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growthgoddess · 7 months

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Elara's Enchantment

An unruly mob has gathered at your palace gates. They are voicing disdain and disappointment over your rule as king of their lands. They were promised bountiful seasons and everlasting joy, perhaps overpromised. You only wanted to be loved, but now your subjects have overpowered your guards and are now threatening to tear down your palace gates with a battering ram.

You furrow your brow, feeling desperation sink in. If they catch you, they would probably see you hanged, or even worse, burnt at the stake. The last remaining guards of your palace have deserted you and a cold sweat trickles down your forehead as a chill rushes down your spine.

However, relief washes over you when your beloved queen, Elara, puts her hand on your shoulder. The weight of her hand along with her warmth, envelopes you. You are loved with her, you are safe with her.

Queen Elara: My love, leave this to your queen. I will deal with them personally.

Confused and worried, you try to turn to her and reach out. What could she have meant? But before you could even say a word, she vanishes from your balcony and materializes at the grand staircase from the castle gates below you.

Thunder rumbles and the orange sunset sky darkens, your queen stands before the palace gates, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

She reveals a large tome that crackles with mystical, purple energy in her hands, as she begins her monologue.

Queen Elara: Hahaha! Oh, dear subjects, you thought you could challenge the throne? How amusing! Your pitiful king may have been weak in his promises, but you will soon see that he pales in comparison to your dear Queen Elara! You wish to raid the palace? Oh, you will get more than you bargained for.

With a flourish and a series of exotic hand gestures, the queen opens the tome, revealing ancient runes and incantations. Her voice takes on an eerie, demonic tone as she recites an unholy spell.

The mob grips their pitchforks, torches, and swords tighter. Their leader, the man who seeks to usurp the throne, rallies them to push on and continue breaking down the gates.

The two last palace guards standing beside Queen Elara begin cowering in fear over the events that are transpiring before them.

Queen Elara: Unnamable Gods, O Powers of Old, I call upon Thee! Fill my supple form with your might. I offer to Thee my flesh that I can strike fear in Thy names! Grant me strength beyond measure, make me a terror they will never forget! Let your essence seep into my muscle, bone, and sinew. Let your bounty embolden my body! Let them cower at my raw might, bless me with your succor!

A dark aura envelops your queen, and power surges to her veins. The very air is stirs with an unspeakable energy. The people could taste the metallic flavor of the wind as powers beyond their recognition twist the body of the woman before them.

You stand in both awe and terror at the capability of your wife. She has always been fond of perusing the scriers archives during her free time, and now you are witnessing the very fruits of her passion take shape as she defends your last bastion.

The incantations from the weathered tome fills the grand staircase leading to the palace entrance as she raised her arms, the words flowing off her tongue like a wicked melody.

Then, it began.

At first, the change appears subtle. Her regal gown, once a symbol of her grace, tightens imperceptibly around her form. The fabric shifts around, trying to accommodate something moving inside, something growing. Smooth embroidered silk strains against her skin, hinting at the growing power within. Queen Elara, however, remains composed, her eyes fiercely fixed at the terrified mob attempting to break down the formidable gates.

Then came the first audible rip. Her tight corset immediately loses to the growing woman's burgeoning body.

Next came her gown, the exquisite fabric, woven with threads of gold and silver, surrenders to the queen's expanding frame. With each passing moment, she feels herself grow taller, her limbs elongating, and her body stretching. Her breasts, once modest, have begun to fill with mass and milk. Her arms thicken with muscle and girth.

Audible moans escape her lips as she grows in spurts that feels like orgasms at every release.

The gown protests but could not keep up the losing battle, her seams burst open like fireworks, the sound audible throughout the area.

Queen Elara's lips curl into a malevolent, triumphant smile as her once regal gown now hangs in tatters around her.

She stands tall, her figure outlined by the shimmering remnants of her attire. To her, the world seems to shrink from her ascending perspective, the threatening size of the amassed townsfolk dwindling as she continued to grow.

Queen Elara: BWAHAHA, Look at me! I am growing into a force that will quell your insolence!

Your queen, now a monstrous growing behemoth, turns to look at you looking down from the balcony.

Queen Elara: My beloved king, you need not cower any longer. For it is they who will fear me now, and through their fear, they will understand the consequences of betraying the crown!

Her laughter, now dark and melodic, blast their ears as she guffawed. The torn gown fell away in tatters, unable to contain her majestic size any longer.

Queen Elara, now a giantess, stands amidst the ruins of her regal attire. She was a monument to dark power, her eyes ablaze with the might of ancient forces.

Then, with a booming voice, she declared.

Queen Elara: A queen must protect her king, no matter the price! I shall be your shield, my love, and none shall dare to defy us again!

The malevolent tome that has begun floating around her as she grew suddenly glowed and flew towards her, ramming her chest with immense force. She winced and took a step back. Her heavy feet cracks the floor to the castle door and she tries to lean on something for support.

That was when it hit you and her. She was leaning on your elevated balcony for support! She has grown even bigger now!

Queen Elara glances at her chest to see that it is now pulsing with purple energy. The tome has entered her body to become a more efficient channel to this otherworldly power flowing within her.

Queen Elara, now confident with her might, strides forth, her steps like seismic rumbles. The ground shakes beneath her feet as she surveys the peasants below with eyes that glitters with both malignant glee and unbridled fury.

Queen Elara turns towards her beloved king and picks you up with her hand. You seemed like a child's doll compared to her now. She winks at you and places you on her shoulder. Then, she grasps a nearby guard tower and yanks it off the bastille foundations. With ease, she breaks it with her bare hands.

Queen Elara: We will no longer need this petty castle! I shall be your fortress, my king! My love will protect you from every danger, every threat! Hold on tight, my dear, this will be perilous!

With a powerful heave, she breaks through the castle gates, her massive form now emerging to engage the fleeing masses. Your once mighty castle now seems minuscule behind her.

Queen Elara: This is my new order, hear your queen's decree! Guards, rally to me! Let us crush this rebellion and restore order!

The remaining castle guards drew courage from this and cheer at the massive Elara. They gear up and start pouring out of the castle behind her and into the town. A massive civil war breaks out, but the odds are in your favor with your beloved queen taking to the front lines.

She turns to you and whispers gingerly.

Queen Elara: Fear not, my beloved king! Your queen shall be your protector, your shield, and your wrath! Those who defy us will meet their end at my hands!

But before you stands one obstacle. The leader of the mob. The one who organized this whole rebellion - The Usurper.

He stands before you and Elara with unmatched courage as he draws his sword which he anoints with blessed oil and enchants with a glowing yellow aura.

Queen Elara: Ha! You dare raise your blade at me? You are defeated, your mob routed. Kneel before your ruler, your queen, and we may yet spare you! O Usurper, should you still dare challenge us, then you shall feel the consequences of my ire!

Queen Elara charges at the hero with all her might. The darkened sky above breaks out into a chorus of unspeakable melodies and chants to herald the incarnation of the Unnamable Gods that is your wife. An epic battle between a force of order and chaos ensues.

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blackjackkent · 24 days

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OK, more Rakha adventures. (I still have a couple of the micro-fic prompts in my inbox; will finish them either later or tomorrow. <3 )

We left off having knocked out Minthara (though Rakha thinks she killed her) and killed Gut, so that just leaves Boss Ragzlin as the last remaining leadership bastion of the Absolute in the goblin camp. We're going to go get Halsin first, though, since the entrance to the warg pens is right near Minthara, and Rakha has heard enough from various people in the camp to indicate that's where Halsin is being held.

And sure enough...

How bear-y unexpected. *rimshot*

Rakha doesn't bother trying to reason with the goblins about letting him out; simply offers them a taste of their own medicine immediately, which is enough to inspire Halsin to slam the iron bars down on the nearest enemy.

Rakha's bloodthirst kicks in at this point and the team steamrolls the rest of the goblins (despite my forgetting that everyone was out of spell slots from dealing with everything in Gut's area :P whoops).

-----

Rakha hunches in a corner of the room as the last goblin falls, slowly emerging from the violent haze in which the dark urge left her during the battle. She watches, hollow-eyed, as the bear comes to a halt in front of her... and then changes.

It occurs to me that Rakha heard something from the goblins about Halsin turning into a bear, and presumably she's gotten a rundown on how druids operate from Wyll, but this is nevertheless a supremely weird thing to encounter for the first time. So watching this transformation is more than a little fascinating; she watches with intent interest as the the Weave swirls around the bear, as the flesh slowly morphs and twists into a huge, barrel-chested elven man with shaggy dark hair.

