#2nd wind

[fisheito]

He's a magician

[attineilde]

its always like oh I should start moving on from aftg and reading smth else BUT NOOOO it's always got to be Neil Josten let his cigarette burn to the filter without taking a drag. He didn't want the nicotine; he wanted the acrid smoke that reminded him of his mother. If he inhaled slowly enough-

[yael-things]

2000s aus + misc bruno abba and gio :3

[symmetrycrypt]

a bunch of Link doodles

[herrscherofmagic]

Wendy Edit!

Since Mihoyo hasn't given us a Wendy battlesuit yet, I went ahead and did it for them /hj

anyways

This took something like 8 and a half hours T_T but it was honestly some of the most fun I've had with an art project (more of an edit tho) in a pretty long time!

I've got a lot of thoughts to share regarding Wendy but that's a story for another time, for now I'm just posting the edits and I'll share those thoughts another time >.<

[brookbee]

David Bowie — "Wild is the Wind"

[kil0-0]

i present linked universe lethal company part 2 but this time it wasnt drawn at 2am

[cameoutstruggling93]

Thriving back at my home ❤️

[strawberrykogal]

My coffe that uh... Kind of looked like Ghiaccio

[piplupod]

got a little lost in the sauce 😔

[wordswhisperinthedark]

I kinda want a scene similar to the one in Run With the Wind (the one where Kakeru almost punches his former teammate but Chikusei-so squad step in) in WIND BREAKER.

Like, maybe someone from Sakura's past goes to Makochi and insults the fam while they're out on patrol and Sakura almost loses it but gets stopped and protected by the Furin squad? Like in a 'Sakura is not alone and never will be alone again' kind of way.

OR

Someone steps in to defend Sakura (I kinda want it to be Nirei — like the others are about to go but it's Nirei who makes the first move because 'You don't know how far Sakura-san has come how dare you come back to hurt him') but Sakura is the one to stop him, and is like "Your strength isn't worth wasting on someone that doesn't even matter."

In any case, I just want someone from Sakura's past to show up at least once, so we can see how Sakura would approach them now that he has people who love and support him🙏

[corvarrow]

The Beacon: Wind Towers - Part 1 (Probably)

Wind tower designs for Fatewinder's Beacon (which we will refer to as The Beacon) - these towers are SUPER important to this location so I've been trying to decide how to decorate them for a while now. Finally the other day I just decided to lean so hard into the sword theming I was like...YEAH. The towers are also swords now. Cheese. It's because the city is literally part of Fatewinder's (Aki's) body and he decided to make them all be swords, and now everyone has to deal with his decorating decision. I love it.

Anyway, because the scale of the Beacon is enormous and only like 10% is above ground, these wind towers have been magically enhanced to generate wind currents, move a lot of air in and out, and resist being weathered. They extend way into the ground and have a lot of different points for air processing, recycling, climate control, etc. They are absolutely still sword shaped going through the ground. Above ground they are just painted, as the Beacon is in the middle of a desert and they try to avoid a lot of reflective surfaces, but below ground they do have light metal plating.

I want to make a couple more illustrations at some point (so this will be repeated), but these towers end up being kind of a nightmare in present day. They have gone without any kind of maintenance for multiple millennia so their wind enhancement still works, but to the effect of: they now cause nearly constant sandstorms (and lightning) in the region and are the reason why the city is completely buried except for a few monuments. Of those monuments, if they don't have the weather resistance magic then they have most likely been sandblasted.

[arabellaseraphim]

Time to forget about Pokemon Presents for the rest of today (until 9 pm in my place) so it can come faster

[yael-things]

fugos and giornos and One Jolyne !!

[gloriousmonsters]

Mememememe I want to see

please enjoy a selection from you're on a path in the desert, chapter 2: 'The Ancient', brought about by wondering what ganondorf's motivation is and being honest and brash enough he kind of likes you and is like 'sorry, kid' while murdering you to attempt a breakout in the first chapter. narrated by Zelda, starring Link and Ganondorf.

