#gargoylish

[ekezable]

#this kinda got Bartimeaus vibe #the amulet of samarkand #gargoylish #Youtube

[shaygoyle]

Prize Art for FireByte from Deviantart (2016) Art by @shaygoyle

Patreon // Instagram // Deviantart

#prize #prize art #deviantart prize #shaygoyle #gargoyles disney #disney gargoyles #gargoyles #gargoyle #gargoylish #original characters #sword #digital art #illustration #illustrator

[cosmopoliturtle]

Can you label which Yule Lad is which? they’re all very good designs, but I was also so what inspired you for the differences between them, especially the one wearing a skull

Sure! I'll do my best to explain XD I know the OG Yule Lads are like little old men, kind of gnome-ish but more unhinged. I took a hefty dose of artistic license and went for a more critter-like appearance. I was going for a sort of Tove Jansson-Moomin vibe. 

I don't expect most people to guess them all since I was focused more on their essence as a group of weird gremlins but I did try to bring something forward to distinguish each one.

Candle Beggar: Sort of the centerpiece of the picture, has a big ol' cande hat to light up the night.

Stubby: Shortest guy, he steals food out of frying pans.

Bowl Licker: I based the bowl on his head on an askur, which is like an Icelandic bowl/mug combo meant for cozy eatings.

Door Sniffer: Big nose for sniffin' doors, he steals baked goods so he's got some swiped donuts around his tail.

Spoon Licker: Most people saw this guy right away, assumedly the most obvious because of the spoon.

Window Peeper: 👀

Sausage Swiper: This is probably the most arcane one. From what I read most sausages in Iceland are made of sheep but since there was a sheep and a cow based Yule Lad I wanted to differentiate Sausage Swiper with a hog's skull, since from what I read the first people who reached Iceland did also have pigs.

Sheep-Cote Clod: Sheep/Goat skull since he loves the sheep's milk.

Gully Gawk: Cow skull since he loves the cow's milk.

Door Slammer: I was inspired by an old church door knocker that looked like a gargoylish grotesque, and I shoved it on his head.

Pot Scraper: Pot slammed on head.

Skyr Gobbler: Skyr is basically Icelandic yogurt, so he's like a poofy ball of yogurt with some berries and honey as toppings.

Meat Hook: Has his hook ready for stealin' meats. 

Hopefully that clears some things up. C:

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

How would Twilight have been different if Bella already looked sort of like a vampire? Somehow, she has this weird mutation that makes her super pale, eyes light/black, zero acne, and weird skin texture.

Unfortunately for Bella, Edward would find her hideous. Much of the physical appeal of Bella for Edward is how not like a vampire she looks. She flushes violently red, her features are round and soft, she has none of the angular beauty of the vampire which Edward views as looking gargoylish and monstrous.

With her empty mind, her tantalizing scent, I think Edward would continue to see her as his enemy which sooner or later would lead to his eating her.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #bella swan #edward cullen #anti edward cullen #meta #headcanon #opinion

[formulaonedirection]

Anyway some parts of that was gargoylish but we actually played 45 minutes of real football??? Tears in my eyes

[chaosprinceundivided]

Rulek, The Godslayer

Behold! He comes, upon wings of gnawing blight. Men brave of souls withered before his shadow. The mark of evil burning upon his sculpted chest. Decadence and wrath held onto his gargoylish being, taller than any man and more devious than many of his kin.

The Ruinous Powers gnawed and salivated for this ascended champion, few were of his unshackled being. Eightfold of sins written, chains pulling onto the wheel of Chaos Undivided.

The Murderer of Ursun comes. Betrayed and Betrayer all.

Rulek. The Prince Unbound. The Youngest. With a cruel sword, he killed with the brutal finality of a warrior predating his rebirth. Each motion was a fine art practiced. His wings brought terror. Crowned by curved horns, the face of a man long replaced by that of a contemptive dragon's. Beautiful and terrible.

Pulling the winds of Magic by a gesture, formations suffered as their armaments became glittering rust, bared to the blade's carve and the malice of the Godslayer's legionnaires. Mortal. Immortals. They marched under his infernal banner, chanting his debased title.

