#A murder : corvid companions

[diejager]

More crow! Reader please for 141. I just love the idea of an eldritch being choosing and staying deliberately with a pack of monsters below their caliber for the sake of fondness

Crow Pt. 2

Pairing: Monster COD x Eldritch horror!reader

Cw: cannibalism, human meat, weird Eldritch horror thing, hive mind, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 3.7k Note: I wrote this over a few months, and I haven’t proofread it so a few parts might not connect.

With the knowledge they now held in their hands, they didn’t know how to react. You were, for all they knew, an ancient being, primordial even, and you were dangerous, much more than the unpredictability of König’s ire or the wildness of Ghost’s darkness. They didn’t know how to deal with the weight on their shoulder when your eyes landed on them, or how to react when they heard you speak to them with that low and raspy voice that you so rarely used. 

After that day in Russia, the saw you more often, rather than finding you at night around your murder of crows, in the darkness of your room or standing beside Price, they would find you in their rec room, sitting beside the open window while petting the body of a bird; you’d meet them in the gym, watching them train and sometimes join them; or you would occasionally sit beside them. You opened up to them, letting the men see what laid under your mask. Price encouraged them to reach out, to ask you questions and to quell their curiosity by speaking to you.

Soap and Gaz were the first to jump to the occasion, their wide eyes gleaming with innocent curiosity threatening to spill over the edge. In the privacy of their personal space, they swarmed you with enthusiasm, Gaz standing to your left and Soap to your right. Ghost was fortunate to be in the room that day, drinking tea from the table while Alejandro and Rudy shared the couch. König and Horangi were deployed off to some remote village to help another company detain their target, and Price was slaving off in his office signing off paperwork. 

While the two threw question after question at you, Soap being oblivious of his wagging tail and Gaz literally glowing with how much you spoke, the three men listened in, as interested in you as the two were. They learned a lot, their minds filled with everything they were given, clinging onto the sound of your voice, that soft rasp from under your mask.

When Soap, the ever-hungry pup he was, asked what you ate, a question that clouded everyone’s mind. They never saw you eat nor had they seen you at the mess hall. Your answer was soft and blunt, empty of fear and hesitance.

“Meat, human.”

You weren’t so different from Ghost and König after all, consuming humans as your means of subsistence. Yet none of them had ever caught a whiff of human blood or meat from your scent, only the strange and sterile musk from your body. Perhaps that explained why you sometimes went dark during deployments, Price only sent you out alone, believing you invulnerable (you somewhat were, old and powerful), you closed off all and any signal to gorge on human flesh. 

What did your mouth look like? Could your mouth open up like those alien-like creatures, where your lower jaw was separated in the middle, breaking open into a terrifying maw filled with rows of teeth? Or were you more human looking, with a small mouth like theirs and sharp teeth like the shifters of their TF? It was a nagging thought that one would have to ask one day, or see if they were fortunate enough to catch you eating. 

Gaz was mostly interested about the birds that swarmed you, the hundreds of corvid that followed you whether it knew you or not, from country to country you always had a feathery companion by your side. Mostly crows and ravens, the black feathers glistening under the light and squawking at him, a hybrid of the same genus as it. 

“I can feel and see through their eyes.”

It was similar to a hive mind, a connection between you and every bird from the same family as crows. You closed your eyes and had the magpie in your hand fly around, its eye moving from one hybrid to the other with an intelligent gleam, a dark and monstrous haze that came from you. You were looking at them from the magpie’s dark orbs. It landed on Gazwho - with a joyful grin - brushed its luscious feathers. You could reach out to corvidae birds, seeking help from them through their sight and ears, using their senses to navigate the world. 

“I can see, hear and feel every bird,” you drawled, hand reaching out of the window for a landing rook. “I feel them as much as they feel me.”

“An extension of ye, aye?”

“An extension of my being.”

Alejandro and Rudy would sometimes chime in, throwing a question from their seat, mostly about your hobbies and preferences. What did you do when you were free? You just sat outside, admiring the weather with a few cooing birds being fed from the seeds in your hands, little round pebbles that you offered from your palm. You also liked reading, dabbing into human and hybrid literature in an attempt to familiarise yourself with their culture and behaviours or watching people conduct themselves through the eyes of your little companions. 

That’s how you came to join the army, the odd behaviour and unusual attitude of most soldiers were excused by their harrowing experience and near-death meetings. You could blend in easier while keeping a slight uncanniness to your being, not necessarily perfect or impossibly broken. You were knowledgeable of military tactics and human suspicion, you were - essentially - a being of madness and chaos, you could sense the swirling tornadoes of malicious suspicion and the violent storms that promised a chaotic end. 

“What did you do then?” This was Ghost’s first question, his slow, yet intrigued tone rising in tone as was his want to know you won over his contained curiosity. 

Faking your deaths every time and laying low for the next decade or so had assured your safety from human cults and pagenistic beliefs who wanted to believe in something greater and deranged. Under different names - none were your true name - you enrolled in the British military and other countries, rotating between the Navy, the Army and the Air Force. Your last enrolment was the British Air Force, under another alias for the past decade until the UN made it mandatory to accept any demands from hybrids and monsters to join their ranks.

When Soap asked how you met Price, you grew pensive, blinking at the question he shot. Then you stared at him, telling him that you couldn’t tell him that story without Price’s consent. You only mentioned him working under you before without divulging to the five men any more information. They’d have to bring it up with the dragon if they wanted to know anything. Gaz and Soap groaned, pouting and whining at the limit you put down on the amount of information they could get from you. 

Then they wanted to know if you dreamed, if Eldritch creatures dreamed in their slumber. If you did, would your dreams be stalked by madness? That dark and dangerous madness that loomed over any person. A creation of human and hybrid minds when they couldn’t understand anything, when reality was outside of their reach. Or, if you did, would they be filled with memories? As often as people re-lived their memories in their sleep, replaying the what ifs that the mind concocted during stressful moments in their lives.

You shook your head, you could neither dream, nor need sleep. Although it wasn’t a need like mortal beings, you enjoyed sleeping from time to time, on days where the night seemed to stretch so far into time that it seemed unending from your seat on the roof. When you slept, you confessed to them that you couldn’t see, feel or ear, it was an endless plane of darkness who reached into the farthest point of your long life, the watery floor reflected back your human - or sometimes monstrous - appearance and the place would be eerily silent except for the echoing drip from an unknown source; perhaps the ticking seconds of your eternity. 

They’d all seen the good and bad in humanity, the horrors that greed and corruption could lead to, but they had less than half a century of experience while you had a millennia of living. Rather than seeing the disgust of their current time, you’d seen the world rise as fast as it crumbled, burned to ash by greed, corruption and selfishness. How could you even stand living around humans? How could you stay so patient towards humans? How could you work and dedicate your last century to them?

“It was easier,” you hummed, staring off at the setting sun, the warm caress of the sun smoothing the darkness in your eyes. “Time changed, it made humans less susceptible to hysteria and superstition. Eating, hunting and catching became harder, scientific advancement made them less… naive, so I adapted. Inherently, I am a creation of humanity’s fear of death and madness. I cannot die without the other disappearing.”

Soap managed to coax you into joining them, sitting between him and Horangi while Ghost and König sparred, their strength and prowess usually better suited to fight something of similar capabilities. Ghost was deadly if he let himself go too far, his vitriol taking away his ability to see and think clearly, making his powers lash out. It could eat and corrode, break things down to the bones without consuming anything, it felt like a curse at times and a blessing at others. It was a reason why he kept himself covered, from letting a piece of himself wander too far, to let himself grow too comfortable that he might suddenly crack and hurt the people he cared for. 

