#fuck a silver lining 'cause only gold is hot enough. aesthetic.

[connedmen]

tag dump.

#think up wicked lies. musings. #little miss snake eyes. face. #confirmed bastard energy. ooc. #confirmed bastard energy. ooc asks. #you're my wolf﹐you're my man. talia x liam. #may i have your attention please. psa. #planet 'look at me﹐look at me'. sp. #you might wanna get that checked out. promos. #scotty﹐meme me up. memes. #now all (s)he thinks about is me. ship insp. #trust me﹐darling dear. about. #ain't nothing in this world for free. ic asks. #i don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me. headcanon. #dj﹐turn the speakers up. playlist. #don't threaten me with a good time. crack. #fuck a silver lining 'cause only gold is hot enough. aesthetic. #light up your wildest dreams. memories. #wanna live life from a new perspective. interests. #now you wish you never met her at all. opens. #redacted. resources. #seems such a waste of time. likes.

[saintelenor]

Panic! At The Disco ~ (Fuck A) Silver Lining

#panic! at the disco #panic! at the brendon #p!atd #golden aesthetic #gold #golden #moodboard #golden mood #imma gueen #fuck #a #silver #lining #cause #only #is #hot #enough

[lulenoita]

The Other Side Of “Paradise”

okay i did my best but honestly there is something inherently romantic about coffee shop au’s. i don’t make the rules, this is something the Gods themselves have demanded of us mortals. anyways here’s a coffee shop au of geralt x jaskier x yennefer with a little bit of “hi working sucks and all customer service makes you wanna die” sprinkled in.

i haven’t written anything properly in a very, very long time and i will not apologise that this is garbage cause it’s my garbage. i’m also addicted to italics and run-on sentences :( i just love them :(

VERY mild tw, but there is suggestion of dubious consent workplace romance in this (bc fuck calanthe). it’s very blink and you’ll miss it but just in case this upsets anyone​

There was nothing particularly remarkable about the tattered, leather armchair that the stranger chose to occupy every morning, from dawn ‘till minutes before the early-morning coffee rush of the overworked and exhausted middle class. It was a simple piece of furnishing, tired from years of use, the dark brown turned faded gold from loveless wear and tear. 

Jaskier couldn’t even be certain it was real leather. It was some garishly old-fashioned monstrosity Yennefer had picked out under the insistence it “suited” the “aesthetic” of their humble coffee shop. That, he could agree with; old, worn-out, faded in spots with chipped paint and signage that management hadn’t been bothered with maintaining in years. 

He was certain there was a poster still mounted out the front, boasting of a coffee-donut combo they didn’t offer anymore. At least, he hoped that was the reason customers kept arguing with him that they should be able to buy both for half the price of each item. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the customers to argue simply for the sake of contributing to the misery of his day-to-day life, and adding that sweet tone of bitterness to his weekly paycheck. 

To his point, though - in spite of the unremarkable nature of the unremarkable chair in the unremarkable coffeeshop, the stranger sat in it. Every day. Jaskier’s preference was for the brightly-coloured couch settled by the window. It was covered in bright pillows and filled with sunshine, not to mention the cushions were luxuriously soft and oh, how Jaskier longed to melt in them right this second. He was not a morning person, but neither was the manager, hence he was stuck on morning shifts with the occasionally pleasant, mostly venomous Yennefer, who was perhaps not an any-time-of-day person. 

Jaskier couldn’t puzzle out why the stranger chose that particular spot, in their particular coffee shop, at that particular time every morning. Perhaps it was the sleep-deprivation, maybe it was the sheer monotony of serving coffee and making coffee and serving coffee and making coffee, but he found himself utterly bewitched with the notion of understanding every detail of this one especially broody customer. The early-morning crowd were not a pleasant bunch to begin with, but there was a quiet melancholy about the absolute behemoth of a man that was quite unrivalled by the rest of their clientele. 

Curiously, Jaskier noted the way he, oh beautiful he, seemed to fold into himself where he sat in the chair - his large, well-built limbs tucked neatly away within the confines, head tipped down as he furrowed his brow at something on his phone. Jaskier wondered if the stranger actually knew how to smile. Thus far, none of the brunet’s jokes had yet roused even a twitch of the mouth, and Jaskier prided himself at being particularly hilarious when it was 2 minutes past 6 and he hadn’t eaten in 18 hours (because he didn’t want to plunge his account into the negatives over such a luxury as food). 

