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terrified-spider · 2 months

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D&D Vampirism & the Results of Regenerative Abilities

A small note:

I’ve posted about both Elder Scrolls and D&D on this blog, and I’m pretty sure I’ve already written some headcanons about TES’s portrayal of vampirism. What’s described here is only for my D&D world building, Barovia/General Ravenloft in particular, where the condition is generally treated much more like a curse than in the Elder Scrolls franchise, where it’s a contracted illness. I won’t promise that I will or won’t write about TES vampirism, as i think it’s fun, it’s not something I find fitting for the Domains of Dread.

This post contains spoilers for the heavily modified version of Curse of Strahd I will be eventually running, and spoilers for the novel I, Strahd. Changes from the RAW 5e module include:

Alek is back! He’s not having a good time.

Escher is Van Richten’s lost son. It’s not that important to this essay, but I do mention their shared eyesight problems in passing.

Shout out to @mx-lamour and their fanfic "What have I done?", for being the reason I finally sat down and wrote this all out.

An Introduction to Vampirism & Wound Recovery in Undeath:

Whether described as a curse or blessing, Vampirism is a magical condition, one that has a number of effects on the patient’s natural recovery/healing process, and by extension, the development of scars throughout one’s unlife. While none of the information here is intended to impact gameplay and balance, it can have an influence over roleplay and certainly does in character design. Flavor is free, and I want it all.

Becoming a vampire is akin to pressing pause on one’s life and body, stopping the aging process, but not reversing it. For example, no more of Strahd’s hair will turn gray, but the streaks that are there will never change back to black. Escher’s eyesight and the myopia inherited from his father are impacted by age, getting worse over time. While being turned provided him with some new dark vision, he will remain nearsighted to the same extent he was upon death. The march of time has stopped, but that doesn’t mean it can be reversed.

Scar tissue is subject to the same forces, and old scars obtained during life will stop fading, remaining just as visible or unapparent as they did upon the body’s death. Unhealed wounds will repair themselves only once regeneration begins, but are subject to the same factors as other wounds obtained post mortem.

General Post Mortem Wounds and Scaring Trends:

While there is some variation in these trends, there are three main degrees to which wounds will leave a lasting impact.

Minor wounds don’t last. These are the results of unsilvered weaponry, mild damage from running water, and necrotic magic. Very little is in the way of the regeneration and healing process, so there are less chances for something to go wrong, such as debris entering the wound, or the injury to scab over, and increase the chances of a scar forming. On the off chance one does form, it usually vanishes within an hour at the latest.

Most magical damage provides the same level of regenerative difficulty as that of sivered weapons and most instances of water damage. Silver and water, both considerable weaknesses of vampires, react poorly with the dark magic of a vampire’s curse, and interfere with it’s influences over the body. Similarly to those described prior, these scars will fade with time, simply taking longer, usually over the course of a couple days, or several weeks at most.

Sunlight will cause the most dramatic injuries, leaving burns over the exposed skin, and healing to form scars that never fade.

Turning Wounds:

Turning wounds are usually bites, the injuries that kill someone as they become undead, and the place of the curse’s transference. Given the nature of the wound, magic doesn’t make the wounds particularly easy to heal, even with the assistance of vampiric regeneration, which is usually what heals them.

Unlike other wounds that result in varying scar types and will reflect the type of damage when applicable, turning wounds usually lave behind contracture scars, where the skin has tightened over the wound in the healing process, giving the impression of skin stretched over the injury. It results in much more obvious scar tissue that can sometimes cause the individual pain, both due to the nature of the scar type, and the magical influences.

While most turning wounds are bite marks, such as those on the necks of Alek and Escher, they can take the form of other injuries, such as the numerous arrow marks across Strahd’s torso and chest.

Different Types of Vampires & Exceptions to the Trends:

The patterns here assume that the subject described is a vampire spawn, a common type of vampire within Ravenloft and Barovia in particular. Consumption of blood will have an impact on healing speed, where greater access to blood will speed up the process, and under feeding can drag out the process for months or longer. However, differences in the nature of one’s curse can manifest as much more dramatic differences in healing ability.

Failed Spawn - Alek Gwilym:

For some reason, the curse didn’t transfer right. In the case of Alek, his blood was already used to reanimate someone, and the Dark Powers forbid Strahd from ever having a good time. Alek just got caught in the crossfire.

