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dailyadventureprompts · 1 year

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Dungeon: The Cankerwood House

The near disastrous collapse of a mine in the moorlands leads to the discovery of a network of tunnels winding deep into the earth, apparently carved out by the spread of a multitude of unnatural, withered trees as they’ve grown towards the surface. Descending to find the source of this corruption, the party stumble across an inexplicable sight: a grand manor house occupying a deep and inhospitable cavern, rotten roots springing from its beams and foundations.

More than decay haunts this ancient home, so the party will need to watch their step before they too become apart of the tragedy that lingers within.

Background: Tragedy is the heart of many parables. The terrible fates of the unwise, unlucky, or unkind that serve to reinforce a moral lesson. How awful it must be then to become a lesson, not a person remembered for who you were but a mistake, made over and over again with each retelling.

The folk of the high hills could tell you such a tale, of the life and mistakes of one Helena Ornith, a girl born too pretty for her own good. If you listen to the story as it’s most often told, Helena was the daughter of a pair of farmers, who had suitors lined up out door and all the way to the fence looking for their daughter’s hand. Helena however was picky, she ignored the matches her parents favoured or the lovestruck beaus with their wildflowers and instead entertained wealthy gentleman who could bring her frivolities from afar. One day a man showed up with a handsome black carriage and a boast that he could beat the gift of any suitor, though the exact number of these challengers and what they offered changes depending on the teller. A grower with a profitable orchard is outbid by a bushel of fruit all made of gemstones, a hard working and heartfelt veteran-farmer is outpaced by a bull that never tired of the plow and sensed trespassers in the night, an honest cloth merchant with a pretty dress is outdone by a shawl that could become any garment imaginable. Sensing that there is something wrong with the man in the black cartridge, Helena’s parents forbid her from entertaining him only to have her run off with him in the night. Following the tracks of the carriage across the countryside, the couple and their neighbours find that the trail winds off the road, and into a maw like and bottomless pit that had not been there the day before. Helena, in her stubbornness and pride, had held out for the only suitor that could have satisfied her impossible standards... a supernatural creature that grew tired of her mortal wavering and dragged her down to it’s lightness lair when it decided to make up her mind for her.

The true history is a little different, The Orniths were indeed country folk, but had done well enough that by the time Helena was born her parents had plenty of farms and enough wealth to have others do most of the tilling for them. They had always taught Helena that she was a prize, one worthy only of the one able to bring the best advantage to the family. One of the properties they owned had an old tree, one that Helena would take shelter under when she was tired of her endless social obligations as alone amid it’s branches was the only place she could truly speak her mind. What no one could have known ( save perhaps the family who the Orniths had badgered off the land) was that tree was once a sacred thing, blessed by the fey, and like all fey things it existed half in the waking world, and half in the world of wonders. Helena spoke of the faults of her suitors, and the feywild listened, she poured out her fantasies and the feywild gave them shape, and when she whispered of her desire to leave her life behind, the feywild sent a black carriage to fetch her away.

Whether Helena was happy after she eloped is impossible to say. Faerie has a way of twisting good to bad and bad to good, and like a parable the original details can become lost in their own echo. The house she had imagined for herself so full of life became a living, parasitic thing. Her infatuation with her betrothed became obsession, caustic and tempestuous. Their marriage bond a chain that bound her to their hearth no matter how far into the caverns she walked. As her story refused to fade, it metastasized, poisoned by the imaginings of others, until the house grew roots and began seeking upward like a seed, poisoning the land as the people on it poisoned her memory.

Challenges & Complications:

Getting down to Cankerwood house is more than a simple descent, as the party will not just have to navigate caverns, but a jump into the subterranean reaches of the feywild. Beasts of the deep earth are joined by vampiric root monsters, twigblights, and dryads driven to madness with rot and sorrow.

Perhaps most dangerous threat is the spirit of Helena Ornith herself, her spirit stretched thin and wraithlike as the chain that links her to her prison stretches the distance with more links. Immortal thanks to her time in farie, The closer she gets to the surface, the more disoriented and monsterous she becomes, and the party will likely have clashed with her once or more by the time they find the house itself. Only within the bounds of the house will she lose her ghostly qualities and regain her faculties, atleast until the timeless nature of the feywild takes over and she loses herself once again.

The house itself is a maze, rotten rooms folding in on eachother as only a strucuture in faerie can. Here all the treasures and horrors of Helena’s parable wait, from an orchard of gemstones to a rampaging guardian bull. Helena’s suitor likewise wanders the space, as much a prisoner as her, shifting between inhuman monster, sadistic rake, and charming rescuer without warning. This last persona desperately wants to aid in Helena’s escape, and will do his best to aid the party inbetween fits of possessive cruelty.

There is more at work in Cankerwood house than simply the cruel whims of the feywild, Zuggtmoy, demon queen of rot and regret has taken hold of Helena’s tale, sustaining the story by sapping life from the land through the spreading roots. As the party progresses, she moves to stop them, vicariously protecting her own happiness by sustaining Helena’s blighted fairytale.

