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12angryagenders · 1 year ago

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The Search for Sunktorches (1/?)

TW: Death, gore, animal cruelty

Kadol Izeglitast shouldered his pack and prepared himself to leave the hillock he had spent his entire life in. He paused at the door and took one last look at his fellow dwarves, drinking, brawling, truly content with their lot in life. He wore his disdain openly on his face as the door closed behind him.

He turned his back to the rising sun and set off towards Shootwines, the hillock his father had left for after abandoning him here almost 50 years ago. In that time, he had followed in the footsteps of his great-grandfather, the famed Ral Bimtomêm, and become a talented blacksmith. He had crafted himself a helm and breastplate of copper, the only metal available to him in the tiny hillock of Urrïthlogem. Slung across his back was a copper war hammer.

He had trained with the war hammer in his spare time, until the calluses from swinging at a tree encrusted the calluses from hammering out metal. He was no true warrior but each swing increased his confidence and satiated the side of him that craved martial prowess. All this, in the hopes that one day, he would wield the weapon that had flung his family’s name to infamy. Akmamlitast! Sunktorches! A glorious silver war hammer, fit only for the hands of royalty!

And last seen in Shootwines, relayed to Kadol by his father as a farewell all those years ago. Kadol shook off the mists of memory as a soft nickering nearby brought his attention fully back to the world around him.

He quietly crawled through the underbrush and found himself facing a herd of the horses that once had been the mode of transport throughout these lands. The dwarves of his hillock no longer tended them and so the great beasts had almost reverted to their wild ways. Kadol slowly stood and the horses, after the first shock of seeing the dwarf, settled back into their grazing, keeping a nervous eye on him throughout.

All but one, who gazed at him with no fear and stood tall and muscular above the others. Kadol slowly walked to the towering beast. The horse walked to him with no hesitation and brought its giant head down to a level where Kadol could gently place a hand on its neck. Instantly, he knew the horse would carry him faithfully.

Heaving himself onto the back of his mighty steed, Kadol continued westward. The day passed relatively uneventfully. He had stalked an ibex on the banks of a river and attacked it in order to shore up his food rations. His first attack landed poorly on the leg of the creature and merely lamed it. He readied himself to deliver a killing blow but was astonished, and mildly disturbed, when his horse landed the final shot with a swift hoof to the head. It appeared he had tamed a prospective war horse.

He butchered the ibex, claiming the meat and organs, and ensured his waterskin was filled to the brim at the river.

As night fell, he spied in the distance a cluster of small buildings. Statues of dwarves surrounding a central figure dotted the landscape around him and he realised that he had wandered into a monastery. As he approached one set of the statues, he saw that the central figure was a dwarf dressed in the robes of the high clergy, clearly the abbot of this holy place.

He found the entrance to the church and raised a hand to gently rap on the door. As his fist descended, the door opened from the inside and Kadol gazed upwards as a human appeared in the doorway. The human, unshaved and reeking of sweat, gave a curt grunt and a nod, and began walking around the building. Kadol heard the human raise a greeting and a voice return in kind.

Kadol halted the door from swinging shut and looked into what had clearly been the living quarters of the monks who had once practised their holy worship here.

There was no worship here. The foul odour of rotting flesh assaulted his nose as he beheld a small pile of corpses casually heaped in the middle of the room. Through watering eyes, he saw that the bodies were those of goblins and wondered what could possibly have happened to the dwarves that had once dwelt here. A goblin standing behind the door noticed his discomfort and chuckled.

A goblin laying on a bed in the far corner languidly raised his head and loudly proclaimed that he was lord and commander of this mighty camp. Through his screaming nerves, Kadol returned the greeting and informed the goblin commander that he was merely a traveller who had wandered in and was soon to depart.

The goblin chuckled and, looking at the night sky through the open door, sat up and invited Kadol to spend the cold and dark hours in the relative safety of the camp. Kadol hastily thanked the commander for his hospitality but with a rushed goodbye retreated to the fresh air and open space. Heart pounding, he mounted the horse and rushed westward, looking back time and time again for signs of pursuits.

In his rush to escape, Kadol hardly noticed his arrival to a dwarven hillock. He entered the mound and found himself in a bustling tavern.

Kadol waded into the crowd and, raising his voice, asked for a kind soul to perhaps inform a weary traveller where he might be. As one, the dwarves around him yelled the name, “Shootwines!”

Kadol, weary from the run but elated to have made his destination, thanked the crowd and began individually asking the inhabitants if they knew of the location of Sunktorches. The warm reception he had received upon entering cooled significantly once the people spoke to Kadol directly. The long hours he had spent in the forge had atrophied his social skills and left an impression of a dwarf far too brusque and harsh for the task of soliciting information.

After an argument on the subject of loyalty that almost ended in blows, Kadol realized that he had well and truly destroyed any goodwill the people of Shootwines would have had towards him. Bitter at this obstacle, he left the tavern. Immediately upon exiting, he spied yet another door nearby, and with the last gasp of hope, entered and found himself before a dwarven noble.

The noble, yet unaware of how unpopular Kadol was with the rest of the populace, greeted him warmly and asked if they could be of any service. Kadol, holding his tongue and the question of Sunktorches, decided that perhaps he could paint himself in a fairer light to the people. He bowed low, begged pardon for the intrusion and asked if there was anything he could do to place himself in the good graces of the people of Shootwines.

The noble, with the air of one who would be ridding themselves of a problem regardless of fate’s direction, told Kadol of a monastery that had been overrun by criminals and needed to be cleared out.

They pointed out the exact location on Kadol’s map and Kadol blanched as he watched the finger hover over the monastery he had fled not 2 hours ago. The smell of the corpses and the glistening red eyes of the goblin commander filled his senses, none of which he allowed to show on his countenance.

Thanking the noble for the opportunity, Kadol exited and began a slow ride to the monastery. He meditated on what he must do. Kadol had never taken the life of a thinking being before. As the horse carried him forward, he unslung his war hammer and stared at its head. The image of gore splattered on it flashed before his eyes and he quickly put the hammer away.

Ahead, the statues appeared once more out of the rapidly lightening sky. He rode the horse to the doorway of the dormitory and bidding it to remain outside, unslung the war hammer once more, placed it in a casual manner over his shoulder and walked into the room.

The two humans were standing beside the door, one facing away and one facing towards, deep in conversation. They looked over to Kadol, saw the dwarf that their commander had spoken with earlier, and returned to their talk. The goblin commander himself lay deep in sleep, with the other of his kind standing near the pile of corpses, rummaging within.

Letting loose a war cry, Kadol swung the war hammer from his shoulder directly at the head of the human with his back to him.

The hammer completed a wide arc and impacted the human on the back of the head. Kadol felt horror as the hammer broke through the back of the man’s head and lodged itself deep within the man’s brains. The force of the blow opened the front of his face and splattered the remaining human with an unholy mixture of blood, brains and teeth.

Screaming out in overwhelming fear, the surviving human rushed past Kadol and through the door before the hammer could be dislodged from the skull of his deceased partner. As the body slid off the blood-slicked metal, Kadol turned to face the goblin looting the corpses. His prior success at killing wore off as he struck a glancing blow to the goblin’s leg. It collapsed in pain, holding a limb that would never function again. Kadol moved above the writhing goblin and brought the hammer down, cutting off the howls of agony.

He looked up and saw the goblin commander on his feet, holding an iron mace and stalking towards him. Kadol narrowly blocked a blow from the mace with the haft of his hammer and swung in a wide arc at head level. The commander ducked underneath and swung the mace. Kadol hissed in pain as the mace clanged off his copper boot, twisting the ankle slightly.

The two combatants stood at a distance and circled each other. The commander feinted to the right and Kadol instinctively raised the hammer in that direction. With a nimble twist, the commander swung the mace at Kadol’s midriff. With a speed that surprised him, Kadol sprang to the side, feeling the wind from the mace graze past his beard.

The follow-through of his attack had carried the commander slightly past Kadol, leaving his back exposed. Kadol took the opportunity and slammed the hammer into the body of the goblin.

The head of the hammer passed clean through the goblin commander, a wide arc of blood and gore splattering the floor. The commander fell face first into a spreading puddle of his own vitality and Kadol, aghast at the damage he had done to another living being, collapsed on the floor.

The cries of a thousand warring ancestors rang through his mind as he stared at the hammer in his hands, a vile mixture of human and goblin clinging to its polished surfaces. He tore his gaze away and realised that in the pitch of battle, he and the commander had pushed each other through the door.

The grass around the entrance was trampled as though a fierce battle had been fought there and Kadol spied droplets of blood clinging to the crushed blades. Further in the grass, lying in a crushed bundle, were the remains of the human who had pushed past him at the onset of battle. Hoofprints were embedded deeply in the flesh and had removed any resemblance the bundle had to a human.

As Kadol swung his gaze wildly around, looking for the horse, he heard its shriek of pain from around the corner.

#dwarf fortress #adventure mode #writing #creative writing

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legionmaster001 · 2 months ago

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Bonus

Before proceding I must clarify that no character or image depicted in this post belongs to me, and the following story is just a gift for @bl00dalchemist, the most beutiful bastard on this site.

“In 1183 a battle was taking place in the holy lands. A lone man standed was sitted on a dark room, acompannied only by a stack of roman medical books, a execuioner sword of ridicolous size still dretched in blood and three knights bleeding to death, arms and legs cutted off in clean cuts. Everything in the room was red, except the dissapointed man, whose gray skin was intact. His withe hair and golden earrinigs shined mildly with the few sun rays that penetrated the cloth over the windows

His second on command aproached him, not before kicking the door open, for the further discomfort of his master.

—My Sir, Kinto! We need to run, the knights of the false God are gaining terrain! —Said Jhonnathan, the second on command and a seasoned warrior that, like all the members of the cult, defected from the Holy Order of Knights of the Hospital, formed by monks and doctors.

—I...I know, Jhon —Answered Kinto, pointing at the knights— but I feel we are going to get this one.

Jhonnathan looked at his master, surprised by the optimism of the one that proposed caution and evaded conflict in every opportunity. Kinto hastly took his sword, bearing it like it was a armingsword. The chaos, the pain, the greed, all was feeding his confidence as much as his power, and his loyal cult only amplified it all. Vigorous unlike ever before he stepped out of the small room and with his hands made an exit. Following his steps was Jhonnathan.

—We can’t run, we can’t surrender...why not enjoy while we can! —Said Kinto, quickly transforming into a beast like no other,

From his head surged horns of grand lenght and beutiful curve, from his back sprouted a tail with a tip as sharp and hard as a spear, theet and fangs grew with evil intent and his face deformated to resemble Satan’s, with traces of goat, man and moster in equal proportions. Eyes shined as the flame that from his head arose, taking the form of a crown of blinding light. For thr first time Kinto feared nothing, and like all his brothers he was the fuel of nightmares and the terror who should lurk in the nights of his foes for generations to come.

Jhonnathan looked at his master, maravillated. A gruesome smile formed in his sewed face. He followed through the battle, accompanying Kinto in his rampage. Men lost their heads, their corpses were used as flails whose chains where guts and the cracking sound of bones reduced to dust under the hoofs of a demon.

They came across with the leader of the Order, who stumbled at the sight of the demon, that encorved was had the height of two men. In that moment, with a maniac smile in his satire of a face, Kinto straigthened up, with cracking sounds coming from his spine.

—Oh, the poor thing fell down. He must have an infection on his leg —Knights fought under the shadow of the demon as he speaked, indiferent at their blows and arrows— but worry not! I have the solution!

A scream penetrated the entire battlefield as the leader of the Knight army died, taking first one single blow from Kinto’s sword, wich split the man in two. A leech the size of a child Kinto regurgitated, started to suck away the last forces from the rest of the once greatest Knigth of an army and a man of God like no other.

—You had too much blood! Exsangination should cure the disease of life from you! —Screamed Kinto laughing as his foes ran and the small town was burned to the ground.

The last one of them, fallen and at the brink of death saw what was going to be his last sighn of God’s creation: A man, mounting a horse of famine and pain, a demon surrounded by his followers and flames, the hell itself on earth, and with all the eyes fixated on him, he gave his last breath”.

And this is it, my last contribution to this wonderful character. Based in the feelings and ideas that evoqued on me thank to this piece of wonderful art and my love for him.

#I love the Alchemist #bl00dalchemist #I still miss Sun and Moon

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reynauldapologist · 5 years ago

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Beau + 99? Or maybe Vvulf + 17? 🤔

@nandashibs i did both! hope that’s okay :) also, i’m seriously beginning to think that you’re a psychic. how the hell did you know which songs would fit them the best??

apologies for any weird formatting or typos. i wrote all of this on my phone. putting it under a readmore bc this got a bit long.

Beau - Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

(for anyone who’s unfamiliar, Beauregard is a HWM oc from one of my fics)

Hieromania, but make it silly:

Love is just a history that they may prove

And when you're gone, I'll tell them my religion's you.

Beauregard felt like he was breaking in. He knew he wasn’t - the Sisters had made it clear that the abbey was open to all, at any hour - but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was invading a sacred place, tainting it with his mere presence. It didn’t help that he had decided to visit so late at night. He’d been in churches before, sure, but the small stone chapel of his childhood seemed almost blasphemous next to this lofty place.

