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remnant-roses · 3 years

Text

Rosegarden Week Day 4: After the War

A fic idea I had during the mid-season hiatus, but didn’t have time to write, but now it fits the prompt so...

I meant this to be a one-shot but it’s past 1 am and I need to sleeeep so now it’s a two-shot and I’ll post the second half Friday.

________________________

“I think I’m... done.”

He’d expected them to argue, to try and convince him to stay. But standing before them, his small frame battered, bloody, and broken, they averted their eyes. Even Ozpin remained quiet.

He’d kept their secrets, prevented Salem from using the relic, endured torment for their sakes. He’d suffered for them. He’d had to take lives for them. And it had shattered him. He felt hollow.

He just wanted to go home.

And they let him.

He allowed Ozpin to take over, to tell them the last things they’d need to know about the vaults, the relics, the war to save humanity.

And when the dust settled in Atlas, when the refugees poured out into the other kingdoms, he went with them, just one more body, lost among the masses.

He didn’t even tell them goodbye. But even through the numbness that gripped his soul, he felt a sting of regret when he thought of her face, silver eyes brimming with tears.

______________________

Just don’t... ever talk to me again. Just let me be normal. Please, he told Ozpin as he boarded the train that would take him back home.

There was no reply, but the guilt and sorrow that radiated off of that other inside of him was answer enough.

Ozpin would let him abdicate, even in the height of this conflict. Even when it looked like humanity was balanced on a knife’s edge.

Let this war pass him by. They could fight it without him. And if they couldn’t win, in time, the burden would roll on to his next incarnation. But Oscar... he’d given all he could. He didn’t have anything left.

______________________

He knocked on the farmhouse door, and felt like a stranger even on his own doorstep.

His aunt cried, off and on, for days after his return. First tears of relief, of joy, and then tears of worry and grief, and then of frustration and anger.

He understood. He wasn’t her son, but she had raised him, loved him, and he’d left her all alone here.

He told her what he could. Not everything, not even much. But enough to make her understand why he’d left - the voice in his head, the war for humanity. She’d seen the broadcast in that brief moment that global communications had been reestablished. She could grasp the basics - that he’d been caught up in a conflict for the fate of the world, and that it had chewed him up and spit him out. Left him broken.

He couldn’t bear to tell her any more, dreaded the inevitable probing questions, but then she surprised him.

She understood. She gave him space to think, to heal, in his own time.

And he loved her for it.

_________________________

It was seven weeks before his wounds closed fully.

The scar tissue pulled at his skin as he threw himself into the work of maintaining a farm, like a waking manifestation of the pain that still haunted his dreams and left him gasping for air when he woke.

He ignored it with a resolute determination, letting himself get lost in the monotony of tilling and plowing and tending livestock. It was backbreaking work, but he welcomed even the pain. It filled the empty hollows of his mind and left no room for reflection... or memories too painful to bear.

To think, he’d once resented the repetitive nature of work on the farm. He’d dreamed of adventure, of new and exciting vistas, of being important.

If only he’d known.

But at nights, he’d climb onto the roof of the barn and stare at the sky and think of a girl with eyes like moonlight, and wonder.

Was she still fighting? Was she even still alive?

Did I make the right choice?

__________________________

The seasons came and went, and war did not come to the fields of Mistral. Nothing of interest had ever happened here.

_________________________

It was 11 months since his return, when the CCT system came back online.

He hadn’t noticed right away. He’d been working in the fields, and there was no point in taking a Scroll out there when it had no signal.

But as he walked in the house that evening, he was greeted by the sound of tinny, faraway voices pouring out of his aunt’s living room, and then...

There she was, on the screen, her red cape and pale skin washed with blue in the light of the projection. Her hair was a little longer, her eyes a little sadder, but it was her.

She was saying something about the CCT, how exactly they’d managed to restore it, but the words wouldn’t process, they swam in his head until it was just noise. There was only one thought that mattered.

She’s alive.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Oscar,” his aunt was saying, “the world can talk to each other again...”

It was then she noticed the white-knuckled grip he had on the back of the sofa, and the tears streaming silently down his face.

He told her that night, told her everything. About RWBY and JNR, about the attack at Haven, about a drunk old crow, about crashed trains and snowstorms, about the fall of Atlas.

About the belly of a great black beast, and the torture he’d suffered at the hands of humanity’s greatest enemy. About the hollowness he’d felt when he left, and the crushing guilt that had slowly come to replace it.

She cried, and he cried, and she held him, and in the background, news reports played clips of familiar faces on repeat. Still out there, doing their best, without him.

There was one thing he left out - no need to tell his aunt about silver eyes and a kind smile, about how much it hurt to know that he’d left her behind, specifically.

That much, at least, was still his own.

He still watched the night sky, but now the questions he asked himself had changed.

Do they hate me for leaving?

________________________

He only heard from Ozpin twice in his time at the farm.

Once, about a month after the CCT was restored, when a Grimm had nearly gotten the drop on him.

Behind you, Oscar.

The voice was gone as quickly as it had come, without even an apology for breaking his pact of silence. But it had given him just enough time to see the Beowulf coming, to get his pitchfork up to block the jagged teeth as it lunged.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to dispatch it, even though it was merely a single beast, even though just 10 months before, he, or any one of his companions, could have killed it in mere seconds.

He was rusty.

And he was letting himself wallow, something every Remnant child was cautioned against. Hell, he’d probably drawn the Grimm in with his own guilt and self-pity.

He took up training again after that, practicing against hay bales and scarecrows in the early mornings before his daily duties began.

He wasn’t going to let himself be a beacon of despair. He wasn’t going to endanger his aunt, or himself, like that.

_______________________

It was a year and nine months after his return, the second time Ozpin spoke to him.

He was at the feed store, loading bags of dried corn into his aunt’s beat-up truck for the chickens, when Ozpin uttered a single word:

Oh.

And then he was gone.

Not gone in the way he’d been for the past two years, where Oscar had always been aware of a silent presence in the deepest corners of his mind. But fully, completely gone.

Oscar expected the sky to rip open, for people to scream, to cry, for something, anything, to look different. He pulled out his Scroll, checked the news. Nothing.

Something had happened. But life continued around him, unchanged. The clerk at the feed store gave him a funny look. He was blocking the loading bay.

He drove home in a daze, tears blurring his vision, and told his aunt to turn on the TV.

It took three hours for the news reports to start rolling in. Humanity’s greatest enemy, defeated. Faunus and human together, standing united. A mysterious silver light seen in a ruined continent to the west.

He and his aunt watched the footage in silence for hours, and he found himself searching for a red cape, for a mop of long blonde hair, any hint of what might have truly transpired.

When he climbed on the barn roof to watch the night sky that evening, his questions had changed once again.

They’d done it.

But what had become of them?

Of her?

(to be continued)

#rwby #rosegarden #rosegarden week 2021 #ruby #oscar #ruby rose #oscar pine #tomecko writes #i promise the second half will end on a happier note (she says while not done writing it)

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aotxfan · 3 years

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Her God (Eren)

Spoilers for season 4. Content warning for blood, mentions of violence, religious connotations, and mature themes.

Female pronouns used, but no name is specified. Can be read as a reader insert in the third person.

“A recruit? You’re assigning me a simple recruit?”

A lazy voice drifted from the side of the room and she resisted the urge to flinch. A figure was seated to the side with his back turned away and his head resting on his palm. Even facing the window, she could tell exactly who he was by the monotone drawl of his voice and the dark hair tied behind his head.

Her breath hitched at her throat in excitement. Eren Yeager.

The figure, Eren, spared her half a glance before turning his attention to her companion. His features were devoid of emotion and he drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

At her side, Floch made a sound at the back of his throat.

“She’s a recruit sure, but she graduated at the top of her squad. She’s a former Military Police member and a damn good one at that. I personally advocate for her talents and hand selected her for the job. Of course, if you would prefer someone else, I can find a new one.”

Seemingly uninterested with the entire conversation, Eren turned his head away. His gaze went for the window overlooking Paradis instead. Making a noncommittal sound, he shrugged.

“Whatever.”

A hand nudged her lightly and she met Floch’s eyes. Prodding her to introduce herself, she took a hesitant step forward.

The fact that she was here in front of him made her nervous, but she was determined to make a good first impression. Saving Eldia was her life’s mission, and serving Eren her life’s greatest wish.

Snapping to a salute, she introduced herself. Giving Eren her name, she clenched her fist at her chest. “Sir, it will be my owner to serve you and the Eldian Empire.”

“Honor, hm?” Eren didn’t even bother to glance back as he moved his hand in a shooing motion. “You can leave us, Floch. Tell the others outside not to bother me.”

Floch, subservient, bowed his head. Nodding to her and motioning for her to get closer to Eren, he closed the door on his way out.

Left alone with her hero, she paused and knew not what to say.

When Floch had come to her and asked her to become Eren’s personal body guard and servant, she had hardly believed her luck. Out of all the Eldian Empire loyalists, she was one of the best. Graduating at the top of her squadron and making a name for herself as an MP, she had been a simple choice. Floch trusted her and knew she was loyal to the cause as much as he was. He had selected her to personally serve Eren and had given her implicit orders to give him her life if it was needed of her.

Really, he hadn’t needed to order her to lay down her life. Since she was a child, she had been devoted to Eldia and Eren. Even before the island had learned about Marley and the truth of the Titans, she had been loyal.

Her parents had died in 845 when the Colossal Titan had destroyed the wall. She had been forced to take shelter in Wall Rose and live with a distant relative working in the farms in order to keep her place as a refugee following the government’s decree of refugees making themselves useful. However, once she had turned 15, her relative had passed and she had lost everything once more. She had been left an orphan with no family or friends to turn to wandering around the refugee encampments with nothing but the hunger in her stomach and the hatred for the Titans in her heart for company. After that, she had enlisted in the military to make a name for herself and do something productive with her life.

By then, the island had learned of Marley. The year she enlisted and entered training, what was left of the Survey Corp had ventured past the walls and seen what was behind them. By the time she had graduated and joined the MPs to serve under Queen Historia, Paradis had declared war on Marley.

Throughout her entire time as a soldier, she had been surrounded by tales of Eren’s exploits and his mission to restore Eldia. She had learned to see him as a savior and the Eldian Empire’s only hope of beating Marley. Utterly devoted to him and loyal to the Eldian blood that ran through her veins, she didn’t need Floch to order her to give up her life. She would gladly give it even if it were just for one of Eren’s whims.

“Are you still here?”

Eren’s voice shocked her out of her reverie. By now, he had turned around and shoved his hands in his pockets. Wandering around her like a predator stalking its prey, he took the sight of her in.

Feeling like she was being taken apart by his steely gaze, she raised her head up high. “Sir, I will follow you from now on. Whatever you need, I will provide it.”

“Anything I want?” He yawned into his hand, “And if I ordered you to leave? Told you not to bother me, would you?”