To destroy the house and set Helena’s spirit free, the party must uproot the story, casting away each of the suitor’s gifts, and bringing her spirit back to the ruins of her family home. To do this they must sever the chain that binds her, which means convincing Helena and her suitor to renounce their oath of love and fidelity, a selfless act of closure that Zuggtmoy will not allow, forcing both lovers into their very worst ( and most monstrous) forms in order to halt.

With a sorrowful goodbye and one last journey to the surface ( possibly using the same black carriage sent to carry Helena away), the party deliver their charge to the doorstep of the old Ornith farmhouse just in time to watch her begin to dissipate. Her spirit will be free to rest, and her name will fade from the parable it inspired... taking with it the curse that has laid on the moorlands, leaving the party with only a few treasures of their time in the feywild, and memories of their selfless heroism.

#Halloween #horror #haunting #field #highlands #mid level #fey #feywild #mine #cave #Curse #zuggtmoy #dnd #dungeons and dragons #d&d #5e #undead #rescue mission

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zephyruswrites536 · 8 months

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Right so imagine Jon decided to actually look into Jonah and Smirke and Peter(Mordechai) and Simon

(this is what my brain came up with- if this isn’t exactly how they’d talk don’t blame me it’s more like incorrect quotes where it’s vaguely around the character)

*Jonah walks past Jon’s office to just check for a second and sees a board with his name up on it*

Jonah: Hello, Jon?

Jon: Oh- Elias, sorry it’s a bit of a mess

Jonah: No worries! I just wanted to… see what you were up to, what’s this?

Jon: I see- well I thought the Lukas’, Magnus, Fairchild, Smirke, Albrecht, Dr. Fanshawe… they were all interesting- seen as it’s the beginning of the institute that they pop up in so, I thought it would be interesting to learn more about them.

Jonah: Alright, And?

Jon: Well, the people don’t have much history other than landmarks, like the institute, Moorland Manor, all of Smirke’s construction, the manor Albrecht’s nephew… if I remember correctly? Anyways, they aren’t historically that relevant- other than for the fears

Jonah: Right. Is that all, then?

Jon: Umm… Kind of?

Jonah: What does that mean.

Jon: Well, i looked more into the wording and manner and such of the statements they are in or wrote and.. their relationships are quite- queer, in both senses

Jonah: …Pardon?

Jon: You reading Barnabas’ statement to Jonah was- quite endearingly wrote- I understand most of them said “Dear Jonah” but the fact that he’s relying on Magnus and doesn’t just use Jonah for urgency is odd to say the least, let alone the fact Magnus then went to get his bones after he’d died…

Jonah: … I suppose-

Jon: And! You said he was on good terms with Mordechai Lukas? What good terms? It’s very vague- and suggests things- especially if what I’m imagining Bennet’s relationship with Magnus entails.

Jonah: … I- … Perhaps.

Jon: And! The fact Smirke wasn’t outright done with Magnus after Jonah betrayed him was something I don’t think most people would do… That implies things- Especially seeing Magnus, and the things he did.

Jonah: Fair enoug- what? What about Jonah Magnus implies things?

Jon: He- Well look at him- he’s in your office:..

Jonah: I-…

Jon: Anyways- Im starting to believe Jonah had a harem of his associates..

Jonah: . . . How.

Jon: Albrecht and Clara would not care that much- Neither would Jonathan be that upset- Smirke, Mordechai, and Barnabas I already explained… Oh- Simon! The Fairchild family isn’t much connected to the Vast except for him and his niece?

Jonah: I’m not understanding why you chose to-… do- this.

Jon: I divulge in my interests, the eye certainly would like to know…

Jonah: About that?

Jon: I’d think so- I forgot the Dark’s person which I’m sure is now Maxwell Rayner because of the body hopping the Dark’s avatar can do…

Jonah: I… Alright, Jon- I could get you a statement?

Jon: No, thank you- I think I’ll keep doing this.

Jonah: Did- Jon, I suggest that you stop focusing on Georgian Era Drama. *Intense glare*

Jon: Oh- O- K…

(If this doesn’t make sense… I like to think Jonah had a harem of his friends/colleagues/associates… a lot of people think this way too- I think… anywayssssssss)

#jonah magnus #Jonah Magnus harem #mordechai lukas #albrecht von closen #robert smirke #jonathan fanshawe #jonathan sims #tma headcanons #the magnus archives #200 year old dead gay men #200 year old eyeball bitch #love them though

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yasminewestbank-archive · 1 year

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if other, reply or comment

i ran out of poll options

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nellie-frogblanket · 21 days

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SSO POLLS

• examples of races closest to home stables are steve's (steve's farm), bobcats (moorland), ginnys (new hillcrest)

• some major areas like dino valley or epona are grouped together with others , this is because there are few and far races in these areas

• some races might not be included in specific areas because they are either isolated and/or that is the only race offered by the npc

• this does not include special events like the equestrian festival

feel free to elaborate further!! i've been curious about this for a while. please reblog so we get more answers :))

if i've forgotten any areas plz forgive me

#ssoblr #star stable online #sso #star stable #starstable #starstable online #star stable polls #sso poll #starstable polls

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hushed-chorus · 1 year

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Six Photo Sunday

Hey everyone, I hope you've had a good week! I'm scheduling this ahead of time so thanks to everyone who may have tagged me already!

