#Lost Arcane Tunnels

[darktripz]

NOCTURNAL EFFIGY - Ov Wampyric Blood

CONIFEROUS MYST - X

SERPENT’S ISLE - The Sunken

KLYVR - Battles & Frost

KLYVR / PINE KNIGHT - Songs of Andor

GOBLIN FORT - Lost Arcane Tunnels

Lost Armor Records

[transparencyboo]

For the last two weeks or so I've been playing the Mega Drive dungeon crawler Shining in the Darkness. I've recently been going through all the various action-RPGs the system had to offer and kinda found myself lusting for more, so I expanded the scope.

Shining in the Darkness had one of those cover arts I vividly remember seeing in game stores during the 90s, I understood already back then that whatever this was would be too complicated for my feeble preschool brain, but it had a shiny glossy allure that still beckoned to me with promises of daring adventures and grand battles. Questions lingered in my head: Who is that evil bastard zapping sparks at Cavin from the Gummi Bears? Why has the king entrusted the safety of his kingdom to a meagre boy and his two misfit friends?

Well, it turns out that big bad guy is called Dark Sol, the bane of all game difficulty discourse, and the reason the king has enlisted three poor kids is because there is no one else to rely on after your daddy went missing. Everyone else just sorta gives up along the way.

My initial conclusion of this game was to commend my young self for the striking assessment, my five year old self would never get anywhere in this game between the English text, abstracted navigation and number crunching battle mechanics. Shining in the Darkness is a bona fide classic dungeon gauntlet endurance simulator, where you traverse vanishing point block tunnels and encounter enemies. I've played one or two games like this before, like the original Phantasy Star, but this time a new desire struck me. I wanted to draw maps. Maybe I'm just getting older and more patient, leading me to wilfully ignore easily available resources online.

By my recollection, this is the first time I've dedicated myself to playing a game like this. Usually I just resort to my sense of direction, which I've gathered seems to at least be above average, since anytime I go anywhere with anyone I always end up playing shepherd so they don't get lost. Worst case scenario I'll just fall back to mapping efforts by online heroes from years past. For Shining in the Darkness I persisted blindly about halfway through until I admitted to myself charting a map of the labyrinthine caves would be a lot easier. Luckily, the game allows you to spend 1 MP to see a chunk of where you've walked, meaning I could get neatly organized segments to copy by hand.

Perhaps my biggest takeaway from this endeavour was how much of the game experience was expressed through this map project. I spent just as much time slaying beasts as I did counting tiles and filling them out with my pencil. It became a natural counterbalance that provided vital pacing to the game mechanics. Walking, fighting, charting. In turn, through the principle of learning by doing, I gained a more intimate familiarity with the environments by just replicating them out on a sheet of paper. I found that while the map helped, I actually didn't need it much for backtracking because my drawings had helped me remember the layouts of the corridors anyway.

I guess the lesson learned is that while old design sensibilities may appear to be arcane and cumbersome when easier solutions exists, the obfuscation is part of the fun. The game hands me an intentionally hard to navigate world, shows me that it's fully capable of displaying maps of it, but still asks me to provide that dimension myself. Through doing this, I discover that drawing maps is both surprisingly enjoyable and cognitively stimulating. I realize that had I downloaded some pre-packaged maps online and used as my bible, Shining in the Darkness would've been a vastly different experience, one of monotonous meandering through endless fights while confidently striding along the known path.

Perhaps that's why the game was called Shining and the Darkness in Japan, it doesn't flow as well as the western title, but at the same time it poetically reflects this act of discovery. I am Shining, the game provides the Darkness, we work together, we must unify to become whole.

As for Dark Sol, he turned into a big monster boy and was vanquished by a spunky cartographer child and her two cohorts. The unknown has been made known and the kingdom is once more saved.

/Kiki

[dawnholde-if]

INFO / PLACES OF INTEREST

Sparia (Spare-ee-uh) - Your homeland, a highly traditional kingdom. Ruled by a monarch, with you as the heir to the throne. Magic is expected to be used only in ceremonial settings, and most citizens have never left the island. This is your old home.

Sacred Sea - A sea of legend, the Sacred Sea has perpetually calm waters. Rumor has it that when the waves stir up, disaster is about to befall the neighboring lands.

Solador - Notable locations: Dawnholde Institute for the Arcane. The land is constantly under a solar eclipse for an unknown reason. Very little flora can grow here.

Ormrgrad (Or-mer-grad) - Home to many dragonkin and ruled by the Emperor and Empress. The Emperor presides over the north, and the Empress, the south. Notable locations: Ormrgrad City, the capital. On the border of the north and south regions. Caidrith was born in the city to the royal family.

Northern Ormrgrad - Snowy and mountainous, few dragonkin make their home here, but the ones who do are very resilient. Many true dragons live in the far north.

Southern Ormrgrad - The desert region of Ormrgrad. Most dragonkin live here, as well as ground-dwelling dragons. Oases with settlements are scattered throughout.

Leodosan Wilds (Leo-doe-san) - A sparsely inhabited area with few cities, the Leodosan Wilds are home to most earth and water elementals. The few fae that reside outside the Fae Wilds are mainly benevolent, however, the farther south you travel, the more hostile the inhabitants become. Cere lived here prior to coming to Dawnholde.

Entrance to the Hells - The cave that leads to the first layer of the Hells. Many lesser infernals live in the tunnel network.

Fae Wilds - Birthplace of all fae creatures, though not all choose to stay there. The land is brimming with magic and the capital city is Islahaer.

Islahaer (Ee-la-hair) - The capital of the Fae Wilds. Many elves also live here, in addition to the few remaining humans from the Lost City of Echoport. Desily hails from here.

The Tainted Lands - Notable Locations: The Lost City of Echoport. An old, plague-ridden human kingdom. Few creatures live here now, and most of those who do are in constant quarantine. Rycharde was training to be a knight before the city closed its gates.

Lake of Lucidity - The lake in which all rivers in the area flow to.

Defiant Deep - The northern sea, filled with ancient monsters and deep sea merfolk. Few ships that set sail here reach their destination.

Ocean of Benevolence - Notable Locations: Merdae (Mer-day). The warmer, southern ocean that many civilized merfolk call home. Includes the royal capital, Merdae. Most merfolk in the capital are very rich, but the farther away from the capital they live, the less they have. Merrick comes from a small town 10 miles from the city.

NOT ON THE MAP

Aiszuth (Ice-zooth) - A run-of-the-mill human city with a thriving criminal underworld. The governor may appear to maintain power, but the true power belongs to the necromancers of the Undercity. Finch comes from the most renowned lineage of necromancers.

[steamclouds]

Voradras Masterpost

Fighting prodigy turned Arcane Trickster

Name: Voradras Adravo of House Adravo, 15th House in Menzoberranzan during the 1480's, later Voradras Dekarios

Age: 52 in 1492

Class: Rogue

Origin: Character for the Lost Mine of Phandelver Module

Home: Menzoberranzan (exiled), Neverwinter Wood, Waterdeep

Alignment: Neutral Good

Likes: His friends, his weasel familiar Alva, sparring, kindness, Gale :)

Dislikes: Cruelty, hatred, water, spiders, bright days

Siblings: Zethir (younger brother, Wild Magic Sorcerer, student at Sorcere), 5 yet unnamed sisters

Unique Traits: Heterochromia, dark scleras due to some infernal intermingling way down his bloodline, filed sharp canines, Tear in left ear from a tavern brawl, huge elaborate spellscar on his chest from a resurrection spell, 2 scars across his nose, given by a priestess of Lolth as punishment

Deity: None, though he's aware of Eilistraee and her temples, he's become too wary of gods to worship any outright

Training: Graduate of Melee-Magthere, was top of the class for several years, taught himself spells from a surface wizard's spellbook he stole in Sorcere

Closest friends: Magpie Cackle (@dagoth-menthol's Kenku Druid), Sunset Walker (@titan-wolfdog's Tabaxi Ranger), Shadowheart, Wyll

Languages: Drow, Drow Sign, Common, Goblin, Thieves Cant

Tags:

oc: Voradras, Heartweave (ship with Gale Dekarios)

Art:

Ref Sheet, Menzo look and more in the tags!