The distinct click of Yennefer’s tongue roused Jaskier from his thoughts, and he cast his occasional partner-in-crime a sidelong glance. “Yes, oh beautiful maiden?” He hummed in that annoying pitch of tone that she loathed so much. It earned him a sigh. The sound was music to his ears, for it wasn’t a good day if Yennefer wasn’t exasperatedly indulging his existence for the sake of any semblance of company that didn’t involve rehashing the same, pleasant lines over-and-over for the mindless crowd that wandered through their creaky doors. 

“If you’re done staring at the walking stereotype of the strong, silent type,” Yennefer began, her voice as haughty as the upwards tip of her chin - she despised being shorter than him, though he often argued it made no difference when she was emotionally the most domineeringly tall person he’d ever met. “I need you to actually do something useful with your life, like check the temperatures on the pies, and then make some of the coffee being ordered through the app?” She asked, annoyed. 

Jaskier would’ve questioned why she was in a mood, but she rarely wasn’t in one, so there really was no point. He sighed, long-suffering. “Yes, your highness! Your most esteemed majesty! Is there anything else I can do with my waste of a life, if only to please you?” He asked, dramatically. He thought he saw the stranger in the lifeless armchair lift his head at Jaskier’s loud, extravagant proclamation, but when he turned to catch their eye the stranger was looking back at his phone. How disappointing. He could use a bit of tension-laden staring first thing in the morning, and from a distance it was easy to pretend that the stranger’s naturally displeased disposition was just frustrated, sexual pining.

“Stop ogling him and do your job,” Yennefer hissed. Jaskier groaned, but did as he was told. 

– 

“Why are you standing over the bin with three cartons of milk?” Jaskier asked, conversationally, having performed the duties demanded of him. He slung a striped tea towel dashingly over his shoulder - his outfit at work left much to be desired, he had to do something to add a bit of colour to it. 

“The milk is out of date,” Yennefer made a face, as if this were the milk’s fault. Jaskier was delirious enough from working for the fifth day in a row to consider that it just might be.

“And you’re not throwing it out, because…?” He questioned, tone still light-hearted and friendly. 

“I’m going to, I’m just mentally preparing myself for the lecture Calanthe is going to give me about wasting stock, as if a few cartons of milk is going to bankrupt Cintra Corp,” Yennefer sighed, her features twisting with a displeased scowl. Ah, Calanthe, their beloved manager, who was absolutely not on steroids and something else entirely that made her the most intensely awful person he’d ever met. She would be very unhappy to know that she had to write-off the milk. 

“Better that than poisoning the masses,” he said, sounding unconvinced by his own words. By the grimace on Yennefer’s face and the pointed look over her shoulder at him, he suspected she disagreed. “I always knew your weapon of choice would be poison,” he chuckled. 

“You say that as if I wouldn’t prefer to simply watch a man die with both of my hands around his throat,” she muttered darkly, dropping the milk into the bin and turning on her heel to walk back over to the counter. Jaskier trotted after her, happy puppy-dog that he was, always biting at her ankles to get her attention. 

“Oh, that’s hot, Yen. Don’t turn me on first thing in the morning,” he cooed at her. Yennefer looked like she might laugh at that, when they were both interrupted by a customer clearing his throat.

And oh. There he was. Their silver-haired patron, coffee mug in hand, a thoughtful frown decorating his chiseled complexion. Jaskier wanted to write a thousand poems about the particular way the light caught on his eyes, turning them almost to shimmering gold, his hair messily (beautifully) framing the hard, angular lines of his jaw, the sweep of his mouth so kissably soft this early in the morning, the glow of the sun decorating his figure-

“Can I help you, sir?” He asked, eagerly. He could feel Yennefer rolling her eyes. He ignored her. “Would you like another coffee?” 

“Geralt,” the man replied. 

“Pardon?” Jaskier blinked, taken-aback. 

“My name’s Geralt,” the stranger clarified, clearing his throat a little. It didn’t make his voice any less delectably deep. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’.”

“Oh,” Jaskier replied, in all of his poetic brilliance. He could not think of a thing to say in response to being given a name - a name! What a wondrous thing! He’d compose a thousand sonnets to it, write a hundred songs, scribble it over every notebook he owned! Well, as soon as he thought of something to rhyme with a name like that, anyways. He was too hungry and tired to be brilliant just yet, such things were reserved for when his only company was the moon.

