#mystic relic magic hammer

[elgaberino-mcoc]

spreadsheet cleanup THROG

ComicVine: 127 issues Fandom: 90 unique appearances, 9 variants 9 video games (you read that right)

He's a personal favorite, but this is not bias: despite some downvoting this year, Throg statistically deserves to be on @MCOCwishlist

- OG

#Throg #frog #Thors #mystic relic magic hammer #hammer #mystic asgardian magic #spreadsheet cleanup #Thor Corps #Pet Avengers #recent rank

[melmedardasworld]

Intoxicated

Bonnie wondered if the searing feeling inside her body was because of the aftermath of her explosive power still pumping through her veins. It was exhilarating and addicting. Not only that, but the potency of her mystic energy seemed to affect Klaus, too. Bonnie witnessed it in the dilated, darkened dye his eyes harbored. It gave her the thrill of standing at the edge of a cliff, coaxed to take the final step and plunge into the void.

The labored drag of Klaus's breath was heavy, and there was something new Bonnie more frequently witnessed under Klaus's scrutinizing gaze. She never acknowledged it, maybe because of her level of strength back then or because Bonnie abided by the rules of the Spirits. The gold-tinted irises pinned her to the ground and made her body shiver. It was like all gilded shades mixed to form a whirlpool of wickedness. Bonnie's magic coiled and pushed against the centuries-old essence of the Original in response.

Bonnie released a sharp gasp, startled when Klaus's large palm suddenly slipped around the base of her delicate neck. His long fingers remained lax around her throat. But the action was neither threatening nor did it put Bonnie unease. Klaus's sudden move forced her body into the solid wall, with him trapping her. His scalding touch sizzled on her skin, and in reflex, Bonnie's eyes raised with her chin. It allowed Klaus to wrap his hand fully around her unguarded neck, but he made no such move. His grip remained slack, his body reticent at her challenge. The glower in Klaus's veined eyes balanced the predatory instinct to execute past threats and a stark intellect to use a different approach.

Bonnie was goading him.

The weight of her green eyes pulled at him, and Klaus felt like looking into the stretch of viridian field that never seemed to end. The space between their bodies was so little their chests almost touched. He heard Bonnie's soft, even dyspneic breaths. Her muscles were relaxed, and his fingertips counted her steady heartbeat in tune with shallow breathing. Klaus saw how Bonnie's eyes darted back and forth, his hammering eyes.

They lower towards his lips curiously before quickly moving up. Klaus felt the pressuring tendrils of her energy scratch hard along his skin. A beat later, Klaus tightened his grip around her slender neck before answering her taunt. He leaned in, and Bonnie raised her head more. She copied his movements by parting her lips, sounding out of breath in anticipation of what was coming. Their mouths were inches apart, breaths mixing, awaiting the forbidden touch, but Klaus broke the intoxicating spell.

He pulled back at the last moment.

Bonnie looked offended by his taunt, and Klaus relished how she still tried to tip forward by pressing on her tiptoes. Once again, he denied the intimate embrace, this time by using his height to his advantage. Klaus leaned back and smirked. "Be careful, love. This is the dark magic taking over. You wouldn't want you to do anything you'll regret." Klaus breathed, inhaling due to the pull of Bonnie's raw power tightening in the air.

"Let me go," Bonnie demanded. She pushed against Klaus's chest. The murky fog in her green eyes dissolved instantly after his comment, successfully breaking the spell. Klaus quietly watched Bonnie stride to his desk, vigor in her steps. Her shoulders locked entirely with the rest of her body. Staring at the hand that just held her close, Klaus's mouth descended with a hint of displeasure. The emptiness felt wrong, but Klaus ignored it to glance at Bonnie again. She slammed her Grimoire shut and quickly stuffed it and the relics inside her bag.

She was confused, embarrassed, and wanted to flee.

"No need to be ashamed. I fully understand the allure of yearning for something you probably shouldn't," Klaus mused. Bonnie paused for a fraction as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. She ignored his words and shut her bag with a hint of frustration behind her movements.

"Remember our deal," Bonnie reminded before turning. She crossed her arms over each other from how Klaus stared at her. Bonnie didn't look away. She dealt with the True Immortal Silas with the help of her vindictive ancestor and Klaus and his siblings. For once, Bonnie felt secure no repercussions of using her magic would trigger a chain reaction. The Other Side was intact, and Qetsiyah got her petty wish to torment her ex-lover by making him the anchor. Klaus and his family would leave Mystic Falls for good. Elena switched her humanity back. Damon and Stefan would help get her life back on the rails. Caroline and Tyler could be together. Bonnie would return to Salem back to her family and explore the Bennett’s extensive family line.

All would be well again.

"I admit that it pains me to leave my hometown, but yes, I will finally vacate this wretched place leaving your precious friends be. Granted, they have nothing to fear lest they cross my path. I'd say everyone gets their happy ending." Klaus's remark sounded taunting to her ears, and Bonnie dug her nails into her skin. She thought of her happy ending and inhaled sharply, suddenly realizing none of this would've happened if she hadn't dipped her toe in Expression. Suppose she was more suspicious and involved her family more. Had Bonnie told them about the half-lies Shane and Silas fed her and tempted her with a dubious and ancient dark Magic, none of this would've happened. Her mom and cousins were there to help her with her magic, and she'd been impatient to get it back since it was never truly gone. Bonnie kept secrets and isolated herself so as not to burden anyone. If Bonnie didn't use Dark Magic in the first place, she wouldn't have lost her connection to the Spirits. Her Grams wouldn't have been punished for it by the Spirits, and Jeremy would still be alive.

"You should have listened to Grams. She was right not to get involved with vampires." The voice deep down slithered from the crevices of her mind. The overtly hostile part of her brain was loud enough to overshadow Bonnie's lamentations. "You decided to do Expression. You ignored all of mom and Lucy’s warnings." Bonnie felt the pressure behind her sockets grow. Her brows knitted together with the rest of her crumpling face. She tried to ignore the accusations bouncing against her mind. It was too painful to accept, but it was the truth. Bonnie's frown tightened with the rest of her clamped body, and her harrowing expression gradually changed into one of despair.

Klaus tensed when Bonnie's prickling magic through his senses before it manifested itself. It started with the rumbling chandeliers, a crack in the renovated wall, and a quaking floor. Klaus felt his fangs stretch against his gums on impulse and Hybrid face rippling in place. He dampened the unwilling shift. "Bonnie," Klaus's voice rumbled low through his chest. He flashed in front of her and commanded control, "your energy responds to your emotional state. You need to calm down." Glossy, green eyes darted onto his downturned face, and Bonnie took a confused step back. The back of her legs hit the edge of his desk.

"I-" Bonnie couldn't' find the words. The disemboweling ache in her lungs turned razor-sharp. Someone gutted her with a dull knife and writhed the end through her insides. Bonnie's pulse jumped. She heard the thumping of her heart pass through her ears. Her sight became glossy when she looked at a blurred Klaus. "I... can't." Bonnie squeezed out in a hoarse, dry heave with a head shake. Suddenly, Bonnie felt hot and sweaty, like someone had thrown her inside a furnace. The quiver in her legs traveled up her hips and the rest of her body. She used the desk as support to keep standing, unaware of the wood sizzling under her palm. The strength in her knees drained.

Klaus seized her arms, dismissing how her magic sliced through him like talons. "We both know that's rubbish. You just defeated a 2000-year-old immortal—one who had no problem terrorizing my siblings and me. You brought two Originals to their knees and awakened an extraordinary power. If anyone has complete control, it's you. Not that imbecile Shane or Silas using you for their purpose." Klaus reminded her with a dark tone before his voice lowered an octave, "not even me." The words didn’t taste as bitter as he expected them. What was seconds, in reality, lasted for what felt like an eternity. Klaus's gaze felt like a lifeline she could latch onto, but Bonnie looked away, avoiding his heavy stare and weakly shrugging her arms from his grip. She almost choked on the air she greedily inhaled before finding the regular pace of her breathing.

Klaus conceded but hadn't taken a step back to set a boundary between them. Curious, his blue eyes flicked to the profile of Bonnie's downturned face. His gaze trailed from her long, wet lashes, shielding her green eyes to the curve of her nose and plump lips. Klaus exhaled a breath he didn't know he held when Bonnie's eyes shot up. She looked confused, lost, and vulnerable. So unlike before, when the little witch was high on her extraordinary power. He would have seized the chance to entice her and draw her to his side. Even now, Klaus had ample opportunities thrown in his lap to coax Bonnie. When she was in her power rush, and now showing her frailty. However, the two extremities in her emotional state made Klaus wary of manipulating them for some reason.

Since the deaths of Maddock and Greta, Klaus didn't have loyal witches of their caliber at his side. Then, the prospect of Bonnie appeared before him. The Bennett Witch was on a whole other level than any who pledged allegiance to him. Klaus planned to get into Bonnie's good graces, even before she practiced expression. Bonnie had raw talent. She was guaranteed to become more powerful than the most seasoned and oldest witches Klaus had ever encountered for someone who didn't practice that long.

Her estranged family from her mother's side were superb mentors in their own right and helped Bonnie with her growth. She had her own safe space with mentors to guide her. People protected her and put her well-being first. This made it much more hassle to get her at his side, but Klaus was convinced a prodigy such as Bonnie was best fitted at his side. Alas, his schemes were futile with her family present. More than that, the little witch often saw through his plans and attempts. Bonnie might see through him now if he tempted her with the promise of more power. So, at the last moment, Klaus reeled in opportunistic thoughts and decided he would change tactics because, as he realized, Bonnie was meant to be treated very differently.

The silent impasse contrasted their usual challenge; Klaus felt neither pretentiousness nor hostility. It was Bonnie's begrudging gratefulness for helping her. Klaus naturally raised his lips, dimples sprouting to display his delight. "No need for the thank you, love. I simply don't want my renovated house to come crashing down."

Bonnie snorted, but the light smile softened her features considerably. She looked around his lavish home with a critical eye. She'd been here a few times, usually unwilling, and Bonnie couldn't help but ask, "what're you going to do with it now that you're leaving?"

"I build this for it to become a home for me and my siblings after Mikael's defeat." There was a thoughtfulness to Klaus's words and a melancholic feel. Mystic Falls was their birthplace, so it wasn't farfetched. Klaus had memories and life before becoming a Vampire. "The housekeepers are to keep things tidy in my absence. What about you? Now that I am leaving, will you and your family return to Mystic Falls?"

"Not for a while. We've actually come to like Salem." Klaus's face brightened to prove his statement of a few months ago correct. Bonnie rolled her eyes but neither refuted nor acknowledged his reaction. "I learned a lot about some of my ancestors too. Apparently, Ayana's son moved to Salem, and one of her daughters even moved to New Orleans. Lucy and I are planning to visit."

"A fine city. New Orleans is the largest Supernatural community in the Northern continent." Looking at Bonnie with a fixed gaze, Klaus's chin angled up with a whiff of pride. "You should know the Mikaelsons built the city. Our influence stretches far and wide. We ruled New Orleans for centuries. " His blue eyes twinkled with an excited gleam. "If you’re ever in need of an guide-"

"Goodbye Klaus."

#klonnie #bonnie bennett #bonnie bennett x klaus mikaelson #since writing for my fic isnt going as well as I want it to #enjoy! #this random scene was on my mind and i had to write it #it’s all over the place so forgive me #at least its out of my system #dark klonnie #ish? #my edit #klaus mikaelson

[engelspolitics]

Most Dangerous Weapons in Mythology

https://www.grunge.com/607088/most-dangerous-weapons-in-mythology/

Zeus’ Thunderbolt

· The thunderbolt reflects Zeus' personification of storm and sky. In an instant, the sky god could smite an individual dead from afar. It also related how he could ride the lightning instantly and descend from the heavens.