She blinked.

“If you would like me to leave, I will be right outside the door. Just call me in when you need me.”

She moved to take a step but he intercepted her. Blocking her path to the door, he shoved his hands back in his pocket.

“You are obedient,” he continued to pace around her and his eyes narrowed, “What else can you do for me?”

She bit the inside of her cheek and resisted the urge to look away. She felt exposed, stripped bare, and she could only hope that-whatever he was looking for in her-he would find.

“If I told you to kill, would you? By now you know that our true enemies are people, not titans. Surely that gives you some pause.”

She shook her head. “Not at all, sir. I’ve killed before. I helped plan the bomb that killed the Premier and allowed you to escape. I helped kill the other soldiers guarding you. I can handle getting my hands bloody. If you need me to become an assassin for you, you need only say the word.”

Something that sounded like amusement left the back of his throat. By now, his eyes had taken a light of intrigue. She felt her face warming and she hoped her blush wasn’t too apparent.

“And if I asked you to die for me? Gave you a knife here and now and told you to slit your throat, would you?”

He reached for the inside of his coat and pulled out a sharp dagger. Giving it to her hilt first, he raised an eyebrow.

A test, and one she would not refuse.

Without any hesitation, she took it and held it up to her throat. To show him she wasn’t lying about her loyalty, she allowed the tip to pierce skin. A thin line of blood ran down the front of her neck and his eyes followed it.

“Give the word and I will stain the floor with my blood.”

A prickle of fear registered somewhere at the back of her head, but she shoved it away. To give her life for Eldia and Eren would be an honor. She could think of no better way to die.

As a child, she had heard of Eren Yeager. The boy from Wall Maria that could turn into a titan and had become Paradis’ hope of beating the titans. She had followed stories of him carefully and had sought out as much about him as possible. Over time, she had grown to revere the man before her. To her, she was his god.

Eldia’s survival rested on his shoulders and her life was in his hands. Were he to give the order, she would gladly jerk the blade deep into her jugular and paint the tiles red. Her life was nothing compared to his. To die by his word would be a beautiful thing.

The knife was plucked out of her grasp after another moment and his finger wiped at the blood there. She tried not to shiver as she felt his freezing touch.

He stared at the tip of his finger dyed red for a moment before raising it to his lips. Licking his finger clean, he turned to her.

“My, so you are an obedient little thing. Perhaps I’ll keep you around,” he stepped closer to her and lifted her chin with his fingers, “You are rather beautiful too. Floch certainly knew what he was doing when he hand selected you. I think I’ll have fun with you.”

A blush spread across her face as their eyes met. She bit her tongue knowing not how to respond. There was a strange look in his green eyes that sent alarm bells at the back of her head along with a strange excitement. She shivered lightly as the fingers at her chin moved to her mouth.

His thumb traced her bottom lip and his eyes looked directly at hers.

“I do wonder what it is that makes you so desperate to please me. Are you a patriot? A fellow Eldian wanting to see Eldia’s restoration?” He let go of her face then and turned away almost bored. “While admirable, a patriot can easily turn coats when desperation strikes. You did desert the military after all. If you just want to serve me because you want to see the Empire restored, I’ll have to see just how far that patriotism runs.”

She blinked and opened her mouth. Without thinking she blurted out, “It’s not just Eldia-”

She cut herself off then just as Eren had crossed his arms behind his back and turned away uninterested.

Embarrassment at her outburst filled her and her face turned red. She hadn’t meant to yell at him, but the thought of him questioning her loyalty was painful. All those years she had revered him, yet he was doubting her dedication-

“Oh?”

Her outburst seemed to have surprised him. As he turned back to examine her, she thought she caught a glimmer of amusement in his green eyes before it was gone and replaced with neutrality.

Leaning against the table, he crossed his arms in front of himself now.

“Not just Eldia you want to serve? Then what else brings you here?”

She swallowed and met his gaze directly. Allowing the fire in her to burn bright in her eyes, she took a half step forward.

“I want to serve you. It’s an honor to be here after everything you’ve done. You’re a hero to us all,” she lowered her head then humbly, “Please allow me to serve you.”

The room was quiet for a few moments. She waited patiently for his response and hoped her words had gotten through to him. She was his until death and would do anything to prove her dedication.

“A hero. I’ve been called a suicidal maniac, a monster, and a usurper, but very few still call me a hero. Is that how you see me? A hero?”

She raised her head then and that same fire burned bright in her again. She wished she could bare her heart and show him just how much it yearned for him. If only she could show him just how much she worshiped him.

He was more than just a hero.

All those years that she had scraped by, starving and terrified, it was only the stories of his success that had kept her going. She had learned to see him as a hopeful beacon, had repeated to herself his story to draw strength, and had pledged herself to him before she had even met him.

He was the sole reason she had enlisted. She had wanted to meet him and saw the military as her only option. When she had graduated, she had thought about joining the Scouts to make sure they would be in the same rank, but the other Yeagerists had suggested the MPs instead. They needed their number in every branch, and she had been one of the few invited to the MPs.

He was more than just a hero to her. He was her hope, her reason to survive, her reason to push forward, her heart, her god-

“You are the only hope Eldia has. No one can beat your power and no can stand in your way. You’re greater than men and more powerful than an entire battalion. You’re a god in human flesh,” she met his gaze evenly.

Another flicker of amusement in his green eyes and he was raising an eyebrow.

“A god? Now that’s a new one. I’ve never been called a god before.”

He kicked off the table and walked towards her. His fingers moved to her throat and he wiped at the blood there. The cut had not stopped bleeding and his touch stung just slightly.

Once more, he raised his bloody hands to his mouth and licked them clean. His eyes met hers directly and excitement pooled at her stomach as his tongue traced his hand.

“Are you a cultist then? One of those former Wall worshippers?” He didn’t wait for her response. His fingers began to trace her neck and she shivered as she felt his breath get closer to her. “Not that I mind, I think being worshipped as a god will be fun.”

Before she knew what was happening, he was yanking hard on her hair. Her mouth opened in pain just in time for him to slam their lips together.

She froze in utter surprise as he kissed her then winced in pain when he bit down on her bottom lip hard. Blood filled her mouth, but she refused to move away. She had meant what she said before, she was his to do whatever he wanted with even if it was to hurt her.

He drew back after a bit and his mouth was red with her blood. Chuckling, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a dark look in his eyes that resembled lust and she shivered at her own arousal.

“I think I’ll have fun with you. To be worshipped as a god will be a new experience.”

His hands suddenly pushed down hard on her shoulders. He lowered her into a kneeling position and moved closer. His hips were now eye level and his hands moved to the buckle of his pants.

She flushed brightly and her mouth watered as he grabbed the back of her head and brought her closer.

“Well then, if I am your god, then get on your knees and pray.”

#posted on mobile so formatting might be off #eren yeager x reader #aot x reader #eren jaegar x reader #attack on titan #writing

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wanderingalonelypath · 5 years

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Inquisitor as companion: Lyanna Rivens

(listen, this is a cool thing and I need to develop my newest oc, okAY)

Name: Lyanna Elleanor Rivens

Alternate name(s): Lya (to her friends)

Race/Class/Specialization: Human/Mage/Force Mage

Varric's nickname for them: Sunny (for her normally cheerful disposition, save when she’s talking about Templars or the Chantry)

Default tarot card: Lyanna in her travel outfit (in the picture above) in a hooded cloak, her staff gripped in both hands before her, orange rings pulsing out from the top. A tower stands behind her, with a giant crack through the middle, to the point where it looks as if the top is about to slide off. The sky is dark.

How they are recruited: In Redcliffe, upon exiting the Chantry after talking to Dorian, or standing around outside the Chantry if not doing In Hushed Whispers, the Inquisitor is approached by Lyanna. She questions if they are the Inquisitor/Herald, and if they're really trying to restore order. She offers to join them, as she is a talented apostate and wants to help stop all the death. The Inquisitor can ask why she doesn't want to stay with the other apostates in Redcliffe and she replies. "I've sat in a Circle my whole life. Now that I'm finally out, you think I wanna just sit around in a random village?"

Where they are in Haven/Skyhold: In Haven, in the tavern, standing between the bar and the fireplace. In Skyhold, in the garden near the gazebo.

Things they generally approve of: Supporting mages, respecting other traditions, being curious about magic, helping refugees and minorities.

Things they generally disapprove of: Supporting Templars, supporting the Chantry, being needlessly rude, dismissing any of the companions

Specific approval points:

Choosing Mage knowledge dialogue options-slightly approves

While being named Inquisitor:

Doing it for themselves-no approval

Doing it as a mage-approves

Doing it as an elf/dwarf/qunari-slightly approves

Doing it to defeat Corypheus-slightly approves

Doing it for Andraste-disapproves

Mage, Templar, or other?:

MAGE! Greatly approves of allying with the mages, greatly disapproves of conscripting the mages and allying with the Templars, disapproves of conscripting the Templars.

Romanceable?: Yes, by all genders and races except male humans.

Romance side-quest:

Hidden knowledge: Upon finding the dusty library nook near the kitchens, a dialogue option to bring it up to Lyanna will appear in conversation. Previous conversations with her will reveal her love of learning, and how the vast library was the only thing she missed about the Circle. The Inquisitor can ‘give’ her this room and a cutscene will play when they take her there. She expressed that no one had ever gotten her so thoughtful a gift before. That no one has ever cared about her this much before. She’ll be excited and thanks them with a kiss, and the scene fades out on the Inquisitor pushing her up against the shelves. Lyanna can now be found standing in the little library or browsing the shelves.

Kiss scene: In the empty storeroom (technically the Eluvian room) camera pans to see Lyanna and Inquisitor, Lyanna’s hands on their neck and the Inquisitors on her waist.

Romance related dialogue:

I: I wanted to talk about us.

Lya: Oh? Us?

I: I wanted to steal a kiss.

Lya: (chuckles) C'mon then.

I: Have you thought about what might happen after...all this? (Only after the completion of Here Lies the Abyss and Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts)

Lya: With us? I suppose.....well. You're the Inquisitor. That depends on you.

I: I just want to stay with you.

Lya: Really? I...want that too.

I: Just me? There are two people in this relationship, you know.

Lya: True. But only one of us is going to save the world. Who knows what will be different then?

I: You're assuming we'll live through this.

Lya: Don't go getting morbid. I don't want to think about that.

If not romanced, do they get with anyone else?: If the Inquisitor doesn't romance Lyanna, she will eventually strike up a romance with Scout Harding. The romance will trigger with either Dorian, Sera, or Bull mentioning it in party banter.

Dorian: My, my Lyanna. You're awfully cheerful today.

Lya: Am I?

Dorian: It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with an adorable scout we met up with at camp, would it?

Lya: (chuckles) It might.

Sera: So....like the widdle dwarves do you?

Lya: Sorry?

Sera: I get it. All curves and woof.

Lya:...uh-huh.