Facts:

Got thrown off the back of the dragon Venomfang when his party fought him in Neverwinter, falling to his death -> Friends dragged him and another dead party member to the nearest temple to revive them

Cannot swim and gets horribly seasick on ships

intense sweet tooth

Very charismatic and talkative, WILL strike up conversation with just about anyone

Gentle and quiet voice (Voiceclaim: K from Blade Runner 2049)

bad at taking critique, especially fighting advice

limited palate, eats too much meat and not enough fiber or vegetables

Born into the cruel society of the Drow in the Underdark, Voradras did his best to fit in. From a young age, and spurred on by cautionary tales of the fate of those who left to become renegades, he knew that his heart wasn't in the endless tunnels of this lightless world, but the surface above. He followed every order for his own safety, though there was always an air of disobedience about him, much to the disdain of his Matron Mother.

After graduation, he spent some time patrolling the tunnels before finally setting the escape he had planned for years, into motion.

As one last show of his disdain for Lolth, he stole his familie's ceremonial dagger from the chapel and chopped off his long hair. Grabbing only the necessities like his piwafwi and rapier, he wandered along the tunnels for many months, finally emerging onto the surface in a cave near Neverwinter Wood.

After being turned away from every place he approached, and hunted by some, his saving grace was a strange and eccentric kenku druid called Magpie Cackle, who took him in and they became fast friends.

After taking on a quest in Neverwinter by the dwarf Gundren Rockseeker, they teamed up with the Aasimar Nephilim, Tabaxi Sunset and Woodelf Lisa, the group quickly becoming tightly knit on their way to Phandelver. Facing no prejudice from them, for the first time in his life Voradras felt content, he knew he could call this group his best friends.

After many shenanigans, including Lisa and Voradras losing their lives for a short while as they fought a vicious green dragon, they finished their quest to free Wave Echo Cave for the dwarves.

Life seemed well for them afterwards, everyone going about their own ways, though they all stayed in contact, . Voradras became a sellsword wandering about the wilderness as he wanted, together with someone he cared about a lot.

A handful of years later though, everything was turned upside down by a traumatic event involving his kin, and his subsequent kidnapping by the Nautiloid.

Worried by their friend's sudden disappearance, the group made it their task to find their lost drow friend again. Following the tracks all the way down to Baldur's Gate.

[bodhranwriting]

So. One thing about my writing is I tend to include cool old men. I don’t know why (I do know why, I miss my grandpa a lot), but I’d just like to see which one is the coolest/most interesting.

I had several complaints about not putting the reading first so, apologies.

1. Gideon Laurence “Six” Sixsmith (The Arcane Skies trilogy)

“How could you have been so…”

Stupid wasn’t the right word. Sixsmith wasn’t stupid. He was – in Emmett’s opinion – quite clever, if not well-educated. It was the lack of long-term planning which infuriated him.

If they’d both been given a keg of explosives and told to blow up a bridge to stop an advancing army, Emmett would have spent an inordinate amount of time calculating the exact force about to be exerted, the reach of the shockwave, and what would happen to the remnants, until he got a bullet in his head when the army arrived. Sixsmith would have lit the fuse before the commander had finished speaking and probably still been standing on the bridge.

Emmett still remembered his friend’s completely bewildered reaction to his first grey hair – the man had no right to have survived to adulthood let alone old age.

2. Professor Theodore Vincent (Flies in Amber)

She remembered him as a distant speck behind a lectern: a stout man with owlish spectacles and a gruff, taut voice who very matter-of-factly had laid out the realities in becoming a necrotic archaeologist.

Those facts had included the assertion of why he was so admired. While none of his discoveries had individually been as earth-shattering as his contemporaries, he had been steady and consistent in uncovering the pertinent, careful minutiae of the past. And, unlike, his contemporaries, he was still alive and not being treated for ‘nerves’ or ‘alcoholism’.

Some of that lustre was shedding, however, the longer she watched the exchange. The youth – his assistant, Beckett assumed – looked on the verge of tears, scrambling to gather the manuscripts as Professor Vincent loomed over him.

3. Albany “Alby” Kingsfoil (Soul-Glass)

“Alby! It’s me!” I reached out and took his face in my hands, firmly forcing him to look at me. His beard was soft under my palms, his skin as weatherbeaten as my own. “Look, it’s just me, I’m sorry.”

He groaned softly and batted my hands away. “‘Lene, don’t -“ the sentence dissolved into a bout of coughing and he laid his head on the edge of the table.

I took a step closer and squeezed his shoulder. “You bastard,” I murmured, “you lied about feeling better.”

“I do -“ his voice was muffled - “but you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” He raised his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Besides, nobody looks the pinnacle of perfection and vitality when you petrify them near perdition.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself when I noticed the half smile hovering around the corner of his mouth.

I threw up my hands. “I’m looking up that sentence later, I don’t think those words mean what you think they do.”

But Alby smiled properly and that made the sun come out again.

4. Lord Felix Nereus Lucius Antonio Thorne (Captain Alaric’s Demise)

Thorne stopped.

Now the sensible thing to do on a night like this, with a winter storm starting to whip up the ocean outside, would be to explore further one of his partially mapped tunnels. He would be deeper in the caves, yes, but he knew, at least, what to expect. He could move more quickly and wasn’t likely to get… distracted. He wouldn’t have to worry as much about getting lost. He knew vaguely where the corridors narrowed and where the ocean seeped in and where the ceilings sloped.

It was the sensible option so therefore he ignored it.

The third tunnel was wide, the mouth black as tar.

Thorne took a breath and walked inside.

5. Sebastiaan “Bas” Hanse (Dmitry Donne, Detective for Fun)

“I’ve got a spare room,” he said finally. “And honestly, company might be nice. But you’re gonna have to pitch in for the rent.”

Bas looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Really.” Dmitry offered his hand. “C’mon. It’s getting cold.”

Levering the bigger man to his feet was harder than he’d thought and it turned out Bas’ bag had split at some point so it was another ten minutes before they bid farewell to Katerina and were walking towards the Silk District.

“You’re sure about this, Dmitry?”

Dmitry nodded. “I think so. Besides, can’t resist taking strays apparently.” He pursed his lips and added, “I could use your talents, actually. Being able to see the future would be very useful in my line of work.”

“I can’t see the future.”

“Of course you can.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve just got good intuition.”

Dmitry eyed him.

“I think I’d know if I was a seer.”

“Yeah… silly of me. Your, uh, “intuition”, then.”

“You think so?”

Dmitry exhaled heavily.

“Pretty sure.”

“That’s… brilliant.” Bas beamed at him. “Sounds fun, actually, I enjoyed assisting. It’s almost as fun as acting. By the way, did I say thank you for saving my life?”

“Yes. Five times.”

“Make it six. Thanks.”

They walked on in silence. Gentle flakes started spiralling down.

“Do you cook?” Bas asked suddenly.

“Cook? Sort of. Why, do you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll make dinner.”

“Brilliant.”

“Do you like fish?”

“Fish would be great.”

[the-gnomish-bastard]

The world is changed.

I feel it in the water.

I feel it in the earth.

I smell it in the air.

Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.

It began with the forging of the Great Wizard Hats. Three were given to the Archmagos, nigh immortal, wisest and eldest of all wizards.

Seven to the Council Members, great law makers and bureaucrats of the Arcane City. And nine, nine Hats were gifted to the Wizards of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these Hats was bound the strength and the will to govern each domain. But they were all of them deceived, for another Hat was made.

Deep in the land of Helmgar, in the Workshop of Mount Gnall, the Bastard Wizard Gnomus forged a master Hat, and into this Hat he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to make a soup from all life.

One Hat to rule them all.

One by one, the free lands of Realmtyr fell to the power of the Hat, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of men and elves marched against the armies of Helmgar, and on the very slopes of Mount Gnall, they fought for the freedom of Realmtyr. Victory was near, but the power of the hat could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Yopnar, son of the king, took up his father’s sword.

Gnomus, enemy of the free peoples of Realmtyr, was defeated. The Hat passed to Yopnar, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of men are easily corrupted. And the Hat of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Yopnar, to his death.

And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the Hat passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared another wearer.

It came to the creature Ralpun, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Highborn Hills. And there it consumed him. The Hat gave to Ralpun unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, and in the gloom of Ralpun’s cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Hat of Power perceived its time had come.

[coldbloodedstrike]

Disclaimer: I just started Genshin Impact so I'm not familiar with every piece of lore. So this isn't going to cover everything about The Travelers and Venti's relationship. But I wanted to point out some very interesting details I've picked up on so far:

1.) "Beloved of the Anemo Archon" Achievement.