The sword Tyrfing

· The sword was created when King Svafrlami, the grandson of the god Odin, trapped the dwarves Dulin and Dvalin and forced them to make him a sword.

· The dwarves were master smiths and resentfully forged Tyrfing. The sword never rusted, featured a golden hilt, and could cut rocks and iron like butter. To make it even more intimidating, it glowed like fire.

o But the dwarves decided to take revenge by laying curses on the sword. First, every time the sword was drawn, it was destined to kill.

Vishnu’s Sudarshana Chakra

· Vishnu is known as the "Preserver." He is a guardian of men who appears on Earth in the form of various avatars to fight demons and preserve stability in the cosmos.

· this weapon is a discus composed of 108 blades. This design is symbolic of Vishnu's association with the sun and also a representation of the Hindu depiction of the Wheel of Life.

o The weapon can destroy anything and traditionally cannot be used by mortals

Poseidon’s Trident

· Poseidon ⁠— Neptune in the Roman tradition ⁠— had a trident that was forged by the Cyclopes at the same time as Zeus' thunderbolt and Hades' helmet.

· Poseidon's trident probably originated from a simple fishing spear

· The spear could also create an earthquake, shatter rocks, and calm a stormy sea. It is for this reason that Poseidon is also the god of earthquakes.

Sharur the Speaking Mace

· Sharur was the massive mace of Ninurta, the hero-god of hunting and war in ancient Sumeria.

· The most notable use of Sharur was when Ninurta fought the demon Asag (also called Agag), who was a demon of sickness and disease à Sharur worked as a tricorder providing crucial information on the monster

Kusanagi

· Warrior sword; first found in the tail of an eight-headed dragon by the storm god Susanoo. The god then gave it to his sister, the sun goddess Amaterasu, who then gifted it to her grandson, Ninigi, who came to Earth to become the ruler of Japan.

· The sword has been passed down through the years and is one of the three sacred treasures of Japanese imperial regalia; however, the sword remains hidden, so no one has ever seen it.

· Kusanagi has divine powers and is a symbol of national identity to Japan

Arthur’s Excalibur

· Excalibur's origins are unearthly, with some traditions holding that it was forged on the mystical isle of Avallon. The sword has also been attributed with some powers — it purportedly burned so brightly that it blinded enemies. And in the right hands, it was said the be powerful enough to slay heaps of foes.

· Excalibur's scabbard also allowed the wearer to suffer blood loss and not die, and some tales say that wounds did not bleed at all when wearing the scabbard.

Thor’s Mjolnir

· The meaning of Mjolner's name — "Pulverizer," or "That Which Smashes"

· It was originally created by two dwarf-brothers, Brokkr and Eitri, as part of a wager made between them and the god of mischief, Loki.

o However, to win the bet, Loki cheated by biting the dwarves as they wrought the hammer. As noted in "Goddess," the result was a handle that was too short. However, Thor was pleased with it and used it to slay giants

o it could be folded up and stuffed into a small area, which is why Thor usually kept Mjolnir tucked in his shirt.

o The hammer never missed its target, and when thrown, the hammer always returned to its owner. Mjolnir is also red-hot to the touch and it shot lightning

Marduk’s Imhullu

· The most important deity to the ancient city of Babylon was its patron god, Marduk, who was responsible for justice, healing, and compassion and was also a storm and agricultural god

· Marduk defeated Tiamat, the incarnation of chaos, to bring order to the universe and create heaven and earth and co-create humanity

o It is in his battle with Tiamat that Marduk uses a weapon named Imhullu, which means "evil wind" to kill Tiamat

Fragarach the Answerer

· In Irish mythology, the sea god and guardian of the underworld, Manannan mac Lir, wielded the divinely-created sword Fragarach

· Aside from being able to cut through shields and walls, the blade delivered a piercing wound that could not be healed. Thus, Fragarach was dangerous even to the wielder if they didn't know what they were doing

· When the sword was placed to a person's throat, they could neither move nor tell lies àherefore the sword is called the answerer

· He who wielded Fragarach controlled the wind itself.

The monkey king’s ruyi jingu bang

· One of the great stories of traditional China is the Ming Dynasty novel "The Journey to the West." The work is based on the pilgrimage of the monk Xuanzang to India in A.D. 7. Xuanzang is accompanied by various companions, including a monkey, Sun Wukong, also known as the Handsome Monkey King

o He was kicked out of the Celestial court for misbehavior, and Xuanzang and Monkey have numerous adventures fighting brigands and monsters while experiencing moments of Buddhist enlightenment.

· The Monkey King used the Ruyi Jingu Bang to battle his enemies. This was a magical golden staff that he earned after defeating the dragons of the four seas.

· The staff had the ability to change size or fight independently from its user. For example, when the Monkey King originally found it, it was over 8 tonnes, but when it was stowed behind his ear, it was the size of a needle

The Spear of Destiny

· The spear that a Roman soldier used to pierce the side of Jesus’ body

· One well-known example of the use of the lance was during the First Crusade. According to the story, peasant Peter Bartholomew had a vision from St. Andrew telling him to retrieve the lance to use it against Islamic forces. After reporting his vision to Crusade leaders, a search was conducted. Nothing was found until Bartholomew jumped into a pit and pulled out a long iron rod, claiming it was indeed the Holy Lance. It was accepted, and the Crusaders used it to successfully take the ancient Greek city of Antioch.

o Later, Bartholomew was put to an ordeal by fire to see if he was really telling the truth and died in the process, discrediting him in Christendom.

· There are currently three different relics that claim to be the authentic Holy Lance, but none of them claim to have holy powers

#weapons #legends

[thatboomerkid]

Fist of the Gamma Star

Fist of the Gamma Star -- Starfinder feat for use with the GammaFinder Setting by Owen K.C. Stephens

Unarmored & unafraid, you walk the wastelands of a devastated planet.

You are trained in the most esoteric of fighting-arts, ancient even in the long-ago eons of the Unburned World; the impeccable focus of your flawless technique launches your kinetic prowess ever-forward, an avalanche of perfect strikes – rising like the mountain or descending like a stormbolt – to boldly carve your name upon the Wastes & bring order to this lawless stage of history.

Brought to you absolutely free to play, to test & to share, as always, by the fine folks of my Patreon.

image from here

Prerequisite: Soldier with the Qi Adept Fighting Style; must be selected at Character Creation

Benefit: You gain all the benefits of the Hammer Fist Technique from the Armor Storm Fighting Style. If you choose Armor Storm as your Secondary Fighting Style, you treat your Soldier level for purposes of that Style as equal to your Soldier level -4 (rather than -8). 

You must begin play with Heavy Armor of your level (your Major Item) or of your level +1 (your Relic from your Emphasis). This special Heavy armor is spiritual in nature, rather than purely physical, and may only be manipulated while you are in deep meditation: for example, your armor may only be donned, repaired or removed while you are quietly focusing your inner fighting-spirit.

You gain all the normal benefits of your heavy armor’s environmental protections while it is worn, even through you are (to unenlightened eyes) apparently unarmored. You always directly perceive the spiritual armor of other creatures with this ability, with no roll or action required. You recharge your armor automatically while meditating.

Your spiritual armor’s appearance (though invisible and mostly-intangible) is yours to adjust freely, and may also be recognized by any creature using detect magic or any higher-level divination effect.

You may buy and sell Heavy Armor and Powered Armor and/or upgrades for your armor at normal market cost while in an isolated meditative trance: thus, for example, you might expend 850 credits worth of incense – and one hour in meditation – to upgrade your armor from Officer Ceremonial Plate to Enforcer Armor I. Your total item level for this special armor may not exceed your ranks in Mysticism.

Special: If your armor is your Relic, you may instead upgrade it for free each time you gain a level, and your total item level for this special armor may not exceed your ranks in Mysticism +1.

Designer’s Note: This feat is often selected in conjunction with the Priest Theme.

#Starfinder #martial artist #post apocalyptic #GammaFinder #feat #Monk #kung fu #anime #wuxia #fist of the north star

[prophet-of-chaos]

THE TESTAMENTS

> HISTORY

( There is graphic content beyond, detailing death and violence. Such is the nature of life in this universe. A censored TL;DR has been included at the beginning. ) A MOMENT IN TIME Nyx was born as one of twins to the Kishi clan after a barren period without children. Given the name Sayomi and her twin brother Yoruko, they were both promised in service to their patron deity Cosmos as thanks for blessing the clan with twins. 

Nyx disliked the life of a young acolyte because she frequently received horrible visions while meditating in contact with Cosmos. Instead, she indulged in the travellers that frequently visited Asmodia to trade, seeking stories and knowledge from them. 

A historian she befriended from one of the crews helped her to trace back some of her clan’s history to a time where they were proud warriors and served a different deity. One of the temple sites he showed her pictures of was the same as one she had seen in her visions. Intrigued by this, Nyx sought out said god, known only as Chaos. They received her inquiries with vigour, indulging all her questions and accepting her as a servant on the following conditions: she would endeavour to restore their power and notoriety in the galaxy; she would become a vessel for balancing the universe in their favour and meting out their justice; and she would be devout to Chaos’ teachings, all in return for great powers. 

Spurred by promises from this being and a growing distrust of her clan’s true motives for her life, Nyx escaped with the historian’s crew and smuggled herself out into the universe. She forsook the name Sayomi, and adopted the mantle Nyx, given to her by Chaos. She travelled with this crew for a time, devoting herself to the teachings of Chaos and creating simple wares for the crew to sell as a way of giving back to the ship.  The historian and several other members of the crew died in a tragic oversight while they were exploring a historic site. Seeking a powerful relic of Chaos, they ran into scalpers looking to strip the ruins for valuables. The ensuing tussle claimed the lives of her closest companions, and their bloodshed awakened the weapon dormant within the ruins — Celeste, a cursed war-hammer and battle axe with a fragment of Chaos’ power living inside. Though the scalpers escaped, Nyx felt responsible for the outcome, and promised to take up the historian’s work and mantle to honour all he had done for her. 

She also took up bounty hunting, to both empower herself and hunt down the crooks that murdered her crew. After making good on her promise to avenge them, she continued to pursue the bounty hunting pathway, eventually rising to the top of the ranks and dominating Inner Eye as the Top Hunter for 13 years. 

Nyx retired 4 years ago to allow time for her historic curation and preservation interests, but remained supportive of Delilah Leach who followed to take the title. 

More recently, she made contact with her twin brother after hearing the Kishi clan had been purged from their planet due to an crash and an environmental disaster. She didn’t realise he was infected with a Carnasite, and when her guard was down, became infected with a particularly vicious strain of the parasite through a bite from Yoruko. Regrettably, she ended up killing him and retreating to cope with the incoming effects of the infection.

Chaos instructed her to seek refuge in one of His temple chambers, immersed in His power to give her the best chance of surviving the invader’s changes. She disappeared during this period for years, before being recovered along with Celeste from a mysterious temple buried under the shifting sands of Ha’tut in a portal guarded by a Voledan Sandworm. 

She now serves as an assistant leader and point of guidance for the Inner Eye faction, under Motus’ leadership.

THE BIRTH OF A SPECIES The Kishi clan arrived on Asmodia a millennia ago, after their ancestral species the Keph’rah escaped a war-torn homeland and journeyed out into the galaxy. 

The Keph’rah were birthed from the pressures of warring aliens and a hostile landscape, the break-down of these species developed a novel hybrid. From those too weak to be warriors and too timid to be leaders came a new nocturnal species seeking a new home. 

