life, is pretty crappy. (And I have to agree that Gracefeel’s reincarnation of souls feels rather empty.)

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Thank you for checking out our discussion on The Faraway Paladin, Vol. 1! The series is available digitally from J-Novel Club if you want to buy this volume or any later volumes for yourself, with a hardcover print edition planned for release in March 2022.

Discussion on our next Light Novel Club title, Tearmoon Empire Vol. 4, has started on the Beneath the Tangles Discord! The discussion will be open throughout the month of August, so there’s still time to read the series and join our discussion.

If you want to prepare for the novels we are discussing later in the year: In September 2021, we will be discussing Sword Art Online: Progressive, Vol. 1! And if you want to know what we are discussing in October 2021… we will be discussing the next novel in the “Rascal Does Not Dream…” series, Rascal Does Not Dream of Petite Devil Kohai!

#Light Novels #Christianity #The Faraway Paladin #Saihate no Paladin #BtT Light Novel Club #Articles #Author: Jeskai Angel #Author: stardf29 #Author: marthaurion

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yourdeepestfathoms · 3 years

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Beside The Dying Fire (part eight)

[DnD AU with the tour!verse]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

(yes, there was a title change because i never really liked “Dark Souls”)

Word count: 3718

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Whenever Katherine closed her eyes, all she saw was that damn bull.

Over and over again, in the darkness behind her eyelids and in the darkness beyond the tree line was the bull staring back at her, his breath puffing from his flaring nostrils, his snout pulled back in a wicked smirk. He was there, presenting his manhood to her like he had in the clearing, taunting her with her precious bow and arrow.

“Come and get it, flower,” He would rumble.

To him, she was a heifer, ripe and innocent, still not yet taken as a mate. And he wanted her. He wanted her to be a part of his herd so he could breed his filthy calves into her, just like how he had wanted to do with Catalina. Maybe even Joan.

And that made Katherine feel furious.

But what could she do?

It’s been a week since the run-in with Henry’s troops and Katherine and her companions were walking on eggshells. Without their weapons, they couldn’t hunt, so they teetered into the lines of starvation for several days, only living off of a few berries they could forage. Without their supplies, they couldn’t collect or purify water, nor could they even start a fire, so they became thirsty and spent their nights in the cold darkness. Without their belongings, they were lost, and Katherine was starting to fear for the worst.

Once, when she was ten, she had gotten bitten by a venomous spider when she was climbing a tree. At the time, she had thought that was the worst pain anyone could ever go through. But now, nineteen years later, with her stomach feeling like it was eating itself, she would have much preferred the spider.

Katherine had never gone hungry before. Ghent was always full of food, whether it be meat from woodland animals or crops and fruits and nuts. Everyone always got breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so she had never even felt a fraction of what starvation felt like. But if someone had told her it was this awful, then she would have eaten that dead bird they passed a few days ago.

Katherine would have laughed at how pathetic she was being if laughing didn’t pull tightly at the muscles in her empty, cramping stomach. At night, as she gazed listlessly at the stars, she thought she could see another version of herself standing over her, shaking its head.

“It’s only been a week,” The other-her would say. “Are you really that hopeless?”

“Yes,” She would reply, and then she would fade out into the oblivion where the bull prowled.

Honestly, it was kind of sad how she believed her journey was really over. She was so ready to be defeated that she thought the town she saw in the distance was just a mirage made by her own exhaustion.

But then the smell of livestock on the wind wafted under her nose and she did a double take so hard she thought her neck had snapped.

“A village,” She croaked, the words grating like thorns through her dry throat. “A village!”

Catalina and Joan turned in her direction, equally as tired-looking, and their eyes widened when they saw the houses and wooden fences.

“Come on!” Katherine beckoned them. She burst into a brisk jog that proved too much of a strain for her weary bones, but she pushed onward anyway, ignoring the way her vision began to swim into murky darkness. Behind her, she heard Joan drag in a deep, desperate breath.

“I need to sit for a moment. I can’t breathe!” The little Tiefling bleated.

But Katherine didn’t stop, even when her own hunger pains and lethargy seized her lungs in a painful vice grip. “We don’t have the time, honey. I’m sorry.”

The town was getting closer and closer with every wobbling step she took, but the ringing in her ears, presided over by the thump, thump, thump of her heart, kept getting louder and louder and louder. But she’s so close, so close…

Then, her movements falter, and within seconds her body stopped responding, her thoughts growing scattered and illogical as she fell, endlessly backward into oblivion.

------

Katherine awoke in the dark. Her senses told her that this was no ordinary dream, and perhaps it was not a dream at all. There was real danger here. Her breath curled in front of her, and her hands were bitterly numb from cold. She could feel something lingering above her, a monstrous shape. She fled instinctively, fearing the bull.

Trees whipped by as she ran, but she could feel the thing close behind. She knew that it meant to capture her, but she managed to evade it long enough to find a place to hide. Beneath a fallen tree she found a wet, cold burrow she could just fit inside. She rolled in and tried to still her breath.

When enough time passed that she might be safe, Katherine started to inch out of the burrow. Something then grabbed her arm and snatched her out of the hiding spot and into the air.

“It seems warriors are not so deft in the air. Who knew?” The voice came not from the monster directly, but from around it. The words warbled with a tangible weight.

“Then again, you are more prey than warrior, aren’t you?”

The enormous creature tightened its claws around her until her limbs ached.

“Now let us see, Katherine. You have been called upon by fate to do its dirty work. I’m sure that’ll continue to impress it and me, among others.”

The blue-eyed beast shifted, which sent vibrations through its muscles.

“I must say, I find it odd that you are not...more. You could have so much for yourself if you would but take it. Command it. Out think anyone who covets what you have. But you lack the skills. Unfortunate, but there is still time for you to show us what you really are.”

The sweat beaded up on her skin and ran down between her eyes. The salt stung, and her vision blurred as she searched for a way out. Katherine tried to press the animal panic down in her gut, but everywhere she turned It was there, staring into her face and scratching at her. She whined, then she shouted, and she did not stop shouting until thick, black smoke cut off her airway.

The flames rise around her until all is ash. Katherine woke up abruptly, sweating and scanning for danger, and it took a moment for the flames to register. She searched, again, locked in the same scenario for an exit while the flames rose around her. She coughed and tried to shout, but the smoke again was too much.

Katherine experienced this same terror a half-dozen more times before she truly waked, in her own skin and not of prey’s.

The world was white, and slowly fading to a muddy brown.

Her eyelids weighed a ton, eyeballs stinging and rolling in their sockets as she struggled to consciousness. After a moment of fighting, she thought she could see something. The edges of a dark room, a single light highlighting a single door. A pinch at her shoulder.

Wait.

She could feel again, feel as if through a fuzz of downy blankets. Waves of nausea came next as the pressure on her shoulder increased. She moaned.

Pressure released, and her arms tingled at the increased blood flow as garbled sound came from beside her. Roused by the noise, she finally peeled back her eyelids fully and looked at the bird standing at the bedside.

Even for a Kenku, it was quite small, but a little chubby, evident of good feeding. Its plumage was midnight black with a smock of white feathers over its sinewy, wiry shoulders and down its torso. Its talons were short and stubby, but it had a razor sharp flint dagger strapped to the side of its light blue belted tunic which looked like it could cut down to the bone. When it noticed Katherine awake, it perked up, beady black eyes widening behind a fringe of feathers.

But it didn’t say anything.

Katherine waited for it to ask her something, but it didn’t. It just made soft churring sounds as it bustled around the cramped room, searching for something. After a moment, it grabbed a plate full of chopped vegetables and cheese and a glass of water and brought it over to Katherine, holding it up to her.

Katherine didn’t hesitate to dive into the meal.

The Kenku watched her as she devoured the squash and peppers and tomatoes and goat cheese, the expression on its avian face unreadable because of its beak. But it seemed unbothered by her and went to refill the glass of water after she drank it all in one sitting.

“Thank you,” Katherine panted, finally taking a moment to breathe.

The Kenku dipped its head.

“How long have I been out?” Katherine asked.

The Kenku held up one claw.

“A day?”

It nodded.

“Damn,” Katherine whispered, running her fingers through her oily hair. She really needed a bath. “Where am I? What’s your name?”

The Kenku began making gestures with its arms, cooing and churring, but Katherine had no idea what it was trying to communicate to her. It stopped after a moment and chuffed, handing Katherine a handkerchief.

“I see…” Katherine said slowly, not understanding at all.

Before the Kenku could make another one of its birdy gestures, a scream suddenly ripped through the building.

Katherine jumped to her feet instantly, startling the Kenku. The scream sounded a lot like Joan!

The Kenku squawked after her as she ran out of the room and into the wooden hallway of what appeared to be an inn. She stumbled blindly into rooms, being tailed by a pied crow creature cawing its head off, until she threw open a door to see Joan cowering in a bed, pressed frightfully against the wall like she thought she could sink through it and escape, with a giant minotaur looming over her.

Katherine felt angry, then scared, then angry again until her blood pulsed hotly in her veins. How DARE he come back after what he did and torment them some more, especially a child!

In a flash of fury, Katherine grabbed a nearby vase of flowers, smashed it on the wardrobe, and drove the points into Mannox’s side.

The glass didn’t sink into his tough hide like she was hoping, but it did seem to prick him and he let out a startled yelp of pain, which was good enough for her. Mannox whirled around, golden brown eyes wide, and that was when Katherine faltered.

Mannox didn’t have golden brown eyes. His eyes had been dark brown.

This wasn’t Mannox at all!