Ghost guessed it was the same for König, married to his sniper veil - or a big t-shirt at times - and his form-covering clothes, it stopped him from doing something irreparable. He had anxiety, a product of his life-long social reclusivenessfrom bullying. Maybe he would’ve turned worse if his mother hadn’t been so supportive of him, a caring and loving figure in his life when his father was never in the picture. König was a lumbering beast in humans clothes, but an impulsive and instinctual monster when shifted, following his needs and instincts. 

Rare monsters on their own, they spared together only, afraid of accidentally hurting one of theirs. You’d seen them fight, the bloodlust-leading adrenaline that coursed through their bodies while they terre through the field, not only these two but the whole Task Force, beasts within beasts. The power, the accuracy, the teamwork and the trust between them was mesmerising, even to you, a creature who lived to seam discord into the world; it was breathtaking. 

You watched them exchange blows, König pouncing on Ghost, pressing his whole weight on the block the wraith had built up against him. König was tall and broad, but Ghost was broader, his body in a shape of undying and unchanging physique, at its peak with human strength. He could withstand the force of König’s hits, blocking them with his forearms and palms, and returning them with a hit when he broke the Austrian’s stand. 

Horangi was counting their matches, voicing the scores when one of them tapped three times, forfeiting the match. Soap piped up left, right and centre, a flurry of words in Scottish that others would usually ignore or not understand, but with you, he liked going off in Scott. Thank the lucky star you understood him, he practically beamed the day he swore at the sky with jargons that everyone but you asked for a translation. 

It was comfortable, Soap spoke enough for the three of you, Horangi was purring softly beside you and you were simply taking everything in, finding comfort between two of your teammates. You nod and shake your head at most questions, words slipping through your lips on rare occasions where Soap asked something that simple motions couldn’t answer. You liked listening to them talk, it filled the silence you were used to with joyful laughter. You were content with simply listening without talking, yet Soap was an enthusiastic wolf, eyes narrowing with a sly gleam.

“Ye spar, Crow?”

You shook your head, gazing at him from the corner of your eyes, blinking owlishly. You had your reservations as well, more so for the safety of others than yours. Granted, you had a milenia to learn and draw a limit for yourself, to restrain your powers to a tenth of your strength to protect those you grew to care about.

“Aw, why naw?”

“Too dangerous, Soap.”

That caught Horangi’s attention, his eyes and ears straying from the spar to listen to your conversation, not that it bothered you. 

“Can’t be that bad, can it?”

At this point, König and Ghost were brought out of their haze, shoulders raising and skin coated in a sheen of sweat, they breathed heavily as they strained an ear to Soap’s encouragement. Limbs untangling from one another, they leaned on the flexible cords of the ring, amused eyes staring at you three. 

“It can be.”

“Why not give it a shot, yeah?” Ghost piped up, head tilted with his nose pointing up, an amusingly smug grin stretching his scarred lips.

“If not Soap, Ghost or I could fight you, nh?” König continued, who - unlike Ghost - had his head down, blinking lazily at you with squinted eyes, a smile hidden under the shirt he used as a veil.

You were hesitant, staring at them while you mulled over your choices: to either fold and appease their curiosity or to hold strong and reject the offer. But where was the fun in that? They looked giddy and excited, like pups finding out that they were getting treats. Soap was riddled with enthusiasm, leg jumping as fast as his wagging tail, the repetitive soft thuds from his tail hitting against the bench showed how much he expected you to say yes, how much he wanted to see you fight one of theirs. 

You truly wanted to decline, to tell them that you wouldn’t want to accidentally hurt them, knowing that your restraint was practised with ease, but they didn’t know that. You truly did, but with Horangi’s swaying and thrilled tail, König’swide and happy eyes, and Ghost’s soft rumble, groundingly affirmative, adding to Soap’s eagerness, you found it difficult to brush off by their wishes. 

Soap burst with joy when you nodded, pushing himself and Horangi closer to the ring. You jumped over the big cables and into the ring as Ghost moved out, it seemed that the two decided the order even before you agreed. You shrugged off your jacket, you tight shirt riding up your stomach, the soft fabric the same shade as your dark blue jacket. Hanging it on a pole, you turned to face a thrilled König, his body vibrating as he peered down at you. 

It was almost ridiculous how different you were to him. You were neither board nor tall as König and Ghost, you weren’t insanely big and buff like any of them either. You were normal, an average person surrounded with big hybrids. You wouldn’t fault anyone for believing that you were the weakest out of the bunch, seemingly too small and human like to be the strongest, but they knew, most monsters and hybrids had this instinctual fear - ingrained into them for as long as they existed - for monsters that looked too human. 

Horangi was once again nominated as the referee, he repeated the rules, anything went as long as the opposite party’s aware of the three taps for yielding. Hybrids were tougher and more resilient than human bodies, so most restrictions put in place for humans were lifted in hybrid spars, especially in this Task Force. 

At the end of the count, König charged you, his big body pouncing on your smaller and nimbler one. You moved and bowed when he lunged, feet dancing around his loud stomps. He growled, jabbing at you with his right hand and lunging with a left hook when you blocked his hit with your forearm. It was a back and forth motion, he took the offensive position while you stayed on the defensive, taking hits leg and right. After a right hook, you expected a jab, but Königbowed down and kicked out his leg, aiming at sweeping you off your feet. It was a great change in tactic, surprising you with his quick movement. 

You kicked up, hands firmly placed on his shoulder as you flipped over him. Soap whooped at your acrobatic move, moving and jumping around like a dancer - a gymnastic chorus - while König rushed frenziedly, strong hits and wide kicks, his body giving him a wider range than your shorter one. König growled, twisting in a crouch to tackle you down, his body was a weapon by itself. You landed with a grunt, wrapping your legs around him, one under his arm and the other around his neck. His hand latched to the arm you used to guard your throat while wrestling with his other one. 

He cackled in your guard, voice rumbling out his chest as you choked him, lean legs hooking by the ankle to hold his chest down. His legs kicked, kneeling down uncomfortably, choking down a loud snarl. König tried breaking your hold, but you held strongly, using your monstrous strength to keep him down. He tapped your thigh, three soft taps that made you loosen your lock. König rose first, panting loudly with a satisfied purr as he sat, arched forward. Standing before him, you waved your hand to him, giving him help to stand on his feet. 

Ghost had already joined you when you pulled König up, patting the giant’s back as he chuckled lowly, eyes squinted in amazement. 

“Yer awright, König?” Soap asked, still standing beside a clapping Horangi, both tails moving excitedly. 

“Yes, I’m all right.”

Unlike König, you were as winded or tired as he was, your metabolism working slowly and efficiently to survive for so long. It was a good show of power for König, to see what fought on his side rather than against him, but he doubted that you were the only Eldritch being working in the forefront, killing, consuming and hide in plain sight of other human and hybrids. 

“That was Brazilian Jiu-jitsus, wasn’t it,” it was more of an affirmation than a question, Horangi knew well the technique you used against König. 

He’d mentioned it in passing within the few drunken nights where you joined them at the bar, spewing his history of gambling on boxer in the ring, betting who would win for a few pennies to fill his pockets. You rarely used your hive mind on them i their leisure time, respecting their need for privacy and secrecy when you were away —they’d won your trust after a few Ops and proud and boisterous praises from Price. You shook away any lingering thoughts as you watched Ghost slip under the highest cord, entering the ring with tight fists and a mean stare, determined to get you once before he forfeited. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad that Soap forced you to watch with both him and Horangi, you - despite your tendency for your quiet corner and solace in darkness - enjoyed this team activity. 

You were regretting letting Gaz and Rudy pull you to the Mess Hall, insisting that you’d be left alone in their corner of the cafeteria. People rarely engaged them when they all sat together, whispers of them being too menacing, too dangerous, or too scary for human minds. You weren’t fond of cold and stored meat, the cold destroying any semblance of freshness that recently killed meat brought. It tasted stagnant, blank of any fulfilling aspect your kills had : from the lack of warm blood still leaking from every veins and arteries, to the suppleness of the flesh, it’s soft and flexible texture cutting easily under your teeth. 