They were guided into the stars by a galactic force known only as Chaos. They became devout to Chaos, who gifted them preternatural magical abilities in exchange for all-consuming worship. The Keph'rah travelled extensively, scattering about the stars. Some splintered off along the way, settling new planets they never left. Others reached out to new deities, seeking new pathways. Fewer still remained true to the path of a follower, building monuments and beautiful temples across the galaxy until they simply... vanished, along with most of the evidence they ever existed, over a thousand years ago. The entirety of this erasure baffled galactic historians, and became a point for much research for those interested in such affairs.

One of the surviving splinters became the Kishi, settling on Asmodia under the instruction of a gentle guiding force they came to know as Cosmos. They presented themselves to the young Keph’rah as a maternal, warm deity, kinder and more forgiving than Chaos had ever been. Cosmos promised that the Keph’rah would find peace and safety on Asmodia, that she would not demand such intense sacrifice from her followers, and that those under her care would only prosper. As proof of this offer, Cosmos instructed them where was safest to settle, what to consume, sent the most perceptive of them forewarning visions of terrible weather or animal threats, so they could best prosper in their new home. 

What they didn’t realise was the more control they allowed this deity, the more Cosmos quietly shaped them as a species. The closest and most devout began to take on mystic qualities and prophetic dreams, driving them further from Chaos. They lost much of their magical ability, but in exchange, an awakened few developing blinded eyes in their palms. These always looked skyward to their Goddess and saviour, Cosmos, receiving visions and dreams to further aid the clan. Fewer and fewer males were born into the clan, their history of strength and warrior leadership dwindling, despite being what had carried them thus far into the galaxy. Most of the clan found they didn’t mind these changes once they became aware, giving themselves a new name to distance themselves further from the ones they had left behind. And thus, the Kishi became devoted servants to the Supreme Mother, Cosmos.

THE ADVENT OF A PROPHET

Nyx was born thousands of years after the Keph’rah’s first settlement, when their origins had become folklore and little but a buried part of the Kishi’s history. It was an unspoken taboo to dwell on the past, many eager to please their Goddess’ to continue receiving blessings of future-sight.  Nyx’s birth signalled the dawn of great peace for the Kishi clan. She was born as one of twins, after several barren years for the clan. Despite a healthy small population, plenty of resources, and a slowly growing territory, the Kishi clan had no children for many years. She represented the answer to the Kishi’s prayers and the future of their clan. She was called Sayomi, a night-gifted beauty from the stars, and her brother Yoruko, a child of darkness and starlight. 

True to the system of their matriarchal clan, Sayomi had been promised to Cosmos when she was born as thanks for heeding the clan’s prayers. Her life had been mapped for her, projecting devoted service in the name of Cosmos. Many would be privileged to take on the duties of a priestess in the clan, as few were gifted with foresight and a close connection to the Goddess’ visions. 

This life never seemed to suit Sayomi, though she had been born for its purpose. Whenever she received her training, she would complain of terrible visions and dreadful nightmares, unbefitting for such a kind goddess’ powers. She would see foreign places crumbling, bloodshed, children screaming. Blood splattered on the stones of a temple floor. A mother with babe ripped from her arms. A warrior falling on his sword. A priest being incinerated in a great wall of flames. Rapture. 

The visions were always extremely vivid and detailed. She displayed a strong aptitude for the future-sight aspect of her training and receiving visions, but hated using it because it brought her such distress. The clan thought she was lying to shirk her divine duties, and ignored her complaints.

Cosmos was kind. Cosmos was benevolent. Cosmos would not show a child such terrible things. Sayomi simply had an overactive imagination.

This disbelief made her despise her service, and she avoided it at all costs.

She was a restless, rambunctious, daring, and most of all, curious child. Though she remained a polite student, she was an unwilling acolyte, much preferring to tag along with the foraging parties and her brother, who gathered food for the clan. She loved the thrill of finding old settlements scattered about the planet, hints of their ancestors embedded in the trunks of towering mushrooms and gentle rivers weaved by ancient hands to find water for their clan. She felt as though some of the ancient carvings might hold the key to unlocking her visions and explaining some of the things she saw. Yoruko was also the opposite of what he was born to be. He was timid, and much preferred to hide behind his sister’s skirts. He’d offer to hold her gathered food rather than pick it himself, scared of even a bug’s pin-prick bite or an animal rustling in the undergrowth. A far cry from the bold and efficient gatherer spot he was supposed to fulfil, the two of them became insular. Yoruko preferred his twin’s company, and Sayomi preferred to have none at all. The clan viewed them as an odd pair, murmurings that they might even be cursed with chaotic energy... but they persisted. Everybody found their place in the clan eventually. There was no space for those who didn’t.

DAWN OF A NEW FUTURE

Situated on the edge of a trade route, Asmodia saw regular traffic from traders looking stock up on exotic and rare native wares from their resource-rich planet. Though they were a private and secretive species for the most part, they did enjoy their trading. The technology and news from the surrounding galaxy these travellers brought was welcome, both as part curiousity and part opportunity to spread the teachings of their Goddess Cosmos. The Kishi had amicable relations with their visitors, and even gained a host of regular traders who would come with larger shipments in exchange for a prepared selection of teas and jewellery.  Contrary to the rest of her peers, Sayomi thrived on these mysterious travellers. As a youngling, she would make regular efforts to sneak away from her elders to have extra time with visitors, even if that went as far as clambering into their ships as a temporary (and terribly obvious) stowaway. The traders humoured her, for they were as curious about the secretive Kishi people as she was about the wider universe. She tried her best to learn Galactic Common, trading pictures drawn with berry dye and charcoal at first, until she could understand more of their stories. They told her of the galaxy, of the people they traded with, the history of the wares they bartered. In return, she showed them the buried parts of the jungle on Asmodia, pieces of their history and their first settlements. She also shared what trees to dig under to find the rare luminescent stones, and what beautiful fruits were safe to pick for vibrant dyes. Some of the traders were just eager to make the best deal and be on their way, and told her useless fibs in exchange for her information and items. One regular crew took quite the liking to her though. There was a young historian aboard who was just as fascinated by the history of her planet and people as she was. She spent long hours with him, tracing the history of her clan to their original ancestors in the Keph’rah, and the powers that had guided them to their salvation.

In particular, he showed her a photo of an ancient temple he had visited, and she realised — though she had never been there, she knew that place. She had seen it in her visions, time and time again. Intrigued, she asked him to bring her more information about the temple and the being they had worshipped there. SECRETS OF AN ANCIENT PEOPLE

Thrilled by the chance to finally explain herself, she brought up her revelation to the Elders of the clan. She wasn't mad, nor cursed — she was seeing visions! True visions, of places that existed, and people in the past!

But they swore her to secrecy.

The people she had spoke of worshipped the wrong God, and were long gone. Irrelevant. Dangerous. She was never to speak of the past again; she was to abandon these foolish pursuits, and focus on the fitting. Cosmos only ever showed visions of the future. To be viewing the past was wrong, and clearly these travellers had put thoughts in her head. Sacrilegious thoughts. The Elders began to restrict the number of travellers allowed near the settlement, and further restrict her access to them.

Wounded and outraged, it began to occur to Sayomi just how much of their past had been kept from her during her studies. The Elders had known about their heritage, and yet had always denied her questions! If their people had such a proud spacefaring history with so many great warriors that had brought them here, why were they actively trying to bury it? Why did they destroy the relics of their first settlements, and shun even play-fighting amongst the children? 

She began to distrust the Cosmic deity. Tasked with many long hours of meditation daily to become closer to Cosmos, Sayomi started to hate the practice, the manicured lifestyle, every effort she made in service to Cosmos. 

Instead, she spent her time of mandatory meditation casting her mind out, further into the galaxy, seeking connections from other powers. On some days she would disappear altogether, running away from the clan and wandering for days in a trance-like state. If there was one controlling and all-powerful being, surely there were others who would be more compassionate to her lust for knowledge. It was half curiousity, half angry defiance, with little care for what repercussion may come her way from those she made contact with. Her life was so orchestrated, every disruption and threat removed from her as though she were a perpetual child.  She never truly expected an answer.

THE UNIVERSE LISTENS TO THOSE WHO CRY

A voice responded to Sayomi’s dreaming, one both familiar and unfamiliar to her. She knew she had never heard them in her lifetime, but had the distinct feeling that many before her had been close to this being. They introduced themselves as Chaos, and welcomed her back to the fold as a true child of theirs. 

They were a being of great power who dwelled in the past, but whose influence had dwindled over time as their followers had been struck by misfortune. She connected to His qualities of balance, justice and clairvoyance. A secret part of her supposed Chaos had been the one sending her visions of the past, all this time. 

When Chaos spoke to her, it felt like she had come home again. They welcomed her inquiries, embracing the mind that had travelled far from her body and allowing it to stay in their company. Time stretched out endlessly, though mere minutes had passed in her body. Every time she sought them out, she learned a little more, yearned for their power and their influence to free her from the mindless existence as a priestess in training. She ached for the literal chaos they promised, to reclaim their warrior history and connect to the past that had been so desperately kept from her. 

And so, Chaos promised her everything she wished for. The power to change her destiny. The power to reclaim her past. The power to harness the universe and stoke the wildfire of her heart, that need to explore. 

In exchange, she would become His Prophet.

They would accept her as a servant on the following conditions: she would endeavour to restore their power and notoriety in the galaxy; she would become a vessel for balancing the universe in their favour; she would mete out their justice accordingly; and she would be devout to Chaos’ teachings. She agreed, gladly. She would abandon the new way and return to the old. She would no longer be Sayomi — instead, she would become Nyx, the name offered to her by Chaos to claim her. By the time she had returned to her body, the pact had been made. 

ESCAPE FROM ASMODIA

The change was almost immediate when she returned. The eyes on her palms awakened and blazed with divine purple fire, the first of her gifts. Her eyes took on an unnatural, violet hue, and though she did not realise it at the time, it was at that moment that Cosmos had forsaken her and denied her the ability of future-sight. 

The clan was horrified, believing her cursed, and she fled without time to even bid Yoruko farewell. 

Thankfully, the Historian’s crew had not yet departed, and she managed to convince them to allow her on board. In exchange for her skills as a seamstress that she had learned in training, she would be allowed to board if they could sell her creations. She agreed, thankful that they would not need to return to Asmodia for such wares soon, and left with them into the universe beyond. 

THE GALAXY BELONGS TO CHAOS

Life aboard the Trader’s ship was not what she had expected, but she loved every moment of it. She threw herself whole-heartedly into the physical work of maintaining the old cargo clunker, spending every dreaming moment with Chaos. They slowly made other powers available to her, her most beloved one being Clairvoyance. She tested it on every item they collected for trade in the ship, training her connection to Chaos and her use of His divine abilities. 

Her bargain with the Captain (with the aid of the historian) had been for every successful batch of fabrics they made, they would seek out an ancient site she had been shown in a vision by Chaos. There would surely be relics there she would get permission to trade, and they could restore a part of the site to reinvigorate Chaos’ reach in the galaxy. 

This worked peacefully, for a time. She became hardy and capable, studying common languages so she could speak freely, without a translator and reading with the Historian. They restored several sites across the galaxy in Chaos’ name and prospered. She remembers this part of her life fondly and full of wonder. 

Like most reveries however, this one did not last. 

BECOME ONE WITH THE STARS, MY DEAR FRIENDS

Chaos gave her a vision of a powerful relic which had once consumed a part of His physical vessel and stored a great deal of power. It had many names over the millennia it had existed, but once Nyx had it, it would be hers to name and bear. It was a weapon fitting of a proud warriors’ history, and had been wielded by some of her ancestors many years ago. 