--------

You're on a path in the desert. Or... it's more of a beach, isn't it? You can hear the sea. Small crabs scuttle and hide among rocks smoothed by eons of lapping waves; the pristine sands glitter, here and there, with old coins and jewels set in tarnished metal. Pirate treasures, as if a ship was wrecked here long ago. A lonely blue sky arches high above, unmarred by a single cloud. A path of scattered white rocks, like sun-bleached bones, lead toward the edge of the water. At the end of this path, a man with evil eyes is imprisoned. A king. You, hero, must slay him; or it will be the end of the world.

Voice of the Curious: He didn't seem that bad!

- Yeah, he wasn't as bad as she hyped him up to be.

- Bad? He was very bad! I'm completely on board with the 'slaying' thing now.

- Hang on, how are we here? Didn't we die?

> I see what you mean, but he did very much kill us. That was a thing that happened.

Voice of the Curious: I guess, but he was so... sad. He just wanted to escape. He seemed like he'd been there for a really long time.

> He did.

Excuse me, who's this? And what are you saying about dying? Please don't tell me—

Voice of the Curious : We died and we came back to life!

- More or less.

- I died and it was terrifying and now I'm me and also this other part of me and they're both me and I don't know how that works or what's going on and I'm going to start crying probably

> This isn't the first time we've been here. Your 'man with the evil eyes' was the one that killed me, not the other way around.

He's not mine, and... It wouldn't be the same, the other way around. You need to slay him, not kill him.

- I get it. I'm a human, and he's a monster.

> Semantics.

Very important ones. Listen to me, hero. I hoped that this wouldn't happen, and I didn't want to scare you with the possibility. But please believe me—we're walking a fine line, now. All is not lost, but every failure widens his chance at escape.

Voice of the Curious: Really?

I do not like how you said that. This... voice, whatever it is, it seems very young. Don't let naivety influence you, hero. One failure means he's already found a chink in your armor—it is even more imperative you keep your guard up. Whatever he said, whatever he did, put it out of your mind. Focus on this. He is evil, and he will destroy everything if he escapes. You are the hero, the only one with the power to stop him. I—everything depends on you.

Voice of the Curious : That's a lot of pressure...

- I love pressure.

- I hate pressure.

 > Are you really sure I can do this?

Yes. You’re the only one that can. 

Voice of the Curious: Wow, she sounds... so serious. I don't know if I trust her, but I think she likes you.

Ha. That's... You matter a great deal to me. By definition, of course. You’re the hero, you matter to everyone. But we don't have time to sit here and talk about our feelings, whatever they might be. Your quest is the same, hero. It's time to go forward.

> (proceed to the prison)

N: At the edge of the water, the path of rocks continue—for a little while. Soon they're fewer and farther between, and in their place are footholds of debris, half-rotted hulls of wood, old chests rammed up on some invisible sandbank below the water. There have been many wrecks here, and as you pick your way forward, you see the largest of them up ahead. Splintered and broken, its massive hull impaled on the tall and jagged rocks that rise from the hidden seabed, like towers of some sunken castle. The rest of it is remarkably intact, but it looks ancient. Weathered, by years that have sapped color from cloth and wood and leached memory from material. Every detail blurred. The figurehead is faceless, nearly formless, like the... like the image of a loved one long forgotten.

> Are you all right?

Your path ends—or rather, takes a new form—at the side of the wreck. An old rope ladder leads up the barnacle-encrusted side. The old wood creaks as you ascend, but even that sound is... muted. This ship isn't just wrecked, it's becalmed. The muting of that sound makes you acutely aware of the absence of others. No birds cry in the sky; no fish splash in the water. The land behind you is already lost in a hazy fog. This is a lonely place.

Voice of the Curious: She's making it sound so depressing. It's sad, but it's also sort of cool, right? It's like an old pirate ship! It doesn't feel like a prison, it feels like... like a hideout!