You nearly gagged at the first whiff of it, locked under expectant eyes of both your teammates and curious eyes of others who’ve never seen you step a foot in the room. Your first bite was horrendous, your mouth washed with the revolting flavour of cold and stale meat. It was levels under your usual meal —not that you needed to eat, you’d recently eaten a few days ago on a shorter run in Argentina, but where was the harm in tasting military-provided meat when König and Ghost ate it without a second thought. Or so you thought, they’d simply gone numb, not having the luxury to be picky with the taste of their meal. Unlike you, they hadn’t spent centuries hunting for themselves, born into a restrictive world when monsters and creatures ran wild but hidden. 

But you still hunted, it was a ritual that even the world’s government couldn’t stop you, no one would fight one of the personalisation of chaos and madness, many having decided to abide by your word simply out of fear while very few respected your history and culture. 

“How is it?” Alejandro finally join your table, sweat still glistening from his brows as he cut into his steak with gentle and skillful slices.

“Stale,” you blinked, tongue lolling out of your mouth to lick the red stains on your face, long and serpentine, another aspect of your more reptilian body.

They snickered, knowing full well how repulsive it was, sharing their little quips and jabs about the quality of food everyone on base got. A few lines about the chefs being lazy, others of them being awful and some about them being talentless, followed by shared laughter around you, shaking shoulders and bright smiles before the table exploded in chatter, guilefully ignoring the world outside the safety of their bubble. 

Maybe… just maybe sitting - you’d never lay a single finger on these provided meals - with them when they ate would lighten up your world slightly, bring some flavourful warmth if it made them happy that you joined them. You refrained from saying anything, simply nodding at them and giving a small smile that seemed to brighten up their faces, restraining your interaction to a few gesture to stop yourself from feeling overwhelmed with the suddenness of emotions. Th last one who’d stirred your hearts so vividly was years ago, watching over a still learning John Price.

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[felassan]

Item and ability/skill etc descriptions from the DA:TV Progression Deep Dive video. Sometimes these contain bits of lore, like in weapon/armor descriptions.

In some cases the description cut off as you would have to scroll down to read the rest. This post does not include items whose description we couldn't see.

SKILLS AND STUFF

Rogue core kit (Rook)

"Rogues are cunning and adaptive. They fight with two swords and a bow while exploiting enemy weaknesses."

Duelist – Specialization – Antivan Crows

"Swift as the wind, the Antivan Crow Duelist specializes in dancing between blades and punishing enemies with devastating melee blows."

Spellblade - Specialization - Antivan Crows

"Weaving magic and melee together, the Crow Spellblade wields both dagger and orb to serve death to their foes."

Antivan Crow (an area on Rook's skill tree or something)

"Focused on melee attacks and parry. Maintaining momentum and finishing enemies are key strengths."

Riposte - Trait (Rook)

"After a successful Defend, you can now launch a powerful counterattack."

Toxic Dash - Ability (Rook)

"Dash toward your target to land a deadly blow."

Concussive Barrage - Ability (Rook)

"Remind your enemies that a rogue’s pockets are often filled with danger… and explosives. Fire a barrage of concussive bombs that deal increased Stagger. The duration of any Staggered condition from this […]"

Explosive Daggers - Ability (Rook)

"Unleash a barrage of sticky, explosive daggers."

Hurricane of Blades - Ability[?] (Rook[?])

"Hit up to 4 times. The final strike deals more damage."

Debilitate - Ability (Lucanis)

"Lucanis opens up his enemies with a debilitating strike."

Eviscerate - Ability (Lucanis)

"Lucanis deals a decisive blow, targeting an enemy’s weakest point. At half health or less, this deals bonus […]"

Adrenaline Rush - Ability (Lucanis)

"Lucanis gives you a rousing shout, motivating you to act with renewed determination."

Abominate - Ability (Lucanis)

"Lucanis sweeps the area with demonic strength."

Battle Cry - Ability (Davrin)

"Davrin lets out a formidable shout, drawing the attention of enemies attacking the party. Taunts enemies in the area, forcing them to attack Davrin for a short time. Does not affect some of the strongest […]"

Assan Strike - Ability (Davrin)

"Calls in Assan to attack from the skies above. Deals bonus Armor damage and Knocks Down enemies."

Blizzard - Ability (Neve)

"Neve summons a swirling vortex of ice to thrash and hamper her enemies. Deals damage each second to all enemies in the area of effect."

Icebreaker - Ability (Neve)

"Neve conjures shards of ice to launch at her enemies. Fires 6 projectiles at targets that explode after a short delay."

Chrono Control - Ability Upgrade (Neve)

"Time Slow Companions can use Abilities during Time Slow, and active cooldowns are reduced by 25%."

Murder of Crows - Ultimate Ability (Rook)

"Use your advanced agility to cut down enemies foolish enough to challenge an Antivan Crow. Your enemies will think you have wings as you leap rapidly between nearby targets, dealing damage with each […]"

ITEMS AND STUFF

Enchanted Longblade (Rook) - Mourn Watch - Uncommon Saber

"Imbued with necrotic energy through carefully managed rituals in the Grand Necropolis, this blade is deadly in the right (or wrong) hands."

Cryptwood Bow (Rook) - Mourn Watch - Rare Shortbow

"This bow is crafted from the ancient death-touched trees that grow deep in the crypts of the Grand Necropolis."

Antivan Rapier (Rook) - Antivan Crows - Common Longsword

((We couldn't see the description but I'm including it just because I think it's cool that we can wield an Antivan rapier in this game))

Duelist’s Blade (Rook) - Mourn Watch - Uncommon Rapier

"This razor-sharp blade, plucked from an ancient hoard, is surrounded by a deeply menacing aura."

Corvid Cloak (Lucanis) – Antivan Crows – Legendary medium armor

"A rich purple cape rests off one shoulder over thick black leather laid like feathers, perfect for leading a murder of Crows with presence."

Rialto (Lucanis) - Antivan Crows - Rare Rapier

"Named for the “still” waters of Rialto Bay, few weapons are deadlier than this light […]"

Mayhem in Gold (Harding) - Epic Shortbow

"Mayhem, but more of it. But shiny. If an enemy spots this bow in Harding’s hands, it’s already too late."

The Means of Antiva - Memento

"A symbol of the last nation that dared disarm Antiva. “Tap the empty crystal when on your first contract. Your blade needs no venom, save that which you give it.”"

Maferath's Embrace - Memento

"The last known vial of the poison that ended a Templar Order. Harmless due to age but an important example of Crow origins and means. Smells of elderberry."

[source, two]

[fanby-fckry]

assumption: you like corvids!

anonymously make an assumption about me and i'll confirm/deny it

Ding, ding ding! Correct!

A few days ago, I was talking with my fiancé and for some reason we started assigning each other animals? He said I’d be a chicken and I was so offended, because if I were a bird, I’d be a corvid, no doubt about it!

They’re my absolute favorite bird family. I can’t decide between the Common Raven and the American Crow for favorite specific corvid, because they’re both local and I love them. 🖤

Also, I went on a rant about a game from a let’s play we’re watching together, because in the game you can use ravens to locate food sources, because they fly over fresh kills from the in-game predators (wolves and bears).

Under the cut because it gets long.

Warning: fictional survival-apocalypse scenario and absolutely slanderous representations of corvids, wolves, and bears.

The game also has wolves and bears as automatically hostile. They’ll both attack on sight.

In a real survival scenario, you should be a lot more worried about the ravens than the wolves and bears!

Let me explain.