Big fluted pillars and a ribbed ceiling stretched above him, so high that the light from the fluttering lanterns posted at regular intervals along the walls couldn’t reach it. His breath caught in his throat. Small. He felt so small. Like a mouse scuttering along beneath a moonless night sky, waiting for the harsh scrape of an owl’s talons against his back. The altar rose at the end of the sanctuary, old and opulent, surrounded by hordes of lit candles, framed by blood-red tapestries. Beauregard crept forwards, hardly daring to breathe, unsure of what he even meant to do there. Statues of saints lined the small alcoves between the grand stained glass windows. Some wept, some stretched their hands out like beggars, some clutched at weapons, and others cradled their dismembered body parts.

Beauregard shivered. How could anyone relax in a place like this?

A door squeaked open at the end of one of the transepts. Beauregard stopped, frozen, crouched low before he could think of what he was doing. He slunk down one of the rows, as silent as a shadow scudding across an open field.

Great. As if you didn’t already look like a robber…

Heavy footsteps coming closer. His eyes darted around the sanctuary, searching for a more permanent hiding place. They fell on a statue of a man without a right hand and a knife in his left. If there was space behind it...

A shadow stretched along the far wall, made grotesque by the weak lighting.

It’s now or never!

He slipped into the gap between the statue and the alcove. It was a tight fit, and it was dusty, but it was doable. His nose was less than a hair’s breadth away from the back of the statue’s neck and his arms were twisted oddly to account for its form. Awfully intimate…

The footsteps echoed strangely off of the stone walls, making it difficult for him to pinpoint exactly where they were heading. Beauregard focused on his breathing. Slow and steady, in and out through the mouth. Beauregard couldn’t see what was happening around the statue’s head. Surely it was just the abbot, or one of the Sisters, there to check on the candles… No worshippers came here this late. Right?

Wrong.

The footsteps stopped. Directly in front of his alcove. Out of all of the alcoves in the abbey...

Now, Beauregard was certain that the Light must truly exist. There was no other explanation for such a cruel joke.

The rustle of clothes. A deep sigh.

“O Saint Dismas…”

Beauregard knew that voice.It was Reynauld, the old crusader.

...Saint Dismas?

“...patron of repentant thieves, I humbly beseech thee for thine guidance.”

Beauregard’s nose began to itch.

No. Oh, gods, no. Please.

“I have faltered once again. Forgive me for my weakness, my repeated transgressions.”

His eyes were watering. His mouth was opening.

I’ll do anything. I’ll convert. I’ll become a monk. I’ll never so much as glance at a tavern again, please, don’t let me-

“I have taken-“

“AH-CHOO!”

It was like he had fired off his flintlock. The sneeze echoed for far longer than it had any right to. The silence that followed was deafening.

Light, if you’re out there, have mercy and strike me down now.

As the seconds trickled by and it became clear that Death would not be paying him a visit anytime soon, Beauregard forced himself to break the silence.

“I…er...” Beauregard swallowed. “...forgive you?”

“Beauregard? Is that you?”

“Who’s asking?”

Another heavy sigh. A groan and a rustle of clothes as Reynauld got to his feet.

“Come out, lad.”

“A-Alright, listen, I can explain-“

“Now.”

Beauregard disentangled himself from the statue. Reynauld had his arms crossed over his chest and a severe expression on his face. Beauregard ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“I… Well, y’see, I was on a walk anyways, and it’s awful cold out there, and windy too, and I thought-“

Reynauld held up a hand. Beauregard shut his mouth.

“No. What are you doing hiding behind Saint Dismas?”

“Uh… I was… Trying to get closer to the Saints?”

Reynauld stared at him. Beauregard hunched his shoulders, ready for a lecture.

Reynauld started to say something, paused, and cleared his throat. He let out something like a rolling grunt, his shoulders bobbing up and down.

He was… laughing? Beauregard relaxed and allowed himself a cautious smile. Reynauld shook his head and covered his eyes, little hints of teeth peeking out between his bristly beard. He inhaled sharply, then broke out into full laughter, leaning his head back. It bounced off the walls, low and hearty, but cracked around the edges, as though his throat was unused to making the sound.

Beauregard chuckled along, equal parts relieved to have avoided being chastised and delighted by this new side of Reynauld.

“It’s an unorthodox form of worship,” Reynauld said, still grinning, “but better than nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your prayer. I just… I heard someone coming and I… panicked.”

“All is forgiven.”

“I’ll… um... leave you to it.”

“Are you headed back to the barracks?”

Beauregard nodded.

“I’ll accompany you. My heart no longer feels so heavy. Contrition can wait until the morning.”

As they left the abbey together, Beauregard turned over the statue in his mind. What an odd coincidence. Had Dismas’s parents named him after the saint on purpose? Who would name their child after a mutilated man who oversaw thieves?

“Reynauld?”

“Hm?”

“Who was Saint Dismas?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets. The cold air nipped at his cheeks.

“Oh, that’s quite a story,” Reynauld replied. “One best told in front of a roaring fire, I think.”

—

Vvulf - Take You Back (The Iron Hoof) by Orville Peck

uh oh it’s self-indulgent modern au time 😳

I've been around this world and now everything's a bore

I don't know that much, but I know about keeping score

And if there's one thing I know for sure

It'd be a long cold day in Hell when I take you back

“I knew you’d come crawlin’ back.” Vvulf blew smoke out through his nostrils. It formed a hazy wreath around his face. He leaned back in the ratty chair. “Sure as the sun rises…”

Dismas was sweating. And not just because he was stuck in the cramped, windowless backroom of a bar, in the dead of a sticky summer night, with a man nearly twice his size. It was one thing practicing his speech in front of a warped motel mirror, it was another thing entirely to face the real thing. He sucked in stale air between his teeth.

“I’m not crawlin’.” Desperate for something to do with his hands, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. He flicked it open and pushed one between his lips.

Vvulf smiled, cool and thin. Dismas repressed a shiver.

“Bit late for pride, ain’t it?”

Dismas lit his cigarette with trembling hands. He puffed on it slow to get it going. He sucked down a burning lungful, held it, then blew it out of the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t have to come here, y’know.” A lie. He wouldn’t be here if he had any other choice. “I’m doin’ this as a favor to you.”

“A favor to me?” All traces of humor left his face. “You got a lotta nerve showing your face around here and talkin’ like that, boy.”

Boy. Dismas bit back a snicker. He was pushing forty.

Dismas shrugged. “If you don’t wanna hear what I got to say, fine. It’s your damn funeral.”

“What do you want?” Vvulf tapped ash off the end of his cigarette.

“You could stop puttin’ hits out on me. That’d be a start.”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about...”

Dismas raised his eyebrows.

“...but I’ll see what I can do.”

Dismas nodded. Alright. He might actually swing this.

“That all?”

Here we go.

“I want protection,” he said plainly. Beating around the bush would just make Vvulf angry, and even less likely to grant his request. “He’s after me, too.”

Vvulf stared at him. Then he laughed. Harsh and mocking and gravelly. Like hail drumming against a tin roof. Sweat trickled down Dismas’s back.

“Don’t act like I ain’t ever put my neck out for you,” Dismas said, raising his voice to be heard over Vvulf’s laughter. “I’m just askin’ to borrow a safehouse for a couple weeks, until all this blows over, that’s it.”

“You got some serious balls on you, boy, I’ll give you that.” Vvulf took a hard drag off of his cigarette. He spewed the smoke at Dismas. “You dumb son of a bitch. What makes you think you’re leavin’ here alive at all?”

Dismas’s gut hardened. This had been a mistake. But what other choice had he had? It was either this or give up the ghost and turn himself in at the nearest police station. Anything was better than getting collared by the Widowmaker. He eyed the door over Vvulf’s shoulder. His gun weighed heavy at his hip.

“Now, here’s how I see this playin’ out.” Vvulf batted aside his denim vest, exposing a holstered pistol. “You can either tell me everything you know right now, and I’ll end things quick, or I could take you out back to the shed and get you nice and acquainted with a car battery, and then you tell me everything you know. Right before I gut you like a pig.”

“You know… Neither of those options are all that appealin’ to me.” Dismas shifted in his seat. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d taken Vvulf head-on in a fight. In a tight space like this, though, he didn’t like his chances.

“I had a feelin’ you’d say that. Which is why, as an acknowledgment of our long history together, I’ll open up a third option.” He grinned. “Just for you.”

Dismas clenched his jaw. He should’ve expected something like this…

“On one condition.” Vvulf stubbed his cigarette out on the sole of his boot. “You gotta beg for it.”

“Go to hell.

“After you.”

#wyrdposting #writing #please god let the readmore work correctly #darkest dungeon

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sabbaticallife84 · 4 years ago

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Lokrum

Getting up, I was excited to get ready to go. I had to grab my backpack, my sandals, clothes, towel, water bottle, almonds, and money. I had to squeeze into my wetsuit/swim suit, chug my coffee and run down the many steps to the old city, and get to the port. Luckily, I already had my ferry ticket and was ready to go. I quickly realized it wasn’t as big of a group as I wanted. But there were like 3 or 4 of us. Then 1-2 more came. So it would be five of us on this treasure hunt, our guide and our photographer. This day excursion was part of PR/photo advertisement for this company that was promoting digital nomads. I lucked into finding it cause my tour guide, who took me on the wall tour, told me they were going to Lokrum and sort of invited me along. We met at 8:45 AM, to leave at 9:00 AM.

I was nervous about getting sea sick. But it was a short quick jaunt to Lokrum from the port.

I got to talk to the British photographer and and he has lived in Dubrovnik for 23 years so he had unique perspective. He said this summer, their biggest tourist group of people was Americans. He said it was crazy cause Americans were coming from like 3000 miles away or whatever, but because of Covid-19 stuff and restrictions and USA was the first to the party of the vaccines, we were the biggest tourist group they were seeing this summer. This guy was funny, he reminded me of Ricky Gervais and we were laughing and teasing each other in no time. He named us our places we were from, so I was “Colorado”, this other guy was “Uruguay”, and then we had Columbia, Equador and Suzy-Q.

We are taken to this old Benedictine monastery, that is now like a museum/exhibit for the monks. For the millionth time, I’m asked if I have seen “Game of Thrones” Cause there is something famous on this island from that show. But nope, I still haven’t seen it. We are greeted, creepily, by a lady in a black habit who announces we are now needed to help lift this curse from the island of Lokrum. (This is the beginning of the treasure hunt) Our first clue has to do with Richard the Lion Heart and we have to find where he is mentioned in the exhibit to find our first clue. It turned out to be an herb we had to find in the Botanical Gardens. It was myrtle. Unfortunately, with all my plant knowledge, I still didn’t remember what myrtle looked like. So there are five of us, running around, being filmed by the British photographer. We are running around the Botanical Gardens, looking at every plant name, running back to the map, someone was holding, to see where it hinted the herb was.

Eventually the treasure hunt led us to the rocky “beach”/end of the island where people jumped in and went swimming. We were looking for a shell with a necklace in it by a hole in the rock (a famous Instagram spot, apparently). I was trying to bust it up these rocks, and the photographer yelled, “Colorado, where are you going?!”.. Then Ecuador beat me to the clue and I fell and scraped my knee. I fell hard, on my knees and hands, and it took a minute for me to pull myself up off the rocks. My hands hurt, and my knee hurt. The guide came to get me and help me. Then we transitioned to the “Clara is humiliated” part of the treasure hunt. We took a detour to this lake on the island called the “Dead Sea” cause it has a high salt content, the water is filtered in from the ocean, under the rocks. So now, there are 6 people (who I just met) sitting on a bench, as my tour guide is helping me get into the Dead Sea to soak my bleeding knee, and they are just watching me, waiting for me to slip and fall on the rocks getting into the Dead Sea. I definitely am not the most graceful. The Dead Sea is close to this nice beachy bar and so my guide finds a bar tender to see if we can find a first aid kit with a bandaid or bandage for my knee. We find this sweet woman, with a half shaved head, half dyed red curly hair cut, with some tattoos and she suggests tobacco to help stop the bleeding and help with healing. I have never heard of this before. But I’m open to suggestions. She is opening her tobacco pouch, where she rolls her own cigarettes from, and is pushing the straight tobacco leaf into my bleeding knee. We wait for five minutes.. Then she gives me a grappa soaked paper towel and I wipe the tobacco out. Then she gives me another grappa soaked paper towel and I wipe out the knee until it really stings. We both decide it’s better to leave the knee open to air at this point. This chick is like a natural healer, that we stumbled upon.

We resume the treasure hunt, run around the island some more, and “lift the curse off of the Island”. Then we go back to the Dead Sea and some go swimming, some of us sit at the beachy bar to chat and have a coffee. Then we head to a different restaurant to have lunch under the pittosporum trees. We all pick our sandwich we can have, our choice of drink and later our choice of ice cream, this was part of the island day, our luncheon. Now we have two other Americans show up, a mother daughter team. Soon, we become fast friends. We have more great conversation and then the people that still need to work, head off to take a ferry back to the old city. The rest of us head to the rocky beach to jump in the water. I am in no mood to jump off the cliffs with America and Uruguay. I climb into the water with the American kiddo, she’s 11. We swim around, meet up with her Mom and Uruguay in the water. We swim around a rocky outcrop. The water is so clear and blue. There are definitely cold patches, but it feels good.