Today I'm doing something a little different. I wanted to share some photos of places that inspired What Remains After The Storm.

Although WRATS is pitched as a fantasy AU, I'd say that is a 'flag of convenience' (i.e. I could play fast and loose with the setting to suit the story's needs). In many ways, WRATS is a historical fantasy based in Cornwall, UK, including Cornish mythology and fictionalisations of real places. So please enjoy these photos and tidbits on the fic's inspiration.

I'll share the first photo above the cut, and the following five below.

Cornish cliffs (Image by Tim Hill)

Whenever I imagine young Simon scurrying around on the cliffs, I think of something like this. The moor backs onto the cliffs, and the sea is often rough. Wrecks were incredibly common around Cornwall's coast, owing partly to strong currents and its many reefs and skerries. Many impoverished locals would seize the cargo of wrecked ships, and were often accused of intentionally luring ships to wreck by using false lights, but there is no clear evidence that this happened.

More (and tags) below the cut

Bodmin Moor (Image by Richard Norris)

The Cornish moorland has been gently grazed for centuries, so it is a patchwork of heather, gorse, bracken, coarse grass and distinctive granite tors which resemble pancakes stacks (though not pictured are some of the beautiful wooded valleys, one of which features in chp 8). It is exposed, frequently windy, and often dangerous--dotted with forgotten mine shafts and boggy terrain. When not at his barn, this is where Simon wanders with his goats.

Mên-an-Tol (Image by LoggaWiggler)

This formation of neolithic standing stones is one of my favourite places in Cornwall. Local folklore says that if you suspect that your child has been stolen by Fae and a changeling left in its place, you can pass the changeling through the hole and have your child returned to you. It was also credited with curing rickets. This formation and its legend is directly referenced in WRATS, where it is known as "the Way-In Stone" (and previously known by Simon as "The Scone With The Hole").

St Michael's Mount (Image by Tim Hill)

My other favourite place in Cornwall! This small tidal island is where Pitch Manor is based in WRATS. It can be reached at low tide by a causeway (pictured part-submerged here) amd otherwise must be reached by boat. The island includes a castle and chapel, with a small village and harbour on its landward-facing side. In WRATS, the location has been the seat of the Pitches since time immemorial, but in reality it has a long and varied history, such as a site of pilgrimage, siege and tourism.

St Ives harbour, Cornwall, no date given (from the book Reflections of Old Cornwall by Reg Watkiss)

More vibes for you! Fishing was the basis of Cornwall's economy for centuries. Whenever a shoal of fish was sighted off the coast, almost everyone would turn out to help. The men and various boats worked together, arranging their nets to scoop up the whole shoal, while the women waiting in the harbour to salt and barrel them.

Newlyn, Cornwall c. 1900 (from Reflections of Old Cornwall)

This steep, cobbled street is very typical of Cornish villages. Many of the granite cottages are homes which doubled up as fish cellars, but some structures were inns or boat- and basket-makers' sheds. When I look at this, I can't help but think of a bare-footed Baz, hood drawn over his face, angrily stomping a puddle. Today, most Cornish villages are dominated by holiday lets and airbnbs, and many of the houses have been renovated beyond recognition. However, you can still glimpse some of the old charm in numerous places.

Ok so yeah, that's my love letter to Cornwall done. Thank you for indulging me, and I hope the readers of WRATS get something out of this!

@johnwgrey @bookish-bogwitch @artsyunderstudy @erzbethluna @facewithoutheart @captain-aralias @raenestee @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @yeonjunenby @cutestkilla @ivelovedhimthroughworse @larkral @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @ileadacharmedlife @confused-bi-queer @aristocratic-otter @tea-brigade @whogaveyoupermission @nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @thewholelemon @onepintobean @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @shrekgogurt @theearlgreymage @martsonmars @blackberrysummerblog @orange-peony @palimpsessed @valeffelees

#six sentence sunday #kinda #not at all #what remains after the storm #simon snow fic

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windforestsso · 1 year

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I was confused at first because I couldnt find what the update was when I logged on (didnt read the update on the site before) so I thought it would be the equestrian festival because I saw the video on insta.

After reading what the update was actually about I went back to try jumping around in races and notise just how much else have been changed.

The rabbits in the rabbit race has been updated. There is a car now used as a block in one of the silverglade manor races and other races has gotten updated jumps and some old races have the white line on the ground as a finish line.

I also saw that the courtyard for Moorlands house has now grass and picknic table instead of the cobblestone covering it all.

I love that more of the game is getting up to speed on the graphics again.

I wished SSE would focus more on updating the old object in the game but I know with how spoiled the player base is, it wouldnt go so well if there there isnt gameplay updates often.