The minotaur was huge like Mannox was, but this one was female. Instead of mud brown fur, her fur was a rich russet red color with undertones of cinnamon and umber. She was powerfully built, each of her limbs rippling with muscles, and her horns were broad like a longhorn’s. A teardrop-shaped ruby earring dangled from her left ear, and she wore only some baggy cotton pants, not afraid to flaunt her bare barrel chest, not that much was able to be seen beneath her shag of thick hide. She looked down at Katherine, rubbing the area where she had been stabbed.

“Ouch,” She hissed. “That was a little rude, don’t you think?” Her voice was jovial, but warm, and had an accent that Katherine didn’t recognize.

“I am so sorry!” Katherine stammered, dropping the makeshift weapon, causing the rest of it to shatter across the floor. She was wary as to not step on any of the shards with her bare feet. “I thought you were someone else.”

The minotaur flicked her ears up. “Oh?” She said. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

She turned around slowly, being mindful in the small space she was in, and Katherine noticed that the tips of her horns scraped the ceiling slightly. Her tail whipped back and forth as she peered down at the frightened little Tiefling in the bed.

“Hey, kid,” She said softly, and Katherine was surprised to hear such a gentle voice come out of such a big creature. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Katherine heard Joan whimper, and she quickly darted over to the bed, nearly trodding right over the minefield of broken glass. When Joan noticed her, she shot into her arms instantly, quaking with fear. Katherine held her securely against her. The minotaur stepped back respectfully.

“It’s good to see you both awake, at least,” The minotaur said. “I was starting to get worried. Oh, I’m Anna, by the way. But I prefer it if you call me Cleves. And this is Bessie.”

“Moo!” Cried the Kenku that had been tending to Katherine, throwing its arms up joyfully. So ‘it’ was actually a ‘she’, then.

Cleves chuckled. “I’m unsure if that’s her actual name,” She told Katherine and Joan. “But I think she chose it because she LOVES cows, and ‘Bessie’ tends to be a cow name.” The Kenky clambered up her body like a ladder and sat on her shoulder. “I think that’s why she likes me so much.”

Katherine cracked a small smile. “I’m Katherine. This is Joan.”

Cleves nodded, then frowned at the little Tiefling still buried in Katherine’s chest. “Is she alright?” She asked worriedly.

“I think so,” Katherine answered, stroking Joan’s hair. “She just--went through some stuff. That’s all. She’s still a little shaken.”

“Ah,” Cleves nodded. “I see.” She looked at Joan and dipped her head to try and seem smaller and less intimidating. “I hope you feel better, kid.”

Joan peeked out from Katherine’s chest, then gave a tiny nod before hiding her face again. Katherine massaged behind one of her big ears, hoping to comfort her.

“Do you know where the other woman who was with us is?” Katherine asked.

A grave look suddenly overtook Cleves’ face, and Katherine felt worry jolt through her veins.

Cleves took her to a larger room further into the room where Catalina was. Katherine instantly noticed the tear stains on her cheeks and the stricken expression on her face. She rushed over to her, and Catalina gave her a glazed look.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Katherine took one of her hands, rubbing her thumb over the knuckles. “Talk to me.”

“It’s the baby,” Catalina said hoarsely, her voice rough from crying.

A spear of ice jammed into Katherine’s gut. “What’s wrong?”

Catalina sniffled, then said, “I-I haven’t felt them kick since Mannox found us. H-he hit me, remember? Wh-what if something happened? What if they’re--” She buried her face into her hands and began to sob.

Katherine threw her arms around Catalina and held her tightly, rocking her back and forth in a vain effort to comfort her. She set a hand on the Aasimar’s belly, rubbing it softly in a few places, but felt no kicks and no flutters of life.

“Did you say Mannox?”

Katherine turned her head to Cleves, and was surprised to see the minotaur’s friendly face contorted into an expression of pure hatred. Even Bessie on her shoulder had her feathers ruffled in rage.

“Yeah,” Katherine nodded. “We ran into him a week ago. He surrounded us with his troops and tormented us for a while, but let us go after taking all of our stuff.”

“That sounds like him,” Cleves said gruffly. She stamped one of her hooves, and Katherine could feel the vibrations throbbing through the floorboards. “So he must have been the minotaur you mistook me for. No wonder that little Tiefling was so scared.”

“You know him?” Katherine asked.

“He was in my herd growing up,” Cleves explained. “He was always causing issues. When Bessie showed up,” She raised a large hand and the Kenku nuzzled her beak into it with happy chirps, “he was constantly trying to hurt her, but wrote it off as him just ‘playing’ with her. Bessie and I have been trying to track him down for a while under the orders of the queen.”

Katherine’s ears perked up. “The queen?”

“Shiny, shiny, shiny!” Bessie chirped helpfully.

“Queen Jane Seymour,” Cleves said.

Katherine’s heart lifted. “You work for her?”

“One of her best knights,” Cleves said proudly. Bessie nipped at her ear and she chuckled. “And Bessie is my squire, basically. I don’t go anywhere without her.”

The Kenku nuzzled lovingly against Cleves’ neck, cooing.

“We were actually needing to see the queen,” Katherine said. “Can we go with you whenever you leave?”

“Your story with Mannox could be useful,” Cleves said, rubbing her chin. “That can be arranged.”

Katherine brightened. “Thank you.”

There was a tug at her sleeve, and Katherine was soon brought back to the terrifying reality that she had momentarily been distracted by. She turned to Catalina, shaking and crying, and wrapped her back up into her arms.

“Is there a doctor in this village?” She asked Cleves and Bessie.

But before either of them could answer, Catalina choked out, “Sh-she already saw me. Sh-she said there was n-nothing she c-could do.” She made an anguished noise that ripped mercilessly into Katherine’s heart. “I don’t wanna lose my baby, Kat! I can’t!”

“Shh, shh,” Katherine murmured, rubbing Catalina’s back. She could feel the wetness of tears running against her neck, warm and miserable. “It’s going to be okay, Lina. I promise.”

Catalina babbled something wet and grief stricken in response, but Katherine couldn’t understand her from where she was buried in her chest.

In the doorway, Cleves frowned deeply. “I am terribly sorry for you.” She said to Catalina. Then, attempting to lighten the mood, she said, “There’s a small festival tonight. You can come if you’d like. We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, so make sure to get some rest. We’ll get you some more food and water.”

Vegetables and cheese, soup, bread, and glasses of water were brought to the room Catalina was in. Joan ended up joining them inside, sitting at the foot of the bed with her tail wrapped around Catalina’s ankle in a form of comfort. Catalina stopped crying eventually, and Katherine got her to drink some water and eat a few pieces of food, but her expression never lifted.

The three of them attempted to go and enjoy the festival, but it quickly proved to be too much for them. Katherine was consumed with far too much worry to think about anything other than the wellbeing of her companions and the journey to the Unbreakable City, Catalina was completely distracted in her depression, and Joan was badly shaken. The music and many people overwhelmed all of them, and they soon had to return to the inn to calm down and rest.

In the middle of the night, Katherine woke up to crying. Instantly, she knew who it was, and she got up to go to Catalina’s bed, climbing in next to the trembling Aasimar.

“Come on, honey,” Katherine murmured to her, grabbing the glass of water on the nightstand and easing it to Catalina’s lips. “Drink. Slow sips.” The poor thing was going to dehydrate herself with how much she was crying.

Catalina obeyed her, drinking a few sips of water, but then quickly dissolved back into tears. Katherine barely had enough time to set the cup down before Catalina collapsed against her, weeping uncontrollably.

“My baby,” The Aasimar moaned. “I-I can’t lose my baby! I can’t, I can’t!”

She was completely hysterical, and Katherine didn’t blame her. To lose her child after everything she’s been through… It must have been heartwrenching.

“Oh, Lina,” Katherine hugged her against her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Oh, my dear Lina… It’s going to be okay. Your baby is strong, just like you are.”

“Why can’t I feel them?” Catalina beseeched. “Why-- why aren’t they--” She began to make concerning gasping noises, and Katherine quickly lifted her chin to make eye contact with her.

“Honey, look at me.” Katherine said. “You’re okay. It’s all going to be okay. Just try to breathe. Can you do that? Follow me if you need to.” She took deep breaths to demonstrate, and Catalina copied her. She stroked her hair back, cooing. “Good girl. Just like that.”

Catalina whimpered, her rich brown eyes shiny with tears in the moonlight slipping through the curtains. Katherine kissed her forehead, and she folded deeper into her warmth.

“I’m right here, my darling Lina,” Katherine murmured, easing Catalina back into a lying position. “I’m right here.”

“W-will you stay with me?” Catalina sniffled.

“Of course,” Katherine said. She felt Catalina press close against her with her nose buried in her neck, still whimpering softly, but now slightly calmer. Katherine slid a hand onto her belly and rubbed it gently, hoping to provide some comfort as they both slowly drifted back off into sleep.

And then--

A kick.

Katherine and Catalina both sat up straight. They looked at each other with wide eyes, then both set their hands on Catalina’s stomach, waiting.

There was a kick. And then another. And then another.

Catalina burst into tears all over again, but this time they were tears of joy.

“They’re alive,” She whispered.

Katherine grinned brightly. “I told you, Lina. They’re a little fighter.”

“They’re alive!” Catalina exclaimed again. She threw her arms around Katherine and hugged her tightly. Katherine laughed, and was able to feel the fluttering of the baby from Catalina’s stomach pressed against her. Catalina suddenly groaned and leaned back. “Great, now they’re moving a bunch.” She poked her belly. “Hey, jerk! You think that was funny? You nearly scared me half to death! Ow! Don’t hit me! I am your mother!”

Katherine was unable to smother her laughter. “Little Mary is a trickster, huh?”

Catalina grinned. “Or Hal.”

“What’s going on?” Joan sat up from the bed she was in, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “Why’s it so noisy?”

Katherine and Catalina both laughed.