Wolves have a very specific way of hunting prey. If you don’t run, they won’t chase you. The End. Of course, if you go right up to a fresh kill, there’s a chance they’ll defend it, if you attack them, there’s a chance they may choose self defense, etc., etc.. But overall, wolves are afraid of humans and generally avoid us.

Bears also tend to avoid humans. Make noise so they know you’re coming, and they’ll generally get out of the way. (These were Brown Bears, btw, not Polar Bears. Polar Bears are a whole other can of worms, because they’re lacking in prey and it’s bad enough that they tend to consider us on the menu.)

Now, back to the ravens.

In the game, if ravens are flying over a carcass and the predator(s) that killed the prey are gone, you face no negative consequences for taking it.

*slams fists on table* Bullshit! The ravens are circling it. That’s their meal, now. You do NOT want to be caught stealing from corvids.

Corvids remember faces. Corvids hold grudges. Corvids teach their grudges to their friends and family for generations to come.

Good luck surviving the apocalypse with an unkindness of ravens or a murder of crows on your ass! They’re gonna be out for blood!

They’re going to attack you every time you show your face, and because you’re one of the only humans around, they might attack you even if your face is hidden. Because it’s not to hard to figure out that the human running around with a ski mask and the human that stole their shit are the same guy when there’s only one human for miles!

If I were in a survival-apocalypse situation, I would not fuck with corvids. If I thought I had enough supplies, I might attempt to befriend them? But even that could end messily. Similar risk to having human allies, except that it’s harder to explain a miscommunication to birds who can mimic but likely don’t fully understand human speech.

Pros:

Helps stave off loneliness by having intelligent animal companions

They might help you scavenge and share food in return

They will bring you cool gifts that might be more useful to you than to them

They might defend you if another human attacks

Looks cool as fuck

Cons:

If you slight them, they will choose violence

You may not realize it’s a slight until after the deed is done

Now you’re fucked six ways from Sunday, apocalypse not included

TLDR: Humanity should be less afraid of wolves and more afraid of ravens.

[tricos-here]

🍇🍉🍩 for jessamy!

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

lmaooo what group, she doesn't have any friends 💀 but if she did. She'd be the tough love kind of friend that doesn't really outwardly express her affection but would be so ride or die, woul literally kill for you, acts of services galore - also has the money to keep treating everyone to fancy dinners or anything one might need (which I'm sure would not be taken advantage of ever)

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

Definitely her hair pins. They were a gift from Saoirse, her companion back at her Order of Whispers days. Jess generally worked alone but they'd often be paired together otherwise and they grew quite close, though passed during the assault against Mordemoth. Jess wouldn't admit to being sentimental but she's rarely ever taken them off, even some ~11 years later

(if for nothing else, they make for pretty good backup stabby weapons. yes she's used them as such)

She does also have her earrings and the feathers of her corvids that she rarely parts with but since they're all alive still she wouldn't be too distraught if lost. She does also have a preserved flower bud from the Pale Tree which she tends to wear around her neck but her feelings about it are. complicated.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

Where to even begin.... murder, assassination, espionage, extortion, blackmail, unauthorized disclosure of classified information, tax evasion-- you could probably just look up a list of crimes and she'd most likely check all of them, and if not by her directly, at least by her authority ie ordering her agents to do so. Even the way she practices necromancy could be considered a crime at times (see: resurrecting people just to shake them down for information and then kill them again)

She does like to get hands dirty as well instead of sitting in an office ordering people around all day so, it's not out of the realm of possibilities that she could be arrested. She does have a sizeable sum of money though and endless connections so, unlikely she'd stay behind bars long

[anxious-scrambles]

MY TAVS AND THEIR RELATIONSHIPS WITH THE COMPANIONS

Corvid

Shadowheart - He rescued her on the nautiloid then found her stranded on a beach - this beautiful woman with an air of sass and a deeply unsubtle secrecy vibe that Corvid saw and immediately went “I want this challenge, I accept this challenge”.

They are as awful as each other, both equally trying to hide behind a cool, distant demeanour they can’t quite pull off. It was incredibly easy for them to fall into one another’s orbit.

Shar, of course, was something of a blockage. Corvid was raised to believe in people and power, not gods as masters. As much as his upbringing was fucked, he still thinks hers was worse. Finding her parents and flipping off Shar while helping to save their lives will live forever in his memory.

He loves her. He adores her. She and he share the same sense of humour, the same disdain for people asking questions and the same adoration of stray dogs and weird animals. Their kids (if they ever decide to have any) are likely to be fucked up little weirdoes.

Gale - Corvid spent a good two weeks avoiding Gale as he was certain he would recognise him eventually. He had a vague recollection of seeing the Wizard of Waterdeep at Blackstaff Balls and events.

While Corvid is no longer obviously recognisable as the son of Waterdhavian Lord Dashwood, one can never truly remove oneself from the past, especially if that past is scandalous as hell.

When it finally came to light who Corvid really was, Gale laughed for about a week. Hearing stories of the young heir of the Dashwood estate having quite so many illicit romantic affairs and stealing quite so much alcohol from various private cellars, he had always somewhat admired the man.

They aren’t what you would call the best of friends, but they’re friends.

Astarion - Rivals to tolerable companions. They were either going to fuck one another or try to kill one another and unfortunately the latter won out.

If you put two deeply bitchy, highly educated lying liars who lie in a confined space for too long, the personality clash becomes too much.

Astarion and Corvid were competitive from the start, and it all came to a head when they had a massive fight at camp (mostly insults flung back and forth but it wouldn’t be rogue on rogue violence without knives involved).

Karlach made them cut it out, and while they never truly became friends they at least accepted that they were both not bad people. They are just far too similar to truly like each other.

Wyll - The brick he shat when he saw Wyll. The jig is up, the charade is over. He remembers that boy from Baldur’s Gate, that’s Ravengard’s son, right? They had snuck off to drink cheap stolen wine together and talk about people they found attractive.

Luckily neither gave the other away and their mutual history of being fucked over by their shit dads quickly turned them from awkward past acquaintances to best friends for life. Frat bros with the most annoying frat bro energy you have ever seen. Yes they do a little dancing but they push each other into hedges and down pints of ale afterwards. Trash boys. Young people. You’ve gotta love em.

Lae’zel - making fun of Lae’zel is literally Corvid’s favourite thing to do. He loves her so much and on the flipside she is waiting for the opportune moment to cut his throat.

She won’t, of course. Because Shadowheart loves him which is in and of itself extremely annoying. Chk.

Maybe the threats of death are a little overblown but she still finds him deeply, deeply irritating. Her and Astarion routinely spend nights awake plotting how to murder him.

Karlach - BABYGIRL! That’s his favourite tiefling ever!

Watch as she drinks him under the table embarassingly quickly at the Elfsong. Observe as she has to carry his drunk ass to bed regularly when he fails at functioning like a normal human being.

They are the two most likely to be walking at the back of the party, distracted by the world around them and laughing at their own jokes.

Halsin - The fact that Halsin would let Corvid climb him like a feral cat has always been endearing. The druid wears his heart on his sleeve, and while Corvid might be unwilling to reciprocate (due to being down so fucking hopelessly for Shads) he loves that he is open, emotional and direct.

Corvid hasn’t had a lot of that in his life.

If he had asked Shadowheart, maybe they would be ascending Mount Halsin together. But alas, the boy is in love and being hopelessly monogamous about the whole thing.

Minthara - she needs to smoke a bowl and calm the fuck down. That’s what Corvid would say if you asked him.

They were never going to get on, let’s be honest. They see each other as a means to an end.

Jaheira - bullying Jaheira is his second favourite thing to do. They rip on each other constantly. There’s a familiar sense of gallows humour between them which is nice to see.

Jaheira is world wise, and that kind of knowledge is valuable to someone like Corvid, a man from far away with a lot of questions that need answering. He relies on her assurance a lot.