Yennefer recovered much faster than he did to the sheer, utter pleasure of being given a name. He surmised that this was entirely due to the free, out-of-date food Calanthe would periodically bestow upon Yennefer, as incentive to keep quiet about the way Calanthe enjoyed inflicting her romantic affections upon the woman. Jaskier witnessed these things too, and yet his silence was never bought - and it should be! Jaskier did not keep quiet about most things!

“Can we help you then, Geralt?” Yennefer asked. 

“If you wouldn’t mind terribly,” Geralt murmured. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in having dinner with me sometime? That is, if you’re not too offended by - What was it you said? Oh, yes,” Geralt recalled, tilting his head slightly at Yennefer, who was beginning to flush a startlingly becoming shade of crimson. Whether this was from shock, embarrassment, or a lethal combination of both, Jaskier couldn’t be certain. “My being the ‘stereotype of the strong, silent type’?” And then, he did the most bastardly thing of all - his lips twitched up in a soft half-smile.  

Jaskier felt unrepentant and hysterical indignation curl around his insides, his lips parting with a half-formed protest that had him begging to proclaim, ‘Insulting you?! That’s what it takes to make you smile?! Yennefer just has to INSULT you from a distance, and yet I spend weeks working to make you laugh and all you do is stare at me blankly! You-you handsome, daft bastard!’. Of course, he didn’t, because he wasn’t quite mad and he didn’t want the dashingly attractive stranger to realise that Jaskier had been obsessing over the shape of his mouth for nearly a month now. The audacity of the heterosexual man and his ability to be so easily pleased and captivated by a woman, Jaskier thought moodily.

Admittedly, Yennefer was quite a woman, but still. Still!

As if Jaskier’s thoughts were so haughty and offended they had made telepathy suddenly quite real, Geralt’s eyes snapped to him. There was a soft intensity burning in them, a faint amusement comfortably at home in the curve of his smile as he let his eyes roam down, then slowly back up. Jaskier felt suddenly under-dressed and unbelievably unattractive in his sun-faded, black (more grey, now) shirt that didn’t even compliment the shape of his figure because it was company-issued, and his brown slacks that did not even remotely hug the shape of his thighs, his ass. 

Oh, to be free of the uniformed lifestyle and able to dress in tight-fitting everything, if only to give Geralt something to look at. 

“You can come too, if you’d like,” Geralt said, the suggestion so lightly offered Jaskier almost didn’t even think anything of it. “You seem a package deal,” Geralt hummed, as if that explained his sudden suggestion that Yennefer, Jaskier, and himself go on a date. Together. All three of them. “Not that I wouldn’t ask even if you weren’t.” Geralt quirked a brow, as if daring Jaskier or Yennefer to deny him the pleasantry of both their company. Jaskier’s mind was reeling, which must be why for once in his life, all he could do was nod dumbly and offer not a single, witty flirt in retaliation. 

Sensing his utter brain-dead uselessness, Yennefer stepped in. “Maybe,” she agreed, light-hearted but there was an eager edge to the way she tipped her body forwards, leaning against the counter, dark lashes sweeping over the snow-dusted curve of her cheeks as she looked at Geralt. “If you tip well.” 

Geralt snorted. “In this economy?” He asked, amused, before he opened his wallet and pulled out a note. He scribbled a collection of numbers onto it, then slid it over to Yennefer, who took it with a bemused smirk and pocketed it. “Have a nice day,” Geralt murmured to them both, his eyes sliding to Jaskier. He smiled properly, then turned and left.

Jaskier collapsed against Yennefer’s side. “Are we even allowed to date the customers?” He asked, gasping like he’d just been underwater for a moment too long. He felt like it. 

Yennefer cackled. “This job is shit, we might as well start fucking the people who come in - at least they’ll treat us nicer,” she pushed one of Jaskier’s wild curls out of his face and tucked it behind his ear, a rare display of fondness.

“You say that like men are known to be kind to the people they fall into bed with, and not just roll over and fall asleep,” Jaskier scoffed. Yennefer bit her lip and looked over to Geralt’s retreating figure, silhouetted by the sunlight as he crossed the street. Jaskier only recognised him because he’d spent an hour every morning committing to memory the broadness of his shoulders, and the tight roundness of his ass (the latter he only glanced in the brief moments where Geralt would stand to leave, or to order his coffee). 

They were both silent for a moment, before Jaskier realised something. “Wait, when you saw me pining after him, were you rude to me because you were jealous? Have you been flirting with him, too?!” He exclaimed. “Or-” Jaskier was struck with sudden brilliance, a wicked smirk on his lips. “Were you jealous at the idea of sharing me?” He purred.