Technically they use the Nosferatu stat block but that’s behind the DM screen, not in game.

Turning wounds on failed spawn don’t heal properly, leaving open wounds that won’t bleed, but can be opened up further, and can cause significant pain if not kept clean or become irritated.

The Dark Powers hate you in particular - Strahd von Zarovich:

Aside from turning wounds, any scar will fade with time, including severe sunburns.

Injuries resulting from critical hits will have lasting impacts, such as vision or movement issues, punishment for mistakes in combat.

It needs some work, but this is inspired by the parts of Strahd’s relationship with Barov I’ve been able to flesh out. It needs some work still, but the man taught Strahd mistakes have lasting consequences, either in a material sense, or Barov holding failures over Strahd.

Cleveland Clinic on Scars (:

#so sunlight and running water both deal 20 pts of damage per round but I consider sunlight much more thematically significant in Barovia #I considered drawing stuff for this #but I realized that i have way too much to draw already and i needed to get everything out as fast as possible #spider's dming tag #curse of strahd #cos #strahd von zarovich #spider chatter #world building #dnd #d&d #vampire #vampirism #its almost midnight as I'm writing this (gonna add this to the queue for tomorrow)#sleep well everyone (:#long post #not art

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corpse--diem · 3 years

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Nowhere Is Safe | Luis, Bex & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @ontheluis @inbextween LOCATION: The Moose Caboose SUMMARY: The unsuspecting patrons of the Moose Caboose become the hunted. CONTENT WARNINGS: Gore, domestic abuse tw (brief mention)

The lights of Moose Caboose shown in the gathering dusk, tables and taximery stark against the hazy shoulilete of the darkening treeline. Luis peered from the darkness of the trees, blue eyes aglow with reflected light as he watched prey move around the bright space. The werewolf began to move amongst the underbrush, his hulking form drawing closer to the source of two-legged meat.

Erin didn’t know how she kept ending up back at the Moose Caboose. Morbid curiosity, she assumed. Somehow it’d grown on her, little by little, until it held a comforting familiarity that a place like the Moose Caboose never should have acquired. There were good memories here. The kind she didn’t mind reflecting on while sipping on their take of a Moscow mule, losing the staring contest she was having with the taxidermied beaver posed above the bar. The drink was stronger than the original, and with the moose head shaped cubes bobbing around inside, it was a little easier to swallow the campiness they wholeheartedly embraced. Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to warily eye the abnormally perky smiles plastered to the employee’s faces as they buzzed about. That part was still off, but maybe that mystery was part of its draw for her now too. Martin was still here, the ever vigilant manager (his recent promotion was well-earned), and no visit was complete without at least one moose-pun exchanged between the two.

“By moose, Ms. Nichols, we thought you’d forgotten all about us silly beavers!” After chirpily apologizing that her order was delayed, and that the Moscow Moose-le in her hands was on the house, he departed just as cheerily. She didn’t have time to reflect on the fact that he knew her by name now or how that made her feel by the time the shrill scream brought the entire dining room to an eerie hush. She couldn’t see what was happening but she could hear it. Destruction sounded the same everywhere.

All Bex was supposed to do was deliver the forms to the manager at the Moose Caboose. An easy task, a simple task. Her mother had drawn a stern look on her face as she’d handed the manilla envelope over and stared Bex square in the eyes as she gave her the instructions. It was a simple task, one even she could do. One her mother trusted her with. Bex ran her hands over the paper as she hurried down the street towards the restaurant. Her nerves still ate at her like acid, wondering which alley Frank was going to pop out of and grab her or stab her or whatever else he felt like doing. But Dani had said the police came and picked him up and her mother had reassured that he’d be taken care of. So Bex was safe. She was safe, especially squeezing through a crowd in the Moose Caboose’s bar, before she got to the counter and leaned over, asking for the manager, giving her name. The man behind had stiffened and hurried off and Bex turned to scan the crowd, as if waiting to see a familiar face. Mina or Morgan or Nell. They weren’t there. She’d left them behind, of course they weren’t there.

