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jeeperso · 2 years

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft Edition, Har-Akir Arc, part 2

GM: Last time on the yawning portal runners Ravenloft edition. You guys arrived in Har Akir, the land of mummies. You ran into Nima, who was running a scam that was scummy, you got in a mess with the local constables, who are dummiies, and found out about Kat's family, who are all extremely punny. Gorbash: “Not Funny!”

Marshal: "We do not muck with hippos.” Jonni: “The fuck’s a hippo?” Willow comes up, "You know those mammoth things youtalk about? Think them, only they go in the water.” Jonni: “Are they worshipped by fuck sticks?” "One of the local gods has a hippo head yes." Simone says.

Simone: ”Anyway, I thought I'd yet you know. that my brother has decided to write and star in a satirical one man show protesting my treatment today. So if you have to save his stupid ass from being hanged later this week you'll know why.”

Gorbash: “And this is why Irost is New Eddie.” Jonni: “Only if I’m allowed to set people, your brother included, on fire.” Simone: ”If he's not lit on fire he wont learn anything.” Jonni: “I could do it now, save us the trouble.”

Edmund: “I do not have a magical gambling problem. It was one time!” Gorbash: “Did you forget the riverboat?” Edmund: “It was two times! Two times is not a problem!” Marshal: “The only reason you still have your soul was because Poom drew a full Exodia.”

"Young man, did someone send you to deliver this scroll? I wonder who would have such a message for us.” “Any of the people here who hate us?”

Maggie takes the scroll and opens it "Ezra dammit I can't read this moon speak.” Edmund inspects the scroll, adjusting his glasses. It’s written in Har Akir Hieroglyphs. Jonni: “Eye, bird, other bird, backwards facing guy, sexy lady, sexy lady…”

"Dearest daughter, welcome back to the land of your birth, please come home for dinner tomorrow night. Bring your pet birds and any other of your companions you think will amuse us." Maggie raises an eyebrow "Did they just call us pets?” Jonni: “Fireball’s got a long range. They’ll never know it was me.”

"I'm not a thief, I'm a treasure hunter. Big difference. Besides they probably have the town guards bribed big time.”

"Look we can't murder the in laws before we even meet them. Save that for the Festival of Thanks. Or when politics comes up.”

"If it comes to it, I can excuse us by playing the missionary card. They'll leave us be if I present pamphlets.”

Irost: “I'd love to entertain, but I’m in the middle of writing my one man satire play.” Simone: “I. WILL GET. A HOSE.”

"We can be the bigger people here. “ "In my experience being the bigger person is overrated.” “You’ve never slept with a storm giant, then.” Gorbash: “I'm pretty sure we have the moral high ground... also Marshal and I are probably bigger than them.” "If they are bigger than you two, I will be worried.”

“Can I Rob [sic] them?”

"At least wait until after we eat, Jonni. Never pass up a free meal.”

"As kin to our hosts, Maggie has right of first refusal regarding loot.”

Gorbash: “We'll see how the evening goes. If its just unpleasant and awkward, swipe the silverware and other small valuables. If they really suck, looting everything not nailed down and breaking out the crowbars is always an option.”

"Foreign gods are not recognized here. Under the law, I have no authority and thus no strong feelings one way or the other regarding larceny.”

"We're gonna totally fuck with my moms Peacocks.” “I can cast polymor…. Oh with. Sorry.” "No no keep talking."

"I have a bad feeling about this. We're going to have to fake being dead again before this is all over.” "But we haven't used plan #4 in a while, it will be fun.”

“Can’t sleep. Hippos will eat me.”

Poom is dragged around by her voices to look in "antique" shops. Yog-sothoth: "And this is a brain-plucker: they jam it up the nose to drag out the head-meats, which they think are just some kind of cooling system.”

Edmund: ”Do we need to take gifts? Would it be rude to show up without something?” Gorbash: “...In that case I would only suggest bringing a gift if you can find one with a blatantly insulting meaning to it.” Jonni: “I usually bring the smallest dong I can find when I do that.”

“Which one is the god of curing impotence?”

