#Changeling Fey Touched

[author-a-holmes]

Two Truths and a Lie Tag Game

Going for a second round on the same tag from the lovely @winglesswriter <3

Tagging forward, with no pressure, to; @authoralexharvey, @sleepyowlwrites, @amewinterswriting

@talesofsorrowandofruin, @isabellebissonrouthier, @afoolandathief, any anyone else who wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

IT'S CHANGELING'S RELEASE DAY!

So happy for @author-a-holmes and Changeling! I hope you release day is amazing🥳🎉

If you like portal fantasy novels, vampires, fey, and fast-paced books with cool lore and well-developed worldbuilding, check out Changeling here!

[uss-genderprise]

okay the new episode has people poking my sleeping special interest like a bear and it was about time to wake it from hibernation anyway so here are some fun facts about welsh fairies

it's spelled fairy. it's always spelled fairy. not faerie, faery, fae, or fey. fairy. please. or tylwyth teg if you want to be proper about it

fairies are not inherently malevolent. they work by their own rules that sometimes don't make sense to humans but there are rules, if you pay attention.

yes fairies will punish you for doing something they don't want you to do

they will also reward you for doing things they do want you to do

fairy rings are circles of green grass. they sometimes how up as a different shade of green than the grass around it and are generally markers of where fairies dance, as well as portals to the fairy realm. mushrooms aren't really a thing for that in welsh folklore.

string and bones and flowers are man-made and possibly supposed to bind or protect against fairies (though i haven't seen anything quite like what we see in the episode described in any of my sources) but generally breaking one of those doesn't immediately anger fairies, just lets them in to affect whoever put the ward up in the first place. that's not called a fairy circle.

changelings exist in welsh folklore. have fun with your theories.

fairies will generally let you leave the fairy world if you ask nicely. yes even if you've eaten the food and drank the drinks

however time moves differently so when you come back you might be super old and/or turn to dust the moment someone touches you

dancing is a different thing tho. they don't exactly want you to stay dancing with them until you die of exhaustion but like that's on you my dude get your friends to help you

if you broke fairy rules like kicking them out of their meadow to build a castle they will count eight* generations** and come back to turn that castle into a lake and drown everyone inside. you have been warned (repeatedly. usually by old ladies and/or bards and/or birds or sometimes just. A Voice™)

* the number of generations can and does vary but in welsh folklore it's generally 8 that's an important number, not 3 or 7.

** also the way generations are counted is. weird. idk if it's that i'm bad at math or bad at welsh or that the book i read explaining this is over 100 years old but i don't think i fully got how many generations this actually is.

oh and they only wait if you beg enough otherwise they kill you now

so basically. no getting trapped in the fairy world as punishment. they just kill you

personally i think the closest thing in welsh folklore to that old woman is a weird lady but even that isn't a great fit

yeah fairies bend time and space to always be far away from you if they want to but that's generally because they're trying to avoid you not following you at a distance

i am fully aware rtd probably couldn't care less about any of this. he definitely didn't do the work that i did to learn all this and incorporating this into your theories is probably shooting yourself in the foot as far as actually being correct goes. HOWEVER i do think it's more interesting and fun this way :) theories are gonna be wrong anyway might as well respect the culture that's inspiring them while we're at it yeah?

i will cite my sources if anyone asks but i doubt many people care to read hundreds of pages of edwardian non fiction novels just to fact check me. trust me on this guys

[lostlegendaerie]

Veritas Ratio and Autistic Representation

Chances are you know autistic people in your life; autism itself is a fairly recently coined term, dating back to 1911, and can encompass a wide variety of symptoms and eccentricities which have existed since the dawn of humankind. (The 'fey-touched' child or changeling in European lore shares a lot of traits with autistic children.) Autism is a spectrum, encompassing and overlapping a lot with ADHD and other neurological disorders. There are probably millions of people out there, especially from older generations, who are on the spectrum and have no idea. I did not even get my diagnosis until I was 27.

So it is entirely possible that the creators of Veritas Ratio from Honkai: Star Rail did not intend to write him as autistic and based him on people they knew in their own lives, who, diagnosed or not, are on the autistic spectrum. However, the point of this piece is to talk about the ways in which Veritas Ratio is good autistic representation (in my opinion as a autistic person), and how people who want to write characters like this can take a page out of Honkai's book in their own work.

1) SPECIAL INTEREST. Ratio shows a *staggering* amount of dedication to the pursuit of knowledge and his quest to cure the world of ignorance. This quest of his tends to supersede everything else in his life, with no mention of any friends, family connections or romantic partners in his character story. (Said as a Ratiorine shipper - not sinking any 'ships, here) His dedication to education started early, with reading college undergraduate education levels while still in middle school - seven or so years ahead of his peers. Autism is considered a disability, yes, but it does not exclude you from being smart, and the fixation on your chosen topic(s) can be extremely useful in motivating you to reach the top of your field. His path being The Hunt also outlines this dedication; he is seeking his target without rest or distraction.

2) SENSORY ISSUES. Ratio very explicitly can become distracted and disgusted by the feeling of dirt or sweat on his skin, something that tends to be more prevalent with specific clothing textures but absolutely can manifest in a need to feel clean. He also can apparently become very irritated and overwhelmed by lights and sounds, and wears his plaster mask as a way to deaden and deafen the amount of sensory input that he receives. This allows him to think better, and is a fantastic example of what it feels like to suffer from sensory overload. (If you find yourself getting stressed in crowds, try bringing earplugs and putting them in the next time you're in a noisy restaurant and see if doesn't help you out.)

3) STRONG SENSE OF MORALITY. Autistic people tend to suffer from a somewhat black-and-white feeling of right and wrong, and can hold themselves and other people to an extremely strict moral code. This does not mean that they are always correct in what they believe is right and wrong, but it means that they can be extremely passionate about following those rules. Ratio's beef with the Genius Society and their selectivity is indicative of his unwavering passion towards sharing knowledge with the masses, but the tactless way in which he wishes to cure ignorance bleeds into our fourth point.