Very like the bear, still, she thinks.

She still feels the urge's hunger at the back of her mind - the desire to kill, the need for another round of blood spilled. But as always, her surprise and need for knowledge do more to subdue the dark urge than almost anything else, and she stares with frank curiosity at the man as the Weave slowly begins to settle back towards tranquility.

The enormous elf's eyes fix on her, and then he grins good-naturedly, flicking lingering goblin blood off his hands. "Pardon the viscera," he says casually. "One should cherish all of nature's bounty - but goblin guts are quite far down the list."

He gives her a look up and down, and then his smile widens. He seems quite unfazed by the amount of dead goblins surrounding them, or the danger that he has been in. "You aided a bear without knowing if it would savage you? A true friend of nature," he says cheerfully. "Or perhaps a lunatic. Either way, I owe thanks. I am the druid Halsin."

Rakha nods curtly. She knew that already. She knows more than he thinks. "I spoke to Nettie," she says brusquely, cutting straight to the heart of the matter as always. "She said you could help me with the parasite in my head."

Halsin blinks. Then his smile fades rapidly, replaced by a look of intense concern.

"Parasite in your head? You mean... you have one of *them*?"

Before Rakha can respond, he lifts a hand, and she watches the Weave spasm as he casts a spell she does not recognize. Gold light floods the area, passing around her and through her. She can almost feel the warm pulse of energy as it lingers in her temple where the worm sits.

Then Halsin's hand falls back to his side. The light fades. He looks grim and sad, as if suddenly bearing a century's worth of troubles.

"Oak Father preserve you, child..." he murmurs. "You're infected, aren't you? The mind flayers' spawn..." He trails off, and then he tips his head to one side. She can see the workings of a quick mind flashing behind his eyes. In spite of his hulking appearance, this man is no fool. "But something's... different," he goes on pensively. "You're aware of the monster inside you. You don't bow to the Absolute, like the True Souls do. How is this possible..."

Rakha considers in silence for a moment before answering. There seems little point in hiding anything from this man; besides Lae'zel's creche, he is the best hope of answers they have. She reaches into her pack, pulls out the small multi-sided artifact that protected them on the bride.

"I think this artifact has something to do with it," she says.

Halsin squints at it. "Hm. That looks very alien," he says. "As alien as the mind flayers. They do not belong on this world." His lips purse tightly. "You weren't speaking lightly when you said you needed help. Let me tell you what I know."

Rakha straightens attentively; her eyes, already focused, now burn into him. A flicker of a smile crosses his face as he registers her eagerness for what he can tell her.

"I've been studying these parasites for a while now," he goes on. "Ever since I discovered these so-called True Souls are infected with them. Someone is using very powerful magic to modify these tadpoles. They are using them to exert control over the infected."

Rakha nods. Yes. That tracks with what she has seen. Gut, for all her faith, did not know what she carried in her head; she was being utterly controlled, completely manipulated. Modification to the tadpoles makes sense; it explains the discrepancies with Gale's descriptions of ceremorphosis.

"I'm sorry to say I can't undo that magic," Halsin continues. "Which means I can't cure you. But that doesn't mean I can't help. I didn't find what I came here for - a way to remove the tadpoles - but I found the next best thing. I found out where they come from. That must be where these enchantments are placed on them, and it's where you'll find your cure."

Rakha's whole body goes still. Ah.

It should be disappointing that Halsin cannot help them, and on some level she supposes it is - but that doesn't matter. Lae'zel will bring them to the githyanki, and at the creche the matter of the worm will be resolved. Her greater concern is this cult that put the thing in her in the first place - answers followed by vengeance. And Halsin is saying he knows where to find both.

"Tell me what you've learned," she rasps, "of the tadpoles' origins."

"I overheard that the cultists are sending all of their captives to Moonrise Towers," Halsin answers. "Innocents go in, True Souls come out. Given that all of these True Souls are infected, it has to be the source of the magic. If you want to find a cure, you must head there and discover how the tadpoles are being manipulated."

Moonrise Towers. She has already heard that name - from the halfling trader in the main hall. She too mentioned that the goblins were sending prisoners there. The picture is coming together, piece by piece - and with it, a plan. The creche to remove the worms, and then this Moonrise, where she will see to it that whoever is behind this scheme is properly rewarded for what they have done to her.

As for the elf... she peers at Halsin thoughtfully. He has answered her questions directly and clearly, and she suspects there is more of use that he could tell her. "You seem to know a lot about this," she says. "Will you come with me to Moonrise?"

Halsin frowns and gives a single, sharp shake of his head. "I wish I could. But there's still work I've yet to finish. Blood I've yet to spill." A pause, and then he looks to Rakha with the same sudden fixity of attention that she has been giving him. "I've no right to ask more of you - but if you could help me, I'd be free to join your journey to Moonrise. I cannot allow these butchers to threaten my grove. The natural order must be preserved."

There is a ferocity under the words that stirs at the dark urge in Rakha's brain. She can follow his intentions clearly enough. He means, even if she does not, to kill the remaining goblins here and finish this arm of the cult for good and all. And he wants her to help him.

As if she would do otherwise. She was ready to kill them before; he merely gives her another reason. She nods sharply, her pupils dilating. "All right," she says curtly. "How do I help?"

He details the plan in crisp, concise sentences, and none of it is surprising. Kill the three leaders, and the place will fall apart. One thing he adds, though, is surprising, enough to give Rakha a momentary pause.

"Be warned. My presence could make things more difficult. I can only restrain my bear form so much. I won't be able to help but attack goblins. If I join you, we'll likely have to slaughter this entire place. You may want to use discretion when approaching the goblin leaders."

Wyll laughs suddenly, shaking his head. When Halsin turns a confused look on him, he shrugs. "I think you may find, friend, that discretion isn't exactly a watchword around here," he says dryly. "So I think you'll fit in just fine."

Rakha ignores the humor; she is deep in thought. Yes - this man must join them. He is like her, like Astarion. He has a beast in him too. He understands about rage that cannot be controlled. "Come with me," she says hoarsely.

Halsin smiles slowly, and then his features begin to fade as he hunches forward, his muscles twisting back into the bear form. "So be it..." he growls, before language is lost to him. "May Silvanus lend us nature's fury."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #well file that under another moment of connection that didn't occur to me until just now :O

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movedtodykedvonte · 1 year

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What mega Minecraft theory?

Ok, so it's my theory that the player characters in Minecraft were the original humans that inadvertently caused their own extinction through a selfish desire to harness the arcane/mystic arts of the Minecraft world. I started making this theory before the mobeastiary came out and ever since I've just been expanding on it with the book's lore and each subsequent update to the game that seems to just support it more and more. Under the cut cause, oh boy is this long:

I believe that ancient humans discovered the existence of magic through villagers, clerics specifically, and became interested in using it themselves.

However, villagers were adamant not to, knowing how the misuse of magic could lead to dire consequences. Illagers and ravengers their prime examples. Still, humans were stubborn

through research they found out about other dimensions, starting with the nether. The nether was a hostile and inhabitable place that had valuable resources such as netherite, potion materials, and all the other reasons we regularly venture there.

Realizing that they were outmatched in sheer numbers and knowledge of the realm by piglins, the wither plague, and the general terrain, humans retreated, abandoning these fortresses and bastions indefinitely until they could create the means to conquer them.

This leads to my theory on creatures of the overworld. Creepers were man-made, designed specifically to blend in with their surroundings to sneak up on enemies before igniting, hence why their insides literally have like TNT in them.

They were dumb and didn't account if these things bred and became feral so... Thank them for these silent bombers.

Strongholds and what we find underground

Once they realized they could not control these creatures, the remaining humans began moving to the only safe place, underground. This is where strongholds first started. In hopes to combat the beasts they created, they began studying and exploring magic and potion arts even more, hence the libraries and materials found in them. Trial tests yielded successfully; potions of leaping or healing proof they could use this to possibly win back their world.

However, there were detractors, ones tired of their reliance on means that continued to doom them. efforts of sabotage yielded potions of harming and slowness, attempts to prove how easy yet another venture into mysticism could hurt them.

The detractors were proven correct when the unstable potions had unexpected effects. Early healing potions did in fact keep you going once wounded... even if mortally. The properties of these early tests led to what we know as zombies and skeletons, humans kept alive but rotting, mindless, and violent as their soul rots with their flesh.