Beloved is a very interesting choice here. While beloved isn't exclusively romantic, it is often used in a romantic context. Beloved indicates that someone is deeply loved... and having the traveler sit in the hand of the statue is a really interesting choice.

2.) "The Outlander who caught the wind". Kind of losing my mind over this because it implies that The Traveler caught the god of Anemo - who is also the God of Freedom.

3.) Venti's association with birds [teaching the first birds that they only needed courage to fly] and the Travelers being winged beings who lost their powers. His association with birds is also consistent with his relationship with Xiao - as Xiao is based on the Golden-Winged Great Peng [which is a being that looks like a half man/half bird. But in Genshin Impact, Xiao is represented as a bird, rather than the bird/man hybrid depiction of the Golden-Winged Great Peng.]

Article about Xiao: here

4.) The very, very interesting pattern of having the Traveler be saved by anemo users during the final moments of major story arcs.

Xiao: saves the traveler from falling to their death. [ And Xiao sacrifices sacrifice himself to save the traveler and their friends in "At Tunnels End".]

Kazuha: saves the Traveler from getting killed by The Raiden Shogun.

The Wanderer: saves the traveler from getting beamed by the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom.

"May the wind protect you" indeed...

5.) Windwheel Asters, which are used to level up the Traveler, say:

"A plant that adores the wind. To the proud children of the wind, or the citizens of Mondstadt, the Windwheel Asters are "the visible winds".

Having Windwheel Asters be one of the materials to ascend the traveler is interesting... because the ascension materials didn't have to include this flower. It could have even been some made up flower related to the stars. Like a "Star Flower" or something... but it's a flower that "adores the wind"... Also this material could have been any random material.

6.) Venti's very suspicious piece of dialogue "Ah, Traveler! We meet again. What? You don't remember me? Aha, Well allow me to join you on your quest once again. I must see to it that the bards of the world tell the Travelers tale."

Ontop of this, Venti's Windblume poem implies a connection to the Traveler. The Windblume poem is about the Traveler because in the Chinese script "you" and "your" change depending on who you pick. Since Archons can enter peoples dreams and Venti went to sleep for a period of time - it's possible he could have met the Traveler while they were sleeping. And he kept them company during their 500 year sleep - a sleep which was implied to be full of nightmares in the trailer for the beta version of the game [which is voiced over by Venti jsyk].

The reason why I think he met the Traveler in their dreams is because of this line in Ventis Windblume poem:

Who was it that embraced your noble soul in dreams deep

Here's the full Windblume poem:

"Who was it that stroked your bloodied, determined visage By stream flowing small By boulder standing large Who was it that embraced your weary yet noble soul in dreams deep In skies soaring Dear friend I am leading you by the hand Into the night where lanterns shine bright To tell you a tale of freedom and dreams The tale of where this festival begins.”

I highlighted the "noble soul" part because of the description of the Anemo Archon statues:

A monumental stone statue that watches over Mondstadt. Legends say that it was sculpted in the image of the Anemo Archon. "Seeds brought by the wind will grow over time." The statue silently anticipates the arrival of a noble soul to arrive, while thousand winds of time will soon unfold a new story...

[Jsyk you get the "Beloved of the Anemo Archon" trophy by sitting on the hands of the Statue of Barbatos in Mondstadt.]

This is extra interesting when we take into account Venti's close association with The God of time and his roll of being the wind that brings the "seeds" to where they're meant to be. It's obvious that Venti is guiding the traveler to some kind of end goal we're not aware of. And thematically, he's protecting them even when he's not directly involved in their conflict through Anemo users.

Venti also says: "There is not a single song I do not know, whether it be the past, present, or future"

I'm not sure if this is supposed to mean he is ALSO the God of Time - like when "The Anemo Archon" goes to "sleep", "The God of Time" awakens. Or if Venti is given visions by the God of Time to carry out certain events - to be the wind that delivers the seeds to where they're meant to be. But the point is is that he obviously knows future events and he's intentionally keeping them from The Traveler, while guiding them along a certain path. He's not keeping secrets from The Traveler to be malicious, but to make sure they take a certain path to a specific end goal.

And again, he's also been waiting for them to come to Teyvat for an untold amount of time.

7.) When Venti is describing what a Windblume can mean the camera switches to Ventis POV, then it pans over to the Traveler when he says "flowers of love". This is very suspicious because the camera didn't need to pan over to the traveler at all nor did we need a perspective shift to begin with... but it does when Venti says "flowers of love"... how am I not supposed to interpret that as him being romantically interested in the traveler?

Yeah. "love" - at least in english - can mean any kind of love, but it's the choice to have the camera shift to Venti's perspective, then have the camera pan over to the traveler [while still in Venti's POV] as he's saying "flowers of love" is what has me thinking "love" is supposed to mean romantic love in this situation.

8.) Venti and the Traveler missing someone who shares the same face and grieving a time they can't return to.

9.) Traveler to Venti: "Your eyes are the color of the sky in my homeland"

10.) Venti calling the Traveler "My warrior". Again, this is really interesting to me because Venti has been waiting for the traveler to come to Teyvat. He needs the Traveler to be his warrior so that some kind of end goal can be obtained.

But honestly... his teapot dialogue is very sweet.

[no-hwei]

ezlux concept: there's a rumour going around in the outskirts of Demacia that there are tunnels underneath the old Crownguard mausoleum in the inner city of Demacia. They say that years and years ago, before magic became so frowned upon, the Crownguards buried a magical staff with a powerful mage family member.

Ezreal figures, what are THEY gonna do with a powerful magical artifact? It'd be much better in his hands, right? And so Jarro Lightfeather makes his triumphant return to Demacian society.

In Demacia, Ezreal scopes the mausoleum out. Well maintained, large, but not exactly hard to get into if you're Ezreal. It only takes a few days of skulking around and sneaky arcane shifts to figure out how he's going to do this thing. He packs his bags with snacks, rope, a few health pots, a few more "health" pots that are really mana pots (a controlled substance in Demacia), and heads on down into the dark spaces in the depths of the seemingly endless mausoleum.

He doesn't expect to meet anyone down there. He certainly doesn't expect to meet Lux, best and brightest of the Crownguard family filthy and lost down there, looking for something unspecified.

It's not exactly the world's smoothest meeting, but after a bit of yelling and Lux almost sticking Ez with a sword, they decide to work together to find the ancient tomb of Lux's ancestor, lost somewhere in the winding tunnels.

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

Chapter 3: A Familiar Face

Summary: As the heiress apparent to House Selemchant of Amn, Dulcinea is used to getting her way. At 28 years old, she has never had to lift a finger unless it was to cast an evocation spell. That is, until she woke up on an unknown beach with a tadpole in her brain.

Rating: MA

Category: F/M

Relationships: Tav/Gale

Chapter 3/?

Word Count: 1.1K

“A little help, please?” a man’s voice called frantically from within the portal. Dulcinea recoiled slightly, noticing the frenetic energy that the portal emitted. The Weave that powered it hissed and popped. Whoever pulled this little stunt had created an unstable tunnel of arcane power. This person appeared to know what they were doing when they attempted this but managed to bungle it to the point that they were now mired within a mess of their own making.

That voice, Dulcinea thought to herself. I know that voice. Dulcinea was not in the habit of performing any degree of manual labor, never mind pulling people out of unstable creations of the Weave. She glanced at her companions from the corner of her eye, shifting uncomfortably. They were in a standoff with each other and nobody seemed particularly eager to yank someone out of a rock on the side of the road. Yet, Dulcinea could not shake the feeling that somehow she knew this person from somewhere.

Dulcinea groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine, I’ll do it.” She stomped over to the portal and paused for a moment. The stranger’s arm waved impatiently in front of her. Dulcinea thought highly of herself in many regards, but she was well aware that it was highly unlikely, if not altogether impossible, for her to pull a grown man out of a portal. She looked over her shoulder at her companions. “A little help would be quite appreciated,” she sneered. “I’ll pull the arm, but I need someone to pull me.” Shadowheart and Astarion exchanged conferring glances. They weren’t fond of their spoiled traveling companion, but she had managed to pull her weight in dire situations thus far. Shadowheart sighed inwardly, volunteering herself as a second assist.

Dulcinea grabbed the man’s forearm with both hands while Shadowheart looped her arms around Dulcinea’s waist. Dulcinea felt an unexpected prickle of excitement at Shadowheart’s touch. “We’ll pull on three. One… two… three!” Dulcinea leaned back into Shadowheart, pulling the stranger’s arm with all her might. Shadowheart pulled while stepping backward, adding additional traction.