4) DIFFICULTY WITH SOCIAL CUES. In one of his earlier conversations with Aventurine (where he is clearly irritated at how careless Aventurine seems to be about their entire mission), Ratio inadvertently insults Aventurine's his lack of education and parents. He apologizes afterwards, stating he did not intend to come across that way, but he maintains the same imperious tone of voice. Autistic people often, but not always, struggle with social cues and can often be considered rude when we are trying to be direct and easily understood; and we can especially struggle with understanding sarcasm or sounding sarcastic when we intend to be sincere.

With my reasons for believing Ratio to be Autistic coded firmly established, let's move onto why I think he is good representation. The two most important parts of representation, in my lived experience as an Autistic person, are RELATABILITY and EMPATHY.

Ratio exhibits some of the same mentalities and symptoms I've had, such as being misunderstood and accidentally offending people and becoming extremely stressed in large crowds due to overstimulation, so he checks off the first box. But the way that the other characters in the game respect him and do not ridicule him for his eccentricities marks the second. Whether in marketing material or in character dialogue options, Ratio's love of baths, his plaster bust, and his ceaseless drive to educate other people (whether they need it or not) are seen as charming and generally positive, and those attributes are not constantly brought up (and mocked) in his interactions and dialogue with other characters. Aventurine doesn't constantly ask Ratio if he needs to leave the Dream to take a bath, and the TB's text conversations with him allow you to engage with his special interests such as his requests for problems to solve and debates to wage against you. He is canonically seen and respected as a brilliant individual, and not reduced to a joke or viewed as comic relief (e.g. Sampo, who almost exclusively is given negative dialogue options for the player to use when interacting with him and who almost every character in the story openly despises.)

Some of you are going to disagree with me in the comments (which is fine, it's my opinion), but for the few of you who read this all the way through, thank you. I hope that this helps you view Ratio and Autistic people overall in a new light, and I am excited to see where else we go from here with him and the rest of the cast!

[tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors]

left handed Thomas and right handed Logan; fey-touched human and human changeling.

they really are twins in every sense

hehehe YES you see them the themes. i love me a twin symbolism

[ettawritesnstudies]

[Image ID: The cover of Changeling by Arista Holmes on a dark blue background with gold borders. White text at the top reads "On sale for $1.99!" The cover is a textured blue background with gold root filigree and a tree design. It is the first in the Fey touched trilogy and has the tagline "Fey go missing in the mortal realm. Everyone knows that." End image ID.]

Check out this book by @author-a-holmes! We had a lovely interview which I'll be posting on Friday but in the meantime you can grab you copy on Smashwords through August 30th! Use the code E5Y9M at checkout. Thank you Arista for sharing this sale!

[homebrew-a-la-traumaverse]

Hybridized Options - Lost Bloodlines

I'll admit, I'm a little disappointed at the lack of art, but do you know how many characters do both shapeshifting and blood-drinking? It's not a lot.

The Persona trades out the Dhampir's combat-oriented bite for a touch of the Changeling's abilities, but even that isn't nearly so versatile as the Changeling's own abilities. On the other hand, Mimicry gives it quite the potential flexibility. The rogue needs to be in two places at once, open two safes at once, charm two nobles at once? Let's make it happen.

The Glamour, on the other hand, uses the Changeling's nature to bolster their host's allure. Their fey nature also gives them some extra defenses against such effects, but with some less-than-fey weaknesses built in. Actually, if they're designed to be vampire servants, wouldn't fey weaknesses make more sense so that the vampire can leverage it?... Eh, even gods can be caught off guard while bathing, ask the guy who got torn apart by wolves about it.

These races were commissioned by @bellefromhell!

[enddaysengine]

Chronicles of Darkness Index

Last update: Dec 11, 2022

Adaptations

Ghastly (Ghost)

Articles

Lancea et Sanctum and Theology

Let’s Read Parasite Rex - Introduction

Let’s Read Parasite Rex - Chapter 1

The Shadow and the Gauntlet (Cosmology)

The Wolf and the Raven (Dark Era)

Items

The Perfect Dress (Memento)

Night Horrors

Black Cat (GM Angel Familiar)

Burning Spiders (Spirit)

Claimed Echo

Damned Jack (Supernal)

Galvanism Cult

Ghost Bats (Animal Ghoul)

Grandfather Moros (Chthonian)

King of Silver (Spirit)

Lionel Hawk & Associates (Conspiracy)

The Master’s Hound (Animal Ghoul)

Melione (Chthonian)

The Monk in the Cathedral (Temple Guardian)

Old Man Mackenzie (Fey-Touched Hunter)

The Phantom (Temple Guardian)

Watchful Elves (Angel)

Winter Murder Floofs (Spirits and Claimed)

Yule Devil (Werewolf)

Zipperhead, Claimed (Claimed Vampire)

Plothooks

Beasts

Changelings

Ghouls (and apparently I talked about them twice, so here’s post #2)

Horrors

Hunters

Mages

Mummies

Prometheans

Shaunkhsen

Sin-Eaters

Spirits

Unchained Demons

Urged 

Vampires

Werewolves

[dailycharacteroption]

Hag-Riven (Bloodrager Archetype)

(art by Mikakoskart on DeviantArt)

Fans of Pathfinder’s lore concerning the many different playable heritages and ancestries may recall that changelings, regardless of gender or apparent species, are the first stage of life for hags, which is a life cycle of magic and cruelty.

A hag will, using magical disguise or charming, seduce a potential mate from most any ancestry and conceive a child with them, which they usually abandon to the other parent. The child seems like a typical member of their species aside from a few odd traits and personality, but eventually, typically around the coming of adulthood, they hear the call, which pushes them to seek out their hag parent. Some ignore it, but those that do not may end up meeting them, which in most cases, leads to days of torturous rituals meant to drive compassion and kindness from their hearts and finally transform them fully into hags.