#sso #star stable online #star stable #mina inlägg

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jorvik-fashion · 11 months

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Lavender Eventing Helmet Baroness’ Racetrack “Racetrack Retinue” - 5 100 JS / 85 SC Trail Ride Earrings Equestran Festival - Tokens Purple City Vest Governor’s Fall “Jollister” - 6 270 JS / 63 SC Jorvik Academy Uniform Gloves Global Store - 6 000 JS / 60 SC Lavender Eventing Pants Baroness’ Racetrack “Racetrack Retinue” - 5 400 JS / 90 SC Handmade Hero Boots Made at Farah’s Workshop

Phantom Fae Bridle Galloper’s Keep “Afterwordly Attire” - 9 959 JS / 110 SC Phantom Fae Saddle Galloper’s Keep “Afterwordly Attire” - 9 959 JS / 110 SC JVN Light Pink Dressage Saddle Pad Silverglade Manor “The Vineyard Gear Store” - 10 000 JS / 100 SC Birthday Saddlebag Birthday Quests Reward Bobcats Legwraps Equestrian Festival - Tokens Sunkissed Shores Hazel Head Ribbon Fort Pinta “The Fort Pinta Summer Store” - 2 500 JS / 25 SC Sunkissed Shores Hazel Tail Ribbon Fort Pinta “The Fort Pinta Summer Store” - 2 500 JS / 25 SC

Loch Moorland Lighthouse “Gary Goldtooth” - 350 SC

#sso #star stable online #star stable #calder #purple gem pinto #silver bay pinto #purple #brown #casual outfit #color themed #magic horse breed

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cathygeha · 5 months

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REVIEW

A Nobleman’s Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles

The Doomsday Books #2

Flat open moorland in 1823 could be a desolate lonely place for some but for others it is a place of intrigue and danger, dysfunctional families and family feuding, messes to clear up, and fertile soil for the growth of potential happily ever after romances for more than one. Great story that kept me awake till almost two this morning – had to finish before I slept last night!

What I liked:

* Rufus: retired major, newly minted earl, in the midst of trying to restore his estate, dealing with evil relatives, in need of someone to assist and perhaps befriend him, caring, kind, short tempered, loud, and lovely, perfect for and with Rufus

* Luke: educated, experienced secretary, loves to create order and be helpful, from a smuggling family, had a difficult childhood, carries baggage and scars from the past, has secrets, a bit of a schemer, perfect for and with Rufus

* The slow burn but then steamy relationship that develops between Rufus and Luke and being able to see the two men as a happy couple

* The way more than one character impacts another in a positive way

* Getting to see and catch up with some of the characters in the previous book

* The setting, plot, pacing, and writing

* That I was drawn in and cared about the outcome

* Being able to hate the bad guys – and be happy when they were dealt with

* Hoping that there will be another book in this series

What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about inheritance and how ruthless some people can be when trying to achieve their goals

Did I like this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Definitely

Thank you to NetGalley and Sourcebooks Casablanca for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

Major Rufus d'Aumesty has unexpectedly become the Earl of Oxney, master of a remote Norman manor on the edge of the infamous Romney Marsh. There he's beset on all sides, his position contested both by his greedy uncle and by Luke Doomsday, son of a notorious smuggling clan. The earl and the smuggler should be natural enemies, but cocksure, enragingly competent Luke is a trained secretary and expert schemer—exactly the sort of man Rufus needs by his side. Before long, Luke becomes an unexpected ally...and the lover Rufus had never hoped to find. But Luke came to Stone Manor with an ulterior motive, one he's desperate to keep hidden even from the lord he can't resist. As the lies accumulate and family secrets threaten to destroy everything they hold dear, master and man find themselves forced to decide whose side they're really on...and what they're willing to do for love.

#KJ Charles #The Doomsday Books 2 #Historical Romance #M/M Romance #Fiction #LGBTQIA #Romance #Historical romance #historical fiction #netgalley #sourcebooks casablanca

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bookofmoons · 8 months

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New Site-wide Plot on The Book of Moons

Ambiguous outlaws and former ally ships El Perro Rojo (The Red Dog) and The Wicked Cat have run aground in Galla Nua.

Their bond was broken after the captain of The Cat, Ametrine Fiddlefern, was mysteriously framed for the murder of the Dog’s first mate, Armando. The Cat’s crew went into hiding in Vencrag.

Liano Zegarra, The Dog’s captain, got a hot tip that they took residence somewhere in Atlantic Canada. The Dog has been sailing around on the hunt for several months now, and have finally hit the right island, unbeknownst to them.

Both ships are recruiting; Liano’s in Millyanne Harbour, and Ametrine’s in Calico Ewer, the latter trying to be a bit more subtle about it. The Cat only hired women, but may have to expand their horizons. The Dog will take anyone they can get.

#historical rp #forum rpg #moorland manor #victorian rp #historical rpg #the book of moons #thebookofmoons #moorlandmanor #bookofmoons #lgbt #pirates #plot

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vannahfanfics · 1 year

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Also, may I request an AluSeras fic for “Coat?” I know that prompt isn’t a part of your “Clothing” list, but I can’t help but wonder how cute it would be to have Alucard snuggle with Seras in his coat or maybe write about her secretly trying his coat on because it looks so cool and comfy, then have Alucard catch her in the act and finds her adorable in it, much to her embarrassment? IDK, I’m a living trash pile for this ship and I want something soft involving these two. 🥰 - Gaanon 🌵🏜🤎

Thank you so much for commissioning a request pass, Gaanon! I apologize for the wait on all these stories; hopefully as time keeps going on, I’ll be able to get to them, even it’s only a few here and there.