Bull: So you and Harding, huh?

Lya: What about us?

Bull: Good on ya. Redheads, yeah?

Romance tarot card: The background is light green. Lyanna stands, hood down, staff in hand but pointed at the ground. Her other hand holds a red flower. Her hair is down, blowing in the wind, and you can faintly see a castle that looks like Skyhold in the background.

Companion quest:

Ghosts reaching: Once the Inquisitor has high enough approval with her, the cutscene will take them to a corner of the garden that's unoccupied. Lyanna paces a bit, before stuttering over her words. She asks the Inquisitor if they trust her. No matter what they reply (yes gets approval, no gets disapproval) she explains that she has been trying to track down someone from her past, someone she needs to get revenge on. The Inquisitor can press her for details, but she'll be evasive, before asking if the Inquisitor will come with her to the cave she tracked him to. She is locked in as one of the companions. The cave is in the Hinterlands, near Master Dennet's farm. As soon as they enter the cave, they must fight through groups of low-level Templars until they reach the very back of the cave. This triggers a cutscene where they approach Templar with his back to them, looking around as if he lost something.

Templar: The song. It left me. Why did it leave? Why would you leave me?

The Templar turns at their approach, and you can see the effects of red lyrium in his eyes and around his breastplate.

Templar: Do you know where it went?

Cole (if in the party): Hungry, grasping, reaching. It hollowed him out.

Lyanna strides forward, stopping just in front of the Templar with an angry snarl on her face.

Lya: Albert. (said viciously)

Albert: (looking at her with a surprised face) Flower! My lily flower! (He reaches toward her, and she takes a step back, flinching) You’ll help me, won’t you?

Lya: Help you?! Why would I help you?! After everything you’ve done?!

Albert: (puts his face in his hands, shaking his head) I need it, I need it, I need it.

The Inquisitor has three options of dialogue:

I: What exactly did he do?

Lya: What Templars always do. He used his power and status to abuse mages and never got punished for it, the least I can do is see him dead for it.

I: I...don’t think he’s all there.

Lya: (disgusted scoff) Of course not. Why should he have to face the consequences of his actions when he could just dose up on red lyrium? Better to put him out of both of our miseries.

I: The red lyrium has him.

Lya: Why am I not surprised? Now he can’t even beg me for his life. Not that it would make a difference.

At the end of all of these dialogue options, Lyanna takes out a knife as Albert falls to his knees, she walks until she’s holding the knife to his throat. The Inquisitor is given the choice to let her kill him, netting a Greatly Approves, or intervene, stating that the red lyrium has already driven him mad, so there’s no point, which nets a disapproves.

If allowed to kill Albert, Lyanna stares at his body on the ground for a moment, before turning silently and exiting the scene. If the Inquisitor stops her, she stares down at him for a moment, before letting out a frustrated yell and throwing the knife, storming out of the scene.

The Inquisitor can later find her in her spot at Skyhold, reading a book and ignoring the Inquisitor until they say, “About that templar...”

Lyanna sighs and closes the book, moving until she faces them. “He was a templar at my Circle, awful and corrupt as all the others. He abused mages, tormented them with the threat of Tranquility, used it to blackmail their silence.

(If allowed to kill him) He deserved to die. He deserved worse, but thank you for letting me kill him.

(If not allowed to kill him) He deserved to die, but...You were right. He was gone on red lyrium. At least I know he won’t hurt anyone else.”

Inquisitor has three dialogue options.

I: Are you alright?

Lya: Not really, but I’m...better than before.

I: I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so angry.

Lya: (bitter chuckle) Templars will do that to me, I’m afraid.

I: Are there any more Templars in your past that I need to worry about you hunting down?

Lya: No. All the others are either dead or I have no idea where they are. And...if I’m going to move on from what happened to me, I need to put the past behind me.

If the Inquisitor has high approval with Lyanna, a fourth special dialogue is unlocked.

I: I heard what he did, but that seemed...personal.

Lya:...it was. I was his ‘favorite’. He used to call me his lily flower, watch me closely whenever I was near him. It wasn’t that bad at first until he tried to kiss me. I pushed him away, and then he started to get violent. Beating me for the smallest of infractions, threatening to make me Tranquil if I didn’t do what he said. He...snuck in my rooms at night. He was a Templar. There was nothing I could do.

At the end of all these dialogue options, you net a Greatly Approves.

Lya: Thanks for coming with me. I’m glad I had someone else there.

Companion side quests:

The Corrupt and the Wicked: Groups of rogue Templars are holding mages and Tranquil hostage. Hunt them down, kill them, and free the prisoners. Each instance nets-Approves.

Tarot card after companion quest: Lya now stands in front of Skyhold, hood down, staff straight but in one hand. Her other holds a broken chain, symbolizing her leaving her past in the Circle behind her.

Lyanna’s comment on the Inquisitor’s specialization:

Rift Mage: You’re learning to use rift energy in your magic? That’s...fascinating, actually. Do be careful, though. We don’t need another Breach for you to close.

Templar: (disapproves) Really? You want to be a Templar? Should I look over my shoulder for you to smite me as well then? I’m sure you can find some of their armor around here, though.

Tempest: So you use potions to cover yourself in the elements? Do you use a different potion to protect yourself from the others’ effects? Or is it something in the formula that keeps you from getting hurt? Good on you, though. Looks useful.

Assassin: Training as an assassin? Well, at least you have something to fall back on after the Inquisition. I hope you never get a contract for me. (jokingly) I’d at least make you work for it.

Relationships with other characters:

Cassandra: Wary acquaintances. For all Cassandra claims to not be a Templar, she still acts like one and answers to the Chantry. They get into light bickering over mages and the Chantry, but they're not hostile. More comrades in arms than friends. If slated to become Divine, Lyanna expresses reluctance and a slight fear for the future.

Varric: Friends. Bond over being from the Free Marches. He asks her about her background before she got taken to the Circle. She tells him about how her parents were farmers near Ansburg and she was taken away at the age of 8. She asks him to tell her stories sometimes.

Solas: Close friends. They chat over magic and the Fade, she is particularly curious about his dream walking and relationships with spirits. They often chat about magical theory and how to reform how the world sees mages.

Sera: Friends-adjacent. Aren't antagonistic, but their views on mages don't line up. Sometimes bicker about magic. Also, joke around, so it's evenly balanced.

Vivienne: Decidedly not friends. Any bonding over magic or circle life is immediately canceled out by Vivienne refusing to acknowledge her privilege in the Circles. They bicker incessantly over the condition of the Circles and the future of mages. If asked about Vivienne in private dialogue she will admit her dislike of the woman but will comment that she respects her skill with magic and talents in court. If slated to become Divine, Lyanna expresses fear, and later at the celebratory feast, asks if the Inquisition would be turning its mages over to the Circles after Vivienne reinstates them. If the Inquisitor indicates that they will, she replies, “I see. Enjoy the party, Inquisitor.” It is later discovered that Lyanna fled Skyhold that night, with no one knowing where she was headed. If approval with her is low enough, she will leave after the feast regardless if the Inquisitor intends to protect the mages under their care or not. If this happens, she will not appear in Trespasser.

Iron Bull: They get along but they're not close (ironic because he's her romance interest as Inquisitor). He has an easy-going attitude that she didn't expect, but is still leery of him because of what little she knows of the Qun. Still, she questions him about it often because it intrigues her.

Dorian: Fast friends once they get past the whole Tevinter hurdle, which happens quicker than you'd think. She knows a thing or two about being judged by what you are, not who you are. They chat often about magic, Tevinter, Ansburg, the Circles, you name it. Often joke about.

Blackwall: Acquaintances. They don’t have much in common. She asks him about Grey Wardens sometimes, and he comments on her magic a bit, to compliment how neatly cast her spells are.

Cole: Leery of him at first, but takes a liking to him once she understands him. Often asks him about what it's like to be a spirit, and takes him digging in her head better than most.

Cole’s reading on them: “You were left, wandering, afraid, but so achingly free. The sky reaches for a thousand leagues and even though the world hunts you, the chains are finally falling away.”

Cullen: Dislikes him on principle, and never grows close enough to him for that to change. Doesn't expect him to smite her and stab her in the back, which is as good as it's going to get between her and a former Templar.

Josephine: Respects her abilities with the nobles, but doesn't particularly care for politics. Calls her pretty in passing, but never tries to get closer to her.

Leliana: Slightly terrified of her, and respects her quite a bit, both for her abilities and her opinions on mages. If she is slated to become Divine, Lyanna hesitantly shows hope for her future.

Ambient dialogue:

Searching items: Something's nearby.

High dragon sighting: Holy shit!

Low health:

Dammit, lucky shot!

How many are there?!

Inquisitor falls in battle:

Help the Inquisitor!

Inquisitor!

Greetings/goodbye's:

Low approval:

Hm?

What?

(farewell) Mhmm.

Medium/neutral approval:

Yes?

Need something?

(farewell) Later, then.

High approval:

(happily) Inquisitor!

Hey there!

(farewell) See you soon!

Romanced:

Darling?

Yes, love?

(farewell) I do love watching you walk away.

The Fade:

How they react: “Shit, are we actually...? (She looks around) Shit.”

Their tombstone: Obedience

What the Fears look like to them: Wolves. When she first left her Circle after it fell, the group she was traveling with was attacked by wolves the first night they made camp. The wolves killed two of the mages with them. They are a reminder that this world she struggled so hard to be free in may end up killing her after all.

What Nightmare says to them: “Ah, the little bird has escaped her cage, but for how long? Still, you stay surrounded by Templars in your little Inquisition. They will fail, and they will turn on you and drag you back to the Circle, and just like before, no one will be there to hear you scream.”

How they respond: “Fuck off, demon.”

Reflections about the Fade at Skyhold (if they went): “That was....terrifying. And exhilarating. But mostly terrifying. Let’s maybe...not do that again?”

Reflections about the Fade if they didn't go: “You went physically into the Fade? Again? That’s...wow. Are you okay?”

Hawke or Warden: No approval loss or gain either way, but makes a comment later while talking to the Inquisitor about how it must have been a difficult choice, choosing between who lives and who dies.

The Warden's: “As far as we know, they’re the only ones who can stop Blights. Definitely a bad idea to just get rid of them.”

Exile or allies: Approves if made allies, Disapproves if banished.

The Ball: “This is...certainly something. You can almost see all the lies and half-truths falling out of their little masks. I almost wish I had one.”

I: Enjoying the party?

Lya: Well enough. I’m a bit scared to talk to anyone. I’m out of my depth here, and these people know what I am. I think I’ll just stick here and watch. It’s entertaining enough.

I: You like the masks?

Lya: They make everything a bit more...dramatic, don’t they? Orlesians love that sort of stuff.

I: Seen anything I should know about?

Lya: Plenty of subtle threats and people sneaking off for a rendezvous, but nothing about our other problem. I’ll keep a lookout, though.

I: Care for a dance?