This, along to contain criminals, is why there are prisons in strongholds

Due to how many people had these potions, it was inevitable that zombies and the undead would not overrun the place, people being turned through attacks or other causes, and the strongholds becoming tombs for those

In a ditch effort, they used their last option, the unknown dimension only known as the end. Ones that didn't want to risk it, fled deeper into the earth in hopes it'd be enough

Those that did neither continued to live in the world, creating mine systems to get around and survive until they too died out. Some even ventured back up tired of living in fear and determined to fix what they had done to themselves. Igloos with Z.Villagers were labs by those trying to rectify the past.

The End and Cities

those who went to the end were met with the fucking dragon of course. The reason this dimension was so unknown was that those who went never came back.

Very few people survived, those that did having used the fountain to escape, sealing it with magic that would only break when the dragon was slain. However, they were not sent home.

They were sent to the end islands, a deeper more secure but mostly barren level of the end. Having a source of food and the little resources they brought, they set up a way of life, hoping to figure out a way back, eventually...

Cities and sky fleets were made. One for stability and the other for exploration in hopes to find something in the vast nothing.

I believe they found shulks and phantoms... or what phantoms were in the end. I believe membranes fix elytras cause they were the wings of the phantoms in the end dimension before being cut off by desperate and selfish humans. Hence why they haunt players in the overworld.

Based on the bestiary, Endermen are oddly similar to players' own constructs, besides the obvious. My theory is spending too much time in any dimension warps you to meet that dimension's standards, the humans needing longer limbs to reach the strange fruit of the trees, bigger and tougher jaws to crack the shell, and even taking on priorities of the fruit itself (warping to other islands)

Effectively, it was a rapid evolution, one that saw many of these altered humans forfeiting their old ways of life and abandoning the cities and sky fleets they had made, and returning to the main end zone.

Strangely, the dragon was docile to them and they began to coexist, those that missed their home and had not seen the overworld for years used their new abilities to return home, collecting pieces of their old world in a sad way to feel at home

Ancient Cities, the Warden, and the portal

Those that went deeper just repeated what they did with the strongholds but better, creating entire structures and ecosystems to mimic their old lives and trying to learn from past mistakes.

Still, hubris continued to plague them. They too heard of another unexplored or really known dimension. One that alluded to something great and powerful that they hoped

When they built and activated the portal what they got was the skulk. Too fearful of what the portal yielded no one ever actually went in, simply keeping it open to let more of the odd substance in. Curiosity killed the cat

At first, they just explored its properties, it worked much like the mycelium on the mushroom islands but was more... fleshy... sturdy, and practically indestructible. They believed it could be used to reinforce their defenses in case anything attacked. In believing this they covered the area with it.

No one knew what to do when sensors or shriekers appeared, or when the odd substance made people sick or when their deaths from the mysterious illness made the substance grow, feeding off the life of those it claimed.

No one knew what to do when the Warden showed up, a creature seemingly made of the lost souls and rotting bodies of their lost, held together by the skulk. The Warden seemingly full of the hate of those brought back, was vengeful in a way no one could have prepared for

As long as the portal was open the warden didn't despawn, hunting down and killing the leftover humans in mass until precautions to avoid it were taken. They discovered it was blind, relied on all other senses, and used wool to navigate around it

Still, they were dropping until only one was left. They didn't last long either but they did close the portal, stopping the spread and allowing the warden to dispel with time, nothing to feed on. They also destroyed any documents on how to activate the portal to ensure the beast would never be able to reign free again. (This is the collective story I pieced together with discs 5, 11, and 13)

Other Stuff

Our player is simply a human who either has amnesia or escaped the horrors and is simply trying to survive in t world that it now knows will show no mercy to it

Spiders are that big cause I believe humans did something trying to create mega flora and fauna to expedite/enhance farming and backfired immensely with these bugs.

This also explains why guardians are like that as they are a horrid mix of every underwater mob with none of their benefits.

It is unknown if anyone did really make it into the portal in the ancient cities as there was no way they were coming back with the warden about. Then the portal was closed

This doesn't fit anywhere but endermen get mad when stared at cause they envy the innocence in the eyes of those who did not share their fate. Also, their hearts are the pearls, calcified by the effects of the fruit and years in the end realm.

If there's anything else that's not clear or needs explaining please tell me! I have so many aspects explained in journals and docs over the years and I'd hate to have something be confusing cause I was excited to share!

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screechingsandwichhologram · 5 months

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I've realized that i havent properly introduced my ocs yet so. here is a BASIC rundown of my ocs & who they know/are related to & who they are. im going to try to keep this as basic and simple but its kinda hard for me to do that

first things first: they are dsmp worldbuilding ocs. they have very little to do with the actual canon, but you will recognize some things. also I've kinda repurposed some characters for my own lore

also : techno is NOT the blood god. he's the blood god's champion. the blood god is a separate god

okay so lets get into it

EROS : she/it/love. she's the goddess of love, and is also a war god (War of Love). love is c!ranboo's mom. she is married to Erebus, and is queen of the end. she does very little politics, and is more into outreach than policy. she is very kind and gentle, but can be terrifying. she is immortal. she is the child of Hysteria and the Blood God. because of this, it is not an ancient god, and therefore isn't extremely powerful. she's a shapeshifter. love lives in the End

EREBUS: they/she. she's the ruler of the end. they are a very good and fair ruler. she is the twin of z. z & erebus overthrew the old ruler. they are married to Eros, and are c!ranboo's other mom. they are the child of an enderman and the god of the void. they are immortal. they live in the end.

Z: they/them. they are erebus's twin. child of an enderman and the god of the void. they live in the end. they are a scholar and a scientist. they helped organize the people for the rebellion to overthrow the old king

^these guys all live at the same time and regularly interact !!!!

CRESSIDA: she/her. she's the child of the goddess of the nether and the blood god. she is very kind and extremely loyal and protective. she is also a badass warrior. she died during battle protecting her sounder (shes a piglin hybrid btw) which made her ascend to godhood. her physical body became jewels and precious metals and stuff (why piglins love gold) so as a god she doesn't have a physical form. like if she tries hard enough she can appear in dreams but it takes a lot out of her. she died a long time BEFORE eros & erebus were even born so they never met

OBERON: he/they. he's the child of hysteria and some (probably) forest nymph. he lost his memory, so he doesn't remeber his past at all. he was found wandering the nether by cressida. she brought him into the bastion and helped him gain his feet. he was head over heels in love with her. she eventually becomes good friends with her. she's also aroace (it's okay tho cause they r lithoromantic so it works out). she is his everything. he struggles a lot with his mind bending powers from their dad (hysteria), and cressida grounds him. when she dies, he looses it and decimates the nether with his powers. using cressidas teachings, he manages to control it to a forest he grew, thus becoming the god of warped forests. he lives in self-imposed exile, away from anyone.

^cressida and oberon are BEFORE eros & erebus & z!! they don't interact with them.

THE GOD OF BLOOD, FLESH, AND BONE: aka the blood god. they/them mainly but also chill with it & he. an ancient god (original). born in the overworld. made a deal with the goddess of the nether to live there. domain is the physical body. also a war god (War of Bloodlust). often appears as a piglin or piglin hybrid. patron god of piglins. eros & cressida are their only children. was much more affectionate, but when cressida died they became cold and antisocial. by the time c!ranboo was born, they were like. warming up again. c!techno is their champion (person chosen to do their bidding and they have special gifts and stuff). they have a very strong grudge against hysteria.

HYSTERIA: he/him. the god of the mind, emotions, and sanity. patron god of humanity & the arts. the third (and final*) war god (War of Power). lives in the overworld. a slut. has tons of children that he does not keep track of or take care of. also an ancient god. a shapeshifter. again, by the time c!ranboo was born, he was getting a bit better about the whole "caring for other people thing". has a very strong rivalry with the blood god.

^these guys exist throughout the story!!! they interact with both cressida & obereon and erebus & eros (though not much)

#*in a au there is a fourth war god !!! not revealing that here because it brings up a lot of questions but mentioning that #anyway i have a ton more ocs in this world but im not mentioning them here because im mostly going to be talking about these guys #feel free to ask questions tho !!!#rain feathers dsmp #oc : eros #oc : erebus #oc : cressida #oc : oberon #oc : the god of blood flesh and bone #oc : hysteria #rain feathers original #ocs #oc backstory

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talesfortold · 9 months

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Prologue - The Flesh Demands Its Own Truths

this is the working prologue to my story. i really appreciate stories that have some sort of commentary on the human experience, and so i decided to try my hand at something like it. any feedback is appreciated! i will be posting this story on royalroad.com

Ohhh, yes, yes, you wish to learn about humans, do you? Why, you've just inquired about my favorite tragedy! Sit, sit, let me tell you about humanity's adversities.

