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thespleenoflorkhan · 5 years

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TES OC Answers For Alta Adalrica

Under a cut because there’s so much god damn text.

1. It’s a little unreasonable for everyone in a Middle Ages-esque fantasy to be perfectly literate, and writing with quills was considered legitimate labor! How well can your oc read and/or write? How detailed is their quest log/journal, if they keep one at all?

Alta is very literate; she mostly taught herself how to read as a child by going through her parents books and trying to learn all the stories they had in them. She does not keep a quest journal, but does compose several songs and poems based on things that happened in her adventures, first as assignments from the Bards’ College to show that she’s not slacking off in her studies while she goes traveling, but later when she realizes that she’s quickly amassing her own legend and wants to keep as accurate a report of her life as she can for future generations to learn from.

2. How educated is your oc? Did their parents teach them, did they have a tutor or were they apprenticed to a master, or did they attend a university? What university? What are they educated in? How long did their education take? (Learned skills like blacksmithing count here too!)

Alta had tutors as a child, and as an adult studied in various different vocations before settling on bard/historian. She’s shadowed priests, taken classes, and had apprenticeships, making her very knowledgeable about a wide variety of academia. After settling on bard/historian, Alta then traveled the Empire to learn more about the various peoples of Tamriel, taking in their stories and learning their songs.

Alta came to Skyrim with the express intent of joining the Bards’ College in Solitude to continue her education, and starts off her story having attended the college for a few weeks already.

3. Does your oc have any kind of crafting skills that either aren’t in-game or don’t have as much importance in-game as they would in real life? (For example, can your oc sew or weave, etc? Are they skilled in any kind of art? Can they make jewelry or work glass? Are they musicians? etc)

Since Alta is a bard, she knows how to compose music and poetry, and play a few instruments. She can play the flute (badly), the drums (passably), the lute (very well), as well as the Nibenese mandolin (exceptionally well). Alta prefers playing the mandolin to the lute, but the lute is more widely found in Skyrim and her mandolin kind of got broken into a billion pieces early on in her adventure, so.

She also knows how to: sew, cook, book bind, skin and debone a carcass, make and sustain a fire without flint/magic, purify water for drinking, pitch a tent, and take care of her various weapons/instruments, such as restringing her bow or lute (and making a new string from scratch if necessary) and doing light mending to her mace’s handle.

4. What pantheon does your oc worship? If they worship the Cyrodiilic/Imperial pantheon, does that include Talos? If they secretly worship Talos, how do they justify hiding it?

Alta worships the Cyrodiilic pantheon (Stendarr in particular) with one alteration: she worships Shezarr in favor of Talos. She first found mention of Shezarr as a child and was so stricken by the idea that the world had a whole ‘nother god that people just forgot about, that she started offering him her prayers as well.

When she grew older and learned more about Tiber Septim, she started leaving Talos out of her prayers because she didn’t want to venerate someone who’d done such terrible things, and by the time she’s an adult and running around Skyrim as the Last Dragonborn she’s left him out entirely. If asked, Alta would say that being dragonborn herself, Talos is too familiar to her to be worshiped, and it would be like asking a child to worship their older sibling.

But in truth it’s because she just thinks he’s a dick.

5. How religious is your oc? Do they come into conflict with others over their beliefs? If their patron deity told them to do something extremely undesirable or against their moral compass, would they do it? Would your oc sell someone’s soul for a corn chip?

Alta’s Stendarr worship is very important to her. She keeps an amulet of Stendarr on her at all times and always makes a trip to the nearest temple of the divines or wayshrine to Stendaar in whatever city she goes to to thank him for safe passage. Though many of the virtues Stendarr embodies are things she would be drawn to anyways—mercy, compassion, charity, protecting your fellow man, and providing aid when you can to as much as you can—she feels better when enacting these virtues because of Him.

However, considering Stendarr is also the enemy to Daedra, that means that for a good chunk of her adventure, Alta has a fair amount of difficulty interacting with Orcs, Dark Elves, and to a lesser degree Khajiit because their racial pantheons include the worship of Daedra. She tries not to judge them or think less of them, since Stendarr makes no distinction between worshipers and heretics, but it does make her uncomfortable for a long while. She gets better about it later, which is quite the boon by the time she goes to Solstheim.

During the Dawnguard questline, Alta had great difficulty reconciling Serana her friend with Serana the vampire Abomination she was obligated to destroy. Eventually she decided that as a mortal she doesn’t need to be held to a Divine standard, and would prefer to make a mistake in the eyes of her god than to let someone’s please for help go unanswered just because they’re not alive.

6. Does your oc have a family of origin? How many members of their FoO are still living? Do they have a good relationship? How much contact does your oc have with their FoO? How in-the-loop is your oc’s FoO about your oc’s being Dragonborn/HoK/Nerevarine?

Alta has a mother and father that live in some city in Cyrodiil that I’ll decide later when I eventually get around to playing Oblivion. She has a fairly good relationship with them—her birth father passed away when she was younger and her step-father was the one who encouraged her to see the world while she was young, while her mother encouraged her studies and skill-training, hoping that her daughter would become someone important one day. I don’t know yet if she has any sibling but I’m leaning towards no.

Alta sends letters to her parents every few months or so, and has ever since she left home years and years ago. Since she does a lot of traveling, she directs all her mail to a certain city or village that she spends a lot of time in in any particular region—Solitude, for example. She doesn’t tell her parents about being the Dragonborn until after Alduin has been slain, but does tell them about occasional things she’s done, like take the plunge off of Bard’s Leap Summit and become thane of various holds.

7. What social class was your oc born into? Did they change classes at all? How?

Alta was born middle class, and remained fairly wealthy until she set out on her own. Then she got robbed a whole lot. For a good chunk of her initial adventures in Skyrim, Alta was strapped for cash and mostly made a living by eating what she could hunt/forage and getting coin by playing in inns or trawling through caves. As she went on adventuring, she went up in ranks to an upper-middle class adventurer-poet, a mid-high class thane and folk hero, a high class politician and war hero, and eventually finishes her story years later as the Dragonborn Empress of the Fourth Empire.

8. How politically active is your oc? Are they obviously influential, or is their influence more subtle?

At first, Alta is not very politically inclined. She becomes Thane of Morthal a few weeks after clearing out the vampire problem on her way to the Hall of the Vigilant when she makes the return journey back to Solitude, and didn’t put much thought into the position aside from spending one week in Morthal per month for a while since if it’s a political position it must be important.

Since she’s so rarely in any one particular hold for long, Alta doesn’t do much political maneuvering, and doesn’t hold much sway over the courts of each particular jarl. However, as she travels more and becomes more well-known, she gains a good amount of sway with the jarls themselves, since she’s not only a folk hero, but someone who travels between the holds all the time, and has insight into what’s going on in each of the major cities.

For the longest time, her political aspirations were just “end the Civil War in Skyrim.” As time went on, they shifted to “stop a second war with the Thalmor”, to “defeat the Thalmor”, to “unify Tamriel into the Fourth Empire”, to “rule justly and fairly as the Empress of the Fourth Empire.” I would say that at that point she’s very politically active.

9. What unplayable faction would/did your oc join, if any? Why?

Aside from being very active among the Bards’ College (which I’m counting as unplayable because you can’t actually do anything if you join), Alta is technically considered an Initiate among the Vigilants of Stendarr due to the fact that she keeps getting involved in Daedric Fuckery and bringing them artifacts to watch over. She doesn’t actually have any clout within the organization and it’s mostly just so the Initiates are more apt to take her to the Keeper when she swings by with a new artifact, but still.

10. How trustworthy is your oc? Would they ever change opposing factions?

Alta can fairly reasonably be expected to keep her word. She’s not going to die over keeping a promise, but she’s not going to lie to you unless the matter is very important. She also prefers not to pick sides at all in a conflict until she’s reasonable sure that she’s made a good choice, i.e., joining the Imperials because a Stormcloak victory would weaken the Empire and that’s just what the Thalmor wanted. Once she’s made up her mind, it’s going to take a lot to change it.

11. What is your oc’s main source of income, if they have one besides plundering tombs and adventuring? If they’re mercenaries, are they part of a company? Does your oc own their own business, and if so, what is it?

Alta makes a lot of her money by playing for tips and requests at inns, as well as penning new songs and poems for Viarmo to publish once word gets out that the Dragonborn walks amongst us and their adventures can be your to hear for a small fee. She’s also published a few books based on strange findings or stranger happenings in Skyrim

The position of Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold probably has a salary, but Alta doesn’t feel like she’s earned it, so she doesn’t take it and just has that money pumped back into the Arcaneum.

12. Is your oc good with finances? Bartering? How long can they keep the money they make?

I’d say she’s good with money! Alta is pretty good at sums and estimates, and has a fairly good idea of how much most objects are worth at fair market value due to traveling all over Tamriel and seeing all kinds of different markets to value things in. She rarely keeps a lot of money on her though since coins are heavy and noisy and easy to misplace. Most of her money is either in investments with various businesses around Skyrim, or split between banks in all nine holds with her housecarls instructed to use the funds to maintain the household while she’s away.

13. Does your oc have any particular rivalry or mutual dislike with any NPC?

She utterly loathes Elenwen for all her Elenwen-ness, and after the Battle of Windhelm (which ended in Ulfric being forced to surrender without the promise of a glorious death for the bards to sing songs of), she’s really grown to dislike Ulfric Stormcloak. She disliked him before due to his stubbornness (as well as Tullius’s stubbornness) during the war meeting at High Hrothgar, but him laying down his weapons and asking to die struck her as an act of unforgivable cowardice since he was the one who wanted to die fighting instead of just surrender quietly, and especially after he and his sad little war had given Alduin so much power and caused Skyrim so much strife.

Alta also dislikes Delphine, but that’s more because Delphine’s just rude as hell and lowkey using you to enact a vendetta against the dragons than anything truly unforgivable. They only become easier allies after a forceful reminder that the Blades are supposed to serve the Dragonborn, not the other way around.

Oh wait that said mutual UHM probably the one girl in the bard’s college who says’s she’s better than everyone.

14. How well-liked is your oc? What is their reputation, if they’re well-known? Are they simply liked/disliked, or are they respected but feared, or personally liked but not taken seriously, etc? Do major factions consider your oc an important player?

I want to say Alta is fairly decently liked? Or at least as much as a non-Nord in Skyrim can be. in the beginning she was just a pretty good bard who was always ready to help you out if you needed her to, and then things got more complicated when she was recognized as the Dragonborn. Since word doesn’t spread fast and there’s no photography in Skyrim, Alta basically has three reputations: the Dragonborn’s, the Bard’s, and the Imperial’s. Her identity as the Dragonborn is more liked than her identity as Alta Adalrica, and her eventual identity as a renowned bard is probably liked the most of all since bards don’t have to make moral choices.

To the Bards’ College, she’s pretty much just another bard, albeit an especially famous one. She’s the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, but the professors mostly just consider her a fellow scholar who doesn’t yet realize her talent since she claims to not be worthy of the position on account of only knowing a handful of Restoration spells but is one of the only people alive who can Shout. The Dawnguard and the Vigilants consider her to be a valuable addition to their ranks, but mostly just another person on the team.

The Forsworn hate her for killing Madanach. The Dark Brotherhood (or what’s left of it) probably hate her for killing everyone. Valerica is the only remaining Volkihar vampire after Serana became human and mostly doesn’t care so long as Serena is safe, like at worst she’s peeved that the Dawnguard killed all her minions.

The Companions and the Thieves’ Guild Do Not Know Her.

15. Does your oc have a horse/other mount? A pet? How did they get this animal? If they were given the animal, do they have the money to maintain it? How careful/careless are they with their animal? What do they do with their pets while adventuring, especially on dangerous quests?

All Dragonborns are required by law to adopt Meeko. So she did. Meeko lives in Silian Manor with the rest of Alta’s children, pets, and followers. Alta does have the money to maintain Meeko, though initially she just fed him scraps from hunting and preparing meat in the wild. After coming back home from Solstheim she also adopted the Steadfast Dwarven Sphere, who mostly just scoots around the floor of the house like a steam-powered roomba.