When they arrived at the site, it seemed just as she had seen in her ancient visions, only aged by the weather and scratched at by scavengers. Some lesser carvings had been stolen from the walls, gems picks out of statues’ eyes, but the innermost chambers remained intact. Following the instruction of her deity, Nyx guided her small crew of the Historian, the Engineer, the Captain and the Surveyor into the ruins, leaving a skeleton crew and the Medic back on their waiting ship. 

Absorbed in their explorations, they had not noticed a small band of scalpers had followed them into the ruins, catching wind of their conquests on nearby planets and looking to snag a few spoils for themselves. 

Inside the temple, Nyx found the dormant hammer she would come to call Celeste, the Reaver of Stars. It slumbered, unwitting in its new owners hands, much too heavy for her and unwieldy. She did not fret — there would be time to learn how to best use it later. She had not expected to wish for those lessons so soon.

As they turned to leave, they were ambushed by a nasty group of grave-diggers. Several bandits and a mutant hound, they had not come to bargain. This inner chamber had remained a mystery for so long to many bands who wished to claim its contents. They would do anything, anything, to take those items for themselves. Fatally inexperienced and unequipped for such an encounter, the Traders crew left with one survivor that day: Nyx. 

The Surveyor had been shot first, the Engineer set upon by knives. The Surveyor was caught trying to find cover to set explosives, and the Captain had bravely defended them until the hound had stripped every last one of the tentacles from his face. 

Nyx froze in the face of violence, the scene she had seen so many times in her nightmares. Those screams, that blood — it was the vision of her friend’s deaths, a final resounding gift from Cosmos. She had always thought it was a view of the past, but she had seen these deaths many times before. 

The Historian, ever the bookish man, had bravely pulled his gun on the bandits and stood in Nyx’s way, though he bled from his side and limped to her defense. They were terribly outnumbered now... and it was his blood that awakened Celeste. 

The hammer split at the scenes, pulsing with sinew and loosing a terrible, anguished scream as it awakened to the taste of innocent blood. 

It was a terrible, bloody dance that followed, Nyx barely conscious in her rage. Chaos took the reigns at some point, allowing her to abound in the reckless, divine chaos of the moment. She did not wield Celeste with experience, only blind grief and terror. It was enough to smite a few and send the others scrambling with a small handful of gems from the chamber. Nyx was too exhausted to pursue, still detached from her body as Chaos aided her, stumbling back to the ship. There had been no survivors, confirmed by the Medic. 

The shock of the loss left her reeling. Truthfully, Nyx never quite recovered from that fateful day and the loss of the crew, especially not the Historian and the Captain who represented so much of her freedom and journey thus far. She felt terribly responsible for leading them there and putting them in the temple that day. Chaos urged her to seek balance... These feelings were as a result of an unfair loss that had left the ‘scales’ unbalanced. She should press onwards and seek revenge, to level the scales of justice in His favour again.  

She gladly took this explanation as motivation, seeking some kind of direction after she was left drifting, listless following the loss. In an effort to memorialise her fallen crew, she took up the Historian’s mantle, continuing his research across the galaxy. As for the lives of the others... She turned to bounty hunting. She was sure to get her revenge that way.

THE TURN OF AN AGE — BALANCE RESTORED

Full of sorrow and remorse, Nyx left the fractured Trader’s crew. She had expressed her desire for revenge, and hoping to redirect her, the Medic had suggested she should try ‘Fortune’. Armed with her new weapon and a burning desire to never be helpless again, Nyx grew her strength day by day and conquered each power Chaos allowed her. She hunted, small things at first, testing her strength... and then tracked down every single remnant of that scalping crew with fervent determination that surprised even herself. 

She exacted bloody revenge on every single one that had caused her grief and caused pain to her true family. The carnage delighted Chaos, who spurred her onwards. Her hunts became bigger, fostering a connection with Celeste and developing her unique fighting style to help her climb the ranks. She used her talents, those inherited from her clan and those gifted to her by Chaos, to become a fearsome hunter in the upper echelons of Fortune. Her strength belied her stature, a moonlit priestess who left curses and ashes in her wake.

For 13 years, she reigned as the Top Hunter for Inner Eye, renowned for completely reshaping battlefields to her whim, smiting the worst of her targets with inextinguishable purple flames and leaving those ‘live’ targets with a death sentence, branded into their skin. Death would come for them all, and Chaos would claim those who denied Him. 

To her faction, she remained the polite mentor the Captain had taught her how to be, and the willing student the Historian had instilled in her. She guided those lost to the pathway of Chaos, and restored the fading history of those whose voices had been lost to time. 

EVENING COMES FOR ALL OF US

An upcoming hunter in the ranks caught her eye — a Delilah Leach, as tenacious as she was capable. The history of each of her members was important to her, of course, but it never overshadowed the individual. She felt herself becoming restless again, seeking the fulfilment of her historical work over the endless hunting. She would continue to hunt, but would simply rescind the mantle to somebody new, to shift the balance to new, promising power so she could continue to spread the word of Chaos. 

She maintained a good relationship with Delilah, supporting the new hunter as she distanced herself from hunting for a time. She dropped off the radar for a time, and rumour had it she made contact with her twin brother Yoruko after he made contact with her...

The truth of the rumour was that the Kishi clan had been hit with terrible disaster — first an environmental disaster after a trading ship had crashed carrying hazardous goods, starving most of the population into oblivion. Next, the planet they had fled to for salvation had been infested with a terrible, insatiable parasite. 

When he reached out, he still had clarity of mind and control of his body. By the time she met with him, he had become nigh rabid, barely managing to keep his mind intact long enough to speak to her. In a moment of weakness, she embraced him, and their proximity overwhelmed his waning control. Yoruko bit her with a festering bite, a pain unlike any she had experienced before in her time hunting. Her hands blazed reflexively, Chaos igniting them in an effort to protect his prophet. She was too anguished to douse the flames, howling as she struggled with her own pain and watched her brother burn. 

Nyx would come to learn later what kind of mercy she had given him, instead of allowing him to starve as a Carnasite vessel. At the immediate moment, she could barely manage with the changes that began to swiftly take hold of her, the strain she had been infected with particularly savage. Chaos strained their power to transport her to the nearest temple location, a buried portal on Ha’tut in the badlands outside Zavora. Protected by a great Voledan Sandworm, in a plain that continuously shifted, they believed she would be safe as she He worked on the worst of the parasite’s effects. 

Inside the chamber, Chaos laid Nyx to rest in the embrace of His power. Weaved into a cocoon by the raging Carnasite, Nyx slumbered for the next few years. Considered dead to most, missing to others, Fortune would occasionally get sporadic signals from the tracking tag on Celeste, signal bleeding through the magic barrier that protected the temple chamber. 

She would have continued to lie dormant there, if an expedition from Inner Eye had not happened upon the temple, solved the puzzles within, and awoken the Prophet of Chaos.

THE PROPHET RETURNS

The time resting served her well — once awakened, though weak, Nyx had completely synergised with the Carnasite. The original strength of the host and the arcane powers of Chaos fed into the maturation of the parasite, giving it strangely aware qualities. Curiously, it seems to have developed speech... using her brother’s voice. It carries a part of him too, and though she deeply regrets the circumstances that led to his death, she still bears the connection through his untimely gift.  

Nyx now resides back at Fortune, having taken up the Assistant Leadership position she was offered by Motus before she disappeared. 

[twitchesandstitches]

Dragonrezi Gets Even Bigger Comm

A commission for @alt-hammer, of the Dragonrezi from one of my earlier fic concepts of a fantasy AU that featured Vriska as a conquering giant sorceress and Terezi as a dragon monster girl she tried to wrangle into being her familiar,and Karkat as a plaything to placate Terezi; comm-er wanted to see some elaboration on it and Terezi getting even bigger! (A link to that earlier story!)

Featuring some implied JohnVris, this round!

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In the most magically scarred continent of the world, recent wars in the homelands of long-gone troll empires had left the whole place a chaotic mess, filled with ruins, warlords and all manner of danger. From one perspective, it was a bad situation; monsters formed from magic and taking shape from the most powerful spell-users around regularly came out of nowhere, most cities and towns didn’t last more than a few days, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to immobilize themselves by making themselves too busty to move with the wrong application of magic, which tended to have consequences for their villages.

But to those intent on putting some kind of order on the world, it was an opportunity. To build new empires, to uncover the mysteries of the old ones, and to grow strong.

(Terezi Pyrope felt it was best to bide your time, and steer the course of things. All of these things, she would do in time, but she would work with things first.)

Now, consider one of the more stable lands in recent times: the Cerulean Kingdoms, the Serket lands. Statues across its beaches, floating sea-cities and cliff-side realms portrayed the image of a sorceress queen, as impossibly curvaceous and busty as only the strongest of magic users were. In truth this sorceress and her friends, and rivals, were a hidden society and adventuring party when the times were right, and they all shared her distinctive figure as a consequence of sufficient magical power and expertise. Kanaya, scion of the vampires, her belly swollen with converts to vampirism… Aradia of the Megido necromancers, her own body eternally pregnant with the countless souls she gestated new bodies for in a form of resurrection. And the others, equally huge and curvy in their own unique ways, from Feferi the life-crafting witch to Jade the wolfish witch of the wilds…

And Vriska Serket, who hoped to be the biggest and most powerful to make her mark on the world, and trying so very hard to outdo her own dragon familiar, Terezi Pyrope.

The boundaries of her lands were easy enough to make out, as her magical palace flew over her lands. A grand construct of sapphire gems grown with her powers, black metal and shimmering stones imbued with raw magic, the gigantic citadel was unbelievably massive and it eclipsed some mountains as it flew over her lands and seas, though never past her boundaries, unable to move past the limits of her power. And, somehow, it was even bigger on the inside. Statues of herself stood at attention on the elaborately carved exteriors, a mirror to the ones in her towns and cities.

The statues did not quite do her justice; capturing the incredibly stylized robes, jackets and web-themed skirts of Vriska’s regal attire was a tricky enough affair, but to get across just how… buxom Vriska was? That was really not doable. You started with something shaped like a violin, made the wide bits as large as you possibly could, and then you made then even bigger than that… and by this point you gave up, because mere stone tended to crumble underneath the weight of such curves. She was thick, even by the standards of magical users.

To hear that Vriska Serket, queen of the sea-lands, might feel inadequate, was laughable. Who would she possibly feel skinny next to? And for an answer, they would point at the far, far larger statues of Terezi, which were not attached to the Citadel. They were the Citadel, at least its walls.

Within the Citadel, Vriska’s latest plan was coming to fruition.

Smirking in a way appropriate to the mightiest sorceress this side of the universities frequented by the Maryam Clan in their oasis on the other side of the known continent, she waved a hand at the twenty thousand undead soldiers carrying the artifact. She didn’t need to speak to command them, but she instinctively felt that there were some things you just had to do. “Put it down here.”

Zombies, mechanically-reinforced skeletons, the occasional feral ghost and a few enthralled mindless vampires (unrelated to the Maryam Clan, though possibly spawned from a similar process) all moved in a great mass and lowered the ancient arcane battery into a special pedestal. In a wave it clicked down, and they flowed away, their thousands of steps briefly obscuring the potent ritual patterns encircling the relic.

Here, in her floating citadel, Vriska was at her strongest. This was her place; arcane geometries channeled the power right into her, specially carved spires collected magic from the air and diverted it into the mystical foodstuffs that would be fed to her; the air itself rumbled with potential, and it discharged into her.

She smiled, fangs dimpling her thick lips, and strode off. Her undead minions (a gift from a friend, a necromancer called Damara Megido, who Vriska had helped with a serious academic question) trailed after her. It was difficult to tell if they could feel anything, but as her hourglass-shaped body moved, robes tightly conforming to her massive hips, their gazes were fixed on her. She went through a door shaped to permit her gigantic hips and breasts, and the undead followed, as did a small human all in blue.