After an hour or two, we head to the Dead Sea, and some of us head back to the beachy bar. We drink aperol spritzs. and then the American and I order a Hugo spritz, cause it sounds delicious, and it was! It was prosecco, and maybe lime? And “Hilderberry”, which I don’t know if that is a real berry. It was delicious. Eventually someone decides to get a couple of pizzas. In between cocktails and pizza, I hang out with the USA kiddo in the Dead Sea. We swim to this cave, which is cool, we see a male peacock in a tree and wonder if he is stuck. Sometimes he screams and it’s quite a different sound. Then Croatian kids from above, almost land on us, as they cliff jump into the Dead Sea. It was actually just this amazing, sparkling fun day with people, swimming in the Sea, drinking cocktails, and talking and sharing stories. I stumbled into this great, happy, fun group of ex-pats in Dubrovnik. I didn’t want it to end. We hung out until 6:45 PM, cause the last ferry left at 7:00. We were hoofing it, to not miss the ferry. We made it off the island. It was such a good day. I loved Lokrum. I’ll never forget that day!

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devildaisies · 5 years ago

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I finally finished these doodles I had drafted of villagers in Rosemary as DND classes

Zell (Bard), Vivian (Warlock), Buck (Monk), Punchy (Rogue), Muffy (Cleric), Nan (Druid)

Muffy’s specifically a grave cleric and Buck is Way of the Open Hoof

#acnh #animal crossing #zell #vivian #buck #punchy #muffy #nan #bbycakes #draws

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horizonwalkers · 5 years ago

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My current character in a new campaign is a noble albino drow college of whispers bard named Shavrack Brorn. Except they use Int instead of Charisma, so their charisma is 6. They're socially awkward, scared of hoofed creatures, and not only is their family crest but their name is a reference to a song from one of my favorite games.

Oh, and they refuse to wear a closed shirt. Opened button up or bust for them. They want to show off their tattoos. Which is why the fact they've managed to be knocked unconscious every combat so far (level 3, 3 sessions in) cracks me up. They also have a rivalry with our mute monk who refuses to tell people their name, and an awkward friendship with the wild magic sorc named Rosie.

I love their vibes so much!

#asks

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pureamericanism · 4 years ago

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In Praise of Johnny Appleseed

by Vachel Lindsay

In the days of President Washington, The glory of the nations, Dust and ashes, Snow and sleet, And hay and oats and wheat, Blew west, Crossed the Appalachians, Found the glades of rotting leaves, the soft deer-pastures, In the forest. Colts jumped the fence, Snorting, ramping, snapping, sniffing, With gastronomic calculations, Crossed the Appalachians, The east walls of our citadel, And turned to gold-horned unicorns, Feasting in the dim, volunteer farms of the forest. Stripedest, kickingest kittens escaped, Caterwauling “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” Renounced their poor relations, Crossed the Appalachians, And turned to tiny tigers In the humorous forest. Chickens escaped From farmyard congregations, Crossed the Appalachians, And turned to amber trumpets On the ramparts of our Hoosiers’ nest and citadel, Millennial heralds Of the foggy mazy forest. Pigs broke loose, scrambled west, Scorned their loathsome stations, Crossed the Appalachians, Turned to roaming, foaming wild boars Of the forest. The smallest, blindest puppies toddled west While their eyes were coming open, And, with misty observations, Crossed the Appalachians, Barked, barked, barked At the glow-worms and the marsh lights and the lightning-bugs, And turned to ravening wolves Of the forest. Crazy parrots and canaries flew west, Drunk on May-time revelations, Crossed the Appalachians, And turned to delirious, flower-dressed fairies Of the lazy forest. Haughtiest swans and peacocks swept west, And, despite soft derivations, Crossed the Appalachians, And turned to blazing warrior souls Of the forest, Singing the ways Of the Ancient of Days.

And the “Old Continentals In their ragged regimentals,” With bard’s imaginations, Crossed the Appalachians. And A boy Blew west, And with prayers and incantations, And with “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” Crossed the Appalachians, And was “young John Chapman,” Then “Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed,” Chief of the fastnesses, dappled and vast, In a pack on his back, In a deer-hide sack, The beautiful orchards of the past, The ghosts of all the forests and the groves– In that pack on his back, In that talisman sack, To-morrow’s peaches, pears and cherries, To-morrow’s grapes and red raspberries, Seeds and tree-souls, precious things, Feathered with microscopic wings, All the outdoors the child heart knows, And the apple, green, red, and white, Sun of his day and his night– The apple allied to the thorn, Child of the rose. Porches untrod of forest houses All before him, all day long, “Yankee Doodle” his marching song; And the evening breeze Joined his psalms of praise As he sang the ways Of the Ancient of Days.

Leaving behind august Virginia, Proud Massachusetts, and proud Maine, Planting the trees that would march and train On, in his name to the great Pacific, Like Birnam wood to Dunsinane, Johnny Appleseed swept on, Every shackle gone, Loving every sloshy brake, Loving every skunk and snake, Loving every leathery weed, Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed, Master and ruler of the unicorn-ramping forest, The tiger-mewing forest, The rooster-trumpeting, boar-foaming, wolf-ravening forest, The spirit-haunted, fairy-enchanted forest, Stupendous and endless, Searching its perilous ways In the name of the Ancient of Days.

Hear him asking his friends the eagles To guard each planted seed and seedling. While the late snow blew from bleak Lake Erie, Scourging rock and river and reed, For Jonathan Chapman, Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed, As though his heart were a wind-blown wheat-sheaf, As though his heart were a new-built nest, As though their heaven house were his breast, In swept the snow-birds singing glory. And I hear his bird heart beat its story, Hear yet how the ghost of the forest shivers, Hear yet the cry of the gray, old orchards, Dim and decaying by the rivers, And the timid wings of the bird-ghosts beating. By the hour of dawn he was proud and stark, Went forth to live on roots and bark, Sleep in the trees, while the years howled by– Calling the catamounts by name, And buffalo bulls no hand could tame, Slaying never a living creature, Joining the birds in every game, With the gorgeous turkey gobblers mocking, With the lean-necked eagles boxing and shouting; Sticking their feathers in his hair,– Turkey feathers, Eagle feathers,– Trading hearts with all beasts and weathers He swept on, winged and wonder-crested, Bare-armed, barefooted, and bare-breasted.

The maples, shedding their spinning seeds, Called to his appleseeds in the ground, Vast chestnut-trees, with their butterfly nations, Called to his seeds without a sound. And the chipmunk turned a “summer-set,” And the foxes danced the Virginia reel; Hawthorne and crab-thorn bent, rain-wet, And dropped their flowers in his night-black hair; And the soft fawns stopped for his perorations; And his black eyes shone through the forest-gleam, And he plunged young hands into new-turned earth, And prayed dear orchard boughs into birth; And he ran with the rabbit and slept with the stream, And he ran with the rabbit and slept with the stream, And he ran with the rabbit and slept with the stream. In the days of President Washington.

(Hear the hoof-beats of deer in the snow. And see, by their track, bleeding footprints we know. See conventions of deer go by; The bucks toss their horns, the fuzzy fawns fly. Faint hoof-beats of fawns long gone From respectable pasture, and park and lawn, And heartbeats of fawns That are coming again When the forest, once more, Is the master of men.)

Long, long after, When settlers put up beam and rafter, They asked of the birds: “Who gave this fruit? Who watched this fence till the seeds took root? Who gave these boughs?” They asked the sky, And there was no reply. But the robin might have said, “To the farthest West he has followed the sun, His life and his empire just begun.” Self-scourged, like a monk, with a throne for wages, Stripped like the iron-souled Hindu sages, Draped like a statue, in strings like a scarecrow, His helmet-hat an old tin pan, But worn in the love of the heart of man, More sane than the helm of Tamerlane, Hairy Ainu, wild man of Borneo, Robinson Crusoe–Johnny Appleseed; And the robin might have said, “Sowing, he goes to the far, new West, With the apple, the sun of his burning breast– The apple allied to the thorn, Child of the rose.”

Washington buried in Virginia, Jackson buried in Tennessee, Young Lincoln, brooding in Illinois, And Johnny Appleseed, priestly and free, Knotted and gnarled, past seventy years, Still planted on in the woods alone. Ohio and young Indiana– These were his wide altar-stone, Where still he burnt out flesh and bone. At last his own trees overtook him, at last his own trees hurried past him. Many cats were tame again, Many ponies tame again, Many pigs were tame again, Many canaries tame again; And the real frontier was his sun-burnt breast. From the fiery core of that apple, the earth, Sprang apple-amaranths divine. Love’s orchards climbed to the heavens of the West, And snowed the earthly sod with flowers. Farm hands from the terraces of the blest Danced on the mists with their ladies fine; And Johnny Appleseed laughed with his dreams, And swam once more the ice-cold streams. And the doves of the spirit swept through the hours, With doom-calls, love-calls, death-calls, dream-calls; And so once more his youth began, Johnny Appleseed.

Then The sun was his turned-up broken barrel, Out of which his juicy apples rolled, Thumping across the gold, An angel in each apple that touched the forest mold, Each red, rich, round, and bouncing moon That touched the forest mold. He saw the fruits unfold, And all our expectations in one wild-flower-written dream, Confusion and death sweetness, and a thicket of crab-thorns, Heart of a hundred midnights, heart of the merciful morns. Heaven’s boughs bent down with their alchemy, Perfumed airs, and thoughts of wonder. And the dew on the grass and his own cold tears Were one in brooding mystery, Though death’s loud thunder came upon him, Though death’s loud thunder struck him down– The boughs and the proud thoughts swept through the thunder, The vista of ten thousand years, flower-lighted and complete. Hear the lazy weeds murmuring, bays and rivers whispering, Listen to the eagles, screaming, calling, “Johnny Appleseed, Johnny Appleseed,” There by the doors of old Fort Wayne.

In the four-poster bed Johnny Appleseed built, Autumn rains were the curtains, autumn leaves were the quilt. He laid him down sweetly, and slept through the night, There by the doors of old Fort Wayne.

#america #American poetry #Johnny Appleseed #vachel lindsay #poetry #indiana

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keichanz · 6 years ago

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it’s been over a year since i’ve worked on this last and for some fucking reason i got the random inspiration to dig it out of my wip folder and finish it up and well *shrug* have some drama, i guess.

majorly unedited. literally haven’t touched this in over a year so who the hell knows what you’re gonna find rofl

“Wait—what?” Kagome blinked as she set her giant yellow bag on the floor and eyed her friend dubiously, almost positive she had heard that wrong. “Say again?”

She settled down by the fire and accepted the cup of tea Kaede handed her with a smile of thanks, not at all surprised when a warm weight reclined against her side and she used her free hand to run her fingers through Shippou’s hair in an absentminded gesture of motherly affection.

Sango smiled in understanding at the girl’s reaction because she had had a similar one upon hearing the news as well.

“No, your ears aren’t deceiving you, Kagome,” she said with a hint of amusement, idly stroking Kirara’s fur where the cat demon snoozed contentedly in her lap.

“It’s completely true; Inuyasha really did accompany Miroku to the neighboring village to slay a low level demon, even though Miroku could have easily handled it himself.”

A puzzled frown wrinkled Kagome’s brow, but before she could question the hanyou’s uncharacteristic behavior, someone else beat her to it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Shippou piped up, unwrapping a lollipop he’d pilfered from Kagome’s bag. “Inuyasha misses you, Kagome, so he went with Miroku to distract himself from thinking about you.”

He paused to take a few licks of his treat. “He knew you would be back in this world by the time he and Miroku returned so it was a good excuse as any to think about something else and let off some steam at the same time.”

The fox tyke shrugged his tiny shoulders and stuck the sweet into his mouth, closing his eyes and putting his hands behind his head, nodding to himself.

Kagome and Sango blinked and as the former blushed and ducked her head, Sango’s brows rose and she grinned at the kitsune.

“You know, I think you may be right, Shippou,” she said and glanced at the girl in question, who was trying unsuccessfully to hide her red face behind her yunomi.*

Kaede chuckled as Shippou puffed out his chest in obvious pride, a wide grin spreading across his young features, and Sango smothered her giggles behind a hand. Without her permission, Kagome’s lips twitched up into a small half-smile and a quiet laugh escaped her too as her embarrassment faded. Truthfully, in all likelihood, the young fox demon probably hit the nail right on the head with his observation, and Kagome would be lying if she said that didn’t please her at all because she missed him, too.

The three adults lapsed into idle conversation then about shard rumors, the demon the two males of their group had gone to destroy and what have you as Shippou contentedly lapped at his lollipop, leaning against the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother and more or less tuning out the grown up talk. It was a good thing he was around to explain to his human friends the stubborn half-demon’s thought patterns, otherwise they would all be lost and Kagome and Inuyasha would never get around to telling each other how they feel.