Fidelity

Word Count: 2240

Fluff, Canon Compliant

Summary: Seras, Alucard, and the Wild Geese are on a mission in Britain's moorlands, and Seras finds that being a vampire does not make one immune to the cold.

“Brrrrrrr!”

Seras shuddered and rubbed vigorously at her arms as a brisk breeze blew over the moorlands. The yawning expanse of flat grassland had only sparse shrubbery to claim as vegetation, so the wind could be particularly biting—especially on an unusually cold night like this. Having lived in Cheddar, which was located in the sprawling stretch of moorland known as the Sedgemoor District, Seras had thought herself used to it. She’d only been staying at the Hellsing Manor for a short time now; surely that wasn’t enough to lose her resistance to the cold. More than that, she was a vampire now. Shouldn’t she be unaffected by little annoyances like temperature fluctuations?

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Vampire or not, resistant to cold or not, Seras Victoria shivered in the face of this frigid midnight gale.

I sure hope we complete this mission soon, Seras moped, wrapping her arms around herself to try and conserve body heat. She probably didn’t even have body heat anymore, but the action fooled her into feeling warmer, at the very least.

She, Alucard, Pip, and a small force of the Wild Geese had been dispatched to Axbridge, a village not far from Cheddar, to investigate rumors of a vampire haunting. Supposedly, a female vampire stalked the moors and used her hypnotic powers to lure men off the road; she’d entice them out into the empty wilderness, and once they were someplace where no one could hear their screams, she’d pounce. Integra theorized that the Hellsing Organization’s involvement in investigating the rash of vampire hauntings in the English countryside had spooked whomever was behind them, and they were now taking more care in their actions. One could only obliterate so many small towns before the stories became too widespread to control, after all. Alucard surmised that this lady vampire was picking off young men to build a sizeable ghoul army, which she would then use to sweep across the moorlands and decimate several settlements in succession.

Needless to say, that would not do. So, Integra had sent them to nip this little problem in the bud.

The most reasonable plan had been to use Pip as bait while Seras and the others lay in wait to catch the vampiress unawares. Alucard had quickly grown bored of the stakeout and had tramped off into the moors to discover where the ghouls were stashed and eliminate them—if they existed at all. Seras and the Wild Geese had been camped out behind some dense shrubbery for at least an hour now, keeping their eyes peeled while Pip posed as a traveler who’d set up camp for the night. Seras hadn’t seen anything move on the moors aside from a badger trundling on home to its den.

They were now watching Pip stumble around the road drunk as a skunk. At first, he’d only been pretending, but he had grown so bored after fifteen minutes that he’d started slamming back all the “prop” alcohol in his fake campsite. He clutched a wine bottle in his hand as he staggered around in a circle in the dirt. All of a sudden, he flung his head back to howl at the cloudy night sky.

“Helloooooooooooo? I thought there wuz a pretty lady out here!” he cackled while waving the wine bottle around above his head. His slurred speech made his accent even thicker. He cursed when the purple liquid sloshed out to splash all over his hat! “Fuck! Ah… ‘Ey, more wine!” He paused to gulp down several mouthfuls of the alcohol, then popped the bottle away from his lips with a satisfied sigh. “Come out, come out, wherever ya are~! Won’ you come share a drink wit me, darlin’?”

“I’m beginning to think that the only lady out here to share a drink with him is me, ” Seras mumbled under her breath.

“I think ‘e’d like that more than the lady of the moors, if I’m bein’ honest,” snickered one of the mercenaries, and his companions all chimed their agreement. Seras quickly shushed them before their jeering could get too loud, then frowned back down at the road when she heard a loud thwomp. Pip had sprawled flat on his back in the grass just to the side of the road, snoring loudly and drooling profusely.

Seras waited one minute, then another. The silence seemed to echo all around her; all she could hear was the quiet breathing of the men around her and Pip’s droning snores. Just as she was beginning to debate calling it quits and retrieving Pip before he could die choking on his own vomit or something, she finally heard something that could be her quarry:

Fleet footsteps through the short grass, far too fast to be a human but far too large to be an animal.

Seras’s eyes slowly turned red as she scanned the slightly rolling moors for movement. There it was—a shadow, swiftly approaching Pip’s unconscious form. The metallic but sickeningly sweet tang of blood stung Seras’ nostrils when the wind rushed down over her again; the vampiress was drenched in it, and Seras could also smell it on the ghoul she now heard shambling along in the distance. The vampiress must have been taking her latest prey to her hideout but had stopped to seize the golden opportunity that was the inebriated, incapacitated Pip Bernadotte.

Your blessing is a bullet in disguise, Seras thought with a smirk and slid her rifle forward. She didn’t bother with the scope; her burning red eyes could see all in crystal clarity. The vampiress zoomed across the landscape with such speed that she was a blur to the humans huddled around Seras, but to the sire of Alucard, she may as well have been moving in slow-motion.

The moorlands resounded with the blast of the bullet exploding from the chamber. The vampiress skidded to a halt and looked wildly around, believing someone had missed a shot at her. Seras Victoria, of course, did not miss. In the next second, the moorland vampire’s head whipped back with blood erupting from the bullet hole in her forehead like a geyser. She collapsed in a crumpled heap right next to Pip’s pitched tent. The drunk himself slept on, just smacking his lips and rolling over.