A tragedy, yes… They're twice cursed, you see? Born with the capacity to love, and born with the capacity to hate. And therein lies their misfortune, for humanity loves to hate! Humans love… conflict. They crave it. And without fail, generation upon generation, they manage to find it.

Come! Look deep into the heart of the Tritor Forest, and there you will find Elurius. Carved out of the ancient trees surrounding it, the first people to settle there fought old horrors and fended off the closest Dungeons out of sheer stubbornness. They could've retreated to the coast and lived off the sea, but no! The founders of the town tore up the twisted roots of the forest and used them for the first walls. Spears were thrown and spells were cast in defense of the land they claimed as their home. They wanted to fight for a place to live! Their pride demanded it! And proud does the town still stand, built upon the bodies of thousands. Oh, how they weep for their fallen, as if they themselves did not send their men to die!

Look north to the lush plains that stretch from horizon to horizon. See how the soil is stained crimson from the blood of countless battles. See how it's dyed a richer hue as you edge closer to Gelya, a place trespassing monsters have learned to fear. The gentle rolling hills surrounding the town are filled with traps and tripwires! Flowers, birds, and bees watch every move! Men armed with magic and bows line the tall walls of the town, bastions against anything that dares approach. See, humans fought for their place here as well, and here they remain firmly entrenched. They will not be routed out.

Most of all, look to the realm as a whole!

A plethora of creatures lie deformed and corrupted beyond their nature. Swathes of land have been turned barren and others grow without bound. Countless kingdoms razed to mere ruins, their histories long forgotten.

The whole continent has mutated beyond recognition! Broken by spellcasters with too much magic at their disposal, remade by nature's insistence on enduring everything thrown at it. At the expense of the land itself, ancient Archmages and Archwizards fought until nothing was left but the echoes of their self-importance.

Once a thriving home to tens of millions of people, our continent of Aqeron now has less than a hundred thousand human souls.

And it's all due to some petty squabbles, human avarice, and the untimely intercession of the Divine.

Ah, but it's no matter!

Their desire for conflict, it seems, is inexplicably linked to their essence. To fight is to be human. They will pick a struggle against a rock if it means they get their fix! Even in the moments of peace, even during the peak of a kingdom's prosperity, humans will stoop so low as to bicker over things like who gets more bread. And even those who refuse to fight, those who refuse to do violence, fail miserably, for they crusade against their very nature. They lack the means to be rid of their curses.

Now you see their paradoxical nature laid before you. What pushes humanity forward if not competition? What tears down the tallest castles if not the unrest of the masses? They will love someone to the point of hating others. They will hate so much that love becomes but a memory for them. But in equal parts?

In the soul of a human who possesses strong feelings of both "love" and "hate" lies a chaos. A "conflict", some might say! Even if their tumultuous soul manages to die down, they get no rest, as the chaos takes root in their bones instead. Born from the conflict between the "love" and "hate" of a human soul arises the need for conflict in the body. A tragedy indeed! Humanity shall simply never escape their curses, even in death!

Gaze upon the damned! Behold their eternal struggle! Can't you grasp their agony?!

Even if the soul is satisfied, their flesh demands its own truths!

#writing #mywritingjourney #mycoolstory #writers on tumblr #writeblr #creative writing #dark fantasy #fantasy #litrpg

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maifrenthebesto · 2 days

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There comes a moment when the chasm of the heart is so vast that it is easier to plunge into the darkness of the void that lays between each end of the fault than to dare approach the light.

A time when one's own self admonishment is so undeniable, continuously straying further and further away to the point where redemption becomes a long-gone alternative. An embrace of the motives and ways which expanded the ravine ends up being the only clear path left. Distance feels like the next step within logic, it constantly drove the experiencer to the fork from which they see their folly expanding.

Such despair, to find yourself digging further down in an attempt to escape the unknown, and an even worse fate to dig as a bastion from the light which you cannot even fathom anymore. A path carved as a form of escape due to an avoidance of redemption, once it is internally perceived to be out of reach, or it's implications make it less desirable than the plunge into the abyss. There are paths better left behind, and we each choose the red shift or the blue shift to mark our direction.

This is not like the matrix pills though. But it also kinda is in the sense that there is a choice, but not in function.

It is difficult to distinguish what is good and bad for each of us individually, especially with evil being committed in the name of good, and kindness presented in the name of malice.

A path taken is a line acknowledged, with its destination irrevocably linked to the pilgrim's journey. Redemption through overflow still carries the overflow, just as salvation through inaction carries the inaction.

But if flesh feels good why not indulge? My brothers in consciousness, the flesh was made to be enjoyed, just as the soul was. You must eat from both plates together for the experience to be meaningful.

The body wakes up before the soul, and that is true at a foundation level of institutions which sought to police the human experience. They forgot the why and carried along with a half truth, so forgive them if you can, for their hearts were in the right place at one point.

Where do I get off talking like I know better than the people whose actions are reflected in this scripture? How dare I generalize the intricacies of human decision making processes into a theater of the mind? I should be ashamed of the vibrant picture I'm creating in the minds of those who resonate with the messages within! If only I hadn't written anything, you lurkers could continue to thread the path you were on without a second thought, but nooo, I had to appeal to your morality, and now your sense of purpose feels ambiguous and negatively charged! If only there was an inconsistency to latch on to to invalidate all the emotions this is making you feel...

Try not giving a fuck! Ah but I told you to do that!! Dang it.

What about (insert date of log entry)! That message did not appeal to your personal experience, so therefore it must be devoid of meaning, and if so, then so is this!

Hahaha how is unsolicited self help real haha just close your eyes hahaha

A constant state of anxiety, expecting retribution from actions untold to people unknown. I do despise the idea that treatment for this problem is to have the lock pick itself open.

No one needs to see, no one needs to know, but it will be evident, and it will be true when you surpass yourself.

Everyone will know up to that day.

These esoteric writings are HEAT, do not get burned by the flames. Please.

There's something in here for that, I'm sure. If you care to treat your self immolation.

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silkykuut · 22 days

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I saw it, laid amongst the chains,

Chains that stretched like webs across the open cavern,

Its features illuminated by the red sky,

A dark cloud bounded to the earth.

The tent reminded me that of a circus,

The wooden planks spoiled this image

Of childhood dreams and thrills,

Now appearing as a means of confinement

To whatever beast laid dormant within such a shell.

I could see what appeared to be cannons,

Barrels rested against the edge of each window

As if it were a small bastion.

I walked closer, further inspecting one of the guns,

The ends were molds of humans head,

It felt so real, as if their jaws were torn open

To erupt the flames that would litter the fields,

It felt as if they were real heads painted over with metal.

Each face felt as if they were screaming,

Screaming in anger,

Screaming in grief,

Screaming in desperation,

I knew there were no noises but my mind couldn't help it,

My mind kept playing them out as if they were real,

Their cries echoing throughout my consciousness.

It saw me

I snapped back upon hearing the rattling of the chains,

It was struggling, tugging on its binds as it glared at me,

I could see its eyes behind its wooden shell,

All it could see was red.

No noises came from the beast, only the sounds of its struggling

Echoed throughout the room over and over again,

I couldn’t tell if it was panicking, in some bloodlust, or pleading for me,

I couldn’t help but watch as it continued to struggle.

I was taken a back as I witnessed the arms of the beast erupt

From beneath its shell, a dozen, long, charred arms would reach out,

At first grasping at the air, as if in a blind rage,

Eventually grabbing a hold on the chains

Where it began to pull and twist on the binds.

I could hear one of the loud snap followed by

The sound of chains rattling against each other roared across the room

As the beast began to fall, it would be forced against a chain,

Grinding against its body, tearing off pieces of its shell.

Bit by bit, its fleshy interior was exposed,

Black veins and many red soaked eyes littered its body,

I made eye contact with it, I could see myself in its eyes.

The chain continued to tear at its body as it fell,

A trail of blood and loose flesh covered the metal as it screamed,

Looking into its eyes, I could see it wanted to scream, I could feel it,

I believed I could hear it, a twisted imagination trying to make up

What the beast would sound like.