Alta has tried to keep a horse over the course of her adventures, but they generally end up getting stolen or killed. After the second dead horse she just said fuck it and stuck with walking and carriages. Once she came out of the Soul Cairn though, she would end up summoning Arvak to ride on if she needed to go somewhere too far to walk since she doesn’t have to worry about him dying.

16. Does your oc take their time as they travel, or are they purposeful? How do they survive in the wilds, especially if they aren’t hunter-types? How dependent is your oc on civilized society?

Alta sets out intending to go quickly and do only what she needs to do, but she keeps stopping in various buildings or caves for shelter during the night only to end up fighting trolls or wiping out a bandit camp. And that’s not even getting into “I was halfway to my destination when someone implored me to help them with a thing and I couldn’t just say no.”

She’s able to survive fairly well in the wild, but has no idea what to do if she runs out of plants to forage or animals to hunt, so her ability to survive is ultimately limited before she’s forced to return to civilization. Additionally, unless she’s traveling somewhere, Alta would get bored to tears pretty quickly in the wild. She needs her books.

17. What does your oc like to eat? How much food do they eat? Can your oc cook, and can they do it well?

Mostly, Alta just eats whatever she can hunt and forage while she’s traveling on the road. She keeps a few containers of fresh and dried herbs/spices, and she knows how to look for wild edible plants and fungi.

Alta is a fairly decent cook when she has access to a full pantry, and she enjoys baking things. He favorite food is mammoth cheese, something that she can, and has raided giant camps for when doing bounty jobs for the various hold jarls. If you introduced her to fried mammoth cheese it would probably blow her mind.

20. What does your oc wear in the city/settlements? In the house? When travelling, but not adventuring or expecting combat? Do they vary their clothes depending on what hold/city they’re in? If they don’t, why not (e.g., if your oc wears the same outfit to tend their garden or lounge around the house as they did to meet Ulfric or Elisif, why?) Does your oc have a good or bad sense of fashion? How many clothes does your oc have?

Alta wears regular civilian clothes when not adventuring. If she’s traveling, she’s almost certainly going to end up in combat at some point, either with a bear or a bandit so it’s just practical. If she’s going somewhere she needs a specific outfit for, she just puts on her Vampire Armor and keeps her normal clothes in a travel bag. Alta has a decent sense of fashion, but she prefers styles from her native Cyrodiil that aren’t popular in Skyrim, and thus comes across as kind of unfashionable. I would say she has enough clothes to go two weeks without having to to laundry.

21. How picky is your oc about their gear? Do they have different equipment for different adventures, or is it the same suit of armor for everything (not counting upgrades like from steel to ebony)?

Alta pretty much has the same equipment for everything. She packs lightly for more maneuverability, and prefers her Vampire Armor over Scale Armor or Elven Armor because it’s more versatile—you can disguise Vampire Armor as a fashion choice at a party or use it to fool vampires from a distance, but you can’t really do the same thing with a suit of Elven Plate.

She’s used a few different weapons over time, settling on a bow for primary combat and a mace to fall back on. Starting with a carved wooden club and a simple hunter’s bow, she ended her journey with a dragonbone mace and the Bow of Auri-El.

22. How does your oc acquire their clothes, and from where/whom?

Alta mostly buys her clothes, though she will occasionally sew them herself. She gets a lot of clothes from Khajiiti traders as well.

Her primary set of armor though, came from very early on in her adventures through Skyrim: she’d taken a stop in Morthal on her way to the Hall of the Vigilant after exorcising Sheogorath from the Blue Palace and receiving the Wabbajack, and got roped into dealing with the vampire problem there. After dealing with Morvath and almost getting killed for not having armor on, she swipes a set of Vampire Armor from his lair and wears that for most of her time adventuring in Skyrim.

23. Can your oc swim, and how well? Have they ever swam in the ocean, or only lakes/rivers? Remember, it’s much harder to swim in the ocean than in a lake!

Alta is bad at swimming. She knows how to float, and she knows how to paddle, but she’s not going to be able to fight a current and she’s not going to be able to swim quickly.

24. How easy/difficult is it to rob your oc? Pickpocket? Bribe?

When she’s starting out? Having been a scholar all her life whose only combat experience was hunting for sustenance, it’s really easy to rob/pickpocket her. Later, when she’s a more experienced adventurer, it’s still fairly easy to pickpocket her, but she keeps several small caches of coin/valuables on her person to make sure that losing one or two isn’t that big of a deal, and she’s a good enough combatant now that outright robbing her is hard.

Alta can only be bribed if: the thing she’s being asked to do is something she would be okay with doing afterwards, and the bribe is something other than money, like rare books or fried mammoth cheese.

26. How helpful is your oc, and why? Are they helpful or kind even during difficult situations? Are they pragmatic, or do they have a hero syndrome?

Stendarr teaches that you should always help your fellow man if you have the means to do so, so even when she doesn’t want to help, Alta will at least try to do something. She will try to be pragmatic about things, but that doesn’t always work.

Alta is naturally helpful and tries to diffuse any difficult situation she comes across as best she can before taking action: for instance, after finding Aventus Aretino performing the Black Sacrament and mistaking her for a Dark Brotherhood assassin, she sat him down with a cup of tea and talked to him about why he wanted Grelod to be punished so badly and why he felt assassination was the right way to go before making a visit to Grelod herself.

#alta adalrica #headcanon #god there's just #so much #this took me literal hours

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switchydragon · 6 years

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Hypnostory: Legend of the Hypnoslut Dragon

This is an MC story I did in mid-2017. CW: Contains fictional hypnosis with triggers and the like. Be careful if you're easily affected by such, also contains bimboization, mind-breaking/addiction, penetration, human/dragon relationships and more! Have fun, and let me know your thoughts!

The Legend of the Hypnoslut Dragon!

Once upon a time, in a cold, small little town in a besieged, cursed valley, there was a witch. Not an evil one; she was quite benevolent, with her light brown hair and fair skin, her kind words and actions would please many who found her a lovely presence. Harmless and cute, but somewhat eccentric, they’d say. And with her, does our story begin.

‘Twas a dark and stormy day, when the witch was awoken by a loud flapping in the distance. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, the noise driving sleep from her body. “Oh...Tisaala’s back…” she said with a disparaged sigh. The big, green dragon would come, bringing death unless the villagers sent her their finest virgin! Alas, so many of her victims would turn into crazed madpeople, unable to feel the same satisfaction the dragon had given them when they returned. Moments later as she was preparing tea for herself, Candace watched the emerald-colored lizard fly off with another, before crossing her arms. “Hmmmph! Why, I ought to bring that dragon to justice!” She said, feeling squeamish...how would she, a lowly little witch with...no actual magic, ever face a great beast like Tisaala and live, let alone vanquish her?

The wingbeat shook her unstable little home like a mighty breeze, and the answer landed directly on her head: A tome, bound in red vellum with a white spine landed on Candace’s head from above, disturbed from its shelf. Candace grumbled softly and rubbed her head, looking at the tome. “Arts of the Mind: Controlling Others with Hypnosis” Huh, thought Candace, maybe I should read more...maybe that’s why I have no spells...Regardless, with a title like that...it had to be a book of power in some way! Maybe it held the secret to stopping the dragon! She quickly turned to the cover page, stating the author as someone named “Yuki” Hm. Wonder if that’s important or something.Candace was eager to get into this “Hypnosis” thing!

Several hours later, the witch was getting fairly annoyed. She’d powered through the book within a fraction of the time she’d thought she would. Yet, not a single magic incantation was in the book! Just things about “Hypnotic pleasure, mental orgasms, blanking 101, total hypnotic obedience...” the list went on. How was she going to beat a dragon with a “Mental orgasm”? Whatever it was, she bet it couldn’t pierce the dragon’s indestructible scales.

Slamming the book down onto her table, Candace sighed. She looked out the window into the dark and stormy eve, night had not quite set in yet. The witch gulped upon looking at the storm outside. She had to do something before it got too bad...after all, the dragon’s lair was a few hours away. Candace closed her book and stuffed it in her backpack, then put her wide-brimmed black hat on, setting out. Villagers waved, some catcalling as usual, some yelling friendly words of encouragement. The witch ignored them, walking north as the rain pattered down her hat, soon soaking her clothes as she trekked onwards.

The road to Tisaala’s lair was a harrowing one. Candace saw dead trees decaying all around the path, skeletons lying off to the sides of the overgrown road, and worst of all, horrible-sounding crows cawing as they circled above her while she journeyed across the darkened, dead grass and wasteland-like soil. How could any creature live here, especially a giant dragon who probably needed lots of food? Candace took a few deep breaths and sighed, trying to focus as the maw of Tisaala’s cave drew ever closer, while a crow departed a nearby a hollow tree-trunk, flying off into the distance, letting out an uncanny caw as it winged off into the horizon.

Candace arrived at the dragon’s lair soaked, cold and thoroughly annoyed. As she approached the massive cave that was the entry point to Tisaala’s home, Candace shivered...it was was so cold! Taking the first few steps in, she gulped and began to look around...the cave appeared normal, but Candace felt like she hadn’t even entered the worst part of her journey yet. She took her first tentative steps in, her black boots making a squishing noise as she did. Unfortunately, said squeaking was loud enough for the dragon to hear.

“Who dareth enter the mighty Tisaala’s lair and think to return unmolested?” Said the dragon’s massive voice, bellowing through the cave as Candace hurried behind a large rock, letting out a terrified squeal as she heard the dragon’s steps start to draw closer! “Thinking to avenge the virgin I have stolen from your town? ‘Tis in vain, for he has already fallen victim to my lust, as shall you~!” The dragon prowled through the cave while Candace tried to look around, hoping to spot Tisaala before the she-drake saw her. Moments later, Candace succeeded in that. She saw the vibrant green scales and the verdant hues of Tisaala’s eyes as she drew closer and closer, the mouth of the cave just big enough for Tisaala to stand on all fours in. With no other option but to move now, Candace walked in front of the dragon.

“Hey, you big lizard! Look at me!” She managed to say despite the fear pressing into her from every angle.

“What’s a human doing in my lair? And a beautiful one at that too, you are indeed a gem, mortal…” Candace saw how Tisaala’s eyes were already sizing up her soaked, dripping body and clothes. Candace inhaled deeply, and Tisaala laughed, a mighty noise that shook the whole cave. “Aww, whimpering with fear? Do not worry, you’ll be making other noises soon enough.”

Candace mustered all her willpower, then in the most soothing, relaxing voice she could, remembering the book’s instructions as she stared the dragon in the eyes: “I want you to focus on my words, focus hard on them. Focus so they can help you, my Tisaala, the dragon, relax so much, so deeply…” She didn’t know how, but her words were working! Within moments, Candace saw the dragon’s eyes start to droop, then gulped as she remembered what the book would suggest at this point...physical connection...she quietly approached, and inhaled deeply.

Walking forwards despite the fear wracking her body, she placed a hand on Tisaala’s snout, and continued talking. “So good, so nice to just let all that stress of being awake, being conscious, to just fade away, my hand helping you to let it all flow away, moment by moment, second by second…” She saw Tisaala’s eyes start to close all the way, YES! Candace shouted in her head as she finally commanded: “Aaaaaand….Sleep~!” and saw the giant dragon’s jaw touch the ground, her eyes closed tightly.

Candace quickly shuffled through the pages in her book upon seeing the dragon go under, thinking back to those things about domination, mind control….she had to protect her village and make sure this dragon never hurt anyone again! Candace cleared her throat and got to work, starting first with that “Mental Orgasm” thing. Whatever it was, the dragon would think again before hurting her village!.

“And, 5,4,3,2,1! Awake up, fully relaxed, remembering everything I’ve told you, and ready to obey!” Candace smiled upon seeing the dragon awake up, starting to shake herself off...before said dragon jumped on her, grabbing Candace into a tight, scalebound hug.

“Nrrraaa, Mistress, it’s so good to see you! I’m so eager to obey, please command me as you see fit, my divine Goddess, beautiful Mistress~” Candace felt like she was going to be crushed, and fought against the dragon’s warm grasp.