Lya: Really? I’ve never properly learned but...yeah. I’d love to. Maybe not on the dancefloor though. I’d rather step on your toes in private.

How they are announced: Apostate Lyanna, formerly of the Ansburg Circle of Magi.

How they respond: “Well, glad we could get the apostate thing out of the way, then.”

Where they linger: Bottom right corner of the ballroom, near one of the big statues. She can be found leaning back against the wall, just watching.

Are they good at the Game?: No. She has no experience in anything resembling the Game. She mostly keeps to herself and doesn’t talk to anyone, out of fear of screwing up something for the Inquisition.

What people say about them:

“The Inquisitor brought an apostate to court, did you see?

“I wonder if she is one of the rebels?”

“Don’t turn your back on that one.”

Gaspard, Briala, or Celene?: Prefers Celene reunited with Briala; greatly approves. Approves of Celene alone. Disapproves of Gaspard alone. Slightly disapproves of Gaspard with Briala controlling him.

Temple of Mythal: “An ancient elven temple? Will the wonders never cease with the Inquisition? Next, you’ll show me a baby griffon.”

Rituals or hole?: Approves of doing the rituals out of respect for the elves. No approval gain or loss for jumping through the hole, as they are in the middle of a battle.

Morrigan or Inquisitor for the Well?: Approves the Inquisitor drinking from the well, disapproves of Morrigan drinking because none of them really know/trust her.

Comments on Inquisitor's LI:

Cassandra: “Taking up with Seeker Cassandra I hear? I thought she had a soft heart under all those scoffs.”

Cullen: “Didn’t think you were the type for big, burly templars, Inquisitor, but if you’re happy...”

Iron Bull: “You and Bull? Is he...you know what, never mind, don’t answer that.”

Dorian: “Dorian’s a lot happier these days. You two are good together.”

Sera: “You’re with Sera? I...have to admit, I didn’t see that coming. But, if she makes you happy, then good for you.”

Josephine: “I’ve heard whispers about you and Ambassador Josephine. She’s quite pretty. I hope you two are happy together.”

Blackwall: “You know Dorian told me the most fascinating rumor about ‘Warden stamina’ the other day. Care to comment?”

Solas: “I’m happy for you and Solas, Inquisitor. The two of you are awfully sweet together.”

Companions comments on romancing the Inquisitor:

Dorian: “My dear Lyanna, I’ve heard the most interesting whispers about you and our dear leader...”

Lya: “Which, the ones where I run a secret mage underground with their help or the ones where they help me slaughter templars?”

Dorian: “The ones where you two are together, but I must admit I’m more curious about the other rumors.”

Solas: “You two seem to make each other quite happy.”

Lya: “I suppose we do.”

Solas: “Good. It is heartening to see people find such happiness in the midst of war.”

Varric: “Sunny, you have to give me something.”

Lya: “Varric.”

Varric: “At least tell me how it happened! Were you poring over texts about magic? Taking a late night stroll through the garden? Did they walk you back to your rooms after you had a bit too much to drink?”

Lya: “I’m sure whatever you come up with is more exciting and dramatic than how it actually happened, so I’ll leave you to it.”

Vivienne: “Surely, you must see how...unwise it is to fall into a relationship with the Inquisitor, my dear?”

Lya: (sighs) “Oh?”

Vivienne: “Once the Circles are reinstated, you will be parted any way. Better to end things now to avoid a breaking later.”

Lya: “I will not allow anything to take them from me, Lady Vivienne, nor will I allow anyone to take me from them. Keep that in mind.”

Trespasser:

If Bull betrays the party: “He fought with us for so long...we were his friends. How could he do this?”

Relationship status (if Inquisitor romanced): Able to marry. The Inquisitor brings it up in conversation, she will think of their future fondly but doesn’t think the Inquisitor is being serious. The Inquisitor will get a dialogue option to ask her to marry them, and she’ll say yes.

Relationship status (if Inquisitor did not romance them): The Inquisitor can ask how things between her and Scout Harding are. She says they are really good, and admits that Lace recently asked Lyanna to marry her. They decided to wait until after the Exalted Council to make it official, though.

#my oc #inquisitor as companion #dragon age oc #dragon age inquisition oc #dragon age inquisition #pro mage oc #anti templar oc #anti chantry oc

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endeavorsreward · 7 years

Text

Meanwhile, in Eorzea...

[I’d never gotten around to doing this, so I’m going to do it now.]

I’d oft taken to flying through the broken islands of Azyz Lla to clear my head. Since the war ended, it’s very quiet in the skies; the dragons tend to their homes, make plans for peace, even as men marshall for a new war to the east. It would be my last time seeing it for at least a year, though, because I was being sent across the ocean instead.

It was the stuff of bad comedy; to go all the way to Othard to win a war at home. But it was rare that I found myself the arbiter of my own destiny anymore... since killing the Count, everything I’d done was at the whim of someone else.

Knew you that Lolorito Nanarito had a distant cousin? I could not tell you if the Monetarist viewed this relation as a threat or an embarrassment, only that he’d been packed up and shipped off to a small island a few days sail from Vylbrand. It was the island where I and my sister Dorothea had grown up.

Our home was generally a peaceful one; we lived off fishing and trade,and the most we ever had to fear - post Calamity - were pirates. Gods, we hated pirates. My sister was fearsome, athletic, ferociously-kind. I was none of these things. I’d buried my nose in books all my life, with disdain for the less learned. I’d even begun to learn the Arcanist’s art, when I found patronage in form of our community’s richest and arguably most powerful man, a lalafel who styled himself “Count Maximas.” Spelled correctly, there, mind.

Ah, I see you already connecting the threads, but do let me tell the tale at my own pace.

The Count quite eagerly encouraged my interest in the art. Wisely, he concentrated most on my own blind, hungry search for knowledge, but he also plied my ego with the thought of being able to protect my family from the rare but terrifying raids conducted by pirates who (as I’d later learn) were contending with a dying culture, as the Admiral began knitting the majority of them into something approaching an actual society.

What know you of the arcane? The act of using arithmeticks to inscribe geometric forms that trap pure aether; binding it to a gemstone to form a familiar that we often call “Carbuncle.” The Count was a practitioner himself, or at least his studies were focused in that direction, and it was many of his texts that I studied from in my attic on long summer days and nights. Some texts dating back so far as the Fifth Astral Era, dark tomes that should have stayed buried. I was a lad, full of unearned confidence and naivety about our own history, and so when he wished to engage in a ritual once used to trap voidsent, hoping to use a modified form to increase the aether yield, to make a more powerful familiar, I agreed.

I know not his reasoning, and I never shall. It is possible that he wanted to make a bid for power, to spite the cousin who sent him away and take control of his family’s assets. I suspect, but cannot prove, that it was actually Lord Lolorito who had wanted the experiment performed. All who have passed through Ul’dah know of the Bloody Banquet, and thus of Teledji Adeledji’s designs upon the power buried beneath Carteneau, a power since woken by the Scions to battle the Primal that appeared over Baelsar’s Wall. It is all too probable that when Lolorito first learned of Teledji’s designs upon the Allagan technology, he looked for something to combat this power, and “encouraged” his errant fool of a relation. How else would the Count have acquired such texts? A successful result, an aetheric familiar with the power of a voidsent, or even a Primal, would have given Lolorito a weapon.

But we shall never know. Because I was tricked; because Count Maximas used as the source of additional aether my own sister. The ritual was a success of a sort; a familiar of uncommon strength was formed, but at a cost that I could never predict - though he certainly did.

Dorothea’s soul is bound to the crystal of my Emerald Carbuncle, my constant companion. She is still in there; I can feel her warmth, sense her intelligence, in every interaction that I have with the creature. One half of my heart, fated to walk beside me in a form perverted.

You, hearing this tale: Yes, I murdered the Count in his own home, with my bare hands. There was to be no explanation to my family, my home; what could one say? What could one believe? And the Count’s wealth and status, his connections to the mainland, he had kept our town together in the post-Calamity world. I may well have doomed them all, as he doomed us. And so, arcanist’s tome in hand, I left that island on a boat for Limsa Lominsa, alive only to honor my vow: to do enough good to clean my hands of the town I’d destroyed in my hate, and to see my sister freed... or freed.

Limsa Lominsa, a town of pirates. And now I was little better. And soon, I learned, worse. The warmth and open arms I found at Summerford Farms caused a change in me, to see these honest men and women work for a better life. How I’d wasted mine! How I’d done naught by destroy those I loved!

I have served as a proud lieutenant of the Maelstrom for a year’s time or more now. And it is in service to the Admiral, and in service to the Eorzean Alliance, that I head to Othard, to Doma. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn head to liberate Doma, and while I am not amongst their number (though after an ale or two I’m liable to tell any women in earshot that some say I’ve an identical countenance to the Warrior of Light), the Admiral had a small complement placed on Carvallain’s ship to operate in secret. To aid where it was possible, gather information where it was possible, and reform the naval ties with Kugane, the land of outsiders.

I do not lead this unit; I operate best alone - or rather, in a pair: for Dorothea as always travels with me. But I serve at the Admiral’s behest Until Sea Swallows All. And I have my own reasons for aiding the endeavor. For Doma’s liberation is meant to draw forces from Ala Mhigo, and I’ve particular interest in seeing the place freed.

For Ala Mhigo is yet my only lead.

Two Starlights past, I was at my second lowest point. For you could find me then in Little Ala Mhigo, sitting by a fire, dressed as the Saint, with a heavy welt over my eye and up to my eyes in self-pity.

I don’t know if a trick was played upon me, or if it was truly a noble gesture ill-considered. I was aiding people in Ul’Dah, and chosen to distribute some gifts to the orphan refugees of Little Ala Mhigo, the first time I’d ever been. Some former members of the resistance, however, felt I was mocking their plight, their dire straits, having come in regalia and shouting blessings for the holiday. I was ignorant of Ala Mhigo’s struggles - as I said, I’d studied little of history, pursuing instead what I’d thought higher arts. In my humility, I attempted to make right by helping where I could, and found much of Summerford Farms in those honest men and women who dreamed of the home they’d lost. It became, after a long time, my second home, and though I was rarely welcomed, I was eventually accepted for a fashion.

Which was how I learned about the Corpse Brigade, and how their raid on a simple caravan of medical supplies came to curse me, for also in that wagon was a text I’d ordered, after much and many struggles and too much correspondence and a few fraught personal visits, from a previously-restricted collection in the vaults of the St. Endalim Scholasticate in Ishgard. And it was claimed, with everything else, by the Corpse Brigade leader Milleuda Folles. The Slitter herself.

I raided the Sepulchre, their cavern hideout, all but single-handedly. And many were made Corpses for true that day, but Milleuda escaped, and she had the text in hand. It was the closest thing to a lead I had, that book, on possible rituals that might restore Dorothea - or at the least, separate her from the gem. But she fled with it, and nobody knew to where she’d vanished.