“That’s it, just a little more,” the man instructed, relief already settling into his voice. Slowly, more of the stranger’s body began to emerge from the portal. Suddenly, Dulcinea felt a loss of resistance, sending her and Shadowheart careening backward into the ground. In their wake, the stranger came free from the portal, tumbling to the ground in from of them.

“Ugh, I fell on my tailbone,” Dulcinea whined as she rose to her feet. She dusted her dress off, huffing in irritation. She looked up to find the stranger standing in front of her. In fact, it was no stranger at all. Her eyes widened. “Gale,” she breathed. Her pulse quickened, warmth rising to her cheeks. “What are you —”

“Doing here? I shall ask you the same question, Miss Selemchant. Although it’s quite a relief to see a familiar face, you and I are quite a ways from Waterdeep,” Gale interrupted.

Dulcinea swallowed hard. “I suppose we are, yes.” It had been a year since she last saw Gale, but he hadn’t lost that rakish handsomeness that made her her heart race. His wavy chestnut hair was now streaked with grey and furrows in his brow and the smile lines that adorned his eyes had deepened. His eyes sparkled as brightly as ever in the mid-afternoon sun.

Gale turned his attention to Astarion and Shadowheart. “I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” he said, shaking each of their hands. “My apologies, I’m usually better at this. Magic, I mean.”

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart asked, a look of mild concern crossing her face.

Gale shrugged affably. “A bit shocked, but it’s certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Although, I believe we all know each other, yes? In a manner of speaking. We were all aboard the nautiloid and I can assume that all of us were on the receiving end of an unwelcome insertion to the ocular region.”

Dulcinea shuddered. Her memories of being aboard the ship were fragmented and blurred like a fever dream. What she could recall with a visceral certainty was the tadpole wriggling its way into her eye socket. She remembered the searing pain and the aching of her vocal folds, battered and swollen from her screams.

Gale continued, uninterrupted. “This insertee, this parasite will trigger a process called ceremorphosis that shall turn us into mind flayers. Let me assure you that this must be avoided.”

Gale looked appraisingly at Astarion and Shadowheart. “Would either of you happen to be a cleric? A doctor? A surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

Shadowheart eyed Gale skeptically. “Surely you know enough about our condition to see that this is beyond the skillset of the average cleric.”

“Most, no doubt. I was hoping to find myself in the presence of one of the few. That wouldn’t happen to be one of you, would it?” Astarion smirked. “I’m less of a knitting needle person, but I have other, ah, implements that I’m quite skillful with.” Visibly uncomfortable, Gale shifted his gaze from Astarion.

Dulcinea crossed her arms and exhaled forcefully through her nose in boredom and frustration. Her boots were not made for walking such distances, causing her feet to ache with every slight movement. Even in her summer dress, Dulcinea was drowning in sweat. “Right. I think it’s well established that none of us can do anything about this,” she said curtly. “So we need to find an actual healer. Now.”

“Dulcinea, you always cut through to the marrow of the problem. And right you are. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

“Yes,” Dulcinea responded, almost a little too quickly.

“Most excellent,” he smiled. “A tadpole shared is a tadpole halved, or something to that effect.”

“Shall we continue on, then?” Astarion asked, taking note of the sun’s progressive descent towards the horizon. “We’ve spent more than enough time staring at rocks and not enough time looking for a tadpole specialist.”

“Before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with a most ill-mannered a man, thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

“How someone of your acumen managed to get stuck in a portal is beyond me,” Dulcinea said incredulously. “But… you’re welcome.” She cleared her throat and set her sights on the road ahead. “Surely we’ll make camp soon, right?” she asked Astarion and Shadowheart, a pleading tone in her voice. “I’m desperate for a reprieve.”

“If it will give us a reprieve from your whining, we can make camp right now,” Astarion snarled.

Dulcinea snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t need to be so sharp with me. I was only asking a question.”

Astarion sighed in irritation. “Just lead on, will you?”

Dulcinea took her place at the front of the group. “I suppose we’re going… that way,” she said with feigned decisiveness, pointing northeast. Dulcinea didn’t have the faintest idea where she was leading her companions. All she hoped was that there might be a healer there. And a hot bath.

[defnotjarlaxle]

My Drider NPC Khel'zor already makes me sad, I love him

Let's see if my party decides to adopt his stupid ass.

Khel'zor was born into House Xarzith in Menzoberranzan, the infamous Drow city of treachery and intrigue. From a young age, Khel'zor displayed an uncanny affinity for magic, drawing the attention of the house's matron, Lady Illyndra Xarzith. She saw potential in him and sent him to Sorcere, the academy of magic, with grand aspirations of him becoming a powerful mage and bringing glory to House Xarzith.

Life at Sorcere was harsh and competitive, with the constant threat of betrayal lurking in the shadows. Khel'zor quickly excelled in his magical studies, mastering spells that even elder Drow would struggle to comprehend. However, as he climbed the ranks of the academy, he became increasingly arrogant and dismissive of his peers. He believed himself to be the chosen one, destined for greatness, and this hubris would ultimately seal his fate.

Lolth, the capricious and malevolent Spider Queen, took notice of Khel'zor's arrogance and decided to test his loyalty. One fateful night, as he delved into forbidden arcane rituals, Lolth appeared to him in a horrifying vision. She offered him immense power in exchange for his complete devotion to her. Khel'zor, consumed by his own ego and ambition, dared to reject the Spider Queen's offer, believing that his own magic surpassed that of any god.

Infuriated by his defiance, Lolth unleashed her wrath upon Khel'zor. With a wave of her divine power, she transformed him into a Drider, a horrific half-drow, half-spider creature. The pain and torment of the transformation were unbearable, and Khel'zor's agonized screams echoed through Sorcere's halls.

Banished from Menzoberranzan by Lady Illyndra, who saw him as a disgrace to House Xarzith, Khel'zor was cast out into the treacherous tunnels of the Underdark. Alone, shunned by his family and his people, he roamed the dark and dangerous depths, a twisted and tormented creature.

Over the next five years, Khel'zor struggled to come to terms with his new form and the weight of his failure. The isolation, the constant fear of predators, and the haunting memories of his past life took a toll on his mind. He began to refer to himself in the third person as a way to distance himself from the shame and guilt that plagued him. It was as if he could not bear to acknowledge the person he once was.

Khel'zor's mental problems also manifested in other ways. He became paranoid, believing that Lolth's spies were still watching him, waiting for an opportunity to exact further punishment. He had fits of rage, lashing out at anyone or anything that crossed his path, as if trying to release the pent-up anger he felt toward himself and the world.

But amid the darkness and madness, there flickered a glimmer of hope within Khel'zor. He yearned for redemption, a chance to prove himself worthy of the power he once sought. Perhaps, deep in the Underdark, he would find a way to atone for his arrogance and seek a path to reclaim his lost magic and body. Khel'zor's journey was far from over, and the Underdark held both danger and opportunity for him.

[oceansssblue]

["CLAIM THE PRICE"]—Part 1.

ARCANE

SILCO x OFC 💖

"DON'T-SHIT-WITH-ME"-RAY DELIVERS AN INJURED JINX TO SILCO AND SEES HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF WOUND&BLOOD, CHARACTER BOUND W ROPE.

Ray has always been just another scrapy kid from the Lanes. Someone small enough to wander through the mines and get through places others couldn't. Someone with enough spare energy to burn through endless hours of digging tunnels. A young woman with enough muscle mass to carry the findings from where other kids like her dissapeared into the mines to the trucks in which piltovians would drive away with the result of all their hard work and money.

No, Ray had never been particularly noticable. Just another kid with dirty smuged cheeks and a smile too hollow to be considered cheerfull; tiredness etched on every inch of her dry skin. Just like everyone elses, really. Not different, not special. Just another zaunite trying to survive.

She's still a kid from the Lanes. A decade later, her lungs don't work quite right; a burning pain stabbing the insides of her chest whenever she runs too fast or for far too much time. Her skin is still dry, even tearing up at elbows and knees, forehead and fingers; she still works non-stop and always has to be carefull to not get lost and stuck, even if circumstances are different now. Zaun is always dangerous, no matter what –two, three, if you're lucky four wall- room you happen to call home. There's always power above you; and you just have to crawl around and find your way, your path. Pray to not get hurt too bad for you to stand up again the next day and repeat the cycle.