“Nnnggh, come on! Let go!” When she said the word come, something amazing happened. Tisaala collapsed on her back, letting out a vast moan as she closed her eyes.

“Nrraww..My-Mistress is a goddess, sh-she can make me cum with just words….I AM Mistress’s eternally enslaved hypnoslut...” Candace heard Tisaala mutter as she stared up at the ceiling. So she had gotten the better of the dragon...Candace tried to remember one of those phrases from the book, and smiled.

“Come on, you big, dumb dragon, just blank out for me! That’s it, go blank!” She said, happy as she saw Tisaala’s eyes turn a hazy, dull color and her tongue loll out, mouth wide open...the dragon was helpless now! “Hmph! That’ll teach you! And DON’T ever come back!” Candace said, walking deeper into the cave, hoping to find the virgin the dragon had abducted earlier.

As she entered into the much larger inner chamber, Candace gasped. The room was fully lit, somehow. She saw the horde and couldn’t stop her mouth from gaping all the way open, as she let out another yelp. The witch took one more look around and found the ex-virgin, a nobleman’s son, sleeping on a massive pillow in the far corner of the room, snoring the day away.

Candace didn’t see any chains or evil instruments around the giant cavern of glistening artifacts, gold and other luxurious items...she giggled, with the dragon vanquished this was all hers! Now, she just had to get the victim to safety. “Hey! Wake up! You need to get out of here!” Candace yelled at him from across the room, and he sleepily rubbed his eyes.

“But I dun wanna...” the prince muttered, as Candace took off her hat and growled. No stupid man was going to steal HER loot!

“NOW! Get out NOW!” She asserted, and the man sprinted out, pulling his underwear up in the process. Candace smirked, watching him run before turning to the hoard. The dragon-vanquishing witch quickly went about exploring her new wealth, from the gold cuffs studded with diamonds, to all manner of gems and crystals in the sea of glistening gold, she felt enthralled, till a massive shape struck her from the side. She felt like she was being crushed. “W-who?” She choked out, something was holding her tight, something massive was hugging her...she looked up and saw the dragon’s lustful, deranged eyes. Tisaala must be hers too,

She inhaled deeply before saying, slowly and carefully: “You obey me?”, making sure to phrase it like both an order and a question at the same time. The dragon nodded fervently, bobbing her head up and down quickly.

“Yesss, I serve Mistress Candace, who gives the big dumb hypnoslut Tisaala the dragon so much pleasure! I’ll do anything for the powerful, divine Mistress Candace!” Candace giggled, feeling content. “That’s right! And you’ll always be my big, dumb hypnoslut!” She said, repeating and reaffirming what the dragon had just said as a way to confirm it...whatever that meant, Candace felt the control surge through her...she was in charge, and she was going to make this dragon pay for hurting her village! She looked up at Tisaala, who hadn’t released her yet, then firmly ordered her to let go: “Tisaala, my hypnoslut, I order you to let go of me!” As she looked straight into her eyes. Tisaala complied immediately, leaving Candace to fall gently down onto the firm pillow below her.

Candace nodded, seeing her orders obeyed so fully and immediately, and then issued another one: “Tisaala, I order you to change into a form more appropriate of your Mistress!” With a flash of magic, the dragoness changed into the form beautiful, green-haired woman with scales down her arms and legs, wings and a long tail. The now transformed dragoness looked at Candace knelt at the foot of the pillow, looking up at Candace.

“My Mistress, does this form please you?” Tisaala asked, smiling at Candace. Indeed, the emerald dragon was quite the beauty...Candace smiled and began to undress.

“Of course, and you must please Mistress now, with your body. You need to repay her back for all your awful actions.” She said, and laid down on the pillow.

Tisaala nodded, and dived onto her, hugging Candace as she asked her: “Mistress! Where should I please you first?”

Candace hadn’t felt her breasts played with in forever...in fact, she hadn’t really done anything like this before. “W-well..hypnoslut, I want you to use your tongue on my breasts.” She said quietly, experimenting.

“Yes Mistress!” The dragoness immediately started licking, trailing her long, warm tongue along Candace’s left breast, to her right. Candace gasped in pleasure, the warmth of her tongue plus the wetness felt so amazing, it was like liquid heaven across the neglected tit-flesh.

“Now, kiss them.” Candace got out despite the pleasure clouding her mind already. The dragon wordlessly obeyed, laying a nice wet, sloppy, and warm kiss on her nipples, before pulling off them with a pleasing Pop! as she would move to the other. Candace’s body shook with each touch of her dragon’s lips on her ample C-cup breasts.

Then Candace’s mind went to her needy crotch, the area she hadn’t even touched in years..., panting in pleasure, seeing herself already dripping all over; she felt eager to grant it some attention. “Slut, I want you to please my…” she scrambled through what little words she could remember in her head, heavy with arousal..”M-my sex..” she managed to choke out, then without a moment’s warning, she felt the dragon’s tongue start to lick all around her needy, dripping genitals, the pleasure from her snatch a raging inferno compared to the pleasure from her tits, and Candace felt herself losing control more and more with each passing moment.

As the pleasure inside her began to peak, another thought came into her head...Tisaala’s tail waving back and forth dreamily…”My little dragon hypnoslut, I want you to use your tail i-inside me.” She said, and panted slowly as the dragoness looked her in the eyes.

“R-really Mistress? I get to put my tail inside Mistress?” She asked, looking jubilant beyond belief. Candace examined the rhythmic, swaying motion of the tail, and another idea popped straight into her head.

“Yyess, pet. In fact, when I-I...mmm…” she tried to remember that word from the book… “O-orgasm, you’ll find yourself feeling that pleasure too, as though it’s linking us together even more...and when I say that word come I want you to have that-that orgasm with me…” She said, hastily tripping over words as she saw her new pet’s eyes light with the pleasure she was already feeling.

“I love Mistress, I’m her hypnoslut forever!” Tisaala said, then loudly, and Candace felt herself invaded by the tail. It felt warm, just like the rest of the dragon’s body, but it was so big, Candace felt filled in a way she’d never felt before. Then, Tisaala started thrusting. The in and out motion, so quick and hard was overwhelming to say the least, and she yelled out the phrase, letting the pleasure take her so hard in a climax the young woman could barely comprehend. She screamed with pleasure till her lungs couldn’t take it, then collapsed into a hazy mess, her body weak as she felt Tisaala snuggle into her side.

Eventually, the young witch woke up, the dragoness still attached to her side like a puppy clinging to its mother, and Candace sighed with relief...hopefully, the effects of whatever magic she’d done on her little dragon slut would stay forever, meaning she’d never have to come back to this place...but as she looked around, seeing the gold and jewels once again, she sighed. How was she ever gonna get this all home?

“Mistress is awake?” She heard the dragoness’ voice break the silence of the giant cave as she turned her eyes to Tisaala, groaning. As she sat up to gather her thoughts, Candace was hugged again by Tisaala, who was currently staring into her eyes deeply. “Please Mistress, hypnoslut Tisaala needs Mistress! She’ll be a good girl for Mistress and leave her village alone! Pleeeeaaasseee?” She begged Candace, and the witch sighed, pressing her face into her hands…

Candace thought about it...back home all she had was her old books she never read, and it was always so cold there...here, she had a beautiful, magical dragon who bowed to her every whim, and all the wealth one could ever need. Plus, the dragon’s warm body made her feel more comfortable than she ever had at home. Maybe living here would be okay enough. Maybe living here would even be great! She smiled, and then hugged her new loving slut.

“Of course, now get to giving your Mistress another one of those orgasm things. That was so good~!”

Tisaala happily obliged, and they lived happily ever after in the dragon’s cave, licking, kissing and cuddling in each other's embrace. Long after that day, the village would tell tales of the powerful witch who had given her life to slay the mighty dragon plaguing them, and the young boy who ran home to tell the tale so courageously, clad only in his underwear!

Occasionally, some would even say they could hear her moans of inhuman power echoing through the valley, remnants of her battle and victory!

The end.

#hypnosis #bimboization #hypnofetishism #fantasy #fiction #dragons

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mshaedanath · 6 years

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Memory Monday: Arrival on Azeroth

The cavern was barely lit, though the ice it was made of helped illuminate the scores of Dragonkin below. To Maurussus’s right, Ozan had his bow drawn, training the arrow towards the rock face across from them, while Owen and Arian fought off the cultists approaching from behind.

“Are you sure about this, Shaedanath? These walls aren’t like the rooftops of Al Kharid. If you fall, you fall into the sharp teeth below.” the roguish man inquired as he steadied the bow.

“I’ll be fine.” The young, blonde haired mage says as he steadies his staff on the ground, his voice colder than the frigid ice surrounding the heroes, “You guys teleport to safety once I’m across.”

“Why? Should we not come along as well? You could use a brain like mine, after all. Not to mention Ariane and Owen could help draw the fire from you.” Ozan replies, before Maurussus glares in the man’s direction. “Fine... Fine. This one’s something you got to do alone. I got it.”

Arian glances over, concerned for her friend before she pulls the runs from her pocket, Ozan launching the arrow into the far wall. Using his agility, Maurussus navigated across the rope with ease, cutting it and raising his hand in a silent salute, His friends vanishing in a cloud of arcane rings as Arian teleports them away, a collective look of worry etched on the three faces that dissipated from view.

Maurussus would never have told them why they were really here. He needed their help to enter the cave, and gave them some lie about an evil group of Zarosian Cultists that were attempting to cast a spell over the Fremennik Isles. It hadn’t been easy to create that many illusions on such a massive scale, in order to make his story convincing as they made their way to the Cavern, but he’d managed. He was not here with the intention of some noble battle to save the world, nor was he here to do anything that directly benefited Geilinor as a whole. Maurussus was here for an object, that no adventurer in his right mind would dare seek, knowing that the Gods themselves fought over this item, and would destroy any mortal that brought it to the Surface. Maurussus sought the fabled Stone of Jas.

He had studied the object intensively, dredging up every book written in regards to it. It was the Artifact that the god, Guthix, had used to bring magic to their world. It was the precursor to the Artifacts that allowed Zamorak and Guthix to ascend to godhood. It was older than the entire world of Gielinor, and was instrumental in the Old God’s creation of hundreds of worlds. Maurussus wanted that sort of power, for a goal that he himself thought was noble. He had no desire for godhood, nor did he want to reshape Gielinor.

The Caverns were easy enough to navigate when you compiled the legends and myths of the hundreds of adventurers that had died in the caverns, talking to their ghosts as they wandered the physical plane. In fact, the hardest part of the quest, it seemed to Maurussus, was tricking his trusted friends. But he knew he had to do it. Owen, a Knight of Saradomin, would never have let Maurussus go through with his plan, as they’d all heard the legends of what the Stone was capable of in the wrong hands. Arian would’ve told him that the Stone was no plaything for flights of fancy. But Maurussus knew Ozan would’ve been the one to figure out his plan first. Despite the bard’s cocky attitude, he was always the one among them that could pick up on Maur’s ulterior motives the fastest.

Ozan had commented before they left the Hero’s Guild. He mentioned offhandedly the disheveled state of Maur’s robe, the cold look in his eyes. He’d made it into a joke, with the hope that Owen or Arian would pick up on the comments. But they hadn’t, and now Maurussus was alone in the cavern, ready to proceed. The Dragonkin below were not aware of his presence, and the radiating hum of power that occurred before him meant he was on the right track.

Making his way through the caves, he avoided most of the Dragonkin through a combination of magical cloaking and agility, diving into crevices when it called for it, arriving eventually at the door to the ancient cavern. The lock was easy enough to pick, having delved into similar locations for less mystical items, and after a few quiet moments, the main door was opened. Taking a step in, Maurussus had anticipated more traps, but not quite what he walked into.