Yennefer stared at him like he was daft, then turned away as if to say ‘I won’t dignify that with an answer’. Jaskier knew it meant ‘yes’. He grinned and started to move out from behind the counter, intending to wipe down the tables and watch Geralt until he was out of sight. 

“Oh wait, Jaskier?” Yennefer called out. “Yes, my darling?” He simpered, feeling particularly high-spirited in spite of the fact that it wasn’t even 7 in the morning. In this life, Jaskier lived by a simple truth - you take what you can get, lest you slump into depressive sleep for the rest of your days.

“Can you clean up the bathroom? Someone threw a meat pie at the mirror in there and it’s splattered everywhere,” she dead-panned, before turning away like she hadn’t just single-handedly destroyed every shred of joy in his soul. 

“I hate you,” he exclaimed, though it did not slow her retreat. “Geralt would never make me do something like this!” He added confidently, knowing approximately two facts about the man (one of which was his name). Yennefer’s peals of laughter followed him as he resigned himself to bathroom duty. 

#jaskier x geralt x yennefer #the witcher #geraskier #yeralt #jaskifer #geralt x jaskier #geralt x yennefer #yennefer x jaskier #this is too many tags tbh #writing #fandom

[unconqueredfun]

Bunch of sorcery

Have some sorcery spells I’ve fiddled with for exalted 3e. Some ideas and thoughts and fun with magic. Some from the black and white treatise of 2e and updated for the new times. 

Terrestrial Circle

The Horse that travels earth and water Cost: 10sm As the sorcerer makes the Sign of the Horseman, the winds in his area converge in the bubble of Essence before him. The Essence takes a hue that indicates the nearest Elemental Pole—red in the South, blue in the North, green in the East, black in the West and white nearest the Imperial Mountain—and then forms itself into a horse-shaped being. The horse’s coat matches the bubble of Essence whence it came, though its mane and tail are either black or white. The horse lands next to the caster, tossing and stamping, eager to be ridden. It serves as perfect warhorse with a speed rating of 4. The stallion never tires and gallops over water as easily as land and moves at a speed of 25 mph (around 40 km/h). It can travel at its full speed until the sun next crosses the horizon (whether rising or setting), at which point it dissipates into colored wind and is gone.

It can carry another rider other than the sorcerer, but the sorcerer must command it to do so and give it a destination. The horse will then move at full speed toward that destination, regardless of what its passenger wishes. It ignores attempts to redirect it. If the passenger falls or jumps from the stallion’s saddle, the horse dissipates, its purpose fulfilled. The automaton does not like being used as a pack mount. Should someone try to use it as such, reduces it's speed rating to 1.

Control effect: A sorcerer who knows the horse that travels earth and water as their control spell has the horse take on aspects of her anima or person. Such as traits of other animals from the anima or wearing standards and seals of her anima on it's tackle. The duration is also changed to indefinite.

Distort: 8 When distorted the steed becomes unruly and requires a successful dex+ride difficulty 3 roll once every hour to remain riding.

(While it looks innocous and not worth it at first. It’s worth noting that mounted combat is pretty legit in 3e, doesn’t require a commitment goes over water and is pretty subtle for the concerned sorcerer. It also takes until essence 4 for Cirrus skiff to match it in raw speed. All in all it’s a versatile spell that looks less powerful than it is until you look at mounted combat)

Raise the Dragon's Bones Ritual 1wp

The military forces of both Lookshy and the Realm make frequent use of this spell, which enables military sorcerers to raise earthworks and tone walls for defensive positions or otherwise to reshape a battlefield to their advantage. The sorcerer first marks out the area he wants to affect by driving cut sapling branches into the ground and infusing them with his anima. He can do so up to ([Intelligence + War or Craft + Essence] x 10) yards in any direction. The sorcerer also paces along the line of any berms, mottes, buildings or trenches he wishes to construct. The area must also be cleared of any creature larger than a rabbit.

When the sorcerer casts the spell, he visualizes the structure he wants to create. The paced lines and sapling poles glow ocher-yellow as earth and stone flow like wax to shape themselves into the proper forms. Casting the sorcery is a five-minute dramatic action. No structure raised by this spell can exceed three stories in height or depth, and available materials limit the sorcerer. He cannot raise stone walls in the bottomless sand-seas of the South, for instance. Once the structures exist, countermagic has no effect: They were shaped by sorcery but are not themselves magical.