Emblaming tools: you only ever use them when someone's dead.

Kat holds up a tiny statue of a Hippo headed god "Behold Sute, who sows despair and discord.” "A god of chat rooms.” “Good, bad, it’s the god with the gun... and a chainsaw, apparently.”

"Please don't. Mummy Rot is NOT to be joked about.” Azathoth: "Depends on the affected part.”

"Let's just focus on being political with Kat's family... Polite on the surface, mildly insulting under excusable sleight-of-hand expressions..”

Nyx: ”It is when they have enough power to snuff out your life without you having even a chance to fight back. Semantics.” Gorbash: “Life is sadly filled with many things with that sort of power.” Marshal: "Yes, I too am familiar with capitalism.”

Kat: ”I imagine we will be at open blows before desert. My mom is the Goddess queen of microaggressions.” Gorbash: “Well I'd lay money that we're better at open blows than your folks.” Jonni: “I’m better at macro aggressions.” Gorbash: “Just remember not to set the place on fire while we're in it.” Jonni: “I promise nothing.” "Some of us aren't fire resistant.” Gorbash: “Well not everyone is born with it. Can't be helped.” Marshal: "Nor access to the elixirs of Maybelyne.”

"That's only because Jonni is very careful not to burn us. She shows alot of restraint considering what she COULD do…" Jonni: “THANK you. At least SOMEbody noticed.” "I notice every time. It's why I have no problems traveling with you. You are in no way a Pyromaniac. You are a Pyro-saniac.” Poom: "I thought she was a Nymphomaniac.” Gorbash: "She is. Jonni contains multitudes.” "She is a mani[y]-maniac…"

"Only 40 Mauve peacocks. Peasants in the eyes of Vesh.”

Poom doffs her cloak to the mummies. Which may or may not mean she is now naked.

Jonni holds out the statue. “Yo. We got you this gift. It’s a statue with a head of one of those hairless bears in the river.”

"Oh Sweetie you made it. And you brought the circus, how thoughtful.” It seems like mom is deep into her third cup of wine of the evening. "Oh, it looks like the circus was already here before us, with all that make-up I thought you were a clown.” Azathoth: "Clowns have better accents.” "I know, Azathoth, but I'm trying not to push it just yet.”

Jonni: “Oh, I plan on putting on a show.” Poom: "Just make sure we survive.”

Gorbash: “As Jonni usually says... Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Poom: "Roast kenku never smells that good.”

Jonni: “Oh, if you like, I can regale you of tales of my affections.” Kat’s Mom: ”Oh I bet a lovely lady like you turns all the young men's heads.”

There is the sound of three Elder Gods going "Da fuck?”

Jonni tosses cat-mom at the Guards and turns off polymorph. Guards: "You may come with us to the hall of judgement and WHAT THE DEVIL?” Jonni: “CHEESE IT!”

Jonni: “I don’t care if you’re innocent of not. Fuck everyone that was in that room.” Poom: "I'd object, but I have eaten people.”

"Oh Gods, I left Katerninetales back there.” Gorbash: “Do we need to make another round of cat-knapping?”

"The dad checked out long ago and is avoiding showing any emotions to keep his sanity.” "Ah. Minimum wage experience.”

"He probably had a little miniature town in his basement he meticulously reconstructs as a hobby.” The two kats look at you "You are really on point with the insights." "He imports these little connecting brick toys form Borca. It’s weird.” Poom: "I thought those were disguised caltrops.”

"Okay, someone has to stay here with Kat and her brother, who is going with Marshal to rescue the wife?” "Irost, which way is the moon?” "Up there, obviously.” "Ah, a volunteer. Thank you.”

“I can fly.” "I can create holes in walls.”

Gorbash: "Jonni, an excuse to mess with Nima just came up!” Jonni: “Mess with or kill?” Gorbash: “At least the first, probably the second as well.” Poom: "There needs to be a line?”

"Yeah. I know where it is. And we are NOT going there. You will die.” "Not the first time.” “Everyone says that. It never takes.”

"No idea, but anything that touched the ground was eaten alive.” Poom: "Sounds like Thanksgiving at my family's place.”