Vriska stopped, and leaned down. Three hundred feet of troll leaned down, and her breasts hit the ground before her knees did. The human, John Egbert, stopped as a genuine valley of cleavage appeared before him and he peered up into the mightiest sorceress alive; famed for her ruthlessness, her limitless hunger for power, and so it might have been surprising for her rivals to see the indulgent look her face.

Vriska’s face softened even more as she picked him up, apparently on impulse; he didn’t seem to mind being held captive in a metallic prosthesis of magically resonant metals. Lips as wide around as a street to him pressed on him in a soft kiss, and he smooched her back as best as he could. Vriska put him down, and spoke. “John, gonna need you to stay here for a while until the ritual is complete.”

John nodded. “Okay, ma’am!” he saluted her, in the fashion he thought was expected of an apprentice to a magical teacher. “So… what do I do?”

Vriska made a grumpy noise. “Keep Terezi out of here! I just know that pain in my splendid ass is gonna show up and try to hog all the power boost for herself. So when, not if, when she shows up to, I don’t know, try to eat it or something, get her out!”

John saluted with a slightly worried expression. “I’ll… do what I can!” Vriska grinned, and left. Her building-sized heels clicked against the ground and her undead army followed. The door closed, with an appropriately satisfying bang. He had spent some hours weaving drama spells so get that sound just right!

He waited, dutifully, and marked the way the word-spells around the magical battery slowly increased. To pass the time, he tried to recall just where the thing had come from. Unfortunately history was not really his expertise; it was apparently a troll artifact from one of the bygone civilizations that hadn’t survived the sorcery wars of ancient times. He knew it stored magic (a truly horrific amount of it, and Vriska’s intentions were to deprive enemies of the chance to weaponize it, AND to also enhance her powers and beauty). And he knew that it looked a little bit like something he’d like to put on a stick and smack monsters around with. It had a cool look to it. It’d probably make a funny sound, too!

There was a small, teal lizard on the ceiling that had come there when he had been distracted. Privately, the lizard mused that maybe Vriska had a bit too much confidence in her human.

John contemplated the pros and cons of using it to make a magic hammer that would absorb magic but put some of that magic into making comedy sound effects whenever you hit something with it. The word-spell around it and all over the room were well along by this point, and they shone the liquid blue of Vriska’s magic.

He did feel the swell of enchantment, and he stepped back in surprise. The swell blurred his magical senses, and he experienced the mystical equivalent of something going ‘???’; all his more mystical senses went blank from overload, and he desperately stepped back as light flooded from the relic, briefly materializing into solidified wild magic. Fortunately, before it could erupt into any number of hazardous monsters or destructive disasters, it was grounded and safety channeled into the Citadel.

No, he thought, with a smile. Into the word-spell, and thus, into Vriska! He thought of all this power going to her… into her, and he goggled at the thought of when he’d see her next, at her full size!

She was three hundred feet now, and already such an hourglass-shaped beauty; he couldn’t imagine what she’d be like, but he did his best.

Thus distracted, he did not notice the lizard descending downwards and changing shape, expanding to a much larger form. He did hear, behind and above him, a very soft noise. He glanced up suspiciously, a faint suggestion of titanic movement drawing his attention, and saw nothing more. The walls and ceiling of the magic room vaulted high up, with many curving supports that would be ideal for strong claws to punch right into.

He paused. He didn’t recall that particular bit of ceiling looking so… leathery.

It unfurled, and the ceiling came down.

The world crashed about him, and as a looming force reached lazily for him, John squeaked as claws plucked him up. The ceiling hadn’t fallen down! Something really big, on the ceiling, just dropped down!

Or, to be specific, a really, really big someone.

The feminine form now filling up a good portion of the room was built on similar lines to Vriska but… bigger. Vriska had an hourglass body type, counterbalanced by her massive mane of hair, while the humanoid dragon, her gorgeous face a pleasing mix of troll and dragonish features, was… motherly. Girthy. A huge pair of wings swept around her, along with an enormously thick tail. Scales and golden shapes studded her body, from toe claws to horns, so that every inch of her shone, armored in her own splendor. A big belly propped up a pair of breasts even bigger than Vriska’s, and she had a lot of very solid muscles underneath the softness.

And oh yes; if Vriska was three hundred feet tall, than her dragon familiar, Terezi Pyrope, was… bigger. So much bigger, indeed. Terezi grinned at John, and around her the chamber telescoped outwards. There were potent enchanting spells to make rooms bigger to fit anyone who might be in them, but Terezi had a talent for pushing them to their limits. Her red eyes stared down at him, dull and blinded in some ancient paladin’s oath, but her smile was full of sharp teeth, and very snidely aware.

“So,” she said, as he realized too late that the little lizard in the room had been the exact same color as the teal monster girl sitting in the room right here. “You’re gonna stop me, huh?”

John wasn’t particularly scared, even in the grip of a dragon woman known to devour entire castles whole. Over five thousand feet tall from claw to horn bases, she looked very much like a troll; scales instead of chitin, her black skin tinted a vibrant shade of teal, and a thick dragonish tail sprouted from her massive backside just as a pair of huge wings furled around her so much like a fancy cloak. There were other signs; the crackling pathways of power along her throat and chest, where her breath weapons were powered up, the digitigrade legs just like a bird’s… and the big claws on her hands and feet. Bit funny to forget that, considering that he was pinched between them.

It was a bit like having some very pointy buildings hugging you into compliance. John wriggled politely. “Uh… yeah, absolutely! Let me up so we can have our fight!”

Terezi grinned at him. Leaning WAY over so he could see her. A truly buxom monster, she had to adjust herself so that her gold-studded breasts could shift out of the way, propped up on her big belly so they looked even bigger. Those boobs were huge, sticking out over five hundred feet out, the scales studded with the contents of an entire hoard to decorate her maternal body. She had to lean over just so he could see her, and his heart skipped a beat as she spoke, her enormous blue-green lips shaping so perfectly around her words. “Nah. Be a good boy and hold still so I can go do the thing.”

“Uh.” He lowered his fist. “Um. First, what are you planning on doing…?”

Terezi inclined her head at the artifact. “Guess.”

“...No way!”

She just grinned in reply, a clear ‘yes!’.

“Terezi, no!”

“Terezi yes!”

“I’ll stop you!” he cried valiantly.

Terezi smirked. “Vriska’s tiny hero rises to her defense! Honestly, I love it. You’re probably a great influence on her. Buuuuuut…. I don’t really wanna deal with that right now.”

She breathed out, and her breath was infused with the magic inherent to dragons. She cast a spell, not with lore or divine connection, but with her innate connection to the forces of magic, and her breath became a bubble. It flowed around John and he floated up into the air, yelling helplessly at her. The bubble contracted and twist as his wind magic tore at it from the inside, it bounced as he turned momentum into super speed and flight, but all his power wasn’t enough to overcome the micro-fraction of her power that she put into the bubble.

If she wished, she could have burned the continent to the bedrock without much effort. Sealing away an apprentice boy, even one in service to a living goddess-sorcerer, was hardly a challenge. But she liked to give herself something to test herself against later. “Tell ya what. As a present for standing up to me, I won’t just eat the damn thing. I’ll leave Vriska a TINY something. But all this,” and she gave one enormous hip a healthy, lusty smack, making various pats of her body jiggle enticingly. “Is a much better destination for its power than stroking Vrisky’s ego!”

“Kind of hypocritical for YOU To be talking about ego!” John said as Terezi lightly batted him with a finger that was, to him, larger than a building.

A claw bigger than a walkway smacked into him again and again, thoughtfully. “Okay that’s fair,” Terezi said, and then snorted. “But I don’t really care~!”

With a cheerful swagger, her tail smacking a few pillars around in such a way that she somehow carved her name into them like a signature, Terezi stepped right into the circle, so large that one toe filled up the whole thing. John beat and hollered at his little prison, and summoned forth the wind magic that was an expression of his fundamental tendency for powers of movement and direction both physical and abstract.

The bubble flew, at incredible force, right towards a patch of scales. Unfortunately that patch was on her butt, which was very well padded, and so he bounced off harmlessly. With such force that he impacted into the wall, cracking it, and there he was stuck. John’s powers just didn’t work if he was stuck!

Terezi’s thick, muscular tail waggled at him tauntingly, and swung up to slap her own butt. First the left side of one massive hip, and then the other, making it wobble and jiggle in hill-sized ripples; John blushed, angry and aroused at so much titanic butt. You could build a castle on all of it! And so, he was a bit too preoccupied with her dangerous flirting to realize that the blue magic lines were turning teal.

Magical colors were a personal thing. They indicated the influence of a magic user, the literal color of their soul as it entered the world. Reality WAS magic, shaped and codified into substance, concepts, forms. And color? Well, that was just light, but people saw color, and it meant things to them, and perspective was really all that counted in magic. So with magic users, the color of your soul shone forth when your power waxed mightily.

And when Terezi bothered to put even the slightest smidgen of effort, her magic made her shine like a sun.

Intricate patterns appeared on her scales and hide, mirroring the spell runes around her. (above her, Vriska on her interface throne froze up as she felt the trickle of magic being pumped into her assets dry up, and then only scraps being fed into her. Everything was teal.)

Terezi tilted her head back, a giantess big enough to destroy an army of demons with a single step or firm press of a finger’s claw, and breathed the power in. The artifact wobbled and then was violently tossed out of the magical circle as its power was promptly sucked out of it. Possibly by coincidence, it was flung right into John. It didn’t hurt him, just bounced off his bubble without any harm, but it was still loud and surprising enough that he was compelled to complain about it. He beat his hands against the bubble and yelled, but Terezi wasn’t listening.

(Upstairs, Vriska fumed as her body continued to grow, already five hundred feet tall by now, with boobs twice their original size… but she wasn’t getting as big as she expected. The power! The precious, delicious power… what had been river was now just a tiny stream, and where she should have been scraping against the clouds in her citadel’s magical environment, she was growing bigger so slowly that she could actually perceive things around her getting smaller. No! It was supposed to be bigger!

It was only through great force of will that she didn’t jump off and race downstairs to yell at Terezi. Who was absolutely, obviously behind all this! It was ALWAYS HER.)

Terezi was well aware of Vriska’s thoughts on the matter thanks to the magical link between familiar and sorceress that gave Terezi an insight into her thoughts. Unfortunately (from vriska’s perspective), this meant that Terezi could passively read her mind pretty much all the time, no doubt a reason how Terezi kept commandeering all her plans and sucking up her power gains. So Terezi ‘overheard’ Vriska’s complaints, and she gloated over Vriska’s shock at losing out on massive bust gains.

She blew a mocking kiss at John’s protests, and by sheer coincidence she started growing bigger, swelling upwards as her wiggling claws waved away the kiss. The magic flowered into her blood, bone and the core of magic at her center, and it flooded her with such power, so much that the only way to express it - was to grow!

The chamber rapidly got a lot more cramped as she expanded, slowly growing upwards. Already so large, Terezi grew right in front of John’s eyes, the magic pouring into her. Her tail slapped against the walls and cushioned her as her shoulders rose into the ceiling, despite the ceiling magically growing so you’d always fit into it; she was getting so big, so fast, she was outstripping it!

Four hundred feet, and upwards, her growth steady but very, very rapid. Her butt swelled up so that her fat tail was propped up, and several pillars were broken beneath its weight. Her butt kept swelling out, along with her hips, keeping pace with her expanding height; the expansion charms of the room were soon exhausted, and John could no longer see anything behind them but the lashing of her tail.