Then the scream happened. It sounded strangled at first, as if the person screaming wasn’t sure they should be screaming. But after a long moment, it rose in pitch and ferocity, and then more people were screaming outside and a low roar sounded from the front of the restaurant. Bex knew that sound, she’d know it anywhere. Her eyes locked with the monster as it rounded the corner, blood already dripping from its mouth. Her legs gave out underneath her. No, this wasn’t happening again. No, this couldn’t be happening again.

Luis stepped over the hollowed ribcage of a man who’d gone outside for a smoke at the wrong time, licking gore from his lips. For the span of a few breaths the werewolf simply watched the panicking patrons of the Moose Caboose, like a primeval reminder of eons past looking back on soft modernity with nothing but uncomprehending hunger.

Then Luis was bursting through the window in a wave of shattered glass. A young girl sitting close to was nearly swallowed whole as the werewolf charged in mouth agape. A snap of Luis’ closing jaws left a screaming mother holding only her daughter's severed legs, just a moment too late to pull her to safety. A waiter desperately tried to shield the shellshocked mother with his own body, but such valor just provoked Luis’ to jump over the window’s dining booth with a grace that belied his hulking form. The werewolf easily pinned both the mother and waiter beneath his paws. The sobbing woman barely reacted as the waiter crushing brain matter dribbled onto her face from above. She was still cradling those little severed legs as Luis’ maw descended again and opened wide to silence her grief.

Run, Erin’s mind screamed at her. RUN! Her legs wouldn’t--couldn’t obey the simple command. The sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing between too sharp teeth overwhelmed all good sense. She’d seen these creatures before but only when they were lying on her embalming table, rendered harmless, her hands and her scalpel taking what was needed. Not like this. Never like this. Something snapped awake and she realized how dangerously close the werewolf had come. Her feet finally moved in the opposite direction, only getting a few feet before tripping over something--someone. For a moment, she thought she’d stumbled upon a body, but the young woman’s breathing was labored and panicked despite her lack of motion. “Up--get up. Now,” she urged hastily. There wasn’t time for gentle coercion. Grabbing her by the arms, she tugged her with her, shoving when she needed. Some of the crowd had filtered towards the kitchen. It was closer than the exit from here and surely there was somewhere in there to hide, or another door in the back to flee from. She took her chances, pulling the girl along, praying for her sake that she could pull herself together.

Crunching, snapping. Bones giving way under teeth and flesh tearing apart under claws. Bex remembered it well. Blood flowed like fountains. Bits of human devoured in single gulps. This beast was larger than Kyle. More feral. She couldn’t hear the voice in his head, but she was sure of what he was thinking. Prey, hunt, kill. Her entire body stayed frozen. Maybe if she didn’t move, he wouldn’t see her. Maybe if she stayed still, he wouldn’t kill her. But then someone was yanking on her, pulling her up. Bex looked at her and didn’t recognize the woman’s face. She looked just as panicked as Bex felt, and yet she was moving. How was she doing that? Bex’s gaze turned back to the wolf just in time to watch him devour the childless woman nearly whole. Her stomach lurched. Panic became a new kind of magic inside of her and she stumbled as she was shoved towards the back. Her arms reached out to grasp the wall for support, and she saw it, the bracelet on her wrist. This one, Nell had pointed out, will make you invisible. To escape, to run away. This one, she tapped the next bead, will make a shield for you. In case running didn’t work. And this one, the last of the three, makes a magical binding rope. To subdue someone if everything else failed. Bex looked back at the woman who was shoving her along, to the people fleeing in all different directions. And then her eyes met the wolf’s, and the world dissolved from a bar to an alley and in a moment of sheer panic, Bex shouted, “RELEASE!” and disappeared. The world around her, however, did not. The screaming, the blood, the destruction, it was all still there. Always there.

Luis snatched an older woman who’d been struggling to get into her walker as more spry individuals panicked past her. Blood spread out across the lady’s flowery blouse where the wolf held her torso. Her thin hands batted vainly at the enormous wolf’s face, wane cries for help drowned out by the dark bile rising up from punched organs. With an flick of the head the Luis swallowed the gentle woman down, unconscious of the smiling photographs of children becoming parents and having children of their own scattered across the shattered remains of her table.

Tears traced the deep laugh lines of an elder’s face as he looked up at Luis, wet eyes alighting on a familiar hand protruding out from between the monster’s teeth. Even amidst the severed tendons and blood a small diamond of wedding ring still sparkled in the restaurant lights, as if half a century of love had been reified to shine in one final defiance against the world’s senseless brutality.