"Even if they're horrible. Family is family.” Poom: "Yours isn't trying to eat you alive.”

"After we get her ring can we please just end Nima once and for all? Pretty please." Nyx makes puppy dog eyes.

“What, exactly do you want? The longer you talk the greater the odds I kill you and fish the ring out of the ashes.”

"But just because we don't trust each other doesn't mean we can't be of use to one another.” "Mutually assured sudden-yet-inevitable betrayal. A distressingly common occurrence to us.”

“No one controls Jonni. Jonni can’t control Jonni!”

"We'll just be borrowing your ten-foot Poky Stick of Knowledge, though.”

OOC: This sounds like a situation that ends with riding a skeletal T-Rex. OOC2: Considering where we are? A Mummy Rex. OOC3: Nah, giant mummy hippo the size of an elephant.

OOC: If the book contains rituals… I may have a plan. OOC2: Use the book to rid us of Oloch? OOC: Two plans.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

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drcuriousvii · 5 years

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thinking about starting a discord server for the lovecraftian deity kin community to chat and bitch about how much Azathoth sucks

I guess the questions are 1: how many of y'all actually are there and 2: is anyone, like, actively upset by the idea of doubles

#Lovecraft kin #great old ones #nyarlathotep #kin #this idea is very very stupid but rush I in when angels fear to tread #cthulhu #yog-sothoth #hastur #cthugha #tsathoggua #shub-niggurath #yig #dagon #this tag list is by no means comprehensive

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ashitakaxsan · 3 years

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The Gargoyles in Roanapur

Disclaimer:I don’t own any of the charachters in my Fanfiction.They belong to their creators.Black Lagoon belongs to mangaka Hiroe Rei,the animated series “Gargoyles” to Disney Pictures,the Cthulhu mythos to Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

I conceived it,I wrote it,medievalotaku did the editing for grammar,punctuation and clarity.I’m so Grateful to Him:)

Support me with a Donation,to see a Better one(oc):

“ Shortly after “El Baile De La Muerte,” Rock is depressed, in agony and questions who he really is. At the same time, Xanatos is there. He’s plotting to obtain an ancient grimoire: The Necronomicon (H.P.Lovecraft reference!) to augment the strength of his Steel Clan. The Gargoyles learned of this plan and came on his trail. Utilizing the spells they were taught by Tom the Guardian, they made their quick, safe entry into Roanapur, Thailand. And began flying over Roanapur to learn what kind of place it is. They might have continued concealing themselves from any curious eyes and ears; but Goliath, in order to defend a lonely old woman, took on some Colombian thugs. They were about to torture her grandson--just for the pleasure of it.

One of them gets away, he’s scared to death and screaming about a monster!

“SAVE ME FROM THE MONSTER!!”

“Was it Roberta?”.

“No Abrego,it wasn’t Roberta! It was a POWERFUL MONSTER! Three meters tall, with dragon-like wings on its shoulders and it’s eyes were full of fire!!”

But no one believes him. Yet, the rumors,about a superhuman monster prowling at night,became more widespread throughout Roanapur. Every cartel boss hears about this, and they don't believe it:

“So, who cares about a stupid rumor?! There’s no such monster in this world--in our city. And even if it were, we would kill it off.”

Soon afterwards, gunmen attack Rowan’s Show. The muscle guy Sam Park took four girls as his hostages. So the mercenaries felt real confident they would make it. Suddenly, an immense, wild roar is heard. Goliath, Hudson and Brooklyn entered and bested the scared thugs, thus saving the girls .

Goliath easily knocked down Sam Park. The Gargoyles swiftly fled way, and then the policemen came.

“Yes, Chief Watsap, the Gargoyles dealt with the terrorists, especially their leader, who defeated the brutes and saved all of us,” Joanna testiefied to the Police Chief.

The news spread through Roanapur. Soon Mr. Chang, the local leader of the Triads, heard about this. Plus, amateur artists made drawings of the Gargoyles. Many saw them--the Lagoon Company and Eda too.