After dispatching the ghoul and ensuring that there were no imminent threats, Seras stood up and brushed the grass bits from her stockings.

“You all go get Mr. Bernadotte and head to our rendezvous point. I’ll search for Master Alucard, and we’ll meet you there,” she instructed. “Please be careful; I may leave a range where I can hear or see you, and there may be more ghouls lurking about.”

“Understood, Miss Victoria!” the Wild Geese declared in unison and saluted her. They’d been on a few missions together now, so they now reacted to her vampiric prowess with admiration rather than fear. Seras rather liked that. She didn’t want anyone to fear her, especially not the men she called comrades. It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, and that was something she would much need on the long, cold trek through the dark and lonely moors.

Seras dipped her head politely to the mercenaries with a promise to rendezvous with them soon, then set off into the wilderness.

“Masterrrrrrr? Where are you?” Seras wailed into the emptiness, but her only answer was her own voice’s echo traveling across the flat expanse of shrubby grasslands. The sound was swiftly whisked away by the whistling wind, which had been blowing uninterrupted for what seemed like a lifetime. In reality, Seras had probably only been searching for Alucard for half an hour; be that as it may, she was cold, tired, and very ready for home. So, she’d resorted to lamentably howling into the darkness like some ghostly lady in white haunting the moors; sound traveled far out here, so she’d figured hearing her would make it easier for him to find her. Because she certainly wasn’t going to be able to find him!

“Masterrrrrr,” Seras groaned while rubbing at her arms. Her entire body felt like a block of ice; quite honestly, she was scared to look at her frozen-stiff fingers because she half-expected to find them black with frostbite. She was so sorely tempted to just speed to the rendezvous point and wait for Alucard to find his way there, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She’d never forgive herself if he got hurt due to her negligence. There could be an insanely powerful vampire at the lair, or worse, he could have another run-in with that Irish priest, Alexander Anderson.

“Wherever you are, Master, I will find you,” Seras sniffled to herself. She used the short sleeve of her uniform to rub her snotty nose, then prepared to continue her plunge into the vast moors. Just as she stepped forward, someone latched onto the back of her uniform to keep her in place.

“Don’t bother. I heard your yowling from miles away.”

“Master!” Seras cheered, tipping her head back to beam broadly at the frowning Alucard. He was splashed head-to-toe in blood, but she assumed that it wasn’t his, for he looked otherwise uninjured. “Did you find the vampiress’ lair, then?”

“Indeed,” he tutted, releasing Seras’ shirt. She whirled on her heel to smile at him while he picked disinterestedly at his teeth. “Found them all bottled up in an abandoned mine. Mowing them down was quite easy—boring, really,” he explained and then smiled wickedly. “But I found evidence that there were actually several vampires operating out of there, so I went on a little hunt.”

“Did you find them?”

“Of course I did. Do you think I would go back to Integra without fully completing my job?” Alucard sniffed sullenly. “Don’t insult me, police girl.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” Seras pouted, her shoulders slumping at the scolding. “I was just eager to assist you, that’s all…”

Alucard’s irritated expression morphed into a pensive one. He then huffed, crossed his arms, and looked away from Seras and out into the moors.

“You got rid of the last one, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course,” Seras said with an owlish blink.

“There you have it, then. You have assisted me,” Alucard shrugged. “If not for that, I’d be chasing her all over the moors right now. And, though I do so enjoy a game of hide-and-go-seek, I’m quite tired. At this point, it would be an annoyance.”

Seras preened at that. She owed Alucard her life, and so she did her best to be useful to him. But it was hard to be useful to a man who seemed to have power rivaling the Devil himself. Perhaps he was simply saying those things for her benefit, but Seras chose to believe them, and that made happiness well up inside of her.

“I’m glad then, Master!” she chirped, her smile so big that it scrunched up her eyes. “I think that it’s safe to say ‘mission success,’ then! Shall we head to the meeting point?”

Before Alucard could answer, the wind picked up to a fierce gale. Seras exclaimed as it whipped around them, tugging fiercely at their clothes and hair. Alucard seemed entirely unbothered by it, but Seras was now chilled to the bone. She braced herself against the violent wind until it died back down to a steady breeze, then shuddered violently and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Please say so, because at this point, I’m afraid I’m going to become a Seras-cicle!” she whined.

Alucard’s red gaze flicked back to her, and his unreadable expression made her back straighten like a rod. Oh, no, was she being too much of a weakling and had disappointed him? Seras expected Alucard to make some disparaging comment or even scold her outright. When he moved, she flinched and shut her eyes tight, though she didn’t even know what she was bracing herself for.

Seras heard him step forward and then… chuckle softly. She cracked an eye open to see Alucard standing close to her, and then she felt his cloak gently drape over her shoulders. She was pleasantly surprised to find it quite warm; a smile bloomed on her lips as she reached up to draw it around herself, and she looked up at Alucard gratefully.

“Thank you, Master.”

“I’m just protecting my investment,” he huffed, but the twinkle in his red eyes told Seras everything hidden beneath his shallow words. “Besides, it would be a poor end to a vampire in Sir Integra’s service—freezing to death on some windy moors.” With that, he held his hat to his head and whirled on his heel to begin striding off. “Hurry up, now, police girl—or are you frozen after all?”