During a strategic manuever, as long as her enemy does not succeed with an ambush, the sorcerer can apply the fortifications stratagem for free even without succeeding on a manuever roll.

Sorcerers that know Raise the Dragon's Bones as their control spell rarely face difficulty as long as her feet remain against the earth. As such she cannot suffer any difficult terrain penalties if she's touching stone or earth. Even if moving through a battlegroup.

Distort 8 an enemy sorcerer in a strategic planning phase of mass combat can attempt to distort the spell and nullify the army’s advantage, ensuring that only light cover exists in the terrain for individual combatants and that it counts as normal terrain for both parts.

(Simple and easy really. It’s a simple very Realm and Lookshy bog-standard sorcerer-general kind of spell with relatively powerful control effect in order to counteract the fact that it’s not combat castable, which also has non-war applications if you so chose!)

Multitudinous Magic Missile Massacre Cost:  5sm+ 1wp

The sorcerer gathers essence from the world around her and forms it into projectiles to strike at her foes from a distance. These often take the shape depending on the sorcerer’s shaping rituals or initiation into sorcery. When cast she generates 3 projectiles +1 for every 2 additional sorcerous mote she desires to gather. These last until the end of the scene and can be used with either archery or thrown whereupon they count as artifact ranged weapons and have the following tags.

Archery version: Lethal, Mounted, Archery (Medium), Crossbow, Two-handed. Special Thrown Version: Lethal, Mounted, Thrown (Medium), (Is considered to be launched with Strength 4), Two-handed. Special

Both versions may gain special traits from the sorcerer’s initiation or even aspect in the case of the Dragonblooded. Such as able to cause fires, sonic booms, poisons or even disease. These effects should be considered mostly aesthetic or fluff for stunt material rather than hard mechanical benefit. 

When cast, the sorcerer must decide upon which version, thrown or archery, the missiles are. They use the apropriate ability and dexterity for attacks as normal and may use appropriate charms with a 1m extra surcharge.

A sorcerer who knows Multitudinous Magic Missile Massacre as her control spell may create evocations for the missiles.

Distort 5 when distorted the missiles count as mundane weapons and also lack the special tag, the fire isn’t hot enough to burn, the disease barely a sniffle or the creeping shadows have all the impact of a shadow puppet. A lethal shadow puppet but puppet nonetheless.

(A simple enough terrestrial spell for the person who want to throw magic missiles around but doesn’t have a merit that would otherwise allow them to do so (like burning name). If you don’t want sorcerers to do this in your setting that’s fine, it’s just an option and idea.)

Celestial Circle

Mountains Molded as Clay Ritual 3 wp

The sorcerer gathers a lump of fresh clay and mixes it with soil from the area she intends to mold. After performing a three hour ritual of infusing the clay with essence from the area, the lump takes the shape of the area around the sorcerer for essence x 5 miles. After which she may reshape the ground as she desires with a few limitations. *The ground under structures requires a sample of the soil beneath the structure in order to be moldable. *It cannot be shaped to destroy or ruin structures. *The sorcerer cannot add or remove mineral resources to the ground. (Such as metals, minerals used for metalwork or crystals etc.) Creating rivers or lakes is fine however. *Spirits who live or are located in the area can resist the changes of the ground if it damages or hurts their domain significantly. (This should be used as a ST's fiat to deny parts of a change)

Once she has finished forming the ground, she makes another ritual and the clay sinks into the ground. Whereupon the ground will begin to shift into the sorcerer's desired shape over the course of a week. with certain things))

Distortion: 10 If distorted the ground becomes uneven and jagged in the spots she changed and counts as difficult terrain.

(A terraforming spell! You can’t really add stuff into the ground, you can in theory make an area more defensible. Or make a lake, but it’s uses are kindof limited in game terms and is mostly fluff, but interesting fluff! I figured that making a hill is not a craft endavour because any person can shovel dirt and make a big enough mound, it just takes time. But this spell changes that and comes with a ST fiat to say “no fucking space needles or buggy geometry kthx.”)

Heavenly Citadel Formulation. Ritual 3 wp

The sorcerer traces the ground with chalk in perfect unison with the lines of a design of a structure. In each corner she places a rock and draws a line between them in ink. In the centre she places a miniature of the structure she desires to build. After everything is placed, she steps out of it and speaks ancient words of construction several times and pace over the grounds for the next ten hours. Over the course of the next twenty-four hours. The building raises itself from the ground.