And then came the escalation. Because the gods had noticed the moves and intentions of Xanatos, Zeus and Athena came in a meeting with their counterparts: Hastur, Fokalor and Yog Sothoth.

“The baleful knowledge in Necronomicon is about the construction of the weapons we used during the Clash of the Titans. Now, an entire network of plunderers comes to usurp it...not reckoning what kind of fire are about to play with!” So Zeus said.

“We agree,” Hastur, Fokalor and Yog Sothoth told him. “And how will we stop them?”

“Hastur, you’ve said that you’d deploy a human for such cases,” Zeus told him.

“Certainly! It just needs my old ones on his good side. They would not reappear on the surface for petty reasons.”

“Very well, Menes will awake with all the acolytes and soldiers for such a venture,” Zeus and Athena concluded.

“Thanks for your generous offer,” Hastur remarked. So he turned and said: “Fokalor, go to Earth and notify your protégées, the Gargoyles and the Ghouls, about our will. You, Yog Sothoth, find Menes and wake up his genuine memories so he will march for the cause. He’s been dormant: now he is to awake.”

Then swiftly Fokalor journeyed to earth and talked to his protégées. Sekhmet talked to her protégées too:The Liondsweh, namely, the Lion men, who were hidden for many millennia and now dwell in caverns,away from the human perception. Now, it was their time to resurface and join in the risk.

And we hear: “Y’AI’NG’NG AH YOG-SOTHOTH H’EE-L’GEB F’AI THRODOG UAAAH!”

Yog Sothoth found Rokuro “Rock” Okajima and dispersed his fake memories,and wakened his True ones: that actually he’s the Sumerian magical fighter Menes and the kin of the hero Gilgamesh! He had been born in prehistoric Iraq in 3099 B.C. The priesthood of Ur was saved from certain assassination,thanks to the time portal, and he traveled into the future. Once he arrived, he was disguised as a ordinary Japanese young man of the mid 90’s--even with a forged past,so no one would ever question who he really was”.

Here it stops.Cause I’m inclined to create a Story,with Original Characters(oc).If you like see the Story(with oc)done and finished just support it,hit the Donation Button,leave one. A Donation

https://medievalotaku.wordpress.com/

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realactualfancontent · 4 years

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Wilbur Whateley Goes Book Shopping

Second Fic of the night! Sleep is for weakings!

Everyone’s favorite terrible goat tries to buy a very important book.

Wilbur Whateley was hunched in the corner of the a shop that even to a man of normal stature was cramped and claustrophobic. He balanced precariously on a stool that threatened to give out under him at any moment (not that he was as heavy as he looked.)

But for once in his life he could ignore the complaints his size brought with them. His focus was else where, on the frail book that rested in his lap. The Unabridged Latin Necronomicon.

He'd raced to page 751 of course. Only to be incredibly disapointed that the long incantation not only wasn't there. But neither was any mention of his father. Instead it was the middle of a lengthy passage singing the praises of the unnnamable one. (Unnamable his ass. Hastur wasn’t even hard to pronounce.)

He would be here all day, reading cover to cover. Desperately hoping it didn't disintegrate as he leafed through it, as delicate as his large fingers could manage. At least he could take some comfort that Ackerman couldn't judge his Dee copy. It may share the teeth marks scribbles and loose pages, but the Dee copy didn't have jam stains on the cover, nor did it have a grocery list from fifty years ago scribbled over a priceless diagram of the interior of a Shining Trapezohedron and explanation of how the angles worked.

Finding this latest insult to him and his kin Wilbur glared at the little man who still sat his desk, abnormally large eyes staring placidly at Wilbur as he read.

"More tea son?" Wilbur grunted something vague and turned his attention away from Elias Ackerman.

There were other notes too. Notes that couldn't be from the smiling old man in the hideous paisley smoking jacket. They made sense. If Wilbur had more time to care he might have copied them down.

There was a small tap on his shoulder. And he looked up, eye level with Ackerman, who presented the same tarnished pot which was accompanied by a porcelain cup and saucer which Wilbur knew would look comical in hands.