“Wah! No, Master, I’m coming!” Seras squawked and quickly hurried after him. With a giggle, she slipped her arms into the too-long sleeves of Alucard’s coat and pulled it tight around her front. With its gentle heat as a barrier, Seras didn’t have to worry about the cold anymore, no matter how much of a fuss the wind kicked up.

You saved me again this time, Master, even if just from a chill, Seras thought with a fond side-glance at Alucard, but mark my words: someday, I’m going to be the one to save you!

No matter how far away you go… I’ll always come to find you.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #aluseras #seras victoria #alucard hellsing

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kate-embershield · 1 month

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The Playful ✤ PEPPERMINT SHNAPS ✤ A wonderfully inquisitive ETB Gelding

Coat: Steel Grey - Silverglade Manor Bridle: Snow Bridle - Firgrove Gear Saddle: Snow White Jumping Saddle - Goldenleaf Stables Store Blanket: Minty Saddle Pad - Moorland Summer Camp Horse Equipment Wraps: Minty Leg Wraps - Moorland Summer Camp Horse Equipment Bows: Minty Tail Ribbon - Moorland Summer Camp Horse Equipment

#sso #star stable #star stable online #star stable horse #screencaps #SSO ETB #SSO English Thoroughbred #K/ PEPPERMINT #K/ ETB

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strawberrystreamfields · 1 year

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Carolina's Journal Log 4:

Our day started bright and early with reports of a sudden, severe blizzard in the Everwind Fields. It was almost identical to the one in Moorland a few days ago. The snow was, of course, deeper here, though Rosedawn expertly plowed through the cold, white, layers. Seeing as the blizzard was situated relatively close to Marley's farm and to the Baroness' Racetrack, it was worth checking to make sure nobody was trapped. Thankfully, Silverglade Village hadn't been hit in the storm, and, from what I could see, neither had Silverglade Manor. I'd have to check on the Manor later.

Despite the trouble this blizzard was causing, there was no denying that it looked magnificent. My prediction was right since we ran into Idun Goldspur and Landon. We helped Idun find her twins, Alexander and Hannibal, who'd been playing hide and seek in the snow when the blizzard hit. From there, we tracked down Landon's sheep. We figured we might as well take advantage of the snow. Rosedawn seemed to want to give herself a brain freeze, dunking her head into the snow a la ostrich.

We headed up to Silverglade Manor, which thankfully hadn't been hit by the blizzard. The constant snowfall's been keeping the snow fluffy and nice. All of the birch trees dotted around the landscape match perfectly with the snowy ground.

The vineyard is just as snow-covered as everything else, which, in hindsight, was to be expected. The grapes are surprisingly resilient for an island that hasn't seen any real snow for nearly 6 years. I briefly spoke with the Baroness as we walked past. Here's hoping she hasn't locked another girl in a castle. I don't think that's going to be an easy PR scandal to deal with.

Rosedawn and I made our way down to Silverglade Village. We headed past the castle, which doesn't currently appear to be inhabited by an imprisoned teenager. The roads in the village have been paved and smoothed, making the trek easier. Big Bonny is working on some of her inventions outside. Fresh air can be pretty helpful when trying to fix something.

We walked through the village, stopping to view the decorations in the main square. There was a massive, expertly decorated tree acting as a centerpiece. The fountain was mostly the same, though there were garlands and straw goats peppered around the square. Figuring it would be nice to have some fun in an even snowier place, we requested that the Capran there take us to the Winter Village, to which they obliged. I'm starting to hate this as much as Rosedawn.

Once in the Winter Village, we passed by some large ice crystals. I wonder how they formed in such an elaborate way. Nevertheless, we encountered a friendly deer, who even allowed me to carefully pet him! Gosh, deer are absolutely precious.

We stopped to listen to stories around a warm fire. James told us a story about a straw goat, which was pretty touching. Before returning to our exploration, we stopped so that Rosedawn could get some water and a snack. After the both of us had rested up, we kept exploring. Our next wildlife encounter was discovering an arctic fox den! Some of the young cubs were playing with each other while some adults supervised.

Leaving the Winter Village, we began heading for Valedale Village. The Silversong River is still frozen over, and Rosedawn and I half considered sliding down toward the ocean or to the other side of the riverbank, though, we decided to just take the path today. Maybe tomorrow.

We passed the frozen water mill, its roof covered in snow. Once arriving at the village, we paused to briefly chat with Claire before continuing on our way. We took a leap over a fallen log, landing in the snow gracefully before galloping on. Maybe Rosedawn would be good in cross-country?

We crossed the bridge over to one of the druid cabins where we'd stay the night. Our plan was either to head up to the Valley of the Hidden Dinosaur or to Firgrove, and by extension, Mistfall tomorrow. For now, Rosedawn is staying in one of the Druid stables for the night while I stay in one of the rooms. I'd head back to Redwood Point, but it would be fruitless to go all the way to the Wildwoods when I might be headed to Mistfall tomorrow.