Someday they’ll realize what I do for them, he mused and popped the cherry-flavored sweet into his mouth again with a happy sigh.

Another half an hour went by with no sign of the monk or half-demon and Kagome was just about to suggest a game of cards to pass the time when suddenly a scream of absolute terror pierced the air and the three adults exchanged startled glances before hurriedly getting to their feet and rushing outside.

The sight that met their eyes elicited twin gasps of horror from the two younger women while Kaede pressed a hand to her chest, her good eye going wide in disbelief.

“Oh…my,” she breathed, stumbling back, and had it not been for Sango wrapping a supporting arm around her shoulders, she would have fallen to the ground in her shock.

Kagome felt the color drain from her face and she threw out a hand to grasp Sango’s shoulder to steady her suddenly wobbly knees. The village was in utter chaos. Buildings and homes had been set aflame, the villagers were screaming, running for their lives from the ruthless bandits that invaded their home. They were everywhere, some on horses, laughing mercilessly as they struck down men and woman alike. Others ransacked homes wielding swords, striking down anyone who got in their way. Some of the braver village men attempted to fight back, grabbing anything they could get their hands on for a weapon and providing a distraction for their wives and children to escape.

It was the terrified screaming of a child that jolted Kagome into action and jumped started her heart to beating in her chest again. Why was she just standing there?!

“Sango!” she yelled, spinning around to her friend only to have her bow and arrows suddenly being thrust into her arms.

“Help Kaede round up anyone not fighting and lead them to safety,” she demanded, clutching her rarely used sword in one hand and Hiraikotsu slung over her shoulder, ready to be released if necessary. “I’ll try and divert their attention for as long as I can.”

Sango’s face was grim and Kagome knew, though she’d do her best to avoid it, some of those bandits were not going to survive the evening.

Clutching her bow, Kagome nodded once and simultaneously the two women reached out and clasped hands, squeezing once; a silent bidding to stay safe. Then Kagome spun around and headed into the smoky fray while Sango charged forward, sword raised and the sound of steel clashing together pierced the air.

Gritting her teeth and trying very hard to ignore the bodies already littering the ground at an alarming rate, Kagome dove into the massacre, dodging swords, pitchforks, and flaming wood alike as she did as he was bade, tracking down those too old, young, or frightened to fight back. Through the smoke she could see Kaede, her own bow in her hands, urging a group of women and children toward the forest and Kagome ran after them, arrow knocked, ready to fire and protect from behind.

The smell of blood and smoke was making her simultaneously lightheaded and nauseous but she forced herself to ignore it, her breathing labored as she hollered for the villagers to keep moving, don’t look back! They were terrified, children sobbing, women screaming for their husbands and she tried hard not to think about how some of those screams were abruptly cut off with harsh, maniacal laughter.

Hoof beats thundering towards them had Kagome whirling around and raising her bow toward the bandit on horseback charging toward them, sword raised, face bloody and the most twisted smile on a scarred face. She braced herself but a familiar bone boomerang knocked him clean off the horse and Kagome didn’t stay to thank the slayer, turning back around and hurrying after those she needed to protect.

Kaede was at the forest’s edge, ushering everybody within the safety of the trees and their eyes connected for a split second before Kagome’s vision was abruptly obscured by a snarling face and bloody battle-axe. She cried out in alarm and instinctively thrust out her bow, hoping to catch him off guard, but the bandit thwarted her attempt with a vicious backhand across the face.

Kagome hit the ground hard, her bow landed some five feet away from her and pain throbbed her through head as her vision went blurry. She tasted blood, her stomach heaved, and before she could even think to scamper away, something tangled in her hair and roughly jerked her head up, eliciting a pained cry from her mouth and she opened her eyes to find the bandit inches form her face, his rancid breath making her gag and the sight of his rotted teeth as he smiled nastily something Kagome was sure she’d see in her nightmares if she survived.

Screwing her face up in the nastiest scowl she could manage, Kagome spit in his face and tried to escape by any means possible kicking, punching, squirming and even trying to bite, but to no avail. The bandit growled and tightened his hold on her hair before slamming her head into the ground and Kagome’s cry of pain was drowned out by the sudden agonized screaming of the bandit who’d been about to kill her. The hold on her hair vanished as he stumbled back, swatting at the blue fames that had engulfed him, and in his haste to extinguish the illusion, he tripped over a dead body, fell back, and impaled himself on his own weapon.

Kagome groaned, her stomach heaved, and with a mighty shove that caused pain to ricochet throughout her skull, she managed to turn over onto her side before emptying the contents of her stomach on the ground. She sputtered, grimacing as she spit and wiped her mouth with a dirty hand.

“Kagome!”

“Shippou,” Kagome rasped, gritting her teeth as she leveraged herself onto her hands and knees, shaking, sore, head spinning. “Are you—”

“I’m fine!” the kitsune hollered, his pale, dirt-smudged face desperate as he grabbed her hand and tugged. “You gotta get up, Kagome! C’mon, we need to get to Kae—”

Shippou was cut off by a booted foot landing roughly into his small body and Kagome watched in horror as the fox tyke flew through the air from the harsh kick, landing in a pile of burning rubble. Kagome screamed and scrambled to her feet, dizziness making her sway as another bout of nausea assaulted her, but before she could take even a single step an armor clad arm snagged her around the waist and hauled her back against the sweaty, bloody body. She shrieked, kicking against the hold, clawing at the hand but the sharp blade of a sword pressed against her neck stalled any further movement.

“One more move and I’ll slit your throat, whore,” a hoarse voice growled in her ear and Kagome shivered, closing her eyes as her captor started dragging her backward, through the smoke and remains of what once was Kaede’s village. She tripped and stumbled but the bandit didn’t seem to care, his breathing harsh as she swiftly turned around and led her away, keeping the blade pressed to her throat.

Inuyasha, Kagome mentally called for her hanyou, tears pricking the back of her eyes as the noise of the destruction and pillaging grew distant. Where are you?

Inuyasha...!

“Aaaarrgghh...!”

With a mighty heave, Sango let Hiraikotsu fly, successfully knocking the trio of bandits on horseback off their mounts and landing on the blood-soaked ground with a chorus of curses and groans. She wasted no time, unsheathing her katana in one smooth movement and darting forward to end their miserable, murdering lives with a flick of her wrist. Hiraikotsu curved back toward her and without missing a beat she caught her weapon just in time to swing it behind her and do some major brain damage to the bandit that had been sneaking up behind her.

He fell to the ground, either dead or unconscious but she didn’t care enough to check, hardly taking the time to catch her breath before she was running again. She was glad to see that most of the villagers had escaped with their lives and the majority of the bodies littering the ground were the bandits that had stormed the village. That didn’t mean there were no casualties, however; as she darted through the destruction, she came upon bodies she recognized, both women and men, and Sango had to fight against the urge to weep for their loss.

Now wasn’t the time for that; she had to find Kagome and Shippou and make sure Kaede had managed to make it to the first safely with the women and children.

“Dammit, Inuyasha, Miroku, where are you?” she hissed, grunting as she ducked and swerved through the burning remains. The fires were nearly out and while some of the huts had been spared, most of them lie in ruins, smoking rising into the air, a home lost.

Swallowing thickly, hoping her dear friends were alright and trying not to panic, Sango forced down the hysteria that rose, tightening her throat and making her stomach roll. Frantically she searched the ground, praying to anyone that would listen that she wouldn’t find them amongst the dead, looking for a flash of green or orange amid the rubble and blood.

A noise to her right had to her skidding to a stop and Sango braced herself, whipping her head around and tensing in preparation to throw her weapon, but she paused when nothing jumped at her. Breathing hard, heart racing in her chest, Sango frowned and listened carefully, filtering out the sounds of crackling flames, pained groans of survivors, the wind—

There! Eyes zeroing in on a pile of burning rubble, Sango narrowed her eyes and cautiously edged forward, hand tightening on both of her weapons, prepared to launch into another attack. Her gaze narrowed as she surveyed the scorched earth; nothing moved and the noise had stopped.

Sango paused and tensed. She waited; tightened her grip on her katana. Braced her knees.

With a cry, she whirled around, ready to decapitate the bandit that sought to surprise her with a blow to her back, but before she could deliver her own attack, another blade entered the fray and blood splattered as the bandit was suddenly skewered right through the stomach.

Dead before he hit the ground, Sango didn’t spare him a glance and instead focused on her savior, the relief the swamped her so strong she had to jam Hiraikotsu into the ground to remain standing.

Furious amber eyes regarded her steadily and he didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“Where is she?” he growled and it was obvious he was trying very hard to leash his fury.

Covered in a grotesque combination of mud and blood, both his firerat and kosode had been ripped to reveal the deep slashes across his chest, suggesting he’d ran into a bit of trouble on his way here, but he hardly seemed aware of his current state, the growl thundering in his chest steadily increasing in volume the longer she didn’t answer him.

Sango had to swallow several times before she could answer. “Don’t know,” she rasped, her eyes holding her regret, the deep-seeded worry that reflected in his own eyes. “I—haven’t seen—”

The snarl that erupted from his throat was low, dark, positively lethal, and had Sango been anything less than what she was – or had she not known him as well as she did – she probably would have fled in terror. She remained where she was, however, her weary body screaming at her to rest, but she forced herself to remain standing.

The fury in those golden eyes faded somewhat as he took her in and a lurid cruse fell from his lips.

“Miroku’s with Kaede,” he said and jerked his head toward the forest. “Go. I’ll take care of the rest.”

There were a few stragglers rifling through the remains, but they wouldn’t be standing for long; Tetsusaiga would make sure of that.

Sango hesitated, but knew she wouldn’t be able to stay on her feet for much longer, so in the end she didn’t argue and gave a curt nod.

“Find her, Inuyasha,” she rasped and watched his stare harden, jaw clenching in determination before the half-demon returned her nod with a jerk of his head.

Despite himself, Inuyasha waited until he knew she would make it to the others before turning around but before he leapt off, his ear flicked and he whipped his head around to the right. He stared hard at the same pile of rubble Sango had been advancing on early before some of the murdering fuckers had crept up on her and he strained his ears, listening, golden eyes narrowing—

The sound came again and with a fervent curse Inuyasha leapt into action, hastily dropping the fang into its scabbard so he could heave and shove and toss away scorched wood. His hands burned form the flames but he ignored it, his breathing hard as he kept an eye out for a flash of orange amid the burned wood and—

“Shippou,” Inuyasha hissed and with a grunt, he lifted the last of the heavy wood that was pinning the kit in place and carefully scooped him up into his arms. Pale and bloody, the fox demon’s breath rattled in his lungs and his small body was limp.

Cursing again, Inuyasha hopped out of the hut’s ruins and cradled him in his arm, knowing he had to take him to Kaede, but before he could move his name uttered on a groan had him freeze in his tracks and he snapped his gaze down to the child in his arms.

Shippou’s green eyes were cracked open and his mouth was parted as he dragged in stuttered breaths of air, but his grip as he clutched the firerat in his small hand was surprisingly strong.

Shippou winced and his little face screwed up in pain as he wheezed, “Kagome...taken...”

He coughed weakly but his eyes remained open, his emerald stare zeroed in on the half-demon’s face and Inuyasha was surprised at the amount of clarity in them.

“Where was she taken, Shippou?” Inuyasha growled, resisting the urge to shake the kitsune as a savage sense of urgency rocked through him. “Dammit, runt, tell me!”

“Forest,” he croaked, recalling the glimpse he’d caught through a crack in the rubble before falling unconscious. “G-Goshin—”

A coughing fit prevented the rest of the word from passing his lips and he gave a pained whimper, but Inuyasha knew what he’d been trying to say.

Ears flattening against his head, Inuyasha swore as indecision tore at him, his desire to heed the kit’s request to leave him and find Kagome warring with his need to make sure Shippou was safe with the others before he didn’t anything else. Kagome would never forgive him if something happened to her kit, and Inuyasha would never forgive himself if he left him here by himself in such bad shape and something happened to him.

Dammit—“ I can’t leave you here,” Inuyasha gritted out and turned towards the forest where he’d left Miroku and Kaede, his body screaming at him to turn in the other direction toward the God Tree that loomed above everything else.

Wood snapping to his left had Inuyasha whirling around with a snarl on his face, claws raised to protect himself at the kit, but the snarl abruptly died at the sight of the pale and limping village woman that approached him, arms out.

“I’ll take him,” she said and Inuyasha didn’t think twice.

With a nod, Inuyasha carefully deposited the now unconscious kit into her arms, murmuring a quiet “thank you” before turning and sprinting toward the woods, pushing himself harder, faster than ever before. He was a crimson blur as he leapt over the carnage of Kaede’s village, not even daring to spare the few seconds it would take to dispatch the few bandits still standing despite what he’d told Sango. Every second counted; he had no idea what sort of condition his Kagome was in, what he would find when he found her – and he would– and with every instant that prevented him from getting to her, the more danger she could be in.

There was no way in hell Inuyasha was risking that and with a savage growl borne from his desperation, the urgency racing through his veins and his frantic desire to destroy anything that dared harm his woman, he increased his pace, hardly caring when his lungs protested and his legs grew tired. He couldn’t stop, refused to stop; Kagome needed him and he would not fail her.