A stony rigidity overtook him, his muscles no longer listening to his commands, as if he’d been crafted this way. The only thing that wasn’t frozen were his eyes, it seemed, as they darted around to find the source of the trap, and work out some way to disarm it. However, Maurussus didn’t need to wait long before something happened. A bright flash of verdant light and a soft breeze filled the cavern, roots forming around disks in the ground. Soon, a defender of sorts had materialized, the soft green disks having fragmented as the roots grew, acting as a sort of armor or face for the roots, magical energy humming to life in two pools that resembled eyes.

“Halt, Mortal.” A voice resonated, seeming to come from the construct before him. “You shall turn back. The Stone of Jas is not to be used.”

The energy holding Maurussus back disappeared as quickly as it had overtaken him and it caused him to fall to his knees, picking himself up and dusting himself off. “Heh... Sorry. I’m not leaving. I need the power it contains.”

“Mortals have caused much damage to this world with it’s power. The Edicts must be maintained.” It replies mechanically. “Further trespass will not be tolerated.”

“You better just kill me then.” He says with a smirk as he rushes the guardian, only to be transported in another flash of Verdant light.

The room was different this time. There was no massive stone in the center. The Guardian was now joined by several different individuals, with a large figure dominating the center of the crescent of people. The figures before him were individuals he either had met or knew. On the far right was Death himself, the robe and scythe giving him away in a heartbeat. The far left, a massive serpent flicked it’s tongue while looking in Maurussus’s direction; he recognized the Serpent as Juna, the Guardian of Guthix’s Tears. A Giant Tortoise, it’s shell a dark brown, stood next to Juna; he’d read about it in Void Knight legends, and recalled the name “Valluta” after a few brief moments. Beside Harold on the right was the seemingly mechanical construct that had barred his way earlier.

However, the individual that interested him most was the gaunt, towering man before him. The Man’s skin was a bluish-green hue, and wood-like growths coming from his head and shoulders. The being’s eyes were a piercing blue, and locked directly on Maurussus. The room was tense as Maurussus waited for someone to speak, anyone by this point.

“... I must say that I hadn’t expected a Mortal to seek the Stone.” The middle being announced, with an almost amused voice. “Especially not a young Mage.”

Maurussus was confused. This being knew full well that he had sought the stone, and that he was a mage. The Gods had been banished from the world ages ago, and thus, Maurussus thought that he would be able to get the Stone’s Power with just a bit of resistance from the Dragonkin. He had not, however, expected to come face to face with this. It took a moment for the gravity to hit him, and once he realized the motley crew of companions, and the aura of unnatural calm, he realized that he was standing in front of a God.

“Guthix...” He mutters.

“Oh! The Child speaks.” Guthix replies, crossing his arms as he regards the young mage before him, “... Now, I’m sure you’ve read plenty about the Stone. You no doubt know it’s history. Why else would you try to steal it’s power?”

Maurussus wouldn’t dare meet the gods gaze, “... I need it for something specific. I’m not trying to ascend to godhood.” He states defensively, “Let me claim the power, and I’ll be on my way.”

“I can see into your mind, young one. It cannot do what you want.” The God says, “I would turn back from this foolish venture. The Stone’s Power is hardly contained, even by the Gods.”

“... You kicked the gods off. I have to try.” The young mage says as his gaze locks onto Guthix’s, the resolve in his gaze more than visible.

“... I cannot allow you to do this. Harold.” Guthix says, as Death moves forwards, towards the young mage. “... Valluta, we will give him a second chance elsewhere. Open the gate.”

Maurussus backpedals slowly as Death advances, the tip of his scythe getting closer and closer to the young Magi’s face.

What happens next is something Maurussus never wanted to feel again. Blinding immeasurable pain enveloped his body as his soul was forcibly removed. His corpse fell to the ground, lifeless as his spirit struggled, being forced towards the scythe. The spirit of Maur watched helplessly as his body was dragged by the mechanical construct, towards a large golden portal that had been opened, and was mercilessly thrown through.

“...I’m giving you another chance, on a different plane.” Guthix says as Death leads the spirit towards the portal, “You will be marked, and affected the same way as the Gods by the Edicts. If you wish to return, you must learn the error of your choice this day.”

Maurussus’s spirit continued to struggle as it was enveloped in golden light.

A few hours later, Maurussus awoke, staring at a blue sky. A bright star illuminated the day, and he was surrounded by trees, the green leaves blocking out most of the light and providing shade. The sound of churchbells could be heard nearby. Holding his head, he stood, groaning at the pain that shot through his body. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he didn’t think he was in Gielinor anymore. His plan, was, though, for the time being, to lie there and wait til he stopped hurting.

#IC #Maurussus Shaedanath #Flashback #Gielinor #Azeroth

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zippdementia · 6 years

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Part 32 Alignment May Vary: The Beginning of the End

This is the post that will take us to the very final moment of the campaign of Tomb of Haggemoth. A year ago, I found this campaign by reading a number of forums online, looking for something adventurous and seaworthy to fill some time while I prepped Red Hand of Doom. I was originally looking for a simple set of one shot adventures with time gaps between them, but once I read the final room description in Haggemoth, I was hooked, and thus began a nearly year long side quest which has taken my players, moment by moment, up through the levels. Because we are nearly at the end and I want to catch up with them, I’m going to gloss some of the final level of this dungeon. The big events come at the end, and that’s where my focus will be.

To start us off, we found the dirge Tyrion sang for Samuel and Biggs, the fallen comrades of Twyin and Xaviee:

Homeward Bound:

A Dirge to Fallen Soldiers Bright shines the sun over the morning crest, A scattering of rays glistening as sparks in the valley below. The soldier’s arms capture the light, imbuing them with the power of the stars. Humble mortals, handed the keys of greatness.

The road home, the road home! Always out of sight around the corner. The singular soldier wanders a quiet path Which always leads home. Whether above the ground, or below.

We call their names, Biggs! Samuel! Their presence the eager tear through the dark. With them, we feel keenly their passing. Without them, we’d feel nothing at all. The soldier’s life holding true to burden.

For no soldier stands alone. Each is a brother, in a line of brothers For whom the plight of a one is a plight of all. A wolf pack! A pride of lions! An army of ants! One should fear the gathering of these men against them.

We bid farewell this day to two brothers in arms. Without you, we must carry on. Our homes aboveground lie, Our battles not yet ended. But Samuel and Biggs have found their home, here. And take thy rest.

Long ago, Haggemoth the dwarf mastered the arts of his ancestors, perfecting and in fact improving on many of their designs for armor, weapons, musical instruments, and artifacts. Then, still thirsty to learn and create, he began studying magic. His brethren discouraged him in this pursuit but Haggemoth’s curiosity soon turned to infatuation as his quick mind picked up the intricacies of first one school of magic and then another. When he began studying the school of necromancy, his tribe had had enough. Banished from his homeland, Haggemoth wandered the world, continuing his studies. He never had trouble making money, for he still knew the secret arts of his people and could make powerful magical weapons, which he sold to the highest bidder, following wars around the world like a wolf chasing sheep. His beard had been shorn off as part of his banishment and he determined never to regrow it, wearing his bald face as a sign of pride. Eventually, as grew his power so too did his reputation. He did great things, and terrible things, in his pursuit of power. He befriended great wizards, too, and his closest ally became the elf Udo the Grey, who sought to control the weather of the world.

After many great adventures, Haggemoth began to grow old and in his old age his heart began to yearn for the one thing his power could not grant him: a return to his home and acceptance by his people and gods. Determined to make amends, Haggemoth began a long and difficult process of cleansing his soul. It would take a lot: a lifetime of sins against his gods had brought him much of his knowledge, and a simple attonement spell would not save him. And so Haggemoth took on his greatest challenge: the challenge of erasing sin.

Removing himself from the world was his first act in the process. He needed time to think and to plan and furthermore he wanted to isolate himself from having any further impact on the world. Rori Rama was the perfect location, a vile jungle island at the edge of civilization. Using powerful magics, Haggemoth raised a reef in front of the island to serve as his “wall,” eventually people would come to live here (these would become the ancestors of the natives which took in Rayden after his doomed journey came to an end) but no one ever came to live on the island except for Haggemoth.

The island was isolated, but more importantly it was geothermically active. The whole island was an old volcano and Haggemoth built directly over its source, harnessing its power to build his fortress, his tomb, his sanctum, and his sin-erasing contraption. The inner sanctum was his only home during these long years. He only had a single visitor, and that was Udo the Grey, who came once at Haggemoth’s behest, to take from him a silver key and use it to lock Haggemoth forever inside the sanctum. Udo the Grey would be the last humanoid to ever see Haggemoth alive.

Still, Haggemoth did not live in discomfort. His sanctum was equipped with a magical kitchen so that food would never run out. His rooms were spacious and the furniture had been enchanted to be his servants, brooms and dustpans cleaning up after him, chairs rearranging themselves to his liking, and tables setting themselves for his repasts. Above all other treasures, Haggemoth valued knowledge and his library was filled with histories and philosophies, tales of ancient heroism and future musings. He captured the power of the volcano to light his lamps, an early form of electricity, and to heat his baths. A veritable zoo was kept in his lower dungeons, the creatures there all in some way essential to his work: an otyugh dispensed of his waste, and a cockatrice provided rare alchemical and magical supplements. A grey ooze, carefully contained, put off a chemical that was particularly useful for making magical weapons and armor. One creature roamed the sanctum more freely: a clever phasm named Lhouee whom he mostly kept trapped to talk to and keep him company.

There were also darker things down there. Haggemoth had long ago achieved the highest level of power that could be gained through study, and so he had then turned to more infernal means of acquiring it. A Herzuo demon lay trapped in his sanctum, bound so that it could never claim the soul that was promised it in exchange for its power. There it sat, roaring all through the days and nights until Haggemoth moved it outside of his sanctum into a hidden hall and cast a spell of silence over it, then locked it away, forever.... or so he thought.

With the demon bound and locked away, Haggemoth continued his work. Some of it was yet done for pleasure, works of carving and mosaics and painting, but most of his efforts were put to use at his grandiose forge, creating the things that he hoped would set his soul free. And there was the treasure, too. A lifetime’s worth of it, the accumulation of Haggemoth’s wealth both ill-gotten and good, that Haggemoth intended to put to a final use. Worth well over a million gold pieces, it was, enough treasure to buy a kingdom (or break one), to establish a line of heirs going far far into the future, enough to outlast even the most voracious spender. Or possibly, just enough to save a soul.

Day after day Haggemoth worked, forging first a set of massive scales, then gears, then a huge chain which he put runes on to make it susceptible to lightning. He ripped his soul from his body, setting it into a phylactery, and this became the very focus of the object he was building. Last he made a forge hammer, imbued by days of ritual casting with the power to activate his machine. And then the day came when it was done and he prepared to free his soul, once and for all.

But on this day, misfortune struck. There are beings known as the Inevitables, constructs built by the gods to have divine insight and truly neutral perspective, to be able to properly judge the world. Three of them, there are, and they represent the realities that all men must face. The Inevitability of Fate, that all must face the consequences of their actions. The Inevitability of Justice, that upholds divine contracts and the general laws of nature that govern the world. And the Inevitability of death, which all men must face. When a person attains such power that they are able to break these inevitable truths, these constructs activate and seek to right the wrong done.

In this case, Haggemoth’s demon was his undoing. For in breaching this infernal contract, Haggemoth attracted the attention of The Inevitable of Justice, who descended upon his sanctum via magical teleportation and sought to forced Haggemoth to free the demon that Haggemoth had imprisoned. A great battle was waged in the sanctum, then, as the Inevitable chased Haggemoth through his lair, each of them casting powerful magics upon the other. The battle destroyed the main halls and released the monsters from the dungeons. Haggemoth moved defensively, working his way back towards his final creation. He summoned Earth elementals to cover his escape, but the Inevitable nimbly darted around them. Haggemoth used a golem to attack the Inevitable, but the Inevitable had the upper hand, even when weakened. Finally, Haggemoth used a powerful spell to turn the hard rock around the Inevitable to mud and then back again, trapping the celestial inside a prison of stone.