But what if the ritual is cut short? What if the changeling escapes, or their hag parent is killed before the ritual is completed? In such a case, they are left changed, brimming with arcane power which smacks of the old magic so commonly associated with hags, as well as a vindictive fury in their hearts that they may embrace, or struggle to keep in line.

This is something of a rarity among bloodrager archetypes in that it implies that the didn’t inherit their powers (at least, not directly), and the archetype’s flavor text also implies the existence of remote towns that enact similar rituals on either changelings or others with a bit of the old magic in them through the same partial ritual to create defenders against hags and other creatures of the old world, turning their power against them.

Regardless of their origin, though, these magical warriors can be frightening destroyers with all those good creepy aesthetics of old magic and witchcraft, and they put it to use well.

These bloodragers do not typically use weaponry, and their hag-touched aspect guarantees that their bloodline must be connected to the old ways, typically the arcane, destined, elemental, fey, or most appropriately, hag bloodlines.

However, they have little need for weapons, for their hands are twisted into wicked and deadly claws which they use with lethal precision. As they master their power, the claws only become deadlier.

What’s more, they can sacrifice spell energy to enhance their claws with magic for a few brief moments, which can include various specific enchantment drawing from the elements and a hag’s gift for manipulating magic.

Over time, their flesh becomes suffused with magic, becoming tough and leathery like that of some hags, helping them resist injury.

Additionally, they become not just good at dealing particularly devastating strikes with their claws, but also causing debilitating effects because of them, which could be applied normally, or flavored as minor curses being conducted through their attacks.

This archetype changes a lot of bloodrager basic abilities that are inherited from the barbarian class, while leaving their bloodline and other magical abilities intact, and that’s perfectly fine. Sure, you lose out on faster movement, damage reduction, and incredible reactions, but you do get to turn them into a natural attack powerhouse with a better AC and a pseudo-magus weapon enchantment ability, letting you tailor your claws to the situation not just with magic but an interchangeable crit debuff feat as well. Of course, your exact build will vary based on your choice of bloodline, and while hag may be the most thematic choice, there is something to be said about all of them.

Becoming hag-riven, whether it be your own family putting you through a monstrous process or submitting to this process to protect others, is a scarring experience. In the latter case, you could literally call it weaponized trauma. The point being that these characters are begging to be written as coping (or failing to cope) with a past traumatic experience, though naturally, it’s easy to get that wrong if you’ve never been through something like that, so it pays to do your research.

At his coming of age celebration, Vakkan the grindylow was subjected to the transformation into a hag-riven, gaining power over the seas. The next week, he murdered both the witch who gave him this power and the chieftain, making him the youngest leader his tribe had ever seen, but with his power over water and ice, he has proven to be a fierce and deadly raid leader.

Magical genealogy is a messy science at best, made even more so by the dubious nature of ogre bloodlines. However, sometimes the right traits are passed on in the worst ways, which is how Mama Kob was born. This ogress is not only hag-riven, blessed with a fierce magical rage, but she also has a measure of mythic power, making her a terror of the Scarred Hills.

A rarity among hags, Grandmother Ilsa rose above the cruelty of her origins, and has quietly mothered various changelings with many different lovers over the years, and never subjected any of them to the transformation. However, while she disapproves, some have undergone a partial transformation of their own volition to empower themselves, though she worries that one day one may go too far and unleash an evil she is becoming too old to be able to stop.

[ali3nboyfriend]

gavin’s mechanically a changeling but textually a depowered archfey (he’s. literally lord oberon.) and given that context taking the fey touched feat is probably one of the funniest things i’ve done. i took it for the bonus to charisma and free misty step but uh. yeah, fey touched, i would assume he is Given The Circumstances

[author-a-holmes]

Two Truths And A Lie Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @winglesswriter <3

Tagging forward, with no pressure, to; @duckingwriting, @oh-no-another-idea, @faelanvance, @elliottsbigstrongboyarms

@mr-writes, @pluttskutt and anyone else who wants to play, consider this an open tag <3

Blimey. The wordcount limit on those made it difficult! Might do another one for some of the other characters... Kinda fun, ngl!

[world-of-fire-and-flight]

Book Review: Changeling (Fey Touched #1)

Disclaimer: I was given an ARC of Changeling by the author and voluntarily leaving an honest review of the book.

@author-a-holmes, MY HEART!

From the very first page all the way through the closing pages, Arista Holmes tugged at not only my heartstrings but my intrigue as well. Guiding readers through a well-developed world, main characters Lizzy, Booker, and Andric have an interesting dynamic that kept me on my toes almost as much as the twists woven into the plot as they searched for Lizzy’s mother.

I wasn’t certain what to expect of this portal fantasy novel, or what the relationship between the fey and the vampires would be (as past reads like The Shadow Falls series have been touch and go for me), but the way Holmes skillfully balanced necessary details about the setting and the history between the Fey Court and Vampire Council without interrupting the plot had me turning page after page.

My only disappointment with Changeling is actually no fault of author’s, but my own. I finished this much too quickly and am eagerly looking forward to book 2 because I desperately need to know where Lizzy, Booker, and Andric’s search for Madeline Hail will take them next!

[fey-touched-trilogy]

Reblogged to the Archive...

Hello lovely Taglist people <3

I've just reblogged all the Darkling/Fey Touched related posts from October into the Sideblog/Archive.

Didn't want to tag you all a billion times, so this here is just a single tagged post to tell you that the most recent 36-posts on this blog are from October's "Welcome to Writeblr" event, and the Halloween "Trick or Treat" event.

If you missed any of these posts, snippets, sneak peeks, and worldbuilding shares on my main account, they're now archived here for easy reading access.

Tagging the Taglists...