Minsc and Boo - aspirational. Imagine going so absolutely batshit insane that you talk to your hamster on the regular.

Minsc is a but of a hero to Corvid. He is intuitive despite a lack of intelligence and is persistently cheerful and companionable. Again, this is the kind of company Corvid hasn’t known much of in his life. He would delay his own wedding to go for a drink to talk ABSOLUTE BOLLOCKS with that stone headed meat man mountain.

[miasma-of-fear]

Jonathan does talk to each of his corvids, in full sentences and conversational style no less. Scolding them for misbehaving, complimenting them while he pets them, teasing them, etc.. He watches his swearing around some of them, not because they might repeat it but because- according to him- "they don't like it."

[jigenshat]

hc that jigen likes to feed birds in his yard/at the park and that he builds little birdhouses at every hideout the lupgang has. also maybe he’s befriended some crows and they start cawing if they see someone unfamiliar/law enforcement show up.

so occasionally the gang will be in the safehouse and jigen will say “we gotta go guys” and the rest of the gang is like “what?? why??” and he just goes “THE BIRDS SAID SO OK”

jigen loving animals and trying to be around them a lot is one of the best hcs. birds are great for him because they're everywhere. it's not like a cat or dog that he wouldn't be able to care for with his work. crows and other corvids especially are close to his heart. he knows they're intelligent, smart, and that he can form a strong bond with them. his bird dad days began when he started feeding crows in the garden of a safehouse once simply because they were there. each passing day more and more crows showed up to get their feed of seeds and other snacks.

he wondered how they were all finding out about his newly opened bird café and did some research in his down time (yes he is a huge nerd he loves to know anything about anything). he read about how crows will tell the rest of the ~murder~ of things that are useful and what to keep an eye out for. he also learnt how they could remember faces and describe them to others. hugely impressed by all this, he began to spend more time with the crows. they eventually began to hang around even without the promise of food as they saw jigen as a peaceful and trustworthy companion. they looked out for him, even in the dead of night, when unknown cars could be seen approaching the safehouse, they'd caw as loud as they could and fly onto any open window ledges to warn him. if jigen wasn't found there, the crows understood he would be back and they'd once again have free reign over the safehouse area.

it was a shame whenever the gang had to move on and a flock was left behind. but jigen had grown accustomed to the specie's likes and dislikes and was quick to make friends with another group if there were some nearby. even without his own private murder, he always carries some seeds around with him in case one is spotted.

[t-underneaththeradardancing]

too early for murder - midweek yah tis - a kitty companion - always - a good one - thinking bout the rhyme scheme and it seem - nothing - let it fucking flow - forget about ur ego - hallelujah 

anyway - another begun and i wonder  - xtra points if u recognize the reference - gawd i sucked - corvid casual loud greet 

u gotta reel ice - its ok to suck - i mean gawd fukken awful - it duznt kill u - not like slow deth  of  never -   cat a list trance end - the real af begins  - sometimes - sisyphus rawk and rolling - an amp pushing - the audience 

godot 

[lady-griffin]

Raven Headcanons - Young Justice

1. Physical Appearance:         1.1 Dark, blue hair (almost black)        1.2 A red chakra on her forehead        1.3 Red irises        1.4 Petite        1.5 Long, sharp fingernails that are naturally black.

2. Raven can often be found maintaining her nails; it’s the one demonic aspect of her physical appearance that she keeps.

3. Raven grew up in the alternate, magical dimension of Azarath, which exists between the living realms and the nether realms, it acts as a barrier between the two.

       3.1 Azarath was once a thriving civilization, but it was almost entirely destroyed by Trigon. All that remains is the Temple of Azar.

       3.2 The Temple of Azar is more akin to a city, than anything else. 

4. Raven was raised by Azar – the leader and God of Azarath.

       4.1 Raven’s relationship with Azar and the other Azarians is complicated and has recently become quite strained, to say the very least.

5. Raven was murdered by an Azarian Monk, named Juris. 

Juris was Azar’s protégé and one of Raven’s mentors. He was one of the few people, who Raven was allowed to have a close bond with. When he learned what exactly Raven was, he spiraled into fear and anger and killed her.

After Raven was brought back to life, she finally learned that she was Trigon’s daughter, prompting her to run away.

6. Raven is the protégé of Doctor Fate.

        6.1 The Justice League knows that Raven is part demon, but they don’t know who her father is nor that she ran away. 

7. Raven’s red chakra is a piece of Azar’s heart. While it appears like everyone else’s on Azarath, it is extremely unique and powerful. 

It was created to be powerful enough to stop Trigon from controlling and influencing Raven through unnatural means. It incidentally stops beings of less power than Trigon from influencing Raven, as well.

        7.1 An unfortunate consequence of the chakra is that telepathic-links don’t work on Raven. This was discovered during a mission that was already going south, so that didn’t help.

8.  Raven is the familiar of Trigon -- like Teekl to Klarion or the Helmet to Nabu. Trigon can’t exist outside his own dimension (prison), without Raven.

         8.1 Killing Raven, is the surest way to keep Trigon imprisoned.

9. Magic: Raven uses Dark Magic and Soul Magic.

        9.1 Unlike other magic users we’ve seen (Zatanna, Kent Nelson), Raven can contact those in the afterlife and she can even create portals to other dimensions (including the netherworld)

10. Raven can bring the dead back to life. When she does this, though, they become demonic (four glowing red eyes and all), they also become ‘servants’ to Raven.

11. If Raven dies, she comes back to life (in a day or two). While this may at first appear similar to what Halo does or even just an extension of Raven’s own healing abilities, it is not. 

Raven is not doing it herself – Trigon is raising her back from the dead, as he needs his familiar to be alive. 

This is a very painful and emotionally overwhelming experience for Raven, and it leaves her quite raw and vulnerable. She’s without her powers for several days. 

        11.1 Raven’s chakra is the only reason why she doesn’t become a servant to Trigon when he does this.

12. Because Raven is part demon, she is highly resistant to both fire (heat) and dark magic. On the opposite end, she is very susceptible to the cold and is extremely vulnerable to Holy Magic.

13. Ravens (and other corvids) naturally flock to Raven. She doesn’t have any control over them, they just like being around her.

        13.1 Raven does have a crow companion, named Diablo. When Raven was younger, she brought him back to life, not knowing that doing so would turn him into a demonic servant. 

The two have a close bond. He was one of the few personal attachments Raven was allowed to have on Azarath.

        13.2 Diablo didn’t have a name until Raven joined The Outsiders - they would always refer to him as Devil-Bird, and Bart just started calling him Diablo and the name stuck.

14. When Jaime first met Raven, Scarab immediately sensed Raven was an insanely high-level threat and put Jaime in full battle-mode, as immediate evisceration was the safest option.

15. Since arriving on Earth, Raven has been having a difficult time; for starters life on Earth is very different than life on Azarath.

Raven is also overwhelmed by everyone else’s emotions and she’s starting to feel more and more of her own emotions, making her lose control over her powers bit by bit.

On top of that, Raven has the trauma of having been recently murdered and that she’s the daughter of Trigon. 

Basically, she’s a ticking time-bomb. 

16. Raven use to live on Earth with her mother, Angela Roth, until she was about 5 years old. They were on the run from The Church of Blood, a cult that worships Trigon.

The two had a relatively normal life, all things considered, but eventually the Church found them; they caused Angela to crash her car (with Raven in it). Angela died, but Raven survived.

Raven unleashed her powers on the Church of Blood, killing them. This sudden display of pure, raw power that was similar to Trigon’s power, made Azar and the Monks of Azarath immediately come to Raven.

Azar realized who (and what) Raven was and immediately brought her back to Azarath and raised her as an Azarian. 