Its decent would come to a swift halt, being caught by a web of chains,

Still beyond reach of the ground

I could see its blood, not from the wounds to was dealt

But its eyes, tears rolled down like streams as it screamed at me

Screaming in anger,

Screaming in grief,

Screaming in desperation,

Its hopeless tugging on the chains that bound it to the earth,

All I could think of now was to run, its silent cries roaring

Through the tunnels, till I once again found myself in the light.

#writing #cw: gore

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originemesis · 2 months

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@cast-you-dxwn from xxx

If there was anything about Adam that was difficult to damage, it was his ego. Not thirty seconds out from being pinned beneath him and already slapping away his hand, his help, and his advice. “I’m not asking for perfection, Adam.” He exhales heavily through his nose as the First Man puffs up. He didn’t understand why this was so difficult, why it was always a massive tug-of-war trying to get the Commander of the Exorcists to do anything. Lute was of no help, despite her competence she was utterly loyal to Adam, what would normally be a commendable trait turned to an irritation. “It isn’t difficult to at least not leave your weaponry in Hell. What happens when some enterprising Sinner gets lucky, when one of your girls is wounded? God forbid, if one of them is killed?” At this, Michaels lip curls, the Archangel seeming to finally descend into irritation with Adam. Perhaps it’s partially from the uncalled-for comparison to Lucifer, something that normally would call for a sharp glare and some punitive measure, but the commanders laissez-faire attitude toward his soldiers immortal mortality was edging perilously close to infuriating. “What then, Adam? Will you look at yourself, look at these soldiers under your command and say ‘Ah, it’s okay. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’?”

If anything, his ego was far from intact. It was the more shredded aspect of his being, but simply held together and into place very much like the soft and sickly pale visage of humanity locked into an exoskeleton rarely shed for want of it to be his own flesh- a bastion to bear the burden of mankind.

An eye roll accompanied the seraphim's irate snort. "Yeah huh. Absolutely not looking for shit to be perfect in heaven- do you hear yourself right now?" Just the notion that the backbone (and subsequent vertebrae in lieu of the Exorcists-) of heaven's very foundational safety was not expected to remain a permanent 180 degrees was laughable at best. Of course dude wanted perfection- Adam thought within the added plush against judgement added via the puffed feathers- he just knew that was too much to ask a being like him. Created perfect- knew just what it entailed, if only briefly, yet remained utterly unable to replicate it despite the fact. He was always going to be a handicap to this position, and Michael fucking knew it. It was why he wasn't going to let him peck at him with the 'if you only worked harder' shit because he knew it wouldn't be enough to reach whatever vision the seraphim had for a project he couldn't have possibly wanted for himself the way he'd thrust it upon the first mortal-made soul.

And when the other's concerns finally revealed themselves, it was the commander's turn to scoff at the implications, elbow coming to rest in an open talon while the other flexed idly about. "Yeah, 'cause my concern should definitely be playing janitor than getting my girls home after a long day of destroying demon ass? As if." Another thoughtless flick of the wrist had him running a thumb along talon tips. "Plus it's not like angelic weapons do a demonic wielder any good, right? If anything, I'm leaving more shit for them to trip on and slay themselves once we're outtie."

He can't say the thought the other proposes doesn't strike a chord, but he's fairly sure Michael's only desire when striking it is to get under his skin. His eyes narrow to surly slits through the visor's display. What then? "Whatever, Doomsdayer. Never gonna fuckin' happen." A heavy slam of his wings senda a torrent of wind forward in an unspoken (though perhaps a degree more dramatic than need be) salute as he returns them less puffy to his flank. "That all, 'sir'?" He grumbles, his tone a shade of 'mmk can I go now?' "...'cause chickadees are due for their preen puddle and I really can't keep rescheduling like this ~ "

#//welp hindsights a bitch #cast-you-dxwn #verse ; // the crusades #suggestive cw #long post

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jenngerbread13 · 8 months

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WolPromptADay #3 - Favorite Raid

Kugane. At least less people recognized me here. I had no want to be in any of the major cities back in Eorzea and less so around those who would act like nothing is wrong. Like nothing had changed. My body ached like it not used to before. My dreams were back but so were new nightmares. The memories of the past and past lives that had been repressed now leaking into my consciousness. A new voice seeping into my consciousness. Me. At least me that was. All the me’s I have been. Giving advice and commentary to the me that is now.

They were my new old friends. These voices were my new old friends. Like messages left to myself throughout time, blocked by Hydaelyn herself to seal the tempering of me. Pity she was weak enough now, and that I had learned enough of the truth that I could fight it or outright ignore it. They were the last bastion tying me to whatever fate they wanted to weave for me and soon, soon I would find a way to rid myself of it. I deserved to know the whole truth of who I was and what had happened. If the scions didn’t care, so be it. But he had begged me.

Remember us. Remember that we once lived.

How could I remember them if I didn’t remember myself from that time.

“Miss? Miss!” I hear, and looking around, I see a tall male Roegadyn trying to get my attention in a dark green ensemble.

“Yes?” I ask, curious as to why anyone would want to talk to me, with a million scenarios playing through my head and me praying it’s not the East Aldenard Trading Company or the Scions.

“Sorry, my lady, There is a young maiden here who would like to speak to you. My name is Keiten.” With a deep bow, he gestured over to the aqua-furred Mi’qote currently engaging one of the shopkeepers in the Kogane Dori.

Offering a small bow myself, and looking over, to my surprise, I barely had time to register it was one of the Mewrilahs before he bellowed out “Miss! The Adventurer has arrived!” and the tail and ears did that adorable perk up before she turned around and ran back over to us.

“And here she is! The liberator of both Doma and Ala Mhigo in the flesh! I am Lina Mewrilah, correspondent for The Raven. You may recognize me from my expose on The Secret Lives of the Homunculi.” Excited, Lina took my hands in hers, shaking them vigorously before bowing and I returned a small one in kind. “They… They/them, please.” I muttered out, sighing realizing that my outfit choice still made it clear as to how people would view me.

“Oh, my apologies,” She continued, remorse passing over her face for a split moment before the perky attitude returned “It’s not for nothing that I’ve been standing here since yesterday morning on the off chance you’d pass by. No, I’m here because – Actually, it’s best you heard it from Alma. I am but an observer.”

I watched her turn this way and that as she jumped up and down shouting “Alma! Alma! Come! I’ve found them! I’ve found them!” before a young Hyur lass slowed down, and turned to walk over, wearing a rather fancy green gown and deep blue cape that from the material itself just screamed wealth.

The lace and embroidery evident as she got closer also spoke to the quality of the clothes. She smiled, holding her arms up to her chest in hope, looking at both Lina and myself “Is this the adventurer of whom you spoke?

“Indeed it is!” Lina nodded, one arm gesturing out to me.

Alma made her way over to me, pleading as she gently brushed her bangs away from her eyes, tears threatening already to spill over before she even began to speak “Please! I beg of you! Find my father! You are his only hope!”

Taken aback, Alma began to cry with Lina comforting her as the crowd around started to slow down and look. I offered a sympathetic smile as Lina softly spoke to Alma, trying to get her to follow them back to the Prima Vista.

“I’ll follow along, I’d like to hear more before I agree” I replied as we all headed along the cobble streets, with Keiten giving a glaring look to any who’d bother even looking at the sobbing Alma as we walked back to the docks.

The Prima Vista was enormous. The amount of magitek needed to keep it afloat, I could scarcely imagine. It must have been something Garlond created, although I probably would have heard about it already. From him or from Nero complaining he could have made it better. Maybe it wasn’t him. Was there a rival Magitek company out there? So many questions swam through my head that before I knew it, we’d made it to the Airship docks, and Keiten bid us farewell with a simple bow before walking away. Even from here, it cast a wide shadow over the docks and docking tower. Whoever had it commissioned really spared no expense on it, putting Mih Khetto’s to shame. It was quite obvious no plays were going on at the time since all I had talked to was the Wandering Minstrel about the plays at the local theatre, of which many had been good, although retellings of my deeds that I had gone in disguise to. This, this looked to be something different, something grander, something meant to travel the world over and bring theatre to everyone instead of them going to the theatre. My curiosity could not be stopped and if it meant helping this rich girl find her father, means gaining access to this gorgeous piece of machinery, and maybe a play or two perhaps a season pass, it’d be worth it.