@ettawritesnstudies @jezifster @jezwrites @faelanvance @noirepersonal @queen-kass-the-writer @athenswrites @thelaughingstag @minamoroz @bardic-tales @outpost51 @talesfromaurea @world-of-fire-and-flight-admin

[cb-writes-stuff]

points. give me a lore dump about your dnd campaign/characters

Do you have any idea what you’ve just unleashed?

*CLAP*

LEMME TELL YOU ‘BOUT (almost) ALL THE CHARACTERS I’VE NEVER HAD THE CHANCE TO PLAY.

Cut because this is really long. “Keep reading”, in this case, is a command.

The Developed Ones

1. Lina - Changeling Twilight Cleric/Wild Magic Barbarian

Lina doesn’t know who her biological parents are. As a baby, she was adopted by a tiefling couple who raised her as their own. They knew she was a changeling, and they didn’t condemn her for it. But… they weren’t the most supportive, either. They told her to always stay as the Lina that looks like their daughter. Brown hair, ram-like horns, peachy skin, the works. Often, she’d get rid of the horns at night, since they weren’t comfortable to sleep in. That earned her more than one scolding.

From an early age, Lina wasn’t really sure what her identity was. She was born as Lina, so that should make her Lina. But, that was just the name she was given. Her parents called her their daughter, called her Lina, but was that enough? Is Lina her? Or is Lina the diligent tiefling daughter her parents raised? Well, okay, then she is her body. But, if her Lina-ness is so uncertain, then how can that define her?

One particularly stormy night, hours after she was supposed to be home, she was taking shelter under a tree, too tired and scared to be anything but her natural self, gray-skinned and black-haired. Then she met her future mentor, a dwarf Cleric of Twilight. He took escorted her home, told her about his temple, and said she should visit sometime. Not long after, she ran away from home. Religion gives people a sense of identity, right?

At first, it was going great. For one thing, she was fascinated by the divine connections between day and night, between light and dark. She knew who she was: an acolyte of the Twilight domain, and later, a Cleric of it. For another, she got to wear pajamas all the time. Sure, no one else did it, but neither did they judge her. They’d even compliment her on it. It was fun to be “the girl with the pajamas”.

But still, it wasn’t enough. Those were just things she was doing, not who she was. And what identity it did offer was insubstantial. The very thing she served, that she claimed to follow wholeheartedly, was forever insubstantial, never concrete, neither day nor night, neither light nor dark. So she fell back into despair.

One day, in one of the weekly services, the head priest taught on the “evils of fey”. Fey, he said, are wholly evil creatures, who only seek to cause misery and sow confusion. He listed many examples, but the worst of them all was changelings. They wear a thousand faces, and can switch between them at will. They could easily replace anyone, and for all you know, they have. How do you know your brother isn’t a changeling? Or your wife? It’s impossible, of course. It would never happen in their temple, but the fact that they can make you question it is evil in itself. The best thing to do is kill any fey you encounter. This, obviously, did not sit well with Lina. She was at her lowest point, considering turning herself in to… well…

Before she had the chance, her mentor came to talk to her. They’d lost touch with each other over the years, and it was nice to see him again—for a few seconds. He was the only person who knew what she was, so she had to run. It’s hard to get by a dwarf, though. He assured her, he wasn’t going to out her. Rather, he had a message for her that came directly from their deity: “You are. This is enough. Now go.” So, Lina set off on adventure because, as she interprets it, she’ll find her identity out in the world.

Lina refuses to wear armor, or anything other than her pajamas. She didn’t wear them for this long to stop wearing them now. She is also extremely protective of them, and is enraged when they’re damaged. Once she brutally and mercilessly kills whoever tore her pajamas, she calms down. Unfortunately, she loses control of her divine magic when blinded by fury—or rather, she can still control it, but she just goes absolutely wild with it without thinking.

2. Quinn - Centaur Totem Barbarian

Full name, Eleanor Quinn Fieldrunner, of the Fieldrunner Clan. Goes by Quinn because too many people called her “E. Quinn” and she never found it funny.

In her clan, wisdom is prized above all else, whether spiritual, intellectual, emotional, or tactical. Everyone has their job, and you must strive to be the best at what you do. Everyone has to decide what wisdom they will seek, and where.

Quinn could never decide, though. Her family called her lazy when her only aspiration was to come back with the hunting party alive. Eventually, she had enough. She wanted to leave. Simply leaving wasn’t an option, though, so she told people she was going to “become wise in the world, to know what’s out there, and… y’know, stuff.” And it worked, so she left and started adventuring.

As a Barbarian, she wears wrappings instead of armor. Centaurs are meant to be free and mobile, not burdened by suits of metal. She also has to deal with being a centaur in a world of non-centaurs. Everywhere she goes, she gets looks, because “woah, a centaur”. She always has to correct people, that they’re her withers, not her hips, as she sassily puts her hands on her withers. In taverns, she has to tell people to stop looking at her flanks. It’s fair the first time, but if they do it excessively she gets annoyed.

3. Erthwyn Dinfire - Water Genasi Glamour Bard

A bard from the Elemental Plane of Water, Erthwyn is known across many worlds, his songs sung on countless planes of existence. Yes, in fact, he’s quite surprised you don’t know the Worlds-Famous Erthwyn Dinfire.

At least, that’s the story he tells people. In reality, he’s from Brookside, a village between two brooks that merge into a river, which feeds into a lake. He and the other kids played there a lot. The lake, as it turned out, was suffused with a marid’s magic, but Erthwyn is the only water genasi in the village. Though his human parents would never tell anyone, this is because he was conceived on the lakeshore.

Anyway. His parents were never sure what to feel about him. Sure, he was their child, and they tried their best to love him, but it was strange to have such a child.

One day, a bard came through the village, and Erthwyn wanted to go see. Turns out, it was the famous adventuring bard Nirv Ané, a tiefling with blue skin and hair like clouds. Since Brookside is the boonies, though, they’d never heard of her. Her songs were of drows and orcs, goblins and yuan-ti, all doing great, heroic deeds. Erthwyn was surprised. He asked her, how could she sing songs praising species that people usually thought of as evil? She explained, she does it because she’s tired of hearing about humans and elves and dwarves—she’d adventured with all three. She wanted to tell stories about people that were feared, especially unfairly. She wanted to change things.