Or rather, everyone knows - to a place that nobody could reach. The Kingsguard, the Kingslayer, had gone home. The Wall had been breached, and war declared, and Milleuda had returned to Ala Mhigo.

And so I must follow. I will find that book. And if it takes freeing two nations, if it takes traveling to the other side of the world, than I will sail where the sea takes me. For every Garlean that falls in Othard means another inch towards my reunion with The Slitter, and the chance at liberation not only for Ala Mhigo, but for Dorothea.

We set sail on the morrow.

#FFXIV

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greyhawk5e · 6 years

Text

5e Greyhawk 2nd Level Adventure

DUNGEONS & DRAGONS

Housecleaning

A Second Level World of Greyhawk Adventure for D&D Fifth Edition

New NPCS

Sir Kedwyn Waters, Kensa's brother, young, confident, impatient

Wynna the Squire, Serious, ambitious, anxious to prove herself

Segrius, Newly Free Wizard, cocky, happy to be free of his former master

Hedec, No-nonsense provisioner, proud of his work, won't budge on price

Faedra, Sad, ashamed young wizard, can't believe what a fool she was

Amon, Suspicious, small minded townie, full of fear

Sister Gwenna, Impatient, Brash, Cleric of Tritherion, quick to act

Brod, Even keeled businessman, family first, wants to avoid violence

Mavis, Strong mother and wife, supports Brod but has equal say

Lillen, Young dutiful daughter, funny in a dry way

Belus, Wide eyed kid who can't wait to see the world, sick of Moonglade

Mahone, Murderous gleeful Redcap, hell bent on killing humans as revenge

Brigid, Duty-minded Sprite, appalled by inustice, ready to fight

Read to the players:

“It is Godsday, the 5th of Harvester, the year 597. It's been three days since Cardyn's Cove was held hostage by the evil Father Zoreg and retreating forces of the Empire of Iuz.

Father Goren is getting the Church of St. Cuthbert ready for the funeral of your former employer Cidan of Hardby.

Young Kensa Waters has told that you a wizard of her late father's aquaintance will attend the funeral. He can examine the magic box that Father Zoreg guarded with his life, and perhaps find a buyer for its contents. In the meantime, she has invited all of you to her father's wake at Lakeside Manor, her family estate. It is tonight.”

Lakeside Manor is modest, for the mansion of a wealthy trader. Still, it is the most impressive home in Cardyn's Cove.

Cidan lies in a closed casket in the living room and the town's leading lights have come to pay their respects. Ygraine and her partner play a tasteful medly of songs. Father Goren blesses the body, his wife and son in their Godsday best. Lionas the Reeve greets everyone at the door. Kensa tries not to cry in the receiving line. The Waters' butler Ollant serves drinks and crab cocktail.

Father Goren's wife Jedona thanks the players for saving her son Sesin. She tells them they have found a home for the girl Ivaine and her two brothers, who the players saved from Iuz's soldiers. At that moment, Kensa's brother Sir Kedwyn Waters, 26, arrives. He is a newly annointed Knight of the Hart. He took his vows with a large new class, replacing fifty knights who died in the Greyhawk Wars. He is joined by his female squire Wynna and two soldiers.

Kedwyn was given leave by the Knights to attend the funeral and set his family's affairs in order. The third Waters sibling, Edryc, is deployed deep in Iuz's territory, and could not return.

Interaction One

Kedwyn thanks the PC's for saving his sister and his family home. He then asks Kensa if he could have a moment alone with the PC's. They retire to his father's study. He tells Lovecraft he has fought the Drow and they are worthy adversaries. It makes his heart full to see a Half Orc turn to the Light. He tells them about the Knights. “The Knights of the Hart are an Order of humans and elves that spans three nations. We have one purpose. We fight Old Wicked and we won't rest until he's dead.”

He heard news of what they found on Zoreg's body. He wonders if there are any demon globes left. In return for one, he would defy his orders and tell them a story he learned from Furyondy's spies in Axeport.

If the PC's do not give him the globe, he tells them he expected better of a Paladin of St. Cuthbert. He returns to his sister, and shuns the PCs.

If they give him a demon globe, he tells them how the warlock Waqounis was Iuz' governor in Axeport. How he gave Father Zoreg a sacred mission before he died, entrusting the box to him with great care.

How Zoreg and his men left the castle the night before the siege. How the Devoted would not have fled if they weren't given direct orders. “Scarheads fight to the end.” How Waquonis died smiling, content the box was safe.

He tells them that the boxes are built by Iuz' priests. Only they can open them. But the boxes give off a pulse they can track. Old Wicked has a spy network in Furyondy called the Shadowclaw. They will hunt the PCs for sure.

The next day is the Funeral of Cinan Waters. The entire town is there. The Church looks beautiful. Father Goren asks Malachius to assist in the ceremony. He enjoys the shock on the attendants' faces when the Bread of St. Cuthbert is blessed by a Half Orc in a holy vestment. Kensa vows to continue her father's work, making Cardyn's Cove the fishing capital of Furyondy.

After the ceremony, the Wizard Segrius approaches. He is short, round, and ambitious. He wears a cloak of billowing. He has just completed his apprenticeship with the Wizard Janziper. Janziper is a ruthless Johrase refugee who serves the King of Furyondy on the Eastern Front. Kensa's father stocked Janziper's castle, and Segrius was the master of provisions.

Interaction Two

Segrius:

“I was the apprentice of the Wizard Janziper, a ruthless and powerful man. He serves the Viscount of the March at Castle Eyeberon.”

Segrius examines the box. The only way to open it now that it's original owner is dead is to cast Anti-Magic Shell on it, a spell far beyond his capacity.

“Once a year, the Wizards of Furyondy and their allies will gather to buy and sell magic in a secret location, the Wizard's Bazaar. You must have a special pass, The Wizard's Writ, to enter. This keeps the non-magical rabble out, along with any enemies of the Crown. I can help you get in, if you'll help me.

My master was a refugee from the Bandit Kingdoms. Iuz conquered his home city and he was tortured by hobgoblins for months. He escaped with only his life and his desire for revenge.

It is customary to give an apprentice money when he begins his career, but Janziper had none to give. But he did kill many hobgoblins for Furyondy. He got the Baron of Willip to grant me the deed to Moonglade Spire, a small tower three days march from here. It was built by a woman named Faedra 350 years ago, when Furyondy was just a minor province of the Great Kingdom of Aerdy. She grew it out of wood, with a technique long forgotten. She disappeared soon after. The tower has been empty since.

The local farmers won't go near it. I know enough about the ancient wizards of the Great Kingdom to know it could be deadly. Magic was common-place back then. The tower is likely to be drenched in it. Kensa tells me you killed demons and fifteen of Old Wicked's soldiers. If you inspect Moonglade Spire, and pronounce it free and clear of all dangers, I will give you a Wizard's Writ and tell you the location of the Bazaar.”

Hedec the Provisioner will provide the PCs with any equipment they need at Player's Handbook prices. They can buy horses and a pack mule from Lionas' stables. Segrius gives them a map. He has a contract to help Lionas rebuild the town. He will stay at the Narwhal until their return.

MOONGLADE

If the PC's ride, the journey takes a day and a half. If they walk, it takes three. They make their way north, through grasslands, to Moonglade, an area of unincorporated farmland. A DC 15 Perception check will reveal they are being tailed by Amon, a young man of 19.

He protests he was just curious about such a strange party of travellers. A DC 20 Perception check will notice a symbol of Tritherion around his neck. He has nothing of value. He knows a boarding house near Moonglade Spire. He says the land around the tower is cursed.

The PCs pass two corn Farms on the way. Goats graze. Farmers eye the PCs warily. Some make signs of Tritherion as they pass. Finally, there is a sign in Common that says “Travellers Welcome.” This is Brod's Boarding Barn.

There is a large Barn, with cots laid out. There is a backhouse that's used as a dining hall. A farmer couple, Brod and Mavis run the boarding house with their children Belus and Lillen. Brod is a big guy and can handle himself in a fight. They warn the PCs that the locals have been unfriendly since the war, and that they shouldn't tell anyone they are heading to Moonglade Spire. The locals don't want anyone to disturb the tower and bring the curse on their land.

If asked, the farmers will tell the PCs that vines, weeds, and giant inedible pumpkins grow uncontrollably for three acres around the tower. No farming is possible, and each year the cursed area grows larger. No one has gone inside for years. The last ones to do so were a teenage couple, Mack Pratt and Myllis Green. On a dare when Brod was a boy. They never came out.

That night, the PCs are awakened by a local mob.

Sister Gwenna, Cleric of Tritherion, leads six Villagers, carrying torches and picks. She has a trained Falcon. This is the Moonglade Militia, who run off anyone attempting to disturb the Spire.

Gwenna demands that the PCs leave, calls them “foul sevants of Old Wicked. You must be the ones who fled Axeport!” She sensed demonic magic with a detect evil spell, and they are “thieving barge folk, Drow and Pigbloods.”

Brod comes outside to warn the milita off his land. It gets tense fast. The villagers are willing to burn down Brod's farm if things go haywire. The PC's must use magic, Persuasion, or very judicious violence to defuse the situation.

Encounter One

Gwenna, Cleric of Tritherion

AC 13 HP 27 AT + 2 To Hit, 1d6 Mace DMG XP 450, Trade Spell Slot for 3d6 per level extra damage, Spells – Cantrip – Sacred Flame, Thaumaturgy, 4 slots Lvl 1 - Cure Wounds, Guiding Bolt, Sanctuary, 3 slots Level 2 - Spiritual Weapon, lesser restoration, 2 slots Level 3, Spirit Guardians, Dispel Magic.

6 Peasant Militia in Rusty Chain Mail

AC 16 HP 4 AT +3 Spear 20/60 range 1d6+ 1 DMG XP 25

Falcon

AC 13 HP 1 AT +5 DMG 1 XP 10

Brod (Ally)

AC 13 HP 16 2 AT +4 To hit Shortsword DMG 1d6 + 2, Longbow 1d8 + 2

MoonGlade Spire - Level One

Encounter Two

The PCs are a half day's march from Moonglade Spire. When they reach the tower, the ground is indeed covered in oversized, tangled vines and weeds, and massive warped pumpkins. Arrayed in the fields are three Scarecrows, which come to life and attack the PC's. At this moment, the PCs discover that young Belus has snuck away from his father's farm to watch them. One Scarecrow attacks the boy. If they save Belus, they will get a reward from his father. If not, Brod and all the locals attack on their return.

3 Scarecrows

AC 11 HP 36 2 AT + 3 To Hit, Claws 2d4 + 1 DMG XP 200 Glare DC 11 Wisdom Save or paralyzed with fear til Scarecrow's next turn.

Belus

AC 11 HP 3

After defeating the Scarecrows, the PCs may enter the Spire. It was seemingly grown out of solid oak, with organic openings where glass is set for windows. It is five storeys tall, and narrow around the middle. Carved into the double doors is the heraldry of the Great Kingdom.