Ackerman placed the tea things on a stack of books which swayed dangerously, Wilbur instinctively curled around the Necronomicon, ready to defend it from the inevitable clatter and splash.

It didn't come.

just like the stairs hadn't collapsed when he walked up them. But the whole place, every aspect of it including the wide eyed shop keeper seemed held together only by sheer luck, and any moment some tiny thing would slip out of place taking the whole building cascading out of it.

He prayed to his father he'd be well out of here by then.

"They don't like the taste of it." Ackerman said, gesturing casually at The Necronomicon.

"Dun like the whut?" Wilbur asked. Why were all wizards half daft? "The rats," Ackerman continued conspiratorially, leaning in so he was now uncomfortably close to Wilbur's face. "They don't like what it teaches."

There was a chittering in walls, or the corners, or the roof. It echoed this sentiment. "The rats, dun lak-Whut?" Ackerman straightened up. "You asked why it was so cheap. Remember?" "I asked that two pots 've two hours ago." "Really. My time has flown." Ackerman wandered away, and straightened some shelves of books to absolutely no noticable effect.

By the fifth pot of tea Wilbur's foot was tapping out a consistant and irritated rythem. He kept having to clench and un clench his fists. "Where 's et gone." Careful flip of pages. "Shuld be heer." He'd found it, the right spot. And The Long Incantation, the pages he'd crossed an ocean for. "Why ain't et." He was seething, fighting to be calm and quiet, to not hurl this priceless book at this old mans head. The pages had to be stuck together, there was enough damn jam that it could happen. And then he noticed it. Chewed almost to the bindings, a few pages worth of scraps.

The rats. The rats didn't like the taste of it. It started as a strangled hissing sound, a pain in his chest as Wilbur fought to contain his rage, the lumps under his trench coat writhed. THE RATS HAD EATEN THE LONG INCANTATION OF YOG SOTHOTH.

He hurled the book at the space where the rats had been, the noise he'd been making erupting into a wordless bellow, unearthly in it's timbre and echo, loud enough the walls shook as he bolted up right- And collided with a sagging roof beam. Hard enough that he crumpled to the floor. A miserable heap.

Wilbur wasn't a crier. It was beneath his dignity. But his eyes had been watering in frustration and the blistering pain in his head was enough to unleash the water works.

"Ain't fair," he sniffled, an ugly noise that quickly turned into uglier sobs mixed with curses in Aklo and English so heavily accented it may as well have been an alien language.

An astute listener might pick up on more specific complaints, about trans Atlantic travel, about being kicked out of two hotels, having to navigate a city with too many people, about leaving twin alone, about missing his mom. Eventually he collected himself enough to stop the blubbering, wiping his face with a sleeve that was filthy enough to do more damage then good.

There was a tentative tap on his shoulder. Almost apologetic in it's lightness.

Wilbur jumped, bristled visibly, looking up to snarl at Ackerman. "Whut the fuck do ye-" The old man was holding out a hanker-chief that was easily the cleanest thing in the whole building. "You seemed upset. Would you like a hug?" "A...hug?" Wilbur pronounced the word like he'd never heard it before. Like a food you haven't tried but are sure you're going to hate. "I dun't need no hugs!" He scrambled to his feet indignant, towering over the shop keeper. "More tea then? Tea usually helps with disappointment." Ackerman was both painfully sincere and painfully blithe. Wilbur could strangle him. He could tear this whole place apart. One or two of the right words and he'd have it up in a satisfying blaze. "M-mor- DO YEW KNOW WHUT- YEW SET ME UP YEW SCRAWNY ADDLEBRAINED IDJIT! SUM FUCKIN- YEW SAID YEW HAD THE BOOK!" Wilbur began to advance on Ackerman who scooted backwards with alarming ease for someone so frail looking. Wilbur wasn't so lucky, maybe it was just a misstep, a puddle, loose board, book. But he'd swear something kicked his legs out from under him. And then Wilbur was flat on his back, staring up at a mildewing ceiling. Feeling the bubble of rage burst and deflate. "This place 's a death trap." He grumbled. "Only when you carry on like that." Ackerman put in unhelpfully. "And I did warn you it was in poor condition." He offered a hand up and Wilbur ignored it. "It's still yours if you would like it. Please. They're so insistent." There was something desperate in the little man's bright blue eyes. "Guess I'll find sum use fer it." He still wanted to strangle Ackerman. Or at least sock him in the jaw. Not that Wilbur could throw a punch.