Hang on, Kagome, Inuyasha thought, features twisted into fearsome scowl as he launched himself through the trees even faster, I’m coming for you. Just hang on!

With a careless shove, Kagome’s back hit the unyielding force of the God Tree behind her and she didn’t even have the time to cry out or attempt to scramble away before he was on her, hands grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head with freakish strength. Hot, rancid breath fanned over her mouth seconds before it was taken in a hard, punishing kiss and Kagome’s stomach churned.

Already weakened from numerous blows to the head and a hard punch to the stomach, Kagome struggled to escape but the bandit laughed at her attempts, easily pinning her legs between his own and shoving his pelvis into hers. With one hand caging her wrists the other used a knife to slice clean through her dirtied shirt, revealing soft breasts encased in some weird fabric but that hardly deterred him. With a dark chuckle and malicious grin he roughly grabbed her, squeezing and relishing in her cry of pain.

“You can’t fool me, slut,” the bandit laughed as she squirmed and tired to jerk away from his greedy hand, “your nipples hard, I know you like—fuck!”

Stumbling back and releasing his hold, the bandit groaned as he cupped himself, lifting his head to glare murderously at the bitch that had just fucking kneed him in the balls. She glared right back at him as she shrunk back against the tree, body tensing as she prepared to dart off into the trees, and her attacked reacted swiftly before she could escape.

“Fucking whore,” he spat and drove forward, cranking back his fist and punching her hard in the jaw. Her head smacked against the tree and her sound of pain was sweet as she slumped down, her body losing what little strength she had left.

Head swimming, black dots dancing in her vision as pain exploded throughout her skull and down her neck, Kagome could do nothing but whimper and feebly try to push him off her as a heavy weight settled on her thighs and yanked at her skirt, trying to tear it off. A sob caught in her throat and tears leaked from her eyes when she realized what was happening, what was going to happen if she didn’t do something.

“No-o-o-o,” she moaned, trying to buck him off of her, but her body wouldn’t obey, her mind hazy. Rough hands jerked and clawed at her clothes and she tried to shove them away, heart pounding, fear and pain making her movements slow and uncoordinated. Every move she made hurt, head throbbing, every breath like pins and needles stabbing into her chest and stomach.

Another sob welled in her throat. She couldn’t let this happen, she couldn’t— “I-Inu—”

“Shut up,” her attacker hissed, easily evading her hands and managing to shove her bra down enough to reveal her breasts. His prey released a sweet sound of torture and his excitement throbbed in response.

He eyed her perfect breasts greedily, licking his lips as saliva pooled on his tongue and dribbled down his chin. He cackled and while one hand continued to pull at her skirt, the other reached for her chest, fingers inches away form the delectable soft flesh just begging for his touch—

The bandit suddenly froze and the change was abrupt enough to grab Kagome’s attention. Sucking in a stuttering breath, she managed to crack her eyes open enough to catch the look of wide-eyed shock on his face. She blinked in confusion but before she could even think to escape during his strange and sudden distraction, her salivation came in the form of a deadly threat that had Kagome releasing a sob of pure and utter relief.

“If you value your pathetic, sorry excuse for a life at all,” a deep, pissed-off growl reverberated behind him and the positively lethal edge to it had her attacker paling slightly even as Kagome went limp beneath him, “then I suggest you get the fuck outta my sight. Quickly.”

There was a pause as the fool deliberated on what to do. And unfortunately, instead of her tormenter hastily scrambling away as he was strongly bid to do, the bandit seemed to scoff in the face of the threat, regathering some of his lost bravado and not even bothering to look behind him at what was probably just some village man playing hero, unwilling to tear his greedy gaze from the delectable sight before him for even a second.

“Oh yeah, and what’ll happen if I don’t?” He snorted dismissively, resuming his earlier task of ridding the bitch of her wonderfully short kimono. She’d gone completely limp, apparently accepting her fate, and he grinned. Good, this would make it easier. Dumb bitch actually had da brain in that pretty head of hers. Too bad, really; he liked them stupid and weak.

She tried to stop him again, apparently still having some fight left in her, and he roughly swatted away her hands with an annoyed scowl. A subsonic growl filled with lethal warning rumbled behind him again the bandit rolled his eyes. What, did he think he was scared of some mutt? He’d slain demons that sounded ten times more lethal, not to mention bigger!

Impatient and annoyed at the interruption, he waved a hand, dismissing the villager like a common pest.

“Get lost, boy,” he grunted and grinned in victory when the green fabric finally tore under his hands; the girl’s whimper was music to his ears. His black eyes leered at the smooth flesh revealed to him. “I’m busy and I don’t share my playthi—guurrkk.”

Kagome didn’t even flinch as flecks of crimson landed on her pale face, could only watch with wide chocolate eyes as blood welled in the bandit’s mouth and thickly dribbled down his chin, coating the already blood-soaked tip of Tetsusaiga protruding from his throat. Then her would-be rapist was abruptly flung to the side like so much rubbish and the tears spilled from her eyes, blurring her vision, streaking down her bruised cheeks, his name falling from her abused lips in so soft a whisper he almost didn’t hear it.

Covered in copious amounts of both mud and blood, silver hair streaked with red and suikan torn asunder to reveal the muddy and bloody mess that was his chest, Inuyasha looked every bit the warrior to her right then.

He’d found her. Inuyasha had found her, saved her as she knew he would, and as he gazed down at her with intense amber eyes, chest heaving as he dragged in ragged breaths of air, Kagome released a choked sound that sounded suspiciously like his name and reached for him.

Not even bothering to spare a glance at the piece of shit he’d just skewered for daring to touch his Kagome, Inuyasha was still breathing heavily from a combination of his mad dash from the village to get to her in time and the cold panic that had seized his lungs. His golden eyes frantically assessed her form, growling at the dirtied and torn state of her clothes, and though the bruises darkening the perfect skin of her face pissed him the fuck off and made him want to stab the fucker responsible a couple hundred times despite his deceased status, he was glad that that seemed to be the worst of the damage from what his eyes and nose were telling him.

His heart stuttered in his chest when he finally looked into those wide, liquid brown eyes and suddenly overcome with an overwhelming urge that he didn’t even want to resist, Inuyasha let his sword fall unceremoniously to the ground before surging forward, dropping to his knees and taking her hand to haul her into his arms.

Kagome sobbed and clung to him tightly, her body shaking from relief or pain he couldn’t tell but he only held her tighter, crushing her to him as her name fell from his lips in a rough whisper. She curled into him and Inuyasha fell back, cradling her in his lap and letting her cry into his chest, gritting his teeth as emotion welled in his throat and pricked at his eyes.

His hold was desperate, his limbs shaking as he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her sweet scent, tinged with blood, dirt, and the acrid stench of the fucker who dared lay a hand on her. The odor elicited a thunderous growl to reverberate in his chest, but it vanished just as quickly when Kagome whispered his name again, leaning back to catch his gaze.

“I knew you’d come,” she breathed, lifting a shaking hand to touch his dirty cheek, chocolate eyes bright and glistening with unshed tears.

Inuyasha wordlessly shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he cupped the back of her head and pressed he face back into his healing chest, burying his nose into her hair. Kagome sighed and slipped her arms around his waist, finally allowing herself to relax, safe in the arms of her protector, her beloved half-demon.

Allowing himself another selfish moment of relishing in her nearness, the relief that she was okay, a little banged up and shaken but alive, swamping his entire body and it making hard to concentrate on anything else, Inuyasha sucked a shaky breath and released it slowly before dropping a reverent kiss to her forehead, lingering, reluctant to pull away. Kagome squeezed him around the waist, a wordless reassurance, and finally he was able to relax.

He removed his arms from her briefly to shrug out of his already repairing suikan and wrap it around her before taking a moment to drop his sword back into the scabbard and getting to his feet with a soft grunt.

“Shippou,” Kagome murmured, her worry for her kit apparent even through her exhaustion and Inuyasha put her mind at ease.

“He’s fine,” he assured her, pausing to kiss her forehead one more time. “I found him before I went to look for you. Villager took him to the others. He’s a little banged up, but safe.”

She sighed. “Mir...San...” It was a struggle, but she managed to lift her head and gaze up at him, brow wrinkled with her concern even as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

She was starting to drift off, and Inuyasha had to smile. Even as exhausted as she was, it as no surprise that his Kagome was fighting it in order to make sure her friends were all right.

Swallowing thickly, Inuyasha gently cradled the back of her head and leaned down to press his forehead against her own and his sigh was shaky as it ghosted over her lips.

“Safe,” he said thickly, closing his eyes and hearing her soft sigh of relief. “Everyone’s safe. You’re safe, Kagome. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Kagome smiled, closed her eyes, and resting her head on his shoulder, she finally let herself drift off, knowing she was safe in the arms of her beloved as he carried her back to their friends.

*Yunomi: those little clay tea cups they drink out of.

does kagome have a concussion from all those blows to her head? lakdfklafd let’s pretend she doesn’t lel

#idk wtf to call this so untitled for now #inukag #inuyasha #kagome #oneshot #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #will there be a second part?#who the hell knows lmao

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tigerkirby215 · 5 years ago

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5e Tianhuo the Fire of Huoshan build (Them’s Fightin’ Herds)

(Artwork by Mane 6)

看最長的龍馬！

In my attempt to branch out from making nothing but League of Legends builds here’s a character from Them’s Fightin’ Herds! The Fighting is Magic project is something I followed for quite awhile and I was quite happy to back their IndieGoGo. (You can find my name in the credits!) While I’m personally not that great at fighting games TFH is a lot of fun and is rather welcoming to newcomers with several features to move it away from the traditional elite crowd that fighting games draw in.

Personally I’m a garbage Tian spammer who has no idea how to combo or do anything. (Occasionally play Papi and do want to learn Oli someday. Warlock Unicorn uwu) Tian has a fun rushdown style and focuses on aerial combos which as a garbage Bella / Beo spammer in Skullgirls really tickles my fancy.

GOALS

拳頭格鬥遊戲 - Them’s Fightin’ Herds is a game of hoof-to-hoof combat. Tianhou needs to punch, kick, and flip with the best of them.

龍的火焰 - The longmas of Huoshan channel the dragon’s fire magic into every strike. I mean, how else could you tolerate living on a volcano?

龍的飛行 - With wings of flame we’ll need to be able to take off in combat.

RACE

There are two directions we can go for the race: Centaur or Dragonborn.

Centaurs are interesting if you want to channel more of the horse aspect of Tian. You get a plus two to Strength and a plus one to Wisdom, but notably you start with 40 feet of movement putting you 10 feet ahead of everyone else. You also count as a Fey instead of Humanoid which does have some interesting interactions with spells like Hold Person. But as a Centaur you get the Charge feature which lets you make an unarmed strike with your hooves after making a weapon attack, and your Hooves do damage equal to a d4 plus your strength modifier. However full disclosure we won’t need that extra attack for this build, and your Equine Build affecting your climbing speed isn’t that useful either. You do get extra skills from Survivor however but seeing as we won’t be using Centaur I’ll talk about our other option:

Dragonborn! Dragonborn are much easier to summarize than Centaurs and are going to be our race of choice. You get a +2 increase to Strength and a +1 to Charisma along with a choice of Draconic Ancestry. Your ancestry of choice will determine your Damage Resistance as well as the damage type and shape of your Breath Weapon. For maximum fire damage choose either Brass, Red, or Gold depending on what size of breath weapon you want. I personally opted for Gold as gold is good luck in Chinese mythology. But most importantly Dragonborn won’t immediately label you as the guy playing their MLP OC at the table... it’s not an OC dammit!

ABILITY SCORES

15; DEXTERITY - You move so fast your hair is literally on fire!

14; WISDOM - “The wise are like a river; they go forward and upward, never backward or downward.” ― Matshona Dhliwayo

13; CHARISMA - You need an intimidating face to bring your soldiers in line. Charisma is also a requirement to multiclass.

12; CONSTITUTION - To fight with an ice-slinging diva, occultist unicorn, or crazy love-bug alpaca you need to be able to take a hit.

10; INTELLIGENCE - To study the art of war you need to be smart. As a general you follow the orders but you need to know why.

8; STRENGTH - While I wish this could be higher it’s unfortunately not too necessary for this build, but thankfully our racial bonus will increase this to a flat 10.

BACKGROUND

Your background is very straight forward for Tianhuo: you’re a Soldier. You get proficiency in Athletics and Intimidation as well as land vehicles and a gaming set: I’d opt for Three-Dragon Ante as it makes sense for a dragon soldier.

As a Soldier you get a Military Rank, meaning that soldiers in the Huoshan army defer to you. In addition you can influence other soldiers to provide aid, access to military encampments, or horses... to ride. That’s insulting!

(Artwork by Mane 6)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - MONK 1

We’ll be starting off as Monk so we can kick as well as flip. You get proficiency in two Monk skills: Acrobatics are a must and for your second skill I’d opt for Insight so you can tell if your soldiers are lying to you. You also get proficiency in one Musical Instrument or Artisan’s Tool and of course we must go for Calligrapher's Supplies; the pen’s mightier than the sword and to master the pen makes you the mightiest of them all.