The woeful souls he freed from their flesh were mere piecemeal for his greater ambition. An ambition gained and denied by a unspeakable twist and sunder of fates. His dark destiny to claim the Motherland in his slain victim's place, to be the Dark Father of a new Kislev.

Deny him and suffer as the world burns in a Storm of Chaos.

#rulek the godslayer #chaos undivided #myart #daemon prince #total warhammer 3 #casual armaments #ooc: wearing at least one gift of the gods

[straightfacedstrangeness]

So I’ve been reading Splinter Of The Mind’s Eye (the first original Star Wars novel, which came out right after the original movie) and it’s been really interesting in the context of all the canon stuff that came out afterward—the mythical “Kaiburr Crystal” is clearly the precursor to the “kyber crystals” later described to power lightsabers, heavy focus on Luke’s intense crush on Leia that’s ookier with the context that they later turn out to be you know—but [SPOILERS] during the big climax Leia has a lightsaber fight with Darth Vader and I’m shaking, why didn’t we get this in the movies, we were robbed

Leia’s hands dropped to her sides. The fear did not leave her, but she forced it into the back alleys of her mind by sheer will. Running the few steps to Luke's side, she knelt and groped at his wrist. When she rose, she was holding the lightsaber carefully in one hand.

Vader looked on approvingly. "You're going to fight. Good. That will make it interesting."

She spat at the advancing giant, a pitifully feeble gesture as she brandished the lightsaber. "The Force give me leave to kill you before I die," she snarled.

An awful coughing laugh issued from behind the gargoylish breath mask. "Foolish infant. The Force is with me, not you. But," he shrugged amiably, "we will see." He assumed a position of readiness. "Come, girl-woman . . . amuse me."

Grimly determined, mouth clenched, she moved toward him. As she did so Vader abruptly let his arm fall, let the lambent beam of his saber hang limply at his side.

"Leia, don't!" Luke yelled to her. "It's a feint . . . he's daring you. Kill me, then yourself . . . it's hopeless now."

Vader looked over at Luke contemptuously, then back at the Princess. "Go on," he told her, "let him fight for you if you want. But I won't let you kill him. I've been robbed too often."

Leia appeared to hesitate, then lunged straight at Vader with the tip of the saber. Simultaneously the Dark Lord brought his own beam up in a lightning gesture to parry hers. But Leia performed a spinning, twisting arc in the air and brought her saber down in a slashing flare of blue light. Energy flashed as it contacted the Dark Lord's armored breath mask. Only superhuman reflexes enabled him to avoid the full effect of the blow.

If there was anyone in the vast chamber more surprised than Vader, it was Luke. He fought to free his trapped leg with a slight twinge of hope.

(And it goes on like this for PAGES!)

Also Vader can do this with the Force apparently

As Vader drifted slowly back to the floor he grabbed his right wrist with his left hand, made a fist, and seemed to convulse like a man retching. A ball of pure white energy the size of his fist materialized in front of Vader's hands and moved down toward the wide-eyed Luke.

Something made Luke realize he could never reach his saber before the white glove touched him. He threw up both hands and looked away. So he didn't see what happened.

His hands seemed to blur. The white glove struck them, bounced back, and contacted Vader gently as the latter touched the ground. There was a soft crack as of an explosion far in the distance. Vader was knocked head over heels and the glove vanished.

But when the white energy ball had touched Luke's hands, the power inherent in the kinetite, or restrained energy globe, had thrown him to the ground. Had he resisted it unsuccessfully it would have thrown him across the chamber and through the temple wall.

#star wars #splinter of the mind's eye #alan dean foster #sw

[thetinyspinosaurus]

My back is KILLING me, and yes, it is my own fault for sitting like an actual gargoyle, but how about we just leave my gargoylish tendencies out of this.

#I may be young #but my back is that of an ancient woman

[slakker9]

"She walked over and discovered there, lost in shadow, an arched ornamental oaken door that had carved into its center, like an ugly threat, an icily unsettling gargoylish face whose mouth gaped open in a taut and malevolent grin and with eyes bulging wide with rage."