If there's one thing Zaun teaches its citizens –if you could call them that–, it's to be tough. Not as a chosen trait of your personality, not because you want to impress someone else or look more cool and collected. No; you have to be, because you're dead otherwise. Resources are scarce in the Underground; and humans do crazy things for a bite of food after a few days without chewing anything else other than your own clothes to get the need out of you.

That's the whole reason why she stays hidden behind the corner of the street and stares. All of it. She stays put because she knows meddling in would only bring her problems and a bruise or two; she doesn't walk away because the kid reminds her to herself. Just as scrappy, bones as noticable, eyes as lost; and yet, just as fierce.

Ray analyses every detail of the scene. She has never seen the blue-hair girl around before; but she does recognise the men fighting her, with the dark green piece of cloth wrapped around their wrists and too piltovian-looking high boots. In Ray's opinion, carrying an identifier of a criminal syndicate is pretty stupid, even if it's Zaun; it just directs the revenge straigtht back to the source. But she's not here to give these rats lessons; so her dark eyes turn back to the girl.

She's small and slender, as most zaunites are; though she does seem a bit worse for wear than the usual. Ray doesn't know if it's the strange miss match of clothes or the hair colour, the glinting light on her eyes or how she smiles too happily –dying doesn't seem to worry her, apparently– at the situation at hand. She doesn't care to find out either. The only important discovery she finds it's that her blood is constantly dripping from an opened gash on her side; and the kid doesn't appear to be too worried about it to press something over it to make it stop. Not that she has the space and time to do it, anyhow.

Ray only intervenes when it's evident the girl can't hold them back any longer. She does own a gun; but she's not feeling like making that much of a noise, and she's actually quicker with her knifes, so she aims and kills three of them in a three second sucession that leaves everyone still alive momentarily stunned. When the others react, Ray is already rolling through the floor, using a man as a body shield and slashing his neck after throwing her last knife at the last one. It's all surpisingly easy –too easy to be a fight in Zaun–; but these are not true zaunites. They're something in between Up and Down. A tiny, hungry part of her wishes they'd pose more of a threat. More fun.

Kid staring with surprised wide eyes, Ray stands up from the now dead corpse and picks up her five blades. She cleans them against one of the green identifiers on their arms; not wanting to dirt her clothes with blood more than they already are. Blood is hard to wash.

Ray turns to the blue-hair girl; face carefully neutral while she points in the direction of her wound with a clean knife.

"You should cover that up" she tells her, voice almost unbothered, eyes never leaving the girl's. "I doubt you have much more blood left to lose in that skinny body of yours".

She stares, and stares, and stares. And then laughs.

"Dad will have his doctor fixing me in no time. It won't be the first time, and for sure not the last".

She grins. Not as if it's something she's proud of; just as if she's suddenly genuinely happy. She doesn't look like a fighter who enjoys violence anymore; just an innocent kid, now. The switch is intriguing. Ray doesn't point it out.

"Dad must have quite the money to call for a proper doctor to fix up a gash" she comments instead.

This time, the blue-hair kid does smile like she has found her words entertaining; a hint of an amused cheeky smile that warns Ray there's a surprise coming. And oh, is it a surprise...

"Just the King of Zaun" she humms, balancing back and forth in her own toes, and a choked sound leaves the womans throat without her permission.

It's Ray's turn to stare now. That is not just a scrappy zaunite kid; that is fucking Jinx, and the rest of her night has suffered a dangerous turn.

--

Ray would've had to be deaf to not hear about Silco's ascending power in Zaun. And even then, she would have sooner or later learnt about him by the way the whole Underground seemed to move around him. The Chem Barons were wary of him –that's how important he had become in the Underground–; and she's definetly not an exception.

Ray has never actually seen Silco. She prefers it that way; not getting close to him means not risking her life unnecesarily, and even in her curiosity, she has always being surprisingly cautious. She knows theres no running away from him now, though; Silco will investigate her daughter's incident sooner or later, and all tries will lead to Ray. So she chats with Jinx, and the girl is all too happy to take her to him. She doesn't stop talking all the way to The Last Drop; blurting whatever comes to her head, and finally growing silent when they push through the bar doors.

Silco is, obviously, not happy. Even if perfectly controlled, Ray can read the ire in his mis-matched eyes and the tension of his muscles and expression. Those intriguing eyes –that inmediately catches Ray's attention– don't last a second before they're focusing on Jinx's blood; a mere hand gesture is enough to command the bodyguards he keeps in the room, and Ray is quickly bound to a chair with rope.

She could have fought her way out of it, maybe. Her knifes seem to be calling her from their hidden place in her boots and the belt around her hips, covered by her jacket; but she's intelligent enough not to use them. She would have been able to kill some of Silco's goons, maybe; but that would only grow his fury for when he'd order his men to follow her to get rid of her body to the very corners of the world. She carefully breathes in, then, and offers no resistance; looking at him in silence while he orquests the room.

"Dad, it's not what it looks like" Jinx beggins to say, playing nervously with one of her braids.

Silco is quick to send her away.

"I'll be the one to determine that" he drags, voice as seductive and soft as it is threatening and dangerous, and Ray can't help but feel a peak of curiosity at the man in front of her. "Go find Sevika and visit the doctor, tend to your wound. Everyone get out".

Silco's bodyguards don't hesitate. They might feel unsure about leaving their boss alone with a potencial criminal; but it's and order, and Ray's effectively tied down. They leave one by one, and close the door after the last. Ray's sure they're waiting on the other side; in case things go wrong.

The air seems to grow heavier now that Silco and Ray are the only presences in the room. He takes his time; stepping around his desk and sitting down behind it in an almost regal way. Albeit attractive –she hadn't expected him to look like that–, he looks partly like just another kid from the Lanes; though Ray's aware he's much more than that. Silco's an interesting mix of yuxtapositions; he keeps the esence of the zaunites, though he's got something that reminds Ray of piltovians. Not in an irritating way; but in how he holds his power, knowing it runs through his veins, his confident but cautious posture and how he scans everything with a mix of wariness and desinterest. He's an intriguing man and Ray's inmediately hooked.

"It's not what it looks like..." he humms, repeating Jinx's words, playing distractedly with the papers on his desk even if Ray knows he's not distracted at all. "So you haven't let my daughter get hurt enough for her skin to turn pale with so much blood loss".

He waits, and Ray knows there's an answer needed. Silco seems like someone patient and at the same time not at all. She feels like he won't like half veiled truths or people trying to escape their way around; so she decides to be brutally honest and answers with her heart pounding blood through her veins. There aren't weapons pointed towards her; but Ray knows Silco doesn't need them.

"I did" she contradicts him, and his blue and almost red eyes inmediately zap up to meet hers. "I would have left her to die too if the way she fighted back didn't remind me of myself at her age. I didn't realise she was your daughter at the time, though. I would have stepped in earlier if I had."

Silco stares. It's a very different feeling than when Jinx does it; this feels like he's scanning her soul, and Ray holds her breath. Powerfull men don't always make the most rational decisions. Power can make you go mad.

"That's good to hear" he answers, an ankle crossing on top of the oposite knee in a way that shouldn't look that atractive. "If I happened to believe you didn't know who my daughter was... Do you enjoy playing the hero often?"

Ray can't help but laugh darkly at that.

"Playing hero makes you end up dead".

He's quick to answer. There's something exciting about the conversation; about the adrenaline and tettering the line of life and death. It's almost as the thrill of a physical fight. Silco's tongue is that sharp.

"And yet here you are".

Ray takes a deep breath. She can't confess what she hasn't done.

"Like I said" she pauses, holding Silco's gaze with her own assured one "Just this once, just because she reminded me of myself".

Silco lets it pass. He's silent for a minute; and Ray uses the time to define his figure with her eyes. His clothes are elegant but not piltovian eccentric; scarlet dress shirt with a black vest and a white-cream tye, details tailored in gold and brown. His hair is combed back; shorter and the sides. A hint of grey mixes with the black strands here and there. He definetly has good taste.

Silco's voice cuts through her thoughts; and Ray suddenly remembers she's not supposed to look at him like that. She's supossed to want to free herself and run away; but she's still just another kid from the Lanes, and kids from the Lanes always find trouble even when they're not actively searching for them.

"Am i correct in guessing you brought my daughter back with the hopes of claiming a reward?"

Ray can't help the hiss that escapes her mouth. She is starting to feel like they're walking in circles, here. Silco's waryness reaches a new level of untrust.