"Thank you Mr. Whateley!" Ackermann chirped and went to pick up the fallen book. Blowing some dust off the cover, and muttering something to a spot on the floor. Before presenting it to Wilbur. "Would you like me to wrap it?" Wilbur looked around the cramped store, and thought of the shoddy news paper he'd brought from home to protect it then decided that was probably the better option.

"No, I've got sumthin' in my valise fer that." Wilbur snatched the Necronomicon and hastily stashed it away, turning to leave before his day could get worse.

"You don't want to stay and browse?" "No." Ackerman clearly had no idea how close he'd come to getting murdered, because he looked positively crest fallen. "Alright, well... write when you get back to Dunwich. Good luck with your research!" "I will. Thanks." Wilbur didn't know what else to say. He probably wouldn't. As he descended the creaky steps, even more carefully, clinging to the railing for dear life, head still throbbing Wilbur paused. Feeling at least a little bad for the scene he'd made. Not bad enough to apologize, just enough to feel like he should say something...nice. "Uh, Ackerman?" The pale head popped around the door frame atop the stair case. "Yes." "Happy Solstice." "Yes, Happy Solstice to you too!"

#Fanfic #Wilbur Whateley #Elias Ackerman #Aster's Mod

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the-maelstrom-tavern · 5 years

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I’m reworking my blog, removing characters I never use, and updating existing ones. so far i’ve only done Abbadon, but he’s all ive got motivation for RN. gonna put his new description here under the read more to avoid cluttering up peoples dashboards

//Note from Mun: due to a number of factors, i’ve changed his background from what it used to be to something that better suits what he’s become in my head.

Abbadon-

Species: Outer God (comparatively minor)

“Normal” Abbadon: while many who gaze upon his true form are driven irreversibly (unless he intervenes) insane, or simply die of shock. To those he deems worthy: they are permitted to gaze and even speak with him without him reverting to human form. Though doing so is not without risk, as his true form puts out incredibly destructive waves of numerous types of energy. As a result he almost never uses this form unless it is forcibly drawn out from his human body he prefers so much.

Physique: while much like his kin, it tends to fluctuate; he has learned to control the uncontrollable matter, thanks to interactions with other entities like Nyarlathotep, Yog-Sothoth, and Shub-Niggurath. Though unlike them he refrains from overwhelmingly gargantuan, reality warping forms (though it does warp regardless of size) opting instead for quad-to-sextupedal forms. Much like Nyarlathotep, he retains a number of them on hand to switch between from. UNLIKE him however, he freely transitions between them when he needs to.

Forms:

The Devourer: With the size of a locomotive, and a covering of thick scales that pulsate with hypnotic cosmic radiation this form is the most utilitarian of them, but arguably the most dangerous- though it is predictable in terms of attacks. While outwardly blind, it is anything but; with a sense of taste, touch, and smell so keen and highly attuned: the earth, wind and very biology of the world provides him with all the visual information to navigate as if he had fully functional eyes. Though to say nothing of the gnarl-toothed maws that pepper this form would do no end of disservice. It cares not WHAT it ingests, merely that it DOES ingest. to slake an unfathomable hunger that rivals that of a black hole.

The Corroded Paladin: standing only slightly taller than his normal human form, it is what he would refer to as an ‘ultimate form’ combining his human physique with his otherworldly powers to nightmarish effect. With a plate-mail covering of fused bone and scale, he’s rendered mostly immune to all but the heaviest of strikes. and boasting a blade of similar materials that channels all of his powers, this one lacks the same outward danger and destructive potential of The Devourer (until he starts using spells), instead trading it for mobility and maneuverability.