Lina ushered both Alma and I inside, insisting that the privacy of the conversation would be better from the barge, as she didn’t trust anyone in Kugane and I couldn’t say I blamed either of them for that assessment. The wind whipped through my hair as we rose to the antechamber of the airship, and when stepping inside, my mouth dropped open. It was quite clear no expense had been skipped on this ship, even for the performer’s areas. Velvet purple curtains, intricately woven rugs, carved marble facades lined the interior of the ship. I had deduced wealth but not this rich. The massive props hanging over head appeared life-size. I could only imagine the spectacular performances they could put on.

“This is both a stage and our home, well the home of the Majestic Imperial Theater Company.” Alma stated, as she saw me looking around the room with mouth agape.

Ah. More Garlean defectors or exiles. Could never tell anymore, so many had chosen to flee their homeland.

Lina droned on in the background about how she was sure there were no spies on the barge and that they were in high demand, the finest practitioners of the arts on the Three Continents and that even the Mih Khetto Amphitheatre had commissioned her to come and write a piece on the docked company.

“It is a little-known fact, outside Garlemald at least, that the late emperor was a devoted patron of the arts who supported various theatre troupes to the tune of much coin.” She kept going.

My breath caught in my throat and I choked. Of course. Of. Fucking. Course. He would be a theatre patron, wouldn’t he? Of all the things to come back and try to avoid, the first thing I run into is another one of his messes.

“Indeed, Solus was so enamored of the Majestic players that he ordered the construction of this very airship, that the troupe might perform in every corner of the Empire. When his grandson took the throne, however, everything changed.” Lina didn’t even bother stopping as I waved her on, Alma rushing towards me with a handkerchief as I bent over, still coughing.

Taking her handkerchief, I coughed into it trying to regain my composure from choking on my own breath. Of course Varis would hate anything to do with the theatre having a dramatic ass for a grandfather. You’ve gotta be of a special personality type to even deal with it let alone compete with it and he did not have it. Hell, he barely had a personality at all. But that’s what had been part of his charm, what I’d grown to miss and mourn. Someone who brought me out of my shell, who created a safe space for me to do so. To allow me to be me without judgment. Okay, at least personality-wise. He was still a raging asshole about other things, tempered or not.

“Too many loopholes, plays deemed vulgar and inflammatory are censured, and the troupes denied transit. Some of the worst offenders have never been heard from again.” Alma led me to a couch, sitting me down.

“Please forgive my earlier outburst, I am Alma bas Lexentale, daughter of Principle Jenomis cen Lexentale. My father came up with a third option, to express disapproval for the new policies in completely unpolitical works like faerie tales. The Zodiac Brave story is a well-known Garlean tale, and the censors didn’t bother paying attention to the story underneath. When they realized their mistake, they took aim at our funding instead.” She pulled a tray of sweets and tea closer to the couch we sat on and I carefully folded back up the now crumpled handkerchief she’d handed me.

Looking over at her, I offered her a confused but empathetic smile. I was not a Gillionare. I could barely keep any Gil on me, enough so I never bothered bringing up finances with Tataru. I had learned that mistake already.

“I’d love to help. I could find your father but…” I was cut off by the sound of the door opening and who would appear but Cid fucking Garlond. Of course he’d already be here. Of course he’d know about this. He was probably the one who sent for me because he knew I was competent and because he could foist that work off on me instead. It all clicked.

“I’ve known her father since we were students. When I heard she was in Kugane looking for help, I knew just who to call. Sorry for not joining you all sooner, old friend.”

“No worries.” I gasped out in a raspy voice, edges still rough from the coughing fit. “So, any idea on where to start looking for him?”

Alma nodded and elaborated “He’s long been searching for some ruins of ancient Ivalice beneath the sands of the Dalmascan Desert beyond Nagxia. He believed these Auricite crystals were the key to uncovering the myths.” Hearing the elevator begin to rise, the conversation rose to a stand still until a blonde boy appeared, older than Alma by a few years, but yet still a boy. Stepping forward with the air of authority, I had almost reached out my hand to extend in greeting when I heard him speak.

“Alma! Who are these people? I told you I did not require any help finding Father, especially from outsiders. Particularly from you, Master Cid! We may have been shunned by the Empire, but we are still Garleans and we still have our pride… unlike some it seems. We require neither the aid nor the pity of foreign rabble.”

Hold it in, Kerina, Hold it in. Do not wreck this boy’s entire life view with what you know. What you’ve done. Who you’ve done. Do not slap the everloving pride out of his face. You are here to help. Although helping would be knocking him down a large number of pegs to the bottom of the totem pole where he belongs. If not for my sake but for Cid’s, ungrateful little gnat.

“Have you forgotten we are the ‘foreign rabble’ brother? We would be fools to conduct a search without a guide who knows the way.” Alma said gently “After all, your last expedition met with tragedy in the ruined capital of Rabanastre. We barely got you back alive.”

“I realize that, and Master Garlond, you were correct that it was a death trap or near to one, but I saw an opportunity to rescue our father, so I took it. He’s been obsessed with the city ever since his obsession with the true retelling of the tale began, so I knew to look there.”

Cid nodded at both Razma and Alma “You’re in capable hands with Kerina, and they've repaid my trust with interest every time. You’d do well to grant them yours.”

Razma waved me off with dismissiveness, claiming he needed to head back to his study to think while Alma smiled up at me, bowing and thanking me for the kindness. I was being selfish, in a way. I wanted to see his theatre company restored to its former glory, see what real theatre could be. If what I had seen and fallen in love with in Mih Khetto had been anything, once everything settled here, I surely could expect the treat of a lifetime.

#wolpromptaday #ffxivwrite #ffxiv writers

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windtorn · 10 months

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@zorkaya || where we come from // angels cannot reach - cont.

there weren't many in belobog that had not heard of her prestigious name and even fewer that had been graced an audience of such commanding presence that demanded attention. but sampo koski was a man of action and intent, however foolish and dangerous said actions or intentions were. to find himself under her sharp eyes gave him a sick thrill of excitement. he was never a man to bend under most forms of authority, but rather he challenged and schemed until the endgame fit his desired outcome with the person manipulated under his tightly fastened marionette. he played the part of the fool well, just as he did with each mask he wore and carelessly discarded thereafter. "that depends, really. are you someone that i can get away with taking?"

had he been anyone else and his resolve been built upon glass foundations, it would have surely shattered under the weight of her sharp eyes. clutched in her hand, sampo's eyes darken briefly as they lower in curious scrutiny. she was only a bit shorter than him, but the height difference did not make her any less imposing despite her lean and graceful features. even with her visage obscured by dark shadows, she was quite beautiful bathed in the glow of the moon like this. he was drawn to her eyes, how they felt as cold as the roaring of the eternal freeze and how they glossed over with familiarity that he couldn't quite catch. a shell, he surmised. a cocoon long shed and destined to decay. except when the rot came and festered like an open wound, it refused to become one with soil and remained a hapless mess in a cruel, stationary hell. or maybe it was a mask. just like he wore to pretend that he felt something more than he did. to blend in with the common people of belobog and flaunt about the humanity that he did not possess nor ever care to. he only desired one thing, and that was the very thing that he desired in excess. to laugh and bask in pleasure of the mind and flesh even at the detriment of others. they didn't matter in the grand scope of things. nobody mattered on this pitiful, tiny ice rock out in the vast expanse of space. not even sampo koski mattered in the story of aeons and stars, but his own self was all he had. he was the only person that understood such things, so why not enjoy the fruitlessness of all things by indulging in some self-imposed gluttony. the air felt colder too, inescapable like a snake coiling and writhing for breath under the prison of his flesh. not from the feel of the first snow upon his head or the gentle lull of the wind caressing his bare skin, but as though intention were made palpable. like if he could open his mouth and taste the cold like ice on his tongue. "my my...don't you have a way with words. what can i say! i'm a man of the people, after all, and i aim to please." he does not lean in nor away from the hand that gripped him, though a lazy smile does curl itself across his features. his eyes danced with playfulness as he tilted his head slightly, blowing a flirtatious puff of air towards her ear. "i prefer not to look at it as intruding either! no need to make it sound so negative when you seem so interested in my company, hm?" though the truth of the matter is, sampo was intruding, and his intentions were far from innocent. as was to be expected from a known conman and businessman whose face consistently littered the walls of humanity's last bastion. whispers spoken of her prowess and wisdom, he would truly be the fool of all fool's to try and get one over her. however, his original intention had been not to get caught in the first place. "i would prefer to refer to it as something more like, a temporarily unprompted and unwanted visit of sorts. turned well-received and entertaining by such a chance meeting. sounds a lot nicer, doesnt it?"