"I didn't know who she was" she repeats, growing frustrated, taking a deep breath to remain calm after that. "And even when I learnt that, I didn't follow her here for that".

Silco tilts his head. A lonely strand of hair falls over his forehead.

"What for, then?"

Ray wonders if Silco always speaks in questions and veiled threats and acussations.

"To save us both the time". She's firm, confident without sounding cocky. "I know you'd send your men to find me, sooner or later, to figure out who I am and what was my part in this whole deal. I don't like having strangers going at my back. I thought it'd be more sensible to sit here and answer all your questions so I can carry on with my life".

If Silco is surprised by her answer, he doesn't show it. His left eye glints like molten lava on his black sclera; a complete oposite to the soothing calm of his sea-blue one.

The interrogation continues, and Ray's wrists and ankles start to feel hurt under the tension of the ropes around her. Silco asks about the fight per se, now; who were they fighting against, how many, if she recognised anything about them, why did it happen, how did she kill them, when did she learn to. She mentions Gray's men and their green wrist bands; and shrugs off the years of practice kill with her knifes.

Ray can see Silco calculating a revenge in his eyes. She's not particularly concerned about that; Gray's men are a cancer for Zaun, traitors selling their brothers to Piltover, and she has no compassion for any of the Upworld or those who help them.

When all is said and done, Silco tentatively touches the motive of her presence again.

"Everyone has a price" he adds. "And I don't like being in debt. There must be something you must want".

There is. In an ideal world, Ray would love to have a good house with a warm heater, good running water, lots of food and new clean cothes. A pet and a comfortable sofa. Ray lives in the real one.

"Money and power comes with enemies. Why would I want that?" she calmly explains her determination to reject the offer. "I have enough to pass by. I'll let you know if somethings comes to mind".

Silco humms.

Without saying a word, he stands up and walks round the table towards her. Ray doesn't dare tear her eyes away from him; observing quietly how he stops in front of her and once again, analyses her. She waits, face tilted slightly up towards him, eyes not hiding anything back. Silco's hand grazes the inner side of her wrist while he untightens the rope, freeing her; she can't help the shiver that runs through her spine at that. If it's because of his cold skin, fear, or attraction, Ray is not quite sure yet. Silco notices it too, but he keeps silent, only flicking his eyes briefly towards her before resuming his job of untying her.

When Ray is finally free, she slowly stands up. Silco hasn't taken more than two small steps back; so their bodies are uncomfortably close, and once again she has to tilt her chin up.

He's strangely handsome. Not in the classical way; one side of his face too scared for that, cheek bones too prominent and eyes too different from each other. But he is; deep, intense stare and wonderfull hair, hard atractive features and power and elegance. Ray is so entraced by him she isn't even aware of how hard and fast her heart is beating against her ribcage; doesn't feel the usual pinching pain of her lungs when her breathing speeds up.

Silco drops the rope to the side and takes, this time, a wide step back. He returns to the safety provided behind his desk and observes her for ten more seconds before finally dismissing her. The air is suddenly back in the woman's lungs.

"You're free to go now".

And so Ray walks away; the memory of the feeling caused by those miss-matched eyes following her all the way back to her four way room she calls home. She has survived the encounter. She's one of the lucky ones.

END OF PART 1.

(PART 2 HERE:)

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

AUTHORS NOTE:

TARAAA! FIRST TIME EVER WRITING A SILCO STORY! I LOVE ARCANE AND I PLAY THE GAME TOO; SILCO IS JUST MAJESTIC, SUCH AN INTERESTING CHARACTER. I HOPE I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO PORTRAIT SOME OF THAT HERE.

ALL OF THIS ACTUALLY CAME FROM TRYING TO GIVE THE TALENTED @purplefangirl42 A REQUEST FOR A SILCO/OFC; BUT THE STORY KINDA MADE ITSELF WHILE I WAS WRITING TO HER AND SO HERE IT IS INSTEAD. I ACTUALLY MADE HER ANOTHER REQUEST SO YOU CAN CHECK THAT AND ALL HER OTHER WORKS ON HER BLOG! I'VE READ SOME AND YOU WON'T BE DISSAPOINTED.

REGARDING THIS STORY, JUST KNOW THAT THERE'S (AT LEAST) A SECOND PART BEING COOKED RIGHT NOW. I DON'T THINK IT'LL TAKE ME TOO LONG TO WRITE, SO YOU'LL PROBABLY HAVE IT SOON. REMEMBER ENGLISH IS NOT MY MAIN LANGUAGE SO SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS AND ALL OF THAT :)

PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS AND REBLOG IF YOU CAN!

Xx,

Sky.

BACK TO MY MASTERLIST (WHERE I POST ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, HERE!

[dungeonmastertyrant]

Cleric (Knowledge Domain

Knowledge Domain spells

1st: Command and Identify

3rd: Augury and Suggestion

5th: Nondetection and speak with dead

7th: Arcane Eye and Confusion

9th: Legend Lore and Scrying

Blessings of Knowledge: At 1st level you learn 2 languages of your choice. You also become proficient in your choice of 2 of the following skill: Arcana History Nature or Religion. Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses either of those skills.

Channel Divinity: Knowledge of the ages: Starting at 2nd level you can use your Channel Divinity to tap into a divine well of knowledge. As an action you choose 1 skill or tool. For 10 minutes you have proficiency with the chosen skill or tool.

Channel Divinity: Read Thoughts: At 6th level you can use your Channel Divinity to read a creature's thoughts. You can then use your access to the creature's mind to command it. As an action choose one creature you can see within 60 of you. That creature must make a Wisdom saving throw. If the creature succeeds on the saving throw you can't use this feature on it again until you finish a long rest. If the creature fails its save you can read its surface thoughts (Those foremost in its mind reflecting its current emotions and what it is actively thinking about) when it is within 60 feet of you. This effect lasts for 1 minute. During that time you can use your action to this effect and cast the spell Suggestion on the creature without expending a spell slot. The target automatically fails its saving throw agains the Suggestion spell.

Potent Spellcasting: Starting at 8th level you can add your Wisdom modifier to the damage you deal with any Cleric Cantrip.

Visions of the past: Starting at 17th level you can call up visions of the past that relate to an object you hold or your immediate surroundings. You spend at least 1 minute in meditation and prayer then receive dreamlike shadowy glimpses of recent events. You can meditate in this way for a number of minutes equal to your Wisdom score and must maintain concentration during that time as if you were casting a spell. Once you use this feature you can't use it again until you finish a short or long rest. Object Reading: Holding an object as you meditate you can see visions of the object's previous owner. After meditating for 1 minute you learn how the owner acquired and lost the object as well as the most recent siginificant event involving the object and that owner. If the object was owned by another creature in the recent past (within a number of days equal to your wisdom score) you can spend 1 additional minute for each owner to learn the same information about that creature. Area Reading: As you meditate you see visions of recent events in your immediate vicinity ( A room street tunnel clearing or the like up to a 50 foot cube) going back a number of days equal to your wisdom score. For each minute you meditate you learn about one significant event beginning with the most recent. Significant events typically involve powerful emotions such as battles and betrayals marriages and murders, births and funerals. However they might also include more mundane events that are nevertheless important in your current situation.

Examples of Gods in this domain their alignment and Symbol:

Azuth LN left hand pointing upward outlined in fire, Deneir NG Lit candle above an open eye, Gond N Toothed cog with 4 spikes, Mystra NG Circle of 7 stars or 9 stars encircling a flowing red mist or a single star, Oghma (Dnd Oghma not celtic Oghma) N Blank Scroll, Savras LN Crystal ball containing many kinds of eyes, Selune CG Pair of eyes surrounded by seven stars, Waukeen N Upright coin with Waukeens profile facing left, Boccob N Eye within a pentagram, Celestian N Arc of 7 stars within a circle, Fharlaghn NG Circle crossed by a curved horizon line, Istus N Weaver's spindle with 3 strands, St. Cuthbert LN Circle at the center of a starburst of lines, Rao LG White Heart, Vecna NE Hand with an eye in the palm, Wee Jas LN Red skull in front of Fireball, Majere LG Copper Spider, Mishakal LG Blue infinity Sign, Gilean N Open Book, Reorx N Forging Hammer, Shinare N Griffon's wing, Zivilyn N Great green or gold tree, Aureon LN Open tome, Onatar NG Crossed hammer and tongs, The Shadow CE Obsidian tower,The Traveler CN Four crossed rune inscribed bones, The Undying Court NG Varies, Moradin LG Hammer and anvil, Sehanine Moonbow CG Crescent moon, Skoraeus Stonebones N Stalactite, Surtur (Dnd Surtur not viking Surtur) LE Flaming sword, Goibhniu NG Giant mallet over sword, Lugh CN Pair of long hands, Math Mathonwy NE Staff, Oghma NG Unfurled Scroll, Apollo CG Lyre, Athena LG Owl, Hecate CE Setting moon, Hephaestus NG Hammer and anvil, Imhotep NG step pyramid, Isis NG Ankh and star, Ptah LN Bull, Thoth N Ibis, Odin NG Watching Blue eye, and Tyr (Viking Tyr not Dnd Tyr) LN Sword.