Human Abbadon:

the most harmless of the three he regularly uses, though it does boast an incredible level of damage absorption. Due to the regularity with which he uses it, it has become a sort of default form; and as such he tends to keep a constant supply of fresh biomass from his true extra-dimensional form flowing into it, repairing any damage he receives at a rate equal to the severity of the wound he receives.

looks:

6’ 5"

black hair

athletic build

due to his longevity and the nature of just how he exists, he has incredible capacity for charisma, with a preference for flirting. however, he has a hard time knowing when to turn it off, and as such he tends to be in a perpetually flirtatious state.

to call him laid-back would be an understatement. This man is so laid-back about most things that he almost seems almost apathetic, especially when it comes to his own personal safety.

when it comes to friends and loved ones however, it’s a whole other ball game. More often than not, he’ll take strikes that would be fatal for anyone only to reveal the true extents of his healing factor.

with all being said, he does have a single glaring weakness: his own physiology. Due to the nature of what he is, sealing, banishment, and other spells (or spell type things) that could, would, and should, remove entities like him from reality will- more often than not- succeed. Albeit temporarily (to him) these tricks can forcibly expel him from whatever reality he inhabits, forcing him to work his way back in unless he is summoned back.

to counter this, he will often dub a friend or lover as a ‘handler’ or other term they desire. this grants them full access to his powers, forms, and knowledge of his summoning and banishment spells, in addition to allowing them to decide just how much of his power he can use at any given time.

#OOC #Muse reworking #Abbadon Muse #feel free to give me feedback #or ask if you're curious

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wahbegan · 7 years

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Your Eldritch Horoscope

Aries: The demoniac piping of the whip-poor-wills is said to increase in rhythm to match a dying human's breaths. They chase down the soul escaping the body. They chase it for prey. If it escapes, they fall silent. If they catch it, you can hear them laughing and shrieking in ecstasy for the remainder of the night, stirring the vast, nameless things that shift below the earth. You can see more of them gathering every day. What sound will they make when you die, I wonder?

Taurus: When your friends try to persuade you against a course of action, they are probably thinking of your best interest. Keep this in mind when you go past the beginning of mankind, past the beginning of the world, past the beginning of reality, to where time stops its curve in an abrupt acute angle. The Hounds are coming. And they WILL find you.

Gemini: One day, you will hear your mother's son screaming his father's name from the top of Sentinel Hill. He is gelatinous. He is a spider, a centipede, an octopus made of wriggling ropes, but he has your face. He looks more like your father than you do.

Cancer: Your tears may soak the soil unheeded, but there will always be a place for you here, beneath the tattered banner of The Yellow King, amongst the gravestones in the abandoned necropolis under the twin suns and black stars of lost Carcosa

Leo: It would be good for you to remind yourself, from time to time, we are all but the unseen, unheard, dead dreams of the blind idiot God Azathoth, the after-tremors of Its cosmic seizures, entire galaxies nothing but nerves misfiring for a split second in time, swirling forever in the endless abyss of eternity. You are less than nothing.

Virgo: Don't look in the well. Don't drink the water. Your family is gone. They're not coming back. Get out now, before it takes you too. That amorphous visual phenomenon dancing on the edges of your peripheral vision that you can't describe isn't you going crazy. It's alive. It's hungry.

Libra: It's not anyone's fault. Fault implies control. Everything happens completely at random, for no reason at all. Or is it simply a pattern of order so advanced it just seems random? A pattern beyond human comprehension. A pattern that repeats ad nauseam back to the beginning. Back to Them.

Scorpio: You are a puppet on a string. Dancing madly for the Faceless God Nyarlathotep. He waits for you in the darkness, laughing. The rats know what you did.

Sagittarius: You alone will be their witness. You alone will carry the burden. You will see the half-beast abominations marching in endless procession in the tombs under the sand, to make vile sacrifice to the five-headed extremity of the Old Gods. Take this secret to your grave.

Capricorn: What you fear will come to pass has already happened. In fact, it's happening right now. Everywhere, all at once, behind and underneath and in between all the spaces you can see, It's biding Its time. Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate.