FORWARD—

#ic ;;#main ;;#[cw] horror ;;#(( SHAKES U AROUND VIGOROUSLY ))#(( shes cool and smoochable and for what ))#(( for what ren ))

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bookshelfpassageway · 1 year

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Just wrapped a commission today, it should post on like, Wednesday?

Anyway fun reminder that if you like the stuff I do, you can check out this cool new Carrd here that hopefully will be my last bastion of fully up-to-date info. I enjoy what I do and I'd say I'm getting pretty dang good at it, and the support is greatly appreciated as I'm currently striving to try and flesh out my work credit situation

#my posts #self promotion #save an AI commission a disabled queer guy *finger guns*

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rcmndedlisten · 1 year

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Interview: Stephen Pierce of Gold Dust On His Band’s New Album ‘The Late Great Gold Dust’

Photo by Laura Mason

In his short time on this Earth thus far, Stephen Pierce has already become a cornerstone fixture within the Western Massachusetts independent music scene, having been a key driving force behind post-hardcore bastions Ampere and decibel-decimating shoegazers Kindling. Last year, Pierce took a sonic turn and introduced his latest creative chapter with the debut album from his psychedelic folk project Gold Dust, and this year, the band has expanded its view by many miles swith its standout sophomore effort and essential fall listen, The Late Great Gold Dust.

+rcmndedlisten spoke with Stephen via e-mail in depth about the kinship between Gold Dust and its surrounding nature, opening the door into the band’s scenic world with its cast of collaborators, being loud as a softer facet of his sound, and where the trail leads him next.

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+rl: Last autumn's self-titled debut album as Gold Dust sounded like a seasonably accurate refraction of sunlit psych folk, considered indie rock songwriting, and autumn leaves crunching beneath your feet during a walk through the Western Mass trails. You're releasing its follow-up almost a year to the date. Do you take the seasons of New England into account when envisioning how and when your songs will enter the world?

Stephen Pierce: Definitely, yeah. I think most things are better during the fall, so my bias here might be exactly that, but I think the sort of experience that Gold Dust is proffering fits with the cold air and falling leaves. There's a sort of peaceful melancholy to the fall, for me, and I think there's some of that in what we're putting out there. Autumn is kinda a beautiful foreboding, you know? A "like it while it lasts, because it won't last long" sort of thing, the tension of enjoying something but knowing that immediately following that thing it gets dark, literally and figuratively in this case.

I spend a lot of time outside though, mostly on the trails of Mt. Tom, above Easthampton/Holyoke. The trails, the views, the experience -- it's all constantly changing, and I'm grateful for all of it, even when it sucks. In recent years I learned of the Japanese term "shinrin yoku" which essentially translates to "forest bathing": the idea that intentional and focused engagement with the natural world can help with depression, burnout, anxiety, etc., in addition to simply offering placidity and mind-freeing disconnect and an opportunity for mindfulness. I mean, it's broader than that, but that's sort of the bullet-pointed version of it. While the trails haven't cured me of depression or anything that dramatic, getting out there each day is definitely elemental to my wellbeing and provides me with at least a few hours of less ennui, or whatever. Especially when you're trail running, you're kinda forced to be present, noticing the roots and rocks, trying to keep your footing and shit. Everything else just kinda washes away for a bit.

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+rl: The recording of the Late Great Gold Dust also involved more collaboration than its predecessor. Alongside your live drummer Adam Reid, Fred Thomas of Saturday Looks Good to Me, Jacki Sullivan, formerly of Hop Along, your Kindling bandmate, Gretchen Wiliams, and a very necessary guitar solo from J Mascis on "Larks Swarm A Hawk", there's also a short story in the liner notes written by Sean Yeaton of Parquet Courts. Add in Justin Pizzoferatto on production, and it's as if you gathered an aesthetically astute circle into Western Mass' weirdness. How much does the local music scene inform that creative process?

SP: It felt cool to open things up a little, to get some perspective that isn't my own. Everyone else's contributions -- Fred's synth part on "And Yet", Jacki's Hammond organ on "Catalpa" -- those are totally different from where my ear would've guided them. Adam's Rhodes parts in particular served to flesh out some moments that I thought were missing something, but wasn't able to pinpoint just what - I'm thinking particularly of the first minutes or so of "Unreliable Narrator" and the extra moodiness he brought to "All Things Aside" and "A Storm". Gretchen had ideas when I was working on the first GD record, but I very willfully wanted that record to be literally just me, for better or for worse, so it was good to have her along for the ride here. I'm thinking of songs like "Mountain Laurel" and "Absolutely Nowhere" that wouldn't have worked with just one person's vocals. Gretchen's probably as obsessive about getting "the right take" as I am, so it all came together quick and easy.

The approach with all of the folks who played on the record with me was just to say, like, "Hey, I trust your ear here, I trust your ability, here's roughly the idea that I'm working with, good luck and thank you," and to just sort of leave it with them to fill in how they saw fit.

Sean's liner notes are something else. A thing I've always really loved about older records -- and particularly a lot of the folk boom records of the mid-to-late 60s -- is that they included a bit of writing alongside it from someone who wasn't on the record, typically a producer or music journalist or something, and usually to the end of puffing up the musician. While I don't really see much value in liner notes being about the band, or about me, or whatever, it's such an opportunity to kinda thread some sort of connection to something else, some broader idea. It's all stage-setting, really. It's all community. Sean's been a good friend for a long, long time and to be able to work together in any capacity on these records has been awesome.

All that aside, I'm really fortunate to have such talented friends, and even more fortunate that some of them generously made themselves available to join me on this record. Half jokingly but with more than just a dash of sincerity, I'll say that it's pretty cool to look at the who's who of it all and think, "Man, I'm the least talented person on this thing!" A lot to be grateful for there.

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+rl: One of the main observations of this album is that it's heavier, sonically and emotionally. "Go Gently" worships at the doom folk altar in a way that bridges your work in Kindling before segueing into lush, dream pastures with massive drums hitting behind it. That carries on forward. Inverting your shoegaze identity with more organically layered effects and long sighs popping equally heavily has been both a challenge, but also something that's come easy to understand once cracking the code from your perspective, one has to imagine...

SP: To be honest, a lot of it comes down to practice and familiarity with myself, my limitations and skills. Volume is great, I'd usually say that everything sounds better louder, but loud is only loud if quiet is quiet, right? It's sorta how a song like "Planet Caravan" or "Fluff" by Sabbath will make everything around it hit even harder by comparison, you know? Since I first heard "Washer" by Slint, or the song that everyone called "Angry Son" by Indian Summer, I'd been big on dynamics in a song. When those songs kick it up a notch, it's jarring and exciting and dangerous, and in a way feels like the wheels are threatening to come off. I figured going the opposite direction, massive-heavy to quiet-meditative, would have an inverse effect and, like, feel like the eye of a hurricane coming over you after a spell of 60mph winds.

There's also the question that I sometimes consider, "What is heavy?" Is heavy a riff, the way that certain notes sound next to each other? Lyrical content? Is it a mood that's created, or something else entirely, something unquantifiable? Fuck if I know, and I think some of the tension of not knowing shows up in song, or in production, or whatever. In any case, it's a cool journey, to see how something that often starts as just, like, something played on an acoustic guitar can unfold once you start digging to see what's beneath.

+rl: Do you feel like you've mined the depths of Gold Dust fully here, or can we expect to hear this journey go further and take on trilogy form come autumn of 2023?

SP: Yeah. I mean, I sure hope I haven't stripped the quarry of the last of its useful materials. I have like seven to ten songs, depending on what you want to consider a "song", towards the next record already. I'm taking my time with it, though. I'm really looking forward to a third LP. Maybe the move is to make each record progressively less "me" and more "us." It's a cool thing, to be able to make a record all by yourself at home, but it's an even cooler thing to make one with friends, with people whose musical intuitions you trust and who you really love being around. As it goes, they'll have different approaches to playing the songs than I would, which should bring some different points of view to the table. In any case, as long as I'm around, Gold Dust is around, I suppose. Making music is a compulsion, or I guess just some form of creation is, anyway, and I couldn't stop doing whatever it is that I'm doing if I tried.