The magic flooded into her as she kept growing; another thousand feet piled on in a brief size burst, and by now it was plain to see that she was not funneling most of this tremendous potential into her size. Sure, she was growing larger, but… the growth was petering out surprisingly fast. As John watched, she wasn’t getting taller, her height getting more staggered. Where was it going.

The answer lay in her chest’s sudden explosive growth; her breasts swelled out faster than she was growing upwards, new scales growing to cover acres of new flesh between the patches of gilded scales. In moments, her breasts doubled in size, and she kept getting taller, her bustline not only keeping pace with her height, but surpassing its growth!

And they just kept growing; all the immense magic of the ancient battery, potentially to be used in war or some terrible misuse, now being pumped right into her bustline. Enough power to blow a country off the world was forced into her chest and milk production. Terezi cooed as her breasts hit the floor, rapidly growing so big that they were taller than she was!

The weight of her expanding bustline pushed her against the wall, her body rising up on her own bed-tier bustline. And since she was still growing physically more gigantic, this pushed her into the roof.

Terezi kept getting bigger, growing taller until she crashed into the floor, her wings and back cramped into the roof and too big to fit properly now, but she was still growing largely. Her breasts kept growing more rapidly by the second; John squeaked as a tide of teal filled up the room, a sloshing sound as if of an approaching sea getting stirred up as they smacked into place.

The walls creaked. Terezi and her boobs were still growing.

And though John could now see nothing, absolutely nothing at all but teal-tinted darkness, grow bigger she did. But now the last of the magic was greedily swallowed up by her magnificent body, her height finally stabilizing. Her breasts continued to grow in a few more shakes and wiggles, apparently hopeful for more, and at least they stopped. The room was now as good as a bra for her massive breasts, and Terezi sighed in contentment as her new body settled. Her butt pushing out behind her, her breasts big enough for her and a couple others of her to sleep on… a fitting temple to her glory.

Teal magical signs appeared all over her body, in languages no longer written anywhere in the world (so far as they knew). These two faded, and with that, the spell was done. The absorbed magic faded away, into Terezi’s rune-streaked body. She smacked her huge lips and licked a few scraps of quintessence off, patting a swell of breast bigger than some kingdoms. She kept growing, but in bits and bumps, not the smooth (if very fast!) expansion she had done before. About seventy-five hundred feet tall by now, and shrinking a bit as she willingly suppressed her power for the sake of it being really funny to spring on Vriska at the first opportunity, she cleared up some room.

Thusly, John was now able to see… well, not much, still. All he could see now was one toe-claw dominating his view of the universe, but he could feel her presence. In any case she picked him up, the tips of two claws neatly pinched his bubble and wrenching out of the wall.

“Well, check me out!” Terezi said sweetly, holding him like a little marble against the ceiling so he could see all of her. “How’d I do, huh?”

John saw nothing but… a sea of such massive, scaley, huge busty goodness… he clammed up, turning red. He loved Vriska with all his fierce heart, but… not even she was that big and gorgeous. He’d never admit it, but… he couldn’t lie!

Terezi giggled, and blew him another kiss.

The door slammed open and out came Vriska. With some difficulty, and at first there was a hint of massive breasts and a shoulder trying to force their way through the doorway, and then the doorway was magically transformed to allow her through, and through it came Vriska.

She was significantly bigger, John judged at once, with love in his heart and desire in his hips. Almost… a thousand feet tall, now! More than twice her original size, but compared to her original goal of approaching Terezi’s size, she still looked distinctly puny. Though it was hard to say that, when she now had a figure with hips that left the door way a ruin, and breasts with lower hemispheres around her hips. You couldn’t even see anything of her body above the waist, just two massive bouncy globes. They swelled up as Vriska drew in breath, and wailed: “TEREZI!”

Terezi flicked John right into Vriska’s cleavage, and somehow moved. In a flash she transformed, becoming a small lizard. With a cheeky slap of her tail she scurried away into the suddenly open hallways, leaving Vriska spinning head over horns with the impact of the John-projectile. “Thanks for the snack!” Terezi said, just to be cheeky. “Hope you don’t mind staying so skinny!”

Vriska howled in fury, and Terezi’s cackles echoed throughout the citadel as she exited it, and then her shadow eclipsed it, and all the kingdoms of the Serket was in awe as her buxom glory was revealed to them.

Dragons do love to show off their hoards, and Terezi’s body was a hoard for her!

#my writing #fics #queued #/ #// #/// #commissions #twitchy!terezi #twitchy!homestuck #twitchy!vriska #twitchy!john egbert

[csbernard]

I cannot stress how important this is to me.

Firstly, I would like to extend loving praise and consideration to JayAxer and Kamicheetah.

This wonderful couple of artists and decent folks were kind enough to offer a limited time series of commissions to the general public and I was very excited to take them up on the offer.  I have followed Jay Axer's career since high school, when he was working on Archie Publications' Sonic the Hedgehog and have lurked his wife's work across a few parts of the Internet.  I have nothing but the utmost respect for the both of them.  That's why I'm proud to have this as my very first commissioned piece I have purchased from anyone, anywhere despite years of fawning over many, many talented artists.  But, to have Jay Axer and his wife as my first professional artists to work on a character concept for me: it will always be one of my most cherished pieces.  I know that I will inevitably tinker and toy with this design, but this first draft will always have a niche in my heart.

Secondly, the terms of this commission were that you could request a Sonic the Hedgehog character, or create or recreate your own preexisting character, in Axer and Kami's collaboration-style.  I was intrigued and opted to take them up on the deal, even though, really, the character is only somewhat inspired by Sonic the Hedgehog characters and concepts.  In truth, she is a character I devised as a background extra to some fan-materials I have kicking about in my head.  Instead, the bulk of her story is based on real world places and events and my love of history.

Now, to business:

Name: Shǔ Biao

Species: Field Mouse (Apodemus peninsulae)

Sex: Female

Age: 373 (Immortal)

Nationality: Chinese (Manchu)

Height: 3 ft. 8 in. (Sonic style: 3' 3")

Weight: 69 lbs.

Hair: Brown (Sandy)

Eyes: Brown (Dark) Profession: Sorceress, martial artist, shaman healer Abilities: Hydrokinesis, aerokinesis, ability to cast and perceive illusions, Chinese alchemy, trained Fulu, trained Manchu wrestler, enhanced strength and speed, and immortality (but not invulnerability) Synopsis Born during the Qing conquest of the Ming, Biao was the youngest daughter in a Manchu family living in Mukden.  After the death of her father, her brother became head of the family and she was indentured as a servant aboard a merchant fleet.  Eventually escaping, she fled her employer and fell in with various mystics, shaman, and other teachers.  She herself became a female shaman of Taoism, which she still practices.  Becoming more assured in her independence, she wandered China, Mongolia, and Kazakhstan, in search of greater learning.  In her travels, she met dragons from the fabled five kingdoms, each bestowing mystic relics that grant her elemental powers and immortality.  There are five relics, four rings and a scepter which can become a walking stick, a fighting staff, a magic wand, a pole weapon, and a meteor hammer.  Since then, she has wandered to many places and seen many things. Tragically, she considers herself the "Last of the Manchu Bannermen" and, in her world, will soon be the last native speaker of the Manchu language as, in the real world, the language is nearly extinct as the last native speakers are elderly and slowly dying away.  It will soon be a "dead" language, alongside Latin.  Though there are efforts to teach the language to modern ethnic Manchus, resources are limited and most prefer to speak Mandarin Chinese or Mongolian.  She is featured, here, wearing traditional Manchu winter clothing. Special thanks to Kami for putting in the lovingly detailed patterns on the coat.  I will also give credit if anyone can find a decent Manchu to English dictionary that transliterates the Manchu alphabet to Latin text.

#field mouse #chinese #manchu #guandao #guanmao #commission art

[entergamingxp]

Torchlight 3’s a bit of a mess but I have faith • Eurogamer.net

I hope they change the Torchlight 3 map. That seems like sort of a sulky, entitled thing to say, and it probably is, but I’m a massive fan of fantasy maps and maps in general, and I think Torchlight 3’s current map does it no favours. When you load up the game you get a screen with a lovely map – scattered land masses and age-stained ink. But in the game the map you actually use is the linear path from a thousand free-to-play puzzlers. The line muddles along like something out of Candyland and the places you visit are separated from the surface of the map somehow – it’s more like a selection of novelty cakes than a map. Nothing wrong with free-to-play puzzlers at all! But this map seems to be a glaring reminder of the journey Torchlight 3 has taken to its current paid early access release on Steam.

Torchlight 3 started as a free-to-play affair, I gather. And the map tells you that. It promises stuff to do and progression that goes on forever, content without much context. The places in the game are actually much more traditionally Torchlight than this map makes out, incidentally – they feel nicely interconnected and you can imagine them slotting in next to each other in interesting ways. But there’s that map. And then there’s that fort you can build. Torchlight 3 is an ARPG: it’s like Diablo, you wade around clicking things to kill them and unlocking skills which allow you to click with better fireworks. Want a fort in that world? Maybe, but I suspect this fort is the vestigial tail from some energy system or free-to-play currency thing. I may be wrong! I often am. But in its current iteration I unlock things and place them and buy props and stick them in there but I haven’t yet had a compelling reason to really enjoy what I’m doing.

I am sure this will change. That’s how I feel about every one of Torchlight 3’s annoyances at the moment. Multiplayer only. That will change. Server issues that caused disconnections? That already has changed, as far as I can tell, with a tiny update yesterday. Bugs that mean a quest won’t finish even though I killed the thing that should finish it? We are early, early in early access. Some of the bugs I even quite like. For a while going to a portal would sometimes take you where you wanted to go – your fort say – but would sometimes take you somewhere else entirely. Someone else’s fort? A dungeon area far later in the game where things can kill you just by smiling in your direction? You always trust the travel portals in ARPGs, I think. This glitchiness was irritating if I was trying to do something, but mainly it made me think that there’s probably a place in ARPG end-game design for playfully, interestingly glitchy portals. Isn’t this kind of thing where neat ideas can come from?

All of this explains why Torchlight 3 currently has a pretty low score on Steam, and why its chat is filled with people grumbling about what’s there and what isn’t there or confused as to what’s a bug and a feature. It’s odd because Torchlight is one of those series that has been so poised until now. You generally only see a Torchlight game when it’s slick and finished and ready for anything. Early access is a bit of a shock.

But I have faith I think. And I have had some fun here already. I’ve played on and off for a few days and just killed what feels like the first major boss. I have started to level but haven’t hit 10 yet. At times it really does already feel like Torchlight.

There are four classes to choose from – the Sharpshooter, the Dusk Mage, which is a magic user, the robotic Forged, comical and furnace-based, and the hammer wielding Railmaster. I’m Dusk Mage at the moment, my skills divided into light and dark moves in the unlocking. They are fine. I have a bolt of light, three bolts of light, a sort of trap of arrows and barbes that erupts from the ground for a while and a neat teleport move to get out of trouble. I also have a wide arcing beam that feels like a direct theft from Diablo 3’s wonderful Wizard. It’s nice – but it’s also a reminder of an ARPG with much more attention-grabbing skill design.

Torchlight has never been about the individual skills, of course. (Not that Diablo is either.) It’s about the build and the loot and the micro-choices you make. This is the ARPG where it’s much more likely that you’ll notice actually hitting someone with the weapon you’ve equipped. I’m already having a lot of fun with the skills and the loot, dodging in and out, spike-trapping, hitting them with the Wizard beam. The only slight disappointment here is the Relic stuff, a separate skill tree that comes with each of the equippable relics you can find. I chose a fiery sword and I’ve leveled it up to include a new move and a critical hit chance and the possibility of setting people ablaze. The UI suggests I should be thinking of this stuff as a kind of ultimate, but at the moment, with my admittedly low level, it feels a bit weak.