MOONGLADE SPIRE - LEVEL ONE

Foyer

The grand entrance-way smells of 350 years of musty air and dust and rot. Cobwebs grow thick in the corners. It is dark. A magical moving painting of a brunette female in a wizard robe graduating from some kind of school sits on the left wall. The heraldry of the Great Kingdom hangs in the Graduation Hall. She recieves a scroll and a small box from a smiling professor. Her family cheers.

Doors lead on to the:

Living Room

There is a massive fireplace and the ruins of comfortable furniture. Two suits of ornate plate mail decorated in the heraldry of the Great Kingdom stand beside the fireplace. A bookcase contains a book in Old Oeridian called “The Hidden Grove : Journeys Through the Feywild by Hirodus the Sage.” It describes another plane of existence populated by fickle and powerful woodland beings. There are several bound books of “The History of Magic in the Flanaess.” There is also a license to practice Wizardry in the Viceroyality of Ferrond by His Majesty, Ivid II, Overking of the Great Kingdom of Aerdy. There is a map of Ferrond which looks like what is now Furyondy.

Encounter Three

If the PCs touch anything, they will be attacked by the suits of Armor.

2 Suits of Animated Armor

AC 18 HP 33 2 AT +4 to hit DMG d6 + 2 XP 200 Immune to Mental AT

At the end of the encounter, the PC's will find one Hat of Wizardry on the a hat rack on the ground.

Kitchen

The kitchen is old and ruined. Mice scurry across the floor. A strange Giant Butterfly flies through the kitchen as the players search it. It is beautiful and otherworldly. On the counter is one Heward's Handy Spice Pouch, and one Bead of Nourishment.

Stairs going up lead to Level Two.

Moonglade Spire – Level Two

Study

Here is another magical painting. It shows the redheaded woman having a dream of another land. A whole flock of butterflies like the one that flew through the kitchen fly through a grove of giant blue mushrooms. We pull out to see that the land lies through a shimmering portal in the sky. The gateway seems to be 50 feet above the spot where Moonglade Spire now stands.

There is also a music stand with a copy of a piece of music called “A Night With The Fey King” and a Wand of Conducting.

Each magic painting is worth 200 gp if the PCs can cart it out of the tower. At some point, a Baklunish rug and two mounted swords will attack the players.

Encounter Four

Animated Rug

AC 12 HP 33 AT + 5, target grappled, DC 13 escape, takes 2d6 +3 DMG each turn until escape. Attacks do 1/2 DMG to victim, 1/2 to rug XP 450

2 Animated Swords

AC 17 HP 17 AT +3 DMG 1d8 + 1 XP 50

Both go dormant for one minute from dispel magic

Balcony

Stairs up from the Study lead to a Balcony overlooking Moonglade. Two more Giant Butterflies flit about.

Stairs going up lead to Level Three

MOONGLADE SPIRE - LEVEL THREE

Mezzanine

There is an ancient bar with 2 old bottles of wine, worth 50 GP each. There is also a Tankard of Sobriety here. 8 Boggles hide behind the door of the Master Bedroom. As the PCs walk from the Mezzanine to the Master Bedroom, Boggles appear from a Dimensional Rift. They cover the ground near the players in Sticky Oil. They then jump through the rift thirty feet across to the Master Bedroom, and fire paintballs made of sheepskin at the PC's. In Sylvan they say, “Now you're dressed for the party! Too bad Mahone's gonna kill you before it starts! Hahahaha!”

Encounter Five

8 Boggles

AC 14 HP 18 AT + 1, 1d6 -1 DMG XP 25 Oil Puddle – Sticky 11 DC Dex check or restrained, Slippery 11 DC Dex check or fall prone. Rift transports them 30 feet away, they can attack through it. Climb 30 feet. XP 25

Master Bedroom

The Boggles flee to the Master Bedroom and then out to the Library. In the Master Bedroom is an old king size Canopy Bed, with a walk-in closet featuring Clothes of Mending and a Cloak of Many Fashions.

There is another Magical Painting on the Wall. This once again shows the redhead in her bed, dreaming of a beautiful elven man in a red cap kissing her in a field of blue mushrooms surrounded by Giant Butterflies.

Stairs going up lead to Level Four

MOONGLADE SPIRE - LEVEL FOUR

Library

A Great Library is here. Most of the books have decayed or been eaten by bookworms, but 6 volumes of stories about people travelling to the Feywild are salvageable and worth 10 gp each from a book dealer. The common themes of the stories are time working differently in the Feywild and magical effects seeping out of any portal to our world. The decayed skeletons of two teenagers lay dead in the corner of the room. This is the sad final fate of Mack and Myllis. When the PCs examine the books, the large oak table in the center of the room will attack them.

Encounter 6

Animated Table

AC 15 HP 39 AT + 6 2d8 + 4 DMG, with 20 feet head start + 2d8 and prone if a DC 15 Dex check is failed. Dispel Magic will render helpless for 1 min. XP 450

Return of 3 Boggles

During the fight, 3 Boggles will reappear and fuck with the players with their oils. In Sylvan they will taunt the players, “How can you fight Mahone if you can't even fight a table!” They will paintball them too.

There is a Chest in the corner, with the heraldry of the Great Kingdom in an elaborate bronze plate on the top. On the chest is a Glyph of Warding. Magic Missile, cast at third level, will fire into the character for 3d4+3 DMG.

Inside is a small box, the same one in the painting of the graduation ceremony. And inside that is a Pearl of Power. It will give an attuned spellcaster back one spell slot per day of up to 3rd level. It is also Sentient, explaining to the PCs in Old Oeridian that it is one of 13 Pearls of Power, given to the graduating class of the University of Rauxes in the year 248. It's mission is to further the glory of the Great Kingdom. It asks how things are, and is horribly depressed to learn that the kingdom has fallen. He asks where Faedra is, and is even more depressed to learn that she has disappeared.

Laboratory

Among various discarded censers and beakers is a half obscured scroll of a spell that grows wood into a building. The scroll is damaged and unusable, but would fetch 35 gp from a Wizard.

There is another Magical Painting. Once again, Faedra dreams of kissing the Elf in the Red hat. He beckons from the gate above Moonglade. We then see her growing Moonglade Spire from wood to reach the portal. There is a spiral staircase going up from the room. Giant Butterflies fly around the stairs.

MOONGLADE SPIRE - LEVEL FIVE

The PCs climb the stairs and as they do so, the stairs seem to go on and on and on, stretching out for at least five minutes as they spiral up and up through the tower. Vines like those outside the tower appear on the walls. Soon the whole wall is covered in strange vines, and tiny blue mushrooms start to grow out of them. The Giant Butterflies are thick in the air now. Soon the stairs stop and the PCs find themselves in a vine covered Tunnel. They have crossed into the Feywild now.

Tunnel

The vine-covered Tunnel is round and big enough for human sized characters to walk in if they stoop. There is a giant Mushroom in their way. If they touch it, it Shrieks.

Shrieker

AC 5 HP 13 XP 10 Makes a soud shrieking noise.

INTO THE FEYWILD

Clearing

When the PCs emerge from the Tunnel, they find themselves in a clearing surrounded by giant Blue Mushrooms as big as trees. Vines cover the ground. Misshapen Pumpkins grow everywhere. There is a narrow path through the clearing 100 feet ahead of them, that appears to be paved with purple stones.

They will soon be attacked by 2 Quicklings and however many Boggles are left. When there only two Boggles left, they will flee. “Not fair! I'm telling Mahone!” they will yell in Sylvan. The Quicklings simply attack the PCs and steal their things, giggling all the way. Unless they are stopped, they take everything of value from the party and hide it in the forest forever.

Encounter Seven

2 Quicklings

AC 16 HP 10 3 AT +8 To Hit DMG 1d4 + 6 XP 200 Spells Disadvantage on all Attack rolls unless incapacitated. Slight of Hand + 8, Acrobatics + 8. Speed 120!

Return of 3 Boggles

Gazebo One

The purple stones lead to a tiny Gazebo, where a Sprite lives. The Sprite's name is Brigid. She greets the players in Sylvan and asks if they are friends of Faedra. To the denizens of the Feywild, she only showed up one year ago.

Her story is sad, and just one more example of the evil of Mahone. Mahone is a Redcap, who was born when an elf was murdered by a human settler of Moonglade. And now he lures humans to their deaths through the portal, and spreads the curse to kill their lands.

Faedra was just the latest victim of his dream magic and now she is asleep, her blood drained to keep Mahone alive. The Curse comes from a magic pumpkin Mahone grew. It must be destroyed to cure the land of Moonglade and close the gate. Brigid vows to lead the PCs to Mahone's layer and to where he is keeping Faedra.

Brigid

AC 15 HP 4 AT Shortbow + 6 To hit, DMG 1, DC 10 Save or fall Asleep. Invisible at will.

Gazebo Two

If the PCs follow Brigid through the woods, they will reach another, large Gazebo, with a fireplace, where three Satyrs pull on a jug of wine and smoke pungent herb. Faedra's body lies in the Gazebo, unconscious, with her blood being drained by series of tubes into a carved wooden jug.

One Satyr has pipes and will use them to put the PCs to Sleep. If that doesn't work, he will try to frighten them. The other two will attack. If any die, the third runs off to warn Mahone.

3 Satyrs

AC 14 HP 31 AT + 5 to hit, 1d6 + 3 Shortsword/Shortbow DMG XP 100 Spells – Pipes – Charm/Fear/Lullably DC 13 Wisdom Check.

Faedra comes to, but she is in a weakened and vulnerable state. She can't believe what she's done, and cries. She was so sure the Feywild would be wonderful and Mahone played on her just-out-of college naivete. She needs to rest and Brigid vows to get her to safety. Faedra is a level 6 Wizard and appears to be 25 years old. She is a short, pretty redhead. If necessary, Brigid can hide the PCs long enough to take a Long Rest.

Mahone's Gazebo

Mahone is a horrible Redcap who sits in a hammock, eating Wild Boar from plates that are brought to him by the last 2 Boggles if the players have not killed them all by now. He has a large gazebo with a firepit, a bar, and a chest of his belongings. The vines that have saturated Moonglade emanate from a nasty misshapen pumpkin that sits in his gazebo. If the PCs destroy it, the portal to the Feywild will close and they will be sucked back to Oerth.

Mahone tells the players that he needs blood to soak his magical hat every three days, so if they have taken his blood supply, theirs will have to do. With that, he and the Boggles attack!

Encounter Eight

Mahone, Redcap of the Feywild

AC 13 HP 45 AT 3 To hit + 6 Sickle 2d4 + 4 DMG OR 1attack in which he runs up to a PC and attacks with his iron boots, DC 14 Dex check or take 3d10 + 4. XP 700

Last 2 Boggles

The Redcap has a treasure horde which includes a bagpipe of elven design worth 35 GP, 6 10 GP gems, 85 sp, and a Dark Shard Amulet, which allows warlocks to cast a cantrip they don't know once per day on a DC 10 Int check.