      16.1 Azar changed her name from Rachel to Raven (a sacred bird to Azarians)

      16.2 The deaths of Angela Roth and the unidentified individuals of the Church of Blood, plus the mysterious disappearance of Rachel is still an open case. It has become a largely speculated unsolved mystery by true crime shows/podcasts and is heavily speculated upon.

      16.3 The names “Angela Roth” and “Rachel Roth” were later discovered to be fake identities. Angela’s real name was Arella Diaz.

17. Raven and Gar became good, close friends after they shared and bonded over their mothers’ deaths – car crashes caused by supervillains.

       17.1 Gar was the first to learn that Raven is half-human and originally from Earth.

       17.2 When Raven visited her mother’s grave for the first time, Gar was there to support her. Raven having suppressed her emotions for so long, found herself unable to cry; which made her wonder if she was truly evil. 

Gar assured her she wasn’t.

       17.3 Becoming close friends with Gar, allowed Raven to open up. She soon became actual friends with the others, not just someone on their team. 

18. After only being on Earth for an overall short time, Raven has realized how lonely she actually was on Azarath and how much she craves companionship.

       18.1 Unfortunately, this has made Raven even more reluctant to tell the truth about Trigon. She is terrified that what happened with Juris, will happen again.

       18.2 While the thought of being killed by one of her friends is obviously a depressing one; what really scares Raven, is the idea that she could lose them all.

       18.3 The thought of losing Gar or him hating her, hurts in a different way than the others. Raven is not willing to look into why that exactly is.

19. Raven never goes by Rachel, even though it is technically her “legal” (civilian) name. 

        19.1 Only a few people are allowed to call her Rae. At first Raven only let Gar call her Rae. 

--

This became less and less of headcanon list for Raven in YJ and a bit more like a story idea…oh well.

I would personally love to see a story involving Raven and her complicated relationship with Azar and the monks of Azarath. While obviously Trigon would play a part, I just think there’s a lot of potential there. 

I know that they’re usually called Azarathians, but essentially in all my AUs, I call them Azarians. It just sounds better to me. Less clunky.

[rainmaker221]

Skyjacks Fanfic: Two Conspiracies and a Murder

While nobody actually called Burza Nyth “the city of birds” they were such a common enough appearance that nobody thought twice when they were seen. And just a few yards down from Nobody, was people with too much time on their hands.

“I’m telling ya,” The skinny well dressed man said, “There have been more ravens lately.”

“Uh huh,” Said his companion, clearly already bored of this conversation they’ve had before.

“I’ve been counting,” He assured, taking a small leap onto a ledge to get a better look at a bird gliding above. “I swear I used ta only see a couple a month. But I saw at least  12 last week alone.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t just see one raven 12 times?” The Companion asked, holding back audible laughter, but not a smirk.

For a  moment the man seemed willing to consider this idea. This doubt was quickly squashed.

There was no slow build, no first one then the other. Where once there were no Ravens, there now were many. They rose into the sky, a tornado of jet black feathers and loud caws. They seemed endless, rising into the sky by the legion and quickly dispersing around the city. They carried no letters or missives, though the odd raven rasped out an ominous “Hello dears.” or “Bargain me,” while poking at shiner keepsakes. An expert in their behavior would deduce their happiness and joy. There were few Raven experts in Burza Nyth.

One particular Raven broke from the pack, as if on a mission, they made their way across Burza Nyth and into the office of the Keeper of the traders skull.

Too wrapped up in the work of the day, the Keeper had not noticed the Raven’s and their dramatic revelry.

But he was not surprised by the sight of the Raven on his desk.

He was, however, greatly perturbed by what happened next. The raven poked at the glass attached to their leg, thinking it was meant for him he reached for it only for his hand to be pecked away. Finally the glass shattered and the raven took a noticeable inhale of the mist emanating from the shards. He looked at the keeper, and tilted his head.

“Hello?” the raven spoke, witn a voice far too human to be their own, “Can you hear me sir?”

For a moment the Keeper reeled at the sight.

“Sir?” The Raven repeated, head uncocking, “I apologize if I have disturbed you, but I do need to know if you can hear me.”

“Yes,” The keeper replied, quickly regaining his composure, “Yes I can hear you.” He stood up straighter in his chair, as if to intimidate the raven.

“Oh good.” The relief and amusement was clear in the tone, if not the posture of the Raven. “Old magic like this doesn’t always work the way you’d expect. And this is my first time trying something like this.”

“Who are you?” The Keeper demanded, “And how can you talk?”

“Oh,” a quick but somehow distant sounding laugh was heard through the raven, “My apologies I am not, in fact, a raven I am merely talking to you through this raven.”  The keeper briefly hoped the voice on the other end couldn’t see him, as he utterly failed to hide his sheepish response to the correction.

“My name however is” The was the slightest of bumps and pauses, “Immaterial, I am taking over the offices and responsibilities of the Broker. I am telling you this as a courtesy, we will likely meet in person and I do not wish for you to be surprised.”

“Well what If I don’t want to deal with you?” The Keeper asked, attempting to regain some control of this bizarre conversation.

“Then you don’t get to deal with the Broker.” Even the Raven seemed agitated by this question, “and you of all people should know that business at your level requires the aid of my offices.”

“What happened to the old broker.”

“He is no longer your concern, Keeper,” The voice said, “but do not worry, I intend to live up to both the spirit and the letter of codes of business of Burza Nyth.”The keeper readied to ask another question but was quickly shut down. “Have a pleasant evening Sir. I look forward to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You’ll be hearing from one of my agents soon enough” A red mist was quickly exhaled from the raven, who promptly fell dead to the desk.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Across the town, in an unassuming corner of an assuming distinct, wild haired and exhausted looking young man slumped over in his desk, shuffling some papers around he looked at the raven on the desk.

“Well at least he stuck to the script.” he said, scanning a list of names, “So who's next?”

The Broker is a story and title as old as the market of Burza Nythe, the title passed from person to person.

Death, retirement, coup, sometimes the passage over power is quick and concise, other times its all out war.

This is the tale of a broker who shattered the mold, of a boy who grew old too fast and shouldered the burden of a city.

He is the  Broker, and will be for some time yet. But who was he before his title?

Well he was many things.

But his name? Was Corvid.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a quick word : I love skyjacks, I also love the Broker, i’m curious about his story and decided to write a story. I know nothing about Neo-scum so unfortunately i can’t go with the self told story about an assassin named Corvid. I will however be using name Corvid, and abiding 3 primary “Important things to keep in mind” the @campaignskyjacks tumblr reminded me of: the broker is not the first broker, the broker is ace, and the brokers main role is running the black market and arranging deals.

If anyone has any ideas or recomendations or even and “Oh shit this would be cool.” feel free to holler at me.

If you enjoyed this fic please support the official Campaign Skyjacks. They deserve nice things. tell em I sent ya (or don’t I’m a blog not a cop)

 I also know fuck all about ravens. and yes this can be found on AO3 (eventually)

Edit: send skyjacks aesthetic music...please.

[kirbythulhu]

Cute headcanons for Jon and Winnie? :'3

When they first met, Jon kept his hair rather long (about down to the small of his back), having decided to start growing it out as he'd never been allowed to before. After he started working at Arkham and amassing his murder of corvid companions, Jon went back to short hair for a long time, though he kept it long enough to hide his ears. At some point after they become a thing, Edwin comments he misses Jon's "endearingly wild" hair, with his fly aways and slight wavy curls. Needless to say Jon keeps his hair relatively long now, down to his shoulders. The perfect length for Edwin to play with, which only he and Harley are allowed to do.

Jon has a tendency to scold his corvid companions in his "Professor Voice," as Harley and Eddie refer to it. Initially, Edwin thought it was delightful and sweet, until he realized he'd unintentionally started doing it as well. Granted his "Professor Voice" is much less intimidating, which Jon teasingly points out from time to time.