“You’re going to be a big sister, Joan!” Catalina told her, beaming. She rested her head against Katherine’s shoulder, unable to stop smiling. “They’re still here…”

“I told you, honey,” Katherine said. “They’re strong. Just like their mama.”

#dnd au #dark souls #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #six the musical fanfic #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #tour catherine of aragon #catherine of aragon #tour anna of cleves #anna of cleves #tour bessie on the bass #tour joan on the keys

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theseerasures · 3 years

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Conspicuous Media Consumption, 2020

it’s that time of year again! *saddest toot from the party horn*

for those of you just joining us: it’s a “consume a different content every week for 48 weeks of the year” challenge. for a longer explanation, check out last year’s write-up here, and as always, feel free to pop in and ask questions about any and all of this content.

(same disclaimer as last year too: content for this project ONLY here, and not certain...*looks at my billion Sad Cop Lady posts*...hyperfixations.)

(man remember when i was big into X-Men comics earlier this year? better times than these, if only because no one's discoursing about Emma Frost’s woobie/war criminal ratio anymore--her w/w, if you will)

(...i swear at one point i didn’t exclusively like platinum blondes but alas)

Bitter Root (comic, 1 issue finished 1/1/2020): still very cool on a basic concept level, but runs into the Image Comics problem of just not having enough content to keep my interest beyond that. part of that is on me, for picking it up again BEFORE the second arc rolled out, but the first five issues didn’t really follow (or resolve) any cohesive story either, so...meh.

Immortal Hulk (comic, 3 trades finished 1/17/2020): still not gonna be something i care deeply about (maybe one of Bruce’s Hulksonas dyed his hair???), but i do want to give kudos to Al Ewing for sheer consistency in terms of sustaining this level of quality storytelling month by month for more than two years now. working with the dense archive of the Hulk mythos and managing to make it interesting and thoughtful is impressive even if i personally would not expend the same effort.

Disco Elysium (game, finished 1/18/2020): honestly i should have twigged onto what this year was gonna be like when the third thing i drew from the barrel was pure uncut Eastern European flavored depression. i faintly recall people ragging on it for being pretentiously cynical, but i actually thought its core slid more towards idealism than people give it credit for. also gratified that i haven’t heard anything about Robert Kurvitz using slave labor to finish it, which is a thing we have to say about our video games now!!! fun.

Watchmen (TV, 7 episodes finished 1/27/2020): i am a fool who wants to believe in Damon Lindelof and I WAS RIGHT!!! honestly still cannot believe that he pulled off this highwire act with such deft aplomb. might be my favorite TV this year, which is a pretty high bar given how much TV i ended up watching.

On a Sunbeam (comic, finished 2/1/2020): Tillie Walden rightly deserves all the praise for inventive queer storytelling, but i will say that on reread--since i first read this as a webcomic--there ARE some issues with pacing here that clearly come from the foibles of its original intended medium. still just excellent, even if after some plot significant haircuts i was having trouble telling a few folks apart.

Lazarus (comic, 1 trade finished 2/8/2020): it’s so good and i want moooooorrrreee--though obviously Rucka and Lark have the right to take all the time they need. the newer longer issues work really well with the epic prestige drama vibes of the story! i’m into it.

The Good Place (TV, 4 seasons finished 2/18/2020): i’m gonna be super honest: i actually wasn’t a big fan of the finale, nor the last season as a whole. it felt like all of Eleanor’s flaws vanished for a majority of the season, and the Chidi-centric episode where they tried to give a legible justification for why he’s Like This was...i didn’t care for it. still, it’s so good and unique on the WHOLE that we’ll literally never get anything like this ever again, and that counts for a lot.

The Old Republic (game, finished 2/21/2020): it’s an MMO so it will never actually Be Finished so long as the servers aren’t shut down, but i caught up on the content i’d missed in the intervening months. Onslaught thus far has mostly been...kinda bland tbh; going back to Imps vs. Rebs after all the shakeups in the previous expansions feels like a waste.

High Road (album, finished 2/22/2020): someone should tell Kesha not to say that word!! otherwise i was very happy with this album, and happy FOR her even though we don’t know each other. being able to find joy again in the same genre of music you made while you were being horrifically exploited is very cool.

Young Justice (TV, 13 episodes finished 2/28/2020): given how much the middle stuff dragged--STOP KILLING YOUR HIJABI CHARACTER IN HORRIFIC WAYS--i was...actually kinda mad by how the end managed to stick the landing anyway. the day being saved by Vic’s self-acceptance and Violet’s sublime compassion was A+, and even the Brion/Tara switchup was a pleasant surprise, though it relied on me caring about Brion MUCH MORE than i actually did.

Manic (album, finished 2/29/2020): do people still care for/about Halsey? i feel like even That One Song that was on every tumblr gifset ever has kinda faded into obscurity at this point. this album was...okay. i feel like people give Halsey a pass for extremely obvious lyrical turns that they wouldn’t for other folks because of her subject material--which is fine. not really my cup of tea, but i also listened to lots of Relient K this year, so that’s probably a good thing.

Jade Empire (game, 3/10/2020): the only 3D-era Bioware game that didn’t franchise out, and for good fucking reason!!! the Orientalism and appropriation really haven’t aged well, and even beyond that the story was...standard Bioware faire. even my usual “my wife’s a bitch i love her” Bioware type didn’t do it for me, and i just ended up romancing no one. it did make me think a lot about what level of cultural borrowing is accepted nowadays, and why: people still look fondly at Avatar and talk about how ~accurate and respectful it was, for example, despite it being staffed almost entirely by white folks, and the Orientalism ALL OVER the monk class in DND is still fine for some reason.

Alif the Unseen (book, finished 3/31/2020): interesting to have read this AFTER reading The Bird King last year, because it highlights how the intervening years have shifted G. Willow Wilson’s thematic interest and improved her craft. i’m actually quite fond of how her characterization work is rougher here--Alif is extremely flawed to the point of being insufferable, but it makes his development by the end more satisfying. Dina is also just good and i love her

Baldur’s Gate (2 games, finished 5/31/2020): well, having finally finished the series i’m happy to say that it...still doesn’t really do it for me, sorry. any awesome story moments were overshadowed by the EXCRUCIATING inventory management system and the combat (i still don’t know what a THAC0 is and at this point i’m afraid to find out). these games crucially lack the Home Base that later Bioware games were so good about, and that (coupled with the huge cast of characters you can drop off and never see again) really hurts the intimacy for me. by the time we finally did get one it was the Hell Dimension in Throne of Bhaal, and i was just...trying to get through it. (yes, i did just say that about one of the most beloved expansions ever to one of the most beloved games ever.) THIS particular iteration of “my wife’s a bitch i love her” was very good, but the game wouldn’t let me romance her :(

The Underground Railroad (book, finished 6/19/2020): honestly what is there even left to say at this point! it was exactly as good as every critic on the planet said it was, even with my usual aversion to hype. draining and horrifying in turns but still insistent upon a future for Black folks.

Steven Universe (6 seasons and a mooooooviiieeee, finished 7/11/2020): yes, i DID finish the show and almost immediately begin a rewatch. this series is now one of my top five most formative things, and the amount of love and respect i have for it is incalculable. that said: i once again did not love how the central conflict of Future was resolved (just the resolution--i loved the finale just fine). for all of Steven’s breakdown was built up, resolving it with “EVERYONE HUG HIM UNTIL HE CRIES” felt...cheap, especially since up until this point the show had been so good about treating trauma and mental illness with the respect and nuance it deserves. it made me wish some of the earlier, less substantial episodes had been cut so we could spend more time at the end.

What It Is (comic, finished 8/19/2020): y’all i love Lynda Barry SO MUCH. for the longest time i was worried that One Hundred Demons was more a lightning in a bottle situation but every book of hers i pick up makes me feel obscure emotions i didn’t even realize existed. the compassionate way she’s able to describe her child self and how weird and fucked up she was (and still is) is honestly aspirational.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (TV, 5 seasons finished 9/26/2020): so here’s a reversal of what i’ve been complaining about with other shows: i was mostly lukewarm-to-warm about She-Ra, but the later seasons and the finale made me much more into it as a whole. more shows should improve in stakes and overall quality as they age tbh!! i still don’t actively love Catradora (my sole quibble with season 5 actually has to do with the way Adora kept backsliding as a character to make certain Plot/Relationship things happen), but i’m very happy for them nonetheless. i can certainly appreciate a show that will go for High Feeling over tight plot. dark horse standout moments: trees growing everywhere proving that Perfuma Was Right, and Hordak and Adora seeing each other--that weirdly intimate moment of recognition.

Fetch the Bolt Cutters (album, finished 10/7/2020): again i find myself not having much to say that no one else has said. it’s good! once again love it when an artist reclaims something they’d attached with negative affect (anxiety, depression, disordered eating) for better and brighter things.

Solutions and Other Problems (comic, finished 10/25/2020): i was very into Allie Brosh’s ambition with this book, which feels weird to say but i stand by it. it’s cool to see an artist try to make a new medium work for them instead of just sticking to what already works. not all the experimentation was 100% effective, but it was still delightful and occasionally devastating to read, so.