The venerable gentleman let his cane fall to the ground as Luis gulped down the last remnants of his wife. He reached down for a fallen dinner knife with hands that shook with palsy. Each movement was painful, but resolve brought firmness to his grip. The grandfather rose painstakingly back up to his feet to see the back of giant brown-furred form shredding a downed man apart with its forepaws like a dog tearing at a rug. Closing his tear-reddened eyes for a moment and mustering one last burst of strength, the old man crossed the room in uneven strives and drove the knife into the muscle of one of the werewolf hind leg with everything he had left in him, a beloved name on his lips.

Luis felt an annoying pinprick as the unsilvered blade found purchase. The werewolf brought a hind leg up as if to absently scratch at a flea. One gasp and wet crunch later, the itching ceased.

The werewolf’s ears flicked up at a purposeful shout amongst the growns of the dying, incoherent screams,, frantic whispers, and hysterical sobbing. Luis circled around one of the few tables left standing in the moose caboose, slick livid intestines dangling from his teeth.

Blue lupine eyes scanned for the source of the sound and settled on a departing Erin.

Luis burst into the run after her, covered half the distance in a single stride before launching into a pouncing leap, gore-caked maw yawning open.

Erin may have been more prepared than the average citizen to stomach the gory scene but this? It made the man who’d thrown human organs at her and Blanche’s feet seem like utter child’s play. This was ruthless, relentless destruction. This was a massacre. What shook her most was the sounds--the horrific screams, bones and limbs snapping like twigs, the wet slap of flesh hitting the ground. Fighting was useless. Running was starting to look bleak. All she could do was watch the horror unfold and keep pushing forward, hoping she was faster than the guy behind her at the very least. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get the picture of the distraught, screaming mother clutching the severed remains of her child. Likely a short memory, if she was being truthful with herself here. For the first time since she’d stood toe to toe with Roy, Erin wasn’t positive she was going to make it out of this one. And still, it hungered for more. The wolf’s gaze locked onto her. She couldn’t breathe. “Go, run,” she started to say, though the words grated along her throat like they were shrouded in barbed wire.

Suddenly, the younger woman who’d been paralyzed moments before was shouting. And then she was gone. But--she wasn’t? Her eyes widened, screaming the question marks she didn’t have the ability to communicate herself. What the fuck? Erin could still feel where her fingers clenched around her forearm. A blur of blood-caked fur and teeth dripping with entrails flew through the air. She couldn’t think, couldn’t run. Couldn’t scream if she tried. All she could do was raise her arms above her face and brace for the impact.

Even if Bex was invisible, the world around her was not. The horrors being committed were not. She wished they were. She wished the world around her would melt away and maybe she’d wake up because maybe this was just a nightmare and maybe there wasn’t a wolf staring her down like prey. Prey. Hunt. Kill. Prey. Hunt. Kill. Bex yanked at her arm in the other woman’s vice grip. She wanted to run. She needed to run. She’d told Mina she’d run. Her feet dug at the ground, but she couldn’t get her to let go. She couldn’t get her to move anymore. Bex snapped back to her side when she tried to run, stumbling into her. She was invisible still but the woman wasn’t moving and the wolf was charging right for them. Bex looked at him and saw only Kyle. Red eyes glowing, even if this wolf’s eyes were blue. They were blue. They were blue.

Fur and paws and snarling teeth soared through the air in a bound at them. The woman wasn’t moving. Bex had to do something. She had to do something. She had to protect her. She had to-- she lifted her arm again and wrapped herself around the other woman, before tapping the next bead in the line. “RELEASE!” She’d expected a wall to come up in front of them, perhaps even an actual shield. That’s what Nell had told her it was, a shield. Maybe Bex had even imagined a real shield popping up in front of her like it did in video games. But, no. Instead, a shimmering bubble appeared around the two of them, encapsulating them like one of those toys from the quarter machines at the arcade. Her surprise only lasted a moment, before teeth and claws bashed against the barrier. They were knocked back, ball and all, crashing into the bar. Glasses shattered and bottles toppled. Bex fell back against the wall of the bubble, stunned. She watched as the wolf tore at the bubble, confused and angered by the barrier now keeping him from his next meal. The bubble began to be pushed backwards, towards the doorway. It crunched against the wood and seared through it and Bex reached back up for the woman, already feeling the exhaustion seeping into her bones. She let go of the invisibility and tugged. “W-we-- we gotta go! We gotta go! I don’t know how l-long it’ll hold. We gotta run!” She looked back at the wolf and tried not to see Kyle. She looked back at the wolf and tried not to see imminent death.