Aquarius: The atmosphere of this lonely place you live. You thought maybe it was the Old Gods, or Nature Spirits. I'm warning you, it is neither. Those at least have some relationship to mankind. It is Them. You have intruded where the veil is thinnest. You are a trespasser. They know you're there. They're searching. Getting closer. A sacrifice must be made.

Pisces: How can you be sure you're who you think you are? Every day when you look in the mirror, isn't it a little different? Have you not had dreams of great, cyclopean underwater cities with impossible architecture? Of the fish-god Father Dagon? Of swimming free beneath the surface, of engaging in blasphemous midnight rites with your true kin? Maybe you're not quite as human as you thought you were.

#astrology

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bellringermal · 7 years

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So, why do you think Ebrietas carried Rom's corpse to the Altar of Mourning (I refuse to call it Altar of Despair that was such an over the top translation)? Do you think they were buddies and she was trying to revive her? She seems sad when we enter her boss arena, ignoring us and all...

I don’t think the petrified spider on the Altar to be Rom to begin with. Their bodies are very different… the spider on the altar looks a lot like one of her babies all grown up.

That’s how I see it: the Choir tried to replicate the success of Byrgenwerth (Rom is a legitimate Great One after all, and Micolash and his pals wish to be granted eyes just like her) possibly with the help of Ebrietas. Someone was turned into Rom 2.0 and Ebrietas finally had someone to chat with who was not an inferior human being who would go crazy just by interacting with her for too long. The Celestials Emissaries seem to serve the same purpose. They are members of the Choir who evolved into a form better suited to understand and absorb the Eldritch Truth.

H.P Lovecraft’s tale “Through the Gates of the Silver Key” describes the conversation of the protagonist with an avatar of the Outer God Yog-Sothoth:

“I accept. I will not retreat.”The waves surged forth again, and Carter knew that the BEING had heard. And now there poured from that limitless MIND a flood of knowledge and explanation which opened new vistas to the seeker, and prepared him for such a grasp of the cosmos as he had never hoped to possess.”

But the price to pay for such knowledge, that the hero never questions (These revelations came with a godlike solemnity which left Carter unable to doubt. Even though they lay almost beyond his comprehension, he felt that they must be true (…) ) is the loss of his identity as a person. His mind becomes so potent that he can see past, present and future at the same time, perceiving even the lives of his ancestors, descendants and inhuman incarnations. In fact, the only reason why Carter manages to save his consciousness from complete dispersion is that he invades the body and mind of an unfortunate alien guy who had nothing to do with him except the fact that they’re technically the same person in different worlds/dimensions… well, it’s complicated :P

What I’m trying to say is that we know that the Eldritch Truth is overwhelming and that the goal of Master Willem was to make our minds ‘fit’ to absorb and understand such revelations. Rom was considered a success despite her apparent ineptitude (Azathoth, Lovecraft’s supreme god, is also ‘blind and idiot’ so I would say that the scholars were definitely on the right track) and I don’t think is a stretch to assume that the Healing Church was trying to recreate her ascension.

As for Ebrietas, her behavior is what marks the most important difference between Bloodborne’s Great Ones and Lovecraft’s Old Ones/Other Gods. The Great Ones have GOALS (and feels ç_ç). It’s clearly stated in various item descriptions that they yearn for a progeny, Moon Presence clearly has an agenda of her own and the Wet Nurse protects a special newborn. In addition, they’re said to be sympathetic and the fact that Ebrietas willingly helped the Choir is proof of this.

“Members of the Choir are both the highest-ranking clerics of the Healing Church, and scholars who continue the work that began at Byrgenwerth. Together with the left behind Great One, they look to the skies, in search of astral signs, that may lead them to the rediscovery of true greatness.“ (Choir Garb)

So, the spider-like being that we see on the altar may be a failed attempt to recreate Rom and just like the Orphan of Kos mourns the death of his mother, so does Ebrietas for someone she maybe considered as her child/kin or at least a powerful mind equal to hers.

#anon ask #lore #altar of despair #ebrietas daughter of the cosmos #rom the vacuous spider #hplovecraft

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