Legend of Zelda (3 games: Ocarina of Time, Majora’s Mask, Link Between Worlds, finished 11/1/2020): this was the third time i’d played Ocarina of Time, which made it the nice, comforting groove i settled into before Majora’s Mask blatted me in the face. i’m not usually a completionist Zelda person because...the gameplay in Zelda is bad, do not at me it just is, but i really felt like i HAD to be one for Majora’s Mask since the whole point is to get attached to the banalities of the town. i’m sure nobody’s surprised that i loved it, even if it gave me an existential crisis about how life goes on in the game for NPCs when you’re not there to save them from it, and there’s not enough time to save them all all the time (also not a surprise to anyone: Romani and Cremia gave Personal Feelings). Link Between Worlds...bad. not like in a “this is a bad story by every measurable gauge” way, but i was already struggling with the 2D playstyle shift enough that for the whole story to end with some “yes it’s v sad that Lorule is Like This but trying to steal Hyrule’s privilege is Even Worse Actually” noblesse oblige bullshit left a VERY poor taste in my mouth, this year of all years. i did audibly gasp when Ravio took off his mask, though. i’m currently playing Breath of the Wild in cautious increments; it’s the first time i’ve enjoyed early Zelda gameplay, but if they wanted fully voiced cutscenes i wish they got voice actors who...knew what words sound like.

folklore (album, finished 11/6/2020): my belief that Taylor Swift is Just Fine continues, i’m afraid. i LIKED this album, don’t get me wrong, and respect her constant drive to innovate, but i didn’t love it substantially more or less than any other Taylor Swift album. mostly i’m just tickled by how she thinks leaning into the indie aesthetic means borrowing Vita Sackville-West’s entire wardrobe, though i will admit to feeling Something when she swore in a song. i think it was like. savage vindication?? you go ahead and swear, Taylor Swift. you deserve it.

Shore (album, finished 11/19/2020): do people still care about the Fleet Foxes? i think there was some Drama with Josh Tillman a while back but i don’t remember where the discourse landed with who was being more problematic. it was nostalgic for me to listen to their new album--made me remember being an undergrad who exclusively listened to men who mumbled and played acoustic guitar all over again.

Star Wars (3 movies: original trilogy, finished 11/27/2020): there is So Much bad Star Wars these days that every time i rewatch the original trilogy i’m afraid that they will suddenly be bad, but guess what! they’re not. i love these children and their hot mess stories, i love that Lando doesn’t know how to say his best friend’s name. what stood out to me this time was the way Obi-Wan described the Force in A New Hope, which strongly implied that ANYONE can be Force Sensitive; that obviously faded with each subsequent movie, but part of me does wish they’d kept it.

X of Swords (comics, 22 issues finished 12/5/2020): i am enjoying Hickman’s X-lines!!! not so much here for the Grand Conspiracy or whatever, but the character work and highkey weirdness is fabulous--they FEEL like X-Men, despite all the shakeups in-universe. this crossover is a nice microcosm of all that: grandiloquently all over the place, but still full of cool standout moments and genuine hilarity. ILLYANA DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO SPELL MAGIC.

Fire Emblem (4 games: Sacred Stones, Path of Radiance, Radiant Dawn, Awakening, finished 12/14/2020): this was the thing that i was closest to giving up early on, but i ended up hyperfixating on it instead. that’s a credit to what the gameplay does to my lizard brain more than anything else, because the story and character writing is...insipid. it was very bizarre to witness this franchise blunder around with its animal-people racism allegory around the same time i was getting back into RWBY, and ITS animal-people racism allegory blunders. Awakening was the first time i felt anything for the franchise beyond “teehee red units disappear make exp bar go up and brain go ding,” so i’m excited for more mature storytelling in subsequent games (they MUST get better. they MUST). the child husbandry thing is...very bad tho, and Apotheosis being “challenging” entirely through the game changing all the rules is also bad.

once again no vidya games that came out this year--i’ll probably pick up Spiritfarer or Hades after the New Year, though (or maybe TLOU II! but probably not. sry Laura and Ashley). more TV and franchises this year, which made me feel In Touch with the Children but was also kinda exhausting. nothing was so egregiously terrible i dropped it without finishing! in a year like this that feels almost like an accomplishment

#conspicuous media consumption

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twistednuns · 3 years

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October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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katreal-fic · 5 years

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Day 5 — for #fictober 10/05/19

Prompt: “I might just kiss you.”

Fandom: Homestuck

Warnings: Cursing, 2nd Person POV

Part of a series. Please start from the beginning!

Characters: Dirk Strider & Roxy Lalonde

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x-x-x

Dirk > Get Over It

You don’t get over it. But, you’ve had years of the intrusions to learn to live with it. You pick yourself after time and the sea breeze allow the most persistent of the whispers to fade back into your brain. You don’t know how to stop it. You don’t think you can. Maybe it’s just in the universes’ cards that you’ll never be able to escape the insufferable and unignorable presence of your selves. Splintered, doomed, it’s a big old party full of the one person you hate the most.

You’re on the computer this time, digging into some of the less physical aspects of your work for CrockerCorp. Coding wasn’t your favorite thing, but aside from Roxy and ARq, you were probably one of the better around, and as far as you know, neither of them were helping Jane out on a consulting basis. You ignore the humming in the back of your mind, the phantom disconnect bubbling out from some deep inner core that leaves you watching your hands performing their tasks and yet--not under your control at all. An observer. Weightless, formless, trapped in a world of numbers and words with only a single view to the world beyond.

Only that isn’t right, you could take the stairs to the roof and go wherever the fuck you wanted to. Maybe you’re trapped, but it’s your own damn choice.

That’s the most unnerving of the loose threads, you think, because you know exactly who is leaking through there and at least he has more of a right to inflict this shit on you than any of the others.

It keeps leaking. Mixing. You wonder if one day you’ll stop noticing and cataloging and just accept it all as your lot in life. Maybe even use it.

You send off the finished product--even with clumsy as hell organic interfacing tools, you work more efficiently at this sort of task when your auto-responder rises to the surface--and scroll through your inbox for another one.

One stands out from amongst the mixture of spam emails that somehow keep getting around your ever more sophisticated filter (you suspect ARquiusprite to be behind it, but have no proof) and the more mundane business communication you maintain with CrockerCorp’s research division. You used to go straight through Jane but...as the company expanded it became more efficient to just work directly with the developers since Jane wasn’t very plugged in to that particular aspect for the business. It unnerves you a little, thinking of the small bakery she opened to take back her family name from the Batterwitch, only for the business to balloon into such a multi-industry giant, filling many vital services in this world and only rivaled in scale by Jake’s revival of SkaiaNet.

But you suppose that’s the responsibility of a god, taking the world in hand and guiding it. Benevolent patrons, looking down from on high, shaping the course of history and society into the best form it could be. Someone’s got to recreate the internet (the world’d better thank you and Roxy and ARquiusprite for that) and you weren’t willing to wait around for it to happen organically. Shit needed to get done, and sometimes, the eight of you were the ones who needed to do it.

The rogue email stands out with it’s bright pink text and typo filled subject line. Why would Roxy send you an email? Why didn’t she just hit you up on Pesterchum or--

A thought and you have the window open in the corner of your display, fighting, and failing to resist the urge to press your palms into your face when you notice the little red dot next to Do Not Disturb. A little further digging and you turn up some unread notifications that never got sent due to the privacy settings.

Of fucking course. Of course you’d automatically flip it to DND when in one of your spirals and not even realize it. You remedy that mistake, but instead of scrolling back through Roxy’s messages--there’s also a meme sent your way from Dave, accompanied by an ironic selfie of him and Karkat from, Jesus Christ that was a month ago--you turn back to the email in your inbox. This would be the newest one, given the time stamp, which was only an hour ago.

There’s a picture attached, a night shot of New City, near where Roxy and Calliope set up. Roxy’s got the whole selfie thing going, smiling and radiant for the camera, pink eyes sparkling with mischief as she framed the background shot just perfectly.

There’s an orange and green streak across the cityscape, the tall buildings in the distant background, their lit windows shining like a million stars from across the bay. Calliope has her green-suited arms wrapped tightly around their neck, highlighted by feathered wings obviously hitting the end of their orange end of the gradient and starting down the green path. Despite the obvious speed (you can tell from the way Davepeta’s currently green coat is caught mid-whip behind them) the picture is perfectly clear and focused, as if you are looking through a window into an image frozen in time.

Damn she’s good.

wishin’ u were here di-stri. i heard u got out a little. maybe u shuld do it again. liek maybe come out my way next tiem?? ;) we have fun.

You chew on the inside of your lip, studying the picture. The frozen mixture of delight and mild terror on Calliope’s face. The mischief on Roxy’s. You can’t see Davepeta’s even if you zoom in, what with the ever present glow beneath their skin and the glasses currently matching the same orange of their wings. You bet they are having a blast though. How did they manage to talk Calliope into that? You didn’t talk to the cherub much on your own, but you were under the impression she was a skittish thing.

Your hand moves on its own, triggering the sylladex withdrawal on reflex. The feather hums quietly in your hand. It’s fading. The colors duller. Moving slower. But it’s there and it’s a comfort and…

Maybe you should.

You open Pesterchum back up.

TT begins pestering TG

TT: Sorry Ro-Lal, I was buried in work. TT: If you’re free I could probably head out your way tomorrow. I’m at a lull in my projects.

You aren’t, really, but as you’ve been so clearly reminded by the peanut gallery, none of this shit actually matters. And…

You miss Roxy. If you turn down this invitation…

Well, they already stopped coming once, and you let them.

You don’t expect an answer immediately; the carapacian kingdom was a few timezones ahead of your ocean bound kingdom. It’s well into dinner time and you bet she’s a little busy with her guests and being the most kickass hostess of all time.

You barely pull up another project and start studying the design specifications before the window on your shades spring open, searing excited bright pink across your eyeballs.

TG: omg dirk really??? this is going to be awesome!!! Callie and i promised to take ARq and peta out for more shenanignss but oh my gawd thisll be soo much fun! Itll be liek old times! Ull have to keep me updatedf on ur ETA TG: gawd i havent seen you in so long i might just kiss u TG: plonk a big one rite smack dab on each cheek TT: Don’t make me reconsider now, Rox. TT: You know how I feel about smooches, advanced warning or not these cheeks are off limits without applying for a permit. It’s private real estate. TG: nu’uh buster no take backsies!!! U accepted the invitation u gotta put up with the potential of that ill be so overcome with joy at seeing ur face that there’ll be a shower of friendly smooches TG: see u tomorrow <3 TT: Tomorrow, it is Roxy.