Total XP for the Adventure is 4320, or 1080 per PC in party of four.

When the players destroy the pumpkin, they blink back into the empty third floor of Moonglade Spire. Upon exiting the Tower, they find that the countryside has gone back to normal. When they leave the tower they find a crowd of Furyondy's peasants, including Brod and his family and any of the Moonglade Militia that are still alive cheering as they exit the tower. They have lifted the curse and now the villagers can farm on the land that was once blighted. Faedra is in a daze, and will accompany the PC's to the Boarding Barn. She wishes to never see Moonglade Spire again, and will load a wagon with her remaining posessions and set out for the Great Kingdom to see what may be done about her former home. She is not high enough level to cast anti-magic shell. She is grateful to the PCs for saving her life, and only asks for items with sentimental value to be returned (if the Quicklings didn't get them.)

Upon return to Cardyn's Cove, Segrius will listen in amazement to the tale of the PCs. He will offer to purchase the Hat of Wizardry if the PCs don't give it back to Faedra. He will also purchase any other items they don't want. He will then give them a Wizard's Writ, and tell them that the Bazaar for the first time will be open to wizards from allied nations like Veluna, Greyhawk, Dyvers, Verbobonc, Celene, and Highfolk. He gives them the location, a Fairgrounds created by magic.

New Magic Items

Moving Painting (minor, common)

This magical painting records an animated scene that plays on a ten second to two minute loop like an Instagram video. The scene plays in perpetuity unless the painting is somehow destroyed.

#greyhawk dungeons and dragons 5e fifth edition critical role dnd dndbeyond rpg fantasy forgotten realms ebberron dragonlance

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trendingnewsb · 6 years

Text

I Visited Saudi Arabia Before They Opened The Country To Tourists, And Here’s What I Saw

Saudi Arabia was the world’s most difficult country to visit for a non-Muslim as it did not issue tourist visas. Only Muslims making the Hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, were allowed to enter.

But things may change as Head of the Saudi Commission for Tourism and National Heritage, Prince Sultan bin Salman bin Abdulaziz announced that Saudi Arabia will begin issuing tourist visas in the first quarter of 2018.

A few years ago, the government issued tourist visas for a short time before doing putting an end to it and I was able to obtain one. This rare opportunity to visit a country that regularly makes the headlines allowed me to discover over the course of two weeks a culture preserved in a highly conservative society.

Before setting foot on Saudi territory, one must make sure to leave at home:

– any alcohol (including alcohol filled chocolates);

– non-Muslim religious items;

– pork-based products;

– pornographic books;

– games of chance;

– medicines containing codeine.

More info: ericlafforgue.com

Throughout the stay, a police escort will clear the path for us – officially to make our movements easier

In fact, the Kingdom has been the target of many al-Qaeda attacks against Westerners for years… An additional reason not to open quickly the country to these potential targets.

“Start of the sacred area”

These arches that are highly visible on the roads around Jeddah mark the boundaries of the areas where non-Muslims may travel. Beyond them, the road leads to Mecca. Breaking the law can result in imprisonment or even death penalty.

Saudi people like saying that if you find an open door, you can go in and you will be offered some tea

Most of the time, you will be welcomed by an Indian servant and will never see any woman. This hospitality is a given in small villages, where you will be invited to drink tea and eat dates, the pride of the nation.

No, you are not in a Swiss chalet but in a tent in the Saudi desert

Urban families love to spend a few days in their tent, usually over the weekend. A modern version of the Bedouin life of their ancestors, but with satellite TV, air conditioning, and a fridge.

Falcon hunting in the Al Jouf desert

A pigeon is released into the air before a falcon chases it down. The owner jumps into his four-wheel drive to try and follow his bird of prey. But the hunt is short-lived – in less than a minute, the falcon has killed the pigeon. It receives its head and heart as a reward. The owner never leaves his pet out of his sight, and for good reason: the falcon cost him 20,000 dollars.

The Saudis worship camels

Many own farms in the desert where these animals are raised by Sudanese Rashaida. The most beautiful camels also generate substantial income thanks to the breeding services of the reproductive males.

This is an ancestral passion that can also be found on the rocks of Abar Hima, a site on the ancient incense road…

A hunter chasing a camel with a spear. Saudi Arabia is full of prehistoric petroglyphs on sites that are unprotected and accessible freely.

Each encounter with a Bedouin is an opportunity to taste some foamy camel milk

It is a protein-rich milk sold in supermarkets and it is reputed to have medicinal properties in the prevention of some forms of cancer.

Saudi Arabia is the world’s third largest producer of dates – they are all over the markets

The palm tree is one of the main symbols of the country. The stalls were deserted at the time of one of the five daily prayers because, a few minutes before, the muttawa, the religious police, came to remind the vendors of their duties and punish the ones who cheat.

The only women you will be able to talk to in the street: emigrants, who are all Muslim

Pictured here a Somali girl in the streets of old Jeddah.

Under the weight of ancestral traditions, women are deprived of many rights in Saudi Arabia

To go out, they must wear an abaya, like this young girl.

Without the permission of their male legal guardian, whether it be their husband, father or brother, women are denied freedom to do things

Some of them are as ordinary as enjoying a coffee in a patio, swimming at the pool, enrolling at the university, going to a restaurant with a man who is not a relative, traveling, or even riding a bicycle.

Revolver cases for men on the Najran market

In the south of the country, it is not unusual to see very young drivers

Meanwhile, Saudi Arabia is the only country in the world where women did not have the right to drive until late 2017. This was not stated in any law, but defying the ban put women – and their guardian – at risk of serious fines.

Saudi society has many rules on people’s social status

Families have a right to special treatment – they board planes first or enjoy reserved secluded space in restaurants. Single people also have special status and will, for instance, be grouped together to take a cable car. As a tourist, I enjoyed VIP family treatment.

Saudi men rub their noses together to say hello, like Eskimos!

They may also walk while holding hands in friendship. Do not mistake it for a sign of homosexuality, which is severely punished in Saudi Arabia though less so than extramarital affairs.

Many imagine the Kingdom to abound with luxury buildings and signs of wealth

But outside of the cities, the country remains rural and in some places, you can see scenes that are reminiscent of « biblical » times, like here with a camel turning the mill for the pressing of sesame oil.

A Somali girl begging in the streets of Jeddah

Since 2013, the authorities have carried out a campaign to send back hundreds of thousands of illegal migrant workers, resulting in abuses against many of them and their forced return in a country at war.

A flea market in Najran

Many places are more reminiscent of the Gaza strip than an oil state. Seeing my astonishment, the man explained that despite State assistance and the existence of many free services, the cost of living has forced him to sell these items. Saudi Arabia is home to many poor people and the government has launched plans to put an end to poverty.

Until recently, these towers were used as granaries

Some villages are surrounded by an outer defense wall and foreigners – including Saudis from other regions – are not welcome as the local tribes have famously kept their traditional way of life and reject the central authority.

The flower men live in Yemen and Saudi Arabia

They wear crowns made of flowers and herbs and live in the hills. Meeting them at the souk of Al Farsha was really special. Hospitality is a concept that is foreign to flower men. Some of them seem to have stepped out of ancient frescos. Our mandatory police escort couldn’t wait to leave.

The Bin Hamsan house in Khamis Mushayt, in the region of Aseer

Many of the modern houses remain brightly painted inside and outside. This art has become classified by UNESCO. Women were responsible for it.

The Sarat Habidah houses are made of adobe

To protect them from the rain, tile-shaped stones are placed all around them at regular intervals in order to ensure proper water drainage. The thick walls help keep temperatures cool in the scorching summer. At the top, there is a terrace to get fresh air.

Heritage conservation is a priority of the Saudi government. The forts were all renovated to perfection

The architecture of old Jeddah typically puts one in mind of the Tales of 1,001 Nights

Tall buildings covered with mashrabiya, wooden balconies that allowed women to see without being seen. Saudis have fled the old city, which has never been restored despite its classification by UNESCO. Only Somali, Pakistani and Yemeni refugees live there in precarious conditions.

Saudi Arabia also has mountains on its territory, like the one acting as a border with Yemen in the south

The Al Faifa mountain peaks at over 2,000 meters and is highly sought after by Saudis having to deal with the searing heat in the plains. Houses have proliferated on the slopes, each new one seeking to tower over the others.

No, this father is not in the desert

His house is at the top of Al Fifa mountain, with the best view in Saudi Arabia. But the real fun for him is to be in a room where he has set up… a Bedouin tent.

These traditional adobe and brick houses in Najran are called midmakh and are typical of the south

They reflect Yemen’s cultural influence in the area. They may have up to seven floors. The ground level is for the livestock. The next level is for human accommodation, complete with small windows to keep out the heat as well as intruders. As you climb up the building, the windows become larger to let in more light as well as cooler air.

Some of these residences were built centuries ago

Now, many Saudi families have kept their old houses for holidays or weekends. Fortunately, some Najran residents seem to be really keen to preserve their traditional homes, often modernizing them with metal roofs and air conditioning.

Madain Saleh is a sister city to Petra, Jordan

It is a UNESCO World Heritage site that is home to 111 perfectly preserved Nabatean tombs. The magic of the site also lies in the total absence of tourists, Coca-Cola sellers or souvenirs shops.

The Hijaz Railway was designed by the Ottoman empire to transport pilgrims to the holy cities of Medina and Mecca in the early 20th century

The railway was built in May 1900 and connected Damascus to Medina. The railway was sabotaged by Lawrence of Arabia during World War I. It stopped running in 1918. Some cars can still be spotted in the desert.

The Omar Ibn al-Khattab mosque

It was built with stones in 633 and is located in the town of Dawmat al-Jandal, an important crossroads of ancient trade routes connecting Mesopotamia with the Arabian Peninsula.

The Al Hamra Open Air Museum in Jeddah is the largest open air museum in the world

It was built during the oil boom in the late 1970s. As a result, Jeddah is home to works by Arp, Cesar, Calder, Henry Moore, Joan Miró and Victor Vasarely. They are placed along the cliff, with no protection. Subject matter is often elements of the traditional Saudi culture. Everything is abstract as Islamic tradition prohibits the depiction of living creatures, including humans.

The only way to reach the Farasan Islands in the Red Sea is to rent a boat for a two-hour ride

The islands are famous for their Ottoman architectural treasures and white sandy beaches where nobody swims. Locals just walk around. To be allowed to go to the islands, one has to go through a very strict security check – forms must be filled, passports shown, bags checked, body searched… both on the way to the islands and on the way back. One cannot help but wonder what secret is hidden in those nearly deserted coral islands.

The relics on the Farasan Islands date back to the first century BC at the earliest and the Ottoman invasion at the latest

Stucco work was very important and everyone adapted their decoration to their taste.