The Inevitable let loose one final spell as it was trappeed and the cavern they fought in shook with the force of its command. Stalactites freed themselves from the ceiling and fell to crush Haggemoth underneath. Pinned, with his left side crushed and trapped. Exhausted and already gravely injured, Haggemoth could not survive the blow. He made one attempt to command his golem to help him before expiring. The golem made it to him but with its master dead, it simply knelt by his side and waited, still executing his last clear command: Expell the Intruder.

Meanwhile, the sanctum slowly filled with the creatures Haggemoth had kept for his work. Trapped here, they fought over what territory was available to them. The Cockatrice settled in the bedroom, turning Haggemoth gorgeous bed into their nest. The ooze ate the creatures too stupid to avoid it and then settled into a hibernative state. Rust Monsters ate much of Haggemoth’s forge and stash of metals, growing large and bold in the process. They dug tunnels that lead all through the sanctum, though none find their way up to the surface. A strange intelligent mold grew rampantly in its keeper’s absence, consuming the old monster cages and killing anything that dared return there. The Otyugh fought a grand battle for the magical kitchens and eventually set itself by the enchanted pantry, screaming every moment for food to fill its insatiable hunger. Eventually it grew to such bulk that it could no longer move. Filling one corner of the massive kitchen, it lived in its own excrement and filth and eventually the magic of the place became corrupted, spewing forth only maggot infested or rotted food. Lhouee the Phasm was worst off: more intelligent and self aware than the others, it recognized its predicament for what it was—an eternity trapped in a dungeon. For a while it amused itself by transforming into furniture to mock and mimic the enchanted furniture that still sought to tend to Haggemoth’s lair. When it grew tired of stomping around as a comfy armchair, It tore through Haggemoth’s books, seeking some spell or power that could free it. But his greatest books had been given to his device, and Lhouee could not reach that, as it was still guarded by the earth elementals and the golem. So it despaired, and slowly grew strange and gloomy in its solitude.

The demon, meanwhile, still raged against his prison, his screams falling silent against the spell that held him still. His contract was not completed. The Inevitable had failed. Haggemoth was dead, but his soul did not pass on, trapped as it was in the phylactery he had set in his grand device.

And there his soul waits, still, for a group of adventurers to find it and pass final judgement.

Critical Success

This large vaulted chamber is ringed with braziers that flicker with the glow of unearthly fire. At the north end is an imposing set of massive Stone doors, reinforced with Iron and covered with runes. A complex locking mechanism holds them closed.

The adventurers use the silver key they got from DenDen (Rayden), which originally was given to Udo the Grey. It unlocks the great double doors and they enter Haggemoth’s sanctum, the end destination of the journey they began months ago. Each comes with their own story, a story that has developed over the course of our adventures together.

Abenthy, Aasimir born and once a great innocent, has switched alleigance from Lawful Good to Lawful Evil, believing himself to be the ultimate arbiter of justice, in service to his father, the fallen Angel I’afret. His once pure white wings have broken and rotted, becoming skeltal husks... though, ironically, the rest of the party has yet to see this, due to a comic level of irony. They have all been knocked out each time Abenthy has triggered his new true form, and thus are mostly unaware of their friend’s changed nature. It is worth noting that Abenthy is not a common lawful evil villain. His transformation began with self doubt at the beginning of this adventure. He put up his sword many a time rather than strike down a foe, for fear of straying from the narrow path he walked. But much death has occured on this adventure. He has lost allies, seen innocents harmed, and seen how villains will go unpunished. In this, he found the strength to strike without question—little thinking that perhaps the questining was his true strength and not his weakness.

Karina began this quest seeking answers. Instead, she has found only pain and more questions. Rayden’s mind is lost to her, forcing her to think on what her destiny might be, if not revenge. She has become hardened over the course of the adventure. Indeed, she is the only survivor from its start, back on the prison ship. Her original team was murdered by the Demon Pirate on the Moonsea and she carries the burden of survivor’s guilt. Whereas Abenthy has questioned less and less, more and more she finds her thoughts plagued with uncertainty. Was this worth it? Should she turn around? Will others be hurt because of her actions? Beginning as a Chaotic Neutral character, she has begun the slow but sure road towards Good. She is also becoming a legend: the legend of the Seeker of Callax, whose right eye shines brightly with the jewel given to her by the giant of Friezorazov. Each scar on her body tells a story that she knows the telling of, but not the ending of.

Tyrion’s change has been drastic. Once a well spoken dandy, he has morphed into a foul mouthed cantankerous lech, hungry for power, abandoned by his college, convinced by what he has survived with this party that he is destined for greatness beyond what others can offer him. The demon that he has taken inside of him fuels this desire and feeds in him an inner rage and disappointment that questing has not been as romantic or as heroic as the songs say it is. Determined to shape the world the way he shapes music, Tyrion has lost his originally Chaotic Good alignment and shifted into Chaotic Neutral, not caring for the world around him or the cosmic battle for good and evil as much as for how to best gain power. Ironically, this is the very path Haggemoth walked, perhaps why the demon that Tyrion inherited from Haggemoth has found him such an appropriate vessel (and letting him multi-class as a bardic warlock). The demon will continue to push for him to fall into evil, though Haggemoth’s Sanctum may contain the very thing Tyrion needs to cleanse his soul and remind him of the purity of music that first set him on his quest.

Xaviee, too, walks with them, a man who went from soldeir to shipwrecked to found. Xaviee has been through a hellish trial: everything he thought he had lost forever was given to him again, then snatched away, this time with a note of finality. Tywin is dead. Samuel and Biggs are dead. All that remains to him now is to survive, to serve, and to one day cross again the Dragonfang mountains to return to the land of his birth and reclaim in the name of those who are slain the old fortress of Vraath Keep, where his life first took a tragic turn.

As these companions make their way through the sanctum they encounter many of the creatures Haggemoth kept here. Lhouee escapes in the guise of a armchair, goofily making his way past the bemused players who, not understanding his true nature, let him go without much fuss. He escapes to the surface world, perhaps to be seen again in another story. The cockatrice they leave well alone, but the Otyugh they engage in combat, Tyrion actually leaping inside of it and cutting it open from the inside, pushed on by the power (and insanity) of the cursed Battleaxe of the Brave. They restore the ktichen to somewhat working order, using Purify Food and Drink to restore the magic to the pantry, and take the magical lid to the pantry with them for possible use in the outside world. There is even some emotional growth for the party, as during a long rest in Haggemoth’s library in which they are interupted and nearly killed by the Grey Ooze, Karina grows closer to Abenthy, huddling next to him for warmth and comfort as Tyrion snores away and Xaviee stoically watches the entrance to the library.

But there are dangers, here, too, and the longer they spend in the sanctum, the weaker the party grows. They quickly discover that the weapons and armor they took from upstairs is fake and are thus left a little more defenseless and a little less powerful. The cursed weapons Karina and Tyrion weild are strong but Karina has a tendency to roll either critical failures or successes and each one now leaves her blinded by bloody tears. Tyrion, too, though made very strong by the Battleaxe, now rushes into combat headfirst and often goes down quickly. His health is detiorating rapidly as well due to a mysterious unidentified illness, his hit points dropping permenantly after long rests and leaving him with a bloody cough that worries them all. The rust monsters decimate their armor even further before being pushed away in an action-heavy battle which includes this wonderful scene:

“Tyrion!” Abenthy shouted. “There are more coming from your left!”

Tyrion spun at Abenthy’s words, spinning the battleaxe with his momentum, grunting as the blade cut through the legs of the Rust Monster leaping at him. The flea-like monster was mid leap as its legs were cut from under it and its final jump carried it over Tyrion’s head and into one of its fellows attacking him from the other side. They were everywhere, and he couldn’t now remember why it had felt like a good idea to rush into their midst alone. Yet he was oddly glad to be here, with the smell of blood and battle around him. Now if only they would stop chewing on his damn armor.

Behind him, Abenthy raised a fist skyward and the black gauntlet around the Assimir’s wrist began to glow red. With a roar, Abenthy spun and punched the Rust Monster closing in from behind him square in the face. The beast went flying backwards.

Karina, meanwhile, was behind the rest of them, still making her way onto the battlefield. She was just now squeezing through a gap between the two rooms, pushing past a narrow space left by a hole in the wall.

“Are you all still alive in there?” she called out. Her answer was a squeal of pain as the Rust Monster that Abenthy had punched flew into the wall in front of her, then comically slid to the ground on its back, legs pumping furiously in the air.

“Nevermind,” she shouted again, drawing her rapier and burying it deep in the monster’s exposed belly.

The biggest disaster comes in the battle with Haggemoth’s modified Earth Elementals. Two guard the chamber leading to where Haggemoth met his end and they nearly TPK the party, rolling exceptionally well and smashing through the players’ weakened defenses. With their ability to move through the stone walls and pillars of the chamber they quickly gain a tactical advantage and surround the party. In the end, it becomes a game of Karina healing Tyrion, getting knocked unconscious, and then Tyrion healing her before being knocked unconscious, with this keeping one of the elementals occupied long enough for Abenthy to reveal his true form and take out the other. Abenthy himself goes down before Tyrion and Karina can come aid him (again missing his true form because of him falling unconscious). It’s a constant game of attrition and one they only barely win. It chews up their resources and leaves all of us feeling uneasy about the Golem that still awaits them. They find out about the Golem by sending Moonglum alone into the next room, where he promptly fails a dodge roll and is crushed to death in the Golem’s massive fists.

Inevitability

I go into the Golem fight a little concerned. The Golem is a CR 10 and nothing to scoff at. It rolls a +10 to attack and hits for an average of about 25 damage a strike. It’s immune to many attacks, resistant to magic, and has an incredibly powerful ability to slow the party, drastically reducing their effectiveness. In addition, Tyrion is bound by his curse to charge it, Karina’s arrows will have little effect, and everyone is badly armored and fairly hurt (though they take a long rest after the elemental fight). I never know what will happen in Dungeons and Dragons but I know that there is a possibility for a TPK here and it would be a shame so close to the end. I have a plan in mind in case the party dies in the Sanctum to keep us in the story for a while, and I think tonite will be the night to use it.

Except I end up not needing to. Not only do I roll abysmally, but Karina comes into this fight on fire (not literally). She uses Chill Touch, which bypasses magical resistance, and ends up with a nat 20 on her first roll. As her magical skeletal hands tear at the Golem’s eyes for somewhere close to 40 damage, her curse kicks in and she started to cry tears of blood, blinding her for a couple rounds... ironcially, just as Abenthy lets loose with his skeletal wings. Yup, as fate would have it, Karina yet again missed his transformation. Tyrion sees it: but Tyrion is deep in battle rage at this point and barely takes notice. He and Abenthy move in close. The Golem opportunity attacks as they come and... totally misses, despite only needing to roll an 11 to hit either of them. It tries its Slow spell next and both of them roll 18s for their saves. Karina is stumbling around blindly but decides to take another pot shot despite her disadvantage and... rolls a nat 20. Using inspiration dice to get rid of the disadvantage the attack counts as another hit and, yup, she’s blinded some more. Abenthy and Tyrion start beating on the Golem and for a while they trade blows. But the Golem is much stronger and when Abenthy and Tyrion miss four attacks in a row, I mentally declare the battle over. The Golem fells Tyrion with a single blow and turns to finish off Abenthy.

Only Karina’s blindness has worn off by now and she rushes in behind to take advantage of sneak attack and flanking and pulls her cursed scimitar free to do battle. And Nat 20s again. With sneak attack.

The battle doesn’t last much longer than this. The Golem tries to once again rally and use its slow ability to buy it some reprieve, but the lowest save roll comes back 17 and so again this plan is thwarted. It retreats, to try and put some distance between it and the fight and Karina uses Chill Touch on it as it goes...

... and once again Nat 20s. Two skeletal hands emerge from thin air, wrap themselves around the Golem’s head, and crush it with one decisive movement, into a fine dust.

The extreme variable is one of the selling points of the D20 system for me. It doesn’t work as well for gritty realistic games, like Shadowrun or Fallout, but for a fantasy setting it gives those nice heroic moments or massive party killing disasters that the things of legends are made of. I know my players will remember this fight and Karina’s crazy rolls during it.