You talk a bit more, but Roxy soon excuses herself to do the hosting thing, and you’re left wondering what you’d gotten yourself into.

You’d forgotten Davepeta was traveling with ARquius.

Trapped. Trapped and it’s your own damn fault.

There’s no way you’ll let Roxy down after all that though.

You’ll just have to deal with it when you get there.

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#fictober19 #homestuck #homestuck fanfic #dirk strider #roxy lalonde #earth c fic #a sea with a sky full of diamonds #fic: diamonds #kat's fics #technically still counts as the 5th #tomorrow might not go up till monday tho #I have a paper to write

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zippdementia · 6 years

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Part 28 Alignment May Vary: The Rocks Speak

Welcome to post 28 of our long running adventure! We started back on the Moonsea coast with three prison ship survivors who washed up into adventure. Since then, there have been many twists and turns and only one of the original party is still alive, Karina the Tiefling Spy. Her path has taken her with two others towards the legendary Tomb of Haggemoth, where she hopes to find riches and (more importantly) answers to questions that have plagued her since she was betrayed in the war. Meanwhile, her companions have their own quests: Tyrion the Halfling Bard needs to record a tale to impress his college directors and secure his place in the famed halls of song, and Abenthy seeks the ultimate justice in the name of his father, a Fallen Angel. This post marks the beginning of the last dungeon of the campaign and will walk with the players through each room, detailing what they discover and what adjustments I have made to the dungeon. I hope players of D&D find it entertaining and dungeon masters find it helpful in running their own dungeons!

Haggemoth is a conversion from 3.5 and I’ve talked about some of my methods for conversions to 5th edition in the past. Monster conversion, in particular, is more of an art than a science, with the end goal not being perfection so much as it is to capture the correct feel for a scene or battle. One hard and fast rule to keep in mind, though, is the rule of DC. You can pretty nicely get an appropriate DC from 3.5 to 5 by taking the original DC, subtracting ten, cutting the number in half (rounded up) and then adding ten. For example, if the DC for avoiding a trap from 3.5 is Dex Save DC 19, then the conversion is

19 - 10 = 9

9/2 = 4.5 (round up to 5)

5 + 10 = 15

New Dex Save DC = 15

I use this method for every DC conversion so I want to throw it out there immediately so that it is assumed throughout the remainder of the adventure.

Anyway, the bridge across the chasm is destroyed, Tyrion is unconscious, and Karina and Abenthy are badly hurt from their battles with the Bugbears. Verrick is gone, the three soldiers are dispirited, and everyone is hungry. After eating and then collapsing, exhausted, into a long rest, the party awakens the next morning to find themselves staring at a massive door in the cliff face:

Built into the side of the mountain is an immense portico that features a pair of gigantic stone doors, each one twenty feet high and ten feet across. There is a single massive, steel-reinforced stone bar across the door, but a great deal of stone and wood debris has been piled up against the door as well.

It doesn’t take long to clear the debris, I assume this was placed there by the designer in case the players try to run past the Bugbears without stealth or fighting them: then the Bugbears can charge them, or lob arrows at them from across the bridge while the players try to clear the debris. A nasty end for anyone who thought to rush past the fight!

As it is, the players clear the door and enter the first hall. It is moldly inside, and damp and cold, with a smell like age and decay. Every so often earth tremors rock the place and bits of rock and dust fall from the ceiling:

Beyond the main doors is a large vestibule with a vaulted ceiling. The walls look like they once bore runic carvings, but these have all been defaced. Plants from the hillside have infiltrated the tomb here, and bits of root and moss hang from cracks everywhere. This chamber is filled with refuse of all kinds: plant matter, the carcasses of small animals and insects, and the desiccated corpses of several species of humanoid. As light spills into the chamber, the floor comes alive with movement.

Attacking the players are some giant centipedes. This is the first adjustment I have to make. Insect creatures are treated very differently in fifth edition than they were in third. In third, poison was a really big deal, a threat to even high level parties. It’s still not great in Fifth edition, but saving throws are all around easier and because fifth edition has done away with the touch attack (which ignores armor) creatures like this have a much harder time landing hits. So even though I can (and do) describe gross bugs falling over Karinna from the ceiling, I can’t really simulate them being “on her” as I could in Pathfinder, and as the module intends.

I compensate by bringing back touch AC for this fight, letting the centipedes crawl inside armor and up leather jerkins to get their attacks. It’s not a perfect solution, but it keeps the proper difficulty for the fight, letting the centipedes land some hits while still bring pretty tame. In the future, I’ll probably take insect fights and use swarm statistics for them, as this seems to be the way that Fifth Edition “buffs” its insects at higher levels. That said, the only rule I miss from Pathfinder is the touch AC—it just makes so much sense in certain circumstances and creates a nice difficulty balance for parties that have a mixture of speedy rogues and tankish paladins. I don’t think it necessarily needs to come back as a hard rule applied to every combat, but it would be cool to see some monsters in future DnD 5 supplements gain abilities which ignore armor and rely on pure dodging by targeting AC + Dex directly.

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Tomb of Haggemoth is my favorite kind of dungeon, in that nearly every room in it (and most of the monsters) has a reason to be there. I love dungeons that are more natural settings, rather than just endless turns and twists of caverns. My earliest experiences with Dungeons and Dragons was when my father bought Undermountain for me when I was four. I didn’t play the game, but I read through each description of every room. They were like short stories, and one of the joys for me as a player to this day is when I come to a room in a dungeon and can ultimately puzzle out the history of what this used to be and how it came to be what it is now.

There is a really interesting logic to Haggemoth that results in the first half of the dungeon being harder than the second half, but as my players aren’t there yet, I’ll talk more about that later. For now, they come to the next hallway, after cleaning bug gunk off their boots:

This hallway is similar to the vestibule. All kinds of miscellaneous debris is scattered over the floor. The doors to the south and east have been battered and smashed beyond hope of repair, but the door to the north seems to be somewhat solid. The corridor narrows to the west, proceeding deeper into the mountainside.

There are a few dead ends here. West is the actual path forward. To the north is storage, but a vicious mold has overtaken it, turning everything to poisonous rot. To the south, a Xorn has recently burrowed into the area. Originally from the Elemental plane of Earth, he covets the gold and gems in the mountainside and has stayed, slowly gathering some precious rubies and diamonds. If he ever spots Karinna, he’ll lust immediately after her “Eye of Callax,” as it is an extremely large, extremely rare, and extremely beautiful gemstone. He also knows, intrinsicially, some of the secrets of this place, and can be compelled or bargained into sharing them if treated with proper respect and offered rewards. He knows one of the biggest secrets that my players still don’t know...

My group takes the North route and almost immediately is overcome by the mold, taking massive damage as the spores tear at their lungs. Fire kills the stuff, and one of them uses a torch to light up enough of the mold to render it harmless, but the damage is done. They decide to pull back and take a rest before adventuring further. And during the night, the Xorn attacks, snatching one of the soldiers (Biggs) and pulling him back inside the tomb. The players awaken and give chase and a quick combat ensures.

Xorns are cool. Old school DnD monsters, they represent a nice bit of world building in that they come from the elemental plane of earth, thus suggesting the larger universe that the fantasy game situates itself in. They can be a tough kill in DnD 5 because of their burrow ability, in which they disappear into the earth around them, becoming completely immune to all attacks. In one round, therefore, they can disappear into the earth, appear right below someone, and get an attack off. If they wait a round and successfully make a hide check, they can get the attack off at advantage for surprise. And depending on how you want to play it from there, you can add all sorts of bonuses to their attack and/or defense because they are burrowed (DnD 5 is intentionally loose on how these things work, letting DMs adjust the rules to their own style and game). I like to add some defensive AC bonuses, but I also like to be fair about retreating: if they reburrow while they are right underneath someone, it counts as a movement and gives the players opportunity attacks. Picture all the tentacles disappearing into the ground while the players hack at them...

The players don’t seek to barter with the Xorn, but go at it headlong, getting off some very good strikes very quickly. Before long, they have defeated it, even with it burrowing and opening up right under Abenthy (that crazy high AC is helping him immensely here).

Sadly, Biggs has perished in the attack, leaving them with only two of their NPCs to carry on through the dungeon. Which brings me to another topic.

Character Cards

Our campaign has never been without allies and helpers. some may remember the half-orc barbarian woman that the group hired in Ottoman’s Dock, who lost her life to Rose of Ottoman’s Dock, or the bodyguard of the Butcher of Skagos, who perished in the Icy Wastes during a fight with Worg Riders. These early NPCs were stated out fully, like Player Characters and taken over by one of my players. I didn’t like this system, because it made a lot of extra work for us. I had to create the characters, which made it difficult to throw in improvised NPCs and companions at any given moment, and put an extra burden of roleplaying and stat tracking on my players that I felt left either the NPC or their own PC with a little less investment. At the same time, just having NPCs be “background extras” that fit into description but had no actual effect on gameplay, didn’t feel right either.

My solution was to create Character Cards. I talked about this back around the time the party was going through the Desert of Thud but since then I have refined the process. Character Cards now give a multitude of in-combat and out-of-combat options for players to use. The current cards look like this:

Xaviee, Human Fighter

Once per combat: do 1d6 slashing damage to any opponent.

Once per combat: roll 1d6. If the result is a 5 or 6, then +2 to all ally attacks and damage this round.

Reaction: Block an attack completely. Roll 1d6. If the result is 1-4, Xaviee is permanently dead.