Luis threw himself against the brightness, ignoring the glass shards and charred fragments of wood that’d been torn through the Moose Caboose. Red dilated veins rimmed Luis’ eyes as even hunger was swallowed up in unreasoning fury. His primal mind couldn’t understand the heat and shining sphere. It didn’t smell like anything. Prey was inside it but not. The werewolf’s instincts felt that it shouldn’t be real, just a trick of sunlight.

Luis slammed against the luminous barrier, blindly using the sheer weight of his hulking frame, slashing at it with claw and fang, anything to make it stop being between him and the prey. The shield shimmered with each blow, the fluctuation flickering a little longer before solidifying again. Luis tore into the magic with sheer rabid frenzy, jawing wide and panting as he devolved a snarling dervish of blood-soaked fur.

The wolf pounced but the blow never came. Erin still couldn’t see the girl but she’d shouted again, summoning some sort of protective globe around them both. She didn’t know how or why, but it worked. Try as he might, the wolf couldn’t touch them, with every failed attempt only succeeding in pissing it off further. They had to go. Erin’s mind caught up with her, shaky hands reaching to help the girl along, who was very visible again. “R-right, yeah. Come on,” she started, her eyes glued to the snarling beast. She tested a few steps, making sure that whatever magic that was protecting them stayed in place as they moved. To her relief, it did. “I don’t know what you did, kid, but I can’t tell you how glad I am I didn’t leave you for puppy chow earlier,” she muttered. The crowd had all but emptied, those who hadn’t succumbed to the beast’s hunger and strong jaw had fled with their lives intact. “Is this thing going to make it to the parking lot with us?” Erin asked, yanking the handle on the door open, watching the way it flickered, it’s strength visibly wavering each time the wolf charged.

The wolf slammed and slammed and slammed. Bex tugged on the woman again as she finally snapped back to life and started pushing on Bex again. Weak knees shook as she stood and started running, the magic bubble surrounding them following as it emanated out from the bracelet. With each flicker, Bex’s heart rate increased. WIth each swipe of a paw or slam of a body, her mind rattled. She was focusing too hard on not falling back into that dark alley way, with red eyes and blood stains and silence, that she hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going. They stumbled out the back and into the street and police cars were screaming around the corner. People had fled into the street and farther away, screaming all the way down to the end of the road. Ambulances were skidding to stops near those covered in blood, or screaming in pain, and it felt less like an escape from a singular werewolf, and more like the scene of a catastrophe unfolding. Bex stumbled, tripped, falling on her hands and knees, scraping them against the ground.

The wolf was still following them, out into the backstreet. If it turned and went into the main street, more people would die. She couldn’t let that happen. Despite the fear choking her, she wouldn’t let that happen. She stood back up, smearing blood on the inside of the bubble and grabbing the woman’s hand. “We gotta-- this way! A-away from--” but she didn’t have time to explain. The wolf was coming. She only had half of a plan, but it was better than none. She had one spell left, and that, too, was better than none.

Luis’ ears flicked at the sound of approaching sirens, something that’d become very familiar on the scenes of his hunts. While he didn’t comprehend any greater meaning to the flashing light and warbling sounds, Luis’ primal mind instinctively associated them with danger and stinging metal after many firsthand experiences when migrating from the warmer south. He let out a low canine huff of frustration at being led away from the greater mass of prey only for flashing loud metal to arrive and make them harder to reach.

One of the prey he’d be harrying in the brightness stumbled, the smell of her blood snapping Luis’ full attention back to the pair. The werewolf leapt onto a low roof of one of dingy houses that lined the backstreet. Weathered shingles snapped and tin sheets shuddered under giant paws as Luis lopped along the skyline, effortlessly leaping from rooftop to rooftop in an attempt to flank his prey.

Spotting what instinct judged to be an opening, Luis bounded across a storage unit’s dull peak to leap down at the prey from above.