Please be quiet. It's a prison. It might look... odd, but it's a prison.

Voice of the Curious : Do you think there's treasure?

...No.

Voice of the Curious: ...You want there to be treasure too, right?

I'm not interested. We have a very important job to do. To your left, across the weathered deck, a door leads to the fo'c'sle. It's not locked, but it's encrusted with barnacles, warped in its frame. Beside it, a sword is embedded in the wall, as if left there after a battle long ago. It gleams with its own light—

Voice of the Curious: It's not glowing, though. It's just a sword.

It's not—but... Ah. Yes. Well, it doesn't need to glow, does it? It's the hero's sword. It's made to kill evildoers and monsters. It's meant for your hand, and your hand alone. Take up the sword, hero. You'll need it if you want to save us all.

- But it's not glowing. Didn't you say it was important it glowed?

- What if I don't want to save everyone?

> take up the sword

- don't take up the sword

Sword in hand, you force open the door, rusted hinges screeching as you shove your whole body's weight against it. Before you is a sheer drop, lightless, only the first few feet visible in the foggy sunlight that filters past your shoulders. A rope ladder hangs over the ledge at your feet, vanishing into shadow. The air is musty, damp, and smells of moldering spice and rotting silk, wood permeated with gunsmoke and worried by the icy teeth of the ocean over the course of centuries. If this is the prison the king's been confined in, killing him will be a mercy.

His voice echoes up from the darkness, tired but commanding.

The King: I knew you'd return. Come here, boy. Let us speak face to face.

Voice of the Curious: He remembers us! And he sounds... older. I mean, he was already older than us. But he sounds much older now. 

Of course he's old, he's been in prison for a long time. Don't dwell on it or wonder about it, the more time and thought you give him the more dangerous he is. Just get down there and accomplish your quest.

> proceed down the 'stairs'

After what feels like half an hour of nerve-wracking descent, feeling for foot and hand-holds in the darkness, light begins to bloom below you. When you come to the bottom, a few minutes later, you find yourself facing another door—this one richly carved wood, remarkably well-preserved considering the state of the ship. It's hard to make out much in the light filtering through the cracks around it, but you can see intricate, geometric patterns, and the snarling face of a boarlike beast carved huge in the very center.

Voice of the Curious: What—

You waste no time fooling around and asking questions, and open the door. Striding within, you find yourself confronted with a surprisingly lavish room, dimly lit by old oil-lamps. Rich rugs cover the floor; a huge bed stands in the back of the room, partly hidden by curtains, and a huge desk carved with intricate details dominates another side of the room. Tapestries, paintings and maps nearly cover the walls, save for a section that seems dedicated to a number of weapons—at a glance you see twin swords and a trident. Everything feels a little... oversized, as if you're a child venturing into the room of an adult. When you look closer, you can see signs of wear and age—cracking paint, books with pages puffed by soaking and drying out, scratches in the fine wood and dust on the tapestries—but the overall effect is still opulent, overwhelming. This feels right for a prison meant to confine a king; it would be suitable for an emperor, confined to his office by the new regime, allowed to keep a pretense of dignity.

But across the room from you, there's a strangely bare section of the wall, interrupted by only two things: A porthole filled more by spiderwebbing cracks than glass, showing only blank darkness, and the King, who stands tall and studies you thoughtfully with pale gold eyes.

The King: You approach me, yet again, with your blade in hand. Interesting.

He's a big man, broad and heavy, a physique that might impress as brutish or sedentary if not for the way he holds himself. Straight-backed, imperious, with a hint of a fighter's grace in the way his stance shifts as his eyes track the step you take forward. There's no gray in his hair, or deep wrinkles on his face, but something about him gives an impression of great age and greater weariness. His face is craggy, but his eyes are delicately lined with black; he wears a topaz on his brow, and fine robes that inspire ideas of entrenched and confident authority. As he seems to reach an internal resolution in his appraisal of you, his teeth bare in what is hard to determine as a mocking smile or a grimace of pain.