In that moment, Erthwyn had a revelation: bards are really cool. From then on, whenever he was asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, he’d say he wanted to become a bard. And he did. And what do bards do besides become famous? So he tells people he’s famous and composes songs about all the adventures he’s never had. Eventually, he’ll be famous for being famous, and then the whole thing will just sustain itself.

Deep down, he really wants to be a bard so he can change what people think about him, especially his parents. He’s not just a genasi, or a weird version of the kid they were supposed to have. He’s not a gimmick, or a novelty. He’s a person, and he can do things.

He knows other genasi exist, but he avoids them like the plague so they don’t out him as a liar. Same with anyone who studies magic or the like, but because they might actually know stuff about the Elemental Planes and reveal how much he made up (basically all of it).

(Some of Nirv Ané’s hits include “Fragrances Similar to an Adolescent Ghost”, “Regarding a Maiden”, and “Every Pardon-begging”.)

(Yes, his name is an Earth, Wind, & Fire reference. And he’s a water genasi to complete the four elements. And I think it’s hilarious.)

4. Qiana - Plasmoid Astral Monk

Seven cultists are gathered around a table in a dark room, an angel strapped down to the table. Their hands are interlocked, forming a continuous circle, keeping the angel drained of power. An eighth cultist surgically extracts a cubic inch of her flesh and puts it in a crystalline tube and closes the door. The tube fills with salt water. The cultists begin chanting, casting the Clone spell to create a soulless body with all the power of an angel, so they can animate it for their own purposes. Finally, after an hour of constant chanting, the cube transforms… into a viscous, kinda-gross glob of pink goop. The head cultist turns to the angel, raging. “What have you done?” Restrained, powerless, unable to help herself, in absolutely no position of power, the angel laughs. “The body of an angel is too holy to be created by such evil magic.” That only stokes the cultist’s fury. He conjures a wicked green flame into his hand, intending to burn the soul straight from her body and use it as their puppet instead.

Meanwhile, a group of paladins approach the entrance to the ritual chamber. To the side is a desk with a little woman behind it, the receptionist, not looking up from her work. The paladins stand there politely. One clears his throat and she looks up. “Do you have an appointment?” she asks. The lead paladin, unsure what else to say, tells her, “Uh… yes?” “Name?” He gives his name in the way people give their names to receptionists. “Stormwind Thundercall, Champion of Justice, Herald of Compassion, Exemplar of Purity, Mighty Protector of Good, Crusader of Light, Keeper of the Dayblade, Ninth Protector of the Great Weave, Holy Paladin of the Lady of Might, Mistress of Magic, Power Incarnate, and the One True Spell, Mystra.” She flips through a few pages. “I don’t see an appointment for—” She thinks for a moment. “For you.” “Well, can we call it a walk-in?” She looks at him levelly. “You can’t go in without an appointment.” One of the other paladins sniffs the air and whispers to Stormwind, “Sir, she’s a fiend.” Stormwind has had enough of this, and starts walking to the door. A thick black tentacle reaches from behind the desk and blocks it. “I said,” she hissed, rising from the desk and revealing a very tentacle-y lower half, “you can’t go in without an appointment.”

As the head cultist is about to burn the angel’s soul out, a group of paladins bursts through the door. “Your receptionist is dead.” An intense battle breaks out, holy paladin magic against evil cultist magic. In a Hail Mary to weaken the paladins, one of the cultists casts Antimagic Field. “Wait, NO—” The spell is cast. The beefy paladins look at the squishy casters. The squishy casters look at the beefy paladins.

With the cultists dead and the rest of the temple being cleared out, Stormwind frees the angel from her restraints. Casually, he asks, “How was it? Not too bad, I hope?” “Ah, I’ve had worse.” She looks at the back of her thigh. “My leg healed pretty well too.” Stormwind nods. “No one imprisons an angel of Mystra without facing retribution.” The angel smiles a little uncomfortably, and thinks, Paladins are all the same. The other paladins return, reporting that the rest of the cultists didn’t put up much of a fight. They’re all dead. “Um, what’s… that?” The paladin points to the pink goop in the test tube. They all find it kinda gross. Stormwind raises an eyebrow at the angel. She takes a closer look, using some sort of magic. “It’s… alive. In the same way that a vegetable is alive. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” Stormwind nods and signals for the paladins to move out. The angel lingers a little longer, gazing upon the goop. I’m sure it won’t be a problem… Probably.

Years pass, the pink goop slowly absorbing the salt water. When all the water is gone, it’s grown to about 2½ square feet. It wakes up, unaware of what senses it has, feeling nothing but the ground beneath it and the crystal of the test tube. No one enters the temple. Then, months later, the ceiling begins to crumble, and for the first time the pink goop becomes aware of new senses. Light enters the temple, and the pink goop realizes it can see. It feels the sun on its membranes, cells vibrating and moving faster with heat. External vibrations in the air become birds singing and wolves howling. More months pass, and the pink goop is alone. It has thoughts, but has no vocabulary. It has never heard speech. It has never even encountered a living creature.

It’s been decades. No one remembers what the crumbling, ruined temple was once used for. Suddenly, the overgrowth is disturbed by a few monks, distracted from their pilgrimage by curiosity. Inside, they find a crystal test tube, a pool of viscous pink goop inside. One of them, a halfling, goes up to the tube and taps it tentatively. The pink goop ripples, waking up, and directs its light receptors at her. It’s in awe, with no words to describe the feeling. For the first time in its life, it sees another living creature. For the first time in its life, it has a desire. If only it had the words, it would think, “I want to be like this. I want to be like this moving thing.” The pink goop tries to shape itself, slowly, laboriously, assuming a new shape. It molds itself, forming rudimentary arms and legs, then a head and hair, positioning its many receptors in what seem to be the right places. (It would have to fix them later.) When the pink goop settles, it’s in the very vague shape of a young girl. It lays prone, limbs spread out in a star, in the test tube, looking up at the monk.