But as a Monk you get Unarmored Defense equal to 10 plus your Dexterity and Wisdom modifier. While Tian has been shown to wear armor it’s mostly for show, and she mainly fights with nothing but her scales to protect her. You also get Martial Arts which have a bunch of benefits:

You can wield Monk Weapons, including shortswords and any simple melee weapon that doesn’t have the heavy or two-handed property.

You can use Dexterity instead of Strength for the attack and damage rolls of your unarmed strikes and monk weapons.

You can roll a d4 for the damage of your unarmed strike or monk weapon.

When you Attack with an unarmed strike or a monk weapon you can make one unarmed strike as a bonus action.

As a Huoshan warrior you’d be trained to use a spear or a sword, but at the end of the day your weapon of choice is your two hooves... hands... being a horse in D&D is weird.

LEVEL 2 - MONK 2

Second level Monks get Ki points to use on a variety of combat techniques. Flurry of Blows lets you make two attacks with your bonus action instead of one, Patient Defense lets you take the dodge action as a bonus action, and Step of the Wind doubles your jump distance and lets you take the Dash or Disengage action on your turn as a bonus action.

In addition second level Monks get Unarmored Movement to move 10 feet faster if they’re not wearing armor or using a shield. You need to rush your opponents and never let up! Stop trying to hit me and hit me!

LEVEL 3 - MONK 3

Level 3 Monks get their Monastic Tradition and there are a lot of traditions to choose from for a fire horse-dragon: Four Elements, Kensei, Sun Soul... but the fighting style of choice for fighting characters would be Way of the Open Hand. Open Hand Monks get Open Hand Technique: when you hit an enemy with Flurry of Blows you can force a variety of effects on your target. You can either force a Dexterity saving throw or knock them prone, force a Strength saving throw or push them 15 feet away, or just make it so they can’t take reactions until the end of your next turn.

You also get Deflect Missiles which lets you reduce the damage of a ranged weapon attack by a d10 plus your Dexterity modifier and your Monk level. If you reduce the weapon’s attack to 0 you can spend a Ki point to throw it back at the enemy like a dart. Most of your opponents are blasting you with magic but that’s just because they know how pointless a bow would be. Burn up any projectile before kicking it back at them!

LEVEL 4 - MONK 4

At level 4 you can spread your wings of fire with Slow Fall, reducing any falling damage you take by 5 times your Monk level.

You also get an Ability Score Improvement or Feat and the Athlete feat will let you quickly get up if a cow causes an earthquake. Standing up only uses 5 feet of movement, climbing doesn't cost you extra movement, and you can make a running jump after moving only 5 feet. You can also increase either your Strength or Dexterity and of course we’ll be going for Dexterity for nice even numbers.

LEVEL 5 - MONK 5

5th level Monks get an Extra Attack, adding up to 3 attacks total or 4 attacks when you use Flurry of Blows. Speaking of attacks your Martial Arts die increases to a d6 at this level. But most notably you get Stunning Strike to start up some combos: when you hit a target with a melee weapon you can spend 1 ki point to force a Constitution saving throw or stun the target until the end of your next turn. Keep your enemies in hit stun and get that Ultra Combo!

(Artwork by Aegann on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 6

Now that we know how to fight it’s time to get our wings and learn how to fly. There are a lot of subclasses that can get the ability to fly: Sorcerers and Wizards can learn the Flight spell but get a bit too much magic for my liking, and while Artificers can make Winged Boots that requires a lot of level investment and Tian is hardly an inventor. I want a class that can provide powerful and consistent results, all with an infernal flair to keep us in the fight.

WARLOCK 1

Here’s a shocker huhn! You can rule the Warlock multiclass as a variety of things: the strength of your dragon mother, your allegiance to Huoshan... regardless you’re going to have to explain why you have a Fiend as your Otherworldly Patron. I have to remind everyone that the names of the classes are suggestions only! Feel free to roleplay them however you want.

Regardless: Fiend Warlocks get Dark One’s Blessing, granting them temporary hit points whenever they slay an enemy equal to their Charisma modifier plus their Warlock level.

You also get Pact Magic allowing you to cast some dragonfire! Prestidigitation will let you do a variety of small tricks including heating food and drinks with your fire breath or lightning candles with a puff of flame. And since this is a Warlock build you may as well take Eldritch Blast to fight at range - it’s more of Oleander’s thing yes but it’s not like you have much else to choose from.

You also get two spells of your choice at this level: Burning Hands from the Fiend list is a more potent dragonfire, and Hellish Rebuke will let you burn anyone that strikes you.

LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 2

Second level Warlocks get Eldritch Invocations: Devil’s Sight will let you fight in the dark because Dragonborn don’t have Darkvision for some reason. Fiendish Vigor will give you a bit of added vitality to block some attacks during a fight. These are the choices I’d personally go for but there are a few other suggestions I can make:

Armor of Shadows will increase your AC by 1 at the moment since you only have +2 in your Wisdom.

Beguiling Influence will make you a master of social affairs, though Deception isn’t very in-character for you.

Agonizing Blast, Eldritch Sight, and Eyes of the Rune Keeper are all just generally useful.

You also learn another spell at this level and Hex will let you do an extra d6 of damage with every hit in your combo. Considering that as a Monk you can attack a total of 4 times per turn that’s a lot of damage!

LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 3

Third level Warlocks get access to their Pact Boon, and seeing as Tian doesn’t use weapons or have a familiar we’ll of course be going for Pact of the Tome. You get three cantrips from any class’ spell list: Control Flames will allow you to channel your dragon lineage to do some funky fire magic, and while there are other fire spells (Firebolt / Produce Flame) they’re not nearly as useful for us so take Guidance to assist your soldiers and Thaumaturgy for the voice of a general. (As well as some more fire shenanigans.)

You also get access to second level spells and Scorching Ray will let you spread your wings to scorch three enemies within 120 feet of you.

LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 4

4th level Warlocks get an Ability Score Improvement and you’re going to want to further increase your Dexterity for stronger strikes and tougher scales.

You also get another spell at this level but I’d hold off on it for now since we get some pretty good stuff at our next level. You do get another cantrip but truthfully you can grab just about anything and still remain in-flavor. I personally opted for Create Bonfire because it’s a fire.

LEVEL 10 - WARLOCK 5

First and foremost 5th level Warlocks get access to 3rd level spells and there’s two in particular we want: Fly gives a creature you touch (ideally yourself) a flying speed of 60 feet. Secondly Fireball... you know what this is. It’s Fireball. In D&D. Use Fireball and only Fireball; nothing but Fireball. Just Fireball. Just Fireball. Just Fireball. Jokes you can now fly and use your super! 闷烧踢燃烧风！ (Thanks to the TFH devs on their official Discord for giving me the kanji for Tian’s super.)

5th level Warlocks also get another Invocation. Cloak of Flies can be good for an immolation aura or if you want to straighten up your soldiers but feel free to take other options from earlier levels if you so desire. If your DM allows Unearthed Arcana the Class Feature Variants UA has a few options: Eldritch Mind can help compensate for your low Constitution so you don’t stop flying, and Far Scribe can be nice to keep in touch with your soldiers over long distances.

LEVEL 11 - WARLOCK 6

6th level Fiend Warlocks get Dark One’s Own Luck, letting them add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw. It’s called “luck” but you can contribute it to raw skill. You also get your last spell at this level and while I personally opted for Counterspell you can take just about anything. Truthfully all we’ll really be using is Fly and Fireball.

(Artwork by unousaya on DeviantArt)

LEVEL 12 - MONK 6

Straight through Monk now. Level 6 Monks get Ki-Empowered Strikes making their fists magical for the sake of overcoming resistances. Paprika’s wool might be able to absorb regular blows but they can’t absorb the flames of Huoshan! Your Unarmored Movement also increases to 15 feet, giving you 45 feet of movement total.

Open Hand Monks meanwhile get Wholeness of Body. You can take an action once per Long Rest to regain an amount of hitpoints equal to three times your Monk level. They can knock you down but they aren’t ready for Round 2!

LEVEL 13 - MONK 7

7th level Monks get Evasion: if you’re forced to make a Dexterity saving throw you only take half damage if you fail, and you take no damage if you succeed. Blocking is great and all but dodging is important to avoid chip damage! You also get Stillness of Mind letting you channel your inner dragon to remove an effect of Charming or Frightening on you as an action.

LEVEL 14 - MONK 8

8th level Monks get an Ability Score Improvement: cap off your Dexterity for swift strikes and expert evasion.

LEVEL 15 - MONK 9

Level 9 Monks get an Unarmored Movement Improvement letting them run across water or along walls as long as they end their turn on solid ground. Clearly this isn’t you running “across” the water or “along” the wall but rather you just gliding over them.

LEVEL 16 - MONK 10

Level 10 Monks get Purity of Body, making you as hearty as a horse and immune to Poison and Disease. Your Unarmored Movement also increases by 5 feet for +20 feet, or 50 feet total. Just a reminder that the Fly spell makes you move 60 feet per turn.

LEVEL 17 - MONK 11

Level 11 Open Hand Monks are affected by Tranquility, giving them the effects of the Sanctuary spell whenever they finish a long rest. Sanctuary does go away if you attack though, which by the way your Martial Arts die increases to a d8 at this level.

LEVEL 18 - MONK 12

12th level Monks get another Ability Score Improvement and you have a few options: Constitution will increase your health and the effectiveness of your fire breath as well as help you keep your concentration on Fly, Wisdom will increase your AC and make your Open Hand techniques / Stunning Strike harder to resist, and Charisma will let you roleplay the captain better and give you better attacks with your fire magic. And of course if none of those appeal to you feel free to take a Feat instead: this build is just a suggestion and you’re welcome to change it however you want.

LEVEL 19 - MONK 13

Level 13 Monks get Tongue of the Sun and Moon, allowing you to speak and understand all languages. I’m sure the translators have already localized you for every region: they certainly have China down!

LEVEL 20 - MONK 14

Level 14 Monks get our final Unarmored Movement increase, bringing your movement speed up to 55 total. Reminder that this is 5 under your speed if you cast Fly.

But more importantly you get Diamond Soul as your capstone, giving your proficiency in all saving throws! This is insanely useful for keeping your Concentration on Fly, and now your lowest saving throws should be a +6 while your highest saving throw (still Dexterity) is at a whopping +11! 鑽石堅不可摧！

FINAL BUILD

PROS

迅速的火焰 - You have an immense amount of mobility with 55 feet of movement that can go across water and along walls as well as the ability to quickly get on your feet and jump into the action. And if worse comes to worse you can fly!

四分之一圈沖床 - Unlike most Monks you have quite a few good ranged options, and even though you’re best in melee you’re not above some projectile spam like Velvet.

像馬一樣健康 - You have quite a bit of sturdiness to you. Good AC, proficiency in all saving throws, 9 Temporary Hitpoints whenever you strike an enemy down, and Wholeness of Body giving you a 42 HP pickup when needed.

CONS

冰很好 - All your damage is either bludgeoning or fire. Remember that you are allowed to take spells that are less roleplay-focused if you want to do better in the mirror match.

你一定是 MAD - The Warlock dip makes an already MAD (Multi-Ability Dependent) class even MADder. This build requires Dexterity, Wisdom, Charisma, and Constitution is also good to have. See if you can grab some Ioun Stones, stat tomes, or a better initial stat array; because damn you’ll need it.

英雄不孤單 - The truth is that while the Warlock dip is nice to throw Fireballs we really don’t need flight from the Fly spell. If you have an Artificer or a cool DM you can easily get either a pair of Winged Boots or the Wings of Flying to give you the flight speed. And even then as a Monk you truthfully have more than enough mobility to not need flight on top of it.

But self-sufficiency isn’t a weakness. Of course a general is nothing without an army, and while Foenum may rule one-on-one combat the rules are different in the forgotten realms. Command your troops and take the frontline to fight the predators back! Just know when to take a loss and call it quits: no one likes a salty dragon-horse.

(Artwork by kompy on DeviantArt)

#DnD 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd monk #dnd #them's fightin' herds #tfh #Tianhuo #them's fightin' herds Tianhuo #tfh Tianhuo #longma #ungulate

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thewarriorandtheking · 5 years ago

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Once Upon A Time

The final chapter of Book III of The Warrior and The King is now up on AO3 & FanFiction. With “Endgame” the trilogy is now complete. Not that I am going to stop writing about these two, their adventures will continue, but I want to move on to other projects.

This is how it begins...

********************************************

The grey wolf’s head came up off his paws, his ears pricked up. Almost at the same time the dogs in the yard began to howl, pacing at the ends of their tethers. The man set aside the steel he was working on and stepped out of his shop to follow his wolf’s gaze. He saw the team come into view through the trees, rounding the last corner on the trail into the yard. The driver, tall and straight, calling to the leaders from the back of the laden sled. She brought the sled to a halt and kicked the hooks in, then stepped off and threw her hood back. Her golden hair shone in the afternoon sun, the silver beads catching the light. The man came out to meet her, pulling on a coat against the winter chill. He swept her into his arms, kissing her and swinging her around, it had only been ten days since he saw her last, but for both of them it was ten days too long. She laughed and hugged him close, the beads on the ends of their braids clicking together as they embraced.