Making music in the way that I've made these two Gold Dust records, it's fulfilling to have gone about it mostly on my own, but it's also a lonely thing. It's easy to end up feeling hypercritical and rudderless throughout the process, giving those nagging voices of self-doubt more weight than they're due. I've variously felt bad and at peace with that, but ultimately, pushing through it all was a pretty rewarding thing. It allowed me to actualize these two LPs that ostensibly ended up being exactly the sort of records that I'd want to make. That's why I didn't press too many of the first one, at first. I went into it all kind of free from any expectation that people would find it or listen to it, or buy it if they did. I just wanted to make something true to myself, that pushed me to write in a different way than I'd been writing, pick up some new technique and skill, and if possible at the same time try to kill the ego and make something that earnestly tries to answer the question of "Who the fuck am I and why?"

It's all kind of reframed my approach to doing this sort of thing: it's underlined and reaffirmed for me why I do this, what I'm hoping to get out of it. Helps me remember what's important, why I started strumming a guitar in the first place.

The Late Great Gold Dust by Gold Dust

Gold Dust’s The Late Great Gold Dust is available now on Centripetal Force Records.

#interviews #gold dust #centripetal force records

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bmaxwell · 2 years

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Hades

SuperGiant Games is my favorite developer, hands down. They're a small studio run by a tight-knit group of, by all indications, Good People. Their games always have incredible soundtracks and voice acting, unique visuals, and don't tread overly familiar ground. I largely missed out on Bastion until many years later, but Transistor and Pyre (despite being two cherished experiences for me) I can only recommend with some asterisks.

Enter Hades.

A few years ago when they announced Hades during The Geoff Keighly Summertime Variety Show or whatever it's called, they did the "AND you can play it TODAY" thing. Which was pretty much the best thing that has ever happened. It launched in early access, and I didn't play much of it because I didn't want to burn out on it.

In hindsight, there probably wasn't much risk of that. It's exceedingly rare that I replay a game, but I have wrung everything out of Hades two times now, and I'll probably do it at least one more time. Where Pyre and Transistor have some shortcomings gameplay-wise, Hades feels smooth and satisfying to play. It hits all of the other elements out of the park too.

SuperGiant somehow made a run-based game where death doesn't feel like a failure, or a punishment. Hades was very hard for me to put down; when I died, I was excited to get back to the hall of Hades and see who was there and what they had to say. And when my path through those halls invariably ended in the weapons room, I was excited to get back out there and do another run. Repeat repeat repeat. The combat is tight and snappy, and the variety in weapons, modifications, and boons means that every run feels like its own unique thing in a way that I typically associate with deckbuilding games. The game just feels good to play, and it goes from "I'll never be able to get through this new area" to "I expect to make it to the end boss on every single run." Part of that is acquiring persistent buffs to your character, and part of that is your skill improving.

Zagreus isn't some faceless blank cypher that you hang weapons on and pump his numbers up. Hades is his story, about the son of Hades trying to escape his father's domain and learn about his mother. Your father mocks your attempts, disparages your aspirations and work ethic, and is ever reminding you that There is No Escape. The entire game has big single dad/broken home energy that should be relatable to plenty of us. As the story unfolded about Hades family - the pantheon of Greek gods - Zagreus' mother Persephone, and all the denizens of the underworld, I was on the hook for more details every step of the way.

This is all brought to life by way of writing that is in turns smart, funny, and heartfelt. Jen Zee's artwork brings the world of Hades to life. These gods are sexy as hell; this game is horny and not ashamed of it. They are not just a list of traits, or a set of powers to grant you. Their personalities are fleshed out beautifully. When I think of Zeus, Aphrodite, Athena, and all the others, I think of their voices and personalities before their boons and videogame-y elements, which is an accomplishment. I can hear party bro Dionysus' voice in my head: "Zag, man, you have GOT to get up here!" The denizens of the underworld such as Achilles, Meg, Dusa, and Nyx are just as interesting as the gods of Olympus.

And Artemis is best girl.

The voice acting is, as usual, the best in the industry. Darren Korb gets a turn voicing the main character on top of his duties making the music and succeeds in every possible way. Once again, SuperGiant's voice acting makes these still images come to life.

There are very few games - even among my very favorites - that I feel comfortable calling "perfect." I look at every element of Hades - gameplay, writing, visuals, story, music - and every single element is fantastic. The game ends incredibly well. The end boss is one of my favorite boss fights in any game, and the music that goes with it got me hyped every single time.

Hades is a perfect game. No notes.

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unsoundedcomic · 3 years

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Well I for one would love to read more about Bastion's younger days if you ever feel like writing another story. I'm really fascinated by his ship with Lady I and Rahm and even that rat bastard Deliciu!

Before Unsounded I was writing a whole novel about Bastion's family and his boyhood; I have it pretty well fleshed out, kind of a gothic fantasy ghost story with a tragic ending. I'll probably finish it when Unsounded's done.

I could try writing another Bastion short, but it'll probably be gross and kinky and weird because that's just how my rocks roll. Like this post if you want that.

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nitewrighter · 3 years

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Looking at the Roadmap of hero releases, do you think certain characters would have been better off if things were a little different? For example, Would Pharah as character would be more fleshed out if Ana wasn't the first additional hero or if Baptiste and his story was included much early with the original roster?

Honestly I seriously wonder what happened what the hell happened with Blizzard and Pharah because like... in terms of the fundamentals of her character, you have someone who was kind of poised to be a central figure in Overwatch's lore: She's got a whole "legacy" thing with Ana, she says she's dreamed of joining Overwatch ever since she was a little girl so you know of course she'd be among the first to answer Winston's recall, she sort of represents the law enforcement that filled the gap during Overwatch's absence, so that puts her character in opposition with Jack-as-a-Vigilante and she's kind of the "Lawful good" contrast to Winston and Tracer's "Neutral Good." There were all these threads of potential but Blizzard didn't pick up on any one.

Even when they brought Ana in, everyone was like, "Ah, okay! This is where Pharah's story starts picking up!" But... it didn't. Ana got two comics, all about her and the original strike team. And like... the really painful part of that is that it honestly took away Pharah's centering in that narrative--like, there was so much mystery about Ana and I thought Pharah's whole story would be Pharah solving the mystery of what happened to the old Overwatch while trying to track down her mother, but... no. Pharah is lucky to get mentioned once in any of Ana's media. The in-game interactions and the lore between Ana and Pharah are weirdly conflicting--Pharah reflects warmly on Ana in her 'Mission Statement' comic, but then you have all this complexity and resentment in Pharah with regards to Ana when Ana isn't present on the team, but then once Ana was dropped in it's all "Mum, You're amazing!" And then in the short story's Ana's like, "Yeah Fareeha never answered my letter." So like... what the fuck are we dealing with here, Blizzard?

Okay I got sidetracked with the Pharah thing but... I do think Ana was very much a necessary first addition to the game because she carries so much lore and backstory and complexity with her. Her addition to the game was basically Blizzard being able to yell, "Hey, this isn't just a shoot 'em up Clusterfuck! We are totally going somewhere with this!" And for a while they were! And Ana added a cool amount of complexity to the Reaper/Soldier 76 dynamic! But then Blizzard started putting more effort into bolstering up the Overwatch League and into New Hero releases to keep focus on gameplay--the new hero releases did add to the world's story, but Blizzard also super dropped off on the comics, and like, to an extent that makes sense--there's not a lot of profit in a comic you're providing for free, and they probably looked at time, money, and effort going into the comics and said, "Hey, these comics aren't bringing in new players, let's not bother with them" ("Oh, you mean the comic about FUCKING BASTION AND TORBJÖRN you released didn't bring in new players??? Color me shocked!!") but those comics were basically the most actual canon lore happening so when they dropped off... it felt stagnating. BLizzard course-corrected, started doing the mini-skin events with the short stories, and honestly I think that's a solid approach because it engages you with the plot both in and out of the game, but as far as how hero releases go...

I don't think one can really say if tweaking the hero releases would really affect your intake of the plot or overall interest in the game, because ultimately the new hero releases are more about gameplay than developing the plot.

Certainly, some hero releases had way stronger impacts on the lore than others, but when new hero releases, in relation to actually developing the overarching story of the world, feels more like a stopgap against stagnation than actual plot advancement, then the focus shouldn't be, "What hero should we release when" it should be, "Okay what areas of the story have we completely dropped the ball on." (All of them. Blizzard has dropped all the balls.)

#overwatch #fareeha amari #ana amari

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