The monk, very spooked, calls over her friend. “What is this?” she asks. “I don’t know,” says the other, a dragonborn, “but… it is trapped. Whether it knows its own cage or not, it is trapped. Stand back.” The second monk channels ki, and thin, delicate arms appear in the air beside her. Translucent blue, they are ethereal—a product of her ki. With them, she punches the glass, shattering it instantly. Shards fall on the pink goop-girl, sinking through as in molasses. The goop-girl watches them curiously. “Come here, little one,” the monk says, offering a hand. With great effort, the pink goop-girl flips herself over, and struggles to crawl to the monk’s hand, having absolutely no experience moving with legs, much less moving at all. Awkwardly, she rose onto her feet, wondering. It reminded the monks of a baby, learning its legs were able to support its full weight.

The pink goop-girl tentatively reaches for the monk’s hand. Upon making contact, she begins absorbing the skin. That’s new. She’d never encountered organic matter before. The monk yanks her hand away. Though her scales weren’t absorbed at all, it still stings. Trying to suck the pain from her index finger, she reached for the pink goop-girl with an ethereal hand. The goop-girl reaches for it, her hand engulfing it completely and giving her ample support. The two monks nod to each other, satisfied that they figured out a solution. Together, they walk out. The monks waiting outside are quite surprised to see a girl made of pink goop stumbling beside them.

The goop-girl travels with them on the rest of their pilgrimage, and they teach her to walk, and talk, and write, and everything else they think of. Finally, they arrive at the monastery. They register the goop-girl as an orphan (they can’t think of anything better), and name her Qiana. Once she’s old enough, they initiate her as a monk proper, and teach her according to the traditions of the Way of the Astral Self.

(There was originally going to be a comic about how Qiana even exists, since plasmoids are more sci-fi than fantasy. I mean, they come from Spelljammer, for crying out loud.)

(Would y’all read a story about Qiana? After revisiting this, I might write one.)

And now…

The gem 〜★

5. Ocha - Tiefling Shepherd Druid

Once upon a time, there was a husband and wife, both humans, who loved each other dearly. One day, the husband became very sick. The town physician said he couldn’t help, no medicine he had could heal him. The wife went to the nearby city, but the doctor there said the same thing. No medicine could heal her husband. He was as good as dead.

Grief-stricken, the wife returned home to her husband. With labored breath, he told her of the stories he heard as a child, of a dryad that lived in the forest. No, she said, she would not turn to such a creature for help. The husband assured her, only the dryad could make an antidote powerful enough to cure him. Reluctant, she packed her bags and made the journey deep into the heart of the dryad’s woods.

The dryad was waiting beneath the branches, tending nature itself as if a garden. Dryad of the woods, said the wife, I have come for your help. The dryad paid no mind, growing flowers. In her own time the dryad asked the wife, help with what? The wife explained that her husband was very sick, and no one could help him. The dryad listen, and thought, and told her: I can give you an antidote, but it will cost you greatly. The wife asked what the dryad would have from her. You are no mother, the dryad said, so give me your firstborn child. The wife was mortified at such a demand. But she had no choice, her husband came closer to death every day. So she made the deal, and left the forest, antidote in hand.

Many years later, the wife was with child. She remembered the deal she made with the dryad, but she had a plan. She would hide away with the child, so the dryad could never find them. The time came for the child to be born. The midwife fainted, and they thought her dead. The child had bony stubs on its temples, and eyes entirely emerald green with no white or pupil. The wife had given birth to a hideous tiefling.

When the dryad came for the child, the husband and wife were ready and waiting. Take it, the wife said, you do me a great service. She thrust the thing upon the dryad and slammed the door shut.

The dryad looked at the child in her arms. How could they have such a thing? She thought the bouncing babe, with his fledgeling horns and incredible green eyes. She’d never had a plan for what to do with the child… And his parents had abandoned him…

Returning to her woods, infant in her arms, the dryad made up her mind. She would raise the child as her own, teaching him the ways of the dryad.

Meet Ocha! Or, a guy who introduces himself as Ocha. He’d never give you his actual name. That’s not how fey role. He was raised by a dryad, who he calls Dryad-Mom. He’s a child about heart and innocent about everything (even the ruthlessness of nature, which he knows all about). He always follows fey customs and etiquette, even though no one else does. He will simply announce “I’m coming in!” very politely and lightly rather than ask permission to enter, or knock. He also heats up his food slightly so it wasn’t entirely made by someone else. He also swears in Sylvan.

(His name, “Ocha”, is the Japanese word for tea, from a disagreement I had with a friend over how he word “tiefling” is pronounced.)

This dumb doodle is somehow the only art I have of him. He doesn’t know.

I think the funniest part of this drawing is that none of the crossed out things are powders.

This took me all day to write. You asked for a loredump, and you got it. My palm hurts from holding my phone. I hope you’re happy.

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

The fairiest of all 1/2

Note: Based on this ask, I basically wrote this...I don't even know what this is, but I like it. A lot. I'm currently jumping between this and four other wips. It's like my brain won't rest and just keeps on spitting out AUs. Anyway, my main source is Celtic mythology with some Fey Wanderer and Feylost from dnd. The reader is technically not a changeling, because they are actually the original human taken by the fairies. Also, this Dante is dmc anime Dante, because I think he does not get enough love. I'll be posting part two cause this is already too long and it expanded WAY above my expectations.

Enjoy this helter-skelter of magical worlds.