The two of them got to work unhooking the dogs and taking them back to their houses. The man unloaded the bales of furs on the sled as the tall woman went into the shed to prepare a meal for the dogs. The stew of fish and rice had been warming on the stove, she added cut meat and water and filled a bucket to feed the team. A big, black wolf had trotted out of the woods and was at the door with the man’s grey one, both waiting with expectant faces. She set down bowls and gave them each a helping, then headed out to the yard to feed the dogs. The man finished emptying the sled, stacking the bundles neatly on the racks, then headed back to his shop. At the door he saw a wagon coming up the road to the house, it was the monk from the abbey who was a regular visitor, leading the cart horse. The snow on the cleared road was only a couple of inches deep, but the horse was clearly limping.

“I am glad to find you at home today!” The monk said as he came up. “He threw a shoe on the way to the village.”

The man nodded. “That is easily remedied,” he said. “Bring him in.”

A few minutes later the big horse was wearing a new shoe, as the man dropped the horse’s hoof he looked up at the monk. “I suppose I am working for free again.”

“You are helping to spread the word of the goddess,” the monk replied, opening his arms with a smile. “We have renounced all worldly possessions.”

The man stood up, eyeing the wagon curiously. “I do not suppose you have any cases of that fine ale you make at that abbey?”

The monk smiled. “Indeed I do, my friend. Indeed I do.”

“Then stay for dinner and let us sample some together!”

The monk took a seat at the fine wooden table, opening three bottles of ale and handing one to his host. The man sat down across from him and took a long pull on the bottle.

“Ah, that is good! One of your best yet!” He handed the third bottle back to the woman who was busy in the corner of the cabin that served as the kitchen. She also took a long drink and nodded her agreement.

The monk had been here many times, he considered the couple to be his friends. He loved their beautifully built stone cabin, with its rich woods and fine finishes. Though they obviously lived a simple life, there was an aura about the cabin that implied their life had once been much different. And then there was the couple themselves. The man played the part of a country swordsmith but his work was far too fine. He was too tall for a Dwarf, and wore his beard short in the manner of Men, but the way he wore his hair said otherwise, and there was an obvious nobility about him. As for the woman…every time he saw her he could not believe how startlingly beautiful she was, like the descriptions he had read of ancient Elven lords come to life. The way she moved and held herself spoke of long years of military training, she had not grown up a woodland trapper. And there were the rings they wore, sparkling blue stones and mithril silver, not made by any smith from the land of Men.

The woman set the food on the table, fresh baked bread, vegetables from the cellar, thick venison steaks. The abbey was hosting some of their brothers from the south and the monk had much news of the happenings in the great cities, which he was happy to share. They were on their third bottle of ale when the monk finally brought up the subject he had come to discuss.

“I read a story about you the other day,” he said quietly, studying their reactions.

The man chuckled. “About me? It must have been a very short one.”

The monk shook his head. “One of the things we do to support the abbey is turn old parchments into printed works,” he said. “Our brothers have brought us many new parchments from Gondor. Is it true you once saved this whole land?”

The man shook his head. “I do not know what you have been reading, but I have never done any such thing.” He got up and began clearing the dishes. The monk looked at the woman, but her face was unreadable. Her eyes were watching him closely, but betrayed nothing.

“I am not here to expose you,” the monk said. “You are my friends, and this community would be diminished without you. I ask only out of scholarly interest. When the text speaks of the greatest Dwarf King, a golden-haired warrior woman who was his beloved Queen and the huge wolves who were their companions, I could not help but think I know two people who fit that description.”

The woman laughed. “Do we look like a great King and Queen? Living in a cabin in the far north, trapping and blacksmithing for a living?”

“Yes, you do,” the monk replied. “When one knows how to look. As I said, I am only interested in the story. Is it true?”

The man and the woman looked at each other. “I do not know the story you are referring to, so I cannot speak for its truth,” the man said “But it has nothing to do with me.”

“Nor with me,” the woman added, getting up to check the fire in the woodstove.

The monk laughed suddenly. “Of course, how silly of me! If you were Thorin Oakenshield you would be 500 years old now, what was I thinking?” His eyes glanced quickly from one to the other. “Well, I must be getting on. Thank you for dinner, it was excellent as always!”

The man and the woman stood on the porch, watching the monk drive away, after leaving a few cases of ale behind. The heavy wagon cut two deep lines in the snow of the road, the evening light turning the valley purple.

“Should we be worried?” The man asked.

The woman shook her head. “I think he was just curious. Remember in his former life he was a famous historian. I am sure he genuinely wants to know if the story is true.” She smiled. “I think he has suspected who we are for a long time, but we know he has many secrets of his own that he would not want revealed.”

The man watched the wagon disappear, then turned to his wife with a soft smile. “Well, it is quite a story.”

Read more at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17148116/chapters/55125181

***************************************

Read the complete adventures of The Warrior and The King on AO3 & FanFiction, links on my homepage.

@theelvenvalkyrie @soradragon

#fanfiction #thorin fanfiction #thorin and oc #tolkien fanfic #true love #fantasy adventure #thewarriorandtheking #fanfic

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earl-of-221b · 6 years ago

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Tang Monk: “....And I’m not proud of what I’m about to say........but someone get me a cigarette.”

Sun Wukong: “But master, we don’t smoke.”

Tang Monk: “CUT the CRAP, Wukong, I am a holy man. Wei Shi knows that one in four demons smoke.”

[He points to each disciple]

Tang Monk: “One (Wukong) -- two (Bajie) -- three (Wujing) -- four! (White horse)”

Tang Monk: “Now. Wei Shi is going to close his eyes. And when I open them, there had better be a cigarette between these two fingers.”

[He makes a V with his fingers]

[A horse hoof hands him a cigarette.]

Tang Monk: “Thank you.”

Tang Monk: “Light.”

[Monkey hand, pig hand, blue hand all crowd around with lighters to light it collectively.]

[x]

#journey to the west #sorry #but I saw a post like this floating around this site and thought it fits the pilgrims so stupidly I had to write this!#my posts

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legionmaster001 · 6 years ago

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Bonus

Before proceding I must clarify that no character or image depicted in this post belongs to me, and the following story is just a gift for @bl00dalchemist, the most beutiful bastard on this site.

“In 1183 a battle was taking place in the holy lands. A lone man was sit on a dark room, acompannied only by a stack of roman medical books, a execuioner sword of ridicolous size still dretched in blood and three knights bleeding to death, arms and legs cutted off in clean cuts. Everything in the room was red, except the dissapointed man, whose gray skin was intact. His withe hair and golden earrinigs shined mildly with the few sun rays that penetrated the cloth over the windows

His second on command aproached him, not before kicking the door open, for the further discomfort of his master.

—I...I know, Jhon —Answered Kinto, pointing at the knights— but I feel we are going to get this one.

—We can’t run, we can’t surrender...why not enjoy while we can! —Said Kinto, quickly transforming into a beast like no other,

—You had too much blood! Exsangination should cure the disease of life from you! —Screamed Kinto laughing as his foes ran and the small town was burned to the ground.

And this is it, my last contribution to this wonderful character. Based in the feelings and ideas that evoqued on me thank to this piece of wonderful art and my love for him.

#I love the Alchemist #bl00dalchemist #I still miss Sun and Moon

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nwbeerguide · 5 years ago

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Inspired by cooperation, Brooklyn's Other Half Brewing invites breweries, worldwide, open sources a recipe.

Press Release

BROOKLYN, N.Y.- – The team at Other Half Brewing Co is proud to announce All Together, a worldwide beer collaboration created to raise funds & awareness for the industry we love so much. Regardless of location or circumstances, when one member of the hospitality industry struggles, the rest of the group (including brewers, servers, bartenders, bussers, dishwashers, GMs, buyers, chefs & owners) steps in to help and lend a hand.

With this spirit in mind, Other Half Brewing (OHB) is spearheading the All Together project, started by a collective of beer industry partners from around the globe, to raise awareness and provide relief to those struggling in the industry as we’re all in this together.

“Raising awareness about the devastating losses in the hospitality industry is the core vision of this project,” says Matt Monahan, co-founder, Other Half Brewing. “We want to keep these losses at the forefront of conversations so that anyone who wants to help can learn what is happening and find a way to contribute to the recovery.”

How does the project work? #AllTogetherBeer invites any brewer, from any corner of the planet, to participate by providing the tools needed to make the beer at the lowest possible cost, including an open-source recipe, artwork, and name. In exchange, the collective asks that a portion of the proceeds go to supporting hospitality professionals in each brewery’s own community. The rest should be donated to keeping the brewery in business to weather this storm.

Recipe: OHB created a base recipe that easily brewed with commonly sourced ingredients. Each participating brewery can modify the beer as they see fit and brew it at their own convenience.

Artwork + Label: Stout Collective created the label artwork that can be customized by brewery, and Blue Label Printing has offered to print at cost.

Website: Craftpeak Team donated their time, talent & technology for the site

Breweries can get involved by reaching out to alltogether.beer/ for more information.

Beer drinkers can support this cause by signing up for the mailing list. The beers are being brewed around the world, and the newsletter will inform beer lovers worldwide when they’re available to purchase from their local brewery.

At OHB, the proceeds of All Together will go to the Restaurant Workers Community Foundation; https://bit.ly/3bKAlVv and the beer is expected to be available starting April 2020. Social assets can be found here.

The #AllTogetherBeer project begins with the following breweries with more to be announced: Other Half Brewing, NYC; Side Project, St. Louis, MO; Monkish, Torrance, CA; Trillium, Boston, MA; Alvarado St, Monterey, CA; Arizona Wilderness, Phoenix, AZ; Outer Range, Frisco, CO; The Veil, Richmond, VA; Omnipollo, Stockholm, Sweden; Humble Sea, Santa Cruz, CA; Finback, NY; Crak, Padua, Italy; 3 Sheeps Brewing, Sheboygan, WI; Sigma Brewing, Houston, TX; Southern Grist, Nashville, TN; Burial, Asheville, NC; Mikerphone, Chicago, IL; Pilot Project, Chicago, IL; Modist, Minneapolis, MN; Homes, Detroit, MI; KCBC, Brooklyn, NY; Industrial Arts, Garnerville, NY; Fifth Hammer, Queens, NY; Hidden Springs, Tampa, FL; Green Cheek, Anaheim, CA; Bottle Logic, Anaheim, CA; Parish, Broussard, LA; Vitamin Sea, Weymouth, MA; Ska, Durango, CO; Equilibrium, Middletown, NY; Northern Monk, Leeds, UK; Garage Project, Wellington, NZ; Wylam, Newcastle, UK; Lervig, Stavanger, Norway; Juguetes Perdidos, Buenos Aires, Argentina; Carton Atlantic, Highlands, NJ; American Solera, Tulsa, OK; Civil Society, Jupiter, FL; Anchorage, Anchorage, AK; Hoof Hearted, Columbus, OH; Barrier, Oceanside, NY; Sand City, Northport, NY; Bellwoods, Toronto, ON; Whiplash, Dublin, Ireland; Boundary, Belfast, N. Ireland; Dancing Gnome, Pittsburgh, PA; Collective Arts, Hamilton, ON; and more. alltogether.beer/.