- from Elsewhere by William Peter Blatty

Check out this book on Goodreads: 999: Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/293098.999

#sunday reading #william peter blatty #books #quotes #horror #fiction

[queenofbaws]

Eyyy! Happy Saturday! I hope you had a good Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it, and ate lots of turkey! The lack of Jossam on this fine day is downright criminal. So I would like to request Jossam going on Black Friday pre-COVID to help Chrashley get something. Thank you!!

“No,” she said, shaking her head furiously as she grabbed his hoodie, yanking him back into the car; she just kept saying it too, “No, no, no,” pulling at his sweatshirt in a way that, to put it frankly, didn’t look great to Chris or Ashley.

“Hey, so I know tensions are high here, but could we not strip Josh, maybe?” Chris asked with a grimace so pained it was almost gargoylish...but Sam wouldn’t be dissuaded - she just kept pulling until she managed to get his zipper down, and then she...oh...uh...huh.

Ashley blinked as the first packet was thrown into the backseat, a frown momentarily wrinkling her forehead as she reached behind herself to grab it and give it a once-over. “Is this...” she began, only for Sam to lob another one of the awful things into the back, necessitating a quick dodge, “Josh, are these frigging blood packs?!”

“In my defense,” he said, clearly torn as he half-tried to wrestle Sam away from his stash and half-tried to pull her into a bear hug, “Desperate times call for desperate measures, and all I’m saying is that if I fell to the floor in a puddle of my own blood, that would be a primo distraction for you guys to run in and grab that PS5.”

There was a moment where none of them said anything...and then Chris spoke up: “Let him do it, Sam - please let him do it.”

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

#slightlybrokenbutgood #queenie writes supermassive #eyyyy thank you!!!! i did! i hope you had a great turkey day too if you celebrate!!! :D #but youre right - the lack of jossam is disturbing. let's fix that #six sentence weekend

[anistarrose]

[ID: the first image is a picture of a pit fiend from D&D 5e, a red humanoid monster with scales, large batlike wings, horns, and a tail. the second image is a screenshot of text from the Forgotten Realms Wiki reading “bat-like wings gave pit fiends a gargoylish appearance.” end ID]

maybe it’s a coincidence because lots of fiends are just Like That with their gargoyle-esque wings, but I still find myself more afraid of Gary with each passing episode

#taz #taz graduation #taz graduation spoilers #gary the gargoyle #taz spoilers

[mermaidmafia-official]

{ PART I: THE BLOODMOTHER }

written by: @bebemoon​

outfit ref: for the party .

tag list: @ayzrules @interluxetumbra @vampirkaninchen & @blubbingbeautifully​

The Bloodmother of Bilitis House was preoccupied with the floors.

As evening was settling in and the house was beginning to stir and creep with her sisters and daughters, she discovered that the petals still needed to be strewn in the foyer, over the newly-refurbished wood flooring, and there was nary a helpful cherub in sight.

The Bloodmother- called "Ysabelle" familiarly- stood on the bottom step of the wide foyer stairs pondering the naked floors. The house held the aroma of blood almost romantically, and the rose petals were necessary to somewhat hide it from the historical society mortals who would be arriving soon- along with (and utterly unbeknownst to them) some...prominent underworld figures.

Ysabelle clutched the banister with one hand, her bony hip with the other. A disaster was inevitable, but she still wanted those roses strewn.

"Vavassour." A velvety voice from above.

Ysabelle tipped her face up to see a ghostly figure in a curtain of inky hair leaning on the staircase banister overhead- someone spying with a scarlet eye.

"Zhang," Ysa said in lieu of a fitting evening greeting, and dropped her gaze once again to the foyer. "Have you seen either of the cherubs? Tonight of all nights, they decide to shirk duties when I gave them the strictest order to-"

She paused her tirade, feeling something light touch the top of her head.

Looking up, she could see Zhang was now holding a fistful of rose petals, as if her palm was slit and bleeding. "Chatham passed his rose chore off to me," she said languidly, and dropped a few more petals from her hand directly onto Ysabelle's dark head. She rested the side of her lovely, clear face against her free hand. "He said he did not have the time."

Ysabelle swiped the petals from her hair and turned to head back up the steps, trailing loose hair and billows of dark blue velvet robes and sleeves. "Did he say what was so pressing that he could not obey his mistress?" she asked.