The King: I suppose that if you try to kill me this time, it will only be fair. But I'd rather we talk.

Voice of the Curious: Ooh, talk! Yes! I want to know what's going on! Just, um, maybe we should stay at a distance.

Remember what you're here for. Don't listen to him, or him. Please, hero. Kill him now.

- slay the king

- kill him?

- You killed me last time, I'd like an apology before we do anything else.

> All right. Let's talk.

[dailycharacteroption]

Folklorist (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by Victor Rossi on Artstation)

 There is something integral to the human experience in storytelling. The art of creating stories to entertain, teach, and bond over is something we’ve been doing ever since we developed sapience, and we’ll continue telling stories until we finally come to an end.

That love of storytelling is why we play RPGs, and games in general. After all, a ttRPG is by nature a collaborative storytelling experience.

It only makes sense then that there would be an archetype tied to that sacred role. And while this archetype shares bones with the bard class conceptually, both can exist on their own and together as well.

While such storytellers could easily show up anywhere, this archetype is heavily associated with the Mwangi Expanse, where the art of oral storytelling is a respected profession. Indeed, such is their gift for storytelling that they can use tales to help guide the actions of others, firmly believing that just as the real world shapes stories, so too do stories shape reality.

 As part of the dedication for this archetype, these tale-weavers can spin a tale that is either about an ally or is relevant to their predicament, surrounding them with minor inspiring illusions that bolster their ability to fight a single enemy.

Before libraries or schools, stories were also the primary way to educate others, though oral tradition runs the risk of misinformation as tales or forgotten or unique circumstances that inspired a tale render it’s lesson inapplicable. As such, these storytellers learn a lot about various stories which can help them recall knowledge on almost any topic, but runs the risk of dubious information.

Just as a storyteller conveys a tale, skilled ones can convey magic, letting allied spellcasters channel their magic through them, which can be useful when cover or range is involved.

Many storytellers agree that three is an auspicious number, and the hero of a story often achieves their goal on the third attempt. As such, when inspiring an ally, that ally becomes more resistant and avoidant of their foe’s attacks on the second, and especially on the third attempt to resist the same effect.

More powerful storytellers can spin stories about whole groups of heroes, blessing many allies at once with a story rather than just one.

Interested in an archetype that adds a bit of bard flavor and knowledge to your character? This might be what you’re looking for. Naturally this works best with a character that supports allies either as their main gimmick or as a side thing to do with an action each turn. Heck, you could even double down and apply the archetype to the bard class for even more poetic and oratory support. However, any character with decent storytelling chops (especially high charisma, though that’s more for flavor than mechanical benefits) could benefit from the archetype. All in all, this is a good archetype with some tasty flavor.

 The cool thing about oral traditions and folk tales is that stuff is constantly evolving, being remixed, and changing along with the people that tell those stories. As such, going into this archetype is carte blanch to absolutely go ham on making up all kinds of stories not just for use with the mechanics, but just general roleplaying opportunities as your storyteller cites or retells a story as part of character interaction.

  Though not well-known outside of his own kind, the kitsune hermit Kogafune is well-known as a lorekeeper and teacher, one with secret knowledge forgotten by most. Reaching him for information is difficult, forcing travel through trackless mountain wilderness. But reaching the old sorcerer can only benefit those with the dedication to find him.

 As symbols of hope and goodwill, coatls, particularly the quetz coatls, often become secret patrons of storytellers to help them create stories of hope and bravery among mortals, the better to keep such feelings alight in the heart of mortals.

 The thing about stories is their message can change a lot depending on who is telling the story. To the Gula human tribes, the story of Ekesor is about a man who heroically tricked an orc chieftain into ceding territory and giving away his daughter in marriage. Meanwhile, orcs tell of how the human showed cowardice in underhanded tricks and betraying hospitality.