They both also passive aggressively argue over who certain corvids favor.

[cheeseanonioncrisps]

When the Crows Caw in October

When the crows caw in October,

From a frost-encrusted corner,

Call their creaking cries,

On a cold day in October,

It’s the same crabby croak,

That they might make in May.

But when they gather in a murder,

Crowded on a misty green,

A corvid secret counsel,

On a cold day in October,

Caw to their companions,

On a cold day in October,

With the cold air crisp around them,

And a crimson crackle beneath,

On a misty, quiet morning,

On a cold day in October.

Quiet but for the cawing,

The gravebirds deeply screeching,

Nightblack carrion creatures,

And the pumpkins wait for carving

And the nights are quickly drawing

And they make that coughing call,

Well it’s quite a different feeling,

To that somehow softer creaking,

That they might make in May.

[livestosave]

“I woke up because you were screaming so loudly.” /oz to qrow

         It was all Qrow could do to stop shaking, face buried in his hands as he tried desperately to get his breathing under control.  It had taken Oz time to calm him enough he knew where he was, to make the first physical contact between them a grounding caress and not cause to bolt like a panicked animal.  It didn’t make everything alright, it didn’t take away the images that played behind haunted garnet irises…but it gave him an anchor.  It helped.

         He didn’t reply for a long time, chest heaving and breath audibly shuddering as he tried to get to a point where his words would be more than broken sobs.  His throat was raw and his eyes burned, but…he’d get there.  Ozpin wouldn’t rush him - gods, no, the man had his own demons.  This was the last thing Oz needed…but Qrow didn’t try to apologize.  Not right then.  He could apologize tomorrow, when the memories were more distant under the sun’s rays, and he could face his companion? partner? former Headmaster with a smile, and a joke at his own expense.

         In the heavy weight of night, however, no smile would come, and no joke felt like anything less than a nasty truth about his flawed character.

         When the corvid finally manages to speak, his voice is raw from his screaming, and flat with a haunted acceptance.  The cock-sure attitude he usually carries with him like a shield is nowhere to be seen, especially not in the whisper-soft quality of his voice.

         “….wh-what did you see in me, Oz?” Garnet eyes refused to lift to meet the Headmaster’s, and in spite of his flat tone, his hands return to shaking violently. “Summer and Tai, I…I get it.  They’re good people.  They…they deserve the world.  Not the pain Raven and I caused them.  We…I…wanted to learn to kill people like them.  So I could prey on helpless, good people.” Long fingers curled into shaking fists, nails biting deep into the corvid’s palm as he tried to blink back the desire to sob again.  There were pleas filling his head, images nothing but work could dispel, and he just…he wanted it to stop.  Gods, please…he just wanted it all to stop….

        “In the end, I’m still a thief and a murderer…a pretty license and a moral compass don’t change that,” he whispered, ignoring the ache as blood welled from his closed fists and ashamed, exhausted tears burned trails down pale cheeks.

[turbletoops]

Curse of Castle Halloway, Pt. 7

Our current party consists of:

Anala, Dragonborn Cleric of Pelor, from the clans to south. (+ An albino dragon egg) Bartleby, Halfling Rogue, a Halloway native. Camlib, Lizardfolk Druid, from the eastern swamps. Ilios, Aasimar Monk of Lathander, from Lightbreak Temple. Rowan, Half-Elven Paladin, currently serving Eldath. Shade, a Tiefling Warlock of the Raven Queen.

Our adventurers avoid falling to their death, and instead right fall into a murder mystery.  *(Parts of this session are loosely based on the Moon Over Graymoor module.)

"I think the Gods are telling you to use a sword!”

~ 22 Days Until the Dark Hunter's Moon ~

We revisit our adventurers with Shade and Anala casually hanging out. Bartleby and Camlib try to handle the ghostly foe that has joined them on the other side of the bridge, while Rowan valiantly flees. Ilios takes glorious flight and moves to aid his companions, he looks very cool and no one will tell him otherwise. The Masked One raises a ghostly fire barrier, in a full dome over the area.

Rowan gets charmed by The Masked One via Crown of Madness, and is influenced to start slashing the ropes holding the bridge up. Anala struggles to climb up, Shade votes to ditch the table and grappling hooks the bridge post. Bartleby and Camlib keep chipping away at the armored The Masked One. Ilios returns Anala to the cliffside.

Ghost loses an arm, which oddly dissolves into dust. Anala tries her spiritual weapon again, and despite failing again, is making strides! Bartleby, Shade and Camlib struggle to land hits, but Rowan manages to nearly shoot Bartleby, somehow. Ilios fails to grapple The Masked One, but gives them a solid punch instead.

The Masked One buries half of their sword in the ground, and it begins to hum loudly in vibration, sending out small tremors in the ground.

Perhaps sensing the heightened stakes, Bartleby lands a devastating hit, and Camlib infests them with very annoying mosquitoes. Anala tries the spiritual weapon again, but settles on sacred flame. After a second negligent near-murder of a partymate, Rowan decides to use a sword, and obliterates The Masked One. They disperse into black dust, and the flaming barrier also fades away.

The chained sword, however, stays in the ground, shaking. Until Shade pulls it out, at which point it also fades away. The ground shakes with violent, shattering tremors.

A massive, horrendous undead draconic creature shoots up from the gorge into the sky, snapping the bridge like a string of thread, and sending the table careening into the underbrush. It is out of sight as quickly as it appeared.

Understandably, our adventurers leave with haste. The moon is still eerily full, and an early, gently melancholic snow begins to fall.

Our adventurers arrive in Greymoor, exhausted and disguised, but ready to rest in relative safety. They approach the inn, but take notice of a curious and very haggard looking raven perched on the community bulletin board.

Shade is obviously excited about this new corvid friend. After some trial and error, our adventurers discover this is Beryl, one of Bartleby's family's trained birds. The message is for Bartleby, written by his mother. It reassures him they are safe, and speaks about the Lich that has taken over Castle Halloway. 

It contains a secret message.

After entering Greymoor Bend, the town's inn, they immediately meet Sagh, the bartender. Ilios and her bond over being tall and green. Sagh is a hospitable innkeeper and suggests they share rooms to save money, but has a few questions about the poisonous snake they have in tow.

She also begrudgingly reveals the series of grisly murders that have been occurring in town lately. She suggests they talk to Oswald, the coroner in town to investigate the death of a local knight.

Everyone files up to the rooms, overdue for sleep, except Shade, who hangs back to ask some conspicuous questions. She asks for directions to the defunct Raven Queen shrine, and about the state of belief in town. Shade learns that many people who originally followed the Raven Queen in town had been either absorbed into Selune's faith, or slowly forced out of town.

Ilios and Anala have a long-winded conversation about theology. Shade helps Camlib produce her own poisoned weapons, and Camlib realizes Shade's hands are cold and metallic??? Rowan tries to draw a moustache on Bartleby while he sleeps, but Bartleby's senses are just too good.

In the morning, they are woken by a huge ruckus as the body of George Gilly, the newest murder victim, is found face-down in the snow outside the tavern.

So! What is in store for our heroes(?) next time??? What was with that mysterious murder ghost? Who is responsible for the series of grisly murders? Can our adventurers put a stop to it while there are still living residents? Will Rowan ever accept he is a truly horrible shot? I mean, it's been so many times now... And Oh! What will happen with that undead draconic creature? 