Erin picked the right girl to yank off the dining room floor in the middle of a massacre. She was usually better at this--thinking on her feet, planning, direction. But this? She had no advantage. She had no plan. Like the dozens of crying, frightened people running for their lives, she was in panic mode with the image of children’s limbs torn from their bodies and elderly women being mauled in the middle of the fucking Moose Caboose flashing behind her eyes. Help was on the way. The sirens blared in the distance, adding to the overwhelming chaos. This kid seemed to know what she was doing, she’d kept Erin alive so far, so she nodded and trusted where her head was at. And where the magical bubble that kept those teeth away from her insides. But it was still coming. The thunderous pounce from above followed, looming above them like a ravenous shadow. So Erin did the only thing she could. She ran, gripping the girl’s hand, realizing how quickly she was outpacing her. “Hey, don’t slow down on me now, kid. We’re almost out of the woods,” she panted, pulling her harder, slowing down just a little bit but the wolf was close. Too close to stay at this pace for long. And she was right. A crash from the roof on the building beside them forced her eyes up once more. Fuck. Fuck. Not again. They’d been so close. So close to getting away. Maybe at least one of them still could. Erin swallowed hard, shoving the girl forward. “Go!”

Risking someone else’s life probably wasn’t up to hunter code, but Bex wasn’t a hunter, and she wasn’t a sideways hunter, either, like Mina, so she supposed this would have to do for now. They ran down the back street as the wolf pounced from roof to roof in hot pursuit. Bex remembered the heavy pounding of Kyle’s claws as he’d chased her out of the alley, as his claws had dug into her chest. She felt her breath catching in her chest, tightening, trying to drag her down and pull her back into that darkness. The older woman was pulling her along behind her but Bex’s eyes stayed glued to the wolf behind them. When he leapt, she tried to pull back, but suddenly she was being shoved forward. “No-- no!” she stumbled, turned to watch in horror as the wolf descended upon the woman and the bubble followed Bex. “No!” she fell onto her back, scrambled for her bracelet. “Release! RELEASE!” she shouted loudly, grabbing the last bead and aiming it at the wolf. Chains sprouted from the bead like a rocket, wrapping up the wolf’s legs first. More sprouted out and snagged its maw, and Bex watched as the body tumbled to the ground and skidded to a halt just inches away from her and woman. The bubble petered away and Bex scrambled forward again, her vision already blotting and dripping away from her. “We have…” she huffed, “we have to go.” She grabbed her hand and tugged. “We have to…” But her legs betrayed her and gave out beneath her weight and she collapsed back to the ground. A red stain spotting the place where stitches had come undone in all their frantic movements.

Luis strained against the chains coiling around him. Foam and blood slid along the links of solidified energy as the werewolf struggled. He howled in rage at the departing prey, straining at the chains. Little by little, Luis fought against the constricting force of the spell. A rasping groan like metal giving way filled the backstreet as inhuman muscles tensed and the hulking quadruped frantically shifted around to find any point of leverage against the arcan constraints. Thrashing and snarls were followed by the ominous pop of a single link giving way

This kid saved Erin’s ass, again, in another last minute bout of divine intervention. Or, magical intervention was more like it, she supposed. She didn’t think too hard about the contradicting feelings that swooped in at the thought. Just that she was alive, they both were, staring down the snout of a bound, snarling beast at her feet. Jaws snapping uncomfortably close. She didn’t remember hitting the ground, just that she was shuffling back to her feet as the wolf grew desperate. “That’s what I’ve been saying,” Erin started, looking up just in time to see the girl crumple. “Oh, shit,” she murmured, running to her side. The chain holding it back popped and Erin shook her shoulders, gently pulling at her arms. “C’mon, c’mon,” she pleaded with her. “I need you to get up, kid. You just said, we’ve gotta go--” Another pop sounded behind them. Fuck it. There wasn’t time. Placing the girl’s arm over her shoulder for support, Erin wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled the barely conscious woman to her feet. Spared only one last glance at the struggling creature as metal popped during its violent thrashing. It didn’t sound like it would hold much longer but two were long gone before they’d ever have to worry about--Erin made sure of it.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: luis #chatzy: bex #domestic abuse tw #(brief mention)#chatzy: nowhere is safe

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