BLAZE OF GLORY: Sacrifice Xaviee to add +4 to all ally attacks and Damage this round.

Samuel, Human Guard

Once per combat: do 1d6 slashing damage to any opponent

Once per combat: do 2d6 slashing damage to any opponent. Roll 1d6, if result is 1 or 2, Samuel dies, permanently.

Once per combat: do 3d6 slashing damage to any opponent. Roll 1d6, if result is 1-4, Samuel dies, permanently.

Reaction: Block an attack completely. Roll 1d6, if result is 1-4, Samuel is permanently dead.

You can see how Xaviee is a little more powerful, because his abilities carry less risk of dying when he uses them, representing his higher level. This is a quick and surprisingly clean way for me to represent a usable NPC/retainer with very few stats. We don’t worry about placement of the NPC on our maps, or try to simulate enemies targeting them in combat. If they die because of their roll, it’s assumed they were hit enough times by the enemy to perish. If there are certain situations where it just doesn’t make sense that they can be used, like the heroes are fighting underwater and Xaviee has been left on shore, then we take them out of use for the combat. Simple is best.

It also builds more of a connection I feel between them and the players, as these are decently powerful “items” that they do not want to lose. I am reminded of Final Fantasy Tactics, where most of your party never have a single word to say during the story, but yet you care about them simply because you use them in combat. Because they are a part of your gameplay they actually end up being more a part of your story than the actual story, as for the most part 70% of an RPG is combat and gameplay and only 30% is cutscenes and exposition. Possibly that number is even lower in Dungeons and Dragons, depending on your play style.

The character cards will continue to morph and change as we continue to play and I seek the correct balance between gameplay and function.

Halls of Bone

Progressing forward, after a brief mourning for the lost Biggs, the players come to a gigantic hall filled with bones:

This large, columned hall is replete with various carvings and relief sculptures depicting traditional Dwarven motifs: the forge, the anvil, the pick and axe, the tankard, and so forth. What was once a reflecting pool down the center of the hall now contains a thick layer of slime. At one end of the room is a 10’ tall statue of a clean-shaven dwarf, wearing a studded belt and a rune-encrusted crown with three black gems set in it. To either side, a balcony looks down on the central chamber. Phosphorescent mold on the walls and ceiling provides a dim, greenish light. What strikes you most, however, is that the floor is littered with bones – uncountable skeletons of man and beast lay scattered around the room, some still clutching to the tattered and rusted remains of armor and weapons.

“This is a trap,” Abenthy says, and the others quickly agree.

They aren’t wrong, though it is an unusual trap.

In the original 3.5 module, crossing a line within 30 feet of the statue activates the bones, which become 3d6+1 miscellaneous skeleton creatures and 1 large skeletal creature. This happens every time the line is crossed, up to a maximum of 50 skeletons and 5 large skeletons, all armed differently. These are stated out so that the little skeletons are weak hitters but very hard to kill (with damage reduction and very high AC) and the large skeletons are brutally heavy hitters and also pretty tough to kill. The design of the trap is that the players will be surrounded and overwhelmed by a bunch of regular undead who soften them up for the killing blow done by the big skeleton. When this horde emerges, some players will fall back to ranged position, while others will move up to tank and deal damage. Problem for them is, every time they cross that invisible line, whether retreating or advancing, the trap reactivates. Soon players will be terrifyingly outnumbered. Quick thinking players will realize that the statue is creating the effect and target that, but even then, the summoned skeletons don’t disappear, and players can be left in a whole heap of trouble.

Overal, the intended effect of the trapis to terrify players and set them up to be wary moving forward. They do have the option of running away deeper into the tomb, but the very next hallway is filled with spinning blades. If the players can roll high enough dexterity, they can pass the blades and effectively put a unpassable barrier between themselves and the skeletons, but it will be a tense moment, as failing the roll does grave damage and knocks them backwards, right into the waiting hands of the undead.

Translating this encounter into a 5th edition battle appropriate to six or seventh level characters is a challenge. Skeleton hordes don’t pose quite the same threat in 5th edition. In 3.5, a horde of this size could roll enough dice to grapple or trip even high level characters, setting them up for deadly coup-de-graces by the large skeletons, or weakening their AC enough to allow even the weaker skeletons to get hits off. Trip doesn’t exist in 5th edition, though, and while grapple can set up for a deadly “grapple, force player to prone” combo, it doesn’t give all the bonuses or options that exist in 3.5. I could emulate this by giving the skeletons bonuses to their grapple checks and some special abilties once they have the players grappled, simulating the “Night of the Living Dead” aspects of this encounter, but it feels like it will cause this room to devolve into a series of mindless rolls, the players rolling much less dice than me, but with bigger bonsues. That game quickly can become old, especially if they are facing fifty skeletons.

Instead, I try to figure out what frightens me. I think of the Silent Hill games and those twitchy nurses. Then I think about a room with dozens of them and I have my answer.

I design three skeletons for this encounter. The basics are below:

Twitch Skeletons

These skeletons are small in statue and their arms end in sharp points rather than hands. They gyrate as they move across the floor towards you, their jaws clicking open and closed in a silent protest of the horrors their afterlife has become.

The Twitch skeletons make up about 16 of the skeletons in the room. They have a very high dexterity and a 40 ft movement speed. They also have multi-attack, letting them get off two attempts to deal damage. The damage is not high, nor is their life, but their attack bonus is +8 and their AC in the high teens. The point is that they can close quickly and surround a foe, and after that, they can easily wear them down. As an added bonus, if enough of them are killed, the rest of them do something... interesting...

Normal Hitter

Out of the bone piles emerge skeletal warriors, wearing tattered remains of armor and wielding rusted weaponary and ancient bows. As you watch, one reaches into the bone pile at its feet and pulls free a straight arm bone, which it then nocks to its bow and fires at you from across the balconied room.

Basically regular skeletons, but I improved their attack a little to let them get off the occasional hit. These guys are truly here to hamper and physically get in the way. I also give them a little bit of an interactive option with my third skeleton...

The Minotaur Colossal

Lying broken against the dwarven statue is a large creature, tendons and strands of muscle still connecting its various bones into a humanoid shape with a massive bull’s head. The horns of the skull are stained a dull red with dried blood and across its lap lies a massive axe. As the humming in the room subsides, you see to your horror the creature stirring. When it stands, it is nearly eleven feet tall. It moves its head about and one of its empty sockets fixates on you. With a grunt, the creature begins to move forward, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed to a charge.

This is my version of the “big hitter” in the room. I only use one of him, and as such I’ve buffed him up a little bit. He is, at core, a Skeletal Guardian as described in the monster manual, but with boosted stats and I added in a bull rush ability that can gore a player and knock him prone. His big weakness is his size, making it hard for him to manuever around the room and easy to hit, and while he hits hard he is not as accurate as his twitchy buddies. He does have the ability to heal however by grabbing a normal hitter and reworking their bones into his own, healing himself for whatever hitpoints they have left (but of course destroying them in the process).

A Clean Sweep

Unaware of exactly what the trap is, the players proceed cautiously. First, they clamber up onto the balcony, thinking that will at least give them the higher ground if it comes to a sudden fight. Then they start using Abenthy and Tyrion’s shields as makeshift brooms to sweep the bones in front of them and off the balcony as they move, trying to avoid having any behind them. This proceeds well for a good long while. There are rooms up here, too, each one leading to a small chamber carved with murals that represent the journey towards power in Haggemoth’s life. There is a depiction of him learning all the schools of magic, there is a room showing his accumulation of massive wealth (it also holds a mimic that gives them some brief trouble), there is a room showing him forging great weapons of power (including, oddly enough, a set of scales that he seems keenly interested in), and there is one showing the banishment of Haggemoth from his people and his sailing on a golden ship towards the remote island of Rori Rama.

Eventually, the players come close enough to trigger the trap. They end up triggering it twice before Karinna finally has the idea of putting an arrow into its gemstones, smashing them until she hits the correct one. This stops the trap, but not the 36 or so skeletons that have arrisen to fight them, including the massive minotaur skeleton, who easily clambers on top of the balcony to give battle.

“Hold your ground!” shouted Abenthy, placing his shield in front of him and staring down the massive bone creature that stalked the upper balcony towards him. Behind the minotaur, the masses of twitching skeletons gathered like the sea held back by a dam.

“Fuck that,” Tyrion shouted in his shrill, nasally voice. He began to play his lute and light exploded suddenly behind the minotaur, so bright that Abenthy squinted and turned away. When he looked back, the skeletons were stumbling into each other, swiping at nothing, and had stopped making any forward progress.

“They are blinded!” Abenthy called out. “Now is our chance.”

“They are distracted,” Tyrion corrected, and then followed as Abenthy moved forward, the two of them raining down blows on the minotaurian skeleton until it leapt off the balcony to escape the onsault. Even as it leapt, though, skeletons gathered below it, climbing up onto it, shifting and becoming part of it. Here, a rib that Abenthy had shattered regrew, and there the arm that Tyrion had knocked sprawling as the creature leapt was reforming out of the bones of another skeletong. Meanwhile, more skeletons were clambering up the steps to the upper levels, and they shook their twitching fellows free of their spell and turned them towards the companions. Xaviee and Samuel were the first to see them coming and the two soldiers shouted warnings before falling back towards Karinna, who was quickly disappearing inside a cloud of darkness.

Karina has used this trick before, to strong effect, in the battle against the Bugbears. The skeletons are a little more “programmed” though; when they can no longer see or hear their targets, they quickly revert to “stand by” behavior, all except the minotaur who is in a rage and goes wandering around inside the cloud of darkness, searching for the players. He finds Abenthy and takes a swing at him with a huge axe. Samuel jumps in front of the blow (using character card here) and miraculously survives, but is tossed backwards by the force of the swing, disappearing deeper in the darkness. With no hope of finding him, the players beat a haphazard retreat, making their way up the stairs towards the tomb entrance. The minotaur follows for a brief moment but after finding himself surrounded and taking some solid hits, he flees back to the bone room to recover.