The most Chatham would ever get from Ysabelle was sucked teeth or perhaps a drawn-out sigh if he was being particularly vexing. He, like his brother, was too childlike in mien, as most cherubs were, for Ysa to ever muster any sort of genuine dislike towards him.

Yinmei Zhang listlessly lifted herself from the banister as Ysabelle approached. A basket of rose petals sat on the landing at her feet.

"I did ask," said Zhang, "but he told me I ought to mind my own business." She then gestured at the basket as if there was nothing for it. “It’s really not a bother. They smell lovely.”

Ysabelle reached out to lightly flick her old friend's bare collarbone- a ridge of ice beneath pristine snow. "You shouldn't allow him to boss you," Ysa said as she began to move away. "After all, frail and aged as you are, you're hardly suited to labour- your bones could turn to dust at any moment. Do let one of the younger girls handle it."

"Yes, why not have your new little friend do it?" said Zhang, her tone less playful than Ysabelle's had been. She turned her head just enough to sharply eye the other woman. "It seems the least she could do after keeping the entire house up all day long."

Ysa paused, and after a beat, turned back to Yinmei. She wanted to ask...but thought better of it.

They weren't usually at odds. However, since Amaelia had come into the house, there had been the occasional bite to Zhang's retorts. Her feelings were not unshared by others in the Coven, but she was the only one who ever dared to openly second-guess Ysabelle's actions. Yinmei's disapproval was already well-noted, and Ysabelle was resolute in her decision to take Amaelia into the Coven.

And so, the two old friends were at an impasse, making their usual shared preoccupations...strained.

Ysabelle stood for a moment, wondering. Then, finally: "I hate to think Lia is disturbing your peace, my dear. I will see what I can do."

With that, the Bloodmother turned back into the corridor, leaving Yinmei to her rose petal chore.

-

[AN INTERLUDE WITH A CHERUB]

Ysabelle did not have to wonder where Chatham had gone for much longer than it took her to return to her room.

She stepped into the private parlour, golden-lit by firelight, to find him planted on a tasseled foot pillow on the floor, looking very like a horrific dog show contestant with his small gargoylish figure, gnarled digits, and fleshy little wings. Not to mention the rancid rat he was enjoying. Ysabelle understood immediately that the cherub must've hidden it from his brother, forgotten where he stowed it for a few days, and only just remembered it-

Hence the shirking of his rose petal chore.

"Here you are," said Ysabelle, closing the black bedroom door behind her. She pointed at the cherub seated and merrily devouring his foul treat. "What do you mean giving your chore to Grandmother Zhang? Her bones are older than yours and mine."

Chatham swallowed and adopted the expression of a distressed demonic toddler. "Mistress," he complained, clutching the half-eaten rat to his chest. "Well, I hate the Granny, and you know I do. Besides. Besides, I found my rat and I was hungry, and I hate chores like I hate Granny."

Ysabelle hummed. "I should've punished you more when you first came to me," she remarked. "You'd behave better. What have you against Yinmei?"

The cherub bounced his goblin feet, thinking. "She said I'm rotten. And I think she's ugly," he replied, pulling a face. "The ugliest woman I've ever, ever seen, I think."

"She's right, though," said Ysabelle, folding her arms. "You are unforgivably rotten. You and your brother. In any other house you'd be beaten with a fire poker for being a layabout."

Chatham appeared scandalised. "Mistress!" he wailed.

Ysabelle waved the creature off. He went into hysterics at any criticism, no matter how small or harmless- and since positively no one in the house found him the least bit pleasant, he was hysterical most of the time.

"Be silent, Chatham," Ysa chided, turning away. She flicked aside the heavy drape dividing her private parlour from the bedroom. "Amaelia still sleeps."  

-

[OVERHEARD AT THE HOUSE WARMING]

"A truly skilled Blood-Weaver can portal through a living being."

"I don't follow."

"It's just as I said. Crack a chest, step in, and come through another warm body-"

"In...spirit?"

"No, in flesh."

"Sounds messy."

"Oh, it's ghastly."

-

It was much later, well into the house-warming, before Ysabelle laid eyes Yinmei again.