Source: Player's handbook

[almechik]

Tangled Webs #1

Quinn was lost. Again. It wasn't her fault the building's plans chose form over substance, leading to an utterly confusing layout…one that wasn't close to consistent between departments. From flowery tunnels of the Nature department, through the non-euclidean staircases in Arcane, past the shrines and temple chambers of the Divine and finally arriving in the mirrors of Eclectic, reaching class as a freshman was an adventure in of itself.

She finally found her locker at last. After the brief session of bargaining with the lock, her books were free to fall into her hands, followed by something heavy and…purring? "Jade? You know i can't take you to class," Her familiar seemed quite intent to disregard her words, his feline, glimmering green eyes not even looking at her The cat has chosen to follow its own path, jumping into the sea of her black curls. After it took its time burrowing through her mane, the two emeralds would pop out over her shoulder, followed by a soft meow. "Okay, fine…why do you sit in my hair anyway, you can hide in shadows!" The cat's goals were beyond her understanding, mortals being such simple minded creatures compared to the grandeur of a feline.

Having sufficiently…worked towards a mutual understanding with Jade, Quinn closed her locker, briefly promising to sacrifice a pastry to the lock next time. As she turned around and started to walk with her pile of books, she encountered a wall. Wait, do walls say ‘ouch’? "Oh my gods I am so sorry," Poking her head past the books, she spotted the ‘wall’; an ashen grey crow girl, currently down on her butt and rubbing her break with the soft feathers of her beak. Her books immediately ended on the ground, sacrificed in favour of helping the girl up "I have…maybe just too many books. Sorry!" Usually she walked into actual walls, this was…less than convenient "Oh uhm right, I'm Quinn," As good of a time for an introduction as any, she thought.

Opening her eyes and fixing her glasses, the crow would look up at Quinn, accepting her hand. Off the ground now, patting her pants to get the dust off "It's okay…I should look where I walk more, honestly. I'm Adalynn," She rubbed her beak a bit more. It didn't appear to be broken, but the tough covers of Quinn's books seemed to put a small scratch on it, causing irritation…Quinn sure had introductions that went much worse than this…but on average, they did go better. "My pleasure" A soft, berry blush appeared on Quinn's dark skin," Are you hurt? Oh no, did I hurt your beak?" Before Adalynn could even respond, Quinn was already digging through her bag. Where was it…ah! She pulled out a little piece of gauze covered in something…sticky," I've been, uhm, practicing. It's a sticky plaster! It should make you feel better? " She believed that her forwardness and good nature would save her from the awkward situation…her beliefs were unfounded, sadly. "O-oh…It looks a little…weird? But I can see you're sorry…okay," Adalynn allowed the witch to apply the plaster, its white material sticking out like a sore thumb on her black beak. It did help, alleviating the irritation," Feels a little cold, how long should I keep it on?" She fixed her glasses again, smiling a little at Quinn. "Oh just about…uh…I forgot," She followed the recipe step by step, it worked, no one could blame her for not reading the footnotes. "I'll…keep it for the day then. Are you new here?” "First week, actually! " Quinn appeared…excited. One could almost see a little spark in her amber eyes. "Have you been here long?” "Just started the second year here, Eclectic Runecraft. What about you?" Adalynn tilted her head a little, trying to analyse Quinn ahead of her answer, "Eclectic Alchemy I'm guessing? Unless you got lost on your way to Nature. "Well…" Quinn looked away, appearing a little embarrassed, "Eclectic, yes, but…a little bit of everything, really. I'm a witch you see…say hi Jade!" The feline seemed unbothered by the request…though two green embers showed themselves through Quinn's hair, just for a moment, "He's my familiar, he's a little shy. We bonded because, well…He's curious about everything and so am I. I couldn't have chosen just one field to study!" As indicated by the pile of books on the ground, reaching her waist in its height. "Interesting! Don't meet many witches around here…you're not exactly known for engaging with structured education, what's your reason?" Adalynn's eyes and tone remained inquisitive. There was something interesting about Quinn, and she intended to understand it. "Well…" Truth is always best, even if it's silly, "I was curious about it? It's really cool so far…just confusing, can't find anything here.” "Ah, I see…well, what's your next class? I could help you find it?” "Oh, thank you so much! It's…uhm…" She forgot, completely, the unexpected meeting with the crow threw her off, "It's surely Ingredients and Gathering…or maybe Light Spells 101…actually, it could be Spirit Communing…” "You should have your itinerary scroll, right?" Adalynn asked, laughing softly at the girl and scratching the back of her head with her wing. Quinn seemed to have her head stuck in the clouds. "Oh yeah it should be around some-” The sea of curls spat out a scroll, green embers showing only for a moment, watching. Quinn bent over to pick it up, unrolling it and looking at her pocket watch, "Thanks, Jade. Okay, so it looks like right now I am…late for Introduction to Mirror Communication. Room 47…B?" The writing wasn't exactly easy to decipher, and for once it wasn't Quinn's fault, as the scrolls are written by the Department "Oh no, that's not a B, that's Beta," The crow leaned over to read from the scroll too. It appeared completely packed, with little to no free periods, "Good thing I caught that, you would end up on the opposite side.”

An awkward smile showed upon Quinn's face. Right, of course they wouldn't just use one alphabet, that would be too simple for the eclectics, whose leading philosophy in design appears to be "I'll worry about it later" "You're a lifesaver, good thing I ran into you, "Certainly the crow's beak didn't appreciate it as much as Quinn did, "I mean, uh, sorry again” "It's okay, I know what you mean. Are you planning on actually making it to the class? I can take you there," Adalynn offered to rescue the clutz from the clutches of mirrors and umbral portals spanning the Eclectic Department. Quinn's cheeks turned berry again, for but a moment, before she nodded, picking up her stack of books "I'd really appreciate it…especially since I could use another pair of eyes. Jade finds my stumbling too amusing to help," Soft meow emerged from her hair. It was just a meow, yet it felt like a mocking laugh, "See?” "Well you would have an easier time if you didn't carry your entire locker," Adalynn laughed softly, taking off books from the stack one by one until just one remained," Mirrors 101, that's the only book you need right now.” "It's not like I want to carry all of them…my lock is extorting me," She looked slightly to the side. Noone else seemed to have any problems with their lockers, even other freshmen. She must have had bad luck, courtesy of the black cat walking circles around her on a daily basis. "Is it now? Let me have a look," The crow approached Quinn's lock, whose maw stuck out its tongue, awaiting the promised pastry. She pulled out her katharite ink and quill, redrawing the lock's symbols, "Alright, that should do it. The sigils seem to have been a little damaged, so the lock became erratic. Try now?” Quinn didn't want to trust the lock, it bit her once already. she would nonetheless place faith in Adalynn's talents, reaching out. The maw opened smoothly and without arguments, granting her access to her locker fully

"Oh, thank you so much! That's so cool you can do that!" Quinn spent the entire week dealing with her lock already. Of course, logic said to talk to the janitor, or the department staff about it, but she already struggled to make it to class. She didn't dare to explore further. She would quickly stuff the redundant books back into the locker. It felt nice to know the books won't be gaining new chewing marks. "Okay Jade, hop in there," The lack of movement or sound gave a clear answer. ‘No’, said the feline, "Fine, but don't get me thrown out of class again.” "Ahem," Adalynn interrupted the pair," We've really got to go if you wish to make it to that class," Someone more focused than Quinn would have realised that packing her schedule that densely was a mistake. The witch quickly closed her locker and grabbed her bag, nodding at her new colleague "Right, lead the way.”