Now there is a moment to breath. The players have been badly hurt. No one has fallen unconcious, but their spells are depleted (from healing, mostly) and their two companions do not seem to have made the escape with them.

“We cannot leave them in there,” Abenthy states.

Tyrion doesn’t share his dedication to companions. “They’ll be fine,” he says in his heavy accent. “Just let’s get some sleep and I’m sure they’ll find their way back to us.”

But Abenthy is implacable and begins making his way back towards the room. The others hurry to follow, Karina’s cloak of darkness wearing off and trailing wisps of ink-black fog behind her as they descend the stairs towards the bone room.

It breathed. There in the center of the room, crouched with the other skeletons crawling over it like ants on a hill, it breathed. The creature had grown two extra arms, fashioned from the bones of its fellows. And it looked up as they entered.

“Shit,” Karina said, nocking an arrow to her bow. But Abenthy was already striding forward, his arms flung wide, roaring a challenge that was answered in kind by a shriek from the minotaur. It rose, stamped its bony hooves, and then it charged.

Karina was not sure how it happened, but suddenly Samuel was back at Abenthy’s side, and Xaviee was charging out from behind a pillar as well. The blow that would have skewered Abenthy, armor and all, instead shattered Samuel’s spine. The horn that impaled him was wide as a man’s arm and long as a spear. Samuel was lifted into the air as the beast raised its head and shook from side to side until the body of the poor soldier was flung away. Then Xaviee was there, striking at the creature’s back, and Abenthy was moving now, too. His blade shimmering with dark flame, he struck at the creature’s four arms as they reached for him to pull him apart. Behind her a mournful song was being song. Tyrion had pulled free his lute and was singing, each word soudning like sobs, like childhood, like wine spilled in rain, like sadness. She was crying, whether from the song or from everything that had happened to her in her entire life, but she was also fighting, loosing arrow after arrow at the great skeletal beast. And finally, with a mournful sound like the wind escaping a dark cave, the skeletal minotaur collapsed and was still.

Abenthy ran to Samuel, preparing a spell to heal him, but the damage was too far gone. The man was broken beyond basic healing and was taking his last breaths.

“There is another creature,” he said, blood bubbling between his lips. “One formed of the many. It escaped, into a crack in the wall. It is waiting, watching...”

Nothing more did he say. His final warning hung over them and they all felt cold.

Next post takes our players deeper into the tomb, as they encounter deadly traps and deal with the Things Left Undone in the Halls of Bone.

#dnd 5e #tomb of haggemoth #playthrough #epic #Dungeons and Dragons #Journey Log #Wizards of the Coast #fantasy #RPG

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hermanwatts · 4 years

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Sensor Sweep: Beast Master, Time Travel, Grey Hawk

Fiction (Easily Distracted): Year’s Best Horror Stories 1976

The Year’s Best Horror Stories: Series IV Edited by Gerald W. Page (1976 DAW)

Lifeguard by Arthur Byron Cover:A sharp diamond of a story told in the first-person and saying what needs to be said about youth’s expiring ambitions, the narrow horizon of small town life, summertime, pot, and an uncanny will-o-the-wisp.

Anime (Walker’s Retreat): Where have I seen this before? Oh, only with the Star Wars, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Marvel, DC, Biohazard/Resident Evil, The Last of Us, and so many other Western corporate properties. There are two key differences between what’s going on with anime and what’s going on with Western entertainment. The first is that the Death Cult doesn’t run Japan’s culture industry, not the way it is in the West. The second is that the entertainment corporations don’t outright hate their customers. So, instead of esoteric Molech worship we have the (by comparison) easier problem of a Brand Fan problem.

Comic Books (Dark Worlds Quarterly): 1975 was the new Golden Age of dinosaur comics with Joe Kubert leading the pack. By some strange coincidence all the dinosaur/jungle guys had names that started with a T (Tarzan, Turok, Tragg) or a K (Korg and Kong). So Tragg and the Sky-Gods, Korg 70,000 BC and Kong the Untamed made their dino comic cover debuts. Skull the Slayer had dinos but not for long. It got weirder with more UFO stuff. Valley of the Dinosaurs was based on a Hanna-Barbera cartoon and like The Land of the Lost (1974-1976) (which didn’t have a comic) was Saturday Morning pandering to the dino lovers.

D&D (Tao DND): The Higher Path of D&D, the one beyond merely killing things and taking away their treasure, is the human experience of pitting Self against that which we do not think should be. Not my self. The Player’s Self. The players are entitled to fight for those causes they want to fight for. I won’t tell them how to do that; I won’t shame them into fighting for causes I think are right and noble; I won’t clear the road for them. I won’t judge them for their choices. I won’t encourage them to believe what I believe and I won’t punish them when they don’t.

Fiction (DMR Books): When you think of literary thieves, who do you think of? Maurice Le Blanc’s sly gentleman thief Arsene Lupin? Richard Stark’s harden, professional Parker? Yet, aside from the crime genre, thievery as an occupation appears most often in sword and sorcery. Thieves as protagonists have a long history in sword and sorcery. This trope probably began in mythology and legend. Prometheus stole fire from the gods. Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor. In High Fantasy, Bilbo Baggins was recruited to burgle a dragon. So let’s look at their fictional heritage.

Writing (John C. Wright): For every C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Cordwainer Smith, Gene Wolfe, Walter M. Miller, or Orson Scott Card writing from a Christian perspective, one can list ten men of heathen or secular perspective lauded with the greatest fame our genre can bestow. Instead of Gene Roddenberry making stories to say men cannot be free in utopia or George Lucas saying men must fight their dark side, we now have Kathleen Kennedy and Rian Johnson making stories to say free men are toxic, and that the fight is pointless, for the light offers no more answers than the darkness.

Interview (Superversive SF): Today, we have a treat! An interview with Brian Niemeier, author of Don’t Give Money to People Who Hate You in which he talks about how he came to write this surprise breakout book. 1. How did you come to write this book?

I almost didn’t. My dispositions have always run toward writing fiction, so I initially resisted tackling nonfiction. It was only when several friends, family members, and readers urged me to collect my thoughts on the culture war in a book that I relented.

Pulp Magazines (Don Herron): In Chapter 2 of the 1943 serial Batman — “The Bat’s Cave” — Bruce Wayne’s butler Alfred wiles away the time reading the October 1940 issue of Spicy Detective. The “spicy” element should be obvious from the cover art—and from the prim Alfred’s startled expression. The content of the stories lived up to the lascivious suggestion of the cover. But only just.

Horror (Too Much Horror Fiction): When it comes to pulp horror fiction, I don’t think there’s any doubt that “Slime” is one of the perfect gems of the style. Originally published in a 1953 issue of the venerated magazine “Weird Tales,” Joseph Payne Brennan’s 30-odd page tale is rife with all the weaknesses and all the glories of pulp horror in full flower. Brennan overuses words and phrases (“hood of horror” and “black mantle”), utilizes some weak analogies (alien as… some wild planet in a distant galaxy), and his country dialogue makes “Hee-Haw” sound like Olivier reciting the Bard.

Westerns (Western Fiction Review): This time, the author behind the pseudonym of Tabor Evans is James Reasoner and he provides us with a cracking tale. The action comes thick and fast as Longarm searches for the long missing army payroll. From the word go someone is out to stop Longarm getting to Sweetwater Canyon but he battles through. Once there Longarm finds himself in a range war and the canyon is part of the land being fought for.

Cinema (New Iron Age Blogspot): Released in 1982, this movie was a complete flop and only became well-known, and something of a cult classic, when it became ubiquitous on cable throughout the 80s. To kids of my generation, this was one of their early experiences with Sword & Sorcery, and maybe the very first. It established in a lot of kid’s minds what the genre was supposed to be, and it still inspires a lot of affection to this day.

D&D (Dungeon Fantastic): What I like about the systems I’d consider: AD&D – Power level. I like the HP levels. I have a strong dislike for d4 HP thieves and I like d10 fighters better than d8 fighters. – Cleric spells. I like clerics getting spells at level 1, and bonuses for Wisdom are fine with me. I get why from a world-building standpoint the vast majority of clerics being level 1 and not getting spells makes PCs quickly become special . . . but I’d rather have them start with a spell. – I like AC starting at 10, not 9 (but see below.)

Hugos (Emperor Ponders): Some particular trends in genre literature have become obvious during the past few years. One of them is the use of Brobdingnagian titles, a compulsion to write paragraph-long titles, some of whom even give away the plot. I suspect this may have started as a quirky, ironic thing to do, but I don’t think it’s funny unless you are lampooning or referencing some stuffy style like academic papers or writing comedy. And, to be fair, that’s to some extent what this story is doing—referencing, not the comedy.

Anthology (Science fiction fantasy blogspot): Beyond Time: Classic Tales of Time Unwound, edited by Mike Ashley This is one of a number of anthologies in the Science Fiction Classics series published by the British Library, this one (as you may have guessed) dealing with time travel. As usual in this series, there is a long introduction by the editor, supplemented by biographical notes on the authors at the start of each story.

RPG (Grey Hawk Grognard): The thing to remember first in a Greyhawk-setting mass combat is that the AD&D rules are geared towards small, skirmish-level actions. In other words, melee with a small party of adventurers and a relatively small group of enemies and/or monsters. This scale is reflected in the spells, such as animate dead (there’s really no way to have a literal army of skeletons unless you have hundreds of 5th level clerics or 9th level magic-users) and even mass invisibility requires a 14th level magic-user, and such are exceedingly rare in the World of Greyhawk.