Speaking of legends, a while ago I gave my players a crystal orb that can show them the past and all throughout the dungeon they have been using it to keep track of the decades old battle between Haggemoth and The Inevitable. They have seen the Inevitable, a tall mechanical figure weilding a large blade and wearing a dramatic cloak, but they have not been able to recognize it for what it is. Only Abenthy has come close and then only because he grew up in a monastery, where stories of such things are common. Even so, he doesn’t realize what is trapped in the huge boulder in this room, the one that keeps shaking and moving as if it has a will of its own.

Exploration of the rest of the area reveals that Haggemoth was working on something big. The party finds giant molds for making humongous gears. They find large chains inscribed with reactive runes, causing them to explode and disintegrate upon contact with lightning. In Haggemoth’s skeletal hands they find a magical forge hammer, imbued with the power of lightning.

While Karina and Tyrion are focused on the mystery of what Haggemoth was building, Abenthy turns his attentions back to the boulder. Using his extra-ordinary senses, he perceives that a Celestial is trapped inside the rock and suddenly he puts two and two together. Not telling the rest of the group what is going on, he approaches the rock and uses his helmet of telepathy to reach inside and find the mind of the Inevtiable.

The voice that booms inside his head is beautiful and terrible at the same time. It prods at his memories, touches his fears, digs deep into his concsciousness to pull free thoughts Abenthy didn’t know were his own. And then it addresses him...

“I was sent to bring Haggemoth to justice for his crimes,” the Inevitable tells him, his voice booming inside his mind. “Release me, so that I may finish my task.”

“What has Haggemoth done that has decided his judgement?” Abenthy sent back. “I also am a follower of justice. Perhaps I would understand.”

The feeling that struck him gave Abenthy the impression of mockery, that he was being derrisively laughed at. “You? You do not understand, cannot understand. You were not built for such understanding. You think you can deliver justice? You are wrong.”

“I deliver justice,” Abenthy protested. “I have many times, in the name of my father, I’afret.”

The voice inside his head hissed like an angry cat. “You follow false gods and mete out flawed judgement. You cannot see the way I do. You think you are above the pettiness of mortals?” Images flashed suddenly inside Abenthy’s mind. He saw himself murdering pirates, sending their souls to his father. He saw himself taking patches of skin off the pirates and wearing them as badges of honor and of fear. He saw himself keeping Tywin’s blood soaked rags. He saw himself sending Targaryen to his father. He saw Verrick die as he fell from the bridge, and heard Karina’s scream of dismay again, and smiled because now he could claim her for his own.

The images slowed suddenly, and the voice returned, full of confidence and judgement. “I can see all that you have done. Even you doubt yourself. So how can you judge another? Release me, so that I may do justice.”

“No,” Abenthy responsed, his mind filled with cold clarity and a deep sense of purpose. “You are the old way. I am the new. You are obsolete. I am the new arbiter of justice. I will leave you here, old creature, and I will take your role as the new Inevitable. The world does not need your justice anymore.”

And then he cut the connection and turned, leaving without a backward glance or a word of explanation to the others, who had only seen him with a hand on the boulder, the boulder which now shook violently as if it would tear itself apart. But it did not, and Abenthy did not stop, and the world continued to turn.

On a Grand Scale

Past the golem’s cavern there is a cave lit by a red glow. The players step into it and finally I get to read the words I’ve been waiting a year to read, that first intrigued me about this adventure:

A 10’ wide stone bridge arcs into this enormous subterranean space. A mighty river of lava roils violently through the cavern 60’ below, and the roof can only dimly be seen 60’ above. Situated in the middle of this river is a significant hunk of dark, glassy stone, and upon the stone is what appears a colossal set of balance scales. The scales are a complex mass of huge gears and pulleys, but instead of rope they are threaded with sturdy metal chain, and the entire device is covered in faintly glowing runes and magical symbols. From either side of the massive apparatus, the chains support circular platforms of iron-braced marble, each 20 feet in diameter. The entire artifact is ornamented with appointments of silver, gold, and adamant, and sitting on the balances are huge piles of treasure: weapons, magical artifcts, great tomes and books, jewlery, chests of coins and gems. Too much to count, the worth must well exceed a million gold pieces.

The stone bridge extends over the lava towards the center of the scales, where a mighty anvil appears to have been built into the device. A crystal set into the top of it glows brightly, and branching out from the anvil’s sconce are bridges allowing access to the two hanging marble platforms.

This is, of course, what Haggemoth was building—a grand set of scales to balance his soul (currently resting in the phylactery in the anvil) and erase his signs. The entire device is inscribed with powerful magic, making it in essence a massive attonement spell. The treasure is the key to the spell: each side balances the other, one with magic and knowledge the other with forge items and cunning of the hands (though it also includes magical weapons). The scales need to be in balance to work—if at any point one side exceeds the other by 40lbs, the scales begin to tip. Tipped too far, the scales will rip themselves apart.

To activate the magic of the scales, the anvil must be struck with lightning magic (like the forge hammer Abenthy claimed from Haggemoth’s corspe). If in balance when this happens... well, that’s for my players to find out.

The treasure here is truly tremendous. All of the weapons are ungodly strong, the spell books go up to level nine with rare and powerful magics, and probably the pinacle gamebreaking item is the Staff of Power tucked into the magic scale—a +2 to everything (including AC) weapon that can expend charges to do massive spell damage—which in Tyrion’s warlockian hands would wreak havoc on enemies. It’s amost too much to actually put into the game, but hey they’ve earned it. Now they just have to go get it.

Of course, there is more than just treasure here. Haggemoth’s soul hangs in the balance, too, and that in itself is a prize (albeit more of a roleplaying one) to certain members of the party...

The group knows none of this, of course. They see the scales and the treasure and are smart enough to piece together the purpose of the device, but only experimentation will tell them how it works. Karina begins using mage hand to lift items off of the scales. She gets one of the powerful spell books, a book of histories, and a jeweled harp for Tyrion (who begins to cry at the sweet heartwrenching sound it makes) before the scales tip out of balance... and also we remember that mage hand cannot lift more than a few pounds and Karina suddenly cannot cast the spell anymore today. Oops.

By now, Tyrion is walking towards the balances, a hungry look in his eyes. He halts himself just before reaching the one holding the magical items and shakes his head as if to clear it. Something inside him was yelling for him to rip, to tear, to destroy. He pulls back, suddenly disconcerted. But the hunger inside him does not go away: it shifts. He begins to think of the phylactery. If these items are the work of the soul entrapped there, then how powerful might the soul itself be?

Karina was watching him, her sweat cold despite the heat of the chamber. “Do not move any further!” she warned, gesturing towards the balances. “They have fallen out of balance. I don’t know how much more they can take. We have to balance the other side.” She looked at the balance and the thin bridge that led to it, and the 60′ fall into the lava below. Crossing would take concentration and willpower. But without her mage hand, what choice did she have?

So focused was she on the task of moving forward that she did not see Abenthy behind, standing by the anvil and staring down at the crystal phylactery, its blue light casting eerie shapes and shadows over his face. She did hear him, though, as he placed a hand on the crystal and spoke a name: I’afret. The name of his father.

A chill went through her and she turned, the plea on her lips, but Abenthy had already raised the forgehammer and, with the scales yet unbalanced, he brought it down on the anvil.

What happens next we will discover next post.

#dungeons and dragons #Role Playing #playthrough #journey log #Tomb of Haggemoth #DND 5e #Campaign Journal #Fantasy #Story

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dicecast · 7 years

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Magic Items: Instruments

Instruments

The Unstrung Harp

The instrument of a beatified saint with the church of Ilmater, this harp once belonged to Sephica of Ordulin. Sephica was a bard, but she did not worship the Lord of Songs, Milil. Instead she devoted herself to performing ballads to the suffering throngs of Ilmaterians everywhere. She was traveling with a group of Ilmaterian pilgrims when they were attacked by bandits, who killed and severely injured many of the pilgrims, and cut the strings of Sephica’s harp when she tried to soothe the injured travelers. After the bandits had left, Sephica prayed to Ilmater for help in a time of crisis. When she puclked at her harp stirngs with her eyes closed in prayer, music miraculously poured forth and healed every person who heard it. The next day, the bandits arrived and killed Sephica for healing the pilgrims. Though she was killed, the pilgrims kept the memory of her miracle alive. Their community attempted to have her accepted as an Ilmaterian saint. They succeeded in 1218 DR.

Stats: NG Good Bards can cast Heal 1/day, and Resurrection 1/year.

Bardic horn of Valhalla

This horn was supposedly left behind by Valkreries when a warrior dies a proper death alone without anybody around to witness his valor.

stats: Lets you summon 1D4 berserkers who will fight for the user, all level 3.

Retching Serpent

The serpent is a wind instrument, usually made of a long, conical wooden tube of over six feet in length that is coiled in much the same way as a snake; thus the name. Six holes along its length help the player alter the pitch in much the same way as a cornet. This particular instrument produces a low sonorous sound that can be felt to the very bones of those within range. In the hands of a skilled bard, ths instrument can produce a Stinking Cloud.

Stats: Stinking Cloud 2/day

Harp of Pandemonium

Like the namesake plane, these instrument produce shifting, disconsolate tones that seem to penetrate the ear and confuse the senses. When strummed by a talented bard, these random notes coalesce into field of purse chaos , turning enemies into dazed idiots

Stats: Lets you cast Confusion 2/day, Daze at will

Harp of the Beastmaster

Life at sea is a dangerous prospect at the best of times. These calmest of waters can be home to the foulest of beasts. Even in times however, this harp is a useful mean’s of charming your way into the ship’s larder.

stats: Champ person or animal 3/day, Dominate Animal 1/day

Raging Winds

This horn was created by the respected bard of a now-dead Reghed barbarian tribe. The bard was called Beogin, and his songs are sung by many of the northern tribes. He carried this horn with him when he observed many titanic battles. The chief of his tribe gave him the instrument with the instructions to blow it if he was ever in mortal danger.

Beogin, too proud to ever call on his tribesmen for help, was killed in battle, the horn hidden under his cloak

Stats: This horn summers 1d6 level 5 barbarians.

Horn of Kazgaroth

This horn is made of one of the tusks of the great beast Kazgaroth. Who imbued it with hits enchantments is unknown, but it is very potent item. when blown upon, no sound issues from the horn. Instead the user of the horn is incased in a globe of power for a short duration of a short duration. The bubble gives the users partial magic resistance and a saving throw bonus, as well as partially deflecting incoming missile attacks. The effect only lasts 8 rounds, and the horn draws from the life force of the user every time it is used. stats: For 8 round it renders you immune to 1st and second level spells of all classes. You gain a +2 to Saving Throws, +5 to AC, but every time you blow the horn you lose 10 hit points.

Horn of Blasting

This horn to be a normal trumpet it can be played to create an ultra sonic blast as with sound as with the spell sound burst.

Stats: Sound Burst 1/day

Horn of Good and Evil

This trumpet has two distinct tones it can produce. The high ringing peal creates a magical circle against evil effects, while the low Rumbling sound produces the opposite

Stats: Either Magical Circle Against Evil or Good 1/day

Whistle of Warding

Carved of human bone, the Whistle Warding is a favorite artifact of a particular Necormancer. The enchantments placed upon the item allows its psosessor to invoke its magic simply by blowing a tune on the whistle.

stats: Anti Magic Shell 1/day

Instrument of the WInds

A sinister device bearing the souls of many who have played it, the Instrument of winds nonetheless produces a haunting tune. Some say its strings are fashioned of the silver cords that once linked its victims to this plane. Strung in a minor cord, it has maintained its perfect timbre over the years. its best-known players was a young Alavar who tried to free the spirits of his parents from its grasp.

Stats: This harp has 50 Charges total. Elemental Swarm Costs 5, Soul Bolt costs one, Hold Undead costs 2

Instrument of Air

When the proper tune is played, these masterwork pan pipes summon a large air elemental

Stats: 1/day...seriously did you see what I just said.

Janthra’s Harp

By playing this masterwork harp the harpist can envelop all creatures within 10 feet of the harp in an invisibility sphere.