They were supposed to be posturing as wives for the benefit of the mortals from the Halacre Historical Society. A Vampire undetected is well-fed, after all- and the very last thing she wanted was to alarm the entire town. These days, people employed the Wolves to take care of their Vampire problems-

They couldn't be too careful, as far as Ysabelle was concerned.

Yinmei was being interrogated in the drawing room by the Historical Society's head- a squat woman clutching a black bag beneath her tweedy arm. She was quite out-of-place among the other attendees. Yinmei rather looked like a tall, benevolent alien in contrast with the woman.  

"Ah, there you are!" said Zhang over the little woman's head. She had spotted Ysabelle passing through the foyer. Zhang raised her dark brows pointedly, an S.O.S., and beckoned delicately with her fingers for Ysa to come join her.

Ysa slipped her free hand into the pocket of her tailored trousers and stepped across the drawing room threshold, thumping her walking cane on the refurbished wood floors as she went.

"Dear," Zhang began with false cheer, "this Paulette Maminot, the head of the Halacre Historical Society." She introduced the small, be-wigged woman before her. She continued, "Paulette, this is my wife Ysabelle."

Paulette offered her hand to Ysa, palm down, like a duchess. "How do you do?" she said sourly. Her face somehow became even more lined while regarding the women together. "You two are married, then? My, my. How modern."

Only the mannerless insulted their host right away- she didn't even wait until the end of the night. Ysabelle leaned on her cane and grinned. "Oh, yes," she said, "for several, blissful years now. Have you met the children? They should be-"

"Actually, we were hoping for a tour of the house," the old woman interposed. "My father used to own this property- it's been in my family for ages. I was disappointed to know that my brother sold it. I see you've...taken the liberty of changing a few things. Thank goodness you kept the original flooring."

"Oh, what a shame," Zhang said, her tone light but her posture rigid. "The floors are the last thing to be dealt with. We just cannot agree on what to cover that old wood with. I say grey cork or perhaps vinyl."

"But I just adore shag carpet," Ysa put in. "It speaks of luxury."

Zhang lifted a shoulder covered in white lace. "You are right about that."

Maminot's face crumpled with displeasure and her colourless lips became a thin line. Eventually, she cleared her throat of bile and readjusted her pocketbook under her arm. "Well," she sighed, the notion of Bilitis House covered in shag having cost her both mental and spiritual strength, "burn it down for all I care. Shall I gather the others for the tour?"

Ysabelle held her free hand out, indicating the foyer filled with milling guests in black with leering eyes. A pulse, a warm perfume, would never go unnoticed in that crowd. One only hoped the other elders had not been lured away somewhere.

Maminot stalked out of the drawing room without another word, but /not without giving her disapproving gaze to Egon Schiele's "Two women embracing" as she went.

"Paper, scissors, stone," Ysabelle said once the old woman had gone. "The loser plays tour-guide."

Zhang pulled a face but nonetheless held her right fist out.

-

An hour past midnight, the house was filled with the voices of the damned and fiddle-cry from the dimly-lit ballroom- sounding like a shadowy thing hidden in fog, just out of view.

Zhang was still leading her tour (having lost the best two out of three) while Ysa continued holding court in the drawing room, but Maminot's griping was still audible to the ears of the undead.

(She did not care for the overly-ornate moulding in the corridors, nor was she happy with the "funerary" black doors. Even more incensing was the fact that Zhang was barring her from entering most of the rooms. The fact was, it was for her own good. Poppy ["The Devourer"] was locked in her rooms to avoid staining the walls red. Amaelia, in the throes of fledgling bloodlust, was under lock and key for the same reason. What the little fool didn't know was that some of those black doors kept a nasty end at bay.)

"I think I would have eaten her by now," ["A Collar of Spikes"] commented. She was leaning against the drawing room wall in head-to-toe black leather with a chalice of Rosenblut in one hand. Her dark eyes were rolled upwards, listening to the conversation taking place two stories above them.

Angelika ["ЛЕДЯНАЯ ЖЕНЩИНА"], seated on the arm of the dark velvet sofa, took a sip of her own chalice and came away catching her bottom lip in her bloody teeth. (Ysa wondered if Rosenblut gave her memories of her life as a human- or if it was only human blood that caused the flashbacks?) "Truthfully," she said in her small, tinkling-bell voice, "I don't like the black doors either. Makes me think of...decay, rot. Nasty things."