History (Didact’s Reach): Legends were forged on that day, such as that of “The Boys of Pointe du Hoc”. Heroes fought to the bitter end, on both sides. Germans opened the gates of Hell itself upon the Allied infantrymen wading ashore through the pounding surf of Omaha Beach, raining shot and shell down on them. Americans and Canadians and British and New Zealanders and many others bayoneted, grenaded, shot, clubbed, and mauled their German opponents to their gruesome deaths.

Pulp Fiction (Rough Edges): Of the many, many series written for the pulps by H. Bedford-Jones, his longest-running featured a fat little Cockney named John Solomon, which ran from 1914 to 1936 and encompassed more than twenty novels and novellas. John Solomon may not seem very impressive at first glance, but he actually runs a far-flung intelligence network and makes a specialty of thwarting all sorts of criminal and espionage schemes around the world. I’ve been aware of this series for years but hadn’t read any of them until recently, when I started at the most logical place, the novel THE GATE OF FAREWELL, which was published originally as a serial in ARGOSY in 1914 and is Solomon’s first appearance.

Sensor Sweep: Beast Master, Time Travel, Grey Hawk published first on https://sixchexus.weebly.com/

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yeskraim · 4 years

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Dungeons & Dragons had fallen on ‘troubled times.’ The role-playing game’s fifth edition changed everything

Nathan Stewart had a tall task ahead of him when he and others first looked to revamp Dungeons & Dragons. A tarrasque-sized challenge, indeed.

Nearly eight years ago, the game’s accessibility had come into question ahead of the release of the fifth edition, its current iteration. When Stewart joined D&D publisher Wizards of the Coast, the strategy was to “reinvigorate the tabletop game.”

Their efforts have paid off in almost unimaginable ways. D&D’s fifth edition, released in 2014, isn’t just a success. It’s revivified the franchise, with 2018 and 2019 – the 45th anniversary of the game – consecutively marking the best years for D&D sales.

That’s not all.

“Beyond the sales, there’s a lot of other ways to look at it, too,” Stewart told USA TODAY. “I think we’re seeing more players than ever. We’re seeing more mainstream mentions and more exposure, impressions, if you will, in terms of the number of references and times D&D comes up in a pop culture TV show or movie, or even just someone’s Twitter.

“It used to be, ‘Oh hey, cool, D&D got mentioned.’ Now it’s like, ‘Yeah. It’s a weekday.’”

In an age where screen time is synonymous with free time, tabletop gaming surrounded by friends is making a comeback.

At the forefront is D&D. Thanks to live-streaming services, celebrity endorsements, frequent pop culture references and – above all else – an accessible game, the D&D community is thriving and eager to roll initiative again.

Dungeons & Dragons: Go on an adventure in a ‘safe, controlled space’

Dungeons & Dragons certainly isn’t new. The game’s first edition launched in 1974, and groups of friends have been led through adventures by storytelling Dungeon Masters (DMs) ever since.

At its heart, D&D is simple. DMs create and guide players through worlds filled with monsters, treasure and intrigue, with dice rolls deciding key outcomes.

Some tables take on psychic fish-monsters from the dawn of time. Others prefer political debates.

Coming in 2020: ‘Dark Alliance’ video game features iconic Dungeons & Dragons characters, location

But, at its core, D&D is about collaborative storytelling with friends. That spirit was captured in the creation of the fifth edition following a slump brought on by previous editions that led to in-community fighting, Stewart said.

This time, he said, the team focused on cutting out “complexity for complexity’s sake.”

“I think everybody who works here at Dungeons and Dragons take the role of steward really seriously,” Stewart said. “It was such an old, beloved brand at the time, and it was kind of falling on some troubled times.”

Rules were added and scrapped and tweaked to make sure the game was approachable for newcomers but also engaging for longtime players.

“Every time you put in a rule that took away from friends getting together and telling stories, we were kind of going against the core ethos,” Stewart said. “We play-tested the hell out of it and, also, when we were looking at things, we said, ‘Is this really making it more fun for everybody or this just for one group?’

“Whenever it was just for one group, we tried to find a better way to do it.”

D&D’s principal story designer Chris Perkins said D&D allows people to tap into the “human need to escape the confines of our reality and experience other worlds in a safe, controlled space.” D&D’s universe is vast, with pantheons of gods, devils and demons, established villains and heroes.

And there are always DMs willing to create their own worlds while taking cues from D&D’s preexisting library.

“The game allows us to be ourselves and someone else at the same time,” Perkins said in an email. “D&D is also a great creative outlet, allowing us to craft our own fictional characters, worlds, and adventures, and that’s very appealing when the real world is quickly burning to a cinder.”

Still, despite streamlining, D&D can be intimidating for new players. It’s not easy to pick up the fifth edition’s “Monster Manual” – a book that has a monstrous floating eye with teeth on its cover – and simply dive into the game. Not everyone can pick up the Player’s Handbook and immediately choose if they’re going to be a barbarian or a sorcerer, either.

That’s where the established community comes in.

A ‘diverse’ community of players bolsters Dungeons & Dragons

D&D’s community is multifaceted.

There are new players and players who grew up with the game. Young players and old players. Parents teaching their children. Children teaching their classes. The list is endless.

Satine Phoenix, a storytelling consultant and founder of collaborative art studio Gilding Light in Los Angeles and a host of a popular series that provided tips for Dungeon Masters, said the community is more diverse than ever. She’s been playing D&D since 1988, when she found a beginner’s box in her parents’ basement at 8 years old.

Phoenix is writing a book about how D&D helped her through PTSD and childhood trauma.

“Throughout that trauma, I held on to my character, I held on to these stories, so D&D is in my veins,” Phoenix said. “It helps me understand the world differently. It helps me escape. It helps me attack problems.”

From Barbie to Matchbox cars: Here’s every toy in the Museum of Play’s Toy Hall of Fame

Eventually, Phoenix started a D&D group at Meltdown Comics, an iconic L.A. comic shop that closed in 2018.

“People came out that I didn’t expect,” she said. “There were women and there were professionals. The fascinating thing was they thanked me for providing a space. Suddenly, we had Sundays with six tables and six to 10 people at each table. There wasn’t a space and, suddenly, there were people like me in all the major cities going, ‘I’m going to make a space,’ and people just flocked to it.”

Humans are social creatures, Stewart said. D&D just provides an excuse to come together – like a poker game or a movie night, only with dice and maybe a few kobolds.

“These stories are the ones that stick with us,” Stewart said. “When you think about some of your best friends, at least in my world, half the people tell the story about their best friend and they met them playing D&D.”

David Price, store manager at Game Theory in Raleigh, North Carolina, told USA TODAY that D&D’s popularity has surged in the five years he’s been managing the store. There was a time when there are only two tables reserved each week for D&D.

Now, he said, there are “at least 15 to 20.”

“If I had to pick a community that is the most diverse, it’s the role-playing community in general, and the D&D community specifically,” said Price, 47. “We have kids 10 years old and up, all the way to people who are close to retirement age – actually, we probably do have a few retirees.”

The digital age has helped ‘demystify’ Dungeons & Dragons for new players

Some of the most recognizable players in D&D put their faces alongside the game on a regular basis.

According to a D&D fact sheet, more than 7,500 unique broadcasters streamed live games for more than 475,000,000 minutes watched in 2017. And, D&D’s official Twitch channel streamed about 50 hours of content weekly.

Shows like “Critical Role” – which recently raised more than $11 million on Kickstarter to back an animated television show – draw thousands of viewers per week.

“What all of those are showing people is this game is for you,” Stewart said. “I look like you. My group is made up like you.”

The online shows – and in some cases, live shows played in front of sold-out theaters – lower the barrier of entry for D&D, Stewart said. Interested viewers get a chance to see what a game is like in real time – a table of friends goofing around – instead of worrying about the game’s complexities.

“Technology has helped demystify the game by showing that you don’t need to be a rules expert to have a good time,” Perkins said, and added, “All you need are some dice, a good imagination and some friends.”

Outside of live broadcasts, the digital age has provided new ways for players to get involved with D&D. Meetup.com is a good place to start for anyone looking to join a game. DND Beyond is D&D’s web-based service that provides digital rulebooks and can even create a character for free. Looking for new content? Try the Dungeon Master’s Guild.

What’s next for Dungeon & Dragons?

So, after back-to-back years of top-tier sales, what comes next? How does the D&D franchise build on its momentum?

“I think if you just ask people what they want, you’re never going to get an answer that leads to the next product or the next popularity wave,” Stewart said.

“But, if you’re asking all of the people and you’re really listening and you’re really triangulating in terms of the different ways they’re getting their opinions out there, whether it be on Reddit or Twitter or different surveys … then you can kind of stay ahead of the curve that way.”

“Dark Alliance,” a video game featuring one of the series’ most popular characters that’s set to launch this year on PC and consoles, is one project deemed integral to D&D’s future strategy.

Why?

“When someone comes in through a film or a video game or through a YA novel, they’re getting an experience of D&D, that whets their appetite and then they want to go search out more of the gaming experiences we have,” Stewart said.

This week, D&D also announced a new sourcebook in collaboration with “Critical Role,” which is set to release in March.

“Dungeons & Dragons has had such a massive, positive impact on nearly my entire life, and I am ever inspired by the endless creativity I see it spark in so many others across the world,” Matt Mercer, DM for “Critical Role,” said in a press release.

Whatever comes next, the storytelling consultant Phoenix is excited for it.

“Over the past 10 years, America has just embraced Dungeons & Dragons,” she said. “Over the past couple years, Europe has and so has Asia-Pacific, and it’s really going to make a huge difference when we can get all over the world playing together.

“That’s going to be one of the next big, positive changes, is going global and going global together.”

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