Rainbow Dragon

The existence of demons and the infernal lands they inhabit is widely accepted in Redgrave and the rest of the world. However, the other world almost mirrors ours. A place that is always changing, always shifting. A place up is down, light is dark and nothing is as it seems. Unlike the underworld, it's so deeply intertwined with ours that it's sometimes impossible to tell it apart. But if you look closer you just may catch fleeting sight of it.

You grew up in the World of the Fae after disappearing from your home plane as a child. Your parents made a pact with a Fairy that they'll get whatever they wish for in exchange for their firstborn. Only when they held a wailing infant in their arms they realized what they got themselves into. Faefolk is too whimsical and fleeting to take on the responsibility of raising a human child, but they did their best.

Living in this world shaped you, whether physically or psychologically. You're a bit too easy in your step, almost as if you were floating. When you're happy, you smell sweetly like nectar or honey. Your hair grows unnaturally fast. Flowers bloom in your presence. You have little to no concept of time and space. You can't keep still even when sitting down. You almost always space out, as if your consciousness was split between two worlds.

All good things come to an end. Your Fae parent realized that there's no place for a human in the Otherworld, and because they cared about you, they knew you have to go back. Being figuratively spat out of your only home after reaching what your Fae patron considered mature age was like a slap in the face. The beginnings were...rough. You quickly realized that the human world is completely different from the Fae world. To this day, there are still many things you don't understand, but you've grown to accept that.

As much as you wished to leave your old life behind, once you touch the veil, you cannot stay away from it. What about the family of Brownies that lives in your old apartment building? Or that Dryad whose tree did not get cut down because you almost turned the city upside down to get signatures for the petition? Do the locals feel safer after those disappearances caused by the Redcapes residing on one of the roads leading out of the city? And that Merfolk, about to be sold by the local mafia to be a pet of some rich asshole? Time and time again, you found yourself being pushed between two sides of the conflict of two worlds.

You realized the potential of a human acclimated into the world of the fae. And so, you became a mediator between the Otherworld and the human world. The fey warden guards the place where the veil unravels and takes care of unwanted visitors that step over it in one direction or another. Luckily, you have your fairy friends to help you with this task. Also the wide variety of skills and abilities at your disposal.

A fey mystique surrounds you. Now as a fey wanderer, you represent both the mortal and the fey realms. As you wander the multiverse, your joyful laughter brightens the hearts of the downtrodden, and your martial prowess strikes terror in your foes, for great is the mirth of the fey and dreadful is their fury. You are able to augment your weapons with mind-scarring magic, drawn from the gloomy hollows of the Unseelie fey. Your experience with the fey guarded your mind and sharpened your tongue. You are not easily charmed or frightened and your mouth can get you out of any sticky situation. The Seelie court has blessed you with the assistance of the fey. You can call forth fey spirits. You can slip in and out of Fey world to move in a blink of an eye.

With the life you have, you were sure that there's nothing in this world that could surprise you. You were about to be proven wrong.

You met at a fair. So inconspicuous, like you were just average people or people at all. Your senses were alerted of the otherworldy presence. You started scouting immediately, but after half an hour you gave up, hoping the perpetrator will reveal themselves eventually. To distract yourself, you headed to one of the stands to buy ice cream. Just as you were about to dig into your cone, you caught sight of a handsome man in the crowd. He was easy to spot, towering over everyone, tails of bright red coats fluttering dramatically around him, snow-white hair sticking out like a sore thumb. When his eyes met yours for a brief moment, you completely forgot your surroundings, causing you to walk into one of the striped poles that held the string lights. The ice cream ended on shoes. Drat.

The incident successfully got rid of any cravings for snacks, so you took your chance at the Ferris wheel instead. When it was finally your turn, you couldn't believe who they paired you up with. The ride was a little awkward at first. The man in red did not seem to want to strike up a conversation and you yourself were finding yourself at a loss for words. You noticed the big guitar case he was holding.

"Are you a musician? Will you be performing tonight?" You offered him your best charming smile.

The man looked at you in surprise. "Um, no...my performances are for...different crowd."

"Ooooh," you nodded in understanding. "So, you're some rock star who tries to go low profile, got it." You grinned. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." and you finished it with a cheeky wink.

He laughed. Finally, he laughed, and it was the sexiest sound ever. His blue eyes filled with mirth, few white strands fell to his face. "You seem to be more of a Funk person yourself." He looked you up and down and you felt yourself shiver like his gaze was a physical touch.

You lifted your arms in defeat, "Hey, everybody needs a little Groove in their life."

Dante opened his mouth, probably to say something charming, funny, or flirty, or that he's madly in love with you, hopefully. You never found out, because at that moment, right when you were at the top of the Ferris wheel, the machine jerked to a halt. If Dante hasn't caught you in his strong arms, you would've probably fallen off.

"Whew! That was close. Looks we're gonna be stuck here for a while-" You turned to him with a flirtatious grin, but Dante had the same serious glare with which he stepped into the booth.

Before he had any chance to react he jumped over the railing and down onto one support beam holding the wheel. That's when you noticed it. As vast as your knowledge of the various fey is, you've never seen a creature like this before. Something between a big lizard and a centipede, with a terrible grin filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth, was gnawing at the center of the Ferris wheel. That thing wants the entire thing to collapse, you realized.

As if it sensed your gaze, the monster had turned to you, a disgusting grin widening even more as if it knew about your realization. Your silent exchange was pierced by a gunshot and the lights of the attraction fizzled out, followed by several terrified screams.

What will you do? What can you do? You asked yourself as you watched the mysterious man in red discard his guitar case and pull out a huge claymore. You only gaped as he lifted it over his head like it weighed nothing and slashed at the monster.

The slippery bastard dodged, curling its slimy body away, and slinked away on one of the support beams towards another unsuspect person in the nearest booth, but not before disappearing out of sight with a few ripples over its scaly skin. Camouflage. It seems the hunter realized it too, because he stood frozen at the center point of the Ferris wheel, trying to locate the creature.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a ripple in the air. You wanted to yell at the man to warn him, but that would alert the creature as well. It seems a little bit of magic is needed here.