"You're drinking animal blood, 'Lika," ["A Collar of Spikes"] reminded her on a smirk. "You are a nasty thing. What difference does it make, anyway, what colour the damn doors are? We should all be out flying, driving- not stuck here with these stodgy, old elites and mortals."

[”A Collar of Spikes”] was at her best when leaned over a dimly-lit pool table, pool-stick against her ribcage. 

Ysa slowly released the tension in her spine and let herself sit back in her chair, expelling the ineffable pressure of the evening. Lately, she had been experiencing small spells of fatigue that she couldn’t recall ever feeling before. It felt like being wrung out, pain included. And she suddenly wanted to be alone.  

She dismissed [ACoS] with a flick of her hand. “I release you, dear. Go enjoy the night- someone ought to.” 

[ACoS] didn’t tary. She drew away from the wall, put her chalice down and righted her black leather jacket. “Thank you, Mother, dear,” she said, and about-faced to the window, which she threw open and promptly jumped out of- taking wing on the night air. Gone. 

Only a moment later, the sounds of discord resounded through the house, coming from upstairs. At once, Ysabelle drew to her feet.

- 

[THE SCENE]

Zhang was shouting over someone else’s distraught shrieking. And the smell was unmistakable, luring throngs of party-goers to pack the stairs- 

When Ysabelle arrived on the steps leading to the third storey corridor, it was as horrific as the over-powering smell led her to believe it would be. 

“I tried to stop her, Ysabelle!” Zhang was frantically saying over the screaming. Her cheeks were speckled red- like gory, little freckles. “It happened so quickly!” 

Her arms were full of a red-headed girl with thrilled eyes bright as pomegranate jewels. Her emerald velvet dress was soaked in dark fluid from neck to belly. The white lace collar was turned crimson. A pair of matching coral hair combs hung loosely in her hair, having come loose in all the tumult. 

Poppy. She was screaming and raking at Zhang’s pretty white gown, catching at the lace and tearing the beads away. Her fangs were extended to needles and there was hardly a speck of pale skin to be seen- it was slick with blood. 

And it wasn’t one or two or even three, but all of the Halacre Historical Society strewn in the corridor. Poppy still had a hold of Maminot’s wrist, clutched in a death grip. 

Ysabelle wanted to know how this had come about. She had put Poppy away in her rooms, knowing something like this would happen if she was permitted to roam. Ysa had even struck the door with a Blood-Bind to keep her safely within- not even another Blood-Weaver could have undone the Bind.

The scene was confusing, but Ysa didn’t have time to ask questions or feel her bones brim with dread-

They would have to hide this. 

She and Angelika flew to Zhang’s side, helping her wrest the girl back into her rooms for the time being.

Ysabelle slit her palm, left to right, using her thumb nail and raised her hand to the black door as Poppy threw herself against the wood on the other side, jolting it. Ysa struck the wood at the same time and felt a heavy energy, like thick chains snaking about her arms and into the very wood of the door, locking it fast against the girl within. Instantly, the violent banging from inside ceased. 

Finally, the corridor fell silent...save the murmuring crowd of on-lookers packing the staircase. 

Ysa felt weak, light. She went to her knees at Poppy’s door and placed her forehead in her hands. Something wasn’t right.

“Mother?” Angelika said softly.

“Send for Chatham and Weep-not,” Ysabelle sighed as she lifted her face. “Have them clean this up.” 

“And the bodies?” Zhang inquired. 

Ysa rose to her feet slowly and pressed her healed hand over her stomach. “Burn them.” 

#aaaa this is sooo~ long. and thank you so so much to ally for helping me with yinmei’s dialogue ! #C O M P L E T E #this took FOREVER #and i took out so much too :/ #i hope everyone enjoys #btr #btr: story #written by fanfan #btr: the bloodmother #btr: ysabelle

[creativerogues]

Mini-Post: 11 Facts You Probably Didn't Know About Pit Fiends...