S̡̙͕̮̖̖͌̾ͯ͌̓͒̔̀͢u͊̋ͦ҉̨̝̹̙̙r̠͇͎̰͚̺̝ͪͅë͔̤̹̻͎͕́ͨ͌͛͒̀͟ͅḽ̸̺̯̘ͧ͐̔͌̐͠y̩͍̐̈ͦ̌͢ ̮̻̉̌ͦ̒̽ͫ̀̚͘n̢̄ͥ̌̅ͣ̍҉͎͔̖̼̞ô̸͇̙̻͔͚̖ͥ̉̋̔͊̄͢t̨̢͓̘̼̙̙̲̤̫ͮ̅ͩͥ̾̾̚͟h̵̳̭̭̦̬̮̥̒̿ͭ̈̅͐̀i̯̫̩͕̦̙̰̔̊ͮͅn̢̺̘͚̞̏̓̓̾ͨ̾̒ͯ̕g̘̺͇͙̺͎ͩͧ́̕͜ ̧̟̲̖͑̑̌́ͣ͘g̵̥̱̝͌̈́̐ͯ̀͜o̷̰̳͙ͦó̴̯̻̖͇̞̳͉̻͂d̖͍͚͍͈ͮͦͣ̎ͭ̀.̧̼̯ͦ̑ͨ́͢

-- Oh, Oh! And the lunar anomalies... and the untimely weather... The constant unsettling nightmares... Hmm... What else?

Is that all? There's just so much to track... I'll give them a piece of my mind when they get here... If they even get here! Not that they'll remember, but still, it's like they're trying to get themselves killed! "Let's take this clearly rickety bridge over DEADMAN'S gorge, Hahah! Named for its safety, obviously!"... And I've already had to make replacements...

OH! Er, Lady of Winter, is this still recording?! -- I mean -- F-Forget you heard that, okay?!

AHEM --

Find out – Next session!

[isriana]

Do Ravens, Blossoms and Zacarion have pets? :)

They do! :) Walks-in-Blossoms is the kind of fellow who attracts gentle woodland creatures on a Disney princess level, so he usually has some kind of little critter following him around. Most often it’s a Bantam Guar (Squee as it’s called by default), because those are just too cute for this world.

That’s just some archetypal awareness creeping in. Pay it no mind, Blossoms.

Then there’s Zacarion who actively seeks, uh, less conventional animal companions. As a damage dealing Warden his skills already range from summoning Fetcher Flies to screaming Cliff Racers, and generally there’s no bug or beast or walking maw too vicious that he doesn’t consider absolutely delightful. His current object of adoration is the Molag Amur Cliff Strider - a constantly screeching little pterodactyl ball of rage.

Kind of like Snek, except with less endearing qualities.

Technically Sings-with-Ravens doesn’t have a non-combat pet yet because so far the game hasn’t introduced any bird pets (pssst, hey, Zenimax… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)). Fortunately the latest Crown Crate season brought some cool mementos to scratch that itch, and now she has a lovely murder of corvids at her beck and call whenever she needs them.

Thanks! I wasn’t overly concerned before, but now I sure am!

[miasma-of-fear]

Jonathan keeps careful documentation on all of his corvid companions, with a color coded banding system corresponding to their temperaments and records of their health (as many are rescues or wilds that began following him.) A full list of the 25 birds he cares for is below the cut.

Nightmare. Self explanatory name. Common raven. Female. Missing right eye. Black band. Very temperamental and aggressive. Has shown little to no concern of larger animals, at times fighting with cats, dogs, and other species. 

Craw. Given name. Carrion crow. Male. Molting around neck and left wing, malformed left leg. White band. Friendly, not at all cautious around strangers, more than happy to be pet and carried. A rescue from a drug den, which unfortunately left him in poor health. Cannot fly well on his own.

Mary. After Mary Shelley. American crow. Female. No notable markings. Yellow band. Timid, but not aggressive. Very fond of pens, pencils, paint brushes, and any other writing implements.

Francis. After the protagonist in The Call of Cthulu. Fish crow. Male. No notable markings. Green band. Timid, but not aggressive. Very quiet, especially compared to his flock, and prefers to watch visitors from afar.

Bette. After Bette Midler. Pied crow. Female. White ring of neck feathers usually kept puffed up. Orange band. Haughty and not fond of being pet. Has a tendency to pull at and/or swipe earrings, necklaces, change, rings, brooches, nails, and anything else remotely shiny. 

Macbeth. After the infamously unlucky play and its titular character. American crow. Male. Small scar on the right side of the neck. Red band. Very aggressive and solitary. Doesn't care for fire or knives. Very suspicious of strangers.

Manson (or Double M). After Marilyn Manson. American crow. Male. No notable  markings. Red band. Temperamental, but not as dangerous as Nightmare. Tries to pick fights and bother the other birds, especially Nightmare and Macbeth, other animals, and people.

Roland. After the Warren Zevon song. Rook. Male. No notable markings. Orange band. Cautious, but not innately aggressive. Not fond of loud noises or guns, more than likely to attack. 

Ligeia. After the Poe short story. American crow. Female. Eyes are darker than normal, cause unknown. Yellow band. Cautious, but not aggressive. Very inquisitive and curious, investigative of new people and objects.

Rowena. After the second wife of the narrator of the Poe story her sister is named after. American crow. Female. Eyes are somewhat cloudy, the effect of cataracts. Yellow band. Cautious, slightly less so than Ligeia. Often "bickers" with her sister, squawking and snapping amongst each other.

Imitateur. French for (unsurprisingly) Imitator. Fan-tailed raven. Female. No notable markings. Blue band. Very friendly. Gift from Edward, fond of repeating words and phrases.

Hitchcock. After the director. American crow. Male. No notable markings. Yellow band. Solitary and cautious. Observational and very intent on watching things around him. May bite.

Clarice. After the protagonist in Silence of the Lambs. American crow. Female. No notable markings. Green band. Cautious, but not aggressive. Often "talks" with people, making noise and imitating words back to them.

Renfield. After the Dracula character. Carrion crow. Male. Feathers are patchy around his head. Yellow band. A little testy at times, but not usually aggressive. Likes bringing dead rats and mice to "safe people".

Cash. After Johnny Cash. American crow. Male. No notable markings. Green band. Relatively friendly, though standoffish at times. Has a tendency to repeat snippets of songs, especially from his namesake. 

Nelson. After Willie Nelson. American crow. Male. No notable markings. Blue band. Calm and friendly. Also mimics songs.

Kristofferson. After Kris Kristofferson. American crow. Male. No notable markings. Yellow band. Standoffish, but calm. Mimics songs.

Jennings. After Waylon Jennings. American crow. Male. No notable markings. Green band. Relatively friendly. Just like the other three named after the Highwaymen, mimics songs.

Amelia. After Amelia Earhart. American crow. Female. Albino, red eyes, has a few notches in her beak. Green band. Relatively friendly, if a bit cautious. Excellent at flying, especially given she was being attacked by alley cats when I found her.

Puck. After the infamous character from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Pied crow. Female. No notable markings. Yellow band. Mischievous as her namesake, but relatively friendly. A little too good at mischief and mayhem.

Jay. After the titular character in the Great Gatsby (Edwin picked the name). Carrion crow. Male. No notable markings. Yellow band. Fussy and prone to nagging for attention. Far too interested in my glasses. Does not like to be touched.

Jack O' The Green (just Jack works as well). After the folkloric figure (another name from Edwin). American crow. Male. No notable markings. Blue band. Very friendly and accepting of people. Has a tendency to bring me and, mostly, Edwin leaves, flowers, pebbles, and other small gifts.

Byron. After Lord Byron. Common raven. Male. No notable markings. Green band. Generally friendly, but can be touchy now and again. Mischievous and prone to causing trouble, as well as watching me work. Will also steal pens.

Narcissus. After the Greek mythic figure. Thick billed raven. Male. No notable markings. Yellow band. Generally amicable, but easy to anger. Does not like to be touched. Has something of a fascination with his reflection.

Magdalene. After the biblical figure Mary Magdalene. Rook. Female. Green band. Friendly and calm, appreciates attention and affection. Very social with the other birds, though appears most drawn to myself.