What else? Torchlight’s skill with landscape remains intact. Wonderful caverns and grottoes riddled with little pools of light from chunks of glowing ore or fires. A nice uneven graveyard early up with skeletons erupting from the ground. A nice rattle when you hit things. A nice glow to the better loot you collect.

The option to use a controller is really beautifully mapped too. It’s almost my preferred way to play. Elsewhere pets are back and you get a steady stream of them to pick between, which feels a bit odd but if it means more animals I will take it. I can use my pet to sell the loot I don’t want, as ever, but I haven’t found out how to allow it to buy stuff in town for me yet. Maybe this has been removed – I did over-rely on it in Torchlight 2 so they might have a point taking it out. Also, and this is a very personal grievance and I feel sort of stupid mentioning it, I loved the names in the old Torchlight games. It’s all got a touch more openly comic here. Bruce Killis was an early boss. I just finished off someone called Wideload who was involved with the Snotskins. This is a tiny thing to gripe about and I feel like a jerk doing it. But Torchlight 2 had a beautiful prolonged homage to The Goonies at one point – the quest is called Ghosts of Plunder Cove and I think it’s in Act one if you’re tempted to track it down – and it managed to do it without bending the fantasy tone at all. It was all pure adventure. This new stuff feels, like that map, either a little bit clumsy or like a game still dealing with an identity crisis.

I will be going back, of course. I will be clicking away tonight and tomorrow and for the foreseeable future. I’m having fun. Besides, it must be so tricky when a game changes focus so fundamentally during development. Tricky not just to get rid of the old bits, like the wrong kind of map and the currency and all that jazz. But tricky to find a new identity that feels like an identity that you would have chosen in the first place if you could have gone for it – to find a soul for the kind of game you are now making. Sounds rather mystical when I put it like that. And when I say, once again, that I still have faith.

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/06/torchlight-3s-a-bit-of-a-mess-but-i-have-faith-%e2%80%a2-eurogamer-net/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=torchlight-3s-a-bit-of-a-mess-but-i-have-faith-%25e2%2580%25a2-eurogamer-net

[elgaberino-mcoc]

COMBINED: Thunderstrike mantle

[good] dad Eric: ballpark top-300 prospective champs

[bad] son Kevin: outside top 616 non-champs

[good] Kevin has his fans, isn't ranked horribly worse

[good] the combined mantle numerically merits the list

Just another we didn't think needed two separate listings.

#Thunderstrike #Eric Masterson #Kevin Masterson #Thors #mystic relic magic hammer #mystic Asgardian magic #delisted #listings combined #sonic #mcoc class mystic #recent rank #MCOC Wishlist Page 10 271-300 #MCOC Wishlist Page 13 361-390 #Avengers #Wishlist Cleanup

[jackblankhsh]

A Blood Red Reindeer Knows part 9:  The City Sleeps Below

At the heart of the North Pole there's a skyscraper.  City ordinance makes it illegal to build anything higher, so it towers over the metropolis.  That's why the North Pole is such a sprawl.  The city can only grow out not up.  

 I remember being a kid, looking up at that mile high spire thinking, "Someday I'll fly off that roof.  Then they'll respect me."

 When that dream died it went hard, and took the kid inside with it.  Yet even now lights at the top are blinking red and green, promising anyone looking up he's in there.  A part of me wishes to be that kid again, though I know it's better not to be.  What's coming isn't for children.  

 The pieces are falling into place.  I don't like the picture, but that doesn't change the view.  In a way, I almost knew from the start.  Still, I keep hoping I'm not smart enough to see what's really happening.  I want to be wrong.

 Speeding through streets on my bike the snow whips my face.  I take a route through the industrial part of town.  There's less chance of being seen.  However, I forgot the time of year.

 The factories are in full swing.  Black smoke chugs into the sky hiding the moon.  Low level elves loiter by doors.  Chugging on cinnamon sticks they hope to burn out the part of their brain that knows the future is a dead end.  

 Down an alley snowmen chase a group of frightened toys.  Looks like panicked deliveries that've probably heard not everyone gets into the arms of children.  Busted out of their packaging, they're making a run for it, though they've yet to realize there's nowhere to go.  

 I catch a few glances. However, no one's concern is me. Making holiday quotas is the real focus here.  Those who don't disappear.  

 It isn't long before I'm on the main stretch cruising my way into Claus Concourse.  The front of the building is lined by Tin Soldiers, and there's a hundred more inside.  Granted, there's no one stupid enough to go after Big Red, but there's plenty crazy enough to try.  

 One of the first things we're taught as kids is Santa can't ever die.  If he does, everything his magic created goes with him; the North Pole dies.  Some folks think it's just propaganda to prevent an assassination attempt, though it's only the crazies who're willing to risk finding out.  Me, I've got a sick suspicion it's true.  One more way for Big Red to lord it over us -- we owe him our very existence.

 I stop a good distance from the entrance.  Tin Soldiers are already taking aim.  I get off the bike.  Hands in the air I approach slowly.  The Tins radio in, reporting my arrival.  

 Soon enough a Tin Captain comes marching out of the building.  Decked out in dark red and green, the uniform marks her as Big Red's private guard.  A simple gesture, and the other Tins surround me.

 "We're going to frisk you," she says.  

 I shrug, "Figured as much."

 Another gesture. Two Tins approach me.  One points a rifle, the other goes to work patting me down.  I make no moves, sarcastic or otherwise.  There's a good chance these Tins are just looking for an excuse to fire.  

 When it's announced I'm clean she says, "I'm Captain Andersen."  

 "Got a feeling you already know me."

 She says, "We've actually been expecting you."

 Her hand signals get me cuffed, and hustled inside.  We board an elevator, jammed in shoulder to shoulder.  Captain Andersen uses a key, and the elevator starts heading to the top.

 She glances over her shoulder, "I don't normally doubt him, but when he said you were coming here..."

 I chuckle, "Ya know there is a limit to that trick."

 "How's that?" she asks.

 "He knows what we're doing, but never what we're thinking."

 She replies, "Whatever you're thinking keep this in mind."  She turns, "You do anything I don't like, I will kill you."

 I smile, "Fair enough."

 Driving here I figured on one of two outcomes.  Since the Tins didn't shoot me on sight that leaves the second of my guesses still in play. Call it a reckless gamble, but when the only cards in hand are good for a bluff, everything is a risk.  If I ever want some semblance of peace with Cari Bou in the Outskirts I have to go all in.  

 The elevator pings. The Tins march off, and I go as they prod, no resistance.  A black marble hallway stretches on towards towering art deco doors.  Few ever get to see this place.  So few in fact, that as the doors part the bulk of the Tins stay behind.  Only the four in colors matching Captain Andersen may enter.

 Captain Andersen pulls out a pistol.  Keeping a smart distance -- close enough to eye any subtle movements, but not close enough for me to grab her gun -- she gestures for me to go in.  I take a step.

 She says, "Remember what I said."

 "I already feel the bullet."

 Darkness fills the grand office.  Along one wall is a fireplace large enough to throw a full grown body.  On the mantle above it is the horned skull of a giant goat. Enormous leather chairs stand in front of the fire, their backs to the room.  Bookshelves ring most of the interior from floor to ceiling.  The secrets in those books are priceless.  A glass trophy case fills one corner.  Its contents seem to dance in the fire light: the relics of past victories; pieces of defeated foes; mystical awards from other legends.  One wall, though, is just a great glass doorway leading out onto a snow covered balcony.  

 In front of it is a mammoth desk.  A lamp casts a low light across papers of all sorts.  There are modern pages scattered among ancient scrolls.  In a crystal ashtray overflowing with cigar butts smolders another coal.  It rises, floating in the dark, and as my eyes adjust I see him sitting behind the desk.  Puffing fires that burning cherry, briefly illuminating Big Red's face.  Smoke and his beard mingle, ringing his head in a white wreath.  

 He speaks softly, yet his voice carries across the room, "How're you doing Rudy?  It's been a long time."

 "Not long enough."

 Big Red chews the cigar, a strange sort of grin on his face.  

 Getting up he comes around the desk saying, "You always were a smart ass.  I kind of liked that about you."

 "Glad to know someone appreciated it," I say.  

 There's a scent in the air.  I can't quite place it, the aroma of Big Red's cigar is masking it.

 Chugging away he saunters towards the fireplace.  I see the familiar crimson suit, shiny boots, and fur trimming.  

 Staring into the fire he says, "I'm curious what brings you here."

 The whole ride over I wondered the same thing.  Figuring out the code words, King Crimson, made things a little too certain.  A part of me tried to ignore how some of the pieces fit.  Hell, it's possible I could've spared myself a lot of trouble if I listened to my gut, but some facts a fellow doesn't want to see.  Knowing I don't have all the time in the world, I decide to lay it out plain and simple.

 I say, "Look, here's the deal.  Someone is planning to make a move on you, and they're going to hit soon.  I don't know who all's involved, but it's some heavy hitters.  They're using the Krampus name to get people onboard."

 Big Red looks up at the goat skull.  For the first time I notice a bullet hole in it.  

 Pointing at the skull Big Red says, "He would be happy to know, all these years later, people still fear him."

 Hints of perfume, baked apple and cinnamon -- I take a step forward.  The click of a hammer tells me to stop.  I freeze.

 Big Red says, "You haven't told me anything I don't already know."

 Snorting I say, "Because you always know everything."

 "Almost." He winks at me.  

 Then he glances at one of the leather chairs.  A figure rises, wrapped in a red dress.  For a moment I don't recognize the face, then I realize it's Vixen.

 She says, "Hello Rudy."

 Big Red chuckles, his belly jiggling.  He says, "Don't look so surprised Rudy.  What'd you think was going on?"

 I'm still thinking it, though I'm glad to have my doubts.  

 I say, "Vixen, what the fuck is going on?"

 She says, "I'm sorry.  I couldn't tell you everything.  Santa thought it was better that way."

 That doesn't sound like Vixen, but I keep listening.  She tells me she found out about the Krampus cult, and told Big Red.  The two hatched a plot for her to join the group.

 I cut in, "So he risks your ass to find out who's against him."

 "And you wonder why you were never a flier?" Big Red says.

 I reply, "No one should die for you."

 Vixen comes near me. She puts a hand on my arm. Knowing she's fine calms me down, however, there's a look in her eye I can't decipher.  The closer she gets to me the more I notice a figure lurking in the shadows.  It doesn't take a genius to guess it's her bodyguard, Roy Glitterspark.  He's inching closer in case I do something he doesn't like.    

 Vixen says, "It was my choice.  They wanted to kill him because of the Shortage.  There's a lot of people who think it could've been avoided."

 I ask sarcastically, "How does a place made of magic run out of food?"

 Big Red glares at me. Flicking ash in the fire he thumps back to his desk.  No response is response enough.  

 Vixen goes on, "I joined the Krampus cause, but they never really trusted me.  That's why I sent you my letter."

 "Against my instructions," Big Red says.

 Vixen grabs my hands. There's something weird about the way she fondles my wrists.  My cuffs feel loose.

 She says, "But you're here now Rudy.  That's all that matters."

 She smiles, and I smile back.  

 "Lot of good sending for you did," Big Red says.  

 Vixen steps away from me, heading over to Big Red's desk.  

 Getting a cigarette from an ivory case she remarks, "The snow looks so beautiful tonight."

 I glance out the window. She's not lying.  Even knowing what the city is like, from up here it looks beautiful.  I turn to get a better look, and my cuffs fall away.

 Glitterspark shouts, "He's loose!"

 A soft thwip sounds followed by the thunk of tin getting struck.  The sound repeats.  Half recognizing it -- a silenced pistol -- I get low.  Sure enough, I barely duck a bullet from Captain Andersen.  Next thing I know shots are going off all around the room. Tins are dropping, and out the corner of my eye I see Glitterspark firing at them.  