She can construct any form of mundane structure this way. Building the miniature and drawing up the building plans requires the normal crafting rolls for the structure in mind and requires the crafting skills necessary for a non-minituraized version of the structure (carpentry, masonry etc.), the structure can be a major or even a superior project in terms of scope. However, the interval at which she may roll for the miniature and plans together is once per day and they have a terminus of 5, the miniature must be fresh for the amgic to work. As the magic in the spell provides the materials of the structure, unless the materials needed are magical or rare, such as salt, gold, silver, etc. or simply completely unavailible at the location. Granite next to volcanos, wood in the desert, sandstone in the frozen wastes.

Distort: 15 If distorted during the casting the structure become warped and wrong. Corridors don't lead where they're supposed to, doors open into walls, or windows sit between floor. Fortifications don't protect as well as they should either, fortified structures afflicted by distortions cannot have more than light cover against attackers and most of it counts as difficult terrain for everyone.

(Remember Raise the puissant sanctum? Yeah let’s not spam manses any more but it would be fun to instantly build things! It’s best if the sorcerer is a crafter as well but it can be outsourced. The long ritual prevents it from being spammed every day but still allows you to build impressive structures in a relatively short amount of time with few resources, although doing so is probably going to be a dead giveaway that you’re anathema to the local immaculate monks. And possibly upset regional lords if you just do it on their grounds without saying anything. So use with care. I considered having a control effect that the sorcerer would gain a permanent fascination with building models and miniatures of things and gain an extra dice on any craft project that involved small objects and a desire to build a model village at some point.)

God-Forged Champion of War. Ritual 3wp

The sorcerer pulls essence from the air around her and suffuses it into her body, creating a startling transformation of her being. After a half a hour long ritual, the sorcerer's body grows and expands until she is the size of a warstrider and remains such for an amount of hours equal to her permanent essence rating. During this time she has to attune her own personal essence for the spell as well and commit 10m for the duration. For the duration however she's considered to be wearing heavy artifact armor, regardless of what armor she wears in actuality. All her weapons and armor changes size with her but only confer the reaching tag on all melee attacks against smaller targets.

While under the effect of God-Forged Champion of War, the sorcerer gains the following merits.

Legendary size: Withering attacks made by smaller enemies cannot drop the sorcerer below 1 Initiative unless they have a post-soak damage of at least 10 dice, though they award attacks the full amount of initiative. Decisive attacks by smaller opponents can’t inflict more than 3+Strength levels of damage to a Warstrider, not counting any levels of damage added by charms of other magic.

Health: The sorcerer gains +2x0/+1x-1/+2x-2/+1x-4 whilst transformed.

Titanic strength: She gains two to her strength score, for the purposes of feats of strength, both for her dice pool and calculating what feats of strength she is capable of and damage, even if this brings her over 5. These do not add to charm caps however. Additionally she may double her strength score of feats of strength for situations where her tremendous size provides an advantage.

Colossal Rampage: The sorcerer becomes exceptionally effective against large groups of closely packed human-sized enemies. Battle Groups suffer a -2 penalty to Defense against her attacks. Her withering attacks double their post-soak damage against Battle Groups, while her Decisive attacks deal one automatic level of bonus damage for every 2 dice rolled, rather than for every 4.

Tiny Targets: Against single normal sized targets, the sorcerer gains less initiative when the smaller target applies their evasion against her attack. When they target applies their evasion, the sorcerer deals (base evasion /2 rounded down) less initiative damage (min 1) on a successful attack.

A sorcerer who knows God-Forged Champion of War as their control spell are unnaturally strong even not in a colossal form, in a normal state she is considered to have two more strength than she actually does for the meeting the requirements of attempting certain feats of strength where being large can be advantageous. Her shadow also become unnaturally long compared to her peers and have an uncanny ability to loom over others.

Distort 10: When distorted by another sorcerer, the sorcerer's sense of balance becomes impaired and is not scaled for the sorcerer's new size. Thusly she  becomes massively clumsy, all actions get a -3 penalty and her dv receives a -2 penalty

(Kindof long-winded and uses @winterwombat​ ‘s warstrider rules so mad props to em. I think it straddles the line between “you can’t always use it” (because the benefits are hueg (see what I did there?)) because of the ritual cast and having the spell doesn’t make getting a warstrider redundant and having a warstrider doesn’t make the spell redundant even though it kinda does the same thing. And it comes with a weakness to quick nimble people and a very steep willpower cost and attunement.

#Exalted #exalted 3e #exalted 3rd edition