Dante was alerted by a bright colorful sheen right above him. When he lifted his head, instead of the demon he saw its silhouette outlined in the mysterious light. Without hesitating, he jumped up and slashed vertically. He was rewarded by a howling screech and one severed leg falling down. The monster decided to retreat into safety, now that its location was revealed. Unfortunately, it decided your booth is the best choice. When the beast noticed the tiny human hunched in the corner of the booth, it snarled menacingly. Fangs baring in the victory at the easy prey. Any normal human would shit themselves at this moment. If you were normal, that is.

You wasted no time in showering the beast in a cordon of incorporeal violet needles. With a hiss of pain, the monster leaped at you with renewed rage. At that point, the booth could not hold your combined weights any longer and collapsed. Dante watched helplessly as the booth dislocated from its position on the wheel’s rim. He tried to get to you with all the inhuman speed he possessed. Desperate to save you, a strange person with a bright sparkle in their eyes and a sweet scent tickling his nose. He can’t stand the thought of your eyes losing that bright sheen, to be just another voice to haunt him in his dreams. That’s when he saw it. Instead of erratic descent on the concrete, you were…floating down. As if you were riding on pixie dust, you were surrounded by golden sparkles, legs poised, ready for the descent, arms perched above you. He only extended his arms in silent shock as you gently settled into his arms.

You locked eyes for a moment and Dante desperately scrambled for the things to say. THE Dante Sparda was at a loss for words, and you didn’t seem to be doing much better.

“That was…uh…”

“Yeah…” You couldn’t help but laugh at the bizarreness of the situation. Your laugh sounded like the tinkling of the bells, and Dante felt a smile stretching his lips as if of their own volition. As if he couldn’t help but be happy around you. Who are you?

The small world you two were in was disturbed by a loud crash of the booth hitting the ground. “Let’s get out of here,” Dante exclaimed sternly as he carried you away from the situation. Your eyes were still trained on the broken booth, still wondering what kind of creature you just saw.

“It’s better if you forget what just transpired here,” Dante told you as you stood several feet away from the ruckus as the police and firemen secured the area around ferries wheel. He spoke to you while you were both looking at the scene, not once looking at you.

“What was that thing that attacked us?” You ignored his question and bite into a cookie you pulled out of the sack filled with baked goods. The monster attack seemed to reawaken your craving for snacks.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“You don’t know what I don’t want to know.” You parried between the munching. If there’s something that stayed with you since leaving the Otherworld it’s your love for wordplay.

All he did was shoot you an annoyed look. You realized that this is not the way to go and asked him instead, “All right, what type of creature are you then?”

He finally looked at you, and he was met with those bright, sharp eyes again. They made the knot in his stomach tighter, his throat a bit too dry. He’s attracted to you, and that really won’t do. Especially since you seem to see straight through him.

He turned away and started walking away. He was acting like a jackass, and you were so nice to him. Even offered him one of your cookies. Hopefully, it’ll be enough for you to be put off by him. But then he felt a small hand tug on his with surprising strength.

“I said wait! Where do you think you’re going? It’s rude to walk away when someone’s asking you a question, you know?” You put your hands on your hips and waddled a finger in front of his face.

You were putting his silent brooding tough guy persona under strain.

“Dante.”

“Huh?”

“Name’s Dante.” He blurted out. Damn, he wasn’t supposed to say that. You really making him lose his hard-earned control.

Well, at least you were getting somewhere. “Nice to meet you, Dante.” You extended your hand,and without a second thought, Dante grabbed it.

“So, ferris wheel may be closed, but other attractions are still open. What do say we tried shooting game?” “I…” “Awesome! Let’s go.” Without letting go of his hand, you pulled him after you. You knew you were pushy, but being carried by this guy princess-style gave you a new boost of serotonin and new hope to try again.

Dante watched the small palm resting in his hand and pondered how he got himself into this again. You’re just so…maddening, bubbly, and intoxicating, and the syrupy-sweet scent that clung to you was driving him mad. Just as he was about to excuse himself again you turned to him and gave him a dazzling smile that completely disarmed him.

“Oh, by the way, my name is…”

[raventeresi]

I love Lauren, hand over my heart. We've been friends for awhile now and have written in various groups together (all that her and the admin team have run) if it's not obvious by now, i'd follow Lauren anywhere. I wanted to do a homage by touching on one character from each group we've been in together, Lauren is incapable of being a bad writer so every character has been fabulous and I'm sorry if I yank wigs or expose too much in this piece <3

Nixon Reynolds - Empire

Where we met <3 This will be a devotion post to our friendship or a questionable timeline, there might have been one other group that we had been in together before but i had joined near the end (i later found out i had played beca's sister so im making non commotional hand gestures.)

Nixon was a badass witch who was a lovely gay during a time when we weren't as loud abt how gay we all are, he's an icon truly.

Xander Amyntoros - Corinth

I stopped rping and then I came back, joined this lovely group and now I can't quit y'all. We keep a candle lit for Bradley James in this house and we're still waiting on that ring. Xander was an old ass vampire who was sassy as Lauren is a sassy person, became human, got engaged and then became a Wyvern Shifter (as I write this now, I realize the dragons have been in the room this entire time)

Arendil - Avalon

I love when Lauren plays slutty cubi's, it warms the heart and delights the senses. This group walked so The Queendom could run, I loved this group and the species which were changelings, halfbloods, fey and the knights of the round table were amazing.

Meryasek - Senatus

Our Fairy Prince! Lauren led the way with druids and the fey storylines really began to unfold, this is where I think we collectively got more kinker or at least less quiet about it. From tentacles to Mpreg, we really did it all.

Eivor - The Queendom

We've arrived at today and I'm still holding Lauren's hand! I am so honored to be her friend throughout the years and experiencing over the interwebs the bliss of her wedding day! I love our Queen and this hot silver elven piece of ass!

@eivorxelvhen