Stats: Yeah...it did does that once per day.

The Graet Kazoo

Kazoos provide great entertainment to those who play them. Those forced to listen often take a dimmer view of things, hence of the protection put them this item.

stats: This can cast Sound Burst and Deafness 1/day each.

Horn of Listening

All was pitch black as you slid through the halls of a wealthy merchant. You could hear his guards moving about, but the magical darkness concealed their position from you. Focusing all your concentration on the sounds of breathing and creaking armor, you slipped around the last of the merchant’s guards and entered his treasure room. This was the last test Drogan gave you, and though it was not your final examination, it proved your final examinations, it proved your abilities were sharp as a blade. Drogan presented you with this special device which has the magical ability to enhance your listening skill.

stats: Once per day you can add +10 to your listen check for 10 mis.

The Captive Audience: Gregan’s Harp

This finely made harp is well known among the nomadic peoples of the east, though more for the infamy of its owner, Greagan of the Low Hills. He was a bard of sorts, though less for his love of people than his hatred of hard work. he bade a mage relation construct this harp so its magic might disguise his utter lack of talent in the arts. Its power was greater than he had hoped, and he later turned to petty burglary using ‘his’ music to captivate his victims. Greagan ultimately disappeared some years ago amidst rumors to violence. The Harp still functions, though any self respecting troubadour would reserve its use for the most dire of circumstances.

Stats: Can cast dominate person 1/day

Viol of the Hollow Men

Falatear’s instruments

A wise and powerful bard in the Moonshaes named Falataer created the first of these instruments, using them to test and reward the student of his bardic colleges. Others have since copied the designs, keeping the name Falataer gave them to honor them.

Austruth- Greater Dispelling, Healing Circle and Mind Fog 1/day

Canaith Mandolin: Cure Serious Wounds, Dispel Magic, Summon Monster III 1/day

Mac-Fuirmidh Cithern: Cure Light Wounds, Mage Armor, Sleep 1/day

Cil Lyre- Haste, Remove Curse, Sound Burst 1/day

Doss Lute: Ghostly Visage, Hold Person, Neutralize Poison 1/day

Lyre of Inner Focus

The Lyre of Inner Focus was created by the bard Sendi Paletto Sedini was a teacher of you aspiring bards during difficult times. This instrument, held close at all times, helped Sedini fight off those who would attack him or his student. When Sendini grew old, he passed it on to his best students, Galwen Alaman. Galwen continued teaching for a few years before setting out into the wilderness on a life of adventure. It is believed taht he lost the lyre when he accidenlty dropped it in a marsh.

stats: If you play it for an hour straight, you can gain a +3 to STrength and +2 to Constitution for 10 rounds. It also grants a bard an extra two 2nd level spellsa nd one extra 3rd level spell.

Sailor’s Harp:

This ill-made harp warps and out of tune. You’re almost afraid to play it as you suspect the merest note might cause the flimsy old thing to collaspe into dust.

Stats: Deafening Clang 1/day

Lyre of Progress

The story behind this Lyre is unknown, but it is rumored that it was used by a cultural critic who was torn to pieces by a hate mob, for even thinking about talking feminism in relations to some artistic medium long forgotten.

Stats: This allows the bard to give one ally of the wielder a +1 to Strength

Ollamh Harp

A wise and powerful bard in the Moonshaes named Falataer created teh first of these instruments, using them to test and reward the students of his bardic college. Other have since copied the designs, keeping the name Falataer gave them to honor him.

Stats: Lets you case Mass Charm, Mass haste, and Summon Creature VI

Craum Straug’s Pipes

When the venerable (and senile) red Dragon Craum Straug wandered into the logging camp of Hornhollow at the edge of Wood of Sharp Teeth, the residents (wisely) fled in fear as the dragon began to belch flames, setting the camps on fire and causing cries of alarm to spread throughout the countryside. After the resident fled, Craum squatted his old bones down upon the blackened buildings, grumbling to himself and snorting flames from hsi nostrils.

A few hours and several miles away, the residents of Hornholow finally decided that someone must go negotiate with the dragon and see what it wanted. When no volunteers were forthcoming, a lottery was conducted-and the loser, a traveling minstrel, Aznee Fraystrings, was given the dangerous task of attempting to deal with the dragons. Aznee had lived out his welcome in the camp many nights previous, and the loggers considered it no great loss if Aznee gained a new home in the dragon’s belly.

Aznee, somewhat absent-minded but of brave heart, stumbled his way into the camp, and finally mustered the courage to speak with the dragon. During the (now-famous) exchange that followed, Aznee discovered that Craum, who was somewhat far along in dragon years and in none too good health, was suffering the draconic equivalent of a bad cough, and his hacking and wheezing masked his plaintive attempts to try and find someone, anyone, who could help cure his fist of coughing.

Seeing a solution, Aznee offered a cure that helped an elderly uncle of his-a sprig of Maiden’ Milk flower,s that when crushed and administered in a tea, helped quell coughing in a matter of minutes. Some coudl undoubtedly be found in the forest nearby, Aznee exclaimed, he set about gathering up several sprigs and preparing them for the dragon. After lumping them into a great pot, he administered the steaming cauldron to the dragon.

It is suspected that either Craug drank the mixture too fast, or else Aznee had mistaken Bellows Root for Maiden’s Milk, but whatever the reason, Craug vomited the mixture back out a few seconds later, setting fire to several aces of the wood and torching poor Aznee where he stood. After this vomitus belch, Craug ran wild for almost an hour, trying to spit out the remaining of the concoction. At the end of his rampage, the venerable red dragon fell over dead, the sudden flurry of activity more than his old bones could stand.

When the loggers came break down the dragon a day later, they discovered that Craum’s bones still carried echoes of his coughing fits, and his entire skeleton creaked and wheezed, even after death. They struck a deal with a local mage, who brought the dragon’s bones and fashioned a series of musical instruments with them, dubbed the “pipes of the Wheezing Dragon” These yellow bone pipes are famous throughout the realms and when used by a bard, they can be used to spit bursts of flames at opponents. Unfortunately, even when not in use, the pipes tend to creak and wheeze attracting the attention anyone nearby and making attempts at stealth and pickpocketing useless. A thin cord made of dragon gut is strung through the pipes, so they can be worn around the neck and can easily played when danger threatens. The cord looks charred, as if it was burned recently, and is surprisingly tough.

Stats. This lets you cast Fireball 3/day, Delayed BLast Fireball 1/day, -3 to Pickpocket, move Silently, and hide.

Tallow’s Violin

THis instrument is also known as “tallow’s Violin” but that moniker is rarely spoken among musicians as mentioning the name of Nikolai Tallow is considered bad luck. Nikolai was born in The Vast, near High Haspur, the son of a chandler. Because of the intermittent traffic through the region, Nikolai was introduced to many different cultures. One of the travelers he met was an elven musician named Relev Thinriver. Relelve introduced Nikolai to the violin and taught him for several years as he wandered through the area. Relev knew that Nikolai was an incredibly gifted child, with quick fingers, a keen mind and a passion for all things in the world. Relev also recgonized that Nikolai was exceedingly proud and arrogant. In spite of Nikolai’s shortcomings, Relev taught him everything he knew.

After Relev was killed by a band of orcs, Nikolai began to practice on his own throughout the Vast. Despite his travels, he became always returned to the isolate peaks of his mountains birthplace. He became famed throughout the vast, the southern Moonsea and Sembia for his incredible talent and passionate performances. Eventually, news of the proud young virtuoso spread to the ears of a nearby thug from Calaunt named Tremble Ghon. When Tremble and his gang traveled through the Elvenblood Pass, they stopped at the Elf in Armor Inn and demadned a performance from Nikolai, who happened to be present and eating dinner with his father at the time.

Nikolai refuse to perform for Tremble and his men. He called them stinking oafs and attempted to leave with dignity (this story has classist undertones doesn’t it). Tremble assaulted Nikolai’s pride by claiming that Nikolai was afraid of performing because he’d be heckled out of the inn for his incompetence. Nikolai shot back that his skill with the violin was so great he could raise the dead from their graves. Satisfied with a proposed challenge, Tremble immediately grabbed Nikolai’s father and stabbed him in the heart. When a number of others villagers attempted to intervene, they were also killed by the bandits

Tremble defiantly stood over Nikolai’s dead father and said “Where’s your big mouth now, fiddle players?”. Without a word, Nikolai pulled his violin and bow out from underneath his arms and began to play a melody that none of the residents of High Haspur had ever heard before, and no one in Faerun would ever hear again. Nikolai played with unbridled passion and fervor. Onlookers later remarked that he appeared to be a madman, thrashing around in ways people didn’t think were possible. At the climax of his frenzied piece, Tremble and his gang watched in horror as the souls of the men and women they had just killed rose from their corpses and drove, shrieking, at their murders. THe bandits died horrible deaths, chilled by the shadows of their victims. Nikolai himself continued playing, dancing through the streets and back pastures of his alpine home until every man, woman, child, and beast ever buried in the region rose from its resting place and milled around until Nikolai and his music disappeared into a far off valley, shrouded in a mysterious fog that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Legends say that on misty nights, the ghost of NIkolai Tallow returns to his homeland, playing a phantom violin with a host of dancing dead trailing behind him in the moonlight.

Stats: Cast Soul Eater, 1/day and lets you summon 1d4 shadows to serve you

Harp of Haunting

Crafted from old bones and strung with the bowstrings of dead heroes, these grim instruments are not often put on display. The yare brutaully effect in combat howeve,r and several famous bards have used them when circumstances make it necessary

Stats: 50 Charges, Animate Dead (50 Charges) Fear (2 Charges) Scars (1 Charge)

Sephica’s Prayer

The instruments of a beatified saint of the church of ILmater, this harp once belonged to sephica of Ordulin. Sephica was a bard, but she did not worship the lord of songs, Milil. Instead, she devoted herself to performing ballads to the suffering throngs of Illmaterian everywhere . She was traveling with a group of Illmaterian pilgrims when they were attack by bandits. The bandits killed and severely injured many of the pilgrims, and they cut the strings of Sephica’s harp when seh trie to soothe the injured travelers. After the bandits had left, Sephica prayed to Ilmater for help in a time of crisis. When she plucked at her harp strings with her eyes closed in prayer, music miraculously poured forth and healed every person who heard it. The next day, the bandits arrived and killed Sephica for healing the pilgrims. Though she was killed, the pilgrims kept the memory of her miracle alive. Their community attempted to have her accepted as an Illmaterian saint. They succeeded in 1218 DR

Stats: This Harp can cause Heal 1/day, Resurrection 1/month, only good bards with Wisdom, Spirit, and Charisma of 13 can use this (what bard wouldn’t have Charisma)

Lyre of Inner Focus

The Lyre of Inner Focus was created by the bard Sedini Paletto. Sedini was a teacher of young aspiring bards during difficult times. This instrument, held close at all times, helped Sedini fight off those who would attack him or his students. When Sedini grew old, he passed it on to his best student, Galwen Alaman. Galwen continued teaching for a few years before setting out into the wilderness on a life of adventure. It is believed that he lost the llyre when he accidentally dropped it in a march.

Stats: If held as a shield this gives a +3 to Strength and +2 to Con

Prophia’s Merry Shorthorn

The Merry Shorthorn was once owned by the half-elven bard Prophia Copperfire, and she took the saml instrument everywhere. Despite its rather meager powers, he Merry Shorthorn is among of the most well traveled magic items in Faerun . It is believed that Prophia took with her a number of Elemental Planes to Elysium and Baator and from the Spine of the World to the distant reaches of Wa. It entertained pashas in Calimshan, quelled the anger of holy slayers in Zakhara, and bolstered a crew of sliders in teh Sea of Fallen Stars. THe merry shorthorn was lost when Prophia accidently dropped it somewhere in the great desert of Anauroch.