About Other Half Brewing

Founded in 2014 by Sam Richardson, Matt Monahan and Andrew Burman, Other Half Brewing is rooted in a simple mission: to push the boundaries of beer. Known for its hazy IPAs, pastry stouts, and creative sours, Other Half has built a loyal community of fans around its Brooklyn taproom, and grown to become one of the most sought after breweries in the country. Through their innovative festivals (Pastrytown & Green City), creative flavors and with locations in East Bloomfield, NY and Brooklyn, NY, Other Half seeks to be constantly moving the beer industry forward. otherhalfbrewing.com/

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/2UVEkI2

#Beer #News #Brewery

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ancientbooshartifacts · 6 years ago

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Kinder Eggs and Blowholes

Author: Thymeth

Year: 2006

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: The Hitcher/Rudi

"Get out of the pool!" "What's the sweat, squire? Has your guitar left ya for a younger pair of fingers?" "Shut up about my guitar! And get your jalapeño-green ass out of the pool!" "I'd rather be jalapeño-green than in a dress." "It is not a dress!" "What the hump is going on?" Fuck, not again. Rudi turned to find Fossil coming towards them looking very angry. "The Hitcher is in the Porpoise Pool again, Mr Fossil." "He's not fucking allowed a hundred feet near the Porpoise Pool, how the fuck did he end up in it?" "I just..." "Look, squire," the Hitcher broke in, "It's just a bit of 'armless fun, nothing the kiddies won't enjoy." "I don't fucking care if the kiddies enjoy it or not!" Fossil yelled, "Get your bony mouldy ass out of there pronto. I'll see you in my office. Now. Both of you!" And he turned and stalked off in a huff. "Come on," Rudi snapped "Oh, you want it," the Hitcher cooed to the porpoises backed into a huddle at the other end of the pool, "Oh, I know you want it, you slags." "Fucking..!" Rudi exclaimed and stopped as a family passed, "Just... testing the water... yes, testing for... for... Hey, little boy, I have a Kinder Egg for you behind my door." "Oi! No Kinder Eggs, Mozart! You're not allowed near the kiddies." The Hitcher followed that order, did he, but not the one about the porpoises? Green-faced bitch. "Fuck you," Rudi snapped at him and turned back to the family. But they had already left, in a bit of a hurry, it seemed. A few minutes later, they stood in Fossil's office, the Hitcher wet from the waist down and Rudi drenched after the Hitcher had pushed him into the Pool. "What part of 'Keep the Hitcher out of the fucking Pool' don't you understand, Rudi?" Fossil was yelling, "Any moron could do it." "That's yer problem, innit?" the Hitcher said, "He ain't even clever enough to be a moron." "Shut your bangers-and-mash-hole, ass-wipe." "And he was twiddling with his guitar again this morning," the Hitcher continued nonchalantly, "Stroking it. Looked like he was 'aving a wank to me." "I was not..." Rudi hissed, "I was changing a string!" "No guitar needs strings changed twice-a-day," the Hitcher answered, "Not even Santana's guitars. You've gone wrong in that door of yours." "Don't you talk to me about Santana's guitar-whores, pea-face, or my guitar and I will be all over you before you can say 'I've got a chimney'!" "Shut up, you dung balls!" Fossil shouted. From the looks of him, he had been shouting quite some time. But neither Rudi nor the Hitcher had noticed. "Now, I want you both to get back to work and stay away from the Porpoise Pool, children and that fucking guitar!" "It is all your fault," Rudi proclaimed as they left Fossil's office. "I ain't the one with the guitar fetish, dress-man." "It is not a dress!" Rudi shouted, for the hundredth time that morning. "You can keep saying that 'til yer face turns green like mine, but it'll still be a dress." "It is not a dress! That is not important," Rudi said, steering the conversation back to where he had begun it, "It is all your fault." "They were begging for it, the salt-water slags, you know they were." Rudi opened the door to the Keepers' Hut and they went in. "None of the animals 'beg for it', I think you will find." "And guitars do?" the Hitcher said, standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his bony hips. "That is completely different!" "You stick your cock in a guitar. You're Lord of Normal, intcha?" "I do not 'stick my cock in a guitar'." "O-ho, but I think you do. I've seen ya, squire, all hard and putrid and greased up ready to ram yer guitar to high heaven." "You... You..." Rudi stuttered before quite realising what the Hitcher had just said, "Have you been watching me?" "Of course I watch ya, d'you think I'm stupid? I wouldn't want that thing to get near me. But if it did," the Hitcher said, his voice darkening, "I'll cut you up." "I wouldn't go near you with a twenty-foot pole if I had to and that's the truth," Rudi answered, "You disgust me with your talk of these base urgings." "What are you, castrated? Just you wait and see, I'll get at those porpoises. 'Cause I'm pure liquid evil." And with that the Hitcher pushed passed him and out of the door. Rudi hurried over to the window to see if he had really gone. All this talk of porpoises and guitars had gone straight to his cock, threatening to explode any minute. Yes, the Hitcher was stalking away towards the Hoofed Mammals. Rudi drew a deep breath, steadying himself. "Miranda," he called softly, creeping over to the sofa and ducked his hand behind it, "Rudi's here to take care of you." He found his guitar and pulled her out, her varnished wooden body gleaming in the sunlight from the window, strings glittering. Oh, she was beautiful. "There, there, Miranda," he whispered as he kissed her neck, "I love you, my dear. Do you love me?" Her strings vibrated, shivered as if in ecstasy, and he pulled her closer, pressing her to him. "Oi!" "Fuck!" Rudi exclaimed and pulled away hurriedly to find the Hitcher standing in the doorway, "Just... just..." "You're not 'changing a string' again?" the Hitcher snapped, "You purple pervert." "No," Rudi answered hurriedly, "Just tuning." He strummed a chord, Miranda's strings against his fingers sending lightning bolts to his groin despite the Hitcher's scrutinising gaze boring into him. "I'm telling ya, you've gone wrong," the Hitcher said finally, "Lucky I'm 'ere, eh? To stop ya being disgusting." And he turned and slammed the door. This did not bode well. Rudi knew; he was wise. His urgings still evident, he strapped Miranda over his shoulder, her body hiding his shame and hurried after the Hitcher. He rushed towards the Porpoise Pool and, sure enough, there he was, squatting at the edge, green fingers in the water, cooing. "Step away from the Pool!" Rudi ordered, surprised at how commanding his voice sounded. Miranda leant heavily on him, encouraging him. "And if I don't?" the Hitcher asked. "If you don't do as I tell you," Rudi said, his courage growing, "Miranda and I will make you!" "I should like to see ya try," the Hitcher laughed. "Very well," Rudi said, straightening up, ready to show off for Miranda, to show her what kind of a man he was. He chose his chord carefully, touching her most favourite spots, and she yelled out in pleasure as he grazed her strings and pressed herself against him, so hard and suddenly that in one flash he came, barely registering the Hitcher flying through the air and hitting the wall with a dull thud. The music died around them and, breathing deeply, Rudi cradled Miranda in his arms and went, still shaking slightly, back to the Keepers' Hut. "Hello, little boy," Rudi said and swooped down towards a terrified-looking face, "Do you want a Kinder Egg?" He had put Miranda away now and was on his way to make sure the Hitcher was behaving himself. "Oi!" came a shout and before he had time to register what was happening, Rudi found himself half-way to the ground, something warm and heavy around him middle. He barely had time to think before he landed, his hair cushioning his head but his door flying open, the extra hand grazing its knuckles rather badly on the gravel as he rolled over and over, the warm something still clinging to him. Rudi gathered all his strength and managed to stop and found himself looking down at the Hitcher lying pinned beneath him, white hair fanned out around his head, coat dusty and askew. "What the fuck?!" Rudi exclaimed, breathless. "Stay away from the kiddies," the Hitcher snapped, breathing heavily, "No Kinder Eggs!" An anger fiercer than anything Rudi had ever experienced flared up inside him, threatening to burst him open like a volcano. How dared the Hitcher lecture him about Kinder Eggs again?! Hadn't Rudi just stopped him from getting into the Porpoise Pool? He should be fucking grateful for being saved from Fossil's rage. And all he did was slam Rudi to the ground and tell him to keep away from the kiddies? He fucking needed to be taught a lesson. And not just a simple I've-Got-Something-Behind-My-Door Test, oh no. A proper lesson. The Hitcher wheezed self-satisfied beneath him, grinning, and Rudi knew, for he was wise, that violence would get him nowhere. Not that he was a violent man anyway; he was, after all, a High Priest. No, a stronger remedy would be needed. And the most potent thing in the world, he had been taught already on his first day as a Monk, was love. And love was something the Hitcher did not understand. So Rudi bent down and kissed him. But instead of pulling away and being outraged as he should, the Hitcher answered Rudi's kiss rather more passionately than was strictly necessary. And Rudi wanted to run away and hide somewhere safe and dark with his guitar. But he had started this, he reflected, so he'd better finish it. The Hitcher needed to learn his lesson. No-one, not even green-faced Cockneys, pushed Rudi to the ground and told him to stay away from kiddies when he'd just rescued them from the Porpoise Pool! Rudi touched the Hitcher's lips with his tongue and sucked on them, noticing an uncharacteristic distant minty taste. But the Hitcher did not seem phased and his tongue pushed into Rudi's mouth, invading, possessively. Rudi gasped, unwillingly opening his mouth further, and the Hitcher wasted no time in owning him completely. "What the hell is going on here?" Rudi pulled away instantly and sat up, squinting against the sun to see a figure looming over them. Bainbridge. "Nothing!" Rudi stuttered, "Just changing a string. Fuck! No. Just... Nothing! ...Sir." " 'E's raping me, that's what's 'appening," the Hitcher said, "Using me own tactics against me. Gotta admire the boy, eh?" "I'm fucking not raping you, you perverted old cucumber," Rudi snapped back, "It was you who pushed me to the ground." "Enough!" Bainbridge boomed, "I don't care who did what, all I care about is you two getting out of my way." "Sorry, sir," Rudi said and got up, the Hitcher scrambling up after him. "Now, I'd watch my step around here if I were you," Bainbridge said darkly, "Who knows when my tongue might get the better of me and accidentally let slip what I just saw." "I'd cut you up if you did," the Hitcher answered equally darkly. "Really?" Bainbridge said and put his hands on his hips, "I'd reconsider if I were you. You see, grasshopper, I happen to know that you're an illegal immigrant." "I'm not," the Hitcher said, "I'm pure Cockney." "Pure Cockney you may be," Bainbridge answered smugly, "But you're still from another planet. Alien in the word's every sense, in fact." "I... You... You won't get away with this, you slag!" the Hitcher raved, "You've got no proof, I'll cut you up, I'm pure evil, me." "You're green, man! You've got a polo for an eye!" The Hitcher fell silent, dumb-founded just like Rudi. The Hitcher was from another planet?! Well, that did explain his green skin. And his fascination with porpoises. And his constant banging on and on about being Cockney. "As for you," Bainbridge continued, pointing a gloved finger at Rudi, "You'd better watch yourself too. You're to stay out of public view as much as possible, your stupid hair is blocking out the sun." "And if I don't?" Rudi asked, instantly cursing himself. No good ever came of standing up to Bainbridge. "I know what happened at that music shop, in the guitar section," Bainbridge said, "The newspapers might have blamed it on a rampant pigeon with diarrhoea but I know better. And that Santana concert last summer." "You fiend!" Rudi hissed. "Thank you," Bainbridge said with a small bow. "Why don't ya just fire us then, squire? We'll be out of yer face in no time." "And where do you propose I find suckers stupid enough to work 14 hours a day for less than minimum wage to replace you?" Bainbridge asked, "I think you'll stay here. Good day." And he left, his smug smile almost visible thought the back of his head. "It is all your fault," Rudi snapped. But the Hitcher did not answer, he just grabbed hold of Rudi's arm and began pulling him in the opposite direction. "What the fuck are you doing?" Rudi exclaimed, trying to free himself. But he couldn't. Who would have guessed the thin, green man was this strong? "Come on," the Hitcher cooed, almost softly, "Come with yer Uncle Hitcher, you slag." "You... Fuck!" Rudi shouted as he realised what was happening, "You are not going to have your wicked way with me, you rapist!" "Who said anything about rape?" the Hitcher whispered, backing Rudi into the Keepers' Hut, fingers digging into his arms, coming closer, "You want it, you slag. You know ya do." "I most certainly do not!" Rudi said. Then he found himself sat hard down on the sofa and the Hitcher climbing onto his lap. "O-ho, I think you do," he hissed in Rudi's ear, "Admit it, squire, I may be all green skin and bones, but I'll give ya more pleasure than that guitar of yours ever will." Rudi pulled away, alarmed. "When did you begin thinking of others more than yourself?" "Don't get yer door all excited," the Hitcher answered, his twig-like fingers roaming Rudi's chest, "I like a tight, cold blowhole around my cock as much as the next guy, but I've never been able to resist a bit of man-flesh. And certainly not one as willing as yours." And with those words, he grabbed Rudi's crotch and squeezed hard, making Rudi cry out, much like a cat that'd just been stepped on. "You're loving it, you whore," the Hitcher cooed, licking Rudi's neck, "I'll fuck ya so 'ard there'll be nothing left of ya but yer dress and yer door." "It is not a dress," Rudi answered automatically, breathlessly. "I don't fucking care," the Hitcher said and pushed Rudi down on his back and straddled him, "It looks like a dress." "It is... not..." Rudi tried, but had to give up, unable to concentrate with the Hitcher sitting heavily on him, rocking backwards and forwards, "I... Fuck." "Don't ya worry about that," the Hitcher whispered hoarsely and leant down, tugging at the neckline of Rudi's robe, kissing his collar bone, "We will, boy, we will." "Get out of the pool!" "Get yer finger out yer anus, I've got needs," the Hitcher shouted up at him, "I'm a right horny old man-witch. Nothing can satisfy me except a cold, wet blowhole. Unless..." He turned around, grinning up at Rudi. "Unless what? Say what you want to say in a plain way, don't play around in riddles." "Unless I can 'ave me burning loins satisfied by some quivering man-flesh in a dress." "It is not a dress!" Rudi exclaimed, "It never has been and it never will be!" "And I still don't care," the Hitcher answered and climbed out of the Pool, leaving a trail of water as he stepped lightly over to Rudi, "Come 'ere, you slag." "And if I don't?" "Then," the Hitcher said and pulled Rudi closer by his necklaces, "I'll tell Fossil about you and yer guitar in the Ape Salon this morning." "I have not been near the Ape Salon," Rudi protested as the Hitcher grabbed his arse. But he could not help moaning ever so slightly when the Hitcher's thigh pressed between his legs. "Fossil don't know that, does 'e?" the Hitcher said, grinning up at him, "But I'd tell him anyway. 'Cause I'm pure evil."

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #the hitcher #rudi van disarzio #the hitcher/rudi

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