Having a lead put Quinn's mind at rest, though it didn't make the journey through the department any easier, or less…unnerving. Passing through a mirror, jumping down an umbral portal to reappear in the canopies of withering trees and finally passing through the bridge made out of music, they reached a small building, looking like a greenhouse made out of mirrors and crystals, 47 Beta written upon its door "I guess this is it, huh?" Quinn nervously scratched the back of her head, staring at the door. She made it, without any problems along the way. She better not get used to this feeling. "Yeah. I saw that your next class is in 11C, we passed it earlier, so you'll be fine," The crow reassured her, lightly scratching her beak as she did," If you don't then, well, I'm sure you'll run into someone else eventually," Green embers stared down the girl. It was his job to laugh at Quinn. Such insolence will be met with vengeance, in time "T-thanks," Quinn laughed lightly, "Well, see you later Adalynn.” "Oh, friends call me Ada," She smiled, fixing her glasses and turning around. "Right, see you soon Ada!" Quinn waved her off, turning towards the door, reaching for the knob. A sudden cacophony of chimes began to echo through the entire department, as people started to flood out of the classrooms. "I knew this went too well," She let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, pulling out her scroll, "Oh well, I'll just catch the next one. Hey, it's Ingredients and Gathering...now where the hells was 11C?”

[hoursofreading]

When I was a little kid, I felt that the adults around me had a thick, rich, complicated understanding of the way the world worked. They knew things – facts, history – and they understood processes and people and the way something like a bond measure or a public authority worked. It was this understanding – which they had, and I didn’t – that made me a child, and them adults. Grownups had an infrastructure of information, truth, and insight that I lacked. As I grew older, I was dismayed to discover that grownups really didn’t know a fraction of what I gave them credit for, and that most of the people ostensibly running the world had no clue how it operated, and my intense disillusionment caused me to lose sight of that adulthood theory for awhile.

But reading this book made me feel like a grownup because it helped me to understand the way the world works as I never had before. This book is about power. It is about politics. It is a history of New York City and New York State. It is an explanation of how public works projects are built. It is about money: public money, private money, and the vast and nasty grey areas where they overlap. This book is about democracy, and the lack thereof. It is about social policy, and economics, and our government, and the press. This book is about urban planning, housing, transportation, and about how a few individuals’ decisions can affect the lives of the masses. It helped explain traffic in the park, and the projects in Brownsville, and a billion other mysteries of New York City life that I'd wondered about. The Power Broker is about ideals, talent, and institutional racism. It is about inequality. It is about genius. It is about hubris. It is the best goddamn book I have ever read in my entire life, hands down, seriously.

Please do not think that it took me five months to read this book because it was dense or slow! This was a savoring, rather than a trudging, situation. Robert Caro is an incredibly engaging writer. One thing that happened to me early on from reading this was that I lost my taste for trashy celebrity gossip. Who CARES about Britney’s breakdown or, for that matter, Spitzer’s prostitute peccadilloes when I could be reading about the shocking intricacies of Robert Moses’ 1925 legislative consolidation and reorganization of New York State’s administrative structure? This book gave me chills – CHILLS! – on nearly every page with descriptions of arcane political maneuvering and fiscal policy so riveting that I lost my previous interest in reading about sex and drugs. Let’s face it: sex and drugs are pretty boring. Political graft, mechanics of influence, the workings of government: now that’s the hot stuff, when it’s presented in an accessible and digestible form. Nothing in the world is more fascinating than power, and Robert Caro writes about power better than anyone I’ve come across. There are no dry chapters in this book; there’s barely a dull page. It is infinitely more readable than Us magazine, and not much more difficult.

Of course The Power Broker is many things, among them a biography. While any one portrait of New York power icons from Al Smith to Nelson Rockefeller is more than worth the price of admission, this book is primarily about Robert Moses. Caro understands and explains the relationship between individual personalities and systems. One of his main theses is that Moses achieved the unchecked and unparalleled levels of power he did because he figured out how to reshape or create systems around himself. The Triborough Bridge and Tunnel Authority would not have existed without Robert Moses, and Robert Moses would not have been what he was, or accomplished what he did, without the brilliance he had for shaping the very structure of government into conduits for his own purposes. To explain this, Caro needs to convey a profound understanding not only of how these systems worked, but of who this man was. He does so, and the result goes beyond Shakespearean: it is Epic. The Power Broker is the story George Lucas was trying to tell about Anakin Skywalker’s transformation to Darth Vader, only George Lucas is no Robert Caro, and The Power Broker succeeds wildly in the places where Star Wars was just a hack job (of course, Caro wasn’t handicapped by Hadyn Christensen, which does indirectly raise the burning question: WHO’S OPTIONED THIS???).

[necromatador]

Second round brings HIDE OF THE BEAST to the next tier with 10 votes!

I've scraped up a few more characters that I initially didn't include for some reason or another in order to fill out the roster so lets go back to the top for

The Scarred One (she/her) is an albino Vesk mystic, meaning she's a large lizard alien with psychic powers! Her name, and derived callsign 'Scar', come from her many many frostbite scars from when she became trapped in a snow tunnel collapse as a child. In the end she lost her tail and part of one leg (both replaced by prosthetics) and might have either gone a little mad or genuinely connected to the deity of destruction and black holes known only as The Devourer, which unlocked destructive psychic powers that she very much enjoys.

Elian Maiathyr (they/them) is a half-elf necromancer, but they're only a necromancer by accident because they went to a mage's college to make their parents proud and when they went through their arcane standardized placement testing, it turned out that they were already naturally channeling necromancy magic. Except WHOOPS necromancy is illegal and highly stigmatized in their country so now they're on the run to another country to escape life-long imprisonment or being viewed as a monstrosity or villain waiting to happen.

Pictures below~

The Scarred One

Elian

[synnthamonsugar]

23. Ikora/Eris

23. Carrying the other one in their arms

When Eris and Ikora last spoke, the sun had been an intense red blur on the Martian horizon and Ikora had been busy in post-mission debriefings with her Hidden. When the agents dispersed for the night, Eris offered Ikora dinner, but she brushed away the suggestion; too many field notes to go over and reports to write up. Dried rations and Light would sustain her, she reassured, despite the bags beneath her eyes and the tired sag in her posture as she hunched over her makeshift desk in the Relic.

Eris knew what it was like to be too engrossed by work to take care of herself; until a few weeks ago, it had been her default state. Though Savathûn's death had offered her a reprieve, it seemed only to intensify Ikora's focus. With a touch to her shoulder, she bid Ikora goodnight and reminded her to rest when she got the chance. Ikora flashed an exhausted smile and rested her hand on hers, promising that she would. Eris was not so sure, but knew better than to fight this particular tide.

That was hours ago. The sun was long gone, replaced with the irregular form of Deimos overhead. The mother-of-pearl sheen of the temporal anomaly was especially bright as city lights from another time shimmered into and out of existence. Eris' footsteps fell into instinctive silence as she crossed the dim blue and black shadows of the Enclave looking for Ikora.

Normally Eris would be unreservedly relieved to find Ikora sleeping, but the Relic was unfit for rest. Darkness suffused the place, and with it, memories of terror; Eris had made this mistake, once, allowing her overworked mind to be lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the machinery, and the comfortable cool and dark. She'd found herself lost amidst a feverish blur of scenes — tunnels and pyramids and blood and three-eyed faces. She'd struggled to wake herself even through her shallow hunter's sleep. Warlocks rested deeply and dreamed vividly even without outside interference, so fear ran through her as she approached and heard frantic murmurs and fast breaths.

She shook Ikora, but she did not wake.

Carefully, she picked her up, one arm beneath the bend of her knees and the other cradling her neck; a challenging arrangement given her small stature, but one she managed. As they made their way out of the Relic, Eris called Ophiuchus from where he'd skulked off to and ordered him to open his guardian's jumpship. Once inside, she brushed past stacks of books and arcane instruments to the small bed, collapsing into the plush purple blankets with Ikora cradled in her arms.

A bit of the heaviness in Eris' chest lifted as the furrows in Ikora's brow smoothed, and her lips loosened from a tight grimace. Her eyelids fluttered a few times as she roused to consciousness; a spike of disorientated fear as she resolved her surroundings, an easing as she realized that she was safely wrapped in Eris' embrace.

Eris could spend the whole night like this, but won't let her own wants get in the way of Ikora's much-needed rest. She motions to get up, but is stopped when her companion rests a hand across her gauntlet.

"There will be other times . . . you need to sleep."

"Which is why I'm asking you to stay," Ikora responds with a weak smile.