#long post #star stable online #star stable #ssoblr #star stable spoilers #sso spoilers #just in case #horse: rosedawn #arrow's typewriter

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histoireettralala · 2 years

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The Medieval Forest

The face of Christian Europe was a great cloak of forests and moorlands perforated by relatively fertile cultivated clearings. It was rather like a photographic negative of the Muslim east which was a world of oases in the midst of deserts. In the near east timber was rare, in the west it was plentiful; in the east trees meant civilization, in the west barbarism. A religion born in the east under the shelter of palms made a way for itself in the west at the cost of trees, for these were a refuge of pagan spirits and were pitilessly attacked by monks, saints and missionaries. Any progress in medieval western Europe meant clearings, struggle and victory over brushwood and bushes, or, if it was necessary, and if tools and skill permitted, over standing trees, the virgin forest, the "gaste forêt" of Percival, or Dante's selva oscura. What in fact was striking about the medieval topography was that it was a collection of greater or smaller clearings. It was made up of economic, social and cultural cells. For long the medieval west remained a collection, juxtaposed, of manors, castles, and towns arising out of the midst of stretches of land which were uncultivated and deserted. Moreover the word 'desert' at this time meant forest. It was there that the practitioners of fuga mundi, willing or unwilling, took refuge: hermits, lovers, knights-errant, brigands and outlaws.

Thus we find St Bruno and his companions in the "desert" of the Grande Chartreuse and Robert of Molesmes and his disciples in the "desert" of Cîteaux, and Tristan and Iseult in the forest of Morois ('"We return to the forest which protects and guards us. Come, Iseult, my love!"… they went into the tall grass and the bracken, the trees closed their branches over them and they disappeared behind the foliage.') Similarly the adventurer Eustache le Moine, the precursor of and perhaps the model for Robin Hood, took refuge in the woods of the Boulonnais at the start of the thirteenth century. As a place of refuge, the forest had attractions. To the knight it was a world of hunting and adventure […]

For the peasants and a mass of poor working people it was a source of profit. Herds and flocks went there to feed. Above all pigs were fattened there in the autumn. They were a source of wealth to the poor peasant; after the acorns had fallen he would kill his pig, which was a promise of subsistence if not of plenty for the winter. In the forest wood could be cut which was indispensable to an economy that for a long time was short of stone, iron, and coal. Houses, tools, hearths, ovens, and forges, could not exist or operate without wood or charcoal. Wild berries could be picked in the forest; they were an essential contribution to the limited diet of the peasant, and were the main chance of survival in times of dearth. Oak bark could be stripped off for tanning and potash could be made for bleaching and dyeing. Above all, resinous products could be collected for torches and candles, and honey, so sought-after in a world for long deprived of sugar, could be taken from wild swarms. At the start of the twelth century, the anonymous French chronicler- Gallus Anonymus- who had settled in Poland, listed the advantages of that country, mentioning its silva melliflua or forests rich in honey immediately after the healthy air and the fertile soil. Thus a whole army of shepherds, wood-cutters, charcoal-burners (Eustache le Moine, the 'forest bandit', accomplished one of his most successful pieces of brigandage disguised as a charcoal-burner), and gatherers of wild honey, lived off the forest and provided for the sustenance of others. These poor people liked poaching too, but game was first and foremost a product of the chase, which was reserved for the lords. Thus, from the smallest to the greatest, the lords jealously defended their rights over the riches of the forest. The forest baillifs were always on the look out for scrounging villains. Kings were the greatest lords of forests in their realms and energetically endeavoured to remain so. For this reason the rebellious English barons imposed a special Forest Charter on King John in 1215 in addition to the political Great Charter. When, in 1328, Philip VI of France had an inventory drawn up of the rights and resources with which he wanted to constitute a dowry in the Gâtinais for Queen Jeanne of Burgundy, he had a valuation of the forests drawn up separately. Their profits made up a third of the whole of the income from this lordship.

Yet the forest was also full of menace and imaginary or real dangers. It formed the disquieting horizon of the medieval world. The forest encircled the medieval world, isolated it, and restricted it. It was a frontier, the no man's land par excellence between countries and lordships. Hungry wolves, brigands, and robber-knights could suddenly spring out of its notorious dark depths […]

It was easy for the medieval imagination, drawing on an immemorial folklore, to turn these devouring wolves into monsters. In how many hagiographies do we encounter the miracle of the wolf tamed by the saint, such as Francis of Assisi subjugating the savage beast of Gubbio […] Sometimes the forest harboured even more bloodthirsty monsters, which had been bequeathed to the middle ages by paganism, such as the Provençal tarasque subdued by St Martha […]

And yet, even if the horizon of most men in the medieval west, sometimes for the whole of their lives, was the edge of a forest, we must not imagine medieval society as a world of stay-at-homes and stick-in-the-muds who were attached to their patch of ground surrounded by wood. The mobility of men in the middle ages was extreme, even disconcerting, but it is easily explained.

Jacques Le Goff- Medieval Civilization, 400-1500 AD

#middle ages #jacques le goff #medieval civilization 400-1500 ad #saint bruno #robert de molesmes #eustache le moine #jean sans terre #philippe vi #jeanne de bourgone #saint françois d'assise #la tarasque

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