Stats: 1/day can cast Prayer and Bless

Strings of Discord

Pellon Kay would never appear in history books for his musical talents. If it wasn’t for his famous lute, no one would have remembered him at all. Born in Sembia and raised in a musical family, Pellon Kay never took his performances seriously. Kay made dozens of enemies everywhere he went because of his acidic wit and appetite for confrontation. Sages believe that MIlil frowned upon Pellion’s antis, but that Talos found Pellon’s attitude to be quite amusing. The avatar Talos watched Pellon start a fight with over twenty men in a bar one night. As a gift for such destructive entertainment, Talos touched the lute that was laying next to Pellon’s unconscious body. After that night, Pellon discovered that he could make men go berserk just by playing his lute in their direction. He took great delight in setting, mercenaries and sailors against each other for several weeks. Eventually, Pellon Kay was laid low by a grim-featured warrior with a crossbow who didn’t let Pellon get close enough to employ his magical lute. The unknown warriors threw the lute into the Sea of Fallen Stars.

Stats: Dire Charm and Dominate Person 1/day

Sweet Auril’s Kiss

Sweet Auril’s Kiss was created by a disturbed bard named Owain Piper. Piper was a worshiper of Auril, born in the town of SIlverymoon and raised to embrace the frigid environment of hsi homeland. He traveled extensively in the Moonsea, where he met a mage named Pelham of the Moor. Owain and Pelham became good friends and stayed in contact for over a decade. Pelham eventually enchanted Owain’s Lullabye for the bard in exchange for a small sum of money. Owain raerly used the instrument in battle, typically employed it when he found late-migrating geese lounging on a lake. He would blow the horn in such a way that the geese heard it as the sound of their cousins heading south for the winter. As the geese would attempt to talk flight, Owain’s horn would freeze them in mid-stroke, where he would leave them to die

Stats; 1/day this can caste Cone of cold and Elemental Barrier simultaneous.

Chime of Opening

When played, the Chime of Opening sends forth magic vibrations that cause lock, lids, doors, valve and portals to open. The device functions against most normal bars, shackles, chain, bolts and so on.

Stats: Knock 50 Charges

Dove’s Harp

This item orignial name has been lost and its current name derives from Dove Falconhand, who owns such a harp. Tehse masterworks harps have thirty six strings. When it is played, the harp’s music can cure listeners and cast a warm light.

Stats: You can cast Cure Light wounds and greater Restoration 1/day each. Can cast Light at will

Masterwork Cittern of War

One of the only musical instruments actively approved of by the church of Tempus, the Cittern of War was constructed by a halfling instrument maker named Relias Blackseed. Priests of Arvoreen the Defender blessed the cittern with its impressive power. Relias never intended to play his magnificent creation. He eventually sold the ruddy instrument to a bard named Gallow Deely. Gallow was a lanky, slender man often found in the company of adventurers. Though ill-suited for battle, Gallow was exceptionally gifted at putting tales of heroism to music. With the aid of the cittern, he helped the Company of Frozen trees defeat a young green dragon in 1013 DR. His song, commemorating the occasion, was a rollicking tune called “The Flight of Green Thirteen” it is played in central and western taverns to this day.

Stats: This Cittern can 1/day caste Emotion:Hope and Chaos Simultaneous centered on the user Also Dispel Magic 1/day

#Magic Items #Instruments #Bards

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Digital Artistry in the Blue Ocean Market: Annotated bibliography

Primary research

Ruckstuhl, F. Wellington. “What Is Art? A Definition.” The Art World, vol. 1, no. 1, 1916, pp. 21–28. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/25587648.

I want to use this article as part of the argument in the definition of art and be able to bring a sense of scale to the work. Because the argument of "what is art?" is always being challenged so I would like to further iterate on it. This paper was written around the turn of the 20th century so many of the modern art forms that are commonplace now were never even considered at the time because they were not possible. Iteration id always needed as we move on in creative mediums in order to legitimise them and bring them to the general public. People make music with unorthodox methods and instruments but that is considered “outside the box” thinking. But when we try to tell a story in a video game it is considered childish and a waste of time and effort. We need to legitimise an artform for it to be taken seriously.

"Concrete art." Grove Art Online. January 01, 2003. Oxford University Press,. Date of access 29 Jan. 2019, <http://www.oxfordartonline.com/groveart/view/10.1093/gao/9781884446054.001.0001/oao-9781884446054-e-7000018994>

This work looks to provide definition to how art is consumed. What it is as a technical work, as well as a product. How the average person will appreciate art. Two main points are made in this paper. Art as product and art as product. Defining the artistic skill it takes to create a great work and from what they are made. Then also saying that the art piece is useless without a person to appreciate it. You can be the most skilled painter in the world but that is useless without a person to see it and appreciate it. The piece is incomplete without a pair of eyes to see.

Ludwig Herard, Brown v. Entertainment Merchants Association 131 S. Ct. 2729 (2011), 22 DePaul J. Art, Tech. & Intell. Prop. L. 515 (2012) Available at: https://via.library.depaul.edu/jatip/vol22/iss2/8

This is a reference to a supreme court case the protected videogame's right to free speech and declared that the medium was declared as "art" this will add a large amount of credit to my defense of video games as art. The defence of an artform in a court case adds an immense amount of credit to the medium in the public eye. The case involved the state of California not restricting the sale of "violent video games" to minors and whatever retailers involved could be fined. Also demanding that all "violent video games" be marked 18+. The supreme court ruled against these restrictions sights first amendment rights along with the case being underinclusive. Targeting only the videogame market rather than including booksellers, cartoonists and film makers in the same claim. And being too vague to uphold as the definition of violence was not defined in court.

Chris Melissinos and Patrick O’Rourke “The Art of Video Games: From Pac-Man to Mass Effect” Welcome Books 2013

This is a companion book to the Smithsonian Museum of Art exhibit of the same name that was shown in 2012. This exhibit was a very important talking point when it came out as many people (including myself) never thought that a video game could end up in a museum. The ability to know and understand the timeline of where an artform came from so that we can always learn from them. Bother the good and the bad. There is also a certain reverence for the early works that came from the industry. They don't have much in terms of artistic appeal. But they do have a charm to them like the early cave paintings and hieroglyphics. They can show a crude facsimile of what they are supposed to be and you have to use your imagination to figure out the rest. The rules had not been set yet so playing these old games are like a time capsule. Old books and movies have artifacts of when they were made and it can be fun to see how newer creators found ways around the limitations of those that came before. As well as seeing what new technology allowed for certain scenes and effects that either were not possible before or were improved dramatically.

Rand, Harry. “The Other Side of Digital Art.” Leonardo, vol. 41, no. 5, 2008, pp. 543–547. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20206688.

This piece talks about digital artistry and discusses how the shortcuts that it creates may have cheapened the ability of the artist and, I think, can serve as a great counterpoint to the arguments that I would like to make.

Secondary Research

John Linneman, Digital Foundry “DF Retro H2O! Water in Video Games Part #1” https://www.digitalfoundry.net/2018-07-22-df-retro-h2o-water-in-video-games-part-1

This is a single part of a two part series that looks to highlight the artistry in real time graphics when related to water. There are many points here that help to serve my argument in appreciating what it takes for real time graphics interfaces to create a visual representation of something that we are so familiar with. And how developers got them to work on the hardware that they were given at the time. Going all the way back to the NES and early Sega consoles and how they handled the rendering of water and how that affects gameplay. Then moving onto early 3D consoles and how they handled early wave simulation on bodies of water and how they interacted with characters and reflections. The second part goes into more modern consoles and how software allows for a more accurate simulation without the artist needing to do as much work and that lets them to further tweak the simulation to create a more pleasing aesthetic.

Danny O’Dwyer, Jeremy Jayne, Noclip, “Why did Geoff Keighley Create the Game Awards?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=86kxaWva7yo

In speaking with the appreciation of video games and bringing them to a wider audience, This short documentary deconstructs the most prestigious video game awards show and it’s creator Geoff Keightley as to why he did it and why it exists. Wanting to create a sense of respect for the video game industry after he got to meet several video game developers at a show and that left an impression on him. His familiarity with show business allowed the idea to evolve into an award show that focused in on the audience that would actually care. Rather than trying to be a poor man’s imitation of the Oscars or Emmys. Inviting large names in the video game industry, like directors, musicians, actors and even esports athletes and content creators to present awards. Rather than getting Snoop Dog to read a script on stage that he does not care about. We have Ed Boon, the director of Mortal Kombat, presenting an award for the best Sports or racing game and then following it up with a surprise reveal of the next Mortal Kombat game on stage. Giving the people viewing what they want to see and giving a proper environment to let the games speak, rather than a shoe in celebrity appearance.

Danny O’Dwyer, Jeremy Jayne. Noclip . “The story of Digital Extremes / The rise of Warframe “ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UOE6528pwFc&list=PL-THgg8QnvU7Weo1mCM9H2AXljC7UrDm8&index=2

This is a two part documentary that outlines the story of a Canada based video game studio called Digital Extremes and their history leading up to the release of The game Warframe which has lead them down a path of great success and public praise. But only after a trail of tears and fear of the studio closing. I want to use this because it’s a wonderful underdog story that, I think, will give a new perspective to the kind of commitment that creators have to the artform. This goes over the history of the developer from the founders first few experiments in coding and game development to when they started working with another developer named “Epic Games” (of Fortnight fae and the developer of the “Unreal” game engine” to co develop the Unreal tournament games. Then following them as they moved away from Epic and became a middle man developer that other companies would hire to develop games for them. All the while trying to sell a concept for a game that they called “Dark Sector” to a publisher. They eventually did but the publishers were so unsure of the game’s sci-fi aesthetic and tone that they demanded that many aspects be changed to the point where it didn’t resemble the original concept anymore. After that experience, Digital Extremes decided that they wanted to try their luck in the “free to play” market and use the original ideas from the “Dark Sector” concept. The developers were short on cash and out of work but they stuck to what they thought would work and what they liked. And that evolved into the game “Warframe”. Now the developers are somewhat internet famous and run a yearly convention based around this one game that they are always updating with free new content.

Maximilian Dood. “Max’s Insane FFVII Remake Story (E3 2019)” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OalvWEJCZBA

This is a video journal of a popular video game streamer and his experience with a media only meeting at the Electronics Entertainment Expo 2019 that showed off the game to a very small group of people. Afterwards he talks about he met the creators of the game at the same event. Max is a massive fan of the game Final Fantasy 7. And has made several videos about how excited he was that the game was getting a remake. These videos became very popular and made their way back to the development staff. The staff told him this and how they used those videos in order to motivate the team when things got hard in development. I want to use this in order to illustrate how much these games mean to the people that play them and love them (like myself). These emotions don’t come from nothing and more people could benefit from seeing it. Using this video as an example of being open about your interests does more than validate you. But validates the work that went into the game and makes the creators so happy just knowing that what they did was appreciated.There is a massive issue of people that hide the fact that they play video games (like myself) because there is a social taboo to talk about them in a positive light. This is what can happen if you let your passion show. LANGUAGE WARNING

Thomas Morgan. Digital Foundry. “Luigi’s Mansion 3: Switch Tech Breakdown - A Playable CG Movie on Switch?” https://www.digitalfoundry.net/2019-11-05-luigis-mansion-3-switch-tech-breakdown-a-playable-cg-movie-on-switch

This video serves as a great culmination of everything that game developers need to do and the sacrifices that need to be made in order to make something look good in a digital space.The Nintendo Switch has very limited hardware power available to it but that does not reflect in what we see on screen. We see a game that could pass as an animated film from a highly respected studio like Pixar or Dreamworks combined with many different tricks that allow the world to feel real. Like physics simulation and dynamic lighting and shadows that all react to your inputs in real time. This is all broken down in several visual graphs that show the timing that each frame of the video appear and if there is a dip in the amount of unique frames that are pumped to the screen. Looking for these things, we can then find a pattern. Is there on particular process that may cause the framerate of the game to drop consistently? What could have been done to make sure the framerate did not dip? What methods were used to make the game look the way that it does? Does it come together well and is it aesthetically pleasing? What were the aims of the developers and did they achieve them? This is a wonderful critique of the final work that is achieved. Not only the looks of the game but also how well it works.

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