 My immediate instinct is to run to Vixen.  Hurrying toward her I see Vixen reach up her dress.  She pulls a small caliber automatic out of a holster strapped to her thigh.  She shoots Big Red in the knee then the belly.  He collapses in a quivering pile, blood spurting out his stomach.  Then Vixen starts firing on the Tins.  They're mostly focused on Glitterspark, who's already taken out the majority with those first surprise head shots.  It doesn't take long for the rest to fall.  

 "The door!" Vixen calls out, but Glitterspark is already on the move.  He drops the empty pistol.  From under his trench coat he produces a submachine gun.  The door opens letting in a stream of Tins coming to check on the noise.  Without mercy the nutcracker mows them down.  

 My brain is spinning, trying to get away from the facts, but they're a black hole sucking me in. Knowing what probably comes next, I spin around.  Charging at Glitterspark I scoop up a dead Tin's rifle on the run.  My eyes still aren't top notch after Kung Fu Karl's beating, so instead of aiming I spray and pray at Glitterspark.  I can't tell if I hit him, but it doesn't stop me from charging forward.

 The rifle clicks -- empty.  Glitterspark turns, raising his machine gun.  I knock it out of his hands using the empty rifle as a club.  In one smooth move Glitterspark disarms me, almost snapping wrist in the process.  

 Next thing I know he's battering me with precise blows.  Each strike is a surgical sledge tearing me down.  I've been in a few one sided fights over the years.  I get some solid punches in, but it's painfully obvious I'm on the losing end side.  Even if I were a hundred percent, whatever I've got going for me as a brawler is no match for Glitterspark.  He's a trained killer, blood drunk and thirsty for more.  

 Then luck shines on me. I notice him favoring one side. Whether me, or a Tin, someone managed to plug a bullet in Glitterspark's flank.  Fainting a series of jabs I get him to expose the wound, and deliver a set of vicious hooks to the body.  

 The fight took us all over Big Red's office, and where we're at gives me a chance.  With Glitterspark off balance, clutching at his wound, I grab him by the shoulders.  We spin, and it dawns on him too late what I'm planning.  Stopping short I plant a foot, tripping the nutcracker as we twirl, and he tumbles into the roaring fireplace.  

 He rolls out in flames. He looks like a Yule log scrambling to escape the fireplace -- screaming.  Then Vixen floats by me.  She points her gun, and puts one right in Glitterspark's head.  Seeing her there, standing in the firelight, I don't recognize her.

 She sighs, "I assume you have questions."

 Panting I reply, "Sadly, I don't."

 She smirks, "You were always smarter than people gave you credit."

 Big Red moans. Vixen struts back to him.  She glares down at the fat bastard.  Coughing up blood, Big Red grits his teeth.  He starts chuckling, though it clearly hurts. She puts her cigarette out on his desk.

 Clenching his jaw Big Red says, "You stupid bitch.  You can't do anything to me."

 Vixen nods, "You keep thinking you know what's going on."

 She fires another round into his belly.

 She says, "Don't worry.  Remember that practice run, when you fell out of the sleigh drunk."  Shaking her head she says to me, "He lands on concrete two hundred feet below, and was fine in twenty minutes."

 My head is swimming. Glitterspark tore me apart, refreshed all the wreckage from earlier.  I'm bleeding from old wounds and new.  However, what's got me spinning is the truth.  

 I need some air. What's coming -- what I think is coming -- I head out onto the balcony.  Everything is happening so fast I can feel it slipping out of hand.    

 Outside, the city sleeps below.  Yet, there are flashing sirens filling the streets.  The glittering gumballs atop squad cars pulse as they hurry towards Big Red's tower.  Snow is falling, but it won't be enough to cover what's going on here.  

 The pieces started falling into place almost from the get-go.  The odds of someone assaulting Vixen made little sense.  Besides her bodyguard, the seemingly unstoppable Glitterspark, the whole scene at her place felt off.  Those posters backing Papa Nash for re-election stuck out sorely.  

 Then that whole Krampus cult raised more red flags.  Big Red can keep an eye on anyone in the city, hell, the world.  He just needs to think about them.  However, he didn't seem to have any idea who ran the cult. Besides Black Jack, only fliers are blessed with Big Red's blindness.  It's one of the perks; they're among the privileged few with privacy.

 A lot of other bits kept hinting in ways I just didn't want to notice.  Seeing Vixen in Big Red's office, I hoped... that's the mistake I made.  Detective Elfberg said a lot of things changed because of the Shortage, that a lot of people changed as well.  It sounds like a warning now.  Hope died during the Shortage, and that left people desperate enough to do anything.  So now I can't help feeling like I've been a pawn, not making my own choices.    

 The soft crunch of snow under dainty hooves.

 I sigh.

 Vixen says, "I'm not going to kill him."

 "Not because you don't want to."

 "You know what happens if he dies.  Everything he creates disappears.  The toys stop being alive, the city vanishes..."

 "We turn into ordinary reindeer."

 I turn.  She nods.  

 Vixen says, "But I can keep him in a coma, pumped full of drugs.  He'll be alive, and we'll be able to live without being under his thumb."

 Her dress billows a bit in the wind.  It wraps around her like a river of red paint.  She looks amazing, beautiful beyond compare, but I don't recognize her.

 Our eyes meet.

 She turns away saying, "He did it on purpose, the Shortage.  He said it was population control, but it was more than that." She shakes her head, "We're his playthings.  I mean, he's got all the power, but not anymore.  Things are about to change for the better."

 I don't who she's trying to convince.  The truth is I think she's right for the most part.  Things in this city definitely need to change.  How that's happening is what's got me worried.  

 I say, "I've been thinking Big Red tipped off the cops to me being in town, but lately, I've been thinking it was you."

 A tear in her eye Vixen says, "It was."

 "Part of the plan?" I ask, though I think I know.

 She wipes the tear away. I notice the gun is still in her hand.

 She says, "It depends what you think the plan is."

 "I think someone's got to go down for all this.  You can't take credit for axing Big Red.  Some folks, call 'em foolish, they won't appreciate it.  But me."  I start toward her, "Or that Krampus cult, that takes the eyes off you."

 She backs away. Raising the gun her hand shakes. I keep walking toward her.  

 "Don't worry," I say, "I know ol' Roy was supposed to do me in."

 I don't hear the gunshot. I just feel the hot punch in my gut. Staggering backwards, I lock eyes with a stranger, but I can't look at her for long.  

 Blue and red police lights ring the building below.  Even if I walk out there's no getting away.  This ends badly for me.  That's for sure.  Though if I've got to be the fall guy I'm going out on my terms.  

 Turning I stumble towards the end of the balcony.  No railing at all, it tappers out to a narrow point.  

 I say, "I came back to help because I love you, and you used that love to do something twisted. Someone like that... how're you gonna make this a better place?"

 At the edge of the balcony I look back.  

 Vixen says, "Don't..." -- but I'm already falling backwards.  

 When the only cards in a hand are terrible it takes a serious bluff to win.  About half way down the spire I start thinking she called mine.  Then I see a flowing stream of red sail off the balcony.  It hovers in the air a moment before plunging towards me.  Her hooves glow gold, a shower of sparks spitting out her hands.  

 She slams into me. It's like getting hit by a baseball bat. It's certainly better than hitting pavement.  

 We twist up through the air, rocketing across the city.  I don't know what's going to happen when we land, but I'm hoping for something good.  Right now, I just want to enjoy flying.

#writer #fiction #writing #pulp #pulpfiction #noir #neo-noir #weird #Rudolph the Reindeer #honestyisnotcontagious #shortstory #miniseries

[elgaberino-mcoc]

DELISTED: Thor (Groot)

weak statistical merit

editors++ nominated to delist

rejected by Summoners   ↳ Wishlist: 39% upvote rate

this is a fun Groot + Thor variant, in 2 video games

but there are hundreds of more important, unique Marvel characters

The omen for this decision originally posted on twitter was a reference to an old panel in which Hulk was defeating an early version of Groot. Normally omens will be a portion of an image from a time when the delisted character was defeated or killed. However, to our editors’ knowledge, Thor (Groot) was never depicted as defeated or killed. So a fun old Groot defeat was used instead.

There are now, as of this writing, no remaining Groot variants on the Wishlist.

#delisted #Thor (Groot) #Groot #Thor Corps #Thors #mystic Asgardian magic #mystic relic magic hammer #Secret Wars #recent rank #MCOCW Page 15 351-375 #tree #plant #alien #mcoc class mystic #mcoc class cosmic #law enforcement #other games #Marvel Future Fight #Marvel Avengers Academy #mashup #Earth-15513 Battlerealm #Battleworld #Wishlist Cleanup

[elgaberino-mcoc]

#omen #Thors #Dino-Thor #dinosaur #prehistoric beast #thor corps #mystic relic magic hammer #mcoc class mystic #law enforcement #green skin

[elgaberino-mcoc]

“MONDAY: MUTANT/MYSTIC Which is your perfect Storm?

I rightly predicted a 2020 Storm variant, wrongly guessing Asgardian-enchanted STORMBORN (#186): https://ranker.com/list/mcoc-wishlist-poll-characters-kabam-should-add-to-mcoc-as-playable-champs/gabersaber?page=7…

Another Ororo who might be Mystic would be vampire BLOODSTORM (#257): https://ranker.com/list/mcoc-wishlist-poll-characters-kabam-should-add-to-mcoc-as-playable-champs/gabersaber?page=9”

#storm #munroe family #stormborn #bloodstorm #thor corps #mystic asgardian magic #mystic relic magic hammer #thors #vampire #heralds of machine man #mcoc class mutant #mcoc class mystic #Mutant Monday #Mystic Monday #recent rank #mystic + mutant #female #black #black female #vampire mutant

[elgaberino-mcoc]

MAILBAG: FOR HOW LONG HAVE SUMMONERS BEEN REQUESTING  HORSEY THORSEY?

Context: IlacSkills commented that BRB is a long-standing fan favorite

On @MarvelChampions boards, asks for Beta Ray Bill go back no more than 4 years. Older board posts aren't searchable pre 12.0 update. 

But other sources are searchable further back: Twitter Reddit

Long story short: Summoners have been requesting Beta Ray Bill almost as long as Marvel Contest of Champions has existed: 5-6 years.

#Beta Ray Bill #thors #mystic asgardian magic #mystic relic magic hammer #alien #mcoc class cosmic #Reddit #history #recent rank #mailbag #ilacskills #Forums

[elgaberino-mcoc]

STORM SATURDAY: STORMBORN

In some realities, Ororo became a Thor, with a hammer called Stormcaster, and is known as STORMBORN. I thought this would be the second Storm variant in-game. Would be cool if she were the third! 

Recent rank: 264 To upvote her, see ranks 251-275

#Storm #Stormborn #Thor Corps #Thors #mcoc class mystic #mystic asgardian magic #mystic relic magic hammer #mystic relic uru #mcoc class mutant #Black #Black female #Black History Month #Black History Month 2021 #Munroe family #Stormcaster #recent rank #Storm Saturday

[elgaberino-mcoc]

“HAPPY THORS DAY!

Did you know Beta Ray Bill is among the most controversial characters on our poll? Very few characters have more downvotes. I recently gathered factors related to his potential as a #MCOC champ. https://buff.ly/2PdWfI9 (link to vote is after the jump)”

#the blog #beta ray bill #Alien #thors #mystic relic magic hammer #hammer #cybernetics #mcoc class versatile #mcoc class mystic #mcoc class cosmic #mcoc class tech #mystic asgardian magic #asgard #glad torsdag