In older editions, they could regenerate 2 hit points per round and had a tail stinger, while in 5e they just have a regular ol' tail.

Most Pit Fiends are gargoylish in appearance.

They often choose not to communicate, but using telepathy when they do.

Once per year, a Pit Fiends can cast a Wish spell.

Pit Fiends stand at a whopping 12 feet tall and carry an ancus-like weapon in one hand and a jagged-toothed club in the other, note that in 5e they only wield a magical mace...

The bite of a pit fiend can infect you with a strength-draining disease called "devil chills", which reduces your strength score by A LOT over the course of a few days...

A pit fiend used to be able to grab the body of a smaller devil (such as an Imp) and throw them up to 25 feet at an enemy, and cause the little devil to explode in a shower of blood and hellfire, injuring foes and sending the devil back to the nine hells...

Some Pit Fiends speak a language known as 'Greater Infernal', which only very powerful Devils and Archdevils can understand.

The blood of a Pit Fiend is almost entirely black in color.

Pit fiends get to pick their gender, if any. They can even change their gender by spending 3 whole days in a pit of fire...

Some higher-ranking pit fiends don't need to sleep, and some don't even age while in the nine hells.

#devils #dnd devils #dnd #dnd monster

[edwardiansuggestions]

Consider the gargoylish appearance of the local vicar

#edwardian #edwardiansuggestions #edwardian suggestions

[trombonesonmars]

No, a *dash* of lightning

So, I think the trollifying potion might have been off. Merlin said that it would turn Jim into a half-troll, but it certainly seems to have a way-more-than-50% troll effect. Certainly, Merlin could have been downplaying it's effects in order to persuade Jim to take it, but maybe that's not what happened. Just because Merlin lies doesn't mean he always lies, and we know that his magic isn't always precise.

Magic in general on the show has a tendency to go off the rails. Barbara spontaneously gets her memory back after it's wiped, surprising everyone. Merlin mispredicts multiple facts about Jim. Other stuff I can't remember, probably.

Plus, it doesn't make sense for Merlin to purposefully take away certain abilities from Jim. In particular, daywalking. He is straight up less useful without it. Sure, being unable to go out in sunlight has the side effect of ostracizing Jim from his human allies, thereby making him easier for Merlin to control, but that doesn't apply to his trollish allies. At this point of the year (summer) Jim is out of commission aboveground for well over half the day, which is not a great quality in an attack dog.

Considering this, I think the spell got messed up. In particular, I think it's quite possible that the "lightning in a bottle" ingredient was way out of proportion. There was no listed amount, for one thing, which seems odd when compared to the definite quantities listed for other ingredients in spells. Aja and Krel gave them so much juice it blew out power all over town (or at least locally), which we have no reason to think Merlin could have foreseen. I don't know how he DID expect them to get lightning in a bottle, but presumably it didn't involve aliens or the power grid.

It stands to reason that such quantities would have unbalanced the spell. And I think it IS unbalanced, because Jim's transformation doesn't look like it's done. His bare hand is a troll hand, but not the other. Nothing else about him seems to be asymmetrical in that way, so the variable must be the armor. His whole whole head is uncovered, and is very trollish (nose and eyes notwithstanding). The rest of him is covered by the eclipse armor, and still looks pretty human; he's bigger, but not impossibly so, and his skeleton must have changed to allow his gargoylish gait, but his feet aren't like Blinky's or Nomura's, his knees aren't all wonky, he has no tail, and the proportions are all basically human. I think that the only thing keeping him from going even more trollish is the eclipse armor, and that if he takes it off, the overpowered spell will do even more to his body.

#3below spoilers #3below season 2 #tales of arcadia #trollhunters #th merlin #james lake jr #troll!jim

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An Odd Moment While Watching TV

An Odd Moment While Watching TV

I turned on the Netflix yesterday because I was bored and PBS is letting me down in its programming this week. I tuned in to Designated Survivor not because the premise intrigued me but because Kiefer Sutherland was one of my teen crushes. He’s aged rather better than his father (they look very similar as young men but Donald Sutherland got really gargoylish as he got older and Kiefer has had a…

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#designated survivor #like bsg only kiefer sutherland plays laura roslin #not quite a trigger