Extravagance is one of the characteristics of urban design in Saudi Arabia

Here, a train coming out of a store in Jeddah, in the main shopping street.

Roundabouts are each more extravagant than the next, like this one representing a coffee pot almost 20- meter high

The government is urging Saudi people to visit their own country instead of going abroad as soon as the heat becomes unbearable

Malaysia, Lebanon, Marbella are popular destinations for Saudi families, while single people prefer Thailand or Morocco. It’s the chance for all to escape the shackles of the strict domestic rules.

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2DCIzPF via Viral News HQ

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buildercar · 7 years

Photo

New Post has been published on http://www.buildercar.com/rudi-koniczek-the-canadian-king-of-the-mercedes-benz-300-sl/

Rudi Koniczek, the Canadian King of the Mercedes-Benz 300 SL

From beneath his wide-brimmed hat and trademark driving goggles, Rudi Koniczek flashes a genuine smile, welcoming me inside from the Canadian morning chill. He motions for me to sit in a cozy armchair inside his tiny, cluttered office. Stacked high are mounds of automotive books, memorabilia, posters, and models, the mad physical overflow of a giddy mind with a lifelong obsession. Not 10 feet above our heads, one floor up, millions of dollars worth of vintage Mercedes-Benz steel is being restored to its former glory. “Are you having an orgasmic morning?” he asks, with a glint in his eye.

Most people don’t start conversations this way. Rudi isn’t most people. His house is packed to the gills with thousands of Tintin collectible toys and figurines, as well as high-end art both tasteful and raunchy. The man has devoted an entire room to building slot cars and racing them on a hand-built track. And at this colorful, far-flung home and workshop, down a narrow and forested road outside of Victoria on Vancouver Island, lives one of the world’s most accomplished and respected experts on the Mercedes 300 SL, as well as one of its most eccentric personalities.

Rudi works on all vintage cars, but he’s known as a bona-fide Gullwing guru. Customers send him cars from all over the world, from the U.S., Hong Kong, Monaco, Switzerland, and more, shelling out $300,000-$400,000 for his time-reversing powers. He takes me upstairs to the shop, casually past his showroom of concours-winning restorations. Under fluorescent lighting, five majestic 300 SL Gullwings and Roadsters are lined up in various states of progress. “We get cars that have been upside down, burned to the ground, wrapped around telephone poles, you name it,” Rudi says. To keep track of them all, they get nicknames like R2-D2, Punch, Monaco, and Timbits. “Punch was smashed up front and back, like it got punched on both ends. Timbits? Belongs to this guy Tim, who sent me the whole damn thing in boxes.”

In all the years he’s been in business, Rudi has never advertised. Flawless work, word of mouth, and good karma take care of that.

A full restoration takes about 18 months, which seems like a short turnaround given the stupendous level of craftsmanship that goes into every nook and cranny of each project. Everything from mechanicals to body repair, leather, fitted luggage, and wood crafting goes on under Rudi’s watch — only chrome work is outsourced. “For me, my work is about honoring history and my commitment to the mark — and especially the Gullwing,” Rudi says.

“When somebody asks what the car is going to be worth after the restoration, that’s the wrong question. This isn’t some commodity; I treat it as a work of art.”

That commitment’s story begins with his birth in Germany in 1949, near the Czech border. “We lost everything in the war, so Papa fled to Canada, and my mother and I followed six months later. I was 4,” he says. The family settled in Toronto, but being a German refugee in the post-war era wasn’t easy. “It was a tough gig, not knowing the language, the culture, the food. Everything was foreign,” Rudi recalls. Things got rougher when he was 10, when kids were more cruel. “I’d get beat up or spit on. After the war, Germans were Nazis and squareheads and Krauts. My parents taught me never to fight back, just to turn the other cheek and laugh. Laughter and jokes were my refuge.”

Tintin comics proved another key escape, and the one that inspired his love of cars and racing. “Hergé, the artist, was just a freak for detail, like me,” Rudi explains. “He captured the cars so well, the swift movement of those little European sports cars and racers. Maybe it was my German pride or heritage, but soon all my model cars were Mercedes-Benz.” Model cars turned to a job at a Toronto hobby shop, and soon Rudi was building 300 SL, W196, W154, and W125 slot cars and racing them competitively against other hobby shops. “I was playing, of course. But when I saw those cars run I felt like I was there in real life.”

At 15 he walked into the offices of Mercedes-Benz Canada with a suitcase full of slot cars and charmed his way into the office of the president, who offered him a job as a lot boy. Sweeping floors, shoveling snow, and cleaning cars turned into a factory apprenticeship that lasted four and a half years. “It was the best education imaginable,” Rudi reflects. “From the bottom, you learn how to clean tools, be a mechanic’s assistant. Then you graduate to terrible jobs like studding tires and oil changes on diesel trucks — the real grunt work. It was wonderful.”

Most of the mechanics there were passionate about the new technologies being developed in Germany, but the allure of Mercedes history and tradition put the blinders on Rudi. “I was a sponge and just sucked it all up,” he says. “Most of the hands were older and German, so I’d help them learn English, and they’d answer my questions about pre-war superchargers and bearings, little tricks to know from a bygone era.” The moment he drove and worked on his first 300 SL, Mercedes’ claws were set deep. “I was just blown away by the beauty and the quality of engineering and design. I thought that like dinosaurs, which died and turned into valuable oil, the knowledge I was collecting would someday be worth something.”

Rudi finished his apprenticeship in 1971, when he was 21 years old. He moved to Victoria to start his own sports-car tuning shop, mostly for the British machines that used to flood Vancouver Island. He recalls there were lots of so-called remittance men — black sheep of wealthy British families — who had been marooned all the way out in western Canada with a mansion and a sports car. “Those cars were great for business,” Rudi says. “Fun, cheerful, and always breaking down!” Soon he started leaving business cards on Mercedes-Benzes he’d stalk at dentists’ offices or university parking lots, and eventually he got a bite.

“Dr. Martin Scherzer called me, wanting some routine maintenance and a valve adjustment on his Mercedes 230 finback,” Rudi remembers, like it was last week. He does this constantly with apparently zero effort, recalling people, names, or places from decades ago in excruciating detail. Scherzer took a liking to him and invited him to dinner, and after that the Benzes starting arriving at Rudi’s door as word got out. Not long after, he sold the tuning shop and opened a new business for German cars — and later a specialty arm for Mercedes, Bentley, and Rolls-Royce carriage cars.

Business was booming with eight employees by the mid-1980s, but by then it was running him. “It stopped being fun, and if it’s not fun, I don’t do it,” he says. “After two years of internal turmoil, going to tea-leaf readers and fortune tellers, I closed the damn thing. I needed to go back to my roots, which was always Mercedes and the Gullwing.” The first 300 SL arrived from Wales, and he restored the entire car with one assistant. He sent it back — perfect, of course — and soon another showed up. Then another and another.

Twenty-five years ago he moved his shop from downtown Victoria to this location just outside the city. Before long both Rudi’s staff and his clients started to feel like the workshop was home. “People should come over, talk cars, feel the love of what we do and share in it,” he offers. “We should go from the shop to the kitchen, have some wine and a giggle. The clients come back, they become family, part of this little club.”

Things really picked up after a weeklong Gullwing owners’ festival at Rudi’s house in 2001. In recent years, the clientele has shifted with a huge uptick in the cars’ value. One of his finest cars, a gorgeous silver 1955 300 SL with a rare aluminum body and blue-plaid interior, sold in 2012 for $4.6 million. “These days we turn away more people than cars,” he admits. “When somebody asks what the car is going to be worth after the restoration, that’s the wrong question. This isn’t some commodity; I treat it as a work of art that’s meant to be shared with future generations.”

It’s been Rudi’s mission to share his passion for vintage Mercedes with people who appreciate it, who can enjoy the wonderful heritage and tradition he loves. So it follows that as long as there are people who want to dive into the world of vintage Benzes, there need be others who have the expertise to fix them. Six of his eight staff have been with him for 18 years or more, many since they were kids.

Production manager Ross Morrison, at 15 years old, was hitchhiking up the road when a crazy guy in a crazier car pulled over, waving him in. “This Rolls-Royce shows up, which he tells me belongs to the ambassador to the Ivory Coast,” says Morrison, beaming. “He asked if I needed a job, and I thought it would be landscape work or something. When I showed up the next day and saw I’d be working with these cars, my jaw hit the floor. That was 25 years ago, and now I’m doing engines, transmissions, everything.”

Rudi’s workshop is like a ’50s time warp. About 45 other sensational cars are kept in a storage vault on a farm a few miles down the road.

Mark Root started out as summer help when he was 14, also about 25 years ago. Now he’s the chief road tester, driving each car for about 400 miles. “As the miles pile up, he goes down the shit list until there’s no more shit,” Rudi says. On the other end of the spectrum is Eric Cherneff, who began his career as a mechanic at the ripe age of 47. Once an extremely successful but equally miserable accountant, Cherneff is grateful Rudi gave him a shot. “I laid my heart out on the line, thinking there’s no chance he’d want some hobbyist like me,” Cherneff says. “He just threw me right in the fire and let me be creative.” The team is called Rudi & Company, and the man in charge takes the latter part seriously. “We’re like a dance troupe. A band of artisans, doing things the right way.”

Rudi tells me to hold on a second. He pulls one of his guys aside and tells him to clean off a fingerprint he spots on a windshield. He circumambulates the workshop with palpable energy, scanning for imperfections with keen precision. The cars are executed flawlessly, oozing style and class. Brightwork shines gently around great swaths of rich paint, which matches perfectly the snazzy interiors and fitted luggage. Those details, that perfection, is what Rudi calls the sizzle of the steak.

To make sure the tradition carries on, Rudi decided to bequeath his entire business to his friends at GAIN, a luxury dealer group based on Vancouver Island, rather than sell it. Rudi helped the same group last year kick off a local motorsports club and racetrack, called the Vancouver Island Motorsport Circuit, (“Welcome to Speed Island,” September 2016). He trusts that, in their hands, his staff and his legacy will live on properly when he’s gone.

The team is called Rudi & Company. “We’re like a dance troupe. A band of artisans, doing things the right way.”

We head from the workshop to his house, where Rudi undergoes one of his frequent outfit changes. He dons a chef’s coat before cooking dinner, admitting it makes him feel closer to his father, who was a chef. After lots of wine, some spontaneous dancing, and another outfit change for Rudi into a bizarre animal-skin pelt, something is unmistakable. Deep down Rudi is still a kid, surrounded by toys and friends, and he hasn’t for a minute lost the heart of a child. His verve for life, for artistry, and not for money, is why Rudi’s cars are so special. Commission him to work on yours and you get a lifetime seat at his table. “Our doors are always open; you’re part of our weird extended family now,” he tells me. He throws me a wink before closing the door, and I know the crazy bastard means it.

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